Chapter three
Feryl ran until he thought his lungs would burst, aware of the swordmaster pursuing him. Familiar with the streets, and having the agility and speed of his race, he soon found the curses of the man fade quickly behind him. Even then, the young elf continued his chase just to be sure.
Only when he found himself in the recognizable streets in the poorer end of the city did he slow his race. He slipped into an ally to catch his breath. Ears twitched as he listened and found that no one gave chase. He could hear only his own gasping breath and pounding heart. Once satisfied that no one followed, he gripped the sword in his hand, and a wave of repletion passed over him.
I did it! I have the Manos sword! Smiling to himself, he let the dim light of the ally play on the gleam. For all its beauty one might even think this an enchanted blade, but Feryl felt no tingle in his palm, no magical glimmer with his night vision. He lightly held the steel blade against his palm, while his other hand turned the sword in the dim glow of moonlight.
The curving blade was exquisite, with the gentle arch of the metal unscathed and sharpened to a razor's edge. Shorter than most swords the young elf knew of, this sword promised a deft quickness with swing and thrust. Feryl had no experience with swords, but there was no denying the care taken to its creation, nor the balance that the weapon carried. Strangely, to a boy who never touched a sword before this day, the Manos blade felt as though it belonged in his hand or he'd held a sword once before.
"Feryl." A hoarse whisper startled the boy. A dark shadow came up from nowhere, and approached the dark elf admiring the stolen blade. The man was an Imperial, stocky in build and large for his race. The face was broad, the eyes dark, and a day's growth of beard gave him a ragged appearance. Lank brown hair fell in layers to the shoulder. One might even consider him nothing but a vagabond or common drunk, but Feryl knew better. Here before him was Nekros, the world's greatest assassin.
A master at disguise, Nekros could look completely different, often choosing a guise to hide his features. He could not only appear as someone else, but even adopted mannerisms, modify his voice, or appear to change his very form. Few would guess his profession fewer still knew his face. Feryl swallowed hard, fighting the sudden urge to run. Instead, he extended the proffered sword hilt first.
The man grasped the sword, tilting the blade so the tip menaced too close to the boy's throat. "The Manos Blade…. Very good, Feryl." The deadly sword point withdrew, "I'm impressed. I see your skills are as sharp as ever" The man stepped a bit closer, those dark eyes intent on the boy's face to notice the blood on his mouth and chin. "What's this?"
The boy flinched, dropping his gaze to the ground. His throat worked as he swallowed back rising fear. Lying would be futile. Somehow Nekros could sense when he would lie, and often punishment was made worse. "M-Master Kendari was there-"
Although Nekros was remained stoic and unmoving Feryl sensed his sudden tension. "He saw you?"
Feryl lowered his chin now, all cockiness gone. "Yes." His voice was barely a whisper. "But I got the sword-!"
Nekros moved quickly, his hand shooting out like a viper to grip the boy by the throat and shove him back against the wall in the dark ally. Suddenly Feryl couldn't breath, and tried to remove the unforgiving hand to no avail. "Have I not taught you that you must ever remain in the shadow?" He spoke in the same calm voice.
Feryl nodded quickly, his lungs feeling as though they might burst. The pressure wouldn't relent and he wondered if his grip might break his neck. Nekros leaned close, his dark pitiless eyes just inches from the young boy. "Discovery could prove your death. How often have I told you this?"
The boy couldn't speak, feet scrambling on the cobblestone beneath him in a futile attempt to run away. His eyes closed, and he tried to nod as everything started to go dim.
As suddenly as the man had grabbed him, the grip released him to fall to the ground. Feryl coughed and retched, trying to gain lost air.
"You are getting much too impetuous, Feryl." Nekros said in a voice too calm for what he was doing, sending a kick to his chest. Air was forced out of lungs once more, and something snapped upon contact. The elf sprawled to the cobblestone to gasp like a fish out of water. The world spun, growing faint. "Let this be a lesson to remember what I've taught you-" Pain shot up his arm when Nekros crushed his hand beneath his boot. "And to do exactly as I tell you to do."
Only a strangled gargle of pain and fear managed passed his lips. He wanted to beg and plead for mercy, but experience had taught him there was no appealing to the man's sense of pity. He had none. All he could do is suffer through another beating, and hope Nekros healed him back to right. Grunting in pain, Feryl tried not to make a sound. Nekros wouldn't allow that, noise would make things worse. Clenching teeth he endured.
Expecting another blow, Feryl curled up to protect vital areas. The foot, however, never fell this time. In fact, Nekros had grown suddenly very still, his attention drawn to the silhouette of a man behind them. A whisper of steel drawn from a sheath was loud in the narrow alleyway.
"Perhaps you should pick on someone your own size." A familiar voice suggested angrily. Master Kendari had appeared from the entrance to the narrow alleyway, having been searching for the boy and his lost sword.
Feryl remained still, unable to move or even lift his head. His breathing came in quick, pained gasps as each breath reminded him ribs were broken.
"This doesn't concern you." Nekros warned him off.
Master Kendari sneered in his contempt. "Bullies always concern me. Now step away from the boy."
Feryl wasn't sure why, but the quick glance directed at him from his master frightened him more than the actual beating. He wasn't sure what he saw in the pitiless eyes that assessed him on the ground or what Nekros planned to do to him once they returned to their home. There was no doubt, the master assassin would kill Kendari and finish what he started.
Feryl blinked away the tears in his eyes from the pain and despair he felt. He watched as Nekros withdrew his own sword at his hip, and descended on the warrior. Why had Kendari bothered? He must want that sword very much…
Sounds of steel clashed in a wild, frenzied battle. Feryl couldn't see, as he lay huddled in the filth. It hurt too much to move, let alone sit up. They had moved from the ally to the street beyond. Part of him wanted to watch, to see the deadly game between the two. Nekros had told the young elf of this man's prowess. Kendari had battled man and beast all his life. Some stories were that of legend. The assassin, however, was also a renown killer. The clash of the two would be extraordinary indeed.
Inevitably, the sounds ceased and footsteps drew near. Feryl cringed, moving in a futile attempt to crawl away. A whimper mixed with gasp of pain gurgled from his throat, and something brushed his face.
"Hush now…You're safe." Master Kendari's voice murmured to him softly. "It would seem your master has abandoned you."
Feryl sucked in another painful breath, squinting through eyes to see where Nekros had gone. He…left? But…why? There was no sign of the assassin. He couldn't begin to fathom Nekros' purpose to leaving him, only that Nekros never did anything without reason. Why? Why had he thrown the fight and left me?
A warm hand touched his forehead, providing a measure of calm over him. He heard the swordsman hiss in disgust at seeing how badly he'd been beaten, and was careful in assessing his wounds.
"I'm afraid you have some broken bones, lad." The man spoke low. "Here now…"
Feryl bite his lip as the man carefully picked him up to cradle him in his arms. Pain exploded in his chest making it very hard to breath, and other parts of his head and legs felt as though they were on fire. The swordsman murmured comforting words, taking him out of the ally and to the gods only knew.
Just kill me, Feryl thought, pressing his head against the warmth of the man. Save me the pain later. Nekros would perhaps kill him this time, but unable to care or think straight, the world finally blanked out.
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Feryl woke finding it incredibly difficult to breath with his chest swaddled in bandages. Blankets were tucked around him as he lay on a bed. Eyes felt as though sand had been rubbed in them, and his mouth was raw and parched. He tried to cough, but pain gripped his chest in an iron fist.
"Here…" A voice spoke gently, with something touching his lips. "Drink."
Blinking, he tried to see, then attempted to clasp the cup to his lips only to fumble and nearly spill the contents over him. "Easy now…" The voice was lulling, the hands gentle and persistent with doing the work for him. "Just drink."
The cup didn't offer water, which he wanted, but something oily and sweet. A healing potion spread warmth and strength back into battered limbs, knitting the damage of bone and muscle. The relief from pain left him gasping as he fell back on the bed to orient himself.
"Want some water?" The voice asked him.
This time he could open his eyes, the blurry vision clearing as the potion took effect. Eyes blinked into focus, finding a young girl sitting on the edge of his bed. She wore a servant's cap with strawberry blond curls escaping to frame her look of concern. Feryl had seen her now and then late in the evenings when he watched the school, while she washed dishes or sat in the kitchen to patch clothes. He would often paused in his lurking to admire her from afar, knowing her name was Lyra.
So close to one he was always meant to avoid suddenly triggered panic in him. Jerking back, he scrambled in an effort to get away. Disoriented, confused, and still not completely healed, he floundered off the small cot they'd placed him in. Stumbling on legs gone too weak, his body simply gave out from under him, leaving him face down on the rough floorboards. He wore only the remains of his breeches, and half his body was wrapped in tight cloth. A hand was splinted, and nothing seemed to want to work.
"Its alright!" The girl tried to assure him, "I wont hurt you!" Her face contorted into a look of confusion.
The girl's cry had alerted others. The door opened and master Kendari had arrived with another man Feryl recognized as one of the other trainers in the school. Kendari immediately sensed what was wrong, seeing the young boy rushed into a dark corner.
"Lyra shut the drapes." He ordered, stiff-arming the other man to stay where he was. "Both of you need to stay back. Give him room."
Three pairs of eyes were then upon him as Feryl huddled in the corner. He felt exposed with only a curtain of hair to hide him. The sunlight had faded with the curtains now shut, but his fear was still bright. How did he manage to be shut into the room in the very school he escaped from a day earlier? Feryl had no memory of how he got here.
Staring back at them, the elf child had every muscle tensed and ready to fight if they so much as took a step towards him. He was panting hard, unable to draw in a deep breath for the tight wrappings wrapped around his chest. Grimacing, the boy feared he might pass out from lack of air. From what he could assess of his injuries however, he was healing rapidly from the potion the girl had given him.
Why? Why had they taken him in after he stole from them, and nearly killed the sword master with his own blade?
"Its all right." Master Kendari murmured softly, keeping movements slow. "We're not going to hurt you. Do you remember what happened last night?"
The boy's eyes blinked too quickly as memories flashed across his face. Nekros' was beating him, feet stomping, and Kendari's timely arrival- Feryl wanted to crawl into the wall behind him. The three pairs of eyes staring so intently unnerved him, not accustomed to ever being seen let alone stared at.
"Maybe he doesn't understand Common." The other man suggested, curious to this wild lad cowering in the corner.
Merthisan shook his head. "No he spoke the other night."
Feryl cursed to himself the foolishness of ever speaking to anyone. If only he kept his mouth shut- The swordmaster took a step, wrenching a growl from the cornered elf. He had no weapons, and nowhere to go. Trapped, all he had was bare hands, one of which was held in splints.
"You're safe now." Master Kendari assured him, keeping a respectful distance. "Why did your master beat you? You had the sword. Wasn't that what he wanted?"
Feryl considered saying nothing. Hadn't Nekros always told him that no one was to see him, and he was never meant to speak to anyone but his master? Yet the assassin had left him, leaving in to be captured. He sensed this man meant him no harm. Hadn't he brought him healing?
"I- I was caught." He stammered.
The other man twisted his face into a scowl. "Your master beat you that badly for just getting caught? But you escaped-"
"Renis." Merthisan murmured, indicated for him to leave. "I will handle this." The man Renis gave a knowing look and ushered the girl to come with him, shutting the door behind them for privacy. The swordmaster turned back to the cowered elf. "Your master had you steal the sword?"
Feryl nodded slowly. He looked around the room, seeing the storage rooms of the school. There was no way out, no place to hide. If he was alone, he might be able to undo the latches of the windows, but he was in no condition to scale a wall to freedom. Remaining as he was, the boy forced the words out. "What are…you going to do to me?"
What would be worse; given to the city guards or given back to Nekros? Nekros often told him they killed Dark Elves rather than cage them up. They were too dangerous to keep alive. The young dark elf frowned, wondering why this man seemed intent on helping him after what he'd done.
"You need a few more days before you're healed enough-" Merthisan Kendari told him. "Perhaps you could make amends. I will admit I know little about you, but clearly you're in need of help. By my oath, I'm bound to offer you such help as needed. As you stay here, I will ask you do not steal and to do as you are told." He continued, "And to stay within this room to let your body rest and heal properly. Alright?"
This man mystified Feryl. Nothing of this made any sense. But exhausted from excitement and aching from falling off the bed, all he could do is nod. When the man offered to help him back to cot, the boy accepted and almost welcomed the comfort of a true bed with covers. Kendari offered him water to drink, and covered him again with the blankets.
"There now." Merthisan smiled, "Rest up. Tomorrow we will speak more of what lies ahead."
Feryl was abruptly reminded of the night he watched a father tucking his son into bed. Without the darkness and closed walls of his closet to protect him, Feryl buried himself back under covers. The swordmaster seemed to remain only a moment longer before he finally left, shutting the door behind him. Only when he was alone did he feel comfortable enough to fall back asleep.