Surrender, Book 3 The Elfin Series (24 page)

“Hang in there, beloved,” Tamsin panted. “You can do this.”

Tamsin attempted to shoot a bolt into Ilyrana, but one of her dark elves threw his own shield up in front of her just in time. Syndra knew it wouldn’t be as strong as her own, but it held against the bolt just the same.

“I can’t, dammit,” she grunted. Her teeth were clenched together so tight that it was a miracle they weren’t crushed under the pressure. “There’s just too many of them.” She sank to her knees, but still she held the shield in place.

“We’ve almost got them,” Ilyrana shrieked. “Keep firing! Keep—”

But her words caught in her throat. She gasped. Syndra watched with renewed hope as the dark elf queen dropped her beam and put her hands on her stomach. Suddenly, she began to glow, seemingly from the inside. Brighter and brighter she began pulsing glowing light. A scream, raw and primal, bellowed out of her. The sound of it testified of deep pain and anguish. Ilyrana’s eyes were wild, bulging from her sockets. The light elf queen couldn’t believe what she was seeing as her enemy began to thrash around the room searching desperately for her attacker. The dark elves around her fell back, obviously as confused as she was. They had all taken notice and had ceased attacking Syndra’s shield.

Ilyrana began to hover a few inches from the ground. She flailed her legs but they could find no purchase. Dark purple light, intermingled with the bright white, began to shoot from her eyes, mouth, and throat. The elves around her could only watch in horrid fascination. She began to grow hotter. Syndra could tell that the elves around her could feel the heat radiating from their queen’s body, and they began to back away farther. Though it appeared she was still attempting to scream, no sound came from her now, as if a painter had captured her on his canvas catching his muse at the peak of her torment. Finally, after Syndra was sure the onlookers thought they could watch the spectacle no longer, there was a loud pop, as if a fuse had blown, a strong smell of ozone, and Ilyrana simply dissolved in a wafting pile of ash on the floor. The room, once filled with the shouts and reverberations of battle, was as silent as a tomb. Syndra thought it was fitting, since it would be the final resting place of the dark elf queen.

The lights in the room came back on just as suddenly as they’d blanked out. Syndra dropped her shield. She, like everyone else, looked around the room to see who or what had done this.

To her surprise―and based on the shocked faces of others, their surprise as well―there, standing across the room directly behind where Ilyrana had been, was Vyshaan. Purple black smoke was slowly dissipating from his left hand and pulsing white light was fading from his right. No one spoke a word. The dark elves, those that hadn’t fallen at the hands of Tamsin’s powerful attacks, stood motionless, their mouths agape, too shocked to even flee.

Vyshaan began to walk slowly toward the center of the room, where Tamsin was helping Syndra back to her feet.

“That was some fireworks display,” Syndra said, her breath coming in gasps. She looked around for her human friend and found her in the same spot appearing as shocked as everyone else.

“Why would you help us?” Tamsin asked.

Vyshaan stared at them. At first, Syndra thought the elder was not going to answer her mate. Tamsin held on to her hand, communicating to her to be ready in case Vyshaan decided to attack.

“I’ve spent too many long years in hiding. I want to see my own realm again. And I want to walk there a free elf. I won’t look over my shoulder any longer. I’ve heard the rumors about our new king. I’ve heard that Triktaptic is a changed elf, that he is a benevolent and wise king. I will judge this for myself. Either he will pardon my past transgressions against my people, or he will slay me. Either way, I hide no longer.

Your Chosen said that she could face our new king with a clear conscious. Knowing her past as I do, that is a very bold statement. A statement that takes a huge amount of faith in this new king. Syndra and I haven’t always seen eye to eye, that is sure. But if she trusts Triktaptic, then I would be a fool not to as well.”

S
yndra, now back to her original form and the battle that destroyed Ilyrana now a memory, continued to stare at the struggling dark elf king. She could hear loud noises outside the office mixed with shouts of men and women. Someone began pounding on the door. Lorsan’s eyes went wild with fear.

“Wait, no! You can’t leave me here,” he begged her.

“Power,” the light elf queen said again. She placed a finger gently on the book and slid it slowly back across the desk toward her. She reached down and picked it up, shutting it leisurely.

The shouts outside were getting louder. The pounding was getting more intense as someone began kicking the door. Syndra thought she heard the door frame splinter and nearly laughed when the dark elf king jumped and squeaked like the pathetic rat he was.

“There is one more thing that you have forgotten, Lorsan. You should never, ever, ignore your Creators.”

Then Syndra reached into her robes and pulled out a clear vial of bright red liquid. To those unaware it would appear to be an innocent fine wine, but this drink was anything but innocent. 

“Well, well, look what I have here, the last little bit of Rapture. I bet there are some people out there who would do anything to get their hands on this.” And with that she sat the vial on the desk in front of him.

“You…” The dark elf was foaming at the mouth, using all of his power to attempt to break Syndra’s restraints, but to no avail.

“Toodles. Oh and by the way, just to be clear. You were correct. Your Chosen is dead,” she said, giving Lorsan a mock little wave with her fingers before striding nonchalantly over to the mirror on the wall and stepping gingerly through it and disappearing from his sight.

Chapter 14

“I am not gone, not really. I will return to you. Every time you see a raven, I will return to you. Every time you see the bright lights of the city, I will return to you. Every memory that you have of me brings me back to you. So you see, my love, I am not gone, not really.” ~Elora

“
C
ush!” Oakley screamed just as the arrow flew from the bow. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as Cush waited for the arrow to hit its mark. He waited to watch the old woman clutch at her chest watching her life blood leak out. The old woman, who like her queen, had meddled in the affairs of the elves. She’d played her magic where it was not welcome and therefore would suffer the consequences.

“You are in my domain, warrior.” The voice of the Voodoo queen reverberated off of the trees around them. It surrounded them and seemed to block out the noise of anything else. “You cannot come into my domain and kill my servants.”

He watched as the arrow he’d just launched fell lamely to the ground at the feet of Chamani. He met her stare.

She shrugged. “If it be makin you feel better, I wouldn’t be holdin a grudge if you kilt me. I have lived a very long life. Your race be makin me work hard as of late. First, I be havin to take care of da king and now I be havin to tend ta you. Rest be a nice thought.”

“Does Tarron’s death have anything to do with what’s happened to Elora?” Cush asked the empty air. He couldn’t see the queen but he could feel her cold presence. If the Voodoo queen was joining their little meeting then the old woman, who he guessed was a follower of the queen, was the least of his worries. A voice spoke in his head.

“The spell connected them. They were no longer two separate beings, though not one as you and she are one. They were still connected. In order to guarantee that the spell works, it connects not only their lives but their deaths as well. The only reason your female is not dead is because of the bond between you. She holds on because of you, Cush of the light elves. You must mean a great deal to her. She fights the pull of death even now though it is futile.”

Cush’s ears began to ring as everything around him began to fade. It had been for nothing. He had lost his mate regardless of the fact that he’d rescued her from her abductor. She’d been lost to him from the moment she wandered off in the casino. Ever since then, he’d been chasing a dead woman. He turned back to Oakley who held the girl in his lap as her life force rapidly faded away.

Slowly, his feet carried him back to her and he dropped to his knees beside her. His little raven, so brave and fierce, was now quiet and broken. He’d only known her a short time and yet they’d been through so much together. She had challenged him in that short time. She’d made him a better man and he’d been unable to protect her. Elora had given herself to him, throwing everything she knew out the window and jumping headlong into his world, ready to stand at his side. But instead of standing beside him, she now lay before him still as stone but for a very faint rise and fall of her chest.

He took her hand in his and brushed her dark hair back from her face.
“How am I supposed to go back to the life I had before you?”
Cush felt his hand tightening on hers and had to make a conscious effort to relax his hold so that he wouldn’t hurt her. He’d never felt such pain, such utter despair in his long life. His chest grew tighter and tighter and he was finding it hard to breathe. In the end, Tarron had been right about one thing. Elora, through no fault of her own, had brought him misery, and he would never be the same.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He’d never dreamed that he’d find his Chosen and, once he had, he never imagined losing her. But here he was, in a damn swamp of all places, watching the life seep out of her body. There was so much he wanted to experience with her, so many places he wanted to show her. Instead of a future with her, all he could see now was a black, endless void before him.

“I never took you for the type to roll over and give up like a dead cockroach.”

Elora’s voice was weak in his mind, but it was there.
“Come back to me,”
he ordered her. He knew she didn’t particularly like being ordered around, but at that moment, all he wanted was to see her open her eyes and tell him off.

“I wish I could. Everyone has a time, Cush. This happens to be mine.”

“NO, I don’t accept that. You are mine and I’m not ready to give you up.”

A soft laugh filled his head and for an instant it warmed the coldness growing inside of him.

“Ready or not, warrior, we can’t appoint our own time of death,”
she so helpfully pointed out.

“When did you become so philosophical?”
he practically growled at her.

“I guess dying has had that effect on me.”

“You are not going to die. I won’t allow it. Now save your strength because you’re going to need it.”

“Cush,”
she began but he interrupted her.

“Would you give up on me? Would you sit there and watch me take my last breath?”

He could feel her indignation and he knew he had her.
“Of course not.”

“Then dammit, Elora, don’t ask that of me. Don’t ask me to let you go.”

“I just don’t want you to be even more disappointed when it doesn’t work.”

He laughed out loud but it was not a humorous sound.
“You think I’m disappointed? Babe, I’m a whole hell of a lot more than disappointed. We are not done, Elora, not by a long shot.”

“What happened to Little Raven?”
she asked.

“You have to earn that title by fighting for your life, by fighting for us. When you open your eyes and tell me you aren’t leaving me, then I will gladly call you that.”

Cush felt her pull away from him. She was mad. He almost found the situation funny. His Chosen was dying, and she was ticked off at him for telling her that he wouldn’t call her by his pet name unless she fought to live. Okay, so maybe that was a dick move, but if it made her angry enough to not give up, then he’d do it again.

Cush stood and turned back around to face the priestess who still stood there watching him with curiosity.

“Your bond be a strong one.”

He bit his tongue to keep from saying, thank you captain obvious, instead he asked a question that had only one acceptable answer. “Can she be saved?”

“That is up to you,” she answered cryptically.

Okay, not the answer he was expecting.

Cush heard a curse behind him and turned to find Oakley setting his sister down gently before standing and marching toward the priestess. He tried to grab the boy but Oakley ripped his arm from Cush and pointed at Chamani.

“Who the hell are you? What gives you the right to determine if a person lives or dies? I don’t give a crap if you serve the devil himself. You have no right!”

“Perhaps not, but I serve one wit power enough to give herself de right.” Chamani remained calm despite the human bearing down on her.

“That’s crap. By your thinking, I should be able to determine a person’s end if I hold a gun, which would make me powerful. Where is the justice in that?”

“Justice does not play a part in my plan, boy.” The voodoo queen’s voice boomed shaking the trees and ground around them. “I keep the balance, and if other lives are lost while that happens, that is no concern of mine. I needed the warrior to complete a task; he has done that task. The fate of his female was never my concern; she was a tool.”

“A tool?” Cush said in a voice that was entirely too calm. He could feel his blood begin to heat in his veins as his anger burned to a new level. “You may play your games with others but I am no mere human. I am no pawn to be moved as you see fit. I serve those even greater than you. I serve a king who bows before the Forest Lord, our creators, and because of that I am more powerful than even you.”

The Voodoo queen’s laugh sounded as though she was holding on to sanity by a thin thread. He imagined that to depend on the worship of finicky humans would make anyone insane. She would be nothing without her followers and she knew it. Her tricks and games were a way to make her feel powerful. Cush was not going to play―not anymore. He’d killed Tarron because it needed to be done, not because the queen wanted him to. And he would not let Elora die just because she said it was what was going to happen.

“I’ve told you before this is my domain. There is none who can contest my will.”

Cush felt their presence before they appeared and he dropped to one knee. He lowered his head and waited to hear the voices of his creator. He knew they would come if he called on them. Regardless of the fact that this was the queen’s domain, she wasn’t all powerful or omniscient. She was limited and her power paled in comparison to the Forest Lords.

“Child of ours, warrior of the elfin race, we have heard your cry. Speak your heart.”

“You are not welcome here!” The Voodoo queen yelled and she sounded afraid for the first time.

“SILENCE,” the Forest Lords boomed. “You have meddled enough in the lives of our children. We have given you your domain and set your boundaries in place, and you have crossed them. You will pay for that indulgence.”

When they said no more, Cush took it to mean that they were waiting for him to speak.

“The spell that was cast over my Chosen is taking her life. I humbly ask that if it is not her time, tell me how to save her. Please.” Cush waited, hoping that he would hear the answer he need to hear.

Finally, after several tense moments, they spoke. “Elora, daughter of Lisa and Steal, half human, half elf and Chosen of Nedhudir, it is not your time.”

“Can you save her?” Cush asked.

“She can be saved, but it will take faith on your part, and action. We will guide your feet, but you must guide your will.”

“Will you leave me be?” the Voodoo queen asked in a much more subdued voice.

“You will suffer the consequences of your actions. Whether those consequences destroy you is up to you.” And just as suddenly as they appeared the Forest Lords were gone.

Cush stood and turned to pick up Elora. Once he was standing with her in his arms, he motioned with his head for Oakley to follow.

“Good luck, warrior,” Chamani said in a voice that held no ill will.

“I don’t need luck, priestess. My creators are on my side. If they stand for me, then none can stand against me. Not even your queen.” Without another word he took off at a jog that he knew Oakley would be able to keep up with.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Elora’s brother asked as they put the priestess farther and farther behind them.

“We need to get back to the motel.”

“How do you know that?”

“It just feels right.” Cush didn’t understand it himself, but he didn’t question it.

“You do know how girly you just sounded, right?” Oakley chuckled.

“Oakley.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut-up.”

“Just save my sister and I’ll never say another smart ass thing to you.”

It was Cush’s turn to laugh. “I’d like to say I believe you, but your track record doesn’t serve you very well.”

“What are we going to do once we get to the motel?” Oakley asked, ignoring Cush’s comment.

“Save my Chosen.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I was hoping we weren’t going back there to take a swim in that luxurious pool,” he huffed. “I meant
how
, Cush. How are we going to save her?”

“All of the details of the plan haven’t come together just yet.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Oakley?”

“Whaaaat,” he drew out.

“Stop talking.”

“That’s just a nicer way of saying shut-up.”

“Perhaps. Would you rather I threaten your life if you utter another word?” Cush knew Elora would want him to be nicer to her brother, but nice just wasn’t on his list of important things at that moment.

“Calm down, G.I. Joe. I was just stating a fact. I’m a little stressed, that tends to happen when my sister is dying.”

“Please be stressed in silence.”

“I’ll get right on that.”