ELVESBANE (working reference title only, I know it's been used before)
by Tank Wilson

Prologue.

She was remarkably pretty. No, pretty wasn't the proper word to describe Lorilian a' Silvas. She was blessed with the nearly indescribable beauty that was characteristic of the elven race. She possessed a tall, lithe, graceful body that a professional dancer, or a performing acrobat would envy. High perfect cheekbones supported overlarge eyes of deep forest green, which created a face as striking for its alieness as for its breathtaking beauty. She had a mouth that smiled often and a voice that laughed musically. Her long green-gold hair was loosely braided and hung like a silken rope down her back to her waist. Her outfit was simple; a silk blouse, leather vest and breeches. She reveled in the warmth of the mid-spring day which foretold the promise of an early summer.

She sat with her back to a large tree, it's gnarled bark scuffing her vest, as she drank in the aromatic freshness of the morning air. Reaching over to a nearby bush, she plucked several juicy red berries from its branches and proceeded to tempt the nearby birds to her hand. Between her own mouthfuls, she giggled like a young girl as the timid birds overcame their fears and swooped down to steal the tasty prizes from her outstretched palm. She was becoming aware of the extra weight of her bag, so she slid it off her shoulder and set it down next to her. It had been a good day, and the sturdy little bag was nearly full with the various herbs and roots that had been the reason for her trip to this part of the wood in the first place. As first assistant to the clan's healer it was her task to make sure that the proper stores of natural medicines were kept up. It was a task she took most seriously.

"Well what do we have here? And such a pretty one too."

Lorilian jumped up in startled surprise, the birds scattering, as she confronted three strange human men who had suddenly appeared from the heavy brush off to one side. Her attention had been focused on her little feathered friends and so she hadn't heard them approach.

They were an unwashed and unkempt lot, but they wore the uniforms of church soldiers. She tried to control her too rapid beating heart as she let a hesitant smile part her lips.

"A pleasant morning to you, sirs. I see you have strayed far from the normal pathways. Are you, perhaps, lost?"

Lorilian didn't like the look on their faces and couldn't help feeling like some sort of cornered, wild animal. She fought down the urge to just turn and flee. After all, these men may smell awful, but they were soldiers of the human's church and not some desperate band of roving bandits. They must be men of honor and character if they were employed by the human priesthood.

The largest of the three took a few steps toward her, then took his cap from his head, holding it in front of him in a manner that appeared respectful, yet seemed somehow not. He was quite a bit shorter than she but he possessed a more than ample girth which sorely tested the lacings of his tunic. He nodded his head toward her and smiled, revealing several gaps were teeth should have been, and an odorous breath which nearly made her gag. His two companions mirrored his smile and his dental shortcomings.

"Lost is it?" He shook his head. "No, I think not milady." His tone was soft, yet mocking in its false courtesy. "We know exactly where we were headed, and exactly what we were to do once we got here." He paused long enough to run his dirty fingers through his greasy hair. "And if I read your pretty neck ring right," her hand went reflexively to the simple silver circlet about her throat. It was a gift from her father, and it signified her position as a clan elder's daughter, and heir. "We've done much better than we could ever have hoped for."

Her fear exploded into action as she turned and ran, not waiting to see if he had anything more to say. She could hear them pounding after her while low hanging branches took random swipes at her as she sped past them. A small rational corner of her mind told her that she should be able to easily outrun these short, out of shape, human brutes. Unfortunately her panic, and fear of the ugly humans, tended to interfere, and she seemed to suffer from a shortness of breath and an unnatural clumsiness. She could hear their grunts and curses as they crashed through the greenery behind her, but they didn't seem to be gaining. Her rational mind was beginning to assert itself and she was beginning to think that she would soon out distance the trio. Of course, that's when the hidden tree root proved her undoing.

She tumbled headlong as her ankle twisted under her after striking the hidden root. She landed hard, causing her breath to escape in a terrified whoosh. She struggled quickly to her feet, but when she tried to put her weight on her injured ankle she collapsed with a cry. She tried to crawl off and hide in a tangle of heavy underbrush, but that proved futile. The humans finally bore down on her within a few moments. She was yanked roughly to her feet, then pushed painfully to her knees by the two companions. They each held an arm tightly. The third fellow came huffing and puffing into view a few seconds later.

"Well, milady," he gasped between labored breaths, but the word still rolled off his tongue like a curse. "You gave us quite a chase, but the chase is over and you have lost the race."

He pulled a large curved dagger from a well worn leather belt sheath. Lorilian's eyes went wide at the sight of it. He laughed.

"No, you'll not be dying this day, milady, but after his holiness has had his due with you I've a feeling that you'll be wishing you had."

He walked behind her and with his free hand grabbed the long braid of her hair. Using quick, savage strokes, he sawed through the silken strands with the razor sharp dagger. The braid parted easily under the assault. A single tear escaped to slide forlornly down her perfect cheek but Lorilian refused to cry out.

"We'll just leave this little gift as a message for her kinfolk."

With that he flipped the green-gold braid over a low hanging branch. Laughing, he turned away from her and started back the way they had come.

"Bring her."