Eleanor

by S. F. Burgess

  “Yatt, he is coming, I can see him, dart the girl!” Millice said, fear running through his voice. Eleanor wondered if she could keep Yatt talking long enough to catch a glimpse of their mystery accomplice.

  “Put it somewhere safe, how about that man’s jacket pocket?” Yatt suggested, nodding at Conlan again. Eleanor nodded and turned. Conlan was lying on the pocket nearest to her, so she leaned across his back to put the bottle in the pocket on the other side, realising her mistake as she pushed it deep inside. She felt the sharp stab of the dart hitting the back of her neck. Her responses already slowing, it took her an age to take her hand from Conlan’s pocket. She pulled out the dart, staring at it in shock. A slow, steady burning was moving out from the impact and her mind was beginning to whirl. She felt, rather than saw, Yatt behind her. Her body felt weak, beyond her control and she slumped forward, dropping face down across Conlan’s back. A gentle hand rested on her head, a comforting gesture.

  “I am sorry, child,” Yatt whispered. There was the sound of thundering hooves and the hand was gone. Her mind twisted and writhed, strange thoughts moving through it. The dragon appeared a few times, but now he was breathing fire and burning her neck. She struggled for consciousness and fought the drug. She needed to know who the man was; they needed to know more about this new enemy. Her breath panting in her lungs, she tried to lift her head, to look up at the man as she heard him dismount, but it was too hard.

  “I take it there were no problems?” came a new deeper voice, the refined Dwarfish sounding odd after listening to Yatt and Millice.

  “No, all unconscious as requested,” Yatt replied. Through barely open eyes, Eleanor saw a pair of boots step into her vision at Conlan’s side.

  “Hello, Conlan, Daratus sends his regards.”

  That name, Daratus, it meant something; she should remember that, it was important. Lots of things were important. One of the boots pulled back, delivering a sharp, viscous kick to Conlan’s ribs. His body jerked, causing the sword to drop from Eleanor’s numb fingers, but there was no indication that the injury had been felt. He’s going to feel it when he wakes up. Angry that she could not make her body move to protect him, darkness washed over her and the burning chased her down into fiery depths.

  She was being burnt alive, her flesh melting and dripping from her bones, blood boiling. Flames were licking every inch of her skin, crisping it and pulling it tight so it spilt; thick fluids leaked out, heating, scalding and causing more pain. She screamed her torment and flailed her limbs, desperate to put the fire out. Murmuring voices filled her ears. Why don’t they help? She screamed again, tried to speak, tried to beg for help. “Please...” was all she could manage. The murmuring became louder, more coherent.

  “We need to suck the poison out.” It was Dwarfish, refined Dwarfish – a stranger’s voice.

  “I have to put the poison in my mouth?” Will’s voice echoed, strained and fearful.

  “She is too small for this... it could kill her. I will do the same for Conlan, he has taken too much. I will take what I can from him.” It was the stranger’s voice again, but it was not a stranger, there was something familiar about it. Eleanor felt her body lifted. She was face down, an arm supporting her across the chest and her head dropping forward. Firm hands yanked on her jacket, ripping at her shirt and brushing her hair out of the way, the chill breeze soothing her burning flesh. There was something soft and firm on the back of her neck, where the deepest agony was located – suction, a strange sensation. The pain pushed her too far and her consciousness slipped for a moment. When reality returned, the suction had disappeared and there were spitting noises, then she felt the touch on her neck again. The fire continued to burn through her. She whimpered. Surely she should be dead by now? There could be nothing left for the fire to burn. The odd sensation on her neck disappeared again.

  “I do not think this is working, all I can taste is her blood,” Will said.

  “You are right,” the voice agreed. “It has had too long in their bodies.”

  Something flashed through Eleanor’s mind – a bottle with green liquid in it. Something that was important... Too important. She heard an agonised groan and realised it had not come from her, it had come from somewhere else. A weak, sobbing cry filled her head, stabbing down to her heart, and she knew. Conlan was in pain. She had to help him. The bottle flashed in her head again. The liquid was green, like Conlan’s jacket, in the pocket, a bottle to help him. She forced herself to focus and tried to move, which was impossible with any degree of control. She tried to open her eyes, but all she saw was blurry darkness. She tried to speak.

  “Will.” No response. She concentrated, drawing air into her lungs. “WILL!” The arms holding her jumped and tightened around her.

  “I’m here, Eleanor, I’m trying to help but I don’t know what to do.”

  Eleanor heard his anguish and felt his body tense as Conlan cried out again.

  “In Conlan’s jacket... pocket... bottle… cure…” she gasped. Will froze for a second, then he laid Eleanor gently on the ground. Her body writhing in the fire that burned it, she tried to concentrate, tried to stay conscious; her eyes open now, still seeing nothing.

  “What are you doing?” the stranger asked curiously.

  “Getting something,” Will said. Eleanor felt hands on her body again, pulling her up, Will cradling her like a baby. “This green stuff?” he asked. She forced her head to nod.

  “Give it... to him...” she rasped, her voice disappearing into a gasping cry as another pillar of fire engulfed her tormented body.

  “I’ll save him some, I promise. Open your mouth,” Will ordered. Eleanor stubbornly shook her head. Conlan was far bigger than she was, he would need more.

  “Eleanor, please, Conlan’s not the only one suffering. If this is the antidote, you need it too,” Will said, trying to force her mouth open with one hand while holding her up and holding the bottle. Eleanor shook her head again, sucking her lips into her mouth, keeping them tightly closed.

  Will muttered under his breath but Eleanor felt her body placed back on the ground. She heard a gagging cough and hoped that some of the liquid had gone down Conlan’s throat.

  “What is that?” the stranger asked.

  “A cure,” came Will’s distracted reply.

  “Where did that come from?” The stranger sounded surprised.

  “I have no idea,” Will said. Eleanor felt her body lifted from the ground and Will brushing away the damp hair that was clinging to her face. “OK, he’s had some, the rest is yours,” he said, his irritation unable to hide his affection. Eleanor smiled, closed her eyes and opened her mouth. A splashed of liquid ran down her throat and she understood why Conlan had gagged – it tasted foul, like drinking stagnant water. She forced herself to swallow it before she started coughing. As the bitter, acidic liquid hit her stomach she felt it spasm, but slowly the fire dropped from a volcanic roar to a slow, steady heat, which after the previous pain was almost bearable. Relieved, she let the cool darkness claim her again.

  It was the violent urge to throw up that dragged Eleanor up through darkness and into the bright daylight. Too bright, she closed her eyes tight again and moaned as the sunshine stabbed at her. It was hot; the heat beating down, but she felt cold.

  “Eleanor? Are you OK?”

  Freddie. She carefully tried to open her eyes again. Everything was still blurry. A camp had been made in the sparse shade of one of the gnarled trees that dotted the landscape. Their blankets had been rigged up to offer shelter from the sun. Freddie’s face gazed down full of loving concern, and her already sickened stomach did another flip. I need to talk to him…Turning her head, she could see Will and Amelia sat a few feet away, looking at her. Their faces were rather more blurry and greyer than Freddie’s. Conlan lay asleep at Amelia’s side, while a strange man sat on his other side. Something akin to panic squeezed Eleanor’s already delicate stomach, but she had no clue why, as there did not seem to be any obvious t
hreats. What happened? Who’s that? Amelia caught a bird… I have to remember something, it’s important… lots of things are important. We got hit by darts… then what? There was a dragon, fire, green? A word… Douglas? There was a bird… and… and… Eleanor stopped. Her mind had failed her. She was meant to remember something, something important, but it was gone, totally messed up. There was a memory, but it was so unclear it was useless, like corrupted data on a computer. All she was left with was the vague impression that something was wrong.

  “Is she awake?” Will asked.

  “Yes, I think so,” Freddie confirmed. Eleanor struggled and he helped her to sit. Her stomach lurched and she felt another strong desire to vomit. Not wanting to throw up all over Freddie, Eleanor pushed herself onto all fours and then stood. Freddie tried to stop her.

  “Eleanor, what are you doing?” he asked alarmed, standing with her and supporting her swaying body. She pulled his hands off her, took a dozen tottering steps out of their shelter, fell back onto all fours and threw up the world. Or at least that was what it felt like. The spasms squeezing her stomach made her retch until there was nothing left to throw up, and then dry heaves ripped at her insides. She felt a comforting hand rubbing her back and noticed with vague interest, through watering eyes, that her vomit was green. Eventually the spasms subsided. Even resting on all fours she was swaying, bright flashes sparked through her vision and a headache began cranking itself up to tear her brain apart. A piece of wet cloth was handed to her. Grateful, Eleanor wiped her face, knowing gloop was dribbling off her chin. When she had cleaned her face, she sat up gingerly and wiped the splashes of green vomit off her hands. The smell was so bad that she had to fight the reflex to throw up again. She dropped the cloth, and a mug of water was put in front of her.

  “Take small sips,” Will advised, his hand still gently rubbing her back. She turned to look at him and gasped. He did not look any better than she felt. There were deep purple bags under his glazed eyes and his skin was mostly grey but with a distinctly yellow tinge to it.

  “You look like crap,” Eleanor whispered in a rough sore voice.

  Will smiled. “You too.”

  After several mugs of water, Eleanor felt able to stand again and Will helped her back to the others. All she wanted was to sleep. Freddie watched her return.

  “Are you alright?”

  Glancing at him, Eleanor shook her head. She felt unconnected, adrift, her mind had failed her and her body was telling her there was danger where none existed. On autopilot she moved to where Conlan slept between Amelia and the unknown man. The stranger looked up at her. He was an older man, his hair mostly grey, with a little of the original brown still present. His body looked strong, fit and muscled, toned sinews standing out on his bare forearms. Speckled green-brown eyes regarded her with interest from under bushy eyebrows, and a friendly smile emanated from his suntanned, weather-beaten face.

  “Hello, Eleanor, I am Merl.”

  Eleanor smiled back. He reminded her of a grandfather she had barely known. I can remember a man who died when I was seven, in another life, but I can’t remember what happened a few hours ago! What’s wrong with me?

  “Hello,” she replied. “What are you doing here?”

  “Merl came to our rescue,” Will said from behind her. “He stopped the men who attacked us. Gregor sent him.”

  Eleanor’s eye’s widened in surprise. “Gregor, Conlan’s grandfather?”

  Merl nodded, his friendly smile reassuring. “I have worked for Gregor Baydon for many years and I have known Conlan since he was a small child.” He reached a large, gnarled hand to ruffle Conlan’s hair affectionately before returning his sharp, bright eyes to Eleanor. “Gregor has been worried about Conlan since he heard about the earthquake in Nethrus. I have been tracking you for a while. It looks like I found you just in time.”

  “Just in time?” Eleanor echoed.

  “Do you want to sit next to Conlan?” Merl asked, a concerned frown on his face as Eleanor swayed in front of him. She nodded, smiling again as he shuffled aside, making room. Eleanor dropped down next to Conlan. His skin had the same grey pallor as Will and Amelia’s, but instead of the yellow tinge, his had a soft green look to it. Green again, that’s important. He was sleeping peacefully. Lifting his left arm, Eleanor curled up underneath it at his side. If she could hear his heartbeat, could hear him breathe, she would know if he needed her, and she needed the solid comfort of knowing he was there. She reached an arm protectively across Conlan’s chest, rested her head against him and closed her eyes. His presence insulated her from the confusion and fear. She listened to his heart beat in time with hers, calming her – the steady, regular tempo lulling her to sleep.

  She woke with a start, eyes snapping open to golden, early evening light. Her thoughts were still full of dragons breathing fire, green swirls spinning through her mind and a danger called Douglas. Conlan’s breathing had changed, and his heart rate was quicker. She lifted her head and turned to look at his face. He smiled at her, eyes glassy.

  “You look awful,” he commented, the effort making him cough weakly.

  Eleanor smiled back. “You look green,” she replied.

  “I think that’s because I really need to throw up,” he moaned. Eleanor understood that feeling and pulled herself up off him, offering him help to sit. As he moved he winced, a hand moving to his right side and rubbing his ribs. “Oooww,” he breathed.

  “What?” she asked, concerned. Conlan looked at her, confused, his fingers gingerly moving up and down his side.

  “I have a bruise, where did I get that?”

  Eleanor felt a flash of guilt, a vague feeling that she had not been able to protect Conlan, she shrugged. “I don’t remember, my memory is like Swiss cheese at the moment.”

  Conlan rubbed his side. “‘Swiss’ cheese?”

  “Cheese that’s full of holes, I think the stuff in that dart affected my brain,” Eleanor explained, trying to hide just how frightened she was by this concept, as her mind was all she had. Conlan groaned and moved his hand from his side to his stomach.

  “Maybe talking about cheese wasn’t the best idea. I really need to throw up.”

  With effort Eleanor helped Conlan up and away from the camp towards a group of prickly bushes, where he dropped to his knees and threw up green gloop with stunning effect. Trying not to look, Eleanor rubbed a comforting hand up and down his back. Will appeared at his other side, helping Eleanor to support him and then giving Conlan a damp cloth to clean himself with and water once he had finished. She watched the care with which Will supported Conlan, unconcerned about the mess he was making and interested only in helping him feel better. She felt gentle, warm affection radiating out from her heart.

  “Eleanor, you’re going a little green again, you don’t have to stay. I can look after him.”

  The noxious odour of green vomit came to her on the light breeze and her stomach squeezed uncomfortably. Conlan began to retch again and Eleanor beat a hasty retreat back to the camp, watching from a safe distance.

  “You two are the only ones who have been sick, what was in that bottle? Where did it come from?”

  Eleanor jumped at the voice; Merl was stood behind her, watching Conlan with a worried look on his face.

  “What bottle?” Eleanor asked.

  Merl’s worried look deepened. “You do not remember?”

  “I think whatever was on the dart has messed with my memory, as the last thing I remember was Amelia catching a bird and then we were attacked,” Eleanor said, shaking her head.

  “You and Conlan were in a bad state when I found you. Will and I tried to suck the poison out, but it had spread too deep. Then you told us about the bottle of green liquid in Conlan’s pocket, a cure you said. It worked, as you both stopped writhing, but it seems to have made you both quite ill,” Merl explained, watching Eleanor’s face carefully.

  “I do not remember,” Eleanor whispered. “But I do remember green being important
.”

  “Do you remember anything else?” Merl prompted, his voice filled with gentle concern. Eleanor thought about it, trying to drag the disjoined corrupted data in her head into a coherent memory. Her mind resisted.

  “I have a vague recollection of a dragon, someone called Douglas and that green is important. I think I failed to protect Conlan, but I do not know what I was meant to be protecting him from,” Eleanor said.

  Merl smiled sympathetically. “I think your head is rather messed up – there cannot have been dragons, as they do not exist, and Conlan, apart from a little sickness, is fine, so you could not have failed to protect him.”

  Eleanor shrugged, not feeling up to telling Merl why his logic was wrong. “Where are Amelia and Freddie?” she asked, glancing around her.

  “The other two Avatars went to find us something to eat,” he said. The thought of food made Eleanor’s stomach coil in a very unpleasant fashion, a response compounded when Merl’s words reached through her headache.

  “Who told you we were Avatars?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. Merl smiled reassuringly, but before he got the chance to reply, Conlan’s voice, astonished disbelief ringing through it, called his name.

  “Merl?”

  “Hello, Conlan,” Merl said, turning to face him with a wide, happy grin spreading across his face. With Will’s help, Conlan was walking towards the man, giving him a surprised, pleased smile in return. He shook Merl’s hand and the older man pulled him into a strong embrace and patted him on the back like a long-lost son. Confused, Eleanor pushed an energy string out to Will.

  Who is this? Eleanor asked.

  Merl claims he was sent by Gregor. I came round to find him trying to help you and Conlan; whatever was in those darts had more of an effect on the two of you than it did on us. Merl claims he killed two of the men who attacked us and chased a third man off. I’ve seen the bodies of the men he killed, the bird was dead, too; one of the men had a blowpipe and some of the darts on him. What happened, where did that bottle of green liquid come from?