Eleanor

by S. F. Burgess

  “Eleanor?” The soft growl gave her a measure of comfort.

  “Yes…” Such a weak, pathetic squeak of a voice.

  “Can I help?”

  “Water?” she managed. The pain subsided slightly and she opened her eyes, tilting her head slowly forwards again as Conlan handed her a glass of water. She took it and gulped it down. It barely touched the sides, doing nothing to satisfy her burning thirst. She waved the empty glass at Conlan.

  “More?”

  She nodded, regretting the movement as her stomach tightened and the throbbing in her head took on a shrill whine. He picked the jug off the table and moved back to her. Before he could pour it she dropped the glass to the sand and held her hand out. The sick feeling in her stomach made her lean forward slightly, taking deep breaths as she fixed her gaze on the ground and tried to stop the world from lurching.

  “All of it?” he asked.

  She waved her hand at him impatiently. The handle of the jug was placed in her outstretched fingers. Taking it, she brought it to her lips and drank greedily, careful not to spill any. She was halfway through the jug before she felt the liquid begin to lubricate her throat. She kept going until the water was gone. Tipping her head back carefully to get the last drops, she noticed Conlan’s amused expression as she did so.

  “Better?” he asked.

  She handed him the empty jug back and nodded, slower this time, looking back at Will. “What happened?” she asked, her voice sounding slightly stronger.

  “Amelia stopped the fight,” Conlan said.

  “Why was there a fight in the first place?”

  “Because Trey is holding a grudge,” Conlan muttered. Several pieces of information tumbled through Eleanor’s pained head.

  “Trey? The one who tried to kill you, that Trey? That was the giant that attacked Will and flattened me?”

  “Yes, that was Trey. How much damage did he cause you?”

  “I think I have a broken wrist, bruises, a concussion and I’ve bitten the inside of my mouth,” she said in flat monotone.

  Conlan’s jaw muscles clenched as she listed her injuries. “You should lay back and rest,” he said.

  “So, are they going to feed us to the Almighty Sarlacc?” Eleanor asked.

  Freddie chuckled, but Conlan looked confused. “Almighty Sarlacc?”

  Eleanor sighed. “Big monster, lots of teeth, slow digestion.”

  “Eleanor, are you quoting ‘Star Wars’?” Will’s voice was scratchy and thin, but he sounded amused. She smiled at him. One of his eyes was swollen closed and he looked a mess, but she could see the smile that tugged at his mouth.

  “This place makes me think of Tatooine, and you always did remind me of Obe-Wan Kenobi.”

  Will laughed at this; it made him spasm in pain and cough furiously. Amelia gave her a look.

  “I’ll go ask for some more water,” Conlan muttered, looking totally confused as he took the empty jug to the tent’s opening. He lifted the flap and met with the tip of a sword that hovered threateningly in front of his eyes. He asked politely for more water, the jug was taken off him and he was shoved roughly back inside the tent.

  Eleanor sighed. “Oh, the Almighty Sarlacc is going to be too good for us,” she muttered morosely. Freddie sniggered and Eleanor ignored Amelia’s accusing look as Will laughed himself into another coughing fit.

  They were left to languish in the tent for hours. Conlan had asked the guards if they would open the tent’s flaps to let the air in as the day wore on and the temperature rose further. His request had earned him nothing more than a sharp order to be silent. Will drifted in and out of consciousness and Eleanor lay back on her bed, trying not to think about her discomfort and general misery; in fact, trying not to think about anything. She could hear Freddie and Conlan’s occasional whispered conversation, but she could not make out the words. She could hear Amelia’s gentle, loving words as she comforted Will. What she could not hear was noise from outside the tent – hundreds of Elves and not a sound reached her. This scared her.

  The light in the tent began to fade. Sunset. Thankfully the temperature dropped, too. Eleanor jumped when the tent flaps were thrown open and four Elves strode in. One of them was Trey, his seething, baleful presence seeming to fill the tent. One of the guards brought in some lanterns, giving the tent a soft glow, but Trey’s hulking form seemed to take the comfort out of the light.

  “Sit, Conlan Baydon, and we will discuss this situation,” said one of the newly arrived Elves, a man; his features did not seem to have slipped, but his cheek carried three deep scars, like an animal had scratched his face open.

  “There is nothing to discuss, Johan, his life is mine!” Trey growled.

  “Your presence here is a courtesy, Trey, not a necessity. If you are unable to be civil you will be removed.”

  Eleanor recognised the voice as a figure stepped towards Trey, the female who had spoken to them when they had arrived. Trey glared at the woman, but nodded. Watching the huge Elf warily, Conlan sat cross-legged on the sand.

  “Let us talk,” he said. The four Elves sat themselves in a circle, Trey sitting in front of Eleanor so he could stare at Will as Amelia helped him to sit on his bed. Eleanor was surprised to find that the fourth member of the Elfish party was Adra.

  “I am Sarina,” the female Elf said by way of introduction. “This is Johan, we speak for the Elf council. Trey has accused a member of your party of a crime. Adra stands as your advocate and advisor in matters of Elf law.” Conlan’s eyes widened in surprise as he looked at Adra, then narrowed in suspicion. Adra saw the look and sighed.

  “You could have killed my son, my whole patrol, but you did not. I will give you honest advice.” Conlan nodded, his gaze turning back to Sarina.

  “Trey has accused whom of what?” he asked slowly.

  “That abomination,” Trey snarled, pointing a thick finger to where Will sat. “Took my daughter from me!” The accusation smothered them. Eleanor felt an energy string brush against her.

  What did he say? Amelia asked. Eleanor could feel the effort it was taking her to keep calm, and without thinking she gave her an exact translation. Amelia gasped; pulling her energy free with a yank, eyes wide with horror. Will dropped his head in a move that screamed guilty. Conlan looked bewildered. From his point of view Will had been nowhere near Trey’s daughter, yet Will’s body language indicated he accepted the accusation. Amelia’s voice broke the silence: low, hurt, horrified, disbelieving.

  “You killed his child?”

  Will brought his eyes to hers; Eleanor could see the agony in them.

  “Amelia… I…” he stuttered. He wanted to explain, but he seemed to lack the words. Amelia’s disbelief turned to fury. She stood, propelling herself backwards away from him and stumbling. Freddie caught her, helping her up.

  “Amelia, Will didn’t kill Trey’s daughter,” Eleanor said.

  “Then why is Trey accusing him of it?” Amelia snapped.

  “He’s not, he’s accusing Will of destroying memories of a daughter who had already died, precious memories, memories Trey can’t replace.” Eleanor said. She did not want to sugar-coat the accusation, as she knew how much Will hated himself for what he had done to Trey, but she also did not want Amelia thinking he went around killing children.

  “How do you know this?” Amelia asked. She still sounded hurt.

  “Because when Earth attacked him, our minds merged. Occasionally some of Will’s stronger memories and feelings break out of where I tried to contain them,” Eleanor said. Amelia stared at her, then back at Will, but the look of horror and betrayal did not leave her face. The Elves watched with interest. They might not have understood the words, but the expressions and body language were giving more than enough hints as to what was going on.

  “Why?” she demanded.

  “Trey was trying to hurt Conlan, trying to kill him, I… reacted. I wasn’t thinking straight,” Will answered. Eleanor felt her heart squeeze for him. Amelia d
id not understand. Not ‘thinking straight’ was a major understatement. Eleanor had lived these memories, carried these memories and knew how much suffering they had caused. Will had been in Mydren for less than an hour. He had been dragged, painfully, from his drowning but still living body. His mind had been a mess; confused, terrified and in agony, he had focused on the only thing that made sense – haunted green eyes. Stephen’s eyes. When Trey had attacked he had acted to protect his little brother, fought back, instinctively pushing into the Elf’s mind and filling it with his own agony. He had not understood what he was doing or how he was doing it, but the pain he inflicted had been nothing to the pain he found, namely Trey’s anguish and grief at the loss of his child. Will had found the memories of the happy, smiling little girl and had ripped them apart, wanting the pain to stop. Will was blaming himself, hating himself, for something that was not his fault.

  “Amelia, Will…” Eleanor started, wanting to explain, but Amelia’s eyes moved to hers and glared at her with such fury that she stopped speaking.

  “Shut up, Eleanor!”

  Stunned into silence, Eleanor stared at her.

  It was Freddie who broke the silence. “How did Will get into Trey’s head? I thought Elves had shields around their energy?”

  “Trey doesn’t have a shield,” Will muttered without raising his head.

  “Why not?” Eleanor asked.

  “I have no idea, Eleanor, I never got the chance to ask him,” Will said, his voice hard, flat and irritated. He raised his damaged face to hers, and she could see his anger. What did I do? She looked from Will’s ice-cold blue stare to Amelia’s furious, brittle, slate-grey eyes.

  “OK, shutting up now,” she murmured, sitting back heavily on her bed, her churning mind desperately trying to work out how she had managed to make both Will and Amelia mad at her. Amelia sat down with Freddie behind Conlan and continued to glare at Will. Silence followed.

  “Are they finished? What were they arguing about?” Sarina asked Conlan.

  “Trey’s accusation,” Conlan said mildly. Sarina raised an eyebrow at him, which made her distorted face look a little less damaged for a moment. She clearly felt there was more to the argument than that. Conlan stared calmly back at her but did not elaborate.

  “Very well,” Sarina said, sounding a little annoyed. “The accusation that Trey makes is a very serious one. There have been very few of our number with the ability to enter minds, and even then there are only a few minds they are able to enter. We have laws to prevent such intrusions, but no law covers what the Avatar did once he had entered Trey’s mind. Destroying memories… this was a horrific abuse of power. This crime makes the Avatar a ‘marked’ man. He will be considered a criminal until he submits to the Elf council for judgement. We will not be handing the wand over to a criminal, even if you did have something to trade for it,” Sarina said solemnly.

  “So either we hand Will over for judgement or we leave empty-handed?” Conlan asked.

  “He is not leaving here alive,” Trey snarled. Will raised his head and looked at the Elf. Eleanor could see the resignation – he was not going to fight this, he knew he was guilty and he would give himself up for judgement, accepting whatever they said. He would give his life to atone for what he had done.

  “What judgement does the council deliver?” Conlan asked calmly, ignoring Trey’s outburst.

  “This is a new problem for us, so we wish to know what Trey would consider a suitable punishment,” Sarina said, looking at Trey.

  “I want his head, you can keep the rest of him!” came the snarling reply.

  “No,” Conlan said without hesitation. “What Will did was wrong, but there are mitigating circumstances. He was a newly formed Avatar; he had no idea who he was, where he was or what he was capable of. He was frightened and confused. Trey tried to kill me and Will defended me. He made a mistake, but not one he should have to pay for with his life.”

  “Is this true, Trey? Did you attack this man?” Adra asked. Trey glared at Conlan, but he nodded.

  “Then the Avatar’s reaction is understandable, although his actions are still not justified. Conlan Baydon is correct, he does not deserve to pay for his crime with his life,” Johan said firmly. Eleanor watched every muscle in Trey’s body flex as he jumped to his feet; he stood over them, glaring down, his fists clenched. Eleanor felt his fury batter against her, filling the tent.

  “And what of my justice? He took my child from me, all I had left.” The grief in his voice gave it a hollow, echoing quality.

  “What would be acceptable to you, Trey?” Sarina asked. Trey moved to pace backwards and forwards across the tent. He seemed to be thinking but it was hard to tell, as the sagging folds of his face made him look like he was perpetually frowning. He stopped pacing. Turning back to them, there was a twisted attempt at a smile on his face, but Eleanor saw the malicious cunning in his eyes and shuddered.

  “This abomination attacked me to protect you,” Trey said in a slow, cold, bitter voice, looking down at Conlan. “So he will pay if I make you suffer. He took my child, so you will swear an oath to give me your firstborn child in replacement.”

  A deep, horrified silence pushed against the tent walls. Eleanor stared at Conlan. His face was blank, eyes empty. Eventually, Johan broke the silence, his voice a hoarse whisper.

  “No, Trey, what you ask is not the answer, what you ask is unthinkable.”

  Trey laughed, a grating sound. “No, not unthinkable. There is precedent.” Trey’s words knocked into Eleanor’s memories, sending a domino effect through her head.

  “For a very steep price the Elves provided help by showing the resistance the secret to creating more Avatars,” Eleanor whispered, reciting Conlan’s words from memory. “The steep price was that you took their children. That was when your bloodline became corrupted, when you brought human children into your tribe. Why did you want them?”

  Johan turned to look at Eleanor appraisingly, then sighed. “Not a bright moment in our history, but we were desperate at the time. There were not enough Elves to continue, and we were slowly dying out. We never considered the effect that our use of magic would have on a mixed bloodline. We dealt ourselves as heavy a blow as did the humans who gave up their children. The humans never forgave the deal we forced them to make; we ended up moving into the desert permanently for our own safety, in turn cultivating the belief that we were cruel, merciless monsters in an attempt to protect ourselves. We made a mistake, and it is not one I am in a hurry to repeat.”

  “This is what I demand. If I cannot have the Avatar’s head, I will have Conlan Baydon’s firstborn child,” Trey said, his voice flat and final.

  “He can have my head,” Will said quietly, looking at Conlan.

  Horrified at the choice, Conlan shuddered and ignored Will completely. “Is the council going to enforce Trey’s request as judgement?” he asked, turning to Sarina.

  “Johan is right, this is not a decision we would take lightly, but given the rather unique circumstances, it is very likely that the council will uphold Trey’s demands for justice,” the woman replied.

  This news deepened the horrified look on Conlan’s face. “Adra, do we have any appeal, any hope of forcing Trey to make another choice?”

  Adra looked thoughtful for a moment. “There are some, like Johan, who will disapprove of this judgement, but there will not be enough to sway the council. If you want the wand, you must make a choice – one I do not envy you.”

  Conlan nodded and looked at Trey. “I do not have children… I may never have them.”

  Trey sneered at him. “Elves are long-lived, so I can wait. If you do not have children, then that will be my loss, although more yours I suspect. But if you do, you will honour your vow and hand over your firstborn to me within a month of its birth.”

  Conlan stared at the Elf towering over him. Eleanor felt her heart ache for him; he looked so small, so trapped.

  “I need some time,” he said, his voice bl
eached of emotion.

  “Of course,” Johan said, rising to his feet. “We will leave you, food will be sent. Call for us when you have made a decision.”

  The four Elves left the tent and a deep, dread-filled silence moved out from Conlan to cover them all.

  “So, is someone going to tell us what’s going on?” Freddie asked quietly. Eleanor opened her mouth to answer the question.

  “Someone other than Eleanor,” Amelia ordered. Hurt, Eleanor snapped her mouth shut again.

  “We have a choice: we can leave without the wand, we can kill every Elf in this camp and take the wand or we can submit to the Elf council’s judgement. Trey has made demands, he wants Will’s head; if he can’t have that, he wants me to hand over my firstborn child,” Conlan said in the same emotionless voice, not taking his steady gaze off the sand in front of him. Amelia gasped, starting in horror from Will’s miserable expression to Freddie’s shock.

  “You’re not going to let them have Will’s head, are you?” Amelia whispered, fear pulsing through her trembling voice.

  Conlan turned to glare at her. “I don’t know, Amelia; clearly you think me capable of it.”

  “What are you going to do?” Freddie asked.

  “What am I going to do? What happened to voting?” Conlan snapped.

  “This decision is yours, Conlan; we’ll do whatever you want… I’ll do whatever you want,” Will said quietly.

  Conlan slowly shook his head. “So much for sharing the responsibility. I need to think.” He pulled himself to his feet, walking towards the tent’s exit. As he pulled back the flap a sword tip hovered in front of his face.

  “I am going for a walk and she is coming with me,” he said, pointing back to Eleanor without looking at her. “If you need permission from Johan or Sarina for this, fine, go get it, otherwise get out of my way.” Seeing the look on Conlan’s face, the owner of the sword nodded, letting him pass. Surprised at his desire for her company, Eleanor rose painfully off her bed and followed him out of the tent. The night air was cold and pleasant against her skin. She took a couple of slow, deep breaths, feeling the clean air take away her desire to be sick and removing some of the sting from her headache. The tent was a good distance from the main Elf camp and Conlan walked further away, up over the sand dunes, not checking to see if Eleanor was following him. One of their guards tailed them at a discrete distance. On the other side of the dune Conlan stopped and sat down, pulling his knees up to his chest and staring out at the night-shrouded sand that stretched on forever like a silver-black sea.