While the Lalas tea brewed, he went back outside and picked up the elf. Reluctantly, he brought him inside as well, knowing that his daughter’s fate was now inextricably bound to this stranger from the other world, the world that was so incredibly dangerous to her health and well being. He tossed him down upon a mat before the fire and turned his back upon him almost as soon as Dalloway’s body hit the floor.
I must keep him alive, he thought. Sophia died because I failed to keep that other one alive. I will not fail this time.
After making sure that Caroline was breathing steadily, he returned to the prostrate elf. It was hard for him not to hate the stranger, simply because if it was not for his trespasses, his daughter’s life would not now be imperiled.
He does not look like an evil warrior. His face is gentle and he bears no battle scars. What felled him, I wonder? Ach! I should not trifle with worries about him! That will not bring Caroline back to me.
The kettle began to rattle and spit, and he turned away from Dalloway and rushed to the fire. Using a long hook, he removed the pot from the flame and poured the liquid carefully into two large mugs on the long table.
“Ouch!” he exclaimed, as he scalded his lip tasting the steaming liquid. “I left it on the fire too long. Now I have to wait for it to cool. Darn it all!” he lamented. “She needs this tea! What more can I do wrong?” he railed.
The ice was melting off of Dalloway’s clothing and forming a small pool of water all around his body. His hair was disheveled and straggly, but he was still handsome nonetheless.
He is noble looking. Regal too despite his youth. Why would he intrude upon our lands? I will have to recheck all my wards. How could he have breached them without me knowing? he wondered. What could have brought him here? There is nothing here anyone from the outside could want.
He touched his lips to the tea once more and then nodded his head, satisfied with the temperature at last. Carefully, he raised Caroline’s face to the cup and opened her parched lips. He let the liquid drip slowly down her throat.
This has to help her. The brew is potent. It will clear her head.
After he had made certain that his daughter had swallowed as much as he thought she could do safely under the circumstances, he walked once again over to the intruder. Roughly this time, he opened the elf’s jaw and dribbled some Lalas tea down his throat as well. Rubbing upon his Adam’s apple, he caused the silent visitor to swallow involuntarily, and nodded his head in acknowledgment once more. He repeated this process a number of times until the tea was running down Dalloway’s chin.
His skin is so cold, almost as if his body is frozen. I wonder how long he was out there. It is unnaturally cold though, despite the warmth in this room.
Conrad pushed the intruder’s sleeve up in order to feel the pulse.
It is strong! He does not seem to be injured or ill. But he is freezing still! He should have warmed up a little by now, no matter how chilled he is.
“Stay alive now,” he admonished. “My daughter’s life depends upon you!”
You are so much like your mother, he thought, gazing upon his daughter’s lovely face. You will not share her fate though! I will not let this man die. I know better now. He will survive and so will you! he promised. What could be wrong with him? Something has pushed him into this deep sleep. It is not natural. How can I awaken him? After making sure that both the elf and his beloved daughter were breathing comfortably, he stepped outside the door of the cottage and sat upon the front steps in order to contemplate the situation. He always thought better out of doors.
Unnaturally cold. Why is he so cold? Perchance if I warm him up, he will come to his senses, Conrad thought. Maybe someone put a spell upon him and froze him. He appears to be healthy and he has no signs of injury. He is breathing steadily, his heart is strong and his color is good despite the temperature of his skin. Maybe all that is keeping him benumbed is this intense cold. If Caroline had not stumbled upon him, surely he would have perished by now. He would have died and no one would have been the wiser. If he was ever found, it would have seemed as if he simply succumbed to exposure. Someone planned this! he began to believe. Someone wanted him dead and they wanted it to appear as if he died naturally.
He rushed back inside and opened the heavy lid of the trunk that sat in the comer. From inside of it, he pulled out two thick blankets of a soft wool-like fiber and brought them back to where Dalloway was lying. With both hands, he flung one open and spread it over the prone elf. As he went to tuck the sides in around him tightly, a medallion on a leather thong fell out of his shirt and dangled upon the welting of his jerkin.
What is this? Conrad thought, lifting it carefully. Despite the elf’s intensely cold body temperature, it was warm to the touch. Not an ordinary elf, this one. This token bears the ancient runes of Sidra. He could not have stumbled upon such an artifact. Things like these do not get misplaced. No. It must have been given to him, or he stole it! But it would take quite a thief to lift a token from Sidra’s cache. She is not one to be easily fooled, especially by an elf. Her affections have always been reserved for humans. Could she really have given it to the likes of him? Why would he be so worthy in her eyes?
He placed the medallion back inside Dalloway’s tunic, and finished wrapping the first blanket around him before grabbing the other blanket and doing the same with the second cover, leaving only his head exposed. The floor was already wet with water from the thawing of his clothing, and it quickly seeped into the blankets. He walked over to the fire and placed some large pieces of wood upon the embers. He fanned the small flames until the new wood caught. Shortly, the fire was raging once again and the room was heating up quickly, drawing the moisture more rapidly out from the elf’s apparel.
A token from Sidra. She never gave me anything like that, he was almost jealous at the thought. He must be an important elf. More the reason to awaken him.
He quickly checked that Caroline was comfortable before picking up a wooden stool and carrying it to Dalloway’s side. He sat upon it and watched the elf, hoping his body temperature would return to normal naturally. But, though his face grew rosy and his hair stuck to his forehead and cheeks as the water seeped out of it, his skin remained icy cold. The room was so hot now that Conrad had to remove his shirt so that he would not pass out himself.
I wonder about that medal. He must have it for a reason. Maybe I can make some use of it here.
He reached inside the intruder’s shirt once again and grasped the pendant in his hand. It was still warm and his fingers tingled slightly as he held it. He lurched up and strode to the fire. Conrad picked up a small pot filled with hot water that had been sitting upon the flames, carried it back to the side of the insensate visitor and sat down again. Without removing the thong from the elf’s neck, he extended it as far as it would reach and let it hang into the pot of boiling water. It sizzled and steamed as soon as it came into contact with the liquid, and within seconds, it began to glow.
As I suspected, he smiled.
The medallion seemed to absorb the heat, to suck it in, and Conrad watched as the leather string that was looped through it began to glow as well. The heat radiated down the cord on both sides of the medal toward the knot that secured it behind the man’s head. Once the circle was complete, a brilliant light burst from the center of the token and spread quickly over the elf’s entire body. Conrad jumped and almost fell over backward on the chair. He could feel the heat and he panicked for a brief moment wondering if he had unleashed a power that was going to harm him even more. He watched anxiously, poised to withdraw the cauldron of hot liquid if the elf seemed to suffer as a result.
Sidra? Are you with me now? Is it you who has caused this elf’s stupor or will you be my daughter’s savior? he wondered anxiously, hoping that he would not regret this gamble.
The light waxed brighter and brighter as it continued to envelop the elf’s body. The air around him grew moist and steamy, and a small cloud of mist hung over him.
Conrad could hear a slight hissing sound as the moisture evaporated. The cloud grew thicker and it soon appeared almost solid, as if he could grab it and move it in chunks. Beneath its surface he could see tiny whirlwinds and zephyrs playing upon the elf’s skin, rushing and spinning frenetically up and down his body, his arms and his legs.
He withdrew the now empty pot and pushed it to the side, thus allowing the medal to hang freely once again. His skin tingled as it came into contact with the thick fog that surrounded the elf, and two or three of the mist-like whirligigs skirted speedily up and down his arm before leaping playfully back into the cloud and disappearing in the larger mass. The hair upon his arm stood up in response, and he ran his hand across it involuntarily. It was warm to the touch, and he smiled broadly in response. Just as quickly as it began, the illumination went out and the room took on an eerie glow. The vapor still shrouded the elf’s unconscious body but it was now as still as could be, and it appeared more like a heavy mantle that lay immobile upon him. Conrad leaned in as close as he could and he fanned the air with his hands in an effort to dissipate the cloud of moisture so that he could gaze upon the man’s face.
He was no more than six inches from Dalloway’s face when the elf’s eyes sprung open. Both men jumped, startled, but Conrad continued to hover over him. “Do not try anything!” he warned.
“Who are you?” Dalloway asked feebly.
“I will ask the questions,” he stated. “Who are you? And how did you get the medal?” he demanded, pointing to the token that hung upon his shirt. Thank the First he is alive!
“My name is Dalloway and I hail from Lormarion. The last I remember, I was leaving Eleutheria, the home of my uncle, Whitestar,” he began to explain as honestly as he could, though it was clearly difficult for him to recall. “What medal are you referring to?” he asked perplexed, and he looked down to where the older man indicated. “I never saw this before,” he said, as he touched the medallion weakly. “You did not place this around my neck?”
“It belongs to Sidra. Look, her mark is right there on the back, as plain as the day is long!” he said, turning it over and showing the runes to Dalloway.
“Sidra? What is Sidra?” The elf looked more and more bewildered by the minute. He tried to rise, but his arm gave way as he propped himself up, and he collapsed to the floor again.
“Sidra is a she, not a what, and don’t you move just yet, young man,” Conrad warned him. “You are still not very strong, and I do not want you to hurt yourself.”
“Thank you for the concern,” Dalloway replied.
“It is not you for whom I bear concern.”
Dalloway was so thoroughly exhausted that he found it hard to think clearly, but he was grateful nevertheless for the blankets and warm shelter within which he now found himself.
“I do not know who you are or how I got here, but I thank you humbly for helping me,” he said weakly. “You have nothing to fear from me, kind Sir.”
“I have plenty to fear!” Conrad shot back. “Stay put while I see to my daughter.” Conrad walked over to the bed in the corner where Caroline lay, but he kept his eyes on the elf all the time. “Do not try to escape. I will be upon you in a second!”
Dalloway closed his eyes and lay back once more. He was exhausted, and the only thing he wanted to do was rest and regain his strength.
Conrad sat next to the girl on the very edge of the bed and aimed his head for an instant in order to look upon her face. To his astonishment, her eyes were open and she was smiling at him.
“Caroline!” he exclaimed. “You are alive! Can you hear me?”
“No need to yell, father. I am right next to you. My hearing is very good, remember?” she replied affectionately though weakly.
He was so relieved that for a moment he forgot all about Dalloway. He smoothed out her hair gently and tenderly pushed it off of her face.
“Is he okay?” she asked.
“Fine, though reluctant to reveal much,” he grimaced.
“He speaks the truth, father. He has no recollection of what has happened to him. He is not concealing anything intentionally.”
“Do you know that, my child? Or are you just smitten by his innocent look?”
“I am certain,” she whispered. “Go to him. We must help him. He was felled by the most evil spell, and it compelled him to forget something very important. We must assist him in regaining that memory. Sidra’s mark is present upon him. He cannot be bad!”
“I wondered about that myself, Caroline, but I am still reluctant to trust him. He must leave as soon as he can regardless. You cannot be near him.”
“Why, father? What are you keeping from me?” she asked.
“You are like your mother, Caroline. You cannot be among outsiders. I have told you that before. It is dangerous.”
“That was not an answer, father. Why can I not be near this elf?” she repeated.
“Because you cannot!” he exclaimed, as if he was speaking to a small child.
She placed her hand atop his and looked deeply into his eyes.
“You must tell me the truth,” she insisted.
“Why must you know? You are safe, now. I will take this elf to the edge of our lands, and send him on his way.” He rose up and began to turn away.
“Father, please,” she pleaded.
“Because you will die!” he finally shouted, facing her once more. “Just as your mother did! You are an empath, Caroline, you will become lost in his mind and in his pain. I will not lose you as I lost your mother!” he cried.
Caroline lay back upon the bed and closed her eyes. So this is what he feared for so long. Surely I will not die from this. I felt his fear and I felt his confusion, and I am certain that I was stricken by the magic that held him in its grip, but I am alive. “But, I did return, father,” she said soothingly. “I was drawn into his consciousness, I must admit. But I am fine now,” she explained.
“If he had perished, you would have too. You were his captive, his prisoner, and his fate became yours. You cannot control this. It is beyond your power,” he said.
“I speak with the animals and they do not control me. I enter their minds as I did his, and I feel and see what they feel and see. Did mother do that too?” she asked.
“No. I do not think that she could. The thought would have frightened her. She never even mentioned it. And after a point, your mother kept her distance from all living things other than me. Even with me, if I suffered, she suffered. There were times when I would have a nightmare and she would wake up screaming. For the last tiel of her life, she saw no one and spoke with no one besides me. At least until.…” he hesitated.
“Until what?” she asked.
“Until she had no choice! Until it was impossible to avoid. Until the day she died!” he cried.
“Please, father. Tell me what happened. It is time.”
Conrad sat down upon the floor and crossed his legs and arms. He lifted his head and looked hard and long at his daughter before he began to speak. “Your mother always waited for me before she went into the garden to gather the vegetables for the evening meal, but this one night, I was delayed. I had fallen asleep up on Heather Hill, and when I awoke, the sun was already setting. She was terribly afraid of being in the dark alone, and when I realized how late it was, I rode as fast as I could.
“I had a terrible feeling that something was wrong. And as soon as the house came into view, my worst fears were confirmed. I had not yet warded the perimeters of our land, and a stranger had come upon the house…” His face took on a faraway expression. Caroline could tell just how difficult this was for him. She squeezed his hand, and he looked at her again with so much pain and so much love in his eyes that she could barely keep herself from weeping.
“You were nowhere in sight. A horse I did not recognize stood before the porch. I panicked. At first, I thought that someone had come to rob us or steal from us, but as I dew closer, I saw the horse was well groomed and the saddle was finely toole
d and immaculately kept. It was not the mount of a thief! But there was blood upon the animal, the saddle and the blanket. I thought the poor beast had been pierced by a spear or something! I jumped from my Pater’s back and searched for the wound, but it was nowhere to be found.” He voice caught and tears fell. Caroline wiped them from the rough skin of his face.
“Then I saw it! A trail of bright red blood leading into the house. I raced inside. Panic gripped my heart. I threw the door open, but—” He broke off. Caroline waited for him to regain his composure. When he spoke again, his voice was flat, exhausted. “It was too late. Sophia lay upon the floor next to the warrior. He had been pierced through the heart by an arrow. Your mother’s hand was upon it. He had come here for help, and your mother tried to save his life. But she had been drawn into his pain and into his soul. He died so quickly—before she could do anything for him. Or for herself. She died with him, at the very same moment.”
Conrad was exhausted from having related this instance to his daughter. Although he was distraught from the memory, he felt as if a great burden had been lifted from him. He reached out to Caroline and they hugged each other.
“She died because I was not there to help her,” he cried, anguished. “And I vowed that very second that I would never allow this to happen to you!”
“Why do you think I will succumb to the same fate? I have survived, father. The elf is alive and so am I,” she said calmly.
“If he had died, I would have lost you forever!” Conrad cried out.
“I am not mother,” she said quietly. “I have learned how to protect myself. The animals draw me in too, father. They have pain and they die, but I am able to separate myself from them. I have learned!”
“How do you know what you will be able to do?” he replied, still fearful and anguished. “You have never been among men, Caroline.”
“I have now,” she said seriously, and they both looked at Dalloway who was still reclining on the floor in the middle of the room. “No, father. I am not like mother.”
The Shards Page 17
