The Greatest Sin

Maisara stared Fortia down. Begging, shouting and tears had just filled the room. “Fine.” Maisara finally agreed. “I will do it, but you owe me for this.”

The tundra of eastern Karaina was sparsely populated, covered in age-old pine trees and never inspected. Who wanted to here? Certainly not any governmental officials. Thus, a location had been chosen, a half hour’s drive from the nearby town. The trees were felled in a block, targets were put up and a small shooting range was erected. Men trained on it, and an elf oversaw the whole process. Tall, in leather boots and a long fur-coat, he strode to try and defeat the utter boredom.

Iliyal paused his stroll around the shooting range with his A1, a wonderful weapon. He had been put in charge of Kira Car Factory and Aklasia manufacturing plant. The Tarin deal was being delayed by the other side. That luckily was for Narma to sort out, not him. Iliyal aimed, loaded a shot, pulled the trigger and fired.

An explosion rang out and he squinted to check. Another bullseye. He chuckled to himself and slung the rifle back over his shoulder. He had used muskets in the Great War before and the whole thing was like riding a horse: once you worked it out, you never lost it. He picked up the brass casing, juggled it in one hand to cool it off and pocketed it. The humans sometimes buried them, but he had fought against Leona, paranoia of her luck was much like riding a horse: Once you got it, you never lost it.

A cool breeze came across and a snowflake landed on Iliyal’s nose. Karaina was a country split into two by the Laika mountain range. The west was Karaina A, the east was Karaina B. A was a modern country, B was a land tamed only in name. A piece of geography only claimed by Karaina for formality. In Karaina A, autumn was in full stride, here, winter only gave an inch for two months.

Iliyal passed a squad of men training to shoot. They weren’t excellent shots, but they hit more often than not. Guns weren’t hard to use and Arascus was correct: a day of this was worth a year training with the blade. Their forms were good, they simply needed to practice more. One of them saluted to him and he saluted back. “How’s the training going?” Iliyal asked.

“Very good Sir! Today I hit two bullseyes.”

“Good job private.” Iliyal gave the man a pat on his shoulder and walked off. It was a lie to say he did not care about these people, but he made it a case not to associate too much with humans: their lifespans would eventually catch up with them whereas his did not. All elves made this mistake when they were young. Iliyal turned to the range and saw someone hit the target five times in a row. Good. He wanted that from all of them.

He glanced at the humans, they were using binoculars to check their hits. Before Iliyal arrived, they were checking by walking up to the target. Binoculars saved time and saved time meant more training. He pulled the coat tighter around himself as the snow start to fall. Another hour of this before conditions would make them unable to shoot. Iliyal would push them as far as they could go.

More shots, more targets hit. Good. Getting better. One of the humans shouted. “Animal on the ea-“

“HOLD FIRE!” Iliyal’s voice drowned him out. That wasn’t an animal. “STOP SHOOTING! HOLD FIRE! ALL OF YOU!” That was impossible! Here?! “STAND UP! IN RANKS!” The men moved immediately. No one said anything, they merely looked curiously at him. “DO NOT SHOOT! I REPEAT DO NOT SHOOT! NO MATTER WHAT YOU SEE!”

He chuckled to himself. If there ever was a test of bravery, this was about to be it. Iliyal strolled onto the range at a brisk pace. Rifle shouldered, one arm resting on the sword on his hip. “WHO ARE YOU!” He heard the soldiers start to whisper among themselves.

“What’s happening?” “I don’t know.” “Part of his exam?” “It’s cold, this is better than the ground.” Humans would be far out of earshot, but he wasn’t a human. He ignored their whispers, humans always talked to each other; it was one thing to instil discipline, it was another to try and wage a futile campaign against their nature. “Is that an animal?” “It was furry.” “A badger?” “You ever talk to a badger?” “A talking badger then?”

“I’M NOT GOING TO HURT YOU!” Iliyal shouted again and the figure reappeared from behind the tree. A girl, a tattered coat over her small frame, obviously hungry. Her hair was too long, too shaggy and thick. Her hands were covered in the same fur. Two small ears peaked out from the top of her head, sharp and pointed, like a hunting dog’s.

“I’m… hungry…” She said it loud enough for him to hear even if he was a human. She took two steps into the open and then collapsed. Iliyal stood there, a smile growing on his face. Maybe it would have worked on someone else, but he wasn’t born yesterday. His eyes scanned the treeline and he saw them.

Behind the thick pine trees, creeping under bushes, some in the trees themselves. Armed with spear and axe and hammer and club, all covered in fur. All with blood-red eyes. He ignored the smaller specimens when a javelin suddenly burst from the woods. Straight at him.

Iliyal sidestepped long before the shot hit him. He took a breath and spoke. There was no need to shout, they had better hearing than him.

“Children of Fer, I am not your enemy.”