Shattered by Shadows: The Innocence Cycle, Book 1

by J D Abbas

  Elbrion picked up the boy, who fought fiercely, kicking and screaming, and brought him near the door where the light could touch him. “These things are not yours to carry, Mikaelin. You need to release them.”

  With glazed eyes the boy screamed, “You’re wrong. You’re wrong. He says I cry like a girl; I might as well be one.”

  Elbrion struggled to hold onto him as he thrashed. “Those are the other boy’s memories, Mikaelin, not yours.”

  “No. No. They’re going to hurt him, too. They made him watch the other boy as they cut off his sack...and and his manhood...blood everywhere. Blood. Blood!” His eyes held a horror that chilled Elbrion. “They’re going to do the same...to him...to me.”

  “Mikaelin, grab that pain like you showed me before; grab it and throw it into the light. It is not yours.”

  The boy’s head began to bleed. “Better off dead. Better off dead!” He squirmed and struggled to free himself from Elbrion’s grip. “Get off me. I’m not an animal,” he cried, followed by a series of snuffling, grunting noises. “I want to be a man. Be a man! No, no, better off dead. Dead! Dead!”

  Unable to calm the boy, Elbrion stepped through the door. When he chanted Maqah’s prayer, the light intensified. The boy pushed out of his arms and dropped to the ground, writhing as if he were possessed—though, in reality, there was no ground; it was as if they were suspended in a void filled only with light.

  “Give it to the light,” he told Mikaelin.

  The boy flailed, screamed again, then fell silent. Elbrion lifted him and stepped back inside, the room now a bit more visible. He found the chair he had used before and rocked the unresponsive boy.

  “Mikaelin, come back to me.” He sang softly, wiping the blood from the boy’s brow.

  Finally, his eyes opened.

  “Were you able to release it?”

  The boy gazed at him, confused. Elbrion noticed his head had stopped bleeding.

  “Is the terror gone?”

  “His, not mine.” A violent shudder went through his body.

  “Do you want my help with what is yours?”

  The young Mikaelin didn’t answer directly, but said, “They were like my uncle. The things they did to him. What they threatened to take from him.”

  Elbrion noticed blood starting to flow into his lap and down onto the floor. “What did he do to you, Mikaelin?”

  The boy looked down and saw the blood. He was horrified and covered himself. “Leave me, please.”

  Elbrion pulled the boy into his chest. “I will stay until the bleeding stops.”

  “I don’t want you to see.” The boy nearly wept in his distress.

  “I have already seen, and I am not leaving you.”

  The young Mikaelin looked up at him, eyes pleading. “I want to be a man. Can you make me a man?”

  “You are a man.” Elbrion held his face. “I cannot restore what was taken, but you are a man in every sense—a good man. You gave the first boy his manhood back, and you saved this one from insanity. You are an incredibly good man, Mikaelin. Your uncle can rape your body, beat you into submission, even cut parts of your flesh away, but he cannot change who you are inside. He cannot touch all that is good and loving and noble in you.”

  He held the boy close and sang. Slowly, his rigid body relaxed. The blood stopped flowing and what had pooled disappeared.

  “Can I really become a man like this?” The boy glanced down.

  “You already have on the outside. You feel young in here, but your body is grown. You are fully a man.”

  “But my uncle said I’d be like a girl for the rest of my life.”

  “Your uncle lied. And he is gone and cannot hurt you anymore. It is all right for you to be a man now.”

  The boy swiped at his tears. “But I keep crying.”

  “The strongest men I know are not afraid of their tears. To be able to weep is a great gift. Never be ashamed of it. You have good reason to weep. Honor your tears.” Elbrion stroked his face. “I am proud of you, Mikaelin. You are an amazing person. It is a privilege to know you.”

  With that, he embraced the boy, set him on his feet, and left the room.

  ~

  Celdorn was concerned. It’d been over an hour since Mikaelin had lost consciousness and Elbrion entered his mind. The boy Mikaelin had touched was alert and responsive, his mind restored. Dalgo had taken him out of the room, so Mikaelin’s dignity could be preserved.

  Celdorn was still holding Mikaelin and Elbrion singing, when they first noticed life returning to Mikaelin’s body. Elbrion opened his eyes and removed his hands. Slowly, Mikaelin’s lids rose.

  He scanned the room as if searching for something with which to orient himself. Finally, he focused on Celdorn’s face and seemed to recognize him. This time, he didn’t fight Celdorn’s embrace. He glanced down and blew out a relieved breath when he saw he was fully dressed.

  “Welcome back.” Celdorn smiled. “How do you feel?”

  Mikaelin wiggled his boots. “Dizzy and not quite connected to my body.”

  When Celdorn helped him sit upright, Mikaelin grabbed his head and leaned back against Celdorn’s chest.

  “Is the pain bad?”

  “It feels like someone’s been thumping on my head.”

  Celdorn examined the place where blood had flowed along Mikaelin’s scalp. Several dark scars remained. “You were hitting your head on the floor quite hard.”

  “That would explain the pain.” He gave a weak half-laugh then glanced around the room with a frown. “Where’s the boy?”

  “He’s well again,” Dalgo said. “We moved him out of the room, so you could have some privacy.”

  “He’s all right then?”

  “He seems to be fine. He’s talking and walking and was attempting to eat something when I left him.”

  “How long was I out?”

  “Over an hour,” Celdorn said. “Is your mind clearer?”

  “Yes, but I still feel off balance.”

  “Don’t push yourself, Mikaelin,” Dalgo said. “Your body and mind have been through horrific traumas the last few hours. You need to rest.” He hesitated, then asked, “Do you know what happened to this boy?”

  Mikaelin’s gaze turned inward. “He was raped repeatedly at both ends of his body, often simultaneously, made to feel like an animal. Then they threatened to emasculate him when he cried and forced him to watch as they mutilated the other boy. He decided he was better off dead and smashed his head on the floor of his cage to make it happen.” His voice was flat, hollow. When he stopped talking, however, the emotion caught up with him, and his tears flowed.

  Mikaelin’s head came up as if he’d heard something. “Elbrion?”

  “I am here.” Elbrion moved next to him and sat down.

  Mikaelin started to say something but couldn’t. He gazed up at Elbrion, and more tears fell. “Thank you,” he murmured.

  Elbrion nodded. “It was an honor to be with you.”

  Silence fell over the room as the men pondered the events that had just taken place, none of them quite comprehending what they’d witnessed.

  “We need to find the others and see if they have found any new information about the watchers,” Celdorn said. “Are you able to join us, Mikaelin, or do you need to stay here awhile longer?”

  “If it’s all right with you, I would prefer to stay close to you and Elbrion for the remainder of the day. I’m feeling...overwhelmed.”

  Celdorn squeezed his shoulder. “We won’t leave your side.” He and Elbrion helped Mikaelin to his feet. “I do believe we should do something about your clothing before we go.”

  Mikaelin looked down at the blood covering him, turned a sickly shade of green, and slumped onto the nearest bed. He let out a yelp and curled onto his side.

  Dalgo waited until he straightened, then told him, “I grabbed some clothes earlier. I’m a bit stouter than you, but I think these will do.”

  “Thank you.” Mikaelin made a brave attempt
at a smile as he accepted the bundle.

  “When you have your clothes off, may I examine you? I’m concerned about how many wounds you took on today.”

  Mikaelin gave a stiff nod but was shaking so badly he couldn’t undo his shirt, so Celdorn helped him out of his clothes. While Dalgo examined him, Celdorn gaped along with the healer at the dozens of lifeless, gray scars covering Mikaelin’s body from head to foot. Celdorn could only imagine the pain he must have endured.

  During the exam, Mikaelin kept a shirt over his midsection.

  “May I take a look?” Dalgo asked. “You saw what they did to the boy...”

  Mikaelin agreed but looked terrified at the same time. He removed the shirt and stared at the ceiling. Celdorn looked away.

  “There’re a few more dark, nasty scars, but there doesn’t appear to be any more damage than before.” Dalgo’s eyes went wide, and he blushed. “Mikaelin, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right, Dalgo.” He glanced toward Celdorn and Elbrion. “I think they knew already.”

  Celdorn moved closer to help Mikaelin dress. The young man kept sucking in breath then holding it as he put on the clothes. “You need to remember to breathe, if you want to stay on your feet,” Celdorn said.

  “I’ll try to remember that.” Mikaelin chuckled, but it sounded more like a wheeze.

  After he was dressed, Celdorn pulled him to his feet, eliciting a groan. The young man moved like he’d been trampled by his stallion. But he was upright. He hobbled toward the door followed by Celdorn and Elbrion.

  Dalgo picked up his soiled clothes. “What do you want me to do with these?”

  “Burn them,” Mikaelin growled, not looking back. “I don’t want to take anything more with me from this place than—”

  The door flew open. Mikaelin fell back, nearly toppling Celdorn along with him.

  Drahmil burst into the room. “Lord Celdorn!”

  “I’m here.” Celdorn steadied Mikaelin and turned to face the man who’d entered.

  Drahmil bent over, winded. “Some…some of our men have been attacked,” he blurted between heaving breaths.

  “Attacked? By whom?”

  “We don’t know, sir. We found three of them hanging in trees outside of town. They’d been tortured.”

  “Tortured?” Celdorn’s chest tightened.

  Drahmil’s face contorted. “It looks like they were beaten then hung. Their skin was burned with acid and flayed from their bodies while...while they were still alive.”

  Celdorn couldn’t get his mind to wrap around the words. No one was tortured in the Shalamhar—except at the encampment. But no one else would dare do such things. No one. Especially to a Guardian. Three? Three of his men? “Did...did no one see or hear anything?”

  “No, sir. But there was a message on a spear driven through Kordar’s chest.”

  The back of Celdorn’s neck prickled. “What did it say?”

  “It said, ‘She’s next.’ I’m sorry, Celdorn. I got here as fast as I could.”

  Celdorn’s heart stalled while his mind raced. If these creatures were bold enough to attack three of his Guardians so close to the village, they were capable of anything. “We need to ride at once,” he said to Elbrion.

  He glanced at Mikaelin. He couldn’t leave him here, but how could he ask him to ride?

  “I can ride,” Mikaelin said with determination.

  Celdorn didn’t doubt his resolve, but he questioned the wisdom of it. Mikaelin could barely walk.

  “I can do it, Celdorn.”

  “Very well.” With a nod, he turned to Drahmil. “Find Tobil. Tell him what’s transpired and that he’s to remain here and take command until he discovers how this happened to our men.”

  He put his arm under Mikaelin’s shoulder and helped him to the courtyard.

  The three were mounted and on the road within moments.

  Chapter 40

  Celdorn urged Malak to fly with all the speed his breed possessed. He hoped it was an empty threat again, but something in his gut told him it wasn’t.

  None of the men spoke or faltered as they galloped across the open fields. It looked like it was taking every ounce of energy Mikaelin had left to remain astride Lazhur. The pain must have been excruciating.

  “Open the gates!” the sentry yelled when the riders drew near the gatehouse.

  “Lord Celdorn, we were just sending someone to find you,” the commander of the guard called as he ran forward and dropped to one knee.

  “Why? What happened?”

  The commander looked startled. “I don’t know, sir.” Two men lifted the iron bar blocking the first set of gates as he spoke. “Braiden just sent a message down, saying that we needed to find you and urge you to return as soon as possible.”

  Celdorn didn’t wait for further explanation. As soon as the gates were open, he charged over the bridge, through the gates and across the bailey, followed by the others. When he reached the keep, he leapt from his stallion and raced toward the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. Halfway up, he remembered Mikaelin. “Elbrion, help him. I’m going ahead,” he called back.

  On the second floor, he hurried toward Elena’s room and found Braiden sitting in a chair outside her door, his head in his hands. The young healer rose as Celdorn approached.

  “What happened?”

  “I-I wish I could answer that.” Braiden hung his head. “El-Elena hasn’t left her b-bed since yesterday just after you d-departed, but-but-but I can’t tell you the cause.”

  “She hasn’t been up at all in over a day?”

  The healer shook his head as he told Celdorn how he’d found Elena and Sasha and how the girl had fought his efforts to help. Celdorn noted the scratches on the Braiden’s face and arms.

  Mikaelin and Elbrion joined them.

  “I-I’ve checked on her throughout the n-night,” Braiden continued. “I-I heard her vomiting around midnight, s-so I went in to clean up the floor. I-I have since left the b-basin for her, and she has used it several times b-b-but still won’t allow me to see her. I c-can’t assess her health or injuries. N-nor can I explain what is wrong, b-but she is in great distress.” Braiden’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I-I-I have f-failed you, my lord. And I f-failed her.”

  Celdorn couldn’t look at Braiden directly; his emotions were a whirlwind. “Is it possible that someone slipped by the guards? Has there been a man outside her door the entire time?”

  “Y-yesterday, Giyon was at the end of the hall.” Braiden pointed. “I d-don’t know how anyone could’ve g-gotten past him. And-and Sasha was w-with her.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I’ve b-been puzzling all n-night. Is it possible her t-tormentors are attacking her m-mind through some sort of...m-mental assault? Or-or images?”

  Celdorn’s thoughts went back to Anakh’s threats. “I suppose it’s possible.” He tugged at the sides of his beard. “Elena has the answer. Let’s see what I can find out.”

  When he entered her room, deep despair hung in the air, as palpable as the pungent odor of sickness. Celdorn staggered and worked not to gag. Elena huddled under a bundle of blanket in the far corner of the bed, pulled in as close to the wall as possible. A tray of untouched food and water lay on the nightstand and an empty basin on the floor. Braiden had lit the lamp to offset the dimming afternoon light.

  Celdorn approached the bed and stood at the side. Elbrion followed him and stopped at the foot. Braiden leaned against the far wall, nearest the door. Mikaelin stalled at the threshold. An intense energy throbbed outward from the girl, pushing them back.

  “Elena, it’s Celdorn.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Elbrion, Mikaelin and Braiden are here with me. We’re concerned about you. We want to know what’s wrong.”

  She didn’t respond, but the movement of the blanket said she was still breathing.

  “Elena?” Celdorn touched the curve of her back, and she stiffened.

  A wisp of a voice rose from the mound. “No more... Just leave me to die...”


  “I can’t do that. Whatever happened, we can help.”

  “I don’t want help. Just let me finally be at peace...”

  “I can’t just sit here and watch you die. That would tear my heart from me, little one.” Celdorn couldn’t keep the raw emotion from his voice.

  Again, there was no response, just her body shuddering beneath the cover. Celdorn gently, but firmly, pulled the blanket back from her head as he turned her.

  He gasped. “Who did this to you?”

  The right side of Elena’s face was darkened with bruising, covered over in dried blood. Her skin was split above and below the eye as well as along the jaw line, as if she had been struck by a large object. The blow left her eye so swollen it drooped past her cheekbone. The side of her mouth was torn in a jagged, bloody line, leaving her lower lip hanging and distended. The girl was so weak she didn’t resist as Celdorn rolled her onto her back. She arched and grimaced but uttered not a sound. A large puddle of blood remained where her head had been. Her body was flushed, her skin hot.

  “Who did this?” he demanded again.

  “Celdorn!” Elbrion grabbed his hand. Celdorn hadn’t realized he was shaking Elena’s shoulder, making her cower. “Silothani, my friend.” Elbrion reached past him and pulled the blanket back the rest of the way.

  A death-like stench filled the room. Elena lay in a pool of blood, excrement and other fluids, as if she’d been eviscerated, her clothes in shreds around her body. Long, shallow incisions from her chest to her groin oozed with fresh blood between crusted patches, while a deep wound gouged into her left breast gaped and started bleeding anew with the turning of her body.

  “Merciful ‘El,” Celdorn sobbed, unable to stop the wave of despair that rose up in him.

  Elbrion moved to the head of the bed and knelt down. He placed his hand on the top of Elena’s head and spoke words of light but choked on his own emotion. The pulse of the Jhadhela slowed and grew dim. Elbrion gently kissed the girl’s fevered brow, bathing it with his tears.