A Bridge Too Far

"So what?

" "No way.

" "Damn it. Fine, get down!"

The black-haired elf glanced around the thick forest as a petite red-haired girl jumped down right in front of him. Tossing her hair back, she straightened and sighed. She folded her arms across her chest, leaning back against the tree trunk.

"What do we do now, Teveth?" she whispered, boring into the elf with cloudy, green eyes. "We're out of money. We haven't eaten anything decent since... heh... if only I knew when the last time I had a piece of well-done meat in my mouth was." She grimaced and lowered her head as her words caught her companion's attention.

She didn't get an answer to her question.

She felt a shift in the air. Teveth moved toward the road, pushing through the tall grass and thick forest. She didn't need to look up to know this. A keen sense of touch, hearing, and the ability to see after dark were part of her nature.

She followed him with quiet, soft steps.

"I'll kill that innkeeper! I'll tear apart his inn! He's deceived us, the fool! If any merchants are going to appear on this trail, I'm a dwarf! Son of a bitch...Ash," he hissed, tearing off a twig. I saw a slight flush on his cheek. I smiled involuntarily.

We walked like that for a moment longer, until we reached the forest trail.

Teveth aggressively straightened his clothes, ruffled by the branches. I heard him mutter something under his breath. I could clearly see his displeasure. He didn't like being exposed to the wind, much less by people. Anyone who saw him now would probably shudder and think twice before passing him in such a peaceful forest setting.

His teeth were clenched, and he was breathing shallowly. His dark eyes narrowed in anger, wandering somewhere far off along the trail. Dressed all in black, with reflections of sunlight on his face, he took on an even more sinister look.

I knew his thoughts. I don't know what it was that made me laugh, as I stared at him.

"What's wrong with you?! What are you laughing at?" he growled, knitting his brows and slowly approaching me.

I couldn't stop laughing.

Perhaps it was the fact that I could predict his every thought, read every emotion on his face, that made this whole situation incredibly funny. Or perhaps these were just the first signs of madness?

He smiled crookedly and unexpectedly slapped me on the back of the head.

"Hey!

" "You deserved it, little one," he replied, still smiling.

Suddenly, both our ears pricked. Both Teveth and I caught the sound of hooves clattering on the packed dirt of the road. The horses trod heavily, clearly burdened. We looked at each other and nodded knowingly. We split up, each of us hiding among the undergrowth on either side of the road. I unslung my bow and checked the tension. I pulled an arrow from my quiver and nocked it to the string, first running my fingers along the fletching. We didn't need to agree on a battle strategy. It remained unchanged.

"Perhaps we'll get the money today."

We waited in suspense.

"Hey! Even if it's on a rock! Hey! That's a pretty face...

" "Shut your mouth, Nor! You're not in an inn! Perhaps I should remind you, you idiot, that you should be quiet in the forest!" If anything comes out of the bushes, enraged by your cawing, I swear I'll skin you myself!" the irate merchant blurted out.

"What are you panicking about? With such a guard," the smaller of the merchants said, casually gesturing to the five taciturn mercenaries, "no one will want to get at your bloated rump."

"I hope so. I don't intend to lose my money, my goods, let alone my head!" he replied, spitting on his beard.

As if on cue, arrows flew from both sides towards the wagon and its guards. Two of the guards fell dead before they even had time to reach for their weapons. The remaining three dismounted, keeping close to each other and the flanks of their mounts.

"You!" One of the mercenaries shouted at the merchants. "Off the wagon! Behind the trees there!" He finished issuing brief orders to his employers, drawing his sword. The others followed.

The commander narrowed his eyes, trying to locate his opponent. He knew a fierce fight was in store. The attacker wasn't alone, and what's worse, he was an elf. Only elves had such finely fletched arrows.

Two slim, elven silhouettes emerged from either side of the road.

Silently, almost unnoticed, they had managed to get so close! He couldn't forgive himself for this mistake. He looked at the bodies of his two dead companions.

"Precisely aimed."

The arrows lodged deep in the throats of Rew and Klif. The victim hadn't even managed to utter a sound.

The shorter of the elves turned out to be a woman. She had fiery red hair and emerald eyes, and was dressed in dark green trousers, a matching shirt, and a brown vest. A scarf and a sword were tied around her waist. In her hand was a bow with an arrow already nocked. Her companion was dressed in black. A cloak flowed from his shoulders, almost completely concealing the rest of his clothing. A beautiful curved bow and quiver were slung over his shoulder. In his hand he held a long, narrow… too narrow sword.

They didn't say a word. They charged.

The elf kissed the string.

The captain charged at the dark-haired man, while the other two sidestepped the elf's arrow. The shorter mercenary slapped his mount with the flat of his sword, forcing it to gallop toward the redhead, which forced her to sidestep. They both gained time before another barrage of deadly missiles flew their way. This gave them enough time to leap to within sword range. The redhead, however, was not surprised. She dropped her bow and within a moment held her drawn sword in her right hand. Without waiting for the mercenaries to strike, she launched her own attack. She danced and slashed the taller one in the thigh. He jumped back just in time to avoid another blow to the back.

The shorter mercenary parried the next blows, giving the other the opportunity to recover and attack again.

They attacked simultaneously from both sides.

The elf nimbly dodged the swords, half-turning, and dropped low on her feet. The mercenaries' blades didn't even graze her, to their utter surprise.

The dark-haired man's sword and the mercenary commander's sword interlocked.

Only now could the commander feel the immense potential that thin sword held in a skilled hand.

He thrust with all his might at the dark-haired man, forcing him back with his mass. He knew he'd have to be cautious and quick to outwit the elf. Strength alone wouldn't be enough.

The elf attacked.

"He's aiming low."

He was wrong. The enemy slashed at chest height. The commander jumped back, briefly glancing at his bleeding left arm. A moment passed before they crossed weapons again.

The shorter man fell lifeless, pierced by the red-haired woman's sword.

He'd made a mistake that had no place here. He paid for his mistake with his life.

I didn't look at the fallen body. I knew he was already dead. All my senses sharpened. I could hear my own breathing quicken, and the scent of blood filled my nostrils. Every movement seemed to take forever. Almost unconsciously, I spun in place, sensing the slightest movement in the air behind me.

I parried another high blow from my opponent.

"Good. He'll tire quickly, and then it'll be easier to make a rash move."

I cast a fleeting glance at Teveth.

He was handling it well, which allayed my fears somewhat.

I pressed against our crossed blades, forcing my opponent to take a step back.

"Now! Weapon too high."

The small space that had created between us was definitely enough for another maneuver. Holding my sword in my right hand, I leaned my torso slightly to the right, bending my right knee. The mercenary tried to defend from the left.

It was a mistake.

The moment he was certain of my blow, I deftly switched the weapon to my left hand and cut him deep on his left side, roughly at rib level.

He didn't tire for long.

I glanced at Teveth again, just in time to see what was happening.

Teveth was bent double, his hands clutching his stomach. He was wounded.

I had a strange feeling I was seeing him for the last time.

Pain. A terrible pain seared through my stomach. I knew I'd made a mistake.

I'd exposed myself.

And now it was too late to change that.

Amazingly, I'd thought not of myself, but of what would happen to Acirre.

I dropped to my knees, dropping my sword, and leaned forward. The scent of dust and blood filled my nostrils. My own blood.

My opponent had positioned himself for a stab, probably to the heart. I squeezed my eyes shut. The blow didn't come, and the only pain I felt continued to radiate from my stomach. I heard a familiar whisper nearby. I lifted my head and saw with horror that Acirre's limp body was slumped beside me.

"Truly, I've never encountered such a stupid race that would impale itself on an opponent's sword." The mercenary cackled and added. "But that stupid rat knows to get as far away from an opponent as possible!"

Something inside me snapped as I looked at Acirre.

I looked around for the sword. It lay within arm's reach. A moment later, my sweaty hand touched its hilt, and the blade touched the opponent's left side.

The cackling stopped.

Without checking to see if the guard was dead, I crawled on my knees to Acirre's body. I rolled her onto her back.

That day, for the first time, I cried and killed, tormenting two unarmed men. I cried for a long time, until exhaustion prevented me from shedding any more tears.

The thoughts that now come to my mind are dark ones, in which I deprive myself of the only thing I have left...