No Man's Land

by C D Beaudin

  Idies looks at her, blue eyes dark. “Nothing. I just know I was there.” He wiggles in the ropes. “Do you mind letting me free? I’m tired. And if you don’t, I’ll just break the bonds. Though, I’d like to start off on a new foot.”

  Brega sighs, and gestures to the guards to untie him. When he’s standing and free, he nods and leaves the way Sauriel and Eldowyn went.

  “That’s Idies? I expected something…greater,” Neodyn admits.

  Brega looks at him. “He’s not Idies anymore. Right, Ethiah?”

  They look to her for an answer, but she has none. She wants to go to Aradon. “I will try to learn more, contact Raea in my dreams. But until then, I have no information to offer.” She quickly bows her head to the royals and leaves the room.

  The corridor is musty, dust covering the stone walls and floor. There are no windows, so it’s dark, only a few torches to light the way. Knocking on his door, it takes a few moments of no sound for her to open it herself, shutting it behind her. The room is dim, lit by a few candles and the moonlight filtering through the colorful glass, casting dazzling shapes of reds, yellows, and blues in the room.

  “Aradon?”

  The lump on the bed moves at her voice, rolling over to face her. “Ethiah?”

  She rests on the side of the bed as he sits up, leaning his elbow on the pillows. “How are you doing?” Her hand rests on his arm.

  “I’m in shock. I’m tired.” His voice is drowsy, defeated. “I want to sleep and never wake up.”

  “Don’t say that, Aradon.”

  “Why?”

  She looks away from him. “Because I care what happens to you.” His hand gently moves her face to look at him. “I care about you.”

  “My dream—”

  “I was there. I can travel into other’s dreams, send them thoughts with me in them.” She shifts closer to him. “I told you those things.”

  “They were too wise to have come from my mind.”

  Ethiah chuckles.

  Aradon smiling, tilts his head. “I love your laugh.”

  She blushes, but it soon fades. “It was the only sound I heard for months. My laugh, my parents’. It’s what I chose to remember.” His brow furrows, but she continues. “After that it was just…silent.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Ethiah looks at the blankets, ruffling a fold in her hands. “I was…” She looks into his eyes. “May I tell you a story?”

  He shifts so she can sit next to him, her back against the headboard. They remain half a foot apart, but she hears his breathing, and sees the gentle rise and fall of his chest. It calms her, making it easier to tell the story she hasn’t told anyone. Not even Raea.

  “Of course.”

  Ethiah takes a breath. “It starts eighteen years ago, during the Purge of Radian…” While she tells the story, she falls deep into the past.

  Screams had woken her. The screams of her people and the monsters that would take them from her. Rushing out of bed, Ethiah had instinctively rushed to her parents’ room, where her mother was helping her father with his gloves. His hands had been shaking since that one fateful battle.

  “Mother, Father. What’s going on?”

  “Ethiah.” Her mother’s blue eyes had been filled with fear. The drapes shut, Ethiah could still sense and smell the scarlet of the flames outside. Her mother gave her father his sword, rushing to her. “Ethiah, you must run.”

  “I won’t until you tell me what’s going on.”

  Her mother was hesitant, the fear clear, and the pain present. “Dalorin are attacking.”

  “What?” Ethiah had rushed to the window, opened the drapes and watched in horror as her people were being stilled by shadows, flames eating away at the forest and their city. She’d looked back at her parents. “Why is this happening?”

  “The princess.”

  She’d tilted her head, confused. “What?

  “Lady Revera killed the Majesty and Grace. She sent the Dalorin to kill everyone. She’s burned half the forest already,” her father had said, voice calm but hands still shaking.

  “Father, you can’t fight. You aren’t well, and Dalorin don’t d—”

  “Ethiah, do as your mother told you. Hide and pray to the Spirits no one finds you.”

  She had frozen.

  “Go, Ethiah!” her mother had yelled, and she’d dashed out of the room. The white spiral staircase wrapped around the tree their house was built upon. A screeching had filled her ears, and she’d screamed, tripping over her feet and tumbling down the stairs. Pain had shot through her side, but she’d ignored it as she got up and ran, ignoring the pleas and cries of her kin around her.

  I’m sorry. Tears streamed down her face. I’m so sorry. Looking up at the night above her, she couldn’t see the stars, the flames were too bright. Forgive me, Mother, Father. Forgive me for abandoning you. She’d lifted her nightgown and quickened her pace, knowing she would never see her parents again.

  “Father! Don’t leave me here!” The voice had filled her ears. She’d stopped, looking frantically for the host of the plea. “Father. Please.”

  She ran for the voice. She knew her parents had told her to go, but her instincts told her to save whoever needed saving. She was no soldier. Nor a fighter. But her parents had raised her to be good and brave, and running into the flames would have been both if she’d gotten that far.

  A Dalorin scream in her ear sent her veering away from the voice, her speed hastening. She ran for her life, her freedom, and her soul. She would not let those creatures take her soul. She would rather be stabbed with a sword bathed in a Pool of Light.

  She’d just hoped that didn’t happen either.

  Drestia was aflame. The gorgeous woodland city was being destroyed before her very eyes and she couldn’t do anything to save it. Screams around her tugged at her heart, wanting her to stop but her fear and the sound of her parents’ voices made her bare feet carry on. She’d never had time to put on shoes, but no chill nipped at her, the heat from the fires was so intense.

  Running through a white arch, she’d passed over a bridge, the water beneath it made her scream as she saw the rushing red color. She’d stopped short, shaking hands clutching the railing as she watched scores of bodies being washed away by the current. Her tears fell, her heart stopped, and her entire body shook.

  Her home was being destroyed. Her people massacred.

  And she could do nothing.

  She’d ducked as a shadow zoomed for her. Lifting the hem of her nightgown, she’d dashed beyond the bridge, into a forest that was no longer Radian. It was dead and black, pulsing with dark magic. Looking back, her tears blurred her vision, smoke stinging them as the fires stopped. Darkness enveloped her, pitch-black darkness. She could see nothing as long as she looked forward. But when she looked back, she could see the distant glow of her home. So she plunged deeper into the darkness.

  No starlight. No moonlight.

  Complete silence.

  Sweat had slicked her skin and dampened her hair as she hesitantly walked through the forest, her steps jittery and terrified. There was nothing in the darkness. No death, no life. No light nor sound. Nothing. Swallowing, the sound racked her ears and she could hear her heartbeat, like the thump of a drum. Then the forest came alive with light, only to diminish in four flashes and a boom from above. Rain began to fall, hard rain that pounded against her skin. Blindly, she’d searched for a tree, seeking shelter from the deluge. Ethiah had bumped into something hard against her body. She’d gasped, her hands caressing the object. She’d felt the rough bark, the trickling of the rain down its trunk, wetting her hands.

  Rain isn’t this thick, she’d thought.

  Lightning struck again, lighting up the forest, and she’d screamed when she saw the blood covering her hands, dripping down her arms. Before her was an elf, his skin turned to bark and his arms growing into branches. He was bleeding from every nick in the bark. Backing away, her retreat was fruitless
when the man yelled, reaching out for her with the branches. She screamed as they curled around her, horror and terror pouring over every inch of her body. As the elf-tree grew taller, his body had completely disappeared. She cried out for help as the branches tangled around her, but then reality struck when they started pulling her in toward the trunk of the tree.

  “Help!” Ethiah had cried out for someone, anyone, as the tendrils started wrapping around her eyes, cold settling over her as she was enveloped inside the tree, folded inside like she was being swaddled, and she sank through the blankets and right into the crib. Darkness. Void-like silence. She’d wailed, hit her fists against the wood. The smell of blood was so strong. Her screams made her own blood trickle from her ears, and she could taste the metallic taint in her mouth as her throat became raw. Fingers and wrists had broken from pounding. Her cries diminished, and eventually, she had no effort left to give. There were no more tears, no more cries. Her voice had expired, and fatigue had overwhelmed her.

  She slept for a long time.

  But when she woke up, it was still dark.

  At some point, she must have started crying. And Aradon had wrapped his arm around her shoulders because when Ethiah came out of her memories, her face was wet, and the warmth of his embrace sent reminders through her body. She was safe. This is not Drestia. She isn’t in the tree anymore. She closed her eyes, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as she leaned deeper into him. And for a moment, she could have stayed like this forever.

  But it was only one kiss. Forever is a distant dream, if that.

  Sitting up, she wipes her cheeks and eyes, and looks at Aradon. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I told you that.”

  “How long were you in that tree?”

  Ethiah looks at the silvery stained glass colors on the floor. “Five years.” She gazes into his eyes. “Five years of total darkness and silence.” Her tears return.

  “Elves can last a long time without eating. Months. We still get hungry and weak, but we can last a long while before we need to eat. I managed to last a year. I was hungry, sleeping for longer than anyone should because I was so weak and sick. But I got so hungry.” Her tears fall. “My mother had taught me a few healing spells, enough to close wounds so I…” She stops, rolling over to sit on the side of the bed. She needs to be away from him. She can’t look at him when she shares her shame.

  “If you don’t want to tell me, I understand.”

  “I haven’t told anyone. I need to tell someone. It hasn’t helped, not talking about it. I thought I could go without, but… I can’t breathe in the dark. I need to hear someone breathe or speak or cough because I can’t be in silence for even a minute before my chest constricts.”

  She looks at her fingers, touching them, seeing the smooth skin. “Elves lie. We have so many wounds, but they don’t show because we don’t scar. But they’re still there.” She swallows, taking a breath. “Because I knew the spell that would keep me from bleeding out, I snapped off my own finger and ate my flesh.”

  Ethiah hears Aradon’s breathing stop.

  “It was enough for a while, but I got hungry again, so I snapped off and ate another. Then another.” She remembers the foul taste of her own flesh. “Elves can eat uncooked meat without getting sick…” she scoffs. “How sickening is that? Eating oneself to survive?” She shakes her head.

  “By the time I was rescued by Raea I had no fingers left. She regenerated them, my voice too… But I’ll never forget what desperation I felt. I imagined the look of pity and disgust in her eyes when I told her that I had… So I didn’t say anything. Just told her I was born like that. I don’t know if she believed me or not, but I never told anyone that before.”

  She looks at him and is surprised and relieved to see no disgust or pity in his eyes. “No one knows of this shame.”

  “You shouldn’t be ashamed of surviving. I’ve done worse for mere pleasure.”

  Looking away from him, she stands. “I don’t know why I told you. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “Ethiah—”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “Forget I ever told you.” You won’t be able to.

  “Ethiah!”

  “No, Aradon!” Her palm on the door handle, she wipes away her tears. Her voice shakes, and she feels her anger for what she did to herself unleash on Aradon. She bites her lip, turning from him, knowing he doesn’t deserve her rage. “Just leave it.” She barges through the door, shutting it firmly behind her.

  Eldowyn follows Sauriel through the corridor but is surprised when she leads him out another exit and under the starry night. Her eyes shimmer in the moonlight, and he can’t take his eyes off them. She doesn’t face him, her hands clutching her arms, her stance stick-straight but with a vulnerability he recognizes.

  “I don’t remember being a Dalorin.” Her voice is cold. “I remember an…emptiness. Hunger. But nothing else.”

  “Sometimes even elves can’t comprehend spiritual experiences.”

  “It was spiritual. But it was demonic, what life would be like without a soul to keep us grounded. I don’t remember much, but I know that. The feeling still lingers, a terrible, heavy feeling that crushes my heart.” She sighs, and he wishes more than anything she’d face him. “I’m afraid I’m going to remember what I did. That the memories will filter through my dreams and I’ll see the eyes of those I took their soul from.”

  Eldowyn takes a step toward her, but knows that with Sauriel, he can take only one. “I dreamed of your eyes. I heard your laugh. But I didn’t know who you were or what your name was. I was aware I’d known you, but not why or when.”

  “Dalorin are forgotten. Who they were before are erased from time. I’m lucky you remembered that much.”

  “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

  Her body stiffens. He watches as her head lifts. “Sorry? Eldowyn Starborn, son of Rowan…” Sauriel turns to him. “You apologized?”

  “I’ve learned how in the last few hundred years. It’s surprisingly freeing.”

  She laughs, something he isn’t good at making people do. She shakes her head. “After all these years, I never thought I’d get to tell your pompous, egotistical elven behind how I feel about you. Now imagine my disappointment when I learn you’ve humbled yourself.”

  Eldowyn smiles. “I’ve grown up a bit.”

  “You sure have.” She exhales. “What about Kepp? Or is he still making his jo—sorry, not jokes. Is his ‘naturally humorous aura’ still shining?”

  Eldowyn swallows, his smile fading, his joy fleeing.

  She clearly notices as she’s the one who takes a step toward him. “Eldowyn?” With her assuring hand on his arm, he finds the courage to tell her.

  “Kepp betrayed me. Betrayed his friends. He’s…” he looks down, his voice choking. “He’s in league with my aunt.”

  “Revera? She’s back?”

  “Yes. But not in the way you imagine.”

  She tilts her head, imploring him to continue.

  “She’s an all-powerful sorceress who’s killed nearly all of our kind. She’s cast eternal winter on the Five Kingdoms, and she’s planning on merging with Crozacar himself to finish what he started in the First Age.” He looks to the fields beyond them. “Not the family reunion I hoped for.”

  “Eldowyn, I…that’s awful. I’m sorry.”

  There’s nothing else to say.

  “You weren’t one for apologizing either.”

  She gives him a small, sympathetic smile, her eyes look tired. “Maybe I’ve changed too?” Her brow furrows. “Do you ever miss them?”

  “Who?” His eyebrows rise when he realizes who she means. “You mean Roan? Jehl?”

  “Yeah.”

  Eldowyn sighs. “They’re my past.”

  She lets that one go. “When I was being resurrected, I felt Idies’ kingly energy, his royal, Nomarian blood. I thought it was Roan.”

  “He was a worthy heir, even if some didn’t think he was.”


  She smiles slightly. “A lot didn’t think he was.” She looks away from him. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

  “Why?”

  “Memories. Memories with your brother. And they were our friends…in a way.”

  “A strange, murderous way.”

  Her eyes meet his, she’s barely shorter than him. “Still.”

  Eldowyn sighs. “I have new friends. It turned out as well as it did in the Third Age.”

  “What happened?”

  “Aradon—the man who fainted—tried to kill me, my family, and their friends. Hagard and I have barely spoken a word to each other. He managed to corner me back in Kevah, but that was it.” He shakes his head. “We crossed the countries together. We fought and fled together. We were nearly sacrificed by Trads. In battle together… People change, I guess.”

  “You changed.”

  “I know. But it’s harder to see those you care about change when it’s for the worse.”

  For a second, she looks like she’s about to kiss him, but part of him doesn’t want to. Not yet. And she doesn’t.

  “You changed for the better. If they didn’t, then forget about them.”

  “He’s my twin brother.”

  “Not anymore.”

  He should have expected this from her. “You never know when to stop talking, do you?”

  Backing up, her eyes narrow, always on her guard, never caught by surprise. “I’m telling the truth, Eldowyn. You know that.”

  “But I already know the truth! You don’t have to reinforce my belief that Kepp won’t come out of this war alive and if he does, he’ll still have to be executed as a war criminal. Those in league with Revera may survive, but they won’t live long. Those royals in there—”

  “You, you mean?”

  He glares at her. “What happened to ‘I’ve changed’?”

  “You have. But you can’t erase the royal entitlement that flows through your veins and infects your brain with a bloated self-worth.”

  “What?”

  “Kepp is my friend. If he dies in battle, that’s one thing. I could forget about him and move on. But if he survives—if anyone survives—doesn’t that tell you they deserve a second chance?”