by Quinn Loftis
Tarron paused and dropped the unconscious Elora, propping her back up against a fallen tree. He took in a few deep breaths, thinking hard about his next move. The sight of Trik had unnerved him, and he’d done the only thing he could think of at the time—run. Tarron was no fool; he knew that his own power was no match for Trik’s. No, Tarron was much more dangerous when he was on familiar turf, when he’d had a chance to even the playing field beforehand. Here, he’d been completely caught off guard.
Suddenly, an extremely disturbing thought occurred to the dark elf. Why had Cassie and Trik been waiting for him with Chamani? Surely, they hadn’t just bumped into each other in the middle of the swamp. No, they’d been waiting for him specifically, to deliberately catch him by surprise. The old woman knew that he’d be trying to get back to her shack with his new found Chosen. She had planned that meeting from the beginning. He’d been betrayed.
That treacherous Voodoo witch! Tarron spat on the ground, cursing the old woman. Why had she done this? Try as he might, he could not think of a reason. Well it wouldn’t do to dwell on it now. He needed to focus on a way to get out of this swamp. Then he needed to get The Book of the Elves back from Lorsan. After that he could figure out a way to repay the old woman’s treachery.
Just then he heard Elora moaning from her spot on the ground.
“Shh, easy, little one,” he cooed as he kneeled down beside her. We will be safely away from these traitors soon enough. “We mustn’t let them catch us.”
Tarron knew that his bluff back at the clearing would only buy him so much time. As soon as Chamani told Trik where the Tates were stashed, Trik would be after him. After all, he had Cassie’s best friend. He doubted Trik would let such an act go unpunished. He felt like a rat trapped in a maze.
But all was not lost, he thought, as he stared at his Chosen, lying on the ground, the one throughout all of history designed specifically for him. Finally, after all these long year, she was his again. He could still picture her vividly in his mind, his Lucy, the perfect mate, so loving, so kind. Surely, this new Lucy would be just as gracious.
“We must go, beloved,” he whispered as he scooped her up again. She wasn’t really such a burden. Her small form was quite light to one such as him. A renewed vigor shot through him at her touch. “I shall carry you as far as I need so that we can be together,” he told her and began running again.”
After a second hour of moving through the swamp, Tarron’s newly found strength had more than faded. He was exhausted and he didn’t know why. Unnaturally, his limbs felt like they were made of lead. The muddy trail seemed to have grown hands that rose up to grab his ankles with each and every step. Somehow, even though the sun was well and truly down now, the swamped felt hotter and muggier than it had earlier. The branches of the trees reached out and grabbed him as he ran past. The moss from the branches clung to his hands, face, and body. It was almost as if the swamp itself was purposefully trying to impede his progress. And worst of all, very very worst of all, was that he was completely and utterly lost.
It wasn’t that he was stumbling blindly in the dark. Dark elves could see perfectly fine at night. No, it seemed that every path he took led him further and further into the swamp, rather than out of it. All he needed to do was find a road, any road, and he could flag down a passing motorist. One glance in their rearview mirror and he and his chosen would be far, far away, leaving them bewildered and thinking they had had a chance encounter with a ghost. But no matter which way he turned, it seemed he was carrying his beloved in circles.
To make matters worse, Elora was no longer held in her peaceful slumber. Though she hadn’t regained consciousness, she was babbling in her sleep more and more, sometimes even crying out in pain. Tarron tried to recast the sleep spell, but it was having no effect. He couldn’t get through to her. The dark elf was growing more and more frustrated, and his frustration was turning into panic.
The elf stopped again to collect his thoughts. Again he deposited Elora upon the ground, trying to find a comfortable place to prop her head. Tarron, exhausted and worn, sat down, glancing all around him at his surroundings. The nocturnal swamp creatures were out in force now, and they didn’t appreciate intruders in their realm. Already he’d killed about a dozen snakes and a mile or so back he’d spotted an alligator gazing at them from the weeds. He’d kept moving and, thankfully, the hungry reptile did not give chase.
Why is this happening? thought Tarron. Why can’t I escape this infernal swamp? And then he knew. In a moment of complete clarity, he knew. Like a light bulb coming on, a name popped into his head—Chamani. It was her. It has always been her. That Voodoo bitch was using the swamp against him. She was using her power to keep him trapped here forever. Again he asked why she had betrayed him and again he had no answer.
The elf’s resolve started to break. Panic was beginning to set in. He had no way out, no way to be free with his Chosen. They would both die out here in this forsaken swamp.
“Oh, Lucy, er I mean Elora,” the elf practically whimpered. He sat down on the ground next to her, cradling her head in his arms. “You were so beautiful, my love. You were everything and I gave you up. And for what? Power, immortality.” He sucked in a deep breath. All of a sudden Tarron’s face grew dark and his voice lowered, becoming almost gravelly. “But I’ve got you back now. As I knew I always would. You were wrong, my love. You were wrong. Power is everything! You humans just can’t understand this,” he hissed.
“But my sweet love, what have you done to yourself?” Now his voice had become soft, almost serene. “Your beautiful golden locks, why have you dyed them, my love? My Lucy, you know that I love your lovely blonde hair.” Softly, gently, he stroked her long black hair and then pressed his lips to hers.
Just then her eyes popped open. “Tarron?” she questioned, her voice breathless and desperate.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” he cooed to her.
Elora shivered in his arms and he thought it a good sign that she wasn’t pulling away from him. Why would she pull away from him? he argued with himself. She’s my Chosen. Of course, she would want me to hold her.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“There’s been a slight set back in my plans,” he admitted. He noticed her rubbing her chest as her face tightened in a grimace. “Are you alright?” To his surprise he saw a tear drop from her eye and streak down her cheek.
“I feel like I’m supposed to be with you. But something is missing, Tarron. Something very important is gone and I feel like I’m going to die without it.”
“He is close,” a cool voice said entering his mind. Tarron suddenly felt very cold as the chill of the voice settled over him.
“You didn’t think that you could really take another male’s mate and not suffer the consequences did you? And did you think that you could come into my lands and make demands of my priestess and not pay dearly for your insolence?”
“You made a deal with me,” Tarron argued not bothering to speak out loud. He knew that who he was dealing with could hear him verbally or otherwise.
“Fool!” The voice who he knew to be the Voodoo Queen boomed. “The deal changed. You cannot be allowed to carry on Tarron of the dark elves. There is only so much room for darkness in this world and you and your king are tipping the balance. The only way you will leave my swamp is if you defeat the warrior.”
Tarron would not admit that he was scared. Fear had no place in a dark elf. He, after all, was a monster, and therefore other monsters should not cause him to tremble. And yet when he looked down at the hand that was holding Elora’s, he saw that it was shaking. He ground his teeth together as he attempted to rid himself of the Voodoo queen’s declaration. She was bluffing. There was no way that the warrior she spoke of was there in that very swamp with them. He would find a way out and he would be taking the female he’d claimed with him. The only way he would give her up was if they pried her from his cold dead hands.
His mind filled with her voice once
again and her words had bile rising up in his throat.
“He is coming. He wants what was taken from him back and there is nothing he won’t do to get her.”
Chapter 12
“Everyting comes wit a price. There not be anyting tat is truly free. Sometimes the price be greater and sometime tat be worth it. If you come to the land of my queen, you must be ready to pay a high price and you must understand tat da deal you be makin can change. So tink carefully afore you make da deal. Tere be no goin back once it be struck.” ~Chamani
“Trik, we can’t just let them get away,” Cassie said shakily as she watched Tarron trample off with Elora over his shoulder.
“I know, Beautiful, but I cannot risk your parents. We have to get them back. I won’t risk their safety, not even for Elora.”
Cassie was broken. This had all been too much. First, her parents had been kidnapped by a psychopathic dark elf, and now he’d gotten her best friend. She needed Elora now more than ever, but her friend was beyond reach. Cassie couldn’t bear to watch her carried off by such an evil creature. Now, if Trik went after Tarron to get Elora back, she might never find her parents. She fell to ground, great sobs racking her body.
“Stay with me, Cassandra.” Trik knelt down in front of Cassie; his knees plopped into the muck and sank just a bit as the mushy ground gave way. He put his arms around her and pulled her close. “You must be strong. Be the queen I saw when we stormed Lorsan’s castle. Be the queen who stood before our warriors and delivered that amazing speech that so inspired them. That is who you are, beloved, and you have to remember that, especially, when things seem to be falling apart.”
“I can’t, Trik. I’ve never felt so incredibly helpless,” she said between sobs. Her whole body shook in his strong arms. She let him hold her. Truth be told, had he not been propping her up, she probably would have fallen face down in the sludge of the swamp that surrounded them. She didn’t seem to have the strength to even hold her head up any longer.
Trik used their connection. She felt him pour everything he had into her. He poured all of his love, all of the light and all of the goodness that she had brought into this life, back into her. He continued to send her wave after wave of unconditional love. He would die for her, she knew. And he would die to get her parents back as well if it came to that. She knew that he would search unto the very ends of the earth to get them back if that is what it took. Trik’s selflessness gave her strength. This dark elf, this assassin, who had long ago given up hope of finding any goodness in this world, had been redeemed by her love. And now he was doing the same for her. She took comfort from his touch, and strength began to slowly ebb back into her body.
“But where do we even start to look?” she asked him out loud, her voice still weak from the brink of despair she’d been teetering on.
“I tink I might be able to help wit dat one.” The raspy voice of the Voodoo priestess, whom Cassie had completely forgotten was there, answered instead. Cassie and Trik both turned and looked at her expectantly.
“Where? And why are you willing to help us now?” Cassie clamored to her feet while Trik stood gracefully while also assisting her. His hands on her waist kept her from tipping over in her haste to stand.
“Mayhap I be bored, or I not be havin anyting else to be doin. Follow me, chile,” Chamani responded and started off opposite the direction Tarron had gone. Cassie and Trik hurried to catch the old woman, who, despite her advanced age, seemed to have no trouble traversing the marshy terrain. Tony, who had been quiet giving Trik and Cassie time to sort out the situation, followed after them.
“Do you know where they are?” Cassie asked desperately as they walked.
“All in good time, chile. Patience be a virtue.” And the priestess would say no more.
Cassie was in no mood to be patient. But Chamani had already proven herself to them. She had known that Elora would be coming to an exact spot in the swamp where she’d had them wait. Granted, she hadn’t said anything about Tarron carrying Elora through the swamp, but no one had specifically asked how Elora would be coming. Cassie decided she would trust the priestess for now. After all, what choice did she have? If Chamani had any knowledge as to the whereabouts of her parents, Cassie had to find out what it was. She just hoped this wasn’t another one of the priestess’ devilish tricks.
After about an hour of hiking, of which each agonizing step was taken by Cassie with extreme anxiety and anticipation, they came to a small shack resting on crooked stilts.
“Okay, so that’s not creepy at all,” Tony muttered.
Instantly a darkness that chilled to her bones sunk into Cassie. The evil surrounding the building was thick enough to taste on her tongue. Surely her parents weren’t in there. The whole front of the house was adorned by a dilapidated covered porch that threatened to fall into the swamp at the slightest breeze. Two chickens squawked at them from their places in small wire cages resting on top of each other on the far end of the porch. A human skull, old and weatherworn, sat on the handrail while moss hung from the porch’s ceiling. The gentle breeze blew the moss so that it was brushing over the top of the skull as though gently caressing it. Cassie was sure this was the scariest place she had ever laid eyes on, and she couldn’t possibly believe that anything the priestess would say would get her to go inside.
“Home sweet home,” Chamani said and her voice erupted with her now all too familiar cackle.
“Why did you bring us here, witch?” Trik asked. The growl in his voice left no doubt that he was obviously growing tired of the Voodoo priestess’ games.
“Come now, Elf King. We be partners now, remember? No need to be taking dat tone wit me. Come on inside, make yo selves comfortable.”
“Just because we have a shared enemy, doesn’t make us partners,” said Trik. “And it doesn’t mean that I trust you either. I am not stupid, Chamani. We are not going to walk blindly into your place of power.”
“Oh, don’t be such a stick in the da mud,” the old woman chided. “Besides, I have houseguests. Couple ah lovely people here I tink you two should meet. From up around Oklahoma City, I believe they be from.”
Cassie had been wrong. Chamani had said the one thing that not only wanted to make her go into that shack but run into it. She bolted up the stairs and past Chamani grabbing at the door.
“Cassie, wait!” Trik, with his inhuman speed, grabbed her wrist inches from the doorknob.
“Trik, my parents,” she pleaded, desperately trying to pull her arm away and get inside.
“Remember what our gracious host has said, patience is a virtue. Let’s let her go inside first, just in case she might have inadvertently left any surprises in store for unwanted visitors.”
“Hehe, you be too suspicious, elf. Must be yo dark nature,” Chamani responded as she stepped lightly into the shack. Cassie and Trik followed on her heels. To Cassie’s surprise, they stepped into what looked like a quaint cottage on the inside. A simple wooden dining table and chairs occupied the majority of the one room shack. A cast iron cookstove sat in one corner, a small comfortable bed in another, and finally, a worn wooden rocking chair in another. In stark contrast to this goldilocks’ setting, however, were two bound and gagged individuals, sitting with their hands tied behind their backs in two of the aforementioned dining room chairs.
With eyes so wide they threatened to pop right out of their heads, Mr. and Mrs. Tate stared at the newcomers. But then recognition dawned on their faces as they spotted their only daughter and their eyes went even wider still. They each began straining against their bonds, muffled cries coming from their mouths. Cassie’s eyes were so filled with tears that she was barely able to see straight as she ran to them practically knocking her mother backward over her chair as Cassie hugged her tightly.
“Mom! Dad! Thank God. I was so scared I’d never see you again,” she said. Her body shook with the force of her sobs as she pulled her mother’s gag from her mouth. Trik stepped up beside Cassie doing the same for her
father.
“What? Who?” Mr. Tate gasped, his voice gravelly, as he stared at Trik.
“I know things must seem very hazy right now, but don’t worry, Mr. Tate, Cassie will explain everything,” said Trik as he moved around behind Mr. Tate’s chair and began undoing the bindings holding his wrists behind his back.
“What are you doing here, Cassie? You shouldn’t be here,” Mrs. Tate pleaded to Cassie, her brow furrowed though her eyes hadn’t lost their deer in headlights appearance.
“Don’t worry. It’s all going to be okay now, Mom.” Shaking, Cassie finally released her mother and turned to her dad, giving him a similar tear filled hug. Mr. Tate, free from his restraints, returned the hug, his arms wrapping around her tightly and pulling her close as though he could keep out all of the bad things. Trik moved to Mrs. Tate, undoing her bindings as well, and he didn’t miss the way she rubbed at her raw wrists.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Cassie’s father said, as he pulled back from Cassie. “Hurry, he’ll be back any second.” And then, as if just realizing she was there, Mr. Tate spotted Chamani, who had deposited herself in the wooden rocking chair in the corner and was busily winding some twine into a ball as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “You!” Mr. Tate snarled. “You let him do this to us.” He moved to take a step toward her, but his legs were stiff and unresponsive from having sat, tied in the same position for several days. He stumbled and grabbed the table for support, his breath coming out in angry pants. Cassie worried for the first time in her life that her health conscious father might have a heart attack.