by J D Abbas
“No.” He glanced around at the others. They all shook their heads. “I saw an image stop, but I cannot see or hear anything. I merely sense your distress.”
Elena nodded vacantly. She stalled, reluctant to explain. “Thousands of men are coming out of the Tulegar Gap, armed for battle, dragging child prisoners with them. I don’t know how many. They kept coming like water through a fissure in a dam. I had to push the image away because they were hurting the children.” She glanced around. “I’m sorry.”
A hand stroked her head. “No need to apologize, Elena,” Khanab said from behind her, his voice gentle. “You do whatever you must to endure this.”
The wind gusted around them. Elena closed her eyes and embraced the roar in her ears, the cool, clean air that brushed her tear-stained cheeks.
After several minutes, Elena asked, “Is there something in particular you want me to look for?”
We need to know where Anakh is and what she plans to do in the near future, Nurema said. Focus on her, child.
Swallowing her dread, Elena stared out across the scorched landscape. Where are you, Anakh? What are you planning this time?
Your destruction, a voice whispered in her head.
I’m not afraid of you.
You should be.
I’ve passed through death, and you no longer have power over me.
A frame swept toward her and immediately she was inside the image. It was somewhere in Queyon. Elena could tell by the obsidian cliffs in the background. A moan. She turned.
Silvandir!
He stood, rubbing his face. Blood ran down his cheeks. An eidolon wrenched his hands behind his back and bond him. “We won’t tell you,” Silvandir said to someone Elena couldn’t see.
Silvandir’s head whipped back and smashed into the eidolon’s face behind him. Two more rushed to subdue him. Then Elena saw herself, moving toward him, dagger in hand. Silvandir looked up, horror in his eyes, and said, “No, Elena, don’t!”
A swirling flash of light and shadow, and Silvandir lay on the ground, eyes vacant. Blood spilled from a gash on his neck as he breathed his last.
You did that, Anakh hissed. You killed him.
Elena’s knees buckled as she pushed away the image. She hunched over and sobbed.
Nurema spoke gently to her mind. The images tell what may happen. They are not certain. Anakh has been known to distort the truth and alter images. We have seen it; we know—
Anakh broke in, Like Kelach, I will destroy everything that has value to you, just so I can revel in your torment. I promised you would pay for defying me, and you know I keep my promises. They will all suffer because of you.
“What is happening, Sheyshon?” Elbrion asked.
“Anakh is showing me things, talking to me ... ” Her words faded as she gasped in a breath. Would she truly cause Silvandir’s death? A sob shook her.
“Silence her,” Lamreth said firmly.
“I can’t.” She bent over, hands on knees, as if she’d run a great distance.
“You can and you must. Do not listen to her lies. Silence her,” Lamreth ordered.
Anakh began to cackle. You can’t. You’re too weak. You don’t have—
“Silence!” The word sprang from Elena’s lips with a power and viciousness she didn’t know she had. “Back to the shadows, liar!”
A fire blazed in Elena. She raised hands engulfed in white flame. “Show yourself. Show us your plan,” she commanded.
The men around her gasped as the valley below her suddenly looked like a game of Rooks. Elena glanced sideways. The others gaped as the vision unfolded, able to see it along with her this time. Stone figures stood at each of the mountain passes and opened metal gates. Game pieces spilled into the valley, rolling, tumbling. Then, righting themselves, they formed into columns that marched toward the Pallanors. Elena shifted her gaze to a gate north of Marach that opened, and another north and east of Queyon. More pieces tumbled through the mountains. All of them formed into ranks that marched toward Queyon.
Elena’s gaze was pulled back to the plains of the Shalamhar. New shadows swept across the open fields cast by immense creatures that swooped through the air. They looked like lizards with wings. Hundreds spilled over the mountains from the east and circled above the figurines assembled in the valley. The creatures roared fire, and the earth shook.
A hand grabbed Elena’s arm. “Enough, Yaena,” Yaelmargon said, his voice soft. “It is enough.”
Elena waved her hand, and the scene disappeared. She felt hollow, empty. Her eyes searched for light, for hope amidst the destruction. Then she saw a small patch of orange wildflowers far below her. Before she realized what she was doing, she had pulled from the grasp of her guardians and was running toward them on a path that appeared. The rocks around her grew larger, the shrubs twice their normal size. Elena knew then: she had shifted into the child.
She embraced it.
Voices called behind her, but she ignored them. Down and down she ran, all she wanted was to reach those flowers. Somehow she knew there would be a place to hide there and an escape from all the horrors she had seen.
Elena just had to make it there, find that hiding spot.
The frameless images reappeared above her. They swooped through the air and dove at her like birds of prey. Seven of them landed in a semicircle in front of her, blocking the way to the wildflowers.
The vertical images fell backward and became like flat stepping stones. A two-dimensional figure sprang up from the first image to her left. It was a lioness—no, a woman—no, both. A disc hung, suspended in the air. On one side a seductive woman in sleek black silk, on the other a golden lioness, roaring and pawing at the air. A second disc appeared above another prone image, and on and on around the semi-circle until seven discs spun in the air. On the last was the black lioness, Anakh, as she had appeared before.
The smell of decayed flesh filled the air. Elena coughed. Her eyes watered at the pungency as she gazed longingly past the lionesses to the wildflowers. She raised her little hands and pushed at the air. The lionesses slid to the sides, a clear path cut between them. Elena ran forward, ignoring the snarls and growls, and plunged into the flowers. She gathered an armload of blossoms and inhaled the summer scent.
A warning tugged at her. Her head popped up, and she scanned the field around her. Find a refuge, a new hiding place. Quickly.
She sensed, more than saw or heard, the lionesses prowling toward her. Elena saw another path, which led back into the rocks. She jumped up and raced toward it, weaving between large boulders. She found an entrance to a cave set at an odd angle and was about to dart inside when she recognized the place. This was the cave where they had sheltered on the journey to Queyon. If she hid in there, she would be trapped.
Instead, Elena continued along the climbing path as fast as her tiny legs could carry her. She passed the field where she had seen the beautiful liorai, longing to linger and recall their peaceful presence, but dared not. Soon she was back at the cliff where she’d left the others. She stopped. None of them were anywhere in sight. Elena called out but got no answer. The truth struck her full force: she was alone.
A loud clunk sounded on the path below. Well, not quite alone. Her enemies still pursued her.
Elena turned and raced toward the top of the path. She knew the stone table was up there somewhere. She didn’t know why this was important, but the image pressed on her mind, insistent.
Elena suddenly realized that, although she was in her small form, her thoughts were those of her older self. The two were working together. Elbrion would be proud.
Elbrion. Her heart sank. She’d run away from him, from the others, and now they were gone, lost and defenseless in her inner world.
Defenseless? Surely not. Each one alone was more powerful than she was, together they would be unstoppable.
But this was inside the third door, inside her world, her mind.
She pulled to a halt and looked behind her. Why was she
running? Why was she afraid? She had control here.
“I need a place to hide,” the little part of her cried aloud. “Now.” The urgency returned, and her small legs began running again. It looked like she was almost to the top.
She came around a curve, and the path ended. Before her stood a stone archway, easily four times her height. Ancient runes were carved into each column and the stone across the top. Elena knew she dared not take the time to read them, but two words jumped out at her: “Risham,” “refuge” and “Drancha,” “enter.” She did.
As soon as she passed under the arch, an ancient thrum erupted around her, vibrating the stone beneath her feet. It seemed to be coming from the core of the mountain. A chill of memory passed through her. She had felt this same kind of tremor when she was in the cave while Celdorn met with his men at this very place. They told her the mountain had trembled when Zhalor stepped onto the table.
Elena moved toward the beautiful, black marble slab on the ground. It was exactly as she had envisioned it from Celdorn’s description, except that the squat, chair-like boulders were missing. If Elbrion’s suspicions were correct, they were the creatures who had battled the Zakad in the valley by the Pallanors. She laughed to think this made perfect sense when a few months ago she would have thought it ridiculous, even slightly mad to believe in such things. But then again, here she stood in a body half its normal size. Was that any less crazy?
Elena pulled herself back to the present and inched forward onto the ancient table. In the center of the slab, she found a circle with more runes on it: “Ja dun.” “For you.” That she knew what it meant sent a shiver through her. Not knowing why she did so, Elena stepped onto the runes. The mountain shook again. She let out a squeal when the circular platform turned and descended into the ground. She wanted to jump off, but it was as if her tiny feet had adhered to the rock.
As she lowered, the only light was a moon-like circle far above her head. Reaching out, she found smooth rock on every side. Her ears felt tight then popped. The smell of damp earth surrounded her, making her stomach churn. The smell carried too many awful memories with it.
When the light was only a pinprick above her, the platform stopped. A rush of cool air tugged at her clothes. She reached for the walls of the shaft; they were gone. Kneeling down, she felt for the edge of the platform. It had to be there. But in every direction, there was only solid ground beyond the circle upon which she stood—or so she guessed. She didn’t want to step off the platform to find out, even though it was her only way out of here. Elena gazed into the blackness, unsure what to do, fearing that at any moment something would jump at her. Her ears strained for any hint of some other presence.
This is my mind, she reminded herself—not aloud, in case she wasn’t alone.
Pull the Jhadhela out of the rocks, Gia, the little girl part of her, said.
How?
Like this. Gia held out her arms, hands splayed, and reached toward the unseen walls. Light erupted in the now-visible cavern. Elena was stunned.
As her eyes adjusted, she saw that the walls of the cavern were covered in runes and pictographs, as if she had dropped into a place of ancient history. To her left, flashes of red flickered on the wall. An opening, a doorway perhaps. Elena extended her tiny foot and tapped it on the ground, beyond the edge of the platform. It seemed solid. She leaned her weight onto the outstretched foot. The ground held. She gazed up the shaft; the top was no longer visible.
Elena shrugged and moved toward the cavern opening. More flashes of red—no, purple. She peeked through the arched entrance and glanced up and down what appeared to be a corridor. To her left the hallway descended and was dark, so she turned to her right. Gradually, she climbed toward the source of the flashes. A sharp bend and the corridor ended in a balcony.
Elena gasped and ducked below the balustrade, which, in her small form, was at her eye level. The balcony overlooked a massive cave that throbbed with crimson and violet light. Music wafted up from hundreds of feet below—familiar music made by the hands of equally recognizable women, the same naked women who had danced around a purple fire in the depths of Nurema’s eyes. How had Elena ended up here, in their secret underground world, thousands of leagues from Roth Rock?
Elena shifted into her older self again, fighting the all too familiar vertigo. “This is my mind. That’s how I can jump to a different place. There must be meaning in this.” She turned her face upward. “Qho’el, if you are leading me, what is it I am to learn here? Please teach me.”
A voice spoke behind her. Elena spun, expecting to find Anakh, but no one was there. She listened. There it was again. It sounded like someone praying. But the Mymara couldn’t speak. At least outside their city they didn’t. Something in the voice was familiar. It beckoned to her.
Afraid of what she might find in the descending passageway, Elena hesitated. Finally, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and moved forward with determination. This was still her mind.
Chapter 54
As Elena moved down the corridor toward the source of the chanted prayers, she passed the opening on her left that led back to the cavern into which she had descended on the platform.
It was darker in this part of the hallway, and colder. She held out her hands toward the walls as Gia had done and willed just a little light so as not to give herself away. The walls warmed with a faint glow, enough so she could see the stone beneath her feet. Arched doorways appeared on both sides of the corridor, each fitted with metal bars. Confinement rooms of some sort. Elena shivered again.
She peeked into the first cell. Empty. As were the next three, but she was close. The voice had grown louder, clearer, though the language remained unfamiliar. On her right, a pale light flickered in the next cell. She patted the wall beside her, and the glow in the corridor dimmed. Peeking around the edge of the archway, she saw the profile of what had to be an Elrodanar woman, who sat on the floor in the center of the room, legs crossed, eyes closed, and arms outstretched as if reaching for something. The words slid off her tongue like a song.
The woman was the most glorious creature Elena had ever seen, more beautiful than the liorai, more enthralling than the briochellai. Beads of light slid from her eyes, down her pulsating cheeks, and into her lap, joining a shimmering pool already formed there. But she didn’t look sad. She had the same expression Haldor would get when he witnessed something from the spirit realm. Elena’s heart twisted, and a sob erupted before she could stop it.
The woman ceased her prayers and turned toward her. Elena froze.
“Do not be afraid,” the woman’s lyrical voice whispered. She tipped her head. “You are not Mymara. How did you come to be in their secret city?”
Elena stepped in front of the bars of the cell, seeing no reason to hide from a prisoner. “I’m really in Jebulah?” Her eyes went wide as she gazed up and down the corridor. Turning her attention back to the prisoner, she said, “M-my name is Elena. How did you know I wasn’t Mymara?”
“Because the Mymara do not sneak.” Elena heard laughter in the woman’s response. “Welcome, Elena. How did you come to be here?” she repeated.
“Well, I’m not quite sure how to answer that.” Elena paused to consider. “This is supposed to be inside my own mind, so perhaps the question should be how did you come to be here? And why?”
The prisoner’s brows arched and she rose, graceful as a briochella dancer. The woman stood with quiet dignity, a dignity that belied her tattered clothing and circumstances. She was unusually tall and had the comportment of a goddess or a queen.
“My name is Sophe. I have been held in gentle captivity by the Mymara for half a century now, I believe. To their minds, they are protecting me and Qabara, but I do not think it is Qho’el’s plan.” She eyed Elena up and down. “You believe we are inside your mind?”
“Yes, though I don’t understand how it works. I seem to have some sort of—”
“Child, forgive me for interrupting you, but is i
t wise for you to trust me so freely?”
Elena laughed outright. “Well, that is a first. I am usually slow to trust, if ever.” She stopped and studied Sophe again. Why did she trust this stranger?
Elena wanted to enter the cell, so she pressed on the bars to see if she could pass through them. She did, easily.
Sophe gasped and stepped back.
Elena didn’t pause but moved closer to the prisoner. When she saw her face more clearly, the floor seemed to waver under her feet. “Y-you look like Elbrion.”
Sophe jolted as if Elena had struck her. She stumbled back and sat—with none of the grace with which she’d risen—on the shelf bed built into the wall. “It is not possible. This is a test, or I must be delirious with fever.”
Elena frowned. “Did I upset you?”
Sophe’s eyes welled with sparkling tears. “No, child, but Elbrion is a rare name. You startled me. Who is this Elbrion of whom you speak?”
“He is my ada. Do you know him?”
“I had a son named Elbrion, but you do not look as if you could be his child. I have not seen him since the war. I do not know if he survived.”
“You’re Elbrion’s mother?” Elena staggered as the truth tumbled out of her mouth. She tried to recall all that Elbrion had told her. “He-he thinks you were murdered by Anakh. The entire council believes you are dead. Markhum feels so guilty for having survived when you did not.”
Sophe’s eyes widened, and she beckoned Elena closer. “My son is alive? Queyon has not fallen? Do you know if my husband or daughter survived?”
Elena sat down. Hard. Was any of this real? She gripped her head and sent out a silent prayer. Qho’el, please lead me in truth. Help me see through any guise.
After a few moments, she gathered her courage and met Sophe’s pleading gaze. Elena’s doubt dissipated. “Yes, Elbrion is well. Queyon still thrives. I don’t know about your husband and daughter. Elbrion hasn’t spoken at length about his family, but he always refers to them in the past tense.” She paused. “I-I pray we’re speaking of the same Elbrion. I don’t wish to give you false hope.”
