Eleanor

by S. F. Burgess

  For a long time there was silence. Eleanor opened her eyes slowly. At some point she had fallen to the ground. Conlan sat in front of her, Rand’s head still resting in his lap and blood spreading in a pool to the side of him. Conlan was covered in it, but he did not seem to care. He stared ahead, at nothing, as he absently stroked Rand, his right hand still holding the sword hilt. Rand’s eyes were closed and his face was peaceful; had it not been for the blood he would have looked like he was sleeping. Eleanor knew the others were stood around her, but her only interest was in Conlan. She pulled herself up and walked towards him on shaking legs, wanting to offer him comfort. She placed a hand on his shoulder and was shocked by the sudden rage that poured through her body. More than rage – rage was a part of it – but there was also grief, pain and uncomprehending desolation; the rage moved up a level into something else, a white-hot feeling, the urge to destroy, the single-minded overwhelming desire to hack, stab and tear and to bring those who would cause these feelings to their knees. Eleanor knew the feelings were not her own, that they were Conlan’s, and she had a brief moment of lucidity when she realised she should not be able to feel his emotions. Then all thought was swept aside in another crashing, bruising wave of tormented agony. The feelings were overriding her own, and before she even knew what she was doing Eleanor pushed energy strings deep into the earth, trying to force the emotions deep into the ground as she did unwanted energy. She pushed deeper and deeper, her body shaking with the effort, his pain giving her more strength than she had ever thought possible. She felt her energy punch through to the boiling, seething, pulsating liquid core and she staggered back as a familiar presence surged through her mind.

  Hello again, little Avatar, Earth purred.

  Fear flashed through her, but this time it was different. This time Eleanor was carrying Conlan’s emotions – strong, powerful, rage-fuelled feelings. They gave her strength and control. Acting purely on instinct and Conlan’s desire for destruction, she pulled Earth’s consciousness to her, trapping it, holding it and bending it to her will. Earth struggled, but Eleanor knew that she was stronger. The feeling of omnipotent power flowed through her body, making her feel like she was glowing. Her eyes snapped open and she turned to face Jarrick, his expression full of malicious joy. Conlan was suffering, so he was happy. The smug grin was still on his face. Eleanor stepped towards him menacingly. Jarrick looked at her and fear showed in his eyes for the first time.

  “We made a deal, I have not broken it,” he stammered. Eleanor looked at him, all of Conlan’s rage tearing through her insides.

  “You have broken it as surely as killing any one of us. I warned you what would happen if you hurt him again. There will be no mercy,” Eleanor said, hearing her deep, Earth-assisted voice echo forebodingly around the courtyard. She dropped her head, closed her eyes and gave in to Conlan’s desire for the total destruction of his enemies. That was when the rumbling started.

  It started deep in the ground below them, slowly rising and getting louder. It sounded like a ferocious beast moving through the ground towards them. Around them the buildings began to vibrate, slates flew from the roof and birds scattered startled from the eves. Behind her Eleanor heard their horses move with skittish fear, and without thinking she reached for them all at once, putting them into a gentle sleep and allowing them to drop slowly to the ground. It was not something she had ever done before, or even thought of doing, but it was as simple as breathing. The power was total; she felt it pump through her veins, fuelled by righteous fury. He will pay, my love, she thought as she brought her head up to glare at Jarrick. The buildings around them began to shake; the statues around the garden jittered and toppled, crushing several of Jarrick’s men as they attempted to escape. Windows cracked and glass fell, and from inside the buildings came the sound of falling furniture, ceilings and light fittings dropping, all accompanied by the occasional scream. As the earth bucked and rolled beneath her, Eleanor found it was easy to keep her feet because she could anticipate the apparent chaos of the movement and move lightly on the balls of her feet – it was like standing upright on the deck of a ship in a storm. Jarrick, however, was knocked off his feet as the main building behind him collapsed, the library windows once again blown out. The fast-moving shards of glass should have ripped them to pieces, but they got half way across the courtyard and stopped, falling to the ground in a tinkling background noise to the rumbling destruction of the earthquake. Amelia is shielding, which a detached part of Eleanor’s mind registered as a very good thing as the building to the right exploded. An enormous fireball washed over them, briefly engulfing the protected sphere in which they stood in a ball of red and orange, before the flames, finding nothing to sustain them, moved on to devour the books in Jarrick’s library. The rumbling and shaking increased its intensity at Eleanor’s simple thought that she would not leave a single wall standing. In front of her, protected by Amelia’s shield, Jarrick cowered on the ground and stared in horror as his world was destroyed before his disbelieving eyes.

  “Eleanor… Stop!”

  Someone was stood in front of her, yelling and blocking her view of Jarrick. The growl in the voice reached her and made her heart jump for him. Conlan. Complying without hesitation, she released Earth, who pulled away from her by using Eleanor’s own energy strings to escape back from where she had been pulled. As she did so, Eleanor felt something else. A possibility. She could follow and merge herself with Earth – merge herself with that power. She understood now, and she was strong enough to retain her identity, her control. The temptation was impossible to resist and so she let go a little, pulling all her energy together so she could push it down into the earth, her last act as an Avatar and her first as Earth.

  “Please, Eleanor, stop!”

  She hesitated, halfway between two existences. She could not do this to him, he needed her help, now more than ever. She loved him too much. As much as she wanted the joy of that formidable power and total sovereignty of the earth, she wanted him more. With effort she dragged herself back, retracting her energy strings as the shaking around her dissipated and then stopped. Fires still blazed and there were still crashes and bangs of buildings collapsing, but after the deafening noise of the earthquake all she could hear was white noise. It felt like silence.

  Reality came back to her slowly, shaking body revealing her exhaustion. She looked up into Conlan’s face; green eyes held hers, and horror, pain and grief looked down at her, but the anger, the white-hot fury, was gone.

  “Why did you do that?” Jarrick cried, disbelieving shock echoing through his voice. Conlan turned. Jarrick was still on the ground, raised up on one elbow; his face showed fear and a deep, malignant hatred. Jarrick ignored Conlan and stared at Eleanor. “There are other people here,” Jarrick continued. “This compound is in the centre of a busy town – do you have any idea how many you have killed? You lecture me on right and wrong; my revenge killed a horse, but yours has killed hundreds, maybe thousands of innocent people.”

  Eleanor stared at the man, and there was only one more thing to do. Very softly she said, “Then I guess one more will not make a difference.” She released her energy and Jarrick’s body went from being whole, terror just having a chance to hit his face, to a splattered wet collection of body parts in a fraction of a second. She and Conlan regarded the mess in silence for several long moments.

  “Can we please get out of here?” Amelia asked. She sounded tired and empty, as if the shock had taken her spirit. Eleanor nodded, and turning from the blood revenge she had carried out, she walked back to the others. Horse was waking up and looked dazed and confused. Eleanor ran a gentle hand down the mare’s neck, the warm, soft sensation giving her a moment of peace. They stood in a perfect circle of calm; rubble, broken glass and roof tiles mapped out the limit of Amelia’s shield. Conlan caught sight of Rand’s body and his shoulders slumped.

  “I should bury him,” he said quietly, regret and grief filling his voice. Saying nothing, Fred
die stepped forward and gazed at the fallen animal, then he stepped back as Rand’s body was engulfed in a violent inferno, the heat so intense that from several feet away Eleanor could feel it singe her hair. The pyre blazed, a writhing inferno, for minutes, causing the courtyard’s paving slabs underneath Rand to split and crack. Rand’s body collapsed in on itself, crumpling to ash before Eleanor’s eyes. The fire died to nothing as quickly as it had started, and a small breeze picked up, swirling around the ash and lifting it up, raising it in a gentle dancing cloud. Amelia. Turning her head, Eleanor saw the distant look on her friend’s tired face, the small smile. Rand’s ashes moved lazily before them as the breeze blew them higher, through the smoke and up towards the cloudless blue sky above, leaving them for somewhere new. Eleanor felt Conlan’s pain and grief crash through her already weakened defences.

  “Goodbye, Rand,” Conlan murmured, watching the ashes disappear.

  At first Eleanor had been horrified at the chaos and destruction her earthquake had caused, but as each new harrowing sight tore at her, the feelings moved to unendurable and finally, blessedly, complete numbness. They moved carefully through the devastated streets, sometimes having to retrace their steps to find another way when they discovered a collapsed building in front of them. The dead lay around them, open, staring eyes frozen in that last moment of terror. They stopped to offer aid whenever they could, but there were so many in need. The wounded and dying cried out pitifully for help. Screams of suffering filled the air, the lamenting wail of grief the living gave for the dead, and Eleanor let the sound crash over her, let it rip at her, because she needed to hear it, to suffer with them, even if it was only an echo of their agony; they should not have to suffer alone. She deserved the pain.

  Consequences

  They eventually managed to work their way through the maze of destruction until they arrived at the half-collapsed city gate, once proud, heavy wooden gates leaning at improbable angles. They walked around the gate, over the rubble of the wall at the side and out into the countryside. Eleanor had no idea where they were going and did not really care; so long as it was away from the death, blood, pain and misery that she had caused – that was fine by her. She could not get used to seeing Conlan on Amelia’s horse, Rand’s saddle tied to the back, and every time they caught her eye she felt reality lurch, until she had to stop looking at him or risk throwing up. He did not seem to want to look at her either, so ignoring him seemed fair. Will cradled Amelia across his saddle as she slept. Eleanor knew she should feel guilty for the extra strain she had put on her friend, but she felt so much guilt for everything else that there was simply no room for Amelia. Conlan and Will rode side by side, a little further ahead, talking quietly to each other. Eleanor could not hear what they were saying, but at one point Conlan reached across and gently patted Will on the shoulder. She assumed Will had apologised and Conlan had forgiven him. With a shudder Eleanor thought of all the people she had just killed – who was going to forgive her? Could she ever actually be forgiven? The thought sent her into a downward spiral of silent despair.

  They had been riding for several hours before Eleanor finally recognised where they were. They were heading back towards the forest. Eleanor would have preferred to have kept going, she had a strong desire to get as far away from Nethrus as possible, but she knew Amelia was tired and needed to rest, so she swallowed her distress and followed the others.

  The sun was dipping low on the horizon as they arrived at the edge of the wood. As before, they led their horses through the tangle of bushes and trees, towards the isolated clearing. Once there, Will placed Amelia carefully on the ground and began lighting a fire while Freddie began tethering up his and Will’s horses, taking off their saddles and their bags. Conlan stood next to Amelia’s horse, staring blankly at the ground in front of him. Eleanor stood a few feet away, leaning against Horse and allowing the solid little mare to support her. She was confused by the familiar activity before her; it seemed so banal, so routine after the horror.

  “Is nobody going to say it?” she asked. Will and Freddie turned to look at her.

  “Say what, Eleanor?” Will asked carefully.

  “That I just committed mass murder,” she said flatly.

  “You’re a monster – you just killed hundreds of innocent people to avenge the death of one horse,” Conlan said coldly.

  “That’s not fair,” said Freddie, stepping towards Eleanor. Dropping the reins he still held, Conlan ran at Freddie, intercepting him a few feet in front of Eleanor, tackling him to the ground and sitting on his chest while he punched repeatedly at his face. Freddie tried to fight back but Conlan just kept going, all control gone, snarling with animal ferocity. Too stunned to react, Eleanor stared blankly; what was he doing? Does he really want to do that to me? Does he think Freddie is a better choice to take his rage out on? Moving swiftly, Will put an arm across Conlan’s chest and dragged him off Freddie, taking a couple of bruising elbows to the ribs in the process but stubbornly refusing to let go.

  “Stop it!” Amelia shrieked, wide-eyed, as she was woken by the noise. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  Looking at Freddie with hatred, Conlan struggled against Will. Realising he was not going to get free, he yelled at the stunned man instead.

  “What was the last thing I said to you, Freddie? I told you to look after her, told you NOT to let her follow us. You are too stupid to obey a simple order! What has Eleanor suffered, because of you?” There was silence. Coming slowly forward, Eleanor left the quiet comfort of Horse and crouched at Freddie’s side. He looked at her in hurt bewilderment. She turned to glare at Conlan.

  “Freddie tried to carry out your order. Jarrick didn’t believe you when you said there were no more Avatars. He sent men to get us. They knocked us senseless and carried us back to the compound. Freddie didn’t do anything wrong.” Eleanor concentrated on making her voice as cold and hard as she could. The anger drained from Conlan’s face, leaving it an empty void. He struggled in Will’s arms again, and this time Will let him go. Getting to his feet, Conlan turned and stalked off into the trees, his whole body rigid. Watching him go, Eleanor sighed. Nothing is ever easy where that man is concerned. She looked back at Freddie.

  “Are you OK?”

  Freddie shrugged, wiping blood from his lip with the back of his hand. “I’ll live. What was that about? He went from calling you a monster to hitting me for not protecting you.”

  “He’s a complicated man,” Eleanor said, helping Freddie to sit. “I think there is more going on than he’s telling us. I need to go and talk to him.”

  “Leave him be, Eleanor, he needs some time,” Will said. He was still sat on the ground, watching the trees through which Conlan had disappeared.

  “He’s suffering, Will. I don’t want him to have to do that on his own,” Eleanor said.

  “That’s his choice,” Will replied.

  “Maybe he thinks it’s his only choice,” Eleanor said as she stood and followed Conlan.

  Conlan was not in sight. Reaching out a string, Eleanor felt for him and found his energy. As she brushed against it she realised with a shock that his shield was thinner. It had faded, she was quite sure. Was this why she had felt his strong emotions? Was it losing Rand or something Jarrick had said or done to him? Had grief done it? Trey had lost his shield after his daughter died. Maybe the loss of a loved one did it: That could be a problem; the only loved ones Conlan has left are us and Gregor… I can’t really test that. Not knowing when his shield had lost its strength meant that conjecture was pointless, but at least she now knew that it could be reduced. He had walked a long way from the camp. Eleanor followed his energy to the edge of a stream; he had washed Rand’s blood from his hands and arms and stood with his forehead resting against the trunk of a giant tree. With a steady monotony he was pounding the wide trunk with his right fist. The only sounds were the flowing water and the dull thud as he made contact. Eleanor walked a little closer.

  “Go a
way!”

  Hard, flat and angry, his voice made her jump. Eleanor stopped, but she could not bring herself to obey. I can feel his pain. It was flowing out from him in pulsing waves. He continued pounding on the tree and Eleanor could see the blood splattered across the bark from his damaged knuckles. She had no idea what to say, was not sure there was anything she could say. She knelt down, feeling the damp vegetation soak through her trousers. Fat tears crowded her eyes, blurring her vision and slowly running down her cheeks. She quickly brushed them away.

  “Please stop that,” she begged.

  “I. Told. You. To. Go,” he snarled, punctuating each word with a jab to the tree, each one with increasing force.

  “Please don’t, don’t hurt yourself anymore,” she whispered, the tears coming too fast to hide now.

  “Why do you care?” he muttered, still hitting the tree. The answer burst out of the place she had hidden it like the evils in Pandora’s Box. If I tell him, will it help? She had no answer to that. It might distract him. He might even care enough for her that he would stop hurting himself once he knew it hurt her too.

  With a hiccupping sob, Eleanor whispered, “Because I’m in love with you. I can feel your pain.”

  She had said it. It had slipped out so easily.

  He stopped punching, letting his hand drop to his side, and he stood in silence, his head still resting against the blood-splattered bark. Eleanor was not sure what she had expected from him, but the sudden silence was eerie. He rolled slightly so he was facing away from her, his shoulder resting against the tree, and slowly he let his legs fold under him. Eleanor got the impression it was only the support offered by the victimised tree that was stopping him collapsing completely. She sat in numb confusion for so long that it became fully dark. All she could see was Conlan’s outline blending with the tree, the only sounds the endless hurry of the stream and her own pounding heartbeat. She could still feel his pain washing over her, sharp stabs from which she had no protection. Speaking softly she tried once more to offer him comfort.