by J D Abbas
“The one I couldn’t help...” Dalgo studied Mikaelin with concern as he pressed his hand to his forehead. “He’s burning up, and his breathing is as shallow as hers. I don’t understand this.”
Elbrion placed his hands on Mikaelin’s head, but a jolt thrust him back and left his body throbbing. Mikaelin’s torso arched and convulsed. He rolled to his side and vomited. When he stopped retching, he lay back, closed his eyes, and fell into a deep stupor. Elbrion stared in wonder.
Dalgo called to the guard by the door to get some water and blankets while he carefully removed Mikaelin’s clothing. His body was covered with bruises, cuts, burns and welts, just as they had seen on so many of the children from the encampment. Under the bruise on his side, Dalgo said he felt broken ribs. The bone in Mikaelin’s upper right arm was broken and the wrist of the same limb bent unnaturally where both bones had been snapped. Elbrion turned his eyes away while Dalgo finished his exam.
Elbrion said, “Mikaelin was already struggling before we arrived here; this is going to be difficult for him. He carries some painful secrets.”
“Perhaps not so secret now.” Dalgo rubbed his chin. “The injuries I’ve seen may not all be from the children.” He glanced at Elbrion sideways. “I need to be careful. This is obviously something Mikaelin has worked to conceal.”
Elbrion was quiet as he realized the implication of Dalgo’s words. “What can be done for him?”
“I’m at a loss. I’ve seen healers in Queyon take on single injuries but never this level of transference. I don’t know if his body will overcome them more easily than the children because he is fit and hale, or if it will take the same toll. If so, the girl was near death, and I couldn’t help her.” Dalgo’s face was grim.
“Those I have seen use this gift are able to release the wounds, letting them only pass momentarily through their bodies,” Elbrion said. “I do not think Mikaelin was aware he had this ability. He was confused and frightened by what happened. I am sure he does not know how to control it, and I am uncertain how to help him, especially in this state of stupor. When I tried to speak light into him, something drove me back.”
“Would you be willing to try again? See if perhaps you can access his memory or at least speak to his unconscious mind.” Dalgo held his hands up. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“I will make the attempt.”
Before Elbrion approached Mikaelin, he chanted softly, weaving the Jhadhela into each note. He chose tones that would soothe and embrace Mikaelin’s soul as he knelt by the young man’s head and laid his hands on the sides of his face. When the melody had wound its way into Mikaelin’s mind, Elbrion stepped into his internal world.
~
Slowly, things took on solid form, and Elbrion found himself in the kitchen area of what appeared to be a small home. A naked boy lay in a pool of blood in the far corner of the room. His bloated flesh was covered with cuts and burns.
He knelt beside him. “I am Elbrion.”
The boy looked up through clouded eyes. “Please help me,” he begged, his voice a scratchy whisper.
Elbrion scooped up his emaciated form and cradled him in a chair. The boy cringed at his touch and pulled away, but Elbrion held firmly. “I will not hurt you. I am here to help,” he assured him as he stroked his feverish brow, rocking gently back and forth, the melody of his soul tenderly swaying him. “Not all of these injuries are yours. Some have come from other people.” Though the boy was listening intently, Elbrion was afraid he might not understand.
“When your body touched some children, their wounds moved inside you. They are better, but you are feeling the effects of their pain. It is a good gift to have, but you must be able to separate their injuries from your own or it will make you sick, like now.” He paused to let the boy absorb his words. “I know you have your own pain from things that have happened to you and that pain in itself is overwhelming, but when things come into your body that belong to others, you have to find a way to keep them from destroying you.
“Can you tell the difference between what wounds are yours and what came from the other children?”
The boy nodded weakly. “My stomach wasn’t like this before, and I didn’t have trouble breathing, and...and some of the bruises aren’t mine. Part of it feels just like when my uncle hurts me, but he isn’t here today and I still feel the pain.”
“I have known other people with this gift, but when they use it, the pain passes through them. I wonder why it stays with you.”
“Because I deserve it,” the boy replied without hesitation.
“Why would you think you deserve it?”
“Because I’m bad.”
Elbrion gazed into the boy’s tormented eyes, overwhelmed by the sadness that emanated from him. “No one deserves to carry the pain those children suffered; they did not, nor do you. And whoever told you that you were bad is wrong. He lied.”
“No,” the boy shook his sagging head, “you don’t understand what I’ve done. I’m dirty, vile, disgusting. I deserve to be punished. I deserve to die.” He fixed his eyes on the ground.
Elbrion considered how to reach through the boy’s shame. “Do you think the other children deserve to die for what they have done?”
The boy looked up; uncertainty wavered in his gaze.
“You and these children have experienced many of the same things. I doubt you have done worse than they. Would you condemn them?”
The answer came slowly, thoughtfully, wrapped in a haunted whisper. “No.”
“Then do not condemn yourself.” Elbrion’s words were direct, but he was careful to couch them in gentleness.
Tear-filled eyes lifted to his, considering.
Elbrion took a deep breath, quelling the rising anger toward the uncle who had tormented Mikaelin to the point of breaking. He rocked the boy, choosing his next words carefully. “What if you decided not to punish yourself; where do you think the pain would go?”
The boy pondered this. Slowly he began to look around, and his eyes stopped on a door at the opposite end of the room. “Do you think the light would take it?”
Elbrion followed his gaze. “That sounds like a very good possibility. But how will you move it from your body into the light?”
The boy’s face scrunched up, deep in thought. Suddenly he relaxed. “Maybe I can just imagine it’s like a ball and pull it from my body and throw it out the door.”
“Do you think it will work?”
“I think so.”
He stood the boy on his feet, curious to see what would happen. The young Mikaelin shut his eyes, put his hand on his belly and closed his fist as if he were grabbing something. When he opened the door, an incredible light burst through the frame and luminous shafts pierced the oppressive gloom of the kitchen. The light grew so intense that even Elbrion could not look at it. Undaunted, the boy threw his invisible handful into the illumination. He then grabbed another from his ribs, and another from behind him. Here and there he pulled, throwing each one out the door. Finally, he stopped and turned back toward Elbrion. He stood taller, his stomach no longer distended, and many of the bruises were gone—not all, but many.
For the first time, the boy noticed he was naked. He blushed and searched for something with which to cover himself. Elbrion averted his gaze while the boy found a blanket and wrapped himself in it.
“I feel better,” the young Mikaelin declared.
Elbrion smiled. “That was a clever idea. Can you remember to do that the next time wounds come inside you that are not yours?”
“Yes, I won’t let them stay in my body. I’ll toss them into the light.”
“These things were never yours to carry.” Elbrion studied him. “Do you want help with what is yours?”
The boy stared at the floor and whispered, “Not now. Maybe someday.”
Elbrion knelt and embraced him. “If you decide you want my assistance, you can let me know. Anytime. I will hear you.”
Then he moved out of the room and outside Mi
kaelin’s body.
~
Dalgo watched with amazement as one injury after another disappeared. When Elbrion stopped singing and removed his hands, Mikaelin’s eyes opened. He gazed up at Elbrion and Dalgo, frightened and disoriented.
“What happened?” Mikaelin rubbed his face and looked down at his body. He bolted upright and wrapped the blanket around him. “What did you do?” His eyes were wild and menacing like a rabid animal that had been cornered.
“Silothani, Mikaelin,” Elbrion said. “We were tending your injuries.” He reached toward Mikaelin’s shoulder in a conciliatory gesture, but the young man cringed and pulled away.
“You were inside my head.” He stared at Elbrion, his face a mixture of horror and shame.
“Do you remember what happened before you fell into the stupor?” Dalgo asked.
“I...I touched some children, and their wounds disappeared. I think they transferred into my body.” He turned his gaze back to Elbrion with a furrowed brow. “And you went...inside...to assist me in releasing them. You were inside with me.”
“Yes.” Elbrion held his gaze. “I saw only what you wanted, and needed, me to see.”
Mikaelin glanced down. “How did I end up like this? Where are my clothes?”
“I was looking for wounds, trying to find the cause of your fever and stupor.” Dalgo hesitated. “And there was blood on your trousers.”
Even Dalgo, who kept his own empathic abilities deliberately muted in order to better serve as a healer, felt the intense shame that washed over Mikaelin.
“What did you see?” he demanded.
“Most likely more than you would have wanted.” Dalgo had made a pact early on with Celdorn and his men that as their healer he’d be forthcoming and direct with them and expected the same in return. The intimacy of the work of the healer demanded it. Although he’d been working in his capacity as a healer, he felt he’d inadvertently overstepped a sacred boundary. “You don’t have to say anything, and I’ll tell no one. It’s for you to disclose if you so choose and to whomever you most trust.”
Mikaelin looked up, tears ready to fall. “Thank you,” he said simply, and Dalgo breathed a sigh of relief.
“May I look at your ribs and arm again?”
Mikaelin slipped the blanket to the side, exposing his chest. Dalgo pushed on the ribs that had been broken then probed his arm and wrist. “This is interesting. Your bones are mended, but I can feel lumps remaining where they healed.” He looked up. “May I examine the other places where you took on the children’s injuries?”
Mikaelin nodded but was careful to hold the blanket securely around his mid-section.
“Amazing…” Dalgo muttered. “You have scars from each of their injuries. So even though you were able to let the wounds pass through you, you still retain a record in your body.” He shook his head. “I have never seen anything like this.”
“I would suggest you be careful whom you touch,” Elbrion said, “especially among the children, until you are able to learn more about your gift,”
“You might want to stay out of sight while we’re here,” Dalgo added. “The children you helped are convinced you’re an angel, and I imagine they’re eagerly telling the others.”
“I don’t understand that. Do you see light around me, Dalgo?”
“No, but I believe the children do. I can’t explain it. You are a mystery, my friend.” Dalgo smiled at the young man, who he felt like he was just beginning to know after all these years.
Mikaelin started to dress. “What’s this?” He held out the bloody seat of his trousers.
“That’s the stain I referred to. It must be from one of the injuries you took on,” Dalgo replied.
“The first little boy...” Mikaelin’s words faded as he stared at the trousers. “I…I noticed blood on his,” he added, his face shadowed with pain. “Would one of you be willing to get my other pants from my saddlebag? I don’t want to be seen in these.”
“I’ll get them,” Dalgo said.
When he returned, Dalgo told them Celdorn was calling for all the men and children to assemble in the sanctuary. “We’d better get you dressed and out of sight, for now.”
“I can manage by myself.” Mikaelin grabbed the pants and walked off to a side room, clutching the blanket tightly around him.
Dalgo looked at Elbrion. “Why haven’t we noticed this before?”
“I think it was all deeply buried until Elena stirred things up,” Elbrion replied.
Chapter 36
Elena jumped at the soft knock on her door, unaware she had fallen asleep. She glanced around the room, caught in that half-dream place where reality is nebulous and shifting. It took her a moment to realize she was in her room in the castle with her faithful guardian, Sasha, by her side. She remembered she’d requested to lie down, and Braiden had told her he would be in Elbrion’s room, directly across the hall. He’d left her door ajar and a handbell by her bedside, so she could summon him if she needed anything.
Sasha lifted her head and eyed the door, ears up and alert.
“Come in,” Elena said, expecting Braiden.
A man she hadn’t seen before entered. He was tall—even taller than Celdorn or Silvandir, forcing him to stoop to enter. He was broad and muscular with sleek, swarthy, almost blackened skin like those that work in a farrier’s shop.
He closed the door behind him. “Braiden asked me to check on you,” he said in a voice so deep and resonant it shook the walls of the small room, while causing a different kind of tremor in her chest. Sasha’s hackles went up, and her low growl vibrated the bed.
“Ah, Sasha, I heard you were standing guard,” the man said with a low chuckle. “I brought you a treat.” He held out a piece of raw meat. “Lamb, your favorite.”
The man tossed the meat by the chest at the end of the bed. Sasha leapt down and snatched up the offering. She downed it in one gulp and licked the floor before looking up at the giver, tail wagging.
“Don’t get greedy, girl. One should be quite enough for you.” His smile twisted into an ugly grimace. Then he turned his attention to Elena. “Is there anything you require?”
Ice moved through her veins though she didn’t know why. “No, I’m fine. Thank you,” she replied, barely able to breathe.
“Are you hungry?” The hunger in his own eyes evident and familiar. “Or do you have other...needs I can take care of?” His voice had turned to a low growl.
“No,” she answered softly. “You may go. I don’t want anything.” She tried to smile as she looked at him, but his eyes were menacing.
The giant of a man stepped closer, and Sasha moved in front of him, hackles up again, ears flattened. “I’ll take care of you later.” He patted the dog’s head as she leaned oddly to the side. “I need to attend to the girl now, so why don’t you have a lie down.” Sasha’s long legs folded, and she sank to the floor. “That’s a good girl.” He pushed the limp dog out of his way.
Elena’s stomach flipped. What had he done? Was she dead?
“So Celdorn has satisfied all your needs then?” The man’s face twisted into a lecherous sneer as he focused on Elena. “Or should I say, you’ve satisfied his? And Elbrion’s?” He moved closer. “Maybe even Braiden’s?”
“I don’t know what you mean?” She pulled the blankets tightly under her chin.
“You may’ve fooled them with your innocent act, but if you were with the Farak, then I know who sold you. I know what you are. Celdorn brought you here for a purpose. Now he wants to keep you all to himself or maybe for threesomes with Elbrion. There’ve been rumors about the two of them for years.” He laughed, a perverse, depraved sound that left Elena feeling befouled.
“Oh, are you surprised by that?” With a look of mock sympathy, he patted her head, eliciting another tremor. “Did you really think Celdorn brought you here for your own good?” He cocked his head. “Ah, I can see you did.” His hand slowly slid down the length of her hair, then he grabbed a fistful and
yanked her head back, forcing her to look at him.
“How pathetic. You’re a bloody mess, a used-up, worthless slut. How could you possibly believe he’d want to take care of you? Oh my, look at the tears welling in your innocent eyes. Anakh must be failing in her training. How can you be this gullible?” He smacked her in the back of the head then moved to the foot of the bed.
He unlaced his leather jerkin and pulled it off, laying it neatly on the chest. “Let me give you a little truth, sweetheart: This keep is full of randy young men, itching to get their hands on you. They don’t care if you look like bloody shit as long as they can take their turns with you. I just wanted to be the first.” He smirked, tugging his shirt free from his trousers. “I don’t much care for leftovers. Though, technically, you were leftovers fifteen years ago. Come on now, don’t look so affronted. I acknowledged your special skills. It should be no trouble for you to manage—not all two hundred will want you. Some of them think they’re above such things, and some of them are just flat too young. Can’t get it up yet.” He laughed and made a crude gesture. “Most of us, however, are realists. We have needs; needs you were bred to satisfy. Celdorn shouldn’t be so selfish.”
Elena eyed his knife belt, trying to keep from panicking, but already her body was going numb. “Wh-where is Braiden?” He was her last hope. She couldn’t run; she had no weapon.
“Am I not g-g-good enough for you? You’d prefer the young, handsome B-B-Braiden? I’ve got twice the equipment.” He sneered and grabbed his crotch. “And a thousand times the experience. I can satisfy you better than that young whelp.”
When he moved to the side of the bed again, Elena eyed the nightstand. “And besides, Braiden’s a prissy little virgin. He’d never stoop to using a whore.” He shoved his face close to hers, snarling the last word. “He’s a principled sort of guy.” The man straightened and removed his knife belt, laying it across her feet. “I, however, am not.”
While the man was busy tugging at the laces of his trousers, Elena lunged for the bell. He caught her wrist before she could grab it and twisted hard, nearly snapping the bones. With his other hand, he noiselessly set the bell on the floor. “No fair ending the party early. Slicing up Braiden is not my idea of foreplay.” He leaned in again, so close she could smell the onions on his breath, and put his mouth against her ear, his warm breath sending chills down her neck. “And be certain of this, I will kill him if you make a sound,” he whispered before biting her earlobe and giving it a vicious tug.
