Journey to Queyon: The Innocence Cycle, Book 3

by J D Abbas

  Chapter 11

  Silvandir knocked on the antechamber door. “Elena, let us in. We won’t hurt you.” He realized, even as he spoke it, how empty the assurance must sound to her. He shoved at the door, but it refused to open. The more he shoved and pounded, the more he sensed her fear exploding on the other side.

  Dalgo clasped Silvandir’s shoulder. “I’m going to see to Mikaelin. I think he’s hurt.” The healer hurried across the room. Silvandir glanced over when he heard Dalgo’s gasp.

  “Did she stab you?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think it was intentional.” Mikaelin’s voice was strained as Dalgo eased him back onto the bed. “It didn’t go deep.”

  Haldor and Tobil joined Silvandir at the door. Together they pushed. Inch by inch, they shoved back whatever she had used to block the door until there was enough of an opening to squeeze through. Haldor, the leanest of the three, slipped in and moved the obstruction. When the door opened, a shaft of light pierced the darkened room revealing a small child huddled in the far corner.

  Silvandir ran to her. She was on her knees, pulled into a ball, banging her head rhythmically against the wall. He put his hand between her head and the bloodied stone and gently pulled her back. Her scalp was split open and blood gushed down her cheeks. The girl had lost control of her bodily functions as well and was kneeling in the mess.

  “Dalgo, we need you,” Tobil called into the other room.

  When Silvandir scooped the little girl into his arms, she let out a high-pitched, heart-wrenching wail that sent chills through him. Then she went limp, almost lifeless. He stood to carry her to the bed, and cursed as his pants dropped to the floor. “Here, take her,” he said, handing the girl to Haldor.

  Braiden appeared in the doorway just as Silvandir lifted his trousers. The young healer blushed and averted his eyes. “D-Dalgo told me to c-come. H-he’s busy t-tending Mikaelin.” The young man hesitated then hurried to Elena’s side. Tobil lit the lantern on the table near the head of the bed. Braiden’s face went white when he saw the blood soaking her pillow.

  The young healer rose to grab the water pitcher and a towel, holding tight to his severed waistband. He tried to tie the torn laces so he’d have both hands free, but quickly gave it up. He tucked the towel under his arm, held the pitcher with his free hand, and hurried back to Elena.

  Exasperated, Silvandir said, “Tobil, find some trousers for Braiden and me.”

  Braiden knelt and attempted to wash Elena’s wound, but as soon as the cloth left the cut, the blood flowed again. He held the towel in place as he closed his eyes and sucked in several nervous breaths. Haldor laid his hand on Braiden’s shoulder and whispered words of light. The healer’s hands steadied. When he touched the girl’s face, words poured softly from his lips. Braiden removed the towel and traced the gash on her scalp. As his fingers moved, the wound healed instantly, leaving only a dark scar behind.

  Tobil returned and tossed a pair of trousers to Silvandir and Braiden.

  “We need to clean her up while she’s still small,” Silvandir said as he put on the fresh pants and tucked in his shirt. After he lifted the girl and headed toward the door, he called behind him for the others to find some clothes for her. Haldor followed Silvandir to the bathing room, and Braiden soon joined them.

  Haldor waited until they had washed Elena and wrapped her in a blanket before attempting to bring her back. As he chanted, Elena slowly shifted into her seventeen-year-old self.

  When she opened her eyes and found she was wrapped in a blanket in Silvandir’s arms, her fear exploded again and she fought to get free.

  Silvandir held her firmly. “Elena, I want you to listen to me before I let go.”

  She stopped struggling but stared away from him, her lips in a tight line.

  “You arose from your bed in an altered state a short time ago.” Elena immediately turned and stared at him with horror, making Silvandir’s heart catch. He swallowed back the emotion and plunged ahead. “Haldor had just called you back when you saw what you did. I can explain what was happening. Things were not how they appeared.”

  Elena closed her eyes, and he felt the shame that washed through her. “Did I do anything horrible?” When he didn’t respond, her eyes popped open. “What did I do?” she whispered.

  “Some things you normally wouldn’t,” Silvandir replied.

  She looked at Braiden then back at Silvandir. “Did I remove your clothes?”

  “Yes,” Silvandir answered for them. Braiden stared at the floor, his shame nearly equal to the girl’s.

  Elena moaned. “What else did I do?” While Silvandir struggled with how to respond to that, Elena twisted in his arms. “Turn me loose,” she demanded.

  Silvandir held tight. “Not yet.”

  “Then answer my questions,” she snapped.

  Silvandir blew out a slow breath before he described the things Elena had done in as broad of terms as possible. She closed her eyes again. When he mentioned that she’d stabbed Mikaelin during the struggle, her eyes shot open and her face paled.

  “Is he ...is he all right?”

  “Dalgo is tending him.”

  “Let me up.” She pushed against his arms, teeth gritted.

  “There’s more,” Silvandir warned.

  She lay back and squeezed her eyes tight. “What else did I do?”

  Silvandir described how she had shifted, and the condition in which they’d found her.

  “What? Oh my god.” Elena tried to pull a hand free as he looked toward her healed brow, but her arms were pinned inside the blanket. She squirmed and kicked. “Let me up, Silvandir. I don’t want to hear any more.”

  Silvandir set his jaw. “Elena, you’re naked.” She stopped struggling. “We brought you in here to bathe you. I’ll be happy to let you dress yourself, but you must promise to stay here and talk with us. I don’t want you to run away.” She gave a stiff nod, and Silvandir sat her on the bench. “Here are your clothes.”

  Elena pulled one arm free and clutched her things, refusing to look at him. Silvandir hated that he could not ease her distress and that she was angry with him yet again.

  Haldor and Braiden turned their backs, while Silvandir stepped in front of the door to make sure no one entered—and no one left. He heard her sobbing as she dressed.

  “You may turn around.” Elena was curled on the bench hugging her knees when they moved toward her. “I want to see Mikaelin.”

  “First, I must speak with you,” Haldor said, sitting on the floor in front of her. “I sense a great darkness in you.” The wounded look Elena gave him melted Silvandir’s heart, and Haldor quickly corrected himself. “I meant from shame, not from evil, Yabéha, from shame.” He patted her knee. “I do not want this darkness to consume you. Your welfare is my responsibility ... and ... I love you dearly and do not like to see you in such pain.” He reached out and took her hand. “Talk to me, Elena.”

  “Did all the men see me ... like that?”

  “Only those of our inner circle. Braiden was able to prevent the hallway guards from entering.”

  “All six of you witnessed this?” Elena groaned and leaned toward Haldor, whispering, “I just want to die right now.” Silvandir’s chest constricted, and a lump formed in his throat.

  “Do not despair.” Haldor squeezed her tiny hand. “We are all dealing with something we cannot control here. Did you choose to do what you did tonight?”

  “No, of course not. I would never do that, but that’s not the point.” She put her feet on the floor and leaned closer. “Haldor, I ... exposed myself in front of all of you, and I ... I seduced these men, who are like brothers to me. I’m so humiliated.” She covered her face.

  Silvandir shifted his weight while Braiden stared at the ground and kneaded his knuckles.

  “How did you manage the shame the last time?” Haldor asked.

  “Last time ...?” Elena gasped, holding her hand to her mouth. “You know about that?”

  “Celdor
n informed us so that we would be prepared in the event it recurred. Apparently, he had great foresight.”

  “Or he trusted me little, knowing I would go insane again.”

  Haldor rose to his knees, put his hands on Elena’s head, and whispered in Elnar.

  “Are you searching my mind for proof of my madness?”

  Haldor ignored her comment. “You are not insane.” He sat back on his haunches. “Your mind has deliberately been broken and reconstructed in such a way that you cannot function as a whole person.”

  “What do you mean?” Her eyes darted, and the panic returned.

  “In your training, they did something to divide your mind and mold you into different ... characters, for lack of a better term. These other parts do not come out of who you truly are but are apparently an attempt to adapt to the torture and the abuse. I am not quite sure how to describe it, but I can clearly see and feel it. Are you aware of these other parts of you?”

  She tipped her head as she considered. “I’ve seen them inside, but I understand little about them. I just know that on many occasions I’ve awakened and hours, days, sometimes even months have passed that I don’t recall, or I find myself in a place I don’t recognize and don’t know how I got there.”

  “Can you control how or when these shifts occur?”

  “Not at all. I don’t even feel the change when it’s happening, except that one time with Yaelmargon when I could actually see my body growing smaller. Sometimes after I awaken, I feel dizzy, which warns me that I’ve done something I don’t remember.”

  “The part of you we witnessed tonight seemed comfortable being seductive with a group of men. There was no fear, no timidity. It seemed to be almost a game. Yet, when I called you back, you were terrified. Your immediate response was to run and hide.” Haldor paused.

  “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say ...”

  “Do you not see how necessary it would be for a young girl who is perpetually forced to be among groups of men who degrade and misuse her to develop a hardness, an ability to convince herself that she is not afraid and, in fact, enjoys it and chooses to be there—when the truth is, she has no such choice?”

  “So you’re saying that’s how I endured?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But why tonight? As I told Celdorn before, no one forced me. I wasn’t threatened in any way. Why did I do it?”

  “I do not know.” Haldor studied her thoughtfully. “Perhaps because both of your adai are gone, and as you slept, you heard men all around, which frightened you, so the part of you that is not afraid of men came out to manage the situation.” He gave a slight shrug. “It seems reasonable.”

  Elena wagged her head. “No matter how you explain it, it sounds crazy.”

  “But reasonable.”

  “Not to me.” She looked at Braiden and Silvandir. “I have shamed and humiliated my friends.” She choked up as she said this and tears began to roll down her face. “I’m so sorry.”

  Before either one could respond, Elena gasped and shook her head sharply. “Oh no!”

  “What is it?” Haldor asked.

  “I’m hearing my own words coming back to me, as if tonight is happening all over again.” Elena stood and paced, squeezing her head. “Noooooo!”

  Suddenly she collapsed onto her side and curled in a ball as if to protect herself from coming blows. She twitched and spasmed before struggling to her knees to crawl toward the drain in the floor where she vomited. Then, she curled up again.

  Haldor followed, chanting all the while, and laid his hands on her head. At once, his arms flew back, as if thrust away by some invisible force. Not knowing what else to do, the three men stood by and helplessly waited.

  After a time, Elena calmed and lay still, sobbing. Silvandir longed to comfort her, but knew that now was not the time. When at last she sat up, she focused on him, accusation in her glare. “You didn’t tell me everything.”

  Silvandir shifted his weight and focused on the floor. “Details seemed unnecessary.”

  “I saw and heard it all, and I’m sickened.” A sob strangled in Elena’s throat, and Silvandir looked up to see her eying Braiden, her face a gray mask of shame.

  The young healer flushed. “You...you w-were n-not yourself.”

  “But it has changed something forever between us.” Her eyes moved between Braiden and Silvandir. “It should never have happened.”

  As the images replayed in Silvandir’s mind, he swallowed his own mortification. “No, it should not,” he agreed. “Nor should any of your abuse, nor the torture that divided your mind and created this behavior in you, but we can’t do anything about that. We can only deal with what did happen tonight and move forward.”

  Elena sat quietly with her head down, contemplating his words. Finally, she lifted her gaze to focus on Braiden. “Forgive me.” Her voice caught, and she sucked in a breath. “You’re such a kind, gentle person—the most innocent among us, I’m sure. I am sickened I stole that from you tonight. Please forgive me.”

  “There’s n-nothing to f-forgive.” Braiden’s face was crimson, but his voice was strong as he held Elena’s gaze. “B-but I will forgive if that is w-what you need, asking o-only that you allow this to p-pass and not let it d-destroy the friendship we’ve b-built.” He squatted down to face her directly. “If you r-recall, you’ve already b-been exposed to m-me many times, and I’ve t-touched you in delicate places under d-different circumstances. I d-don’t choose to think of you in-in that way, b-but as the young woman I h-have grown to love as m-my friend and ...and m-my sister.”

  “You’re far too kind, Braiden, and obviously a better person than I, but I will make the attempt.”

  Then she turned to Silvandir. “And I ask for your forgiveness as well, Silvandir ...my first friend.” A sob squeaked out, twisting his heart. “It seems our relationship is forever being tested.”

  “I don’t see any need to forgive either.” He dropped to his knees in front of her, and Braiden moved back. “As we have talked about before, you’re not responsible for what you can’t control. I’ll forgive you, if it eases your heart, but what happened tonight alters nothing in my mind.” He reached out and stroked her hair. “My love is unchanged.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Silvandir saw Haldor smile, which made the heat rise up his neck. He cleared his throat and stood, offering his hand to Elena.

  With a heavy sigh, she allowed him to pull her to her feet. “You’re all too gracious with me.” She rubbed her arms like she was chilled, and her color fled. “Now I must see Mikaelin. The wound I inflicted on him with my words is far worse than any dagger’s bite, though I deeply regret that as well.”

  Chapter 12

  When Elena and her escorts entered Celdorn’s room, she saw Mikaelin lying on the bed, deathly pale, bloodied cloths spread around him. Her heart caught in her throat.

  Sasha trotted over to her and gently licked her cheek as if the dog knew she needed tenderness right now and not to be plowed over. She laid her arm across the dog’s shoulder as she continued forward, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.

  Dalgo, who’d just finished stitching Mikaelin’s wound, explained to Haldor that the knife had hit the sternum and deflected, causing a nasty three-inch gash but no severe damage.

  “May I speak with him?” Elena asked Dalgo.

  The healer stepped back, unable to look at her directly. “Of course.” The knife of shame twisted far deeper in Elena’s chest than the one that had hurt Mikaelin.

  Elena gaped at the stitched wound, bile rising again. “M-may I speak with you privately? I promise I’ll do nothing inappropriate.”

  “I don’t fear you, Elena.” Mikaelin nodded toward the others.

  “We will be in Elbrion’s chamber. Let us know when you are finished,” Haldor said as they filed out.

  Elena sat on the edge of the bed, and Sasha quietly lay at her feet. “How bad is it?”

  “It’s fairly shallow. It�
��ll mend.” Mikaelin put his hand on hers. “You didn’t stab me intentionally. It happened when I wrapped you in a blanket.”

  Elena reached toward his chest then changed her mind, letting her hand drop. “Does it hurt?”

  Mikaelin grabbed his shirt and laid it over the wound as if self-conscious. “I’d be lying if I said no.” He pulled his elbows under him. “May I sit up before we continue?”

  “Oh, of course.” Elena scooted to the side.

  Mikaelin groaned as he rose, which made her stomach twist. He sat next to her on the edge of the bed and put on his shirt. Elena waited until he was settled.

  “I-I wanted to speak with you privately because of what happened. There’s a wound I inflicted that is far worse than the dagger’s.” Shame choked her as the memory replayed.

  “Elena, it’s all right.”

  “No, Mikaelin, it’s not all right. Of all the things that went on here”—she glanced around the room, cringing inside—“what I said to you pains my heart the most. As the others told me what happened, all the words and images came pouring back, as if someone had opened a floodgate.” She paused, searching for words.

  “Y-you told me things about yourself, some very private things. You trusted me with your secrets and somehow in that altered state I used it against you. I’m so ashamed of what I said and”— she closed her eyes—“what I did to you ... in front of the others. I would never want you to use my memories against me. I’m sickened, horrified that I did that to you.” Elena hugged herself. “I-I would never humiliate or hurt you in my right mind.” She sniffled and clasped his arm. “Please forgive me, and please don’t stop trusting me.”

  “Elena, I know this is tormenting you, but as we talked about after the incident with Celdorn, you weren’t yourself. This didn’t come from your true heart. I’m convinced of that. We’ve shared many difficult things. We’ll get past this.” Then he paused and looked at her sideways. “At least we know you were right: things do work.”

  Elena gawked at him. “I can’t believe you said that.” When she saw the twinkle in his eye, she swatted his arm, and they burst out laughing. Sasha sat up and stared at the two of them as if she might need to intervene.