Millraven Finn Izzle: Elf for Hire. Chapter Two

The story thus far:

Millraven Finn Izzle is in the unique position of being one of the last few to carry the occupation of elf, the title by which her hometown calls those with talent in both sword, and sorcery. She is also an Elf by race which tends to confuse those whom she tells about her job.  She recently was allowed entry into the city of Commodore’s crossing where she hopes to take up a lucrative bit of work. Unfortunately as soon as she enters the city she is pickpocketed by a young man who is getting away not only with all her money, but the papers and credentials that allow her to be a free-roaming adventurer.

            Fast, the little shit was fast, agile, and smart. He did not run as much as he dashed from person to person and place to place causing as much chaos and delay as he possibly could in order to slow Millraven down. Tripping an old woman here, pushing an empty pram into a crowd there, and tipping over a midden cart somewhere else. The thief, outside of his seeming feats of strength was keeping far ahead of her but was using no-where near the same amount of energy Millraven was just trying to keep a view of his back. She was already winded and coughing, but not discouraged, not in the slightest.  She felt a strange invigoration running through her, it had more to do with a worthy challenge than it did with adrenaline rushing through her system (Though that did help.) After a week of boring travel it was good to stretch her legs again and each cough and deep breath felt as if she were expelling cob-webs from her body.

            As good as it felt now though, she knew she could not keep it up forever, her stamina was higher than that of a human, but it was not unlimited. She had to do what the thief was doing; she had to think of the best way to bring about the end of this confrontation in her favor. She had to do something unexpected.  She stopped, bent over and rested her elbows on her knees, feigning exhaustion as she took a moment to survey the area, secretly she grinned as her quarry put on an extra burst of speed. It was all working out.

 She had her plan in a twinkling, which is longer than she took to put it into action. In a single fluid motion she drew and strung her bow, nocking an arrow to the string and firing so fast that no eye save those of the gods could have followed it. It sailed, straight and true and with amazing speed and even more amazing damage tore straight through the chains holding a heavy Inn sign up above the street. It came screaming down on her quarry causing him to collapse and become pinned under its weight.

 She walked casually up to the still conscious and struggling pickpocket and knelt, holding her dagger to his throat. He was well, a lot better than most would be in similar situations. She realized why now, he wasn’t a young human, as she’d originally thought, but rather a slim, lithe Halfling. Halflings, despite being literally half the size of their larger cousins the humans were twice as hardy. If it weren’t for the weight of the sign itself he’d have probably shrugged off the damage and kept going.   

She smiled at the little urchin and pushed the slightest edge of her dagger against the skin of his throat, drawing the slightest bead of blood. “Good morning little brother” she began, addressing the Halfling by one of the nicknames of the race, “I believe you have my things, no?” She heard the clink of her coin purse dropping and reached behind her without taking her eyes from her quarry to pick it up. She found it with her fingers, rifled through it and was relieved to find all the contents there. She took a moment to look at him now. He wasn’t richly dressed, but his clothes were nice, new, and clean. His hands and oddly handsome face were clean as well and his hair, both on his head and toes was well groomed and soft.  She made a quick assumption from this information and decided to go with it, “You don’t seem to be the type that has to steal. Why did you grab my purse?” She asked casually locking her eyes on his.

“You’re the elf”, he responded, “You were hired to get back the blue streak, but you were hired by the wrong side! I only meant to stop you from going after the streak until we could talk to you, I swear!” 

“The wrong side?” She asked, “The streak is just a string of words etched into platinum and encrusted with Sapphires. How can there be a ‘wrong’ side looking for it? Explain yourself!”   The Halfling took a deep, painful sounding breath. Millraven wondered idly just how much a cast iron sign weighed.  “Everyone wants to believe it’s just a decoration, but the Blue Streak of Commodore Cramden is a sacred artifact, a literal demonstration of the power of words.  If certain parties get a hold of it and abuse it they’d have the ability to erase certain kinds of words from existence, forever.  This cannot be allowed. Please, come with me; talk with the others in my group. Hear us out and we will let you make your own choice about who to side with, just please, please listen to us.”

Millraven could barely believe what she was hearing, but the desperation in the smaller figure’s voice sounded real and sincere enough.  She was torn for a moment, but then she remembered the parting words of her swordplay instructor. “It is better to regret something you have done, then to die regretting something you have not done.” She stood and pushed the sign off her captor.  “My arrow split the heavy chains that held this sign aloft “she said, “Imagine what they could do to you. Walk in front of me, lead me to the rest of your group and don’t try anything funny, or you’ll find out personally that whatever you may have imagined my arrows can do,  the reality will be much, much worse.”

The Halfling nodded, stood and then swallowed.  He then offered his hand to Millraven, “The name is Brand Anlace. It’s a pleasure.”  Millraven looked at his outstretched hand with a raised eyebrow, “After what you just did to me? Do you really expect me to shake your hand?”  She shook her head at him and he at least had the decency to look embarrassed.  “Old habits”, he explained as he began to lead her and her adventure in a whole new direction.

What revelations will Brand’s group have for Millraven? Were her potential employers really in the wrong as the Halfling had implied? Will Millraven learn the secret of the Blue Streak of Commodore Cramden? Find out in the next Episode of Millraven Finn Izzle: Elf for Hire!