Eleanor (40 page)

“It is for her protection,” the guard said, hastily removing his hand. Slightly mystified by this statement, Eleanor looked back at the children. As she did so, one of them flung a knife at the other; she tensed in shock and then watched in amazement as the tumbling knife’s journey slowed, as if it was moving through water. Energy dissipated, it fell to the ground at the feet of the grinning child it had been thrown at. Eleanor and Freddie exchanged looks. Could they do that? Getting as close as the guard would allow them, they watched as the beautiful, unmarred children practiced their magic. They sent large round balls that looked very heavy flying through the air and, like the knife, stopped them. They created invisibility shields, winking in and out of sight as they did so, giggling. One child stood to the side, eyes closed, a look of concentration on her delicate face while several tiny tornadoes of sand danced around her feet.

“Can all Elf children do this?” Conlan asked the guard.

The guard shook his head sadly. “No, Dal is out with his father on patrol and Johan’s son, Grell, refuses to use his abilities. With those two exceptions, you are looking at all the Elf children that show magical talent.”

Eleanor stared back at the five children, wondering how long it would take their use of magic to twist and pull their beautiful faces into masks of permanent misery; it seemed a heavy price to pay for the advantages it offered. Being careful not to disturb them, Eleanor pushed an energy string out towards the children. After investigation she discovered that every single one of them was pulling energy from the air, and she wondered whether or not this was a conscious choice. Of the four elements, earth and air were most likely to provide them with a continuous supply of energy, and she wondered if they could use the other elements, if necessary. The guard was beginning to become uncomfortable, not happy about them being this close to the children, especially as he seemed unsure as to whether he should have allowed them out in the first place.

“Think we’ve given Will and Amelia enough time?” Eleanor asked in English of no one in particular.

“No,” Conlan and Freddie said together, both of them sounding so certain that Eleanor burst out laughing; startling the children, five pairs of eyes suddenly regarded them with suspicion.
 

The guard hustled them away. They wandered on through the camp. Walking past one of the many identical off-white tents that surrounded them, the flaps were thrown back and a large Elf exited in such a hurry that he marched straight into Eleanor, knocking her off her feet. She gasped as pain shot through her, black fireworks exploding through her head at the jolt.

“What are you doing here?” came a familiar snarling voice.

Trey.
 

“We needed some air. Can you get up, Eleanor?” Conlan asked, kneeling at her side, gentle hands helping her to sit. She could feel the waves of anger and hostility coming off Trey – she felt it literally.
 

Can I feel it because he doesn’t have a shield?
 

It made her angry.

“Enough, Trey!” she snapped. “The man is willing to give you his child, I believe that should at least have earned him your respect.”

She felt Trey’s surprise. “I am sorry, have I hurt you?” he asked, leaning over her. The tent flap opened again and a tall, beautiful woman stepped out. Her face was unmarked, and large blue eyes stared down, her mouth pressed into a look of extreme displeasure. She hit Trey on the arm, extremely hard.

“What have you done now, you
drallup
?” she hissed.

Eleanor had no idea what
drallup
meant, but the woman’s tone did not make it sound like a term of endearment. The woman moved forward, kneeling on Eleanor’s other side, the soft, delicate, colourful fabric of her loose clothes billowing out slightly as she did so.

“I am Brydra, Trey’s wife. You are Conlan Baydon,” she said, staring at Conlan over Eleanor’s head. Conlan nodded in acknowledgement. “Would you like to bring the Avatar inside? She does not look well,” Brydra asked, ignoring Trey’s huff of annoyance.

“I am sure she will be fine,” Conlan said stiffly.

“I am sitting right here, you know,” Eleanor muttered. Neither of them looked at her.

“Please, I would like to talk with you,” Brydra said, an earnest look on her face.
This is a good thing; this woman will be the mother of his child, he should get to know her.
 

Conlan hesitated. “No, I…” he began.
 

Thinking fast, Eleanor took the very desperate step of making herself look pathetic. With a totally faked, shuddering groan, she closed her eyes and collapsed into a limp heap, knowing that Conlan would catch her.

“Oh, poor little thing, bring her inside,” Brydra said, gently stroking the hair back from Eleanor’s face. Eleanor felt her body lifted as an energy string brushed against her and Freddie’s amused presence filled her head.

Faker! What are you doing?

This is Trey’s wife.
Eleanor replied.
She will be the mother of Conlan’s child, if and when he has to give it up, and she wants to talk to him. I thought that was a really good idea.

Oh… Conlan isn’t fooled, you know.

I know, but this was easier than arguing with him.

Freddie’s laughter echoed round her head as he pulled his energy free. Conlan carried her into the cool shadow of Trey’s tent and laid her down on a pile of cushions offered by Brydra. Eleanor allowed her eyes to flicker open, letting out a groan that in truth was not entirely faked. Conlan was knelt at her side, his face blank and eyes flashing irritation. Tension suffused the tent. Trey watched, every muscle in his body screaming his annoyance. Their guard stood just inside the door, eyeing Trey.
 

Bet he’s wondering who he is meant to protect from whom.
 

Brydra came forward and dropped to her knees next to Conlan, offering a glass of water.
 

Eleanor sat up, taking the water with a smile.
 

“Thank you,” she said, drinking it quickly and handing back the glass.
 

Brydra dropped her head, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable.
 

“Bry… I did not mean to hurt the girl, she got in the way,” Trey said, his voice pleading.

“If you
ever
want the privilege of touching me again, Trey, you will keep your mouth shut or leave!” Brydra snarled, angry eyes glaring up at the big Elf. Trey stared at her in misery, then turned and stormed out of the tent. Eleanor watched their guard visibly relax as he left.

Brydra sighed. “He is a good man, but losing Remie changed him. He lost too much. I am sorry for what he is demanding of you. I have tried to change his mind, but he will not be swayed.” She looked at Conlan; Eleanor could feel his body tense as he attempted to control what he was feeling, keeping his face blank. Hidden under the cushions and material she was lying on, she reached for his hand, holding it tightly and giving what comfort she could.

“My child, do you want it too?” His voice’s hollow whisper made Eleanor’s hairs stand on end. The woman’s blue eyes filled with pity and distress.
 

“There were complications when Remie was born. She was never a healthy child, and her birth left me unable to have more children. I would give anything not to have Trey do this to you, but you must know that your child would not want for love and attention. I would love it as my own. I know that it is hard for you to believe, but Trey would also love your child – he was a wonderful, doting father to Remie. I know he longs to be that again. His motivations may appear vengeful, but he is just a grieving father trying to get back what he lost. I am so sorry that he must hurt you to do it.”

“Maybe I would have done the same thing in his position,” Conlan allowed, giving Brydra a sad smile.

“No, Conlan Baydon. I believe you are too honourable to have done this to someone, but it is generous of you to say so,” Brydra said, smiling back.

Once Brydra was convinced that Eleanor was not going to drop dead in her tent, she insisted on feeding them. Bringing out small, dried, date-like fruits and a sticky, brown paste in a bowl, with flat bread to dip into it, she set this on a small table in front of them. Eleanor looked round the tent as Brydra prepared the meal. It was the same size as the tent they had been held in, but it seemed smaller because there was more in it. The mountain of brightly coloured cushions and material on which they sat filled one side of the tent, with a thick dark brown rug underneath covering the sand. There was not much furniture – the table in front of them, several trunks against the tent walls and a couple of small cabinets that seemed to serve as a kitchen.
A simple life, but it does not look deprived
, Eleanor thought, a memory of Baydon’s miserable hovels springing to mind.

Moving with slow deference, Brydra poured Conlan a glass of black liquid from a large jug and handed it to him. He gave her a genuine smile of thanks. Much to her delight, Eleanor discovered that the brown paste tasted a lot like peanut butter and she tucked in with gusto, feeling giddy as the sugar rushed through her battered body. The black liquid was a bitter, cold, coffee-like drink that Freddie loved. He begged Eleanor to ask Brydra to give them some to take back with them. Eleanor refused, pointing out it was bad manners and that it would be more weight to carry back through all that sand, a prospect she was not looking forward to. The slightly more relaxed atmosphere gave Conlan the opportunity to ask questions about Trey and Brydra, about life in the desert, about Elf children and magic. Brydra answer all of his questions in a slow, thoughtful manner, asking some of her own about what they were doing and about the Talismans. Eleanor liked the woman, as she was intelligent, caring and knew her own mind, and she clearly loved Trey, even if she was currently furious with him.
 

The paste was beginning to make her feel sick again, so Eleanor distracted herself by asking Brydra about Trey’s missing shield. The Elf woman told her as much as she knew; at some point just after Remie’s death, Trey’s shield had disappeared, but she had no idea why and he refused to discuss it. Eleanor asked about other Elves that may have lost their shields in the past – was there something that had happened to all of them that could cause it? Had they all lost children? Brydra thought about this, shaking her head, it happened rarely and there was no obvious underlying reason. With a puzzled look on her face she had asked why it was important. Eleanor explained, as best she could. It felt very odd telling a stranger about Conlan’s shield, kind of personal, but she gave him several glances as she explained, and he did not look annoyed.
 

Does this mean he likes Brydra, too? I hope so
.
 

Their conversation stopped when Trey appeared back in the tent, their bored guard leaping to his feet as the Elf entered.
 

“Johan and Sarina are looking for them, they should return to their tent,” he said, not taking his eyes off the dark-brown rug. Conlan rose, Eleanor and Freddie getting up with him, and Brydra got gracefully to her feet. The smile she gave them contrasted sharply with the heartache in her eyes.
 

“Thank you, Brydra, for your hospitality and your honesty. I am grateful,” Conlan said, holding the woman’s steady gaze. She nodded. Turning to leave, they walked past Trey. As they exited the tent Conlan stopped, an odd look on his face. He turned round and moved back to face Trey. Panic flashed through the eyes of their guard.
 

Doesn’t want to get between Conlan and Trey in a fight… I don’t blame him
, Eleanor thought, wondering what Conlan was doing. He made no aggressive moves, he just stood before the Elf, watching him and waited. Eventually Trey raised his eyes from the floor and looked back. Conlan spoke, very quietly, almost a whisper, but the words carried a lethal threat that made Eleanor shiver.
 

“You will not allow
my
child to grow up hating me for a decision you forced me to make.”

Trey shook his head slowly, the folds of skin hanging down his face sagging and wobbling.
 

“Your child will not hate you, although it may never forgive me.”

“Yet you still wish to go through with this?” Conlan asked.

“Love is a funny thing. If you could replace someone you had lost, would you not take that opportunity?” Trey asked. Conlan’s face paled slightly and Eleanor knew who he was thinking about.
 

“Perhaps,” he said, his voice strained. “But I would hope that I would have the strength to resist, if it meant hurting others.”

Trey sighed. “I am not that strong.”

Conlan stared at the Elf for a moment, then walked past him, back towards their tent at such a quick pace that Eleanor had to jog to keep up, her body protesting every step.
 

The sun was setting as Conlan opened the tent flap. Will and Amelia smiled at them; Eleanor tried not to think about what she knew they had been doing for the last few hours, trying to give them the illusion of privacy. Freddie, of course, had no such scruples.

“Did you have fun making up?” he asked with a wicked grin. Amelia blushed and Will glared, but Freddie laughed. Irritated, Will began giving Freddie a lecture on manners, but his remonstrations lacked heart. Like Eleanor, he had noticed Conlan’s dark brooding presence sat at the back of the tent, staring at the sand. He kept glancing at him with a worried frown. Eleanor went to sit down next to the miserable man.

“How do I do this?” he whispered.

“Like a king. Do it with dignity, strength and power. Make a few demands of your own, and make Trey swear to them. Make sure that everybody knows you are doing this because you choose to, not because you think you have to,” Eleanor said quietly.

Conlan smiled, but it did not reach his eyes, the normal bright green dulled by the haunted look of despair deep within them. Before they could speak further the tent flaps opened and Johan and Sarina marched in. Conlan pulled himself to his feet, unconsciously offering a hand to help Eleanor but not taking his eyes off the two Elves.