ILLUSION

"Clip clop clip clop clip clop...." The highland thoroughbred horses trudged up the rugged terrain of the Eastern Grenfell hills. The horses were thick skinned with a shaggy flowing mane and stoic legs which effectively bore their heavy strong bodies. The leading horse was a black stallion with a white stripe on its right shoulder. Astride it was a brown cloaked figure with a quiver of arrows casually slung over his shoulders and a crossbow on his back, a broad broadsword was sheathed on his back . His face was partially covered by his bushy moustache and an eyepatch was crudely tied on his left eye. The horse bringing the rear of the group was a dust brown stallion with a black patch on its forehead. It had a slightly unnoticeable limp on the right hind limbs.

Astride it was another equally mysterious figure. This one had the delicate build of a lady wrapped in a dark green cloak. A cowl was pulled down to hide her facial features and a mask was tightly tied around her nose and mouth. She was totally unrecognisable. She carried no visible weapon but her weapons of choice were carefully hidden beyond the human eye view. Inside her cloak were a pair of twin hand carved daggers with a slightly curving handles. The blades were made from one of the rarest elements in the whole of the Avalonean realm,the Graceri steel, a magical material that sucked the essence, power and magic of the adversary. This material was purely extinct and to get it one had to travel across the Everald continent, through the neverending winterland riddled with ice trolls and other equally terrifying beasts. If one managed to pass across then there was the infinite expanse of water. The great Zocrag sea. The creatures in this sea were unmatched in their feriority by any kind of sea life form. It was even rumoured that the ancient legendary beast of the underwater, the Livyatan, recided in its depths. Still after crossing this sea one had to treck across the Red desert and avoid being turned into a meal by the Red vultures,a species of giant vultures that fed on any life form. Then if luck was still on your side you had a one last task of finding the Lost Red Desert Volcano. Underneath this lava bubbling mountain were the Graceri ore. Impossible to get, for diving in a tunnel full of hot molten rocks was not a great way of dying even for the suicidal individuals. But she had managed to get the ore and then the twin daggers. That alone was a proof good enough for her qualification as a worthy survivor.

Aggran, the eyepatched man, turned to the mysterious lady and spoke.

"I'm sorry but l can't accompany you beyond this hills. My job ends here "

He stuttered in explanation. The lady withdrew a small pouch from within her cloak and threw it at him. He caught the pouch and quickly opened it to inspect its contents. Suddenly his face lit up in a wide ear to ear grin as he emptied the contents of the pouch on his hand. Twelve silver coins or kleurs,as the silver coins were called. This was equivalent to one Brout or gold coin and two silver coins. Finally he would be able to buy another horse and even have a leftover to spend on bedding the local whores.

"Thank you very much. "

The lady nodded and urged her mount forward towards the last hill before crossing into the Sturvian kingdom. Aggran looked at the lady as she rode away. She was a and second, carrying that much money with her. He couldn't say that he was a honest man and it was not daily that such kind of money was seen around Grenfell. They were not rich folks and almost everybody in Grenfell would do anything to get even a quarter of what he had been paid. They would do definitely anything, ranging from good to bad. And that was why,

"Kuuuuuuuuuuuur!Kuuuuuuuuuuuur !"

A high pitched bird cry reached his ears . His eyes brightened and he mimicked the same cry. Five minutes later a group of three horsemen appeared from the path they had used together with the lady. He rubbed his palms together greedily as the horsemen reached him.

"How much have you swindled from the naive birdy?"

One of the men asked as he eyed Aggran suspiciously. Aggran took out seven kleurs from his waist pouch.

"See for yourself lads"

The men were genuinely surprised. Usually the price for a guide through the treacherous Eastern Grenfell hills was four kleurs but the lady had given three extra. Aggran laughed inwardly as he saw the surprise on their faces. What if he had shown them the correct amount?

"What are we still doing here?Let's ride after the moneybags!"

One of the men exclaimed siezing the reins of his horse. On Aggran's sign, they rode out after the lady.

Around eight kilometres ahead of them the lady slowed down the horse to a gentle canter. She had known that Aggran would come after her and well. He did not disappoint. She sensed four horses quickly closing in on her. A slight smile stretched the corners of her lips as the daggers begun to vibrate slightly, eager for action, mirroring what was taking place inside their wielder.

Well, the Graceri weapons were always connected to their wielders and whenever the skills of the wielder progressed, the effectivity of the weapons increased. The men drew closer with each passing minute until they had caught up with her. Aggran rode abreast her a malicious smile stretching his chafed lips.

"Hey there lady. We only want to relieve you the burden of carrying around the heavy pouch of yours "

The guys forcefully laughed at Aggran's attempt at making a joke.

"So why don't you hand it over "

They watched as the lady reached into her cloak and as Aggran stretched his right hand, a blurry motion and then Aggran was holding the stump of his severed arm at the elbow level. The lady had a dagger in her left hand. She slashed at Aggran's throat and then his head was separated from the neck. One of the guys puked and turned his horse to bolt away but the shed-evil had been provoked and the ultimate outcome was death. She hurtled the dagger after him and it embedded itself to the hilt at the back of his skull. One of the men drew a sword but the other twin dagger had already punctured his lung and heart in two quick jabs. The last man turned his horse and galloped away. The lady smirked evily and stretched her hand.

A purplish streak of raw power shoots from the hand and engulfs the man in a purplish fog. When it clears, the man is no more and the horse is standing surprised at the absence of its rider. A light breeze makes her cowl to fall off to reveal a rich golden curls cut in a boyish style and a striking face for such a lethal being. A pea shaped face with sharp cheek bones and a pair of golden eyes richer than her hair colour. A small sharp nose and pink slightly luscious lips. Her ears are sharp pointed, an evidence of her elfin heritage.

She looked at the purple glow still covering her hand. It was a great power but it also came with its shortcomings. She could never be intimate with any man. The power, which she envisioned as her curse would devour anyone who came within a touching distance to her and it usually took a lot of control to avoid annihilating every single person she came across. But a lover would be with her always and she would not know whenever her control would snap and kill him. She swapped her mount with one of the men's strongest and set again on her way.

Such was the life of Azania, a cursed elf, despised and feared by many because of the unique power she had. She was the Nyrax elf.