Elf [Book One of The Elf Chronicles]

Elf

Book One of The Elf Chronicles

Also by N. D. Hansen-Hill

Static
Vision
Relic
BloodWorks
The Elf Chronicles
Trolls
The Light Play Trilogy
Light Play
Light Plays
Lightning Play
The Grave Images Series
Grave Images
Graven Image
Grave Imagery
Grave Image
The Trees Series
Trees
Crystals
Mud
Shades
Fire
Light

N. D. Hansen-Hill

Elf

©Copyright 2002 by N. D. Hansen-Hill. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author or publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 0-9582436-0-3
February 2003 by Parade Books, an imprint of Argyle House Press.
Cover painting and design by N. D. Hansen-Hill

Electronic edition 2002 by Parade Books; 2003 by Fictionwise

*For more information, email ParadeBooks@hotmail.com

With special thanks to Carmel Thomaston, and all the wonderful writers on Painted Rock's biw list, in thanks for their support and encouragement...

Elf

Spires of glass and gilded walls,
Flesheating worms and waterfalls,
Destiny's shadow to eat at your soul,
The challenge? To keep your body whole.

Autumn night sliced by eerie howl,
Hellhounds track, intentions foul -
To rip and tear, the warning clear:
Protect thyself, for death is near.

Deceit and torture, confusion rules,
Annihilation - the tool of fools,
Who massacre with lethal gas -
The privilege of the ruling class.

Destiny's winged, but it's also blind,
A lifetime must be left behind,
To salvage the past and save today,
By magical means amidst the fray... 

by N. D. Hansen-Hill

 
 
Prologue

 He jogged along in the mostly dark. The infrequent orangy streetlights didn't do much to brighten his path, but they suited his mood. He' d spent the last three hours stocking shelves with cans of dog food and boxes of cereal, and his day had been spent running lab tests. Night job, day job.
 His eyes ached from the fluorescent lights of the supermarket, and his nose burned from all the chemical scents in the lab.
 Here, he had the illusion of being away from it all. He smiled, and sucked in a deep breath of clean air. This might be the industrial section, but after midnight it was the quietest place in town.
 The day-drudge buildings were empty shells at the moment. In a few minutes he'd get clear of the factories and loop past the old city cemetery.
 More empty shells.
 The moon was rising and it was as fat and yellow as he'd ever seen it. The wind ruffled his hair, and touched him briefly with an icy breath. Autumn was coming. The rustle of scattering leaves was loud in his ears. Yellow moons, yellow pumpkins. Children' s laughter and costumed invaders at his front door. His smile widened.
 He'd outgrown his fear of all things dark a long time ago. His eyes were keener than most, and he'd found that what was bleak and black to others was seldom fearful to him. He was certain he'd left all his childhood fears behind.
 He was nearing the graveyard now, and he could smell it on the wind. Old flowers, new blossoms, stagnant water, fresh-turned earth. None of these bothered him. What snagged him was the light.
 Little flickers of dancing light were hovering in the windswept night. Maintaining themselves against a wind that was tearing at his clothes now, and making his eyes stream.
 What the hell?!
 Not mere light - flickers of flame. Scattered across the cemetery and beyond - buried in the shrubbery landscaping and rising from the shadowed skeletons of cross and stone.
 Oh, God! His breath caught and he missed a step.
 The fitful clouds ripped apart, and moonlight etched the staring figures on his vision - confusedly silhouetting vacant buildings, angel wings, and snarling beasts.