by J D Abbas
“Welcome,” an enchanting voice whispered—though she wasn’t sure if it was audible or only in her mind, like with the Ilqazar. A translucent arm or wing or limb of some sort reached toward her. Elena jumped back, away from its grasp. “Do not be afraid, dear one,” the voice soothed.
“Wh-who are you? What are you?”
A series of clinking giggles entered into the chorus. “You do not recognize us, hmm? It has been too long.”
“I-I know you?”
“We are your family, dear one.” The creature’s voice was as enigmatic as her form. Or was it male? The voice had no timbre by which to define its gender. “I am Yashara. Do you not recognize me?”
Elena stared at the diaphanous form then around at the others. Something about them was familiar, but she couldn’t get her mind to latch onto what.
“Why are you here? Where are Celdorn and the others?” Elena felt as if she tottered on the edge of madness again. “I don’t understand.” She hugged herself, afraid she might shatter if she didn’t hold on tight.
“We came because you called for us,” the specter replied. “The humans are not allowed to see us, so we must meet in a different realm.”
That explained nothing. Elena felt herself sliding down the slope into the pit of insanity.
“Dophena, my sister, my friend.” The voice was addressing her. Elena shook her head slowly, her eyes wide. “Dophena, you have forgotten that what you see on Qabara is not all there is to see. You must see with all of your senses and rekindle your vision on other levels.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Elena said. “Why do you address me as Dophena? How did I call for you? Why did I call for you? You’re frightening me.”
Yashara breathed on Elena. The sweet aroma wrapped itself around her, and her fear evaporated.
“The Rogaran Guardians and the Ilqazar are not the only protectors on Qabara, my sister,” the creature stated in her lyrical lilt. “You fear for the lives of your children, yet they have guardians. See with your heart, dear one.” Yashara’s arm swept toward the valley.
It was as if Elena’s eyes could suddenly see across the heights and depths of Qabara. In the midst of a murky haze, two tiny lights shimmered. One in the central Shalamhar valley and another far past the eastern mountains. Massive luminous forms hovered over each one. Elena immediately knew the little lights were her children, though there was nothing to define them as such.
“Yes, they are yours,” Yashara’s voice whispered on the wind. “And while those Alraphim who have become twisted and shadowed believe that they have the utmost power and control all things, they are wrong, blinded by their own arrogance.”
Elena watched as an ebony shadow rolled over the valley, blotting out the vision of her children and their guardians, but a massive, radiant cloud followed closely behind. It wrapped itself around the darkness like a hand and squeezed until the shadow was no more.
“Be comforted in the truth, dear one,” Yashara encouraged her as the chorus of voices swelled. The melody wrapped itself around Elena, and she was lost in the rapture of the moment.
She felt herself floating, cradled by the wind; her body swayed and rocked, soothed by the sweetness. Some part of her mind told her she should be afraid, should be wondering to where she drifted, but the peace was all-consuming, so intense it made her weep.
Chapter 36
“Elena, wake up.” Celdorn’s voice was sharp with worry.
Her eyes stuttered open. She quickly closed them again, unwilling to leave the tranquility of the other world for the torment and shame of this one.
“Elena?” Celdorn shook her shoulder. “Are you well? Why are you weeping?”
She heard someone’s boots moving toward her.
“Welcome back, Yabéha.” Haldor’s soft voice came from the end of her bedroll.
Elena’s eyes shot open, and she stared at him. “Dear one...” she murmured, feeling an odd mixture of confusion and enlightenment. She cocked her head, her brow furrowed. Again, she was just on the edge of comprehending something but couldn’t quite grasp it.
Haldor beamed at her. “Yes... dear one.” He nodded knowingly. “You were visited.”
She pulled her blanket up to her chin, suddenly cold. “Was it real?”
“You know the answer.”
Elena closed her eyes for a moment, grasping for the memory of tranquility. “I’m afraid to trust myself, to trust what I saw and heard.” She focused on Haldor, hoping he held the answer. “I’m afraid it was just wishful thinking.”
Celdorn glanced between Haldor and her with a frown. “What happened, little one?”
“It’s difficult to describe.” Elena pulled the blanket in tighter. “I awoke and the cave was empty, so I went outside. I heard and smelled and eventually saw things that were so familiar, and yet I have no memory of them from another time. There were hundreds of creatures that looked like nothing more than luminous mists, but who sang and moved so beautifully. Then one came and spoke to me, telling me that they were my family, and she called me by a different name.” She stopped and her eyes welled with tears as she gazed at Haldor. “I can’t remember the name.” It was as if the other world was already slipping away. The grief she felt surprised her.
“She—I don’t recall her name, either.” Elena huffed with frustration. “She showed me something like a living map of Qabara and on it were two bright lights, which she said were my children. Each was guarded by two of the luminous creatures.” She stopped and stared at Haldor again. Her eyes grew wide as she made a connection. “Are you one of them, Haldor?” she whispered.
The other men turned to Haldor with surprise, as if curious what his reply would be.
Haldor chuckled. “No, Yabéha, I am not of their kind, at least not in the way you mean. I apparently have some of their blood in my lineage and, like you, I have been visited. I would hope I have absorbed some of their qualities. It is always painful and difficult for me to return to this world.”
Elbrion knelt between Braiden and Elena, tipping his head. “Who are they, Haldor?”
“I do not know. I have studied the lore in Queyon, searching for answers, but it is a mystery that has been carefully hidden and the time for its revelation has not yet come.” Haldor stood calmly, hands clasped in front of him, but he looked sad as he gazed upward. “So I wait, and I long, and I hope for another vision.” He stopped, the yearning evident on his face, and turned his attention back to Elena. “What else did they show you?”
“That the darkness will not win. That there is a power greater than the corrupted Alraphim, and it will overcome—though I’m not at all certain what that power is.” Her brow wrinkled again as she pondered the thought.
“You know the answer to that as well,” Haldor said. “Trust what you know intuitively, not what you can reason out.”
Elena thought back to the immensity of the cloud that engulfed the darkness. She recalled the hundreds of creatures she had seen and the guardians that stood over her children. They were so mysterious, so beautiful, so compelling. It was a completely different world, one she didn’t understand at all, and in which she didn’t belong.
A shadow passed through Elena, and she focused on her feet. “I feel so small,” she whispered. “I know that something is expected of me, something is being demanded, and I’m not sufficient for the task. I’m not worthy of these visions. Who am I that they would bother with me?”
“It is just such a heart that can achieve great things,” Haldor replied softly. “Those that are powerful and glory in their strength, whose hearts are self-sufficient, are not malleable enough. They cannot see another path, another purpose; they do not reach beyond themselves. They are self-contained and therefore unusable.” He paused and knelt at the end of Elena’s bedroll. “Yabéha, none of us is worthy; none of us is sufficient in ourselves.” He broke into a broad smile. “But you recognize that about yourself. For some of us, it has taken many years to arrive at the truth.”
<
br /> “While some of us are still on that journey,” Celdorn added.
Haldor turned his gaze to him and smiled.
Elena sighed and closed her eyes. “Sometimes when I’m with all of you, I just want to run away and hide. Strange as it may seem, being passed around by a group of men was easier than this. I didn’t have to do anything but survive. Each day was so simple, so predictable. Just survive.”
Celdorn laid his hand on her head. “Would you go back to that life, if you could?”
Elena refused to open her eyes as she struggled with the question. In part of her, the response was immediate. Yes, she would go back to what was familiar and predictable in a heartbeat, where she belonged and didn’t feel vile and ugly, where everyone was equally abhorrent. Here, she perpetually felt like a leper who would one day be found out and exiled.
“Open your eyes, Sheya.” Elbrion leaned in closer, his hand on her shoulder, and began to sing.
Elena squeezed them tighter. “You don’t understand. I-I go to a place like that and it is beautiful and perfect, and I think it would be a lovely place to be—no more pain, no more fighting to survive. Then I realize I can’t stay there. I would destroy it. It is so pure, and I am so disgusting. If that creature had touched me, I would have contaminated her.”
“Yabéha, no,” Haldor interrupted, taking hold of her feet.
“Don’t touch me!” She kicked him away. “You don’t understand. You think I’m all better. I’m not. I’ll never be better.”
Elbrion stopped singing. “No, Sheya, we do not expect all the torment to vanish or the shame to stop haunting you. We know this may take years. We carry no such unfair expectations.”
She looked at her ada. “But you treat me like I’m different now. As if I’m just like you. But I’m no different than I was. I’m just as base. Just as disgusting. You don’t know what I’ve done. I can never tell you.” Elena shook her head violently. “No, I’m too vile for you, Elbrion, and for you, Haldor. I will destroy you.” Burning tears streamed down her face.
Haldor grabbed her feet again and held firmly. “I am not afraid of you.” His voice was calm and steady. “None of us is pure enough for that realm, Elena, but we can be cleansed.”
“If you scrubbed until all my flesh fell off, you couldn’t remove my filth. It is woven into my bones; the very fabric of my being is soiled, fetid, repulsive. ” She covered her face with her hands, and her body convulsed with violent sobs.
Elbrion laid his hand on her head.
“No, Elbrion, no...” She shoved his hand away and curled her legs in close, rolling onto her side. She wanted desperately to disappear inside, but she was locked out. No one would allow her in, and, to make it worse, visual images were being tossed out to her, thrust outside the wall with such force, she was certain all of the men could see them.
Panicked, she sat up and looked around. She saw it on their faces, felt it in their responses. “No, oh, no, no...” She tried everything she knew to put a wall back in place, to contain the images, with no success. She was utterly exposed, and there was nothing she could do about it. She curled back into a ball and pulled the blanket over her.
“Get away! Get away from me before I destroy you.”
Silence filled the cave; no one moved.
Suddenly, Haldor yanked the blanket off Elena. He pushed past a startled Celdorn, lifted her in his massive arms, and carried her to the center of the cave. Setting her on her feet, he forced her to stand upright.
“Let us deal with truth, then.” He grabbed the neck of her shirt with both hands and, with a strong jerk, ripped it down the middle. He tugged at the arms until her sleeves gave way. Then he brought out his knife and slit the laces on her trousers and let them drop to her feet, leaving her naked except for the bandage wrapping the wound on her hip.
The other men gasped and turned their faces.
“Do not look away! That will not help her. Let us all face the truth.”
Silvandir rose, his face rigid with fury, ready to intervene.
“Sit down, Silvandir,” Haldor ordered. “If you care for her at all, do not interfere.”
Silvandir glared at Haldor, but the look in the older man’s eye and the authority in his voice drove him back to his seat, fists clenched in frustration. He glanced at Elena, tears in his eyes, then turned away.
Haldor returned his focus to her. “Is this what you feel, Elena? Is this what you fear? What would you have us do now? Flog you? String you up? Pass you around? What would relieve your guilt? What price must you pay to make up for what you have done?” His voice was intense, demanding.
Elena stared at him, horrified but motionless. Haldor’s eyes were on fire, but she couldn’t read their meaning. She was afraid he might strike her at any moment. In truth, she would have welcomed it. Before now, he’d been so gentle, so tender, but she knew she evoked this kind of violent, angry response in men. It had only been a matter of time. As saintly as he was, she had driven him to the edge, and now she would pay for it.
“What would you have us do?” His voice was louder this time.
Elena didn’t respond. Her arms hung limply at her sides. She made no attempt to cover or protect herself. Haldor was right: she deserved this. She looked around at the others. They wouldn’t return her gaze. They were ashamed of her. They wouldn’t stop him. She turned her attention back to Haldor, watching for a signal to prepare herself for the blow. The fire was still there, but he didn’t move.
Punish me, her heart cried, though her lips didn’t move. Do something to make it right. Put me out of my misery.
There. She saw it. A shift in his eyes. She braced herself, trying not to cringe but to face squarely whatever might come. Haldor startled her when he dropped to his knees. He grabbed hold of her feet and started to weep.
“No. Don’t do that.”
Her body sagged as he bathed her feet with his tears, but she couldn’t move. She had no fight left in her. He wept until it seemed he could cry no more. Then he rose, grabbed a blanket, and wrapped it around her, enfolding her in his arms. He held her tightly until he found the strength to speak.
“You can do nothing to change the past,” he whispered. “There is no punishment we could give, no abuse to which we could subject you, that would absolve you. If we flogged you all day and raped you all night, how would that change anything? You have already endured such affliction. Did it purify you? Do you feel any less guilt?” He shook his head, a frown forming. “That is the way of the Zhekhum.”
Loosening his grip, he stepped back and cradled her face in his hands. She stared at the ground, unable to look at him. He waited. Finally, when she dared to raise her eyes, he spoke.
“The way of the Jhadhela is truth and mercy, Yabéha, not punishment. We confess what we fear others will one day come to know. We admit the truth. We come out of hiding, and we let love and community heal us.” He searched her eyes. “What is it you need to confess?” he asked gently.
“No, Haldor, no.” She pulled her head out of his hands and stared at the floor. “Please, don’t ask.”
He grasped her face firmly and turned it toward him. “What is tormenting you, Elena? From what do you need to be freed?”
“You saw. I know all of you saw.” She glanced around the cave, pulling the blanket tighter.
“We saw events, children being misused. Your history is full of such, but that does not explain your guilt.”
His eyes were so full of love, begging her to speak, but she couldn’t form the words.
“You will despise me,” she whispered.
“You cannot know how we will respond until you take the risk.”
She stared into his eyes, weighing the cost. She had tried her way, and it had brought no peace. But what if they turned away? What if it cost her their love? What would she do without them? But eventually, she would lose them anyway. The truth would come out at some point. Better now than later when it would hurt far more.
“I-I brough
t children to them—when I was older, children for them to use.” She dropped her gaze so she wouldn’t have to see the shock in his eyes, the judgment. “And I-I hurt the younger ones. I did to them the things that were done to me when I was little. I became one of them.” She covered her face with the blanket and fell to her knees.
Haldor knelt with her and pulled her hands back. “Why?” he asked sharply. She just stared at him through her tears. “Why did you do it?”
“Because... because I’m evil, vile. I’m just like them.”
His voice remained steady. “Why did you do it, Yabéha?” His gaze seemed to go to the core of her soul.
“I told you—”
He shook his head. “Why did you do it?”
She searched herself, knowing he wanted a different answer. She saw her younger self: a walking corpse, staring at nothingness through hollowed eyes. Something twisted in her belly. “Because... because I would be punished if I didn’t.”
Haldor nodded. “What happened when you resisted? When you refused?”
Elena covered her face and curled over her knees. Haldor pulled her up, refusing to let her hide. “What happened?” he insisted.
“They... they stood the little girl in front of me and... and slit her throat.” Elena fell into Haldor’s arms sobbing. “She was so innocent. I was supposed to hurt her, but I made the mistake of looking in her eyes. She had huge, trusting eyes, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it. They later gouged out her eyes and handed them to me as a grim reminder.” She gulped in air. “I caused it. She’s dead now because of me.”
“Do you hear your own words, Elena?” Haldor asked quietly. She stared at him, not sure what he meant. “You were a young girl yourself. There were powerful, angry adults controlling you, yet you still could not do their bidding.”
“But I did many times after that.” Her chest shuddered. “I became like them.”