by J D Abbas
“No, Sheya.” He squeezed her shoulder and held tight. “She lied. It is her nature. She does not want you to recognize your power, to choose your own destiny.”
“How can I choose my destiny? Isn’t a destiny foreordained?”
“There is always a choice, Elena. A path may be laid out for you, but you must choose to walk it. There may, in fact, be some truth to Anakh’s words.” Elena’s eyes shot up, full of fear. “A destiny is a difficult thing to avoid, but where she twisted the truth is in the nature of your destiny. Perhaps you are meant to destroy Anakh.”
Elena laughed then stopped when she realized he was serious. “I can’t destroy her. I don’t think I could even do slight damage to her. She is powerful, Elbrion.”
“So are you.”
Elena started to object then stopped. Her gaze grew distant, her eyes shifting back and forth. “I really did those things in the chapel?” He nodded. “I can really call forth fire and draw a sword out of the air?”
“Apparently so.”
She grasped the medallion Celdorn had given her, stroking it as she pondered, then she absently twirled the ring from Elbrion. A deep sorrow filled her eyes. “Am I of her kind?”
“It seems likely with what we know of your grandmother.”
“But I want to be like you and Celdorn. I want that heritage. I want to be good and noble and kind. I don’t want to kill and absorb and destroy.”
Elbrion smiled and kissed Elena’s head. “You are good and noble and kind, Sheya. And strong.” She frowned at him. “I speak the truth,” he insisted. “You survived seventeen years among Anakh and her kind, and you managed to keep your softness, your goodness, not to mention, your life.”
Elena’s eyes started moving again. “So I won’t become a monster.”
“No, Sheyshon. Of this I am certain.”
Elena was quiet as she absently played with Sasha’s ears. Suddenly, she jumped to her feet, startling the dog, and crossed the room. “I have an idea.” She picked up her sheathed sword and returned to the bed, snuggling close to Elbrion, which brought another smile to his face. “My sword needs a name.” She paused and glanced up at him as if for dramatic effect.
His brow furrowed, curious what she was thinking.
“Destiny,” she said, with a look of smug satisfaction. “This is my Destiny.” She held up her sword.
Elbrion chuckled. “Brilliant.” Pride swelled his heart.
A renewed fire blazed in her eyes, but he was pleased to note their color had not changed
“So how do I destroy her?”
Chapter 57
“Would you like to do some exploring?” Silvandir asked Elena after the midday meal.
She straightened in her chair. “What would we explore?”
“Would you be interested in meeting the Ilqazar?”
Elena jumped from her seat. “I’d love it!”
A rumble of good-natured laughter broke out around the room at her child-like enthusiasm. It warmed Silvandir’s heart to see her happy.
As Elena turned to look at Celdorn, her excitement waned. “Is it all right with you, Ada?” she asked, as if expecting him to say no.
Celdorn smiled. “Silvandir wouldn’t have asked you if he hadn’t already cleared it with me. I told him it was all right as long as he is with you and you stay within the boundaries he sets. Will you abide by this?”
She tried to look appropriately sober, but she was nearly dancing as she rocked from foot to foot. “Yes, Ada,” she said with restraint. Then she turned to Silvandir. “When?”
“We could go now—”
Elena was waiting at the door before the words left his lips. A tender smile spread across his face as he followed her out into the hall. Please don’t let me foul this up, he prayed.
The two walked from the north wing, through the main entrance hall, past the towers on either side of the Court of Judgment on their left, and the practice arena on their right. This was as far as Elena had been allowed until now.
Once they entered the south wing, Silvandir showed her the kitchen and dining hall, which were next to the training arena, and the woodshop and tailoring rooms opposite them. He pointed to a winding stairway at the end of the corridor. “Most of the Guardians and those in training sleep on the second and third floors of this wing.” His ears grew warm, and he cleared his throat. “No women are permitted up there.” Touching the small of Elena’s back, he urged her forward, outrunning the images that darted into his mind.
When they came out of the south end of the keep and Elena saw the smithery standing in the shadows of the massive curtain wall that surrounded the keep, she shivered. Silvandir laid his hand on her shoulder, “I’m right here,” and she gazed up at him with a shaky smile.
Understandably, she didn’t want to go near it and wasn’t interested in any information. She didn’t seem to realize she had moved two steps closer to him, their sides now touching.
Silvandir took a deep breath to gain control of his racing heart and pointed out the stables, which stood just the other side of the curtain wall. From here, they could see the Ilqazar scattered over the distant foothills and in the fields below. “See that fenced area up there, that’s where the sheep graze. And the hogs are there, closer to the stables.” His finger traced the white stone wall that girdled all of these structures and extended beyond where the eye could see. “All of Kelach’s holdings are surrounded by the enceinte and are well-guarded.” The enclosure was neither as tall nor as wide as the curtain wall and yet it was a formidable barrier in its own right with lesser guard towers set at quarter mile intervals.
Since they would have to go near the smithery in order to use the main gate between the bailey and the fields, Silvandir said, “Come on; let’s go this way.” He led her back inside the keep and down a series of steps at the southwest corner, through two iron gates, then into a long tunnel that went under the castle wall. They climbed a second series of steps on the other side and passed through two more gates with guards posted at each. When they finally emerged, they were next to the stables, outside the keep walls.
Elena’s eyes filled with wonder as she took in the hundreds of Ilqazar running through the open fields. Some tossed their heads and whinnied loudly while others grazed contentedly in the afternoon sun. When she saw a few stallions rolling among the wildflowers, her face lit with a radiant smile.
“Oh to be a horse and be so free,” she said wistfully.
Silvandir refrained from correcting her about calling them horses. She would learn soon enough.
“They are such huge, magnificent creatures,” she added, a touch of awe in her voice. “When they run, it is like watching grace in motion. It’s as if we’ve entered a mythic kingdom where the bearers of the gods dwell.” Tears formed in her bright eyes as she spoke; Silvandir swallowed hard and forced his gaze to the fields.
“Do you breed and train the horses here?”
He laughed. “No one trains the Ilqazar, rather they train us. They breed at will, following their own traditions.”
Elena gazed up at him, confused.
“The Ilqazar are of an ancient line, same as the Elrodanar. They’re no more like ordinary horses than the Elrodanar are like ordinary people. They originally lived in Queyon during the restoration when light first flowed there, illuminating every part of creation and filling all the men and beasts with the Jhadhela.”
“What about the women?”
“The briochellai? That’s a long story for another time,” he said, unable to keep the smile from his face. “As for the Ilqazar, since the time of the Nasara, they remain immortal, like their Elrodanar counterparts. When an Ilqazar steed falls, which is rare, his energy moves on.”
Elena’s face scrunched up as if Silvandir had just spoken Garan.
“I’m unable to explain it any better than that.” He laughed lightly. “There is much mystery about these fine creatures. For some unknown reason, they have chosen to serve the Guardians. They willi
ngly left Queyon to come here to live and breed more than a century ago.”
Silvandir turned and whistled loudly. In moments, a majestic stallion trotted toward him. He was over eighteen hands high and black as night except for a white diamond on his forehead. As he approached, Elena slipped behind Silvandir.
“You don’t need to fear. The Ilqazar may appear intimidating, but they’re quite gentle.”
As the stallion stepped closer, he lowered his head and pressed his forelock into Silvandir’s forehead. He spoke softly to him in Elnar, stroking his mane.
“Elena, this is Windham, the Ilqazar who chose to serve with me. Windham, this is Elena Celebriana.”
Windham raised and lowered his head several times then stepped closer, putting his muzzle against Silvandir’s arm, behind which Elena was still hiding.
“He’s inviting you to touch him.”
Elena reached out and stroked his dark muzzle. “You’re beautiful.” The whispered words were filled with awe.
Windham threw his head back and snorted, shaking his head vigorously. Elena jumped behind Silvandir, squeezing his arm.
Silvandir laughed. “He’s a stallion, Elena. He objects to being called beautiful.”
“You know what he’s thinking?”
“This is my gift.” His chest expanded, pleased to finally be able to share this part of himself with Elena. “I’m able to hear the thoughts of the Ilqazar.”
Elena’s brows went up and a surge of satisfaction warmed him. She stepped around Silvandir and laid a hand on Windham’s neck, her mouth curling into a playful smile. “I’m sorry to have offended you. I meant, of course, that you are most handsome.”
The stallion eased toward her and nuzzled her cheek.
“Windham believes I have chosen a beautiful and charming woman to escort to the meadow,” Silvandir informed her. “He’s clearly a wise and observant creature.”
Suddenly, Windham raised his head. His ears flicked toward the open fields, eyes focused on the other Ilqazar. Silvandir noticed that all of them had stopped moving and turned toward them, as if listening.
Windham, eyes locked on the nearest stallion, moved so that Elena stood between Silvandir and him.
“What is it?”
Before the stallion could answer, dozens of the Ilqazar galloped down the hillside. Elena’s eyes went wide, and she gripped his arm as the stallions thundered directly toward them.
“Silvandir, what’s happening?” Her nails dug into his flesh.
“I don’t know, Elena. I’ve never seen them behave like this.” He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her. If for some insane reason the Ilqazar continued their charge, he would throw her to the ground and cover her with his body.
Less than twenty yards away, the stallions swerved and formed a large circle around them, galloping one behind the other in a continuous stream. The circle gradually tightened. There were so many and their speed so great the ground shook, sending tremors through their bodies.
“I’m afraid, Silvandir,” Elena yelled.
He leaned his head close to her ear and tightened his embrace. “I trust them; do not fear.” Though in truth, he had doubts, unnerved by this bizarre behavior.
Abruptly, the stallions stopped and turned toward the center, so that they were facing the two of them.
“That’s Zhalor directly in front of us,” Silvandir whispered. “He’s the Prince of the Ilqazar.”
He heard Elena suck in a sharp breath. “That...that’s the horse I saw.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “In the bailey that first day and...and in the ravine just past Celdorn’s courtyard.”
“You saw Zhalor?”
“Yes, at least I think it was him. I didn’t tell anyone because I thought I imagined it. He seemed too magnificent to be real.”
Silvandir shook his head, amazed and puzzled by this news. Zhalor was always intimidating up close, standing twenty hands high. He was pure white, and, like Elbrion, he was luminous, with a rhythmic, pulsating light coursing through him. A gray star peeked out beneath his forelock, the only place on his flesh that didn’t throb with light. He was breathtaking.
Without warning, Zhalor raised his head and whinnied loudly, making Elena jump. Then he put his right leg forward and bent his head toward it. One by one, each of the stallions did likewise.
“They are...bowing to you, Elena. I’ve never seen them do this before, not even for Celdorn,” he whispered, his chest so tight he could barely breathe.
The stallion didn’t look up, but Silvandir heard him. “Zhalor wants you to know that he’s honored to finally meet you. He sensed your presence the day you arrived. He has tried to catch glimpses of you since and wondered when you would come to meet him.”
“It was him. But how did he know I was here?”
“He’s sorry your stay here has been so difficult,” Silvandir continued. “He wants you to know that you can trust the Ilqazar. None of them would ever harm you. He offers the blessing and the service of the Ilqazar to you and your seed,” he repeated Zhalor’s thoughts, though mystified by the words.
To Silvandir’s surprise, Elena jerked out of his arms and walked toward Zhalor, as if she were being drawn. As she approached, she bent low and gently raised the stallion’s head. Words flowed from her lips that Silvandir couldn’t understand. She gazed into Zhalor’s eye then laid her hand between his ears, speaking again in the strange tongue. Her eyes had gone an icy blue.
Mesmerized, Silvandir watched light pass from Elena’s hand into Zhalor. The stallion’s entire being grew so brilliant Silvandir had to turn away. When he looked back, he saw light moving from Zhalor back into Elena, passing through her hand, down her arm and into her torso. When it reached her abdomen, she suddenly collapsed
“Elena!” Silvandir ran forward and scooped her into his arms while Zhalor leaned down and nuzzled her. “Are you all right?”
Elena’s eyes fluttered. “I’m fine.” Her tremulous voice didn’t quite agree. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. You touched Zhalor and light transferred from you into him and then back to you before you fell. Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so, though I feel odd.”
“What were you saying to Zhalor?”
“I don’t know. The words just flowed out of me. I don’t even know what language I was speaking.”
“It sounded similar to Raphar, but different enough that I couldn’t understand,” Silvandir said. “It sounded like a blessing of some sort.”
The stallion nudged Silvandir. “Zhalor apologizes if he hurt or frightened you. He couldn’t stop the Jhadhela.”
“No, you didn’t hurt me.” Elena tried to stand. Silvandir set her on her feet but kept a firm grip on her arms as he felt her sway.
The stallion looked at Silvandir, bobbing his head.
“Zhalor understood the words you spoke. You said, ‘Our destinies are entwined, yours and mine. I have come as was foretold. Long have you waited. Now together we rise or we fall. And with us, all that is good.’” He stared at Zhalor, waiting for further explanation. The Ilqazar gave none.
“What does that mean?” Elena looked from Silvandir to the stallion and back to Silvandir, her brow creased.
Zhalor moved forward again. Bending low, he placed his forehead directly over Elena’s heart. Something seemed to pass between them causing Elena to weep. When Zhalor raised his head, the girl stepped toward him and clung to his neck.
Silvandir watched, not understanding. Something sacred was happening; something he didn’t feel he should interrupt. Zhalor met his gaze and nickered. Silvandir’s heart pounded.
When Elena was quiet and had stepped back from the stallion, Silvandir told her, “Zhalor has chosen to personally serve you and your seed. Elena, as the Prince of the Ilqazar, he’s never chosen anyone. This is a great honor.”
“I’m confused, Silvandir, why me? He’s far too great a creature for me to ride. I couldn’t mount, let alone straddle, such a
massive steed. And what ‘seed’ is he referring to?”
The stallion looked at Silvandir. “Zhalor says you will come to understand in time. As for your other concern...”
The stallion stepped to the side. Behind him was a small filly. She too was pure white, luminous as the dawn, with a gray star imprinted beneath her forelock. She moved forward and placed her forehead against Elena’s.
“This is Nakhona, whom he sired. She will train you and help you when you require a steed. She’s young and the smallest among them, but she has the speed of the wind and the spirit of the ancient Braenar. She’ll serve you well. Zhalor, however, will assist you in other ways. He is yours to command,” Silvandir relayed dutifully, though full of questions.
Zhalor and Nakhona both bowed toward Elena.
“You offer me a great gift. I’m honored.” Elena bowed to each of them in turn.
Nakhona raised her head, and Elena looked at Silvandir, startled. “I heard that. She’s asking if I wish to ride. Am I correct?”
Silvandir shook his head. “Elena, you continually amaze me. That’s indeed what she said.” The love in his heart burst into full bloom as he gazed at this tiny, young woman smiling up at him.
“Well, are you going to answer her?”
“I’ve never ridden—on my own,” she said to Nakhona. “You have no saddle or bridle. How do I mount? How do I hold on?”
Though small by Ilqazar standards, the filly still stood fifteen hands high, making her quite a challenge for Elena’s tiny frame. Nakhona lowered herself to the ground, allowing Elena to easily climb onto her back. As she rose, she told Elena to grip with her knees and gave her permission to grab her mane if she lost her balance.
“Nakhona will sense your movement and will adjust her gait to help you stay astride,” Silvandir said. “She’ll keep you from harm. Trust her.”
As the filly trotted out into the field, Silvandir watched Elena relax into her. She moved with Nakhona as if she’d been born to ride. The filly increased her speed until she was at a full gallop, heading toward the ravine. Elena threw her head back in laughter, her hair flowing like a banner behind her.
