The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 2 Blood Honor and Dreams

by Melissa Myers

  “I don’t think any of them heard you speaking of failure and I swear to not repeat it to them,” Remedy said quietly, his voice going oddly soft at the last.

  Symphony squeezed his hand and smiled up at him. “I know you won’t, Remmy. I never worry about talking to you. I know you hold my secrets and keep them safe,” she assured him and went back to watching Lutheron.

  A cold feeling was settling in her stomach as the preparations grew closer to an end. It took her a moment to identify the emotion as dread. It wasn’t something she was used to feeling. With war looming though, she knew it would be a constant companion from now on. Without thinking, she squeezed Remmy’s hand again. Between his friendship and Faramir’s advice, it might be enough to keep her sanity intact through the trials ahead.

  * * *

  Shade watched Remedy quietly and smiled as he noticed him in conversation with Symphony. He had been too quiet since his return to Fionahold and Shade took it as a very good sign to see him talking now. Turning his attention back to the crowd around him he studied the tall man near Lutheron. He couldn’t quite place the man’s Bloodline, but he was Elder Blood.

  He remembered seeing the man at the council meeting he had attended. He had been dressed as a noble then. Now he stood in polished black armor that seemed sculpted onto his wiry frame. There didn’t even seem to be seams to the armor. It looked as though someone had coated the man in molten metal and smoothed it over his flesh.

  By just clothing standards they seemed two different people. The man at the council had seemed slight and refined rather than wiry and intimidating. The hair and eyes were unmistakable though, and he had no doubt that this was the same man from the meeting in the darkened room. No one else he knew had hair that color of grey. It wasn’t the salt and pepper that came with age but rather a solid color like polished steel. His eyes were what held Shade’s attention, though. He had thought they were black at first, but when the light had struck them he had realized they were dark purple. The color reminded him of Jala’s, though hers were a lighter shade, closer to violet than purple.

  His attention moved past the man’s features to the leather harness that crossed his chest. Several daggers hung from it across his chest and four swords were attached in the back. He could see two ornate sword hilts pointing up above his shoulders and two that hung upside down with the hilts just barely visible near his hips. He wore a standard sword belt as well with two more swords hanging from it. It seemed beyond excessive to Shade and he couldn’t fathom why the man needed to carry six swords as well as, only the Aspects knew, how many daggers.

  “Hey, Charm,” he said softly. The rogue was lounging nearby, leaning against a wall with a sprig of dry grass dangling from his mouth. He raised an eyebrow in question at Shade’s voice and turned to regard him with pale grey eyes. Shade grinned at the relaxed posture. It was rather nice to see Charm when he wasn’t screaming in anger or terror. “Can you tell me why that guy looks like a living weapon tree?” he asked, motioning discreetly toward the man.

  “That’s Vaze,” Charm replied around the grass stem as if that explained everything. He started to look away but Shade waved a hand to hold his attention.

  “That doesn’t explain it to me, Charm. I’m new here, remember. I don’t know who Vaze is,” Shade said with a shrug.

  “That is Lutheron’s protégé. He carries all of those weapons because he fights with all of those weapons. It is truly a spectacle to behold, but then you will get a chance to see him in action. We are in his strike force,” Charm explained and started to turn away again. “He is also Jala’s Uncle from what I understand from the quiet whispers,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

  Shade gaped at him, then glanced back toward the warrior. “Does Jala know? I think she believes all her family is dead.” He spoke softly, not wanting anyone else to overhear them.

  “They might as well be. Vaze has been here at least three hundred years and considers his only family to be the Fionaveir,” Charm replied with a shrug. He hadn’t bothered to keep his voice low and Shade glanced back to Vaze and Lutheron again to make sure they hadn’t overheard. It wasn’t that the topic was a bad one. He simply didn’t think they would consider it any of his business.

  His attention was pulled away at the sound of commotion on the opposite side of the courtyard. Several men were breaking up a fight, from what he could tell. From what he could see, the combatants were a slender Firym and a much larger blond man that was Delvay by the look of him. The Firym was dressed simply in the typical vest of his people and a pair of leather pants. He had no swords on, that Shade could see, but still he fought against those that held him to rush back in at the larger, armored foe. With a quick look at the Delvay man who had to be near six foot eight and towered over those that were attempting to restrain him, Shade decided it wasn’t a fight he would have picked. The Delvay was armored in thick leathers and heavy chain and had an axe across his back that looked big enough to split a dragon’s skull. The blond man wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth and spat in the Firym’s direction.

  “What’s that all about?” Shade asked Charm when he noticed the rogue was watching the disturbance as well.

  The Firym was fighting against those holding him again, writhing like a trapped wildcat in an effort to break loose. The crowd parted slightly to admit a slender dark haired Fae in shining plate mail. The Firym seemed to calm a bit as the man approached and resorted to waving a hand toward the Delvay and from the looks of it cursing violently to the Fae.

  “That’s Havoc. He has been pissed since he received word of his Aunt’s death. Who can say what started the fight. Crasmin might have said ‘good morning’ in the wrong tone, for all I can guess. When Havoc wants a fight he is a bastard to be around. Still, I can’t say that I blame him, considering,” Charm explained with a shrug.

  “Considering what?” Shade asked, glancing away from the men to look at Charm.

  “Considering she was assassinated and all fingers are pointing toward her son as the killer. Havoc’s own blood. No one knows for sure, of course, but the suspicion is strong.” Charm seemed to be lost in thought for a moment and then nodded. “Well there is the rub, actually, RenDelvayon was killed last night. That would explain the fight with Crasmin. If the brute was stupid enough to throw that death into Havoc’s face, he earned that bloody lip. Anyone that has been in the Fionaveir longer than a year knows better than to fuck with Havoc. He is like a Bendazzi with a burr in its foot. Cranky and dangerous, and that’s on a good day, unless you are his friend.”

  “How can they know for sure that it was her son?” Shade asked, a bit confused. Assassins as a rule were rather secretive and they didn’t exactly sign their work.

  Charm snorted in amusement and glanced at Shade. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t be as obvious to you since you don’t know Havoc’s family. Havoc’s true name is Kijani Firym. His aunt was Adana Firym the High mage of the Firym nation. There are only a few people that could have gotten into her rooms while she slept, and only two that I know that are Assassins. One is named Hemlock and is locked away behind a Barrier in Sanctuary. The other is Sovaesh, her son.”

  “Finn’s father?” Shade gasped, and looked directly at Charm. “But Finn is on our side. Why would his father be killing our allies?”

  “Just because Finn is helping us, doesn’t mean Sovaesh is. Sovaesh serves the Avanti. It’s a long story but the short of it is, he fell in love with the wrong woman. He ended up getting exiled and suffering through several trials to prove his loyalty in order to marry the woman.” Charm paused and stared at Havoc a moment, then shook his head slowly. “Still, I would have never guessed that he would kill his own blood. There is scarcely a sin that is greater in the Firym’s eyes. If they find proof that Sovaesh truly killed her, not even the Avanti will be able to keep him safe from his own family.”

  Shade turned back to regard the Firym who seemed calmed down now and was sitting by the Fae knight. His temper d
id remind Shade of Finn. The duelist had always seemed too eager to fight. He tried to imagine an entire nation of men like that and shuddered at the thought. No wonder his father had never started conflicts with the Firym in the past. “Hey, Charm,” he said after a moments consideration.

  “Hmm?” Charm looked over at him, still chewing on the strand of grass.

  “Which will be more important to the Firym, stopping the Blights in Faydwar or punishing Adana’s killer?” he asked, watching the rogue’s expression.

  The grass stem went a bit limp in Charm’s mouth and the rogue turned his gaze back toward Havoc. “That is a very good question, Shade,” he said quietly and shook his head again. “If it’s not the Blights then the Firym are fools. If they turn their back on Faydwar right now they will be the next overrun.”

  “Kind of how I saw it,” Shade muttered and then fell silent as Lutheron stepped back to the center of the courtyard and raised his hands for their attention. Lutheron wasn’t what Shade would describe as a handsome man. His features were just a bit too sharp for that. The fine chain mail and black tabard he wore now did make him striking though. He had that special quality about him that all Lords sought for in their commanders. When Lutheron spoke, men listened. The courtyard around him had fallen silent the moment Lutheron had raised his hand.

  Looking around at them all, the dark haired commander nodded his thanks to them for their obedience and lowered his arm. “You all have your groups, now. You know who will be leading you. I will not give you a time of attack because I do not have a time of attack. We will be acting on a moment’s notice so I need you all vigilant. Be ready when I call.” He turned in a slow circle as he spoke, his dark eyes traveling over everyone present.

  Shade straightened a bit when the man looked directly at him and felt foolish for a moment. Until he noticed everyone else was doing the same. He turned his eyes back to Lutheron and studied the man closer. There was something about him and he couldn’t put his finger on it. Some part of Lutheron demanded the best from everyone, and everyone strove to deliver their best to him. Shade searched inside himself, examining the emotion closer and realized with confusion that he was actually afraid of disappointing Lutheron.

  The only other soul that had ever made him feel fear like that was his father. He shook his head slowly, watching Lutheron. He barely knew the man. There was no reason for him to hold that kind of fear. It was unreasonable.

  His mind drifted back to the bombing of Eldagar and the powerful magic the commander had worked. Not even a Han’shy mind mage should have been able to cover that large an area with that strong of Emotion. “Shit, he is the Aspect of Fear,” he muttered to himself as the pieces clicked together. That made no sense though. Aspects were strictly forbidden from acting as Lutheron was. They had made a pact long ago with the High Houses to stay out of politics and in return they were left in peace.

  Charm elbowed him hard in the stomach and gave him a warning glare. “You have no idea what you are saying so be silent,” he hissed and Shade glanced over at the rogue. But Charm wouldn’t meet his eyes. His gaze was locked firmly on Lutheron as the commander began to speak again.

  “Taking back Sanctuary will not be easy. We will be outnumbered, but we will have surprise on our side. Fight with everything you have, Fionaveir. This battle will shape the course of the entire war. We will win! We must win! Sanctuary cannot be lost to them!” Lutheron’s words echoed off the stone walls. He turned in another slow circle, and nodded to the assembly. With a final glance toward Symphony, he left them there and made his way toward the door leading back into the hall. The courtyard seemed almost empty without him, despite the crowd of Fionaveir.

  Shade felt his heart thudding painfully against his ribs as the silence grew. By the expression on the faces around him, Lutheron’s words had the same effect on all of them. There was no doubt in his mind that every warrior here would fight to his last breath. They were simply too afraid of failure to do otherwise.

  Chapter 27

  Sanctuary

  Music filled the square with a joyous sound that Jala found unsettling. It didn’t seem right to have a festival, considering their current situation. Finn and Neph had insisted however and to her surprise Wisp had supported it. They said it would relax the commons and help them weather the siege. So they had strung bright colored lanterns and hired musicians. That, combined with alcohol, and the commons didn’t need a real reason to celebrate. They had lived in poverty for so long that the sheer abundance of food and drink was reason enough for a festival to them.

  She sighed heavily and tried to enjoy the night. It was hard to find happiness, however, when she could see Valor sitting by himself as far from the lanterns as he could manage. He deeply mourned the loss of his sister and there had been no sign of his niece in the three days since Chastity’s death. It seemed almost cruel to have a celebration while one of her friends was in mourning. She started to suggest to Finn that he should go keep the knight company, but when she turned to him she caught him staring at Wisp. The Fae was beautiful tonight in a gorgeous light green gown. Her hair fell down like a midnight curtain across her delicate back.

  She looked from Wisp back to Finn and kept the frown from her face. It was the third time tonight she had noticed him looking in the Fae’s direction. Perhaps he is thinking of how to get her out of the city. She considered the idea, but pushed it away quickly. She had spoken with him about it just yesterday and he hadn’t seemed concerned. They had decided that it might be best if Wisp went with all of them. With the amount of mage stones they had stored up it wouldn’t take long to restore enough of Merro for the few people she had to survive there. That, and if she was right about the angle of his gaze, he wasn’t simply watching Wisp, he was watching Wisp’s backside.

  Her eyes narrowed slightly and she sought the link between the two of them. She sensed impatience and a high level of anxiety there, not at all the emotions Finn was displaying. He was good at hiding his true feelings, though. He glanced back at her and smiled, reaching over to take her hand. His expression was a bit sheepish at first, but quickly relaxed. She squeezed his hand firmly and returned the smile. There was no sweat on his palm. No matter how good you were at hiding emotions, the body still betrayed a few, such as sweaty hands when feeling anxious. She studied the glass in his hand and watched him down the last of the wine before she squeezed tightly down on his hand in a bone jarring grip. Finn didn’t drink wine unless there was no other option. Finn preferred Firewater. His brother however was a wine connoisseur.

  “Ouch! Damn, Jala. What?” he asked staring down at his hand in shock.

  “Ouch?” she repeated dryly. She kept her expression sweet with a faint smile and shook her head at him. “Finn doesn’t say ouch ever, Sovann. Not even when there is a sword stuck through his guts. Where is my husband?” she said in a voice that threatened more pain if he didn’t answer quickly.

  Sovann paled considerably as he regarded her. Overall he had done a very good job of impersonating Finn’s appearance. The attitude as well as his attraction to Wisp had given him away, however. Sovann was so different from his brother in personality that they could hardly hold an extended conversation without one of them getting irritated and Finn never looked at other women.

  “Answer me!” Jala snapped, tightening her grip on his hand. If Finn had gone through all of this trouble with the festival and his brother’s impersonation, then he was up to something she wouldn’t approve of at all - again.

  “I don’t know where he is exactly, Jala,” Sovann began and then held a hand up in surrender as her expression darkened.

  “Quit that! Finn is never cowed by me. If you must show a reaction, either laugh or look guilty and that will mimic him perfectly,” she snapped, turning her head to look around the square to make sure no one was watching them. “Now tell me how he talked you into this and it may give me an idea of where he is.” She felt her heart lurch painfully as her imagination created scenarios in he
r mind.

  “He said to be ready for the signal and to stay on guard.” Sovann hesitated and she squeezed his hand painfully again to encourage him. “And he said that you couldn’t be involved in what he was doing in any way. that you must not be implicated with what had to be done,” he finished quietly.

  “What signal?” she demanded. releasing his hand. Her breath was coming more quickly now as the created images in her mind grew darker still. By the gods. at times. an imagination was a curse. She reminded herself of all of the times she had worried needlessly and forced herself back to calm. With another faint smile. she raised an eyebrow at Sovann. still waiting for her answer.

  He scratched at the back of his neck and shifted. The expression on his face suggested that he would rather be anywhere else in Sanctuary than where he was right now. It was an impressive display of guilt that she knew had nothing at all to do with his acting skills. “I don’t know exactly what it is supposed to be. When I asked him about it he laughed. You know Finn,” he paused and shrugged at her. “Isador was with him when he talked to me. I think it has to do with the Fionaveir somehow.”

  She nodded and stood slowly. Looking around the crowd she searched for any sign of the Fionaveir. She had been sticking fairly close to Joseph and Jala had thought she was trying to recruit him. Now. she wasn’t so sure. Looking down at Marrow she sighed. “Where is Emily?” she asked quietly.