Insurrection
A legend of a world far away
Z'hara tapped her foot impatiently as she waited, arms crossed, by the door. She checked the timepiece stored in her pocket. Not that she'd been waiting long - no, the dark elf was just used to things being done now.
"Quite finished in there, Ren?" she called. A snarl was her only response. Shortly thereafter, her companion emerged, shaking his head at her.
"I know you consider biology an inconvenience, but it's still a necessity."
Z'hara shrugged. "There's a time and a place to take a bathroom break."
"We're not running on that tight a schedule."
"No, but there are other things I'd rather be doing than working."
Ren snorted, flicked a lock of silver hair from his eyes. "What, like that pretty high elven diplomat? You're so very mono-dimensional, Z'hara!"
She raised an eyebrow. "Don't shift the blame here. You can't take your eyes off of him."
He snorted again. "Nothing slips by you, does it?" She smiled in response, took a moment to adjust her glove, and stepped out from the wall.
"Shall we?" she invited. Ren nodded, stepped forward into the grey dawn light of Rael Hollow.
Z'hara breathed deeply, bracing herself against the still-chilly morning air of the dark elf capital. The purple-tinged stone walls of the city's three spires rose dominantly over the slums, and the surrounding forests of the Shadowven Glades. The two elves stood on the outskirts of the archon's palace, yet they could see little of the lay of the land past the winding streets of the first spire. Like most dark elves, Z'hara Liura and Ren'thal Eluvein were tall, lithe, almost gaunt in their appearance. While Ren let his silvery hair fall naturally down to his shoulders, Z'hara had tied her deep crimson tresses into a ponytail. Matching black bodysuits, the unofficial uniform of the Archon's agents, gave an ominous look to their slender frames. Other elves they passed gave them a wide berth, and more than a couple a fearful glance as well.
"You've seen the new performance at the theatres yet?" Ren asked. Z'hara shook her head.
"Sadly, no. Been a bit too busy for that. Was supposed to go and see it with Brea, but then Elcia came down with svarg-flu. Horrible business, really."
Ren looked concerned. "Is she alright?"
"Oh, recovered overnight. If there's one thing my little niece is, it's resilient," Z'hara chuckled. "My sister, on the other hand… well, passed straight onto her. You know how she is."
"It's that time of year, I suppose."
"Quite true. She's considering going to Argentspire until the summer. Show Elcia a bit of the world, and get away from Shadowven's horrible winters."
"Would that I had that luxury," Ren bemoaned.
"Insinuating the Archon would even notice your absence, given how little work you do around here usually?..."
He feigned an insulted look. "I'm sorry, of the two of us, who was it that redesigned the entire filing system to save an estimated seventeen talents yearly in bureaucrat wages?"
"Well, me."
"And who was it that secured the silver trade with the orcs?"
"That was the general, Ren."
"I was there."
"As a bodyguard."
"That… counts." Ren shrugged, defeated. "Fine. Maybe I will take a holiday. I've never been to the desert before, and I hear it never snows in Ochron."
Z'hara rolled her eyes. "That's because it's a desert, Ren. You thought last summer was hot, you're going to receive a nasty shock once you get there." She rounded a corner sharply, spotting their target destination. "Now, this is just a routine operation. If you get hurt, I'll never let you live it down."
"Same to you."
She grinned at him before fitting her communicator, a telepathic earpiece linked to its twin that Ren himself was now attaching. Quietly, they opened the door and entered the domicile. The lamps were unlit, and the light of the morning had not yet penetrated the walls, leaving the place shrouded in that chilly darkness of the pre-dawn. Two corridors led, one to the left and the other to the right. Z'hara touched the earpiece.
"I'll take the left," she thought to Ren. He nodded, and they parted down the twinned atrium. A sudden noise caused Z'hara to hug a corner, peering around with as much subtlety as she could manage. Seeing a lone, but armoured, elf standing at attention, she quickly ducked back behind the wall.
"Guards," she directed. "He's got guards, I don't know how many."
"I see them too," came the reply. "Eliminate them."
Z'hara shrugged. Not really any other option. She drew out a tiny hand-held crossbow, scanned through her ammunition before selecting a fast-acting poisoned bolt designed to silence targets. With a smooth whirl, she emerged from the corner, shooting the bolt with perfect aim into the guard's neck. He dropped, silent but for the slight thud as he hit the ground. With considerably more caution than before, Z'hara resumed her infiltration.
Rounding another corner, she was surprised by a second guard. Both elves jumped back slightly, and the guard reached to his belt to draw out an item, no doubt intended to trigger an alarm. Z'hara didn't give him a chance, leaping forward with a knife in hand to tackle the guard and slice out his throat. Improvised as it was, the leap was awkward, and a sharp pain in her side resounded as she pulled a muscle.
She cursed softly as she held the corpse close and gently laid it on the ground. Small spikes of pain raced through her with each breath, but Z'hara was unfazed and quickly rose to continue her attack. Ren's voice entered her ear.
"I'm at the courtyard, and there are guards everywhere. I can get through them, but it will take a while. You're on your own, unless you want to wait for me."
"No," Z'hara thought back. "Every minute we waste is more likely the target will get out. I'll take him myself."
"Be careful."
"I always am, sweetie."
"That's a complete lie and you know it."
Z'hara smiled softly, but sobered quickly as she adjusted her plan. With Ren preoccupied, she'd have to take on both the target, and any of his remaining guards, alone. She ran over the floor plan the Archon had given them prior to the mission. The target's personal quarters were in the northern quadrant, so she made a beeline that way, with a slight detour to avoid the courtyard Ren was trapped in. Time enough to assist him later, if he still needed it.
As she spied the entry to the target's location, Z'hara cursed again. Two guards stood attentive, scanning the shadows. She shook her head. All or nothing, then. She drew out two throwing knives. Her aim had to be perfect - to avoid being seen, she'd had to shelter in the maze of columns that made up the domicile's loungeroom, meaning that not only must both her throws be executed at the same time, but both had to get past the obstructions.
Smoothly, she hurled the knives. As they left her hands, she knew they were on point - and as both guards crumpled, she allowed herself a flush of pride. Checking around to make sure nothing was there to surprise her, she walked over to the dead guards, retrieving her knives from their throats. As quietly as she could manage, Z'hara opened the door and slipped inside.
She had a clear shot - the target was facing away from her, focusing intently on something in his hand. The obvious decision was to kill now, ask questions later - but something stayed her hand. The presence of guards where there should have been none. The sudden nature of the contract itself. Now, this object. Z'hara decided it was in the best interests of the Archon to know what exactly this renegade was up to. So she waited.
As the seconds passed, it became obvious that the other elf was holding a long-distance communicator. While she could not make out what was being said as the conversation was being held in hushed tones, a slight adjustment of her position enabled her to see the person on the other end. A human, of all beings - long robes, and a headpiece that raised more questions than it answered. The human wore the garments of a priest of Valendris, the temple-city set in the middle of the land - but what could he possibly want with a rogue dark elf?
The elf in question nodded as if in response to a command, and his next words were audible. "As you say. Farewell." He turned off the communicator.
Enough was enough. Z'hara's observance had done nothing to enlighten her, but it was clear no clarity would come from prolonging her duty. She raised the handbow, and with a twang the bolt sprung forth to pierce the target through the throat. Choking noises issued as he toppled to the floor before the poison did its work, and he stilled.
Still cautious so as not to avoid any other surprises, Z'hara stepped forward to examine the body, and more importantly the communicator that had fallen from his hand. "Valendris…" she murmured. "What could the priests of Ereban want with one of the Kin?"
She picked up the communicator and touched her hand to her ear to contact Ren. "You still in one piece?"
"Last one." he grunted, and a sickening crunch sounded through the earpiece. "There, done."
"Great. The target's down, but… well, I'll explain it on the way back. Something's not right."
Her hand moved away from the earpiece, and she secured the target's communicator on her belt before nimbly leaping to her feet. Z'hara sauntered away, light of heart and pleased with another job well-executed. Whatever the target had been scheming, it had been undone by his death and the Archon could take care of the rest.
___________________________________________________________
As ever when she was in this situation, Z'hara was nervous. In the presence of the Archon, who would not be?
The two assassins slunk up into the throne room past the throngs of citizens who had petitions. Upon his throne, clad in a black suit similar in design if not purpose to that of his agents, sat Archon Tarimand, lord of Rael Hollow and undisputed, absolute ruler of the dark elves. He cut a striking figure, his shoulder-length black hair neatly slicked back and shining with dark lustre. A long cloak of foxfur hung around his shoulders, broad for an elf yet rippling with sinewy muscle. No crown graced his head, for his sharp, hawklike face and piercingly blue eyes gave his image all the authority it could ever need.
The Archon glanced over at them, and Z'hara's heart skipped a beat. Lord Tarimand was benevolent, of that there was no doubt… but absolute power was just that; and she was but a tiny cog in the grand apparatus of the city. Small, useful, yet should she go missing there was no certainty that it would be much noticed. This she knew. It was her job to take care of such similar cogs. Tarimand nodded slightly at them before returning his attention to his court.
"We timed this badly," Ren murmured to her. Z'hara shrugged, but didn’t otherwise respond. It was important the communicator reached the Archon as soon as possible, even if that meant interrupting the two hours set aside per day for the populace of Rael Hollow to present their case directly to their master.
Tarimand passed resolution, and dismissed his supplicants before rising. His voice, clear, strong and rich, echoed through the room. "A matter has come up that requires my attention. I shall return momentarily; until then, the Proconsul will hear you." He gestured to the elf in question, a man Z'hara had an intense dislike of named Lira'vis. With that, the Archon strode through the crowd to his private office, gesturing for Z'hara and Ren to follow him. The agents complied with alacrity, leaving the crowd behind.
Once they were alone, the Archon sat in his chair and leaned back. The assassins took seats opposite him on the other side of the large oaken desk that dominated much of the room.
"I take it you were successful?" he asked.
"Of course," Ren assured him. "But…" He looked at Z'hara. "Well, you found it." She shrugged.
"When he was eliminated, the target was speaking on a communicator. I let him finish the message before firing, and while I didn't see exactly who he was speaking to, I recognised the raiment of the Valendris priesthood." She passed the communicator to the Archon, who examined it only briefly before setting it to the side.
"You were wise to bring this to me," Tarimand mused. "In fact, this may be bigger than you anticipate." He hesitated. "Yes, you should know. Two weeks back, I received contact from our cousins in Argentspire and the Senate. Apparently, the Hieromancer had witnessed a vision. She said that it was vague, yet what was clear revealed that a shadow would spread from Valendris and threaten the entire elven race."
"And you believed her?" Ren asked with a slightly incredulous tone. He'd never much gotten along with high elves, seeing them as backwards and uptight. Tarimand gave him a quizzical look.
"While the power of foresight is unpredictable and only reveals a possible future, the Hieromancer has demonstrated her accuracy numerous times before. Even if this were not the case, a potential threat this large requires consideration. Now, we have more than consideration. We have evidence."
He rose, closely followed by Z'hara and Ren, albeit a little more awkwardly as their nervousness got the better of them. "You found the device, Z'hara. I'm sending you to Argentspire, effective immediately. You'll have a contact there. Explain the situation, and the Senate and I will decide what to do next."
"As you will, Archon," she bowed deeply. Rising, she grinned at Ren, though there was little mirth in the expression. "Looks like I'm the one that gets the holiday you referred to.""Trust me," Tarimand intoned gravely. "This won't be a holiday."
Willethere be a follow-up?
Pronunciation note since it'll come up: In elven names, apostrophes (') are pronounced as a hard space sound, so instead of her name being pronounced (ZHA-ra) it's (Z-ha-ra). I figured I'd mention it as there are a fair few elves floating around.