Quarantined Night (2)

With his eyes closed, Theorad could see nothing. Yet he knew that he was moving.

His consciousness seemed to have slipped free of his body, becoming a foreign presence in the depths of the elf's mind. He fell through the darkness like a petal drifting from its branch.

Down and down, without end.

Theorad did not open his eyes. He waited for the strange descent to finish.

Tap.

His toes met solid ground.

Birdsong surrounded him. A cool breeze carried the rustle of leaves, and sunlight warmed his skin.

He opened his eyes.

“I don't understand.”

The voice was familiar.

An elf with bright silver hair and deep, ruby-red eyes sat beneath a magnificent tree, her lips pursed in irritation.

She wore a silk dress with wide sleeves and a carefully arranged skirt. Gold adorned her hair, while fine ornaments at her throat and wrists announced a rank far above that of an ordinary elf.

Theorad was so relieved to see her that he reached out without thinking.

She did not even turn her head.

Of course.

He was no more than a witness to her memory. To the elf seated before him, he might as well have been a ghost.

He looked around.

The tree's trunk was enormous. Ten grown men might not have been able to circle it with their arms outstretched, and its crown rose as high as a Mage Tower.

It appeared to be the World Tree revered by the elves.

Sitting upon one of its exposed roots, the elf continued her complaint.

“Why can't we simply stop sharing our learning and technology? Why must the answer be kill the humans? The Aglow and Jacqueline clans have gone too far. They act as though every problem must be settled by fire.”

“I understand why the Grand Master sees it that way.”

An old elf approached with a cane and sat beside her. His long years showed in his face, though his ears were as pointed as hers.

“But exterminating an entire species is not a decision made as lightly as choosing dinner. Those clans have seen much selfishness and malice from humankind.”

“I know humans enslave other peoples and destroy forests without thought. Both deserve condemnation. But wiping out all humans is absurd.”

“And why is that?”

“Some among our own people kill humans for amusement or torment them. Does that make every elf the same as those criminals?”

The old man stroked his chin.

“Of course not. A part cannot stand for the whole.”

“Then humans should be judged the same way—”

“There is a difference. Among humans, the wicked are much closer to the majority.”

She stared at him, unconvinced.

The elder continued.

“Grand Master, why do you think we stopped teaching them?”

“…Because they put our knowledge to terrible uses.”

“Precisely. We taught them to gather and use mana. We gave them ways to rise beyond their former limits and made their spellcasting more efficient. Our knowledge brought comfort and prosperity. What did they do with it?”

Humans had grown stronger. They could drive off monsters, hunt dangerous beasts and work their fields more easily. Blacksmiths produced far more tools, and farmers no longer had to leave land untilled for want of equipment.

But the old elf said that a long period of safety had bred arrogance.

Once people no longer feared death as they once had, the stronger began to believe they had the right to rule the weaker.

Wars followed. People killed their neighbors for a strip of land or a handful of coins.

“Whole regions were torn apart,” the elder said. “Fields of flowers became wastelands. Rivers carried blood and bodies. The cries of those who lost their loved ones echoed over hastily dug graves.”

He looked at her steadily.

“Can you still say that evil belongs to only a small number of them?”

“I cannot agree with you.”

“Have your history lessons taught you nothing?”

“Reading of something and witnessing it are not the same. How can I judge people I've never met?”

The elf rose from the tree root and stretched, then turned toward the elder with renewed purpose.

“I've decided. I want to leave the Great Forest and live among humans.”

The old man's eyes widened.

But her resolve did not waver.

“You've told me yourself: since I was born, the clans of the Great Forest have followed me. If they decide to wipe out humanity, that responsibility will fall upon me. I cannot command the destruction of a people I have never known.”

“Grand Master…”

“Don't worry. I've studied magic with the best teachers here. They all say there's nothing more they can teach me. I can protect myself.”

With her hands on her hips, she smiled proudly.

“As our elder and chieftain, please let me go. I want to meet humans, live among them and come to understand them for myself. Then I can tell the other clans that humans are not all wicked.”

The elder watched her for a long moment. At last he sighed and rose, leaning on his cane.

“What need have you of my permission? If that is what the Grand Master wishes, I will not stand in your way.”

Hiss—

The old elf scattered into dust.

Shadows swallowed the figure beneath the World Tree, and the birds fell silent. Trunk, branches and sunlight broke apart like fragments of an old picture.

Theorad stood bewildered as the memory disappeared.

Then a familiar voice rang out behind him.

“I'm back!”

He turned.

The elf was there again, but her silk gown and costly ornaments were gone. She wore the practical clothes of an adventurer. Even her hair and eye colors looked different.

It was nevertheless the elf whose memories he had entered.

“Oh, welcome back, Idra. Was today's quest difficult? I was just— Idra?”

The elf stopped inside a guild hall and stared.

Stair, the woman who led the guild and had shared five years of hardship and happiness with her, looked back with a grim expression.

“Is something wrong?” the elf asked. “You look terrible.”

“…Idra. You know how badly the guild is doing.”

Theorad understood that Idra was probably a name the elf had adopted while living among humans.

The elf gave an apologetic smile.

“I do. But if I work harder, things will improve. I'll take more commissions. We'll earn enough, you'll see—”

“I'm sorry,” Stair said. “Please forgive me.”

“Stair? What are you talking about?”

An uneasy chill entered her voice.

She stepped backward.

Bang!

A door flew open.

Two heavily built men in hoods entered the guild hall. Their eyes traveled over the elf, and they smiled.

“The rumors weren't exaggerated. She'd fetch a fine price.”

“Don't sell her cheaply,” the other said. “I know merchants with noble customers. We should talk to them first.”

“Nobles? Even better. Once she's sold, there'll be no going back.”

The elf stared at them, unable to make sense of what she was hearing. She backed toward the wall and looked desperately at Stair.

“S-Stair? Are you selling me for money? I'll work harder. I can take two commissions every day if you need me to—”

“I'm sorry. I've already signed the contract. You know my parents are ill.”

Tears gathered in the elf's eyes.

They had promised to be friends. How could Stair do this?

She cried out, but Stair turned her face away.

The men advanced.

“Don't resist. We don't want to damage the merchandise.”

“Who knows? A wealthy owner might treat you better than you have it now.”

Their greed frightened her. Talking would not change their minds.

She drew a wand from her clothing and held it out.

“Don't come any closer! If you lay a hand on me, I won't let you get away with it. I'm warning you!”

The men only snorted.

“Do you think we're fools? Why would we fear a mage without a guard?”

“Stop her mouth before she can finish an incantation. Or cut off a finger and make her scream.”

They drew hatchets from their belts.

The distance between them shrank. The elf's wand trembled in her hand.

Then, terrified and furious, she released her magic.

Crack!

A shock wave burst from the wand's tip and hurled the men across the room. They struck tables and chairs hard enough to shatter them.

When the noise stopped, the elf opened the eyes she had squeezed shut.

The men lay collapsed amid the wreckage, foam at their mouths. They were no longer coming toward her.

She drew a shuddering breath.

Then she turned back to Stair.

“…Stair?”

Stair was on the floor.

The shock wave had caught her as well. Blood spread beneath her head, which had struck the corner of a table. One eye was closed, the other partly open.

“Stair?”

No answer.

The elf knew instinctively what had happened.

The wand fell from her hand. She sank to her knees, a tear running down her face.

The first human life she had taken—

“Ah…”

—would become the first nightmare she carried with her for the rest of her life.