The Chase

  Cara crept through the forest, stalking her prey. Ears flattened against her head, she moved silently, placing each foot carefully so as not to disturb the leaves scattered on the floor. The summer had been dry, making all the grasses brittle to the touch. One wrong move and the game would be up.
 
Cara was that rare thing, a half-breed. Part high elf, part human. An abomination. She had been taken away from her human mother at birth and was trained to become an assassin. Shunned by the high elves, Cara lived her life in secret, moving through the secret passageways in the city, rarely seen by elves other than those she took her orders from.
  Standing at 5”6, she had not inherited the natural height of her father...or any elves for that matter. But she had taken after them in other ways. That much showed in the graceful way she moved. Startlingly green eyes set in an exquisitely defined face showed of her heritage. Pale skin contrasted with ebon hair that was swept back out of her face, behind her elven ears and held with a silver pin.  Her clothing was simple, homemade. She wore a small dagger at her waist, and occasionally a bow and quiver slung over her shoulder. Many of her tasks needed no weapon – a slip of poison in an unattended goblet, a quick movement of her slender hand was all that was required.
  Tonight, as Cara continued to move through the forest that loomed outside the sanctuary of the city, she thought briefly about the escaped prisoner she was tracking. Her orders had been to track him down, and bring back his head as proof of his demise. She hadn’t been told why, and she never questioned her orders. It was more than her life was worth to argue. Pretty soon, as the chase started properly, she wouldn’t care. Her blood would start pumping and the adrenalin of a quick kill and a task well completed would kick in.
  Cara could already hear her quarry up ahead. He was blundering through the trees, careless of the noise he was making, just keen to get as far away from the city as possible before he collapsed from exhaustion. Desperation had made him easy to track. As he took flight, he had left behind an easy trail of broken ferns, snapped twigs, even footprints in muddy places. A five year old elf would have no problem tracking this fugitive. For someone of Cara’s skills and training it was laughable.

  Up ahead, Lorn panted as he bent over double, one hand on the trunk of a nearby tree, trying to catch his breath. He kept that posture for several minutes, breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly. He knew that he didn’t have time for this break. It was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He had heard tales. Elves disappearing. Elves dying in the middle of a banquet. Bodies found in unusual places, to the casual eye unscathed, but stone cold dead all the same. Of course there were rumours. They spoke of a conjured demon. Something you couldn’t escape from, no matter how far or hard you ran. Something that the elven mages had under their control. Lorn didn’t believe in anything quite as extravagant as that...although he did believe the ruling family of the high elves had someone working for them, someone powerful who carried out the dirty work that the nobles couldn’t be seen doing.
  Lorn straightened up and pulled his hand away from the tree. His hand felt sticky. Holding it up to the shaft of moonlight that had penetrated the thick canopy of leaves, he identified it as sap. Standing there for a few seconds, he watched the way the light made the substance glisten. A sharp noise behind him snapped him back to the present. How could he be so stupid, standing there enraptured by the moonlight and the tree sap? If the ruling family did have such a killer working for them, then it would stand to reason that they would be after him. There is no way they would let Lorn go, not with the information he possessed. In fact, it was safe to say they would go to any lengths possible to have him recaptured, or possibly even killed. With this thought in mind, panic gave him a surge of adrenaline and the energy he needed to race off even deeper into the forest.

  Cara cursed. She had her target in her sights. He was standing stock still, taking an interest in something of little importance. She was silently creeping forwards, getting ready for the attack. Then the unthinkable had happened; she stood on a fallen branch, the noise it made as it snapped rang out through the silent forest. Glancing quickly upwards towards her target, she thought for an instant that somehow he hadn’t heard her blunder. No such luck. With a turn of speed, he leapt away into the night. Cara cursed again, mainly at herself for making such a stupid mistake. There was nothing for it. She had to take up chase. No more creeping between the trees, sneaking through the plants. He knew she was there, and he wouldn’t stop until she did.  And she wouldn’t stop until he was dead.
  Lorn gasped. He had a terrible ache in his side, right below his ribs. He felt as thought he was dragging his feet through sand, and each footstep cost him three times as much effort as it should have.  He knew something was behind him, and he was running for his life.
Cara was so close she could see his long hair streaming out behind him. Pure white. Not silver. Every so often it would catch the moonlight coming through the trees. As she pushed herself to a greater speed, her mind cleared itself of all other thoughts apart from the sequence of actions soon to come, that would cast her onto her opponent’s back and render him unable to move.
Lorn risked a glance behind him. He knew he wouldn’t outrun this demon, but he wasn’t about to die without putting up a fight, and he wanted to know what he was up against. He gasped, and their eyes met, her eyes boring into his, an equally vivid green. In that moment, the worst happened for Lorn. His feet had carried on running, but he had failed to see a small boulder that stood in his path. As his right foot carried forward, it came into contact with the rock, and he tripped. In that fatal moment, he knew it was all over for him. Sprawling face down, he struggled to turn himself over so that he might meet death face on.
  Cara had seen the boulder before Lorn had. She allowed herself a small grin as he had turned around to look at her, and then tripped. Unable to slow her momentum, she bunched her legs and pushed off the ground, leaping over both rock and the fallen elf. Landing neatly, she stood slowly and drew her sword out of its scabbard. The blade had been dulled with soot, so it wouldn’t give her away in tasks that required stealth. Her prisoner had rolled over with a grunt, a smudge of dirt down his left cheek. She looked him in the eyes and froze.
He was her double. The high cheekbones, the beautifully carved mouth, almond shaped eyes with thick eyelashes, angular jawline and smooth pale skin.  Both with piercing emerald eyes. Lorn had gritted his teeth, something Cara recognized. She too used the same expression when faced with something she didn’t like. The only difference between the two elves was the obvious point of their sex, and their hair colour.
  Cara shook herself. She was familiar with sorcery and what it could accomplish. She had no doubt that this elf she had been sent to kill was a seasoned mage, and had cast an illusion to buy some time. She chuckled to herself, a low, throaty sound. He was foolish; nothing could stop her once she had been set to something.
  Lorn looked up into his twin’s eyes. He saw an evil lurking below the surface. The last time he had seen his sibling was when she was twelve. She had been moved into the house of the ruling family, and had no clue that he even existed. Their mother had given birth to two half breeds, not one, as she had always believed. Lorn had been taking away like his sister, but had been given to the elves of the city that led a peaceful and monastic life. He had overheard the Abbot of the building talking to one of his advisors about Lorn, and that’s when he found out the truth. He set out to seek his sister within the city, and when he found her, his heart bled. He lived his life within the monastery walls, he was accepted and protected from those who would seek to harm him. His sister had no such protection – as a half breed she was shunned by elves from all stations. Even the lowliest elf would spit at her feet as she passed. So Lorn had taken to looking out for his sister where he could, keeping himself hidden away. But shortly after their twelfth year, she went missing, never to be seen by him again. He had given her up for dead.
  But looking up at her, the truth flooded through him. She stood above him, sword drawn and ready to swing. There was a slight hint of recognition in her face, a slight pause before she lifted her blade. Lorn’s eyes widened in shock as he saw the sword come swinging downwards, aimed at his throat. Time slowed down. Of all the emotions he could have chosen from, he felt hurt. And anger. Anger at the elves and what they done to his own twin. There was some small part of him that had hoped she would spare him.  But she had been trained too well; complete devotion and loyalty or nothing.
  Cara stood with her sword hanging loosely in her grip. She turned her face towards the sky and breathed in deeply. A single tear rolled out from underneath her closed lid. She lifted her hand to wipe it away, and left a smear of blood in her wake. Its bold colour contrasted brightly against her pale, creamy skin.



Written for Addisoncs Fantasy Contest.
1,750 words.
Prompts - Elves & Anticipation.