Becoming Legend - Chapter 378: Elf: Faeranduhl, II

“Barely,” Faeranduhl mumbled.

A continuous reminder for Faeranduhl that he wasn’t just a half-elf but also an entirely different elf from the other. He strained his eyes, focusing on the masked-half-elf before him. Faint threads of blue light, like those of thin ribbons, were fairly visible leaking off the hands of the half-elf.

Faeranduhl was a half-elf for centuries, and many of those years were to hone the skills taught to him by his mother, one of which was to sense mana leaks from other elves. Weres were half-beast half-sentient beings (could be humans, dwarves, fairies, if they do, exists but Faeranduhl was told that the last of them died after the second race war, worse weres bred with elves), and humans were, humans and only elves had the finest control of their mana from the day they were born. Those fine control left them elves’ mana leak so thin that they could barely be noticed. But not from Faeranduhl, his ways of swords might be fairly called decent, but his mana sense and mana control were entirely on another level. He could not just sense them, he could feel them.

Often he could read someone if they are lying or not, just by sensing the flow of mana into their body. And by sensing the flow of mana, oftentimes he could predict the magic his opponents were about to conjure.

Just for that day, he sensed mana flow and mana leaks perfectly controlled by the two Elders that joined the expedition. And in front of him knelt a lady supposed to be a dark-elf. Her control was so precise, mana leaks were barely visible from the spell she conjured.

Usually, mana leaks appeared to the space the magic was conjured. He could sense mana leaks from her hands and face. But he noticed yet another leak, ribbons of blue and yellow leaking from her face. These ribbons were brittle, like that of very old paper that easily crumbles to touch. It wasn’t her for sure, Faeranduhl concluded. Must be some sort of magic item.

Faeranduhl squinted his eyes, retracting his senses to reduce the strain he was feeling from the overwhelming mana surrounding him. He focused only on her.

“Who are you?” Faeranduhl said under his breath. He studied the female elf for a long time as he raised his stick pointing at her, as though it could do anything to protect him. But not taking chances to lower his guard. For all he knew, this could be some sort of magical beast pretending to be an elf. Perhaps it was just an illusion. But he was confident that low-tier illusions won’t work on him.

“I’m just a servant for the smirs,” she responded at long last. But it was something Faeranduhl did not expect. Mana leaks started to form under her feet, thinner than before, and very precise. A kind of mana leak before a spell is about to be conjured.

“Please, don’t,” Faeranduhl said, then sent minuscule mana from his free hand to the forming spell under her feet. It was mana of no elemental form, could barely be called a spell. Faeranduhl had been training his mana control so that he could send a tiny amount of it to disrupt the formation of spells.

The dark-elf jumped in surprise after her spell was canceled abruptly. “You can…” she said, but chose to end his voice and stared at Faeranduhl. “I am an elf. Don’t you see?” She then stood, uncaring about the stick pointed at her. “I am what they call Lia of the spring.”

“Or Lia the misleader,” Faeranduhl added. He draws the stick back, finally realizing that it will serve him no good. The snow stopped falling, yet the cold remained. “You’re not even Lia at all.”

Lia raised her hands in defeat and sighed. She was taller than Faeranduhl by about an inch or two. Dark hair loosens behind her waist, dark eyes looking at him. But Faeranduhl doubted her true form. Even her height might even be a farce.

Faeranduhl sensed another mana leak leaving her hands and instinctively he raised the stick and aimed at her. Shook his head and said: “Don’t do it.”

“This will put you at ease, okay?” She said and continued to form whatever magic she was about to conjure. Her other hand left hanging and went to pull something on her face, like that of a mask Faeranduhl once saw in some sort of elvian balls, dressed up in a fancy dress, and drinking expensive juices while he served them.

Behind the female elf were the flickers of light coming from the torches the semsmirs had erected around the shelters. Trees stood like soldiers guarding them with splatters of snow on their leaves and stems. Laughter and singing had ceded to silence which left the expedition whistles of wind and an occasional howling of beasts.

Then sparks of blue and yellowish sprayed around the half-elf’s face. After the light vanished, Faeranduhl was left with the stunning beauty of a dark-elf younger than him for about a decade or so. Her hair was no raven but grey, not old but that of ash. Eyes golden with some occasional hue of black, the change of eye color was only possible with a proper angle from the moonlights. Her chin was pointed, not pointed as his, but she deserved the look. If Faeranduhl was holding a stick, she was the opposite; she was a dagger: nimble and deadly.

Faeranduhl felt his hands go cold as he stared at the dark-elf figure before her.

He gawked like an idiot, he must be, after his presence went back and realized that the stick he was holding fell and sunk to the snow.

“I’m Gadsi,” she said. “Princess and Successor for Dark-elves.”

Faeranduhl shook his head, raven hair swaying awkwardly. “No Princess, and Successor, will come here… alone,” he said, “Gadsi you are called, but…” he stared at her, her mana flow was now hard for him to sense. He knew there were princes and princesses, Successors, and Elders, but never heard of Gadsi before. Nor the princes’ name, Successors’. He knew the Elder’s name, and the King’s, but he never bothered to learn lower than them. He could barely remember the name of the owner of the shop he was working at. If she was indeed a princess why would she be here? He was more confused after he could not sense her mana anymore. It’s either she was telling the truth or he underestimated her magical knowledge. Either way, this was not good for Faeranduhl. What if she killed him? Faking good so that she could grab his trust and kill him. He was alone, more reason to kill him without someone to notice.

With the thought of fear, his instinct kicked in. He conjured roots from the ground, coiling Gadsi’s legs, and pulled himself farther from her. Once he was a couple of paces away from her, he conjured spikes from his foot to Gadsi. He knew the roots were keeping her from moving, and the spikes stabbed her to the gut. But he wasn’t focused, he’s like a child holding a sword; he knew the enemy was in front of him, yet he could barely hold the sword together with a pair of his flimsy hands. His magic was conjured in surprise, no will to it, no strength, and no intentions. He just did it in surprise, just a response of his body to survive.

Gadsi was unmoving and uncaring.

A brief second passed and Faeranduhl felt a chill behind him. He hurriedly conjured a blade made of terra magic and spun to block whatever the chill he was fearing.

The blade of terra magic did not block anything at all. His eyes went wide as he felt the tip of the dagger under his throat. He was heaving, sweating, and pale.

“Just listen, half-elf,” Gadsi said, gone was the soft voice. She was furious and at the same time confused. “I am not going to hurt you. Nod if you understand.”

Faeranduhl nodded. Dropped his blade to dissolve to the ground. Swallowed a lump of saliva and threw himself on the ground. “What did you do?” he stared at Gadsi, looking like a boulder in front of him. He was sunk half deep in the snowy field.

“You think you’re the only one good at mana control?” Gadsi said, waving her hand. The dagger disappeared and extended a hand to Faeranduhl.

“B-but you were there a moment ago,” Faeranduhl said, looking over his shoulder and back to Gadsi—now smiling. “Suddenly, you were here?”

“I’m a dark-elf,” she said and pulled Faeranduhl off the ground as soon as he clasped her hand. “You… really don’t know me?”

“You’re Gadsi.”

“Yes. I mean—forget it,” Gadsi said, rolling her eyes.

Faeranduhl shook the snow on his butt and went to look at Gadsi. “What did you do before?”

“Before?”

“Like…” he said, trailing. “Like… you own me. Like… you made me felt like—”

“Insignificant.”

It was Faeranduhl’s eyes to roll this time and winced.

“I mean an ant. But Insignificant. Fine,” he said, “you made me feel insignificant.”

Gadsi laughed. “I’ll tell you, but first. Did I pass?”

“Pass?”

“The trust Hunt?”

Faeranduhl nodded. “But…” He raised a hand to make a point. “You can’t fool me if you think I believe you are the princess of D—”

“Are you okay, child?”

Faeranduhl spun around in another surprise but was relieved to learn that it was the leader of the semsmir servant.

“Oh?” the semsmir leader said. “Lia you are here! We’ve been looking for you. You child, where did you go?”

Faeranduhl spun another to see Gadsi, now Lia, smiling and walking towards the semsmir leader. Leaving Faeranduhl a wink.

“I was out looking for fireflies, sir,” Lia (Gadsi) said, bowing apologetically.

The three went back to the encampment, leaving the snowfield poked with footprints and some traces of Faeranduhl’s and Gadsi’s show of magic.

Morning came, and the expedition prepared to leave for O’rriadt island.