Eleanor (47 page)

I don’t know, but you have to think of something, please Eleanor. I was willing to give my life to save his, and Will is going to take that from him.

As Amelia’s presence left her mind, Eleanor realised she was crying, tears running down her face and dripping off her chin. She turned to look at Conlan. His eyes held hers; she saw the understanding in them. He knew, knew what Amelia had just shown her. For one frozen minute Eleanor saw all his terror and despair at what was coming, then, with effort, he pulled his hard, emotionless mask into place and turned his head, leaving Eleanor sobbing for him in wretched misery.

They began seeing signs of habitation in the landscape – the odd farm, walled fields and domestic animals. They saw a track cutting across the hills and heading off north, and they joined it, making faster time on the easier surface. It was late afternoon before Will pulled them off the track, heading towards woodland Eleanor could see in the distance. He was still silent, ignoring all attempts made to talk to him. They dismounted as they walked under the trees. It was cooler here, and the flecked green light and the sounds of trees swaying gently in the breeze eased away some of the tension. With great care Will lifted Amelia, cringing as she gasped and moaned in pain, her eyelids fluttering, but she did not regain consciousness. Leaving Freddie to dismantle the stretcher and lead his horse, Will walked deeper into the trees.
 

They emerged from the tight crowd of vegetation around them into a wide clearing, trees standing regimental guard in a circle around it. While it was overgrown, there was evidence of a previous camp – a filled-in fire pit, logs now rotted, that had been pulled around it. To her left Eleanor could hear the gurgling flow of a fast-moving stream. Will moved forward with purpose, laying Amelia gently on the ground next to where the fire had been.
He’s been here before.
Eleanor watched him run a hand down Amelia’s pale cheek, then standing he turned to Conlan, a look of single-minded determination on his face.

“Go and talk to Jarrick, we’ll wait here for you,” he ordered. His face blank, Conlan nodded and turned to lead Rand back out of the wood. Panicked, Eleanor dropped Horse’s reins and darted in front of him. He looked down at her with one of his deep looks she did not understand, frowning slightly.

“Get out of my way, Eleanor” he said, not unkindly.

Eleanor slowly shook her head. “I’m coming with you.”

“No, you are going to stay here, out of the way,” he answered, his voice still quiet.

“I know what Jarrick did to you, Amelia showed me. I can help you. Let me meet this monster, let me work out what he would rather have than your pain.”
 

“There’s nothing he would rather have...” Conlan whispered, his fear showing again for a moment, before he pulled himself together, his voice harder. “You can’t help me, Eleanor, and I told you I don’t want you anywhere near him. Amelia doesn’t have time for this. Now sit down and shut up.”

“No! If you won’t take me with you I’ll just follow you. You can’t stop me!” she blustered, her voice just as hard as his had been.

Conlan dropped his head and took a slow, deep breath. “I
can
stop you, Eleanor.”
 

Reflexes sharpened by months of practice saw his fist fly at her head an instant before it hit. He had been aiming for her temple, a solid blow that would have knocked her senseless but done no permanent damage. However, anticipating it, Eleanor had instinctively begun to rock back on her feet and his fist made contact with her face under her left eye instead. He was still holding Rand’s reins and Eleanor felt one of the silver studs tear a bloody rent into the skin across her cheekbone as her head rocketed back and her vision exploded into a dazzling multi-coloured kaleidoscope.
Like he’s ripped a rainbow apart in my skull.
She dropped back, thudding to the ground, the darkness moving in on her.
He broke his promise,
was her last miserable thought.

Pain dragged her back to consciousness, a groan escaping dry lips. Her head felt full of needles, stabbing into her brain with every breath. Gingerly she raised her hand to her face, feeling the tackiness of drying blood where it had run down her cheek and neck and the bruising that was threatening to swell her left eye shut. Gentle hands pulled hers away.

“Don’t touch, Eleanor, you’ll make it worse.”

She slowly opened her eyes. It was dark. She was lying beside a fire, Freddie sat by her head, leaning over her, his upside down, blurry face holding a deep, concerned frown.

“He broke his promise,” Eleanor said in a voice of shattered glass, the words shredding her as the memories came back. She felt self-pitying tears spring to her eyes.

“And he’ll never forgive himself for it. Why can’t you just take no for an answer?” Will’s tone was hard, cold and bitter. Eleanor forced herself to sit, irritably slapping away Freddie’s efforts to stop her. Will sat across the fire from her. Amelia was cradled in his lap, the arrow still protruding from her chest and moving slightly with the rise and fall of her lungs; still features, grey and lifeless. Will’s face was stone, eyes brittle, sparking sapphire as he glared at her. Conlan and Rand were gone.

“Don’t make him do this,” Eleanor said slowly.

“I won’t let Amelia die!” Will snapped.

“So Conlan dies instead? What if we’re too late and lose them both?” Eleanor tried to reason.

“This is the only chance Amelia has of pulling through – and I’m taking it.”

“But Will, Amelia doesn’t want you to.”
 

He looked surprised. “How do you know what Amelia wants?”

“Because she told me, on the way here.”

Will’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “She hasn’t spoken to me.”

Eleanor shrugged. “Maybe she didn’t have strength for the protracted argument she knew she would end up having with you. Maybe she thought it would be easier for you if I was the one arguing for her death.”

“Is that what you’re arguing for?” Will’s voice was low, edged with lethal fury. She ignored it.

“Amelia was willing to die to save Conlan; she still is, and you’re making her sacrifice meaningless!”
 

“She is not going to die, Eleanor,” he said from between clenched teeth.

“Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t; either way, if you force Conlan to hand himself over to his brother he
is
going to die,” Eleanor snapped.

“I don’t think Jarrick wants him dead, or he would have killed him last time.”

Eleanor stared at him. “You’re betting his life on an assumption? Even if Jarrick doesn’t want to kill him, just because he survived it once doesn’t mean it’s OK to put him through it again! Do you even know what Jarrick made him suffer?”

Will finally dropped his gaze from hers. “I don’t care.”

Fuming, Eleanor pulled herself to her feet, ignoring the hot needles stabbing into her brain, the wave of nausea that washed over her and Freddie’s more insistent attempts to stop her. Grabbing Will’s hair and pulling back his head roughly, she forced his deep-blue eyes to meet hers and yelled at him.
 

“He’s your friend. Of course you care! I know you do! Jarrick tortured him, Will, and from the injuries Amelia showed me he was lucky to survive. It was probably an oversight on Jarrick’s part, I’m sure, but it’s not one he is going to make again.”

Will grabbed her hand, twisting it into a lock. Her wrist, weakened from having been broken once before, screamed in protest. She whimpered and let go of his hair, but he did not release her. Pulling her arm down in front of him, adding slowly to the pressure, he forced her to drop forward until the damaged side of her face was pressing into the dirt. Eleanor groaned in pain, her arm strained to the limit of bone and sinew, feeling blood run as the wound on her side split open again.
 

“Let her go.”
 

Freddie.
 

Eleanor heard the anger in his voice.
 

“Stay out of this,” Will snarled at him.

“You’re going to break her wrist,” Freddie protested. “Will, please, you’re holding Amelia, Eleanor can’t fight back. I can’t stop you, please... You don’t want to do this. You’re in pain, I can see that, but Eleanor’s right – and you know it. Amelia can be replaced, we are all expendable, but Conlan isn’t. Think about what you are doing.”
 

Will laughed, a sharp, vicious noise. “Do you think I care about Mydren? About any of this? Do you think for one second that any of you mean more to me than Amelia does? If she dies I am done with this whole sorry mess, do you understand me?”

Freddie stared at him in shock.
 

“I know you care,” Eleanor whispered, concentrating on keeping the pain and fear out of her voice and trying to replicate Will’s own calm, steady tone. “Stephen died because of you; do you really want to be responsible for another brother’s death?”

Through his grip on her hand, Eleanor felt Will shudder. He released the pressure on her wrist and she collapsed. Freddie reached for her, helping her to sit and letting her lean against him. Her wrist throbbed and her head ached, but for an instant she saw Will’s agony, saw his hurt and the impossible position in which he felt trapped. Then the remorse and sympathy were gone and he held her gaze with cold, calculating determination.

“You’re bleeding,” Freddie noticed. Eleanor followed his gaze to the small, dark-red puddle she had left on the ground.

“Yes,” she agreed, returning her eyes to Will. She was past caring.

“You should have said. When did you get hurt?” asked Freddie.

Eleanor shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Freddie took her chin and turned her head to face him, the life and humour gone. “You’re bleeding, Eleanor, of course it matters.”

“Really? Why?” Eleanor asked in lifeless monotone. “Amelia is most likely going to die, at which point it sounds like Will is planning to kill himself, having first handed Conlan over so Jarrick can torture him to death. I am going to lose most of my family in one go, including the man I love, along with all hope of saving this world. You and I will be left hunted and alone, so tell me, Freddie, why do you think a little blood matters?”
 

Freddie stared at her for a moment, then wrapping his arms around her and burying his head into her hair he sobbed. Too emotionally battered to comfort him, Eleanor let him cry while watching Will. He stared back at her and Eleanor waited, hoping that eventually her words would reach through his desperation and grief, that he would realise what he was doing was not the answer.
 

Freddie’s crying had dropped to sporadic hiccupping and the odd sob, although he was still clutching tightly to Eleanor, when they heard the sound of hooves. Pulling away from Freddie, Eleanor rolled herself onto all fours and stood. Conlan’s silhouette walked through the trees and out into the clearing, an insubstantial shadow. A feeling of dread and death made Eleanor shiver. He did not step into the fire’s circle of light, instead staying hidden in the dark.

“Jarrick will help Amelia. Will and I will take her. Freddie, you stay here with Eleanor – look after her. She is not, under any circumstances, to follow us. Is that clear?” Conlan ordered, his tone giving no room for argument. Freddie nodded his agreement as he came to stand behind her. Eleanor glared at him.
I don’t need looking after.
Stepping around the fire towards Conlan, her voice trembling along with her body, she made another attempt to get through to him.
 

“What did he make you agree to? Is he going to take his pound of flesh?”

There was a long pause, and when Conlan finally spoke, his voice was the terrible hollow sound that tore at her heart. “He gets to give me another beating, but he has promised to let us leave alive, if I give him Rand.”

Eleanor gasped, a tornado of emotions whipping through her mind. “And you believe him? How do you even know he’ll keep his word?” she demanded. “There’s nothing stopping him from killing you and using Amelia as leverage to get Will to do whatever he wants – or the other way round.”

“Jarrick is a monster, but he is a man of his word,” Conlan said with conviction.

“Don’t do this, Conlan, you’re making a mistake. Let me help you,” she pleaded. Will walked past her, past Rand and Conlan, and out of the clearing clutching Amelia to his chest, leading his horse behind him.
 

“Let’s go, Conlan,” he ordered over his shoulder.

Conlan hesitated for a moment, his face still in shadow. Eleanor took a few more steps towards him.

“Are you just going to leave?” she asked. “You have no idea if you’re going to survive this. Aren’t you even going to say goodbye?” Tears washed lines through the blood on her face, dripping pink onto the front of her shirt.

“Goodbye, Eleanor.”

Two words. So much meaning was held in them that Eleanor felt she was being buried under their weight. The pain in his words stripped her of her strength, and as Conlan turned to follow Will, she sank to her knees. He was already a ghost, a dark wraith moving through the trees, fading and then gone completely.
 

For a long time Eleanor remained kneeling on the ground, arms wrapped round herself and tears falling, her mind blank at the horror of what she might be losing. Freddie tried to offer comfort, but she pushed him away. She did not need comfort, and she most certainly was not going to accept this. She needed to think. Forcing her fear and grief down, she stood and began pacing in front of the fire. Her mind made up, she turned and began following in the direction Conlan had taken back to the track. She had almost made it to the edge of the clearing before Freddie ran in front of her, blocking her path.

“No, Eleanor, you have to stay here,” he said, placing a restraining hand in the middle of her chest. Eleanor looked down at it, not understanding. Surely he wanted to help her?

“Freddie, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. I’m going. I would prefer to do it with your help, but I’ll do it without, if I must,” she said, keeping her tone calm and controlled.