by J D Abbas
Without stopping to think, Elena reached toward her baby. Beams of light lashed out from her fingertips and wrapped around the body of her daughter. Before Anakh realized what was happening, Elena gave a quick snap of her wrists and the child pulled free of Anakh’s grasp, flew to the far side of the fire, and landed in her mother’s arms. Anakh howled with fury.
Before Anakh could order her eidola to seize her, Elena spun her finger in the air and flung thin ropes of light toward Anakh. They coiled around her body and held her fast. One strand wrapped around her head and squeezed over her mouth. Anakh could not move or speak.
When the eidola realized what was happening, they rushed Elena. She turned and dashed into the mouth of a tunnel on the far side of the slab where she’d given birth. She followed one of the shafts, only to find herself at a dead end. Three of the eidola were upon her in moments, blocking her only means of escape.
Use your mind. Think and think fast!
She laid the baby on the ground behind her, and held up her hands toward the eidola. Her sword suddenly appeared in her right hand, blazing with white fire. The phantoms stepped back, intimidated as Elena gripped the sword in both hands, her body poised to strike. The other four eidola arrived. Two of them moved to one side of the tunnel, two to the other, in an attempt to surround her.
“She cannot fight all of us at once,” one called as he slid sideways.
Elena closed her eyes. An orb of blue light engulfed her and the baby. When two of the eidola dove toward the infant to snatch her up, the sword swung right and left with the swiftness and accuracy of an executioner’s axe. It lopped off phantom hands, which turned solid at the touch of the powerful blade. As blood spewed from the rehumanized limbs, the eidola squealed in pain, giving the other five a moment’s pause.
Elena’s rage erupted with a scream of fury. She thrust her sword upward and embedded it in the ceiling. A burst of white fire erupted from the blade, creating fissures that cracked and snaked outward, rending the compact earth. Elena released her grip on the hanging blade and pushed her arms out toward the sides of the tunnel. The light surging from her hands shoved the walls back, and the earthen shaft imploded with a roar. Rocks flew in every direction. The eidola lunged at the baby in one final, desperate effort, but Elena threw her body over her child before they could touch her. The eidola screeched and wailed as they were crushed by the collapsing shaft. Elena braced herself for the impact of the rocks—which never came. The blue orb remained solid around her and the child, protecting them, while everything else crumbled and went black.
Chapter 48
Moments later, a cool breeze caressed Elena’s cheeks. She lifted her head and opened her eyes to find herself curled in a ball by the font in the Qajh. The fresh air came from two massive holes that gaped in opposite walls of the indestructible temple. Had any of that been real? Was what she saw now real?
Elena pulled to her knees and blinked repeatedly. Nothing changed.
“Oh, thank Qho’el you’re back.” Silvandir blew out a breath and dropped to his knees, wrapping Elena in his arms. His chest shuddered as he kissed the top of her head. She patted his back absently, not quite feeling connected to her body—or this world.
When Silvandir released her, Elena’s gaze immediately returned to the gaping holes. Had she done that?
“There is great power in this place,” Elena whispered as a shiver ran through her body.
“The power is within you, Elena,” Lamreth replied.
She rose and faced the Xiander, who was holding Karaelena. “No, I am only a vessel, just like this Qajh. And no matter how strong the vessel may seem, it can be broken.” Her gaze returned to the hole in the north wall. She worked to process her own words, to shake off the horror of the cave and what she’d just witnessed—what she’d done.
Elena jumped when her sword suddenly appeared in her trembling hands. The white fire was gone, but it pulsated with light. She glanced around at the men on the platform, most of whom had taken a step back. Fear-filled eyes stared down from the towers above.
Lamreth handed Karaelena to Silvandir as if he feared Elena might snatch the child from his arms. Charaq was down on a knee and hugging Terzhel and Mishon into his chest. The boys’ eyes were wide, and Terzhel’s mouth was pulled down in a pout.
She had frightened them—even the men. They thought she was a monster, some evil creature.
Was she?
Elena backed down the steps of the platform, slowly, awkwardly, her mind too chaotic to think. At the moment she reached the main surface of the Qajh floor, the sun emerged from its cloud cover and, once again, bathed the temple in light. The holy place erupted with a thousand refracted colors. Elena’s eyes were drawn to the rubble beneath the broken walls. Multi-colored light radiated out from the broken gemstones. Her sword danced with reflected light and throbbed in her grip.
Elena skirted the font platform and headed toward the grand altar. It was as if her body moved on its own and she merely observed. She climbed the seven steps of the dais, laid her sword on the crystal altar, and then lowered herself to lie prostrate.
“I am but a vessel. I see the truth.” The words poured out of her mouth again and again.
Elbrion was the first to approach her. When he laid his hands on her shoulders, she lifted her head. “It’s not me, Ada. I’m just a vessel.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “A broken vessel.”
“I know, Sheyshon.” He cradled her and rocked gently before he laid his hand on the side of her face and chanted softly.
After a few moments, she asked, “Do you see?”
Elbrion nodded and opened his eyes. A whimper squeaked out of Elena at the sorrow in his eyes. His light dimmed and slowed. “Are you sure you want to touch me?” Her chest shuddered as she struggled to take a breath. “I am a dirty, vile, filthy person. I did such awful things, Ada.”
“The filth is not yours, Sheya. Do not let it cling to you,” he said as he continued to sway.
“But they were inside me. All seven eidola spewed their vile seed. One of them probably fathered my child.” She retched and gagged.
“Seven?” Lamreth interjected from the base of the steps. “Seven eidola?”
Celdorn grabbed his arm. “Not now. We will deal with this information later. Can’t you see she’s overwhelmed?”
Lamreth pulled his lips tight; worry etched his face.
Elbrion stroked her cheek. “But you fought, Sheya.”
“Not the first time. I looked like a rag doll. I let them do whatever despicable thing they wanted. There was no resistance.”
“Elena, you were nine years old. You expect far too much of yourself.”
“Nine?” Elena searched the memory. “But how could I give birth at nine?”
A strangled sob came from the foot of the steps. Elena turned and saw Silvandir lean into Mikaelin’s embrace, his shoulders quaking.
“You did not give birth then. The two events were many years apart,” Elbrion said, grabbing Elena’s attention. “Did you not see how much you had grown by the time you gave birth?”
Elena’s eyes widened. “I did. I just didn’t realize what it meant.” She gazed into her ada’s eyes. “I was only nine the first time?”
He nodded as prism-like tears slid down his cheeks. “You were so young, so small, and you were chained. What could you have done?” Elena didn’t answer. She just took in her ada’s words. “Eight men violated you that day, Elena, it is no wonder you were no more than a ragdoll by the end. Sadly, it shows how much strength you did have. You survived. You continued.” He stroked her face. “Great strength of will.”
Elena pressed her cheek into his hand, his words a balm to her ravaged heart.
“So much strength and so much fragility, all in one tiny body,” he whispered. “It is an odd plan.” He kissed her head and enveloped her in his strong arms.
“I don’t want this life, Ada. I don’t want this history. Why do I have to see it? Why do I need to know more?
”
“I do not know, Sheyshon. I have no answers. Just know that I love you.”
Elena began to weep, deep, guttural, agonized sobs. Tears for the pain of a body torn apart. Tears for her broken childhood. Tears for the daughter she was forced to leave behind. Tears for her three children here, whose lives seemed tenuous at best. Tears of weariness, for a battle so relentless, so draining. Tears of hopelessness, helplessness. She had won this one, but would she survive the next and the next and the next?
“My hands are empty, Ada,” she sobbed, holding them out to show him. “I had her. I saved her, but it did no good. She’s gone. It wasn’t real. She is dead by now. So, in the end, I did nothing.” Her body convulsed with a new wave of grief.
“Sheyshon, the memory was strong, those events huge in your life. You will need time to understand, to grieve. For now, you must rest. We will take you home.”
She gazed up at him, grateful for his tenderness and understanding. Then suddenly her heart twisted. “But we must finish Karaelena’s presentation. I must do what I can for this one that has survived. I have to, Ada. I don’t want to leave her diagmatz unfinished. I owe it to her.”
Elbrion tenderly wiped her tears and stroked her hair. “Sheya, we completed the ceremony.” Elena pulled back and stared up at him, not understanding. “Part of you remained, and we continued, not realizing that you were lost in memory until it came time for you to speak.”
Elena’s eyes began to flit from side to side as she frowned. “I was here?”
“Part of you.”
Elena’s eyes darted faster as she grasped for clarity.
Yaelmargon climbed the dais and knelt next to them. “Yaena, do you remember what we talked about in the Palace of the Elders? I know it is difficult for you to understand, but when you shift into your internal world, there is a part of you that remains and interacts with the outside world. Sometimes the part that remains is young, and we can see immediately that you have shifted, but sometimes, the person who remains is not so very different.”
“I don’t understand,” Elena said. “Are you saying I missed my daughter’s diagmatz?”
“As you have missed many other events in your life,” the master said gently. Elena’s frown deepened. “And it is a mercy that you were absent for many of those.”
Elena thought back to when Loqarad had raped her in the keep at Kelach. She knew that she had left, and she later found out that another part of her had stepped in. Even while inside just now, enveloped in this new memory, she had watched herself split.
But they are all me. She still struggled with that, although both Yaelmargon and Elbrion had told her it was so, and it seemed to be the truth.
At the bottom of the dais, Mikaelin released Silvandir and patted him on the back. Her husband wiped his face on his sleeve and climbed the stairs with Karaelena nestled in his arm. “I missed the rest of her diagmatz,” she told him. “I made no vow.” Tears splashed on the beryl platform. “She needs a better mother.”
Silvandir knelt next to Elena and placed Karaelena in her arms. “She wants no other mother. You are the perfect ama for her,” he whispered.
Elena gazed at their beautiful daughter.
“Elena, she is like you,” Elbrion told her. “She will also live with the same giftedness as you have. She will have your elaborate internal world. She will have your ability to shift. I agree with Silvandir. You are the perfect mother for her, the only one who can truly help her navigate her journey.”
“I am sorry, little one,” Elena whispered to the baby as she bathed her with her tears. “You should not have to live like this. I don’t want you to know this agony. I don’t want you to feel so alone.”
Khanab cleared his throat. “Elena, she will not have the same kind of dividedness that you have developed because her internal world will not be filled with the torment you have known. Nor will her mind be manipulated by captors as yours has been. She will have the ability to shift and to powerfully use her internal world, but she is and will remain unbroken. You have given her that gift.”
“So when she has intense feelings, she won’t shift?” Elena asked.
“No, there would be no reason for such a response. She will not fear her emotions as you have been forced to do,” Khanab answered.
“Sheya, much of your agony and shifting happens when the torments of your past burst into your present, and you are swept away into your internal world to face what still holds great power in you,” Elbrion explained. “She will not have that.”
“Will you help me understand what just happened?” Elena glanced from Elbrion to Yaelmargon. “But not now,” she was quick to add. “Later?”
They both nodded their agreement.
“Elena, may I suggest, for your sake, that we continue the diagmatz from the point you shifted, so that you may make your vows to your daughter and have this precious memory to hold onto,” Lamreth offered.
“I would appreciate that very much, Xiander. Thank you for your kind consideration.”
Silvandir took Karaelena from Elena’s arms, and Elbrion helped her to rise. Silvandir pulled his wife into an embrace and kissed the top of her head, their child nestled between them. How will I ever keep them safe? I feel helpless as a pup against a mountain lion.
Elena didn’t respond. She hadn’t yet told Silvandir she could hear his thoughts, but her heart broke for him. Again, she worried how long he could endure these events. When would he give up on her?
Lamreth gave a light laugh from the foot of the altar stairs. “Well, it will be a little breezier in here this time around.” His gaze focused on the hole in the north wall of the Qajh.
“I am so sorry for that as well,” Elena said as she carefully descended one perilous, see-through step at a time. Halfway down the altar stairs, she stopped to focus on the damage. “How can that possibly be repaired when no one knows how the Qajh was built?”
“That is a very good question.” Lamreth stroked his beard, his eyes distant as if deep in thought. Then with a sigh, he turned and strode toward the font.
Still carrying Karaelena, Silvandir steered Elena to their designated place, where Terzhel and Mishon awaited them. The boys threw their arms around her waist. Immediately, the fear and grief that thrummed through their little bodies seized her. She gasped in a breath.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” Elena feigned a calm she did not feel in response to Terzhel’s silent question. She pulled the boys close and kissed the tops of their heads.
“Xiander!” Abathor called out from the base of the altar’s dais. When Elena turned, the elder was pointing toward her sword, which remained on the sacred table. It was alive with white flame. The Xiander’s forehead furrowed, but he didn’t speak.
When Elena moved to go back to the altar, Silvandir grabbed her arm and whispered, “No. Please.” She shook loose of his grip, unable to stop herself, and hurried down the steps, across the floor, and up the stairs of the grand dais. Elena slowed as she approached the altar. She studied the odd flames that danced across her weapon and wondered at its meaning.
A voice in her head said, Take it up. Without a thought, she reached for the sword and was surprised to find no heat in the flames. Grasping the hilt with both hands, she raised the weapon. A strange tingling traveled up her arms and neck, setting the tiny hairs on end.
~
As Silvandir watched Elena, fear gripped his heart. When she picked up her sword, his arms broke out in goose flesh and the hairs stood on end.
A split second later, a bolt of lightning flashed in the cloudless sky and struck the temple’s crystal spire, followed immediately by a booming clap of thunder that rocked the Qajh. The walls and floors trembled as the shaft of lightning ripped through the center of the tower with a surge that crackled and snapped, its full energy focused on one object: Elena’s sword.
When the lightning’s power struck, Elena’s blade flashed and his wife’s flesh became transparent. Inside her, white flames danc
ed across bones. As Silvandir watched in horror, the tongues of fire enlarged and burst against her flesh until her skin erupted. Thousands of tiny shards of light and flame and flesh exploded in the Qajh.
It happened so fast there was no time to warn Elena. Silvandir’s mouth gaped with an unspoken shout. In that briefest of moments, his heart shattered along with hers. In spite of the agonizing pain, he instinctively curled his body over Karaelena and the boys, protecting them from the sight and the fallout.
Chapter 49
When Silvandir lifted his eyes, there stood Elena, grasping her sword, her body whole and unharmed. He heard her whisper “I understand” as she raised her eyes toward the sky.
Silvandir ran to her and embraced her, Karaelena squashed between them. She returned the hug and looked up at him. “I’m not hurt. All is well,” she whispered soothingly as she laid her hand on his cheek. “I’m sorry I frightened you. Yet again.” She smiled tenderly as she stroked his tear-streaked face.
Silvandir had no words. He could barely find his breath.
Celdorn and the boys were on Silvandir’s heels.
“All is well,” she said with a smile, holding out her arms toward them.
“By the love of Qho’el, what was that?” Celdorn asked.
“I don’t know, Ada,” Elena said. “I’m not sure what happened, but I’m unharmed.”
“L-look!” Braiden called.
Celdorn pulled back from Elena, and they all turned to where Braiden pointed.
The northern wall of the Qajh had mended. Turning almost as one, the group found the southern wall restored as well. Both were as solid as ever, no trace of their brokenness visible.
“Elena, my child, you are a blessed mystery,” Wezhar said with a smile.
“It wasn’t me. It was … Well, I don’t actually know what it was.” Elena shrugged. “The force of the lightning perhaps?”
