Chapter 18 #2
“I thought I’d never set eyes on you again.
” He speaks quietly. “You should not be here. Leave. Now.” His eyes look up to the thing above.
It reminds me of a cocoon with its wide, cylindrical shape and its light brown covering, only unlike an insect cocoon, it looks to be made of something thicker than silk and it’s oozing a sickening green-yellow pus.
It pulsates, wriggling and writhing with some kind of fluid rushing across vein-like vessels.
“You can’t be serious. Corrik,” I say and fix him with a glare.
“I’m very serious, Kathir. I have made every possible escape attempt. There’s no way out of this and I won’t allow you to get caught up in it too.” He’s still speaking in hushed tones.
That pisses me off. I attempt to push him and when I still can’t—he’s weakened, but not weak—I whack his shoulder.
“This is so typical of you. Screw you, Corrik. You’re coming with me if I have to drag you out of here.
Not only am I not marrying your brother, but I love you, you idiot.
” I manage as much venom as possible while still keeping quiet.
He smiles. “I love you too, Tristan. Wait, marry my brother?”
“Everyone thinks you’re dead. Your parents, in their grief, wanted to keep me and honor the treaty. I am now Crown Prince Consort to be. People are treating me differently, it’s weird Corrik.”
He’s amused, but then his face hardens again. “Good. My brother will take good care of you.”
“Your brother wants to force me into the slave designation. I am not slave, Corrik. I’m a fucking brat and it’s only so long before he makes true on his promise to attempt to beat that out of me.”
“You keep telling me you’re a strong Warlord, you’ll be fine. And look at you, disobeying everyone. You should be in your room where it’s safe.” He is truly angry about that, but there’s something else there and I think he might be jealous of his brother.
I’m fucking using it.
“You’re right, Corrik. Kiss me then and I’ll be on my way.”
“It’s for the best,” he says leaning in, pressing his rough lips to mine.
“You know, Strobavik said I have real talent for being slave,” I tell him.
“Strobavik. You’ve been training with Strobavik, but he’s—”
“—a terrifying, Elven Dungeon Master? Yes. He’s trained me for months and like all things I undertake, I worked to master the skills.”
Corrik’s imagining it, maybe me on my knees for him, maybe me tied up with my legs spread, cock hard and begging for him, but having trouble, because of the gag he would have put in my mouth.
I can tell he’s affected even in his state.
“I will be kneeling for your brother now. I will become Elf just after the wedding and he will release me from my confinement, then he will want to show me off. I’m sure I’ll be kneeling at his feet, adoring him, waiting for instructions while he deals with pleas brought forth to the Great Hall.
My cock will be so hard,” I say in his ear.
“I’ll be whimpering as it leaks, but there’ll be no relief for me until I earn it. ”
Corrik licks his lips and thankfully I can trust a male Elf to be ruled by his cock. “Gods dammit. Enough. You win. What’s the plan?”
Victory. “First, to get you out of these,” I say.
“Your sword should be able to cut through. They are enchanted, a spell is inscribed on the surface. It prevents me from using magic, which is why I’m so weak Tristan. You’ll die trying to get me back to Mortouge.”
“Don’t worry about that for now. Meanwhile, you’re about to find out how precisely I can stick a blade, First Husband,” I say. I’ve been wanting to call him that for some time now.
“You have been studying, First Husband,” he says in return.
Before I get all sword-sy, Aldagir rushes over. “Prince Corrik is … is he…?” he says, inquiring after the small body Corrik was wrapped around.
“He’s alive, but barely. You see that up there? That’s a witch wyrm. When it finally went into its cocoon a few days ago, I gave him as much warmth as I could. But unfortunately, that thing had been feeding us as well, neither of us could procure much food with it unavailable.”
The boy stirs, barely there, but still alive. “Salamir,” Aldagir says. The boy’s head lolls back and forth. “And the others?”
Corrik shakes his head. “The only reason we’re still alive is because we’re the most recent abductions. The others were already nearly sucked dry when I woke up here.”
Fuck.
“Stand back,” I say once Salamir is out of the way. I use my sword to first break the chain between Corrik’s wrist shackles and then I work on cleaving them off. I break both Corrik and Salamir out of their ankle shackles.
When Corrik is free, he gathers me in his arms. “I thought I’d never see you again.” He kisses my lips.
Jagar rushes in at that point. “I heard loud noises.”
“We were just breaking our cargo free,” I tell him.
Jagar sets eyes on his boy. “Salamir.” He rushes to him, checks him over and then waves his hand over him head to toe. White light envelopes him and then he starts coughing; his eyes open. “Pa-Papa…?”
“Oh, my boy. My sweet, sweet boy. Papa’s here.” Jagar takes Salamir from Aldagir.
“Friends of yours, Tristan?” Corrik says.
“My apologies Highness, we’re being rude. I do believe we’ve made your acquaintance before. I am Jagarbendir and this is one of my sons, Aldagir. There are no words to express our gratitude for what you’ve done for our boy.”
“I just wish I could have saved the others.” Corrik’s eyes frown as he surveys what’s left of the others.
“Are there any more of those things?” I ask.
“I think so, but I don’t think one will appear for another few months.
There is little in the lore about them, but I’ve had plenty of time to think about how these creatures work based on what I know and what I’ve observed.
They live on Elven blood, but they take the halflings because they are easier prey containing enough Elven blood—and Elf is better, but a halfling is enough—to get them to their next phase of development.
Feeding makes them stronger. That one captured me by pure luck.
It took me by surprise. I will tell you the whole story, but for now it’s enough to know they feast until they are strong enough to make their cocoon.
This one will hatch, and it will be a more powerful version. ”
“Then we have to kill it before we leave,” I decide.
Corrik’s eyes worry. “I’m not strong enough, Tristan. The best we can hope for is to get away before it hatches. I was meant to be its food when it did. Perhaps without its post-cocoon meal, it won’t make it.”
“Not good enough,” I say. This thing, it killed children. I’m going to make sure it never kills again. The ring of steel announces my sword’s arrival.
“You can’t kill that thing, Tristan. Put your sword away now. I’m still your husband and you will obey me.”
I can’t help it, his words run through me like icy nectar and I shiver.
It’s been a while since I’ve heard him speak like that.
I won’t disrespect him by questioning his word in front of anyone.
There are many reasons to keep appearances, but he’s crazy if he thinks I’m walking out of here without making sure that thing’s dead.
“Corrik, may I have a word with you in private?”
We proceed to have a five-minute stare down in which we blaze fire at each other, but he refuses to move.
Jagar quickly devises what’s going on. “Your highnesses, if I may? Perhaps my son and I can be of assistance?”
Corrik, who can barely stand, who’s leaning against me, is now leading this charge.
I can’t help the unfairness I feel. It’s especially jarring to have command ripped from me so unceremoniously.
I’m used to deferring to my superiors, but there was still a modicum of consideration over my opinion.
I’m being left out of this entirely. “Do you think you two can kill the witch wyrm?” Corrik says, his voice weak.
“I do, but I think it wouldn’t go amiss to have Prince Kathir ready with his bow.
” Corrik twists his lips. He doesn’t like it.
“As you know, Your Highness, witch wyrms continue to feed on Elven children and when they reach their last phase of development, they can take on a full Elven adult easily. They need to be slaughtered now when they’re most vulnerable. ”
Corrik huffs. He knows Jagar is right, that doesn’t mean he wants to let me do it. “All right, but you’re only back up, Tristan.” He grips my face with his hand. The usual strength isn’t there, he isn’t well and now he’s using whatever energy he has left to worry about me.
“Just back up, my love. They probably won’t even need me. They are both fine fighters.” I press a kiss on his cracked lips.
“Hopefully they won’t have to fight at all. Please, allow me to continue to keep your boy warm,” Corrik says.
“You’re going to fall over, Highness,” Jagar says. Aldagir’s quietly sizing up the massive cocoon.
“I can do that much. Tristan, help me sit against the wall and I will take him.”
There’s no convincing him otherwise, so I help him sit and Jagar settles Salamir with Corrik.
“Father, one of us is going to have to climb up there and slice it down.”
“Do you think you can do it, Aldagir?”
“I do, but it’s going to fall, and I don’t know what will come out,” he says.
Jagar nods. “I’ll be here.”
Jagar also looks at me when he thinks Corrik is distracted; normally Corrik never is, but with him so low on lifeforce, Jagar’s even able to send me full messages with his eyes.
I understand. He doesn’t just think he’ll need my help, he knows he will, and he’s sorry for it.
I nod enough for him to see so he can know I’m ready.
I get my bow set up, and I quickly check my sword is clear in its scabbard—I think I’m going to need it.