Spellbound (15 page)

“Cold,” Elion mumbled.

“That’s good. We can work with cold,” Stavros said, breathing a sigh of relief when the flames began to grow. He quickly shed his own wet armor and dropped it next to the flames before hurrying back to Elion’s side. The elf yelped when Stavros’ cold, nude form slid under the furs and pulled him close. “Talk to me.”

“Victor hurt you,” Elion rasped after a long pause.

“Is that a question?” Stavros asked, his own voice cracking slightly. He could feel Elion’s head move slightly and took it as a no, because the kid wasn’t stupid. “Yea, he did.”

“Tell me.” Elion weakly shifted his leg until it was laced between Stavros’. It was an intimate position that they were tangling themselves into. It was lifesaving, but it felt
different
. It was clear that come morning, if they both walked out of the small, decay smelling den, things were going to be irreversibly changed, whether that was good or bad he didn’t know.

“He was my partner for two years before we became lovers. When the Council summoned us about the amulet, there had already been several deaths. It wasn’t a simple case. We had nothing to go on for the longest time and it pushed us to our limits. Victor’s injuries were career ending. He blamed me, and he was right too. If I would have been faster…” Elion could hear the whoosh of air leave Stavros as the cambion sighed. “He became violent.”

Elion waited for Stavros to continue, but he didn’t. Elion’s heart pounded an aching tattoo against his rib cage and he tried to keep his mind from growing anymore hazy. It was hard enough focusing on listening, and he wanted to, no, needed to hear what Stavros had to say. And even though his lucidity was challenged, he found himself getting it. The pieces were clicking and it was enough to make Elion’s stomach knot.

“You loved him?” Elion asked.

“I thought I did, but I have nothing to compare it to,” Stavros said simply.

If Elion focused, he could feel the pressure still being applied to his side where he remembered claws tearing through armor and flesh. He could feel the sharp pricks of pain dancing under the skin, refusing to let any warmth return and unfreeze his veins. He didn’t want to focus on that though. He shifted and let his body slump completely against Stavros and sighed when a large hand splayed against his lower back firmly. There was a strange pulse there, a steady beat that seemed to be taking and giving at the same time.

“Are you doing that?” Elion asked. Stavros made an acknowledging sound that Elion took as an affirmative. “You’re too-” was all he got out before Stavros was hushing him, and it was infuriating, or would have been had it not felt so good and had Elion not been half-conscious.

He wasn’t sure what happened when a cambion used their abilities without restoring their strength. He knew Stavros hadn’t fed the entire week they had been there; he looked more drained with each day. Now he was using what little energy he must have had left to try and help Elion, and it wrecked him, because this was
Stavros
.

“I was scared.”

“Of what?” Stavros asked sleepily.

“Thought you were gonna get hurt. Scared me.” There was no reply and Elion didn’t really expect one. He wasn’t even sure what he was saying, really. He had an inkling that he had made somewhat of a confession, but a confession of what he wasn’t sure. He was tired, too damn tired to care.

“Can I sleep?”

“A short nap only. If you don’t wake up I’m going to kick your ass,” Stavros warned, the vibrations humming against Elion’s cheek, and that time he was sure he had actually gotten a laugh out, even if it was weak and pained.

~~

When Elion opened his eyes, the fire was flickering low, but the warmth coming from Stavros was almost enough to make up for it. He should have been embarrassed or maybe uncomfortable with the way they were molded together, but he wasn’t. Stavros had his arms securely around Elion and Elion’s head was tucked under Stavros’ chin, their legs still tangled. Elion groaned softly at the warmth of Stavros’ groin against his own when he attempted to shift back enough to get himself free. His breaths quickened and his heart skipped when Stavros’ hand slid lower, his fingertips digging into Elion’s hip.

“Stavros?” he whispered, swallowing hard when Stavros remained still. A pained groan bubbled in his throat when he lifted an arm to untangle their limbs. Stavros’ head shot up, his eyes dark and dangerous. “It’s okay,” Elion said softly.

“You’re warmer,” Stavros said, voice raspy.

“I am. Thank you.”

“Is the pain bad?” Stavros questioned as he propped himself up on an elbow.

“I’ll survive.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Stavros scolded. Elion tried not to whine when he found himself alone under the furs. There was the sound of leather being pulled on and then shuffling near the fire. “Drink this.”

Elion cracked an eye open to find a dark bottle in front of his face. “I’m injured and lying naked in a den, with what I’m pretty sure are decaying animal remains, and you bring me alcohol? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to woo me,” he laughed softly, wincing at the pull in his side.

“Smart-ass,” Stavros retorted.

“Is it bad?” Elion asked as he brought the bottle to his lips. Stavros frowned, his eyes drifting to the area exposed by the fallen furs before shifting away.

“Could’ve been worse.”

“Not what I asked,” Elion mocked.

“We’re still a good haul from the library. It would take too long to get you back down the mountain-“

“Library? I thought that collapsed centuries ago.” Elion winced from the burn of the honeyed alcohol in his sore throat. “Are you telling me secrets right now?” he asked excitedly.

“Stop moving around before you reopen that wound,” Stavros commanded. The small den went quiet after that. Elion slowly, but still too quickly, drank through half the bottle before his head began to spin and his aches began to dull slightly. Cured meat and an apple were gently set on his lap before Stavros began snapping more branches to place on the dying fire.

The den was small, just large enough for the two of them and a small fire just far enough away that they weren’t burning. It provided enough shelter from the snow outside and, despite smelling like death, there were only a few bones scattered near the back.

“Am I still allowed to ask questions?”

“You remember that?” Stavros asked thinly.

“Am I not supposed to? I mean I can-”

“What do you want to ask?” Stavros interrupted.

“Do you think you’re allowed to be loved?” Stavros dropped the branch in his hand, his neck snapping towards Elion who sat silently, patiently waiting for an answer that he knew wouldn’t come. And just as he expected, Stavros changed the subject.

“You should try and sleep. We’ll leave as soon as you’re able.” Elion huffed and took another long drink from the bottle before setting it on the dirt floor. He quickly fell back into a hard sleep and when he woke again, the sun was rising.

Stavros was back in his armor and Elion didn’t even want to look at his own, though he didn’t remember having put it on before he had gone back to sleep. The cambion was staring out of the den’s opening at the creeping sunrise. Dark marks were visible under his eyes and his lips were curled down tightly. When Elion groaned as he tried to sit up, Stavros whipped around quickly.

“Whoa. Where’s the fire?” Elion croaked. His stomach was filled with sour bile and his breaths felt heavier, more labored. His head was throbbing and his vision unfocused.

“You’ve been asleep for more than a day,” Stavros said, placing his hand on Elion’s forehead and cussing under his breath. “Your fever is getting worse. I’m going to carry you the rest of the way,” he said, pushing himself to his feet.

“You can’t carry me up a mountain, Stavros. I don’t care how badass you think you are,” Elion chuckled weakly. “It’s just a cold. You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long.”

Stavros was eerily silent as he collected their packs. Elion knew from a quick glance that Stavros had been awake the entire time he was out. Between the stress and exhaustion of their travels, the incident and lack of proper food and water, he was surprised that they were even functioning. He licked his chapped lips and glanced around with a furrowed brow. The den they were in was smaller than when he had gone to sleep and vines had taken over the earthy walls, and that’s when he realized that they weren’t even in the same place. He gasped as he tried to stand up, his knees buckled and quick arms caught him.

“Did you really carry me up a mountain?” Elion croaked.

“Slow down,” Stavros ordered, ignoring the question completely.

When they stepped into the daylight only a few moments later, Stavros kept himself elbow to elbow with Elion, who refused any help. When the elf began to sway and stumble, Stavros wrapped an arm around his waist despite his protests. They were too close to stop. He didn’t think Elion had it in him to wait another night. He hadn’t even been sure Elion was going to make it through the prior night and Stavros had carried him as far as he could before his own body demanded he submit. He had ground and crushed the contents of the pouches Mikhail made him carry on these journeys for the worst case scenario, doing his best to remember the old man’s instructions and berating himself for scoffing at them when they were given to him. Elion had choked them down with the last bits of water they had, but his glossy eyes never opened more than a crack.

Stavros had already dropped the priority of the damned amulet. There was another concern now, one that took precedence. He wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but he knew that the entire time Elion was asleep, he had watched the den entrance for danger, had constantly checked Elion to make sure he was covered and warm. He had watched him sleep for almost an entire night after carrying him for miles, refusing to let his own eyes close, and maybe he would rather watch the world burn then see Elion succumb to the infection trying to claim him.

Elion started vomiting violently when they were less than an hour from their destination. His skin was too pale and his lips were chapped enough to bleed. His steps were unsteady and his breaths labored and wet. Every time he was sick, he apologized until Stavros had to place a hand over his mouth to force him to stop.

Elion flinched at the sight at the top of the mountain. A large, crumbled stone bridge hung suspended without any real sign of how, wrecked by the elements and the years that had touched it. Further out yet was the ruins of something that had to have been beautiful, though now it was just rubble.

“I don’t understand,” Elion wheezed, swiping weakly at the beads of sweat running from his forehead. Pieces of stone crumbled under their feet as Stavros led him upwards. Elion hesitated, pulling back with what little strength he had left. “Stavros…”

“It’s okay. I promise,” Stavros said pleadingly. “Just trust me.”

“I do,” Elion replied instantly. Hesitant feet began shuffling again, and when they came to the missing section of the bridge Elion’s eyes widened at the massive gap between where the bridge had given out and the ruins hundreds of feet away. He gave Stavros a look that was terrified, but waiting for instruction.

A draft could have knocked Elion down and Stavros tightened his grip around Elion’s waist. “I know what it looks like, but it’s not real. I need you to believe that.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Elion, I need to get you help. This is an illusion. Close your eyes and hold on to me, don’t let go. Can you do that?” Elion’s tongue darted across his peeling lips and he nodded tiredly. His eyes flickered shut and Stavros carefully led him forward. He could feel Elion stiffening and he didn’t blame him. The fall was thousands of feet and had even made him nervous the first time, but it was an illusion, a test of courage that he had no doubts Elion would pass.

“We’re almost there,” Stavros reassured him every few moments. Strong, sudden gusts of wind made Elion startle, his grip tightening until Stavros was sure he couldn’t grip him any harder.

“You can open your eyes,” he said finally. Elion hesitantly looked as they crossed the threshold of the suspended island housing the massive ruins. Stavros didn’t release him, or even loosen his grip as he led Elion through an obscenely high stone archway that teetered precariously.

Elion heard Stavros whispering and gasped at the sensation of thick cotton bearing down on him, jolts of sharp energy hummed across his skin and he realized what was happening only seconds before the world in front of him changed.

The structure was even bigger than he had pictured it and could easily have been the most beautifully designed structure he’d ever seen. Stained glass windows ran the length of the towering double doors. The massive fountain in the front was the base of a just as large stone and gem dragon, the water around it glittering. The temperature was warmer, like an early spring day. The lush green grass was free of any snow and a garden of exotic flowers lined the foundation of the structure making the air smell sweet.

“It didn’t collapse?” Elion asked faintly.

“After the wars began this was the best solution. There are eras of knowledge here; things that the Council isn’t even aware of. Worlds could be destroyed with a simple tome. Only the Council, Mikhail, myself, and now you are aware that this place even exists.”