Page 111 of A Brat's Tale
“You gonna come for me, Tristan?”
“Yes, sir.”
Later, we wash up in the small body of water behind us. It’s nearly ice-cold, but it’s refreshing, and I’m brought back to the present where I remember I’m about to be given eternal life.
Even though an Elf can be killed, the life of an Elf is considered immortal because they do not die of ‘old age’. Elves are used to such things; they’re born into a life of immortality and think nothing of it. To a human, it’s a vast landscape with no map. With so many other things to think about, and with so much hinging on me becoming Elf, getting to this point was pivotal. Now that I’m here, I feel like I’m on a ledge looking over, too high up to see what’s below.
When we return to camp, and Corrik offers to see about our sleeping arrangements, Alrik has words for me. “Even without my title behind your name, you have a responsibility to act with decorum. My brother is too young to deal with you properly and if that’s going to continue, I will.”
Yeah, bet he’d like to.
“He dealt with me fine, sir.” I grit my teeth. No, I should not be talking to him like this. Yes he’s right, but if Corrik has an issue,hecan take it up with me.
Unfortunately, Alrik sees my backchat as a further sign I need to be dealt with and it’s my turn to be spanked in front of everyone over Alrik’s knee. Even Corrik’s careful about lipping his brother off and maybe I was asking for it anyway. My trousers are pulled down for the third time in the past five hours and I’m soundly spanked by Alrik’s heavy hand. Tears prick my eyes. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t mean to be a lippy brat,” I say from over his lap.
“Oh, you mean to. But you will behave yourself, understood?”
I nod and sniffle. “Understood, sir.”
“You’re a Cyredanthem now. I expect both you and Corrik to represent the name.”
He spanks me some more and the tears flow but the spanking is a relief, especially with the thoughts running ‘round in my head tonight. I release it all, wondering all the while if I am a Cyredanthem anymore. I’m not married to anyone, even if I’m technically engaged to two Cyredanthem brothers.
After one helluva spanking, Alrik helps me to stand and places me into Corrik’s arms. “What did you do?”
“Other than he wasn’t pleased with my behavior from earlier, I got lippy.”
“Tristan.” But his eyes are glittering. I think he likes that his brother spanked me.
The fresh tingles from the extra spanking helps me sleep.
I haven’t gotten one watch on this journey, and it’s like it was traveling from Markaytia to Mortouge. I’m told I’ll need all my strength for what I’ll have to do with the Lady of the Lake. I don’t stay asleep and end up waking when the moon is still out. I get up to pee, slipping out so Corrik isn’t disturbed.
I pick a tree and look over to see Aldagir just off in the distance. He acknowledges he’s seen me. I spot the two other guards on watch.
“Triiissssstan…”
I snap my head around. “Who’s there…?”
It sounds like a man’s voice, but it’s too low to say for sure. I wait for an answer, but I don’t get one. I hear the voice again. “Trisssstannn…”
I shake my dick off and put it away, looking around, but don’t see anyone. “I’m getting real tired of weird shit happening,” I mutter. I check in with one of the guards. “How’s the area?”
“Secure, Your Highness.”
Satisfied, I decide it must be my sleep-addled brain inventing ghosts. I finally fall into a fitful sleep, where I dream of Bayaden and his green babies.
When I wake, most things are packed up. “I let you sleep,” Corrik says. “It’s a big day for you. You become Elf today, my love.”
I don’t bother to talk about my apprehensions; what’s the point? I can do this and deal with my feelings later.
We head out from camp, the day is misty and thankfully we don’t have to head up the mountain, but we do have to slog down into the sloshy bog, heading deeper into the forest.
Knowledge of the way to the Lady of the Lake is passed down, like the way a recipe is passed down; the most secret ingredients told only to a select few. Corrik and Alrik, being part of the royal family have been gifted with this knowledge and can only show the convoluted route to other members of the royal family. This means Corrik, Alrik, Diekin and I must carry on past this point alone. “We will set up camp here, and look forward to you joining us as Elf, Tristan,” Jagar says, keeping the expected, respectful distance he didn’t need to maintain when we traveled less formally. I appreciate his words in the way I might appreciate them from my father. Jagar is a less hostile version of him and I can’t help feeling surrounded by his care for me in the same way I do Father’s.
We move on foot, leaving our horses with our entourage.
After an hour of trudging through the rough forest, hacking our way through the ungroomed path, clearly not traveled by anyone or anything and we come up against the side of the mountain. Once we’re there, we stare up at the sheer size of Mount Drakora. “Right, we carry on this way,” Alrik says.
