Eleanor

by S. F. Burgess

  “Conlan...”

  “Go away, Eleanor,” he pleaded.

  “Are you going to keep hurting yourself?” she asked bluntly. He shook his head, wrapping his arms around himself, as if he might fall apart at any moment.

  “You don’t have to go through this alone,” she said.

  “Please, Eleanor, go away.” His voice was now barely a whisper and she could hear the grief in it. Eleanor stood, but instead of moving away she found herself walking towards him. Reaching a trembling hand out she gently placed it on his shoulder. He shrugged away from her. Hurt and paralysed by the depth of his pain as it battered her, she froze, staring at him. When he spoke, his voice was hard, cold and remorseless.

  “I don’t love you, Eleanor, how could I after what you did? I don’t want you or your pity. Leave me alone.” Each word was like a physical blow. She staggered back, feeling her heart split in a jagged, bloody line down the middle. The pain of it took her breath away. What did he mean, ‘after what you did’? Did he mean the earthquake? Was he so horrified by the deaths she had caused that it had erased any feeling he might have had for her? Or was he upset about his brother? Jarrick had loathed him, but perhaps the feeling had not been mutual. Did he hate her for destroying one of his last links to his family? She had expected him to reject her, even humiliate her, but this anger was not something she had considered, and it was definitely not something she understood.

  “I’m sorry about Jarrick,” she whispered, making a guess at what had caused his reaction.

  Pushing himself to his feet he turned on her, his expression shrouded by the dark, but she felt the waves of disgust, hurt and rage as they flowed out of him. He pushed her roughly down to the ground, standing over her, his fists clenched.

  “What were you thinking?!” he yelled. “You let him... touch you! Why? To stop him torturing me? Are you insane? No agony he could have inflicted would hurt more than the mental torture he put me through or the way I feel right now. You should get to feel my pain, Eleanor, because you caused it! I can’t look at you without seeing his twisted, scornful face. Get out of my sight!”

  Eleanor stared at him, stunned. “What did Jarrick tell you?” she asked.

  “Why does it matter?” Conlan snapped.

  “It matters.”

  Eleanor felt Conlan’s suspicion and could imagine the look on his face – his eyes narrowed, an expression so much like Jarrick’s.

  “He told me he’d made a deal with my pretty little whore. I got to leave unharmed if he got to sample your ‘many delights’, as he put it. He would visit me and tell me in great detail about all the hideous things he was doing to you, how much you loathed it…” Conlan said, his voice empty.

  Eleanor stared, incredulous. “And you believed him?”

  “I… you looked so shaken when I saw you and refused to answer my question about the deal you’d made. I already knew about Jarrick’s proclivity for rape… and he knew things... about you, about your life… about your body…” Conlan’s explanation dropped to a pained whisper.

  Eleanor glared at him, a dark bitter anger twisting the broken pieces of her heart. “I was in shock when you saw me, Conlan. Yes, I did make a deal with Jarrick. In exchange for his promise not to cause you any further injury, I promised to stop blowing up his precious statues. He knew things about me because we talked a little, just talked. I imagine he knew things about my body because Kona told him. He couldn’t hurt you physically without breaking our agreement, so he found different ways to hurt you…”

  “That was the only deal you made?” he asked, suspicion still plain in his tone.

  Eleanor nodded, anger and a strong sense of betrayal overwhelming the pity she had felt for him. “Yes, but if there had been nothing else I could have bargained with, if I’d been desperate enough to sacrifice my body, my self-respect, in order to protect you, this would have been your response? I just gave you my heart, Conlan. I don’t expect you to love me, but have you no care for what you’ve created.”

  He stood silently in front of her, and Eleanor felt grateful that it was too dark to see his face because it meant he would not be able to see the devastation on hers. She rose on shaking legs. If she had given everything for him, he would have despised her for it. Her love was clearly wasted on the man. The thought was a fresh agony, because she knew she could love no other. Unable to bare the torment of being so close and yet so far away from him she fled, heading for the flickering orange glow of the fire she could see through the trees. She forced herself to keep her eyes focused in front of her, although she could feel his gaze on her back.

  Will looked at her questioningly as she stepped into the firelight. Amelia was curled up against him, fast asleep. Eleanor envied her that quiet comfort. Freddie was snoring softly on the other side of the fire. Too angry to explain, Eleanor pushed roughly into Will’s head, not waiting for him to accept her and ignoring the shock on his face. She then played back the memory of her conversation with Conlan, along with all the anger, disgust and betrayal. The memory finished and she yanked her string back, watching with an emotionless stare as Will winced at the discomfort.

  “I agree, he’s an idiot on occasion, but there’s no need to take it out on me,” Will said with a reproachful look.

  Eleanor felt guilt begin to beat down on her. As her anger left, so did her strength. She dropped heavily to the ground. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she knew the hurt was coming and she would just have to endure it.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, unable to meet the deep-blue eyes she could feel boring into her. “I just don’t understand. Does he think I have no self-respect? He believed Jarrick, believed that I would have handed myself over to that merciless monster to do with me as he pleased, just to protect him.”

  “Of course he believed Jarrick. He believed you would give yourself up to protect him because he would willingly have done it for you,” Will said.

  “Then he’s an even bigger idiot than I thought,” Eleanor muttered.

  “Because he wants to protect you?”

  Eleanor nodded and felt her anger returning. “I’m quite capable of looking after myself. If I’d really felt threatened by Jarrick, I could have reduced him to a bloody pulp a lot sooner than I did. The only one who really needs protecting here is Conlan, and mostly he needs protecting from himself.”

  Will was silent but was looking at her intently, a small smile on his face and a knowing look in his eyes.

  “For a clever person, you can be unbelievably obtuse,” he commented.

  Eleanor glared at him. “Care to give this moron a clue as to what she’s missing?”

  Will chuckled. “Don’t you see it? The evidence has been right in front of you since day one. Conlan has pandered to your every wish. That Protector he spared because you insisted. Taking you to see his grandfather – he could have travelled far quicker, safer and easier on his own, but he took you because he wanted you to meet the only family he cares about and, I suspect, so that he had an excuse to spend time with you. The voting thing, he gave up way too easily. Did you think you were the first one of us to try that line of argument? Your decision to travel though the middle of Protector territory? Another risk he accepted on your say so. I’ve known him for nearly ten years, but he’s allowed you to get closer than any of the rest of us ever have a hope of getting. He’s put so much effort into training you that Amelia and Freddie are jealous. He taught you to speak Dwarfish, before you turned up he was more into brooding than conversation. He seeks you out, listens to your counsel, trusts your judgements; he’s never so much as expressed doubt to me, but he confides his fears and regrets to you.”

  Eleanor sighed. “He listens to you too, more than you think, he has every respect for you.”

  Will smiled. “What I’m trying to tell you, Eleanor, is that the man loves you, far more than I think even he is aware of, and the thought of Jarrick getting his hands on you has devastated him. If you’d left him alone, as I suggested, he mig
ht have calmed down enough to have a rational conversation about it, but you caught him at his most vulnerable and he said some things he doesn’t really mean.”

  Eleanor felt the fragments of her heart twitch at Will’s words. Did Conlan love her? He has no reason to lie. Eleanor shook her head.

  “He doesn’t love me, Will. He thinks I’m a monster for destroying Nethrus. He thinks I’m annoying and stubborn and impossible to shut up. I don’t follow orders and I make too many mistakes. He put effort into training me because I needed it; I was a liability until I could fight. He taught me his language because I need to know it to interpret the book, and he’s only interested in my ‘counsel’ because he thinks I can figure out how the ‘connection’ works. I’m a means to an end.”

  Will shrugged. “You’re wrong.”

  “I want very much to be wrong, but after his last outburst, I’m not willing to hope anymore,” she whispered. Pulling her blanket out from her things and covering herself with it she closed her eyes and curled into a ball. Despite the fire’s heat she felt cold, a steady chill spreading through her body and emanating from her damaged heart. She shivered slightly, pulling the blanket tighter round her. She was too wound up to sleep, so she concentrated on slowing down her breathing and calming her mind. Maybe sleep would come.

  The fire had died down to the deep penetrating heat of glowing ashes; Eleanor listened to Freddie’s gentle snoring, finding it strangely comforting.

  “I was wondering when you were going to come back,” Will said quietly.

  “I take it Eleanor told you what happened?”

  “Yes, she did. Want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  There was silence. Eleanor heard movement as Conlan sat at Will’s side. Then more silence.

  Will sighed. “Fine, I’ll talk, you listen. It’s OK, she’s been asleep for hours, they all have; it’s just you and me. You’re making a huge mistake – she loves you. I’ve been inside her head, and no matter how hard she tries she can’t hide her feelings for you; they run through her every thought.” Eleanor felt her cheeks heating, Will had no right to tell Conlan about things that were private. She had just about worked up the courage to say something, when Will asked a question that froze her.

  “Do you love her?”

  There was heavy silence, and Eleanor felt apprehension make her limbs tremble as she forced herself to keep her eyes shut.

  “No,” Conlan said eventually, his tired voice empty of emotion. Eleanor felt her heart shatter further, causing her to catch her breath, the pain of it momentarily filling her world.

  “Liar,” Will accused.

  “She’s just so young, too young.”

  Will chuckled. “That line of argument might work on the others, but you forget who you’re talking to, Conlan Baydon. I don’t believe you.”

  “I don’t love her, at least not in the way she wants or deserves. I don’t think I’m capable.”

  “Really? And how does she want to be loved? Have you asked her?” Will snapped.

  “All I’ve done since I dragged Eleanor into this mess is inflict pain on her. She’s better off without me,” Conlan whispered, and Eleanor heard the acidic self-hatred in his words.

  “But she’s not without you, Conlan. She deals with you every day. Let her in. She wants to protect you! She’s trying to anyway, but at the moment she has to fight you every step of the way. Despite your faults she loves you, and I don’t understand why you would throw that away.”

  “I don’t love her, Will.”

  Will sighed. “Are you trying to make Eleanor hate you?”

  “It would be safer for her if she did.”

  “You don’t know her very well, do you? Eleanor isn’t the type to hate. You need to understand, even if you don’t love her back, that her love for you has consequences. Causing that earthquake? She did that for you. She saw your pain and reacted, and I don’t think she even had any control over it. She needs your support and understanding, not your condemnation. What she did hasn’t hit her yet, but when it does I don’t think it’s going to be pretty.”

  Silence.

  He doesn’t love me. The thought ricocheted around her head, leaving a blinding agony every time it struck. Eleanor realised she was holding her breath and so she slowly let it out, trying to make her breathing sound like the slow, regular imitation of sleep.

  “This is not a conversation I want to have ever again.”

  “You’re a stubborn fool, Conlan,” Will muttered.

  Conlan sighed. “So people keep telling me.”

  Eleanor remembered Gregor’s words; he had called Conlan a stubborn fool, too. Eleanor wondered if Gregor had realised she loved Conlan and had said something – it would certainly explain Conlan’s reluctance to translate. Eleanor heard the clink of bottles.

  “Freddie stole these on one of his escapes. The man can see in the dark, which makes him useful for night-time recognisance,” Will said. Eleanor gasped – Freddie had been creeping around Jarrick’s compound at night, but why? Why had he and Will not told her?

  “Did he find out anything interesting?” Conlan asked, sounding relieved to be changing the subject.

  “He was looking for evidence that Jarrick was responsible for attacking us,” Will said.

  “That wasn’t Jarrick,” Conlan said softly. “I’ve had far too much time to think recently. Hiding, attacking from the bushes – that’s not Jarrick. No, we have a new, unknown enemy.” Eleanor heard the squeak of corks being pulled from bottles.

  “So what do we do now?” Will asked.

  “I think we’re safe here, so we should stay for a while and figure out where the sword is, give Amelia a little more time to recover,” Conlan said.

  “If we’re going to stay we should build a shelter. Amelia says that autumn storms are on their way,” Will said. There was more silence. When Will spoke again his voice was full of such gentle concern that Eleanor thought he was talking to Amelia. “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m tired, Will,” Conlan whispered. “I just want it to stop for a while.”

  “I have a solution for that problem; here, have a bottle.” Eleanor could hear the smile in Will’s voice. “Let’s drink to Rand, the finest horse that ever lived.” The bottles were gently clinked together again.

  “To Rand,” Conlan said solemnly, the fresh, raw grief seeping through his words. They drank in silence for a while. When conversation started again, they talked about Rand, reminding each other of all the times he had raced them away from danger and chuckling at some of their more outrageous exploits.

  Eleanor woke to brilliant sunlight. It was long past dawn. Strange, violent dreams made her feel tired and crabby. Sitting up, she stretched and yawned. Conlan was lying on his back, one arm across his face hiding his eyes and the other arm cuddling the empty bottle. Will lay on his side snoring – they looked rather comical. Amelia and Freddie were sat a little distance away, eating breakfast. They both gave her amused grins. Moving quietly, Eleanor walked over to them.

  “Guess they drank a little too much last night.”

  Amelia giggled. “We were beginning to wonder if you’d joined them.”

  “No, I was just tired.”

  Amelia nodded and Eleanor was glad to see that the horror and fear from yesterday seemed to have faded a little from her eyes.

  “So do we wake them up?” Freddie asked.

  “Do we need to? They look so peaceful,” Amelia remonstrated slightly, regarding Will’s sleeping form lovingly.

  Not able to bring herself to look at Conlan, Eleanor nodded. “Let them sleep.”

  They moved away from the two slumbering men so that their voices would not disturb them, but close enough to protect them from danger, if necessary. At Amelia’s instigation she and Freddie began to practise her shielding. Amelia would manipulate the air in front of Eleanor into a thick shield and Freddie would bombard it with his energy. The colours were beautiful. Amelia got her to pace up and do
wn slowly as she practised moving the shield with her and Freddie practised hitting a moving target. Amelia was getting very good at getting her shield to keep pace, while Freddie was mostly just setting fire to the shrubbery. It was not a game and required total concentration from Freddie and Amelia, but as the ‘target’ Eleanor had nothing to do, and time to think was not something she wanted. Amelia moved on from practising her shielding to practising stopping a knife thrown at a target. Eleanor had told her about the Elf children doing it and Amelia had been trying for months, with some success.

  It was almost midday before Will finally stirred, moaning softly as he struggled to sit up and shading his eyes from the sun. Amelia took him a mug of water.

  “Was it a good year?” she asked innocently, eyeing the empty bottle. Will smirked at her and rubbed absently at his temple as he drank, wincing slightly. Eleanor watched the care and love they showed each other and it ripped at the pieces of her heart. She had to leave or she was going to cry. I need an excuse. Her desperate mind remembered something Conlan had told her about a plant that had the ability to alleviate headaches and other minor aches and pains, although its name escaped her. However, she could see an image of it clearly in her head – small purple flowers and roots filled with something that worked like aspirin. Leaving before Conlan awoke, Eleanor moved off into the woods to look for the plant. They were much further south than she had been before, but most of the other plants and animals had been the same, so maybe the small flower was here somewhere. The wood was quiet, with only the occasional birdcall to disrupt the peace. Eleanor was enjoying the walk as she moved carefully, studying the ground and scanning it for the flower she needed. Lepdrac, she thought, he had called it lepdrac. The memory of Conlan’s animated face as he had taught her about his world jumped into her mind. He had seemed happy, and she wanted to go back to that time. He did care, she was sure of it, and as she concentrated on this belief, letting it fill her mind, she felt her anger start to fade.