The Soul Mate

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Transylvania, 1078 A.C.E.

Treime hung limply from her chains in Lord Silviu Torc’s bedchambers, bruised and bleeding, her limbs aching and throbbing.

She watched silently through one slightly swollen eye as her captor cleaned his hands and face in a bowl of water before pulling on his shirt and hose, followed by his tunic.

“I would release you from the chains,” He told her as he slipped into his shoes. “If you would only reveal the secrets of your magic to me.”

Treime shook her head. “I have told you I have no magic." It was true. Treime had tried and failed to call on Emilian’s magic to set her free a number of times and had felt something far more terrifying than anything Lord Torc could do to her.

Instead of the light magic that had once filled her, she felt only darkness. Something she didn’t dare touch.

Lord Torc’s laughter could be heard reverberating throughout the entire castle. “You take me for a fool Gypsy wench! I saw your magic with my own eyes! Do you mean to tell me you enjoy being strung up on my wall while I treat myself to your favors?” He laughed again, a cruel cold sound.

Treime couldn’t stop the lone tear from falling or the wince as the salty drop landed in a fresh cut on her face.

“You are a monster,” She whispered, her lips trembling. “You have beaten my baby out of me and used my body in ways I hadn’t even thought possible. You killed my family, my people, in cold blood and for what, for a few pieces of gold, some secrets?”

Lord Torc grew silent as he watched her cry, something Treime had learned was never a very good sign.

Picking up his sheathed sword and belt, he strode toward her. He lifted her chin and kissed her deeply. She no longer had the energy to fight him. Feeling no resistance from her, he tossed his sword and belt behind him and lifted her body against him.

Her tears fell harder as he kicked off his shoes and began tugging down his hose. “You are mine now wench,” He growled against her neck. “Body and soul.”

The door was suddenly flung open and two of his soldiers rushed inside. Lord Torc turned on them, his face a mask of fury.

“We are being attacked my lord… it’s… it’s…” The boy stumbled over his words, not quite knowing what to say.

“Well, speak up! Who is attacking us and why aren’t you killing them?”

“It’s just one man my lord,” An older soldier replied, his face deathly pale, his hands trembling.

“One man!” Lord Torc roared, grabbing his sword. “You imbeciles!” \\

The older of the two soldiers edged further into the room. “It is just one man my lord…but it is death he brings.”

Both soldiers suddenly grabbed their throats, clawing desperately at their skin. Blood began to pour from their eyes, their noses and mouths as they crumpled to floor.

Lord Torc, unsheathing his sword, turned to Treime and pointed the tip of the blade at her heart.

“Witch!” He screamed. “What have you done?!”

Treime smiled sadly at him. “It is what you have done my lord, not I.”

Lord Torc’s chubby face grew red with rage and with one thrust he plunged his sword into her heart and twisted.

Treime screamed as streaks of blinding pain shot outward from her heart into her chest.

Lord Torc gasped suddenly and began struggling for breath. Falling to his knees in front of Treime, the sword, still in his grasp, was wrenched from her body. Hot blood spurted from the hole in her chest as her heart tried unsuccessfully to keep beating. Her vision began to swim.

Then suddenly ice began to form over the wound and slowly coat the rest of her body, numbing her. She felt nothing now but cold. Slumping in her chains, she waited for the peace death would bring her, when she smelled it…

The forest. Sunshine. Emilian! Her soul rejoiced! He was alive! Walther and he would live; they would carry on the clan!

Feeling herself being lifted and finally free of her chains she struggled to speak and failed as her breath now came in short, desperate pants. Soft, sweet, lips pressed against her. Tears, not her own, rolled down her face.

Unable to speak or move, her eyelids now to heavy to open, Treime used the only power she had left to say goodbye to her beloved. Using their connection, she sent him a vision, the happiest moment in all of her two and twenty years. With what little energy was left inside of her she pushed the memory forward, felt it flow through their bond and release into him.

Then, Treime took her last breath and closed her eyes for eternity.