by J D Abbas
“You mean leave my family? You want Silvandir and me to go to this strange place alone with our new child?” She clutched Silvandir’s arm. He immediately knelt down and wrapped his arms around her from behind, sheltering her and Karaelena.
Your husband may not come. Ours is a community of women. No exceptions. This was a new voice—a blunt, cold one.
Numbing panic grabbed hold of Elena. Visions of Anakh and the other Alraphim women circled around her, taunting, groping, whispering. Women had either betrayed her or despised her throughout her life. She could not, would not trust them.
A subtle change came over Elena. “I will go nowhere without my husband and my adai. I trust them. I have no reason to trust you.”
Elena saw Celdorn’s mouth quirk; his eyes danced as he glanced at her tense arms and chin that tipped up while her jaw tightened. An angry fire warmed her body, and she wondered if it flashed in her eyes. No one was taking her anywhere.
“With all due respect, ladies, we will not allow Elena to be moved outside of Queyon. She is here under our protection and here she will remain,” Lamreth said, his voice calm and steady, the authority in it undeniable.
Nurema’s face wore a scowl as her eyes swept the circle. A weighty silence hung in the air for some time. Well then, we will do what we can while we are here.
Celdorn stepped in. “I think Elena has had enough for one day. She’s still recovering from birthing a child and many other events over the last few days. She needs to rest.” He laid his hand on her head.
Elena mouthed a silent thank you.
“These few days have been overwhelming for many of us,” Lamreth agreed. “We will meet in the council chamber the day after tomorrow to give us time to meditate on today’s revelations and to find renewed strength and balance.” He rose. “Nurema, Malchid will see that you are set up with appropriate accommodations. I pray you find peace and comfort within the arms of Queyon.”
He nodded to the Mymara, who rose as one and followed Malchid from the Qajh.
As the council members prepared to leave, the Guardians gathered around Elena. They watched the retreating Mymara with fascination.
Celdorn laid his hand on Elena’s head, startling her. “You look frightened, little one.”
“I cannot find it within me to trust those women; that’s why I didn’t mention Terzhel or the other children. What I saw in the eyes of the one terrified me, and here in the Qajh, I saw their forms shifting.”
“What did you see, Sheya?” Elbrion’s brow was knit with concern.
“In the image I saw of them dancing around the fire they were young and beautiful … and naked. It seemed very … sensual.” Elena gave an involuntary shudder. “When Nurema moved toward me, I saw a different face appear, again, young and flawless. I also thought I saw one of the others shift out of the corner of my eye. I dismissed it at first, but now …”
Yaelmargon approached the gathered group after his fellow council members left the Qajh. He heard what Elena had said about the Mymara. “It would not surprise me to learn that these wizen forms are merely a guise for the external world,” the master said evenly. “If it were known that there was an underground city filled with young, ravenous, untouched beauties, these women might find themselves occasioned by constant unwanted visitations and, with no defenses to speak of, possibly much worse. On the other hand, who would molest a community of celibate crones?”
“It would be a wise strategy,” Elena conceded. “But the sight of it sent chills through me. Too similar to other things I have seen, I suppose.”
“I think it would be wise to increase the guard around your cottage tonight, little one,” Celdorn said. “We will take no chances.”
“Thank you, Ada. I would welcome that.”
Silvandir stepped over the bench and helped Elena to her feet, kissing the top of Karaelena’s head. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter 52
“Nurema, as we have already told you, we will not allow you unmitigated access to Elena’s mind. It is our responsibility to protect her,” Lamreth reiterated.
I do not think it wise for those who are not gifted in foresight or entrusted with its interpretation to be given access to such knowledge. To have such information is a great burden as well as a temptation to play at being gods and to alter what is revealed.
Elena sat silently. She didn’t particularly want anyone, including herself, to enter the third door again. She certainly did not relish the idea of doing so accompanied by this group of enigmatic women or the hungering Xiander, whom she could not quite bring herself to trust. He had done much to win her over during their time in the Qajh, but she still couldn’t forget the image of his hungering eyes and the memory of whispered words.
The rather large group of Guardians, Elrodanar, and Mymara had gathered an hour after sunrise in the council chamber of the Palace of the Elders and had been arguing for much of that time about how to proceed. A second ring of chairs had been set up that encircled the council table. The Mymara sat on one side of the chamber filling two rows, Nurema directly opposite Lamreth. Elena was given the place of honor to Lamreth’s right with Elbrion on her other side.
She would have been placed among the Elrodanar council without either of her adai or Silvandir had she not protested, rather profusely, that she would not sit at table at all if she was not granted at least one of them. If she’d had her way, Celdorn would have been on one side and Elbrion the other with Silvandir standing behind her, hands firmly on her shoulders. She had finally gotten them to allow Elbrion to sit next to her, but not without much complaint and grumbling on their part. However reasonable it seemed to her, it was apparently a tremendous breach of protocol.
It had not been pure obstinacy that drove Elena, as some might have presumed, but rather overwhelming fear. She had developed a minute trust for some members of the council, but most remained an immeasurable risk. Then to add these strange readers of purple fire to the mix—it was more than she could manage.
Another concession made for Elena’s sake was the presence of Vionessa as nursemaid for Karaelena. While there was no way Silvandir and Elena would allow the child out of their sight, they knew Elena would be consumed with her internal world, so they asked the young briochella to tend to the baby in the council chamber. Vionessa was in the far corner to Elena’s right, unobtrusive to most of the council but clearly in view of Elena and Silvandir and far from the only door of access to the chamber. Mikaelin had offered, and was granted permission, to stand guard near the infant.
“Nurema, Elbrion and I have been within the third door with Elena. While the visions seen there are numerous and many of them of the future, very little was visible to anyone but Elena. We saw the frames, we saw some fleeting images, but the events and conversations were within Elena’s control alone and visible to none but her.”
Elena stopped listening. Her mind drifted back to the discussion she’d had with Yaelmargon and her adai about the memories she’d been dragged into during Karaelena’s diagmatz. It was hard to reconcile these events as being her own. They felt true and real, but it was as if they were someone else’s life, not hers. Why couldn’t she remember these events? Well, according to Yaelmargon, she had, but other than the bits that she experienced, she could not remember anything else or how they fit together. Again, she found herself on that edge of the abyss of insanity. All too easily she could topple into that bottomless chasm, tumbling in perpetual nightmare, her mind shattering into slivers that could never be pieced back together, forever lost to those who now loved her. Much as she had felt after she had destroyed—or thought she had destroyed—Anakh. The room swirled and darkness threatened to take her.
“Elena?” A voice called. Distant. Urgent. Demanding. A hand shook her shoulder.
Elena blinked and the room returned, motionless once again, except for the play of pulsating light.
“Are you well?” It was Lamreth.
Elena glanced at the concerned faces surroun
ding her. “Yes. I beg your pardon. I am fine. My thoughts wandered.”
“For you, meandering thoughts can be disastrous,” the Xiander said. “I am sorry for our long-winded debate, but you must learn to focus, child.”
“I-I’m sorry.” Elena bowed her head. Will I ever get this right? She felt like punching herself.
“Why would you harm yourself for being unable to do something you were never taught to do?” Khanab asked. “In fact, you were taught the opposite, to let your mind drift, to follow illusive tangents. That is partly how Anakh and her kind controlled you.”
That made an odd sort of sense to Elena. More times than she could count, her drifting mind had meant the loss of hours, days, even weeks. She would drift back and find that she could not reconstruct events during those periods. She never dwelt long on the lapses, or it would drive her mad.
“We would not take advantage of you in that state,” Lamreth said. “But there are forces who will not be so respectful, as you well know.”
Elena nodded nervously.
“Did you hear our decision?” Yaelmargon asked.
“No, I wasn’t listening.”
“We believe it would be best to have two representatives from the council and two from the Mymara enter the third door with you.”
“And Elbrion and Hal—” her words broke off and tears flooded. She would miss the warmth of Haldor’s hand on the back of her head giving her courage, sharing his strength. “I won’t do it without Elbrion, and Yaelmargon, of course.” She would take Silvandir if she could, but he needed to stay and protect Karaelena.
Lamreth frowned.
“Khanab has been in my inner world. He would be a good choice,” Elena added.
Lamreth’s frown deepened. “As Xiander I would expect to accompany you. This is not Yaelmargon’s area of expertise.”
“But I won’t do it without him.” Her jaw tightened, and she gazed evenly at Lamreth. “What you are asking me to do is terrifying. I was nearly lost last time. Yaelmargon and Elbrion have been there. They have seen. They understand. And, I trust them.”
Elena startled at her own words when she realized they were true. She did trust both of them, almost unconditionally. Almost.
Hurt flashed in Lamreth’s eyes, but he nodded. “Will you perhaps allow me to also join you?” When she hesitated, he added, “I wish only to observe. You may have the others at your side, holding your life.”
Elena glanced at Yaelmargon. He nodded. Elbrion squeezed her hand, and she said, “I will permit it.”
Chapter 53
Elena stood in front of the third door. Frozen. She thought it would be easier this time. It wasn’t. She knew what to expect and feared she might get lost in her internal world again. But she was stronger now, she argued with herself, knew more about her gifts. She had learned to control her thoughts and wasn’t that same frightened child.
Then her knees knocked together. Yes she was.
“Sheyshon?” Elbrion’s gentle voice broke into her thoughts. Elena turned her troubled eyes up to him, and he immediately began to sing. She missed Haldor’s harmony.
Then music filled the air, tones of a harp and some other stringed instrument. Elena glanced around and saw Nurema and Progha waving their arms. It was beautiful. Deep tones resonated in Elena’s chest, tugging at her heart. A warm hand embraced the back of her head. She looked back but no one was there. A flicker of light, and she saw Haldor smiling at her, briefly. “I see you,” she whispered. “Thank you for being here.”
Elena turned to Yaelmargon. “I’m ready.”
When she reached for the door latch and lifted it, the music immediately died, the warmth of Haldor’s touch disappeared, and chill mists filled the foyer. Their vaporous tentacles wrapped around the group and whispered unintelligible words carried on foul breath. Elena felt them probe, attempting to penetrate her thoughts.
Fear gripped her, but she fought it. “This is my mind. I have great power here. You can’t intimidate me. Go away.” When she swiped at the vaporous specters, a strong wind gusted through the open door and scattered the mists. Elbrion’s singing and the Mymara’s music returned.
“I want the other mists, the ones who are my friends.” Elena opened her arms wide then swept them inward. The wind shifted. The scent of earth and air after a spring rain, followed by the odd smell of baked bread, surrounded them. Luminous vapors drifted toward Elena and wrapped around her, caressing her. Faint giggles tinkled around her ears.
Emboldened, Elena stepped forward. She was on the summit where she had stood the first time she entered the third door. It overlooked the same swirling, undulating framed images that soared through the air, distorting the landscape beneath as if she were looking through some sort of lenses. Only this time, she recognized the vantage point. She was on a ledge below Roth Rock, where the star-like creature had sent out signals of light to all the major mountain peaks in the Shalamhar, the place where she had nearly fallen over the cliff in her delirium, and where she had met the luminous other-worldly creatures again. She recalled the breathtaking vision of the thousands of Ilqazar who had left Kelach and followed her to Roth Rock. They had pranced in the valley below, then stopped and bowed, honoring her.
There were no Ilqazar now, and as her gaze drifted farther out, expecting to see the majestic forest of Alsimion, Elena gasped. The gem of the Shalamhar was gone. Only charred stubble remained. When she looked beyond to the great bowl-shaped valley of the Shalamhar, a sob squeaked out. The valley was blackened, scorched, as if a great fire had swept through all of Qabara, leaving it lifeless. Grief hung in the air. She sensed, more than heard, the screams of thousands who had been swept away.
“Yaena?” Yaelmargon grasped her arm. “What are you seeing?”
“Destruction.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “It’s my fault. I brought destruction just as Anakh said. I am destruction.”
“That is a lie,” Elbrion said, his tone sharp. “Don’t embrace that thought.” He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.
Elena met his worried gaze and nodded. “You’re right, Ada.” She took a deep breath. “I-I see burned mountains and valleys. I sense no life. No life at all.”
“Do you see the frames moving?” Yaelmargon asked.
“Yes.”
“Focus.” As Yaelmargon spoke, Elbrion took hold of her right arm while Yaelmargon continued to embrace the left. Firm hands grasped her shoulders.
Elena looked up and found Khanab smiling down at her. “I am not he, but I will hold your life just as firmly.” A sob slipped through her lips and she looked away. Grateful, so grateful.
Elena turned her attention to the moving frames, trying not to reason for herself but to allow the Jhadhela to move her. One of the images leapt toward her. Like a shuttered window opening, a scene snapped into clear focus.
Kelach. She recognized the castle immediately. With a gasp, she surveyed the destruction. Burned towers, gates askew, doors hacked down. The Great Hall a heap of stones, the library a scorch mark, the chapel of light nothing more than glass shards amid ash. Dead bodies lay everywhere among the rubble. Hewn, hacked, left to rot atop the stains of their blood. She scanned the fields. All the crops burned, slaughtered animals filled the charred grazing pastures. Wanton, pointless annihilation.
She closed her eyes and pushed the image away.
“What did you see, Elena?” Lamreth asked.
“Kelach has fallen,” she whispered past the knot in her throat. She could not allow herself to think of Giyon, Malqor, or any of those who had guarded her and trained beside her.
Elbrion squeezed her arm and kissed the top of her head. He alone knew what Kelach meant to her. Her first true home. Destroyed. Gone. So many memories lived there …
“Elena, we must move on,” Lamreth said, his tone firm, but not unkind.
She nodded. When she lifted her eyes, her attention was immediately pulled to the south, where a massive window opened onto a gorge that ran between two
mountain peaks. From its location, Elena knew it must be the Tulegar gap. Out of the broad fissure flowed hordes of men and beasts like ants pouring out of a crack in a rock, swarming onto spilled honey. Across their chests the men bore a sigil of a wide black line that swelled in the center, like a mouth gaping. The void. Anakh’s symbol. Elena wrapped her arms around her head and squeezed.
Corporeal memories flooded her body. The wave of hatred that had overwhelmed her as she passed through the void, drowning her, stealing her breath. The invisible knives that ripped through her body, the clubs that pummeled her, as if she had run the entire length of a gauntlet in one moment. The sensation of life draining away, feeling alone, betrayed, as she slipped into the blackness of nothingness.
Elena broke away from the painful memories when she saw the children in the midst of the throng of Anakh’s people. Her breath stopped. Chained together, wide manacles encircling their necks, they marched in a single line, starting with the tiniest of girls. They were naked, covered with whip marks, their tender flesh burned by the harsh sun, lips cracked from lack of water. In the midst of the hateful, roaring mass, they were silent, not a whimper, not a sob, deadened eyes focused ahead. The line seemed endless. Hundreds. Thousands. If one faltered, the whips were immediate, biting, ripping flesh. When a girl did not rise, they unlocked her shackle, passed her around among concupiscent guards, who used her until she hung limp as a ragdoll. Then they slit her throat and tossed her to the side of the road.
Elena gagged and shoved at the image.
“Yaena?”
She looked up at the master. “You don’t see it?”
