Eleanor (30 page)

“Eleanor, turn around,” Remic said softly. Shuffling slightly in the tight dress, Eleanor turned around in the small space, her sense of touch and hearing enhanced in the dark.
 

“This is where you will stay for the next four days and nights. Take a moment to investigate, and then you can ask me any questions you might have. When you are ready I will seal you into this space. You will be alone.” His voice was soft, gentle. Eleanor found that she was unable to sit in the small space, so slightly crouched over she used her hands to feel her way around the rough walls that now made up her prison. When she had finished she turned in the direction of Remic’s voice.

“If you are going to seal me in, how will I breathe?” she asked, her tight rasping voice filling the black with fear.

“You will be able to breathe; this space allows air to pass through,” Remic answered.

“Remic, have you done this?” Eleanor whispered. There was a long pause.

“No,” was the flat reply.
 

“Dwarves do, though, and they survive it?” Eleanor asked, feeling her panic grow in the darkness.

“The last person to do this and come out sane enough to live a normal life was the High Lady. There is a reason she leads the council,” Remic said. “You can do this, Eleanor, and when you do you will have the unswerving loyalty of every Dwarf alive, not just Cander and myself.”

“And if I cannot...?”
 

“No, do not allow such thoughts. You are strong enough to do this – I believe in you and your friends believe in you,” Remic said, his confidence in her echoing around the small space, making her feel strong.
 

She smiled. “Thank you, Remic,” she said, and then felt him gently stroke her face.
 

“I will see you soon, Eleanor, do not give in to your fear.”
 

Eleanor nodded, moving back as she heard stone grind against stone. She reached a hand forward and felt the smooth rock that had been moved into place, blocking the tunnel, her only exit from the small space she now inhabited. Unable to sit without hitting her head, Eleanor curled herself into a ball and lay on her side, her body just fitting in the space.
Four days and nights? I’m going to get thirsty.
Having nothing else to do, Eleanor closed her eyes and slept.
 

She woke with a start and sat up. Too fast – she hit her head against the ceiling, the stinging pain reminding her where she was. How long had she slept? She had no way to measure time. She felt rested. Concentrating, she pushed her energy strings out into the earth. The energy held in the rock around her was immense. Looking for a reason why, she pushed deeper, and then stopped in shock.
This is why it’s so hot. It’s not a mountain, it’s a volcano
. One of her energy strings had run into molten lava, moving sluggishly through an underground river far beneath her.
Was the entire mountain range volcanic?
It was possible; she should have noticed this before. The evidence had been right in front of her in the rocks she had seen, and she had even pointed out the obsidian to Conlan as being a useful rock with which to make tools, as the edge could be knapped to an atom’s thickness, making it incredibly sharp.
I’m an utter idiot.
She spent a long time with her energy strings extended, investigating the earth around her, waiting to see if it would sing, but nothing happened. Eventually exhaustion forced her to call her energy strings back and she slept again.

It was thirst and hunger that woke her – mostly thirst; she pushed it to the back of her mind. With nothing to distract her, strange thoughts kept popping into her head. Memories she had not recalled in years were played back. She remembered her grandmother teaching her to ride a bike and her father teaching her to play cards one wet afternoon in a hotel in Wales. Every so often her hunger and thirst would come storming back into her consciousness and she found that the wonderful feast Gregor had provided kept jumping into her mind. Eleanor pushed it back every time, but it was getting harder and harder. She could feel her consciousness slipping; sometimes she was not sure if she was awake or asleep. Her thirst was becoming a raging torment and her throat burned; as it did, her mind began supplying a mix of memory and fantasies to distract her. Conlan featured heavily in these, his strong arms around her, looking at her with love. She knew he was never going to look at her like that, but the dream was pleasant and Eleanor was thankful for the distraction.

Conlan was singing, his beautiful voice filling her head, but it was not the song about the Dwarves; there were no words, just a slow, steady undulating sound that rose and fell in a haunting melody.
Is this the Earth Song?
The thought brought a measure of coherence and with it the shocking realisation that she had unconsciously pushed several energy strings deep into the earth.
When did I do that?
The song flooded through her –
this
was the earth song. She could feel it humming through the rocks around her, the slow blood-like pulse of the molten lava the base beat. As she opened her mind to it, letting it flood every part of her being, desperate to remember it, she felt something else. A presence. Something that felt familiar, drawing her in. It was so powerful that she shied away from it, frightened of losing herself to it. The presence pushed forward, breaking through her mind’s barriers as if they were not there. It was so different, so huge, that Eleanor knew resistance would be pointless as the presence filled her mind. It was not threatening as such; Eleanor did not feel it meant her harm, as someone digging a garden does not look to harm the worm. To the presence she was simply inconsequential. Eleanor pulled herself in, retreating to a dark corner of her mind and trying to work out what this presence was and how she could get rid of it.

She felt hands on her body, but she was no longer in command of her movements; the presence that filled her had control. Terrified, Eleanor pulled further into the small corner of her mind that was still hers and watched, powerless, as her body was carried towards the light. The world was blinding at first, and the presence squirmed away from it, raising a hand to block it out. Her body was laid on the floor. The presence sat up, looking around curiously, eyes settling on Conlan. Eleanor felt her mouth pulled into a smile. Conlan came forward and crouched in front of her.

“Eleanor, are you alright?” he asked.

“Alaric…” The presence whispered in Dwarfish, somehow managing to make Eleanor’s voice carry a deep rumble. Leaning forward she kissed him. Surprised, Conlan jerked back. Eleanor tried to take back some control, trying to push it out of her head, an action as effective as an ant trying to push over an elephant.

“Eleanor? It is Conlan.”
 

The presence was surprised that Conlan had not called himself Alaric, and its control slipped a little. Eleanor jumped at the opportunity, forcing her own control and using English, her voice a dry whisper.
 

“Conlan, help, get it out of me.”

“Will, I don’t think that’s just Eleanor,” Conlan said quietly. The presence looked at him, not understanding the words. Will moved forward as Eleanor felt her body stand. He pushed an energy string out to her. Not knowing what it was, the presence ignored it. Frowning, Will pushed into her head. The presence reacted instinctively, flinging Will out. Eleanor watched in impotent horror as Will was thrown off his feet, slamming into the wall five feet behind him and collapsed into a heap. Her body marched forward and grasped him round the throat, dragging the weakly struggling man to his feet.
Where did that strength come from?
Eleanor wondered. Dazed, Will stared at her in confusion and fear.

“I did not give you permission to enter my consciousness,” Eleanor heard herself say, the same rumble to the Dwarfish words.

“Who are you?” Will asked with difficulty around the fingers digging into his windpipe.

“I am everything.”

“You are Earth?” Will chocked out, eyes getting wider. Earth smiled and forcibly skewered Will’s mind with an energy string. Memories, dreams, hopes, dreads and fantasies began pouring through Eleanor’s head. Will’s mind, absorbed into her own. The memories he had already shown her were suddenly given more context, more meaning. Will’s life was laid bare before her. It was too much – Eleanor’s mind rebelled, pushing the extra information into places she was fairly sure she would never be able to find it again. Was Will’s conversation with the dragon part of these memories flashing before her? Would she look at it if it was? Knowing she was walking a fine moral line, Eleanor made the conscious choice to ignore as much of what was pouring through her head as possible. There was a lot of it; would Will be just an empty shell when Earth had finished? Frightened for him, Eleanor once again fought for control. Her struggling made no impact.

“I am everything, little Avatar of Water, and now I am you too,” Earth said solemnly, before casually tossing Will across the room. He landed on a bench, his weight shattering the delicate piece of furniture to splinters. Amelia ran to his side. Eleanor had a brief view of Freddie and Remic’s terrified faces as Earth turned on Conlan, glaring at him.

“Alaric... left me alone,” Earth accused, its voice heavy with grief and loss. Conlan stared blankly. Eleanor could understand his problem, but how does one placate an element? There was a long silence. Conlan’s voice was quiet when he spoke.

“Mortals die. Alaric has been dust for a very long time.”
 

Earth shook her head. “Yet I see him before me, I feel his soul.”

Conlan smiled. “I am Conlan Baydon, I carry Alaric’s blood in my veins; however, I am but a poor echo of the person you once knew.”

Earth seemed to consider this information. She reached a hand to stroke his face.
 

“You are far more than you believe yourself to be; Alaric lives in you… This vessel is important to you?”

Conlan nodded. “Eleanor is very important to me.”

Earth sighed. “Then I shall return it to you.”

Eleanor felt the presence flow out of her, through her energy strings and back into the earth. Shaking, she pulled back as much of herself as she could and collapsed, Conlan catching her before she hit the floor.
 

“Eleanor?”
 

“Yes, Conlan. Is Will OK?” she rasped, her consciousness fading to nothing before he answered.

Noise filled Eleanor’s head.
 

“I do not care what tradition and law demands, she is in no fit state to do anything!” Conlan was saying, his words like hammer blows against an anvil.

“I am warning you, you will show us the proper respect.”
 

Eleanor recognised the angry voice of the High Lady.

“Do you know what your
maldra scelpa
did to her? I know how many Dwarves end up mad after attempting to do this. Respect must be earned, High Lady, and you have done nothing to earn mine,” Conlan snapped.
 

He’s been talking to Remic.

“The fact remains that the
maldra scelpa
requires the participant to sing Earth’s song within two days of emerging. If Eleanor does not do this, she fails the test and we will send you away without the Talisman. That is the law – and the law is stone.” The High Lady’s tone had a nasty edge to it.
She wanted me to fail
. Eleanor forced watery eyes to open. She was lying in a bed; soft pillows propped up her head and warm blankets covered her. Conlan and the High Lady stood in the middle of the small room. He towered over the head of the council, but she was holding her own. Amelia sat in a chair next to her; she smiled. Glancing round the room it looked like someone’s bedroom; Eleanor could see a chest of drawers, another comfortable looking chair, some shelves with little objects and books on it. There were colourful pieces of material hung against the wall as decoration; they had been carefully matched to the intricate rug she could see on the floor. Candles covered every available surface. This was clearly for their benefit and Eleanor felt a rush of gratitude; whatever the High Lady’s problem was, someone was looking after them.

The High Lady turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. The Dwarves did not seem to use doors, but Eleanor was sure if there had been one, the High Lady would have slammed it.

“Will?” she murmured with a thin, fragile voice.

“He’s fine,” Amelia assured her.

Eleanor blinked, surprised. “No missing memories?”
 

Relief surged through her as Amelia shook her head.

“How are you feeling?” Conlan asked.

Eleanor shrugged. “Great. What was the harridan yelling about?”
 

Talking made her cough. Amelia handed her a glass of water, lifted her head and helped her to drink.
 

Conlan raise an eyebrow at her. “Harridan?”
 

Eleanor smiled. “If you looked up the word in a dictionary, you’d find a picture of her.”
 

Conlan quirked a smile, before annoyance filled his face. “She was here to tell us you have until sundown to sing the Earth Song, or they won’t give up the Talisman.”

“Then you’d better give me a lot more water and help me up,” Eleanor said, struggling to sit but noticing with relief that she was no longer wearing the stupid white dress. The clothes were not her own, but they fit, were clean and there were trousers. She was irritated when Amelia pushed her back down with hardly any effort at all.
 

Amelia noticed her look. “Eleanor, you were hijacked by an element, so I really think rest would be a good idea right now,” she said quietly. Eleanor took a deep breath, closing her eyes and marshalling her determination.
 

“Amelia, if you think I just went through all that to fail now, you don’t know me very well.” She opened her eyes and Amelia looked hurt.
 

“I do know you, Eleanor, but I had to try.”

“Thank you, but I’m not going to let her win,” Eleanor insisted. Amelia sighed, helping her up as she forced her tired body to sit. Eleanor saw the concern on Conlan’s face, but he wisely chose to keep silent.