by Quinn Loftis
~
Trik, that was his name. Cassie remembered as she stared at the elf before her, his long dark hair, his silver eyes, his tall, lithe body and his graceful movements. Triktapic, the one she loved, the one who held her, kissed her, filled her with things she’d never experienced and then broke her.
“Why are you here?” She asked him.
“I’m not, this is your dream,” he answered.
Cassie took a step towards him. He held his ground. She took another step and her heartbeat picked up. She could even smell his masculine scent. He seemed so real, not like a dream, but real flesh and blood before her.
“A dream, or a nightmare?” Cassie frowned at him. He continued to watch her, his eyes steady and his stance relaxed. He was leaning against a tree, his usual indifferent pose and for once she couldn’t tell if it was a front, or if he really was indifferent to her presence. She certainly wasn’t indifferent to him. Even now as she stood there remembering how he had lied to her, she wanted to run to him. She wanted him to hold her, to tell her that he was sorry and that he had made a mistake.
“Come here,” he told her as he held out a hand to her. She stared at his hand and then looked back to his face. She was torn. She wanted, more than anything to go to him, but why? So he could stomp on her some more? She shook her head.
“Cassie,” her name on his lips made her tremble and she saw the familiar cocky smirk. “Come. Here.” His tone was clipped and she could tell that he was getting impatient.
It was just a dream, she told herself. What would it hurt to go to him, to feel his comfort for just a breath in time? So she did. She walked slowly to him. Her eyes never left his as she approached and as soon as she was in his reach he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her tight. His other hand came up and tilted her face up to his. He stared deep into her eyes as he spoke.
“My beautiful Cassie.” He brushed wisps of hair from her face and his hand slid around to the nape of her neck. He fisted her hair in his hand and gripped it tight pulling a gasp from her and then he kissed her. If this was a dream, it was the most realistic dream she had had in all her life. He kissed her with a ferocity that she had only seen in his eyes once before and she kissed him back. Her hands slid up his chest and around his neck pulling him tighter to her. She moaned as his tongue slipped into her mouth and she felt him smile as she bit his bottom lip. In a swift movement Trik had spun them around and had Cassie’s back pressed against the tree. He pulled back from the kiss and his eyes ran over her face. She felt like he was memorizing her every nuance.
“You’re sure this is a dream?” She asked again.
“I love you, Cassie,” Trik whispered instead of answering her question. That was when she knew without a doubt that it was a dream because Trik had never told her he loved her. She was desperate to hear it, to believe it.
She closed her eyes and willed herself to wake up, or at least to push this dream away, no matter how amazing it felt to be in his arms again.
“Cassie, open your eyes.” She heard Trik’s voice. But she didn’t comply.
“Wake up,” she told herself.
“Don’t Cassie, don’t go,” Trik pleaded with her and she knew that this was only because it was what she wanted to hear.
She felt tears begin to run down her face and she once again felt the soul piercing pain building inside.
“I’m coming for you Cassie,” Trik’s voice sounded further away but his words are what caused her to open her eyes. “I’m coming for you,” he told her again and for a moment she let herself believe it.
Cha pter 16
I dreamt. I dreamt of you. I dreamt of your skin, your hair, your eyes, your lips, all perfection to me. I dreamt of your smell, your touch, your voice, your words and then you were gone. My soul was ripped in two as you melted away. I saw the doubt in your eyes as I bore my heart to you, doubt that I put there. I dreamt. I dreamt of you and you were safe in my arms but when I awoke my arms were empty, you were still gone and I was more alone than ever. My love did not believe me, my love was convinced that I did not want her, need her or love her. I did that to her. I did that to my Chosen. ~Triktapic
Trik woke with a start. His heart was pounding in his chest, sweat drenched his body and his clothes stuck to his skin. She had been so real. He had felt her, tasted her. It couldn’t have just been a dream. He had told her at first that it was a dream, for what else could it be? He had told her that he loved her. Even though it was just a dream he had needed to say the words to her. And the Cassie in his dream had looked at him with such doubt that it pierced his heart and soul. He pressed a hand to his heart and squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to keep the pain at bay.
Tamsin had convinced him to take just a couple hours of rest and Trik had finally relented. But now he was even more desperate to get her back, to convince her of his love. He was afraid that he had lost her, not just to Lorsan, but to her own doubt and anger. He couldn’t lose her, it was a fate worse than anything he could imagine and not one he was willing to accept. He rose quickly and gathered his weapons, his bow and quiver, and his knives that were concealed in his clothes.
In the throne room of the light elf castle he found Tamsin, Syndra, Elora, and Lisa sitting around a table. They all stood when they saw him walk in. They all looked at him warily. He must not have realized how crazed he had seemed before he laid down. He raised his hand motioning for them to sit back down and they did so cautiously.
“Relax, I’m not going to…” he paused not sure what he was going to reassure them of.
“Go bat shit crazy up in here?” Elora asked in her usual dry tone, though her eyes were flat and emotionless.
“Yes, that,” he agreed.
“Are you ready?” Tamsin asked.
Trik nodded. “Show me what it is the Tree Lords have left me.”
Trik followed Tamsin from the room and noticed that the others did not attempt to join them.
They entered a large room that appeared to be an armory. Weapons lined the walls, a warriors dream. Tamsin walked over to a cabinet that was heavily padlocked. He waved his hand over it and the lock clinked and the doors opened slowly. The inside was illuminated by an unseen light and Trik took a step back when he saw what the cabinet held.
“My sword,” he whispered in awe. The sword forged for him by the Forest Lords bestowed upon him when he became King.
“They also left you this,” Tamsin pulled out a small box from a shelf in the cabinet and held it out to Trik. He took it and his hands shook as he opened the hinged top. Inside sat one ring, though there were places for two. The ring in the box was his, the ring of the King, his signet. The other was meant for his Queen. The ring he had given Cassie, though he didn’t remember the significance of it at the time. He wondered what she had done with it. Had Lorsan found it? Had she thrown it away in a fit of anger?
He felt the power emanating from the ring and he pulled it from the box. He slipped it on his left ring finger and felt it warm around his skin as it sized itself perfectly to his hand. The air shifted around Trik and suddenly three Beings stood in their presence. Both he and Tamsin dropped to their knees before the Forest Lords.
“Lorsan has begun using Rapture in the human realm. It is time, Triktapic, to take back your people. Lorsan has to be stopped.”
Trik bowed his head. “I need to get her back.”
“And if she is lost to you?” The Forest Lords asked. “Will you still do what is necessary?”
Trik’s shoulders shook with anger but he knew what his answer had to be.
“If she is lost to me, then I will do what I must, but,” Trik looked up at the lords, “I ask that you have mercy on me and end this long life.”
“You would rather die than lead your people?”
“Tamsin can lead. He deserves it and is worthy to be called your child.”
The Forest Lords stared down at him and he felt like his soul was bare before them. So be it , he thought. See into the darkne
ss I have let rule me, see that without her there is nothing good left.
Then he heard in his mind. “You choose goodness, you choose right and wrong. She is a constant reminder of that goodness, that choice. She does not make you good, nor does the absence of her make you bad.”
“Maybe not, but she makes me want to be a better man. I won’t live without her.” Trik stood and pulled the sword from the cabinet. He strapped it on his back and then turned back to the Forest Lords. “Tell me it’s not too late. Tell me there is still hope for her, for us.” Trik’s voice was soft but urgent.
“There is always hope, Triktapic. She lives, she is fading, but she lives. It will take much patience and love from you to get through what is to come. She needs you. You need to hurry, be swift, be strong and do not give up.”
Trik bowed his head to the lords and then to Tamsin.
“Light Elf King,” he said respectfully and then he turned and ran straight at the mirrored wall. He pictured his once homeland in his mind, pictured the small cabin that he had spent many lonely nights, worn out from a mission Lorsan had sent him on and emerged in the small kitchen. He wasted no time as he gathered food for the journey that Lorsan was bound to make difficult. He was out the door and sprinting in a matter of minutes. He knew exactly where he was going, knew how long it would normally take him to get there and yet he also knew that Lorsan could make it take days instead of minutes.
He stopped suddenly and turned in a circle looking at the trees, grass, and foliage around him. This was his land but he no longer felt welcome.
“I’m coming Lorsan!” He yelled into the empty air. “I’m coming to take back that which is mine!” He started running again and, had he not been expecting Lorsan’s attacks, he would have been bowled over by the large wolf-like animal that charged at him from the trees. Trik pushed hard with his legs and jumped over the beast. In one fluid motion he pulled his sword from its sheath on his back and turned so that when he landed on the ground he was facing his adversary.
The draug, as they were called in elvish, had a similar appearance to the wolves in the human realm, only they were much larger. Like Tao and Tyndril, the draug were more intelligent and could understand the elves.
The draug snarled at Trik and Trik snarled back. He lunged at the animal but pulled up short and quickly faked to the right and then revers ed left. The draug tried to keep up, but swiftness wasn’t its strong suit. Trik hated to kill the beast as he knew it was just doing what it had been told, but he knew that the draug wouldn’t stop until Trik was dead. The draug headed at him again in a dead run and Trik ran forward rushing him. He yelled a battle cry and as he jumped he spun so that his sword met the draug’s neck and slit it open. The large animal’s front legs gave way and he slid to a halt, the rest of its body crashing down behind it. Blood poured from the mortal wound at its throat and Trik watched as the life faded from the great beast’s eyes.
He walked over to where the draug lay, defeated and lifeless. Trik shook his head at the loss, sheathed his sword and continued his journey. Once again he ran, fast and hard, he pushed himself and when Cassie’s face appeared in his mind he pushed even harder.
A day passed before Trik fell under attack again. This time Lorsan sent a lindir. One might look at the small birdlike creature and think it harmless, but its name meant singer and they did indeed sing. A lindir would sing you right off a cliff. They had the power to enthrall a person with their song and the person would follow the lindir anywhere it lead.
As soon as Trik saw the small creature he tore off a strip from the bottom of his shirt, quickly tore the strip in two and stuffed the pieces in his ears. He watched as the lindir flew closer, its birdlike bodies flapping up and down. The lindir watched Trik with faces resembling a feline animal. They waited, and when he did not follow, they flew even closer. Trik slowly shrugged off his bow from his shoulder and pulled an arrow from his quiver. He notched the arrow and released it at one of the lindir. It hit the creature before it could react and fell dead to the ground. The other lindir looked at each other and then back at Trik. He notched another arrow but didn’t have to even raise his bow. The lindir were flying away leaving him once again alone in a land no longer his own.
On the fourth night Trik sat on the ground, his back propped up against a tree and closed his eyes. He felt the pain in his soul, the constant ache that was his ever present company and he sent the call out to his mate.
“I’m coming,” his soul cried out. “My Chosen, my love, I’m coming, do not give up on me, do not cast me aside.”
Trik waited. He held his breath as all of time seemed to stand still. Even the trees stopped swaying and the scurrying of animals ceased as they wait ed for the answering call of the soul of the King’s Chosen.
One, two, three. Trik’s heart beat in his chest, a drum counting down the time. He opened his eyes as he felt his heart sink. His head dropped forward and he grasped his head in his hands and gritted his teeth to keep from crying out in anger, in pain, in loneliness.
“Triktapic,” so softly was his name that he nearly missed it and had he given into the impulse to scream his indignation he definitely would have missed the soft voice. He recognized it instantly. It was the same voice that had called out to him when Cassie had been at the party with another male. Her soul. Her soul was answering his call.
“Triktapic,” he heard again.
“I’m here,” his own soul answered back and it was as natural as breathing to have the very core of him reaching out for its other half.
“Something is wrong,” he heard the distress and fear in her and his own fear perked up.
“Is she hurt?” Trik asked her.
“Not today.”
Trik snarled. “What do you mean not today, my love?” He softened his tone as he felt her pull away at his anger.
“She has been beaten, but not today. Something is wrong, she drinks a liquid and it makes me fuzzy and I cannot control her. She does things that she would not normally do.”
Trik closed his eyes. He steeled himself for the answer of his next question knowing that it could possibly make him go mad.
“Has anyone touched her?” Trik felt the confusion in Cassie’s soul, so he clarified.
“Has she lain with an elf?”
He felt the repulsion from her at the idea of being with anyone other than her soulmate and it eased something inside him.
“No, but there is one. An elf to whom she has been promised. He told her that she was to be his Bound. I keep trying to remind her of who you are, her mind does not remember, her heart is so broken, so fragmented that she runs from the very memory of you. You must get here, Trik, you must, before the Dark King gives us to the elf. He looks at her as only you should. He has danced with her and held her and I screamed but the drink holds her captive.”
Trik shook with murderous rage. He wanted a name, the name of the one who dared to touch his Cassie, who dared to lay claim to her, to lo ok upon her with lust and greed.
“Who is he?”
“He has given her no name and the Dark King has not used it in her presence.”
Trik’s soul battled within him as he fought to control his rage and to keep his head clear. But then his love spoke again, and all control was gone.
“He’s coming,” he felt her fear and it shook him to his core. “The elf, he’s here. Triktapic, please, he’s going to take her. Hurry my love you must hurry.”
Then she was gone. Trik never knew that silence could have a sound but it did, and it was screaming at him as he felt Cassie’s soul be ripped from him. His own soul cried out and raged inside. He jumped to his feet. He cried out to the Forest Lords imploring them for their help and felt power and strength pour into him.
“I’m coming beautiful Cassie and I will kill everyone in my way until you are in my arms.” Trik ran and not even the wind could keep up with the Elfin King in pursuit of his Chosen.
~
Tarron watched as the humans t
ossed back the Rapture handed to them in the small glasses. They laughed in carefree merriment and continued to gamble more money than he had given them and more than they probably had in their bank accounts. It had been four days since they had begun giving Rapture to the humans and it was more effective than he could have hoped on the weak, selfish humans, seeking out pleasure with no regard to consequences.
So far the only thing that he had noticed was when Rapture began to wear off, the humans instinctively sought out more. It was like their bodies knew exactly what it craved. Though the addiction varied, the response to the drink was universal. Inhibitions flew out the window. Doubt, worry, stress, was all gone and all that remained was the pursuit of pleasure and what could bring that pleasure.
Tarron walked over to the bar and motioned for the elf who was acting as the bartender.
“Release it to the masses,” Tarron told him. The elf’s eyes widened.
“Is that direct from Lorsan?” He asked Tarron.
“Why else would I give an order? Now do as you’re told and offer it to every human who comes to the bar. Reveal the name of it and get them to talk about it so that it spreads like wildfire.”
Tarron turned to go, leaving the stunned elf to introduce the humans to Rapture and a smile crept up his cruel mouth as he thought about the one thing he had not reported to Lorsan. When Rapture wore off on the males they did not simply seek it out, they hunted for it. They became predators and violence poured off of them in waves. The first night they had had two males nearly kill each other when one received the Rapture before the other. It didn’t seem to affect the females in the same way. Tarron had yet to isolate the distinction, but he imagined that it must have something to do with the Y chromosome they carried.
Security had called the police and had the males arrested. When Tarron called one of their contacts at the police department, he found out that the males had to be placed in cells by themselves because they were so violent. Since then Tarron had made sure to have waitresses following the males who were drinking the Rapture ready to refill their glass when the effects wore off. But tonight there would not be enough waitresses to follow every male who would consume the addicting drink. Tonight the humans would begin their self-destruction, one drink at a time.
