When Elves Die : Episode One by Richard Poche

beyond recognition.
    Zinna noticed Jamben nuzzling one of the dead
bodies.
    "His name was Trarry," she said, recognizing the
elf. "He was a good friend of my father."
    "This boy's name was Yenward." Xavian knelt down,
closing the eyes of a dead boy. "We played gameball together. He
was a good elf."
    "I don't see anyone resembling Carella," Kelroar
said as he surveyed the rest of the bodies. "So perhaps this is the
first group that went missing."
    "Are we going to give them a proper burial?" Xavian
said. "If we don't, the orcs will come and eat them. The crows will
peck out their eyes. They are elves, like us. They deserve some
respect."
    Movement could be heard from their left hand side.
All three reacted to the sound at the same time.
    “Stay back,” Kelroar said, walking toward the
noise.
    Neither Zinna or Xavian obeyed his command as they
followed behind him.
    A Killtooth crawled through the burned dead like a
black worm writhing in hot dirt. He had gaping wounds on both of
his legs and a severed foot.
    Kelroar used his boot to roll him over on his
back.
    "Who sent you here?" Kelroar said.
"I'm not an assassin for hire like you," the demon said. "I kill
for fun.”
    Zinna stepped in front of Kelroar and shoved her
dagger into the arm of the Killtooth. The vampire squealed in pain
then laughed.
    Zinna's sudden attack surprised the barbarian. He
glared at her, wanting an explanation.
    "These creatures," she said. "They killed my
Dad."
    Zinna looked down at the demon. The Killtooth spat
up at the girl.
    "I've been cut three times already," the demon said
pointing at his legs. "You are too stupid to know that you have to
go for the head."
    “Okay, fine.” Zinna began stabbing
him in the throat repeatedly. The sick chucking sound of her dagger going into the demon's neck made
Xavian wince. Zinna screamed with each strike, her emotions
becoming more unhinged with each blow.
    Seeing enough, Xavian pushed Zinna off the
Killtooth. Her dagger remained in his throat.
    "He's dead," he said. "And so is your father. That
pain is eating you up inside, Zinna! You want to carry that hate
with you the rest of your life? You have to get over it!"
    "Get over it?" Zinna said, her voice oddly distant.
"Are you kidding? I can't get over it anymore than a cripple can
get over losing a limb. Once something leaves, it is gone. And what
do you know about pain?"
    Zinna pushed Xavian so hard that he fell backward
into the dirt. He looked up at her, his face a picture of shock and
hurt.
    "What do you know about anything?” she continued.
“Whenever there is danger you run away so fast it makes my head
spin.”
    "Stop," Kelroar said.
    Zinna grabbed her dagger and stormed back to the
field of dead elves. She knelt down in front of the body of Trarry
and began to weep. Jamben followed and rubbed his mane against her
for comfort.
     
    Kelroar dug the mass grave by himself. Xavian and
Zinna gathered the bodies, dragging them by their feet to the edge
of the grave.
    Zinna carried some of the bodies into the mammoth
hole.
    "No use being gentle," Kelroar said.
    "It seems disrespectful to just toss them in," she
said.
    Kelroar took a deep breath and followed suit, gently
laying the bodies into their final resting place.
    The more bodies they carried in, the more Zinna
wept. She carried some children into the grave and couldn't bear to
look at their faces, turning her head as she placed them in.
    "Maybe you shouldn't do this," Xavian said.
    "Help me with this one.” She took another child and
lowered him in.
    Xavian took another run around the camp to make sure
that there weren't any deceased elves remaining. Then he kicked the
Killtooth's dead body just to know what it felt like.
    “We'll leave the orcs and the Killtooth for whatever
scavengers come along,” he said.
    “I don't mind coming back and burning them,” Zinna
said.
    Kelroar shoveled dirt over the dead elves. Zinna and
Xavian watched in silence as the sound of the sand hitting the
bodies