The Elven Archer

 The ice stung as it hit my face, the small frozen droplets feeling like needles as they were driven into my burning cheeks by the cold hard wind. Shivering, I pulled the cloak tighter around me in a vain attempt to keep warm as I plunged onward, deeper into the frozen wilderness. A tear trickled down my face, only to freeze as it passed over frigid nose. My knuckles stood out, white as the snow, as I gripped the worn leather handle on my yew bow. A second tear squeezed out of the corner of my eye as I blinked, soon to be joined by a third and a fourth. Soon I was weeping uncontrollably in grief, yet still I pressed on. I knew I couldn’t stop, as it was it was only a matter of time before the wraiths caught me. The same wraiths that had burned down my house, and killed my wife.

I had been out hunting, and had a large buck in view. Raising my bow, I took careful aim at the beast as I waited for a clear shot. Tracking the deer’s vitals while it walked behind a tree, I readied myself for the moment it would walk between two large pines, the only opening I would likely get, as the forest was very thickly wooded. It was a difficult shot, but I knew I could make it. As a Wood Elf I was required to practice with the longbow three days a week since I turned five. I was unnaturally skilled even for an elf, being born under the sign of the shadow. The deer made its way around the tree and stopped to nose at the ground. Its vitals still obscured by the tree, I aimed at the head. Just as I released the arrow, the deer raised its head, smelling something on the wind and the arrow only grazed the hair under the deer’s neck. I cursed and stood, watching the deer bound away, beautiful in it’s flight. I wondered what the deer had smelled, it couldn’t have been me, as the wind was blowing past the deer, towards me. Then I smelled it. Coming from directly ahead was the smell of smoke. I quickly ran toward it's source, a sense of dread rising in my heart, a nervous lump in my throat. Breaking from the line of trees, I gasped at the sight that confronted me. My cottage, so humble, yet my home and castle nonetheless, was in flames. Belching black smoke and flames it sat burning in the middle of the large clearing. I started to run desperately down the side of the hill toward the cottage but stopped dead in my tracks when I saw them. Wraiths. About twenty of the creatures were there, throwing balls of fire at the cottage. Three of the foul creatures were struggling with something that bucked and kicked. In horror I realized they were trying to subdue my wife, Kaariel! I saw a flash of silver as she drew the knife she always had in her tall boot and stabbed it deep into the chest of the largest wraith. The beast roared and pulled the knife out of his chest; he knocked her down to the ground and threw the blade to the side, where the snow exploded as it was vaporized by the half molten blade. Raising his fist above his head, he swung down at the defenseless elf’s head, breaking the arms so foolishly thrown up in self defense and crushing Kaariel’s skull. Standing frozen in the snow up to this point, I suddenly roared, nocking and firing an arrow in one smooth motion, Aiming for the beast who stood gloating. The arrow struck him in the center chest, where it burst into flames. Snapping the arrow off, apparently unhurt, the dark clad wraith’s burning eyes snapped to me on the hill. Roaring a command in some unknown language, he flung a bolt of fire at me, as the other wraiths stopped their pyromaniacal activities and started to throw fire at me as well. Barely dodging the first bolt, I rolled to the side and began to run back up the hill, more easily dodging the other balls of fire which were slower, having been thrown by the other, less powerful wraiths. Franticly I ran through the trees, fighting against a wild wind that had swept up; blowing snow across my vision. I ran and ran until I thought I had lost the monsters following me. Slowing my pace by a bit I kept running, knowing the wraiths must be close behind me. Not much was known of their mysterious race. In fact, none had been seen in this land for hundreds of years. Every few years a report drifted in of a lone wraith, escaped from the depths of hell, going on a short but wild rampage in some corner of the world, until it was banished by the wandering BattleMages; powerful magic wielding knights who had sworn an oath to protect the land. The last time anyone had seen an organized band of these hellspawn was over one thousand years ago, during the Great War. My heart grew cold as I wondered if the prophesy had been fulfilled and Azureus had broken the curse, and had returned. As I plunged deeper into the cold dark woods, the tears started. Gritting my teeth, I spat an oath, “I swear to repay the one who has done this… be he Azureus himself!”

The stormy night quickly swallowed the elf as he ran, on a new quest for vengeance.

Preface from, The Great War: A History (a book that sold surprisingly well, despite it’s rather generic title)“The head mages of all the land had met in secret and opened a portal to hell, and bound the wraiths to service, taking over the land. They nearly succeeded, and, but for one thing they would have. As the demonic hordes of the evil king Azureus marched on the last city still under human control, a group of lesser mages, trained in the use of the sword and bow, led by a nameless hero marched out, horribly outnumbered, to do battle. Due to a miraculous flood, and a stray arrow, the wraiths were wiped out, and the Mages of Chaos were destroyed. That day, the order of the BattleMage were created and a great period of peace began.”