by J D Abbas
Elbrion turned back to her. “And yet, if you had obeyed, all of the children who were being raped and tortured at the encampment would still be suffering. Will you take responsibility for the bad and not the good? Those children will not be as tormented as you are because of the brave choices you made. You must take the blame for that as well,” he added, gazing up the stairs with a frown. It sounded like something had hit the roof.
“No, Elbrion, you and the other Guardians saved the children.” Elena’s lip pulled down, and her chin quivered as she tried to hold back the tears. “I stayed here in the keep, safe, while all of you walked into danger.”
“Safe?” Elbrion exclaimed. “You have a selective memory, Sheya. You nearly died.”
“I didn’t go to battle; that’s all I meant,” she argued. “You were the noble ones. You meted out the justice. I only gave information, which is hardly heroic.”
“Knowing that the disclosure would most likely cost you your life—that was not only heroic, it was sacrificial. You were willing to do so to save the other children.”
“I’m not sure my motives were so noble. I was more focused on my tormentors being eliminated.”
He wagged his head sadly. “You are so entrenched in their lies you cannot see what is so plain to the rest of us. The Zhekhum has truly blinded you.”
Elbrion turned away again, his attention focused on the stairs, standing between them and Elena, sword ready. He chanted, and the pulsating light beneath his flesh intensified.
Elbrion’s resignation tore at Elena’s heart. “I-I want to see, Elbrion. I just don’t know how.” She stared at his back, wanting to reach out toward him but unable. A desperate fear gripped her. “Please don’t give up on me, Ada.”
Elbrion turned and placed his hand on the side of her face, looking her directly in the eye. “I will never give up on you, Sheya. I will persist until you learn and accept the truth, and I will love you beyond that. I will not abandon you.”
Elena pressed her face into his hand, swallowing back her tears. She just wanted to disappear into this moment.
Just then, a shadow swept down the stairs and pounced onto Elbrion’s back, knocking him into Elena. She fell back, slamming her head against the wall. The massive black lioness picked up Elbrion and shook him like an errant cub before it reared and wrapped its paws around his body, racking his chest with its claws and rending the flesh.
“Command it to leave… Your mind,” Elbrion said between cries of pain.
Horrified, Elena froze. “What have I done? I’m so sorry.”
The lioness threw Elbrion to the ground and leapt on top of him, ready to tear out his heart.
“Regret gives… strength… Send… away.” He sucked in a breath and began to sing. With the notes, light exploded from the fissures in his flesh, shoving the lioness back. The cat sprang away then came at him from the side and placed a paw on his face, crushing it and silencing him. It opened its massive jaw and bit into Elbrion’s chest.
Elena’s horror turned to rage. She bolted toward Elbrion, drawing her dagger. She threw herself onto the back of the lioness, wrapped her arm around its neck, and pulled up with all her might. With the other hand, she thrust the blade into the lioness’ throat as deeply and strongly as she could.
“Be gone!” she said.
A roar filled the tower, rocking the walls to their foundation. Elena fell on top of Elbrion; the enemy gone. She lifted her head and watched in horror as shadows crept over her ada’s shattered face, extinguishing the light. Where his flesh was torn, luminous drops spilled, forming shimmering pools around him. He didn’t move.
Elena laid her head on his chest, weeping. “No, Ada, don’t leave me.”
She looked up. “Please, I’ll do whatever you ask of me,” she called out to the light, the Jhadhela, Qho’el—she didn’t really know who or what. “I will leave here and never bother them again. I’ll go anywhere you send me, just please give him back to me.” She waited, hoping, silently pleading. When there was no response, she embraced Elbrion again, her heart shattered.
Then a paralyzing terror gripped her. “How will I survive without you? How will I get out of this nightmare, Ada?” she sobbed, staring at Elbrion’s lifeless face.
Elena clung to his broken body, feeling as if her own chest had been ripped wide. How would she tell the others? If she remained locked inside, would they know how Elbrion died?
A faint thump thump grabbed her attention. Elena raised her head, hope stirring, and knelt next to Elbrion’s side. She studied his vacant face for some sign of life. When he didn’t move, she laid her head by his heart and listened for another beat, tracing her finger along the edge of one of the fissures in his motionless chest, willing life to return.
The wound sealed itself and disappeared.
Surprised and trembling she touched another. As it healed, she rose to her knees and frantically moved from wound to wound, before her ada’s life departed.
Slowly, far too slowly, his chest began to rise and fall. The shadows withdrew as energy returned to his body. Elbrion’s long fingers, pulsating with light again, flexed and stretched as if searching for sensation. His arms rose and reached toward Elena. She flew into his embrace and he squeezed her with what little strength had returned. “Well done, Sheya, well done,” he rasped.
Elena wept with relief. At least she wouldn’t have to bear the guilt of his death on top of the others.
When they returned to the outside, to the real guard tower, Elbrion leaned down and kissed her forehead. Elena blinked and looked up at the men who had been holding tightly to her life. She felt deeply loved, humbly grateful… and utterly unworthy.
Chapter 32
Midweek, as evening drew near, a company of ten arrived from Dussendor. The guard at the foot of the stairs sent word to Celdorn. Elbrion and Shatur accompanied him to the main entry hall to greet the visitors and ascertain if there was any deception before inviting them to his chambers.
Mikard, the leader of Dussendor’s delegation, dropped to one knee and bowed low. The rest quickly followed. “Lord Protector. Prince Elbrion. Rondul sent us in response to your missive and to bring news of recent events.”
Celdorn glanced at Elbrion and Shatur; both nodded their approval.
“Silothani, Wheyon,” Celdorn said with a warm smile. “Please come to my chambers before we delve into business.” He motioned toward the stairs. “We will eat and drink, and you may rest from your journey.”
Celdorn sent Shatur ahead to move Elena into Elbrion’s room, so as not to draw undo attention to her presence—the fewer who were aware of it the better. He sent Giyon to arrange for a meal for the travelers.
As they sat at table, drinking the mead that had been brought in, the Guardians from the two keeps visited. Many of the men had trained and served together at one time or another. Soon the meal arrived, and they continued to converse amidst intermittent bursts of laughter. Celdorn leaned back and grinned as he listened to his men. It warmed his heart to see their camaraderie.
“I’ve heard good reports about you, Silvandir,” Mikard said. “Your men speak highly of you.”
“I’m told you are doing well also. I understand you’re Rondul’s second in command. We’ve both changed a great deal, have we not?” Silvandir gave a half-smile.
“Very much so.” Mikard looked down, his face solemn. “I no longer drink mead either.” He nodded toward Silvandir’s cup. “I live with too many regrets already.”
“To wiser choices,” Silvandir said, raising his cup.
Celdorn sobered. He had made good decisions with both of these young men. It had been a risk, but one that had paid off. As he studied those gathered around his table, he realized he’d chosen leaders who were much like himself: flawed and damaged men who had faced their failures head on and chosen a different route—but never quite forgetting how far they had fallen.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, gentlemen,” Celdorn finally said. “Before it gets too
late, I’d like to hear from our guests.” The men who were standing around immediately took their seats.
Celdorn focused on Mikard. “What news do you bring?”
Mikard took a swallow of water before answering, his expression suddenly stony. “Two weeks back, we received your missive and were distressed to learn of the things discovered in the Wallan Valley. When you informed us that the Farak were involved, and with many of their settlements near us, we were deeply concerned about what might be uncovered in our region as well. We began searching and asking questions among the mountain people.” He stopped and stared at the table. His jaw twitched, and his eyes flitted as if searching for something.
“What did you find?” Celdorn prompted.
Mikard cleared his throat but didn’t look up. “When we arrived at one of their settlements, we noted there were no children running about nor were there any in the homes, which was curious, for the Farak villages are usually swarming with children. When asked, the people claimed it was a barren community.” He shifted in his chair and gripped the arms. “We searched the surrounding area and found a hidden entrance to a series of caves.” Mikard’s face paled, and Celdorn felt a prickle at the back of his neck. “It is difficult to describe what we found inside the caves.” He glanced at Celdorn with tormented eyes. “I do not wish to offend.”
“You would be hard-pressed to give a report that would offend us,” Celdorn replied. “We have seen more depravity in these last few weeks than we would ever have expected in ten lifetimes.”
“Then you will understand our anguish,” Mikard said. “We found nearly a hundred children—some as young as a year old—locked away in cages or shackled to the walls of the caves. They had been beaten, raped, tortured and mutilated in ways no Rogaran could ever have imagined. We found twelve- and thirteen-year-old girls whose bellies were swollen with child. We caught dozens of men in the very act of ravishing children or forcing them onto each other so they could watch. Some were even compelling them to lie with animals.” Mikard closed his eyes and rubbed his temples as if to dispel the images.
“I have not slept well since that time. I am haunted by the emptiness and death we saw in the eyes of those children. We longed to cradle and comfort them, but they recoiled from our touch. It broke our hearts. They would not respond to our female Guardians either. I didn’t know such perversion existed, and I don’t understand how they could do this to children—innocent, trusting, defenseless children.”
Silence fell over the room. Celdorn’s mind returned to the encampment and the many they had rescued. He recalled their deadened stares as he spoke with them at the doqajh. What were they to do with all these children?
“We interrogated and eliminated the offenders,” Mikard said. “We did elicit some information from them before they died. Several mentioned a location in Penumbra—some sort of marketplace, where children are taken and traded… like animals.” He rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat. “The truth is, they treat their animals better than their children.”
Mikard gave his head a sharp shake, as if trying to clear it. “They mentioned a contact in the Wallan Valley—some sort of relay station on the way to Penumbra—her name is Vargona.”
Celdorn’s chest tightened. “Vargona? In Neldon?”
“Yes, that is what they said. Why?”
“That is the grandmother of the girl we found with the Farak. When my men captured Vargona and attempted to execute her, she literally exploded, leaving no remains.” Eyes widened among the men from Dussendor. “Did your prisoners say anything else about her?”
“Yes, and this may explain what your men witnessed. A prisoner told us Vargona is one of six women who serve under a powerful matriarch named Anakh. He said they are of an immortal race with powers to manipulate mind and object. For centuries, they have fed off the souls and life-forces of others and served only the Zhekhum. He told us their powers have grown so strong they could even reach into the place of the dead to torment those who betrayed them.”
While Mikard spoke, the room grew increasingly dark. A chill spread through his chambers, and Celdorn sensed an ominous presence. Elena suddenly yanked open the door between her room and Celdorn’s and ran to Elbrion as if pursued. Sasha loped behind her and slid to a halt when Elena threw herself into Elbrion’s arms and buried her face in his chest.
“What is it?” Elbrion asked.
“Something is here, can’t you feel it?” she whispered, clinging to him.
Elbrion frowned. “Yes, Sheya, I feel it. Was it in your room as well?” Elena nodded. He gathered her in close and stroked her head. Softly he sang Alidelso lione kimara, the Reflection Song. As he did, the room brightened, and the sense of evil dissipated.
Elena relaxed and pulled back from Elbrion’s arms. Kneeling by the side of his chair, she looked around. Her face immediately reddened when she saw the strangers in the room, all staring at her.
Celdorn smiled. “May I introduce the Lady Elena.”
She stood, which made her little taller than the seated Guardians, and gave an awkward half-bow toward the men. Celdorn watched several smile at her childlike manner. Others gazed at her with scrutiny, to the point of being rude. Celdorn had grown so used to her presence he’d forgotten what a strange sight she was, her blonde hair and pale skin such a contrast to the swarthy Rogaran and Farak women to whom these men were accustomed. Adding to the peculiarity was the fact that, although she was petite and feminine in many ways, she dressed like the men, in the pale linen shirts and brown woolen trousers worn within the keeps. Even her feet were shod as the men, though they had to use boots intended for the young boys to fit her tiny feet.
“Elena, these men are from Dussendor, the Guardian keep northwest of here. They have brought news from their region. I had intended to keep your presence here quiet for their sake as well as yours, but it seems that I will have to find a different strategy.”
“I’m sorry, Celdorn. I didn’t realize.” Elena blushed again. “The presence of the evil was so strong, I was afraid it would consume me if I remained alone.”
Celdorn smiled. “It’s all right, little one, I shouldn’t have left you unattended. Perhaps your timing is fortuitous, however. Mikard was just telling us what they found in the caves among the Farak.” He turned toward the others. “Elena is the girl we rescued from the Farak in the forest of Alsimion.”
Elena shuddered at the mention of the Farak and the blood drained from her face. Mikaelin brought a chair and placed it between Celdorn and Elbrion, directing Elena to sit. Celdorn reached for her hand.
“The prisoners they interrogated in Dussendor gave up information regarding your grandmother and her connection to Anakh.”
Elena’s breath caught, and her eyes began to flit. She leaned toward Elbrion and whispered, “Help me stay,” while clinging to Celdorn’s hand as if he were a lifeline that kept her from drifting away.
Elbrion drew close to Elena and murmured things no one else could hear. His countenance grew so brilliant, it forced the others to look away. Elena relaxed against Elbrion’s arm and breathed deeply.
She turned to Celdorn. “What did they learn?”
“Evidently, Yadar Toreno was correct in his suspicions regarding your grandmother. A Farak prisoner said that she is one of six women who, like Anakh, are from an immortal race and serve under her.”
“Why are there only six?” Elena asked. “What became of the others?”
“I would assume they have been absorbed by these women,” Elbrion replied.
Elena gazed up at him, the truth dawning on her. “If I am her granddaughter, then I am also of this race. What does that mean for me? A-am I immortal as well?” Her voice quavered, and her color went from pale to deathly gray. “I-I don’t understand, Elbrion. What does this mean?”
A few from Dussendor glared at Elena, and Celdorn sensed their mistrust growing.
Elbrion chanted his song again before answering Elena, waiting until she was breathing steadily
. “I do not know, Sheya. We do not have enough information about your grandmother’s race. I would assume that your blood has been mixed. Your grandfather was obviously not immortal or—”
“Unless my grandmother stole his life-force like Anakh does her lovers,” Elena interrupted.
“That is possible,” Elbrion conceded, “but your father is dead, so his blood was most likely not pure. We can also assume your mother was not of this line since we witnessed her death.” Elbrion paused and stroked her face as pain drew lines across her forehead. “I honestly do not know where this leaves you. We do know that you have gifts that seem to have been passed down from your grandmother, but as to your lifespan, we cannot know.”
Keymar, one of Mikard’s youngest men, squirmed in his seat before blurting out, “Celdorn, may we speak with you privately?”
“You may speak freely here, Keymar,” Celdorn replied, his voice even, though he noted this young Guardian hadn’t bothered with the courtesy of using Celdorn’s title when addressing him. “If you trust those who traveled with you, then there are no others in this room from whom I need hide my counsel.”
Glancing toward Elena, Keymar forged ahead. “As you will. I mean no disrespect, but do you think it is wise to discuss these things in front of the girl? She’s right; this blood does run in her veins. She flows from Vargona,” he added, eyeing her with contempt.
Elena hung her head, the all too familiar shame engulfing her.
“Keymar!” Mikard grabbed the young Guardian’s arm.
“What?” he said sharply, looking at the others from Dussendor. “You know you’re all thinking the same thing. Someone needs to have the courage to speak plainly.”
