Eleanor (94 page)

Authors: S.F. Burgess

Tags: #Magic, #Fantasy, #Swords

“So what was your plan? Love me at arm’s length for the rest of your life?”

“I never really believed this would happen,” he admitted a little sheepishly.

“Surprising, considering the amount of fantasies you’ve had about it,” Eleanor murmured.

“Eleanor, I... ” Conlan started, blushing deep red.

Eleanor glared at him. “Shut up, Conlan. I want this. I want you, and I want to make you mine, wholly and completely mine.”

“I am yours,” he whispered, pulling her back down on top of him and pushing his lips against hers. He kissed her so hard and with such passion that she forgot to breathe, forgot how to think, forgot who she was. She knew only him, and the world revolved around them at a dizzying speed.

She felt a moment of apprehension as he rolled her onto her back, his weight pushing her into the ground, before a burning longing wiped all thoughts from her mind. He kissed her with more confidence, supporting her head with one hand while moving the other slowly down her side and thigh and then back again, up to her face. With the pad of his thumb he gently rubbed the scar he had left under her eye. Pulling away slightly, he frowned.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice husky.

“I have never been surer about anything in my life.”

He leaned into her neck, kissing her and chucking softly. She could feel the vibrations through her chest and his breath warmed her skin.
I love you.
She gently wove her fingers into his hair, pulling his head tighter into her neck. His breath came in short bursts as he ran his hand tenderly back down her side, moving back up and then under her shirt. The burst of molten lava that flooded her veins and the electric current that surged through her as his hand touched her bare skin made Eleanor shudder, the burning longing becoming an acute need, more important to her than oxygen. As he slowly moved his hand back to her face he felt the thin scar under her chin where he had stabbed her.
The time Freddie nearly killed you.
He pulled back once more, a little breathless, the frown back on his face.

“Do you have any scars on your body I’m not responsible for?” he asked. She could see the shame in his eyes again. Eleanor grinned wickedly.

“Oh yes, but you’ll need to give me a thorough inspection to find them.” Love burnt the shame away, and an amused smile spread across his face as he pulled her close again.

“I’ll go slowly,” he whispered. “If it hurts, I want you to stop me.”
Not in a million years
. It was her last coherent thought before she gave herself over completely to the glorious sensations he was stirring within her.

The flickering firelight illuminated his face; he looked calm, contented… peaceful. Eleanor lay across his chest, her chin resting on her hands so she could look at him.
I’ve never seen him this relaxed before; I’ve never seen him peaceful and conscious at the same time either.
He was staring up at the dirt of their shelter’s roof, his eyes distant. The air was chilly as it nudged the fine sheen of sweat down her back, and her skin felt so sensitive that it was almost uncomfortable. She was happy, completely happy, and she knew that no matter what happened now she would always have this feeling held protectively in her heart, reassuring her that she was loved. If there had been pain, she had been totally unaware of it; she smiled smugly. As usual, Conlan’s fear for her was unfounded. As he had entered her, she had unthinkingly entered his head, driven by the overpowering need to be as close to him as possible. It had not been the maelstrom she had encountered the last time. On the surface it was calm and blissfully happy. His head was full of love, wonder and mindless, comfortable joy, and Eleanor had felt his longing to simply stay in the moment they were currently occupying, to lose himself forever in the warmth of her soft, yielding body.

She lay her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart and knowing all she had to do to speed it up was run her fingers lightly down his side. Neither of them had been able to sleep, but she had not wanted to talk either – she had just wanted to feel him hold her close and listen to his heartbeat, listen to him breathe. She drew all the love and desire she felt for him into one pulsating mass, and pushing into his head she let it flow through him. He gasped, a soft groan escaping him and his body trembling. His love, need and desire for her surged through his mind in response. He pulled her close and she felt his bliss.

“You’re in my head,” he whispered a little awed.

“I should have asked,” she apologised, withdrawing her energy.

“Eleanor, I’m yours. Heart, mind, body and soul, everything I am is yours. You don’t need to ask,” he said softly. She smiled, turned her head and ran a light trail of kisses across his chest, amused and pleased by his body’s immediate response. He rolled her carefully onto her back again, looking up as he did.

“Wow,” he breathed. Confused, Eleanor followed his gaze. What had been damp, muddy, bare winter earth was soft grass and flowers. Trees had burst into bloom and the grass had grown into a thick mattress under their discarded clothes. It was hard to see the full extent of the transformation in the flickering light of the fire, but given her current level of bliss Eleanor suspected that it would rival what she had inadvertently created in front of Duncan.

Eleanor giggled. “I guess you made me a little too happy.”

He smiled down at her. “There’s no such thing,” he whispered, kissing her. Then using gentle, caressing lips he began exploring her body. She closed her eyes, moaning softly. She was totally unprepared for the energy string that crashed into her with such force that her head snapped back, bouncing on the grass. She gasped in agony.

“Freddie,” she whispered as his frantic presence filled her head.

Eleanor, we need you back now!
Freddie cried, sending her the image of heavily armed Protectors surrounding them, a hooded, black-robed figure watching.

“Eleanor, Eleanor, what’s the matter?” Conlan hollered in the background.

We’re coming, Freddie. Hold on, we’re coming.

Eleanor sat up as Freddie left her head. “We have to go, they need us,” she said, reaching for her clothes.

“This had better be a matter of life or death,” Conlan muttered, fumbling for his own clothes. “Or Freddie’s a dead man!”

Eleanor was too panicked to explain just how serious the situation was. She was dressed and running back to the camp as fast as her legs and the moon’s shadowy half-light would allow, before Conlan was even half-clothed. He had called after her and begged her to wait, but she had ignored him. Images of bloody massacres flew round her head. She made no attempt to be subtle, they would hear her coming, but she was beyond caring. She charged back into the camp, the sight before her bringing her up short. Amelia was kneeling on the ground next to their camp fire, her eyes closed, biting her bottom lip as she concentrated. She was cradling Will’s head in her lap. He was sprawled unconscious before her, a sword still gripped in his hand. There was blood running down the side of his pale face. Freddie was kneeling next to Amelia, a reassuring hand on her shoulder and whispering to her. The Protectors stood around them. One had a sword drawn and was using it to poke cautiously at the air in front of him, looking surprised when he met resistance. The Enforcer was stood to one side, his face deep in shadow.

The six Protectors started moving towards her as Conlan came running up to stand at her side. He took in the scene as she had, and cursed in Dwarfish. Unsure of the level of threat they were facing, Eleanor waited. The Protectors reached them, and the one with the sword re-sheathed his weapon. Eleanor felt Conlan’s confusion.
What are they doing?
As they had made no overt threat towards them, Eleanor refrained from simply blasting at them. With less than five steps between them, the Protectors stopped. The one at the front moved forward.

“We have come to offer you our assistance,” he said, kneeling before them. As he did so, the other Protectors around him fell down to their knees. Surprise wiped Eleanor’s mind for a moment.

“You have this effect on way too many men, Eleanor,” Conlan said in English, amused.

She smirked at him. “Worried about the competition?”

He pulled her close, her back resting against him. “Not anymore,” he whispered.

They stared at the Protectors for a moment, before Conlan addressed them.

“If you are here to help us, why is my brother bleeding?” he asked, a nasty edge to the Dwarfish. Eleanor smiled. The word he had used, ‘brother’, was an old one, one that appeared in Gregor’s book, but Conlan had said it was not used much anymore. The word meant brother in its truest meaning, as in a person who shared his blood, and Will was this and much more.

The Protector who had knelt first raised his head, and Eleanor had a strong sense of déjà vu. “He attacked us, my Lord. We were simply defending ourselves. Please accept our apologies,” he said. Eleanor felt the whole of Conlan’s body tense at the word ‘Lord’.

“You think I am a Lord?” he asked quietly.

The Protector grinned. “We choose to follow you, as we want to help you bring down the Lords of Mydren. How would you like us to address you?”

Eleanor’s churning mind gave her the reason why this Protector looked so familiar.

“This is the Protector you didn’t kill,” she said, attaching a Dwarfish bark of astonishment to the English almost without thinking about it.

Conlan looked confused. “Pardon?”

“That night, after Bremen,” Eleanor clarified. “This is the Protector I asked you not to kill.” Conlan stared at the man in surprise.

“What’s he doing here?”

Eleanor shrugged.

“Please get up off your knees. You may address me as Conlan,” he said to the patiently waiting Protector. “How did you find us?”

The Protector stood and pointed to the black-robed figure standing silent as a statue behind them.

“Arran found you. The Avatar of Earth appeared in his dreams, and she told him where you were located.”

Eleanor felt Conlan’s embrace tighten further.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” he whispered in English.

Eleanor looked over her shoulder at his awestruck face. “I’m as surprised as you are, Conlan. I didn’t know I was doing it, but Arran uses the energy of Earth just as I do. We’re both connected, just in the same way the dragon and I were connected. It’s possible I unknowingly guided him here in my sleep.”

Arran walked towards them and removed his hood as he did so. His hair was no longer white but a soft brown; it suited him. His face held the emotionless, blank expression Eleanor had come to associate with anyone who spent too much time with Daratus. His eyes, however, showed all his uncertainty and fear. Eleanor smiled at him, and stepping out of Conlan’s arms she moved round the Protectors and stood in front of him.

“I am here as you asked,” he said simply.

“I am so very glad you are,” Eleanor said, her smile beaming wider. A smile, not very sure of itself, and obviously not used to being there, spread across the young man’s face. Eleanor opened her arms wide, offering him a hug. Arran took a hesitant step forward and pulled Eleanor against him. She held him until she felt his body relax a little.

“Welcome home, Arran. We are delighted you have come to join us,” Eleanor whispered.

“I brought you a gift,” he said, pulling back. The smile on his face seemed a little more confident. “Well actually I brought Conlan a gift,” he said, nodding at Conlan who had not moved. He gave Arran a friendly smile as the Enforcer walked towards him, fishing something out of the bag strapped over his shoulder as he did so. He held out the crown and Conlan took it, staring down at the thick band of silvery metal in his hands.

“Thank you, Arran,” he said softly. “You took a huge risk bringing this to me and coming to join us. I am grateful.”

“Just promise me that Daratus is going to pay,” Arran said. Eleanor could not see his face, but she heard the bitter hatred in his voice.

Conlan nodded. “Yes, Arran, I can promise you that,” he murmured. His voice was still soft, but the Dwarfish implied a shared desire to see Daratus punished.

“So, are you ready to become a king now?” Eleanor asked Conlan in English.

“It doesn’t seem such a ridiculous notion anymore,” Conlan said thoughtfully. “However, the forces we have aren’t nearly enough.”

“No,” Eleanor agreed, a smile spreading across her face. “But they’re a good beginning…”