Illiana

  My name is Illiana, I am the fourth princess of the elven kingdom of Anaura. Today was the day I was going to die, or so I thought. While travelling as an emissary to the human realms in my carriage, I was attacked. My father, the elven king, had made a few enemies amongst the reactionaries but had also made great strides in improving relations with the likes of beastfolk, humans, and even the stubborn dwarves. Since I was so far down in the line of succession it was believed that I wouldn't be much of a target for political assassinations, so I was only granted a modest retinue on my mission. Not that we thought even the most ornery of reactionaries capable of resorting to that sort of violence, mind you.

  I had spent some time in the human city of Caer Caradon establishing a trade deal and using my healing magic to help as many sick people as I was able with the time given, and was on my way home. We had been travelling for many days - there was my attendant Elice, the carriage driver Moriend, three rookie spearmen, one experienced spearman, and two archers whose names I hadn't quite gotten familiar with. Would that I had. That night we came under attack. The first to fall was Moriend, who was struck with an arrow from the trees. There was a small explosion in front of the horses - the beasts panicked, and the carriage toppled over. I heard screams. There was battle outside.

  Elice turned to me, sorrow in her garnet eyes, "it is time," she said. I gulped. I knew what she meant. She was wearing the selfsame outfit I would wear during courtly affairs. Elice wasn't just my attendant, she was also my body double. I knew that the others were fighting to protect me. If I didn't run they would die in vain…but it tore at my heart. Elice was my friend. I'd known her for more than a century…that look of resolve in her eyes steeled my own. I embraced her one last time, tears in both our eyes. I opened the escape hatch on the floor, which was playing the role of a wall right now. As luck had it, the carriage had landed with its wheels facing towards the trees - away from the staunch line of spears trying desperately to hold off the attackers. Quickly as I dared, I ran into the thick of the forest.

  Some ten minutes passed and the sound of pitched battle died down - had my protectors fallen? Surely I hadn't gotten so far away as to be unable to hear it anymore? My heart sank, for the answer to my question came in the form of an arrow that struck a nearby tree within a few inches of my head. They were on to me! I kept running. My heart raced, and my legs were starting to get tired. I thought perhaps I could find a thicket or a cave to hide in, but what good would that do? Lowlifes such as this wouldn't hesitate to burn the forest down. Burning. My stomach twisted - the thought of choking on smoke until I was no longer able to breathe frightened me. It was a moot point, though, for at that moment the trees gave way to a clearing. There were already two of them in the clearing, and I heard others behind me. No choice, I thought, if I can't run I'll have to fight - even if it was hopeless I couldn't give up. If I did there was no way I could face Elice and the others in Valyr. Neither big brother nor anyone else was coming to my rescue.

  "This is it," I thought, "this is the day I die."

  I drew my staff from its back scabbard; a shadbard the adventurer's guild provisioner called it. My magic reserves were almost depleted, thanks to that afflicted village we had passed through earlier that day. I could, perhaps, defeat one or two of them before the end. But still, knowing that I had saved many people who may otherwise have suffered and died warmed my heart. I pointed my staff at one of the ruffians, spoke an incantation, and released an orb of stone which had formed itself at the tip. The man doubled over as the spell struck him square in the chest - while his companion knelt to try and help him up I dashed towards one of the larger trees and stood with my back to it. As I ran I could hear four distinct sets of feet right behind me - they moved fast. I wondered if they had taken a woodstrider potion or had a ranger among their numbers. I drew my elven saber and took a stance - staff in my left hand, sword in the other, I stood ready to take as many of them down with me as possible. This…proved to be easier said than done.

  They dashed towards me with short swords drawn - they were very quick, almost supernaturally so. These weren't simple brigands, I thought, these were trained killers. One struck at me, I parried, then another tried attacking from the left - I strengthened my staff with a quick word of power and deflected that blow too. In the end it was too much for me - at some point they had broken my staff and it was down to my meager sword skills. It was all I could do to avoid receiving a fatal blow outright - parrying blows, and healing the strikes that I couldn't completely evade. But fatigue was setting in, and soon enough my saber was knocked from my hand and I collapsed to the ground. Fear and despair overtook me. I prayed to Elianora for salvation, begging for my life, but I knew that it was futile.

  But as the masked men raised their weapons in preparation to finish me off, ready to shred my body into bloody strips of flesh, or do worse things that I dared not imagine, something unexpected happened. A rift appeared in the sky a few feet above my head - it looked like teleportation magic, no, summoning magic? From the aperture issued forth a metal object of some sort, bright red in color; it was longer than a stagecoach but significantly less tall, and it was making a strange rumbling noise. The assassins were startled, but they didn't have time to react when the thing came crashing down - four of them were crushed to death outright, and two more were trampled under it as it continued to move. Oh? It was moving. Faster than anything I had ever seen before - I had compared its size to a stagecoach before, since I had recently been in one, but I didn't imagine that it would turn out to be some sort of vehicle. Indeed, it was moving on four wheels; they were obviously wheels the way they spun, but they didn't seem to be made of wood.

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  The vehicle turned abruptly, kicking up dirt and grass as it did, and then came to a halt. The rumbling I'd heard stopped and someone exited it. It was a man of the human race, dressed rather unusually. He seemed distraught and was frantically checking the front of the vehicle - he did some strange thing with his hands; he tapped his forehead, then his crotch, then his left shoulder followed by his right.

  "Thank God," he muttered; anyone but an elf or a beastfolk couldn't have heard him from that distance.

  Ah, I had reasoned, he was concerned about damage - but surely he must have known that summoned creatures and objects were protected by a magic shell at the moment of conjuring? His gaze fell upon the dead assassins, turned pale, and began to panic - "shit" he had cried. I saw him run over to the rear end of the vehicle, which opened up, and he brought out a white box made of some unknown material. He ran over in my direction, but he didn't seem to notice me at all - he knelt beside the dead men, placing his fingers on one of their necks. Wait, was he concerned for their lives? He grew even paler than before and started to wobble about.

  "It just don't add up," he cried. Although I could understand his words thanks to the gift of my goddess, it was clear that he was using some sort of idiomatic expression that was unfamiliar to me. But his body language made it clear that he was confused and frightened. Then he gesticulated, asking where and why questions about his surroundings, and finally he looked up at the sky and fell silent. Though he had his back turned to me I could tell that he was shocked, awestruck even, because he said no more - stuck, transfixed upon Azune and Topazune; it was a rare night when both moons were full at the same time. I decided that I needed to snap him out of his trance and thank him - after all, he did just save my life with that contraption of his.

  I stood up, cleared such dust and leaves by hand as I could - I didn't want to startle him by casting a cleansing ritual right behind him. Cleaning my clothes was one of the few things I could do at will - the magic cost was so negligible that I could do it even when fully depleted. Stepping closer and planting my feet firmly, I covered my mouth and gave a little fake cough. He turned to face me and I got a good look at him for the first time. He was a handsome man of about thirty summers with a square jaw and some stubble growing on his cheeks. He was at least a head taller than me with light brown hair and blue eyes with tiny flecks of gold in them. Now that I could see them up close, I became even curiouser about his clothes - a long coat of some sort made of what I could only describe as oilskin, breeches made of some bluish cloth that I'd never seen before, a pair of brown leather shoes, and a white shirt of some unknown manufacture with pearlescent buttons. Surely he must be a noble to be able to afford a shirt so finely woven.

  The moment he noticed that I was standing there he just stood there, looking bewildered. Something about that made me smile, and I said, bowing courteously "I thank you, O brave hero torn from the heavens! You have vanquished the assassins sent to take my life and I am forever in your debt."

  He just stared, dumbfounded, then shook his head, wiped off the front of his clothes, tucked his shirt deeper into his trousers, gave a bow, and then apologized to me for what had just happened. Huh? Why had he just apologized after

  "Could it be," I said, tilting my head, "that you can't understand my words," I switched to common, "or how about these words?"

  I still wasn't that comfortable speaking the language of humans, after all I had only just begun to learn recently - I always heard elvish when others spoke even though I could instinctively tell which language they were using. But how strange, I had never seen this language before. My gift only allowed me to understand by listening and reading, it didn't impart the ability to speak a language I was unfamiliar with, nor did it grant me the ability to write in it. Anyroad, his reaction was all I needed in order to confirm that to be the case - sure enough, the next words out of his mouth spelled out plainly that he didn't understand elvish. Realization struck me instantly, and I knew what to do. Yes, I had just enough power left to use it - that spell which permitted me to temporarily bestow the selfsame ability that I had innately: comprehension.

  "Forgive me," I thought, "for I must needs intrude upon you."

  I reached out to him - the spell required physical contact in order to take effect. There was some trepidation. For all I knew he may have lashed out at me, assuming that I was planning to attack him. But I felt no malicious intent from him. I put as much power into it as I dared; increasing the length of the incantation in order to extend its duration. There, it was done. I asked once again if he could understand me, and this time, he nodded.