Hey thanks to all of you who have reviewed so far and for your patience in waiting for me to update.

To Hollie my beta reader you are a complete star.

I apologise if any of you find this chapter at all confusing but i promise it will all make sense as i the story moves on.

Hopefully you will all enjoy this new chapter, let me know what you think R/R.

Chapter 8.

Slave Markets. The very mention of those cursed places sent a wave of loathing through Ellelarna’s body. It was a breeding ground for those who sought to enslave her kin; greedy, immoral traders, who would sell their own children if it meant making a profit.

Now, her comrade Marlarni was missing. It would seem the greed of the slavers was making them bolder, not even Assassins of the Slenia Kavare were safe from the prospect of having their freedom wrenched from battle weary fingers.

Pulling the heavy woollen cloak tightly around her slender form, Ellelarna allowed her gaze to sweep over the multitude of people, mostly human, attempting to buy elven slaves.

Where was he?

Her icy sapphire gaze glittered with loathing as she regarded the bidding platform. A small child with trailing golden hair, no more than eight summers old, stood terrified before the crowd of gawping men and women. A child of the Seskan Clan, the golden haired Watchers of the Forest. Ellelarna's heart constricted slightly at the thought; the Seskan were allies to the Slenia, her lover Gelligas was Heir to the Clan. If the Seskan were suffering at the hands of slavers there was no telling how weak the Clans could become. Or how fast such bonds could be broken, perhaps now was the time the Clans moved again.

Tilting her head, the she-elf watched the small girl.

Are none of us safe from this threat of enslavement? Has the Influence of the Dark Elves grown so much?

Another cloaked figure slipped through the crowds towards her position. Ellelarna gave a gentle incline of her head in greeting as the slight woman came to stand beside her. “Ellelarna any sign of him?”

Ellelarna shook her head, flicking her gaze once again over the bidding crowd. “He will be here,” she smiled slightly, sounding more confident than she felt.

A group of rowdy traders drew the two she-elves from their silent observation of the bidding.

A small group of large, bearded men stood off to the right, the deep booming laughs ringing out clearly against the soft murmuring of the bidding crowds.

“The way I see it, elves are like meat…” One of them bellowed “…The younger they are, the sweeter and more tender they taste,” he finished. Laughing along with his companions, he knew that the underlying meaning in his words wouldn’t be lost.

Ellelarna let out a small feral snarl accompanied by the soft metal ring of her dagger as it slid effortlessly from its sheath.

Ellelarna cast a cautious glance towards her friend, Ismia, who was shaking her own head in response. “No Ellelarna, we don’t need to create a scene,” she hissed. “Ellelarna!”

Ignoring Ismia’s response, Ellelarna slipped silently through the crowd, towards the group of burly traders.

As she made her way through the throngs of people, the lone she-elf watched as the trader moved away from his companions to get a closer look at the terrified child still standing on the bidding platform.

Stepping up behind the man who’d spoken, Ellelarna kicked him in the back of the knee, causing the man to topple forwards, with a yelp of surprise.

“Perhaps I ought to cut out your tongue and see how sweet that tastes,” she spat, her voice low and full of venom.

Turning quickly in the hopes of catching a look at his attacker, the man was surprised to find no one within range of hitting him.

Ismia titled her head slightly, an icy breeze whipped about the market place, in an unpredictable fashion.

Ellelarna, why must you always take risks? She mused, with slight worry, despite the smile of satisfaction growing on her face.

The trader was still on his knees staring in bewilderment at the people standing back from him. Ismia gave a light laugh. Humans could be so simple minded. Ellelarna had used her magic to trick him. Her friend had become like the very element she controlled. Swift, unseen, unpredictable, and powerful.

“One day I’m positive the winds won’t be so willing to offer support to her,” a warm voice spoke from behind her.

Ismia gave a smile and turned her head slightly to view the new arrival.

A young man, no more than twenty six summers old, stood off to her left, clad in dark, and well oiled leather armour which was clearly designed for stealth and speed. His dark auburn hair hanging loose around his face, where small charms often glittered amongst the copper tresses.

It always amazed Ismia just how much Jace reminded her of her mountain kin, the Frena.

The slave pens were a flurry of activity as Ellelarna moved effortlessly towards the young girl. The child sat huddled on the straw covered floor, her blue eyes bright with unshed tears.

Ellelarna’s heart pounded painfully in her chest, as she moved forward slipping past two arguing slavers.

The poor little thing must be terrified. She thought moving around the backs of the pen in the hopes of not being seen.

The golden haired child looked towards her with an expression that came only from those who knew of life in a cage. Ellelarna knew that look well. She’d seen it many times, from her own Slenian sisters, those forced to live in exile away from their loved ones. It was the same primal look that came to those who had given up on hope.

Moving her arm slightly Ellelarna revealed the hidden cuff of leather fastened around her right wrist. The child was young, but she would know of the Slenia Kavare.

The child sat a little straighter, her eyes growing slightly wider as she caught the brief display of leather.

Ellelarna gave a slightly nod and beckoned the child to scoot a little closer to her.

“Ryin en neshlic,” she whispered soothingly in her mother tongue.

The child gave a tiny nod of her head, clasping her hands together so tightly that her knuckles began to turn white.

Turning to watch the slavers, Ellelarna frowned from underneath her hood, she needed a distraction.

Concentrating on a pile of loose straw in one of the empty pens, Ellelarna let her magic flow, calling on the spirits of the air to help her. The wind suddenly tore through the penned area whipping straw up into the air in a blinding fury.

The earth lurched sickeningly under foot sending several men toppling to the ground. The small girl gave a shriek of fear as one of the fences of her pen crashed to the ground.

Gripping a nearby fence for support Ellelarna took the moment in the elemental chaos to reach over and grab the child, wrapping her in the folds of her cloak.

Moving as swiftly as she could Ellelarna made her way from the slave pens and back towards the market square to find Ismia.

“I love a woman who takes risks.”

Ellelarna stopped and looked towards a shadowy alley, just able to discern a pair of cloaked figures. “Yes, but tragically for you Jace I despise men who take what doesn’t belong to them,” she retorted a playful tone edging her voice.

“Ellelarna we have to keep moving. The slavers won’t rest until the find their lost profit,” Ismia cautioned eyeing the bundle hidden in her friend’s arms.

Jace gave a slight nod beckoning her into the shadows, “There’s a place not far from here, where we can hide. I have some information for you both."

Translations:

Ravarin to English:

“Ryin en neshlic,” “Don’t be afraid”.