• Prologue: Spies
    The soldiers knew they were being watched; it was obvious from the way they muttered and from the way their bodies, normally so graceful and fluid, were tensed. They continued their day-to-day business, pretending all was normal, except for their posture and the way they never happened to turn away from the spies concealed in the foliage. The smallest of the spies assumed that the way they weren't training was not standard protocol for the strongest military in the world, and she swore to herself as she gazed upon the face of her enemy.
    A tall woman was sharpening her sword, and the spy could not help but admire the beauty of the metal. The two boys next to her would never understand the beauty of a well-crafted sword, she thought sadly as her right hand clasped her own blade gently. The sound of a rock on metal carried from the woman's place by her tent, sending shivers down the spines of the three spies.
    In an instant, the woman looked up and made eye contact. Her face was full of hatred, and it distorted her beautiful features. Everything about the woman was beautiful, from her weapons to her clothes to her face, but in that instant the natural beauty was twisted into cold fury. That fury distorted the faces of the elves. The spy's hand unconsciously tightened around her blade, and blood seeped out of the fresh wound on her palm.
    The elven woman went back to work, her hands moving slowly and deliberately. The sword gleamed upon her lap, breaking the light. The armor she wore had much the same effect, and the little spy wondered vaguely if that armor was as sharp as the sword. The elf's black hair was the same; even tied up on the back of the woman's head it looked like a weapon to the spy. Looking at her enemy, the girl felt as if a fist was clenching her stomach and throat, and she had to work to keep from vomiting.
    "Damn," one of the boys muttered, his voice full of surprise. "They're armed to the freaking teeth." The middle spy couldn't help but detect the admiration in his voice, but she couldn't bring herself to find it as amusing as she normally would. The fist around her innards kept her from finding humor in anything.
    The other boy nodded vigorously. "Why don't we get that kind of equipment?"
    "Because we're not elves, you idiot, so shut up," the girl hissed.
    The two boys rolled their eyes. The one on the left muttered, "It must be that time of the month again." If they had been in any other place the girl would have smacked him upside the head and explained that he was wrong, but she found that her limbs wouldn't move. She let the comment slide.
    If they had just been sent on a normal mission, she thought to herself bitterly, they wouldn't have been in such a hopeless situation. Perhaps they could have been fighting a country not populated by a species far more skilled and, well, experienced than their own. Humans simply were not capable to stand up to soldiers who had been fighting for hundreds of years. It was impossible. The grip on her stomach tightened as an unrecognized emotion filled her veins. It was fear.
    Slowly the elf stood, and the spy could see that she was a mid-ranking officer from the light blue insignia of her armor. They were organized, just like the military the spies belonged to. Their country was organized in every way, from their military to their genetics. A person's family could be identified simply by their eyes and hair. But this form of organization was weak, the spy knew. A loose organization was better; it was more difficult to predict.
    The spy's eyes widened as the elf lifted her sword until it was pointed directly at the spy's face. Her stomach clenched in an emotion she finally identified as fear. The elves were elite. They were beautiful, they were exotic, and they were deadly. The woman seemed to embody the power of her people as she looked down the blade of her sword with deep brown eyes. She wasn't thin but strongly built; with her sleeves rolled up as they were her muscles were clearly present, if not as obvious as the spy's. Her eyes flashed in calculated anger, and the spy could tell she was intelligent.
    "Run, little spies," the elf warrior whispered so quietly she wasn't heard, but the spies read her lips. The two boys on either side flinched, their breathing hesitant. The middle spy kept herself from screaming only by using all of her self control.
    "She sees us," the spy on her left hissed into her ear. "What do we do?" He sounded more irritated than he did afraid, but the panic was clear.
    "Screw this mission," the right spy said. His casual attitude would have worked on anyone not a blood relative. Unfortunately, his brother and his cousin could easily hear the fear he was trying so hard to keep from his voice.
    The middle spy said nothing, petrified with the unusual emotion as it coursed through her veins. She suddenly stood upright, not caring that she was in the open as she grabbed her cousins around their waists and took off, faster and faster until the rest of the world was a blur. ∞