http://www.bookelves.com/read/fiction-elf-life The story of elves told in prose. en-us http://www.bookelves.com/read/fiction-elf-life/rss.xml Kipper Copyright 2008, Carson Fire carsonfire@gmail.com (Carson Fire) 720 http://www.bookelves.com/read/fiction-elf-life/20080512-0646_Plate_Blood_Baughb.php ]]> Elf Life Fiction Mon, 12 May 2008 06:46:00 +0600 http://www.bookelves.com/read/fiction-elf-life/20080512-0646_Plate_Blood_Baughb.php http://www.bookelves.com/read/fiction-elf-life/20080429-0751_Prologue.php Elf Life

PROLOGUE

The driving wind battered his green sock-like hat and shock of blonde hair. "Hold this for me," he said, on unsteady feet, handing the sword as carefully as he could to the mute child. The wind made it difficult even to stand upright. Several yards away, a terrified goblin held a knife to a baby's throat and screamed at the elf to stop wasting time.

The elf knelt and held the mute child's shoulders. "I'll be right back. I promise," he said, smiling that same broad, honest smile he always had.

It was the end of the world. The sky was tearing, rupturing, all around them. The mother pleaded for the life of her baby, but only the old man who held her back could hear her over the roar.

The mute child watched as the elf held his hands out to show the deranged goblin Rangnjor that he was unarmed. He must have known what he was doing. Baughb the elf was like a magician; he never did anything absurd or unexpected without a crafty plan in his back pocket. And this time was no different. As Baughb approached Rangnjor from the front, Rangnjor's injured companion stabbed him in the back. He was on their side, after all, and Baughb must have known! He must have known the whole time!

But the mute child's racing heart came to a full stop. His small mouth trembled under his bulbous nose, and nothing came out. Even if he could speak, no one would have heard him through the noise, and it would have been too late, anyway. After the heroes turned their attention to the baby, the dead goblin Rangnjor rose up behind them. He struck his double-crossing partner in the head with a stone, and then lifted Baughb like a rag doll into the air and swung him hard onto the ground, breaking his leg.

The ground was splitting apart. There was no time left; they had to reach the safety of the caves to avoid being swallowed by the faerie gates.

Baughb screamed in pain as Rangnjor clawed up the baby bundle and lifted it over his head. And that's when the faerie gate took the goblin. It screeched open and devoured Rangnjor and the baby.

Baughb cursed and righted himself despite his leg, and threw himself into the faerie gate behind them. The rocky ground around the faerie gate exploded, and no one could see what became of the other goblin who had helped Baughb.

The mother wailed desperately, blinded by tears, and the old man found new strength to draw her back. They must go now! He bellowed at the mute child and the other stragglers to follow him to the caves. There was nothing more that could be done!

Tears welled up in the eyes of the mute child, still holding the hero's sword.

"Bau-Baughb."

***

Baughb Lindel was insanely happy, for once. He wiped the gray hair and blood from his wrinkled forehead, slapped the gun on his desk, loosened his tie, and poured himself a straight shot of bourbon.

Even in his paneled, windowless office, he could hear the driving rain outside. Let it rain! All of the demonstrators would be soaking wet. They should get sick and die. That'd show 'em.

He lifted a remote and turned on one of the TVs in a bank of monitors that dominated the south wall. What, were they still covering it live? Ah, well, it didn't matter. He had lived many lives, and was bound to outlive this one, as well. The corporate empire he had built with his own two hands--the mighty Trollco--was crumbling around him, but he no longer cared. He was finally at peace.

The nightmares would end, now. The faeries would stop coming to him at night. Taunting him. Tempting him. You are the one, they told him. You must leave this nightmare, they told him. Ah, but that was what he had been trying to do all along. There were no more elves left. No more faeries. That world was gone. And with one bullet, so was the final reminder of that long dead world. A grin stretched his pruned face.

On TV, a reporter in a trenchcoat was interviewing the protest organizer, underneath a bank of umbrellas. Bob didn't even care what it was about, anymore. Health benefits. Wages. Scandal. None of it mattered to him, anyway. The old elf danced with his bourbon, pirouetting in the trail of blood that his shoes had left. Slipping in it reminded him to make a phone call.

"Monsoon, come up here and bring a bag and a mop, will you? I've got some garbage for you to take out. Heh heh. That's right."

He put the receiver back down on its cradle and resumed his dance. The TV became noisier; there was some kind of fight breaking out on the street below the Trollco building. The riot police were moving in.

About time, Baughb muttered, his good mood wearing off. Crack open a few heads, why don't you? He sank into his leather chair. He would have to find a way to defeat his enemies in the streets below.

"BAUGHB!" a woman on TV screamed. Baughb was startled, and involuntarily swung around in his chair to look at the screen. A small woman with a mop of green hair was pushing against a line of cops. "They won't let me in to see you! Baughb, it's you! It's been you the whole time! You have to escape this world! You have to leave--" With a scream, a baton swung down and the small woman disappeared into a mashup of black uniforms and polycarbonate shields, as the TV camera jolted away.

You have to leave--this nightmare. There was no mistaking the creature, even on the TV screen. Her face was round and smooth, her fiery green eyes luminous with power. Moreover, she had spoken in a language long forgotten. She had been a faerie.

Baughb gaped. His mouth hung open, yet he found it hard to breathe. And then he breathed hard, clutching his chest. "What," he rasped, "what have I done?"

In the hall outside, a trail of blood was smeared on the carpet all the way to the elevator doors. Baughb the elf lay crumpled in the elevator, trying not to die.

***

[More to follow...] ]]> Elf Life Fiction Tue, 29 Apr 2008 07:51:00 +0600 http://www.bookelves.com/read/fiction-elf-life/20080429-0751_Prologue.php http://www.bookelves.com/read/fiction-elf-life/20080429-0632_Plate_Faeries.php ]]> Elf Life Fiction Tue, 29 Apr 2008 06:32:00 +0600 http://www.bookelves.com/read/fiction-elf-life/20080429-0632_Plate_Faeries.php http://www.bookelves.com/read/fiction-elf-life/20080428-0753_Introduction.php Cars, here!

There hasn't been an update for a while. I've been working to catch up on debts and bills. And yet I still can't devote as much time to drawing Elf Life/Alfheim as I need to in order to keep it updating regularly--for the simple reason that I haven't been able to make a living doing it.

So--brace yourself--we're returning to the dreaded text updates. That doesn't mean an end to art and comics. To the contrary! I must make time for a new comic book that I am working on (which you will definitely hear about, later), not to mention other art jobs.

Some readers have given me negative feedback for switching to text updates in the past, and some misunderstand the reasons for doing so. At this point, the story is too big to be told simply through erratic comic updates. I do not serve the story well if I do not find some way to tell it.

Before this last interruption, I thought I'd try once again to update and revise the earliest part of the story, including a new prologue that I've long been planning. Well, it's just not going to get done if I don't just simply tell it.

Carson Fire,
April 28, 2008


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