Journey to Queyon: The Innocence Cycle, Book 3

by J D Abbas

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have said it.”

  They tried to regain their composure, but the more they tried, the more they laughed, until suddenly Mikaelin gripped his chest and sucked in a tight breath. “Laughter and stitched wounds don’t go well together.”

  Elena’s eyes widened, and she pointed. “You’re bleeding again.” Her smile vanished as a crimson stain spread across the bandage. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No, my friend, laughter is good.” He buttoned his shirt to cover the wound then stopped and looked at her directly. “Elena, the words don’t come easily for me either ... but I hope you know that I ... I care about you very much. Tonight changes nothing.”

  “I hope you mean that.” She clasped his arm and started crying again. “Please don’t fear me, Mikaelin. I couldn’t bear it.”

  His hand covered hers. “I have no fear of you ... except when you make me laugh,” he added with a mischievous grin.

  ~

  Mikaelin and Elena rose to rejoin the others in Elbrion’s room, passing through the antechamber with Sasha trotting behind them. When Elena saw the large pool of blood in the corner of her room, the trail across the floor, and another dark stain on her bed, her knees gave way and she grabbed for Mikaelin’s arm. Sasha let out a frantic bark just before Mikaelin swept Elena into his arms with a yelp of his own. He hurried into Elbrion’s chamber.

  Silvandir ran toward them, taking Elena from Mikaelin. “What happened?”

  “She saw the blood in the antechamber. I wouldn’t have brought her that way had I realized.”

  Elena’s head stopped spinning. “You may put me down, Silvandir. I’m all right. I just wasn’t expecting to see so much blood.” Her hand went to the top of her head where she could feel only a slightly raised area from the scar. “How did so much blood come from so small a wound?”

  “There was a large split in your scalp before Braiden healed it,” Silvandir said.

  Elena looked at Braiden, eyes burning. “Even after what I did to you.” She shook her head, humbled.

  Then she noticed Mikaelin holding his chest. A crimson stain blossomed on his shirt. “Oh no. You’re bleeding again.” She looked across at Braiden. “Can you heal Mikaelin’s wound like you did mine?”

  The young healer opened Mikaelin’s shirt. Placing his hand near the wound, he whispered in Elnar, his eyes closed, face intent. He removed the bandage and traced his finger across the stitches. The blood flow ceased, and the wound disappeared; only a faint line remained.

  “Well, you could have saved him a lot of pain had you done that before I stitched it,” Dalgo said with a chuckle. “No one likes those needles.”

  “I’m s-sorry, Mikaelin,” Braiden said. “I-I wasn’t th-thinking clearly earlier.” He glanced at Elena and his face reddened. “And... and I was c-called away to t-tend to Elena.”

  Mikaelin breathed deeply, the crease of pain on his forehead easing. “It’s all right. No harm done.” He patted Braiden’s shoulder.

  “It is time for everyone to return to bed,” Haldor said. “We still have half a night and most of you need the rest.” He paused, considering. “I believe the wisest course from now on is for one of us to stay awake at all times and keep watch over Elena while she sleeps. We can do this in shifts so that no one need be deprived of rest. I will take the first watch.”

  Elena had trouble going back to sleep, and so did the men, it seemed. This time, she insisted Sasha lay by her side. The dog’s warmth and the steady thump of her heart helped to calm Elena.

  As Haldor chanted softly, the men’s breathing settled into a soothing, rhythmic hum. With her arm draped over Sasha, Elena was finally able to join them in slumber.

  ~

  The next morning, Elena awoke even more grim and withdrawn, consumed by shame and a growing fear that she would soon lose her mind.

  She moved to a chair by the hearth with Sasha’s head in her lap, longing for Celdorn and Elbrion to return. She expected to have received a message by now. Every hour that passed seemed to confirm the truth of the dark foreboding inside her. What would happen to her if they didn’t return?

  Elena looked around at the men, images of the previous night flashing through her mind. What if it hadn’t happened the way Silvandir explained? What if she’d twisted the images in her own mind because of what he said? What if they were lying to her and using her just like the men from the encampment? With the shifting, how would she ever know?

  She stroked Sasha’s ears. “You were there. You saw. What’s the truth?” she asked the dog.

  Elena shook her head, realizing how crazy she sounded asking Sasha for answers. She was also frustrated at herself for doubting the men. Why must she always believe the worst in people?

  Absorbed in her debate, Elena jumped when Haldor sat in the chair beside her. She grabbed Sasha and stared up at him, heart racing.

  “Yabéha, I am concerned for you,” he said, direct as always. “I sense your fear and suspicions increasing. What would it take to regain your trust?”

  She looked at him with dismay, wondering if he could read her mind.

  “I can feel your mistrust growing; however, I cannot read your thoughts,” he added, glancing at her sideways.

  Elena stared at her hands laced around Sasha’s neck, entwined fingers turning white. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

  “Will you risk telling me your fears?”

  Her mouth started to form the word “no” but fell open instead as bright light blossomed next to her. Stiff with fear, her eyes looked toward Haldor. Light emanated from the center of his body and moved outward until he was enveloped in such a great brilliance she was forced to look away.

  “What is it, Elena?” Haldor’s voice spoke from the midst of the light.

  She started shaking, fell to her knees, and covered her eyes. “I can’t look at you,” she cried. Sasha nuzzled her neck, but she just curled tighter.

  Suddenly Sasha gave a sharp bark, and Elena lifted her face.

  From the midst of the luminous orb, a bolt of light reached toward her. Elena screamed, and cowered behind Sasha.

  A hand touched Elena’s back and she jumped.

  “Elena, what’s wrong?” It was Silvandir.

  Her head shot up. “You don’t see it?”

  “See what?”

  “Haldor. He’s been swallowed up by an orb of light. Don’t you see it?” She grabbed his arm.

  “I don’t.”

  “Do any of you?” Her eyes swept over the others who had gathered.

  They shook their heads.

  “I am losing my mind!”

  “No, Elena, just because we don’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there,” Silvandir assured her. “Younger eyes sometimes see things older ones can’t.”

  “Where’s Braiden?” She scanned the room frantically for the youngest Guardian. “Braiden!” she screamed.

  The healer dashed into the room from the antechamber and stopped short, mouth dropping open.

  “Please tell me you see the light.”

  “I s-see it ...” He knelt next to her, looking bewildered.

  “Really? You’re not just placating me?” She grabbed his shirt. “I’m not crazy?”

  Braiden stroked her arms. “You’re as s-sane as I am. B-but ... what are we l-looking at? What h-happened here?”

  A voice came from the midst of the light. “I am uncertain what you are observing. I feel unchanged.”

  “Is-is that you, H-Haldor?” Braiden seemed as confused as she was. “We’re s-seeing a l-light so brilliant it’s d-difficult to look toward it.”

  Silvandir gripped Elena’s shoulder. “What was happening before this occurred?”

  “Haldor was asking me about—” She hesitated, not wanting to admit it aloud. “About my growing mistrust and fear. He asked what needed to be done to regain my trust.”

  “What are the fears you did not name?” Haldor asked.

  Her body trembled.
She felt exposed and pulled Sasha closer. But something compelled her to answer. “That ... that perhaps all of you were lying to me about what happened last night, that maybe you did... use me, the way other men have, and ... and with my mind divided as it is, I’d never know the truth. And that if my adai don’t return, you might continue to do so.” The words poured out before she could stop them, looking toward the light as she confessed her fears.

  Haldor reached out toward her again; this time his hand was visible. Elena felt hers move toward it—on its own. As he gripped it, the light faded.

  Elena stared at him, terrified, trying to comprehend what was happening.

  “Do you believe I serve the Zhekhum, Yabéha?”

  Elena shook her head. “That’s not possible. There’s only light in you,” she whispered.

  “That is your answer and perhaps the reason for your vision.” Haldor’s voice was quiet, soothing. “You needed assurance, and it was given—not of my doing,” he was quick to add. “This came from beyond me, from one who knows every secret thought and fear and how to comfort a broken heart.”

  Haldor knelt on the floor and gently held Elena’s face. “None of these men are like the men you knew. They all serve the Jhadhela. Do not be afraid to speak your fears or doubts with us. You have every reason to fear; we understand that.”

  “I’m as full of darkness as all of you are light,” Elena said dejectedly. “The more I recognize that, the more the shame consumes me. I perpetually feel like a leper among you. I don’t belong here.” Elena put her face in her hands and hunched over, sobbing.

  “On the contrary, look at yourself carefully, dear girl.” Haldor pulled her hands down and held them in front of her. “Look!”

  Elena opened her eyes and inhaled sharply. Her arms were almost translucent, a pulsating light visible within. She touched her face, a strong fear overwhelming her. “Do you see it?” she asked the others.

  “Yes,” several answered.

  Haldor took her hands in his. “This does not look like darkness to me.”

  “It’s not possible. I was raised in total ignorance of the Jhadhela. I’ve never been in the light. How can this be?”

  “Perhaps you were a light sent into the darkness,” Haldor offered. “Since the first day you came to us, we have all seen the goodness within you. Something you have been unable to recognize. As a child, you were surrounded by those who loved the shadows and indulged in the basest evil, but you are not like them, though they put forth tremendous effort to make you believe you were.” Haldor paused and stroked his chin. “You are well named, Elena. Celdorn saw it those first moments with you.”

  She stared at Haldor, then at her hands, trying to take in what he was saying, wanting desperately for it to pierce through to her troubled heart. Words that she didn’t understand suddenly poured from her mouth. She cried out more and more loudly until a sharp pain in her chest forced her to the ground, and she lost consciousness.

  ~

  Observing from the outside, Silvandir saw what Elena could not. The light had traveled from her hands, through her arms and toward her abdomen, just before she crumpled. He also understood most of the words she called out in Raphar as she begged over and over for the light to heal her heart, to prove to her that she was not of the Zhekhum. She cried out for hope and a place to belong, imploring the light not to turn her away. Silvandir was deeply moved as he listened to the agony of her pleas, wishing he could ease her pain.

  Haldor lifted Elena and carried her to the bed where she lay motionless for hours, the light still visibly pulsating through her. Sasha kept watch by her side, refusing to eat or sleep. She lay on the bed and occasionally licked Elena’s hand as if to remind her that she was there or perhaps to implore her to return to them.

  “Is she all right?” Mikaelin asked Braiden. “She looks lifeless, except for the movement of the light in her.”

  Braiden pressed his hand against her forehead. “I-I can’t s-sense anything physically wr-wrong with her,” he replied. “It m-may be her m-mind that collapsed.”

  Mikaelin looked stricken. “Will she come back to us?”

  “The Jh-jhadhela will h-heal her, not h-harm her—at least that is m-my hope.”

  As the hours passed and the men grew more anxious, Haldor spoke up. “Do not fear, my friends. She is in the hands of the Jhadhela. She will not be harmed. Elena has lived through years of torture and suffering. One does not heal quickly from such wounds. Trust in the light that gave life and breath to us all—the very Jhadhela we serve, knowing there are many mysteries and a power we cannot control or defy. Be at peace.”

  Then Haldor began to sing a familiar Elnar song about the coming of the light into Queyon. The illumination in the room increased and a soothing sense of peace moved in the air. When he finished, the men seemed more at rest. As the light began to fade in the room, it did in Elena as well.

  Relief swept through Silvandir when Elena finally opened her eyes. She stared at the ceiling as if still dazed. Silvandir hurried to the bedside. “How are you?”

  “I am ... uncertain,” she replied. “I feel only partially present, like I’m in a dream or something. Unreal—that describes it, if that makes any sense.”

  “Can you sit up?”

  Elena raised herself onto her elbow. “I had such an amazing dream, but now I’m not certain if that was the dream or this is. I felt more real in the other place.”

  “Perhaps it was not a dream,” Haldor offered, approaching the bed. “Could it be that you were in a place that is, in fact, more real and solid than the world in which we live?”

  Elena frowned and her eyes shifted from side to side.

  “Do not work to understand it. Allow it to be and accept it as it is.”

  Elena nodded as Silvandir helped her to sit on the edge of the bed. He sat next to her, and she clung to his hand. “You’re real and solid.” She stroked each finger, which sent a smoldering fire through Silvandir.

  Then she remembered the light that had flowed through her. She studied her arms. “The glowing stopped.” Turning her hands over, her brow furrowed. “I’m beginning to remember what happened. It was all so strange.” She pulled her shirt out and looked toward her heart. “There’s no mark,” she said, as if expecting the light to have burned her skin or left a scar where it penetrated.

  “It is within,” Haldor said.

  She pondered this. “Will it remain? Did it heal all the darkness inside me? Will I be clean now? Whole?”

  “The light has always been in you, Elena. The purpose of the vision was to help you to see it, to heal your doubt. It will require more time for the other things, but do not lose heart,” Haldor added when he saw the disappointment on her face. “In time you will find what you seek.”

  “I just want to be normal, to have control of my own mind,” she said, the tears ready to spill again. Silvandir squeezed her hand, wishing he could help in some way.

  A shadow lifted from Elena, and she straightened, holding her head high. “But the light is in me, which is a wonder in itself. I’ll focus on that.” She gave a quick nod.

  Silvandir was jarred by the sudden shift, though he shouldn’t have been. Each time he thought he had figured out part of her, she would do something unexpected and warp his perspective.

  Elena grasped his arm. “Will you help me stand? I feel the need to move my body.” With his help, she rose, slowly and wobbly, but soon regained her balance and walked the circuit of the room.

  Her head cocked to the side. “How long was I gone? What time is it?”

  “Late afternoon,” Silvandir replied.

  “And still no word from Celdorn?”

  “Not yet, but it’s only been two days.”

  She gazed up at him, eyes heavy. “What if ...?”

  “They will return,” he assured her. “Zhalor told you he would bring them back to you. I trust his word.”

  She met Silvandir’s gaze as if to pull on his strength. “As will I th
en,” she said, squeezing his arm, “though my heart is still dark with warning.”

  Chapter 13

  After the evening meal Haldor announced, “I believe it is time to do some work with Elena’s anger.”

  Her chest tightened. “Do you think that is wise?”

  “I think it is not only wise but necessary. And I sense the time is right.”

  Fear and doubt warred within. “I will trust your judgment,” Elena said, defying her feelings. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I have talked with Tobil. He is going to work with you. We will put Sasha, your self-appointed bodyguard, outside so that she doesn’t interfere.”

  Sasha had her tail between her legs, head drooping, as Silvandir led her to the balcony door. Haldor motioned for Elena to come to the open area of the floor where they worked on her training. Tobil had several large pads with him.

  “Remove your boots,” Tobil instructed her. While she was doing so, he explained. “I’m going to work with you on attack skills rather than defensive maneuvers—to help you learn to focus your energy, and anger, into the movements.”

  When she was ready, he put pads on his arms. “I want you to kick this pad as hard as you can.”

  Elena made a feeble attempt. She’d seen the trainees doing this, but it was the first time she’d tried it. It was not as easy as it looked. It wasn’t a regular kick, but required turning sideways and levering her body.

  “Come now, my dear, you have more strength in you than that. I won’t allow you to hurt me. The others are here to keep us safe, as well.” He nodded toward the men who watched.

  “When you kick, twist like this”— he demonstrated—“and let the full thrust of your energy move from your torso, through your leg, and into your foot.”

  It felt so awkward. She kept falling over, losing her balance.

  “Close your eyes,” Tobil directed. “This time I want you to move using your anger. Feel your wrath. Envision the object of your hatred on the pad in my hand and, without opening your eyes, kick.”