Rune of Lazarus (eBook)

Chapter 1

The Elf Hunt

Clotilda held her balance as she slid down the slope. Pebbles crackled and parted from the toes of her pink boots like a wave of water as she slid gracefully down it as if skiing. She giggled as she held her wooden sword in her outstretched arm and hugged her elf doll, Anstice, close to her chest as she pretended to charge into an imaginary battle.

Her descent gradually slowed to a stop as the ground leveled and opened to a large rock outcrop, and a cliff stretched out before her, with their jagged edges and craggy surfaces that were weathered by the elements over time. The towering trees of the surrounding forest were colossal, like castle towers, with their leaves rustling gently in the morning breeze like banners. The air was fresh, with the scent of pine needles and damp earth filling her senses, and the melodic chorus of birds and fairies graced her hearing in a soothing ambiance. She had never ventured this far in the forest before but was glad she did. This area was beautiful, with pure tranquility that would allow her to play for a while before she had to return to her village for lunch.

As she admired the natural beauty around her, her fiery, orange irises, framed by her soft bangs, locked onto something nestled on the slope’s edge. The elf girl narrowed her eyes to see what looked to be a cave. But there was something inside it that ignited her curiosity like a sunrise.

Clotilda walked on the tips of her toes as she crept toward it, seeing a small firepit with faintly glowing embers at the cave entrance. Her fairy wing–shaped, pointed ears perked, and she became alert as the rays of sunlight basked over a dark figure lying against the stone wall of the cave.

Studying the broad shoulders, the muscular arms folded across his firm, strong chest, and the fairy wing–shaped, pointed ears poking out of holes in the fabric of the black hood, she could tell that he was an adult elf. Unfortunately, the upper half of his face was completely hidden under the hood, so she couldn’t tell which elven species he was. He physically looked to be in his mid or late twenties by the looks of the youthful contour of his jawline and lips, but due to elves having eternal youth and beauty, it wasn’t easy for her to know how old he was.

Clotilda wondered why he was out here on his own. The forest of Mysomatarian was beautiful during the day, but after ten years of living in the village of Cygnus, which is surrounded by these woods, she knew how dangerous it was during the night. Her Lazarus elf father, Cadmar, and Airavata elf mother, Bathilda, cautioned her whenever she played alone in the forest. They warned her not to wander too far or go out at night. But there was one warning they were strongly stern about. “Beware of the lions that stalk prey in the forest’s shadows.” Clotilda always found it odd that her parents told her to stay away from an animal she usually wouldn’t see in a forest. But she obeyed them, and whenever she went out, she kept her eyes open for a giant cat that wore a majestic crown of golden fur.

Standing a few feet from the cave, Clotilda silently stared at the sleeping elf. Where did he come from? Who is he? As she wondered, she tucked the loose strands of her hip-length, rose-gold hair behind her ears.

Clotilda was hesitant to disturb his peaceful slumber. She took a step back, her movements slow and measured so as not to make any noise. She lifted her feet carefully, avoiding any rocks or fallen branches that might make a loud sound to wake him. The forest was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the songs of the winged singers in the distant treetops. Clotilda paused every few seconds, listening intently for any signs that she had made a sound. Her eyes never left the sleeping figure in front of her, watching for any movement that might indicate he was waking up. When she was sure that she had retreated far enough, she turned to the slope from which she came, ready to run up it to make her way home, when she heard something that made her pause.

Clotilda heard footsteps and tumbling rocks coming from the nearby rock outcrop, and she quickly turned her head toward the direction of the noise. She wasn’t sure who or what was approaching, so she ran toward a thick cluster of bushes growing along the cave like a garland. Once she got there, she hid behind the leaves and branches and lowered them to see who was approaching.

A group of teal-skinned, purple-haired elves wearing gray cloaks descended the narrow path of the outcrop.

“Seax elves? What are they doing here?” she whispered to herself.

The male leader of the group, wearing a thick pair of deep red gloves, held out his right hand to silently signal his followers to stop in their tracks. He slowly kneeled on one knee, carefully examining the ground beneath him. After studying the terrain briefly, he stood up and looked back at his group. With a commanding presence, he addressed them with a firm voice, conveying his observations.

“He’s here,” he whispered as he pointed toward the cave.

Silently, like a cougar stalking prey, the leader crept toward the sleeping elf. His right hand’s golden weapon hand chain glowed as magic arose, and he summoned a long sword. Panic bloomed in Clotilda’s chest as fear took her! Her mother and father had always warned her about these menacing assassins. From the look of their scorpion-designed armor, adorned with scarlet plating like blood stains, they were from the Graffias clan, one of the most dangerous and notorious groups of elven killers.

Clotilda trembled. She didn’t know why the Graffias Assassins wanted to kill the hooded elf, but she couldn’t stand back and watch him get murdered! She had to do something!

Her eyes swiftly scanned around for something she could use as a weapon. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a weapon hand chain and wasn’t allowed one until she turned eleven, as part of the elven tradition. She only had her doll, a wooden sword, a purple-and-pink beaded choker necklace, and two matching bracelets she had made. She had nothing to help him! Then, her gaze fell upon the bracelets once more.

Making do with what she had and knowing that she could always make new beaded bracelets later, Clotilda ripped the bracelet off her right wrist! She bit into the sweet pea vine of the jewelry, pooled the beads into her palm, and tied the ends around the tips of her index and middle fingers of her left hand. The leader neared the slumbering elf, and the sword blade gleamed in the sunlight as he readied his weapon for the kill. The frightened ten-year-old girl slipped one of the pink beads in front of the vine of the broken bracelet and pulled it back like a slingshot. She fought to steel her trembling arms, and her ears rang with the drumming of her racing pulse as she aimed at the sleeping elf, preparing to fire.

“Please . . . wake up! Wake up!” she whispered a prayer before releasing her hold on the bead.

The sweet pea vine rebounded as it launched the bead through the air. The bead charted through the air like a comet, hitting the sleeping elf on his left cheek, causing him to grunt and hunch his shoulders as he stirred from his deep slumber. Clotilda watched as he awoke, seeing him catch the falling bead she had fired with his gloved hand. She nearly screamed to warn him of the assassin, but her words got caught in her throat as he jerked his head up to see the blade nearing his neck. He snarled, baring his sharp fangs, before the lion-shaped cobalt gem of his silver hand chain, looping around his middle finger like a lion’s claw, glowed as blue magic ribboned from it to form a large sword.

The air shrieked as the two blades clashed. Despite him sitting down, Clotilda could see that the hooded elf held back his attacker with one arm and defended himself with strength she had never seen before.

“Kill him now!” the leader ordered his followers.

Heeding their leader’s command, the assassins summoned swords from their hand chains and charged after him. The hooded elf dug the heels of his boots into the ground and kicked himself back, using his powers as an elf to melt through the stone wall of the cave as if he were enveloped in water.

“You won’t escape from us this time, you filth!” the leader snarled as he and his comrades ran through the cave wall after him.

Clotilda quickly stood up and used her powers to run through the cave wall. She poked halfway out through the other side of the stone wall and looked out to see the group of assassins and the hooded elf facing each other.

Clotilda had never seen an elf grow as tall as the hooded warrior. Comparing his height, she guessed that he was around seven feet. His reversible cape was the color of blackberries and had a hidden color of blue inside that framed his muscular body.

He clenched his hood tightly over his face with his free hand as he stood his ground, waiting for the attackers to make the first move. The Graffias group banished their swords into their hand chains, summoned bows from them, and fired arrows at him. He sliced through the approaching arrows with his sword before turning on his heels and sprinting away with the...