Eleanor

by S. F. Burgess

  Eleanor sighed. “Sorry, Amelia, that was mean.”

  “Yes, it was. Who rattled your cage anyway? You’ve been in a bad mood for a while,” Amelia observed.

  Eleanor looked ahead, seeing how far away Freddie was; too close, she decided, so she brushed an energy string against Amelia.

  It’s Freddie, isn’t it? she asked the second Eleanor entered her head.

  Yes.

  What’s he done?

  He’s been sweet, kind, thoughtful and loving, Eleanor replied miserably.

  But he thinks it’s going to go further and it’s not, is it?

  I don’t know what he thinks, but sometimes he looks at me and I’m certain there is more to it than just friendship. What do I do?

  Stop beating around the bush, Amelia advised. Talk to him, tell him he’s got no chance. Crush his hope once and for all. Eleanor, if I thought for one minute that Freddie was right for you I’d be saying go for it, but he’s not. I can talk to Freddie, if you like, or get Will to do it, but it would be better if you do it yourself.

  No, I’ll talk to him when we stop tonight… Thank you, I’m sorry I snapped at you. We’ll keep an eye on that bird. If it’s still there this afternoon we’ll decide what to do about it, OK?

  OK, Amelia agreed.

  The bird was still there as the sun reached its apex and began its steady decline into evening. It was a hot day, the lack of rain making the heat dry for a change, but no less unpleasant. Eleanor was sweaty and getting a crick in her neck and eye strain from watching the bird do slow, lazy circles around them. The only variation to its behaviour was to drop its height. Amelia was right, it was a really big bird and it was following them.

  “Is it a vulture? Does it think we’re going to die?” Eleanor asked quietly.

  “No, I don’t think so. I’m not an authority on birds, but my mother was obsessed with them, so I picked up a few things. I think it’s an eagle, or the Mydren version of an eagle,” Amelia said.

  “Really? What’s it doing out here?” Eleanor asked, remembering the majestic mountain birds as they had soared over her head, looking for prey.

  Amelia shook her head. “I have no idea. What are we going to do about it?”

  “I think you need to talk to it,” Eleanor answered.

  “Pardon?”

  “It’s just a thought, but I can talk to the animals of the earth and Will could talk to the Kluthta, so maybe you can talk to birds, creatures of the air,” Eleanor said, wondering if Amelia was going to laugh at her. There was silence. Eleanor glanced back to find grey eyes full of surprise staring back.

  “Kind of makes sense,” Amelia agreed. “But what about Freddie? I don’t know any fire animals.”

  Eleanor giggled. “Me neither, unless they have phoenixes here, but then I’ve always thought fire was a bit like an animal anyway, because it eats, needs oxygen and multiplies.”

  “So how do I talk to a bird?” Amelia asked.

  “I don’t know... but I talk to Horse and other animals in pictures a lot of the time, and they talk back to me in the same way. Horse understands quite a few words, but she called me a hypocrite the other day and she had no word for that, just pictures,” Eleanor said.

  Amelia giggled. “Horse called you a hypocrite?”

  Eleanor nodded. “Yes, I was being overprotective of her.”

  “Smart Horse.”

  “She is, very smart, but Rand was smarter; Rand I could have a conversation with,” Eleanor said quietly, feeling her grief sting.

  “He was a very special horse, Conlan’s struggling without him,” Amelia said. Eleanor’s gaze drifted to Conlan’s back, making sure he was out of earshot before she responded.

  “I can feel his grief, can feel a lot of his emotions, and I think it’s something to do with his shield getting thinner. Can’t you feel it?” Eleanor asked. It was something that she had been wondering about for a while – why could she feel Conlan’s emotions so acutely when nobody else seemed to notice?

  “No, but I do feel Will’s emotions sometimes, if they’re strong, even if we’re not talking in each other’s heads, and I know he’s felt mine. Maybe you feel Conlan’s emotions because you love him, you’re more open to it... I don’t know, but if his shield is getting thinner that’s a good thing, right?” Amelia asked.

  Eleanor sighed. “A very good thing, except I don’t know what caused it. Was it the hell Jarrick put him through? Or Rand dying? I don’t want him to suffer again.”

  “I guess not, you’ll just have to keep watching. I have huge amounts of faith in you, and I know you’ll get there in the end,” Amelia said.

  Eleanor smiled. “Thanks... So are you going to talk to our feathered friend?”

  Amelia giggled. “You’re right. Our lives are odd!”

  Eleanor focused on the bird as Amelia closed her eyes and took slow, deep breaths. At first nothing happened. Amelia’s grip around her waist tightened, and she gasped and yelped loudly in Eleanor’s ear, making her, and by extension Horse, jump.

  “Oh no, Eleanor, I think I pushed too hard,” Amelia moaned.

  Watching the bird, Eleanor saw it falter, flap its wings weakly and then fold them entirely. The bird began to drop. Fast.

  “Amelia, hold tight!” Eleanor yelled, thudding her heels into Horse’s side and making her trot and then canter, forcing her to gallop, steering them to the left towards where the bird was plummeting.

  “Amelia,” Eleanor called breathlessly over her shoulder. “You need to create a shield and catch the bird... Can you do that?”

  “Go faster,” Amelia replied.

  Eleanor entered Horse’s head, urging the poor overloaded animal to greater speed. Doing her best to obey, Horse surged forward. Eleanor felt the wind rush through her hair and Horse’s muscles as she powered along. This was something she was going to have to do again, when Horse was not carrying Amelia and luggage; it was exhilarating.

  “Eleanor, stop!” Amelia ordered.

  Eleanor pulled hard on Horse’s reins, and the animal came to a skidding, sliding stop, front legs locked in front of her acting as breaks. The deceleration was so sharp that Eleanor flew forward, up and over Horse’s head, but fortunately her feet came out of her stirrups as she did so. Still holding on to the reins, they pulled her over, feet flying over her head as she flipped and crashed to the ground. She landed on her back, the wind knocked out of her and bright spots dancing behind her eyes. Her vision slowly cleared and she found Horse’s bemused upside down head loomed over her.

  Eleanor had just taken her first lungful of oxygen when Will’s face joined Horse.

  “Are you OK? What was that about?” he asked, quirking an amused smile at her. Only having found the ability to breathe in the last second, Eleanor was totally incapable of speech. Will crouched at her side. “Do you want to sit up?” he asked. Eleanor shook her head – what she wanted to do was breathe. Horse dropped her head, rubbing a wet, bristly nose into her face. The poor animal was breathing hard after her mad dash, her light caramel-coloured hair dark with sweat. Had Amelia caught the bird?

  “Is she OK? She hit the ground at some speed.”

  Amelia. Where was she? Eleanor could hear her but could not see her.

  “I think she’s winded, what’s that?” Will said, looking over Eleanor’s head at something behind her.

  “It’s a type of eagle, it’s been following us,” Amelia said.

  “Is it dead?” Will asked.

  “No, I entered its mind and stunned it. I caught it with a shield,” Amelia said.

  “Really? You caught it? That’s brilliant,” Will said softly, his voice full of pride. Eleanor heard the sound of hooves approaching.

  “Will,” she gasped. “Help me up.” Firm hands helped her to sit; the world swam in and out of focus for a second, before settling back down. Amelia was stood at Horse’s side, a huge bird in her arms. Its head lolled over her arm, eyes closed and its body still, which Eleanor decided was a good thing, bec
ause it had a set of the biggest talons she had ever seen on a bird. The claws were its most impressive feature, but it also had a large, sharp, curved beak and beautiful amber-brown feathers that looked ruffled and untidy after its headlong dive.

  “What happened?” Conlan asked as he pulled to a stop next to Horse, Freddie stopping behind him.

  “I knocked a bird out of the sky, and we chased after it so I could catch it. Horse stopped a little suddenly and Eleanor didn’t. Will says she’s winded,” Amelia answered, looking down sympathetically at Eleanor.

  “Why did you knock a bird out of the sky?” Freddie asked, walking over to take a closer look at the eagle.

  “It was an accident, I was trying to talk to it,” Amelia said.

  “Let me guess, Eleanor’s idea?” Freddie said, eyeing the bird’s talons warily.

  Amelia giggled. “Of course. The bird’s been following us for most of the day, we wanted to know why, so Eleanor figured if she could talk to animals of the earth and Will could talk to the Kluthta, maybe I could talk to the bird. It just requires a more delicate touch than I gave it... Poor bird,” Amelia said, jumping as it twitched in her arms. Freddie stepped quickly back as Amelia’s eyes glazed over slightly and she tried again to talk to the slowly recovering creature.

  “Why would a bird be following us?” Freddie asked, staring in apprehension as the talons flexed slowly.

  “What’s a bird that belongs in the mountains doing flying around here? Something doesn’t feel right,” Will said quietly as he stood, using a hand to shade his eyes, looking around him.

  “Oh dear, we have a problem,” Amelia said. “The bird is a pet, there are two men following us and… Ooww!” That was as far as she got. She staggered slightly, her eyes wide with fear, pain and shock. Will rushed forward and caught her as she swayed, holding her up, which was not an easy task with the bird in her arms. As Will struggled to keep her upright, his hands found something and he looked over her shoulder and down her back.

  “Conlan, she’s been hit with something, we’re being attacked,” Will hollered, horrified. He pulled whatever it was free, dropping it to the ground.

  “Ooww!” Freddie gasped, raising a hand to his neck where a small, black dart was protruding. Pulling it out, he staggered sideways, toppling over into a clumsy heap, eyes rolling before they closed. Not knowing where the darts were coming from, Conlan’s eyes flashed across their almost empty surroundings, his sword already drawn. Will gasped and staggered, a dart sticking out of his shoulder, and tried to ease Amelia gently to the ground, dropping her the last few inches. He pulled the dart from his flesh as he keeled over at Amelia’s side and lay still. Eleanor watched in numb terror. Are they dead? She turned to look at Conlan as he came to crouch at her side.

  “We need to find cover,” he whispered, not looking at her, still trying to work out where their enemies were hiding. Cover, where? Eleanor shook her head, looking at where Freddie, Will and Amelia lay motionless.

  “We can’t leave them unprotected.”

  She was not going to admit they were dead until it was absolutely necessary. Conlan gasped and Eleanor’s heart squeezed as she turned back to him. His eyes were wide, looking at the little dart sticking out of his chest. He winced as he pulled it free. Grabbing Eleanor’s arm he dragged her away, heading unsteadily for the scant cover of a couple of prickly bushes twenty feet away. Too frightened now to resist, Eleanor followed. They had almost reached the bushes when Eleanor saw the second dart hit Conlan in the back of the neck. He gasped again, shuddering and collapsed to his knees, dragging Eleanor down with him. He pushed her into the dirt, covering her and using his body to shield her. With her face in the dirt and Conlan’s weight pressing down on her, Eleanor could see very little. Not good if I need to fight.

  “Don’t move, Eleanor,” Conlan whispered, his words slurred and halting. “Maybe they’ll miss you.” She felt his rapid, panting gasps begin to slow, until they resembled the gentle unhurried breath of sleep. Eleanor nearly wept when she realised that they were not actually going to stop.

  For several slow minutes she did as he had asked. Of course they’re not dead. If whoever had attacked them had wanted them dead they would just have used normal bows and arrows, not gone to all the effort of making drugged blow darts. So they wanted them alive and they had missed her completely, why? If she was conscious, she could fight. She struggled to get out from under Conlan’s inert body; he was heavier than he looked. She eventually managed to pull herself free and went to take the sword from his hand, noticing the dart in his neck as she did so. Carefully, Eleanor pulled it out. It left a small puncture wound that bled, but not too badly. More worrying than the blood were the purple and red tendrils that radiated out under his skin from the hole the dart had left. They went around Conlan’s neck, up into his hairline and down his back under his clothes. Whatever was on the dart was fast-acting and his body was desperately trying to fight it. She looked at the dart; it was maybe an inch long, made of a thin piece of fire-hardened wood, with a spike from a prickly bush as its tip. Tiny bits of feather had been added at the opposite end to the tip, which would give the dart some stability in flight. It would not have much of a range, especially as it required human breath to propel it; their attackers must be close.

  Taking Conlan’s sword, remaining in a crouch next to him, she scanned the few places of available cover and waited. They would come to her now, she was sure of it. She did not have to wait long, as she saw two figures stand up from behind a clump of prickly bushes about fifty feet to her right. Despite their height they appeared young; their movements were still the slightly uncoordinated confusion of youth, as if their bodies were a size too big for them. They wore plain, dusty clothes, baggy trousers and shirts with leather jerkins over the top, and the taller man carried a leather bag strapped across his chest. Their skin was dark, like Freddie’s, but where Freddie had a beautiful golden hue to his complexion, theirs was almost black, like polished ebony. Eleanor wondered if she should blast them to bits, shuddering at the thought. If they are same people who set the trap at the waterfall, we need to know who they are; besides, what if they have poisoned the others? These men might be the only ones who could help them.

  “You missed one, Yatt,” the shorter of the two men commented as they moved closer, staring at Eleanor with curiosity. His Dwarfish sounded odd. Eleanor recognised the words, but the growl and snarl were all wrong. An accent?

  “She is just a child. You know what oppimun does to an adult, what do you think it is going to do to her?” Yatt asked, looking at his accomplice.

  “He said they all had to be unconscious before he got here, so dart her already,” the short man said irritably. He seemed to be moving to check on Amelia, but as he crouched down, Eleanor realised he was reaching for the bird in Amelia’s arms. Yatt turned to look at Eleanor, seemingly unconcerned that she was tensed, ready to fight and holding a lethal weapon in her hand. His thin, muscular body flexed slightly, and Eleanor could see lines of dots that decorated his face under his eyes and over his cheek bones.

  “I am sorry, little girl,” he whispered, raising a long, thin pipe to his lips. He was too far away for Eleanor to reach with her sword, and she knew if she moved there would be a dart in her before she got two feet. Should she throw her weapon? It went against all of Conlan’s teaching, but then he had not exactly prepared her for this situation. She was going to have to wing it.

  “Hey, Yatt! Osser is still alive!” The short man sounded overjoyed. Yatt dropped his pipe from his lips, but he did not take his eyes off Eleanor.

  “Really? The speed he dropped? Why did the bird brain fall out of the sky in the first place?” he asked. His short friend was carefully lifting and examining the bird.

  “I have no idea. I cannot see any damage on him. It was a great distraction though, they never saw us creeping up; we were able to get really close.”

  It was a short exchange, but it gave Eleanor a little time to think, her m
ind desperately trying to formulate a plan. This man, Yatt, had refrained from darting her because he was worried about the effect it would have on her. Maybe she could play to his compassion. Drawing her body in further and making herself look even smaller and weaker, she stared at him with wide, innocent, frightened eyes.

  “Are you going to kill me?” she asked, making her voice a terrified, childlike squeak. The sword was shaking in her hand, which had not been planned, but Eleanor hoped it might help her case. Concern and sympathy filled Yatt’s black eyes, followed quickly by guilt.

  “I have not killed anything with these darts in a long time,” he replied.

  “Is it going to hurt?” Eleanor asked. If she knew the drug’s effects, perhaps she could help the others to recover quicker, any and all information she could get at this point was a good idea. The guilty look on Yatt’s face deepened.

  “Oppimun’s effects vary depending on the victim’s size and age, how many darts have pierced the flesh, where they hit and how long the darts have been in the skin. The results are unpleasant, but not fatal,” he said.

  “I am frightened,” Eleanor whispered, staring beseechingly up at the man. Yatt hesitated, glancing down at his blowpipe.

  “Hurry up and dart her, he will be here any minute and he is not someone we should mess with!” the short man snapped in Yatt’s direction. The bird, Osser, was fully conscious and the short man was watching it preen its disorganised feathers.

  “Shut up, Millice!” Yatt shot back, not looking at him. Yatt stared at Eleanor for a long moment and then put his hand in the inside pocket of his leather jerkin, taking something out. “This will help with the effects, I suggest taking half yourself and giving the other half to that man,” he instructed, nodding at Conlan’s still body. “He took two darts, and judging by the spread on his neck the second one was under his skin for a while. He will be very ill and I have no idea how the oppimun will affect you.” He took a couple of careful steps forward, watching Eleanor warily, placed a small glass bottle on the ground and then stepped back. Eleanor shuffled forward, watching the blowpipe, and picked it up. The bottle was a little too big to fit in the palm of her hand, and inside was a dark green translucent liquid.