SYLVAN ELF CHRONICLES. Christianne Van Keuren

      Chapter Three

      NALAS had gotten many of his troops ready to go at the same time Kaleen and the others left their pursuit of the murderous Grace. Final preparations were being made and a very small garrison of about twenty men were to be left behind to protect this hidden fortress. In Nalas’ mind they were expendable pawns, a small wall to shield his departure from the others. Just enough to slow someone down if they came in behind him. He and the remainder of the garrison would be leaving for his main fortress: Hecidia. Many of his ranking generals had gone ahead to get things set in place for his arrival. It would be good to get back to his home. The only thing holding Nalas back from leaving now was his waiting on the arrival of his servant, Tobias, with the female soldier. His mood worsened with each passing day as he waited. He took his frustrations out on those around him. Many seemed to sense his presence before he made it into a room making themselves scarce rather than incur his wrath.

      The only one who wasn’t afraid was the Wargi sorcerer. He kept a tight watch on Nalas’ movements as he had his own agenda for the future. A future that included the kitchen skivvy. The girl had caught his attention in a different way than Nalas’.

      For Nalas, she was an unwilling partner for his sexual relief of pent up energy and frustration; for the Wargi; she was a means to an end for his future. Capable of bearing Nalas’ progeny, whether she wanted to or not. He had to find a reason for Nalas to leave the girl behind so he could control her. A diversion was on its way, but he didn’t know it. What he didn’t know was the girl was using an herb so she wouldn’t get pregnant. She wasn’t stupid, she was not willing to bear his bastard child.

      Tobias had enjoyed a day and a half of peaceful rest. No fetching this, no scurrying to fetch that. What short time he had spent there had been miserable and the only way to make it tolerable was to try and anticipate what Nalas needed before he asked for it. A lot of the time he was able to do so, but on the occasions that he slipped up he knew about it in a rush and with a heavy backhand.

      Tobias missed teaching, and for all her mundane nagging, he missed his wife. All the bright spring sunshine still couldn’t lift the heavy hand of loneliness that darkened his spirit. He had to find some way of getting away from Nalas. Running now would end up in his death and probably his family as well. It would not be an easy death either. He had to bring the woman back and bide his time for now. He also knew that if the opportunity arose, he would kill Nalas before Nalas killed him. He knew Nalas would kill him when Tobias wore out his usefulness.

      Tobias was not a Lorkian, so he felt none of the obligations towards Nalas as the sons and daughters of their forefathers had. He also had no intention of letting Nalas know he wasn’t a Lorkian for it would surely mean instant death for him. Now after more than a century and at least five generations since their enslavement, some of the Lorkians were attempting to shed the bonds of forced slavery. Many were ready to remove the yoke of corruption and live their lives in peace. Bitter resentment rose each time one of their young men or women were forced to enlist in Molktie’s army for Nalas.

      Tobias had the unpleasant task of retrieving one of those forced into service. She felt none of the patriotism to Nalas’ cause but did as ordered, as she was a good soldier and respected her parents.

      Her contempt for Molktie ran deep for she knew of other soldiers who did not do as ordered and things happened. No one ever asked questions. No one dared.

      Her name was Mattea and she was an excellent soldier with well-honed skills, groomed for work that others had no stomach for. Her superiors considered her a natural in the position she held. She was the offspring from a long line of soldiers. Soldiers that had always put their lives on the line for Molktie and Nalas.

      She proved what an excellent soldier she was when, very pregnant, she had fulfilled a mission that could have spelled certain death for both she and her unborn child if she failed. She made a point of being better than others for her own survival.

      Mattea was no stunning beauty, nor was she ugly. Her features pleasant, but commonplace. If anyone saw her, they couldn’t really recall anything that remarkable enough about her to warrant their remembering. She blended in so well with those around her that many mistook her for a native of the village or town. Her ultimate goal was not to attract attention to herself. So far she had achieved her agenda. She would soon be putting all those skills to the ultimate test with Nalas. And not because she wished to.

      Mattea kept her dark hair cut so it fell just below her shoulders. Not long enough to impede when in military gear, but long enough when not, to be done up as any other village woman had hers. Mattea kept her well-muscled body in top physical condition, especially during her pregnancies. She could handle any piece of weaponry with ease and confidence, her best being small concealed weapons for assassination.

      Mattea’s most outstanding feature was what had gotten both her husband and Nalas’ attention. Her eyes. Eyes the color of a gray November sky that missed nothing and when angered the gray turned to cold steely-blue points. So cold that a stone flint had more warmth than those eyes. They never betrayed her inner thoughts when cornered or when she took a life. Her husband, Trevor and their children were the only ones to ever see the softness that was deep within her heart and allowed her to feel.

      There was a small scar, just under her chin, from when she was young and in training. Her lack of arm strength and skills at the time allowed her more experienced partner to slip his blade in under hers, catching her with the tip of his blade opening a shallow one inch gash, wounding her more mentally than physically. It accomplished many things, but the biggest and foremost was her self forced doubling of her training efforts to build her strength and stamina, sometimes to the point of exhaustion.

      Many nights she went to sleep too tired to even eat, then forcing herself to get up the next morning and start the whole process of the previous day all over again. Her dogged efforts did not go unnoticed by her superior’s. One such sergeant took over her hand to hand training for in fighting; and without his superior knowledge. The two honed her skills to become the ultimate assassin. She learned quickly and soon began to surpass her teacher.

      On the fields where she learned to deal in death was also where she would learn to give life as well. It was here that she met Trevor. It took him almost a year to get close enough to her to gain her trust and almost as long to get her to let her guard down. Finally after almost two years the two were married. Their first child, a boy, followed within the next year.

      It was during her second pregnancy that she proved herself with her deadliest mission as an assassin. Her commander had sent her under the pretext that no one would suspect a soft spoken, very pregnant woman selling her wares from a pushcart. He was correct. She managed to find and without a moment’s hesitation, slid an ultra-thin boning knife in her target’s sweetspot, puncturing an artery before walking calmly away. The target never knew what the stinging pinch in his back really was. The thin trickle of blood made no visible spot visible on his clothing as he walked away. The man suddenly felt lightheaded, staggering as if drunk before falling in a gutter to bleed out internally. His personal guards knew he had been drinking wine, so they didn’t suspect the attack at first; that is until they went to put his limp body onto a litter to carry him away. As the