Never Go Off-Script

Chapter 7 - Archer's POV

I shrugged. "Whatever you say, elf."

"Please, call me Zenyre."

I raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Weird name."

"It's Elven," the sorcerer explained. "I wouldn't expect you to have heard anything like it before."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, Zen-ear," I said emphatically. "Let's say I agree to your condition. How do you know I won't double-cross you, or vice-versa?"

The sorcerer — Zenyre — smiled twistedly. Something felt weird about all this. "Simple; with insurance."

"Ah," I mused. They wanted me to put something on the line so I'd feel obligated to come back. Unfortunately for Zenyre, I didn't have anything that important to me, but without this "insurance", I wouldn't be able to get the information I needed.

"You're more intelligent than you look, hero," Zenyre commented, probably following my train of thought again, and my eye twitched. That was the second time I'd heard that phrase, and frankly, it was two times too many. Why did all these magical beings think they were better than me?

"I believe no such thing," Zenyre responded to my thoughts yet again — to my immense displeasure. "Every living creature has its own importance. I only meant that, with your arrogance and ignorance, it comes as a surprise to find out you have a brilliant mind hidden behind that condescending attitude."

I felt my patience straining past its limit. Okay, I get it already. Where I see it as confidence, others find it supercilious. But if you asked me, that's their fault for seeing it in such a negative way rather than appreciating it. 

"Anything else you wish to critique me on, old man?" I demanded, accidentally making a gender assumption in my aggravation. "Or woman — whatever you are," I added in a grumble.

Zenyre tsked. "No, I have no more criticism to offer; I believe my point has been proven," they said. "Oh, and I appreciate your respect, but the concept of gender baffles me. I am neither man nor woman, and yet I am both. Does it not make more sense to refer to a person by their name?"

I stared, wondering how much longer I could stand this person before I ended up strangling them. "Whatever," I muttered impatiently. "Get to the point already. What do you want from me? For insurance?"

"I have no need for any of your possessions. Instead..." They gestured toward the wooden box, which held that ancient golden chain.

"So... you think I'll want to trade the Lyfe stone for a chain some chick used to wear centuries ago?" 

Zenyre dropped their hand, seeming disappointed. "Maybe I was wrong to compliment your intelligence..." They sighed, and I repressed the urge to tackle them. "That chain is a critical component to the usage of the Lyfe stone; it was bewitched to project the stone's magical purposes onto the one who wears it. Without it, the Lyfe stone cannot be used."

The pieces clicked together in my head. "So it's useless without the necklace. Anything else?"

Zenyre smiled darkly. "Yes, there is one more thing. No living creature can touch the stone directly."

"Let me guess, the stone's power is too much for a mortal to withstand?"

Zenyre nodded appreciatively. "If you tried, you would be overwhelmed by its properties and disintegrate on the spot. The Elves used their levitation abilities to keep from touching it. You, on the other hand, will need to avoid touching it at all costs by your own means — gloves, cloth, or even a stick would work. Once the stone is contained in, say, a leather pouch, you're safe from instant death." The sorcerer smiled pleasantly, which only made my skin crawl with discomfort.