Surrender, Book 3 The Elfin Series Page 15

  Chapter 11

  “We see you, though you may not want us to, and though you may attempt to hide. We know you, even if you don’t want to know us. We created you, even though you do not see us as your creator. We love you, even when you toss that love aside as though it were nothing more than a trinket you no longer need. There is nothing that you could do that will ever take you so far from us that we can’t welcome you back.” ~The Forest Lords

  Lorsan burst back into his office, gasping. Damn that Tarron and little disappearing act. The casino’s final stores of Rapture had finally been exhausted, and the humans were not coping well. The worst of those that had been completely enslaved were now going through terrible withdrawals, and Lorsan had nothing with which to appease them. The riots had begun in earnest last night. Almost half of the people in the casino practically tore his main bar, and both clubs located in Iniquity, apart trying to find more of the drink. His own dark elf security staff had been inadequate to deal with them all. He’d had to go down and deal with most of the rioters himself. But in the end, even his power was no match for their numbers, for their sheer ferocity and disregard for their own safety, when they were in the throes of the drug’s grip. His chief of security had been forced to call the human police force. It had been years since he’d involved humans in the security of his casino. This was completely unacceptable. He had to find Tarron―and fast. But he didn’t have the remotest idea where to begin to look. Few elves were craftier than Tarron, and he had disappeared without a trace. Even though Lorsan had been monitoring the mirrors, Tarron was still nowhere to be found. But Lorsan had an idea of how he might locate the rogue dark elf—The Book of the Elves.

  The Book rested upon the conference table in his office, where Ilyrana had left it to go find an elder—any elder—who could help translate it. Lorsan walked over to the table and slowly opened the book. Though he was powerful, knowledge of his people’s lore had never been his strong suit. That was why Ilyrana complemented him so well. She was always so adept at puzzling out the secret long lost history of their people. She had more knowledge of their history in her little finger than most elves had in their entire bodies. Surely, if she couldn’t deciphered the fabled book, no one could. But he must try. Not only did he need the book’s power to defeat Trik but he also needed it to save his casinos. Another day or so without Rapture and the humans might tear his empire to the ground.

  He gazed down at the worn pages, stained and brittle after so many millennia. How a mere human had kept this book hidden for so long was beyond him. The words seemed easy enough to read and understand. The stories within told of influential elves of the past, of long ago wars and battles both within the elvish realm and against other realms, and finally of the creation of the elves by the Forest Lords. But he didn’t need stories. He needed the power contained in those stories. Those with the proper understanding could decipher the hidden meanings beneath the stories. They could unlock the power within and increase their own power a hundredfold. With this knowledge, he could strike down Trik with a wave of his hand. He could scry Tarron and bring him back, groveling, with just a word. But how?

  He turned to a random page. It landed on the story of Mivertheron, the first elf to ever tame a Tirith―the intelligent tiger-like creatures of the elvish realm. As Lorsan read about the ancient elf’s exploits, he grew more frustrated. What does this mean? Why would the Forest Lords choose to put such a story in their book? He could almost feel a hidden power, some deeper meaning beneath the story that was lying dormant, just waiting for the right elf to come along and unlock its secrets. But the power eluded him.

  “Curse you, Forest Lords,” he ground out, pounding his fists repeatedly on the table.

  “It isn’t smart to curse your creators.” Lorsan felt the voice more than he heard it. Immediately he was forced to his knees. He could feel the power of the Forest Lords filling up the room. It was almost palpable, almost robbing him of his ability to breath.

  “I, uh—”

  “Silence elf.” The words were spoken softly, almost whispered, but Lorsan immediately found that he couldn’t have spoken if he had wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. He sat on his knees, his face plastered to the floor. After a few seconds he was able to look up and he saw the three men―as tall as the ceiling with emerald eyes and earth-brown hair flowing down their backs― standing around him. “Your reign as king is coming to an end.” He felt the power in the voice wash over him, though whether the voice was coming from one of the figures, or from all of them, he couldn’t tell. “How dare you think that you could use for evil the book that we created for good? Do you not understand, dark elf? The book can only be deciphered by one who is pure of heart, one who would use the book for good, not evil. You could sit and study that book for a century and you would be no closer to deciphering its hidden meanings.”

  A hollow sound rattled from Lorsan’s chest. He was trying his best to stand, to rail against the Forest Lords, but he could do nothing but lay there. He could no more raise a hand against them as an ant could raise a hand against an eagle. And that is what the Forest Lords were; they were wild and powerful and flew above their elves―observing, waiting, and hoping that their creation would call out to them. They would not take their free will no matter how much they turned away from their creators. But they would hurt with them, mourn with them, cry with them, and be there to brush them off and lift them up once they had fallen and realized they couldn’t do it on their own. The dark and light elves had been divided for too long, and it was because of those like Lorsan that they remained divided. No, they would not take their free will, but neither would they stand by and let evil tear their children apart again.

  “Do not think your insolence has gone unnoticed by us, elf. You have stolen what doesn’t belong to you. Long ago, we created the secret ways through the elvish realms, the mirror pathways, so that all of our people could move freely though this world and our own. And now you think you can control these pathways, blocking them from use by your light elf brethren? Once again you seek to use for evil something we created for good. No longer!” The closest Forest Lord touched the mirror hanging in Lorsan’s office. There was pop and Lorsan felt his control over the portals evaporate. For some reason, Lorsan felt that his commandeering of the portals somehow angered the Forest Lords worse than his attempted use of The Book of the Elves.

  “Please, please don’t kill me.” The once proud dark elf king was finally able to squeak out.

  “Kill you?” The three voices seemed to ask in unison. “We aren’t here to kill you, Lorsan, but to warn you. That is your problem and always has been. You don’t understand your Creators. When have we ever interfered where we were not welcomed? When have we involved ourselves in the affairs of the elves but to warn them or comfort them? We allow you to make your own choices. But you refuse to see us. Understanding your creators is the key to understanding the whole of the elvish realm. That is why you have been such an ineffective leader all these many years. You were too concerned with your own power to think that there might be something bigger than yourself, that there might be higher purposes than your own selfish desires.

  You’ve made your choices and those choices will be the end of you, not anything that we do. Your fate is set, there is nothing you can do to change it. Farewell, Lorsan.”

  And then, like a vacuum, the stifling power was sucked from the room. Lorsan wasn’t sure how long he lay on the floor after the Forest Lords were gone. But once he came to his senses, he knew what he had to do. He jumped to his feet and began scrambling around searching for only the more essential items. He could clearly see the writing on the wall. The Forest Lords had basically just told him he was going to die, and soon. The humans outside would soon overtake his casino and he sure as hell wasn’t going out at the hands of worthless humans. He couldn’t be around when they finally made it through. He grabbed his belongings and The Book of the Elves and bolted for the door.

  Cush a
nd Oakley had finally decided to rest after hours of wandering around in a swamp that seemed hellbent on keeping them lost. Of course, Cush knew it wasn’t actually the swamp itself, but the evil that inhabited it―which had lived in this place for a very long time. The frustration of knowing that his Chosen was somewhere nearby and being unable to get to her was beginning to whittle away at his sanity, or what was left of it.

  As he sat on the ground, which was rapidly cooling as darkness chased away the heat from the long day, he looked up at the sky only to find that he couldn’t see it at all. There was no view of the stars that filled the vast darkness, no moon that glowed like a large night-light. The only thing he could see was tree branches and more tree branches. It was as though the outside world didn’t exist. Cush felt as though the forest around them was closing in on them, slowly suffocating them. He needed a distraction. And, as if he had heard his thoughts, Oakley came to the rescue.

  “Okay, so this place is freaking me out. I’m thinking this is as good a time as any for the brother of your girlfriend to get to know you. It is my job after all to make sure you’re good enough for her. I’m supposed to give you the I’ll kick your ass if you hurt her speech. But that just seems pointless since you could probably kill me with your pinky.”

  Cush let out a huff of laughter. He had to admit that the human was growing on him, like an unidentifiable fungus, but growing on him nonetheless. “I’ve never done the prove myself to the man of the house thing. So maybe you should start.”

  Oakley nodded as he leaned back against a fallen log. He brushed the dirt from his hands and folded them on his chest getting comfortable as though he was in his favorite recliner and not the dirty floor of the bayou. “So aside from the fact that there is this supernatural connection between you two, why did you pick Elora? She’s not exactly your typical female even in the human race. She’s contrary, relentless when she wants something, bossy, and usually finds hilarious things others find repulsive.”

  Cush smiled at his description of his Chosen. He was right. Elora could be a tad difficult to get along with. But she was worth it. “Elora and I had a conversation similar to that, although there was a lot more shouting and her telling me what she thought I thought. She believed that I couldn’t want her on my own, that it was only because of the soulmate bond.” He paused remembering the discussion, more like yelling match, that they’d had.

  “You think that I would rather go into battle than be with my Chosen?”

  “That’s just it, Cush. I may be your Chosen, but you didn’t choose me. You feel what you feel because you have to. You don’t have a choice and that’s not good enough for me. Not when it means that you might just throw away something that you love doing, something that you actually chose to do.” Her face was so full of pain because she truly believed those words.

  “You think that I chose to be a warrior? You think that this life wasn’t forced on me? We aren’t human, Elora. We don’t live in a society where we go to school and get to be whatever our little hearts’ desire. As a male of my race, the first thing they evaluate us for, before we are even a handful of years old, is our battle skills. Do we defend ourselves or do we hide? Do we protect others first or do we think of our own safety first? I was chosen by my king before I turned four summers. I was singled out to be a warrior long before I even had aspirations or dreams. Don’t think for a minute that I ever chose this life. It was chosen for me. I was predestined for it—just as you were predestined for me.”

  “You see that’s my point. You have never been given a choice in your life and I’m not going to do the same thing to you. Okay, I get it. We’re soul mates. I totally believe that. But I’m not going to tell you that you have to be with me just because we were made for each other. That’s not fair to you,” she paused and then finished with, “or me.”

  Cush was pulled from the memory as Oakley’s voice broke the silence of the night air.

  “So what did you tell her?”

  “I told her that if the only thing between us had been the Chosen bond then it wouldn’t have been reason enough for me to ask her to walk away from all she’d ever known and spend eternity with me. Then I asked her to tell me she didn’t love me.”

  “Dude, you didn’t,” Oakley said as his eyes widened.

  Cush nodded. “I did. I also told her if she was going to lie then she better make it convincing.”

  “You’re totally my hero. Did she lie to you?”

  “Surprisingly, no. But she didn’t answer the question until I’d asked her several times and admitted my love for her. Only then did she tell me how she felt.” He ducked his head and ran his hand through his hair brushing it away from his face. “I thought I was going to lose her. She was ready to walk away because she thought it was what was best for me.”

  Oakley sighed. “She can be quite obstinate when she wants to be.”

  “Yes, she definitely can,” Cush agreed as a smile tugged at his lips. His little raven was fierce and she was willing to hurt in order to take care of those she loved. That was only one of the many reasons that he loved her.

  “Are you going to make an honest woman out of her?” his Chosen’s brother asked.

  Cush looked over at him and with a wolfish smile said, “I pretty much told her that when all this was settled, she was going to marry me.”

  “If I wasn’t too tired to move I would totally give you a fist bump complete with explosion. You are going to be good for her.”

  “Perhaps,” he agreed, but then whispered more for himself, “but she is going to be even better for me.” Cush leaned his head back against the hard tree and closed his eyes. All their talk about his mate had the pain in him only growing stronger. The sweat on his forehead dripped down into his eyes causing him to squeeze them tighter. He didn’t realize he’d drifted off until a voice he didn’t recognize filled his mind.

  “You have much to do, warrior, but for now I will let you rest. You have been lost in my land because I have a purpose for you here. You must be ready. If you want her back, you must be strong. She will not know you at first. The spell my priestess cast is a powerful one but the bond between you two is also powerful. Her soul is searching for you, let yours seek her while your mind is not burdened with turmoil.”

  “Who are you?” Cush asked, his unconscious mind still alert though the man slept.

  “I am the ancient one who answers those who call. They are seeking their own desires and for a price I grant them. Those who come to me are ready to give up much, but they don’t fully understand the cost until the deal is done. Many believe that Voodoo is just an old religion that there is no truth to it anymore, but then there are some who are still loyal and they keep me strong.”

  “You know where my Chosen is?”

  “You know she is close, warrior. Her soul is calling out to you. All you need to do is listen.” The voice faded and though Cush remained asleep he was aware that he was once again alone in his own mind.

  The Voodoo queen had said that Elora’s soul was reaching out to him and he needed to listen. He wasn’t sure how to do that, but he would try just about anything in order to hear from her. He relaxed even further and allowed his own soul to rise up in him as it did any time he was touching her. It was like two consciousness in one body, though one lived only for its other half.

  Cush could hear his soul calling out her name, searching for the magic tie that bound them together. Elora! He waited and when there was nothing, he called out again. Elora, answer me.

  The desperation he heard in his soul matched the same desperation that he felt deep in his gut. It felt as though it had been an eternity since he’d seen her, heard her voice, or touched her skin. He needed to know she was alright, unharmed, and whole. The words of the Voodoo queen hit him like a ton of bricks, she will not know you at first. Did that mean she wasn’t whole? If her mind was not intact, if she wouldn’t remember him, what had been done to her? The queen had also spoken of a spell; she’d said i
t was powerful. Who had bargained with the Voodoo queen to cast a spell on his Chosen? Who would be that foolish?

  They will die. His soul told him in a completely different voice than the one that had called out to his Chosen.

  Yes, Cush agreed. They will most definitely die, but they might suffer first. Whoever it was obviously did not care much for their own existence or welfare. The anger he had first felt at the idea of Elora leaving him in Las Vegas was but a small flame compared to the raging fire that was now burning out of control inside of him. He wanted to wake so he could start looking for her but his soul stopped him. Listen, he told him. They both stilled and after several minutes they heard it.

  “Cush.” It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

  Tarron paused after a few miles of alternating between walking, running, and jogging, but mostly slogging, through the thick swamp. It had been almost an hour since he’d left Trik and the others behind. Like all elves, Tarron was blessed with a super-human physique. And while he may not be an Adonis among his own people, he could run faster, farther, and longer than even the fittest human. But the boggy terrain, stifling humidity, and continuous hidden obstacles of the swamp had a way of sucking the energy out of even a supernatural creature such as himself. Try as he might, he wasn’t going to be able to carry Elora through this marshy terrain forever. He was heading out of the swamp, but to where he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t without options. Over the years Tarron had set up many safe houses throughout both the U.S. and in Europe―places where he could be alone, where he could think, and concentrate on his experiments. Sometimes he needed to be away from the prying eyes and ears and ceaseless questions of Lorsan and the other elves. But to get to any of these, he needed to find a reflective surface. All of the water in the swamp was so murky that when he looked at it only muddy water stared back at him. He knew that there was a mirror back at Chamani’s shack, but he couldn’t risk going back there. That was where Cassie’s mother and father were. Trik might even be extorting the location of his Chosen’s parents from Chamani.