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

  Elena was unaware that while the battle raged between Anakh and her, the crowd that remained, including members of the council, had dropped to their knees, and when Elbrion carried her from Khala Lengoan, they pressed their foreheads to the ground in deference. Even the Ilqazar who ringed the meadow bowed to her as they had done at Roth Rock. The sight sent chills of wonder through Celdorn.

  Chapter 36

  Elena awoke in her bed. Slowly she gazed around the room, trying to orient herself. She was alone and still dressed in her emerald gown. Tentacles of fear slithered up her spine and wrapped themselves firmly around her throat. She grasped for her medallion, but it was not there. Instead, she found the lump where the emerald from her pendant had embedded into her flesh. She caressed her forehead and examined her wrists. It hadn’t been a dream.

  Familiar voices filtered in from the other room. Elena sat up and listened. They were talking about her, but she couldn’t quite make out what was spoken. Her legs trembled as she rose and stepped toward the door. She pressed her ear into the wood and listened, the conversations now clear.

  After a few moments, she sighed, opened the door, and stepped out. “It was Anakh.”

  The room fell silent as the men turned their attention toward where she clung to the doorframe. Elena studied those gathered, piecing together what she’d heard with those present. Dalgo and Braiden had been examining the medallion and jewels embedded in Silvandir’s flesh, debating whether or not removal was possible. Just beyond them, Celdorn and Elbrion had been absorbed in an animated discussion with four elders from the council. They had all abruptly stopped when she appeared.

  “Yes, I am certain,” she answered the unspoken question. “And I am angry. I have always loved the wind, and she has corrupted it.”

  “Anakh has regained her power then.” Lamreth’s light dimmed and his shoulders sagged with his statement.

  “No, she moved before she was ready,” Elena countered. “She is, as yet, uncertain how to master the elements.”

  The council members studied her with furrowed brows.

  “I don’t know how I know this. I just do. I suppose in the same way that I hear your questions and misgivings.” Elena raised her chin and defiantly returned their scrutiny. “You tell me I have great power. You encourage me to use it. Then when I do, you doubt me.”

  Khanab bowed his head toward her. “Forgive us, Elena. We did not mean to sound skeptical. What we witnessed today was far beyond anything we have seen before and greatly surpassed any expectation we had of your giftedness. Your confrontation with Anakh seemed effortless. We are amazed; that is all.”

  “And you suspect that my abilities are not solely from the Jhadhela.” Her jaw tightened.

  Khanab glanced around. “Why would you think that?” he asked. “What other source would there be?”

  “Perhaps I am just Anakh’s apprentice, using her dark powers. Perhaps that whole display was nothing more than a game, a ruse to get you to trust me.”

  “No, Elena. That is not the case. Again, why would you believe it to be so?” Khanab asked.

  “Someone here suspects me.” Her gaze shifted from face to face, searching for the source. “Was it the white fire? Is that what makes you mistrust me?”

  She listened intently, sorting through the thoughts that swarmed her mind.

  “You, Dalgo?” She turned to the healer. “It is you who doubts me?” Tears slipped down her cheeks.

  “I am sorry, Elena,” Dalgo’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I don’t know what to believe. I suppose the fire frightened me. It seemed malicious. It attacked Silvandir.”

  It felt as if someone had slapped her. Elena’s tears cascaded now, her voice gone. Silvandir hurried to her side and wrapped her in his arms.

  Elena reached up to caress Silvandir’s cheek. “Forgive me. I would never never hurt you intentionally.”

  “Don’t apologize, Elena. I know you had no control over what happened,” he assured her.

  “Is it still painful?” She fingered the medallion on his chest and studied the jewels peeking out from beneath his dark hair.

  “No, the pain stopped as soon as you blew on them.”

  “There was no malevolence or, indeed, any intent behind the flames,” Khanab interrupted. “It seems the fire was a manifestation of your exuberant joy. Silvandir was affected because he was in contact with you. Others who were near were unharmed.”

  Understanding spread across Silvandir’s face. “Like when you first rode Nakhona,” he said. “You were bursting with joy. I told Celdorn and Elbrion that it looked like a star had landed on the filly. I suppose it could have been flames, not just beams of light, I saw.”

  Elena stared at him. “You never told me that.”

  “I didn’t want to frighten you, and I wasn’t sure I could trust my eyes at that point.” He smiled down at her. “But it makes sense now.”

  “Elena, can you tell us more about Anakh?” Lamreth asked. “You said she moved before she was ready. Were you able to read her thoughts? Do you know what pressed her?”

  Elena concentrated on the floor. Her eyes began the pendulum-like movement that happened when she searched for answers hidden in her inner world. “Yes, I suppose I was reading her thoughts. She was angry that I had wed, even more furious that I was with the briochellai.” Elena stopped. “She was … jealous?” She focused on Lamreth half-expecting him to confirm it, but he didn’t respond.

  “I can easily see Anakh reacting in that manner,” Markhum said. “For centuries her life has been driven by the lust for power and recognition. She longs to be the most lauded and feared creature on the face of Qabara. To be defeated by you on the Pallanor Heights was a colossal blow, but then to have you honored and adored by the masses here must have driven her to near madness.”

  “This is her third defeat. She will not make the same mistake again,” Yaelmargon said. “When next she attacks, it will be well-planned and potent.”

  Elena stared at the master with dismay.

  “Yaena, you must know she will not give up until she is either victorious or annihilated.”

  “One can always hope,” she replied with a doleful smile.

  “Hope? You, dear child?” Yaelmargon laughed. “Can it be?”

  “No, not in truth. I was convinced she would attack again. I just didn’t realize it would be so soon. And I know she will not give up. The want of power is her sole purpose. It is her destiny, as she would say. Everything else is just a means to that end.” Elena shook her head. “How terribly sad and empty.”

  “I love that about you, Yaena.” When she turned her puzzled face to the master, he graced her with a tender smile. “You are sad for her. Instead of being filled with hatred, you pity her.”

  “Her whole realm is sad and pathetic, but you credit me with far too much virtue, Master. Power seems so empty to me. It isolates rather than endears. One ends up alone.” As she glanced around the room, she felt the chasm that separated her from the others even now. With a heavy sigh, she turned her gaze back to Yaelmargon. “I also know that hatred does exist somewhere within me.”

  “And when the time comes, you will need the power of its fury,” Celdorn said with a growl in his voice. “I would not dismiss it, if I were you.” He looked at the council members as he spoke. “I speak as a warrior not a sage, but it is to such you have been called, Elena. That was evident today. I saw your wrath rise and act. It is a power you must harness and utilize.”

  Elena found herself stepping away from Celdorn with dismay. Anger terrified her.

  Surprisingly, Yaelmargon spoke up in support of her ada. “Not all anger is destructive, Elena. Anger is a catalyst. It can propel us to acts of destruction or prompt us to revolution. Today your anger roused you to protect the ones you love.” He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I agree with Celdorn. You must learn its gift.”

  Elena scrunched up her face. “I have only been on the receiving end of unbridled fury. I never want to in
flict that on another. As for today, I don’t recall what I did, but I am glad it ultimately did good and not harm.” Her gaze swept over those in the room. “Oh how I long to become the one you believe me to be. I don’t want to fail—” Pain twisted her abdomen and stole the last of her words.

  “El-Elena, what’s wr-wrong?” Braiden asked.

  His voice seemed to come from a distance as she gripped her belly and slumped to the floor.

  Chapter 37

  Elena was awakened by another sharp, twisting pain. She squinted as she opened her eyes.

  “Finally!” A whoosh of relief came from beside her. “I’ve been so worried.”

  Elena turned her blurry gaze to where Silvandir sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in weeks.

  “You collapsed after we returned from the wedding feast. You have been asleep for three days,” he told her before she could even form the question. “Elena, Dalgo says the baby is coming. That is the pain you’re feeling. He says it’s going to be soon. Do you understand?”

  Elena didn’t answer. Her head felt muzzy as she scanned the room, trying to piece together what little she could remember with what Silvandir had said. She frowned when she could not find the missing information.

  Silvandir scooted back a little, his face sick with worry. “Elena, do you know where you are? Do you know who I am?”

  She nodded, which seemed to take all her strength. “I-I feel so tired, so weak,” she whispered. Retracing her memories to the wedding feast, she picked up her arms and studied them. “They’re gone. How?” She caressed her wrists, where the jewels had been embedded. The flesh was smooth again.

  “Dalgo was able to remove them, and apparently your body now heals at an accelerated rate. No sooner did he begin to stitch the wounds then they were gone. Hezhion thought perhaps they were the cause of your stupor.”

  She grabbed for her chest.

  “That one too,” he answered before she could ask. “And on your head. You have been asleep for a long time.” He gently stroked her brow, his expression softening.

  Another sickening cramp seized her. She gasped as she grabbed her belly. The color instantly drained from Silvandir’s face.

  “You have been doing that for about six hours,” another voice said.

  Elena looked to the end of the bed where Dalgo stood. Next to him was a woman stooped with age, but whose eyes were as bright as the light coursing through her veins.

  “Elena, this is Hezhella. She is an Elrodanar midwife,” he explained. “She is here to help with the birth in case there are any complications. You’re progressing rapidly. The baby should be coming any time now.”

  Elena’s eyes widened. “But it’s too soon. I’m not due for another three months.”

  Dalgo chuckled and patted her leg, which she just realized was bent, as was the other, and covered by a large linen cloth.

  “Apparently, I was off on my calculations. It happens.” Dalgo shrugged and gave her an embarrassed grin. “You’ve been fortunate to sleep through most of the pangs. Don’t worry. Your body knows what to do.” His voice was calm and assuring. When he glanced at Silvandir, he added, “You might want to wait in the other room. I don’t want you passing out and complicating things.”

  Silvandir nodded feebly, kissed Elena on the forehead, and quickly left. She smiled after him. It was amazing how watching her in pain could reduce her mighty warrior of a husband to a quivering, queasy mess.

  Elena studied Hezhella again. Something felt wrong. She never said a word, but Elena saw excitement, anticipation—hunger—in her eyes. And then it was gone. Maybe she had just imagined it.

  A deeper pain ripped Elena’s attention away from the stranger. She gripped the blanket covering her with both hands and squeezed, working not to scream.

  “I see her head,” Dalgo said. “You’re going to have to start doing some work now, Elena. When the next pain comes, I want you to push with it and focus on moving the baby through the birth canal. Can you do that?”

  Elena nodded. The pain had eased, and she took a deep breath. Her eyes drifted to the stranger. She wanted to clamp the sheet over her nether region, upon which this woman and Dalgo were both fixated. She felt exposed, humiliated, and … and protective. She didn’t want them seeing her child, helping her child, touching her child. She didn’t trust them.

  The next pain came, demanding her full attention. Everything inside her abdomen rearranged.

  “Push, Elena,” Dalgo instructed.

  Elena tried. It was an odd sensation. “I am going to make a mess,” she objected, through gritted teeth.

  “It’s all right, my dear, the bed is protected. Don’t worry. Just focus on pushing out the baby.”

  I will be in trouble. I will be punished. Panic filled Elena, but she pushed nonetheless. At this point, her body had moved away from her and was doing what it must.

  “There she is!” Dalgo exclaimed. “Her head is out. Here come her shoulders.” A brief pause. “And she is out.”

  Elena heard a faint squawk, then a wheezing cry. It sounded more like a kitten mewing than a child. “She’s perfect, Elena. Healthy. Strong.”

  Elena laid her head back. “Thank you,” she whispered to no one in particular.

  The baby’s cry grew shrill, frightened, or so Elena thought. An icy chill ran through her, and she propped herself up on her elbow. Dalgo was handing the baby to the midwife.

  “No,” Elena said sharply. Both of them turned to look at her. “Give her to me.”

  “What’s wrong?” Dalgo asked her. “You look frightened.”

  Elena steadied herself. “Please … please, give her to me. I … I want to see her.”

  Hezhella gazed at her intently. Elena saw ice in her stare. “I am going to examine the baby first, then you may see her.”

  Elena’s hands glowed with white heat. “I want to see her now!”

  The woman pulled back. “You are not well. It is best that I care for her.”

  “Silvandir! Celdorn!” Elena called.

  She reached toward the baby and felt the air tug between them. The woman looked startled but didn’t loosen her grip.

  The door flew open. “Silvandir—” The words broke off in Elena’s mouth.

  A woman entered, enshrouded in darkness from her raven hair, to the wispy charcoal gown, down to the black, curled slippers on her feet. Shadows pulsated through her.

  When she stepped aside, another who looked to be her twin entered. And another, and another, until there were six ebony shadow-women surrounding the bed. The midwife’s appearance wavered and swirled, and then Anakh was standing there, clutching her child. Elena’s eyes turned to Dalgo, already knowing what was next.

  He, too, shifted into one of the eidolon.

  “You have not yet expelled the afterbirth,” he said in a mockingly dutiful tone. His eyes lifted to hers filled with menace and loathing. A twisted grin emerged as he inserted his hand inside her, grasped hold of the emerging membranes and yanked; his eyes remained locked with hers as he relished the torment.

  Elena fought back a howl and sat up, pushing the sheet between her legs. The pain snapped her out of her rigid fear. White light began to pulsate outward from her, forcing the others to step back. She held her hands out toward the baby. The radiance followed her reach, enveloping the child and lifting her from Anakh’s arms.

  Anakh shrieked as Elena’s light burned her flesh like acid, leaving gaping holes. She would have dropped the infant if the illumination had not already wrenched the child from her grasp. Anakh’s howls morphed into fury. “Stop her!”

  Elena pushed herself to her feet and wrapped the bed linen around her as the baby drifted toward her. When the child was firmly in her arms, she jumped from the bed and ran toward the door with nothing but a sheet to cover her as she fled. Several eidola attempted to block her path but were forced back by the illumination that surrounded her.

  Hunching over the c
hild, Elena ran as fast as her feet would carry her, out the back door of the cabin and toward the woods that stood at the foot of the mountains. Shouts and commands sounded behind her as the others took up pursuit. Her legs and lungs burned, but she dared not stop.

  The ground rose, and she glanced up to see where this little-used path led. The undergrowth tripped up her feet, and the low-hanging vines threatened to garrote her at each turn. Fortunately, she was small and agile and could scurry around most of the obstacles. The voices of those chasing her grew fainter and fainter.

  Elena, at the point of utter exhaustion, stumbled onto the mouth of a small cave. Cautiously, she moved through the entrance, wondering what manner of creature she might find dwelling within. She retreated when she realized she had no means to defend herself or the child and searched until she found a stick large enough to use as a club.

  She laid the baby on the ground while she pulled the sheet between her legs and tied it around her waist. Then, she grasped the infant to her chest, picked up the makeshift club, and tiptoed into the cave.

  A dim glow shimmered in the far back of the cave, but it did little to expose the contours or contents of the hollow. Almost against her will, Elena moved toward the light. Relief swept over her when she discovered that the illumination flowed from the rocks themselves.

  Elena’s legs gave out, and she slid to the ground. The pain that shot through her was a sharp reminder that she had just given birth. Only then did she notice that the sheet as well as her legs and feet were stained with blood. Her head spun and the walls closed in on her.

  “No, you can’t faint,” she told herself loudly. “You have a child to care for.”

  As if hearing her mother, the infant, who had been amazingly still during their flight through the woods, let out a series of feeble squawks. Elena cradled the child in her arms. “I haven’t even seen your face,” she whispered as she unwrapped the cloths Anakh had wound around the baby.

  Elena’s scream filled the small cave. She quickly stuffed the blanket into her own mouth to stifle the cries in case her pursuers were close. She gaped at the bundle lying on her lap, horrified. The baby was nothing but bones and shadow.