Chương 5: Vol 1. An Elf?

"Excuse me, miss." Raska stopped what she was doing and looked over at Morton, eyeing him up and down with an incredulous look. The stranger looked vaguely elf-like. He was tall, muscle-bound, though a bit pudgy, far heavier than any elf ought to be. His skin was furless, with all his hair seemingly concentrated in his face and head. An odd-brimmed hat sat upon his head. She had a hard time determining his sex, although that was hardly unusual for elves.

"Who are you?" she asked. Morton tilted his hat down slightly.

"Name is Morton Christian, miss," he said.

"And I have a bit of a bone to pick with you."

"Oh? And what would that be?" Raska asked.

"I think I overheard y'all saying you were gonna sell this here young feller to the whore houses," Morton retorted, "am I correct?" Raska's ears flicked, and the tip of her tail swooshed.

"Maybe, maybe not. And how is that any of your business?" Raska readied her sword.

"Well, you see, miss"—Morton hid his pistol behind his back—"I am a man of the good book and the good Lord above, and he don't take too kindly to types like yourself. Why, he despises people like you!"

"I have no clue what you are on about," Raska snarled. Her goons lined up behind her in a vaguely V-shaped formation, their swords at the ready.

"But I am feeling really generous, so I will give you a chance to scurry along." Morton chuckled.

"I'm afraid that ain't an option, miss. Tell you what, either we do this the easy way, and you leave that young feller alone, or we can do this the hard way, and you won't like that." Raska snorted.

"How about I kill you? Does that sound fair?"

"You can try," Morton said evenly, resting one hand on his belt. Raska moved fast. She dashed forward, sword flashing towards his neck. Morton dropped to his knee. The blade whistled through the empty air. He rolled across the ground and skittered back to his feet. Bam! One of the bandits behind Raska collapsed into the dirt below before she even understood what had just happened. In truth, none of them understood what had happened.

Blood splattered across the road and pooled into a little puddle around the dead bandit's head. They all fell silent. Bam! Another bandit fell. Everyone began to move at once.

"You bastard!" Raska snapped. The remaining bandits charged. Morton dove sideways as a sword struck where he had just been standing. He hit the ground with a hard thump, rolled, and came up, still wielding his revolver with one hand. Bam! Another bandit dropped. Morton caught movement in the corner of his eye. Raska. Her sword slashed downward. Morton blinked and stumbled. The blade tore through his shirt and carved a shallow line across his back, blood making the already red fabric redder.

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"God damnit!" he said, clenching his teeth. The heat was beginning to rise from the wound. He surged forward and, before she could react, drove his full weight into his fist, which he buried beneath her ribs. Raska doubled with a catty wheeze. Morton drew his knife. One of the remaining bandits leapt towards him. Morton sidestepped and drove the blade into her neck. Hot blood splashed across his face. The bandit let out a whistle, then crumpled. For a moment, nobody moved.

Then Raska grabbed Miri and said,"Get over here!" The two women scrambled for cover as another gunshot echoed.

"Oh my gods," Miri stuttered.

"Did you see that? He has a repeater! I've never seen a repeater do that! I mean, repeaters are all big and bulky, aren't they? How does he—""I know he has a repeater!" Raska growled. They both flinched and flicked their ears as another bam! whirled through the valley.

"How about you tell me how to get rid of someone with a repeater?"

"Get rid of what?" Raska felt something strike her square in the jaw. The world spun. When her vision returned, she was lying on her back, and her sword was several paces away.

"Uh, please," Miri said, kneeling on the ground with her paws high in the air.

"I was just kidding about having my way with him. I am just a comedian like that, p-please. ma'am… uh, sir? I will—" Morton smacked his lips, thinking for a moment.

"Maybe, but can I ask you one thing?"

"Y-yes, uh... sir?"

"Would you have given that boy the same offer?" Miri stayed silent, unsure of what to say. Her eyes flicked towards the dagger at her belt. Bam! Her body flew backwards as a large hole was plastered in the back of her maw and out the other end. Morton turned to Raska.

"Let me give you an offer, miss, you leave the boy and me alone, and you go on packin', how does that sound?" Raska considered the offer for a moment, then disregarded the notion. She lunged towards Morton with her claws out. Bam! Dirt exploded beside her. She froze. Morton cocked his head, then said with a mischievous grin,"The next one is goin' in you." Raska ran. Morton snorted and holstered his revolver. He made his way over towards the door of the cart. It creaked open.

Inside sat the young feller they had been planning to sell. He was shorter than the others, clad in feminine attire and bound with rope. He looked exhausted, hungry, and thirsty. They certainly weren't taking care of him all too well.

"Hey, kid," Morton said, pushing down his hat.

"You doing okay?" The boy didn't say anything. He just stared blankly at Morton.

"Don't worry, I ain't gonna hurt ya'. Those bastards back there must have been treating ya' like utter shit. Here." Morton pulled out his blood-covered knife. The boy flinched, ears flattening against his head as the knife came toward him. A moment later, the ropes fell apart and dropped limply to the floor. His eyes slowly opened.

"What's your name?" Morton asked. The boy looked up wearily.

"Are you an elf?" Morton chuckled.

"Heh, not that I know of. No, I'm just a plain old human."

"A… human?" the boy said quizzically.

"And what might you be?"

"I am… I am a Kharani."

"Ain't that something?" Morton said. He threw his canteen towards the boy, and he caught it. The boy sniffed the contents, then gulped it down greedily.

"Heh, ain't nothing like some good fresh water, hey?" Morton peeked outside the cart, then leaned back in and said, "Oh, sweet Jesus, it looks like the sun will be settin' in… I reckon about two hours, and you certainly ain't going anywhere with all your horses lookin' like that. I'm gonna look for some firewood and get us a campsite goin', is that okay?"

"Uh, yeah," the boy said. Morton was about to speed off when he heard the boy say, "Uh, wait."

"Yes?" The boy got up shakily, took a deep breath, wiggled his ears, then got on one knee, put one hand on his breast, and said in a high-pitched cadence: "I am Prince Tahir of House Orien, first son of Lady Zahra Orien." Morton nodded, "Morton Christian, pleasure to meet ya', your majesty." Tahir blinked. What an overly casual way of talking to a prince, but polite nonetheless. Tahir watched the strange human disappear behind the tree line. Then he looked at the furless areas where the rope had restrained him.

The skin was still red. For the first time in days, he was free. And he had absolutely no idea what a human was.