by J D Abbas
That brought the first smile to the boy’s face. He stepped from behind Mishon and stood a little taller.
“What do you say I find us some food?” Celdorn said. “It’s been a rather eventful morning, and I’m famished.”
Elena was grateful for the lighter mood. She didn’t want to overwhelm Terzhel. The boy was finally breathing easily, though he grasped Mishon’s sleeve as if afraid to let him move too far. She prayed they would find a way to ease his fears.
“One tiny step at a time,” Elbrion whispered in her ear.
Elena smiled up at her ada. “I know you don’t read my thoughts, but you always seem to know what I’m thinking.”
“That is because our hearts speak the same language, Sheyshon.”
“I hope I become as adept at hearing my son’s heart.”
“You will. I have no doubt of that.”
Chapter 7
“You’ve been here before?” Keymar asked Braiden as they walked to the Palace of the Elders.
“M-many times. Celdorn’s inner c-circle stays here rather than at M-Marach, most of the t-time anyway. It is h-here while I w-was training with the h-healers that C-Celdorn chose me to tr-travel with him. A gr-great honor,” Braiden added with a smile. “I also c-came here often as a ch-child. I had m-many Elrodanar friends.”
“It is an amazing place.” Keymar couldn’t keep the wonder from his voice. “I have listened to stories of Queyon since I was a boy, but it was more myth than reality in my mind.”
He had heard of the obsidian cliffs but had never imagined how dramatic this canyon would be. Except for the western entrance that faced the Halucian Valley, they were surrounded on all sides by spiked, ebony mountains that rose to dizzying heights. The lower slopes of these giants were covered with century-old trees whose knotty trunks and gnarled branches, rather than being wizened and dulled by age, instead, burst with vibrant light. Each tree had its own rhythm to the pulsing that coursed through its limbs, causing the hillsides to flicker constantly.
But perhaps the most awe-inspiring to Keymar were the dozens of waterfalls that plunged over the blackened ridges. The iridescent waters danced with life against their ebony backdrops as they leapt from the heights, twirling on intermittent rock ledges during their descent and creating playful pools along the way. The water generated a continuous hum of joy throughout the canyon, as the many rivulets merged and swelled into the Zariana River.
In fact, the entire gorge was a study of lumination and shadow, life and death. Boulders that throbbed with light leaned precariously against piceous, lifeless slabs. Shimmering wildflowers of every hue pushed their way through drab, pumice fields.
Keymar glanced around at the Elrodanar who strolled among the trees and chuckled to himself. The Guardians completed the contrast. In addition to their dark features, the Guardians also carried with them violence and death, doubt and despair, all so foreign to these people.
At Keymar’s chuckle, Braiden asked, “Wh-what are y-you thinking?”
“How out of place we seem here.” He glanced at Braiden and added, “My pardons, I should speak for myself alone.”
Braiden smiled at him with understanding. “No, m-my friend, you may speak for m-me as well. I feel like a leech or p-parasite at this m-moment, selfishly latching m-myself onto what is life-giving. M-my soul is dark and empty. I n-need this place.” Tears slid down his cheeks as he spoke. Braiden’s smile faded, and it seemed to Keymar that his face was a study in somber desperation.
Keymar had overheard discussions of the attack Braiden suffered early on in the journey from Kelach to Queyon, which had left him nearly dead and deeply scarred within. Keymar had not joined their company until sometime later. He guessed at bits that were unspoken, things unheard of among the Guardians but rampant in some Farak villages. He learned Mikaelin had absorbed Braiden’s physical injuries into his own body, like he had with Lillianna, but he knew Mikaelin could do nothing about Braiden’s inner turmoil. Those wounds would likely stay with him forever.
Keymar hoped his new friend would find what he needed here in Queyon.
~
After they’d walked in silence for a time, Braiden asked, “H-have you thought about wh-what you’re going to d-do now?”
“I was thinking about that very thing.” Keymar glanced sideways. “You don’t read thoughts, do you?”
Braiden laughed. “N-no. But I d-do hear injured b-body parts speak.”
“So I’ve heard. That’s an interesting gift.”
“It-it’s definitely a change from the m-methods I was t-taught here in Queyon,” he said with a chuckle. “B-but back to you. Wh-what are your pl-plans? Will you st-stay here or g-go to M-Marach?”
“I pledged fidelity to the Lady Elena, but I suspect she’ll no longer require my services. I was thinking I might offer to train the children from the encampments in methods of self-defense, if not outright battle skills, although I know the Elrodanar are adverse to weaponry.”
“I-I think perhaps they m-may reconsider after what w-we experienced on our j-journey. I-I also noticed th-they lock their g-gates now, which is a s-significant change.”
“I hope you’re right. What about you? What are your plans?”
Braiden’s gaze drifted off toward the waterfall. “I-I don’t know how to answer th-that.” His hands shook as he rubbed his eyes. “I-I have thought about h-helping at the academy, w-working with the healers to tr-train others. But ...”
Keymar remained silent, giving him time to weigh his thoughts.
Braiden glanced sideways and said, “I-I’m sure you h-heard about what h-happened to m-me on our journey h-here.” Keymar nodded, unwilling to lie to him. “I-I must find m-my own healing b-before I can h-help others again.”
“Didn’t I hear you say something about having family here or in the valley?”
“Y-yes in the valley, in Lonami, but I-I won’t, I-I can’t stay with them.” His gaze locked on the waterfall again. “M-my step-father and I d-don’t see eye to eye. I-I left as s-soon as I was old enough t-to train with C-Celdorn at M-Marach.” He gave a weak laugh. “I s-soon discovered I was n-not fit to b-be a Guardian. I was m-meant for h-healing.”
Braiden studied his hands with a frown. Keymar had heard that almost every bone had been broken before Mikaelin healed them. Braiden swiped his cheek with the back of his wrist and cleared his throat. “H-how I wished I h-had trained h-harder at M-Marach.”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” Keymar said softly. “You were ambushed and outnumbered. No amount of training could have stopped that.”
Braiden shrugged. “W-with the help of my Ilqazar, I-I was able to k-kill a few. Th-there’s that at l-least.” He gave his head a sharp shake. “E-enough. I-I’m sorry for that d-dark diversion.”
Keymar patted his shoulder. “Don’t apologize. I’m honored that you would trust me with your thoughts. I’m still struggling with guilt over the deaths of my brothers and Lillianna. If only I’d been a better Guardian, a better man.” He sighed. “To be honest, it’s good to not feel so alone in that darkness.”
Braiden gave him a shy smile. “P-perhaps we can w-work together at the academy. Y-you can h-help the children br-break bones and create c-cuts and br-bruises, and I w-will work on h-healing them.”
“Brilliant!” Keymar laughed and bumped his shoulder against Braiden, knocking him sideways. “And we’ll toughen you up a bit in the meantime.”
~
Just then, they arrived at the Palace of the Elders. Keymar stopped dead in his tracks and stared upward at the magnificent structure before him; an unexpected shiver ran through his body. The building, which stood hundreds of feet high, was carved into an obsidian cliff. Unlike the simple homes of the rock-dwelling Farak with which he was all too familiar, this structure was beautifully ornate and intricately fashioned. Elaborate stairways stood on the outside of the building leading to a dozen different levels, each of which had its own unique veranda with sculpted, vine-covere
d columns. These platforms led to arched entrances flanked on either side by windows of etched, multi-colored glass whose facets caught the light and made it dance to the rhythm of the pulsations of the stone. The Palace throbbed with life.
Keymar caught Braiden grinning at him. “I-it is amazing, is it n-not?”
“I have never seen anything so … so … I can’t find words. I thought the waterfalls were awe-inspiring, but this, this is beyond expression.”
“W-well, you w-will soon be impressed with how m-many steps there are.” Braiden chuckled. “Our m-meeting is on the twelfth l-level. M-most of us lose c-count of the steps after the eighth.”
They began their long ascent. Keymar was compelled to stop at each platform and study the diverse entryways. The thick, carved wooden doors begged to be caressed. Most of them were closed and locked. The few that remained open gave little insight to what lay beyond as the interiors were not lit except for what light came through the colored windows.
Keymar also examined the skillfully crafted windows on each level, which he soon realized gave an elaborate history lesson as one ascended. Tales of long ago were pieced together in striking detail. He imagined from the interior the sight would be dazzling when the afternoon sun struck the etchings.
Other Guardians and Elrodanar passed them from time to time on their way to the council meeting. A few stopped to comment on the tales laid out before them and gave Keymar rich insights. For some, the building seemed to have lost its fascination. By the time Braiden and Keymar reached the twelfth floor, most of the Guardians had arrived.
Keymar’s mouth gaped as he entered the Chamber of Agreement, where the Council of Elders held their meetings. His eyes were immediately drawn upward to where seven windows were cut into the foremost part of the ceiling, each with a different spectrum of colors and bearing its own story. The portals were placed at precise angles so that as the sun advanced across the sky, light would enter from one window to the next and fall directly on the emblem at the center of the massive circular table that occupied the middle of the room. This would leave it illuminated by a constant flux of hues throughout most of the daylight hours.
This magnificent table was surrounded by two dozen chairs that were so elaborately designed, they looked to be thrones.
But what took Keymar’s breath away, and set him somewhat off-balance, was that the chairs, the table, the walls, even the floor throbbed with light. There was constant movement in the room, which made it difficult to maintain one’s equilibrium.
“You will grow accustomed to it in a short time,” Celdorn, who entered behind him, said. “Until then, you may want to sit.” He clasped Keymar’s shoulder and pointed to one of the chairs. “You look as green as a Bengoran’s hair.”
Keymar did as instructed with no argument.
Chapter 8
Elbrion, Silvandir, and Elena soon joined those in the chamber. Elena entered, chattering excitedly about what she observed on her ascent until the room’s flickering light threw her off balance. Her mouth clamped shut, and she grabbed Silvandir’s arm to steady herself.
Before Elena could take the seat Silvandir offered, Braiden rushed over and threw his arms around her. “I-I am so relieved you are a-alive, sister of m-my heart.” His words brought a bright smile to Elena’s face. Braiden swiped at the tears on his cheeks, cleared his throat, and stepped back. “I-I had no ch-chance to greet you last n-night. I d-do not know how it is p-possible that you survived, b-but I am overjoyed.”
“Hopefully we will all have answers soon,” Elbrion said to him.
Tobil, Shatur, and Dalgo quickly followed Braiden, gathering around as they embraced Elena and expressed their joy and relief at seeing her again. She was surprised and overwhelmed by the love that flooded her heart. Then she noticed Keymar, a bit paler than usual. He nodded toward her from his seat but did not rise. Elena was sympathetic. The constant motion in the room made her nauseous.
“Come sit, little one.” Celdorn held out a chair for her. Silvandir steadied her as they took the ten steps necessary to reach the seat, which suddenly seemed like a great distance. She slumped into the chair, closed her eyes, and drew a deep breath. Elena heard others settle around her while she squeezed the arms of the chair and focused on not losing the contents of her stomach.
By the time she opened her eyes, the Guardians had filled nearly half the chairs around the table. Soon the thirteen Elrodanar elders joined them.
Celdorn had placed Elena directly across from the Xiander, the chief of the elders. He was flanked by six elders on each side. Celdorn sat to Elena’s right and Elbrion to her left. When the last of the council was seated, Elena noted that two empty chairs remained. Mikaelin had not yet arrived, and the other … A lump immediately formed in her throat.
Then, through the blur of tears, something caught her eye. In the pulsations of one of the empty chairs, Elena saw Haldor’s face smiling at her—almost playfully, as if he had a secret he couldn’t wait to share. She blinked convulsively. The light must have been playing tricks with her eyes. Then she recalled his comforting voice. I am as close as your thoughts, Yabéha.
Elena smiled to herself. Perhaps he was nearer than she realized. Perhaps that whole realm was. A shiver ran through her, and she hugged herself. Such thoughts were too much for her. This world was enough to deal with.
“Mikaelin, you will sit at the table,” Celdorn said evenly as he glanced toward the far side of the room.
Elena hadn’t noticed the cloaked figure standing in a recessed corner. Her heart beat faster. She could tell he stared at her from beneath his hood and immediately sensed the chaos raging within him.
I would have come after you. I would have fought for you.
Elena knew it was his voice that whispered in her mind, even as he obediently moved to the table and took his place. She wanted to ask what he meant, tell him that she was glad to see him, but instead she forced her attention back to the table.
Out of the corner of her eye, Elena noticed Yaelmargon studying her. She glanced to the right and left and realized all the elders had their eyes fixed on her. She blushed and looked down. This place was dangerous. Nothing was private; any thought might be overheard. The room spun around her.
Elbrion’s hand covered hers and squeezed gently. Had he heard her thoughts too? She felt his fingers gently tug on hers. It was only then she realized she was gripping the arms of her chair so tightly that her fingers had gone white. She glanced at him and gave him a weak smile.
“Welcome friends,” the Xiander said in a voice as lyrical and soothing as any Elena had ever heard. “And special welcome to the young Rahima. My name is Lamreth, and I am the Xiander of this council.” He spoke in Borok, the Trade Tongue, more for Elena’s sake than anyone else’s, she guessed.
“I judge from your reaction, young lady, that Yaelmargon’s recommendation to wait until you were in the company of your family and friends before introducing you to the council was indeed a wise choice. You need not fear us, Elena. You are no more exposed than anyone else in this room.” His gaze scanned the faces of those around the table. “In fact, there are places in your internal world that are hidden even from me; which, I can assure you, is rare indeed.”
He smiled at her with a look bordering on … admiration? Elena found that difficult to accept, yet that is what she saw. It was tinged with something else, however. Suspicion? Or curiosity, perhaps. She could not decide. She felt a sudden shift in her internal world, and a wave of fear washed over her.
Lamreth’s eyes widened and his smile changed ever so slightly. Hunger entered his gaze. But as quickly as it appeared, he mastered it, his face again serene, almost expressionless.
Elena glanced at Elbrion then Celdorn to see if they had noticed, but they seemed unaffected. She immediately doubted her perception and chided herself for such mistrust of the head elder. Then she noticed Yaelmargon studying her again, his brow drawn down in puzzlement. She focused on the table.
A
t last, you are here. The voice that echoed in her mind was strong. I must find a way for us to be alone. She glanced around the table as a chill skittered up her spine.
I do not trust him. This was a different voice. Elena’s eyes shot to the left.
She is so small, so frail. This cannot be the one. Another spoke.
Elena covered her ears and cowered into her chair. A hand gripped her shoulder. Elena shrieked and jerked away.
“What’s wrong, little one?” Celdorn’s hand hung midair.
“Make is stop!” she cried. “Make it stop!”
The Xiander quickly moved around the table and was about to lay his hand on Elena’s head when she dove under the table. “Don’t let him touch me, Ada!”
Lamreth stepped back, his brows arched in surprise. Then he cocked his head as if listening, and Elena clamped her hands on her ears and tried to silence her inner thoughts.
Yaelmargon appeared by the Xiander’s side and motioned toward her.
Lamreth nodded.
Yaelmargon got down on the floor and crawled next to Elena. She tightened the grip on her ears as he moved closer. The loremaster carefully, gently touched her left hand. Her eyes fixed on him. Holding her gaze, his hand moved toward the back of her head. She didn’t stop him. Instead, she closed her eyes and melted into his touch, begging for relief.
In an instant, they stood in the rubble of her internal vestibule. The doorframes had been rebuilt, and the third door was complete. The noise inside the entry hall was deafening.
“Help me,” Elena cried. “I can’t stop the voices.”
“This is your mind.” Yaelmargon was forced to yell to be heard over the cacophony. “You can build a barrier. Picture it.”
Elena envisioned a room with thick stone walls that no sound could penetrate, with only one entrance sealed by a solid oak door and a heavy brace. And there it was, surrounding them. She quickly closed the door and pulled the wooden beam down to secure it. The room was quiet. She welcomed the silence, sighing with relief.
