Eleanor (57 page)

Eleanor sighed. “Neither of you are worth the effort.”
 

She dropped her sword and turned away from them all, walking out into the woods. She had walked a long way before her defences finally crumbled and she stopped, the trees spinning around her. She felt bile surge through her stomach and retched, throwing up against a tree. She staggered on a little further, not really caring where she was going. She collapsed to the ground and curled into a tight ball. She was vaguely aware of a presence, someone gently shaking her, but she was too caught up in her torment to acknowledge it. Dropping her defences totally, Eleanor let the emotions she had been suppressing take hold. Fear, betrayal, longing, misery and the guilt for all the lives she had taken blanked her mind and tore at her soul. Her body trembled at the onslaught as her tears fell.

“Freddie?”

“We’re over here, Will,” Freddie said from somewhere close.

“Freddie, you’ve been out here hours, is she OK?” Amelia asked.

“I don’t know.” His voice sounded small and unhappy.

It was dark and cold, heavy, determined rain pounded her. Eleanor opened her eyes, blinking out the water that ran into them. At least it would wash away the evidence of her tears.
I’m soaking wet… when did that happen?
Will crouched in front of her, placing a lantern at her side, the rain hissing off its hot cover. She allowed him to sit her up and to pour water down her throat from a reused alcohol bottle. It eased the burning she had not even registered was raging in her throat. Amelia and Freddie stood behind him. Freddie looked soaking wet, cold and miserable. Amelia’s eyes were filled with pity. Pity for her, Eleanor realised.

“Why didn’t you come back and get us?” Will asked.

“I didn’t want to leave her alone, what if the man she let go came back? She’s not in any state to defend herself at the moment,” Freddie answered.

“You could have brought her back with you,” Will said.

“I tried, but she struggled too hard,” Freddie whispered.

“Well she’s not struggling now,” Amelia commented.

“Eleanor? Eleanor...” Will said, staring into her face. She tried to focus and to formulate a response, but it was too difficult. “You’re really cold and wet,” he continued as she tried to pull her scattered thoughts together. “You might be an Avatar but you can still get sick. We need to take you back to the camp.”
Not the camp.
Conlan will be at the camp...
 

“I am not sure I can face him,” Eleanor whispered.

“What did she say?” Amelia asked.

“I’ve no idea, she’s speaking Dwarfish,” Freddie said.

Will took her face in his hands; they were so hot that it felt like he was branding her cheeks.
No, he’s not hot
–
I’m so very cold.
She felt him push into her mind and she put up no resistance.
Make me forget, Will, please, take it all away
,
she begged, feeling his shock.
 

What would you want to forget?
he asked softly.

Everything, I want to forget murdering those men, I want to forget Rand dying, I want to forget destroying that town, killing all those people… I want to forget that I love him.

Why would you want to do that?
 

She laughed bitterly.
Because unrequited love sucks? Because I don’t want to remember I’m an efficient, cold-blooded killer or that Conlan doesn’t care about me.

Eleanor, removing memories is a serious business. I’ve only done it once and you know how that turned out. Almost every thought you’ve had since you got here has been tied up with Conlan. Your love for him runs through all of it, everything you have learnt would be gone. All the control you have of your energy, the skill you have with a sword and your ability to speak Dwarfish would all go
–
and that’s the best-case scenario. Worst case, I turn you into a drooling vegetable… permanently. Chances of that are fifty-fifty.

I don’t care; I want the pain to stop, please, Will.

You might not care, but I do. We don’t have time to start you back at the beginning. A wise person once told me, ‘Leaving us like that, just to escape your own pain, is selfish’. You’re stronger than that as well, Eleanor, I’ve felt it. As you pointed out to Amelia, our fates are linked, what affects one of us, affects all of us. If we lose you we’re vulnerable, you hold us together. Don’t give up on us, Eleanor, we need you and you’re strong enough to handle this. You’ve given Amelia courage, Freddie peace and Conlan hope, please don’t take that away.

Eleanor felt her guilt as a flooding torrent that threatened to drown her. She could not abandon them.
 

I have no right to risk all our lives just because I’m a coward and can’t deal with my guilt and a broken heart, but don’t expect me to be little miss cheery for a while.

Not a problem; in fact, if you want to take a few more shots at Conlan I’m not going to stop you. He’s being an idiot. We can handle you miserable and angry.

But can you forgive me?

If my forgiveness helps, you have it. I know you didn’t mean to kill all those people. Conlan knows it too
–
for all his many issues he does care about you.

He’s got a funny way of showing it.

Will sighed.
I can’t really argue with you on that point.

The man drives me insane and I still love him, but I guess I can learn to deal with it.

We’ll help, I promise.

Eleanor felt Will exit her head. He was still holding her face, and as she opened her eyes he smiled at her.
 

“Thank you,” he whispered. She nodded, seeing Amelia and Freddie’s concerned faces behind him.

“Hi,” she said. “I guess Will told you what happened last night?” They nodded. Eleanor smiled at them, doing her best to make them believe it was real. “Did he also tell you about the conversation he had with Conlan later on?” Again they nodded.
 

“You heard that?” Will asked, a concerned frown deepening the lines across his forehead.

“My mother always told me you never heard anything good if you eavesdropped, and she was right,” Eleanor said, feeling the pain of the memory stabbing at her again. “I’m sorry, has that man died?”

“No, he’s hanging on,” Will said, not sounding very happy about it.

“He tried to stop the other men raping me; he doesn’t deserve to die for it,” Eleanor said.

Will nodded. “I’ll do my best to keep him alive.”

“Will, sitting in the rain like this is not good for any of us, and Eleanor is freezing cold,” Amelia said softly as she took Eleanor’s hand.

“OK, let’s take her back to the camp,” Will said. He helped Eleanor to her feet, but dizziness and nausea hit her so hard that her legs collapsed out from under her. Freddie caught her, picked her up and cradled her gently against his chest. She felt safe and comfortable and felt the warmth of his body heat up her own. They walked back to the camp. Exhaustion was adding lead to her eyelids; she needed to sleep. She drifted as Freddie walked, not thinking, just floating, numb. She heard the crackling of the fire before she felt its warmth. Freddie sat her down beside it and she slumped against Amelia’s shoulder. Amelia put an arm around her and she slipped down further, resting her head on Amelia’s thigh. Across the fire, through the flames, she could see Conlan adding extra branches as insulation to the shelter. The injured man was already inside and looked dead, his face pale and drawn, eyes closed. Eleanor felt a sort of abstract pity, but her heart was too broken and her mind too battered for anything deeper. Will came back and crouched in front of her.
 

“Come on, Eleanor, let’s get you out of the rain.”
 

She nodded, allowing him to help her to her feet and guide her under the shelter’s steep sloping roof. The floor had been swept clean, and given the weather it was surprisingly dry and warm. She was too tired to care about how close the injured man was to her, and curled up into a shivering ball, the fire’s heat not yet penetrating her cold, wet clothes. Amelia arrived and coxed her into dry clothes, taking her wet garments with her when she left. Freddie came and lay down at her side, offering his arm for her head. She smiled gratefully, wriggling closer to his warm body, her back resting against his chest. He covered her with a blanket and rested his hand lightly round her waist; it was comforting, reassuring.
 

“Are you OK with her?” Will asked as she closed her eyes.

“I’m fine, I’ll call if I need you,” Freddie whispered.

“I’m not going to murder you in your sleep, Freddie,” she muttered, without opening her eyes. Will chuckled as he stood and turned to move back to the fire.

“Is she going to be OK?” It was Conlan’s voice. It sounded strained.

 
“Eventually,” Will snorted. “Only you could take a sweet, innocent, gentle girl and turn her into a raging psychopath.” There was silence and Eleanor opened her eyes. Will had gone to sit with Amelia. Conlan stood in front of the shelter, his head bowed and rain dripping off the end of his nose. From her position on the floor Eleanor could see the hurt on his face, and despite everything she felt sorry for him – how could she blame him for not loving her?
This is all my fault.
Self-pity and misery filled her and her tears started falling again. Freddie pulled her closer, his breath on her neck.
 

“It’ll be OK, Eleanor, please don’t cry,” he whispered.
 

She could hear his pain.
I’m hurting him, too.
She struggled for control, fighting back the tears and allowing exhaustion to pull her down into sleep.

Her dreams were chaotic and unclear. An African landscape swam into focus; she felt dry air scorch her lungs and the dull drone of insects fill her ears, the horizon shimmering in the heat. But as she looked, she realised something was wrong. Some of the trees were strange and the colour of the sky was off. As Eleanor looked around, she recognised where she was from the picture in Gregor’s book – it was the southern savannah, not in Africa but in Mydren. Suddenly Conlan stood in front of her; he smiled and then lunged forward, forcing a sword through her chest and into her heart. She tensed, expecting pain, but none came and she knew why.
 

“I have no heart, Conlan, I gave it to you.”
 

He smiled again. “A gift beyond measure.”
 

His whispering voice held such love that she started crying for what she could not have.

“I’m here, Eleanor, it’s OK,” Freddie whispered again.
 

She looked down at the sword in her chest. The hilt was familiar; this was the sword from the book. Then Freddie spoke again.
 

“A silver sword in south freedom’s hands,

A gift beyond measure, to enter their lands,

A heart for a heart, a price to be paid,

Think to the future, a deal to be made.”

Eleanor looked up. She was alone again. She called for Conlan, her voice rent with sorrow, the place where her heart should be a cold, dark pit.
 

“Please don’t cry, Eleanor, it’ll be OK,” Freddie whispered.
 

Comforted by his words, she relaxed and her dreams became less acute and more blurry. Finally she drifted into deeper, dreamless sleep.

She woke with the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that someone was watching her. Her eyes flew open to find Conlan staring back. He was sat with his back resting against one of the tree trunks they had used as a support post for the shelter. It was nearly dawn and a bird was slicing the half-dark with sharp, lonely cries. The trees swayed in weary unison with a biting wind. The rain had stopped, but there was a damp chill in the air. Eleanor felt the warm, solid comfort of Freddie holding her close and felt a rush of grateful affection. Conlan looked cold, tired and miserable, his body drawn in on itself. Her love for him filled her with a radiating glow, before she remembered he had not wanted it, her hopes became dust, an empty, hurt feeling spreading through her all over again.
 

“Conlan, I’m so sorry, I... ”

“Don’t...” His voice was a whisper. “Eleanor, look at me.”

She felt his anger punch through her fragile defences and cringed.
I’ve made a mistake.
She had inadvertently made a fundamental change and there was no turning back. The tears started up and she felt the broken pieces of her heart fall and crack into even smaller shards at his continued rejection.
Make it stop
. She closed her eyes, pushing her face into Freddie’s arm.
 

“No,” she replied, her voice muffled by Freddie’s shirt sleeve.
Please, make it stop.
She was incapable of dealing with this any longer, and she could not put herself through the pain of having him reject her again. “Conlan, I killed people – hundreds of them – and I know I deserve whatever punishment you want to give me, and I also know I made a fool out of myself doing nothing more than adding to your misery, but I can’t take much more, so please leave me alone.” She felt his hand on her shoulder and she recoiled, pushing herself into Freddie’s reassuring bulk and whimpering at the surge of love that that single touch forced through her. His hand flinched away, as if she had stung him.

“Leave her alone, she’s not ready to deal with recriminations right now,” Freddie said in a low, menacing voice.
How long has he been awake?
There was silence, but Eleanor could feel the tension in Freddie’s body.
 

“I just want to talk to her,” replied Conlan, his tone of voice pulled tight, controlled and flat. He was doing his best to sound rational and calm, although Eleanor suspected this was not how he felt.

“Eleanor, do you want to talk to Conlan?” Freddie asked gently. She shook her head, keeping her face pressed into Freddie’s arm and her eyes tightly closed. “Leave her alone,” Freddie ordered, his voice once more hard and cold. “She just tried talking to you and you shut her out. That’s the only chance you’re going to get for now.”