Eleanor

by S. F. Burgess

  “It’s sweet of Will to try to defend me, but I don’t need it, I can fight my own battles where Conlan is concerned. He’s already promised not to hurt me again; Will threatening him on my behalf is just going to upset him,” she said.

  “Eleanor, have you heard yourself? He slammed your head into a door and you’re worried about Will upsetting him?” Freddie said incredulously.

  Eleanor glared at him. “He apologised, I forgave him, matter closed.”

  “He apologised?” Amelia asked, giving Eleanor a hard look. She doesn’t believe me.

  “He apologised,” she snapped, getting angrier by the second. She pulled away from them and marched down the road toward where Will and Conlan stood. They had noticed her approach before she realised that she had no idea what she was going to say.

  “Did you want something, Eleanor?” Will asked.

  “What did you say?” she demanded bluntly.

  “This is a private conversation between Conlan and I,” he replied, glancing down the street to where Amelia and Freddie stood.

  Eleanor snorted. “According to Amelia I’m the topic of this conversation.”

  “Amelia should have kept that information to herself.”

  “Will, much as I appreciate the gesture, I really don’t need protecting. Conlan promised not to hurt me again, end of story.” She tried to keep her voice as calm as his, but it was a struggle. Will gave her a long, appraising look.

  “Do you trust him to keep that promise?” he asked evenly. Eleanor stared at him in horrified silence. He knew her too well. I can’t lie to him…

  “No,” she whispered honestly, giving Conlan an apologetic glance; he looked crushed.

  “No, neither do I,” Will agreed. “Hence the need for the conversation we just had.”

  Conlan turned and walked away, his long legs carrying him further down the street, and then he was running, disappearing out of sight down an alleyway that led to the gate.

  “That was cruel, Will. I don’t want to lie to you, but you’re making it very difficult for me!” Eleanor said quietly, turning back to the cold blue eyes that regarded her.

  Will sighed. “He needs to learn a little impulse control where you’re concerned, and you need to understand that just because you love the man doesn’t mean you have to put up with his temper tantrums and frustrations. I know how emotionally messed up he is, but this has got to stop before he takes it too far and accidentally causes you real damage.”

  Eleanor felt her anger turn to a frigid ball of fury. “Will, mind your own business. I’m not your child. If I want to let Conlan beat me black and blue, that’s my right. I know you meant well, but you’re making it worse. I want him to open up to me, and this is just going to make him retreat,” she said, her voice flat and hard. The depth of the hurt in Will’s eyes took her by surprise; she looked at him, bemused by his reaction.

  “What did I say?” she asked, slowly running through her words, looking for the problem.

  He smiled slightly. “Nothing.”

  “Oh no, if I can’t lie to you, you don’t get to lie to me,” she said, glaring at him.

  He dropped his head. “You just made me realise how much I do think of you as my child. I’m sorry, Eleanor, I just wanted to help.”

  “Oh... ” Guess it’s not just Amelia who wanted children. “I know you wanted to help, and I’m grateful, truly, but I would appreciate it if, in future, you ran this sort of help by me first to see if I want or need it,” she said as gently as she could. Will nodded again and tried to smile at her.

  “I take it that didn’t go so well?” Amelia asked as she and Freddie came to join them.

  “No, not so well... I need to go and talk to him,” Eleanor replied, looking back at the alley Conlan had run down.

  “He’ll have headed for the gate, we can meet him there,” Will said, turning to walk down the street. Catching him up, Amelia slipping her hand into his, from the way she kept looking up at him, Eleanor knew they were talking in each other’s heads. She followed behind, Freddie walking at her side and giving her concerned glances she did her best to ignore.

  Conlan sat on the low wall that led up to the gate. His shoulders were slumped and he stared at the ground as if he were trying to burn a hole through it. Will and Amelia walked by him, out past the guards and down the road a little. Freddie gave Eleanor an odd look, before following them. Feeling sick, hurting for him, Eleanor walked over to stand in front of the angry, miserable man. He knew she was stood there, she had seen his body tense. She ran her fingers lightly down the side of his face, feeling the indentation of his scar. He shivered. What’s he afraid of? She slipped her hand under his chin, raising his head until she could look into his eyes and felt a stab of pain at the torment she found.

  “I am sorry I do not believe you,” she said in Dwarfish, conscious of the guards stood nearby. Conlan pulled his head back angrily, away from her hand.

  “Stop apologising, Eleanor. Stop being so forgiving; you should be angry, hit me back, hate me!”

  “I am what I am, Conlan. I do not like you hurting me, but I do not think bashing my head into a door really qualifies me to hate you,” she said calmly. She would use Will’s trick – the louder Conlan got, the quieter and milder she was going to get.

  “So what would qualify it? Broken bones? Me killing you?” His loud, angry voice was reaching the guards, who were now watching with sniggering interest.

  “Death might do it, but I doubt it somehow,” Eleanor said softly, unable to keep the amused smile off her face.

  “You think this is funny?” he snarled at her.

  “Hysterical,” she replied flatly.

  She reached to touch his face again and he jerked back.

  “Do not touch me, Eleanor.”

  She pulled her hand back, hurt. She had wanted to make him feel better, wanted him to understand that she did not hold his actions against him, but he was too angry with himself to accept the comfort she was offering.

  “I do not hate you. You are already doing such a fine job of it, I cannot compete,” she whispered. When he remained silent, she continued. “Conlan, your responses to me have been unpleasantly violent since we left the Dwarves – did I do something you did not like? Please, tell me.”

  Conlan took a slow deep breath, dropping his gaze. “I know you are unhappy, Eleanor,” he began. “You might be able to hide it from the others, but I see the look you get sometimes, like you want to be somewhere else – like being with us is painful.” Surprised by his perception, Eleanor stared at him as he kept talking. Now he had started, he seemed to have something he wanted to say, something he was pushing himself to say. “You love him, miss him. I know you do. I took you away from him, from the possibility of a safe, comfortable life, and it has made you miserable. It is making me... irrational and I am taking it out on you.”

  “Conlan, I have no idea what you are talking about. Miss him? Who?” Eleanor asked nonplussed.

  “Remic,” he muttered miserably.

  “Conlan, I did not fall in love with Remic, or any other Dwarf for that matter.”

  A strange, almost relieved look crossed his face for a moment, before suspicion took its place. “If that is not the reason, why are you unhappy?” he asked.

  “I have my reasons. I assume you realise your behaviour is not likely to improve my mood?” Eleanor said softly.

  Conlan’s body seemed to tighten up even further. “Eleanor, you keep pushing me to tell you how I am feeling, to tell you what I am thinking. I might be more inclined to do this if you opened up to me.”

  She sighed. “I am convinced that the Talismans have nothing to do with the connection. I just feel that we could have all five of them and it would still not work. I believe we are wasting time when in fact we should be trying to get rid of your shield.”

  “Do you know how to get rid of my shield?” Conlan asked.

  “No.”

  “Do you think sitting around thinking about it
is going to help you?”

  “No, probably not,” she conceded.

  “Then what is the problem with us looking for the Talismans while we work it out? More importantly, what is the problem with you sharing this with the rest of us? Are you really so arrogant that you believe you are the only one who can fix our problems?” he spat, deep irritation giving his voice a steel edge.

  Hurt, Eleanor stared at him. Why didn’t I share this? Is he right?

  She felt tears spring into her eyes, blurring her vision as she walked away through the gate towards where Will, Amelia and Freddie stood watching them, although Will appeared to be paying more attention to the guards.

  Freddie gave her a sympathetic smile.

  “Are you OK?”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, brushing her tears away angrily. Conlan walked up behind them, his face showing its normal, emotionless expression.

  “Come on, we’re wasting time.”

  For several hours they walked in silence along the main track from Drent, until Conlan took a side road that Eleanor would have missed, it was so overgrown. From what she had seen, Eleanor would not have called any of the ‘roads’ in Mydren ‘good’, but the track they were now walking along was so cracked and pitted it was barely a road. She understood why Conlan had not brought Rand; however, the track was still easier to walk on than the sand that was now in evidence on either side. Some of it had blown in small dunes across their path, and the further they walked, the more sand they encountered. Follow the Yellow Brick Road, Eleanor thought, a strong, dark sense of dread flowing through her and making the overly bright day dimmer.

  I hate the desert!

  Her feet sank deep into the sand with each step, making the simple act of walking an effort. The sand was everywhere, and she could feel it rub and chaff in her boots and other places she was trying not to think about. The dry heat battered at her, desiccating her skin and cracking her lips. She had taken Amelia’s advice, as the others had, and brought a shirt to wrap round her head, neck and face, but she was convinced she could feel sunburn tightening her skin, burning her through the thin fabric. She knew she was losing more water in sweat than she was gaining in the small, rationed sips from the water skins Will and Conlan were carrying. The sun’s glare off the sand hurt her eyes, and the lack of any sort of smell or sound other than the ones they brought with them made Eleanor nervous and strained her senses. As the sun reached the middle of its daily journey, burning down on them mercilessly, Conlan stopped so they could rest; there was no shade to be had, so they dropped where they stood.

  “Water?” Will asked her, nudging her with his foot. She opened her eyes, amused by the ‘Lawrence of Arabia’ look he had going with one of Amelia’s scarves wrapped round his head. His shadow was covering her face as he leaned over and looked down at her. She did want to drink, but the tiny sips she was allowed did nothing other than torment her.

  “Not right now, but could you just stand there and block the sun for a few hours?” she asked, her voice grating roughly in her throat. He smiled weakly at her and she noticed just how exhausted he looked. No water in the desert. His physical exhaustion would be draining his energy, and there was no way for him to replenish it. Reaching out an energy string she felt his drop in vitality and automatically pulled enough from the earth to restore him to his normal level. He cringed slightly, but nodded his head in thanks and flopped onto the sand next to Amelia. Conlan and Freddie had moved up to the next dune, both of them staring out at the nothing before them. Hauling her tired body back up, Eleanor walked up the sand dune to stand next to them.

  “So what’s the plan?” Freddie asked Conlan.

  “Plan?” Conlan echoed, not looking at him.

  “I was kind of hoping we had a plan.”

  Conlan looked at him. “We walk for a while, and we’ll eventually meet an Elf patrol; they’ll take us to the Elves’ camp.”

  “That’s not a plan, Conlan,” Freddie said, anger creeping into his voice. “That’s surrender!”

  Conlan’s entire body stiffened. “It worked with the Dwarves,” he said, giving each word a razor sharp edge.

  Frustrated, Freddie glared at him. “Chapter two, in the book you gave Eleanor, ‘Know Your Enemy’ – what do we know about the Elves?”

  Conlan did not reply, just stared at him. Eleanor answered the question.

  “From what we know about them, they are sly, devious, untrustworthy and vicious. They have made Drent an unviable option for the Lords of Mydren, so they can fight. They live in the desert, which makes them tough and resourceful, and they don’t appear to do anything unless there is something in it for them.”

  Freddie nodded. “Does any of that strike you as a race of people who are going to hand over the wand to a pathetic bunch of losers who got themselves caught? That’s assuming we get as far as asking for the wand and they don’t just try to kill us the minute they catch us.”

  “What do you suggest?” Conlan asked with a tone as emotionless as his face.

  Freddie looked thoughtful. “We must appear to be strong and in control – we’re not asking for the wand, we’re demanding it; with violence, if necessary.”

  “We should avoid the patrols and just march straight into the camp,” Eleanor said. Conlan spun round so quickly to glare at her that Freddie’s whole body tensed.

  “I have no idea where the Elf camp is,” Conlan snapped. “It’s a camp, it moves. You want to march into it, you find it!”

  “Could you do that, Eleanor?” Freddie asked.

  “I don’t know, this is an immense space to look in. I only found the Dwarves by accident. I guess Conlan’s right, we need to find a patrol.”

  “OK, we need a patrol, but how about we capture them, not the other way around. Force them to take us to the camp?” Freddie suggested.

  Conlan shook his head. “They know the desert, we don’t. They use magic to shield themselves, so we couldn’t sneak up on them, even if we could find them.”

  “Chapter eight,” Eleanor answered, grinning at them as an idea occurred to her.

  “‘Know how to take and hold the advantage’,” Freddie recited from memory.

  Eleanor nodded. “I have an idea,” she said, heading back down the dune. “Come on, we need to discuss this with Will and Amelia. I think there needs to be a vote.”

  Eleanor forced her legs to keep moving. The heat was making her feel dizzy and sick. How much longer before the stupid Elves find us? Had it not been for the fact that he was in a worse state then she was, she would have complained bitterly to Will as he trudged beside her. She could feel his energy levels were in free-fall and knew he was suffering. Amelia had been topping up his energy, but it was not enough. Eleanor had resorted to sending him a constant, steady flow of energy, just to keep him conscious and moving. Next time there’s a great plan, someone else can be bait! She and Will had been chosen because Conlan had argued that they were going to look the weakest to the Elves, thus making them overconfident.

  “Will, when are the Elves going to get here?” she asked, mostly because the silence was becoming unsettling.

  He smiled, glancing at her. “Eleanor, the Elves have been tracking us for over an hour.” Eleanor looked about her, squinting against the glare and seeing nothing but sand, sky and heat as it shimmered on the horizon.

  “Where?”

  “Don’t waste time looking, they are using magic to hide themselves, but if you concentrate you’ll feel it,” Will said quietly. Eleanor kept walking but closed her eyes. It’s not as if I’m going to walk into anything. Slowly, so she did not miss anything, she pushed her energy strings out into the desert. At first there was nothing, but then she felt a faint pulse to the left of them, moving parallel to their position. Concentrating, without touching the shield they had erected, Eleanor felt for the life it covered.

  “There are four of them, out to our left.”

  “Not quite, there are four adults and a child,” Will correct
ed. Eleanor reached out over the shield. Will was right. She realised she had missed it because the child was using energy; it was a boy, she was sure of it, and his energy was blending with the shield he was creating.

  “I can feel the boy; he’s the one creating the shield… It must be exhausting for a child.”

  “I was once told that Elf children often have far more magical talent than their elders. They seem to lose it as they grow older and it corrupts them,” Will said.

  “If they are following us, why haven’t they attacked?”

  “A foolish question, Eleanor! Why attack now and risk a confrontation when they can wait until we are too tired to fight back and capture us without risk?” Will said, mimicking the tone she used to lecture Conlan.

  “I really am annoying, aren’t I?” she muttered.

  Will nodded. “Oh yes.”

  “I’m too tired to fight them now,” she said, feeling the ache in her legs and back from walking through sand.

  “Not by their standards – you’re still standing.”

  “I can lie down if it speeds this process up,” she offered.

  Will chuckled but carried on moving. Eleanor walked after him, trying to ignore the sand, the sunburn, the throbbing headache and her dry mouth.

  As the sun began to set, Will finally gave up. Trying to walk down a dune, his legs gave out and he rolled down, landing on his back at the bottom. Eleanor loped after him, sinking alarmingly in the deep sand. He was staring at the darkening sky above, watching the stars appear. Eleanor knelt at his side.

  “Are you OK?” she asked.

  “I hate the desert,” he grumbled, closing his eyes.

  Eleanor giggled. “Me too. Can you get up?”

  “Nope. If the Elves don’t show up, I’m here for the night.”