“I am sick of sitting around doing nothing.” There was such anger in his tone, such frustration, that again Eleanor got the impression there was more going on than he was telling her, only this time she was not going to let it drop. So she just looked at him, his face almost glowing in the last rays of the sinking sun, and waited.
“What?” he asked.
Eleanor gave him as hard a look as she could manage. “Sitting around doing nothing is not your only problem right now…”
Conlan raised an eyebrow. “When did you become so perceptive?”
Eleanor sighed. “I can actually read you pretty well, it is just that normally I do not bother asking you what is winding you up because I am usually too afraid it is me. However, recent events have convinced me that while I can see and in some cases feel your emotions, I often have no idea what is causing them. So I have decided to ask, instead of jumping to incorrect conclusions.”
Conlan’s body tensed again. “And if I do not want to tell you?” The hard edge had crept back into his voice. Eleanor gave him a serene smile.
“You do not have to tell me anything that you do not wish to; however, if you do not tell me, I will make my own assumptions and you will have to learn to live with the…” she paused. “What’s the Dwarfish word for ‘rants’?” she asked in English.
Conlan smirked. “No word exists. Mydren women don’t ‘rant’, and if they did, the men in their lives wouldn’t respond too kindly to it.”
“Oh. Nevertheless, I would like to know what your problem is. Maybe I can help.” Eleanor gave him a concerned look to complement the questioning growl she added to the Dwarfish.
Dropping his head, he reverted back to Dwarfish so he could layer his response with frustration. “I do not like being weak. Being surrounded by four of the most powerful people in Mydren is making me feel redundant. I do not feel involved and I will not until we get the connection working. I am so close and yet still useless. I arrived in time to watch you destroy Duncan’s friends, I did not even get the chance to help you with that fight. I was…”
“… disappointed,” she finished for him. Surprised, Conlan nodded in answer. “Conlan, I thought you were disappointed with me, for killing,” she said softly.
Conlan chuckled. “Eleanor, if someone attacks you, please feel free to do them damage; after all, that is the whole point of knowing how.” Eleanor felt her cheeks start to warm in embarrassment. I’ve seriously misjudged him. Will’s right – as far as Conlan is concerned, I’m deeply obtuse. Not noticing her embarrassment, Conlan continued.
“I was proud of you, by the way; you made your enemy scream and run. I never got the chance to tell you.”
Eleanor felt her love for him drop on her like a felled tree. It was the most wonderful, painful, joyful, hateful experience; it span around her head, making her feel dizzy and lightheaded. She wanted to kiss him, stroke his face, give some physical outlet to the surge of emotion within her but she resisted the temptation and sat firmly on her hands, addressing his comments instead in an attempt to distract herself.
“Conlan, you are not weak. We might be the four most powerful people in Mydren, but we are following you. We will get the connection working for you, I promise. And when we do, you will be the most powerful person this world has seen in over seven hundred years. Being a normal human being around us for a while before that happens will help you to keep some perspective, help you to remember that not everybody has power or strength and yet it does not make them any less important as people.”
Conlan looked at her with his deep, penetrating gaze for so long that Eleanor began to feel uncomfortable.
“What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing, just some of the things you say surprise me.”
He turned his head to stare back at the water, the sun setting behind the tree line. He appeared to be thinking, and not wanting to intrude, Eleanor sat with him in companionable silence. When he spoke again she jumped.
“I broke my promise.” The growling undertone he gave the Dwarfish represented a grovelling apology.
“Yes, you did,” she agreed. “I understand, Conlan; I know you were trying to protect me from Jarrick.”
More silence.
“I do not deserve you.”
His comment was a mere breath and so quiet that Eleanor was not sure if she had heard it or not, but her shattered heart responded to it regardless and she felt her love for him swirl around her insides again. Stubbornly refusing to admit that he did not love her back, she let the feelings fill her with warmth and smiled at him, knowing all her emotions were showing in her face and not caring. He knew. For once she was not going to hide it. In the sun’s dying light he gazed at her, a small frown set between his eyes. He moved slowly and took her face in his hands, his touch sending electric sparks shooting through her body and making her feel delirious. He leant forward and kissed her forehead, and her mind dissolved into blissful rapture.
Releasing her, he returned his gaze to the sunset. Still totally stunned and operating on autopilot, Eleanor turned back to look in the same direction in the knowledge that there could have been juggling bears in front of her and she would not notice. She was so caught up in her spinning thoughts that it took her a while to realise that not only had Conlan failed to flinch, object or tense when she had leant against him, but he had actually put his arm around her and pulled her closer towards him. Her mind exploded in ecstasy again.
The velvet dark-blue of twilight, the first stars beginning to appear, the sound of the water as it travelled past, his breathing – slow and relaxed – the feel of his strong arm around her shoulders, the side of her body pressed against his. A perfect piece of time. The joy of it chipped away at some of the guilt and horror of the last few weeks, and every one of his breaths was a precious gift that helped to distort one of the faces of the dead in her mind. Gradually she began to let go of some of the guilt. She had made a mistake, and one she was sorry for – she could not ask the dead for forgiveness, but Conlan forgave her, and maybe that would be enough.
They sat in comfortable silence. It was getting late, but Eleanor knew she could sit there for all eternity, if he wanted to. She felt an energy string brush against her.
Are you OK? He didn’t hurt you, did he?
No, Freddie, I’m fine. We had a chat, nothing explosive.
We saved dinner for you.
Eleanor could feel his relief, his concern.
We’ll head back now, she said, pulling her energy free. Conlan drew his arm back and turned to look at her. Eleanor shivered, cold and uncomfortable. Please don’t let me go. For one brief moment Conlan had held her and she had felt complete, less... broken.
“Who was that?” Conlan asked.
Grateful that her expression could not be seen well in the twilight, she did her best to lie diplomatically.
“Freddie, he is worried about us being out in the dark and wants us to come back.”
“Liar,” Conlan muttered. “Freddie was worried I had murdered you and was digging your grave at this very moment.”
“Don’t be an arse, Conlan!” Eleanor snapped, switching back to English, as she was unable to add the required insult in Dwarfish. “Freddie isn’t stupid,” she continued. “He knows you’d have had me dig my own grave before you murdered me.”
Conlan was silent for a moment and then he burst out laughing. “I’ve missed you.”
Eleanor gave him a sly smile. “Come on, let’s go back. I’ll tell you about the sword over dinner.”
Will and Amelia were having an animated discussion about the uses for their Talismans when Eleanor and Conlan walked back into camp. Will’s amused argument was that his was better than Amelia’s, because at least he could use his to drink from. Freddie was agreeing with Will and Amelia was stubbornly insisting it was a stupid argument. Eleanor joined in with the mild teasing and then told them about the information she had gleaned from the book, reciting the short poem back to them several times
and listening to them dissect it as she and Conlan ate their dinner. By the time she had finished eating they had only got as far as deciding that ‘south freedom’s hands’ referred to the nomads who lived in the southern savannah. Conlan had explained that hundreds of years ago these proud nomads, the People of the Horse, had ruled the southern savannah, but he had no idea if they even existed any more. The southern savannah had become a no man’s land. He had shown them the map in the back of Gregor’s book, drawing a line across the bottom quarter of the continent, from the desert below Drent in the east all the way across, through to the volcanic Fire Mountains that made up the bottom of Mydren’s central backbone to the coast in the west. Everything below the line was dangerous territory. At first, those fleeing the fighting in Mydren had gone there, and then those hiding from the Lords had found sanctuary. Eventually, wanted criminals had gone there, knowing that justice would not follow them.
“How long will it take us to get there?” Amelia asked. She still had Gregor’s book on her lap and was tracing the route with a finger.
“A month,” Conlan said, a frown on his face as he glanced at the shelter. Conlan wanted to leave immediately – Eleanor could feel it – but what were they going to do about Duncan? Will saw the look and interjected.
“Saving his life has consequences, Conlan – we can’t just abandon him. Duncan’s not well enough to look after himself and we can’t travel with him, so we’re going to have to wait.”
“How long?” Conlan asked.
Will shrugged. “A month, maybe less.”
Conlan’s frown deepened. “That’s too long; we will reach the southern savannah in the middle of the rainy season and we’ll have to deal with storms and floods. We’d be taking a big risk.”
“I don’t think we have a choice,” Will said, glancing at Duncan. There was a heavy silence, broken by Freddie.
“So, we know where we’re going, but what about the rest of it? The poem makes it sound like we are going to have to give them something to get into the nomads’ land, a ‘gift beyond measure’ – what does that mean?” Flashes of her dream pulsed through Eleanor’s head and she answered Freddie’s question before she realised what she was saying.
“When you give your heart to someone, you give them a gift beyond measure.”
There was an uncomfortable silence while Will, Amelia and Freddie looked at Conlan, but his attention was solely on Eleanor, watching the painful emotions that she knew were marching across her face. She winced as she felt rips forming in her haphazardly stuck-together heart.
“So we have to give them a heart. Does that mean literally?” Amelia asked with a shudder. Glad that somebody had the common sense to talk over the atmosphere she could cut with a knife, Eleanor shook her head.
“I don’t think its literal, Amelia. The people who wrote the book wouldn’t want us to have to die to get the Talismans – kind of defeats the purpose.”
“OK, so we have no idea what that means, but how about the last bit, ‘think to the future, a deal to be made’?” Freddie asked, purposely missing the third line of the poem. They were all surprised when Conlan answered.
“I think this is about making them our allies. If the People of the Horse still exist, I think we’re meant to get them to fight with us,” he said.
“I agree, whoever wrote the book wanted to help us. I kind of messed up the green fish guys,” Eleanor said.
“Kluthta,” Will interrupted. Eleanor looked at him blankly.
Will smiled. “The green fish guys. They call themselves the Kluthta.”
“Oh, OK,” Eleanor continued. “I messed up with the Kluthta, so we should make every effort to get the People of the Horse onside.”
“Will, you never did tell us the full story with the Kluthta,” Freddie said, looking at Will expectantly.
Will shrugged. “Not that much to tell, really. The one who copied my memories was a priestess. They’re a xenophobic race, so even if we hadn’t fought them, we’d still have found it very difficult to make them our allies. Plus they are primarily water creatures, so land battles would have been out for them and the Lords of Mydren don’t have a navy. They communicate telepathically and have very strong mental powers, many magnitudes stronger than mine, but they were unable to match with your brain waves. Perhaps in the future we could make contact again – trading with them could be beneficial.”
“Not that helpful then,” Freddie said, shrugging. Eleanor noticed the strange look on Amelia’s face and wondered whether she thought Will was hiding something. Should I ask him? Amelia remained silent; if she did not feel the urge to push, it might be better to leave it for the moment. Eleanor made a mental note to ask Will about it the next time they were alone.
Thoughtful silence descended.
“It’s late, I’m tired,” Eleanor said eventually. Getting up she stretched and wandered over to the shelter where Duncan was already snoring. Wrapping her blanket around her she curled into a ball and for the first time in a very long time was immersed in deep, restful sleep.
Time seemed to slow to the point where Eleanor was convinced it was actually moving backwards. They filled their time as best they could. Freddie cleaned and sharpened every weapon he could get his hands on, and he even restored Duncan’s blade to its former glory. Conlan became absorbed in the book Eleanor had bought him. Will and Amelia just seemed to be absorbed in each other. Now Duncan could be left on his own they would disappear for entire days, coming back rather wet and blissfully happy.
As the time inched past, Eleanor caught herself flashing glances at Duncan, wishing he would hurry up and get better, as she wanted to be off. She knew the others were unconsciously doing the same thing, although Conlan was quite consciously glaring at the man. It did not take long for Duncan to notice.
“Why is everybody suddenly giving me funny looks?” he asked when Eleanor brought him breakfast. The rain had eased off a little, and Will and Amelia had disappeared early, saying they would be back late, so Eleanor was providing meal services. She smiled apologetically but gave him the truth.
“We need to leave here as soon as possible, and we cannot do that until you are well.”
“I am fine, I can cope on my own,” he said, struggling to sit and wincing at the pain the movement caused. He looked sheepishly at Eleanor’s raised eyebrow. “Well, almost…” he admitted. He looked at Eleanor for a moment and then took her hand. “You have done more than enough for me, far more than I deserve in fact, so if you need to go, you should go.”
“The effort Will has expended keeping you alive would be wasted if we left you now, so we are going to wait,” Eleanor said, smiling. Duncan smiled gratefully back and nodded his head slightly. Eleanor left him to eat in peace. Seeing the menacing glare Conlan was giving Duncan from where he was sat by the fire, she went and sat down next to him. He did not take his eyes off the injured man, who thankfully was eating his breakfast obliviously.
“He’s said he’s sorry. Actually, he’s said it quite a few times now and I’ve forgiven him.”
“I should have just finished him... I wanted to, I made a mistake,” Conlan muttered, not looking at her. Eleanor cringed; she knew this callous disregard for life was not really Conlan. Why is he behaving this way – is he that desperate to leave?
“Conlan, saving someone’s life is never a mistake. Duncan could be a good man, if he tried, and maybe he will after this. It’s far better we change him than kill him,” Eleanor said.
“You are far too forgiving.”
Eleanor shrugged. “You, of all people, should be grateful for that.”
Conlan glanced at her, with another mystery expression. “What if we haven’t changed him?” he countered, his dark gaze returning to Duncan.
“And who are we to judge?” Eleanor asked, worried about where the conversation was leading. “I executed Jarrick. I judged him and found him unfit to continue breathing, so I took his life. I had no right to make that decision, nobody does – even kings
shouldn’t have the sole power of life and death over their subjects.”
“The man who wrote the book you gave me is of the same opinion,” Conlan said thoughtfully.
“Forgive him, Conlan, give Duncan another chance. He made a choice on the side of right, so let him know that it means something to someone else. Maybe then other people’s lives will mean more to him,” Eleanor said quietly.
She had not really expected her words to make an impact, as Conlan had been glaring at the man for weeks now, so she was shocked when he nodded, stood up and walked over to the shelter and sat down next to Duncan. Anxiety clawing at her insides, but not being able to hear what he was saying, Eleanor watched intently. At first Duncan looked terrified, pulling himself painfully away from Conlan until his back was pressed against the shelter wall, but as Conlan spoke quietly to him, he relaxed slightly. His face serious, Duncan responded. Eleanor wondered what Conlan was saying to the poor man. The conversation moved back and forth. Eleanor could not see Conlan’s face but his body was relaxed, and slowly Duncan relaxed too, he even smiled occasionally. Transfixed by the sight before her, Eleanor did not notice Freddie sat next to her until he spoke.
“Is Duncan going to need rescuing?”
Glancing at him, Eleanor shook her head. “No, strangely, I think it’s OK.” She smiled, enjoying the burst of happiness Conlan’s actions had unexpectedly exploded within her.
Much to Conlan’s relief, Will finally agreed that Duncan, who could now stand and walk about if he was slow and careful, was fit enough to be left to fend for himself. Will had advised him to stay in the shelter for a while longer, until he felt rested enough to venture further afield. They had left him with food, water, blankets and a mountainous pile of firewood. As they had said their goodbyes, Freddie had returned Duncan’s sword to him with some reluctance, as it was a beautiful weapon now that it had been polished and sharpened. Duncan had stared at it for a long time, gently pulling the blade from its lacquered wooden scabbard to admire it. Then with a snap he pushed the blade back and handed it to Will.
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