Eleanor Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Map of Mydren

  The End

  Safety

  Bremen

  Fight or Flight

  The Five

  Fairy Tales and Hokum

  Trial and Error

  Power

  The Book

  Dragons and Dreams

  Diamonds and Dwarves

  Earth's Vessel

  Judgement

  The Chalice

  Jarrick

  Consequences

  Duncan

  Merl

  The Sword

  The Crown

  The Beginning

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Eleanor

  by S.F. Burgess

  First published in Great Britain in 2013 by Jojosala Publishing Ltd.

  Copyright © 2013 by S. F. Burgess

  Cover illustrations by Scarlett Rugers

  www.scarlettrugers.com

  Map by S.F. Burgess

  S. F. Burgess has asserted her moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN: 978-0-9576996-1-8 (Paperback)

  ISBN: 978-0-9576996-0-1 (EPub Edition)

  First Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by an means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade of otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publishers prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  For my parents,

  Who gave more financial support than they could afford, more love than I ever deserved and who never stopped believing, even when they had no clue what they were believing in. The world is shaped by its quiet heroes and you are mine.

  The End

  “Most people’s lives begin with their births; mine began with my death.”

  Direct quote from Eleanor, the ‘Extended History of the Five’.

  I’m dying.

  The thought was followed by a frantic panic that squeezed her chest mercilessly. She struggled even harder to breathe. Blood bubbles clogged her throat, the burning agony intensified, threatening to overwhelm. Cold darkness was moving in from the edges of her vision. It was almost welcome. The instinct to live fought briefly with the excruciating pain and her desire for it to stop. The pain won. The effort too much, body relaxing, she began to let go. A paramedic was kneeling at her side, pushing hard against the centre of her agony. He snapped instructions to his colleague. Most of it went over her head, but some of the words she caught: “Bullet’s pierced her lung,” “bleeding out.”

  Overhead, the stark florescent bulbs blurred, and she closed her eyes.

  The world faded, she floated. Letting go of the fear, she tried to tune out the pain, a soft lucidity carrying her. Through the background noise of death there was a voice.

  Eleanor?

  She ignored it – what good could her response do now?

  Eleanor!

  The voice was hard, insistent, with a strange accent. She forced heavy eyes to open. An oxygen mask covered her mouth. When did they put that on? She felt anger, the lucidity momentarily sharper. Why are they expecting me to talk when I’ve this thing on my face? She clutched at the plastic, trying to respond. The paramedic took her hand, replacing the mask offering a kind smile, that stood at odds with the sadness and resignation filling his eyes. He knows I’m dying.

  “Let us work,” he said, his voice raspy and nasal, not the deeper voice with the growl to it she had heard calling her name. Confused, she closed her eyes again.

  Eleanor… Eleanor, can you hear me?

  Yes. She thought fuzzily. Why can I hear you?

  I’m in your head, Eleanor.

  The absurdity of this statement caused her eyes to snap open, but the intense concentration and hurried movements of the paramedics, their strained faces and the blood she could see from the corner of her eye, spreading in an ever-widening pool across the grey linoleum floor, soon convinced her to close them again.

  You’re dying, Eleanor.

  Tell me something I don’t know, she thought bitterly.

  I can offer you life.

  I’m hallucinating – I’m dying and my mind is trying to lessen the blow, she rationalised.

  You’re not hallucinating, I’m really here. My offer is real.

  Are you an angel? she whispered.

  No. I’m someone who needs your help. We need you to join the Five, I need you Eleanor – will you join me?

  The five what? I really don’t think I should be making decisions at the moment, she answered.

  I can feel your life slipping away. Please, Eleanor, join me. Live!

  What’s the catch?

  Pardon?

  Well, mystery voice, there’s always a catch. Do I get to come back as a bug or something? The voice chuckled and despite everything, Eleanor found the sound captivating.

  The catch, since you ask, is that you must leave behind everything you know and join me. This is not an easy life, Eleanor. I have work for you to do.

  As Eleanor wondered what ‘work’ she was going to achieve with two bullets in her chest, the voice interrupted her.

  If you choose to join me you will be healed. Please hurry, Eleanor, make your decision.

  I’m just a shop assistant, what do you need me for?

  You are far more than you think.

  How do I know I can trust you?

  You don’t, but your only other option is dying.

  It might help if I knew your name, Eleanor thought, more to herself than to him.

  My name is Conlan.

  You’re not imaginary then. I wouldn’t have called you Conlan; I’d have called you Robert or Edward or something… Conlan, that’s an odd name…

  Eleanor?

  Yes?

  You’re rambling, your mind is faltering. I need your decision. Will you join me?

  What’s it like… dying?

  I have no idea, I’ve never died.

  If I die, will you be with me? Even in her head Eleanor knew her voice sounded small, frightened.

  No, you must go alone.

  In the end, Eleanor did not care about the consequences, she did not think about what kind of life she would gain or the fact that she knew she deserved the death she was suffering. As the pain drew her deeper, her consciousness fading, she did what any sane person would do – she reached for the light and grabbed at her chance of life. One last thought flickered through her mind before the darkness claimed her:

  Yes, Conlan, I’ll join you.

  Strange dreams chased each other through her mind. There was a strong tugging sensation, like being dragged out to sea by a powerful current. She had agreed to join him, so she relaxed into the current, still not entirely convinced that it was not just her imagination working overtime. There was firelight, shadows, growling and snarling in melodic harmony. Then it was silent, dark and just his voice: Conlan.

  “Sleep now, Eleanor, I’ve got you.”

  Safety

  Consciousness came back by degrees. Eleanor’s eyes felt glued shut. For a while she lay motionless, assessing – in
finitesimal flexing of her muscles giving feedback. She was stiff and a little cold, but the pain from before was gone. Her right wrist felt numb, like when she accidentally stopped the circulation to it and there was a vicious headache. She was lying on her back, a hard surface beneath her, something soft under her head. A rough blanket covered her. It smelt of stale animal sweat and campfire smoke. The air was chilly and over the smell of the blanket Eleanor noticed the subtle aroma of pine. She could hear the snapping and rustling of trees moving in the wind, but it seemed distant, high overhead.

  I’m outside. Why am I outside?

  “I know you’re awake, Eleanor.”

  The voice, she remembered that voice. Conlan. She cautiously opened her eyes. Massive pine trees towered above, swaying restlessly, and somewhere a bird let out a screeching call. It was day, but the light was muted and green, the sky hidden by the dense canopy above.

  “How do you feel?” His voice again.

  Eleanor turned her head carefully, looking at him for the first time. He sat on a log across from her, arms wrapped round his knees; a near-dead campfire lay between them. Intelligent, bright green eyes held hers, scrutinising. His face held the deep tan of someone who spends most of their time outside, yet under this tan he was pale and drained. The skin beneath his eyes was a deep purple, bones sharp over hollowed cheeks. He seemed old, as if life weighed him down. The short-cut brown hair showed no signs of grey, but the several days’ worth of stubble did him few favours. Beneath it all Eleanor felt he would have been handsome, but for a thick scar that ran from the corner of his left eye in a deep, livid, jagged line down his face, tearing through his top lip and giving him a menacing look. They stared at each other until Eleanor became uncomfortable with the silence.

  “If you’re in my mind, shouldn’t you know how I feel?”

  Conlan shook his head slowly, not taking his eyes off her, as if he were looking for something in her face.

  “I was only in your head during the ritual. Your mind is your own once more.”

  “Then how did you know I was awake? Wait, what ritual?”

  “The ritual that was necessary to bring you here. I knew you were awake because your breathing changed.” His voice was quiet, but the lack of volume did not hide the strange accent, the soft growling as he spoke – it made him sound angry. Eleanor wondered if he was angry with her.

  “And where on Earth is here?” she asked.

  Conlan broke eye contact to look at the blended green and brown around them.

  “This is Millers Forest.”

  Eleanor sat up, wincing slightly as she pulled stiff muscles, irritated by his response. He was answering her questions, but there was no actual information in what he was telling her.

  “We’re not on Earth, or at least not the Earth you know,” he added. Green eyes searched her face; again, she wondered what he was looking for. Then what he had actually said hit her. If I’m no longer on Earth, where am I? Like a strange reality check, her mind then chose to remind her of the bullets. I should be writhing in agony or stone-cold dead. Fear slid an icy hand down her spine, the forest lurched slightly, her heartbeat jumped and her breathing accelerated. Conlan moved to kneel beside her.

  “Eleanor, just breathe.” he touched her shoulder, but Eleanor jerked away from him, moving out of his reach.

  “Don’t touch me!” she snarled. “What have you done to me? Where am I? Did my body just disappear? My family are never going to know what happened to me... What have you done?!” As she ranted at him, Eleanor thought she registered pain flash across his face, but he was so quick to hide it she could not be sure. He waited patiently until she had finished, there was no surprise at her outburst. Snapping her mouth shut she glared at him. He stared back, frowning; she forced her breathing to slow down.

  “Well?” she said eventually.

  “I don’t have time to go into all the details right now – we’re not safe here and must move soon,” he said quietly. Eleanor glanced around the forest, which had taken on a dark and foreboding aspect with his words.

  “Why aren’t we safe?” her words shot through with the fear she knew was showing on her face. Conlan turned his head away, not looking at her, he appeared to be thinking. Every second of delay in his response increased the terror Eleanor could feel building in her body.

  “We’re not meant to be here. If we’re caught the results could be fatal, so we have to get to safety.” Conlan’s flat explanation did nothing to calm her.

  “Fatal?” she echoed, her terror forcing breaths out of her in short, sharp gasps.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he added almost as an afterthought, his eyes returning to her face, still searching it.

  Eleanor raised an eyebrow at him, anger overriding some of her terror.

  “Brilliant job on that one! If we’re not meant to be here, why did you bring me?”

  He stared at her again, the silence stretching along with her nerves. “This is where the ritual took place,” he said. “That level of released energy is noticeable. We must leave before it’s investigated.”

  “Investigated by whom?” her question had been calm, but he appeared to notice how much she was shaking. He reached to touch her but then thought better of it, letting his hand drop to his side instead.

  “People you really don’t want to meet. I know this is difficult for you, but this world is very different from yours and you need to trust me.”

  “You drag me from my world, to who knows where, to do who knows what, and you won’t tell me what’s going on and I’m supposed to TRUST you?!” she spat this last part out, her voice rising to a yell.

  “I gave you a choice, Eleanor.” The tone was calm and reasonable, but there was an edge to it.

  “Some choice! Have you done this before? How many choose to die?” Eleanor snapped, her fear fuelling her anger. Conlan stood and turned his back to her. When he spoke, his voice was flat again.

  “The first three times this worked, but Earth is different. I’ve been looking for you for a long time. You’re the fourth attempt – and no, nobody chose death in the beginning.”

  “Three others... where are they?”

  Conlan wrapped his arms around his body, holding in his secrets. Eleanor stared at his back, waiting until he answered, unwilling or unable to let this question go.

  “They didn’t make it,” he whispered. His voice sounded so hollow that Eleanor felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Tears hid threateningly at the edges of her eyes, but she had no idea why she was crying.

  “What do you mean, ‘didn’t make it’? They died? Did you…?” her implied accusation sounded harder than she had intended.

  He spun round, anger flashing in his eyes. “I didn’t kill them, Eleanor, but I’m responsible. They killed themselves, every one of them. They couldn’t handle the shift in reality. They lost all hope. Earth isn’t like the others. I chose you because I thought you were stronger.”

  “Earth?” she asked, confused.

  “I really can’t get into this right now, so please try to hold it together until we’re somewhere safe.”

  “I’m not losing my mind, Conlan; it’s just a lot to take in. You saved my life and I’m grateful.” her words sounded calm and in control, but it had taken effort because her grip on what was going on was not nearly as tight as she was pretending.

  Conlan laughed a bitter, self-mocking bark, not the soft sound of amusement Eleanor remembered. “I’m not a hero. I brought you here so you could help me. You have no reason to trust me, of course, but now you’re here you have no choice but to do so.”

  There were just too many questions for Eleanor to handle, and she felt that if she demanded that he answered them all, they would never get anywhere. She sighed, deciding.

  “OK then, let’s go.”

  Conlan nodded, looking slightly relieved. He reached for the blanket Eleanor had left on the floor and shook out the ‘pillow’ she had been using. It unfolded into a j
acket and he shrugged it on over the once white shirt that covered his slim, muscular torso. In the past this jacket would have been a fine garment, its dark green padded velvet would have been luxuriant, but now it was dusty and worn. One of the elbows had been inexpertly patched with a rough material of muddy green, the stand-up collar was frayed and several of the tarnished silver buttons from the front were missing. There was an insignia stitched in silver thread over his left breast, which looked like a stylized shape, but Eleanor was unable to identify it properly. He noticed her inspection of him and tossed the blanket to her.

  “Roll that up, I’ll get my horse.”

  Horse? Oh crap! Eleanor stood frozen in horror as Conlan led a huge grey animal towards her. It was beautiful, from a distance, which is where Eleanor wanted to keep it.

  Conlan saw her expression. “Eleanor, this is Rand.” He affectionately patted the massive beast’s broad neck, and in return it lowered its huge head and rubbed its nose against his master’s side.

  “I’m... I’m not a great fan of horses,” she stammered as memories of failed horse riding lessons flashed through her mind. Horses were too big, too unpredictable and they frightened her. Eleanor saw the amusement in Conlan’s eyes.

  “You’re going to have to learn to deal with them, there are no cars here.”

  “Can’t I just walk?” she stuttered slightly, fear making her voice sharp.

  Conlan appeared to consider this proposal. “Yes, you could walk. We’re three days’ ride from where we need to be, so walking will take maybe a week, possibly longer. That’s too long for us to be out in the open, plus it would be long past dark by the time we cleared the edge of the forest. There are wolves here, and without a fire…”

  “Wolves?” she asked.

  Conlan nodded and calmly returned her incredulous stare for a moment.

  In a practiced, fluid motion he mounted and settled himself in the saddle, which also struck Eleanor as being a piece of finery that had seen better days, although its shiny red leather had been better cared for than the jacket. Eleanor rolled up the blanket and handed it to Conlan. He secured it tightly behind the saddle over a couple of matching red leather saddlebags, and he then reached an arm down and with surprising strength hauled Eleanor up until she sat behind him on top of the blanket roll. Wriggling, getting comfortable, she noticed her clothes for the first time. They were not hers. She felt her cheeks redden. Her shop uniform was gone and in its place were baggy, non-descript brown trousers, worn brown boots that slouched around her small feet and a brown shirt several sizes too big for her delicate build.