Birth of Innocence: The Innocence Cycle, Book 4 Page 11

  Just then, something rose from the water and latched onto her ankle. She managed only a feeble cry before she was dragged beneath the river’s surface. Elena grabbed frantically at the rocks, reeds, plants, anything to resist the downward pull of her captor. They all slipped out of her grasp. She twisted and tried to pry the strong fingers from her leg. Another hand grasped her throat. It was so large it easily wrapped around her entire neck. Through the blur of the waters, she saw a lizard-like creature that was more than three times her size. From its body protruded half a dozen scaly appendages, covered with suction cups, the ends of which stretched out into elongated, bony fingers.

  The world began to darken as her lungs burned for air. When she thought she would surely succumb, the creature pulled her to the surface and allowed her to fill her lungs with air before yanking her back beneath the waters. The reptile swam to the far side of the pool, behind the descending torrents of the waterfall, and pulled itself up onto a mossy rock. It picked her up like a rag doll and stuffed her into a pouch on its underbelly before it began to ascend the blackened cliff.

  Elena, though not able to see, could feel their upward movement as the reptile leapt from rock to rock and scrambled up nearly vertical walls. She was angry with herself for coming to the falls unarmed. Even her small dagger could have saved her at this moment. She called inside for wisdom and someone who had the strength or the light to battle this foe. No one responded.

  Finally, the lizard landed on a large, flattened rock. Elena’s head smacked against the ground as she drooped from the creature’s underside. She heard muffled voices as it moved away from the roar of the waters. Bony fingers grabbed her hair and pulled her from the pouch, tossing her onto a damp floor. Her face hit with a thud.

  Stunned, Elena slowly raised her now bloodied face and saw several sets of large, black boots. Chills immediately ran through her body as her gaze climbed higher. Dread chewed her up and swallowed.

  Before her stood the five eidola she had seen on the Pallanor summit clad in their blackened battle gear and once again wielding their malevolent weapons.

  “Welcome to the wedding chamber,” the lead eidolon said; his sonorous growl of a voice reverberated in the cave.

  Elena pulled herself into a sitting position, and her heart sank.

  “We thought we would help you get started in your new life,” the eidolon added, with a grating cackle. He began to remove his battle gear. “This is the place for the innocent and pure expression of love. A sanctuary, I believe it was called.”

  The five broke into a roar of vicious mockery.

  The eidolon laughed at her expression when he removed his pants. “Yes, we are still fully male. Our forms may be wispy, but parts of us are more solid and virile than anything you have yet to experience,” he added. “We will take you to new heights of ecstasy.”

  He turned to the lizard-like creature. “You may join us, if you like. I am quite sure she has never lain with your kind.”

  Again the group broke into derisive laughter as the lizard slithered around Elena, wrapping its tail around her midsection.

  “You will wait your turn,” the eidolon barked as he grabbed the lizard by the tail and flung him aside. “We have all earned our places, and we follow a certain order.”

  He then took hold of Elena’s shoulders and pulled her to her feet. “Did you really think you would be allowed to marry a Guardian and be permitted to mate with the light?” He shoved his undulating shadow of a face into hers; his foul breath reeked of decay.

  He pulled his dagger, and with a few flicks, cut her clothes from her body and shoved her into the center of the men. The eidola hooted and pushed at each other as they took turns grabbing at and salivating over Elena. Finally, the leader again took hold of her and shoved her past the others. Before her stood a massive bed covered in the most beautiful white silk sheets. He forced her to sit on the edge of it.

  “You will need your old skills now.” He laughed as he stroked her cheek and pried her mouth open. “What a grand new life.”

  Elena closed her eyes as he pulled her toward him. Another strong hand suddenly grabbed her shoulder.

  “Elena?”

  Her eyes snapped open at the familiar voice. Silvandir was kneeling beside the bed, his face wrought with concern. Elena gasped and looked around. She was in her room in Elbrion’s home. Gone were the cave and the eidola.

  “Are you all right?”

  “No,” she sobbed and threw herself into his arms.

  “Elbrion!” Silvandir called, and her ada was there almost immediately.

  “You’re drenched, Elena. What happened?” Silvandir asked as he embraced her frigid, trembling body.

  Elena pulled back and stared at her saturated clothes. “No, no,” she sobbed. “That is not possible.”

  Elbrion sat next to her on the bed. “What happened, Sheya?”

  “I … I must have been dreaming,” she replied. “But if it was only a dream, how did I get wet?”

  “What did you dream?”

  “It was so real.” Her eyes darted back and forth, and her breath came in shallow gasps. “I awoke and found no one here. I ended up at the Falls of Ellisia where a creature pulled me into the waters and then dragged me up the cliff to … to the wedding chamber.” She blushed and looked down. “Anakh’s five eidola were there and were about to … hurt me. Then you awakened me,” she said to Silvandir.

  Silvandir looked at Elbrion, his face full of unspoken questions.

  “Are you injured?” Elbrion asked as he quickly scanned her body.

  “I don’t think so,” she answered before her hand went to her head. All the warmth fled her body. “There’s a lump on my head. I-I hit it on the floor of the cave in my dream.” Just then, her nose began to bleed. She swiped at the blood and stared at her hand. “This can’t be!” Panic squeezed her chest. The room spun.

  “Silvandir, take her to the Rhashelion. I will gather the council,” Elbrion said.

  “Ada, what’s happening to me?”

  He laid his large hand on her cheek. “I do not know, Sheya, but you are safe now. The elders will be able to help us.”

  “Go quickly,” he told Silvandir. “I will send the other men behind you.”

  Silvandir scooped up Elena and rushed out of the house and down the stairs. When they reached the road, he stiffened and stopped. Zhalor and Nakhona were waiting for them.

  We are here to assist, Zhalor said.

  “How did you know?” Silvandir frowned and tightened his grip on Elena.

  When she felt his turmoil stir in her own body, she patted his hand. “It’s all right, Silvandir. The Ilqazar didn’t betray me. They knew what had to be done in order to save not only me, but all of us. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Nakhona’s assistance, and none of us would have agreed to the plan. You know that.” She grasped his chin and met his gaze squarely.

  He gave a stiff, reluctant nod. “But how do we know they won’t do something like that again?” he whispered into her ear, pulling her closer to his chest. “I can’t allow them to take you away from me a second time.”

  Agony overwhelmed him like a huge wave that threatened to sweep him away—or her. Tears sprang in her eyes, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She didn’t want to let go either.

  We do not have time for this, Zhalor interrupted. Nakhona will bear Elena to the Palace of the Elders, and I am willing to bear you, if you will allow.

  Silvandir’s jaw tightened. Elena lifted her face and met his gaze. After a few moments of shared desperation, they reached an unspoken decision. Silvandir set her on Nakhona’s back, and he turned to mount Zhalor.

  Chapter 16

  Hezhion, Celdorn, and Mikaelin reached Khanas Dian in less than ten minutes.

  Mikaelin gazed around at the idyllic scene. The pool was set in a small cove in the obsidian cliffs, the walls of which crawled with flowering ivies. Surrounding the pool were fragrant shrubs covered in blossoms of every
hue. Tall, fruit-laden trees, bent over the waters longingly.

  The source of the pool appeared to be a spring whose waters squeezed through a crack in the cliff wall and spilled onto several small shelves before silently dropping into the pool. Brilliant light burst from behind this tiny fissure, as if some celestial body had been buried deep within the blackened cliffs and sought to free itself.

  Mikaelin stared at the opening mesmerized while his ears grasped at an elusive voice that whispered through the spring.

  “Though small, the pool’s depths have not been fathomed,” Hezhion explained, piercing Mikaelin’s reverie.

  “Do you hear something in the waters?” Mikaelin asked.

  Hezhion cocked his head to listen, then frowned. “What are you hearing?”

  Mikaelin shook his head. “Nothing really. It’s gone now.” He continued to stare at the wall.

  Hezhion accepted his answer, though no doubt he knew it was a lie. “At the side of the pool there,” the elder pointed, “are some large rocks. Most often the healers cling to one as they jump into the waters to prevent resurfacing too quickly. When ready to emerge, they release them and float to the surface. Whatever way you choose to enter, you must do it quickly, for once you touch the waters, your natural instinct will be to go no further.” He studied the young man. “Are you ready?”

  “No,” Mikaelin replied, even as he began to undress.

  “You need not remove your clothing,” the elder told him. “The water will do it for you.”

  Mikaelin gaped at the sage. “The water will dissolve my clothes?” He immediately had second thoughts about the wisdom of this.

  “Yes, and it will remove a layer of skin as well,” Hezhion replied evenly.

  Mikaelin’s uninjured eye widened.

  “I told you it would be agonizing.”

  He stared at the waters then looked at Celdorn.

  “All will be well,” Celdorn encouraged him. “Many have done this before you.”

  Mikaelin nodded to himself. That was true. He moved to the pile of rocks and attempted to lift one, but with his injured arm, he was unable to raise it off the ground. He stood puzzling over it. Then suddenly, with no further thought, he turned and dove headfirst into the pool.

  It felt as if he had plunged into a vat of acid. Every part of his body exploded with pain as the water ate away at his flesh. His screams erupted into the depths for no one to hear. His mind spun as the blackness came alive with phantoms who tossed his body back and forth, pummeling, kicking, slicing, drowning, stretching, raping over and over. Mikaelin curled into himself protectively as he continued his descent into the infernal shadows.

  Then, Elena’s face appeared before him, and her torment wrapped around him in a familiar embrace. Again, his heart broke for her while at the same time it increased his longing to comfort and hold her.

  Fire suddenly engulfed him, and all thoughts fled as his flesh burned. Mikaelin’s instinct for survival grabbed hold of him. He pulled himself out of the dive, but found he was at a loss as to the direction of the surface.

  In the moments of indecision, his body began to rise. When he realized this, he kicked his feet and reached that direction, pulling with his functioning arm. But he had descended too far. He was out of air and still could not see the light of the surface. He continued to fight to reach the top as blackness closed around his mind.

  The darkness won.

  ~

  With clenched fists, Celdorn stared into the depths of the pool looking for some sign of life. Mikaelin had been under far too long. “We have to do something.”

  “There is nothing we can do but trust,” Hezhion replied. “He will emerge, Celdorn. The Jhadhela is with him in a powerful way.”

  Celdorn paced restlessly, unconvinced. Moments later he saw movement. “There he is!” His heart sank when the young Guardian surfaced facedown. “Mikaelin,” he called as he ran around the edge of the pool.

  “Do not touch the water,” Hezhion said. “It will damage you.”

  Celdorn scanned the area for something he could use. He grabbed a large stick lying near the rocks and pushed Mikaelin’s body toward the nearest edge. He dashed around, grabbed hold of Mikaelin’s hair, and pulled his face from the water. To his surprise, the young man coughed and sputtered. Mikaelin’s arm flailed as if searching for something to anchor himself. Celdorn caught hold of him and pulled. With his help, Mikaelin dragged himself out of the pool, spewing water and gasping for breath. He collapsed onto his side and curled into a heaving ball.

  Celdorn studied Mikaelin’s flesh then turned to the elder. “What happened?” he demanded. “Why did it not work?”

  The sage stared in disbelief, then shook his head. “It is beyond me.”

  ~

  Mikaelin struggled to pull himself into a sitting position. When he saw the sagging flesh on the left side of his body, he glared at Hezhion. “I nearly died for this!” He motioned at his scorched skin. “You told me it would heal me. All it did was make it worse.” As he spoke, his flesh throbbed to life, every nerve painfully reawakened.

  He stumbled to his feet, realizing as he did so that his own mutilation was exposed. He grabbed the white robe Hezhion had brought, which was supposed to have covered his newly healed body, and wrapped it around himself.

  Mikaelin charged at Hezhion. “You lied to me. You just wanted to make me suffer more.” He knew even as he spewed the words that his accusation was unjust. Hezhion had no reason to want to torture him.

  Mikaelin scowled at Celdorn. “I told you. The Jhadhela is set against me. This gift is a curse, and I am destined to remain in this eternal torment with—”

  Mikaelin stopped short when a brilliant light emerged from beneath the hanging ivy. He caught a quick glimpse of what looked to be an entrance to a cave before he was forced to cover his eyes and turn away.

  A voice as soft and soothing as a mother’s caress spoke. “Mikaelin, why are you ranting so?”

  He covered his face and tried to look toward the source of the words. The light dimmed. “Are you able to see now?” the voice sang.

  Mikaelin nodded as he pulled his hand from his eye. He glanced at Celdorn and Hezhion, uncertain if this being might be a creation of his troubled mind. But Celdorn gaped at her too, eyes wide with wonder.

  Before them stood a mesmerizing woman. She looked to be an Elrodanar briochella though she was taller than most and … and …

  The woman laughed, a sound like the tinkling of chimes. “And more ancient? Is that the word for which you search?” Her face lit with joy.

  Mikaelin blushed and looked down.

  “It is all right. I am not offended,” she said. “I ask again: why were you ranting by my pool?”

  “Your pool?”

  She smiled. “Of course. I am the mistress of the waters. They flow from me.”

  Mikaelin stared at her, unable to hide a scowl of confusion.

  The woman laughed again. “You are delightful.” She walked toward him, her movements like the flow of waters, effortless, fluid, graceful. When she reached out to touch him, he recoiled.

  She withdrew her hand. “You fear my touch?”

  “If the waters flow from you then, yes, very much.”

  The woman frowned at his remark, and her light dimmed further.

  “Melucia”—for that was her name—“why did the waters not heal him?” Hezhion asked.

  “I must touch him to know.” The mistress of the waters again gazed at Mikaelin. “If you will not allow me to touch you, I cannot give you an answer.”

  Mikaelin shifted his weight, then hesitantly held out his hand.

  She waved it aside. “I must touch your head.”

  Although dread and mistrust immediately filled his heart, Mikaelin pushed past them and lowered his head toward her outstretched hand. The brush of her fingertips struck him like a poleaxe. The pain drove him to his knees with a silent scream. He grasped his head, certain it had been split open, but no blood
ensued.

  Melucia gasped and stepped back. “Forgive me, Mikaelin. That should not have happened.” She studied him in silence as Celdorn steadied him and helped him to his feet.

  “Why was he not healed?” Hezhion repeated.

  Melucia gazed directly at Mikaelin. “Your wounds were not released because, in the end, you did not choose to release them.”

  Mikaelin knew immediately what she meant. He stared back at her, hoping to find an answer there, some way out of this misery. Melucia reached out and took hold of his quaking hand. He felt no pain this time, but he watched her face contort. All at once, she doubled over like she’d been kicked in the stomach. She gasped in a breath, and her light flickered briefly. A moment later, she stood upright, her countenance again alight and peaceful.

  “You will always remember and carry each one that you have touched. The waters may take the torment and the scars, but they will not remove the deep bonds that you have made. What they have suffered is to be honored and not forgotten. I believe you once promised to sit in the pain with your friend until it left her.” Her perspicacious gaze told him she knew a great deal more. Mikaelin nodded. “It will never leave her,” she added gently. “It is embedded in her flesh. Even passing through death and beyond, it remains. When she and the others you have healed are at peace in Elondhur, you will be at peace as well. Until then, you will carry them.”

  “What is the purpose of the pool then?” Mikaelin asked.

  “It will take the scars and the physical pain away, so that the memory of their torment will not continue to live viscerally in you.” The look she gave him held a tenderness that was beyond their brief acquaintance. “You will no longer be assaulted in the late hours of the night,” she added softly, squeezing his hand.

  “I don’t know if I’m man enough to enter the waters again,” Mikaelin admitted.

  Melucia smiled at him. “Perhaps I can help.” She pulled a medallion from a pouch at her hip. She carefully placed it around his neck. “When you are ready to be released, remove it,” she told him.