No Man's Land

by C D Beaudin

  Eldowyn whimpers, “Yes.”

  Kepp closes his eyes, nodding, but barely moving. “Where will I go?”

  He knows the answer. The Isle. But it almost seems too good for him. He betrayed everyone he ever loved. And the worst part is, he doesn’t regret it. He can still care about them and still hate them. He feels sorrow but no guilt. He does, however, feel angry at Revera. Where is she when he needs her? She was supposed to care about him. He’s not naïve, he knows she never loved him. But he helped her. Doesn’t he deserve…something?

  His body grows heavy. “Tell Adriel…” He huffs. “I don’t know. Tell her I’m sorry. That will comfort her.” He isn’t sorry. But he’s sad. And scared.

  But this is what he needs.

  “You should have picked a better song.” He holds on to the feeling of Eldowyn’s touch. The only elf he ever truly loved. The only one that mattered. Eldowyn. His enemy. His brother.

  “I hate you,” he cries out, choking. “I love you.”

  His eyes close.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “No!” Eldowyn screams, his face wet with tears and his heart beating faster than it ever has. He shouts into the air, cursing the world, damning the Spirits, and any divine being who’d take his brother from him. “No. No. No!”

  His throat hurts, and he shakes as he grips his brother’s dead body. Wailing, Eldowyn shifts him, lifting his neck, his forehead against his. He just needs to feel him again. He needs to feel his presence. The presence that could light up a room. Or chase darkness away before he was corrupted by it. The presence that he could never hate, even after everything his twin did to him. He holds his limp body in his arms, gripping him, touching his face as if it will wake him. But he can’t say his name. Or think it, without feeling pain. His grief is too much, too overwhelming. Eldowyn trembles violently, more than when Revera’s sword killed his father. Or he’d cried over Aradon’s betrayal. Aradon was his friend. His brother.

  But he was his blood.

  Sickness overcomes him, and he lays his brother down before he retches onto the snow, his hot tears melting the ice, his body giving out to pure agony. Nothing will ever be worse than this. Nothing. No pain, no sadness.

  When he hears crying behind him, he stops sobbing, overcome with a new, ugly emotion he’s never felt before. Something greater than anger, more twisted than grief. Standing, he turns, and his eyes narrow, rage flaming inside him, his body vibrating.

  Sauriel cries. Her eyes show hurt. She has no right to hurt.

  “Stop!” he yells at her, and stomps over, barely hearing himself speak as every tremor of anger he’s ever felt is spat at her. “You have no right to grieve him! He was my brother. Not yours.”

  She looks at him with tired, stunned silver eyes. The eyes that used to make him want to kiss her. That have kept him up at night for six months. Now, they are the eyes he hates.

  “Eldowyn…” her voice shakes, barely audible, confused and lonely. “He was my friend.”

  “He was my brother. My other half. He completed me in ways you could never understand. He kept me grounded when he should have focused on himself. He sank into darkness because he was always there to catch me. But I never caught him.” The tears soak his skin and clothes as they stream, hot and scarring.

  “I was so tired these past months. So tired. Because I couldn’t get your cursed eyes out of my head. I needed to work out who they belonged to, why they made me feel so empty. I was stuck in my head and I treated my brother like he was nothing because I was so sleep deprived. So confused. And because of that I said…” He shakes his head, unable to repeat the words that made his brother snap. “I didn’t deserve his sword. But I deserved his contempt. His hatred.”

  “Eldowyn—”

  “Be quiet!” He starts shaking again and feels his anger redden his skin. “I can’t look at you without seeing his face. Nor see you without seeing a sword in his stomach.”

  He closes some of the distance between them, fighting the urge to run in the other direction, because he knows that no matter how much he loathes her, he’ll never hurt her. And he wants to hurt her. He lets himself touch her cheek. He feels her tears on his skin. Sauriel’s eyes glisten with them, a flame alight from the sunrise. But he sees nothing he could hold on to. Nothing that will make this pain better.

  In her eyes, he sees Kepp’s. He relives the flower of blood blooming on his shirt. The pain on his brother’s face. The hurt and anger, and the relief as he finally gave up his vendetta and just let himself be taken. Maybe Eldowyn’s angrier at his twin than at Sauriel. His brother. His first love and first enemy. Sauriel. The elf who he thought made him whole, even though his twin was the one completing him. Sauriel. His love, his distraction.

  His brother is dead. She is here.

  And he doesn’t want her anymore.

  He puts his forehead to hers, his hands gently clutching her face. Her hands grip his wrists, and they breathe together for a moment. He knows he loves her. And he’ll never stop loving her. But he doesn’t want her anymore. He can’t have her, or he won’t be able to look at her. And she deserves more than that.

  “You said you’d leave.”

  She looks into his eyes, tears making them shine. She says nothing for a moment, as though wondering if she should stay. But he knows the moment she works it out, because what was tearing her up inside, begging her to stay—while she needed to leave—disappears. “Yes.”

  Eldowyn’s lips quiver, his breath shaky. Hands still on her face, he does something they haven’t done yet. They’ve never had the courage, because by doing it, they would be admitting to something that simply could never happen.

  He lowers his lips to hers, and it takes no time at all for her to kiss him back. She wraps her arms around his neck, but he doesn’t let go of her face. He needs to feel her for as long as he can before he lets go of her forever. He must let her go. The name Sauriel means defiant, and elves are given names by the Spirits. Their names are who they’ll be. And Sauriel is rebellious. She needs to be set free.

  Fire. A flame between them that was ignited in the Third Age. It disappeared after she became a Dalorin. And now it’s being reborn. But when their lips leave each other’s, the fire will die. So, he keeps his lips on hers for as long as possible. And she makes sure to feel his warmth. Her hands move from his neck to his hair, and eventually she wraps her arms around him in a hug. Her embrace is so strong, so comforting. It could heal him. But he doesn’t want to heal yet. And he needs to heal on his own.

  They pull away at the same time, and he looks at her starry eyes, in them saying all that needs to be said.

  Goodbye.

  He puts his forehead to hers again, his hand on the back of her neck. His lips tremble as he summons the courage to let her go, to give her the freedom she wants and the healing he needs.

  He draws in a deep breath. “Then leave.”

  Sauriel bites her lip and nods. Stepping back, she silently turns from him and without even a look at the people around them, the people she never knew and will never know, she leaves him.

  Eldowyn takes a shaky breath, turning to look at the horizon, not able to see her leave. The sunrise seems slower, as if it’s giving the world a little beauty before emptiness sets in. So much death. The golden sunlight streaking across the sky reflects scarlet on the blood-stained snow. He breathes out, relieved in a way.

  She didn’t leave him.

  He left her.

  His past is gone.

  Pain. So much pain. Too much. Even though she feels the war is almost over, Ethiah knows the world will take years to heal. It may never heal completely. Until the War of Mortal generations die, the world will be a broken place. She’s thankful to the Spirits that Revera’s darkness never spread beyond the Five Kingdoms, beyond the eastern nations of Mortal. Ardon was in trouble, but it’s safe now. At least it will be when the sorceress dies. If she dies.

  She has to die.

  Her hand to her chest,
she feels Aiocille yelling for his daughter, Adriel. She feels his pain. That’s right. Focus on his pain and you won’t feel your own. They are not of one soul. They remain apart, but she stills feel his sorrows. He wants his daughter, and she wants something else that may be gone forever.

  Taking a deep breath, she gives him his freedom back. Using no magic, no light, Aiocille is freed. A figure forms before her, and it takes a moment before the elven lord takes shape and becomes the elf of legend.

  He looks at his hands, touches his chest, making sure he’s really there. When his eyes land on hers, he smiles gratefully. “Thank you, Ethiah.”

  She nods, and watches as he walks off, probably looking for his daughter. Someone will tell him she isn’t here. Looking at her hands, she watches them tremble. But they don’t shake with power. Her energy is gone, her powers…her light. It’s not there. She feels the emptiness. The hole in her heart. Her power is what kept her alive all those years in the tree. When she tore herself apart, so she wouldn’t starve, they made sure she didn’t bleed.

  Her healing powers come from her light energy. All her powers come from it. Because most elves have the light energy, they just use it in different ways. Not many harness it the way she or Raea can. Some elves can manipulate it like Revera. It strengthened her magic, even with all the souls she devoured. Elves like Eldowyn use it to look into people’s minds, can sense thoughts and pasts. Kepp didn’t have it. But he didn’t have the enhanced elven abilities either. Nor the strength, speed, and eyesight of his brother. Those abilities don’t come from the light. They’re just a part of them physically, not spiritually.

  It took her a while to realize it was him. But she’d known his real name. Kelberan. She knew he was destined for something but didn’t know he was destined to be doomed. It’s why he didn’t have the light, the elven abilities. Kelberan was doomed in every way, and Kepp had to carry the curse.

  Ethiah feels empty. She looks over at Aradon, who’s sitting on the ground, knees up and hands on either side of his head like he’s trying to work out how to live as a man, not a Besged. But that’s not what he should be worried about. Or scared of.

  Walking over to him, she sits down. Ethiah plays with a strand of her hair between her fingers as they sit in silence. Aradon appears so unmoved that he may not even realize she’s there. But she listens as his breathing slows, calm and steady, and she knows he feels her. Breathing in the cold air, she exhales, stress, fatigue, and exhaustion leaving her lips in a breathy sigh. Her breath is visible and hangs in the air for a frozen moment before it evaporates.

  “I’m cold.” She doesn’t really speak to him. She just needs to say how she feels, no matter what it is. Or how it will affect him. “I’m tired.”

  He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move.

  She rests her head back against the mountain face, the rock chilled. “I’m finished.” Ethiah doesn’t need her mind reading powers to know he’s questioning what she means. She wants to know what she means. And if she talks…maybe she’ll figure it out.

  “Removing Aiocille’s soul from Gotham…their souls were combined in a way I’d never seen. One soul. I had to tear them apart.” She looks at her hands.

  “In doing so…” She bites her lip. “I had to use the power of my soul. Combined with my light, I managed to separate them. I killed Gotham. But it destroyed my soul. It’s faded, weak.” She exhales. “I’m powerless.”

  Aradon stares at her, dread in his eyes. But it’s not for her. He dreads that she will become another problem. One he must fix when he has so many already.

  She shakes her head, putting her hand on his cheek. “I am my own burden. You don’t need to carry me on your shoulders.”

  She smiles, tears falling down her face.

  “I will be fine. You will be fine.” Breathing in, she tilts her head. “Aradon.” Both hands on his face now, she looks deep into his eyes. “You were a gift.” She shakes her head. “I will never forget you. But I need to leave. My place isn’t here, not with you. And you know that.” She sighs softly. “I’ve fallen for you, Aradon. But I can’t fix you, and you can’t fix me. So I need to let you go.”

  Looking away a moment, her hands fall to her lap. When her eyes return to his, tears glisten against the blue.

  “We need to heal ourselves. Fix ourselves. So promise me you won’t give up. You deserve happiness, Aradon. Don’t let anyone—even yourself—tell you otherwise. You deserve a future, and redemption. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to be it…but I can’t be.” She smiles softly, and touching his chin, she draws his lips to hers.

  He’s been silent, but she knows what he’s thinking. Loss. So much loss. Pain. Too much pain. Confusion. He’s only human now. How to live as this now? But she has no answers for him, only wishes she can give him a little hope.

  When she pulls away, her smile holds. “We’ll be fine.” Standing, she walks away but stops when she hears his voice.

  “You were a dove. Delicate and sweet. Hopeful. You never gave up, and it made me want to keep going.”

  She looks back at him, seeing him standing there. Noble, strong. But dark. He’ll never get rid of his darkness. Walking to him, she stands before him. “Then continue. Don’t give up.”

  He smiles, a weak but meaningful gesture. “You too.”

  Nodding, Ethiah turns, but looks back at him. “I hope you find your light, Aradon. Whatever that means for you.”

  No smile crosses his lips, no motion in his body. He just looks at her with a deep, focused gaze.

  Her heart skips a beat, and she turns, letting her feet take her away from him. He’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. While the pain of her past will never leave, and the agony of this war will never run, she knows it will fade. And the future will be open to countless possibilities. She can grasp them. She’s alive. She survived.

  This war is almost over.

  And she’s grateful she doesn’t have to be the one to finish it. Ethiah looks at the sun, its height in the sky growing.

  Darkness fades as the light returns to the world. No matter how dark life gets, light will always be there to chase it.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The Isle rumbles, the ground cracking. The Arlands and the Awh sister seem frightened, but all Awyn can think of is the end.

  “Don’t do this, Awyn,” Dreema pleads. “Don’t. You deserve so much more than this. The souls on this Isle deserve more. If you die without the doomed…” He shakes his head. “Catastrophe.”

  Awyn doesn’t tear her gaze from the Veil. “Do I just walk into it?” She looks at the Arland. “Or do I need to die?”

  Dreema doesn’t answer her.

  Nelka scrambles up from his seat as the earth between the stone circle and the pillars gives way. It’s as if the Isle is shedding its skin, leaving what was here in the First Age behind.

  Nelka looks at her, white-faced. “The blood of the destined and the doomed must be shed. No more, no less.”

  She blinks. “Do you have a sword?”

  Nelka stares, looking away after a moment as Dreema steps forward. “Awyn, you can’t expect us to kill you.”

  She looks at him. “I’d never ask that of you.”

  His eyebrows knit together. “You can’t expect us to give you the sword.”

  “I’d never ask that of you, either.” She turns to him. “Lay the blade on the ground and walk away, Dreema.”

  The Awh sister stares at the place where her brother once laid. But his body disappeared as Kaniel’s once had.

  Awyn’s gaze shifts to Nelka. “All of you. Walk away and feel no guilt. You don’t aid me in my death, you have no part in it. This is my choice and mine alone.” She doesn’t waver in her stance, in her stare. She keeps her eyes on all of them, waiting for the one who has the weapon to come forth.

  None of them move.

  Thunder cracks above, lightning strikes.

  The Awh sister stands. From her hands, a sword appears, as if by magic.
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br />   Dreema steps forward to stop her, but the Awh only lays the sword on the ground and walks away, silent as a ghost.

  The wizard’s eyes plead with her, but he says nothing. There’s nothing left to say. And after a long moment of silence, he and Nelka leave her alone.

  Her eyes flit to the sword. The blade taunts her. It offers escape, freedom. And yet in this moment, she feels herself doubt. She’s right in doing this. It feels right.

  She needs to stop thinking.

  Slowly, her feet carry her across the ground. Reaching for the sword, she grasps the cold, smooth metal. Lifting it, she feels the weight of it. As symbols go, it holds more than physical weight. Her burdens are carried in this sword.

  And it’s time to let them go.

  The tip of the blade touches her chest.

  She breathes in.

  And the world falls away.

  Waves. Tides rolling in and out, washing against her hand. Wind touches her skin, cold and comforting. Fingers curling, she digs down into something wet and soft. Sand. Her eyes flutter open, and she stares up at a serene, gray sky. A bird flies overhead.

  She doesn’t move, just lies there, not letting herself think. Or wonder why she’s awake. It didn’t feel like sleep. Death. Second death. It didn’t feel like anything. She just…woke up.

  Rising, she sits up, looking out onto the ocean. She smells the fresh, salty air, tastes the mist on her lips. A breeze gently touches her hair, cooling her skin.

  This can’t be the same world she died in. This is peaceful.

  And yet a shadow looms. “Who are you?” she asks the presence, unfamiliar and foreign.

  Footsteps are soft on the sand, and she looks beside her as a man sits, looking at her. His eyes a clear gold, his skin a warm, light brown, hair a little darker. “Your mother sang about me.”

  Her brow furrows. My mother? She looks out at the ocean. “Which one?”

  “You always thought it was Adara’s song. But Raea sang it.”