Behind the Third Door: The Innocence Cycle, Book 2

by J D Abbas

Haldor turned his gaze back to Celdorn. “We encountered fierce opposition. The creatures Noramar described were more cunning and powerful than we anticipated. Tobil, who was himself injured, judged we needed a strong guard to accompany the wounded back to Kelach, which left few in Rhamal. With your leave, we will send out reinforcements this afternoon after briefing them as to the threat. We believe a detachment of fifty would be appropriate.”

  “I have no objection,” Celdorn replied, watching as the wounded were carried past him. They were taking them to the Great Hall, which stood on the first floor directly under Celdorn’s and Elbrion’s chambers. Dalgo ordered men to gather pallets for the wounded to lie upon.

  Elena pulled in closer to Celdorn’s side as a flurry of activity erupted around them. Her heart ached for Lavan and Nakara. She stifled another sob as more and more men flooded from the keep, helping to carry the wounded, seeing to the fallen, or tending the Ilqazar. Celdorn held his arm around her protectively, though his attention was elsewhere. His troubled eyes swept the crowd searching for something.

  “It is Silvandir,” Haldor said, as if reading his thoughts. “He was seriously wounded. Two of the creatures caught him unawares, savagely attacking his face and leg. The beasts have a vicious bite, able to sunder flesh from bone with little effort. Dalgo mended him the best he could, but he has no feeling in his right leg and continues to lose blood.”

  Celdorn’s body tensed. Elena clung to him, her own heart stuttering as vivid images of what Haldor described flashed through her mind.

  Celdorn moved with the flow of men toward the Great Hall. He pulled Elena along with him, or more accurately, she was holding so tightly to him that he couldn’t have proceeded without her had he tried. They watched as mats were spread throughout the large room and the wounded laid in rows.

  When Silvandir was carried in, Celdorn pulled away from her and ran to his side to help lower him to the floor. Kneeling beside his limp body, her ada stroked Silvandir’s matted hair, speaking things Elena couldn’t hear.

  She stared at the man she knew to be Silvandir, though she would never had recognized him as such. One side of his face looked as if it had been shattered then pieced back together. It was distended and misshapen. Bloodied bandages hung loosely over the wounds and across his left eye. The right side of his body was bare, exposing where the creature had torn flesh from his hip and leg. The stitched wounds were inflamed and still bleeding. The blanket on which he was carried was so saturated it left a crimson trail as they moved. Elena didn’t know how a person could lose that much blood and still be alive. As they settled him on the ground, his arms flopped over the sides of the pallet. Her friend, a giant of a man, matched only by Celdorn in stature, always so strong, so invincible, lay before her nearly lifeless. She was shaken to the core.

  Mikaelin knelt next to Silvandir, opposite Celdorn; Elena tried but couldn’t will herself to join them. She stood frozen between the rows of pallets as the room crowded with more wounded.

  Men hurried in every direction, calling out for others to help. One bumped into her in his haste, knocking Elena to her knees. As she rose, she saw the mats filling up behind her, then to her left, to the right. The room spun. Bloodied faces, shredded flesh, mangled arms and legs, cries of pain reeled around her. The images enlarged, forcing themselves into her consciousness, pounding at her brain, until overwhelmed, she collapsed.

  Elbrion appeared from nowhere and caught her. He carried her to the side of the room and sat against the wall, cradling her and singing softly. She stared up at him, confused.

  “It is overwhelming, Sheya.” His voice was so gentle, like a fresh breeze.

  “Is Silvandir going to die?”

  “I do not see the future.”

  “Can’t Braiden or Mikaelin heal him?”

  “Apparently not. Mikaelin loves him dearly and would give his life for him. I am sure if there were anything he could have done, he would have. The same is true with Braiden.” His gaze drifted off to some faraway place. “There are times I do not understand the will of the Jhadhela,” he murmured.

  “I’m so ashamed of myself. I wanted to go to him, but I couldn’t will my body to move,” Elena confessed. “When I was hurt, Silvandir came so quickly to be with me. Why can’t I do the same?”

  “We can only do what we are able, Sheyshon, nothing more.” He stroked her hair and chanted a soothing melody. Elena opened her heart and tried to absorb his tranquility, but the chaos was too great.

  “Elbrion!” Dalgo called. “We need you here.”

  “I will return shortly.” Elbrion kissed Elena on the head and set her on the ground. “Stay here,” he added before he rushed to Dalgo’s side.

  The man they had just carried in screamed with pain and needed Elbrion’s help to find a better place on which to focus. It didn’t look like he would survive. When Elbrion was finished with that man, Braiden asked him to assist with another.

  Elena waited for Elbrion, trying to summon the courage to go to Silvandir. The noise in the hall escalated to a roar as more men arrived to help with the wounded. One of those lying near her cried out in pain as his wounds were cleansed. Elena felt herself shifting as she moved away from his agonized howls, searching desperately for somewhere to hide.

  ~

  “What’s that child doing in here?” a young warrior said as he noticed Gia wandering among the wounded. He picked her up. “Who do you belong to?”

  Gia shrugged and shook her head. It was best not to answer questions.

  “Well, this isn’t a good place for you.” He carried her out of the Great Hall and stopped to speak with a guard just outside the door. “Dalvon, can you find somewhere safe for this girl? She was walking around in there alone.”

  “How did a child end up in the keep? I didn’t realize they brought in children from the village.”

  “I don’t know where she came from, but I need to get back inside.”

  The man tried to hand Gia to the other Guardian, but she pushed away and squirmed out of his arms. “Watch out, you’re going to drop her.”

  When he set her on the ground, she turned and bolted through the door into the Great Hall, squeezing between the legs of the men standing just inside.

  ~

  Elbrion glanced up to check on Elena. She was gone. He stood and looked around but could not find her. He hurried to ask Celdorn if he had seen her.

  “No, I’ve been busy with Silvandir.” Celdorn’s brow creased with worry as he jumped up and joined Elbrion in searching the Great Hall. They rushed to the entrance and asked the guards if Elena had passed that way. No one had noticed her.

  “Have you seen any strange men in the keep?” Celdorn asked.

  “No, sir,” the guards replied in unison.

  Celdorn and Elbrion separated in the corridor so they could cover both sets of stairs, checking with the men who guarded the way to the second floor. No one had seen her recently nor had any unfamiliar faces passed.

  Celdorn ran up to his chambers on the off chance she had slipped past the guards. He returned without her. They took several men with them and searched the main entrance hall then moved on to the bailey. Celdorn sent others to search the practice arena and sleeping quarters.

  She was nowhere to be found.

  Chapter 28

  After running away from the guard, Gia darted between legs and kept running, unsure of where she was or where she should go. She just wanted to find a safe place. When she reached the far side of the hall, she cowered in a dark corner, hiding behind the edge of a tapestry.

  From the shadows, she stared at the injured men lying on the mats. As she watched, her fear subsided and her heart began to absorb the agony of those near her. She tilted her head, listening to silent cries of anguished promises and whispered words of love to far away families. She felt pulled to her feet and directed to certain mats. Quietly she moved, almost unseen, touching the feet of those whose pleas reached her inner ear. After she’d passed ten or more men, s
he came to someone who seemed familiar.

  Gia stood by his feet, hearing Elena’s name being whispered, though the man looked asleep. She thought she had seen him before but was unsure. Maybe he was one of Elena’s new friends. Gia recognized Braiden, who knelt by his side.

  “El-Elena, what are you d-doing here?” Braiden asked. “Y-your adai have been looking everywhere f-for you.” He glanced toward another man. “Mikaelin, can you t-take her upstairs? She m-must be terrified b-by all of this.”

  Gia bent down and touched the foot of the man on the mat, whispering, “Abriano ata elindono,” softly so no one would hear. Then she rose, turned toward Mikaelin and raised her arms. He hesitated, then picked her up. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, burying her face in his shoulder. Something about him made her feel safe. Gia sensed how sad he was, and she wanted to help him feel better.

  “I’ll take her to Celdorn and return shortly.” Mikaelin glanced at the man lying so still. “If anything happens, send someone to find me right away,” he told Braiden.

  When they reached the bottom of a large stairway, he asked the guards if they knew where Celdorn or Elbrion was.

  “Celdorn was here looking for Elena,” the guard said, glancing curiously at Gia. “He seemed worried. I think he’s searching the bailey.”

  Mikaelin hurried through a large, arched doorway. “There they are,” he whispered to her before whistling sharply. Two men turned and immediately ran toward them. Gia recognized both of them.

  “Where was she?” Celdorn asked.

  “She found us,” Mikaelin replied. “Braiden and I were with Silvandir, and she suddenly appeared at his feet, like this.” He nodded toward her.

  When he tried to hand her to Celdorn, she clung to him, refusing to let go. Mikaelin needed her.

  “It’s all right, little one,” Celdorn said, placing his hand on her back. “Stay where you feel safe.”

  “I’ll carry her upstairs for you,” Mikaelin said.

  Celdorn led the way and Elbrion followed behind them. The giant men in the bailey and through the corridors stared at her, so she hid her face in Mikaelin’s neck.

  When they arrived in Celdorn’s room, Mikaelin pulled back so he could see her face. “You don’t have to be afraid. You’re safe here.”

  Gia didn’t respond, but she wasn’t afraid. She had felt the pain in Mikaelin’s heart when he was standing by the sleeping man and immediately was drawn to him. Now gazing into his dark, troubled eyes, she wanted to communicate something she didn’t know how to. Without looking away, she put the palm of her hand over his heart. Mikaelin cried out and nearly dropped her as he fell to his knees. Sadness washed from him into her. Tears—real tears—sparkled in his eyes as he gazed back at her. Gia cocked her head and watched him, wondering if he would let the tears fall like Celdorn had.

  “I don’t understand. Are you trying to tell me Silvandir’s going to die?” His whole body shook at those words. “I-I have to get back to him.”

  Gia nodded, kissed his cheek, and held out her arms toward Celdorn. The men were looking at each other like she had done something that confused them.

  “I am at a loss as well,” Elbrion said.

  “I’ll return to the hall shortly,” Celdorn told Mikaelin. “I will tend to Elena and then join you.”

  Mikaelin gave a stiff nod, glanced at her, and left.

  ~

  “Dalgo, come quick!” a man at the far end of the Great Hall called just as Mikaelin came through the main doors.

  The healer rushed to his side, his face wrought with concern. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. His fever is gone, and he says he has no more pain.” Tragod motioned toward Foridor, one of the men who had been most severely wounded.

  Dalgo knelt next to him and pulled back the bandages. His eyes widened in surprise. “His injuries are nearly healed. I don’t understand.”

  “Dalgo, over here,” another man said from across the narrow aisle as the wounded Guardian he was tending sat up. “Look at this!”

  Back and forth the length of that aisle, the wounded were sitting up and talking, saying their pain was gone or diminishing. Dalgo checked one after another, finding that their injuries were healing at an accelerated rate.

  When Dalgo noticed Mikaelin watching, he asked, “Did you heal any of these men?”

  “No, I haven’t been able to do anything.” Mikaelin shifted his weight, fighting off the guilt of his failure. “What do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know. Neither you nor Braiden have felt the Jhadhela’s prompting to heal any of the injured, and yet these two rows of men have experienced tremendous improvement in a short time.” Dalgo’s brow pulled down as he pointed toward the men. “It’s nothing short of miraculous, but I’m baffled as to what caused it.”

  “Silvandir!” Mikaelin turned and dashed to where he was lying.

  “Hello, my friend.” Silvandir’s grin was crooked and weak as he struggled to sit up.

  Mikaelin dropped to his knees next to the pallet and looked across at Braiden. “How is he?”

  “Amazingly b-b-better.” The young healer looked stunned but managed a smile.

  Silvandir grimaced as he tried to pull the edge of the blanket over his exposed hip. “I can feel my leg again. though I must agree with you: it was better when there was no sensation.”

  Mikaelin gaped and resisted the urge to touch his friend’s flesh. The wound was completely healed, but it had left a nasty scar. He examined his neck and face. “Your mouth is moving more freely too. I can understand you now. Perhaps you can drink again without giving yourself a bath.” He laughed, almost giddy with relief.

  Silvandir sobered and met his gaze. “Thank you for staying by my side. It was a great comfort to me.”

  Mikaelin dipped his chin, unable to respond. A wave of emotion hit him when he realized how greatly he had feared Silvandir wouldn’t survive and that he had missed the chance to tell him things he should have said long ago. Mikaelin bowed his head and looked away.

  “Don’t go all sentimental on me,” Silvandir said and nudged his shoulder. “You act as if I was at death’s door.”

  Mikaelin rubbed his eyes and turned back to his friend. “You were well on your way. And I could do nothing for you.” He tugged at his beard, trying to stop the quiver that shook his chin. “I was convinced that if by some miracle you did survive, you would never have use of your leg again. It seems even that is no longer the case.” Mikaelin swallowed hard, unable to hold Silvandir’s gaze. “I am… relieved.”

  Emotion overwhelmed him, and throwing aside his usual reserve, he bent down to hug Silvandir, who seemed surprised but returned the embrace with a fierceness that startled Mikaelin. This man was not his brother by blood but certainly by choice.

  ~

  Celdorn sat by his fireside, holding Elena and singing softly. Elbrion had gone back to the Great Hall to help with the injured after the girl fell asleep. She had just returned to her older form but hadn’t awakened.

  The guard in the hallway rapped on the door and opened it a crack. “You have a visitor,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  Celdorn looked down at Elena and hesitated.

  “You’ll want to receive him.” The guard smiled and stepped to the side, pulling the door open.

  “Silvandir!” Celdorn jumped to his feet, jostling Elena awake.

  Silvandir stood in the doorway with his arm draped over Mikaelin’s shoulder, his right leg bent and head still bandaged, but he was upright. Silvandir broke into a vibrant smile. Sasha jumped up from beside Celdorn’s feet and loped toward Silvandir, tail wagging and yipping with excitement. Silvandir braced himself against Mikaelin when she rose to put her paws on his shoulders, mercilessly licking his face.

  “Enough, enough, Sasha. They already washed me up.” Silvandir laughed and pushed her down, stumbling to the side with a wince of pain.

  Celdorn set Elena on her feet and ran to Silvandir, steadying hi
m and wrapping him in a strong embrace. “This is amazing.” Celdorn pulled backed and held Silvandir’s shoulders, tears filling his eyes. “I didn’t think you would survive and yet…” His throat tightened and words evaporated.

  “Apparently, I was in far worse condition than any of you let on,” Silvandir said. “You all act as if I am a corpse sprung to life.”

  “I must have misjudged.”

  “No, your assessment was accurate,” Mikaelin said. “Dalgo and Braiden held out little hope because we couldn’t control the bleeding.”

  “What happened to change that?” Celdorn asked.

  “We don’t know. Suddenly he stopped bleeding, and his body started to heal at an accelerated rate. And not only Silvandir, many others are experiencing the same.”

  “Was it your touch or Braiden’s?”

  “No, I was here with you and Elena at the time,” Mikaelin replied. “And while Braiden was tending to Silvandir, he didn’t feel the Jhadhela moving in him at all.”

  “I think the answer lies there,” Silvandir said with a nod toward Elena.

  ~

  Elena stood off to the side, fighting back tears. Silvandir glanced over at her and smiled. As he limped toward her, she hung her head.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered just before he reached her.

  Silvandir cupped her chin and lifted it. “For what?” Concern creased his bruised brow.

  “For not coming to your side as I should have. When I saw your wounds, I froze. No matter how desperately my heart wanted to move, my body wouldn’t cooperate.” Tears slid down her upturned face.

  His eyes crinkled with puzzlement as he wiped the streams with his thumbs. “But you did come to me. I cried out for you, and you came. I saw you standing by my feet.”

  Elena searched her memory. “Are you sure you didn’t imagine it?”

  “If I did, it was a powerful illusion. You whispered something in what sounded like Raphar and touched my foot. Then my body began to heal.”