“Freddie, the fire? Are they dead? Was it Protectors?” Conlan asked, looking over Eleanor’s shoulder. Freddie stood behind her, his face devoid of emotion.
“They’re dead. I don’t know who they were,” Freddie admitted.
“Why not?” Conlan looked confused.
“Because he turned them into human torches before we had the chance to ask them,” Eleanor murmured.
“If we don’t know who they were, we don’t know if there will be more, or how they found us. We need to get out of here, and right now! Will, can Amelia be moved or do you need to treat her first?” Conlan asked, giving Freddie an irritated glance before looking at Will.
“Has the arrow head come out the other side?” Will asked in a flat voice, looking at the arrow and not Conlan.
Moving slowly and carefully, Conlan moved his hand over Amelia’s back, supporting her with his arm. Although he tried not to jostle her, Amelia gasped at the pain and coughed weakly, more blood leaking out of the corner of her mouth.
“No,” Conlan said, gently easing Amelia back into place.
Will looked at Amelia. “I can’t fix this; the arrow is too close to your heart.”
Amelia nodded and reached for his hand. He grasped it and kissed it tenderly.
“I can’t live without you, Amelia,” he moaned. Amelia gave him a small smile.
“This terror you’re feeling over losing me. This is what I live with every minute of every day. Do you understand now?” she asked, her voice a rustling whisper, like newspaper dragged along a pavement by the breeze.
“I’m sorry,” Will said, agony ripping through his words.
“I don’t want your apologies. I need your understanding.” Amelia’s words hung between them. Will nodded and Amelia’s smile lit up her face for a moment, a brief view of the sun between clouds.
“I love you,” she breathed.
Running a gentle hand down her face, Will leaned in and kissed her.
“I love you too, please don’t give up. We’ll find a way to help you.”
Amelia nodded and sighed, her eyes closing, Will moved his hand down to her neck, feeling for a pulse.
“She’s not dead,” Freddie said, and Eleanor jumped at the sound, the empty voice of a stranger.
“How do you know?” Eleanor asked; Amelia certainly looked dead.
“When the other Earths died we felt it. It was agony. You’ll know when Amelia dies,” Freddie said.
“No!” Will snapped angrily, not turning round. “Amelia is not going to die!”
“You said you couldn’t help her,” Conlan said gently.
“I can’t, but I know someone who can,” Will said, and Eleanor heard the ruthless tone.
“Who?” Conlan asked.
“Jarrick,” Will answered, raising his head to look at Conlan, who had tensed in wide-eyed shock.
There was a tense silence and Conlan slowly shook his head.
“Will… Jarrick won’t help.”
“Yes he will. We’re going to take Amelia to him. Nethrus is only a day’s ride from here. You’re going to do or agree to whatever he asks to get him to help,” Will said, his voice hard and cold.
“You have no idea what you’re asking,” Conlan said quietly.
“Yes I do, and I don’t care. Amelia is dying because she saved your life; you’re going to help her. I have followed you through one nightmare after another – never questioned, never doubted – and so has Amelia. I don’t care what it costs you, you will help her!” Will demanded. Conlan stared at him in disbelief, and then looking down into Amelia’s face he nodded.
“I’ll do whatever he asks,” he echoed softly. Eleanor wondered if anybody else had noticed how hard he was shaking.
Jarrick
They cut down a couple of thin trees, and using their blankets they made a stretcher for Amelia, Eleanor making a hood from branches and one of her jackets to protect her face from the rain. Will and Freddie’s horses were about the same height, so they carefully suspended Amelia’s stretcher between them so she was spared some of the bouncing of the journey. Under dark, evil-looking storm clouds they set off for Nethrus. Freddie and Will rode in front while Eleanor and Conlan followed, Conlan leading Amelia’s horse after him.
“Conlan,” Eleanor said softly. “Who’s Jarrick?”
Conlan turned to look at her, loathing deep in his eyes. “My brother. He hates me.”
“Then why are we going to him for help?”
Conlan sighed. “Jarrick has a healer, a very good one. I made a deal with Jarrick once before, when Will got stabbed in a fight. I think Will is hoping I can make a similar deal.”
“What sort of a deal?” Eleanor asked suspiciously as her brain provided her with the memory of Amelia talking about Nethrus.
“Jarrick agreed to help Will and I allowed Jarrick to give me a beating,” Conlan said flatly.
Eleanor stared at him. “What?! That’s totally ridiculous! You can’t make that deal again; Will has no right to ask it of you! What…”
“Eleanor, shut up.” The order was low and quiet, but there was something in his tone, as if he was down to his last thread of self-control and she was doing little to help him keep a grip on it. She snapped her mouth shut, staring at him. He ignored her and kept his eyes firmly in front.
“Amelia won’t want this,” Eleanor noted. She had expected him to tell her to shut up again or maybe yell at her, but his shoulders slumped and he turned his head to look at her. The rain and the gloom gave shadow and depth to the despair that filled his face.
“I can’t let her die, Eleanor. I owe her too much, owe Will too much...” he whispered, and Eleanor saw the fear he was trying so hard to hide.
“Maybe we can make a different deal,” Eleanor said gently. “We’re Avatars, we have powers, perhaps your brother would like …”
“NO!”
Conlan’s yell was so loud that both Rand and Horse jumped, but not nearly as high as Eleanor did. Freddie turned in his saddle to watch them. Conlan’s eyes blazed as he leaned across the gap between them, his voice a harsh whisper.
“Eleanor, my brother is a dangerous man – a nasty, devious, vicious monster.”
Eleanor stared at him incredulously. Conlan glared at her still, but she could see him attempting to get his anger under control.
“If you tell my brother what you are capable of, he will want that power for himself – and he can be very ‘persuasive’. You’re not going anywhere near him!”
Angry at his stubborn refusal to even think about other possibilities, Eleanor glared back. “I’m not going to let you just hand yourself over to some monster, not when there are other options.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Eleanor.” He pulled himself upright and turned away from her.
She would stop him, find another way. Closing her eyes and trusting Horse to follow the others, she tried to work it out, but how would she know what deal to make if she did not know what Jarrick might want? She doubted Conlan was going to give her the information she needed, so she was going to have to find a way to meet Jarrick herself.
Will pushed them through the afternoon storm and on through the night, heading south, stopping every few hours to check on Amelia. He said nothing. Eleanor had tried to talk in his head, but he had refused, which added more anger and frustration to what she was already feeling. The clouds broke as the sun rose the next morning. The bright light was dazzling, and Eleanor rode in a tired, miserable daze. When she felt an energy string brush against her, she thought her slightly addled mind was imagining it, but when she pulled it in and felt Amelia’s light presence fill her head, she was certain she was hallucinating.
Amelia?
Eleanor, you’re right, I don’t want him doing this. In her head, Amelia’s voice sounded strong and determined.
Amelia, you should be saving your energy…
Eleanor, please listen to me, you have to stop Conlan.
I’m not happy ab
out it either, Amelia, but I’d rather he got his arse kicked than you died.
You don’t understand. Will was pretty out of it the last time, he doesn’t really remember. I was the one who nursed Conlan. Jarrick didn’t just give him a beating, he tortured him… for days. What he suffered… He had nightmares for weeks. Jarrick tried to kill him last time, and this time I think he’ll make sure. We’re all expendable, apart from Conlan; he can make a new Avatar of Air. I would rather die than put him in Jarrick’s hands again.
Eleanor shuddered as Amelia sent her memories: Conlan’s broken, pain-ravaged body, the pitiful sounds he made in his sleep as he relived the torture, the wide-eyed terror when he woke, gasping, his body shaking with remembered agony.
How do I stop him? Eleanor whispered.
I don’t know, but you have to think of something, please Eleanor. I was willing to give my life to save his, and Will is going to take that from him.
As Amelia’s presence left her mind, Eleanor realised she was crying, tears running down her face and dripping off her chin. She turned to look at Conlan. His eyes held hers; she saw the understanding in them. He knew, knew what Amelia had just shown her. For one frozen minute Eleanor saw all his terror and despair at what was coming, then, with effort, he pulled his hard, emotionless mask into place and turned his head, leaving Eleanor sobbing for him in wretched misery.
They began seeing signs of habitation in the landscape – the odd farm, walled fields and domestic animals. They saw a track cutting across the hills and heading off north, and they joined it, making faster time on the easier surface. It was late afternoon before Will pulled them off the track, heading towards woodland Eleanor could see in the distance. He was still silent, ignoring all attempts made to talk to him. They dismounted as they walked under the trees. It was cooler here, and the flecked green light and the sounds of trees swaying gently in the breeze eased away some of the tension. With great care Will lifted Amelia, cringing as she gasped and moaned in pain, her eyelids fluttering, but she did not regain consciousness. Leaving Freddie to dismantle the stretcher and lead his horse, Will walked deeper into the trees.
They emerged from the tight crowd of vegetation around them into a wide clearing, trees standing regimental guard in a circle around it. While it was overgrown, there was evidence of a previous camp – a filled-in fire pit, logs now rotted, that had been pulled around it. To her left Eleanor could hear the gurgling flow of a fast-moving stream. Will moved forward with purpose, laying Amelia gently on the ground next to where the fire had been. He’s been here before. Eleanor watched him run a hand down Amelia’s pale cheek, then standing he turned to Conlan, a look of single-minded determination on his face.
“Go and talk to Jarrick, we’ll wait here for you,” he ordered. His face blank, Conlan nodded and turned to lead Rand back out of the wood. Panicked, Eleanor dropped Horse’s reins and darted in front of him. He looked down at her with one of his deep looks she did not understand, frowning slightly.
“Get out of my way, Eleanor” he said, not unkindly.
Eleanor slowly shook her head. “I’m coming with you.”
“No, you are going to stay here, out of the way,” he answered, his voice still quiet.
“I know what Jarrick did to you, Amelia showed me. I can help you. Let me meet this monster, let me work out what he would rather have than your pain.”
“There’s nothing he would rather have...” Conlan whispered, his fear showing again for a moment, before he pulled himself together, his voice harder. “You can’t help me, Eleanor, and I told you I don’t want you anywhere near him. Amelia doesn’t have time for this. Now sit down and shut up.”
“No! If you won’t take me with you I’ll just follow you. You can’t stop me!” she blustered, her voice just as hard as his had been.
Conlan dropped his head and took a slow, deep breath. “I can stop you, Eleanor.”
Reflexes sharpened by months of practice saw his fist fly at her head an instant before it hit. He had been aiming for her temple, a solid blow that would have knocked her senseless but done no permanent damage. However, anticipating it, Eleanor had instinctively begun to rock back on her feet and his fist made contact with her face under her left eye instead. He was still holding Rand’s reins and Eleanor felt one of the silver studs tear a bloody rent into the skin across her cheekbone as her head rocketed back and her vision exploded into a dazzling multi-coloured kaleidoscope. Like he’s ripped a rainbow apart in my skull. She dropped back, thudding to the ground, the darkness moving in on her. He broke his promise, was her last miserable thought.
Pain dragged her back to consciousness, a groan escaping dry lips. Her head felt full of needles, stabbing into her brain with every breath. Gingerly she raised her hand to her face, feeling the tackiness of drying blood where it had run down her cheek and neck and the bruising that was threatening to swell her left eye shut. Gentle hands pulled hers away.
“Don’t touch, Eleanor, you’ll make it worse.”
She slowly opened her eyes. It was dark. She was lying beside a fire, Freddie sat by her head, leaning over her, his upside down, blurry face holding a deep, concerned frown.
“He broke his promise,” Eleanor said in a voice of shattered glass, the words shredding her as the memories came back. She felt self-pitying tears spring to her eyes.
“And he’ll never forgive himself for it. Why can’t you just take no for an answer?” Will’s tone was hard, cold and bitter. Eleanor forced herself to sit, irritably slapping away Freddie’s efforts to stop her. Will sat across the fire from her. Amelia was cradled in his lap, the arrow still protruding from her chest and moving slightly with the rise and fall of her lungs; still features, grey and lifeless. Will’s face was stone, eyes brittle, sparking sapphire as he glared at her. Conlan and Rand were gone.
“Don’t make him do this,” Eleanor said slowly.
“I won’t let Amelia die!” Will snapped.
“So Conlan dies instead? What if we’re too late and lose them both?” Eleanor tried to reason.
“This is the only chance Amelia has of pulling through – and I’m taking it.”
“But Will, Amelia doesn’t want you to.”
He looked surprised. “How do you know what Amelia wants?”
“Because she told me, on the way here.”
Will’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “She hasn’t spoken to me.”
Eleanor shrugged. “Maybe she didn’t have strength for the protracted argument she knew she would end up having with you. Maybe she thought it would be easier for you if I was the one arguing for her death.”
“Is that what you’re arguing for?” Will’s voice was low, edged with lethal fury. She ignored it.
“Amelia was willing to die to save Conlan; she still is, and you’re making her sacrifice meaningless!”
“She is not going to die, Eleanor,” he said from between clenched teeth.
“Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t; either way, if you force Conlan to hand himself over to his brother he is going to die,” Eleanor snapped.
“I don’t think Jarrick wants him dead, or he would have killed him last time.”
Eleanor stared at him. “You’re betting his life on an assumption? Even if Jarrick doesn’t want to kill him, just because he survived it once doesn’t mean it’s OK to put him through it again! Do you even know what Jarrick made him suffer?”
Will finally dropped his gaze from hers. “I don’t care.”
Fuming, Eleanor pulled herself to her feet, ignoring the hot needles stabbing into her brain, the wave of nausea that washed over her and Freddie’s more insistent attempts to stop her. Grabbing Will’s hair and pulling back his head roughly, she forced his deep-blue eyes to meet hers and yelled at him.
“He’s your friend. Of course you care! I know you do! Jarrick tortured him, Will, and from the injuries Amelia showed me he was lucky to survive. It was probably an oversight on Jarrick’s part, I’m sure, but it’s not one he is going
to make again.”
Will grabbed her hand, twisting it into a lock. Her wrist, weakened from having been broken once before, screamed in protest. She whimpered and let go of his hair, but he did not release her. Pulling her arm down in front of him, adding slowly to the pressure, he forced her to drop forward until the damaged side of her face was pressing into the dirt. Eleanor groaned in pain, her arm strained to the limit of bone and sinew, feeling blood run as the wound on her side split open again.
“Let her go.”
Freddie.
Eleanor heard the anger in his voice.
“Stay out of this,” Will snarled at him.
“You’re going to break her wrist,” Freddie protested. “Will, please, you’re holding Amelia, Eleanor can’t fight back. I can’t stop you, please... You don’t want to do this. You’re in pain, I can see that, but Eleanor’s right – and you know it. Amelia can be replaced, we are all expendable, but Conlan isn’t. Think about what you are doing.”
Will laughed, a sharp, vicious noise. “Do you think I care about Mydren? About any of this? Do you think for one second that any of you mean more to me than Amelia does? If she dies I am done with this whole sorry mess, do you understand me?”
Freddie stared at him in shock.
“I know you care,” Eleanor whispered, concentrating on keeping the pain and fear out of her voice and trying to replicate Will’s own calm, steady tone. “Stephen died because of you; do you really want to be responsible for another brother’s death?”
Through his grip on her hand, Eleanor felt Will shudder. He released the pressure on her wrist and she collapsed. Freddie reached for her, helping her to sit and letting her lean against him. Her wrist throbbed and her head ached, but for an instant she saw Will’s agony, saw his hurt and the impossible position in which he felt trapped. Then the remorse and sympathy were gone and he held her gaze with cold, calculating determination.
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