The sun fell behind the black hills of Ëolnir, casting a purple shadow across the barren valley that the dark elves called home. On the edge of its southwestern border stood four Blades of the Triple Eye as they prepared.
Amilié could feel her hands shaking as she wrapped them in her leather guards. A cool wind whipped her black hair back and forth, her pale green eyes shimmered against the gloomy backdrop of the evening. She could sense Sweryn’s quiet eagerness as he sharpened his dual blades beside her.
“Let’s get this done quickly.” Sweryn turned to his comrades. He was tall for a dark elf, towering on a pair of skinny legs. There was no hair to cover his rounded head or his thin, bony face. Despite his skeleton-like frame, his body was taut with muscle, and his eyes were opaque pools of black.
Hura, who had always had a more violent disposition, bared her venomous smile. “I am ready to make them scream,” she said in a deep tone that made Amilié’s bones tremble. “Those rebels won’t know what hit them.”
“We are not killing anyone,” Amilié reminded her.
Hura gave a scowl. Beside her, Dulor was readying the horse of their getaway cart, and when he noticed Hura on the verge of one of her fits, he stepped in to intervene.
“That is true,” Dulor said, turning to Amilié. “Best to keep in mind that we will run out of supplies before summer’s end if we do not make another hit. The rebels will not make it easy; best to be prepared for resistance.”
Amilié could not disagree with Dulor. The rebels had indeed become the gatekeepers of Brier in the last few years. Sweryn and his Blades of the Triple Eye had made more than five hits on the town in the last year alone. It was a vital part of Ëolnir’s survival to steal supplies from the outlying humans, but it made Amilié nervous all the same. She quivered while sheathing her iron blades at her sides and felt Sweryn’s grip on her shoulder.
“I want you to stay close to me,” Sweryn said, dipping his voice so the others would not overhear.
“I’ll be fine by myself,” she assured him.
“I won’t have my betrothed moving alone; that’s just asking for danger.”
She looked at him fully, brushed the side of his jaw with her thumb. “All right, we move together.”
The four dark elves faced the high wall that surrounded the town, waiting for the deepest shadows of night to fall upon it. The town was quiet, not a comforting sign.
“Ready?” Sweryn glanced at his three companions. When they each gave their signal, he nodded. Taking the lead, he sprang forward and jumped at the wall, climbing over and hitting the ground in silence. Amilié, Dulor, and Hura did the same and set into a run once they landed inside. They split off in their own directions, scurrying along empty streets.
Amilié’s breath built up to a pant as she ran behind Sweryn, keeping low to avoid being caught by uncanny eyes. After weaving their way through a familiar maze of corners and intersections, they came to a cluster of storage barrels sitting unguarded. They pried the barrels open and gathered several sacks of food and provisions sitting inside them. With a nod, Sweryn moved to make a swift exit, Amilié following at his heels.
A few moments passed before she detected another pair of feet scuttling behind them. She glanced back to see another dark elf chasing them, a male figure with determined eyes who wielded a longbow, but Amilié could not stare at him for long. “I think he’s found us.”
Sweryn responded by pushing faster through the streets. He turned down a thin alleyway, though it did not lead to their get-away cart nor their companions. An arrow shot past Amilié’s head, smacking the brick holding in front of them. She heard the bowstring being pulled back again and ducked, pushing Sweryn out of the arrow’s path as it came flying. Struggling to find her balance again, Amilié rushed ahead of him and turned another corner.
“Not that way!” Sweryn pulled her back and sprinted in the opposite direction. As she scrambled to follow him, an arrow shot into one of the sacks she carried. She growled while dropping it to the ground. “Come on!” Sweryn’s voice kept her from charging the rebel herself.
They ran until their path became blocked by the high wall at the edge. Their enemy approached from behind, keeping his bow trained on them. Amilié turned, dropped her sacks, and pulled out her dual blades. Her spiteful eyes hissed at the archer. There was no mistaking his face now that she had a full look. “Cador.”
Pulling the string back, Cador adjusted his aim for Sweryn.
“You won’t do it.” She stepped in front of Sweryn to shield him. She felt her heart pumping. Blood rushed to her head, filled her eyes with a tinge of crimson. She charged forward, slashing at Cador with the sharp edges of her blades. It was enough to make him drop his bow, but he immediately drew a shortsword and blocked her incoming attacks. He hissed when she nicked the side of his forearm with her dagger.
“Amilié,” Sweryn yelled from behind her, “we have to move! He only wants to stall you.”
Sweryn was right. She knew that he was right. Trusting her gut, she let down her attacks and stepped back. She dared the archer to make another move, to go for the inevitable kill.
“Hm.” Cador’s black eyebrows folded. Lowering his bow, he scampered back along the streets, dipped into the shadows.
“We need to go.” Sweryn kept pushing as Amilié retrieved her items. He climbed to the top of the wall and hoisted the sacks as they were handed to him. Then, taking Amilié’s arms, he pulled her to safety.
“That was close,” she rasped. “I knew he wouldn’t do it.”
Sweryn hunched over, panting. “Next time, try not to gamble my life.”
“If there is a next time. The rebels keep growing in number, and one day we won’t be able to dodge them.”
“They’re just vermin,” he said. “Treat them like so, Amilié.”
Her heart seemed to weigh as much as a stone in her chest, but she ignored it. There was still a task to be done. She and Sweryn were about to jump down and head for their getaway cart before the sounds of struggle rang from the streets below. She looked at her partner, horrified.
“It sounds like they caught our friends.” She peered from the high vantage point and saw a cluster of dark elves toward the middle of town.
“Amilié,” Sweryn set himself in front of her, “take these goods and get out of here. I’ll get Dulor and Hura.”
“You told me to stay close to you. I can help you.”
“Just do as I say,” he commanded. “Wait for us.”
Amilié dipped her chin. “I’ll meet you there.” Then she sprang along the wall with the items intact.
***
Sweryn drew his weapons and traced the violent sounds to the central intersection of the town. From a distance he made out a handful of rebels flanking Hura and Dulor.
Sprinting, Sweryn threw himself into the quarrel and knocked the weapons out of a few rebels’ hands before cutting them down. Blood dripped onto the cobblestone, and none of it was his own.
“Decided to join us?” Dulor smirked at him, closing in by his leader’s side.
Hura grunted as she ripped her blades out from two unmoving corpses at her feet. “Ahhh!” Her scream rippled against the brick buildings as she rammed into her enemies, slit their throats, and drew a fresh pool of dark blood. Beside her, Dulor charged into his own group of rebels, slicing them, gutting them, and leaving their corpses on the ground.
There was a reason Amilié was not there. She did not like taking rebel lives, especially in such a violent fashion. But the only chance of the Blades succeeding now was to fight, and fight they did, until a pile of corpses marred the streets.
Exhausted and covered in blood, Sweryn turned to his comrades and pointed to the high wall. “Amilié is waiting for us.”
As they made their way out, the sound of more rebels swarming the streets filled their ears. Sweryn was not yet certain where they were all coming from, but he knew they would not stop replenishing their numbers so long as the Blades were about. He broke into a sprint, glancing back at Hura and Dulor. “Run!”
***
As Amilié ran along the wall toward her destination, she was intercepted by a single rebel who surprised her from behind and kicked her down, made her fall onto the cobblestone. Her items scattered upon the ground. She collapsed, the wind knocked out of her. Angrily, she pushed herself to her feet and drew her weapons. The rebel jumped down from atop the wall, landing without a flaw. The bottom half of his face was covered by a black cowl.
He made his next move, wielding a glimmering steel dagger as his sole weapon. He slashed at her with blind-siding attacks that Amilié struggled to block. Though his face was covered, Amilié knew that her opponent was young by the way he carried himself. His blade swished relentlessly from side to side before jabbing into her leather armor. The pricks of his dagger stung, and his dizzying movements annoyed her.
“All right, I’m done with this.” She rolled her eyes and used both of her blades to block his advance. The boy resisted, so Amilié replanted her feet and pushed harder against him. It was not her most favorite tactic, resorting to brute strength to overpower an opponent, but it was better than having to slice the rebel’s throat.
At last, the boy’s own hold broke and Amilié moved in, kicking him down just as he had kicked her. The heel of her boot pinned him at the neck. She loomed over him, her pale eyes flashing.
“A—” the boy gurgled. “A—am—”
She raised her leg to knock him out with a kick to his temple, but the boy pulled down his cowl, revealing a face that struck her memory. “I-- I didn’t know it was you.”
Amilié stopped, confused. “You know me?” She stayed frozen as the boy scurried to his feet. She scanned his blue eyes, his pointed chin.
“It’s me, Kal.”
“Kal?” she gasped. It had been ten years since she last saw his face. Back then it was the face of a child, and now he was grown.
Amilié glanced at their surroundings: the dank, run-down buildings, the water tower made of splintering wood. “What are you doing out here? It’s dangerous out here, you have to go. You have to go now before my allies find you!”
“I’m not afraid of the Blades of the Triple Eye,” Kal scoffed. “They live by a code, everyone knows that.” He scanned the iron crest on Amilié’s uniform, a crest with three eyes engraved on it. “Cador said you’d be showing up.”
“You don’t belong here, you’re just a boy. Do you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into?”
Kal looked at her with a pair of stone-cold eyes. “What other life is there?”
She wanted to talk with him, to convince him, but the sound of chaos echoing throughout the town was too great to ignore. Amilié turned to it, her eyes wetting as she listened.
“It’s not too late for you,” she said. “Get away from all of this while you still can. You don’t want to end up like me, Kal.” The boy took a step closer, reaching out to touch her, but Amilié shunned him away. “Just go.”
Kal hesitated for a long while before leaving Amilié to her own devices. She watched him run off, until he was swallowed by the shadows casting over the town. Amilié faced the central district, her chest aching with fear. Unable to help it, she sprinted back for Sweryn and the others.
She found the bodies scattered on the ground. Sweryn, Hura, and Dulor had faced an endless onslaught of rebels, and it made Amilié scowl. They were supposed to be escaping the rebels, not fighting them. Enemies kept falling to the Blades in horrendous, violent waves.
“No!” She threw herself in front of Sweryn. “No more, Sweryn!”
Sweryn cursed when he saw her shielding his enemies. “Amilié, I told you to get out!”
“And you told me this wouldn’t call for any bloodshed! Don’t start this war if you’re not willing to finish it.”
Behind her, the rebels grew complacent. Rather than fueling the fight, they inched backward as their leader came forth. The leader closed the space between him and the Blades of the Triple Eye. He raised his bow, pointed an arrow at Sweryn.
“We will defend this town to the last man if we have to,” he said.
“I do like that option,” Sweryn smirked, holding his long-blades steady.
Amilié’s pulse beat uncontrollably. She turned to the rebel leader, met his haunting blue eyes. “Cador, let them go unharmed. We won’t come back here again.”
Cador shifted his gaze to meet hers, still keeping his guard up. “I have your word on that?”
“Yes.”
Cador seemed to scan her, searching for a lie in her eyes. She may have been a coward in his presence, but she was not a liar.
Cador lowered his bow and spat at her, let his venom seep into his words. “If I see any of you Blades again, I will not hesitate.”
Sweryn stood down and put his weapons away. Growling, he turned and signaled his companions to follow. Dulor and Hura fell in step with him, leaving Cador and his rebels where they stood. Amilié could not bring herself to leave just yet. If this was her last time speaking to Cador, she wanted to make note of it.
“Thank you,” she said softly, trusting that the others would not hear.
Cador averted his eyes. “You should go with your...friends.” He started making his way toward a tavern, surrounded by a handful of survivors. “And stop exploiting the humans!” His voice bounced off the buildings, echoing in everyone’s ears.
It was Dulor who turned on him, sauntering forward with his teeth bared. “Exploiting humans? You vermin linger here, sucking the humans dry while we live on nothing, and you accuse us of exploiting them? You rebels are no better than we are!”
“Dulor.” Amilié’s eyes widened at her comrade, willed him to turn and keep walking.
“This is madness!” Dulor seethed, pointing at Cador. “You are the problem here; you are the disease. Sweryn should have ended you long ago!”
Amilié watched Dulor go from pacified Blade to radical assassin in the span of a few heartbeats. He ripped out his daggers and charged at Cador. The leader nocked an arrow and took aim but Dulor crashed into him with brute force, had him pinned before anyone could react.
Amilié heard Cador’s cry as Dulor went for the kill.
Her feet moved, her knives cut into Dulor’s back before she could process her own action. In that moment, raw instinct took over, whittled her down to the core of her being. She could hate Cador as a rebel leader, but she could not hate him as her brother. They had grown up together side by side, and the thought of letting someone cut him down…
Dulor wheezed, looked at the daggers that had pierced through his back and out the other side. Amilié met his eyes, a grim glare on her face. She yanked out her blades and Dulor choked on the blood seeping into his mouth before collapsing to the side.
Cador pushed him off, jumped to his feet. Hura ran over to Dulor and knelt at his side, covering his wound with her hands.
“How could you?” She gaped at Amilié. “He’s one of us.”
Amilié felt numb. Her blades clanged against the ground. There was nothing she could say to appease Hura, nothing to fill the void that ached in her chest.
In front of her, the rebels stirred. Cador shot Dulor in the neck to finish him off, and almost sent an arrow into Hura’s chest before she broke into a run.
“Cador!” Amilié pushed him backward, “Just leave!”
“Oh, that’s not happening,” he spat, pulling his bowstring back.
Turning, Amilié saw Sweryn running toward her. In a full panic, he grabbed Amilié by the arm and pulled her away. Hura was already taking the lead for their escape, carving their way out of the carnage and toward the wall.
Amilié was going into shock. She couldn’t feel herself anymore, couldn’t move by her own will. Sweryn guided her to the wall and started climbing. It wasn’t such a feat on a normal day, but at that moment it took all of Amilié’s strength, every last bit of her energy to follow him.
“Almost there.” Sweryn reached down to help her, but just as her foot reached for the landing, Cador loosed an arrow that went straight through her right shoulder.
“Ah!” The pain stung throughout her arm. Unable to keep her grip, she slid back down the wall.
“Amilié!” Sweryn shouted as she fell from his reach. Her figure hit the ground with a thud. She stared up at him, her vision blurring until he was nothing but a shadow.
***
Sweryn watched in horror as Cador gripped Amilié by the arm and dragged her along the stone. Sweryn was prepared to jump back down from the wall, but Hura kept a tight grip on his shoulder.
“She is lost, Sweryn; you cannot help that traitor.” She stared at him, as if waiting for him to come to his senses.
“Traitor? She is my betrothed!”
Hura jumped down to safety on the other side. “Just come on!”
“Urrg!” The anger in his chest tore through him. He had lost two Blades in a single night, a night that should not have ended in killing. But Hura was right: there was nothing to be done. There was no going back in there, not with Cador and the rest of his rebel army. It would be a suicide mission.
Coming to bitter terms with his loss, Sweryn landed on the outside and fell into step with Hura. They made for their getaway cart and retreated to the Ëolnir fortress empty-handed.
***
Cador held onto Amilié as he took her below the town streets. He placed her in a room laden with empty supply sacks and let her lay there, bleeding. From outside, he sealed the room and turned to his followers.
