Birth of Innocence: The Innocence Cycle, Book 4 Read online

  He was grateful when Celdorn suggested that Elena rest, and he was able to depart without arousing suspicion. As he headed down the stairs, Celdorn called to him. He sighed and turned.

  “We will speak with Hezhion this afternoon. I will come for you in two hours,” Celdorn told him.

  Mikaelin nodded and fled down the winding steps as fast as his damaged leg would allow.

  Chapter 14

  Eager to help Mikaelin find relief, Celdorn appeared at his home two hours later. He gazed up at the multi-level structure carved into the obsidian cliffs that served as a home for his inner circle when they stayed in Queyon. Standing alongside Elbrion’s home, the two buildings were the closest to the gates of Queyon.

  Celdorn climbed the steps to the main door that led to a communal room on the lowest level. There was an area for cooking set in a cubby to the left and a table large enough for a dozen to sit together for meals. Branching off were two sitting rooms for receiving visitors or holding meetings. There were four levels above this, each with two private rooms for sleeping quarters connected by interior stairways.

  Mikaelin was not waiting in the lower area, so Celdorn climbed to the uppermost floor and knocked on the door to his room. There was no response. He knocked again. Uneven footsteps sounded beyond. Slowly the door opened. Though Mikaelin had made no gesture or spoken a word, Celdorn stepped inside. The stench of crude, potent alcohol infused the small space. A palpable desolation invaded Celdorn’s body with a force that nearly knocked him over.

  He took a calming breath and steadied himself. “All will be well, Mikaelin,” he assured him. “Trust me.”

  “I feel as if I am going to the gallows,” the young man admitted. “I don’t understand my intense misgivings.”

  “Perhaps Hezhion will understand. I believe he has been in your position. It is beyond me, I am afraid.”

  Mikaelin nodded and moved toward the door, his limping steps heavy and lifeless. Celdorn prayed he had made the right decision in forcing this upon him, but he knew the young man could not continue to live tormented by the memories, limited by the disfigurements, and debilitated by the extreme pain he’d absorbed from others. How Mikaelin had endured this long was beyond him. He hoped that would all end soon.

  ~

  It was a long, slow walk to Hezhion’s home. Mikaelin’s energy drained with each step, while his fear increased. Celdorn had suggested they ride, but Mikaelin thought the walk might calm his restless nerves—and sober him up a bit. Midway, he regretted that decision. It took them over an hour before they arrived at the master healer’s door.

  “Silothani, Sheywheyon.” Hezhion motioned for them to enter and sit. He studied Mikaelin from eyes etched with wisdom formed through deep suffering. “You are troubled.” The elder sat across from Mikaelin and leaned forward. “How may I help?”

  “I’m at a loss to express myself at the moment.” Mikaelin’s voice came out in a raspy whisper, evidence of the damage to his throat from taking on Lillianna’s burns. “I don’t understand this gift. I don’t know why it was given to me. I don’t know why the wounds don’t pass through me nor why I fear their release,” he blurted out.

  Hezhion closed his eyes as he listened but made no response.

  “This”—Mikaelin gestured toward his damaged body—“is Umbradhur, the realm of deepest shadow. I am living in continual torment. Why would I want to remain here?”

  Hezhion was quiet for some time before he opened his eyes and gazed back at Mikaelin. “Why indeed?” he finally said. “Only you know the answer.”

  “To which question?” Mikaelin snapped, irritated by Hezhion’s evasive response.

  “Perhaps to all of them.”

  “If I have the answers already then this is a waste of time.” Mikaelin struggled to his feet, his breath coming in huffs.

  Hezhion rose along with him and laid his hand on Mikaelin’s shoulder in a conciliatory gesture. Piercing pain shot down Mikaelin’s arm and into his chest. He dropped to his knees with a shriek of agony. The elder jumped back, wide-eyed and dismayed.

  Celdorn hurried to Mikaelin’s side and put his arm under Mikaelin’s shoulder to steady him.

  The elder knelt in front of Mikaelin, his face twisted with confusion. “I beg your pardon a hundred times over. I do not know what just transpired.” He frowned. “My touch has never inflicted pain on another.”

  The elder stood and stretched his arms wide. “Please, sit down, my friends. Let us start again and see if we can make sense of this,” Hezhion offered.

  Mikaelin slowly rose with Celdorn’s help. He cradled his left arm as he dropped into a chair and glared at the elder from beneath his hood.

  “Would you please remove your covering for me?” When Mikaelin didn’t move, he added, “So I may see your face.”

  Mikaelin pulled back his hood.

  “And the mask as well.”

  Mikaelin hesitated again. Then slowly he pulled the covering from his face, shamed and humiliated by the exposure.

  Hezhion closed his eyes almost immediately. He took several slow, calming breaths and opened them again. He gazed into Mikaelin’s good eye. “Shame is a familiar home for you,” the wise man observed.

  Mikaelin winced. “I have known it for a long time.”

  “Your walls are strong, my friend. You must either lower your defenses or tell me with your words, for I can learn little of you otherwise.”

  Mikaelin hugged himself like he’d done as a child, though he managed to fight the urge to rock.

  The elder’s gaze softened. “I desire only your wellbeing. I do not ask in order to be invasive or humiliate you further. I seek only such information as will help to answer your questions. Will you trust me?”

  A tear escaped from Mikaelin’s eye. “What do you need to know?”

  “What happened to bring you such shame and hold you its prisoner?”

  Mikaelin stared at the floor. He had only spoken the truth once before—to Elena. And that was only because they shared common ground, and he knew she would understand. But Hezhion was a holy man, a pure man. And Celdorn, who was listening intently, was a warrior, a leader, the epitome of manhood and virility. How could there be any common ground? How could they possibly understand?

  Hezhion waited, and when Mikaelin did not speak, he ventured a guess. “Someone hurt you when you were young? Humiliated you?”

  Mikaelin nodded.

  “The shame is so deep, I would guess it involved your sense of manhood.”

  Mikaelin’s eye widened in surprise, and he nodded again.

  “Who did this to you?”

  “My … my uncle.”

  “What did he do?”

  Mikaelin’s heart pounded against his ribs. “He … he beat me and … and raped me,” Mikaelin answered in a barely audible whisper, amazed he had been able to utter any words at all.

  “What did he take from you?”

  Celdorn startled and looked from one to the other, brow furrowed, as if he had missed something.

  “You mean how did he mutilate me?”

  Hezhion did not respond.

  “He … he removed one of my testicles and ... and part of my member.” Mikaelin’s shoulders sagged. Then a blast of anger struck him, and he glanced at Celdorn, whose hands had curled into fists, forearms taut.

  The elder remained quiet, unflinching. “What else did he take from you?”

  Puzzled by the repeated question, Mikaelin focused on the floor and searched himself for an answer. “He took my dignity and … and destroyed my developing manhood.”

  When Hezhion remained quiet, Mikaelin dug deeper, sifting through his past.

  “I was eight when it started. I don’t think I have felt human since. Everything I have worked for as a warrior has done nothing to alleviate that sense of futility, the idea that I am a waste of a life.”

  “But in healing others, you accomplished something,” Hezhion observed.

  “Yes. I did some good. My life ma
de a difference to the ones I could help,” he admitted.

  “And you are at home in their agony.”

  Mikaelin looked up. Hezhion spoke the truth. Everything he had absorbed felt so familiar, so comfortable. This was where he belonged. Yes, ‘home’ was a good word for it. He nodded.

  Hezhion’s sagacious eyes weighted with sorrow. His tone softened. “It is not your lot in life to suffer and be slowly consumed by the wounds of others, Mikaelin. That is not the purpose of your gift.” He paused to allow Mikaelin time to absorb his words. “You were born not only with the gift, but as a gift to those around you. You were trampled where you should have been celebrated, and your gift hid—until Elena. The incredible light in her ignited your gift, and your life was renewed.”

  Mikaelin covered his face as his heart twisted. Tears immediately spilled. How he hated this weakness.

  “You have much to mourn, my son. Do not be ashamed of the tears. There is purpose in them,” Hezhion added as silent ones slid down his wizened cheeks.

  Celdorn moved next to Mikaelin and put his arm across his shoulder.

  The sage sat silently, waiting, allowing time for Mikaelin’s grief. When he calmed and started to straighten, Hezhion continued. “I am able to help you heal not only from the wounds you have taken on from others but your own as well.”

  Mikaelin’s liquid eyes rose to meet Hezhion’s.

  “Yes, you can be whole again,” he replied to the silent question. “The emotional wounds may heal along with the physical, but that is often not the case. For that, you must reconnect with the Source of All Light with whom you are so angry and learn to live in cooperation with the Jhadhela rather than resisting and fighting its powerful direction in your life.”

  Mikaelin’s head sagged again. “I am not worthy. Clearly you have seen that.”

  “Worthy? Hmm ... worthy is an odd concept,” Hezhion replied. “What must one do to be worthy of healing?”

  “Live a life of virtue, courage, and valor,” Mikaelin responded immediately.

  “And of the ones whose wounds you took upon yourself, who was living a life of virtue, courage and valor?” the elder countered.

  “They were children. They were courageous in their perseverance in spite of all they suffered.”

  “As were you.”

  “They were not filled with hatred and rage.”

  “Truly?” Hezhion’s eyebrows arched. “And you know this how?”

  Mikaelin was quiet. He didn’t. He had just taken it for granted that since they were children it must be so.

  “Lillianna,” whispered Celdorn.

  Mikaelin glanced sideways. Yes, that was true. She was rabid with hatred.

  “And as kind and wonderful as you believe Elena to be, there are parts of her that are angry and anything but virtuous,” Hezhion added gently.

  That was also correct. Mikaelin had seen the darker sides of Elena. In truth, that was part of what he loved most about her. She, of all people, understood what it was like inside him.

  “The light is full of mercy and will not turn you away,” the elder continued. “You, however, must grant mercy to yourself and allow yourself to be healed. You do not deserve to live in this torment. You were but a powerless child.”

  Hezhion paused. Mikaelin wrestled.

  “He told me I was just like him, that I secretly desired it. It was what I was created to do, to be. And he told me someday I would do the same to others.” The confession slipped out before Mikaelin could stop it. “But I didn’t want it. I hated it. I was terrified. I tried to hide. I worked so hard to be good. I prayed. I prayed and prayed. And I never hurt anyone else like that. Never!” A sob slipped out, and Mikaelin’s body closed in on itself.

  “But I left my brothers there for that animal to use. I failed them. How can I be forgiven for that?”

  Mikaelin’s guard suddenly dropped. He felt the elder walk into his world, into the dark memories he couldn’t speak. He knew Hezhion saw it all.

  The elder looked at him with surprise. “You did try to rescue them—at the price of your own exposure and humiliation. Going to your relatives and explaining what had happened to you was an act of sacrifice and valor. Do you not see that?”

  Mikaelin frowned. “I was too late.”

  “But you made the attempt for the sake of your brothers. It was a huge step for a twelve-year-old. Think how young twelve is, my son. Look again at the young ones you healed.”

  Mikaelin recalled the boy in Rhamal, the one from the encampment who had been mutilated; he had to have been near that age. For the first time, he saw himself as twelve. He had always looked back on the events as if he had been a grown man. But he was a child.

  Hezhion nodded.

  “I can see …” His voice trailed off as he observed his younger self. “I-I have been wrong all these years. I have faulted myself for what I was too small to control.” His tears renewed. “Help me, please,” he begged, in a hoarse whisper.

  Hezhion smiled. “Of course, my son.” He paused and waited patiently for Mikaelin’s tears to subside. Then he explained, “There is a healers’ pool, Khanas Dian, not far from here, to which I will take you. You must submerge yourself in the waters for minutes—until you can endure it no longer. I warn you, it is agonizing.”

  “More agonizing than this?” Mikaelin said, gesturing to his left side with a half-smile.

  “With all you have suffered, perhaps not. I have never seen a healing gift affect the healer in such a way as yours, but that is the purpose of the pool: to help those with healing abilities to be released from the damages they have absorbed so that they may continue their work unhindered.”

  “Continue?”

  “Your gift will not disappear, Mikaelin.” Hezhion seemed rather astonished that he did not realize this. “But perhaps we can help you learn how to use it without having to carry the extreme damage or re-experience the torment of others as you have. Again, I have never seen such, so we will need to do some research in the Palace library.”

  Celdorn cleared his throat and leaned forward. “But for now, we need to get you to the Healers’ Pool.” He turned to Hezhion. “May we do it immediately? He has suffered long enough.”

  “Most certainly.” Hezhion smiled as he stood and gestured toward the door. “After you.”

  Chapter 15

  Elena awoke from her nap refreshed and peaceful. She lay for a time thinking about her wedding and wondering what it would be like to pass through the waterfall. She knew many had done it before and were fine. She would be as well. She smiled as joy-filled thoughts consumed her mind. She would be able to begin her new life with Silvandir. No longer would she have to lie in a bed alone or suffer in the lonely hours of the night after awakening from a nightmare with no one to comfort her. She stroked her belly and smiled again.

  “You will have a family,” she whispered. “Your father will adore you and be good and kind and gentle with you.” A melancholy tear slid down her cheek. “No,” she snapped as she wiped it away, “I will not regret the past. I have two fathers who love me now. And you,” she patted her belly, “will have two wonderful grandfathers. I wonder what the word for that is in Elnar.”

  Elena sat up. It was so quiet here. In Kelach, there always seemed to be the noises of the men everywhere. Here it was peaceful. Almost too peaceful. She arose with a shiver and peeked out into the hall. No one was around. She walked to the sitting area where she thought Silvandir was going to wait for her.

  “Silvandir? Ada?” No answer. Elena knew that Celdorn had left, but she thought Elbrion was going to be in his room. Perhaps she had slept a long time. It was difficult to tell the sun’s position in Queyon due to the height of the canyon walls. She stepped out onto the balcony. It was a beautiful day. Judging by the shadows it was mid-afternoon.

  Elena descended the stairs and walked toward the Guardians’ home next door. She found Tobil outside, sitting on the steps, polishing his sword.

  “Have you seen Silv
andir?”

  “I think he said he was going to Ellisia Falls. He wanted to inspect something,” he said with a knowing smile.

  “Oh.” Elena blushed. “Can you point me in the right direction?”

  Tobil stood and gave her detailed instructions. “Do you want me to accompany you?”

  “No, that’s not necessary. I’ll find it. Thank you.”

  It turned out Tobil’s directions were quite accurate and easy to follow. Elena embraced the warm day as she strolled, enjoying the birds and small animals she met along the way. Her heart thrilled at the fields of wildflowers she passed. Finally, she heard the roar of the waterfall, knew she was close.

  When she came around the next turn in the path, she gasped. She had not been prepared for the incredible scene before her. It was paradise. There was a river over which a large wooden bridge passed. She walked to the middle of it and gazed up.

  The obsidian cliff rose to a dizzying height. Over it spilled iridescent waters that played with the light, making it look as if the waters were exploding. On the cliffs, along the sides of the falls, were dozens of rock shelves. More than halfway up she saw a large ledge jutting out, with several stone platforms nearby. No doubt that was the wedding site. The waters split a few yards above it, bisected by a large rock. The bulk of the water spilled to the right, away from the wedding platform, leaving a lighter cascade to tumble at the back of the ledge. Elena could just make out the blurred entrance of the cave behind the waters.

  She glanced around. There was no sign of Silvandir. As Elena stared at the mesmerizing river, she wondered about what Elbrion had said the water would do to her. If she touched it now, would it have the same effect?

  Elena walked to the far side of the bridge and followed the path to the river’s edge. She removed her shoes and stretched out a curious foot. The water was cold but didn’t hurt her otherwise. She submerged her other foot. They tingled with the chill. Elena smiled and looked up. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad.