Eleanor

by S. F. Burgess

  “Perhaps you did, but if you wanted me dead it would be far quicker to get him to do it,” she reasoned, jerking her head back to indicate the man stood behind her, his sword drawn.

  “Or maybe I would like the pleasure of taking your life myself,” he said. Eleanor rose slowly to her feet; nobody tried to stop her. Walking towards Nials, she stopped well within striking distance and clasped her hands behind her back, giving him as much of an open target as she could. An energy string pushed rudely into her head.

  What are you doing? Freddie demanded, his anger crashing against her. Eleanor ignored him, keeping her attention on Nials.

  “Who is Urerla?” she asked.

  “You are not afraid of me, are you?” Nials asked, sizing her up. Now she was closer, Eleanor noticed the small, raised, delicate pattern of scars that made a dotted line under his black eyes. She had seen scars like that before. The faces of the men Merl had killed jumped into her head. Will had got a pretty good look at them and Nials had the same black skin and the same ritual scaring under the eyes, although the pattern on one of the dead men had been far more complicated.

  “No, I am not afraid of you. I actually want to trust you. Who is Urerla?” Eleanor asked again.

  Are you mad? He could kill you!

  Nials gave her a long appraising look. Eleanor concentrated on returning it with a calm, steady look of her own, recognising the hiss and spit of the fire behind her that told her Freddie was drawing energy.

  Freddie, stop it, I’m fine. We’re just talking. Do you really think Amelia would allow this man to hurt me? The heated crackling of the fire died down again.

  You take far too many risks, Freddie muttered.

  No, you’re being overprotective, Eleanor replied, trying to stay calm. I’m getting information, this is important.

  Well, let someone else do it, I don’t want you putting yourself in harm’s way, Freddie snapped.

  “Urerla is the one who will decide what to do with you,” Nials replied. Still caught up in her argument with Freddie, it took Eleanor a second to translate what Nials had just said.

  “Why must something be done with us?” Eleanor asked.

  “You are trespassing on our land, and we do not take kindly to that,” Nials replied.

  “You are the People of the Horse, we…”

  She was interrupted by the sound of thundering hooves, and following Nials’s gaze she turned to look. Three dark-coloured horses were approaching, their riders sitting tall. The horse in the middle was bigger than Rand had been, flanked at either side by slightly smaller animals that hung back a few paces from the lead horse. They moved at considerable speed. The figure astride the larger, lead animal had a slim, feminine grace and rode with practiced skill, but as she was riding out of the rising sun, Eleanor was unable to determine any further details. Is this Urerla? The woman pulled the charging beast to a halt, swinging her leg over the saddle and landing gracefully, almost before the animal had stopped. Those following her seemed to be bodyguards and came to a halt but remained mounted, eyes missing nothing of the situation in front of them or the surrounding environment.

  The woman was clothed in the same light, rough material as Nials and the other men – slightly baggy trousers, a shirt tight over large breasts and a sandy-coloured cape, the hood thrown back to reveal her long black hair falling in tight curls around her shoulders. From her curved hips hung a thick belt, made of heavy gold links, charms and gemstones attached to it which jingled merrily as she moved. Her full, dark velvet lips were pressed into a disapproving sneer. Her black skin also bore the marks of ritual scaring, but her pattern was complicated, with several lines of dots under her eyes and down across her cheek bones. Like the dead man. Eleanor was impressed; she was a uniquely beautiful woman. Carrying herself with a calm, confident grace she sashayed towards them, her belt tinkling in the silence.

  “Nials, you sent for me? Who are these people?” she asked, strong authority in her quiet throaty voice. Her eyes moved across the faces in front of her she did not recognise.

  “I do not know,” Nials replied. “We were waiting for you to question them.” The woman nodded and stepped towards Freddie, openly scrutinising him with intelligent, iridescent black eyes. Freddie stared back at her as she appraised him; his eyes travelled slowly down her tall, strong, curved body and back up again, and an appreciative grin spread across his face.

  Who’s she? he asked in open admiration.

  I think this is the person we were waiting for – this is Urerla, Eleanor replied as the woman turned and looked at each of them in turn. Freddie pulled his energy string back and continued to stare. Eleanor smiled as the woman’s gaze passed over her; there was no return smile. The black eyes flicked back to Freddie.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  Freddie knew he was being addressed, but having no clue what was being said he just smiled at her.

  “He is the Avatar of Fire. He does not speak Dwarfish,” Eleanor said. The woman glanced at her, a quizzical eyebrow raised.

  “We can translate for you, if you wish,” Will said, standing and stepping forward and causing Nials to move his hand to the dagger at his side. Urerla looked at Will. She did not seem surprised at the mention of Avatars.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  Will smiled. “Will, Avatar of Water, it is a pleasure to meet you, Urerla.”

  “Another Avatar? What are you doing here? Who is in charge of your group?” she asked.

  “I am in charge,” Conlan said, standing. The guard behind him rested his blade against Conlan’s neck, but he ignored it as he continued. “We have come to talk to you; we want the Avatar of Fire’s sword.”

  Urerla turned to regard Conlan. “The sword is not for the taking. Which Avatar are you?” she asked, her cold gaze lingering over him.

  “I am not an Avatar, my name is Conlan Baydon,” he replied. For a long, strained moment Urerla stared at Conlan, then at Freddie and then back to Conlan again. She seemed to be working out what she should do next.

  “My mother will need to decide what to do with them, we must take them back,” she commanded. Nials snapped to attention. Eleanor felt there should have been a salute, but he just nodded his agreement to her order. Without another word Urerla mounted her horse in one easy motion, pulled the huge animal round and galloped off back the way she had come, her bodyguards whipping round their own mounts and following her. As they left, Nials started issuing orders.

  Their captors watched them break camp. Once their horses were saddled and packed, Nials sent men round to disarm and restrain them. One of the men grabbed roughly at Eleanor, patting her down and looking for concealed weapons. He removed Remic’s knife from her belt, turned her around and pulled her wrists behind her back. She felt thin ropes tying her hands in place. She did not resist, allowing them to help her onto Horse’s back. When they realised that there were not enough horses to go round, Nials pulled Amelia onto his horse. Sitting her in front of him, they set off in the same direction Urerla had taken, the men leading their horses forward at a steady, mile-eating trot.

  Eleanor was soon uncomfortable, as the ropes bit into her flesh, rubbing the skin and her arms began to throb from being forced to hold the same position. To make matters worse, the brilliant rays of the rising sun had given way to dark, heavy grey clouds, which made it feel like early evening, not early afternoon. It was still hot, unpleasantly so, and especially as Eleanor was unable to remove her jacket. The air thickened with the oppressive heat of an imminent thunderstorm. Eleanor and Horse jumped when the first flash of lightning ripped across the sky, searing its brief, jagged existence onto Eleanor’s retinas, the rumbling thunder that accompanied it heralding the rain that fell in a steady, pounding downpour. Soaked through to the skin in minutes, Eleanor tried unsuccessfully to wipe back the hair clinging in annoyingly cold, wet tentacles to her face. The drop in temperature made her feel a little more comfortable, but the continuous forceful drubbing of the m
assive water drops began to give her a headache. She hunched her shoulders and endured it, wondering if they were going to get hit by lightning. As they travelled, her mind churned. She went through the memories Will had shown her several times, making comparisons; several worrying insights occurred to her. From the colour of their skin, their clothes and the ritual scaring on their faces, Eleanor made the logical assumption that both dead men had been ‘People of the Horse’, and from Merl’s description the man who had got away was one, too. The complicated ritual scaring on Urerla’s face was too similar to that of one of the dead men to be coincidence. Were they related? If this was the case, then none of their current captors could be trusted. Gregor’s book, I have to protect it, I need to find a way to keep it with me. She wondered if she should try to keep the Talismans with them, but she decided it would be better if they did not draw attention to them – as long as nobody read the book, they were unlikely to be recognised. Eleanor wondered if Daratus had made a deal with the People of the Horse – were the whole tribe in on it? It would help if she knew what the man who had escaped had looked like. She tried looking into the minds of their horses, but discovered that the animals had been more interested in resting or eating, even Horse had taken a nap when she had seen Eleanor and Conlan hit the ground. She had thought it an odd time to rest, but she had not objected when the opportunity was presented.

  They travelled for hours in silence. Eleanor used the time to come up with a plan to keep the book with her. It distracted her from the situation in which she found herself. She did not like the heavy rain and lack of light, interspersed with blinding flashes of lightning and thunder that made the air tremble. As the afternoon became early evening, Eleanor saw orange light flickering in the distance. As they got closer she could make out a large wall, which looked like a mud-built fortress, blending into the grey, wet world around it. The walls were perhaps thirty foot high, with large metal baskets spaced evenly along it, and in each basket blazed a cheery fire. Eleanor could make out dark shadows shifting behind them and felt eyes staring down at her.

  As the massive battlements loomed over them, Eleanor saw a doorway further down the exterior which housed enormous, weather-worn wooden gates. As they approached there was yelling from the top of the wall, and with a whining creak that filled the gloom, making Eleanor shudder with apprehension, the wooden door swung open ponderously. Walking through the gates, a heady sense of power flowed through her, washing away her fear. She felt strong, confident and relaxed; whatever came next, she could face it. Up ahead, Eleanor watched Conlan straighten his shoulders and, despite his restraints, sit up straighter, looking more alert, relaxed and ready. He turned his head towards her and gave her the smile that made her insides go runny. She smiled back, knowing it was his strength and confidence she was feeling.

  The inside of the fortress was not the military encampment that Eleanor had expected. There was a main ‘street’ of single-storied, flat-roofed mud buildings, each building leading into the next with no space between them. The occasional figure moved quickly through the rain, shoulders hunched, and Eleanor knew that eyes still watched them from the walls. Other than that, the place looked deserted. As they entered, the wooden gates were pushed back into place with a resounding crash that made Eleanor and Horse jump. The men pulled them forward, deeper into the wet, dark, quiet village. Their horses were stopped at a nondescript building that looked like all the others, the only difference as far as Eleanor could see being that the building before her did not seem to have windows, only a strong door with a dead bolt on the outside to lock it. Care was taken in removing them from their horses, the bolt was drawn back with a metallic shriek and they were ushered inside. Preparations had been made for them. The main room of the building made Eleanor think it must be a storeroom, apart from a pile of blankets against one wall, a couple of lit lanterns and a rough rug, which had been thrown over the dirt floor, the room was empty. A door at the back of the room stood open to another smaller room, and Eleanor could see a toilet bucket and assumed it had been set up as a makeshift bathroom. Nials moved among them, cutting through the ropes at their wrists. Eleanor heaved a grateful sigh of relief, feeling the muscles in her shoulders spasm at the sudden movement. She could see the cut on Will’s neck. It was starting to heal but still looked a mess, so she could use it to put a plan into action.

  “Nials, we need some of our bags,” Eleanor said, her voice loud in the silence, all eyes turning towards her.

  Nials shook his head. “No, you have what you need here; we will bring you food and drink.”

  “We need our medical supplies, Will has medicine that will help heal his neck,” Eleanor replied, moving towards the still open door, intent on forcing the issue. Nials glance at Will, then back to Eleanor, moving to block the doorway as he did so.

  “We will send our healers,” he said.

  Eleanor snorted in derision. “Have they treated Avatars?” she asked, fixing Nials with a hard stare. Nials glanced back at Will again. He seemed undecided. Eleanor gave him a little time, not taking her eyes off him.

  Eventually he sighed. “Very well, which bags do you need?”

  “I will show you,” Eleanor said, moving out of the door and towards their horses as fast as she could before he thought to stop her. The two men holding their mounts’ bridles gave each other surprised looks as she marched towards them. She went to Will’s horse and pulled his medical bag down, releasing the strap and slinging it over her shoulder, and then she moved to Horse and took her satchel as well.

  “What is in the bags?” Nials asked from the door of the building. Eleanor returned, opening Will’s medical bag. The contents were obvious, although Will’s sketch pad and pencils were tucked down the side. She then opened her satchel, lifting a couple of the bottles out and showing them to Nials.

  “What else is in there?” Nials asked suspiciously, reaching to open the mouth of the bag wider.

  “Just personal things, some books, money, nothing special. Would you like me to get it all out?” Eleanor asked, doing her best to sound bored. He had not reacted to the mention of ‘books’.

  Nials smiled. “No, I trust you,” he said.

  Eleanor smiled back. “Thank you.” She had only deceived him a little bit and it was not going to do him any damage.

  Nials and the other men left, bolting the door behind them. For a moment there was silence as everyone stared at her, confused expressions all round.

  “You know that our physiology is no different to theirs, don’t you?” Will asked in English.

  Eleanor nodded. “Yes, Will, but they don’t know that. I just wanted to make sure that Gregor’s book stayed with me.”

  Will looked at her, another long appraising look, and she could see he was thinking. “Well I guess I’d better clean up my neck,” he said, moving to sit on the rug. Eleanor carried the bags over, and she and Amelia dropped in front of him.

  “What do we need?” Eleanor asked. Will looked into the bags.

  “That bottle with the red liquid in it would be a good start, and there’s some material you can use to apply it under the bandage strips.”

  Carefully following Will’s instructions, Eleanor and Amelia cleaned the cut. Amelia had wanted to stitch it, but Will had convinced them that applying a bandage would be enough. They had just finished when the shriek of the bolt being forced back snapped all their eyes to the door. It opened with a creak and several men entered carrying a large, hot metal pot of food, along with some bowls and spoons, a loaf of bread and a jug with some mugs. They placed the food and drink on the floor without a word, turned and left, the door closing with a bang and the bolt grinding into place.

  “It would not take much for us to escape,” Merl said thoughtfully. “I do not understand why you let them capture us in the first place.”

  Conlan sat down on the rug, serving food into the bowls and passing it round. Merl frowned at him.

  “Conlan, you should not be serving us, we shoul
d be serving you!”

  Conlan smiled at him and then concentrated on his task; he did not look at Merl as he spoke.

  “We are not escaping, because I want them as allies, not enemies.”

  “Allies against what?” Merl asked.

  “Did my grandfather not tell you? If he sent you out here I would have thought he would have explained what he was sending you into, or at least given you the option to decline. After all, you are risking your life right now.”

  Merl’s frown deepened. Taking the food Conlan offered, he sat down on the rug next to him.

  “He told me you were doing something vitally important. He said you might be in danger, that you might need help after the earthquake in Nethrus. I was to find you and do anything you asked. What is the Avatar of Fire’s sword you asked for?”

  Conlan ignored the question for a moment. “Eleanor, this food has meat in it, would you like some bread?” he asked in English. Eleanor nodded. Conlan tore off half the loaf and gave it to her. Will rooted around in his medical bag and produced a small piece of material, the corners pulled up and tied into a bag, and passed it too her. She opened it carefully to find a mix of nuts and dried berries.

  Eleanor smiled. “Thank you.”

  Will shrugged and smiled back. “They were for emergencies – I think this qualifies.”

  Merl watched them, trying to understand what was going on.

  “She is not eating?”

  “She does not eat meat,” Conlan answered, passing a bowl of food to Freddie, who took it gratefully and plonked himself down next to Eleanor.

  “Why not?” Merl asked, his tone implying it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

  “I am the Avatar of Earth, Merl, and the animal that gave its life for the meal you are eating was my brother or sister. Could you eat one of your siblings?” Eleanor snapped, irritated.