Eleanor (59 page)

“No, Freddie, let her go.”
 

She found Conlan sitting on the bank overlooking the stream.
 

“Are you just going to stand there, Eleanor, or are you going to say something?” The low Dwarfish tongue carried a sharp edge.
 

“I do not know what to say,” she said, watching his shoulders stiffen with annoyance, or perhaps it was anger – it was difficult to tell without being able to see his face. He continued to stare at the water tumbling past him.
 

“You not knowing what to say, well there is a first. You had plenty to say a moment ago!”
 

He paused and took a deep breath, before turning to look at her. “Eleanor, please, come and sit down. Let me explain a few things to you.”
 

Apprehension twisted her stomach. Her longing to be close to him, fighting the instinct that told her to run from the anger flowing from him.
 

“What are you thinking?” he asked, watching the expressions shift on her face.
 

Eleanor shrugged and told him the truth. “I am trying to decide if the pleasure I get from being able to sit close to you outweighs the risk I am taking by putting myself within striking distance.” Surprise and then shame blanked his face; walking over, she sat down next to him. “You are worth the risk,” she informed him solemnly.
 

He turned his head back to look at the water, its brisk gurgling in tune with the sound of the breeze moving amongst the trees. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat and emotionless.
 

“I wanted to stop you apologising, before, because you did not need to, not because I did not accept it. I wanted to tell you that, but you were really upset, and now I understand why. You assume you are to blame for far too much.”

“If I am not to blame, why are you so angry with me?” she asked. “And do not tell me that you are not angry, because I can feel it, even now.”

He sighed. “I am not angry with you, I am angry with myself.”

“Why are you angry with yourself?”
 

It took him a long time to answer.
“I really do care about you, Eleanor, maybe not in the way you want, but I still want to protect you and support you. More importantly, I do not want to hurt you, but that is all I seem to do.”
 

Eleanor shrugged. “I hurt you just as much as you hurt me.”

Silence.

“Do you regret telling me how you feel?” he asked, his voice quiet and careful.
 

“Are you still trying to knock a tree down with your fist?” Eleanor asked.

“No.”

“Are you planning to try to at a later date?”

Conlan shook his head, amused. “No.”

“Then I do not regret telling you, although I do regret losing my mind.”

“It was a little extreme, even for you,” Conlan agreed.

“Recently, when I get angry, I involuntarily pull energy from the earth. Remember when Freddie used to go slightly psychotic when he had a little too much energy? Well it would appear to affect me the same way, in that it makes me stronger, quicker and very aggressive. Perhaps it affects all of us the same way; in fact, I think Amelia experienced it when I nearly killed you and Will,” Eleanor sighed. “It is like having an alcohol problem you cannot control. I think it might have been triggered by causing the earthquake. Now I am aware of it I have more chance of controlling it, but when I attacked those men and you, I had no idea.” As they stared at the water she considered the situation. She could not force him to love her, and he seemed to be angry with himself because he was hurting her, even though it was hardly his fault.
 

“Stop hating yourself,” she ordered. “Let us just go back to the way things were, yes?”
 

He smiled. “I can try... I miss you, too.”
 

Eleanor had a moment of euphoria, and on impulse she threw her arms around his neck. His body tensed in surprise, but he stiffly put his arm around her.
Better than nothing, I can live with this.
She could feel every knotted muscle in his body screaming his discomfort at having her so close, but he did not push her away and instead just waited patiently until she let him go, even managing a small smile as she did so.
 

“So, tell me about the sword,” he said, his voice a little rough.

Eleanor sat back down. “One-track mind...” she grumbled.

“I am sick of sitting around doing nothing.” There was such anger in his tone, such frustration, that again Eleanor got the impression there was more going on than he was telling her, only this time she was not going to let it drop. So she just looked at him, his face almost glowing in the last rays of the sinking sun, and waited.
 

“What?” he asked.
 

Eleanor gave him as hard a look as she could manage. “Sitting around doing nothing is not your only problem right now…”
 

Conlan raised an eyebrow. “When did you become so perceptive?”
 

Eleanor sighed. “I can actually read you pretty well, it is just that normally I do not bother asking you what is winding you up because I am usually too afraid it is me. However, recent events have convinced me that while I can see and in some cases feel your emotions, I often have no idea what is causing them. So I have decided to ask, instead of jumping to incorrect conclusions.”

Conlan’s body tensed again. “And if I do not want to tell you?” The hard edge had crept back into his voice. Eleanor gave him a serene smile.
 

“You do not have to tell me anything that you do not wish to; however, if you do not tell me, I will make my own assumptions and you will have to learn to live with the…” she paused. “What’s the Dwarfish word for ‘rants’?” she asked in English.
 

Conlan smirked. “No word exists. Mydren women don’t ‘rant’, and if they did, the men in their lives wouldn’t respond too kindly to it.”
 

“Oh. Nevertheless, I would like to know what your problem is. Maybe I can help.” Eleanor gave him a concerned look to complement the questioning growl she added to the Dwarfish.

Dropping his head, he reverted back to Dwarfish so he could layer his response with frustration. “I do not like being weak. Being surrounded by four of the most powerful people in Mydren is making me feel redundant. I do not feel involved and I will not until we get the connection working. I am so close and yet still useless. I arrived in time to watch you destroy Duncan’s friends, I did not even get the chance to help you with that fight. I was…”

“… disappointed,” she finished for him. Surprised, Conlan nodded in answer. “Conlan, I thought you were disappointed with me, for killing,” she said softly.

Conlan chuckled. “Eleanor, if someone attacks you, please feel free to do them damage; after all, that is the whole point of knowing how.” Eleanor felt her cheeks start to warm in embarrassment.
I’ve seriously misjudged him. Will’s right
–
as far as Conlan is concerned, I’m deeply obtuse.
Not noticing her embarrassment, Conlan continued.
 

“I was proud of you, by the way; you made your enemy scream and run. I never got the chance to tell you.”
 

Eleanor felt her love for him drop on her like a felled tree. It was the most wonderful, painful, joyful, hateful experience; it span around her head, making her feel dizzy and lightheaded. She wanted to kiss him, stroke his face, give some physical outlet to the surge of emotion within her but she resisted the temptation and sat firmly on her hands, addressing his comments instead in an attempt to distract herself.

“Conlan, you are not weak. We might be the four most powerful people in Mydren, but we are following
you
. We
will
get the connection working for you, I promise. And when we do, you will be the most powerful person this world has seen in over seven hundred years. Being a normal human being around us for a while before that happens will help you to keep some perspective, help you to remember that not everybody has power or strength and yet it does not make them any less important as people.”
 

Conlan looked at her with his deep, penetrating gaze for so long that Eleanor began to feel uncomfortable.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing, just some of the things you say surprise me.”

He turned his head to stare back at the water, the sun setting behind the tree line. He appeared to be thinking, and not wanting to intrude, Eleanor sat with him in companionable silence. When he spoke again she jumped.
 

“I broke my promise.” The growling undertone he gave the Dwarfish represented a grovelling apology.

“Yes, you did,” she agreed. “I understand, Conlan; I know you were trying to protect me from Jarrick.”
 

More silence.

“I do not deserve you.”
 

His comment was a mere breath and so quiet that Eleanor was not sure if she had heard it or not, but her shattered heart responded to it regardless and she felt her love for him swirl around her insides again. Stubbornly refusing to admit that he did not love her back, she let the feelings fill her with warmth and smiled at him, knowing all her emotions were showing in her face and not caring. He knew. For once she was not going to hide it. In the sun’s dying light he gazed at her, a small frown set between his eyes. He moved slowly and took her face in his hands, his touch sending electric sparks shooting through her body and making her feel delirious. He leant forward and kissed her forehead, and her mind dissolved into blissful rapture.
 

Releasing her, he returned his gaze to the sunset. Still totally stunned and operating on autopilot, Eleanor turned back to look in the same direction in the knowledge that there could have been juggling bears in front of her and she would not notice. She was so caught up in her spinning thoughts that it took her a while to realise that not only had Conlan failed to flinch, object or tense when she had leant against him, but he had actually put his arm around her and pulled her closer towards him. Her mind exploded in ecstasy again.
 

The velvet dark-blue of twilight, the first stars beginning to appear, the sound of the water as it travelled past, his breathing – slow and relaxed – the feel of his strong arm around her shoulders, the side of her body pressed against his.
A perfect piece of time
. The joy of it chipped away at some of the guilt and horror of the last few weeks, and every one of his breaths was a precious gift that helped to distort one of the faces of the dead in her mind. Gradually she began to let go of some of the guilt. She had made a mistake, and one she was sorry for – she could not ask the dead for forgiveness, but Conlan forgave her, and maybe that would be enough.

They sat in comfortable silence. It was getting late, but Eleanor knew she could sit there for all eternity, if he wanted to. She felt an energy string brush against her.

Are you OK? He didn’t hurt you, did he?

No, Freddie, I’m fine. We had a chat, nothing explosive.

We saved dinner for you.
 

Eleanor could feel his relief, his concern.

We’ll head back now
, she said, pulling her energy free. Conlan drew his arm back and turned to look at her. Eleanor shivered, cold and uncomfortable.
Please don’t let me go.
For one brief moment Conlan had held her and she had felt complete, less... broken.
 

“Who was that?” Conlan asked.

Grateful that her expression could not be seen well in the twilight, she did her best to lie diplomatically.
 

“Freddie, he is worried about us being out in the dark and wants us to come back.”
 

“Liar,” Conlan muttered. “Freddie was worried I had murdered you and was digging your grave at this very moment.”
 

“Don’t be an arse, Conlan!” Eleanor snapped, switching back to English, as she was unable to add the required insult in Dwarfish. “Freddie isn’t stupid,” she continued. “He knows you’d have had me dig my own grave before you murdered me.”
 

Conlan was silent for a moment and then he burst out laughing. “I’ve missed you.”
 

Eleanor gave him a sly smile. “Come on, let’s go back. I’ll tell you about the sword over dinner.”
 

Will and Amelia were having an animated discussion about the uses for their Talismans when Eleanor and Conlan walked back into camp. Will’s amused argument was that his was better than Amelia’s, because at least he could use his to drink from. Freddie was agreeing with Will and Amelia was stubbornly insisting it was a stupid argument. Eleanor joined in with the mild teasing and then told them about the information she had gleaned from the book, reciting the short poem back to them several times and listening to them dissect it as she and Conlan ate their dinner. By the time she had finished eating they had only got as far as deciding that ‘south freedom’s hands’ referred to the nomads who lived in the southern savannah. Conlan had explained that hundreds of years ago these proud nomads, the People of the Horse, had ruled the southern savannah, but he had no idea if they even existed any more. The southern savannah had become a no man’s land. He had shown them the map in the back of Gregor’s book, drawing a line across the bottom quarter of the continent, from the desert below Drent in the east all the way across, through to the volcanic Fire Mountains that made up the bottom of Mydren’s central backbone to the coast in the west. Everything below the line was dangerous territory. At first, those fleeing the fighting in Mydren had gone there, and then those hiding from the Lords had found sanctuary. Eventually, wanted criminals had gone there, knowing that justice would not follow them.

“How long will it take us to get there?” Amelia asked. She still had Gregor’s book on her lap and was tracing the route with a finger.

“A month,” Conlan said, a frown on his face as he glanced at the shelter. Conlan wanted to leave immediately – Eleanor could feel it – but what were they going to do about Duncan? Will saw the look and interjected.