An Assassin for the Elves by Lucia J
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An Assassin for the Elves By Lucia J. Floan As he gazed at the frail limb, limp in the grass, his anger boiled. Aias had been crippled his entire life, forced to watch as his brothers wielded swords and aimed bows carved from the White Tree. He never had, and never would, unless… no, no chance, no way. You’re too weak, too afraid. The whispering Voice seeped through his mind. Leave me alone. A quiet, never. He crammed that sound into the back of his head with a furious shove, misery surging upward. How many times had it accused him of what he’d known. Every day it grew louder, more commanding. He could hear It’s tone, laughing accusations. Each time it spoke, the past trickled through a mental barrier. Life had been simple. Innocent in the mind of a young boy. Simple... until then. His mother’s death. The day when truth finally emerged for the first time. The truth that the world was dark, corrupted. The truth that his childhood had been a lie. Twisted into a perfect world. The truth... that the voice had whispered. A tiny thought slid into his mind. Maybe It was right. He did happen to be a prince, secretly skilled with a bow, and hardly ever noticed. Maybe he could prove himself. The absurdity of the thought caused him to shake his head. No. Yes. Impossible. The instant rebellion of the word made Aias breath in sharply. You could at least try. A second voice caused him to look up, ignoring the gnawing thoughts. “Your Highness,” A tall elf, his tunic bearing the emblem of a patron, looked down at him, “the King would like you to converse in the convocation of the royals and elders.” Aias nearly laughed at the pompous drawl. “He wants me to be there?” The patron’s smile disappeared, “You’re supposed to be there.” Ignoring the disdainful tone, Aias stood and, without another word, limped to the hall with the help of his curled, silver pole. “My son!” the King called out, so obvious that everyone turned to gaze at the entering prince. Aias brushed off the greeting and slumped into his seat. Why was he, of all the princes, here? It wasn’t like they always needed him. Besides, it was unusual to have a meeting at this time of day. He tried to sort out his thoughts, hardly acknowledging the conference. Everyone around him seemed intent on discussing the neighboring elves. Then, a single word: assassination. Aias jerked to attention and watched his father pace the room. Had he heard it right? Assassination? This could be your chance. He flinched, trying to push away the eerie sound. Go away. But I can’t, it laughed, you made me. I'm. In. Your. Head. It felt like a knife slicing through his skull. Stifling a cry, he ground his teeth and stuffed that voice into an isolated, locked box.. No one had noticed, thankfully. The elves were watching the King’s every move and listening to every sound uttered from his lips. They always did, but Aias’ interest had been drawn with one single word. As he listened further, his attention was seized completely. “They’ve crossed through the boundary.” Murmurs entwined the room. “The sighting was from the east.” More whispers, a few harsh oaths. “The one witness said… that they wore silver cloaks.” The room erupted. Aias was well acquainted with the sworn oath. The oath that had pushed their sworn enemies, the Silvern Elves, from the boundary. The oath that spoke to terminate. He was silent; he knew it was coming. Your chance… The voice sounded so sure, so tempting. You could do it. You could prove yourself. Kill them. He tried to shake it off, but it haunted him. Maybe. Yesssssss, you could. Prove yourself. Show them you’re not a weakling. His stomach churned, and he felt sick. No, he couldn't. You could. He tore his attention back to his father, breath sharp. “They are making their way farther into Elvinia.” Aias ignored the harsh words that circled around him. “It will mean assassination.” There it was again. The simple word, pressing him. Forcing him… “I’ll do it!” Aias was stunned to hear his own voice. No cheers, no hurrahs. Only laughter. Simple, evil laughter. “Just a boy!” cried one. “He has his studies!” Another elderly elf yelled out. “Studies? He’s crippled.” All the sounds blurred, and despairing pain crept up around him. They all think you’re a feeble, crippled, good-for-nothing, little boy. That’s how they see you. Do you want that? Aias tried to ignore the pressing fury. Stop. It laughed its cruel, heartless laugh. You will, eventually. Then, silence. Aias heaved a sigh of relief, only to find himself amongst hundreds of eyes. All staring. Right. At. Him. He could feel color in his face drain away. “Son,” the King approached him, eyes flickering with the sheer absurdity Aias had expected, “you want to assassinate?” Aias's voice caught in his throat, “Yes, Your Majesty.” The King laughed. “No need to call me ‘Your Majesty,’ son, but, please, you must be joking.” Aias struggled to answer. “No… Father.” The King’s smile dissipated. “Never.” More laughs swirled around the room. Aias hung his head. “You are crippled, son. Incapable of doing… much. Not you, but your brother, Eroan, will take on the challenge, along with any other... except you.” Every word stung. His thoughts were blank with anger. Without another word, Aias stood and left the hall, humiliation pummeling his every move. I told you. The voice was back. This time, Aias didn’t fight it. They think you’re weak, but, now, I see you’re ready to cooperate. No, I’m not ready to cooperate. Aias hissed the next words aloud, “I’m ready to be an assassin.” The door swung closed. Aias was left in the shadows. Turning to his wall, he ran his hand across the polished surface until, click, the barrier gave way to black. Familiar with the darkness, Aias thrust his hand through, grasping around a familiar, smooth wood, and pulled it out. Before him, the hours of hurt and despair shaped itself into a plain, wooden bow. Every hour he’d spent making it, every second he’d shaped its form, seemed far away. When he’d been ten, his father had agreed to give him a long knife for “protection.” That knife had shaped this weapon before him. That knife... was built to kill. And that’s why he needed them, both of them. Someone’s coming. He shoved the wall back into place and slid the bow into a clasp behind him, covered by his cloak. The voice was always there. It had taken control. Not total control, more like a distant— “Brother!” The door swung open, revealing Eroan and two others. Aias forced a smile, but the memory from just hours ago had resurfaced. He gritted his teeth and managed to turn his back away from them. Eroan stepped in, followed by another brother, another prince, Lyaris. Aias stepped up to the wall, pressing the bow firmly against it. Leave. They don’t hear you, the voice scrutinized, you’ve grown so accustomed to talking to me, you… An eerie chortle. Be quiet. The princes smiled at their younger brother. “We had wanted to say farewell before we left.” Aias nodded, but remained silent. Lyaris looked down. “We’re bringing your other brothers.” Aias could feel his face heat up. “Which ones?” “All of them… besides us.” He steeled his expression, balancing precariously on his single sturdy leg. “Just wanted to tell you…” Eroan trailed off. Aias’s answer was hard. “Thanks.” “I…” Eroan trailed off, “I’m sorry you couldn’t come.” He reached out, placing his hand on Aias’ shoulder. “You know Father’s right.” Aias felt fury building up inside him. “We are sorry, Aias.” Aias glared at them, straight in the eyes, rage swimming through his mind. “Then vouch for me. Help me convince our father.” He paused, waiting for an answer. Thick silence. “I’m sorry…” “No. You’re not.” “We are, truly, Aias—” “Get out.” “Please—” “Get out!” Aias shouted, swinging his arm to the side, sending a silver, luminescence orb shattering to the floor. Lyaris backed up. Eroan looked worried. “Aias—” “Leave!” he screamed, slamming the door in their wake and crumpling to the floor. Why… Even your family thinks you're feeble, incapable of doing… “much.” Aias recognized the laugh, evil in its own reassuring way. They don’t… They do. I can’t— Aias’ mind protested. You will. Not now... Even his consciousness sounded weary. Tonight. Aias stood, retrieved his bow, and examined it for damage. It was untouched and ready. From the edge of the forest, Aias watched the horses gallop into the woods, framed by their silver surroundings. The assassins, who had trained day and night for this day, bent low to the horses’ necks. In moments, they were gone. Aias’ hood shadowed his face, casting his vision into grey. The crowd of elves cheered from the white courtyard as the warriors disappeared. The King smiled proudly from an overhanging balcony, draped with golden flowers. Aias was disgusted. As the sun plunged lower in the sky, Aias stood waiting, motionless, castle’s shadow slipping over his boots. The area was deserted. Only Aias and It were left. We need to go now. Yesssssss, but you need a horse.