by J D Abbas
“Elena, I do not have time to explain everything now.” His gaze followed hers to the doors. “You are at grave risk because of your shame. Please listen to me.” His expression was urgent, insistent. She looked away as guilt knotted in her stomach. “I cannot help that I see with my internal eyes any more than I can prevent seeing with my physical ones. The difference is I cannot close my internal eyes. What I see in you, I see in all people, but most are not able to sense it.
“It is true that vile, ugly and dirty things have been done to you, but you are not the equivalent of what has happened to you—do you hear me?” He tried to make eye contact with her. “I see you buried under all that filth. But you, even in your most shame-filled moments—yes, those.” Elena’s mouth dropped open. He must have seen the frantic clamoring inside of her, doors slamming, braces dropping into place. “Even in those moments, I see you—innocent and pure—yes, broken but not evil, not bad. I see the beautiful, precious, loving child that just longed for it all to be over, to have a different life. I see that one, Elena,” he said more softly. “I see you.”
Elena stared at him, overcome with fear as she felt herself diminishing, watching as if from a distance as she became a child. Horrified, she studied her body and saw tiny arms and legs. She had never before stayed present when she shifted. The room spun, and she felt her mind bending as she gazed into a series of mirrors, each bearing a different reflection. She felt as if she were big and small and every place in between—all at the same time.
An immense terror grabbed her attention. Her eyes turned toward the ceiling. Something was about to pounce on her from above. But she couldn’t see anything.
“Move!” Yaelmargon yelled. A shaft of light shot from his hand, tossing her up and away from her seat just as an invisible object struck her chair and smashed it to pieces.
Elena watched as her little body rose and ran around the table to Yaelmargon’s chair. The master opened his arms to receive her, and she climbed into his lap and buried her face in his chest, begging silently for him to protect her.
Then the two vanished.
Chapter 48
When Elena opened her eyes, she found herself in a strange place where everything was ablaze in the afternoon sun. It hurt to look around, so she peeked out through her chubby fingers. Celdorn’s room and the men were gone. Instead, she and Yaelmargon were in a deep valley by a river that looked like shimmering glass. In front of them were large fields filled with wild flowers: pink, yellow, blue, orange—so many vibrant colors. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, the scent strangely familiar, connecting with some distant memory, one filled with exquisite peace.
Yaelmargon set her down, and she walked forward, her eyes still closed. With her little feet she turned circles, spinning until she collapsed into the flowers. She lay there caressing the blossoms with her hands and nudging the leaves with her bare feet. Yellow. She liked the yellow ones best.
She sat up suddenly, looking around as if searching for something. She tipped her head to the side, trying to remember. Something was missing. An elated smile crept across her face. Coming toward her, leaping through the flowers, was a black and white tiger cub. It pounced on her playfully, knocking her to the ground. The two rolled together in the blossoms as she snuggled her face into its soft fur.
Elena sat up in the flowers and looked at Yaelmargon, unspoken questions in her eyes.
This is not Queyon, he answered, without speaking aloud. This is Yabwana. This is your memory, but I recognize the place.
He held out his hand toward Elena. She ran to him and put her tiny one in his, gazing the long distance up to his face. In her younger form, she stood only to his mid-thigh. She squinted against the sun as she looked up at his pulsating silhouette.
Yabwana was before Queyon. It was the birthplace of all light on Qabara. The Alraphim, your people, lived here until the shadows began to infiltrate the light, slowly smothering it. When that happened, all of nature revolted, until Qabara itself was so torn it erupted from within. Fissures opened in the mountains and molten rock flowed from them, consuming everything in its path. The Alraphim withdrew far to the south as Yabwana was swept away. The fiery rivers surged onward, carving the terrain into new forms, chiseling valleys and canyons.
After months, the dark, angry clouds finally brought forth rain, cooling the raging torrents. In the north, ebony mountains etched with deep ravines froze in place. The light wove itself into the rain, cascading over the obsidian cliffs, creating rivers that poured into the valleys. As the sun returned, the waterfalls burst with radiant color set against the piceous rock. Over time, the seeds of life pushed through the blackened ground, sprouting new growth, and Queyon was born.
Yaelmargon closed his eyes and breathed in the joy—and the deep sorrow—of Yabwana. Oh how I long for a different ending to this place. He looked down at Elena. You feel called back here.
She nodded. I dream of this place, when my mind can dream of good things. Elena was surprised to find that she didn’t need to use her voice.
You belong here.
A pang of sadness twisted in her belly; she shook her head.
They were both startled as an earthquake shook the ground where they stood.
The rift in your soul just tore through this place, Elena.
Afraid and puzzled, she stared at him.
You do not believe you deserve to be in a paradise such as this. Though he didn’t speak aloud, he somehow conveyed a gentleness in his thought.
Suddenly, she stood before him, still a little girl but now naked, her face and body battered and torn, blood oozing from dozens of wounds. The ground continued to rumble as she crouched down, hiding in the tall grass.
Elena looked up with surprise when a butterfly flitted toward her and landed on her shoulder. She gazed around at the small creatures scampering on the ground and noticed the birds flying over her while the wind blew softly against her skin.
“Yabwana is unchanged,” Yaelmargon said aloud.
She tipped her head to the side as she continued to look around, trying to understand.
“Stand up, Elena. All of Yabwana sees you as you are, and yet nothing has changed. The only shame here is what you bring yourself. Stand up and be free.”
She gazed up at him, her wide eyes speaking her questions, her doubt. With a tender smile, he nodded, and she stood.
The tiger cub bounded toward her. She embraced him as he leapt into her arms, knocking her backward again. They rolled on the ground together until he stopped and began to lick her wounds. The earth shook beneath them as she curled away from him.
There is no shame in having the wounds, Elena, Yaelmargon spoke to her heart. He wants only to acknowledge them and assist in their healing.
A sudden, loud roar echoed through the valley, shaking everything around her. Elena stood up and ran to Yaelmargon, hiding behind his leg. Another roar followed, moving closer.
Yaelmargon whistled and the tiger cub ran to him. He scooped him up and turned to Elena. “Hold him.”
Elena embraced the cub. He immediately started licking the wounds on her face. She pulled back and turned her face away as tears started to flow. Another roar filled the valley. Elena saw a black lioness climbing slowly over the crest of a mountain on the far side of the dale. Terror gripped her.
Do not resist the tiger, Yaelmargon spoke to her mind. Elena frowned at the master, not understanding.
The cub licked a deep knife wound on her chest. Elena closed her eyes and allowed him to continue. His tongue felt like fire. A butterfly landed on her cheek, directly on a cut. She shuddered but did not push it away.
Glancing up, Elena saw the lioness bounding toward her with all the speed it could find, charging down the mountain and across the valley. She hugged the tiger in fear. Help me, her heart cried out.
At once, the cub began to grow. Elena dropped him on the ground when he became too big for her arms. She watched in awe as he grew to three times the size of a man.
As the lioness drew near, he stood in front of Elena and roared so deeply and powerfully it knocked Elena and Yaelmargon to the ground and thrust the black lioness across the valley, where she smashed against a rock, knocking her unconscious. The tiger bounded to where the lioness lay and swatted her with his huge paw, tossing her over the peak of the mountain and out of their sight. Then he turned and leapt back to Elena’s side.
She was terrified as the massive tiger ran toward her, stopped abruptly, and opened his mouth wide. At the sight of his huge teeth, she felt her knees go weak. When he turned his head and grabbed her in his mouth, she screamed, though he was as gentle as a mother cat with its kittens, not biting down in the least.
The tiger carried her to the foot of a nearby waterfall and waded into the icy pool. Holding firmly, he pushed her beneath the surface until she was completely covered in the numbing waters. It felt as if her body was on fire, the flesh burning from her bones. She struggled to get free but was powerless against the strength of the tiger. When she was about to lose consciousness, he raised her up and carried her to the bank, climbing out and laying her on the ground where Yaelmargon was waiting for her.
When she opened her eyes and saw the tiger standing over her, she screamed again. Her fear quickly subsided, however, when the cat began to shrink into the small cub she had known as her companion.
Elena sat up and looked at Yaelmargon, longing to understand. He was gazing at her and smiling. He nodded toward her. She looked down and noticed that, although she was still in her young form, her body no longer had any wounds. Her skin was flawless, and she felt no pain—the ache that perpetually burned in her flesh was gone.
The tiger cub jumped on her playfully, breaking her out of her reverie.
Chapter 49
There was a collective stunned gasp from around the table when Yaelmargon and Elena disappeared. Had it not been for his deep trust in the lore master, Celdorn would have feared that Anakh was at work again.
“Wh-where did they g-go?” Braiden was the first to ask.
“I don’t know,” Celdorn replied. “I didn’t think Yaelmargon, or any of the Elrodanar for that matter, had the ability to transport themselves to different places or to disappear at will.”
“But Elena must,” Elbrion said. “And she took with her the only one who could help her to understand.”
A wave of fear moved around the table as the men stared at the shattered chair on the floor, having seen nothing to explain it, and the empty seat where Yaelmargon and Elena had been.
After ten or fifteen minutes had passed, Celdorn got up and paced restlessly, his mind racing with possible scenarios. He told his men they were free to leave and would notify them upon Elena’s return.
No one left. No one spoke. A few drank.
Celdorn stooped to examine the fragments of the chair then continued his circuit of the room, rubbing his neck and feeling powerless.
~
Half an hour later, just as abruptly as they left, Yaelmargon and Elena returned.
A dazed silence hung in the air.
Elena stood next to the master, no longer a child, and glanced awkwardly at those around the table. Wanting to ease the tension, she said, “Yaelmargon took me to a beautiful place.”
“No, Elena, it was you who took me.”
Elena gaped at the master, her knees suddenly rubbery. She grabbed the back of his chair to steady herself. “That’s not possible.” The words barely squeaked out.
“I do not have the power to move like that, but you do. You took yourself to a place that felt safe to you, and for some reason you wished me to accompany you. Perhaps you hoped I would understand,” he said, glancing at her over his shoulder.
“I moved both of us?” The room tilted. The stares from around the table made her once again feel like some oddity, some bizarre creature who might harm them.
“This is part of your gifting, Elena,” Yaelmargon said, his tone gentle. “How I wish there were a master from your own race who had not fallen into darkness, one who could teach you how to use your gifts. I am inadequate for this task having never possessed these abilities. I know the lore, but I do not know how to master this use of the Jhadhela.”
“I am just a young woman who grew up in an evil, ugly world. How can I possibly have these gifts you speak of?”
“That is a belief that must change inside you, Elena. Those around you made a great effort to convince you that you were nothing, save their property, but that is not the truth. You were born bathed in light, chosen as its vessel, not by the will of any flesh but by the Source of All Light alone. This truth has been hidden from you, but now it is being revealed. You must open your eyes and see it.”
Elena pondered this. After a few moments, she said, “It is hard to see anything but the whore.”
The men startled at her bluntness and shifted uncomfortably in their seats. But there was no time for niceties. She needed to understand.
“Which was precisely their goal,” the master replied, undaunted by her remark. “If they could convince you by repeatedly using and degrading your body that this was your sole purpose in life, then they succeeded. They wanted you to see yourself as nothing more than several orifices that could satisfy the carnal appetites of men.”
The Guardians continued to squirm; several blushed. They were noble men, cautious in speech, especially in the presence of a young woman. Yaelmargon’s crassness seemed to surprise them. Elena was not offended; she was just trying to absorb what he was saying.
“They lied to you, Elena, and they tortured the lie into the very fiber of your being. I know it is hard to see anything else, but the evidence is before you: you moved us through time and space; you caused the ripple through Yabwana with your shame; and you had been there before.”
She shook her head.
“Yes.” He turned in his chair, his gaze piercing her. “Remember how familiar it felt when we first arrived. The smell, the sensation—your body and your spirit remembered it all; only your mind had lost the memory. Anakh worked to remove those memories from you, but she was not successful. They tried desperately to hide from you the truth of who you are. I believe you are here, among us, to discover this truth.” He glanced around at the others. “No one here sees the whore.”
Elena’s gaze followed his. “That is not true either. There are those here who try not to see me that way but find it difficult not to. They see my flesh. They hear my story. And they find it hard to believe that I am a vessel of light. They would never call me ‘whore,’ but they can’t see beyond the filth.”
Several of the men lowered their heads, and she knew her assessment was accurate.
Yaelmargon studied the others. “Then an adjustment is needed in the perception of all here, not just Elena. It is essential that we affirm her in the truth of who she is and be united in this effort. Remember what we were told earlier: it is our purpose and duty to maintain her innocence, not to offend and drive it away. To do so, we must believe in her innocence and her calling.”
He paused and looked around the table again. “Those of you who are struggling with this need to focus on the Jhadhela and see Elena through your inner eyes, not your physical ones. Allow the Source of All Light to reveal the truth to you.”
There was silence as each man’s gaze turned inward. The men from Kelach were the first to turn to her with warm smiles. The others seemed to struggle, which was no surprise; they barely knew her.
Elena wrestled with herself as images invaded her mind, fighting for dominance, ugly images of the whore. She saw a dark, older version of herself walking around the table, naked, performing sexual acts on the men, laughing and loving every moment of it. She shook her head fiercely to drive the pictures away, afraid the others might see what was in her mind.
Yaelmargon stood and stepped behind her, laying his hands on her head. The images altered. She saw Yabwana and what it felt like to emerge from the pool clean—all the filth and wounds removed. Then her mind sh
ifted to seeing herself walking among the wounded in the Great Hall, her little hand touching and healing the men. The images changed again to when she was a little girl making a safe place inside for her baby brother. Tears streamed down her face when the pictures moved to a time she did what she could to stop the torture of another child at the encampment, willing to bear the painful consequences of her actions in order to spare her friend further suffering. She pushed Yaelmargon’s hands away as the last images confronted her. Overwhelmed, she fell to her knees sobbing.
“That is the good and noble and sacrificial in you, Elena,” he whispered. “That is the beauty of who you are.”
~
Elbrion’s eyes widened and several of the men gasped as a vision opened before them. Deep fissures appeared in Elena’s flesh as shafts of light burst from within. Her physical guise peeled back and sloughed to the ground until only a dazzling illumination remained. When they were forced to turn away their eyes from her brilliance, Elbrion expected a sense of dread to fill those around the table; instead, a profound sense of embracing warmth and genuine compassion enveloped them.
This was what Elbrion had caught glimpses of inside Elena but had never been able to fully grasp. A warm pride filled his heart, a father’s pride.
Keymar was the first to speak. “My earthly eyes have deceived me. I was a fool,” he whispered as he dropped to one knee next to his seat, bowing his head.
“Forgive me for my doubt,” Zarandiel said. “I did not understand.”
Elena, unaware of what they saw, looked bewildered. Yaelmargon encouraged her to stand, helping her to her feet.
Zarandiel rose and approached Elena. Dropping to one knee in front of her, he laid his weapon at her feet. “I humbly offer my sword and my life in service to you, my lady.”
