by J D Abbas
The others waited until Lamreth rose, then they too stood. The elders followed the Xiander from the room while Celdorn’s men gathered around him.
Celdorn immediately turned to Mikaelin and said, “You will meet with me immediately, back at the house.”
Mikaelin nodded and gave no argument.
“Elena, you will rest. Silvandir, you may accompany her, if you choose,” Celdorn added.
Silvandir smiled. There was no choice as far as he was concerned. He held out his hand to Elena and led her from the room.
“The rest of you are free to explore, rest, or join us at our home. I will inform you when we are summoned to return here.”
Chapter 13
“Elena, we need to discuss something,” Silvandir said, interrupting her reverie as she studied the geese passing overhead in the most clear blue sky she had ever seen. They were about halfway back to Elbrion’s house and alone for the first time since they were reunited.
“Is something wrong?”
His face was tense. He was not enjoying this beautiful day in the least.
Silvandir stopped walking and grabbed her hand. His eyes shifted nervously. “Elena,” he started then stopped. He scuffed his boot, kicking up a puff of dust, and sucked in a shallow breath.
Elena cocked her head. “What is it, Silvandir? Please, just tell me.”
He nodded and wiped his palms on his trousers, then grasped both her hands. “With all that has happened, and now that we are here, I think that it would be wise for us to consider our plans.”
Elena tried to gaze into his eyes, but he kept looking away. A fear gripped her heart. “Oh, I see,” she said softly. “Now that we’ve arrived in Queyon, and I am safe, you think perhaps you were rash in your offer and would like to reconsider?”
Silvandir’s eyes immediately met hers. “No, that is not what I’m saying at all.” He looked almost ... offended. “I meant that we should think about marrying. Soon. Tomorrow perhaps or the next day.”
His face lit with anticipation and such joy—pure, life-giving joy—that Elena couldn’t help but smile. “You haven’t changed your mind then?”
“I think, perhaps, you do not know me at all,” Silvandir replied with a teasing grimace. “Once I set my mind to something, it is difficult to persuade me to any other course.”
“Oh, I see. So marrying me is a matter of determination then?” Elena glared at him in mock offense.
“No. Again you misunderstand me. I assure you, taking you as my wife is an act of utter selfishness. Nothing in the world would please me more.”
Elena grew serious, and she gazed at him intently. “Are you certain? After all that has happened, knowing all that may yet come, are you certain you still want to be with me? You do have the right and the freedom to change your mind. I won’t hold it against you.”
Silvandir’s smile wavered. “Have you changed your mind? Do you no longer wish to marry me?”
“No, Silvandir, I’ve had no change of heart, but you must realize that life with me will be very unpredictable and difficult. I think you have a better idea of what that may mean than when you first made your offer. Plus, I have another child now. I don’t want you to regret this decision.”
Silvandir took her face in his hands and tenderly kissed each cheek. “My eyes are wide open, as is my heart. I have never been more certain of anything.” As he gazed into her eyes a tear slid down his cheek. “When I thought I had lost you on the mountain, life became void of all meaning. I have never felt such emptiness. All I wanted was to see you and touch you again.” More tears escaped. “I don’t want to spend another day apart from you.”
Elena tenderly wiped his tears. “I saw and felt your agony on the mountain. I wanted so much to comfort you, to tell you I was all right.” She paused and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Although I have been alone all of my life, when that chasm stood between us, I felt an anguish I have not known before. And I don’t ever want to feel it again.” A smile spread across her quivering lips. “So yes, I will marry you as soon as my adai will allow.”
Without hesitation, Silvandir pressed his lips into hers as he engulfed her in his arms. Their bodies melded around the bulge of their child. A sharp pulse of energy surged through her body. She pulled back and laid her hand on her belly. “I think our daughter is telling us that we need to hold our passion in check.”
“For now.” Silvandir flashed a mischievous grin. Then he knelt and cupped Elena’s bulge. “But you will have to get used to your mother and me wrapping ourselves around you, little lady.” Elena laughed as he kissed her belly. When he stood, he added, “We’ll speak with Celdorn and Elbrion after you rest.”
He took her hand, and they continued on the path.
~
“Mikaelin, what is happening with you?” Celdorn asked as soon as the young man arrived in their home and they were seated. Elbrion had gone to his own room to give them privacy.
“I don’t understand what you’re asking,” he replied, deliberately avoiding the question.
Celdorn gazed at him for several seconds, deciding how best to handle this. “Please remove your hood and mask. I would see your face as we discuss this.”
Mikaelin obediently complied. As soon as he uncovered his head, the stench of alcohol and body odor permeated the room. Celdorn groaned inwardly at the evidence of self-neglect. Mikaelin fixed his functioning eye on the floor and would not look up.
Celdorn had forgotten the extent of the damage to Mikaelin’s body, having not seen it for some time. His stomach twisted at the wounds the young man had absorbed from Lillianna, the girl who had thrown herself into a fire in hopes of putting an end to the nightmares of life among Anakh’s minions. Melted flesh hung from bone on Mikaelin’s left side, and singed hair and beard stubble stuck out from the puckered purple scars. The young Guardian Celdorn had known and loved was no longer recognizable. Mikaelin’s impulse to drink and numb the pain was certainly understandable.
“You know very well what I am asking.” Celdorn softened his tone. “Why would you refuse someone who could take this pain and disfigurement away?”
Mikaelin’s gaze rose to meet Celdorn’s. His one functioning eye was cold and empty. “I don’t want it removed.”
“Why?” Celdorn persisted. “You are clearly tormented by what you have absorbed. It has sucked the life from you. Why would you want that to continue?”
“It is not the pain of others that has sucked the life from me,” the young man replied, his gaze returning to the floor. “In fact, it is quite the contrary. What I have absorbed is the only thing that gives my life meaning and purpose. It is the only thing I have to hold onto.” His last words were little more than a whisper.
“Mikaelin, I am no expert, but I am quite certain that even were these physical scars to leave you, the memory and impact of the lives you have touched could never be removed. You will continue to carry them in a most unique way for the remainder of your days. I also suspect there will be opportunities to use your gifts with others in the future.”
Mikaelin’s eye rose. “I can’t risk it. I cannot lose the only part of her I can embrace.”
Celdorn’s heart sank as he grasped the young man’s meaning. He knew what he must speak would be harsh to Mikaelin’s ears, but the truth had to be stated. “You have no right to cling to them,” he said with as much gentleness as he possessed. “She is not yours to hold, even if it is just the memory of her pain. You made your choice, and she made hers. You must let her go.”
He let the impact of his words fall. The two men sat in silence for several minutes as Mikaelin wrestled with himself.
“I want very much for you to continue in my service, Mikaelin, but I also need you fully functional. You are a risk to yourself and anyone entrusted to your care at this point. Please do not waste the life and the gifts that have been given to you. You must move on.”
The coldness suddenly left Mikaelin’s eye, and Celdorn watched the walls around
his soul almost visibly crumble. His words choked out as his chest heaved. “I know you’re right, but I’m not the man you believe me to be. I haven’t the strength to release the only thing I have ever held dear. I know I must, but I don’t know how. I deserve this wretched body for it fits my soul.” Mikaelin pressed his face into his one functioning hand and wept.
Celdorn moved to his side and laid his arm across his shoulders. Mikaelin curled into the embrace like a child. Celdorn could almost see the waves of anguish that broke over the young man’s soul with hurricane force, leaving him flailing and nearly overcome in their currents. But like all storms, the waves eventually receded into slower, lesser ripples. Finally, when they had subsided, Mikaelin whispered, “I will do as you demand, if you will be by my side and lend me your strength.”
“I would have it no other way,” Celdorn replied in a hoarse rasp.
~
Silvandir and Elena were chattering cheerfully when they reached the door to her adai’s home. When they entered, Mikaelin and Celdorn were deep in conversation in the common area. The two men jumped to their feet, and Mikaelin scrambled to pull his mask over his face and raise his hood while Celdorn stood in front of him so as to block their view.
Elena felt the wave of surprise and embarrassment that surged in both men. Silvandir, however, seemed oblivious.
“Celdorn, we were hoping to find you,” he said, his face bright with anticipation. “We have something we would like to ask you.”
“You will excuse me then.” Mikaelin’s voice was husky, and he immediately headed toward the door.
“I’d like you to stay,” Silvandir said. “This is a matter I would openly share with you as my dearest friend.” He flashed Mikaelin an affectionate smile and slapped him on the shoulder.
Mikaelin and Celdorn exchanged a glance, and a wave of distress washed over her. She wondered what they had been discussing.
“Is Elbrion here?” Elena asked, stalling a bit.
Celdorn shifted his weight. “Yes, he’s in his room.”
“I’ll get him,” Silvandir said and headed down the hall.
When Elbrion returned with Silvandir, he glanced around, and his brow furrowed. Elena couldn’t blame him for being wary after all that had happened recently.
“Celdorn, Elbrion,” Silvandir began without hesitation, “Elena and I would like your permission to wed as soon as possible. Perhaps even tomorrow.” He broke into a broad smile and his eyes sparkled with joy.
Celdorn discreetly glanced at Mikaelin. Elena watched the younger man’s shoulders sag, while pain gripped her chest.
Then Celdorn caught himself. He turned to Silvandir and smiled warmly. “We have no objection to performing the ceremony soon, but I believe we ought to finish the work with the council first. We already have a commitment to meet with them tomorrow. Would the next day suffice, if all goes well at council?” He looked to Elbrion for confirmation.
“I am in agreement,” Elbrion replied. He laid his hand on Elena’s head. “Tomorrow’s meeting may again be difficult for you. It seems wiser to separate that stress from the joy of your wedding, does it not?”
Elena sighed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She gazed up at Silvandir. “Is that all right with you?”
“No,” Silvandir said sternly, surprising them all. Then he broke into an impish grin. “Any delay is unacceptable, but I suppose we must do what we must.”
Elena was smiling up at him when a new thought crossed her mind. “May I ask a question?” she said to her adai.
“Of course,” Celdorn replied.
“I have never been to a wedding. How is it done?”
The men exchanged surprised glances. “You have never been to any kind of wedding ceremony?” Celdorn asked.
Elena blushed. “No, not even my brothers’ weddings. There was always some reason why I wasn’t allowed to attend. I thought it was because they were ashamed of me, but now I suppose it was because they didn’t want me to think of such things and perhaps find reason to hope.”
Elbrion put his hands on Elena’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head as crystal droplets fell from his eyes. “The weddings here are very different from those in Rhamal,” he explained. “They are performed on a platform by the Falls of Ellisia. The couple is joined by their families on that ledge. Others gather on platforms along the sides of the waterfall to celebrate with them. The briochellai chant ancient tunes during the ceremony which create a delightful harmony against the rush of the waters.”
“The briochellai?” Elena exclaimed. “They still exist? I have seen no maidens in Queyon.”
Elbrion laughed. “Of course they exist. We would be a sorry race were there no females. They are not the ancient briochellai spoken of in the legends, but they still possess the ability to enliven the men they touch, or so I am told.”
“Why have I not seen them?”
“You have been living in our quarters, and around us are the homes of those with whom we work. We live at the edge of the community because outsiders stay with us. Only Dalgo and Haldor have taken wives, and they are in the Rogaran villages, so therefore you see no women. It is rather like being in Kelach or Marach, I am afraid,” Elbrion added. “We will take you farther into Queyon soon, so you may meet some of them. I suppose it will be a relief for you to have women around you again.”
Elena’s face darkened. She thought of all of the women who used to glare at her in her home village of Rhamal. They seemed to know who and what she was, and they avoided her. She had never had a friend, except for Kitara, who she’d been forced to kill. Her heart twisted at that memory. The only other women in her life had either hurt her or treated her with contempt—until Lillianna, the young Wallanard girl found among the Farak, who Elena was supposed to help, and who, in the end, had saved Elena’s life, at the price of her own. Pain filled her heart as the image of Lillianna’s lifeless face appeared in her mind’s eye. She shook her head, driving the memory away.
“I am content with those around me. I am in no hurry,” she whispered.
Elbrion stroked her hair. “Life here is different, Sheya. I expect that you will find great and loving friends among the briochellai.”
“You are eternally optimistic,” she said with a weak grin. “Please finish telling me about the wedding customs. Will I be branded?”
“Branded?” Elbrion recoiled. “I had quite forgotten that some Rhamal men still secretly brand their wives. No, Sheya, neither the Elrodanar nor the Guardians brand women. In both our cultures, women are treated as cherished, equal partners, not property,” he explained.
“The ceremony itself is simple. It is conducted by an elder of your choice. Vows are exchanged between the bride and groom, and the family and community make commitments as well to support and encourage the couple in their new life. When the ceremony is concluded, the couple walk through the waterfall where they are stripped of their past and their clothing. On the far side, white garments await them, as well as a private wedding chamber where they are free to consummate their union.”
Elena stiffened as he spoke, the image of what he related struck terror in her heart. She had the odd sensation that those inside were scrambling to fortify the walls of their fortress. “What do you mean they are stripped of their past?”
“I have not been through the process myself,” Elbrion admitted, “nor has anyone in this room, but apparently when one walks through the healing waters of Ellisia the wounds of the past both physical and otherwise are exposed and erased. I am told it can be a painful process. I do not say that to create distress, but so you are forewarned.” He patted her arm.
“Will it destroy those inside?” She could barely breathe her chest was so tight.
“I would not think so. Perhaps we can ask Yaelmargon or Hezhion. It may change them, though I doubt it will destroy them or your internal world.” When Elena gasped and clasped her mouth, he quickly added, “Those are parts of you, Sheyshon. They cannot be destroyed without dest
roying who you are.”
“How will I endure it?”
“Silvandir will be by your side. You need not fear. It is meant for your healing, so you can enter into the marriage whole and unhindered.”
“How are things exposed? Will others see?” Her eyes went wide at the thought.
Elbrion smiled. “No, Sheya, it occurs internally. Even the one by your side does not see or hear. You need not fear,” he reiterated.
Silvandir grabbed her hand. “I will hold onto you, Elena. We will pass through it together.”
“Will everyone see us naked?” she asked, still trying to envision it.
Elbrion sobered. “No, you are protected by the flow of the waters. No one will see,” he assured her. “The process is meant to be beautiful and restorative, in keeping with the nature of the Jhadhela. There is no desire to humiliate or embarrass anyone. It is a time for joy and celebration.”
“And they all wait there, knowing that we are going to … consummate?” She glanced nervously at Silvandir.
“Elena, my child ...” Elbrion embraced her face with his tender hands. “This world is vastly different from the one you have known. The wedding chamber is a place of joy and the rightful celebration of love. No one desires to invade that sanctuary nor witness your private interaction. When you have passed through the waters, everyone will depart, and you and Silvandir will be left to yourselves.”
Silvandir touched her shoulder, and she turned to face him. He glanced quickly from Celdorn to Elbrion to Mikaelin before meeting her eyes. “Elena, I know your fears. I have no expectation and will require nothing of you,” he said softly and with great tenderness. “As I told you before, we will find our way together. I will be content just to hold you in my arms or lie by your side.”
~
Mikaelin was grateful for the hood that covered his face. It was torturous for him to be included in this intimate conversation, but he could not leave without drawing unwanted attention. He berated himself for picturing himself in Silvandir’s stead. It was wrong, and he knew it, but he didn’t know how to stop it.
