by J D Abbas
Elbrion laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Sasha moved around to the other side of Silvandir, nudged her head under his arm, and leaned into him.
Silvandir pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. After taking a deep, steadying breath, he tentatively, gingerly, touched near the stitches at the edge of Elena’s misshapen mouth. The girl’s eyes fluttered, startling him.
“Silvandir?” She peered at him from slits buried in blackened bulges. “You’re back.” Pain flashed across her face, and her chest tensed with the effort it took to speak those few words.
His throat tightened. “We...we just arrived.”
“You weren’t prepared...see me...like this.”
“Celdorn told us what happened. I wanted to be with you immediately.” He stroked her face. “I’m so sorry, Elena.” Tears blurred his vision. “I’m so very very sorry.” The words gurgled up from a deep well within him. A well he thought he had sealed long ago. The torment of regret rose, threatened to undo him. He fought to master it. “We...we wanted to keep you safe. We thought you’d be protected here.”
“I know.”
“I should have stayed with you.”
“Wouldn’t have...changed... Not Braiden’s fault.” She took a ragged breath. “The world...full of horrible...everywhere. No safe place. Myth.” The bitter hopelessness in her voice twisted his gut.
“I want you to be safe, Elena.” He caressed her cheek, avoiding the stitches. “I want you to be happy.”
“You hope...too much,” she whispered. “I...satisfied... walk...own... take care...needs….” Her voice trailed off.
“I want so much more for you. I wish I could give you what is in my heart to give.” Silvandir saw the grief that flashed in Elena’s eyes, and he fell silent. He didn’t want to add to her distress.
~
Elena’s internal world wavered and tilted off balance. She found herself longing to reach out, to touch Silvandir, to say, “I still need a friend.”
But she couldn’t. He was so noble and good, and she was a disgusting, used-up whore, a plague that would destroy him. He deserved better. And she deserved to be alone—or dead. As dutiful and faithful as he was, he would certainly have responded to her plea, but the painful reality was he needed to give up on her.
Exhaustion overtook her, and she battled just to keep her eyes open.
Silvandir took her hand in his and gently kissed it. “Get some rest, my friend. I’ll return later.”
My friend... Elena faded into unconsciousness.
~
Braiden tapped lightly on Elena’s door. When he peeked in, he heard Elbrion saying, “She goes in and out. She is unable to stay alert for long.”
He felt nauseous.
“Is there anything I can do?” Silvandir asked as he hugged Sasha to him.
“Just what you have done.” Elbrion squeezed Silvandir’s shoulder.
Braiden stepped into the room and cleared his throat. “Ex-excuse me, Elbrion, C-Celdorn would like y-you to join the m-men in his chambers. H-he asked m-me to remain here with El-Elena.”
“Stay as long as you need to, Silvandir,” Elbrion said, patting his back and rising. He kissed Elena’s forehead and left.
Silvandir moved into the vacant chair, still holding Elena’s hand and gently caressing it. Sasha wriggled in closer to him and licked their joined hands.
After Elbrion was gone, there was a strained silence. Braiden was acutely aware that Silvandir hadn’t acknowledged him. He must have despised him for failing Elena. Braiden had great respect for Silvandir and knew he’d somehow wounded him by his failure. He wanted to speak, to try to make things right, but fear held him back.
Braiden was surprised when he saw Silvandir wipe his eyes. This man was a rock. Rarely had he seen him express any emotion; he even kept his anger under close guard. Elena had apparently touched something within him.
“I-I’m sorry, Silvandir,” Braiden blurted out, unable to stand it any longer. “I-I only left her for a c-couple of hours. Sh-she wanted to lie d-down. She was so s-sad after all of you left. And-and I was just across the h-hall. She never m-made a sound. I-I had no idea.” He knew he was rambling but couldn’t stop himself. “I-I never thought this w-would happen—not here. I-I’m so s-sorry.” Braiden stared at Silvandir’s back wishing he’d rise up and strike him. Perhaps then he’d feel some relief.
“Elena was right,” Silvandir said softly. “It could’ve happened just as easily if I’d been here. This was not your fault. None of us anticipated this. I’m angry but not with you.” He finally turned to look at Braiden. “I’m grateful you were here to repair her. I would’ve been useless.”
“I-I don’t know if the skills I-I have were sufficient.” He rubbed his eyes, pressing back the burning tears. “The d-damage was severe.”
Silvandir stroked Elena’s cheek. “If love and light can heal her, she’ll make a full recovery.” His tormented gaze lifted to Braiden, throat working convulsively. “I have to believe it can. I have to.”
Chapter 44
“What happened in Rhamal after we left?” Celdorn asked the foremost question on his mind. He studied the men seated before him, all of whom seemed lost in a maze of morose thoughts and haunting images.
“We retrieved the bodies of the three who were murdered,” Tobil replied, his face shadowed with grief. “We studied the site of the executions, looking for clues as to who their assailants were and where they’d gone. We found no trace that anyone other than our men had been there. Except for the evidence of the torture itself and the cryptic message left behind, there was nothing—not a trail, not a boot or hoof print, not a bent blade of grass, nothing. We returned to the compound in utter frustration.
“Just after sunset, we heard a commotion in the stables. When our men went to investigate, they found the gate to the corral had been left open and all of the monks’ horses had run off. Then, out of the shadows, seven hooded riders appeared. They killed two of our men as they battled their way toward the courtyard where the children had gathered prior to leaving to their rooms for the night. They snatched three of the children before they rode off into the darkness. Ten of us mounted and took off in pursuit, the screams of the children our only guide in the blackness of the woods. But again, the watchers vanished without a trace, and the children’s cries ceased.” Tobil stopped and scrubbed at his unkempt beard. “I’m sorry, Celdorn. We did the best we could, but it’s as if these creatures are specters. They leave no evidence of their presence.”
“I don’t know what to make of this.” Celdorn rubbed his aching head. “Elbrion?”
“I am at a loss. It is possible that these are the eidola of whom the prisoners spoke, but how they can vanish leaving no trail is beyond me.”
“We moved the children into the ancient tunnels beneath the doqajh compound,” Tobil said. “We didn’t want to run the risk of any more being taken.”
“Good.” Celdorn rose and paced the length of the table. “What did you do with the bodies of our men?”
“We brought them back with us.” Tobil’s shoulders sagged with the weight of the grief. “They were so young,” he murmured, staring off at the far wall.
Celdorn stood behind Tobil and laid his hand on his shoulder, their grief mingling in the silence.
Finally, Celdorn shook his head and pushed forward. “How are the children?” he asked Dalgo.
“As well as can be expected, I suppose. The ones Mikaelin assisted with are in the best condition.” Dalgo smiled toward the young man. “That was truly amazing.” The healer eyed Mikaelin, and his smile dimmed.
Mikaelin blushed under Dalgo’s scrutiny and stared at the floor. When pain flashed across his face, Celdorn guessed his failure with Elena was tormenting him again.
Dalgo looked away and continued. “Most of the children didn’t want to be returned to their home due to their connections with this illicit business. Our men have interrogated their families. They have arrested many men and a
few women, who will be transported to the cells at Greenholt or Wharndon upon your order. This left us with an additional fifteen children to deal with.
“Toreno’s been begging families from the doqajh to take one or two children into their homes. He also traveled to Neldon and Proso looking for prospective families. When people hear the things to which these children have been subjected, they graciously open their homes to be places of healing.
“There are many good people in the villages,” Dalgo said, “and many evil. The depth of the perversion we found in some of these places is truly disturbing. I don’t know if I will ever be able to sleep again without the images plaguing my mind.”
Dalgo had to stop. He put his head in his hands. After a few moments, he said softly, “The repairs I had to do on their little bodies were torturous in themselves—as humiliating and painful as the original mutilations. I knew I was helping them, but it didn’t feel that way.” He paused, swallowing hard. “And those were only the physical injuries. The other wounds go so much deeper. Many of the children are devoid of any ability to trust or interact on a normal human level. They seem more like terrified, caged animals than children. It breaks my heart.”
Silvandir returned from the antechamber, pale and shaken.
“How is she?” Haldor asked.
“She is...she looks so fragile...too thin and deathly pale, though there are so few places without bruising it’s difficult to see that. She—” His face twisted and his shoulders sagged. The room fell silent.
Celdorn could almost see the magma churning in Silvandir’s cavernous depths. Infernal waves crashed against the walls of his soul, their energy ready to devour. He watched the transformation in the young man with a new depth of understanding.
Silvandir lifted his head. His jaw tightened; his shoulders squared. Fiery tongues from the copper undercurrents leapt in his eyes. “I can’t believe one of our own did that.” He pointed toward the antechamber. “There’s murder in my heart,” he confessed in a low hiss. “I want this man dead. I want to kill him myself—slowly and painfully.”
Silvandir’s face blanched. “I-I’m sorry, Celdorn. I should have kept those thoughts to myself.”
“Be at peace,” Celdorn said. “They’re the same thoughts and feelings that the four of us have been dealing with while we’ve cared for her. It will take great restraint on all our parts should the day ever come when we find her attacker.”
Silence filled the room. Celdorn had no doubt that many of them were imagining what that day would be like and wrestling with the depth of the rage and hatred they felt, not only for Elena’s attacker but for those who’d destroyed the lives of so many other children as well.
Vengeance—so close to justice but slightly twisted to the darker side. This was not what they were called to as Guardians but what they felt driven to nonetheless. Celdorn knew it could consume them. They were walking a fine line.
~
“Dalgo, how many more children are in need of homes?” Celdorn asked, forcing his companions to refocus. “And do you have any idea when our men will return?”
“There were twenty still homeless when I left. Most of them aren’t Wallanard. Some wouldn’t tell us where they’re from but, judging by their features, they’re from the east, possibly Bengoran or Urdahl. The scarring on their bodies is horrific. They’ve been so mutilated it’s difficult to tell which are boys and which are girls—apparently, that was the intention. The Wallanard are afraid to take these ones in. We may need to move them to Greenholt and gain their assistance in finding homes.
“As for our men, they could probably return now—whether they can be persuaded to leave the children willingly is another matter. Ten of them returned with us, but there are twenty who remained with Toreno.”
“If we move the children to Greenholt, we may need them as escorts,” Celdorn said. “But for now, the children are best left in the tunnels. At least we know they’ll be safe.” He scoffed at his own words. They couldn’t even keep Elena safe here in their own fortress. How could they guarantee the safety of the others?
Tobil interrupted his thoughts. “We need to send messengers to the other outposts, to inform them of what we’ve learned from the prisoners. They need to begin searching for the places to which the prisoners referred. I don’t want them to remain as naïve as we’ve been. I’m certain more places like the encampment will be found. In addition, they need to be on guard against these mysterious watchers. Who knows where they’ll appear next.”
“I would also suggest we appeal to Queyon for assistance,” Elbrion said. “We have encountered beings about which we have little to no information. We do not know what they are, what they are capable of doing, or how to combat them. There are those in Queyon who might have this knowledge.”
“You know as well as I do that none of the Elrodanar are willing to travel outside Queyon any longer,” Celdorn replied. “If we want information, we’ll have to go to them.”
“I believe there is one who might answer our summons,” Elbrion countered. “Yaelmargon.”
“The Lore Master himself?” Celdorn was surprised.
“I believe we have stumbled into something that has repercussions for those in all regions,” Elbrion said. “The battle with Anakh and her eidola is the ongoing battle of the Zhekhum trying to consume the Jhadhela. I believe we were directed to Elena to assist us in this endeavor, and she is crucial to the outcome. There is something inside her I can see but cannot quite comprehend. We need to have more insight to be successful in this war. Yaelmargon will understand this. Even the haven of Queyon will not remain unscathed if these forces continue to gain power.” The beat of Elbrion’s light quickened and its glow intensified. “We must send for him.”
Celdorn nodded. “In the very least, we must make the attempt.” He turned to Silvandir. “We’ll send the messengers out in companies of five. Those that go to Marach can carry our appeal to Queyon as well. I leave it to you to choose the men. Bring them here within the hour to be briefed. I want to make certain our missives are clear.”
Chapter 45
Within Celdorn’s chambers, a somber darkness had set in.
Two days had passed. The messengers had been sent out and were well on their way to their destinations. Preparations had begun for the final tribute to the five who had fallen in Rhamal, delayed only by more pressing matters.
Elena’s condition was deteriorating. She had few moments of wakefulness as she grew steadily weaker. Celdorn had taken to sitting on the bed, legs outstretched, with Elena’s head resting on his lap. He turned her when she got sick and helped her reach the basin. Other times he caressed her face and sang softly, praying all the while her body would heal.
Braiden and Dalgo checked on her regularly, but there was little they could do. Most of the time, they left Celdorn and Elbrion alone with her, staying close by in the connecting chambers, in case they were needed.
Returning to Celdorn’s room after one of their visits, Braiden closed the door. “I-I don’t know why her b-body’s still purging.” He gripped the latch, his mind working. “S-something else is wrong.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Her b-body’s reacting like she’s being slowly p-poisoned.”
“It’s possible,” Dalgo said distractedly, his brow furrowed. “Braiden...” He paused, his face filled with indecision. “I’d like you to try something.” He stalled again; Braiden had never seen the healer so hesitant to speak his mind. “I want you to examine Elena once more, but this time I want you to do it with your eyes closed.”
Braiden’s brows went up.
“I know this sounds strange, but I want you to envision being inside Elena’s body. Let it speak to you and guide you to the damage.”
“I-I don’t understand.” Braiden almost laughed. “D-do you do th-this?”
“No, I don’t have the gift, but you do.”
“You’re the third p-person this week to tell me so. How d-do you know this
, and I d-don’t?”
“Experience. We’ve known for some time that you have a gift for healing. I have training and skill, but you have gift.” He must have sensed Braiden’s doubt for he added, “It’s not so different from what Elbrion does, only rather than accessing the memories and emotions, you would enter into another’s body and experience it from inside them.”
Braiden felt an odd tingling in his spine. He’d never thought of himself as gifted, and he’d certainly never heard bodies speak...well, maybe he had. At times he saw things others could only feel and had some sort of internal direction as to how to respond, but he’d always dismissed it as his imagination.
Dalgo interrupted his thoughts. “I believe Elbrion could help you with how to use this gift. I’ve seen it done, but I don’t personally know what it’s like to be inside the skin of another. Would you be willing to make the attempt...for Elena’s sake? It can’t harm her.”
“Earlier this w-week Elbrion told me I had p-power to speak healing b-but had yet to test it. I guess n-now is the time to do so. You all h-have such faith in me. I-I hope I won’t d-disappoint.” Especially with Elena’s life depending on it. Braiden felt sick with dread. He’d already failed her once—twice. All of his fine work in piecing her back together had done nothing more than prolong her misery.
“I’m not worried,” Dalgo assured him as they walked back into Elena’s room.
Silvandir and Mikaelin had come to visit, as they did many times each day, finding it difficult to concentrate on anything else. They were quietly conversing with Celdorn and Elbrion when Dalgo and Braiden returned.
