Jessi: A little free time between exams spawned this chapter. Just two weeks of exams left! Yey!
The winged elf glanced at the lizardmen and then back to the dagger. It was within easy reach, merely five feet above his head. He'd never needed a weapon before, his claws and fangs easily summoned in an instant. The collar, however, had taken them away from him.
He would need a weapon for when they caught up to him. There was no doubt that they would. Lizardmen were notoriously good trackers, able to keep up the chase for days on end.
Chel had a crippled hand, a broken and battered body, no wings to carry him off to safety or magic defend himself.
Licking his lips nervously he reached for the dagger, easing himself up inch by torturous inch. The long fingers of his unbroken right hand brushed the plain wooden hilt before curling around it. His long ears twitched, listening for any sign that the battle to his left was ending.
The blade came free with no noise and, almost fainting with relief, Chel started to edge away.
Then he heard the growl. His entire body froze, his eyes widening. With infinite slowness he turned around.
A solitary lizardman stood there, all of its attention fixed firmly on the pale elf. With great deliberation it set one foot on the corpse of its fellow soldier, its muscles tensing, ready to pounce.
A howl floated into the clearing and, though it was lupine in origin, it was enough to turn the lizardman's head for a second. When the monster turned back Chel was gone.
Chel half-fell half-slid down a short slope then darted among the trees, forcing his legs to move faster as he heard the enraged roar echo out behind him. He used his small, slender body to his advantage, slipping through gaps that the much larger monster could not pass.
Yet he could not move at any great speed. Without his wings to balance him it was hard enough to walk. Another problem was his hair. He'd never bothered much with it, and eventually it had grown down to brush the floor. Without the magic he used to make it move serpent-like, it caught on seemly every twig and branch.
Snarling, Chel yanked his head away, leaving yet another thick strand entangled in a tree. His hair loss problem had to wait though as he glimpsed a scaled head emerge from the undergrowth.
The pale elf ran on, eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead, until...
Chel halted. The trees thinned out here and the ground fell sharply away in a vertical drop. His heart pounding in his chest, the pale elf turned.
The reptilian warrior advanced slowly, claws spread out to either side. A forked tongue flicked out from beneath his teeth. As it approached Chel wondered briefly what would happen if he was struck a fatal blow now...
Would he die?
Closing his eyes he offered up a short prayer to Tiamet, not knowing whether his god could hear it or not. His eyes were still closed when he flung himself backwards off the cliff.
Something snagged his robe and, looking up, Chel could see the lizardman, one hand clutching his robes, the other with claws digging into the flesh of his face. His right eye wasn't working and pain was spreading up his cheek. As the reptile pulled the elf up, an easy task for Chel was very light, something flashed in the sunlight.
The lizardman tried to dodge but the elf was too close. Chel's unbroken hand drove the dagger up through his jaw, into the soft flesh of his brain.
A gurgle escaped the warrior's throat and he staggered backward, knees buckling. With a final rattling breath the lizardman died.
Chel had walked from the drop and then had followed the course of a stream until the sun began to set and his feet had long since gone numb from cold. Shivering he made his way onto the bank.
He turned and looked at himself in the stream.
The right side of his face was completely unrecognisable. The eye was just an empty socket and most of the silver flesh had been torn away.
Chel turned away. For many, many years people had loved him for his pretty face, turning away when they found the shattered mind that lay beneath it. For about the same length of time he had suspected that he was only good for acting as a living ornament, something to be put on display and fawned over... Now he was not even that.
"So what are you good for now?" he whispered to himself.
Set a little away from the bank was a shallow cave. Chel went inside, collasping into the darkest corner, and curled up, as though trying to hide the poor ruin of his face and body.