Free Vampiris Sancti: The Elf by Katri Cardew Page B

night, with swarthy skin and black hair shining
under the moon. The Martyc moved with the inherent power of
authority and whatever information had him leave his fortress for
filth of a last stop establishment must have been compelling. He
nodded to his security and moving before him they were a wall
announcing his presence as they disappeared through the entrance.
If Zyre was to consider the fate of the Poqir waiting inside she
might have mused that, like all things demon, the contracts of the
Reveal were only as good as the blood they were written in.

Chapter 5
    The Pixie
    In the world of
the magical being each creature applied itself to the task most
suited to their nature. While the merry prankster Elf became the
glue that bound their world together and the surly Gnome became
watchers of the gate, it fell to the mercurial Pixie to be the
messenger. Unlike the Fairies who all looked like girls, the Pixie
was a unique creature of this world because they had no features to
distinguish male from female. All Pixies look alike to the outsider
and no one was sure how they procreated for androgynous as they
appeared asexual—the Pixie was not about to reveal their intimate
life to another.
    As the Elf was
beautiful, the Fairy elegant perfection, then the Pixie was static
perfection with a beauty so systemic it became as inert as a
photocopy of a painting. The Pixie was more reminiscent of a china
ornament than a living being and if not for their nervous
disposition and incessant movement they might be mistaken for one.
The Pixie fluttered about, the hummingbirds of their world darting
in and out of crevices delivering the tidings good or bad from the
Elders. The one failing that Pixies had, due no doubt to being
privy to vast amounts of information, was a love of gin and gossip.
Their fluttering movement became less indiscernible and more
ungainly under the influence of the sedation of their beloved gin.
The success of a delivery remaining confidential often depended
upon how many taverns the Pixie encountered between the start and
finish of a journey.
    The Elders, the
governing body of the magical world, tended to use Pixies as their
messengers. For like Mercury of the human myth they were swift and
unrelentingly devoted to their task. Despite the lure of gin and
treasure, threat or begging, almost nothing would stop a Pixie from
completing their mission. Not brilliant, unable to withstand strife
whilst sober and generally incoherent outside their realm, the
Pixie found the niche that allowed them to survive unmolested by
external forces. Other creatures found their sudden
appearance—appearing to pop out of nowhere—disconcerting and so the
first reaction when seeing one was to curse them for their sudden
manifestation. If the Pixie was offended by the habitual greeting
of their presence, they never revealed it as the delivery of their
communication had their entire focus. Pixies never carried missives
and could defend themselves admirably, so they were rarely
bothered. All information was stored in their heads, and sometimes
delivery could take hours as they sorted through the maze inside
their minds. Attacking a Pixie in order to prevent the delivery of
a message was pointless since the victim would let out a shrill
scream causing acute stress, both mental and physical, to the
listener. If that didn’t work they could manipulate the atmosphere
until the attacker was burned by all that touched them—even their
own clothes. Demons, once realising this china doll had effective
and often deadly defences, resorted to other means of delaying
information. Their only hope was to get the messenger so drunk that
they became incapable of accessing the vortex of data swirling in
their minds.
    Those wishing
to access the steady flow of information these schizoid creatures
were privy to, in order to spy upon others, found bribery useless.
Tricking one too drunk to comprehend the action was impossible and
threats slid off beings