Eleanor (58 page)

More silence, and then she heard Conlan move away.

“He’s gone, Eleanor, are you OK?” Freddie whispered after a moment.

“No,” she moaned. “If he wants nothing to do with me, why was he watching me?”
 

“He’s been watching you all night. You were calling out for him in your sleep, and he didn’t look very happy about it,” Freddie said.
 

Eleanor felt embarrassment heat her cheeks. “I bet he didn’t. Why does this hurt so much? I knew he wouldn’t want me, but I love him, my heart is his. This is killing me, Freddie.”

“I’m sorry he’s hurting you.” There was such pain in Freddie’s voice that Eleanor turned to look at him. The pain was also in his black eyes, taking away some of the life that normally burned within them. “I have a really strong urge to beat the crap out of Conlan right now,” he muttered.

“Don’t, please don’t, I feel guilty enough about the pain I’ve caused him.”
 

Freddie gave her a lopsided grin, the pain still in his eyes. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Eleanor smiled and rolled slightly, curling into Freddie’s body. “I think you’ll find it’s the other way round, but I appreciate the thought.”
 

Freddie hugged her close to him.
 

“Thank you for being here for me,” she whispered. He leaned forward slightly, pulled her closer and gently kissed her cheek.
 

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back.

Days began to crawl by. The injured man dropped in and out of consciousness, but he stubbornly refused to die. Sitting around doing nothing did not sit well with any of them, least of all Conlan. After a while he started pacing the clearing’s radius, like a tiger trapped in a cage. Will had suggested he use his obvious pent-up energy to practise his sword fighting, seeing as Eleanor had kicked his arse. The suggestion had not gone down well and Conlan had disappeared for two days. Worrying them all. When he finally returned he started training, silently swinging his sword for hours on end with an energy-draining repetition that made Eleanor tired just watching; sweat dripping from him, he was totally focused never once faltering,. Eleanor tried to keep busy by practising her sword fighting and unarmed combat with Freddie, but she resisted all requests from the others to practise with her energy or join them when they did. Every time she pulled energy from the earth, all she could see were the people she had killed. It made her shake to the point of collapse, reality fading into the distance as the slide show of horror started up in her head, leaving her senseless and sobbing until it passed. She did, however, join in their morning balancing meditations. She knew this activity was important and could save lives, so she did not have quite the same reaction as she did with the more violent disciplines. Unfortunately the reaction she did have was not without its problems. The others were all now intimately aware of how she had started the earthquake, had been repeatedly dragged through her memories of the fight with the vagabonds and Conlan and had been forced to relive Rand’s death several times as Eleanor’s shaky defences crumbled, filling their minds with the nightmares she could not escape. They had been gentle and understanding with her and gradually, time and the morning meditation brought Eleanor a semblance of calm – not enough that she was ready to use her energy, but enough so that the night terrors became less frequent. What, at one point, had been the regular occurrence of her waking screaming, was now getting rarer and rarer. When it did happen Freddie was always there by her side, whispering gentle reassurance until she could function again.
 

To distract herself Eleanor concentrated on the book. Spending hours sitting by the fire with her eyes closed, she went through it a page at a time. The words of her dream came back to her again and again, and as she concentrated on the pages she found the words jumping out at her. Every twenty-fifth word of the fourth and eight chapters, the chapters that talked about the Avatar of Fire and the sword, the words gave her the verse she had heard in her dream.

A silver sword in south freedom’s hands,

A gift beyond measure, to enter their lands,

A heart for a heart, a price to be paid,

Think to the future, a deal to be made.

The sword was in the southern savannah, somewhere, and ‘south freedom’s hands’ made it sound like a person. She really wanted to talk to Conlan about it, but the others were being very protective of her, especially Freddie, who she felt was almost glued to her side. She was never left alone, and if Conlan accidentally got within a few feet of her, someone would glare at him until he backed off. He and Freddie had nearly come to blows over the one further attempt he had made to talk to her. She could not bring herself to look at him, but she was aware of him staring at her occasionally as waves of anger flowed out of him; it made her shudder. He had fallen into a dark, brooding silence that made her feel just as miserable as he seemed to be. If she happened to raise her voice above a whisper or laugh at something Freddie had said, he would stare at her before stalking off by himself, sometimes for hours at a time.
 

Will and Amelia, while just as protective of her as Freddie, were slightly more occupied with the injured vagabond. Will had taken the risky step of operating on the man, cutting his side open and doing his best to stitch up the hole in his stomach. Eleanor was amazed when the man survived the procedure. The grey, lifeless pallor left his skin and for some of his conscious moments he was lucid. He managed to drink and even gave Will his name. Duncan, he had called himself, or something that sounded very much like it in Dwarfish. If this miraculous recovery pleased Conlan at all, he did not show it, although Eleanor did notice him frequently staring at the injured man with a dark malevolence.
 

As he got stronger, Duncan began to take more interest in what was going on around him, and Eleanor caught him watching her more than once, a wary respect in his eyes. She knew she would have to talk to him. The opportunity finally arose as he began feeling well enough to eat. Amelia would take him food, helping him eat if he needed it. One early evening, as he finished eating and was handing his bowl back to Amelia, Eleanor walked over and stood just outside the shelter.

“May I talk to you?” she asked in Dwarfish. Amelia turned in surprise, a questioning look on her face. “I just want to talk to him,” Eleanor said in English. Amelia turned back to Duncan, who nodded slowly. She shrugged and moved back to the fire. Eleanor took her place, kneeling at Duncan’s side. She looked at him, noticing the rake-thin body, the short, brittle dark brown hair and the deep purple under his questioning brown eyes.
 

“Thank you,” she said.

Surprise filled Duncan’s face. “I might not have wished to rape you, child, but I fully intended to steal anything of value you might have had on you. I do not deserve your thanks, or the efforts your friends have put into preserving my life. I am not a good man.”

“You understand the difference between right and wrong, though?” Eleanor asked.

Duncan nodded.

Eleanor smiled. “Then you can choose to be a good man, if you want.”

Duncan gave her a condescending look. “If only things were that simple, child.”

Eleanor shrugged. “Things are that simple, Duncan. Every time you are faced with a decision, just think, ‘What is the right thing to do?’
 
Not the easy thing, not the fun thing, not the comfortable thing, but what is the right thing. You have done it once, Duncan, so just keep doing it.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I shall do my best, child.”

“That is all any of us can do – and my name is Eleanor.”

Duncan thrust a hand out. “I am Duncan, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Duncan grinned as Eleanor shook his hand. His grin was infectious and she smiled back.

“I will leave you to rest. Perhaps we can talk again later?” Eleanor said as he released her hand and she stood.

“Any time, Eleanor,” he said softly.
 

Turning from him she found Conlan standing in front of her. His expression was so intimidating that Eleanor instinctively took a step back, the shelter’s supporting beam jamming into her back. He stared at her and she stared back.
What does he want?
Her happiness drained from her. Freddie and Will were off checking their traps and collecting firewood, while Amelia was stood a short distance away watching them.

“I don’t want you talking to him,” Conlan snapped. Eleanor felt her anger rocket, and with all the self-control she had at her disposal she slammed it back down. She would keep control, at all costs she would keep control.
 

“He’s dangerous, I’d have thought you would have realised that,” he tried to reason through gritted teeth. Eleanor stared at him incredulously. Was he worried about what she was going to tell the man? Did he not trust her to keep her mouth shut? Her confusion must have shown on her face, because he sighed in frustration.

“Eleanor, he attacked you,” he said, as if explaining a very basic point to a particularly stupid child.
 

“If he’s such a danger, why did you rescue him?” she asked.

Conlan looked uncomfortable. “He begged for my help…”

Eleanor stared at him. “You’re telling me you took pity on him? I don’t believe you. You’ve been furious with me for weeks. Your strong emotions radiate from you, did you know that? I can feel them, I can feel your anger crash against me. You brought me here to help Mydren and instead I killed hundreds. You taught me how to fight and I used that knowledge with a stunning lack of restraint. You rescued him to preserve your honour and you don’t want me speaking to him because you’re worried I’m going to tell him something I shouldn’t. You don’t trust me.”
 

Eleanor took several deep breaths, conscious that her rant had increased both her anger and, by extension, her energy levels. She closed her eyes for a moment, pushed the excess energy back into the earth and felt her anger drain away as she did so. When she opened them again, Conlan was staring at her, livid.
 

“You can be a total idiot on occasion – if I didn’t trust you talking to people, I wouldn’t have bothered teaching you to speak Dwarfish in the first place! I taught you how to fight so you could do exactly what you did, defend yourself! Is it so hard to believe that I’m capable of showing mercy? He told me he tried to stop them raping you. I believed him, but he’s still dangerous; I’d feel better if you kept your distance.”
 

“I killed four of his friends, I’m fairly sure I could protect myself again, if the need arose,” Eleanor snapped. Frustration filled Conlan’s face; he took another step towards her, reaching out to grab her arms, and instead walked into a solid obstacle. It was like watching him walk into a plate glass window. He staggered back, stunned and shaking his head slightly. Turning, he looked at Amelia, who in turn gave him a flat, uncompromising stare in return.
 

“What do they think I’m going to do to you?” he muttered. He turned back, seemingly about to say something when Freddie barrelled into him, knocking him to the ground, getting in several vicious punches to Conlan’s head and chest before he got over his surprise enough to fight back. Conlan punched Freddie in the side, pushed him off and struggled back to his feet. “This is getting out of hand,” he said quietly as Freddie glowered at him. Eleanor closed her eyes and tried to force her anger under control. She felt Freddie hand on her shoulder.

“Are you OK?” he asked. Still struggling to control her anger, Eleanor nodded, letting Freddie’s comforting presence calm her down and ignoring the guilt she felt for using him.

“Freddie, I was just trying to talk to her,” Conlan protested.
 

Will came running up behind Eleanor. “What did I miss?” he asked, as if he was asking about an episode of his favourite soap.
Maybe we are his favourite soap
, Eleanor thought, amused. The tension in her body immediately evaporated as she giggled. She felt the stiffness drain from Freddie’s body in response.

“You missed Conlan walking straight into Amelia’s energy shield,” she said, unable to keep the grin off her face.

“And why was there a shield there in the first place?” Will asked, his tone even, but Eleanor saw the concern in his eyes. Sighing, she shrugged. Will gave Conlan a questioning look.
 

“I was trying to get her to stay away from him,” he said, nodding in Duncan’s direction. “He’s dangerous.”
 

Duncan frowned. He might not have understood the words, but Conlan had made the meaning very clear.

“Conlan, the man has a partially healed hole in his side. Exactly what sort of a threat do you think he poses?” Will asked.

“He’s still dangerous. I was just worried about her,” Conlan persisted stubbornly, not looking at Eleanor. Eleanor stared at him in utter disbelief.
 

“You’re worried about me?! I’m miserable because I can’t talk to you. You’re my friend and I miss you, and I think I might have cracked where the sword is and I want to tell you about it, but I’m too nervous about upsetting you to even try. If you do actually care enough to worry about me, think a little more about the impact
you
are having on me and a little less about protecting me from external threats I can handle just fine on my own.
You
are the only person in Mydren I can’t defend myself against.”

His face empty, Conlan held her gaze for a moment and then took several steps back before turning and walking away. They watched in silence as he disappeared through the undergrowth. Eleanor went to follow him. Freddie grabbed her arm.
 

“Leave him.”
 

Eleanor shook herself free. “No, this needs sorting, I can’t live like this any longer.”
 

He grasped her arm again, a determined look came into his eyes. “Then I’m coming with you.”
 

Eleanor shook her head, gently pulling her arm free. “Thanks for the offer, Freddie, but I don’t think he’s going to talk to me if there’s an audience.” She turned and walked after Conlan before Freddie could object further. She heard him take several more steps after her and was relieved when she heard Will.