Eleanor

by S. F. Burgess

  Still reeling from their ‘crash landing’, Eleanor was unprepared when she was dumped out of the connection and back into the raging chaos of Conlan’s tormented mind. It was like being stuck on a merry-go-round that just got faster and faster, images flashing past, confusing, scary. If she did not concentrate she would lose herself. She could feel the others trapped as she was, but with even less idea of what was going on. A calm refuge was needed so they could marshal their resources and detach themselves. An image jumped out at her from the maelstrom and stopped all thought. As she focused on it she moved into a memory. It was her, or at least it was someone the same size as her, because all similarity between herself and the creature in Conlan’s memory ended there. The figure stood, soaking wet, looking into the distance with an apprehensive look on her face. Before we found the chalice, Eleanor remembered. We were swimming. I was thinking about the dragon. Conlan was thinking about something else entirely, and Eleanor knew that if she could have blushed she would have done. He was absorbed by her casual grace, the way her wet clothes showed her curves, her beautiful face, hair falling artfully across it in wet streams. In his eyes she glowed with an inner light that he felt drawn to, like an addiction, a voracious desire he simply added ever more fuel to, but never satisfied. His need for her was almost painful. Eleanor asked the question without thinking, How do you really feel about me, Conlan? realising too late that the others had joined her in this corner of Conlan’s mind.

  Image after image snapped before them, his thoughts, feelings, desires and fantasies coming with them. Eleanor stood in the white dress, looking so small and vulnerable but so unbelievably beautiful. His memory of her righteous rage as she had moved with determined power and control, fighting Duncan and his friends, shone in glorious splendour. Her eyes glistened as they held his, soft, chocolate-brown, flecks of amber moving through them depending on her mood. When she was angry with him they looked almost gold, and when she allowed her love for him to show through they were a deep, rich-brown he wanted to disappear into forever. Hundreds of images. Recurring feelings of pride, gratitude, adoration, wonder, amusement and devotion. She felt his overwhelming desire to protect her, but over and above all of it Eleanor felt his love. A huge feeling. She filled his every waking moment and he felt her absence as a physical ache. His love was different. She had felt Freddie’s love for her and Will’s love for Amelia, but this was something beyond that. While all the Avatars loved dearly and with all their hearts, they held some of themselves back. Eleanor knew what Will held back from Amelia, frightened she would run from the dark side of his soul. She did not know what Freddie held back, but she could guess. Conlan did not love like that, though. He would hold nothing back if he ever admitted he loved her. For Conlan it was all or nothing. He did not know how to limit what he showed. With a shock, Eleanor realised that she had known he loved her, her heart had known. Her physical being had recognised his love in the way he touched her and cared for her, and she had unknowingly responded to it. This was why her love for him had never faltered, because her heart had overridden her logical mind.

  Thinking of her calmed Conlan’s mind. She reached out to Will. Too embarrassed to discuss what she knew they had all just seen, she skipped straight to business.

  How do we get free?

  I don’t know, Will answered, sounding incredibly tired. Maybe Conlan has to expel us?

  Eleanor felt Amelia’s presence come closer.

  Maybe if we all speak together? she suggested.

  Eleanor felt joint agreement as Freddie found them.

  OK, she agreed. What do we say?

  If we just have to get his attention, we could just yell his name, Freddie offered.

  Right, said Will. After three: one, two, three.

  All four of them, their energy strings entwined, yelled ‘Conlan!’ as loudly as they could in his head. Conlan’s shocked reflex action brutally shoved them out.

  Stunned, Eleanor opened her eyes. Their bodies had been forced back. Conlan now sat alone in the middle of them, as if surrounded by a toddler’s discarded toys.

  “You were in my head, all of you. Where were we?” he asked, his voice shaking.

  “I think that was the true power of the connection,” Will said, sitting up. “I think we might need to practice a lot more!”

  “Understatement of the century,” Freddie muttered, wrapping his arms around his ribs protectively.

  “What did you see in my head?” Conlan asked quietly.

  “You lied to me,” Eleanor said seriously, knowing he would know exactly what she meant.

  “Maybe I had my reasons.”

  “Maybe you did, but please don’t,” Eleanor said, wanting him to say more, wanting him to admit out loud that he loved her.

  The silence stretched out.

  Will coughed. “Er, remember that life and death situation? Well we’re still in it; could you perhaps leave this for later?”

  “This is important, Will,” Eleanor said without looking at him.

  “Eleanor, I’m not stupid, none of us are. We’re all very aware of the significance of what’s going on right now between the two of you, but we need to get out of here, and sooner rather than later. I think its a few hours before dawn, so most people will be asleep. We stand a much better chance of escape,” Will said, looking apologetic.

  “What if we die trying to escape?” Eleanor whispered sadly. “I want to hear him say it, just once.”

  Conlan stared at her. Then taking a firm, careful hold of her face he leaned in, pushing his lips into hers. He kissed her with passion and desire, but it was under tight control; he was cautious and tender, as if he was afraid of breaking her. She stared into his eyes, unable to close hers; she never wanted him out of her sight again. She pushed a little harder against him, seeing his surprise as she opened her lips and ran her tongue along the soft line of his mouth, tasting blood. Thankful that Freddie had shown her how, she pushed her tongue gently into Conlan’s mouth, caressing and tasting, the world no longer of any interest. For a moment he responded, a quiet moan escaping him, before the reality of the situation, of the three people staring at them, forced him to pull away. He spoke in a whisper.

  “I love you, Eleanor.”

  Eleanor felt his love as it flowed over her, and for several seconds it eradicated everything from the universe but him, his glowing green eyes holding hers. Tears made rivulets through the streaks of dirt and blood on her face.

  Conlan frowned. “That wasn’t meant to make you cry.”

  Eleanor smiled, the tears still falling. “I’ve waited a very long time to hear you say it. I’d given up hope that you would. I’m stuck in a cell, waiting to die and I feel like someone has beaten me black and blue with a bat, but right now I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” Heedless of their injuries, Eleanor threw her arms around his neck and he pulled her against him. If I hold him tight enough, do we merge into one being? She slowly moved a string out over his now glowing, pulsating energy ball and felt him shiver involuntarily at the touch. He moved his head back to hold her gaze with a soft, slightly spaced-out expression; she smiled and ran her hand tenderly down his face, her thumb rubbing against his scar, ignoring the stubble, the cuts and bruises, and seeing only the bravest heart and the strongest soul she had ever met.

  Will coughed again and Conlan jumped, looking at him over Eleanor’s shoulder.

  “I know this is a bad time… ” Will said, letting the unspoken assessment of their situation hang in the air. Conlan nodded and reluctantly let go of his death-like grip. Eleanor sighed, her body felt uncomfortable when he was not holding her. Freddie was grinning at her and trying hard to be happy. Amelia had a knowing smile on her face.

  “Come on, I’m sick of this place, let’s go,” Eleanor said, getting to her feet. Will helped Conlan to stand. Eleanor watched him, his head bowed as he took a few deep breaths and his muscles shifting beneath his clothes, as if he was trying to fit back into his body. Things had changed, and
she could see it. As Conlan straightened his shoulders and pulled himself to his full height, he unconsciously wrapped his defences around him, but it was not distance or silence that protected him now. It was love. Eleanor could feel it and knew the others could, too. His love pulled them close and protected them. Raising his head, Conlan noticed Eleanor’s scrutiny and smiled. She shuddered as every hair on her body stood to rigid attention. Here was a king. She fought the irrational urge to kneel and acknowledge this fact. The pain, anger and guilt that had always seemed part of him were gone, and strength and compassion now shone from his glowing green eyes. Eleanor heard Amelia’s sharp intake of breath as she saw the same thing. Conlan noticed their response.

  “What?” he enquired, but the suspicion that normally accompanied this question was also gone. He sounded amused.

  Amelia opened her mouth and then closed it again, her eyes wide. Conlan’s smile grew and he pulled Amelia close, kissing the top of her head.

  Initially Conlan had wanted to go after his father. Will and Freddie had talked him out of it, though, pointing out that they had no idea where he was and that none of them was in a very healthy state. As such, they needed to fall back, regroup and get to grips with how Conlan’s control worked, before they got into any serious battles. Conlan had tried to release the energy he was holding, but with no result. Will had entered his head to help him figure it out, but he had not been successful. Being only able to talk to Conlan’s raw mind had not helped. Frustrated and knowing they were running out of time, Conlan had called a halt and asked Amelia to push the cell door out of its frame. They had stepped cautiously over the splintered door, hanging half off its hinges, and into the dark corridor beyond. Freddie led them through the black. Conlan had been disappointed to discover that glowing eyes did not give him the ability to see in the dark, although Eleanor had pointed out that it did look eerily cool seeing them floating next to her. If ever he wanted to scare someone to death, that was the way to go.

  At the end of the long corridor they reached a spiral stone staircase, and as they climbed it became lighter, the soft orange glow of lanterns making it possible to see. They could hear boisterous voices coming from above. Creeping up the last few stairs on their stomachs, Will and Conlan scouted out the room and then slithered back down.

  “There are three Protectors playing cards near the top of the stairs,” Conlan whispered. They nodded, as they could all hear the animated conversation that was accompanying the game. “There is another Protector,” Conlan continued. “He’s sat in a chair near the far wall and Arran is sat by the door. It seems to be the only exit. The door is bolted from the inside, so we just need to get to it and we can get out.”

  “We need to get rid of Arran and the Protectors,” Will breathed. Conlan nodded.

  “I could incinerate them, if you like,” Freddie offered.

  Conlan frowned. “I was thinking something a little less lethal and less likely to draw attention.”

  Will shook his head. “We can go hand to hand, but I think they’d outclass us right now. Anyway, Arran can create a shield and then raise the alarm.”

  “Leave Arran to me, I can deal with him,” Eleanor whispered.

  “Oh, you sound so masterful,” Freddie muttered with heavy sarcasm.

  “Not helping, Freddie,” Eleanor snapped, unable to maintain her irritation when his cheeky grin stole across his face.

  “Eleanor, if you want Arran, he’s all yours,” offered Conlan. “We’ll move into the middle of the room, using Amelia’s shield to conceal us, and once we’re in position Amelia can push the shield out and knock the Protectors off balance. Will and I will then jump them. Freddie, stay out of the way, you’re not up to it,” he ordered, ignoring Freddie’s peeved look. Moving as quietly as they could manage, they emerged into the room, Amelia altering her shield to hide them. The room was small and windowless, and bare stone walls and un-sanded, dirty floorboards completed the decor. The three Protectors sat round a rickety table covered in the small coins they were using to bet on their card game. The other Protector was sat to the side reading and with his back ramrod straight in a wooden chair, his eyes closed as if in meditation - Arran. Eleanor felt her heart skip a beat as her breath came in fast, fearful pants. Conlan took her hand and the fear dropped slightly. They moved slowly towards the middle of the room, and they were almost in position when a floorboard beneath them let out a loud groan. They froze. Eleanor’s heart pounded so hard in her chest that she was sure the whole room must be able to hear it. Arran’s eyes shot open and his gaze tracked from side to side. The Protectors noticed his movement and nudged each other, sniggering.

  “You,” Arran ordered, pointing to the Protector nearest to him without looking at him. “Stand in front of this door.”

  “I had a good hand,” the man grumbled. With a sigh of irritation the Protector put down his cards and shambled to the door, stretching stiff, tired muscles as he moved. His shoulder brushed the edge of Amelia’s shield but he did not seem to notice. He stood with his back to the door, looking bored.

  “You,” Arran ordered again, pointing at the Protector who was sat reading. “Go and check they are still in their cell.”

  “Think they might have disappeared into thin air?” the Protector asked with glib disrespect as he lay his book down. Arran glared at him but the Protector merely shrugged and grabbed a lantern from the wall, his unintelligible mutterings of annoyance following him down the stairs.

  Conlan lay a hand on Amelia’s shoulder, and letting go of Eleanor’s hand he held up three fingers, then two, then one. Amelia pushed out her shield.

  Eleanor did not see what happened to the Protectors. There were thuds, yells and the sounds of violence, but her attention was focused entirely on Arran. The moment the attack had started, Eleanor had yanked at his energy, pulling it from him forcibly. His face had shown surprise when she first appeared, the expression changing to shock as he realised what she was doing. Looking into his face as fear and confusion flowed across it, a whole raft of strange thoughts and coincidences tumbled through Eleanor’s head. A sudden flash of insight was so startling that she felt her energy shudder, but her gut told her it was right. So what was she going to do about it?

  Arran had no hope of fighting her – and he knew it. It had taken four of them to defeat her last time, and then it was only because they had caught her by surprise. As she pulled his energy, she carefully drained it back into the earth; she did not want to go psychotic, she needed a level head. As his energy levels dropped, Arran fell to his knees in front of her. His eyes were empty. When Eleanor was confident that he posed very little threat, she stopped pulling. He stared up, swaying slightly and trying to keep upright. She heard the sound of the other Protector returning from the cells below as his feet pounded up the stairs, his panting breath, a heavy thump and then silence. Eleanor did not bother to look; she held Arran’s hazel eyes with a penetrating gaze of her own.

  “Are you going to stare at me until the sun rises and they find you, or are you going to kill me?” Arran asked. He did not seem overly interested in which option she would choose, he just sounded tired.

  “I have no desire to kill you, Arran. I would like you to join us, we could do with your help,” Eleanor said quietly.

  Surprise moved back onto Arran’s face. “I do not understand.”

  Eleanor smiled. “Really? Which part?”

  Arran raised an eyebrow at her, the expression was so familiar. “I have spent the better part of the night torturing you and your friends. Why do you not want me dead?”

  “Did you do any of that for your own ends?” Eleanor asked.

  “I was following orders,” he said flatly.

  “Why do you follow orders, Arran?”

  He looked startled by the question and his forehead creased into a heavy frown. “If I do not follow orders I am punished,” he said quietly, the Dwarfish filled with humiliation.

  “You do not have to live like that, not if
you do not wish to. We can offer you friendship, understanding and protection. Come with us, please,” Eleanor implored.

  Arran stared at her and she stepped forward, placing a hand on his shock of white hair.

  “Why do you dye your hair?”

  Arran’s eyes widened. “How do you know?”

  Eleanor shrugged; she did not want to get into that conversation just yet. Without warning he grabbed at Eleanor’s hand, and water’s electrical energy sparked through her. It was not a powerful jolt, as he did not have the strength left to pull enough energy for that, but in her current weakened state it was sufficient to drop her to the floor in a heap, gasping for breath, eyes rolling and disorientated.

  “NO!”

  A yell of such fury and ferocity. Eleanor turned her head and forced her eyes to focus. Conlan moved swiftly towards her, flinging his arm out across his body as he approached. Out of the corner of her eye Eleanor saw Arran’s body flung across the room by air’s pushing force. The white-haired Enforcer thudded into the wall, the force of his body’s impact knocking mortar loose. He dropped to the floor and moaned.

  “Eleanor,” Conlan whispered. Strong arms wrapped round her as she struggled to sit.

  She smiled at him. “You released some energy,” she observed, looking back at Arran’s semi-conscious body.

  “Instinct, but I think I might need more practice. Did I kill him?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Eleanor said, surprised by the look on Conlan’s face. “Did you want to kill him?”

  “He tried to kill you,” Conlan pointed out, conflicting emotions warring across his face.

  “No, he didn’t, he didn’t have enough strength to give me anything more than a nasty shock and he knew it – he’s just not someone who gives up easily. He’s your father’s personal Enforcer, Conlan, and I want him to join us,” Eleanor said. Feeling a little better she pulled herself unsteadily to her feet and walked over to where Arran lay panting, his glazed eyes trying to focus on her. He was not able to sit up, so she lay on her side next to him so she could look into his eyes. Slowly, Eleanor reached a hand out and stroked his face.