Behind the Third Door: The Innocence Cycle, Book 2

by J D Abbas

  “Our enemies seem to have withdrawn from open attack on Elena for the time being, but we cannot hope this will endure. What their next tactic will be is difficult to predict.” Celdorn paused his pacing and scrubbed at his beard; his gaze shifted to Charaq.

  “We haven’t heard from Wharndon, but we have reason to believe all is not well there. We also know the enemy has been active in Penumbra.” Celdorn resumed his circuit of the chamber, unable to quell his agitation. “In addition, we have good reason to believe that the giant of a man seen near Greenholt is one of Anakh’s eidola, though where he disappeared to is a mystery. There are four other eidola about whom we know little.” Celdorn returned to the head of the table and leaned on it, his eyes sweeping over the eighteen leaders who represented most of his realm. “Where do we begin in unraveling this massive web?”

  “We could dispatch a surveillance company to Wharndon to observe their condition,” Zarandiel suggested.

  Mikard leaned forward. “We should also send scouts into Penumbra to find out what we can about where they market the children. We must put an end to that practice.” His voice was emphatic, and he made no effort to disguise his disgust.

  “We do not have the luxury of time to be sending forth Guardians to search the heights and depths of Qabara to find what has remained hidden for decades now,” Yaelmargon countered.

  “Then what do you suggest, Master?” Celdorn said, irritated by how easily he had dismissed their suggestions.

  Yaelmargon was quiet for some time. Just when Celdorn was ready to proceed another direction, the master spoke. “We may have a means of looking into the hearts and minds of Anakh and her kind.” His voice was low, and Celdorn sensed a surprising hesitancy in him.

  “Unless you brought a seeing glass, I don’t know how,” Celdorn said.

  Yaelmargon paused again, as if weighing his coming words. When he spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper. “I believe Elena can lead us to the eidola.”

  Even across the expanse of the room, Elena’s keen ears heard the words. Her head shot up, and she stared at Yaelmargon with wide, panicked eyes.

  Celdorn couldn’t believe the master would make such a reckless suggestion. “We can’t expose Elena to that kind of danger. It is our duty to protect her, not throw her to the wolves. It has been difficult enough keeping her safe within this fortress. How can we expect to do so traveling about?”

  “You misunderstand me, Celdorn,” Yaelmargon said evenly. “I have no intention of taking her outside this keep.”

  Celdorn’s arguments died on his lips even as a scowl formed on his brow. “Then what are you saying?”

  “I believe Elena is capable of entering the minds of any of the Rahima, as well as those who are deeply connected to them.” The master steepled his fingers and leaned them against his chin. “We merely need to discover how.”

  Elena hadn’t moved. In the overstuffed chair, she looked tiny and fragile, though she hadn’t shifted. Sasha draped her head over the side and nuzzled Elena’s arm. Celdorn crossed the room and sat on the hearth beside them, laying his hand on Elena’s reassuringly.

  “Master, would we not be putting her at grave risk in doing so?” Elbrion asked. “If she is able to make contact, will they not also be able to affect her mind?”

  “I believe the Jhadhela in her is stronger than their Zhekhum and, with help, she can avoid their influences.” Yaelmargon’s eyes focused on Elena. “Are you willing to make the attempt?”

  Elena stared down, eyes darting back and forth. She wrapped her arm around Sasha’s neck and squeezed Celdorn’s hand as if she might be snatched away any moment. After taking a few deep breaths, she looked at Yaelmargon. “I don’t know how to answer you. I don’t understand what you mean. How would I do it?”

  “I believe the answer is in your internal world.” The master moved next to her and squatted down. “In the third corridor.”

  Elena’s eyes grew wider. She grabbed her chest like she couldn’t breathe. “I-I don’t know what lies behind that door,” she whispered, “but I know it terrifies me.”

  “It is within your mind, which means you have control,” Yaelmargon assured her. “But you must master your doubt and not give in to the lies and the fear.”

  “Easier to say than to accomplish,” she replied with a weak smile. Then her gaze shifted between Elbrion and Celdorn. “What should I do?”

  “Elena is just beginning to understand her gifts. I’m not sure she is ready to face this kind of challenge,” Celdorn said to Yaelmargon. “And I don’t know how we could possibly assure her safety if she did.”

  “Anakh and her eidola are two decades ahead of us in strategizing. We do not have time for training, and I am not certain how we would train her if we did.” The master glanced at Elena, and the creases on his face deepened. “We need to know where they are, what they are planning, and what their weaknesses are. I believe Elena has the answers inside her. She will guide us.”

  “I’m with Celdorn: how do we defend Elena in her internal world after we essentially paint a target on her?” Silvandir asked from the table, his face pale and lined with worry.

  “I will join her there,” the master replied. “And I think it would be best for Elbrion and Haldor to accompany me.”

  Haldor frowned at Yaelmargon. “I have never entered the mind of another. I do not believe I have that gifting.”

  “But you are strong in the Jhadhela,” Yaelmargon said. “It is the strength of Elena’s visionary ability that will make it possible for you, not your own gifts. I think you will find it quite effortless. With the three of us surrounding her, Elena will have the strength she needs.”

  Silvandir didn’t look convinced, but he bit his lip and said no more.

  The master turned his focus back to Elena, great tenderness in his gaze. Yaelmargon’s confidence in Elena was inspiring—and called attention to all of Celdorn’s skepticism and doubts.

  “Are you willing?” the master asked.

  “Promise me you won’t let me slip away,” she whispered.

  “We will hold on with our very lives, dear girl. I promise you that.”

  Chapter 57

  Her adai decided that Elena needed sleep before attempting this internal journey. She thought sleep would be impossible, but with Elbrion and Yaelmargon singing over her, she had slept well. She woke refreshed and peaceful—though the peace would be short-lived.

  The council resumed immediately after the morning meal. Celdorn chose to have all the representatives of the keeps present during this terrifying endeavor, though he admitted there was little the men could do but observe the process. How Elena wished she were only observing.

  Bracing herself, she took the seat opposite Yaelmargon with Elbrion to her right and Haldor her left. They had put their chairs in a semi-circle so as to surround her. Yaelmargon held her hands, while Elbrion and Haldor placed one on her shoulder and one on her leg.

  “Whatever occurs, whatever you feel, do not remove your hands.” Yaelmargon’s voice was stern. Elena tensed. What did he think was going to happen?

  Sasha broke away from Silvandir and pushed between the men, determined to be a part of this adventure. She laid her head in Elena’s lap and looked up at her, begging to not be sent away. When Celdorn tried to pull her back, Sasha resisted. “It’s all right, Ada. She makes me feel safer.”

  Celdorn backed off with a sad nod. He was worried. Tears burned her eyes, but she bit her tongue to stem their flow.

  The three men surrounding her began to sing, and although they seemed to be spontaneous, random tones, amazing harmonies rose and entwined, eliciting tranquility and visions of rapturous beauty. Elena would have loved to drift in this place for days, but she had an unwelcome task to accomplish.

  She gripped the fur on Sasha’s neck and, closing her eyes, entered into her internal vestibule. Once there, she stopped and waited for the men to join her. Haldor’s mouth gaped as the three walked through the double doors. />
  “This is amazing.” When Haldor’s eyes settled on Elena, he added, “You are amazing, Yabéha.”

  Elena felt more like an oddity than a wonder. It seemed other people didn’t have internal worlds like this. What were theirs like? One day she would have to ask.

  Yaelmargon gestured to Elena. “Lead the way.”

  She stared at the third door but couldn’t will herself to move. The master reached for her right hand. Elbrion embraced the other. Slowly, she crept forward, step by tiny step. With each movement toward the door, waves of energy thrust against her, driving her back, tugging at her emotions, confusing her thoughts. The men sang louder, and the combined strength of their Jhadhela forced the evil to retreat.

  When they reached the door, Elena was dismayed—and a little relieved—to find it was locked. She looked up at Yaelmargon, not knowing what to do.

  “Use your key,” Elbrion said.

  Elena patted her chest and with a gasp of surprise felt the metal beneath her shirt. Pulling the chain from around her neck, she stared at the key, then back at Elbrion.

  “There was purpose in you finding it.”

  Feeling off-balance, Elena trembled as she put the key into the lock and heard the mechanisms click into place. She held the latch for several minutes, waiting for the courage to take the next step. It didn’t come.

  “Courage is not the absence of fear; it is moving forward in spite of it,” Elbrion reminded her. “Move with the fear, Sheya.”

  With a weak smile, she nodded and pushed on the door. It resisted, opening but an inch. Immediately, the vestibule filled with a bone-chilling, grey mist. The vapor swirled around the four, forming into specters as it moved, brushing against her skin, passing through to her mind, whispering then screaming—thousands of voices demanding her attention. They were not like the friendly apparitions of Alsimion. Malevolence flowed through these spirits.

  Elena frantically turned as she heard her name, first one direction, then another and another. “Giara, help me,” cried one. “Mommy, where are you? Save me,” cried a second. On and on they came. Children’s voices, women’s voices, even men’s, surrounded her, tugging at her heart, pleading for her aid.

  “Move forward,” Yaelmargon told her as he grabbed her hand again. Elbrion took the other while Haldor stepped behind her, gripping her shoulders. Her breath returned.

  Together, the four pushed open the large oak door. When they crossed over the threshold, they found themselves perched on a peak of dizzying height. Elongated shadows stretched eastward before them as the first stars appeared in a twilight sky, the sun about to slip away behind them. The shrouded terrain below looked as if it were in constant motion.

  As Elena studied the landscape more carefully, she realized there was something moving through the air, undulating as it passed over the hills and valleys below. After her eyes adjusted to the dimming light, she realized that it wasn’t one object but, in fact, thousands of individual shapes sweeping continuously through the air.

  The specters again moved around Elena, tormenting her, wrapping around her feet and spiraling up her body, squeezing her, stealing her breath, threatening to thrust her to the depths below. Her mind began to waver, then spin. She was losing all sense of reality—until she heard the voices of her guardians, rising sweet and clear above the cacophony surrounding her. The phantoms released their grip, and the images slowed beneath her feet.

  One after another, frames containing flattened images moved toward her. The silent, still pictures would suddenly burst to life, enveloping her in their scenes—horrific montages of torture: people being stretched, branded, dismembered; children being whipped, assaulted, burned alive. Elena stood frozen, appalled and overwhelmed.

  “What are you seeing?” Yaelmargon asked.

  She turned. “What? Y-you don’t see them?”

  “I see shapes, nothing else. What do they mean?”

  “I-I don’t know. They are framed pictures… of horrible things. People being hurt.”

  “Concentrate on the memory of the eidolon who was involved in your training. See his form.” After a few moments, the master asked, “Where is he now?”

  Immediately Elena knew. “He is in Penumbra. There.” She pointed toward the south. As she did so, an image froze in place then opened like a window. Inside, a nebulous figure moved around a table in what appeared to be a council chamber of some sort.

  “I see it,” the master said.

  “As do I,” both Elbrion and Haldor said.

  As Elena focused, she heard the figure in the image speaking to those around him. “Our stronghold near Greenholt has fallen.” His deep, resonant voice echoed against the walls, his fluid form shifting with each reverberation. “The Guardians freed the children and killed our workers.”

  “Anakh will have your head for this,” a second voice boomed. “Or she may remove more precious parts.”

  Another amorphous being stepped into view, even more ethereal and less substance than the first. Some dark force pulsated through him as he moved. Suddenly, he turned and looked up, directly at Elena. “I see you.” His voice hissed like some reptilian creature as a wisp of an arm reached toward her.

  Elena’s mind whirled, and she felt herself being pulled in his direction.

  “Move the image,” Yaelmargon said. When Elena didn’t respond, his voice thundered, “Now!” and light flashed around them.

  Elena let go of her guardians and waved her hands frantically through the air, pushing the images away. Haldor clung to her shoulders, moving with her. The pictures started their free-floating movement again, and Elena shook her head to clear it.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Elena, do not listen to their words,” Yaelmargon said. “They cannot control you unless you give them that power over you. You can move the images at any time.”

  Elena’s head bobbed, and she rubbed the pins and needles from her arms. “What do I do now?” She slipped her hands back into Yaelmargon’s and Elbrion’s, squeezing tightly.

  “You have found two of the eidola. Where are the other three?” the master asked.

  Elena looked down, trying to make sense of the pictures flying by.

  “Do not use your reason; use the Jhadhela within you.”

  Elena closed her eyes and immediately she knew. “Far north.” She pointed to her left.

  “Marach?” Elbrion asked.

  “No.”

  “Queyon?” Yaelmargon offered.

  “No, farther north.” Elena didn’t know where the answer came from. On some intuitive level, she just knew.

  “Farther?” The men sounded puzzled.

  Elena opened her eyes as an image stopped and took life before them. A massive fortress with tall spires came into focus. It was set on what looked to be a large ice formation surrounded by half-frozen water. The picture shifted to a throne room, where a shadow sat perched on a dais. He rose, though it was more like watching water in motion, and stepped to a window. Looking out she saw dozens of ships moored nearby.

  “He has an army prepared to move,” she whispered.

  The phantom glanced up at the sound of her voice. Elena’s hands flailed, shoving him away. The image snapped shut and floated off among the others like one more piece of flotsam. She took a deep breath and squeezed her shaking hands together.

  “Good work, Elena.” Yaelmargon patted her arm. “Are you able to continue?”

  She nodded, afraid to use her voice, frightened she’d be found by the creatures inside the frames.

  Haldor leaned his forehead against the top of her head. An energy surged through her body, warming her and bringing peace.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, leaning back and looking up at him.

  He smiled and kissed her forehead.

  Elena took another deep breath then turned her attention back to the images moving below. It was several minutes before she spoke. “Wharndon has been overtaken,” she whispered as a picture to their left enla
rged, opening onto a dreadful scene.

  When the image took shape, a cluster of shadowy forms appeared, twisted and entwined around each other. The broad field around them was littered with dozens of human corpses. It looked as if the creatures were still locked in the heat of battle, though they were so tenuous it was difficult to discern what was actually happening.

  As Elena watched, it became apparent this wasn’t a war scene but rather an orgy of specters. Two figures dominated the center of the movement. One rose like an ebony wisp of smoke, moaning in ecstasy, as the other spewed fire into it, roaring with bestial passion until his form gradually shriveled to a mere silhouette that collapsed on the ground.

  Breathing heavily, the triumphant creature looked around. It cocked its head as if listening, then slowly turned a steely gaze toward Elena.

  It was Anakh.

  “How did you find us, you little whore? Did you think you could outwit me?”

  Anakh reached toward her. Elena tried to move the images, but Anakh’s skeletal hand came out of the frame, grabbed her arm, and pulled her toward the horrific scene. Elena caught the edge of the image and clung to it, fighting to not be pulled inside the frame, but Anakh was too strong. Elena locked her elbow around the outer edge but knew she couldn’t hold out for long.

  From far off, Yaelmargon’s distorted voice called, “Command her to free you! She must obey.”

  But Elena’s mind couldn’t focus; words wouldn’t form. The mountain peak blurred, the image of her protectors grew fuzzy while the world inside the image grew more solid.

  A war cry erupted from behind the place where Yaelmargon stood, grabbing Elena’s attention. Then a voice called, “Fools! What were you thinking?”