Eleanor (73 page)

“Harnlyn was correct – ten cuts would be the expected punishment.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Eleanor whispered, knowing her terror was showing in her face and that it was strong enough for Conlan to be feeling it, too.

“It means as it suggests. Ten cuts down your side with a sword,” Laurice said. Conlan rose to his feet.
 

“No, I will not allow it! Her body is too fragile to withstand such punishment. You will kill her.”

“I will be careful,” Nials said, still not able to look Conlan in the eye. Conlan stormed towards him, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him into the wall.
 

“I said ‘NO’!” he snarled.
 

Nials struggled in Conlan’s grip, not sure if he should be fighting back or not, his eyes flicking to Laurice in desperation. Worried that Conlan might actually damage the man, Eleanor leapt off the sofa and ran to his side. Placing a hand on his arm, she shook her head.
 

“Don’t hurt him,” she said in English. Not looking happy about it, Conlan nodded and let go of Nials’ throat, leaving him coughing and spluttering as he returned to the sofa. Eleanor sat back down and stared for a moment at Laurice.
 

“This ‘ten cuts’, is this the only punishment available? Would there be any circumstances under which you may offer leniency?” Eleanor asked, pleased that she had managed to keep the fear out of her voice. Laurice considered this suggestion.
 

“Perhaps, if you were able to offer something considerable in return, I could reduce the punishment down to ten strokes instead,” she said. “But I do not see how that helps, as you have nothing to offer.”

“Ten strokes?” Conlan asked in a flat voice.

“Ten strokes with a horse whip,” Nials said in a rough voice, rubbing his throat. “Not a serious punishment; we sometimes use it to discipline older children.”
 

Eleanor looked at Nials in horror.
This is the best they can do?
She did not like it, but she had an idea and this was going to play right into it.
 

“If that is your best offer, I will take it,” she said grimly.
 

“Eleanor, no,” Conlan said, pain in his eyes. “You do not have to do this, we can fight our way out of here and find the tribe with the sword ourselves.”

“It is alright, Conlan, I can do this,” Eleanor assured him. “I have an idea; they will not get my blood for free.”

“What do you have in mind, little Avatar?” Laurice asked, giving her an appraising look.

“You will give me ten strokes, telling everybody you reduced my punishment because I promised to read the mind of your husband’s horse so I could tell you what happened to him,” Eleanor said.
 

Laurice gasped. “Can you do that?”
 

Eleanor nodded. “I cannot guarantee that the horse saw anything, but your traitor does not know that. They will, however, need some time to think and react, but not too much time. You want them to be off-balanced, still in shock. So once you have punished me, explain that I needed time to recover and then lock us back up until tomorrow afternoon. Your traitor will be left with only three options to protect their identity: kill the horse, kill me or kill us both. You now know your traitor’s next targets and a time frame for the attack. Do you think you can be ready?”

Laurice stared at her. “You are quite remarkable,” she said softly, her growling undertone speaking of admiration and respect. “You said we would not get your blood for free. What do you want in return?”
 

Eleanor smiled. “I want you to swear your allegiance to Conlan. I want you to make your most solemn oath that you will fight at his side when he calls for you and that you will try your best to convince the other tribes to join him. I also want your help finding the tribe that holds the ‘Heart’ and to get it off them.”

Laurice and Nials glanced at each other guiltily.
 

“You
are
the tribe that currently holds the ‘Heart’,” Conlan deduced. Laurice nodded.
 

“It would be unwise to advertise to strangers that we hold the ‘Heart’, so none of our tribe would admit to us having it. It is a security precaution.”
 

“If you hold the ‘Heart’, does that mean you can make decisions for the other tribes? Can you swear allegiance to Conlan on behalf of all eight of them?” Eleanor asked. Laurice and Nials looked at each other again.

“Yes,” Laurice confirmed.

“Then I wish to change my request. In return for my help in finding your traitor I want you to swear all eight tribes’ allegiance to Conlan and agree to stand with him in battle when it comes. Oh, and I want you to give us the sword,” Eleanor said, her voice calm and controlled. Laurice, Nials and Conlan stared at her.

“We will indeed be paying dearly for your blood,” Laurice said softly. “I agree to your terms. I will swear allegiance to Conlan Baydon on behalf of the eight tribes and the sword will be yours before you leave.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Swallowing down her fear, Eleanor walked towards Nials. “You have a punishment to carry out,” she said softly, irritated by her trembling voice.
 

“Eleanor, you don’t have to do this,” Conlan blurted out, the English carrying a distressed growl.
 

She smiled at him. “Please don’t stop me. I need you to trust me, believe in me.” She turned back to Nials, looking at him expectantly.
 

“Come with me,” he said quietly, opening the door. Conlan was suddenly at her side.
 

“I am going with her,” he said to Nials, who shrugged.
 

Eleanor shook her head.
 

“No, stay here… please.” The soft snarl she put through the ‘please’ making it a begging request. Conlan held her pleading gaze.
 

“You should not have to face this alone, let me help you.”
 

Eleanor sighed and shook her head again. “I know you care about me, so how do you think you are going to react?” Reluctantly, Conlan nodded and watched as she left the room.
 

Nials took her on another confusing route through the building’s many dark corridors, lit by the occasional lantern hung on the wall. Trying not to think about what was coming, Eleanor concentrated on what they were gaining – the sword and a huge army for Conlan.
This is worth it
, she told herself over and over again. Nials led her into a dark room that smelt of horse sweat and saddle leather, a stable block she realised. As he moved around her, lighting lanterns, she saw more. There were several stalls along the walls – they all looked empty – and a large open square of space in the middle of the room.

“This is a quiet place. If you are able to refrain from crying out, we should not attract an audience,” Nials said in a cold, empty voice. Too frightened to speak, knowing it would make her cry, Eleanor nodded.

“Take your jacket off and get down on your knees,” Nials ordered in the same cold tone, pointing to the middle of the room. Eleanor dropped her jacket to the floor and walked slowly forward, her body trembling and legs barely able to hold her up.
They do this to their children! You can handle this!
she yelled at herself in her head. It did very little to dispel her terror. She dropped down to her knees and sat back on her heels. Nials crouched at her side and gently tugged at her shirt where it was tucked into the back of her trousers, pulling it free and up her back and over her head, leaving her arms still in the sleeves to allow her some modesty. She crossed her arms over her chest, holding the shirt to her, and leant forward slightly, feeling the chilly air create goosebumps on her skin.

“Do not let your body fall forward, Eleanor, keep straight,” Nials said, his gentle fingers tracing the line of her spine over the vertebrae that pushed against the skin of her curved back. “If I strike the bones of your spine it will be very painful and I may cause permanent damage,” he continued. “Do you understand?”
 

Again Eleanor nodded. Nials rested a light, comforting hand on her head for a moment before standing and moving across the room to pick up something. As he turned back towards her, Eleanor nearly passed out. Her heart pounded and beads of sweat sprang to her suddenly ice-cold skin. Fear squeezed her chest, and short, panting breaths were all she could manage. Her body trembled so hard that it was difficult to stay upright. Her mind spinning almost uncontrollably. She had expected to be hit with something like a riding crop – short and stubby; it would be painful, but it would mostly leave bruises. What Nials had in his hand was more like a bullwhip. Eleanor closed her eyes, wondering if it would help if she could not see it happening. It did not help. She heard the snapping swish of the lash’s wicked tongue as it reached out greedily for her vulnerable flesh.
 

The first blow landed across her shoulders, a line of fire. Her body tensed and she gasped, shoving her hand into her mouth and biting down so hard that blood flowed over her lips and down her throat, but she made no further sound, forcing her body to keep upright and still. She had barely registered the first blow when the second one landed, the third and fourth agonies arriving in quick succession. Nials placed the lash over her shoulders and down her back, finding fresh unmarked skin with each stroke. Eleanor bit harder into her hand and tears filled her eyes. Desperate to pull away from the pain, she searched for a memory that might distract her. Conlan’s face appeared, and leaning forward he kissed her forehead. The remembered bliss distracted her as the fifth and sixth blows fell, her body shuddering. The pain was beginning to make her mind falter.
 

Then suddenly it was over. Her body tensed in anticipation of the next pain, but none came. She could feel the deep, angry throb of the lines, warm blood running down her back from split, torn skin. The pain pounded over her in crashing, numbing waves, but it was manageable. Nials was at her side, his hand once again on her head.
 

“You did well, little one,” he said softly, and Eleanor heard the distress in his voice. Gentle, careful hands helped Eleanor pull her shirt back over her head, and the material immediately stuck to the blood. Supporting her, Nials helped her to stand, the movement sending pain coursing through her back, spiking her brain and threatening to remove her consciousness as if someone was pulling a rug out from under her. She whimpered, swaying, her legs shaking.

“Take slow, deep breaths, you will feel better,” Nials advised, still holding her firmly. Eleanor nodded and closed her eyes, expanding her lungs and letting the breath out in a slow, regular cycle. Nials was right; eventually she began to feel better.

“Do you feel ready to go back?” he asked. Still not able to speak, Eleanor nodded. Conlan would be worried, and she did not want to give him any further reason to be upset, as he was going to feel bad enough as it was. Nials led her back to Laurice’s rooms; again, she paid little attention to the route, concentrating instead on getting her body used to the current level of pain surging through it with each step. If she could get more used to it, she could hide it better. She experimented moving her shoulders and gasped, staggering, using the wall for support to stop herself falling to the ground. Nials stopped and looked back at her, his black eyes full of sympathy and concern. He said nothing but waited until she had got herself together, before setting off again.

Conlan was up and across the room before Nials had finished opening the door. He stopped in front of her, agony in his eyes. He did not seem to know what to do or say. Behind him, still sat on the sofa, Laurice observed in guilty silence.

“I’m OK,” Eleanor whispered in English.

“You don’t look OK,” Conlan commented in a rough voice.

“I’ll live,” she said, trying to make her voice stronger, giving him a smile and trying her hardest to convince him she was fine. “Plus now we have matching stripes,” she added, hoping her meaning was clear.
You survived this, I can too.
He frowned at her for a moment and gave her one of his deep gazes before he spoke quietly.
 

“I know how much it hurts, Eleanor, you don’t have to be brave.”
 

Eleanor sighed. “Yes I do. I don’t want this hurting you too, so I’m going to do my best to hide it. You can make it up to me when you rip out the traitor’s still-beating heart and make him eat it.”
 

Conlan tilted his head, giving her an expression she had never seen before; he looked proud of her, impressed. It was actually a very sweet expression that made her heart jump in her chest.
 

“I never realised you could be so bloodthirsty,” he teased, smiling at her. She shrugged, immediately regretting the movement as pain twisted her stomach. She saw her pain reflected in Conlan’s face and forced it back down inside.

Nials led them back through the dark, chilly night to the building where they were being held. As the door’s bolt was pulled back, Conlan ran a hand over Eleanor’s head, a soft comfort. She smiled gratefully at him and they stepped inside. The door slammed shut. Four pairs of eyes turned towards them as they entered.
I must look awful
, Eleanor realised as she took in the horrified expressions on her friends’ faces.
 

“Will, Eleanor needs medical attention,” Conlan said quietly. Concerned, his eyes flicking between Eleanor’s face and Conlan’s, Will retrieved his medical bag. Freddie jumped to his feet.

“Eleanor? Are you OK, what happened?” he asked softly. She had no idea what she should be saying, as her mind was putting too much effort into dealing with her pain; she just wanted to sleep. Not understanding her silence and wanting to offer comfort, Freddie wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. As he made contact with her back and shoulders, Eleanor cried out, pain clawing at her and tears spilling down her face. Surprised, Freddie pulled back and withdrew his arms, realising they were covered in blood as he did so. In total shock, he stared at the dark-red stickiness before staring back at Eleanor.