Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A Chapter by Seamus Kirkland

Nev blinked open his green eyes, about to smack Hayrdyn awake from the bunk beside him, when he realized he was not anywhere near his bunk, or Hayrdyn, for that matter.
He groaned, feeling an aching wound when he sat up. The knife, that had somehow found its way in his body.
“You’re awake.” Someone stated, with the accent of a Sprite.
Nev whipped his head around to the person who had spoken. It was the female who had talked to him before, Eirika. Her insipid blue eyes bored into his.
“I-I am.” He responded. “I… Where am I? What am I doing here?”
She giggled, and it alarmed him. “I lied to you, meaningless elf. Of course they could see you! We just wanted to fool you into thinking you could get away, so we could put you down without a fight from you. You’re in the room for our prisoners. Well, one of them.”
“Why aren’t I tied up?” He questioned, just now noticing he wasn’t tied to anything.
She scowled. “They don’t care if you kill me. I’m just here as your nurse, I guess.”
Nev was taken aback. “Why don’t they care?! Women are the most important part of the elves!” And then he realized. “Oh… It’s different here, isn’t it?”
She mused over what he had said. “Yes. Women aren’t as appreciated here.”
“That’s too bad…” He takes in her tired appearance, and gloomy eyes. “Have you gotten any sleep?”
She avoids the question. “You should get dressed, elf. Kiirion will want to speak to you soon.”
“W-what? Who’s Kiirion? What is he going to see me about?”
Eirika ignores him again, turning away and exiting the room, locking it behind her.
“Eirika! Miss, please!”
She calls out to him through the door. “I shouldn’t answer any more questions, little elf.”
“My name is Schnevero!”
“Tch.” She huffs, her voice still muffled. “That’s a stupid name.”
His voice grew desperate. He didn’t want to be left alone, in this strange place, filled with Sprites, without the one he kind of had met. “My friends call me Nev!”
“Do I look like a friend to you?” Eirika growls back, and Schnevero could hear her footsteps disappearing down whatever sort of hallway was outside the room he was in.
He mumbled things under his breath to himself, looking down at his body and realizing he wasn’t wearing anything but a bathrobe, and bandages on his back. “Now I have to put on clothes…” He murmured, noticing a black cloak and trousers slung over the back of a nearby chair. Nev winced as he took a couple steps towards them, the injury in his shoulder still bothering him. He slung the coat over his shoulders, and slipped the pants on, flinching as he bent over. They were abnormally baggy, but comfortable. “Do all the males wear stuff like this?” Nev muttered, but of course, no one answered him.
“I am going to open this door.” A slow voice drawled. “You are going to stand where you are. If you move, expect to get maimed by one of our guards. I am going to put a pair of handcuffs around your wrists, and you are not going to protest. Understand?”
“I understand.” Schnevero calls back. He holds his arms above his head. A hurting back was better than a dead elf, in his opinion.
The door swings open after the turning of a key is heard, and a very tall Sprite steps through. He, like the other males Nev had seen, was wearing black robes and undergarments. His hair was a startling blue, and he had stony, untrustworthy red eyes.
“Good.” He rasps. “Now put your hands in front of you, but don’t move anything else.” Schnevero complies, lowering his arms, wrists up. He is surprised to see, not the handcuffs he was imagining, but a strange wispy light source wrapping around his hands. Once they were bonded, though, he could not resist them, their power was immensely strong. “Stop moving!” The Sprite hissed at him. “Follow me.”
Schnevero was flanked by two sentinels, both heavyset males, with large arm muscles, practically bigger than his torso. He didn’t do anything but walk where the leader was going, afraid of the consequences. The door of Schnevero’s room opened up into a damp, humid stone hallway. A cave of some sort. The cave walls continued for what seemed like forever in each direction.
He finally brought up enough courage to ask a question. “A-are you Kiirion?”
The Sprite chuckled coldly. “No. I’m his second-in-command, Ivsaar. No more questions, miserable elf.”
“Ugh…” Nev mumbled to himself. “They keep calling me ‘miserable’ and stuff! I’m not that bad looking!” He flips his bright ginger hair, the little bit that he could, laughing to himself over his own absurdity. The guards gave him weird looks, but he didn’t care. He was going to use this time to be fabulous, as much as he could. Before he…well, he didn’t know exactly what was going to happen to him…
He was shoved into a larger room, that looked like one used for conferences or something, and roughly jostled into sitting down in a nearby chair. Another male Sprite was sitting in front of him, at the head of the room. He was similar-looking to Eirika, with long white hair, misty blue eyes, and a more rounded face than most Sprites or elves.
“You are dismissed.” He commanded Ivsaar.
“Yes, sir.” The formerly cocky man was submissive towards whom Schnevero assumed was Kiirion, and immediately spun around with his sentries, and left the room.
“Name.” Kiirion brusquely demanded, certainly not asking a question, just looking for a direct answer.
“Schnevero Farcaryn.” Nev lazily flicked his finger towards Kiirion. “You’re Kiirion, right? Any last name?”
Kiirion disregarded his question with an exasperated sigh. “Rank.”
“Cadet. Male guard in training. So, tell me, Mr. Kiirion. Are you always this pleasant?”
He still ignored his questions. It seemed to be a trait amongst the Sprites, although it was clear Kiirion was getting very irritated by Nev’s inquiries. “Parental units.”
“Navarre and Rosaria Farcaryn. Hey, hey, are you writing this down? It’s important stuff.”
Kiirion looked up from scratching on his parchment with a quill. Nev swore his azure eyes glowed red for a second, and then there was a sharp pain where the knife had been in the back of his shoulder. He gasped in discomfort and wiggled around for a second in his chair, looking like a mentally insane, rabid squirrel.
“Ow…”
“You’d do best to stop asking questions now, elf.”
“Would Eirika want you to hurt me?” Nev tried to get to a weak spot, assuming they were related on a whim. “She’s nice. And attractive.”
Kiirion hissed at him, and there was another ache in the same spot. Somehow Kiirion could control what his body felt through the injury. “Sergeant Listrano has no intention, no inkling of niceties for an elf.” He spat. “And she is off limits, unless you want to be punished with death.”
“Listrano? You have a nice last name, sir. Besides, I thought you were going to kill me. Isn’t that what you Sprites do to us elves, anyway?”
“Cadet Farcaryn, you really know nothing about ‘us Sprites’. We value life, we don’t take it unless necessary. But you are inquisitive, I’ll give you that. Do we really resemble each other that much?”
“Yes sir. You have a remarkable resemblance to your…sister?”
“Correct, she is my sister.”
Nev smirked inwardly. Slowly, he was getting information on Kiirion, but Kiirion himself hadn’t gathered that yet.
“Speaking of siblings…” Kiirion’s tone had changed, he was slowly warming up to the young elf. “If your last name is Farcaryn…your sister is General Cyvana Farcaryn?”
“Yes sir.” Nev also cursed himself silently now. He couldn’t collect information without giving away some, as well.
“A pronounced soldier. Intense in battle. I barely escaped with my life after facing her. We were close to defeat, both sides were, but the fight was a draw. And then we found you. General Farcaryn’s younger brother. The perfect prisoner, but we didn’t know that when we found you. Now I know, and I swear on my honor as Captain of Squad 971 you will not be killed.”
“What comfort…” Nev muttered sardonically. “I’ll just be prisoner for the rest of my life, or something.”
“It depends on if your elders decide they want you back. More importantly, your sister. Her life for yours. Do you think she’d be willing to make that honorable sacrifice, for her darling brother?” Kiirion’s voice was now dripping with sarcasm, with hidden droplets of venom behind that.
Schnevero knew his sister would do it. Not for him, surely, but for the rest of the tribe, the continuation of the great line of soldiers. He couldn’t tell Kiirion this, though. “Nah, she wouldn’t turn herself in for me. She cares more about her job than her family. She’s more of a benefit to the elves than I am, and she knows that.” Nev tried to work bitterness, even jealousy, into his voice, but it didn’t turn out very well.
Kiirion laughed in his face. “I’m sure that’s exactly the case, Cadet.”
“It is!” But Schnevero couldn’t even convince himself.
“I’m done with questioning you. Ivsaar will take you back to your room. Don’t expect to hear from me until tomorrow.” He yawns, over exaggerating it. “Your sister whooped my a*s today, I’m getting some sleep. You should too, who knows what kind of torture you’ll receive tomorrow.”
Schnevero really, really hoped he was teasing. He thought so, but you could never be sure with these Sprites. They were unpredictable.
When the blue-haired man and his two thugs returned, Schnevero reluctantly followed, although not finding the strength to actually protest. His only thoughts were about the cot in the room they had provided him, and the comfy-looking pillow on it. He had to admit, the provisions weren’t half bad, as shown when he had the chance to look around the room when he got back. They slammed and locked the door after him, again, taking the handcuff things off first.
Nev rotated his wrists, stretching his arms out. They weren’t as bad as metal handcuffs, but still ached. He sighed, and stripped the robes away from his sweaty body, deciding to sleep in his boxers. It was hot wherever they were, somewhere underground.
____________________________________
He woke up, to something, in the middle of the night. It was pitch black, there were no windows for moonlight to stream through. Schnevero shrugged, assuming it was just a noise from outside in the hallway, and pulled the delicate form next to him on the bed closer to his chest.
Until he realized what exactly he had just done.


© 2016 Seamus Kirkland


Author's Note

Seamus Kirkland
Picture is of Eirika.

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Added on March 2, 2016
Last Updated on March 2, 2016


Author

Seamus Kirkland
Seamus Kirkland

AZ



About
Hola! I speak some Spanish, for real, if you speak it I will be willing to try and communicate with you. I LOVE helpful critiques and reviews, they make my day and aid me in improving my writin.. more..

Writing
Chapter 1 Chapter 1

A Chapter by Seamus Kirkland


Chapter 3 Chapter 3

A Chapter by Seamus Kirkland