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

  Chapter 25

  Late the next morning, Elena climbed the jagged steps carved into the cliff to the left of the waterfall, glad the day had finally arrived. She was dressed in her black wedding garb, which made the hike more cumbersome. Celdorn went before her and Elbrion followed, also dressed in plain, dark clothing. They had been her constant guardians since yesterday when last she saw Silvandir.

  Elena hoped he was not having any regrets or doubts. Silvandir was paying a great price in joining himself to her. She chided herself for not loving him enough to set him free, but she could not bring herself to make that sacrifice. She longed to be with him and not be alone anymore. And, she argued with herself, he would never have allowed her to do so. He was committed, determined; he had pledged himself. Silvandir was nothing if not faithful and true to his word. But, is that what drove him? Was he doing this only because he felt he had to? Doubts plagued her every step of the climb.

  “Be at peace, Sheya. He loves you,” she heard from behind her.

  She smiled. “Are my thoughts springing from me again?”

  Elbrion laughed. “Yes, quite loudly.”

  They arrived at the wedding platform at the same time as Silvandir and the other men, who had ascended the right side of the falls. Terzhel took his place alongside Mishon and Charaq. He was looking over the edge of the rock ledge at the tumbling waters, his eyes wide, face pallid. Mishon stood stoically; his hand rested on the hilt of his sword as if he were the Guardian and not Charaq.

  Yaelmargon was already on the platform waiting for them. They wasted no time in starting the ceremony. Everyone seemed to be pressed by the same sense of urgency.

  Elena studied Silvandir, searching for any sign of doubt. He looked so different dressed in these strange clothes. She could only rely on his eyes. But something seemed to be missing. There was no spark. They appeared dulled, heavy. Perhaps it was the loss of his family in all of this. Guilt consumed her again. She should set him free.

  The ceremony was simple. Yaelmargon asked each of them to state their reason for wishing to unite. Silvandir delivered an eloquent oratory of his love. Elena heard little. She felt frantic. She was consumed with guilt for ruining his life, sure that she would destroy him.

  Yaelmargon had to prompt her when it was her turn to speak. She could find no words.

  “Elena, tell Silvandir why it is you have chosen to be with him. Speak from your heart,” the loremaster encouraged her.

  Elena stared at the ground, unable to look into Silvandir’s eyes. “You were my first friend.” She worked to quell her nerves and keep her voice steady. “My first friend at Kelach and my first real friend in life. You have been a constant when so many things have been shifting. You have loved me in spite of all my history, my weaknesses, and all the upheaval I have caused. Our relationship has been tested time and again, and through it all, you have been unwavering.” She paused as deep emotions swelled. “I love you. I need you. And I want you. I no longer can imagine life without you.” Relief swept through her. She’d done it. She had spoken her heart.

  Yaelmargon asked those who were witnesses to vow to uphold the young couple in the building and maintenance of their relationship, to be sources of encouragement during dark times, and to be havens of refuge during the storms of life. The men heartily agreed.

  “You may reveal your wife,” Yaelmargon said to Silvandir.

  He carefully unwrapped her face. She smiled up at him as joy filled her heart.

  “You may reveal your husband,” Yaelmargon said to Elena.

  She reached up and unwound the scarf at Silvandir’s neck excited to see his smile again and kiss him freely. Elena struggled to remove the head covering due to Silvandir’s height. He leaned over to help, letting out an amorous growl that made her giggle.

  When she finally got a good grip and pulled the cloth loose, Silvandir’s face was gone. His eyes were set in a fleshless skull over which ominous shadows moved.

  Elena’s screams bounced off the rock walls.

  The bones shifted into a maniacal grin.

  “We told you we would never allow you to mate with the light.” The teeth clanked as the creature spoke, and an ugly gurgle that might have been a cackle rose from the skeleton’s throat. “You belong with us.” His wispy arm gestured toward the others.

  Elena unwillingly scanned the group of witnesses. Shadows of men stood where once her adai and friends had been. Even Terzhel and Mishon had transformed to nothing more than bone and swirling black mist.

  “You saw me in your vision in the third door, yet you refused to believe that I could be an eidolon. Fool,” Yaelmargon said with a sneer, “you never learn. You trusted these powerless simpletons to protect you. They were easy to eliminate and emulate.” He turned to the eidolon in Silvandir’s place. “You may mate with your wife. Use her until her seed is exhausted. We need more children for the battle.”

  The foul creature swept Elena into his arms and carried her around the falls. He flinched when the waters of Ellisia splashed on his shoulder. Stepping into a cave-like structure, he threw her on the bed and leapt on her like a ravenous wolf. His weight pressed the breath and life from her. She tried to find a place to escape inside and found none. She pled for help. Silence. When he entered her, she screamed more from despair than physical pain.

  Suddenly, Elbrion was at the side of the bed. “Sheya, this is a dream. Command him to leave you.”

  Elena stared at her ada. A dream?

  “You must control your mind, Elena. Send them back into the prison you made for them,” he told her. “Waste no time!”

  A rage rose in Elena such as she had never felt before. “Go back to the fiery shadows, you infernal creatures!” At once, she was alone. “How did I not see this?” Her fists pounded the bed. “Wake up, now,” she told herself.

  ~

  Elena shot upright in her bed, breathing heavily. Elbrion and Celdorn were on either side of her.

  Celdorn wrapped her in his arms. “We could not reach you. We knew you were locked in a nightmare, but we could not find a way to help you see.”

  Elena pushed Celdorn back. “I am so angry with myself,” she cried in frustration. “It is nearly impossible for me to tell what is real and what is not. My memories, my dreams, my visions, all seem as vivid and as credible as when I am with you now. I no longer know how to define reality. Am I going to wake up from waking up? Am I still asleep, dreaming all this? I feel as if I am losing my mind again.”

  Elbrion laid a calming hand on her shoulder. “Sheya, is there nothing out of place in your dreams? Have you noticed things missing or certain items that repeat themselves?”

  Elena sifted through the nightmare images. They all seemed so normal, much as she would expect, until things would twist suddenly.

  Except for…

  “My internal world is missing in my dreams,” she told Elbrion. “When I try to run inside or call for help, it is as if I am all alone in my body.” She turned to him with wonder in her eyes. “I never feel alone otherwise. There is always some noise.”

  Elena suddenly patted her chest and pulled the medallion from beneath her shirt. “And I’m not wearing this in my dreams.” She clutched it in her fist, feeling as if it were an anchor, a lifeline. “This is not in my dreams. I am awake,” she said aloud, as much to convince herself of the truth as anyone. “Unless I am persuading myself in my dreams … ” Her heart raced again.

  Elbrion grasped her face. “Look at me, Sheya,” he said firmly. “Look into my eyes and listen to your heart.”

  She gazed intently, searching, listening. “I am awake. You are my ada. I know the truth,” she whispered. “I am filled with light. I can see it inside me. I can feel it. I am not alone.” Her jaw tensed with determination.

  “You must control your mind,” Elbrion reminded her. “When you begin to panic, you lose control, and that can be disastrous.”

  She nodded as she gazed steadily into her ada’s eyes. Her breathing quiete
d. Calm returned.

  Elbrion smiled. “You are strong, Sheya. You are a mighty warrior.”

  Elena scoffed.

  “Eh ...” Elbrion immediately corrected her.

  “I am becoming a mighty warrior,” she conceded with a grin. “I think it is a bit of a stretch to say that I have already achieved it.”

  Her ada smiled. “I will accept that.”

  “Now you must rest,” Celdorn told her. “Tomorrow will be eventful and challenging.”

  “I am not closing my eyes again until the wedding is finished,” Elena said with all the stubbornness she possessed. “We will wait for the sun together.”

  Celdorn laughed. “When you set your mind to something, you appear every bit the warrior. The fire has returned to your eyes, and you’re jaw is set for a fight. I’m glad to see it.”

  Elena leaned back against the wall. She pulled Celdorn to one side and Elbrion the other, and settled herself between them, clinging to their hands, determined to make it through the night.

  “Tell me stories of when you were young, ada,” she said, looking from one to the other. “Happy stories of better days.”

  Chapter 26

  It was starting to get dark when Terzhel found Mishon hiding behind a tree. Finally. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold it. He tugged on Mishon’s sleeve and pointed toward the privy.

  “Use your words,” Charaq said from a nearby bench.

  But other children were running around them, playing. Terzhel didn’t want them to hear him.

  Mishon patted his shoulder. “It’s okay. You have to practice to get better.”

  “I hath to use the pwivy.” Terzhel’s cheeks burned. He knew he sounded like a baby. Other kids reminded him of that every day.

  A boy ran by and thumped Mishon on the back. “You’re the hag now.”

  Mishon took off to chase after him or any of the other children he could catch, leaving Terzhel to dance with urgency. He approached Charaq and formed his words carefully. “Can I goth?” He pointed toward the privy.

  Charaq smiled. A warm, approving smile. “Of course.”

  Terzhel hesitated, wanting Mishon to go with him, but his friend was busy playing with the other boys and laughing. Terzhel took a deep breath and entered the building where they lived. The privy closets were at the end, not far from where their room was.

  The washing room with its five large tubs and dozens of basins was empty this time of day. The privy closets, which were set farther back, also looked empty. Terzhel rushed into the first one and barely got his laces undone in time. He sighed with relief. He’d had too many accidents in the last weeks and knew it frustrated Mishon and Charaq, though they never scolded or hurt him for it. He was trying his hardest.

  Suddenly the door behind him swung open. Terzhel glanced over his shoulder as he hurried to finish and tuck himself into his trousers. One of the older boys from the encampment stared down at him.

  “All by yourself today, little tool. No scary body guard.” The boy waved his hands as if imitating a monster.

  Terzhel didn’t answer.

  “What? Can’t talk again?” The boy yanked on Terzhel shoulder and dragged him out of the privy closet. He slapped a bracelet on Terzhel’s wrist, like the ones Anakh’s people used to chain him to the wall, and he knew he was in trouble. Terzhel tried to go to his secret hiding place, but couldn’t.

  Three of the bigger boys stood a few feet back and scowled at him. He’d seen them before but didn’t know their names. They had been rescued from the Farak caves. Bad things had happened in the Farak caves, he’d heard, worse than in the Greenholt caves where Terzhel had been chained up.

  A boy with ratty black hair stepped out and shoved Terzhel’s shoulder. “Think you’re special now that the ‘Lady’ claimed you.”

  Terzhel fell back against the first boy, who shoved him forward again. The boys formed a ring around him. “You know what that makes you? The bastard of a whore.” His laugh was ugly, and his lips curled into a snarl. “And you know what bastards are good for? Nothin’.”

  “But he’s a tool,” another boy said. “Did ya know that’s what your name means, Tool?”

  The ratty-haired boy laughed. “I know how to use tools.”

  “How ‘bout I show you mine,” the first boy said as he unlaced his trousers. “You three hold him down.”

  Terzhel darted to the side, but someone grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. Another shoved his chest onto the bench and held him there. Terzhel kicked as they pulled on his trousers.

  “You’ve had plenty of practice at this,” the biggest boy said as he spat into his hand. “Nothing to worry about, little Tool. You know how it goes.”

  Terzhel squeezed his eyes tight. He did. He knew too well.

  But when the pain hit, he didn’t stay still like he’d been trained to do. Instead, something inside of him went crazy. He kicked and bit and scratched. And then he screamed Mishon’s name. Screamed louder than he’d ever heard anyone scream in his life.

  “Shut up, you idiot!”

  When the boy punched him in the side of the head, he let up the pressure on his back. Terzhel rolled and bit the arm that held his left side. He locked his jaw and didn’t let go as the boy howled in pain. Then Terzhel kicked behind him, and heard another yelp.

  “That’s it. You die now.” That one growled as a blow hit Terzhel in the stomach. Another picked up his head and bashed it into the bench.

  The second time it hit, everything got quiet.

  The third, all the lights went out.

  ~

  Charaq sent Mishon to check on Terzhel, said he’d been in the privy awhile. Just after Mishon stepped into the dark corridor, he heard Terzhel scream his name. Mishon took off running down the hall and flew through the bathing room door. As he did, a group of boys pushed past him and raced out the side door.

  Someone had turned off all the lanterns, so it was really hard to see inside.

  “Waadar? Are you in here?” No answer. He looked around, but it was too dark to see anything. He ran to the room where they’d been staying. Maybe Waadar had gone there to change clothes or something. But he wasn’t there either.

  Mishon ran outside and found Charaq. “I don’t see him. I thought I heard him scream my name, but he’s not in the washing area or our room.”

  Charaq jumped to his feet. “Did you check the privy closets?” He turned Mishon, and they headed back into the Healing building.

  “No. I called his name, and he didn’t answer. But there wasn’t enough light coming in through the windows to look around. All the lanterns were out.”

  Charaq started running. He pushed the door open, grabbed a lantern from the corridor, and dashed toward the bathing room. “Terzhel?” he called as he shoved open the door. “Where are you?”

  Charaq headed toward the privy closets. “Oh Qho’el no!”

  “What?” Mishon asked.

  Charaq set down the lantern on a bench, dropped to his knees, and lifted a bundle of towels from the floor. “Terzhel, can you hear me?” he called as he gently shook the towels.

  Mishon felt like he was walking through a snowstorm. His body went cold, and everything blurred around him when the edge of a towel slid back and white blond curls soaked with blood appeared.

  “Is he ... is he dead?”

  Charaq made a funny choking sound. “No, he’s breathing.”

  “Wh-what happened to him?” Then Mishon saw that Waadar’s pants were half-down like he’d run out of the privy, tripped over them, and knocked himself out.

  Charaq gently laid Waadar on the ground and lifted his trousers so he was covered. Then he grabbed a towel and pressed it to his head. “Mishon, I need you to help me.”

  Mishon wasn’t sure he could move. The pool of blood around Waadar was like the one around his mother when they cut off her hands. He had tried to move then too and couldn’t.

  “Mishon, it’s going to be all right. I need to get help. I n
eed you to keep this pressed against Terzhel’s head while I find Willowa or one of the other healers. Okay, little man? Can you do that for me?” Mishon wanted to help, but his body wouldn’t listen.

  “Terzhel needs you, Mishon. I need you. You can do this.”

  Then Mishon was moving. He put his hand where Charaq’s was and pushed. With his other hand, he stroked Waadar’s cheek, which felt like he’d been in the same snowstorm. “Don’t die on me, Waadar. Don’t you die on me.”

  “I’ll be right back, Mishon. Just keep pressing there.” With that, Charaq jumped up and was gone.

  Mishon watched Waadar’s chest as his cheek got colder. It was moving too slow. Then it wasn’t moving at all. “No, no, no. Waadar, don’t leave me. You’re my brother. My only brother. No, no, no.” Mishon slid his arm under Waadar’s shoulder and pulled him into his chest.

  Tears streamed down Mishon’s cheeks but he didn’t care. This was his Waadar. Tears dripped off his chin and onto Waadar’s head.

  Something sizzled like sap in a fire. Mishon looked around. No one else was there. Then it happened again. The sound was coming from Waadar. He stared at the wound on Waadar’s head. It was steaming. And-and ... shrinking. Then it was gone. Mishon blinked and blinked, but it was still gone.

  Waadar coughed and sucked in a deep breath.

  “You’re alive!” Mishon hugged the small boy to him.

  Waadar’s feet kicked like a mule, and he shoved Mishon back. The little boy scrambled toward the corner on his hands and knees, and curled up, shaking like he was terrified of Mishon.

  Mishon crawled closer. “It’s just me, Waadar. You fell and hit your head. You were hurt bad,” he told him. “But you’re gonna be okay.”

  Waadar glared at him. “I didn’th fwall.” His eyes got really sad. “I scweamed for you, but you didn’th come.”

  “I did. I was coming to check on you when you screamed my name. But when I got here it was all dark.” Then Mishon remembered something. “I saw some boys run out of here when I came to find you. Did they hurt you?”