Chapter 22
Iopen my eyes.
When I sit up I have to tug at roots that are still attached to my body, ripping them out of the ground the same way you pull out a carrot.
It’s surprisingly easy to do, the roots no longer constricting me, their strength no longer a match for mine.
All of the roots are external, none of the ones that found their way inside me remaining.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here, just that some time has passed.
I look to where my dragonkin is watching over me. He’s still here.
For a moment he’s scared, but then he tentatively makes his way over to me, swimming in front of me, happy I’m still alive, and I can see he’s proud of himself for having watched over me so commendably. “Thank you, my friend, you’ve done well.”
My voice sounds different in my head. Deeper, like it comes from the Earth. I remember I must be changed. I look down at my naked form. I’ve increased in size, my muscles thicker, with more veins. I reach up to my ears and have to pat up, way up to the tall points that reach high.
It worked. Mother Earth said yes. I am an Elf now.
Before I can explore my new self too much further, I feel a tug in the direction I came from and there’s a sense of urgency.
I’m able to ‘breathe’ underwater again, but I have a feeling that’s not going to last much longer.
I’ve got to get out of here. “Are you coming with me?” He’s not. “Well then, this is goodbye.”
The little guy saddles up next to my face, rubbing his snout into my cheek. He gives me a last once over, admiring me, and then he swims away. I follow suit after I take a quick moment to thank the tree.
Swimming is easy. It’s never been so easy.
I travel back quickly and without a struggle.
I’m fast and it doesn’t take long for me to reach the white pillar.
I understand something about Elves, no wonder they think they’re better than everyone when it’s so easy to do stuff.
Not that I agree they should think themselves better, but I can see how one might get carried away with such gifts.
When I rise from the water, back to the place I came from, I know something is wrong.
I’ve always had a keen sixth sense, but now it’s more.
Corrik isn’t here but there are a few fallen bodies of another kind of Elf, one I could identify in my sleep, but there’s one fallen body, in particular, that has my immediate attention near where I left my clothing and sword.
It’s Diekin, and he’s bleeding out. “Diekin!”
“… Tristan?”
He’s groggy and fading. He needs magical medical attention fast. “It’s me.”
“You look good, brother. I’m glad I got to… got to see you before I go.”
“No. You’re not going, fuck that.”
“What are you going to do about it, uh?”
“I don’t know.” Just that I need to do something. Instinctively, I put my hands on the area bleeding out and apply pressure. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I close my eyes and pray, asking for the answer. Diekin can’t die.
There is light under my hands. Diekin gasps for air as the wound knits back together. His eyes widen. “Tristan, you healed me.”
Did I? I think I might have. Couldn’t tell you how. He’s full of blood but no longer bleeding. “Are you okay to stand up?”
He is, but I can tell he’s weak. “We need to get out of here he says.”
“What happened? Where is everyone?”
“We were attacked by Rogue Elves. We spilt off, Corrik and Alrik went that way,” he says pointing out of the forest. “More went in the other direction. I took care of these guys. The last one spliced me.”
He’s still staring at me like he’s never seen me before and I guess he hasn’t. I remember I’m naked and start throwing on my pants and boots, grabbing my sword. “Come, we’ll have to get moving fast and hope there’s a horse for us.”
“I would tell you to go without me, but I know you won’t have it, Warlord.” He pauses. “Tristan, you have always been something divine and special, but now you’re… wow. I have no words. You’re stunning. Corrik might be possessive, but he’s not the jealous sort, that might change.”
I flush, embarrassed. Am I that beautiful? I don’t have time to find out. We head away from this place.
Even with Diekin in his weakened state, our journey out is a lot faster than when we came in and I realize how much I was slowing them down as a human.
It’s even more than I imagined it to be.
And I’m strong. Holy shite am I strong. My sword is no longer the right weight, too light in my hand.
I will need something stronger, which is a shame; I love my sword.
We make it out of the forest without encountering anymore Rogue Elves.
There are horses, fallen Mortougian guards but no one else.
It’s tragic. I knew a few of these men and women.
I help Diekin onto a horse. He’s more exhausted now than he was before, I need to get him to a place where he can rest safely.
“Which way do you think they went?” I ask.
He smiles. “Put your hand on the ground and look for the tracks. You’ll see them. Look out especially for Corrik, you’ll have a sense of him.”
I do as he’s instructed, and he’s right.
With my improved sight, I can see the various tracks and the direction they’re headed.
From the mess of hoof and footprints, I get a sense of which ones are Corrik’s.
“There was a battle here and then they got on horseback and went off that way, not long ago.”
We follow through the brush as fast as we can, keeping all our senses peeled.
We stop at a few places when we come across fallen bodies and continue to follow tracks.
It gets dark and we have to stop for the night.
“Get some rest Diekin. I will keep watch for a few hours and then we’ll keep going. ” He’s about to fall off his horse.
“You’re not tired, Warlord? I would think becoming an Elf would take a lot of energy.”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve never felt so awake and alive.”
He smirks. “Now you see why being an Elf is the best. “
“There definitely are perks, I’ll say that.”
“I will rest then, brother. Even just a few hours will help me a lot. I should be nearly full health and we can move faster.”
I set up a watch by a tree with my bow and sword.
I should be freezing, but I only feel a mild chill.
The light’s not all gone yet, and I finally have time to look at what I can see of myself without a mirror.
My skin is still the same copper shade it was, which means I’ll still stand out among the Mortougian Elves who are alabaster white, indicative of the winter climate they come from.
I have the deep red tones I’ve always had, but they’re more vibrant than before.
My hair is still black with the colored streaks Bayaden gave me, but it’s impossibly glossy.
I hold my sword in front of my face, two eyes stare back, bluer than ever before, fiercer.
I can’t see my whole face, but I still see my father’s eyes staring back at me, and I sigh, relieved. I am still of my father.
And my ears. I run my hand along them again, they’re so tall; that’s going to be something to get used to. My hair’s already getting caught on them.
It’s dark when I sense something nearby with a new sense of intuition that seems to come from an ancient place. Quietly, I get up and creep over to where I’m being pulled. Things are different now and it’s easier not to make a sound as an Elf.
Out of the darkness, a large form slams into me and we tumble away.
I know it’s a massive, male Elf, a lot bigger than me, even with my newly added size.
As we tumble away, I manage to keep my sword, but I’m not sure I’m going to be able to fight this guy.
I consider calling out to Diekin, but there’s something familiar in the feel of him and it distracts me.
I fumble for my sword and have it just in time to hold it over my head and stop his form slicing me through.
In the moonlight, I look up to see his eyes.
Is that… but I don’t have time to finish my thought.
I have to pull out every skill I’ve ever learned to fight him and it’s in the fighting of him, I confirm who it is—I’d know his style anywhere.
My heart flutters weakening me briefly but I’m quick to regain my fire. Finally, we’ll get to fight in a real way. Bayaden never used his full force with me, knowing if he did, he would kill me. If I tell him it’s me, he’ll stop, and I want to see what he’s really like. It’s my only opportunity.
I have to fight like my life depends on it, because it does.
This very well might turn out to be stupid—is this how I’m run through with a sword, like in Corrik’s vision?
—but I want it. I’m able to get off my knees and anticipate his next swing, which comes at me full force.
From there it’s his sword slicing through the air intent on killing me in the dark.
We can’t see well enough to recognize the other by sight, we have only our other senses and our blades glinting in the moonlight.
I’m almost insulted he doesn’t recognize my fighting style as I do his and it distracts me long enough he’s able to knock my sword out of my hand.
I’m about to let on it’s me, but he tosses his sword down and pounces on me, slamming me to the ground and pressing his lips to mine.
“Still allowing my magnificence to distract you, I see?”
Bastard. He knew it was me all along.
I attack his lips, kissing him back, sucking him in like air.
It’s not that I love him anymore than I do Corrik, Bayaden and I understand each other in a different way is all.
I need both, I wish I could have both. With the polyamorous nature of Elves, I feel it should be possible somehow, the only kink in the chain being the whole war thing.
“Tristan,” he whispers. “I knew it was you the moment you lifted your sword.”
I smile. “Same. I’m surprised you’d fight me so ferally.”