by J D Abbas
“Platon, bring a lantern,” he called behind him. “Why is there no light in here?”
“There was. The prisoner must have turned it off,” the guard said as he entered and handed him a lamp. Celdorn moved into the dark cell holding it high, followed by Mikard.
“Where are you, boy?” Mikard said.
They found a blanket crumpled up on the shelf bed, but no sign of Keymar. Mikard looked under the bed, nothing there.
Celdorn caught sight of a boot. “Over here.” In the back recess of the cell, where the chamberpot was kept, Keymar was slumped over on his side surrounded by a pool of blood.
“Keymar!” Mikard rushed over and knelt next to him. “What happened?”
The young man groaned but offered no answer. Celdorn hung the lantern on a hook in the wall and knelt beside Mikard, examining Keymar’s body. The young man had torn the flesh on both arms with a piece of the ceramic pot that lay shattered around him. He still clutched the bloodied shard in his hand as if he’d collapsed before he could complete the job.
“Platon!” Celdorn called. “Get Dalgo. Tell him Keymar’s hurt and needs stitches. Hurry!”
The guard took off at a run.
“No, don’t help me,” Keymar rasped. “Just let me die.”
“Not here and not now,” Celdorn said. “I know these feelings, Keymar; they will pass.” He tore off his tunic, removed his shirt, and ripped it into strips. He and Mikard bound them around Keymar’s wounds. When they were done, Celdorn lifted the young man and leaned him against his chest. “Had I known sooner of your circumstances, I would have brought you out of this place. I’m so sorry.”
“No… me.” Keymar struggled to get the words out. “Was a fool… forgive… my Lord.” His head lolled to the side.
“As was I when I found my family in pieces. It breaks something inside us, Keymar.” He pulled the young man more upright and brushed the hair out of his eyes. “But it can be mended.”
The young man’s body went limp. “No, Keymar, hold on!” Celdorn held him close and gave him a gentle shake, praying Dalgo would hurry.
It seemed interminably long before the healer arrived with Braiden on his heels.
Dalgo took one look and turned to the young healer. “I believe we need your gift. My skills will do no good at this point.”
Braiden knelt and put his hands on Keymar’s arm. They glowed as the Jhadhela surged through him. He whispered in Elnar and pulled the makeshift bandages off Keymar’s wounds one at a time, moving his finger across each jagged slash—fifteen in all. Though he’d seen it before, Celdorn watched in amazement as the flesh fused back together. Mikard’s jaw hung slack, his eyes wide with wonder.
After Braiden was done with the wounds on his arms, he healed the break in Keymar’s nose inflicted by Silvandir’s fist, then his hands moved to Keymar’s forehead.
“Th-there is a darkness covering his m-mind that I can’t p-penetrate. I b-believe Elbrion’s or Haldor’s skills are n-needed here. His b-body will survive, but his m-mind may not.”
“Is it the grief he carries?” Celdorn asked.
“I-it is greater than the g-grief. His body is telling m-me this darkness came from outside him, as if his m-mind has been attacked.”
“Let’s move him to the general quarters where he’ll be more comfortable. We can clean him up and tend to him there.” Celdorn stood and turned to the guard. “Platon, find Elbrion and Haldor. Have them meet us there. And be swift about it!”
~
After the others dispersed from the meeting, Elbrion went to his chamber to check on Elena. Mikaelin accompanied him, wanting to speak with Silvandir. As the men entered, they found the two sitting by the fireside, feet propped up on the hearth, both seemingly lost in thought. Sasha lay asleep by Elena’s chair. With a lift of his brow, Elbrion noted Elena had her hand draped across Silvandir’s arm.
Elena tipped her head toward them but kept her eyes on the fire. “Your meeting is over?”
“No, we are breaking for now and will reconvene this afternoon,” Elbrion replied. “All is well here?”
“Well and quiet.” Elena stretched and yawned. “I am behaving myself and causing no trouble for Silvandir.”
“I was more concerned that Silvandir would be causing trouble for you.” Mikaelin laughed.
Silvandir feigned offense. “I would not behave badly for the lady. I am a responsible and devoted guardian.” He gave Elena a quick wink.
Mikaelin laughed harder. “The lady is no fool, Silvandir.” He turned to her with a flourish and a bow. “My lady, may I borrow your conscientious guardian during the break?”
Elena smiled. “Yes, you may have him. I’m quite sure I’m capable of taking care of myself for a few hours.” She stood and stretched again. Sasha rose and did the same, watching Silvandir as if undecided whether to stay or go.
“We should take Sasha,” Mikaelin said. “I want to check on something outside.”
“Come, girl,” Silvandir called to the dog. “You could use a good run.”
Sasha needed no persuading. She was on Silvandir’s heels in no time.
Elena touched Elbrion’s arm, startling him. Her brow creased. “You look distracted. Did something happen during the meeting?”
“Mmm…” He stroked his chin as he turned his attention to her. “Seven sets of lion tracks have been found around the keep the last two days.”
“Seven?” Elena stepped back. “Like in my… vision… dream…? I don’t even know what to call it.” She gave a helpless shrug. “Are you telling me that what was in my head is now outside?”
“We do not know,” he replied. “There could be another explanation; I simply do not know what it would be. For the time being, you must not go onto the terrace.” Her brows went up, and she glanced at the balcony doors. “Yes,” he answered her unspoken question, “their tracks have been found on our veranda.”
Elena paled and her eyes went wide. “Who are they? And how were they able to appear in my mind and now be outside this stronghold? How is that possible?”
“I wish I could explain it, Sheya,” Elbrion said, putting his hand on her head. “I just know we need to be cautious. A guard has been set in the courtyard and on the balcony.”
“Are these lions like the Zakad?”
“I do not believe so. The Zakad do not have the same powers of the mind.”
“And yet they appeared and disappeared as if into thin air,” she countered. “And they are no more. So where did they go?”
“To Dussendor.”
“What?” Elena had clearly meant the question to be rhetorical.
“Mikard just informed us that Zakad attacked their keep three days ago.”
“Why did they attack there?”
“It seems they thought you were there.” Elbrion knew the wound his words might inflict, but she deserved the truth.
“Me? They were after me? How…? Why?” Elena stopped and stared at the ground. “How many died?” she finally asked in a low, steady voice.
“Seventy-six.”
Elena gasped and covered her mouth. “So many? Oh, Elbrion, no.” Elena collapsed into the chair behind her and stared into the fire. “No wonder the young man hated me. I would hate me too. I’m sure he must blame me.”
“He lost two brothers. He is in deep grief.”
“I don’t understand this evil, Ada. I don’t know how people or even half-humans can be so cruel and destructive.”
“Nor do I, Sheya,” he replied. “I am somewhat surprised that you are not feeling responsible for this. I was concerned you might.”
“I spent a long time talking with Silvandir about what choices we have in where or to whom we are born. I didn’t choose any of this: my parents, my grandparents, where I lived, how I lived, even the gifts I have. I would have chosen so differently. But for some reason, I was placed in that family, in that time, through no fault of my own, and I can’t change any of it. I can only choose what kind of person I want to b
e at this moment, and how I want to live now that I am given a choice.”
Elbrion smiled. “I am relieved you are beginning to see that.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Pardon me, Elbrion.” Garandel, the corridor guard posted outside his door, stepped into the room. “Haldor would like to speak with you in Celdorn’s chamber when you have a moment.”
Elbrion rose. “Will you be all right by yourself for a brief time? Silvandir should return shortly, or you may come into Celdorn’s chamber with me, if you like.”
“I’m fine here. I would welcome some time alone.”
“Keep the balcony doors closed and don’t venture outside. Even with the guard there, we must be cautious.”
“I will stay right here.” Elena held her hand up as if swearing an oath.
~
“Celdorn has summoned us to the general quarters and asked that we make haste,” Haldor explained when Elbrion entered. “There was some sort of incident with Keymar, and he has requested our assistance.” Haldor moved toward the door and Elbrion followed.
“I thought Keymar was in the dungeon.”
“So did I, but apparently he is in the general quarters now.”
They hurried through the halls of Kelach, past the main entry, and into the south wing of the keep where the training arena was housed. They climbed to the second floor, using the circular stair at the south end of the corridor, and continued to the rooms above the arena where the younger Guardians slept. Entering the general quarters used for guests, Elbrion saw Celdorn in the far corner with Braiden and Dalgo. Mikard knelt beside a pallet. When they moved closer, he saw that Mikard was talking to an unresponsive Keymar.
Celdorn quickly explained what had occurred in the dungeon. “I thought it was the grief. You remember what I was like after I found my parents,” he said to Elbrion. “But Braiden sensed that something has attacked Keymar’s mind, something other than grief and regret, something from the outside. I hoped you might be able to discover what.”
“I will see what I can do.” Elbrion knelt on the floor above Keymar’s head. He placed his hands on the sides of his pale face and chanted softly.
Immediately, Elbrion was drawn into vivid images in Keymar’s mind. Looking around, he recognized the mountainous, wooded area surrounding Dussendor. The unique scent of the vibrant mountain lilacs that grew only in this region confirmed the location.
A glint of metal flashed to his right. When Elbrion moved through the trees, he found Keymar in a small clearing engaged in swordplay with an invisible adversary. The young man thrust his sword with a hayah! then jumped to the side to avoid the deadly counterattack struck by his phantom opponent, unaware of Elbrion’s presence.
Keymar stopped abruptly and cocked his head as if listening. Frantic cries sounded from below. “My brothers,” Keymar exclaimed and took off at a run.
Elbrion followed him through the woods as he raced down the steep incline. When they came out of the trees, Elbrion saw large fields recently tilled for planting. On the far side, two men surrounded by a dozen Zakad called for help. The men stood back to back with their shovels held ready to defend against an attack.
As if on signal, the ring of Zakad rose to their half-human legs and lunged in unison. Keymar raced across the wide field as the tortured cries of his brothers filled the air. When he finally reached them, he threw himself into the midst of the pack, his sword flying, lopping off head after head.
In minutes, the field was silent. Keymar wildly swung his blade right and left, but nothing else moved. He bent over his sword, chest heaving as he surveyed the carnage.
“Gorad, Fugal!” He flung himself into the pile of animals, tossing aside carcasses that easily weighed twenty stone. When he saw a boot sticking out from under a headless Zakad, Keymar shoved the creature out of the way then gasped and pulled back. Elbrion moved closer. The leg was not attached to a body. Keymar turned and vomited.
The young Guardian wiped his mouth on his sleeve then plowed through the stack of wolf-like corpses as if he’d gone mad, driving toward the bottom of the pile. Keymar dropped to his knees and screamed out in despair. His agony filled Elbrion’s chest, forcing out a gasp. Keymar had found several more pieces of his brothers’ bodies lying on the rich, upturned earth, now blackened by their blood.
To Elbrion’s surprise, the images in Keymar’s mind abruptly stopped then resumed back in the woods with Keymar practicing his swordplay. The scenario repeated itself exactly as the first time except that when the events finished playing out, a young woman dashed across the field, screaming in terror as she glanced over her shoulder.
“Elena, what are you doing here?” Elbrion shouted.
But as quickly as she had appeared, she vanished. Elbrion stared at the place where she had been, puzzled by the vision. Then everything faded, and the images repeated themselves again.
The third time through, Elbrion noticed a woman in white standing at the far edge of the field, just past where the brothers had been attacked. As Keymar knelt among the dismembered parts of his brothers, he looked up.
“Mother? H-how can you be here?” He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them. “You can’t be real,” he whispered.
“What have you done, Keymar?” she cried, moving closer to him.
“I was in the woods. I was too late,” he sobbed.
“You let your brothers be torn to pieces while you played in the woods?” she exclaimed. “How could you?”
“Mother, I-I didn’t know the creatures had attacked,” he tried to explain.
“You have failed us. You have failed your family.” She knelt among the parts of her sons. “Oh, Gorad, Fugal, my sons, my sons,” she wailed. She turned to Keymar. “You should be ashamed. You are no man. You are worthless!”
“Mother, no.” Keymar’s body folded in on itself at her pronouncement.
“A noble man would have fallen on his sword in tribute to his brothers, to atone for his failure and honor the dead,” she said sternly.
“I will, Mother. I will,” he said. “I’ll do what you say. Don’t be angry with me, Mother,” he pleaded as he held the hilt of his sword, turning the blade toward his chest.
“No, Keymar,” Elbrion shouted. He ran forward and grabbed his arm.
Keymar stared at him. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
“That is not your mother, Keymar,” Elbrion said firmly. “Do not listen to her.”
The woman put her fists on her hips. “How dare you, sir. What right do you have to come between mother and son.”
“Silence!” Elbrion held up his hand toward the woman. She stepped backward, clutching her throat.
“That’s my mother,” Keymar said. “Don’t hurt her.”
“She is an illusion.” Elbrion stepped toward her and touched her arm. The woman disappeared; only a black vapor remained where she had stood.
Keymar gawked at Elbrion. “I-I don’t understand.”
“She is not a part of your memory,” Elbrion explained. “Someone else sent that image here to encourage you to destroy yourself. Someone wants you to give in to the despair.”
“She was right. I should die. It is the noble thing to do.”
“There is nothing noble about killing oneself,” Elbrion countered. “It is the way of darkness. The noble face the tragedies of life and find ways to move forward, devoting themselves to serving the Jhadhela and protecting others from similar fates.”
Keymar hung his head as his body slumped. “But I failed. I was a coward.”
“This is not the work of a coward.” Elbrion pointed to the dead creatures surrounding them. “You fought valiantly. You just arrived late, through no fault of yours. These creatures alone are responsible for the death of your brothers. But you—you survived, Keymar. Your work is not yet done.” He put his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Come back with me.”
“I can’t leave them,” he said, falling to his knees.
“You do not leave
them,” Elbrion said, kneeling beside him. “They come with you. I have no doubt you will forever carry them in your heart. Every battle you fight, every enemy you defeat, they will be with you.”
Keymar glanced at him sideways then looked down, as if considering his words. A strong wind swept through the field, bringing with it the scent of the mountain lilacs. Keymar looked toward the trees where his mother had stood a short time before, and his mouth dropped open. Two men stood there, surrounded in brilliant light. “Be at peace, little brother,” Gorad said. “Go with Elbrion, and let your heart mend.”
Keymar stared, his tears falling freely, until the image of his brothers faded. Without a word, he turned to Elbrion and nodded. Elbrion rose and left the field.
Elbrion stopped singing and removed his hands from Keymar’s head when the young man’s eyes stuttered open. He gazed up at Elbrion, searching for understanding, trying to absorb what had just happened.
Elbrion reached forward and placed his hand on Keymar’s heart. “Be at peace, my friend.” A flash of light burst from his palm as it touched the young man’s chest. Keymar’s body jolted, and he rolled to his side to hide his tears from the others.
The men moved back and turned away, honoring his grief.
Chapter 36
When Silvandir returned to Elbrion’s room, Elena was stretched out on the couch, staring at the fire and pondering what she’d learned from the Dussendor meeting as well as from the recent events in her internal world. It seemed too much to absorb. What if she was immortal? What would happen when everyone she knew died? Everyone but Anakh and those pursuing her—they would always be there.
She shook the morose thoughts from her head and sat up with a half-smile, pleased to see her friend. A warmth spread through her chest, and her smile broadened. Maybe, if it were possible for her heart to mend, she could learn to love him.
“They’re resuming the council,” Silvandir said. “Celdorn asked me to move you to the room down the hall where there is no balcony access.”
“Because of the lions?”
