by J D Abbas
“I’ve had them since birth,” he replied to the unasked question.
She blushed. “Is...is that why you were named Silvandir?”
He gave a light laugh. “Apparently. It’s a rare thing among the Rogaran to have these streaks in one’s hair or the flecks in one’s eyes, but to have both is unheard of.” His eyes danced a bit, as if mocking his own charms.
She looked directly at his eyes for the first time. They were like nothing she’d ever seen before. Deep as the sky at midnight, dense and fathomless, accented by shimmering flecks of star-trails of the same silvery blue as in his hair, adding a certain mystery to his striking good looks.
“My mother believed I was marked by the Source of All Light, destined to be a hero of some sort.” His smile vanished. “So much for silly folk tales.”
With tactful skill, he shifted the focus back to her. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
She hesitated, her gaze dropping again as she considered.
“I could use a friend,” an unfamiliar voice said.
Elena stiffened when she realized it was her voice that had spoken. Heat burned her cheeks. She couldn’t believe she’d let those words slip out. An inner voice screamed at her again, and she hugged Sasha closer.
Elena peeked over the top of the dog’s head to see if Silvandir was shocked by her brazenness, but he was smiling. She looked away. No matter how he answered, she wouldn’t know what to do.
“I’m sure you could. This must all be strange and difficult for you.” He paused, waiting for her to look up. “I’m sorry for speaking so abruptly earlier. Please understand, I’m not angry with you; I’m enraged by what’s been done to you. I find it deplorable, and I’m filled with intense emotion that I don’t quite know how to manage. I’m sorry it came out directed toward you—the very one I desire to avenge. I was afraid I might have done irreparable damage with my rash words. I’m relieved that’s not the case.”
Surprised by his candidness, she feared he'd somehow read her mind. She sensed he was a man of integrity and forthrightness—someone who could be trusted...if trust were possible.
“I hope your silence doesn’t mean I’m wrong. It would be an honor to have you consider me a friend.” His voice was low and tentative.
An honor? An unfamiliar warmth spread through her chest, and she smiled inside, too timid to allow Silvandir to see it. “No, you’re not wrong. Thank you.” She glanced up to confirm he wasn’t mocking her then focused back on the dog. She wasn’t very good at this.
Silvandir leaned closer and scratched Sasha behind the ears. Her tail thumped its approval.
Elena breathed easier. “This place is strange. I’ve never been in a castle before. It’s like being in one of the old fables with the Nephalim or Hukard. Everything is so...big.”
Silvandir leaned back and laughed. For the first time since she’d met him, his face truly relaxed. “Yes, we are somewhat larger than the Wallanard, though not quite to the extent of the Hukard.” He glanced around. “I can see how it would all seem oversized to you.”
They were quiet for a time, and she focused on smoothing Sasha’s fur. A question popped into her head and she started to ask him, then hesitated. She didn’t want to make a misstep.
He cocked his head with a grin. “What is it?”
He doesn’t miss a thing.
His face grew more serious, mirroring her own tension.
“Do you have...is there a...torture chamber here?” she whispered.
“No, of course not.” His answer was quick, almost indignant, though this time he caught himself. He gazed at her intently. His eyes widened then narrowed. Her chest tightened. Was he seeing what was in her mind, like Elbrion?
Silvandir reached out and placed his hand on her arm, concern etching his face. “No, Elena, the Guardians don’t practice such things.” His powerful voice was reined in.
Her head bobbed in tiny, nervous nods. “That’s...that’s good.”
“You are safe here. No one will hurt you.” He paused to rub his eyes. “Torture is forbidden by the laws of the realm—though I realize that must mean little to you, seeing as it has not stopped your tormentors. The Guardians in this keep and elsewhere in the realm are the enforcers of the Qarhelon, and we wholeheartedly believe in and obey its laws.” It looked like he wanted to say more but stopped himself. “Is there anything I can do to set your heart at ease?”
“I don’t know if my heart has ever been at ease...or ever will be.” Then, realizing she’d said too much, she stiffened and got control of herself. “No, thank you, I’m fine.” She could see he wasn’t convinced. “I-I will be fine.”
Silvandir seemed saddened by her words but didn’t press her further. He studied her face. “Do your wounds hurt?”
“Not really. I’ve lived with pain so much of my life, it seems at times as if my body has become separate from me, shielding my mind from the sensations. I do feel a dull pressure, but I usually don’t recognize pain until it’s so strong that it knocks me to the ground or my stomach reacts. Does that make any sense?”
“Honestly, no. I look at your injuries and think most people would be unable to talk or move or function, but you...you just continue. The others said that after you fell and hurt your leg, you still managed to fight Celdorn and pull yourself over the edge of a cliff. Is that true?”
“I suppose so. I don’t remember very well. I must have thought I was still being held captive by the Farak and just wanted to escape. I would rather have died than return to that.”
Oh no, not pity. She saw it flash in his eyes. Don’t pity me. They look at you like that and then they—
“I’m sure you must have been terrified...but still, how could you not feel that intense pain?”
“I think if you experience enough of it, you become immune.”
“I hope I never have the opportunity.”
“I hope the same.” Feeling too vulnerable yet again, she asked, “How long have you lived here?”
“I came here to train more than a decade ago then returned to the north. I was sent back five years ago to serve in overseeing Kelach.”
“Do you like it here?”
“I’m content for the most part. I’m proud to serve Celdorn and my people, and I’m immensely fond of the Ilqazar,” he added with a heartfelt smile.
“The Ilqazar are the horses?”
Silvandir laughed. “That would be like saying Elbrion and the Farak belong in the same class because they walk on two legs.”
Her face burned. Can I get nothing right with this man?
Silvandir closed his eyes and pressed his lips tight. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”
Her chest constricted. Had he heard her thought?
Silvandir opened his eyes and gave her a half-smile. “You’re correct. The Ilqazar are like horses,” he said, “but oh so much more.” She scrunched up her nose at that, making him laugh again. “It’s difficult to explain the Ilqazar. I’ll introduce you to them when you’re able to get around, if you like; you’ll see what I mean.”
She nodded. She’d like that very much.
“Do you ever miss your home, your family in the north?”
“I do, at times, but in many ways I’m relieved to be away from there and doing something for which I can be proud.” He stopped and said no more as a flash of pain passed through his eyes.
“So do you hope to return there someday?”
“Perhaps. I have no plans at this time. I’m here to serve as needed, for now.”
His jaw tensed, and she felt his reserve fall back in place. She wondered what troubled him so.
Chapter 14
Across the hall, Celdorn sought out Elbrion. He found him sitting by the fireside, holding his head in his hands. “What happened in there?” Celdorn asked as he sat opposite his friend.
Elbrion took a shaky breath before answering. “When I touched the girl, a surge of energy shoved me back. I have never encountered such a powerful force
inside another’s body. My head was bursting from the pressure. The pain is still strong.”
“What do you think it was?”
“I do not know. I cannot explain it.” He massaged his temples as a shadow passed over him. “I am weary, my friend. It is an exhaustion I have not experienced since Shefali.”
Celdorn frowned, and his stomach gave a sharp twist. “That’s twice you’ve mentioned Shefali tonight. That doesn’t bode well.”
Elbrion’s fingers moved to his forehead, kneading circles across his brow. “No, it does not.”
~
Elena looked up when Celdorn returned. He seemed surprised to find Silvandir and her talking quietly.
“I have reconsidered,” Celdorn said to Silvandir. “Sometimes one needs to listen to wisdom in the voice of youth.”
Silvandir gave a short, scoffing laugh, his expression amused. Maybe he was older than she thought.
“For the sake of Elena’s reputation, please get your bedroll and sleep at the foot of her bed.”
“Yes, sir.” Silvandir immediately rose, obedient to the bone, and looked Celdorn in the eye. “I-I meant no disrespect, nor did I mean to imply that I didn’t trust your honor.”
“I know.” Celdorn clasped Silvandir’s shoulder. “I understand your concerns. Now, go quickly so we may retire. There’s not much night remaining.”
Elena watched the interaction, noting the respect and warmth that flowed between these two dark giants. Was she dreaming or did men like this really exist? And if she was awake, when would it break down? When would the anger start spewing? What price would she have to pay? Elena’s head throbbed; she closed her eyes against the ache.
Silvandir left to get his things. By the time he returned, Celdorn had laid out his bedroll.
“If you get up again, I’ll be the first to know. You’ll have to step on my head.” Celdorn winked at her, and she smiled.
Silvandir prepared his bed, and both men lay down. The sudden quiet seemed to invite the terrors of the night. Elena watched the shadows on the wall twist into specters with knives, heard the creaking of the window casement as a call for more to join them, and shivered with the certain approach of the nocturnal dwellers ready to invade her dreams. Sasha whined and pressed her weight against Elena’s arm as if to remind her that she was there. Elena wondered if dogs could fight apparitions.
“Would you be willing to sing again, Celdorn?” The unbidden words slipped out before she could stop them.
Silvandir sat up and looked at her with surprise. He glanced at Celdorn, an expectant smile warming his features. Celdorn thought for a moment then said, “This is an Elnar song about the origins of Queyon and the coming of light into the rocks and the trees.” The notes spilled out, faltering at first, but soon their tones became clear and soothing. Elena closed her eyes and embraced the melody.
Strangely, though she didn’t understand the words, the images in her mind seemed to be of the things he sang, of a mysterious, magical place pulsating with light. She drifted peacefully to sleep.
~
Celdorn lay awake for some time, ruminating about the day’s events and contemplating the choices for the next. He soon heard Silvandir’s deep, steady breathing and Sasha’s familiar snore. He strained to hear Elena; her breathing was almost imperceptible. From time to time, she whimpered in her sleep and squirmed restlessly.
He longed for her to find some semblance of peace. Tomorrow they would move out and crush the miscreants that had hurt her...at least he hoped so. He had the uneasy feeling they were still missing some significant pieces to this strange puzzle.
Chapter 15
“I’m going to be sick.” Elena gagged as she spoke.
Silvandir scrambled from his bedroll, grabbed the washbasin, and handed it to her just in time. Celdorn tried to help her to sit up, but she could only manage to roll onto her side. Sasha jumped to the floor and paced along the side of the bed with intermittent, nervous yaps.
Every movement seemed to create a new wave of pain, which brought on more retching. By the time she finished, Elena was gasping and trembling uncontrollably.
As soon as she caught her breath, she whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She curled away from them and covered her head.
Celdorn exchanged a puzzled look with Silvandir. “You needn’t apologize for what you can’t control, little one.” He reached across the bed and stroked her hair; the girl stiffened. “Breathe.” He found himself inhaling for her.
After a few solid breaths, she rolled onto her back. “You’re not angry?” Her eyes moved back and forth between the two men.
“Oh, I’m angry,” Celdorn corrected her, his jaw twitching, “but not with you. You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m sorry the pain is so intense this morning.”
Celdorn was concerned by the amount of blood he saw in the basin. He sent Silvandir to clear the men out of the bathing room, so he could help Elena clean up. After he lifted her, he noticed large stains on the bed. When he met Silvandir in the hall on his return trip, he sent him to find Dalgo and have him meet them back in Elena’s room.
“Please see to the linens,” he added, with a look only Silvandir caught. “And take Sasha with you.” Elena didn’t need the dog following her everywhere. This was going to be awkward enough.
Celdorn carried Elena into the bathing room and helped her as she relieved herself and washed.
“There’s a lot of new blood on my clothes. Where’s it coming from?”
“I’m not sure. Dalgo may be able to tell us.”
When they returned to her room, the soiled basin was gone, the bed had fresh linens and clean clothes were laid out. Silvandir stood by the door, awaiting further orders. Sasha thumped her tail by his side. “Dalgo is on his way.”
Celdorn nodded his thanks and laid Elena on the bed. The dog moved as if to join her, but Celdorn waved her away. “Not until Dalgo tends to her.” Sasha lowered her tail and rejoined Silvandir.
“Would you help me sit up?” Elena asked
“Let’s wait until Dalgo’s done examining you.”
Elena eyed him but didn’t argue. Celdorn wiped the concern from his face so as not to worry the girl, but he doubted he was convincing. She was a master at observation.
“Celdorn, may I ask you something?”
“Certainly.” He sat down to appear more relaxed.
“You said last night that I looked…small when you found me. What did you mean by that?”
Celdorn focused on the far wall, trying to find words. “When I came into the room, you weren’t on the bed. Instead, I found a child in the corner who appeared to be no more than two.”
“That was me?” Her panicked eyes began to move, as if searching for something. “How is that possible?”
“I can’t explain it. I can only tell you what I witnessed.”
She looked down at her fidgeting hands. Her lips pulled down into a twisted pout. Celdorn was surprised when an intense wave of sorrow swept through his body.
“Is that why you call me little one? Do you see a mere child when you look at me?” She kept her eyes on her hands.
“No, Elena. I assure you it is meant as a term of affection, not condescension,” Celdorn replied, disheartened by her question. “Even in your normal state, you’re small by Rogaran standards, but I in no way see you as a lesser person. I’ll stop calling you that if it offends you.”
Elena’s eyes came up, and she smiled her crooked smile. “No, Celdorn, it doesn’t offend me. In fact, I-I like it.” She blushed and her gaze dropped again. “No one has ever used a term of endearment with me. As I told you, even my given name was functional.”
Something squeezed Celdorn’s heart again, but he forced himself to smile. “I’m glad you don’t object because I don’t wish to stop using it.” He placed his hand on her head, hoping she would receive the intended affection.
~
Elena’s gaze snapped up as the door swung open with a loud creak.
; “How’s my favorite patient this morning?” Dalgo asked, far too cheerfully for her taste.
“The day hasn’t begun very well.”
He eyed the blood on her shirt. “Let’s see what’s going on.”
Celdorn started to follow Silvandir and Sasha from the room, but Elena’s fingers leapt out and grabbed his wrist. She stared at her disloyal hand and whispered, “Will you stay with me? Please?” When Celdorn glanced at Dalgo, she added, “But up here.” She pointed to the chair by the head of the bed.
“Of course.” Celdorn nodded to Silvandir to go on, then sat and laid his hand on her forehead as if sensing her rising dread.
Elena took a deep breath and looked at Dalgo. “Where’s all the blood coming from?”
“Well, some of the stitches on your side have torn open,” he replied after lifting her shirt. “This blood is fresh. The vomiting could have caused that.” He pushed on the tissue near the wound. “Or it could be the inflammation around the site. Perhaps we should try a poultice on that,” he added, almost to himself.
Dalgo poked and prodded all the wounds, those he'd stitched and those that he'd only dressed.
“I noticed a lot of blood on my trousers this morning.”
Dalgo rolled her onto her side. “Hmm, you’re right. The back is saturated.” He pulled off the soiled trousers. Elena couldn’t suppress a gasp when he touched above her knee and found herself holding her breath as he moved higher.
“You have a large knife wound along the crease of your inner thigh. I need to move your leg to see it more clearly.” He was quiet for a moment, and Elena stopped breathing. “The wound goes up only an inch or so into your female area. I don’t think that I can stitch this easily and am not sure if it would help. The best thing is probably to move the leg as little as possible and leave it to heal on its own. We can wrap a bandage around the thigh to prevent it from seeping through onto your clothing, but it will need to be replaced each time you relieve yourself.”