"The Price of Mercy"

[Cryofax]

Fantastic web site. I love it. I also run a forum with a fiction area and just love the whole concept. Anyway, I'm going to jump in with both my newbie feet.

This is one of the first chapters in a fantasy book I am writing. I'm still struggling with a good book title, but at least have a name for the chapter.

BTW "Cryofax" is a large, rugged adventurer character. He gets a full treatment in chapter 1 so I admit he's a little "thin" here...

Any critique you wish to offer is welcome, grammar, content whatever you feel like commenting on will be highly appreciated.

"The Price of Mercy"

She stood before him, shivering in the rain as the last of the setting sun disappeared behind her... Her three bandit companions lay dead around their makeshift campsite which was set up in the middle of a clearing of trees.

The swiftness with which their lives were ended by the dark figure before her left her paralyzed with fear, the muscles in her arms unable to obey... The dagger fell from her hand and noiselessly stuck into the ground at her feet...

"Please..." she said, scarcely able to get the words from her quivering lips...

"Have mercy..."

The fresh blood of the other bandits was still dripping from the golden blade of Cryofax' two-handed sword... Much easier to simply kill this wretched bandit and get it over with he thought... He tightened his grip and took a step forward. A swift and painless beheading for this one...

"No, wait... there must be something..." the trembling figure before him blurted out...

She made a clumsy attempt to pull back her filthy matted hair and force a sweet smile as her bottom lip vibrated uncontrollably. The rain was coming down hard now, and masked the torrent of tears flowing down her cheeks... She reached out for his hand and glanced at the largest of the three tents that surrounded their burned-out campfire.

Cryofax hesitated... The rain had washed away some of the dirt from her face. The silver-haired girl was a Dark Elf.

High Elves were common in Ethuria, appearing as petite, often strikingly beautiful humans but with telltale long, pointed ears. They were highly sensitive to the natural world around them, and often made excellent spell-casters. Of course, such practices were “discouraged” since the Elvin homelands had fallen under Imperial rule.

Dark Elves were far less numerous than High Elves, and did not assimilate into Imperial society as readily as the other races of Ethuria. Despite submitting to Imperial rule, the Dark Elves of Duchantriel kept to themselves, and held tightly to the old ways and traditions.

Dark Elves were slightly smaller than their High Elf cousins, with skin that was a medium grey tone, and eyes that were reddish, varying from very bright to rusty brown. Their hair was most commonly white, but sometimes platinum in color. This Dark Elf girl’s eyes were light green, however, and her long, straight hair a light, almost metallic silver color.

From what Cryofax could see beneath her voluminous, ungroomed hair she was probably quite beautiful. Or at least had been at one time, before the career choice of a life as a robber had brought her to this unfortunate place... He could see now she was young, perhaps no more than the human equivalent of a teenager...

Cryofax snatched his hand away and spat at the girl's feet, sending her recoiling with a terrified gasp. Without a word, Cryofax turned away. He quickly collected everything of value from the camp, leaving the girl kneeling helplessly in the rain, with only the dagger before her and the clothes on her back.

The merciful thing to do would have been to end her existence there and then, not leave her to her own devices deep in the woods with little or no means of protection. She would surely be eaten alive by animals... Or worse...

Throwing his black cloak over his shoulder, Cryofax headed for his horse which was tied to a tree about one hundred feet away. He glanced back at the bandit girl. She wasn't sure she wouldn't still be killed until finally she could see the dark figure ride out of sight.

Her exhausted frame slunk to the ground and she sobbed. She had chosen to shame herself rather than die with honor... Looking over at the body of her young dead husband, she reached for her dagger again...

She placed the dagger at her bosom and looked skyward. Closing her eyes she began to work up the courage to end herself… but the courage never came. Instead, she was overcome with rage...

She tilted her head forward, sending her silver mane over her face. From beneath her torrents of hair her tear-swollen green eyes began to burn with the fires of hatred. She plunged the dagger into the ground at her side.

Silently, the girl swore to herself that one day the stranger that had humiliated her and killed the ones she loved would pay dearly...

As the sound of wolves grew nearer, she pulled out a pendant that hung down inside her tunic and clenched her hands around it at her chest. She closed her eyes and began to concentrate, slowly reciting words to herself in an ancient Elvin language she didn’t understand. As minutes passed, and the wolves came closer still, she began to fade from sight, leaving behind only her bare footprints in the rain-soaked ground, as they led away from the camp, and towards the only place she'd ever called home...