Chapter 2
The Dark Innocents
It's black eyes gaze into the yellow, fading sky. All is still. The animal is suspended in the forest. The trees barely speak. The wind delicately dances through the feather like leaves.
I have to be quick. My foot snaps a branch. The animal leaps away, but my plasma gun scorches it. Light fabric over the dead leaves makes a crescendo of whimpers as I walk to the beast. It's heart is now as black as it's eyes.
It was stupid for me to come out alone. The beast is so large, it will take every part of my being to lug it back to camp. I haven't eaten in days. You don't know true desperation until you have slowly felt the life leaving you. My muscles crack. My stomach is melted into my chest, only to bubble back up by incessant acheing.
I can do it for my people, though. A soul is a meager amount to pay. If I am allowed to play God for a moment, bring life to the children, it will be worth it.
So I drag it back. I pick a tree, and pull the beast past it; one goal at a time. The clearing nears. Puddles are a melting pot of colors, shimmering off the sky. Soon, cries of joy fill my ears in the most rewarding oxymoron. Giggling elven children are delighted with the dead animal. The women immediately start flaying it with their knives.
The blood spurts. The children lap it up. It's too primal and pitiable for me to watch. Instead, a solitary fire beckons. A child, with blood staining his white teeth, brings me water in a broken piece of metal. He says, before scrambling back to the cooking meat, "Thank you so much, Sigyn." Before he wisps away, I gently brush his tiny braid.
I try to calm myself. I feel nauseated. Constantly, I find myself putting my head between my knees in private. But it's moral sickness.
For weeks we have been stranded in the woods of Vanaheim. Although the forest is huge, the wildlife is scarce and hard to come by. We don't know which of the plants here are edible. That leaves out greens as a food option. Most days we don't find hardly anything, so, if you're lucky, all you get is a small handful of meat or meat in water; a poor substitute for stew.
Most of us are women and children, a few older men, and about four soldiers. I won't risk the children hunting or using guns, and the women's' inexperience would be more trouble than help. Thus, the job of hunting is left to me and the few able men.
We went in pairs; two and two. Since there is an uneven number of hunters, I volunteered to go on my own. I hate myself for it, but I know I am the only one who can surely survive. It's not that I'm strong or a skilled fighter, but I know magic. Millennia ago, an old sorcerer taught me. Now it is the only thing protecting us.
Breathe, Sigyn. Breathe.
The warmth of the pulls me up. I can feel it's whispers. The cloak is still there; we are invisible.
They won't past the line of visibility. It's ok.
The Vanir could, though. What if they find us? Will they kill us? The obscurity spell has to be enough. There is nothing else I can do. If we get desperate enough to look for help from the people of Vanaheim, they will surely kill us.
I instilled into the children that they must stay away from the edge. To see their terrified faces were a reflection of that day. Everyone was delirious when they boarded the ship. Black swathed the battlefield that day. Malekith was ruthless. I barely got my elves into the ship. All the others were sent crashing into the ground. That was the day my brother Malekith truly terrified me.
For thousands of years our ship circled Yggdrasil. When we awoke, I knew it was because the Aether had been found. Malekith had always been obsessed with it's power. Literally and figuratively. When I awoke, I knew it was the first thing he would be after. No doubt my brother went to desperate attempts to get it. Considering Vanaheim isn't plunged into eternal darkness, though, makes me think he lost whatever battle was fought to retrieve it.
Animosity must be growing like a pathogen in the Vanahinian hearts. They would kill us without a second thought. We are piteously alone.
Our men return with no meat. Our skin is slowly drowning further and further into us. Soon there may be no other choice but blind hope in others biases. Doom may as well be inscribed upon our foreheads.
The palette of Vanaheim spreads out again with the sun; pinks, blues, and reds are swiped with the beauty only a master painter could hope to reproduce. I sit on a log, eating my small, very small, portion of meat. Lili, the nicest Dark Elf ever, comes and sits by me.
"How are you Sigyn?" She asks motherly.
"Hungry. What about you Lili?"
"The very same. That animal you brought in today certainly helped though." I can tell she is trying to comfort me. Lili's creasing eyebrows and concerned smile tells all.
"Not enough," I say gloomily. "Sooner or later, we're going to be too weak to hunt. Then I don't know. I don't want my people to starve." My throat tightens. I wish it would stay that way so i never have to eat the food that should go into the children's' mouths.
"Sigyn, you are doing more for us then we could ever ask," Lily puts her warm fingers around mine. "When Malekith started sending those ships down, everyone here and I thought we were going to die. You saved us. Perhaps we won't make it, but there is nothing you can do. It's up to fate now. And," she says with a smile, squeezing my hand gently, "Maybe life will turn out better than it ever was before."
I look into her deep, golden eyes. Maybe Lili is right, but this is becoming too much for me, and I don't want to start crying in front of her. You know how you can make laughter sound like crying? I do the reverse. "Thank you Lily, you might be right! Who knows?"
She smiles and removes her hand from mine, saying gently, "Keep your head up Sigyn. Have a good night."
"You too."
The sun has almost fully exchanged places with the moon. I shove the last morsel of meat into my mouth, and shout, "Let's head to the ship everyone!"
Elves slowly stand up, some licking their hands to get the last bit of food off. The last rays of light cast the large t-shaped spaceship into blackness. It had run out of power and is now laying on it's side, propped up by one of the legs of the T. The power shortage, although there is just enough to power to work a few inside functions, is why we are stuck in Vanaheim instead of Svartalfheim.
Mother's gather their children into their arms, pulling them into the box with them. The elevator into the ship now propels sideways and travels horizontally. They pile in the conveyer and ride in a glowing red line; the mechanisms opening and closing like claws as it goes. What little power remains is used for that purpose. I still make them go in the craft at night. We are defenseless if attacked on the ground.
All elves are in the ship. The darkness hugs me, reminding me of home. It was never happy, but it was familiar. I lay at entrance to the lift, and lean my head back against it. The craft sings a mechanical lullaby. The sound consumes my dreams.
Sharp pricks of noise puncture the soft hum of the ship. The yells in my dream metamorphose into reality. The Vanir have arrived.
My heart pumps rapidly. Nobody can help me is on the ship. I could use up what last fuel we have, and fly us to a different part of the forest. But the Vanir would see. I have no choice but to hope they will have pity. The magic I could use will not feed us, but I may have no choice but to stop them.
My feet crunch leaves, after i swiftly across the field into the forest beyond. Then I see them. Their small lights dance like artificial shafts of sun through the trees. A Venir shouts, "Of course there are no bilgesnipe out here! Only harmless viliga and yuam!" I can't see the man.
What are they doing here at night? Taking a walk?
"Well thank the gods, I definitely don't want to battle any bilgesnipe today. Hunting is supposed to be fun, not get you killed," Another dark figure shedding light chuckles richly.
Hunting! Perhaps it is only the two of them. It would be easy enough to stop them if they decide to kill us instead of help. Although it's possible that there is more Vanir hunting around who are more quiet than this duo.
Well, it's not like I have any other choice.
I jump out from behind my tree. The two men, dressed in elegant leather, both jump and yelp like animals. With the reflexes that are required of hunting, they pull out swords. Neither of them seem keen to move, although. We seem to have frozen each other with our eyes, not to be released until one moves. I can imagine they are caught up on the fact I am an elf. How typical.
The first hunter is brave enough to step forward, and say, "Who are you, creature."
I clear my throat. "I am Sigyn, Malekith's sister, leader of the Dark Elves. We have been stranded here on your planet and need help. We are starving."
Helping us seems to be the furthest thing from their minds.
Is it that rediculous to help starving women and children? Curse you Malekith, what have you done?
The first hunter whistles a signal. As soon as the air comes forth from his mouth, so does my own. It's like I've had my very soul grasped from me. "No!" I shout. But it's too late. I can hear the sounds of footsteps drumming, pounding the ground to pulverize us.
I look at them desperately. "Please, we don't mean any harm. I don't know what my brother has-" The second hunter cuts me off. Looks of revulsion are stamped onto their faces. "He killed queen Frigga and prince Loki, Dark Elf. How many more are you?"
The way he says Dark Elf does not add to my furiosity; in fact it almost makes me feel good. Adrenaline is pulsing through me, heat is rising in my veins. I direct all of it to my fingers, pointing them at the men. Like children spun playfully by their parents, the men are thrown into the air. Instead of disgust, they are now screeching horror. Other men bound into the clearing, but there is little they can do.
Throwing them into the trees, I can hear the crack of branches, proving to me they are probably dead, or badly injured. I stumble forward slightly. My chest is now transforming into a weight. I just killed two men.
It had to be done. But I who am I to say their lives are worth less then my peoples'? If they would just understand! I wouldn't have to hurt them if they would just go away and leave us alone. Or, better yet, help us!
The other hunters, about ten, are closing in on me. My calm and revengeful facade is liquefying into an ocean of dismay.
I try to think quickly. I can't just kill all of them. My conscientes already aches. I have to be creative; find a way to keep us safe without killing them. I begin to slowly back away.
A memory spell! No. Then I will have to drag them all the way to the border of the invisibility spell. And whose to say they won't walk back in? I could put them all in bubbles of magic and drift them to the edge of the spell, then put the memory spell on them. No. They could still come back in. And to lift all ten of them would be to much.
Then it hits me. I rush past them all, through the forest, and yell at the top of my lungs, "Jigani, power the engines; grab the swords; prepare for war!"
I will have to fake it to make it.
The Vanir all chase after me, yelling to each other about an army. I have to be fast. I turn around and begin to run backwards. My hands form faces, twist reality to give birth to a fake army. Behind all the men, hundreds of apparitions of elves appear. When the Venir twist around, I almost laugh. The looks on their faces are priceless. Cries of dismay escape their mouths as my ghosts haunt them through the dark.
We near the edge of the obscurity spell. I stop short.
No, no, no, no, dear Odin, PLEASE no.
Heading towards the border of my spell are five more Venir, and behind them in groups, are at least fifty more that I can see. The rest of the hunting party. They lie on the brink of the spell, unaware they are about to fall in.
I was going to lead these men far, far away then do a memory spell. But now there are too many of them. They might try to fight my apparition army. They would see it's a fake.
We are doomed.
I realize that if I leave the obscurity spell up it could mean more trouble for us, since knowing I had magic would surely be more of a reason to kill me and other elves. I let my fake army run back into the haunted forest.
The hunters who were once running, stare back incredulity. Then all their eyes land on me.
I begin to fold into myself, shoulders hunching, and trying to dissolve into a space where they can't touch us. Back home, in the dark. But I can't peel my eyes away. Blinding lights are thrown about, whistles- piercing shrieks- fill the air. What was once disconcerted, is now defined: I can see all of the men's features, eye color, hair color, expressions, with the clearest of ease. Slowly, the groups conglomerate, and become a wave before me.
Down to one knee, down to the other. Simple commands. I must calm my brain. Tears are acidic to me now. Hands above your head.
I have failed. My people will be taken; made slaves. Forced to live a life of torture because of my failures. They might not say it, but deep in my people's hearts, I was a disappointment.
I never was loved. And I won't complain. Not by Malekith or my father. Not by my people; respected, yes, grateful, yes, but that's not love. No friends to love me; Lili was the closest thing but even she only has a high regard for me. Not anymore, I'm sure.
As a few of the hunters take me to their village, where they have more men to round up the elves like cattle, I keep my head up. The Bifrost takes us all up to Asgard. Colors blind them, but all I see is red. Then, gold. I look straight ahead. Across the Rainbow bridge they walk us, a stampede that they mercilessly beat for no reason. Women fall to the ground, bloodied on the head, still clutching their children. The Realm Eternal: a place where people through putrid fruits and words and looks. I look them all in the eye.
Because I must confront who I am. If a failure is what I am, it is what I must embody. But failures aren't afraid: they attack you head on. I will harden my heart so that not even love can break it. To love is to lose. And I have lost all.
Forgive me, my elves, for what is to be a long road ahead.
