Eleanor (75 page)

“She is too weak to stand, I will carry her,” Merl said to Berick, who nodded once, before turning to leave. Merl, Harnlyn and the guards followed him. Looking behind them as they walked away, Eleanor saw the door slammed shut and bolted. She missed the others already; she had not wanted them with her, they were safer where they were, but she felt their absence as a tearing pain. She fought down the guilt she felt for putting Merl in danger, it would be better for Conlan to lose Merl and one Avatar than two Avatars. She admitted to herself that if it came to it, she would rather Merl died than Freddie. Working hard to stop her body tensing, she looked around as far as her peripheral vision would allow without having to move her head, trying to spot Nials, wondering when he would strike and hoping he would not wait until she was dead before he did. Eleanor closed her eyes and let her mind drift. There was nothing she could do now – her plan would either succeed or fail. A strong unexpected burst of pain suddenly filled her stomach; not her pain, she realised, it was Conlan’s physical pain. Concern for him flashed through her mind, but it faded almost as soon as she had felt it, as if Conlan had pushed her away, leaving her confused.

The sun’s glorious warmth disappeared as they entered a building. Eleanor opened her eyes, allowing them time to adjust. She did not think she would be able to put up much of a fight if it became necessary, but being able to see would be an advantage.
At least then I can look death in the eye.
 

“Eleanor? Do you want to stand?” Merl asked gently. She nodded against his shoulder and he placed her down, keeping a firm hold of her arm until he was sure she was not going to drop again. Once on her feet she looked around her and realised with a jolt of fear that they were in the stables Nials had taken her to the previous evening. She could see her jacket still lying on the floor where she had abandoned it. Many more lanterns had been lit, the soft orange light trying to compete with the brilliant sunlight that poured in through the open double doors at the far end of the room.
 

There was the shuffling of hooves, and Eleanor turned to see a man leading a horse forward from one of the stalls. The other stalls still looked empty. The horse moved slowly, tottering painfully forward like an old man with chronic arthritis. Eleanor gasped, her own pain forgotten, as she stared at the miserable creature before her. She knew this was Meran, but her logic found it incredibly difficult to match the horse before her with the one she had seen in the picture in Laurice’s room. The once strong, muscled body was wasted, gaunt and hollowed out, flesh slipping loosely over sharp bones. Eleanor could see every rib, and his joints creaked as he moved. The black coat, which had shone in the painting, was dull and lifeless and missing in some places. Open sores stood angry red. The head dropped forward almost to the floor, listless eyes staring at nothing. Horrified, Eleanor pushed into the animal’s head and immediately understood. The horse was grieving, blaming himself for his beloved master’s death. Meran raised his head stiffly and looked Eleanor in the eye. Pushing deeper she found a keen intelligence, a brave and devoted heart and a strong sense of duty. Meran knew he had failed to protect his master and had given up caring about life as his guilt ate away at his soul. As Eleanor pushed carefully through the animal’s mind, all sorts of interesting facts and information came to her. Meran struggled to pull his pain-scattered thoughts together, but he seemed to want to show her something important. Without her needing to ask, the tormented animal sent Eleanor the memory of his master’s death. They were attacked by several men riding out of the sun. Meran had fought back, lashing out with his hooves, as his master had hacked and stabbed with his sword, but someone had managed to reach his bridle and had yanked it roughly down and round. Meran had bitten the arm, tasting blood, but it was too late, as his head twisted too far and he lost balance, falling heavily on his side, landing on his master and trapping his leg, making it impossible for him to avoid the blow to the head with a rock that killed him, his skull splitting. Meran had been pulled up, and it was then that he saw a figure riding towards them from the distance.
Berick.
Eleanor recognised the man as he approached.

“Good, no weapon damage, you did well,” Berick said to a figure stood out of Meran’s view. Shocked to his core, Meran could not take his eyes off his fallen master and the blood spreading from his crushed head.
 

“If we lodge his foot into the stirrup and drag him a short distance, it will look as if he fell out of the saddle for some reason and was dragged to his death,” came the reply. The voice was hard and cold, but oddly familiar.

“Very well. Thank you again for your assistance. I assume there will be no loose ends?” Berick asked, looking pointedly at the three dead and two still-standing attackers, who seemed oblivious to the arrangements being made for their deaths.

“No loose ends,” the cold voice agreed. “But you will keep up your end of the bargain; you will help me incapacitate Conlan Baydon and his group?”

“As we arranged, as long as you promise that whoever I send to you will not become a loose end. Why are you so sure they are coming?” Berick asked.
 

“I have it on very good authority that they will be here at some point,” the voice said knowingly. Berick nodded, clearly wanting to know more.
 

The memory began to break up under the force of Meran’s grief, and Eleanor knew she was going to get no more. Meran shuddered and she sent him the mental equivalent of a comforting hug. She tried to tell the animal that it had not been his fault, that the person Meran should be blaming was Berick. Eleanor felt something stir in the horse’s beaten-down mind; it was anger, an understanding of its own memories through Eleanor’s explanation that Berick had killed his master. Rage shot through Meran as he looked around him, taking in the world for the first time in a while. Worried that the horse would do something rash, Eleanor sent him a feeling that all was in order, that he would get his revenge, but he must wait and bide his time. Meran agreed, but Eleanor could see that his whole body was alert, an echo of the once proud animal in his eyes. She left her energy string in Meran’s head, monitoring his mood, in case he changed his mind about attacking Berick, but the bigger part of her concentration was occupied analysing Berick’s and the strangers’ conversation. Laurice had said her husband had died three moons ago, approximately three months; her understanding of time was a little hazy here, but she felt fairly certain that she had only just destroyed Nethrus three months ago. Their attacker had been waiting for them and knew they were coming, even before she had announced herself to the Lords of Mydren with the earthquake. How had Daratus known?
What if Gregor was not as powerful as Merl had said?
Eleanor wondered, with a sinking dread, whether Gregor was still alive. Next time she found a jewellery shop with Remic’s symbol, she would ask them to find out.

Eleanor’s worried thoughts were interrupted when she saw four figures moving towards them through the open double doors, the sunlight making them nothing more than dark shapes until they got closer, but the swaying walk and tinkling of their belts identified Laurice and Urerla long before Eleanor could actually see their faces. Nials stood at Urerla’s side and another man she did not recognise stood at Laurice’s side. All four had swords strapped to their waists.

“Berick, I’m surprised to see you here. I was told you were too busy to attend today,” Laurice said. There was no trace of suspicion in her voice, which worried Eleanor, because if the woman could not conceive her brother as a traitor, convincing her was going to be difficult.

“Orno was not just your husband, Laurice, he was like a brother. I too wish to know what happened to him,” Berick replied with a serious frown. Meran heard Berick talk, realised who he was and took an impatient step forward, pawing the ground with his hoof. Eleanor sent him soothing, calming feelings – his time would come, she assured him.
 

Laurice looked at Meran in surprise and ran an affectionate hand down his neck. “This is the most life I have seen him display in many moons. I wonder if he knows what is going on?” she whispered.

“Step forward, Avatar of Earth,” Nials said, looking at her. Wondering when Nials intended to make his move, Eleanor nodded and walked into the middle of the room, trying not to stare at the fine spray of blood she could see on the floor. Her blood.

“Having spoken with Conlan Baydon, I am told you can read Meran’s thoughts and memories simply by touching him,” Laurice said. Eleanor nodded. “Then please, ask Meran how my husband died,” she said, anguish in her voice. Eleanor stepped forward. She did not need to be touching the horse to talk to him, and Conlan knew that; was there a plan here? She took Laurice’s place next to Meran, gently running her hand down the animal’s neck. He turned to look at her. Through their link Meran sent her another thought, a desire to end it; when he had destroyed Berick he wanted his life to finish. Eleanor’s heart twisted and she sent the horse a strong sense of a life still to live, of things still to do, that losing a loved one was not the end. The horse scoffed at her – what did she know? Eleanor sent Meran her memories of Rand, everything, all her love for him, and showed Meran how much Conlan had loved his horse. She then sent the memory of Rand’s death, knowing that tears were running down her face. Meran watched the thoughts in his head and felt Conlan’s grief. He identified with it. Eleanor tried to give Meran the impression that Conlan was also tormented by grief, yet he still kept going, still met each day with resilience, because Rand would not have wanted the master he loved to curl up in a ball and die, just as Eleanor was certain that Orno would not have wanted the horse he loved to end his life prematurely.
 

“Well?” asked Nials, his sharp question snapping Eleanor out of her conversation with Meran. She turned to face Laurice.

“Meran says Berick killed your husband,” she said loudly and clearly. Laurice did not look surprised. She looked at her brother with burning hatred.
 

“Why?” was all she asked. Berick sneered at her.
 

“This is the first time the Nardar Tribe have held the Heart in over sixty years, and what are you doing with it? Nothing! Every year the Lords of Mydren get closer and closer to our lands, and what are you doing to stop them? I have made a deal. I get rid of you, take control of the Heart and the eight tribes, we swear allegiance to the Lords of Mydren and they leave us alone, our land is protected.”

Eleanor saw anger flow through Laurice as she moved out of Meran’s shadow so she could focus on Berick.

“Do you really think the Lords of Mydren will honour that promise?” Laurice asked, with utter contempt running through the Dwarfish.

“I suspect he knows they will
not
honour their promise,” Eleanor said with slow calm. “But he does not care. He is going to get control – power – for the first time in his life. Meran told me that tribal power is passed down the female line, and a man can only take the role if no other option is available. He has been so close to true power his whole life, but never touched it.”

“You would have destroyed your people, if you had succeeded?” Laurice enquired, her tone measured and only her eyes showing her fury.

Berick smiled at her. “But I have succeeded,” he said. “Kill them!”
 

Eleanor saw movement and heard the metallic swish of swords pulled from scabbards as thirty men moved out of the stalls they had been hiding in and advanced upon them. Drawing energy from the earth she blasted at the nearest man. The air a few feet in front of her exploded in dazzling colour, bright green and golden brown, the colour moving across a circular barrier that surrounded them all.
Amelia’s shield, Amelia is protecting us.
Eleanor’s heart leapt in her chest; she was not alone, they were here. She resisted the urge to look around her. She would not give their position away – she would make their enemy think this was all her doing.

“I have erected an impenetrable barrier between us,” she said to Berick. “Exactly how many loyal men do you have? Not enough, I am thinking, or subterfuge would not have been necessary in the first place.”

Berick stared at her with malignant hatred, a slow grin spreading across his face. He drew breath to speak, but before he got the chance, the men stood around the edge of the shield began dropping to the floor one by one, screaming and writhing in agony for a few seconds and then laying still. Their movements looked familiar, similar to what Conlan had suffered when she had loosed Will’s energy on him, but this was much faster, much more powerful. This was killing.
So that’s what it looks like when Will releases drawn energy.
Berick watched in horror as his men dropped dead in front of him. The men looked at each other in terror, some tried to hide back in the stalls and several others began hammering their swords on Amelia’s shield. Harnlyn ran for the open door, bursting into flames before he had gone five feet. He toppled over, burning so quickly he did not even have time to scream. Eleanor raised her eyes from his smoking corpse and saw Will, Freddie, Amelia and Conlan stood in a line several feet beyond him, silhouetted by the light from the open door which framed them in sunlight.
My guardian angels.
She turned back to Berick, glaring at him, but he was looking at something over her head. He nodded, once. Eleanor whipped round again in time to see the guard at Laurice’s side slam the hilt of his sword into Nials’ face. The horseman’s eyes rolled in his head. Blood flowing heavily from his nose and mouth, he fell over on his back, unconscious. Urerla stared in horror and dropped to her knees at Nials’ side. The traitorous guard wasted not a moment and slammed her in the head, too. She collapsed over Nials, blood trickling from her hairline. Laurice was not as easy to dispatch, and as the guard bore down on her she drew her sword. Eleanor glanced back at Merl, who looked at her in horror. The guard and Laurice were too close for Eleanor to blast at him, so she ran towards Nials as the two circled. She heard the metallic clash of the first thrusts and parries as the two engaged; Laurice could hold her own. Eleanor checked Nials and Urerla’s pulses and found that both were strong. However, Nials was choking on his own blood, so Eleanor pulled Urerla off him and turned the unconscious man over to make sure he could breathe by putting him into the recovery position. She then took his sword from him and turned to help Laurice.