by J D Abbas
They continued to climb straight up into the mountains. Charaq hoped the guards would think they were hiding in the woods and concentrate their search there. In spite of Amia’s valiant effort, at five, she was just too small to climb up the boulders. Charaq had to lift her then scramble up after her.
Sarana followed with little assistance. She managed well for a nine-year-old. He had helped train her in battle and survival skills and felt a small swell of pride as he watched her determination to keep up.
Not more than ten minutes later, he heard frantic yelling and knew they must have found Borham. When high-pitched screams followed, he knew Shekalia and Lissia were most likely with him. There was nothing he could do but continue on with the girls.
When they had almost reached the crest of the foothills, they found a path. They followed it to the north, toward Greenholt. Charaq led the way carrying Amia, watchful for loose rocks and dips in the trail, grateful for the easier path. Sarana did a good job of keeping up.
As they came around a turn in the path, they found themselves in the middle of a lookout post. The three drunken guards sprawled around a small fire looked more startled than Charaq. They jumped up, stumbling as they searched for their weapons.
Charaq set Amia behind him. “Cloak,” he whispered to the girls. Sarana immediately stopped and pulled the cloak over her, but Amia followed Charaq. “Go back,” he said as his sword took off the first guard’s head. Amia froze, and before Charaq could stop him, one of the sentries grabbed her. Charaq thrust his broad sword into the third then turned to Amia.
“I’ll slit her throat if you come near me,” the coward said. He gripped her arm and held his dagger to Amia’s tiny neck. “Put down your sword.” The guard’s bleary eyes followed his hands.
“All right. Don’t hurt her.” Charaq knelt and laid his sword on the ground. The guard relaxed and didn’t notice as Charaq felt for the small dagger in his boot. He flung the blade and hit the coward right in the notch of his throat. The man let out a muffled cry, dropped his dagger and yanked the blade out of his neck. The wound gushed blood. The man staggered back and tripped over a rock, sending him over the edge of the cliff. As he fell, he latched onto Amia’s arm and pulled her with him. Charaq dove for her legs but missed. She slipped out of sight with a piercing scream. Judging by the length of her cry, they fell a great distance. Charaq rose to his knees, and a harsh sob exploded from his chest. He looked over the edge and called Amia’s name. No response. He pulled back and glanced around. The other guards weren’t moving.
Charaq felt a small hand on his shoulder. Sarana stood beside him, her eyes wide, face like stone. He threw his arms around her and squeezed her tight, willing his strength into the girl.
“We need to keep moving,” he whispered. “They’ll have heard the cry.”
Sarana nodded and stepped back. Charaq stifled a sob when she held out her hand to help him to his feet.
He took a dagger and sheath from one of the guards and handed it to Sarana. “Keep this with you.” The girl strapped it around her like a true Guardian and nodded she was ready.
Charaq knew their only hope was to make it to the tunnels that led to the secret entrance of the keep before they were found. He prayed his sense of direction would not lead them astray in the dark.
They trudged on through the night, Sarana following without complaint. As they neared the hidden access to their tunnels, the voices of those pursuing them grew closer.
He searched all around but couldn’t find the opening. With dismay, he realized they were one hill too far to the south. When Sarana slumped to the ground, exhausted, he picked her up, threw her over his shoulder, and trudged on.
Those hunting them were not far behind when they finally reached their destination. Charaq hustled the girl inside the cave and sealed the entrance behind them.
They still had quite a journey through the tunnels, but they were safe. It was well past the third watch of the night when they arrived in the keep. Sarana had managed to forge ahead without thought or emotion until they were in the shelter of the keep, then the reality of the situation seemed to strike her full force, and she collapsed, inconsolable.
Charaq picked her up and carried her to Borham’s bedchamber to reunite her with Mishon. He hoped that would help.
As soon as Sarana saw Mishon, she straightened and put on a brave face. It was heartbreaking to watch as the little boy realized that his father and mother were probably not coming home. The two clung to each other as if they were all that they had in the world.
It was difficult for Charaq to leave them, but he had to rouse the rest of the keep. His plan was to be on the road within the hour and have the caves surrounded before sunrise so that none of those holy scum could escape.
Please Qho’el, let it not be too late for Borham and Shekalia.
Chapter 30
Over the next two days, those who had been injured in Rhamal continued to heal, some miraculously, others more slowly, but Celdorn was grateful no more lives were lost. Rumors spread among the men of a Liome Briella, an angel of light, who had moved through the Great Hall that day, seen only by the wounded. Some believed; others did not, but no one could deny or explain the sudden recovery of those near death. Celdorn suspected it all tied to Elena in her small form.
The day before, reinforcements had been sent to Rhamal, and reports came back saying all was quiet with no further sign of the Zakad nor was there any more enlightenment as to their origin or connections.
Today Elena’s brothers would be gathered at Lavan’s, mourning the death of his son. It hurt Celdorn to deny Elena permission to go to them, but they just couldn’t risk it. It was difficult enough keeping her safe inside the keep. She hadn’t argued with him, but her silent acceptance was almost harder to endure. He wanted to see her happy, smiling, like a child ought—or at least how he used to picture the lives of children. For far too many in his realm, there would be no laughter, no joy at all. He heaved a sigh.
The children rescued from the encampment were still in seclusion in the catacombs under the doqajh in Rhamal. Their guardians awaited a decision on their transfer to Greenholt, which would not come until other matters were addressed.
Now that the injured had been cared for and the innocents protected, the attention, of necessity and as a matter of honor, turned to the Guardians who had died during the attack in Rhamal. It was a day of great mourning in the keep as preparations were made for the final tribute to the five.
In the mountains into which Kelach was set, there was a secluded glen used for this purpose, the access to which was protected by the enceinte. The small grassy valley was surrounded by massive rock formations on all sides save the narrow entrance. It was the tradition of the Rogaran to burn the bodies of the fallen Guardians dressed in full battle array. In preparation for the ceremony, five pyres had been constructed side by side under the shadow of the mountains.
At noon, when the sun fell directly upon the valley, the bodies of the dead were carried in a silent procession from the keep to the glen.
Celdorn, as Lord Protector, led the way followed by Elbrion, representing the Elrodanar. Silvandir, as the Castellan of Kelach, came next, flanked by Mikaelin and Shatur, who lent their shoulders as he limped along. Behind them were the remaining four of Celdorn’s inner circle: Haldor, Dalgo, Braiden and Tobil, whose left arm still hung lifeless in a sling.
Per Celdorn’s instruction, Elena was at the center of the four. He was reluctant to bring her into the open, even within the protection of the enceinte, but he couldn’t leave her in the keep unattended. All Guardians, except those in the outer towers, would be observing the funeral rites.
Behind the leaders were the fallen Guardians and their Ilqazar. As was the custom, each Guardian was borne by eight of his comrades: one at his head, two at each arm, and three from the torso to his feet. The fallen were lifted high above the heads of all, honoring their valor and sacrifice. The Ilqazar who had served them followed, bearin
g their swords, spears, shields and helmets. The Guardians’ heads were not covered until their final moments upon the pyres, their free flowing hair a sign of their right and privilege to self-determination.
The rest of the Guardians followed, walking five across, forming one continuous column.
After entering the glen, Celdorn and his companions stood in front of the center pyre. Each of the fallen was carried to a platform and laid upon it, his head facing west, sword placed upon his breast pointing toward his feet, arms crossed at the wrist covering the hilt. His shield was laid over his arms and his spear at his side. Lastly, the helmet was fastened on his head and the visor closed.
Each Ilqazar stood at the foot of his rider’s pyre with his head lowered in tribute. They would not serve another for at least a decade out of deference to the dead.
When the bodies of the fallen were prepared, Celdorn stepped forward to a small mound in front of the center platform and turned to face his men. In unison, the entire company dropped to one knee. With great sorrow, he recited the names and histories of each of the fallen, noting all acts of valor and heroism. When his words came to an end, he picked up a torch.
Celdorn turned toward the platforms and with arms raised called out, “La briella briono tia silohani.” (May the angels carry you to peace.)
Starting with the pyre farthest to his left, Celdorn lit the kindling beneath each corpse, until one by one the mounds burst into flames, slowly consuming the bodies of the Guardians.
Celdorn watched Elena. He knew she’d never witnessed such a ceremony, but with the history with her infant brother, he was afraid this might be too much for her. She had knelt with the rest of the men, but as the flames grew around each body, she bent over, burying her face in her knees, hands over her ears. He could feel her terror as her body shook with sobs. Haldor knelt closer to her and laid his body over hers, sheltering her beneath. As the roar of the fires increased, Haldor scooped up the girl and ran into the shelter of the nearest guard tower, Elbrion on his heels.
~
“Is she all right?” Elbrion asked as he closed the door behind them.
“I do not know,” Haldor said as he laid her on the ground. “She has not grown smaller, but she is gone. I sensed her crumbling then I felt her leave.”
Elena lay unmoving on the floor, eyes open and blank, mouth agape as if mid-scream.
Haldor found the water bucket and a rag. He laid the wet cloth on Elena’s forehead then put his ear on her chest. “Her heart is beating weakly.” He placed his hand on her cheek. “She is cold,” he added, puzzled. “I would expect her to be flushed and hot from the sun and the heat of the fire, with her heart beating wildly from the fear. I do not understand .”
An urgency gripped Elbrion. “I must follow her.” He knelt next to Haldor and placed his hands on the sides of her face.
This time when he entered Elena’s mind, Elbrion found neither the corridors nor the torture chamber. Instead, he stood facing the same glen from which they had just come, except that in the image in her mind, no one was there save those on the funeral pyres—as yet unlit. Elena was standing in front of the mound where Celdorn had stood.
The entire valley was engulfed in a dazzling light. Beyond it, dark clouds rolled in over the mountains, reaching down toward the glen with ebony fingers. Out of the shadows, six lionesses emerged, leaping from rock to rock, spreading out and moving toward the glen. Then they stopped, as if waiting.
Elena, who seemed unaware of the cats, ran to the ladder leaning against the middle pyre and climbed to the top. She stepped onto the wood frame and turned her face to the sky. “Give them back their lives and take me. This is my fault, my transgression, not theirs,” she called. “I know you are punishing me for my cowardice. I should have jumped on the pyre with my brother. I should have died with him. I failed. I was weak. But I don’t want to watch anyone else die because of me. Take my life and give these men back to those who love them.” Her eyes searched the sky, and she dropped to her knees. “Please, Qho’el. Please!”
The lionesses paced back and forth restlessly but did not move closer.
Elena stood, looking up at the brilliant sky as if awaiting a response. The light did not fluctuate. “If you have truly given me the power to heal then heal these lives.” She laid her hands on the body next to her and closed her eyes. Moments later, they popped open and she screamed, “Stop playing games with me!”
She waited and when nothing happened, she picked up the body, dragged it to the edge, and pushed it off the side of the platform, watching as it tumbled to the ground. Then she scurried down the ladder and pulled it away from the pyre. After lighting a torch, she climbed back to the top, leaned over the side and lit the wood beneath her.
Oh, Qho’el, no! Elbrion ran toward the pyre but hit an invisible wall at the entrance to the glen. The Jhadhela would not let him pass.
“If you won’t take me, then I will do it myself.” Elena stared at the sky as if expecting a response. “Ahh!” she screamed in frustration, then lay down in the middle of the platform.
“No, Elena,” Elbrion cried. “Come down.”
She sat up and turned toward him, surprise on her face. “Go away, Elbrion. I need to end this.”
“No, Sheya, if you do this, Anakh wins,” he called.
He saw her hesitate. “I’m sorry, Ada. I can’t bear any more guilt. I just can’t. It’s better this way.” Then she lay back.
Elbrion dropped to his knees as the flames rose around her. “Do not do this!” he screamed at the light. “Do not take her!”
Elbrion’s gaze was pulled to the side. The lionesses bounded down the hillside, headed toward the pyre. Behind them, out of a rumbling cloud, another lioness emerged, moving like a shadow. She was black as the netherworld and three times the size of the others, able to descend the mountain in a few quick movements. Racing past the smaller ones, she leapt straight toward Elena then stopped abruptly as if hitting the same invisible wall as Elbrion had. The lioness shook her head then skulked back and forth, searching for a place through which she could pass.
A powerful wind suddenly swept through the valley, causing the blaze beneath the pyre to leap to life, twisting Elbrion’s heart. The harder it blew, the higher the flames danced. The gale grew so fierce that even on his knees Elbrion could hardly stay upright. The lionesses crouched low to the ground, ready to pounce if given the opportunity.
To Elbrion’s amazement, Elena stood. Although surrounded by flames, she seemed unharmed. She looked around at the fire as if searching for something then spread her arms and threw herself backward directly into the flames. Elbrion gasped and covered his face.
Chapter 31
As Elena fell back, she felt enveloped in softness, as if she had landed on a cloud. She sank into it, realizing she must be in the process of dying and this was all part of an illusion. She relaxed and let herself drift into oblivion, surprised there was no pain. Even the heat seemed to diminish as she floated toward the shadows of Umbradhur—no doubt her final destination. The roar of the fire grew distant, quiet.
Then she heard sobbing. Elena opened her eyes, searching for the source, and found herself floating into Elbrion’s arms. “No, Ada, no,” she cried. “I have to die.”
Elbrion stared at her as if she were a ghost. Shimmering tears dripped off his chin, his mouth slack. Suddenly, he broke out of the stupor, curled his arms around her and rocked back and forth on his knees, burying his face in her shoulder. Elena fought the swell of love that rose in her chest. She didn’t deserve this. It was all so wrong.
After several minutes, Elbrion’s tears subsided, and he pulled his head back so he could look at her. His voice was a hoarse whisper as he said, “The light has spoken loudly and definitively, Sheya. It was not your cowardice that prevented you from dying with your baby brother so long ago. It was the will of the Jhadhela. You could no more have died along with him that day than you could here. It was not a transgression for you to continue
to live, nor was it punishment. You were meant to continue.” He gazed down at her with deep affection.
“But my life keeps causing the death of others, Ada. I can’t bear it.”
Elbrion looked up and tensed. Elena followed his gaze and saw a pride of lionesses bounding toward them, moving around the outer edge of the glen, circumventing the light. Elbrion jumped up and ran to the guard tower carrying Elena.
Once inside, he set her on the ground, pulled the brace down on the door, and drew his sword. He whispered and light pulsated in the tower walls. Glancing up the winding stair, he stood still, listening. The tower rose thirty-five feet into the air, fifteen feet above the enceinte. There was no way the lionesses could scale the sides and enter through the window above, yet Elbrion seemed uneasy.
He turned back to Elena and held her chin in his hand. “No, Sheya, the Zakad caused those men’s deaths, not you,” he said, continuing the conversation, his voice stern. “This battle is bigger than you. The forces of darkness are fighting the Jhadhela in you—Anakh wishes to destroy it, not you; you are insignificant to them. If they were to succeed in extinguishing or absorbing your life, they would only be one step closer to their final goal, which is to destroy all light, whatever its source.” He stroked her face with a gentleness that contrasted with his tone.
Elena didn’t know how to respond.
Elbrion’s eyes became piercing probes. “Your guilt and your shame are fighting on the side of darkness, seeking to destroy you.”
Elbrion glanced toward the door. Low growls rumbled as the lionesses moved around the outside of the tower. Their claws raked the walls as they attempted to climb them, sliding down when they found no foothold.
Elena didn’t care; she was focused on Elbrion’s words, which had cut her to the core. She looked at his back imploringly. “I don’t know how to stop feeling responsible. The creatures that killed those men were searching for me—how am I not to blame for their deaths? If I had just stayed where I was, if I had just done as I was told, they would be alive. They would be going home to their families. How do I believe otherwise?”
