Prey

Cerian stood very still. The only thing setting him apart from his surroundings was the faint glimmer of his emerald-green eyes as he peered through half-closed eyelids. A pale blonde tress that had somehow escaped from the high ponytail his hair was tied in fell in his face, but despite the fact that it tickled his nose with every breath, he did nothing to remove it. His heartbeat was unpleasantly loud in his ears.

The lynx fed on, unaware of the hunter that was a mere heartbeat away. Cerian had taken great care when preparing the bait; the meat was fresh, and the herbal powder that he had sprinkled it with was strong enough to put the great cat to sleep.

Minutes passed. Cerian was getting restless. His muscles ached for standing still most of the afternoon. Finally, the lynx stretched its back, then curled up on the ground and began to purr. Its tail swished back and forth in a lazy motion.

A twig snapped somewhere to his right. The lynx's ears perked up. Cerian held his breath as he listened, but no other sounds came.

The lynx yawned, and Cerian flinched despite himself. One clamp of those powerful jaws could sever a limb, if he moved too soon. 'Just a little more,' Cerian told himself sharply. His hands clenched on the rope he was holding. Once the powder did its work, he would have to be swift –

The foliage above Cerian's head rustled. Several birds flew away. The lynx jumped to its feet, then staggered uncertainly for a few feet before collapsing in a heap. The hunter tensed. He had to act now, or else –

A powerful blow to the side of his head made Cerian's world spin. He whirled around, dagger in hand. His vision swam dangerously for a few seconds. Another blow came, this time from somewhere above. Instead of looking up, Cerian jumped to the side and crouched low.

Moments later, a form descended from the trees. It was tall, too tall to be an elf. Its skin was a mossy green, and its black lips were curled up in a mocking grin. The troll licked its tusks, much like the lynx that now slept between hunter and prey, then brandished a primitive mace.

Cerian staggered back into the trunk of a tree. He had never seen a forest troll before, much less fought one.

“Stay away,” he warned weakly.

Cerian never saw the second troll creep up behind him. A third blow sent him sprawling. He rolled on his back and looked up. His captors were laughing. One of them croaked something in his own language, then pointed to the wounded elf. The other nodded.

“What...” Cerian began.

Then, the world turned black.

***

Cerian awoke to a world of confusion. His arms were twisted behind his back and bound expertly with a thin rope, so tightly that his wrists felt numb. His legs, as far as he could tell, were free, though he doubted this would be of any good in his present state. Rough fabric covered his eyes.

From somewhere not too far away came the sound of several voices. Peals of laughter rose every now and again. He counted one, two... no, three different voices. Two of them, he guessed, were those of his captors. The third one was rich, almost musical... and, Cerian realized with a start, it spoke in the common language of the humans who dwelled in the southern mountains of Alterac. But that wasn't right... humans and trolls had no business with each other, as far as the hunter could tell. Then...?

Cerian strained to listen in. At first, he heard nothing over the buzzing in his own ears. Then he began to pick up scattered words every here and there. It was obvious that the human and the trolls were talking about some sort of a trade.

“My lord will be more than pleased with your offering,” the human said. “And I am equally certain that he will return the favor – in kind.”

“'Dey betta' be fresh, mon.” This was definitely one of the trolls. “Otherwise Thra'jin gunna be pissed, and there gunna be no more trade.”

The human cleared his throat. “Of course.” He made a pause, then added, “Three women, no younger than 15, no older than 20. Shouldn't be too hard to find. After all, our kingdom does have more than enough fine women to choose from.”

Cerian felt his stomach turn in sympathy. Whatever this Thra'jin intended, it didn't bode well for the women. There was plenty of evidence to suggest that some trolls, at least, were canibals... and human flesh was said to be a delicacy.

“Thra'jin said five,” another troll said sharply.

“My lord will see to it that your Thra'jin is rewarded adequately for this one,” the human said icily. “If he is satisfied with this one, he might even toss in a few extra incentives for your people's continued good-will. All I ask is that you bear with him just this once.”

This one? Cerian felt a chill run up and down his spine. They were talking about him.

The trolls bickered in their own language for a while, then finally, one of them spoke. “So be it then,” he said. “He's all yours, mon.”

The sound of approaching footsteps alterted him that his captors were drawing near. He did his best to lay still, even as a hand, too small to belong to a troll, cupped his cheek roughly. The human was so close that he could feel his breath on his lips. It smelled of chewed tobacco and stale beer.

“He's pretty... like a woman,” the human mused. “My lord will certainly enjoy his... company.”

“'Den our business here is done,” the first troll concluded. “Joo betta' pick 'im up and leave before others come searchin'.”

“All in due time, my friend. You two, however, would best be on your way. It would not pay to keep your Thra'jin waiting.”

A rustle of leaves gave indication that the trolls had gone. Cerian felt both relieved and frightened at once. At the very least, he was certain now that he wasn't going to be eaten... but on the other hand, the conversation he had just listened to offered an equally grim prospect. He had no doubts now that he had been kidnapped for a reason, and it appeared that this reason was to be given to some human in some sort of gruesome exchange. Whatever business this human would have with Cerian, he was certain it was something horrible. He had to escape, and he had to do it now, while he could still reach safety before the trolls returned.

The human was pacing now. Cerian took advantage of what he saw as a distraction to tug at his bonds experimentally. Whoever had restrained him had done their job well. The knots did not budge.

The hunter considered crying out for help, then decided against it. It was doubtful that anyone was close enough to hear, and he didn't want to alert the human that he was awake. At least, not yet.

“Well, well, well. Looks like it's just you and me... elf.”

Cerian heard the human approach, then kneel beside him. He steeled himself for another blow to the head, or worse. The moment dragged on.

“I know you can hear me,” the human said suddenly.

Cerian lay perfectly still despite the blind panic that was quickly rising in his gut. When the human continued after a few seconds, he could barely keep himself from sighing with relief. “Or, maybe you can't,” he drawled. “It's not like I care, anyway. Less trouble for me. After all, we can't have you scream or try to run away now, can we.”

He paused as if waiting for an answer. Cerian gave him none.

“At any rate, my lord will probably reward me for bringing you to him. It's been a while since he's rewarded me for anything, you know... Even though I was the only one who stayed with him through everything... the good times and the bad... All those years of service, and never so much as a kind word... not once... But this will change everything. I know it!”

A loud 'pop!' meant that the human had uncorked a pouch that was probably filled with bitter ale. He drank deeply. “You know, I can almost find it in me to pity you,” he resumed after a while. “He'll break you... just like he broke all the others. In the end, he'll probably kill you... unless you'll have killed yourself, of course. A few others did it, anyway. One hung himself. Another one wouldn't eat or drink for weeks and he wasted away like that. They were all humans, though... Maybe you elves are more resilient. What do I know?”

Cerian listened in horror. What could the human possibly mean? Was this human lord going to torture him? For what purpose? Humans and elves had long since been friends, even allies in times of strife. What, then, could he possibly want –

“Maybe I can help you. Make it easier for you in some way.”

This, at last, filled Cerian with some hope. Maybe this human wasn't at all bad. Maybe he could talk him out of whatever he planned to do with him.

The human, for his part, sounded pleased with his revelation. “Yes...” he drawled. “I could prepare you... show you... what he will do to you...”

He was caressing the side of his face again, but there was no tenderness in the touch. Cerian fought the urge to pull back. There was something inherently wrong with the way the human touched him. Suddenly, those shourt, calloused fingers tangled in his hair and pulled his head back until the hunter felt like his neck would snap. He couldn't help the sharp intake of breath, nor the small sound that left his lips before he could contain it.

The human didn't miss this. “Ah,” he said. “You're awake after all.”

“What... what do you want with me?” Cerian growled, his voice strained from the awkward position. A second later, he gasped as he felt something cold and thick press against the side of his neck. A blade.

“You'll know soon enough,” the human replied, his voice laced with amusement. “Now hold still. I'd hate to make a mess.”

--

A/n: I blame the voices in my head for this one. No, really, I do! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and there's plenty more where that came from. Reviews are <3!