Eleanor

by S. F. Burgess

  “Leave him alone,” she snarled, her body poised for battle. Merl threw his head back and laughed at her, the hard, nasty sound echoing around the clearing. Eleanor watched, eyes bright with anticipation, as Merl stepped away from Conlan. He stepped towards her, just far enough away that she could blast him. She began drawing energy from the earth, but then a strange sensation hit her. It felt like someone had ripped open her stomach, forced their hands deep inside, grasped her vital organs and were now trying to yank them out. Pain shot up her spine, exploding through her head. Black spots swarmed across her vision. She dropped to her knees, her sword falling from nerveless fingers as she gasped for breath. Through half-open eyes she saw Freddie run towards her. Merl saw him and quickly retreated to Arran’s side. Freddie wasted no time and Eleanor watched as the torch flames shot higher and Freddie released his energy at Merl and Arran, only to watch in frustration as it dissipated against a shield in front of them, brilliant flashes of red and orange lighting up the clearing. Eleanor’s pain-fogged mind recoiled back as the trees and shrubbery around them began to blaze. Why’s he setting things on fire? Then she understood – the bigger the blaze, the more energy he could draw from it. Freddie was trying to get through the shield. Eleanor forced her addled brain to concentrate and work out what was going on. Freddie fought on at her side and fire flared around them.

  Freddie, over there… the other Enforcers… Eleanor instructed, pointing in the general direction she had last seen the four figures.

  Freddie turned his attention from Arran’s shield, and the trees and bushes on the far side of the clearing exploded into a raging inferno. Eleanor felt the pain coursing through her body recede slightly. Freddie cried out and staggered in an attempt to stay upright, fighting off sudden obvious pain and continue his attack.

  How are they doing this? Eleanor wondered.

  Abruptly the agony was gone, leaving her shaking and weak. Freddie groaned and toppled over, clutching at his stomach.

  Freddie, how can I help you?

  There was no response, but Eleanor felt the dark shadow of his pain, his desperation to stay conscious, to keep protecting her. She stroked his hair as his eyes rolled in his head.

  Eleanor, RUN! Get away! he managed before the pain intensified and he uttered a few last sobs before lying silent, his energy string slipping away from her.

  She reached for his neck, checking for a pulse. It was there. Free of the debilitating agony for a moment, Eleanor crawled forwards.

  Conlan’s breath was shallow, his face pale and a number of bruises were blossoming. The steady trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth was enough to make her worry about the internal injuries Merl might have caused. She stroked his face, knowing she could not leave him, would not run. She would die with him, if that was their fate. With no warning the agony overtook her senses once more. She pitched forward into the dirt. This was the most intense pain she had experienced, and in a flash of clarity Eleanor understood why. The Enforcers were pulling her energy out, just as Conlan had tried to do to her all those months ago; the pain was familiar, as Will had said, only much stronger. Once Freddie had been drained of energy, all five of them must have moved on to her. Now she understood what was happening, Eleanor searched out their strings. There were only four. Four Enforcers pulling energy. Not sure how to counter the effect, she tried to pull the energy back, gripping onto their strings and pulling with all her strength, eyes screwed tight in concentration. The pain dropped slightly. It was having some impact, and as Eleanor became more comfortable with what she was doing she opened her eyes. Four black-robed figures stood around her, Arran stood in front of her with Merl at his side, smug and confident. Arran’s hood had fallen back to reveal his features. He was younger than she had expected, in his late teens perhaps. His face still held some of the softness of a child, with the sharper angles of the chin and cheek bones that would make him a handsome man beginning to show through. There was something very familiar about him. His short hair was shocking white, making the hazel-coloured orbs of his eyes seem disproportionally large in his face. Eleanor shuddered at the cold cruelty in his expression, his eyes showing suffering well beyond his years. Investigating the four energy strings, Eleanor realised that one was weaker than the others and was not pulling as hard. Holding the tension in the other three strings, Eleanor concentrated on the weaker string and put all her remaining strength into ripping the energy from this one Enforcer. To her left, one of the black-robed figures swayed on his feet, staggered back and collapsed, all resistance to her pulling on his energy disappearing as he did so. Eleanor knew she was killing the man and shuddered as freezing, black despair seeped into her heart. Undeterred, she pulled out the remainder of the energy he had, feeling his shield flicker and fade, his heartbeat stuttering and stopping. She shifted her concentration and used the energy she had stolen to strengthen her grip on the other three strings. Two of them faltered at the shock of seeing their comrade fall. Maybe I can still win this… The thought gave her hope and she selected another energy string to focus her efforts on. As she concentrated, she realised the closer to their shields her energy string was pulled, the more pain roared through her body. If they managed to pull her energy through their shields, the pain was the horrific. Using as much of her remaining energy as she dared, Eleanor felt another of the Enforcers start to fail and sway on his feet.

  Arran raised a thin, white eyebrow at her. Merl stepped forward, grabbing a handful of her hair tight to the roots, intent on dragging her to her knees. Seeing an opportunity, Eleanor surreptitiously slipped her hand into Conlan’s boot, her fingers tightening around the handle of his knife. As Merl pulled her upright, Eleanor let out a scream of fury, and wrenching the knife free, plunging it to the hilt into the inside of Merl’s thigh. Merl roared in pain. Eleanor gave the knife a violent twist. She knew she had succeeded when the gush of warm blood ran down her hand and arm. As she yanked the weapon free she felt the blood splatter warm across her face; she had hit a main artery. He would die.

  Moving her attention to attacking Merl had left her open to the ongoing attack on her energy, and the haze of pain intensified as her energy was shredded through the remaining Enforcers’ shields. As she struggled to take back control of the situation, Eleanor watched Merl stagger, then fall, landing heavily on his back. He gasped and groaned, his hands clasping his leg. Raising his head, he glared at her with murderous fury.

  “Drallup!” he hissed, cold, hard and vicious. Eleanor realised she had heard this voice before. This was the voice Berick had been talking to in Meran’s memories. Merl had killed Laurice’s husband and Yatt, Millice and Osser just so he could get close to Conlan and gain his trust. Merl’s head dropped back and he lay still. Another death on my hands. Eleanor turned away to find Arran’s hazel eyes scrutinising her. So very familiar. The pain became excruciating as the Enforcers got over their initial shock. No one moved to help Merl. Now she understood what was happening, Eleanor moved her remaining effort into fighting back and pulling at their energy, but she was weak and could not keep up the fight much longer. Need to finish this before I pass out.

  “Arran, she killed Karnos – are you going to help us?” one of the other hooded Enforcers asked, his voice strained and panicked and his eyes flicking to the body of his dead comrade. Arran sighed, as if this request for assistance was beneath him. Crouching down he reached out a hand and touched Eleanor’s forehead. An immense jolt of pain shot through her. She jittered and then collapsed. It was like a version of Will’s energy release, but without the potency. Not understanding, Eleanor’s mind swirled under the increased assault from the three remaining Enforcers.

  “You are using water energy,” Eleanor gasped out, looking at Arran as she curled into a ball of agony at Conlan’s side.

  “I can access energy from all four elements as needed,” Arran said. Still straining against her attackers and struggling to hold on to the energy she had, Eleanor tried to keep Arran talking, hoping to get
some answers. If she lived to fight him again she was going to need all the information she could get.

  “Can all Enforcers do that?” she asked haltingly, her words slow and laborious.

  “You are full of questions,” Arran observed conversationally, as if an Avatar writhing at his feet was a normal occurrence. He stared at her for a moment before answering in a slight bragging tone.

  “While Enforcers are rare, I am the rarest. Most become comfortable with one element as children and soon become unable to use any other. I was identified by Lord Daratus very early in my life. I was trained to use all the elements equally, so I have access to them all, but not at quite the same level you and your friends enjoy.”

  “If you had this ability, why did you not use it when you attacked us at the waterfall?” Eleanor gasped, forcing the words out.

  “What waterfall?” Arran asked.

  Arran doesn’t know about the waterfall. Does this mean that Lord Daratus is not responsible for that attack? Or did he just not tell Arran?

  Eleanor could feel herself losing the battle as the darkness crept in at the edges of her vision. She tried pushing a string into the earth, wondering if she still had the strength to draw more energy, but her string was dragged away, energy being pulled along it at an alarming rate. Arran’s joined the fight. He was strong, very strong, but as he pulled her energy, Eleanor felt no increase in pain. Will didn’t feel pain when I pulled his energy, but he did when Conlan pulled it. Conlan has a shield, so why is Arran different? Does he not have a shield? As a last-ditch attempt to defend herself, Eleanor pushed an energy string at Arran. Conlan felt it when she had touched his shield, so maybe the young Enforcer would, too. Maybe it would distract him. If there was no shield, perhaps she could reason with him directly. Despite her assumptions, Eleanor was surprised when her energy barrelled into his, her consciousness entering his mind, a million thoughts crashing against her at once. There were too many for her to register them all, but her mind automatically absorbed and stored them. What happened to his shield? Where are his mind’s defences? I’m right, the pain is coming from having my energy pulled by Enforcers with shields.

  “Get out of my mind!” Arran ordered, delivering a precise, practiced blow to the side of her head, his cold hazel eyes chasing her into the nothing.

  “Conlan.”

  The greeting was empty and emotionless. Eleanor fought the pain and exhaustion, forcing her eyes to open again. With blurry vision she saw Conlan, his hands tied behind him. He had been pulled up to his knees. A Protector held him up by gripping his throat and holding a fistful of his hair. She was lying on the floor of an empty room, big enough that Conlan’s name echoed around it once spoken. It was cold. There was a fireplace but it was shrouded in darkness. Three flickering lanterns left the whole room wrapped in shadows that seemed to move with intent. Eleanor saw the scene reflected as an indistinct tableau in the windows, made black mirrors by the darkness outside.

  “Father,” Conlan replied, a matching emotionless tone.

  So this is a Lord of Mydren…

  The man standing in front of Conlan was tall with a solid body hidden under flowing dark blue robes that contrasted with the sharp pale-blue steel of his eyes. Eleanor could see Jarrick in them. His short hair was the same shade of brown as Conlan’s, the temples shot through with grey. The face was cold, hard and smooth like a sculpture, and it was impossible to guess at his age, because emotion had left no tell-tale lines upon it. His body was perfectly still. Maybe that was why Jarrick loved statues; they subconsciously reminded him of a father he could never reach. Eleanor could see two other Protectors standing behind Lord Daratus. They stood at relaxed attention, confident that their services would not be required.

  Eleanor jumped when Conlan’s father lashed out and punched his son hard in the face. It was so hard that his head snapped to the side, wrenching him from the Protector’s grip and depositing him on the floor. The Protector stooped and hauled him upright, holding on to Conlan’s shoulders this time.

  There was silence.

  Lord Daratus was still, almost as if he had never moved. Conlan shook himself, spat blood and slowly raised his head. His father stared down at him.

  “I disowned you. You are no longer my son, and for the short span of your life that remains you will not address me as such.” There was no anger, no irritation, just an emotionless tone. Conlan shrugged, implying he did not care one way of the other, but Eleanor could feel the waves of fear and misery that were pouring from him. Hurting for him, Eleanor forced herself to her feet. While she was struggling with this monumental task, Daratus preached, waving something in Conlan’s face.

  “Is this what you want?” he asked. “This pointless piece of silver? This useless relic of a bygone age?” Conlan did not respond. His father hit him again. The Protector made sure he stayed upright this time. Eleanor realised that what Daratus was waving around was the crown. How supremely confident he must be to have brought it within Conlan’s reach.

  “What kind of a king wears a silver crown? It is so cheap, so pathetic,” Daratus continued, heavy emotionless words battering down. “You are an idiot. We defeated the abominations in the past. Did you think we would forget how?”

  Once she was standing, Eleanor tried to work out what she should do. She held no illusions that they could escape – there may only be three Protectors present with their Lord, but it might as well have been a hundred. Will and Amelia lay together where they had been dropped, eyes closed and faces pale. Freddie lay a little distance away; he was conscious but his eyes were vacant. They had no energy to run. The Protectors had not even considered them enough of a threat to bother tying them up. None of the Enforcers were lurking in the immediate vicinity. Guess they don’t consider us a threat at the moment either. Inspecting her energy levels, Eleanor realised she was currently about as dangerous as a day-old kitten. While she could push an energy string out if she wanted to, there was no strength left in her to pull the energy she needed from the earth. However, the Lord and the three Protectors all had their attention on Conlan. No one had noticed she was standing, so she currently had the advantage of surprise. But what do I do with it? Conlan grunted as his father hit him a third time, the movement so quick that he was perfectly still again before Eleanor realised what he had done. There were very few options. Escape for them all seemed unlikely, and a solo escape would be non-productive. All she could really do was help Conlan. Maybe she could stop his father hitting him. Eleanor ran at the Protector that was holding on to Conlan. Her charging weight was enough to knock him over and drag them all down. They crashed to the floor, sliding a short distance on its polished wooden surface. Before they had stopped moving, Eleanor pulled the surprised Protector’s dagger from his belt, positioning the blade under his chin and pushing just enough so that he gasped and froze.

  “I could kill you,” Eleanor whispered in Dwarfish into the terrified man’s ear. “Remember that I chose not to.” She removed the blade, slamming the trembling man in the temple with the dagger’s hilt. She moved around him as he crumpled to the floor. Coming up behind Conlan she sliced through the rope at his wrists. Her strength failing her, she knelt next to him, panting heavily, her head spinning, as he pulled the bindings away.

  “I was under the impression that the abominations had been left helpless,” the Lord said, his gaze moving from Eleanor to the unconscious Protector she had left on the floor.

  “That is what we were told, Lord Daratus,” agreed the taller one of the two Protectors standing behind him looking at Eleanor warily.

  “Go! Fetch Arran!” Daratus ordered. The Protector nodded and looked relieved to be getting out of the way as he ran for the door. Conlan had managed to get himself standing, pulling Eleanor to her feet as he did so. His father watched passively.

  “You have made loyal little playmates for yourself. Does it know what it will suffer because of you?” the emotionless voice intoned, hatred making his eyes burn. Conlan was si
lent, so Eleanor answered for him.

  “Drollup!”

  The growling subtext she added implied that she considered him her inferior. She had no idea what drollup meant, but she had heard it used twice as an insult, and as it was the only Dwarfish insult she knew, she was going to use it.

  Daratus raised an eyebrow at her. “You taught the abomination to speak?”

  “Getting her to speak wasn’t the problem, but getting her to shut up...” Conlan said quietly in English. Daratus glared at them, suspicion narrowing his eyes before deciding to ignore the comment.

  “Then I shall tell it about the torture I will inflict.” An eerie half-smile touched his lips but failed to reach his eyes. He gazed at Eleanor for a moment. “I will rip and tear its flesh, crush and break its bones. Before it dies in agony, I will shatter any remaining sanity – and Conlan will watch it all, so it can cry to him for help that will never come.” His voice was the same cold, emotionless monotone, as if he was reading a shopping list, but for some reason this made what he was saying even more terrifying. Eleanor felt fear claw at her soul and she cowered, her back pushing into Conlan. He was trembling. She turned to look up into his face. Fury made him menacing. He snatched the dagger from Eleanor’s hand and flung it at his father. The movement had been quick, but the knife seemed to be moving in slow motion, tumbling end over end through the air. It slowed down and stopped its journey inches from Daratus’s chest. He watched dispassionately as it fell at his feet, and then he turned to the door, where a hooded Enforcer stood. Eleanor felt another shiver of fear travel through her; it was like his black robes were pulling light towards him, as if he were a walking black hole.