Journey to Queyon: The Innocence Cycle, Book 3

by J D Abbas

  Silvandir visibly winced at that comment, though Elena had no time to puzzle as to why. She was distracted by two birds squabbling on a nearby bush, apparently not wanting to share.

  Elena pulled herself back to the conversation. “Men only want innocence for themselves; they don’t care if they deprive others of that opportunity.” She stopped herself. “I’m sorry, Silvandir. I should say most men. I didn’t mean to offend you by including all of your gender.”

  “No apologies are necessary. I certainly understand how you have come to believe such things. You have seen the worst in men.”

  “Women are equally capable of such depravity and perhaps even more cruelty, which doesn’t leave many options if one wants to exist with the human race. Living in isolation doesn’t seem like such a bad choice to me.” With a shudder, she stared off again. “Yet the thought of being alone terrifies me.” She gave Silvandir a weak smile. “I’m a jumble of contradictions, which does not bode well for my future.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I trust in time that will change. Hopefully, living among us, you’ll see that there are good people in this world and life can be full of laughter and times of great joy as well.”

  Elena hugged herself as if the action might somehow shield her heart. “Hope is difficult for me. I had to give it up when I was small. To hold onto hope gave them a power over me to torment and crush. Anything I wanted, cared about, they could take or destroy. So you empty and harden yourself, relinquish all ties and dreams in order to continue—though it’s a hollow survival, a cocoon of a life.” She shrugged. “But it’s all I’ve known.”

  Silvandir laid his hand on her crossed forearms. “And yet hope does exist for you, my friend, even if you can’t see it. I believe you’ll find life and joy yet.”

  “I’m learning to love and trust all of you, which I never thought was possible. But I can’t look to the future ... not yet.”

  Elena leaned her head against Silvandir’s arm, wishing she could share his optimism, but reality had been a thorough teacher. Her tears slid down her cheeks and onto his skin. He reached over and brushed them away with his thumb, letting his hand linger along her jawline. His touch was so gentle, so kind.

  They sat in silence for over an hour, lost in their thoughts. Elena’s mind drifted to Celdorn and Elbrion, knowing that was one thread of hope she hadn’t been able to sever, one that would likely destroy her.

  ~

  The Guardians arrived near the Tulegar Gap late in the afternoon of their second day. Elbrion felt Celdorn’s tension rising the closer they grew to Penumbra—and Elena’s sire.

  Celdorn said he wasn’t comfortable entering the ravine at this hour as darkness would overtake them before they arrived in Penumbra. Elbrion agreed it would be foolhardy to continue, given that none of them were familiar with the territory and with the gap’s potential for ambush. They needed the advantage of the light.

  Celdorn decided they would set up camp in a grove of trees about a mile east of the road, which would provide them some cover for the night. They took shelter in the densest part of the wood, aware there might be enemies patrolling the area.

  “I feel as if we are being watched,” Celdorn said to Elbrion as they sat near their campfire later that night, “yet I’ve seen no one, not even any creatures. In fact, this wood is ominously quiet.”

  “There are owls and bats in the trees,” Elbrion replied. “From time to time you can see their eyes, but they are not moving, only watching.”

  “Something doesn’t feel right about this place,” Celdorn added. “I am uneasy.”

  “And I as well, but we have little choice if we wish to remain somewhat hidden through the night. Try to get some sleep. You will need it for tomorrow. I foresee a difficult path ahead of us.”

  Celdorn laid back. “I have no doubt you’re right.”

  Elbrion chanted softly, willing his friend to rest.

  “I only hope we’re successful in finding Domar and relieving Elena of that persistent fear. I want her to finally know some peace,” he murmured just before nodding off.

  Elbrion continued to sing as he pulled the blanket over Celdorn and watched him sleep. He would not join him. He felt a strong need to stand guard this night.

  ~

  “We’re under attack!” a voice called from the darkness.

  Celdorn jumped to his feet, gripping the hilt of his sword, which was still strapped to his side. With a muzzy head, he looked around, trying to ascertain who had cried out and from which direction.

  Elbrion grabbed his arm. “This way.” Celdorn followed as Elbrion headed for the east end of the camp.

  Dozens of others joined them in scrambling toward the source of the agonized screams now filling the wood. At the far end of the camp, a wall of men formed, bright flames eating up the night just past them.

  When Celdorn arrived, he pushed his way to the fore. Taking in what was happening, he assessed the best line of action and moved forward to intervene. Two sets of arms grabbed him and firmly pulled him back.

  “No, Celdorn, it’s certain death,” Zarandiel warned him.

  Celdorn pulled himself free with a growl. “We have to do something.”

  “Grymar and Zakim tried, but now they’re engulfed as well.”

  On the ground twenty yards in front of them, lay three writhing masses, covered by something dark and fluid. Near them were two others engulfed in flames, screaming as the fire devoured their clothes.

  “What’s that on the men?”

  “Andiwan,” Zarandiel replied, “but the likes of which I’ve never seen. They’re ten times their natural size.”

  “Those are Andiwan? There must be thousands of them.” The venomous red ants were native to the area. Their sting was said to be extremely painful, and the venom, in sufficient quantities, could paralyze a small animal.

  The two men engulfed in flames threw themselves to the ground in an attempt to extinguish the fire, but the flames were too far advanced. Half a dozen Guardians carried buckets of water from the stream and doused them the best they could. Those rendering aid then quickly turned and ran back to the stream and dove into the waters to wash away the ants that bit into their feet and ankles.

  “Where are they coming from?” Celdorn asked.

  “From behind those rocks.” Zarandiel pointed. “There’s a steady stream moving between the two tall boulders.”

  “We must set fire to their trail.”

  “That’s what Grymar and Zakim were attempting, but when the ants began to sting them, they tried to burn those near their feet and inadvertently lit themselves on fire.”

  Celdorn grunted. “We can’t just stand here.” He scanned the forest floor. “Grab torches, light branches, use whatever you can find,” he called. “Make a line on both sides and move toward the rocks burning the ground in front of you. We need to disrupt their column.”

  Celdorn hurried toward the two boulders giving a wide berth to those being attacked. The two lines of men swept the fire along the edge of the rocks and quickly moved toward each other until about six feet apart. Between them lay a river of red ants, three feet wide. The men advanced, carefully torching the entire column. A high-pitched squeal went up from the miniature ranks. The ants nearest the rocks retreated into their shelter, scurrying under the closest stones. When the men had made a ten-foot break in the stream of ants, they turned and moved toward the Andiwan’s victims, burning as close to them as they dared.

  By that time, two of the masses had stopped writhing. Those rendering aid used the edge of their swords or whatever stick they could find to brush the ants off their surviving comrades and then burn them on the ground. It was a futile effort. The ants had burrowed under the clothing of the Guardians and were far too many to stop. The venom had taken effect, paralyzing their victims. It was neither a swift nor painless death; those being attacked continued to cry out in agony.

  Nogiel managed to pull himself to his knees. “Kill me!” he begged.
/>
  Balam stood paralyzed in front of him, unable to do it.

  Celdorn stepped up, whispered a blessing, and delivered Nogiel to his final rest. His head rolled to the ground, and Balam stood horror-struck as his friend’s body slumped over. Celdorn heaved a deep breath and quickly alleviated the agony of Zakim and Grymar as well. He would deal with his own

  “Move back,” Celdorn called to the others as he torched the bodies of the dead and the surrounding area.

  The men retreated as the flames consumed their comrades. One by one they dropped to their knees and held their swords to their foreheads in tribute. Celdorn’s shoulders slumped as a blade twisted in his own heart. Tears fell even as a rage blossomed in his chest.

  “Set fire to the rocks,” Celdorn roared, breaking the men out of their grief-stricken stupor. He ran into the dark then returned, bow in hand. He wrapped the end of an arrow with a strip of linen they used for bandages and lit it in the fire. Setting the arrow to the bow, he launched it with a high arc so that it landed just the other side of the rocks, where they’d cut off the stream of ants. A dozen followed his example until the far side of the boulders was red with flame. The men watched the blaze in reverent silence.

  ~

  When they debriefed later, Celdorn learned that the ants had encircled the three men while they slept and had attacked simultaneously from all sides with such speed their victims didn’t stand a chance. Zarandiel commented on the extreme intelligence this plan of attack denoted and how fortunate they were that they hadn’t lost more men.

  “There is something unearthly about those insects,” Elbrion said. “I suspect they have been set here as some sort of guardians, knowing this is the only place where wayfarers might take shelter. It also explains why there are no creatures in this wood.”

  No one slept the remainder of the night. The company withdrew to the western edge of the forest to await the dawn. The two dozen who’d been bitten by the ants experienced excruciating pain and spent much of the night in feverish delirium from the venom. By morning, they were too weak to assist in the search for Domar.

  The horrors of the night in the grove increased Celdorn’s dread of what other perils they might encounter in the Gap.

  Chapter 10

  The same night the Andiwan struck, Elena climbed into her bed, weary to the depths of her soul and overwhelmed by a despair that life would never change. The men took their assigned places in front of the many doors. When Sasha jumped on the bed next to Elena, Silvandir shooed her away, sending her to her bed by the hearth.

  Haldor approached Elena. “I know today has been difficult for you. Is there anything I can do to ease your heart before I retire to the other room?”

  She gazed at him from glistening eyes, silently pleading for him to pull her from the hole into which she was sinking.

  “What is it you are afraid to say, Yabéha?”

  “Would you be willing to... to sing for me? An Elnar song? I’ve found when my adai sing in that language, peace enters my heart.”

  Haldor smiled. “Most gladly. I have raised five children and spent many hours singing them to sleep. They are older now and those days seem far removed, but the memory is still sweet.” He pulled a chair next to the bed and relaxed into it.

  After a moment’s thought, Haldor chose an Elnar lullaby that he said was a favorite of his oldest daughter, Lizella. As he sang the peaceful words, tears flowed down his cheeks, and Elena wondered if he thought of his family, if he missed them. The thought brought an odd twist to her heart.

  Eventually, Elena drifted into a peaceful slumber.

  ~

  Braiden slept in a chair tilted back against the corridor door in Celdorn’s room. His eyes shot open when he felt warm lips pressed against his. In the dim light, he couldn’t see her well but knew it had to be Elena. He started to say something, but she put her finger to his lips and pressed a blade into his throat. As she moved her leg to straddle him, he realized she was unclothed. His mind raced, trying to decide how to manage this without offending or hurting her.

  “Shh! No talking,” she whispered as her left hand slid down his chest, pulled his shirt open, then tugged at the top of his pants. She kissed him again, more forcefully this time, while her right hand, in one steady pass, moved the dagger to his pants, slit through the laces, then brought it back to his throat

  “El-Elena, n-no,” Braiden whispered.

  “Elena? Don’t insult me. I’m no little girl.” Her left hand caressed his chest and moved over his abdomen as she ground into his lap.

  “G-Giara?” he tried again, his voice squeaking with surprise when she reached between his legs. He grabbed her hand to stop her, but the dagger pricked his throat in warning. He pulled back.

  “Gia? Just as useless,” she replied with disdain. “Mmm, you are a young one. Not even a hint of a beard.” She purred seductively as she caressed his chin. “Has the sweet, handsome Braiden ever been with a woman?” She nibbled at his ear lobe, her warm breath sending a chill down his spine. “I know you want me. I can feel it.” Her tongue traced the cleft in his chest, circled his navel then moved past his severed waistband.

  Braiden’s chair dropped to the ground with a thud. He froze as Elena fell to her knees between his legs, the dagger now in a more precarious position. Her mouth embraced him, and he dug his nails into the chair, fighting his body’s reaction—and failing.

  “That was quick.” She laughed and patted his thigh. “I thought you’d enjoy that.”

  Braiden’s face was on fire; he was horrified, humiliated.

  “Elena, stop.” Silvandir was awake and had another lamp. His eyes widened when she turned, exposing what she’d done to Braiden. Then as she rose and moved toward him, swinging her hips suggestively, Silvandir’s eyes fixed on her naked body, mouth agape.

  With the added light, the transformation was much more noticeable. This woman was taller, more curvaceous and sinewy than Elena. Her long hair was the color of a raven, and her skin swarthy like a Rogaran woman. She looked years older than the Elena they knew.

  Silvandir took a hesitant step toward her. “You don’t want to do this, Elena.”

  “Oh please, I’m not your little light.” The woman’s lip curled in a sneer that morphed suddenly into a seductive curl. “But I could bring a little fire into your world.” She made a guttural sound as her eyes took in his bare chest. “And you’re wrong: I do want to do this.” Her gaze moved lower and a wicked grin spread across her face. “And I know you want me too. Every part of you is screaming for me to eat you up.”

  In one quick move, her left hand gripped his neck and pulled it down so she could kiss him, while her dagger slit the top of his pants, sending them to the floor.

  “There’s plenty of me for all of you. Elena could never handle so many men.” As Silvandir tried to push her shoulders back, her left arm wrapped around the small of his back and her belly pressed in closer. “Mmm, and you are quite a man.” She giggled as she squeezed his buttocks and then began to stroke his manhood. Silvandir shoved her away, his face reflecting the same horror Braiden had felt.

  Braiden averted his gaze, embarrassed, but didn’t know how to help, what to do.

  “Haldor!” Silvandir called.

  “Ooo, more fun.”

  By this time, Sasha and Mikaelin were up. Without hesitation, Mikaelin grabbed a blanket and approached the woman from the side.

  “Mikaelin, don’t stop the party,” she scolded, letting go of Silvandir and slinking toward him. “I could teach you how to be a real man, even with only half the equipment. I bet I can get things to function properly.”

  Braiden winced at the jab, horrified she’d so heartlessly exposed Mikaelin’s secret.

  The woman laughed and reached between Mikaelin’s legs. “You just need someone with experience to show you the way. Our dark sides can play together. I’ll even let you dominate and get out some of that pent-up aggression.” She nipped at his chin playfully. “Ooo, see... it
all works fine.”

  Mikaelin pulled himself free from her grasp and attempted to cover her with the blanket just as Haldor entered the room, followed by Dalgo and Tobil.

  The woman yanked herself free of Mikaelin’s grip and held up a hand toward Haldor, who had begun to sing. “No, I don’t want to hear your voice.”

  When her attention was turned, Mikaelin wrapped the blanket around her, enfolding her in his arms. The woman struggled and twisted. Mikaelin gasped then staggered backward. Sasha barked with distress.

  Haldor sang louder and light filled the room. Elena wiggled loose of the blanket and spun around just as the shift happened. Haldor dashed forward and grabbed the dagger from her pale hand.

  ~

  When Elena’s mind cleared, the first thing she saw was Haldor holding a bloody dagger and stepping away from her. She glanced down, wondering if she’d been wounded, and was shocked to find she was naked. Then, she noticed Mikaelin moving back, looking as if he had just removed the blanket from her. Frantically, she turned and found Braiden, face bright red as he held his trousers by the waist, and Silvandir just raising his, equally embarrassed. Panicked, she let out an agonized scream.

  The guard from the hall immediately responded and attempted to enter, but Braiden threw himself against the door. “St-stay out!”

  Silvandir moved toward her, one hand held out in a conciliatory gesture. “It’s all right, Elena. It’s not what it looks like,” he assured her. “I can explain.”

  Elena didn’t hear anything else. With her mind and heart racing, she turned and fled toward the antechamber. She pushed past Dalgo, who stood near the doorway. She slammed the door and pulled a chair over to prop against it, tipping it under the latch. She hurried to the door leading to Elbrion’s room and did the same. She was already diminishing as she turned toward the corner of the room and cowered there in the dark, trapped and terrified.