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(Page 3 of 6) Chapter III - Corruption by Ross Camsell
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He did not know whether to like or hate Mak and Gnost – and the black wrist mark hadn't even faded. Jakkor had taken to wearing a strip of cloth over it – the very sight of it disgusted him.
He wanted to be rid of it. He didn't want to be a half-person. Most of all, he wanted his Air magic back. Everyone knew that he was different now, everybody avoided him.
"It is rumoured that there are wild elven folk who roam the forests of Goldenvale," said someone near, breaking the long silence. "In the Elven Age, Goldenvale was the elves' natural home – in the great plague, although it has been said otherwise, all were thought to perish, to die a slow and painful death at the hands of their illness.
"But legend has it that there are still wild elves in these woods, the descendents of those who escaped the great plague. They are rumoured to be small and nimble folk, primitive and incapable of speech, but deadly with hand-made weapons. The elves of old, of course, used Elven magic, or "light" magic... almost like the opposite of our new opponents." Jakkor perked up at this.
"So Elven magic can counter Black magic?" he asked, hopeful once more. It was the first thing he'd said that day that was free of sarcasm or malice.
"Well, I hadn't thought of that," replied the stranger dreamily. "We all know that Ice counters Fire, and Air counters Earth... so it may be true that Elven counters Black." Suddenly, Jakkor's world brightened. There was a chance for redemption, for him to be rid of the blackness within. "But I highly doubt that the Elves, no more than primitive beasts, still use this magic." And like that, the hope faded. Jakkor looked down again, his mood black as his wrist.
"Dendrites!" shouted someone a few metres ahead. The people at the front – two men and one woman – drew their sword to face the beasts, which always travelled in trios or pairs. They had long, dreadlocked hair and short fur all over their bodies. They were the size of a bulky human, and had two powerful pincers instead of hands, each one made of leathery, tough skin. Their pinches had the power of a bear's bite. Their face was much more compact, their mouth and nose smaller and more drawn than a humans, while their eyes were somewhat bigger, to allow for night vision. They had no ears, just holes on the side of their head covered with a thin veil of skin.
These three showed no sign of noticing half the population of Aeronaea behind their targets. The few who'd drawn their swords simply held their hand out towards the animals, knocking them back. They squeezed their pincers in frustration, making a strangely high growling, gurgling sound. Others near the front were now attacking the monsters, pushing their fists into thin air. The beasts backed up, hurt, but didn't run.
Mak looked at Jakkor, feeling sympathy that he was unable to join in. But his eyes didn't connect with Jakkor, for he was nowhere to be seen.
Jakkor, being near the front, had taken advantage of his new skills to get used to them. Invisible, like the invaders in Aeronaea had been, he ran silently past the front few rows of people.
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