by J D Abbas
Celdorn heard rumblings of anger among his inner circle before he spoke. “I know that you have seen horrific things recently, Keymar, and that you have just learned about the incredible malevolence of Vargona and her kind.” He worked to keep his voice steady. “But it is because of Elena’s courage and cooperation that any of this vile business has been brought to light. She was a victim of this evil herself. Her body and her soul bear the scars of their viciousness.”
“But how do you know that any of that really happened? I don’t see any scars. She doesn’t look traumatized like the ones we found.” He flung his hand toward her in a dismissive wave. “How do you know that she isn’t just playing the distressed maiden to lure you in? We’re all Guardians. Of course we would come to the aid of a helpless victim, especially one as beautiful as this girl. But how do you know that she wasn’t sent here to beguile you and infiltrate this keep, only to betray you to her people?”
Several of Celdorn’s men leaned forward and clutched the arms of their chairs, as if fighting the urge to rise.
“I don’t blame you for not trusting me, sir,” Elena said. “I wouldn’t, if I were you. I am ashamed of my family and my heritage. I would to Qho’el that I had different blood flowing through my veins. If I could have willed it, I would have been born anywhere else.” Elena stood, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Celdorn, I don’t wish to cause any more trouble here. I should have remained in Elbrion’s room as you directed. I will wait there until you call for me.”
“No, Elena, you have my permission to stay,” Celdorn replied.
“I don’t want to. Please allow me to go.” She looked up at him, the hurt and shame bursting past the bounds of her skin.
He begrudgingly nodded.
With that, Elena ran out of the room, not looking at any of the others.
As Celdorn watched her, an intense sadness gripped his heart. “Mikaelin, follow her and stay with her until I come.”
Mikaelin immediately rose, glaring at Keymar as he passed.
Celdorn sat silent for several minutes, working to compose himself.
“Keymar, it is evident to me that you lack discernment and discretion,” Celdorn began in a low, steady voice, gazing at the young man intently. “I might attribute it to your age, but there are those in this room who have seen fewer years than you and yet exercise twice the prudence.” He rose and walked the length of the table.
Keymar stared at the floor, his cheeks bright red above his newly developing beard. Celdorn watched his jaw tighten and his shoulders tense.
“You presume to come into my chambers and question my judgment as to the wisdom of the guests I allow at my table.” Celdorn gripped the back of an empty chair, unable to stop himself from growing louder and more animated with each word. “You sit before eight of my most trusted advisors and have the audacity to think that you have greater insight than they.” He slammed the chair into the table and paced to control his escalating rage. “You have insulted a young woman who has spent the seventeen years of her short life being raped, beaten, tortured and defiled in every conceivable way—and yes, we have seen the evidence on her body and in her memories, evidence that has devastated the stoutest among us, evidence that you have no right to question.”
Celdorn’s men looked down, and he felt a wave of grief wash through the room as he circled it. “And now, because Elena has helped us, she no longer has a home or a family and sees no purpose in her life. She came to us believing she was worth less than the dirt we trample underfoot. She is like every child you found in those caves, and you have added to her suffering by aligning her with the perpetrators of this wickedness, and, in essence, laying the blame for this evil at her feet.” Celdorn swallowed hard and rubbed his eyes, fighting the tears that burned.
He sensed that Keymar was not going to yield. The young man was either unable or unwilling to acknowledge his error. Celdorn’s anger reignited. “I continue to tell Elena that Rogaran Guardians are honorable men, that they have taken a vow to protect those that come inside these walls, body and soul, and yet repeatedly I am proven wrong, and she suffers the consequences for my error.” He stopped, his anger on the verge of erupting.
“I need to step outside.” Celdorn headed to the balcony.
~
After the door closed, no one moved or spoke. Silvandir had rarely seen Celdorn so angry, but he understood. He would have silenced the mouthy young Guardian after his first words.
Keymar looked like he was smoldering as the minutes dragged on. His face hardened into an angry scowl, and his eyes spat fire as he stared at the balcony door. “Celdorn objects a bit too strongly. Have I, by chance, insulted my Lord’s courtesan?”
“Silence! You’re out of line,” Mikard said.
Silvandir was on his feet, in spite of the pain in his hip, yanking Keymar from his chair before anyone could stop him. He struck him in the face with such force, the young man’s head snapped back and he slumped to the floor. “Guard!” Silvandir roared. When the man entered, he pointed at Keymar. “Take that scum to the dungeon. Shatur, go with him and make sure he’s locked up securely then report back here.”
As the men lifted Keymar to his feet, dazed and bleeding from the nose, Silvandir shoved in close. “You, sir, have broken your vow of fealty to the Lord Protector, and you will suffer for your insolence.” He took a deep breath. “Get him out of here now before I strike him again.”
Shatur grabbed Keymar’s arm and shoved him out the door with the corridor guard on his other side.
Silvandir turned to those from Dussendor. “Are there any more who wish to malign my Lord’s honor?” Fuming, he stared daggers at them. “If any of you share Keymar’s sentiments, I suggest you resign now and walk out of this keep before the Lord Protector returns.”
Mikard stood. “We humbly beg your pardon, Silvandir.” He bowed toward him. “And the rest of you,” he added, tipping his head toward the others, his voice quiet, “on behalf of Keymar. He was grossly out of line and does not speak for the rest of us.”
Mikard shifted his weight, and his shoulders slumped. “I am sorry for any additional sorrow this may have caused the girl. She did not deserve such treatment, especially after all she has suffered and, I am certain, continues to suffer. If the torment of the children haunts those of us who have only observed the abuses, how much more those who have been the victims. I can only imagine. It grieves me to know that we have increased her torment. Please convey our apologies.” He ran his hand over his face and scrubbed at his beard.
“Perhaps we should retire for the evening and allow you to attend to things here. We have other important news that may help to explain, in part, Keymar’s behavior, but it will keep until morning.”
Mikard nodded toward his men, and they all rose silently and filed out of the room. He turned to Silvandir. “We will stay in the general quarters. Send for us tomorrow when you are ready to continue.”
Silvandir nodded. He limped toward Mikard and reached out his hand.
“You did the right thing.” Mikard gripped Silvandir’s wrist. “In your place, I would probably have struck him more than once.”
“I’m sorry for accusing the rest of you. I was out of line.”
“You were angry and justifiably so, my friend. Do not let it keep you from sleeping.” He smiled and patted Silvandir’s shoulder. “Till morning.” He turned to Elbrion and gave a slight bow. “Prince Elbrion, please encourage Lord Celdorn to hear the rest of our tidings before passing judgment.”
Elbrion dipped his chin. “I will. Rest well, Mikard.”
After the men from Dussendor were gone, Silvandir turned to the others. “I’m sorry for my lack of control.”
“I-I’ve never struck any m-man in my life,” Braiden said, “b-but had you not hit him, I m-might have. I can’t b-believe he had the gall t-to think those things, l-let alone speak them in our hearing. I-I grieve for Elena. D-did you see the w-wound his words inflicted? It was w-worse than a knife twisti
ng in her h-heart. I’m relieved she d-did not hear his last statement; i-it would have crushed her.”
“I will ask her to rejoin us,” Elbrion said, walking toward Elena’s room, an unusual anger in his steps. He stopped and turned. “Haldor, please inform Celdorn the others have left for the night. You might also want to tell him what transpired.”
Haldor nodded and moved toward the balcony. Silvandir did not envy him the task.
Chapter 33
When Elbrion entered Elena’s room, she wasn’t there. He passed through to his chambers, where he found a tiny Elena was curled in a ball on the couch by the fire with Sasha’s head resting on her feet. The dog’s ears lifted when Elbrion entered, but she didn’t move.
Mikaelin sat by Elena’s head, stroking her back. “She was like this when I found her. I’ve tried holding her, talking to her, and singing in my own bumbling way, but there’s no response.”
Frustrated that she had been hurt again, Elbrion picked her up and walked toward the door. “I am taking her back to the place she was insulted, and we will find a way through this together.”
Mikaelin started to object, but Elbrion didn’t give him the opportunity. He moved quickly, anger rumbling in his belly. He had failed to protect her from Anakh’s last assault, could not have anticipated Keymar’s attack, but he would not allow this shame to crush her. In this he would not fail.
The men turned when Elbrion entered with the small girl and grief pulsed around Celdorn’s table. Elbrion sat in his chair, cradling the sleeping child. Sasha immediately took up her post at the girl’s feet, resting her muzzle on the arm of the chair, her expression as forlorn as Elbrion felt.
Mikaelin followed and returned to his seat. He glanced around with a frown before leaning into Silvandir and asking, “What happened?”
Silvandir, rubbing his bruised knuckles, just shook his head and said, “Not now.”
Elbrion chanted in Elnar, but his words had no effect on Elena. He laid his hand on her head and tried to enter her mind but found himself locked in a small, blank room. Elena was stopping him from moving inside. He let go. “Mikaelin, did she say anything before she shifted?”
“At first she kept repeating, ‘He’s right.’ I tried to reason with her, but it was like I wasn’t even there. She was talking to herself.” Anger clouded Mikaelin’s face. “I have been sitting in your chamber seething. She just keeps getting trampled on, and we can’t seem to protect her from it. Hasn’t she suffered enough?”
“You and I both know, in part, what it is like to be in her skin, to feel the assaults she has survived and the pain she continues to endure. I am angry as well.” Flashes of red pulsed across Elbrion’s field of vision. “She has done nothing to deserve accusation apart from being born into a family that made life a perpetual torment for her—something over which she had no control.
“None of us gets to choose what blood flows through us. This child came into the world wanting only to be loved and nurtured. She received neither.” He looked down at Elena’s tiny face. “How I wish I had the power to mend your wounds and protect you from being hurt in the future.”
Elbrion saw Elena on the pyre again, ready to take her own life in hopes of protecting others and stopping Anakh from tormenting them, seeing herself as so worthless. He sobbed as he rocked her, sensing the others struggling with their own intense emotions. As his tears fell onto Elena’s head, she began to stir. Her tiny face turned up toward Elbrion’s. She reached out with her chubby fingers and brushed the tears from his cheek. “Dunaelso, Ada,” she whispered with perfect accent.
Elbrion heard several gasps.
“Is that Raphar she’s speaking?” Mikaelin asked, his voice filled with wonder. This was the first time the rest of them had heard the little one speak.
“Yes.” Elbrion was rather awestruck himself. How did this child know an ancient, dead language and speak it so well?
“Perhaps you were right,” Mikaelin said to Silvandir. “Perhaps she did speak to you and heal you in her younger form. But how?”
Silvandir shook his head. “I-I don’t know.”
Elena placed her petite hand against Elbrion’s heart and said, “Silohando nukara.”
Elbrion felt something burning in his chest. “You are not the cause of my tears nor the pain in my heart, Sheya.” Elbrion held the side of her face. “My heart will be at peace when yours is at peace.” He took her hand and placed it on her own heart. “Silohando nukara, Elena.” She looked up at him, and her tiny head bobbed.
Sasha yipped and backed away just before Elena returned to her older self. She looked confused and frightened as she gazed up into Elbrion’s face. “Do not regret that you carry this blood, Elena. The ones through whom it first flowed were guardians of the Jhadhela and gifted to heal and bring forth life in all they touched. You are twisting your lineage back toward the light. I am convinced it was for this purpose you were called into being.”
Elena clung to him. “How I long to believe your words.”
~
Celdorn and Haldor returned from the balcony. Celdorn had been infuriated over Haldor’s report and required time for his wrath to wane. He still wasn’t quite in control, but he needed to deal with the situation.
When he saw Elena sitting next to Elbrion, he marched toward her. Sasha scrambled to her feet and blocked his path to the girl, hackles raised. Celdorn nearly kicked the dog out of the way but resisted that urge.
“Elena, the next time I send you into the other room, you stay there until I call for you. You can’t just do as you please around here. When I give an order, I have reason for it, and I expect it to be obeyed. Do you understand?”
“Celdorn!” Elbrion rose and stood between Elena and him, flanking Sasha.
Elena’s gaze locked on the floor. “I-I’m sorry, Celdorn. I didn’t realize it was an order. No one explained.”
Elbrion put his hand on her head. “Elena, you have nothing for which to apologize.” Then he matched Celdorn’s gaze. “You are angry because you find yourself unable to protect Elena, which is not her fault.”
Celdorn stiffened. “Will you challenge me, as well?”
“I am not your subordinate, Celdorn. I have taken no pledge of fealty. I serve freely by your side because I am your friend, and as such I will tell you when you are wrong. And my friend, you are wrong now.”
Celdorn stared at Elbrion, shocked that he would challenge him in front of his men. He looked at Elbrion’s hand on Elena’s head as she sat hunched over, visibly shaking, and Elbrion’s and Sasha’s stance between them, and it struck him: they were protecting Elena from him. His anger vanished in a breath.
Celdorn dropped to his knees, and Sasha allowed him access to Elena. He put his hand on the girl’s arm and was sickened when she gasped and pulled away. “Elena, I-I would never hurt you.” He bent low to meet her eyes. She wouldn’t look at him.
He glanced up at Elbrion with distress. “Elbrion is right, little one. I was upset because you were hurt here tonight, and it should not have happened. I want to protect you, and I’m frustrated because I can’t.”
Elena talked to the floor. “What happened here tonight was no one’s fault. The man was right. He was right not to trust me… to be afraid of me. I am afraid of me. I don’t know who or what I am. I don’t know what I’m capable of. Perhaps I was sent here to entrap you. I might even have been sent to kill you for all I know.”
Celdorn closed his eyes. “No, Elena, no. Keymar spoke out of ignorance. He doesn’t know you.” He reached out his hand toward her arm, but stopped short, afraid she might pull away again. “Is it all right if I touch you?”
Elena gave a tiny nod, and he gently gripped her arm.
“Keymar is full of fear because of what he has seen and cannot control. I must confess that I am closer to being like him right now than I care to be. I want to keep you safe and help you to heal. When I see you being wounded again like tonight, I know I have failed.” He caressed her cheek. “A
nd I don’t know how to prevent it.”
He paused, pulling her chin up so he could look in her eyes. “Then to have you cringe in fear of me… oh, little one, it makes my heart sick.” Celdorn put his face in his other hand, trying to control his emotion. “Forgive me, Elena,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry for being so much trouble, Celdorn.”
“No, little one, that’s not what I am saying.” Celdorn sighed with frustration. “It’s not your fault.”
“But it is… Ada.” Her hesitation in using the term twisted his heart. “When I came into your life, I complicated everything. You’ve had to seclude yourselves here, trying to protect me. You’ve spent days on end sitting by my bed, holding me while I was ill, and cleaning up after me. You’ve lost seven men trying to protect me and clean up my mess.”
“Your mess?” Celdorn exclaimed. “No, Elena, you didn’t create this mess. You were born into the filth of others.” His anger swelled again.
“Elena,” Elbrion interrupted, “this is what a family does: a father protects his child, the best that he is able, and sits by her bed when she is ill, and even cleans up her messes—whether they are ones her body makes or troubles into which she has fallen. You make it sound as if it is troublesome for us, but you are wrong. We wholeheartedly embrace loving you and being your family. It is our choice and our privilege.”
“Well said, Elbrion,” Celdorn interjected. “I wholeheartedly agree.”
“As do I,” Silvandir said.
“And I… and I… and I,” the others chimed in from around the table.
Not to be outdone, Sasha barked and nuzzled her way onto Elena’s lap once again, tail thumping enthusiastically.
Elena gave a weak grin and hugged the dog. “Well, since you all enjoy this so much, I’ll have to see what other trouble I can cause and really bind us together as a family.”
Chapter 34
The next day, Celdorn decided Elena wouldn’t join them when they met with the men from Dussendor. Elena had no objection. He asked Silvandir to stay with her, not wanting a repeat of yesterday’s conflict. Silvandir grinned at the assignment; clearly, he preferred Elena’s company.
