It was several minutes before the truth was revealed. He gave her time to rinse off, and he gave himself a quick scrub down as well, hoping that there would be another opportunity to continue what they’d started at a later time. As much as Mitchell wanted her, he knew this needed to happen. It was long past time for her to unburden herself.
Once they were clean and reclothed, they sat together on a flat bit of mossy ground next to the pool where some late afternoon sunlight was breaking through and warmed themselves a little bit. Mitchell didn’t say anything, knowing—as always—that Allora spoke when she was ready. He merely sat, held her hand, and waited for her.
“You were not the first one the spell chose,” she said at last, her anguished violet eyes meeting his, and then looking away quickly. “The first time Gilriel and I successfully performed the ritual, it located a young man here in Awenor. His name was Davrys. He was from a small village in the central regions called Tena, about two week’s travel from here on foot. Faster if you have jivvis. He was a sun elf. A miller’s son. Fifteen high suns old.”
“That seems young.”
Allora nodded.
“He was, but that was not the first time the spell had chosen someone so young. The fourth monarch, an elven girl named Kahlan, was selected when she was sixteen high suns old. Sadly, her reign ended after only twenty-seven years. She was killed during an expedition to tame the northern part of Awenor for new settlements. But the spell chooses whom it will, no one knows exactly how it works.
Mitchell grunted and nodded for her to continue.
“I traveled there as quickly as I could and told Davrys who I was and why I was there. He was shocked, just as you were, but he agreed readily. He could not wait to drive out the invaders and see Awenor set back to the way it was. He accepted the heart stone that very night. He told his family he was leaving, although he did not say why, and we left together. My intention was to head here, prepare as best as we could, and then make the trip to Lorivin to try and complete the bond with Awenor.
“They found us six days later.”
Allora’s eyes took on a faraway look and her face went flat.
“I had known that Milandris could track me, although I still do not know how. You normally need someone’s blood for precise tracking and he had no way to get mine. But I had run into his forces before and I never stayed in one place long.”
Mitchell suddenly glanced around at the woods.
“Are we safe here?”
She refocused on him and then nodded absently.
“Yes, here may be the only place we are safe from his scrying attempts. Well, here or a dragon’s lair. Gilriel’s wards are powerful and block all attempts at scrying and she added some protection for me as well when I have to leave. The bracelet I showed you before, do you remember it?”
“The one from the old lady of Iletish?”
Allora almost smiled.
“The elderly lady of Iletish, yes. The king’s mother. It is electrum, as I said, which is well suited to hold enchantments. Gilriel added some masking wards to it which, we thought, would block whatever Milandris or his forces were using to track me. He does not have my blood so it should have worked, but it did not.”
She got quiet again and he saw the grief begin to twist her features, but she mastered her emotions and pressed on, although her grip on his hand increased to the point that it almost ached.
“There were nine of them. Three casters. They came upon us as we prepared for our evening meal near an old farmstead, long abandoned. I was hit with an arcane missile spell as they tried to stun me. They wanted me alive. But I fought back. I killed the one who attacked me, badly wounded the other, and took out three of the soldiers who tried to surround us. But in doing so I exhausted my blood stone and my spare gemstones were in the pack next to the fire, which we had fled. Davrys had magic and knew a couple of rudimentary spells but he had no offensive or defensive magic. We ran. I used what little mana I had left to cast a fireball into the dry grass as a distraction and we fled. That was when the third caster struck.
“I heard the spell coming and I was able to use the cross guard stone to block it, but it hit Davrys and burned him badly. It was arcane lighting. You saw it in the fight with the bandits in the mountains. The orc used it on us when we entered the caves. As I said, they were shooting to wound, not to kill.”
Mitchell only nodded.
“I was forced to turn and confront the caster, but drained of mana and with only my stone in the cross guard for defense, it was a hard fight. I was already hurt from the arcane bolt, my leg near useless, and now I had no mana or ability to cast much even if I did. But I was lucky, I suppose. The last caster looked young. A human woman, maybe only twenty high suns old, and she only carried a staff. She was one of those who had relied solely on her magical abilities and had not learned to use weapons. She had not expected me to charge her. I was able to deflect her attacks with the shield and, once I closed the distance, she was dispatched quickly.”
“Four left,” Mitchell said, somberly.
Allora nodded, her eyes now downcast. The forest was growing quiet as evening set in. The only sounds were those from the waterfall behind them and the occasional chirp of some bird.
“They were hesitant and held back now that all their casters were gone. The field was burning enthusiastically and the flames were growing closer. Smoke began to roll over us and breathing was difficult. Taking advantage of the poor visibility I moved as quickly as I could back to Davrys who had tried to crawl but the burns covered almost his entire left side and I had no mana left to heal him. I picked him up and tried to carry him but my leg…”
Allora started to choke up.
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“He… He was no small child, but nearly a man. He was well muscled and heavy. If I had had use of both my legs…” Her voice became strangled as she fought to get the story out through her grief. “I could have carried him but I fell and all I could do was drag him. He started screaming at the pain and I could hear them searching the smoke for us. I… I…”
She took several large lungfuls of air as she tried to get control of herself. After she settled down somewhat, something seemed to switch off in her. Allora’s voice became almost mechanical in the retelling.
“Half carrying him and half dragging him, I made it to a small farm building near the edge of the field. Davrys was only barely conscious by then, the pain having been more than he could bear. My leg was bleeding badly, I could feel myself weakening, and I knew we didn’t have much time before they found their way through the smoke to the building. They would capture me, kill Davrys, acquire the heart stone and then all would be lost. There would be no one to find a new monarch and Awen would die, and the land with her. I could not allow that to happen, so I took the only path left to me. The only thing I could do to save Awen.”
Mitchell had a sinking feeling in his gut. He knew what she was about to say and his heart broke for her. Still, he also knew he had to see this through. If for no other reason than she needed to stop carrying this burden alone.
“I took my dagger and plunged it into Davrys’s heart.”
Although her voice was flat, tears were running freely down her face and her body trembled.
“As he died, the heart stone emerged from his chest near where my blade pierced his flesh. I took it and made all haste out of the field. The others must have been poor trackers because they did not follow. I hid in the wilderness, eating what roots and wild food I could find, until my leg had recovered enough that I could risk travel overland. It took me almost two ten days before I returned to Gilriel’s cottage.”
Allora looked up at him, although he doubted she could see him through the tears. She broke, then, her face collapsing in on itself like someone crumbling up old paper in their fist.
“I killed him, Mitchell!” she nearly wailed.
She pulled her hand out of his and brought both hands up in front of her face. They were shaking and she looked at them as if they were the hands of some evil thing.
“I killed him and I ran!”
Mitchell got up and pulled her to him and held her. Her body convulsed and she gripped his bare skin like it was the only thing keeping her from hell’s abyss.
“He trusted me. I swore to protect him and I failed! I ran. Like the night Milandris came. I ran and my father, my mother, everyone… I…” she choked on her own agony. I—I…”
She pounded weakly at his chest as the memories overwhelmed her and she could spare no more breath for words.
Deep in the analytical part of his brain his memories trudged up the word “survivor’s guilt”. Mitchell couldn’t imagine the trauma she was trying to process. He knew the story of course, but it was almost academic to him. Like the stories of battles that he’d read in war books after his grandfather had died. He knew that the books were recounting real tales of tragedy and human suffering, that the pictures of the living and the dead had been real people who had suffered unimaginable cruelty and violence. But they were words on the page, reprinted images in black and white and grainy color. Now Mitchell was watching first hand what that sort of trauma could do to a person, to the woman he loved.
Watching Allora moan and sob, feeling her body twist itself as her grief manifested physically, and knowing that this distant enemy, this nameless person, Milandris, was the cause of it all, suddenly filled him with a rage so visceral that it almost overwhelmed his senses. He required several deep breaths of his own to regain his composure. Thankfully, Allora didn’t notice as she was too lost in her own suffering to sense the shift that came over him.
Milandris would pay for this, he vowed. Not just for Allora, but for all the suffering he had caused to others. For Lethelin’s mother, for Davry’s parents, for Kalros’s shattered faith and the loss of his wife. For all of them and all the others out there who had had their lives ripped apart by this invader’s avarice. And Mitchell would be the instrument of that justice and retribution.
“I am coming for you, you son of a bitch,” Mitchell vowed in his mind as he held Allora’s shaking body. “Like the vengeance of an angry god, I am coming.”
Through his own volcanic cloud of righteous fury Mitchell noticed that Allora’s breathing was evening out. He kissed the top of her head but didn’t let her go. At long last she spoke, her voice still ragged and thready.
“Mitchell, what if it happens again? What if I fail you? What if…?” her voice cut off with a sharp gasp. “I cannot ki… cannot ki… kill you Mitchell! Not you, not you.” Her head shook violently. “Not my love!”
Mitchell rocked her back and forth as the pain poured out of her like blood from a fresh wound. He said nothing, just rocked her as her sobs became whimpers. In time, her breathing slowed and her body went still. Mitchell didn’t move though, just continued to cradle her. She had been quiet for so long that when she spoke it almost startled him, even though it was barely a whisper.
“In the pool before, when I opened my eyes, for a moment I thought I saw Davrys’s face as I killed him. The light was in my eyes and for just a brief second it was as if my crime had returned.”
Allora exhaled a shuddering breath.
“I fought so hard to keep my heart closed to you because if I failed again and I lost you, I knew I would not have the strength to go on. I thought if I pushed you away, if I ignored my feelings for you and your feelings for me that it would be alright. But I could not. And I do not want to. Not anymore. Not since I woke up in Luvari’s cabin.”
Allora sat up then and met his eyes, hers still moist but clear.
“I love you, Mitchell Allen. And…” a tiny smile quirked her lips and she sniffed.
Even elves get runny noses when they cry, he noticed, idly.
“None of this means anything without you.”
“That’s my line,” he said as he touched his head to hers.
“It is.”
“Just remember who said it first.”
A short quick laugh erupted from her throat as she rested against him.
“Allora…” Mitchell began slowly. “It’s not my place to absolve you. I guess that would be Denass’s job. But, knowing you as I do, I know that if there had been any other choice, you would have taken it. Never in my life have I met anyone with the determination and loyalty you have to Awen and the people here. If there had been a way to save him and yourself, you would have found it.”
Mitchell could see her face begin to wilt as a fresh round of guilt began to overtake her but she got control of it this time.
“And you are not alone anymore,” Mitchell pressed on. “If I have my way, you will never be alone again. Your burdens are mine. We go forward together or not at all.”
Mitchell brought his lips to hers and they kissed almost fearfully.
“And I love you, Allora De Annen. I have loved you from the first moment I saw you. Did you know that?”
“I did not,” she whispered as her mouth began to kiss his jaw and then his cheek. “But I would like to hear about it.”
“It took me awhile to understand that feeling,” he began. Mitchell’s hands were in her hair now as her lips probed at the stubble on his neck and she moved down to his bare shoulder.
“I had never felt anything like it before. But you were the most striking woman I had ever seen. I knew then that I would do anything for you. I would follow you anywhere.”
“Do not tell Lethelin that,” Allora said with a giggle. Her breath was hot on his skin. Then she bit down lightly on the muscle of his shoulder.
As her mouth worked at his bare flesh, the need that Mitchell felt turned into desire, then into a hunger that could no longer be ignored. She loved him. She’d said it. And she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. After literal months of patience, he would have her.
He grabbed a handful of her glistening raven hair and pulled her up from where her mouth was beginning to explore his chest. His heart was hammering in his chest so hard he could feel it in his swelling cock.
“I want you, Allora.”
Allora let out a sigh as her eyes rolled back in her head.
“You may have me, Mitchell,” she groaned. “All of me. I am yours, now and forever.”