Not everything is Dark and Light

The Final Confrontation (part 2)

Vuren sat on the marble stairs as night fell.

He played with his sword in his hands letting the pummel spin back and forth and he twisted it in his palms. In the silence he could hear the approaching steps of horses and the rowdy cries of light elves desperate to get their hands on him. He continued sitting though as they approached ready and waiting for their arrival.

Two men pushed open the doors. The one on the left a skinny rat looking elf with a face heavily scarred from chicken pox while the other was the elder elf Vuren had seen in Smitloft. They were flanked by multiple elves who all charged in weapons drawn. They scattered around the front room in a mad dash none of them following any kind of military strategy. Most stopped as they saw Vuren but one elf got to the base of the stairs before a loud bellow stopped him.

“Stop!” Jult’s usual calm voice replaced with a shriek as his anger at his subordinate became all too clear to see. “He is too be left to me.”

The light elf was clearly angry with the decision and stood at the bottom of the stairs seething with rage. His sword was gripped tightly in his hand and Vuren could see the whites of his knuckles at the tension it his hand became almost too hard.

Jult approached the young man slowly and put an arm around his shoulders. Jult began whispering something in the elf’s ear which Vuren was not privy too but he felt like he did not want to be. The light elf was clearly calmed by Jult’s words as within a mere matter of seconds his shoulders dropped, the tension in his hand subsided and before long he walked off to join the rest of his disorganised mob.

“Vuren.” Jult started in a warm and inviting tone greeting him with open arms and a friendly smile. Vuren tried to hide his distain for the man but could not muster up enough strength and let slip a glare of hate. Jult picked up on this but ignored it and continued on with his premade speech.

“Now you called us here Vuren. You wanted us here. I hope to hand Nifeerein over to us as you have seen reason but knowing how stubborn you are it is likely not that. Correct?”

“Correct.” Vuren growled as he stood up ceasing to twist his sword and keeping it firmly held in his hand ready in case of any unforeseen light elf attack.

“Then where is she?” Jult asked as he looked around for Nifeerein is as sarcastic a manner as his heightened ego would allow. He did not want to come across as too aggressive or childish to his follower. He wished to keep his status with them.

Vuren declined to answer Jult as he just continued to stare him down while he backed up the stairs.

“Where are you going Vuren? I know you will have some kind of tricks around here but you cannot expect to kill all of us and walk free can you?” Jult states this as he flowed Vuren up the marble stairs. He kept his hands away from his sword which was still sheathed around his belt. He was not making it obvious to his troops but Vuren could tell that he was doing it as a jest to Vuren, that he was mocking him by showing him how he did not need to draw his weapon to beat him.

“I don’t.” Vuren said solemnly. “But it won’t stop me from trying.”

When Vuren finished his statement he drew one of the flames from the candles burning on the candelabra towards him. He then in quickly changed the flames course and made it fly towards a pack of light elves standing about near the front door. They all moved out of the way of the easily avoidable attack but only after realised the attack was not meant for them.

“MOVE!” Jult bellowed but it was too late as the flames had already hit the bomb that sat just to the left of the doorway.

The front wall erupted into a magnificent flame that near blinded Jult as it burst to life. Multiple lights elves nearby were hurled backwards by the force of the explosion while more still ran in disparate directions in a mad dash to save themselves from the flames.

Jult looked on from above as the flames rapidly took over the front wall and reached out trying to cling to his followers. Several had already been taken by them and were flailing around wildly on the floor screaming in pain while others were running about the room in a futile attempt to make the fire go away.

Jult turned to look at Vuren who was already running off down the corridor. He darted into one room out of sight and Jult thought better of following him. He could see the thought process behind Vuren’s bomb. Separate the group, pick them off one by one till they were all dead.

Jult charged down the stairs determined to not let it happen. He looked around for anyone still alive, anyone that could help. Him.

“Boss…” a croaked voice called from beneath him. Jult looked down to see the heavily scarred hand of one of his followers. He did not know the boys name. He was one of their more recent recruits and he had not had time to learn all their names. Even if he had of known the boys name it would not have mattered as he was so heavily scarred he as unrecognisable.

Jult knelt down and held to child’s scarred had. The white skin they shared was now a charcoaled black and his skin had peeled back at points where the muscles had burst through from their cooking.

“It’s OK son.” Jult told the child as he cradled him in his arms. “It’s OK.”

Jult reached down to his boot with one hand and pulled a knife out. He knew the boy would not survive. His entire body was rot with burns of the first, second and third degree calibre. He was to either die slowly and painfully or quickly and Jult would be damned if any of his men were to die in pain.

“It’s OK son.” He whispered one more time before he quickly slit the boy’s throat. He ensured it was quick, done directly over the jugular. The boy croaked once again and grabbed at Jult’s and squeezing it gently. Jult darned not look the child in the eye as he was unsure if he would see it as mercy. Maybe the boy believed he could be saved. Maybe the boy believed he could be brought back with magic or some cure all potion. Maybe the boy believed he had a fighting chance but Jult knew he did not. He had seen what Vuren and fire could do and knew that no one was surviving the damage he had suffered.

As the child’s grip slowly softened in his arm Jult looked up to see a sorry looking light elf watching him. The light elf did not say anything instead silently bowing his head in respect.

“Come Hiromu. Gather the others and let us avenge the fallen by killing that witch. 

*

Nifeerein heard the explosion and covered her ears in dread.

Then she heard the screams.

The screams of the burning and the afraid. The screams of the young and the old. The screams of people just trying to outrun the flame.

They reminded her of Smitloft and the other village. They reminded her of the villagers that screamed for their lives. They reminded her of the pain they suffered.

She wanted to feel happy that the people who had killed others were now suffering but as she listened to their screams she quivered in fear at them. The screams she heard were of people too.

They were all people.

*

Vuren darted out from the shadows to stab another scared Order of Ditum member in the neck. The woman he stabbed went down without a sound apart from the impact her knees made when she hit the rotten wood below.

Vuren scanned the area and noticed no one around so quickly inspected the light elf’s equipment to see what he was up against. He scoffed rondel dagger she held as he inspected her wears making him chuckle as his assumption was that either the light elves got to chose their own weapons or believed him to be in full plate armour and he could not decide which was stupider.

He did not have long to inspect her however as Vuren heard more footsteps approaching so he quickly darted away back to the shadows before he could be seen.

The light elf that approached was accompanied by two others so Vuren thoughts twice about engaging with him and instead clambered up the broken wall silently to investigate the upper rooms for any separated light elf.

Scurrying up the broken wall silently he was amazed that he was not heard by the other light elves but as he listened to their loud conversation he understood why. Pulling himself up he could heard them through the floor and knew none of them had any training as otherwise they would know to keep their volume down.

Looking around the bedroom he found himself in Vuren saw no other light elf and pulled himself fully up through the large gap in the floor caused by the fireplace having sunk and collapsed. Vuren rolled over and stealthily made his way to his feet. In the approaching darkness there was just enough light to make everything out and nothing more so Vuren did not light a torch but he could see others had and was looking for the tell-tale signs of light through the cracks underneath the doors or through ones in the wall.

Vuren continued his hunt, stalking through the shadows picking off the light elves one by one just praying it was enough but he did not see hat Jult was pulling off downstairs.

*

“He wants us separated.” Jult begins as a line of followers stand before him. Some were lucky enough to avoid the flames while others show visible signs of scarring. Their clothes melted; their skin burnt. The fire still burnt in the background creating a terrifyingly intense but also oddly poetic and beautiful scene for Jult’s speech.

“Individually we are weak.” He illustrated this by holding up his index finger as his followers watch on. “Me, on my own. I am weak.”

“Hiromu, on his own, is weak.” He continued and hold up his middle finger on the same hand making sure to keep them separate.

“Faith, on her own, is weak.” He continued by raising his ring finger.

“Talwyn, on her own, is weak.” He raised his pinkie.

“But together.” he closed his hand to make a fist. “Together we are strong.”

*

Jult’s speech had worked and a legion of light elves stalked the halls all of them checking every corner twice and bunching up closely to one another ensuring any gap was accounted for.

Jult walked with his group keeping his head on a swivel yet knowing deep down Vuren would not attack now. He was too smart to attack a group of this size head on. There was at least ten of them in the pack Jult travelled with as they covered the upper floor while a second group of twelve was stalking the lower level.

“Check that room.” Jult commanded as his colleagues opened up another door finding nothing but darkness, mould and the smell rotting plant matter. The smell was not as bad as Jult expected it to be and was in a weird way pleasant to him as it reminded him of the days camping in the forests near the School of the Minotaur with Vuren while they learned to survive. The memory was fleeting however as Jult screwed his head back on and continued his search.

He did not desire to do this. He did not enjoy the life he had chosen to walk. He did not want anyone to die. All Jult wanted was for his people to be safe and he saw the dark elves as enemies, an afront to the light elves safety. He viewed them all as scum. For years they were the villains. For years he was told to hate and fear them but then suddenly he was told accept them and allow them in. He questioned his kings decision. He questioned everything. Dark elves had destroyed everything he had and murdered everyone he had held dear but after all those years of hate he was supposed to just give it up and let them into his life. Jult thought different. He thought that centuries of conflict meant something. He thought that years of fighting should be continued as no species, especially one as vile as the dark elves, could change overnight. He was a man blinded by hatred, an understandable hatred but hatred all the same.

As a Order of Ditum member opened up another door Jult listened carefully and heard the faint pitter patter of shuffling feet. There footsteps were not of his men but of someone trying and failing to be stealthy.

Jult let his members continue the search as he drifted backwards silently trying to listen to the muffled footsteps. He followed them to what seemed to be the main hall something which he was sceptical to do as he did not want to go against his earlier words but felt compelled to do anyway.

As he continued down the corridor one of his followers noticed him. The older light elf which the scar of the Order of Ditum heavily imprinted in his forehead silently followed his leader. He did not distract him but followed him instinctively. He believed in his leader. He believed in the Order of Ditum.

Jult noticed this and turned to the man. He signalled to him to quieten down with a few hushed movements of his arm as he clutch his sword tighter. He was appreciative of the help but did not want to jeopardise Vuren discovering him.

It did not matter that he had help though as the second Vuren saw him Jult knew it was end. The flames transformed around him and morphed into a living nightmare. It was Jult’s death. It was his end.

*

Vuren continued to sneak through the chateau desperately trying to get back to Nifeerein. The first phase of his plan had worked out perfectly with half of the Order of Ditum forces being wiped out. The mopping up section had been less than stellar though with only a handful elves being wiped out before Jult had unified them once again.

Vuren snuck through the shadows. The fortunate part of all the elves clumping up was that Vuren could hear them. He knew he could avoid them. The real danger was once Nifeerein was with him they would become all the more obvious. He needed to be cautious about his next move but he needed to get Nifeerein out of the mansion and fast. It was becoming too dangerous for her to remain in hiding.

*

Nifeerein cowered in her hiding spot as she listened carefully to the shuffling and shambling of the floorboards above her. She gulped down a large wad of spit and tried to stay as silent as possible but she could hear her own shudders.

Her hiding spot of a damaged cupboard shoved in the back of a servants bedroom in the bottom right-hand corner of the mansion was uncomfortable to say the least. She was a woman used to a certain type of luxury. She was used to silk sheets and velvet. To large spaces and a warm bed. To being pampered and cared for. She was not used to being shoved into a cramped space unceremoniously. She did not enjoy it one bit yet she weirdly enjoyed that Vuren took charge. She had always been the one people had looked to for decisions so when that power was taken from her it was a weight off her shoulders.

The creaks got louder as more and more light elves were heard overhead. Nifeerein squeezed her legs into her chest and let out a short gasp of breath. She knew they were not on the same floor as her but fear took over. She was afraid they would collapse through the water damaged floor and discover her. She was afraid the steps above her was masking some steps on her floor. She was afraid that Vuren had been overpowered by the light elves and she was now just waiting on her death.

The doors then swung open and Nifeerein let off an involuntary wail. A pair of rough hands quickly covered her mouth. They were coarse and covered in a damp thick liquid. Nifeerein quickly realised it was blood and her screams became louder. The pair of hands pressed into her more though and the body they were connected to leaned in.

Nifeerein could not make out the face in the darkness but feared the worse. She tried to bite down on one of the fingers of her uninvited guest. The middle, the largest one closeted to her incisors, was her target. She opened her mouth widely ensuring she had the finger in her bite radius and tried to chomp down.

“It’s me.” a familiar voice whispers scathing.

Nifeerein stopped her bite immediately as Vuren’s scarred face came into view.

“Oh Allgod, I’m so sorry.” Nifeerein apologised as she pushed Vuren’s hand from her and tried to draw him in for a hug. Vuren ignored the attempts however and dragged her out of the cupboard with her exposed arms instead.

“We need to go.” He uttered so silently Nifeerein could barely hear him. She did not ask him to repeat however and just followed him along as he crouched down and inspected the hallway for any unwarranted light elves.

“Let’s go.”

*

Jult watched as Vuren and Nifeerein scuttled out of the front door. He kicked himself as he could see the obvious mistake he had made. He was often the one that acted first and thought later and he could see that Vuren had exploited that.

“HHHHHHEEEEEERRRRRREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!” he screamed to his men as he raised his sword high above his head.

It was too late however as once Nifeerein was out the door Vuren stood there and Jult knew he held all the cards.

“It doesn’t have to be like this Jult.” Vuren commanded holding his thumb against his middle and index finger.

“Vuren.” Jult started not even bothering to hide his distant and apathy. “You could try to convince me all you want and I could act the part but you know deep down we are both terrible actors and I have no time for that. I won’t change me stance and you won’t change yours, so let’s just finish this.”

“Yeah, I do.” Vuren sighed despondently. “I just wanted to give you one last chance for old times sake.”

Jult’s men then emerged from round the corner and screamed in terror while their leader simply dropped his sword and raised his arms to embrace his oncoming death.

Vuren clicked his fingers and the flames on the back wall leapt into life and exploded outwards with a danger and malice one could not describe. Jult watched them blast towards him and was overcome with an odd sense of jealousy. He had always desired Vuren’s abilities so to die at their hand was the biggest insult he could have thought of.

The flames took over the left and right-hand walls and quickly rushed the Order of Ditum members who were appearing on the top of the marble stairs. They shrieked in terror as they could see their end coming and most tried to double back on themselves in order to flee but were trapped by the flames and the other light elves that cramped the small corridor. Jult however stood fixed in place till the end letting the flames wash over him embracing his end with a grace and sincerity he had not expected from himself but was oddly happy with.

*

The screams were heard for miles.

Vuren and Nifeerein watched from afar on horseback, Nifeerein on Agro and Vuren on his unnamed steed. The two did it in silence neither wishing to disturb the moment.

Nifeerein was overcome with a sense of vengeance but disgust. She was awash with glee at no longer having to be chased but overwhelmed by her sense of horror. She wanted peace between the light and dark elves yet she could only feel like she had taken three steps backwards in her efforts.

Vuren meanwhile was sitting meditating on his own conflicting emotions. A feeling of happiness was inside him as he knew he had done the right thing but sorrow and regret were there too as he could not help but shake the feeling that Jult somehow could have been saved. He replayed his final words in his mind knowing that what Jult said was true and that he far too far gone to ever be saved from the darkness that plagued his mind but that did not stop Vuren from feelings compelled to save him.

“Why didn’t you just burn it down to begin with?” Nifeerein finally broke the silence as the two watched the flames rise.

“I wanted to give Jult one last chance to repent.” Vuren glumly said to Nifeerein the honestly and sorrow in his voice so apparent to her she did not ask any follow up questions despite wanting to.

The two continued to watch as the mansion crumbled and the flames died out. The pair continued to watch even as the foundations burnt away and the house collapsed. Vuren had a mission to complete and Nifeerein a home to get to. Neither wished to stay but they could not pull themselves away. It was as if they needed to watch the embers fade just to know that the darkness was behind them.