by J D Abbas
“Mikaelin and I have also seen the darker one in the arena,” Silvandir added from the far end of the table. “Her wrath was aroused when someone laughed at her, and this one appeared.”
“It was not Rhaenna you encountered, but rather, the warrior,” the master corrected.
“Warrior?” Celdorn said, exchanging a puzzled glance with Silvandir.
“I have seen this warrior within, filled with rage,” Yaelmargon said. “Rhaenna is not angry; she is determined and careful. Her emotions do not drive her, survival does. She has a clear perception of her calling.”
“You sound as if you are describing different people,” Mikard said. “But we are talking about the same girl, are we not?”
“Yes, they are diverse aspects of Elena,” the master replied. When he was met with puzzled stares, he sighed. “It is not so complicated. We all do this. In our memories, we see ourselves as younger. In our visions of the future, we see ourselves as developing into a wiser sage, a more proficient warrior, or a loving and devoted father.” His eyes sparkled as they swept around the table, coming to rest on Celdorn. “With Elena, they are more pronounced, taking on physical form.”
Mikard’s eyes widened, then he nodded.
“If I understood Rhaenna correctly, when the darker parts of Elena are outwardly visible, the other Rahima sense it and move closer. It would seem that the power that keeps them at bay and the one they fear is Elena’s innocence.”
“I don’t mean to sound disrespectful, Master,” Mikard said, his frown back in place, “but the girl is hardly innocent. She has lived her life as a Gille d’Zhajh, a prostitute—not by her choice, granted, but how can any innocence remain in her?”
Elbrion spoke up. “May I respond to that?” The master’s open hand swept toward the Dussendor steward. “Admittedly, it is confusing, Mikard, though I am beginning to understand more about Elena’s complex inner world with time. Those that tortured and misused her also manipulated her mind through a masterful application of their own skills. They entered into her thoughts and set up images, or restructured and altered ones that already existed, for their own purposes. As a child, it seems that Elena was able to use what they had constructed to protect herself against them. She watched and learned from them, then created internal places to hide, ways for at least part of her to escape.”
“Perhaps that is how she developed the ability to project these images on the outside,” Yaelmargon said, his intensity giving way to wonder. “She found masks to wear that were acceptable and desirable to those around, while keeping her true self hidden away, untouched by the filth into which she was thrust. I believe this may be how she kept her innocence without them realizing it.”
“So they knew she shifted, even trained her to do so?” Elbrion’s brow arched with a new understanding. “But they were unaware she had expanded her inner world to protect this innocent one. She distracted them.” His face broke into a grin. “Masterful.”
“But why would they fear this little one, this innocent part?” Zarandiel asked, his scarred face lined with confusion. “Wouldn’t the innocent part be more vulnerable? In my experience, the innocent are often damaged or destroyed by evil because they don’t have the skills to recognize or resist it.”
“That is often the case, but it seems the reverse is true between Anakh and Elena,” the master replied. “Anakh does not understand innocence and does not know how to overcome it. She has tried to defile and torture it out of Elena, and yet it remains, stalwart, unbroken.” The lore master looked to Elbrion for confirmation; he nodded, his own light pulsing brightly. It was amazing to watch the two sages collaborate.
“Perhaps it is also true that the Jhadhela flows more efficiently in the innocent,” Yaelmargon added. “They may, in a sense, be closer to Jha Qhon zu Elon, the Source of All Light, or Qho’el to you. Their open trust, their purity, may make them more suitable conduits for the untainted goodness and absolute power of Jha Qhon.”
“But Rhaenna said this innocence must be protected,” Zarandiel countered. “Doesn’t that imply she is vulnerable, unable to protect herself, and thus needs us to defend her?”
The master let out a snort of frustration. “You Guardians, always thinking with your swords.” He eyed Elbrion and Haldor. “Surely, you can see a different interpretation.”
Elbrion nodded, his eyes focused elsewhere. “This vulnerable part is already hidden away, being protected in Elena’s inner world. We must assist in strengthening her will and determination, and in that sense, protect her. Before she came here, she had despaired of life.” His eyes met Celdorn’s, shimmering with tears as he no doubt recalled the conversation they’d had about her plan to end her life in Alsimion. “Being in relationship with us, she has found renewed hope, a new life—but it is as tenuous and fragile as a wildflower in a bailey full of men.”
Yaelmargon’s head bobbed with an approving smile.
“May I ask something else along that line?” Haldor said. “If Elena is so valuable to Anakh, and those that issue from her even more so, then why would she allow Elena to be given out to others who might damage her or take her far from Anakh’s sight?”
“There is no place far from her sight,” Yaelmargon corrected. “I cannot be certain—and I do not desire to become better acquainted with the workings of her malevolent mind to acquire such certainty—but I believe her purpose was to control Elena through degrading and humiliating her, destroying any hope or sense of value. For one to resist an oppressor, one must believe in the possibility of something better and in one’s ability to overcome.”
He paused to sip his wine. With a faint smile, the master put his nose over his cup and inhaled. “Ah, Wharndon’s best: Mountain Crystal. It’s been some time since I’ve tasted of their stock.”
“Do Queyon and Marach no longer order from the Wharndon keep?” Celdorn asked.
“Wharndon is months behind on their delivery schedule,” Zarandiel broke in. “I sent riders to find out what’s caused the delay shortly before we set out for Kelach, so I don’t have the answer yet.”
“I beg your pardon. I have caused a distraction,” Yaelmargon said. “Forgive an old man his folly.”
‘Old man’ my foot, Celdorn thought. He is skillful at masking his strength.
“As I was saying,” the master continued, “it would seem that Anakh and her followers neither understand nor know how to control Elena’s innocent part. Rhaenna implied that the other Rahima drew near to her; Elena, on the other hand, is an anomaly to them, an intractable one, as is the child that appeared, who may be the embodiment of the innocence or her true self.”
“Master, this is all so confusing,” Celdorn said. “I have no trouble believing in the innocence of Elena. I’ve seen the purity of her kindness and ability to love time and again, in spite of all that has happened to her. But understanding these other aspects of her is difficult, especially when Elena doesn’t seem to be aware of them and can’t help us.” He scratched at his beard. “I’m wondering what we can do to help maintain her innocence, as the darker one said, and conversely, what we need to avoid doing that will destroy it.”
“That is a good question, Celdorn,” the master replied, staring into his wine as if it might contain the answer.
“Before you respond, let me add another thought,” Celdorn said. “It seems that Anakh and her eidola are avoiding an open attack. They have chosen instead to invade Elena’s mind and to assault her through others here. What do you think their next move will be?”
The master set his glass on the table and rose with a groan as his body unfolded. “I believe the answers are tied together,” Yaelmargon replied as he walked the length of the table. “They do not have the strength to openly oppose Elena or move her against her will, or they would have done so. When she was in their control, they were able to convince her she had no options, but now that she has found some sense of safety and the possibility of life and love, they have lost their power over her.” The master
paused in his pacing and reversed direction, rubbing his lower back as he continued. “The next logical move would be to cause her to believe this place is not safe and that there can be no life for her here. The end result being, she would choose to move herself.” He stopped behind his chair and leaned on it as if winded. “So our obvious task is not only to keep her physically safe but to prevent her from falling into despair.”
“As I said earlier,” Elbrion joined in, “Elena came into this world, as we all do, wanting only to be loved and cherished. We are offering her what she has longed for all of her life. I believe her relationships here need to be carefully guarded to protect her emotional stability, which may, in fact, be more vital than her physical safety.”
“This is where the recent attack has been successful,” Celdorn said. “To be assaulted by what she believed to be one of the few people she has come to trust here, one of only a handful of people she has ever called friend, has ripped a hole in her spirit.”
“And mine as well,” Silvandir interjected. “I want to repair this with her, but I don’t know how. To demand she speak with me seems to be abusive in itself, but to avoid it is to let the rift grow.”
“I believe you are right,” Celdorn agreed. “An arbiter, however, could force the issue where to do so yourself would only create more damage.”
Elbrion laid his hand on Celdorn’s arm. “Things were spoken that cannot be allowed to fester in her mind. They are a poison no doubt intended to destroy.”
“Can you tell us more about what was said?”
Elbrion glanced around the room and hesitated.
“It’s necessary,” Celdorn prompted.
“Similar things to what her mother had spoken.” Elbrion’s jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed. “That she is seductive, that her body entices men, and that she is a temptation within this keep that will destroy the resolve of the Guardians, tarnishing their reputations.”
Zarandiel cleared his throat. “I’m probably out of line speaking since I have only recently stumbled into any of this.” He tugged at his ear. “But isn’t there some truth to what was said? She is a beautiful young woman, even dressed in men’s clothing, and Rogaran Guardians are men, after all. They are here training or serving with no access to women and no outlet for such needs. It seems she would be a rather large temptation in this setting.”
“And that would be a statement of truth,” Elbrion agreed. “But the insidiousness of what was spoken is that her attacker implied the responsibility is hers, that she deliberately entices men, that she entraps them and wants to be used sexually. Do you see the difference?”
Zarandiel nodded. “The implication is that she is reprobate, which invokes shame.”
“And shame destroys innocence,” Yaelmargon added.
At the far end of the table, Keymar let out a soft groan. “And what I said to her only made it worse. I openly accused her of beguiling the men here in order to betray them.” He put his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Celdorn.”
“I believe Anakh’s voice has been whispering in many places,” Yaelmargon said, a sympathetic smile on his lips.
The master eased himself back into his chair, his face pinched with pain. It suddenly dawned on Celdorn: the master was saddle-sore. He’d probably never ridden such a great distance in his life, though Celdorn doubted he’d used a saddle—the Elrodanar rarely did. He fought back a grin; the back of the Ilqazar was a great equalizer. Grand lore master or boy in training, all would eventually pay their due.
Yaelmargon adjusted his cushion until he seemed to be more comfortable and then continued. “Celdorn was correct earlier when he said that we need to pay attention to the misgivings inside ourselves and see to it that we uproot any doubts or mistrust. We must be united.” As the master studied each man, Celdorn wondered how deeply he was prying into their minds and hearts, how much he could truly see. “This is how the Alraphim fell nearly a millennium ago. The whisperings of doubt turned them against one another until they were driven to the brink of murder—only one cannot easily murder an immortal, just as we cannot come against them now with swords.”
“Anakh said at the encampment that we can’t kill what is already dead,” Celdorn said.
To his surprise, Yaelmargon chuckled. “Anakh was playing games. She likes to appear as the embodiment of death because it is intimidating to those who behold her, but she is not dead.”
“But we couldn’t kill her,” Celdorn countered. “My sword passed right through her.”
“Of course.” Yaelmargon’s brows arched. “She was an apparition. She projected an image of herself for you to see—as daunting an image as she could muster, with the intent of making you flee.”
“It must have been more than a vision,” Celdorn said. “She nearly sucked the life’s breath out of those of us in the room, and then she caused the structure to collapse.”
“She was pulling the light from you and from the rocks themselves. Anakh is able to manipulate the Jhadhela and Zhekhum from any distance. It is part of her gifting. If you plan to oppose her, you must strengthen your men in the use of the Jhadhela and in recognizing the manipulation of their minds.”
The master tipped his head, his bushy brows pinched together. “I am curious, have your empathic abilities grown dull here in Kelach?” His eyes swept around the table. “How is it that when Elena was attacked none of you heard her cry? I felt it on the road, miles from here. It must have exploded in this place.”
“I did hear her,” Elbrion said, reflecting back. “I just did not understand. She briefly entered into the images in Keymar’s mind, screaming and running from some unseen foe.”
Silvandir’s jaw hung slack. “Mikaelin claims he heard her as well when he and I were outside. He told me he saw a vision of her begging for help, but it was so odd and so brief, we didn’t know what sense to make of it.”
“Celdorn, you spend much time here training your men in the weapons of warfare, which you know I believe is futile. But that aside, you must train your men in the use of the Jhadhela as well.”
“It’s interesting you should say that,” Celdorn replied. “Many of our men have been discovering abilities they didn’t know they had until Elena arrived. We’ve seen amazing things. Perhaps you can help us make sense of them, as well as teach us how to develop these gifts further.”
“I will gladly do that for the time I am here, which will be brief.” When Celdorn opened his mouth to ask why, Yaelmargon cut him off. “I will explain later.” Celdorn swallowed his question, though his curiosity was piqued.
The master continued, “Another caution I want to add, we must be careful not to overwhelm Elena. She has a great deal to absorb about her life. As we saw today, too much information imposed upon her causes her to collapse, which we must avoid. She is vulnerable when she shifts.” The master stared toward the terrace doors as if recalling what had happened earlier. “I believe we need to let the light reveal the truth to her in its own time. For us to attempt to rush the process will mean disaster—for Elena and for us all.”
“Elena is not alone in feeling overwhelmed,” Celdorn said as he glanced around the table. “We will break for dinner. You may stay here and enjoy your meal or join the men in the Great Hall, whichever you prefer. We’ll meet back her in two hours.”
Celdorn rose. “During that time, I want Yaelmargon, Elbrion, Haldor, Braiden and Silvandir to join me in Elbrion’s room to address the situation with Elena.”
Chapter 44
When the door from the antechamber opened, Sasha bolted into Elbrion’s room and nearly toppled Elena’s chair as she climbed into her lap and shoved her snout into Elena’s face, licking her mercilessly.
Mikaelin grabbed the scruff of the dog’s neck. “Sasha, that’s enough. You’re going to hurt her.”
Elena put her arms in front of her face, laughing. When Mikaelin finally wrestled the dog away and Elena lowered her guard, she froze. Only her eyes moved to follow the six giants who file
d into Elbrion’s room, their faces somber—an intimidating group under the most ideal circumstances.
When she saw Silvandir among them, she reached for Mikaelin’s hand, in search of some sort of stability, some sense of safety. Silvandir’s gaze followed her hand with a frown. Did he feel betrayed that his best friend seemed to be siding with her?
“It will be all right,” Mikaelin said softly, squeezing her hand. “They all care deeply for you.”
She nodded and took a deep breath, which was shaky at best. A volcano of fear erupted inside her, so intense it knocked her sideways in her chair. Elena was puzzled when she saw the men across the room stagger like they’d been hit by the same force.
“What was that?” Mikaelin whispered.
“I-I think my fear just hit everybody.” Elena gripped Mikaelin’s hand tighter, certain she was slipping into madness.
Celdorn crossed the room. Sasha pressed into Elena’s chest as if afraid she might be forced to leave again.
“How is your head?” Celdorn asked as he probed the back of her scalp, looking surprised when he didn’t find the bump.”
“It’s gone. Mikaelin healed it… and other things,” A wave of sadness washed over her again.
Celdorn glanced at her sideways but asked no more. “Elena, we’ve been discussing how best to help you.” He squatted in front of her and held her other hand. For some reason this made Elena clutch Mikaelin’s all the harder; he was her anchor in this sea of uncertainty.
“Help me what?” she squeaked out, her throat so tight it strangled the question. Her mind immediately returned to Silvandir’s claim that he wanted to help her heal by lying with her. Her heart pounded against her ribs as her head swirled.
“To feel safe again and to heal from yet another grievous wound,” Celdorn replied.
“Why are all these men here?” She eyed Yaelmargon in particular, wondering if he too was going to walk around inside her mind, knowing she could hide nothing. With him, she was powerless; he could do whatever he wanted.
