Overachiever

Daelia removed her glove and sunk her wrinkled, purple hand into the wet earth. After lingering for a long moment, the Zyldari’s quivering fingers emerged. The remains of withered roots crumbled as she rubbed them together. Behind her ventilator mask, her breath came in laboured gasps.

Being a plant-like humanoid, the Zyldari shared a special connection with the natural world around them. And this world was very sick. The distant wailing of this world’s dryad chorus she had heard months ago now felt like a deafening screech. Especially here on the edge of the now-toxic lake.

Contrasting with the bleak, gray landscape surrounding them, a colourful young wild elf knelt next to her. “Careful, otha. From what I hear, you’ve taken in enough pain on this journey. Our spirits can only take so much before we become the corruption we’re trying to fight.” He used the Anathuloch word for venerable elder.

Daelia regarded the bright young warrior as acidic rain pelted the tops of their protective cloaks. Her scowl deepened as he beamed her a toothy grin that hadn’t left his face since they met. “Far be it from me to mire your curious temperament, but you should know your mirth can come across as inconsiderate, or even unprofessional, considering the context.”

He chuckled. “Sounds like a problem for other people, otha. Life is meant to be loved, celebrated, and fought for. Isn’t that why we’re here? Might be hard to see from under those dark clouds you carry with you, but you’ll be gleaming bright as a star when we’re done here, I promise.”

They and the motley crew of wild elf mercenaries wearing a blend of their ancestral hunter garb and modern kit turned their heads skyward as the air rumbled from a large ship entering atmosphere.

The young warrior bounced on the spot and called out to his kin, “Yakuul ee akhar!  Our quarry have arrived. Get in position, Falcons. Faraya is watching!” He turned to his employer and said, “Do you like fireworks? I’m dying to show you what we brought.” She rolled her eyes as he helped her to her feet.

A merc wearing an old comms backpack ran up to them. The leader picked up the handset. “Wings, you ready? It’s showtime.” Static greeted him on the other end. He tapped the finicky device with his palm. “Hey, talk to me. What’s the situation?”

An unfamiliar voice came over the comms. “The situation is that you’re all fucked. Put your boss on, amateur.”

Harsh invectives curled on his tongue, he clenched his jaw and handed the handset to the elder who appeared next to him. She recognized the voice responsible for the dark clouds haunting her every step.

The male voice on the line spoke. “Daelia, you old coot. I must say, this is very out of character for you. Rookie mercs, unsecure comms, discussing your plans on tapped lines. After all these years in court, I thought I was duelling with a worthy opponent. Imagine my shock as I learn about this sad and desperate trap of yours when I’m trying to savour my well-earned victory. Frankly, it’s disappointing.”

Daelia stifled a cough, then spoke through clenched teeth. “Despite your penchant for skulduggery, you’re not as clever as you think. This is a short-range radio, which means you’re here in person. Are you still so arrogant as to believe you came upon my plan because I made a careless error? Don’t speak to me about disappointment. That emotion requires a sense of shame. Something a sycophant like you could never comprehend.”

“Please, I’m trying to savour the moment. Don’t let your last words be more of that sanctimonious garbage. Is that why you came here? Thought you’d teach me some kind of lesson?”

Leaning heavily on her cane, she spoke with an eerie stillness. “After years of watching you slither around, concealing the truth, I decided to speak a language you’ll understand.”

He laughed. “That’s gold. Well, I appreciate you allowing me the full range of my expression. It warms my heart to see you taking my advice about taking that much-needed retirement after all this time. Even if I have to put you in the dirt myself. Goodbye, hag.”

The young warrior’s keen elven eyes caught the glint of reflective optic in the distance and dove for the venerable elder.

He was fast, but not faster than the sniper’s bullet that pierced her chest.

A cold numbness spread over Daelia as she crumpled to the ground. The toxic rain poured down over her visor while she stared at the sullen gray sky. Muted thuds from weapon discharges echoed all around her as the young warrior barked orders to his kin and dragged her to cover behind some rocks nearby. He sat her up, then turned to show his deity what mettle ran through his veins.

With blood catching in her punctured lung, she watched as the faceless mercenaries and their killing machines closed in on the youthful Falcons. Her heart sank further as she watched several of the warriors fall.

Breathing shallow, halting breaths, she removed her glove and sunk her quivering, blood-soaked hand into the poisoned earth. Earth she was unable to save. Daelia closed her eyes and muttered a silent prayer, apologizing to the spirits of this land for not doing what she’d done sooner.

As her dark eyes opened, she couldn’t tell whether she was hallucinating from blood loss or had already passed on. Thorny vines burst from the ground to strangle a group of faceless mercs and hurl killer robots against the rocks. The earth roared and split open under the ambushers’ feet to drop them into a dark chasm that filled with the lake’s toxic sludge.

This planet’s spirit refused to go quietly.

The Falcon’s celebration was cut short as the clouds parted, revealing the immense freighter as it sailed through the jagged mountain peaks. They dove for cover as its guns opened on their position. Daelia could practically hear the man’s voice foaming at the mouth, shouting at the gunners to fire.

The elf leader slid to her side. Despite the blood and dirt seeping in through a large crack in his face mask or the explosions ravaging the earth closer and closer to their position, he still wore that bright grin.

He held her hand and said, “Stay with me, otha. You don’t want to miss this.”

Several barely perceptible shapes swooped in from the distant mountain peaks. A trio of Falcons wearing wingsuits carried a peculiar device tethered between them. Braving the frigid winds and toxic rain, they bellowed their war cry and dropped the jury-rigged torpedo over the ship’s core.

As they soared away, the shaped charge ruptured the freighter’s hull. Secondary explosions sent gouts of toxic waste spewing out of it like a wretched artery as it split apart in the jagged mountains.

Daelia watched and squeezed the brave young warrior’s hand as long as she could. As the battlefield grew quiet, she took off her mask, breathed in as best she could, then exhaled her last breath. The bright elf held her close, removed his own mask for a moment and kissed her head.

A small smile creased her weary face.