The Elder Blood Chronicles Bk 1 In Shades of Grey

by Melissa Myers

  “I don’t understand why you are doing this? Is he an enemy of yours? I’ve never even seen him before,” Jala spoke rapidly, for the sight of the sand beyond had her nerves on edge. The Spring Games had been one thing. A duel to the death, that she was apparently going to see up close, was quite another.

  Finn raised an eyebrow and looked over at her with a questioning expression. “He called you a whore, Jala,” he pointed out.

  “And you and I know I’m not. Is that really worth killing, or possibly dying over?” she asked in dismay.

  He seemed to consider her for a moment as if he didn’t quite believe she was objecting. She met his gaze, eyes full of questioning, and he let out a brief snort of amusement. “I think so,” he answered simply with a glance back at the hall. He smiled a cold predatory smile that held none of the warmth she was so accustomed to seeing on his face. He fished his cigarette case from his pocket and calmly lit one. “And there is Valor, always so punctual,” he said as he exhaled slowly.

  Footsteps echoed in the tunnel behind them, and she looked back quickly to see Valor making his way toward them. The young knight was dressed in fine white leather and silver chain mail, and wore an expression so serious she couldn’t believe he was the same drunkard from the hall. He looked at Finn critically and handed him over a pair of swords. Finn unbuckled his current set and handed them to Valor and buckled on the offered blades. Jala watched the exchange curiously, her eyes lingering on the hilts of Finn’s new blades. Each hilt was in the form of a beautiful naked woman holding a large opal in her upswept hands.

  “Barllen laced blades, I use these when I’m dueling someone with questionable honor,” Finn explained. He pulled the blade a few inches from the scabbard and she noticed the black metal lining the edge of the blade. “If they try to use magic or magical swords my blades will absorb the spells.”

  “Doesn’t it drain you to carry them?” She asked in dismay. Sovann had explained Barllen to her, and she had fervently hoped never to see the metal in her life time.

  “Lead lined scabbards, bloody heavy but it contains the Barllen while I carry them on me, and when I’m fighting with them, I take care to touch only the hilts which have no Barllen in them,” he explained, and stepped out into the Arena.

  Bright sunlight glinted off his tawny hair, making it seem burnished gold. With a shrug of his shoulders, he pulled the black silk shirt over his head and tossed it back into the tunnel by her feet. Without thinking, she picked it up and clutched it to her. It smelled of Finn, a faint spicy scent mixed with sweat. He moved like a cat toward the center of the ring. The deep sand of the arena floor did not hamper his grace in the least. She watched his bronze back as he moved, noting the muscles rippling just below the surface with every step, and wondered if perhaps the Academy was wrong. Perhaps the Bendazzi was not, in fact, the most dangerous predator. She could see Devron stepping out of the tunnel on the opposing wall. His garish clothes had been replaced with a chain mail hauberk and coif.

  “Shouldn’t Finn have armor if Devron does?” she asked Valor softly.

  Valor flicked a gaze down at her and smirked and shook his head. “Even with armor, Devron will be dead in less time than it took Finn to buckle on his swords.” He took her arm as he spoke and led her out behind Finn. “Finn only uses armor when he feels he is facing an equal, Devron can barely buckle on his swords.”

  “He has six notches in his white coin,” she protested feebly, trying to keep up with Valor’s longer strides.

  “I’m amazed he managed to find six men that he could actually beat,” Valor replied with a snort of amusement, and slowed his pace as he noticed her difficulty.

  She stumbled slightly as the thick sand pulled at her sandals, but quickly recovered and tried to hide her blush. Cassia Avanti didn’t seem to be having difficulty at all, and seemed to glide across the arena floor, her expression filled with excitement. Jala set her teeth as she watched the other woman. With a slight shake of her head, she set her shoulders and continued in smaller, more dignified steps. She would be damned if she would let Cassia make her look like a clumsy ox. With Wisp, there was really no help. She couldn’t match the smaller Fae’s grace, but Cassia was entirely different. She could match Cassia in anything the woman cared to test her on.

  Would you object over much if I eat the loser or perhaps the woman? We did miss dinner, Marrow asked her, and she found herself hoping he was joking.

  No, for all you know, Finn might be the loser, she replied, a bit harsher than needed.

  No, he won’t, the other is soft and scared. I can smell the fear on him. He looks tender. Sure you won’t reconsider? Marrow persisted.

  She gave him a glare in response, and he returned the expression with the Bendazzi equivalent of a frown.

  “So, what exactly did Devron do?” Valor asked quietly as they both watched the grim-looking judge approach. “From the looks of the crowd and Finn’s posture, I’d say it was bad.”

  They were standing behind Finn now, perhaps five feet from the center of the Arena. Finn stood in a bit of a slouch, giving the impression he was relaxed, but she could see every muscle in his body was tense. Across from him stood Devron whose enameled chain mail gleamed in the bright sun. Behind him stood his lackeys in a semi-circle, trading jests with each other amid much snickering. Cassia stared back at Jala with a look of triumph in her blue eyes that sent chills down Jala’s spine. She had to force herself not to grab Finn and drag him from the arena. She doubted she actually could drag him, but if she hadn’t been concerned with rousing his anger toward her, she would have tried.

  “He called me a whore. Do you suppose there is any way you could talk Finn out of this?” She looked up at the knight with a pleading expression. She knew she couldn’t drag Finn from here, but perhaps Valor could talk him into leaving the Arena. It was a chance she wouldn’t pass up if Valor would help.

  He gave a sigh and moved forward to stand just behind Finn and leaned over to whisper in his ear. They seemed to confer with each other for the remainder of time it took the judge to take his position and then Valor fell back beside her again. He gave her a shrug when she looked questioningly at him.

  “I asked him to let it slide and not push this. If he listens, is the question. Finn isn’t prone to listening to anyone and that’s why he doesn’t serve a High House.” Valor gave her another shrug and a hopeful smile.

  The judge straightened and cleared his throat. He was a tall, forbidding figure in full grey plate complete with a bucket helm. His long black cloak billowed behind him, giving him a more dramatic pose. “Devron Rivasa, you come before us bearing the coin of death, have you no desire to solve this matter more peacefully?” he asked, his words echoing in his helm and ringing with tradition.

  “This is not a matter to be settled with peace,” Devron replied smoothly, his dark eyes fixed on Finn with an almost hungry gaze.

  The Judge gave a solemn nod and looked to Finn. “This man bears a Coin of Death with your mark, Finn Sovaesh, will you not seek a more peaceful answer?” he asked, facing Finn.

  Finn cleared his throat and sighed. “I give you a final chance, Devron. Return my coin and apologize to Lady Jala and I will let you live,” he said in a tone of voice that suggested he was hoping he would be refused.

  Devron made a disgusted sound. “Calling a whore a lady won’t make her one, Finn. Draw your steel and let’s be done with this. I have an engagement for cards that I would hate to be late for,” Devron replied. There were titters of laughter from his friends, and it seemed to bolster the Rivasan lord. He stood straight and drew his own steel. They were beautiful blades slender and elegant with delicate scrollwork tracing down both of them and they were far lighter than Finn’s own blades. He held them in a flourish before him as he impatiently waited for Finn to draw.

  The Judge stepped back from the two men, and Jala thought she heard a faint sigh from the helm as the man took his place to witness the duel.

  “After th
at little bit there, if Finn had backed down, I believe I would have killed him,” Valor whispered to her with a faint smile. “On the grounds of being an obnoxious prick.” He gave her a wink and returned his attention to the duel.

  Finn was eyeing the slender blades with a smirk as he drew his own thick swords. They seemed cleavers in comparison, short wide blades with a slight curve to them. They were brutal and deadly rather than beautiful and delicate. He didn’t bother with the dance as he had with Lex. He didn’t even wait for Devron to move. With one quick spring, he came forward with both of his own blades hard against the slender silver swords and the arena resounded with an audible boom as bright light flashed from Devron’s shattered blades. Released magic, Jala realized. The Rivasan’s blades had been enchanted as Finn had predicted. Finn’s swords seemed to drink the light as they moved, absorbing the magic into themselves before it could harm anyone. His foot came up in a hard kick to Devron’s midsection, while the Rivasan was still stunned from the flash, and his now useless swords fell limply to the sand. With a slight grunt of effort, Finn plunged one sword deep in the young man’s chest straight through the chain mail as if it were cloth. With another brutal push forward, he rammed the second blade up under Devron’s chin with so much force Jala could hear the bones of his neck snapping as the blade drove through Devron’s throat and out the back of his skull. Devron seemed to wilt before her, his knees buckled and he tottered slightly, his body shuddering. Blood began to seep from his mouth and stained the bright fabric under his chain mail a dark crimson. Finn gave him a push, sending him sprawling on his back, dead before he hit the ground. With a savage grip, Finn pulled his swords from the corpse and whipped the blades in an arc, sending ribbons of blood across Cassia.

  Cassia stepped back quickly with a gasp. Her face was a perfect picture of revulsion and dismay. Her eyes, however, didn’t seem to match those emotions. To Jala’s amazement she seemed happy. Jala shivered slightly, wondering what sort of person could find joy in death as she let her gaze drop to the still body lying only a few feet from her. His eyes stared blankly up at the sky, his face a mask of surprise. He looked so small there, like a boy playing dress up in his father’s armor. She had known of death before, with the loss of her parents, but she had never actually seen death before. Her parents had died suddenly, and no bodies had remained. It was as if they had just disappeared. The boy’s body wasn’t disappearing, however. She could hear Valor speaking but didn’t pay attention to the words. She couldn’t pull her eyes from the body or from the crimson stain spreading out below him. He had died because he had insulted her. His blood was covering the sand now for nothing more than a single word spoken.

  She felt bile rise in her own throat and then Valor was pulling her back and turning her from the body. The judge was speaking, she realized, but his words seemed a buzzing. Her knees began to quiver slightly and she remembered Marrow’s request for a meal, the bile rose again and she forced it back down with panic. The last thing she wanted to do was vomit on Valor. Dark spots danced on her vision and she felt herself wobble again. A strong arm caught her, gripping her around her waist, a strong arm still covered in fresh blood. She tried to push away in revulsion and staggered, her vision going black.

  “She’s just fainted, Finn, she will be fine,” It was Valor speaking, she thought. A cold cloth was across her forehead and she could feel soft sheets beneath her. Jala debated on moving and decided she didn’t feel like it when her stomach roiled again.

  “I’ve never actually seen anyone faint before,” Finn said quietly, his voice filled with concern.

  “I’ve never actually fainted before,” she replied, her voice a hoarse whisper. She felt the bed give slightly as he sat down beside her. With a groan, she forced her eyelids open and looked up at him. He hadn’t bothered to replace his shirt, she noticed. He had, however, washed away the boy’s blood, and for that she was grateful. The room was dark, lit only with a single pale mage light. Valor sat in a chair beside the bed, and Finn was looking down at her, his green eyes filled with worry. “I’m okay, just a bit nauseous,” she said, trying to soothe him.

  “I didn’t think. I should have sent you back to the Academy or waited on the duel. I’m sorry,” Finn said. With a gentle hand, he moved the cloth from her forehead and dipped it in a basin of water on the nightstand. Slowly she realized this was not her room, or her bed. The walls were a dark green and the sheets she was so tenderly wrapped in were black silk. She blinked a few times and raised her head to look around.

  “My room,” Finn explained, noting her confusion.

  She nodded slowly and let her head sink back onto the pillow. She should, of course, return to her own room, but she didn’t quite want to move yet. “Finn, next time someone calls me a name can we solve it another way, please?” she asked quietly.

  “Would you prefer I simply punch them in the mouth?” he replied with a slight smile. “Dueling is legal; punching in the mouth can get me exiled.”

  “I feel like I had a part in his death. I don’t like that feeling.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “His death was Cassia’s doing. She knew he would die. She didn’t look the least bit surprised when he fell. I was watching her,” Valor said with a sigh.

  Finn glanced at him and frowned. “This isn’t the sort of mess I usually fall into,” Finn said, as he draped the cloth back across Jala’s forehead. “I still don’t see the point of it though. If I were from a High House this duel could have triggered a war, but my parents serve her house.”

  “I’m sure we will know soon enough,” Valor replied. “Maybe she was testing you, to see how protective you are. I have to admit, I’m rather surprised at the answer to that particular question.”

  “As am I,” Jala added, watching Finn for any reaction.

  “That makes three of us,” Finn admitted ruefully. “You know my temper, Val, and while insults usually don’t trigger it, they did today.” He rubbed his face and let out a deep breath. “I wanted to strangle him at the café. It took much willpower not to.”

  “Would you do it again?” Valor asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yes,” Finn answered without hesitation and then smiled. “But I would send Jala back to the Academy first,” he added.

  “Well then, no use troubling ourselves over it if you have no regrets.” Valor gave a nod and patted Finn firmly on the back as he rose. “Live life with no regrets,” he said with a smile and headed toward the door. “I’ll be at the Gold Penny if you need me. I want to hear the gossip. I’ll save you a spot at the card table if you like,” he offered, pausing in the doorway.

  “No thank you, another night perhaps. I’m going to stay in tonight. If you would send a runner with some food back, I’d appreciate it, though. You know my taste well enough to order something from wherever is convenient. Get enough for two and meat enough for the Bendazzi,” Finn said and tossed a money pouch to Valor. His friend caught it easily and gave them both a nod before closing the door behind him.

  “I’m fine. You could have gone. I should probably get back to my own room anyway,” Jala protested.

  “Had I wanted to go, I would have,” Finn replied before she could protest further.

  “Is Marrow here?” she asked. She could feel his presence, but couldn’t tell if he was actually in the room or not.

  Finn gave a slight nod. “Asleep by the bed. He made some grumbling about if he couldn’t eat he would sleep.” He had a thoughtful expression on his face and his gaze was locked on the wall.

  She watched him for a few minutes, waiting for him to speak again, but he remained silent, as if he had forgotten she was even in the room. “Finn, are you OK?” she asked at last.

  His gaze flicked back down to her and his eyes met hers and held them. “I’m no Empath, but I could feel how upset you were at the arena. Not see it, actually feel it. I felt your revulsion when I took you from Valor. Do I disgust you that much now?” He spoke quietly, his tone so soft it wasn�
��t even a whisper.

  “It was the fresh blood on your arm and the death. I’ve never actually seen a man die before. Not like that,” she answered, her eyes still holding his. The mention of Devron brought the image back to her mind and she shuddered slightly.

  “I don’t even notice it anymore, the blood or the death.” He broke her gaze then and stared down at the sheets, his finger tracing a line back and forth through the silk.

  “How many have you killed?” she asked, afraid to know the answer but wanting it none the less.

  “I’m on my second black coin, and each coin holds sixty marks. This one is nearly full. That’s only the third I’ve killed without payment though. I’m a duelist. I kill when my client demands death,” he answered. With a sigh, he leaned back, bracing his arm on the mattress and met her gaze again. He chewed his lower lip for a moment, seeming to consider his words before speaking. “I don’t live by anyone’s assistance, Jala. I pay for the Academy with my own coin, as well as for my own wardrobe and weapons. My parents serve Avanti and if I take their coin I live by their rules, which essentially means I serve Avanti, as well. My father is a good man serving a bad one. I serve no one but myself.” He stood slowly and crossed the room, pausing by a small table. Silently, he waved a bottle in her direction in offering, and when she shook her head poured himself a double. He took a long pull from the glass and walked back to the bed, bringing the bottle with him. “I suppose by Shade’s grey theory, I’m rather dark grey, perhaps black. I don’t really know. When I do die, I know I’ve a spot reserved for me among the demons of the Darklands, but that doesn’t bother me. I live by the sword, and kill when it’s required, without remorse. And I’m good at it. I’m not an Assassin, only by the fact that my victim has a choice of refusing the duel.”

  “You fight honorably, Assassins don’t,” she objected quickly. At the mention of the Darklands, goose bumps rose on her arms. She didn’t want to picture Finn there, nor did she want to consider him dying for that matter.