Ascendancy: The Book of Heylel

Chapter VII

Chapter VII



         Elaine rubbed the aching splotch of dark skin on her arm. She had since bandaged it, but it throbbed a terrible rhythm, pumping waves of dull pain through her arm from elbow to shoulder. The bleeding had stopped, but that was the least of her concern. She recalled a spot of blackened skin on the man that had tried to kill her earlier that day. She remembered that lifeless pleading in his eyes, as though he were watching himself do something against his will from afar. Would the same thing happen to her now? Would she soon be another of the possessed? She could only guess as to how long it would be before it happened… that is if it happened in the first place.

         It was only fitting. She’d been consorting with Daemons for nearly a year, first Valimaar, then Judaes, and soon the rest of the Expurgators would become Daemons themselves. Why should she be any different? This wouldn’t be a Daemon from the house of Azaal however, this would be something else. It would be something much more sinister and reckless. Valimaar and Judaes had managed to tame the evil inside of them, perhaps only because of what they were. Expurgators had a strong will, well beyond that of her own. Perhaps that was all that controlled their dark spirits.

         Corruption pumped through her veins with each beat of her heart. It raked sharp claws along her arm, swallowing her soul. It was terrifying.

         She couldn’t worry about that now. Whatever those things were that attacked her, could still be out there in the darkness, waiting – watching. They wanted her. Why? She didn’t know, but they were there for her. Those things had wanted her to see the king, whoever that was.

         “How is your arm?”

         The melancholy voice of Papal made her jump at the question. She hadn’t even noticed him coming from behind, which was disappointing. She was forgetting everything that Rialev had taught her over the months. He would never let something get by his senses. For a time, she was the same, but she could not set her mind at ease… especially now.

         “It’s much better now,” she said, rubbing the thick bandages, attempting to warm the dull, aching cold from within her flesh.

         “Your eyes tell me different,” he said, hooking a golden lock of hair behind his ear.

         She recoiled as he reached for her arm to inspect it, “I said its fine.”

         He nodded, clearly not in the mood to press the matter further. To that, she was thankful. Drums echoed inside her head in rhythm with her heart that pounded in her chest. Each throbbing beat filled her with dull embers of pain. Her whole body ached. They had traveled far with little rest. The village of Jorvek was now leagues behind them, and despite having some time to rest her feet and eyes, the aching didn’t leave her. She felt as though she had ran for miles.

         Wind chilled her bones as small beads of sweat rolled from her brow. Her bodice stuck to her back and chest, drenched.

         “You should try to get some sleep,” he said, turning his gaze to Snorri and the others. They had busied themselves with preparing the last remaining ship in the harbor.

         A ship was a generous word for it. It wasn’t large, and it didn’t look entirely sea worthy, but Snorri claimed that it could bare them to the Northern Islands. She believed him, for the Ymirjar were well versed in seafaring. Since having been granted the northern lands to call their home, they had become well-seasoned sailors, Snorri included.

         “I won’t find rest here.”

         “All the same, you should still try.”

         “Why are you so worried about me, Papal?”

         He smirked, that same crooked smile he always did; cocky and condescending. “Your Expurgator friend charged me with your safety. I’d hate to disappoint him.”

         She shook her head. She didn’t want to think about him… not now. There were a thousand other things she could worry over without having him in her mind. Still, she couldn’t let go. Somewhere in that terrible, forsaken land in the west, he was probably fighting with all his strength to get back to her… or fighting with his Daemon. She would give anything to see him again – before this darkness took her. Had Papal offered to cut her hands off in order to see him, she would have accepted.

         His green eyes glowed in the back of her mind. His face was still as recognizable as it was the day he left. She had not forgotten anything. She would never forget.

         “Please don’t… not now.”

         His hand fell upon her shoulder, rubbing away some of that terrible aching. Warmth enshrouded that spot, it almost felt good, if it were only not his hand… still, she wouldn’t push it away.

         “I wish I could have gone in his stead, my lady. If anything, to see you smile again,” he said, as his hand pressed down on her shoulder. It felt wonderful.

         Her eyes burned and welled as she fought back tears. Why now? Why did she always have to cry when she thought about him? Before she’d met him, she never cried, now she fought it every moment of her days. She was supposed to be stronger than she was then, but it didn’t feel that way. She’d fought in battles and slain the walking dead. She had fired her pistol at monstrous Dwergar, and stood side by side with the greatest shield brothers and shield maidens of Xalimfal, but she felt soft and weak; unworthy of Valimaar’s affections.

         She couldn’t fight it anymore, she had to let it go. Her arms wrapped around Papal, and his soft and supple linen doublet caressed her cheeks as she buried her face in his chest. Tears rolled down her cheeks like rivers, as she sobbed, no longer caring if anyone saw her in a moment of weakness. His soft hands clamped around her, gripping her shoulders and warming her icy veins.

         “I know exactly how you feel, my lady.”

         How could he know? How could anyone know how she felt? He and Razelle had grown close over the months, but she’d been gone for less than a day. Valimaar had been gone for near six months. He couldn’t possibly begin to understand.

         “He’s gone from us, my lady,” he said, his voice low and warm as he squeezed her. “We have only each other now, and we need to protect one another in this place.”

         This place? What place? They had searched every dark nook and alley of the Narvek ports when they arrived. It was as safe as anywhere they could hope to find. The darkness here, however, was unsettling… not that it was different than anywhere else. The dawn should have since arrived hours ago, but it never came. The only light was still that strange, cold glow in the east, where a moon might have been but was not.

         “I don’t know much about Annwyn, but I do know it is a dangerous place for us.”

         She looked up into his icy blue eyes that stared into her as though he were trying to see her soul.

         “Yes, my lady. We are in Annwyn. You’re going to need all of your strength… please, try to get some sleep.”

         It didn’t make sense. How did they come here? They never went through any gate as Valimaar had done when he entered hell. Had they simply just passed? Perhaps death was the same. One moment you’re alive, and the next, you aren’t, only you’re not aware of it. You linger on, in that next world, confused and lost, as she was. Perhaps she was dead too; it could very well be that they all were. No. If she were, then why did she bother fighting? Why did any of them bother?

         She’d lied when she told him she wasn’t tired. She was exhausted. Nights drifted by over the past few weeks, many of which were sleepless and cold. Her limbs were like lead, and her eyelids just as heavy, so why refuse? She needed sleep.

         He led her to a small abandoned shack of a home. It was enough to the docks that she could still see Snorri, Rialev, and the others working on the little sloop that would take them north. It was unlike Rialev to not be at her side as he always was, but perhaps he’d requested that Papal look after her for a time. She didn’t question it… she was too tired to question anything. She was hardly aware of each footstep she made, as he pulled her behind him, into the dark building. There, Papal had laid out a makeshift bed. Thick blankets lay flat upon a wood floor with a pile of balled linen as a pillow. It wasn’t much, but it looked wonderful.

         “I’ll be outside if you have need of me,” he said, before leaving.

         Heavy wool scratched against her skin as she slipped herself underneath the blanket, wrapping it around herself tight. As her head eased into the linen pillow, the world began to fade into darkness.

         “Thank you,” she whispered to him as sleep took hold of her.

**********

         Soft spray of the sea caressed Elaine’s face as she stirred about beneath her wool covers. The breeze was gone, to that she was thankful, for it had chilled her to the core. Her arm still throbbed, but it had slowed from a steadily increasing beat to a much more bearable discomfort. The headache was gone as well. Papal was right. Sleep was exactly what she needed.

         Above, the dark sky still hung oppressive and low, and that same eerie glow was still there in the east. The roar of the frothing sea lapping and frothing as waves crashed into the sandy shores of the northern islands sliced a heavy silence.

         Rialev and Papal stood face to face not far away, but out of earshot. The others circled around a small fire, each of them staring into bright flames. The light was a welcome change to the thick darkness that had enveloped the world. She wondered if it swallowed everything.

         As she rose from he covers, the fire’s warmth cradled her in a soft, warm embrace. Snorri’s gaze turned to her as she stirred. The grim face he wore was discomforting, but it was the same face that everyone now had. For their world was gone now. How could any of them find comfort in this place called Annwyn? He still clung to that sword of his. His knuckles were white as hot flames, as though he might flatten the hilt in his grip. He turned to Rialev and Papal, now marching back from whatever discussion they were having.

         The Expurgator sighed as he looked at her. There was some strange relief in his eyes, as though he thought she may never wake.

         “I’m glad to see you well, my lady,” Rialev said, as he stopped in front of her.

         That was an odd thing to say. Had she been sick?

         Her eyes followed Papal, as he circled round the group, taking a seat beside Snorri at the fire.

         “You’ve been asleep for almost a day. I thought you had fallen to illness.”

         It was hard to imagine that Rialev was capable of worrying. He was always so abrasive, even when she was in danger. He never truly watched over her like Valimaar had. Rialev wasn’t like that, he was abrupt and direct like a sword swing, always informing her of what she did wrong and rarely focusing on things she’d done well. Still, he was a remarkable protector, who had taught her the ways of the sword and pistol. But never did he show much care for her. Now though, he seemed as though he were actually worried.

         Cold threads weaved themselves down her spine, as she looked into the bright orange flames. She wanted to be closer; warmer. She pushed the blanket aside, and stared down at her naked flesh.

         Rialev was quick to avert his eyes. “Forgive me, my lady. I thought it best to get you out of those wet clothes.”
“It’s alright. Where are they?”

         He pointed toward the fire. Behind the group, they hung over a makeshift clothesline. Salt stained the shoulders and neck of her bodice, likely from the trek across the sea. She would have wrapped herself back in the blanket, but something dark loomed in the corner of her eye. She looked down at her arm at the dark patch of skin. The black splotch had grown a bit since she’d fallen asleep.

         “I would have replaced your bandages,” he said, “I saw your arm and I thought some air would do it good.”

         It was still so cold where that black was, as though someone pressed a chunk of ice against her skin.

         “My lady,” he said, turning his eyes to her. “That man that attacked you –“

         “I know, Rialev.”

         She wrapped her hand around the wound. Shards of ice stabbed into her palm as she rubbed it, not caring if he saw her naked body. The others didn’t seem to notice her, not that that would have mattered to her. She stood, and the blanket slid off her as though she had untied a cloak around her shoulders.

         Rialev snatched the blankets from the sand, and wrapped her in a woolen embrace. After all this time, even he was capable of emotion. Tremors shook within her shoulders as he pulled the covers over her. His hands were shaking. He wasn’t worried for her after all. He was terrified.

         “You’re growing cold,” he said in a voice filled with sorrow and devoid of warmth.

         “I don’t know what is going to happen to me, Rialev.”

         That man’s eyes burned in her mind. She could still see the terror that was buried deep beneath his blind rage. Whoever he was, he was still himself, but he’d lost control.

         “I won’t let you turn into that.”

         “If I do –“

         “You won’t,” he shot back.

         “But if –“

         “Dammit, Elaine, you’re stronger than that! I will not see you fall.”

         He didn’t have a choice. Eventually she would lose herself. She knew it. Valimaar’s face filled her thoughts. His deep, comforting voice rang in her ears as she stared out into the dark seas. Waves rolled across the horizon, coming to rest against the sandy beach, and kissing her feet with cold and gentle caress. A tear tickled her cheek as she realized that when the moment came that she was no longer herself, she hoped Rialev’s aim would be true.