The Elder Blood Chronicles Bk 1 In Shades of Grey

by Melissa Myers

  “Oh by the Aspects, she is still beaut…” Madren began, his voice cut off sharply with a loud crack followed by a thump. Jala looked back quickly to see Madren lying sprawled beside his horse and Finn shaking his hand slightly as he examined his knuckles.

  “What in the name of the Aspects was that for?” Shade demanded as he dismounted and moved quickly to Madren’s fallen form.

  “What? Did you want to wait for him to break out a box of drugged chocolates and propose to her? Better to stop him before he got himself killed,” Finn snapped.

  “Um…guys, witch, remember,” Wisp said quietly, looking pointedly at the woman ahead of them.

  Jala turned her gaze back to the witch deciding to let her friends work out their differences considering the company they were in. The dusky skinned woman looked amused at the spectacle and Jala took that as a good sign. She dismounted slowly and moved closer to the woman. “My name is Jala, I’m looking for the Oracle,” she said in a respectful tone, bowing her head to the woman.

  “I am called Myzra the Traveler,” the woman replied with an answering nod. She eyed Jala with interest and dropped the lead to the donkey as she moved closer. “You have been brushed by death, little sister. You are nearly one of us,” Myzra’s voice was low and melodic.

  “I have seen far more death than I like,” Jala agreed, trying to keep her eyes on the woman who was slowly walking a circle around her. Her gaze flicked to Finn, as he moved past the two of them and stopped by the little donkey, scratching the beast behind the ears and casually glancing at the bulky packs it carried.

  “Are you one of the mages of the Tolanteer forest, Myzra?” Jala asked, hoping to keep the woman’s attention from Finn’s snooping.

  Myzra gave a slight nod and stopped in front of Jala once more. “I am one of the five. I am not the one you seek, however. You want the Oracle, then. You wish to see Anthae the Seer.”

  “Can you tell me where to find her?” Jala asked. She could see Finn behind the woman trying to catch her eye subtly. Carefully she turned her gaze toward him while trying to seem as though her attention was still focused on the witch. Finn nudged the donkey slightly with his hip giving her a better view of the packs and pointed down. Fingers protruded from below one of the canvas coverings, and Jala had to struggle to keep her expression from changing. Finn raised an eyebrow at her and gave her a look that held warning. He lightly tapped a sword to signal he would be ready if needed. If her other companions had noticed Myzra’s cargo, they gave no indication. Both Shade and Leah seemed occupied by trying to wake Madren quietly, and Wisp simply sat on her horse as silent as the trees beside her.

  “He trespassed where he was not welcome,” Myzra said calmly when Jala’s eyes came to rest on her again. “Those who do not belong in Tolanteer do not live long.”

  “We do not mean to trespass. I simply wish to speak with the Oracle. If that is not possible we will leave at once,” Jala replied, unsure what else she could say.

  “For you who are nearly sister to us, it is possible. These others I will allow to live with the agreement that your young friend removes his hand from his sword now,” Myzra said in her same soothing voice and glanced back to give Finn a smile that held no warmth in it at all.

  Finn moved his hand from the sword and gave a slight nod before moving from the donkey, as well. With a shrug to Jala, he returned to wait by the horses. “My apologies, Lady,” he said to Myzra as he passed.

  Myzra gave a toss of her hand as if it were no concern. She looked back to Jala and then to Finn, and a flash of amusement crossed her face. “You will need a coin for passage,” she said to Jala. Jala blinked in confusion and started to reach for her coin purse, but the witch stopped her with a laugh. “No child, not that coin, one of these.” She reached up to her hair and pulled one of the small copper discs from a braid and handed it over to her. “Carry it on with you and if you see another of my sisters show her the coin and tell her who you seek and she will allow you to pass. You will find Anthae at the cottage just ahead,” Myzra said and moved away quietly to gather the donkey’s lead again. “Be careful what you ask of Anthae. Answers are often dangerous.” The witch smiled and began walking again, her gaze flickering across each in the group as she passed.

  Jala watched her go and looked down to the worn copper coin in her hand, then moved back to her horse. As far as she could see there was nothing special about the coin other than it was a bit melted on the sides.

  “Do you know what that is?” Finn asked quietly, his gaze on the coin, as well.

  “A copper from Goswin, I suppose, though I’m not sure,” Jala answered as she dropped the coin into her cloak pocket.

  “A dead man’s coin. They place them over the eyes before they bury or burn a corpse. Some cultures do anyway,” he corrected.

  “She was wearing dozens of them and she had a bloody corpse on the donkey,” Jala said in a hoarse whisper, her nerves from earlier returning in a rush. Her eyes traveled to the path ahead of them, and she felt goose bumps rise on her arms. She wondered what, exactly, she had led her friends into.

  “Yep, she was easily the creepiest woman I’ve ever met,” Finn said and nudged his horse forward. He glanced back at her and gave her a devilish grin. “She had a sweet ass though.”

  Jala groaned at the joke and rolled her eyes, giving a nervous chuckle. She looked over her shoulder and saw that they had managed to revive Madren and get him back on his horse. Shade gave her a nod, and she pushed her horse forward to ride beside Finn.

  “Now where were we? Ah, yes, my male bonding with Valor and Jail,” Finn began.

  By the time they reached their destination, Finn had once again fought away her nerves with his conversation. To her relief, they had not encountered any of the forest’s other denizens on their way, nor had she seen any sign of Marrow, though, and she was growing worried. The small cottage stood sheltered in a grove barely big enough for the six horses. Despite the long years since Goswin had fallen, it was in remarkably good repair with what looked to be fresh paint and a tidy thatch roof. Just beyond the edge of it, she could see the hint of a small garden and the faint smell of mint and thyme drifted to them on the breeze.

  Jala rode forward, stopping a few feet from the cottage, and glanced around the grove once more just to be sure she hadn’t missed anyone in the shadows. She had been hoping to catch a glimpse of the Bendazzi, as well, but if he was nearby she saw no sign of it.

  The door of the cottage opened as she dismounted. A slender woman stood framed in the doorway, the soft glow of candles behind her. She was taller than Myzra, with a proud bearing. Her silver hair was tied back from her face with a few braids hanging loose to brush her cheek. The coins of dead men dangled from the braids and Jala had to suppress a shudder as she watched them glint in the candlelight.

  Stepping a few steps closer, Jala bowed her head respectfully. “Milady, my name is Jala. I am seeking Anthae the Seer.”

  “And you have found her. You may enter. Your companions must wait,” Anthae said, her voice soft and barely above a whisper. The candlelight behind her gave shadows to her face and made it impossible to see her expression, but her voice had a welcoming note to it.

  Jala nodded and handed her reins to Finn. He frowned at her as she turned toward the cottage and caught her hand. She looked back at him and smiled. “I’ll be fine,” she assured him, hoping she was, in fact, telling the truth.

  “You have any problems, yell and I’ll bring the door down,” he promised, and gave her hand a light squeeze before letting her go. Jala bit her lower lip and gave him a quick nod then headed toward the door. Anthae moved aside and let her pass before pulling the door shut behind the two of them. Jala looked around as she entered and felt herself relax a bit. The room was well lit by candles and a small fire burned in the fireplace. The cottage was tidy with comfortable furniture and the pleasant smell of drying herbs. It had a comforting feel to it and reminded her of her long ago home in Merro. Anthae mot
ioned her to a chair and sat down across from her. Silently, the witch poured tea for the two of them and slid a cup toward Jala.

  “Thank you,” Jala said, accepting the tea and trying hard not to stare at the woman. Her face was delicate with high cheekbones and full lips. She must have been beautiful in her youth, but some tragedy had made a ruin of her eyes. Terrible scars covered them from one side of her face to the other, and the eyes themselves were a solid milky white.

  “Fingernails, I clawed them in a fit of madness after the failing.” Anthae said in her whispery voice as if she could feel Jala’s eyes upon her.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to be rude,” Jala spoke hastily and dropped her gaze.

  Anthae gave a mirthless chuckle. “No need for that, child. Now tell me, what is it that brings you to our lands? I could sense you approaching, and I could feel the importance, but I don’t know what you believe you need from me.”

  “I was told you could answer a question for me, so I came to ask,” Jala replied, keeping the answer as honest as she could. She had the sense that Anthae was one that preferred simple over flattering.

  “Well than I would hear the question. If there is truly just one question you cannot find the answer for, you are a rare child indeed,” the witch prompted, sounding somewhat amused.

  “I want to know who I truly am. Who my true parents were, that is,” Jala said, her voice quiet. It had seemed such an important thing days ago, but now after Myzra’s warning, she found herself almost fearing the answer.

  Anthae gave a slight nod and reached below the small table and pulled up a white porcelain bowl. She sat the bowl carefully on the table between the two of them and poured some of the hot water she had used for tea into it. The air above the bowl steamed, rising in delicate waves above the water. Anthae leaned forward and took one of Jala’s hands in her own. The witch’s grasp was icy to the touch, and Jala fought the urge to check for a pulse. “Look into the water, child. We will seek the answer for which you have traveled so far,” Anthae said as she placed her other hand on the rim of the bowl and slowly sank her fingers into the near boiling water.

  The water seemed to cloud at her touch and turned a milky white. After but a few breaths, it began to swirl and colors bloomed in its depths. Jala leaned forward and stared down into it. Her mother stood there, young and terrified in a house that had once been fine. Beyond her, closer to the door, two men argued. One wore a uniform while the other was old and grey. Near the wall, a woman stood crying, clutching an apron to her face, her shoulder shaking. Jala watched as the argument grew more heated between the two men and the one in the uniform shoved the elderly one back out of the doorway. The soldier or guard, Jala couldn’t tell which, pushed past and seized her mother by the arm. The terrified girl her mother had been screaming and tried to pull away but the man drug her from the house, deaf to her terror.

  “In Merro, when a debt could not be paid, a child was often taken,” Anthae said quietly.

  Jala looked up from the water and watched the witch. It was obvious from her eyes the woman was blind, yet she seemed to see despite that.

  “I see what is in the water in my mind; I see what is in this world through my Familiar. Look behind me girl, in the rafters,” the witch urged. Jala looked as directed and spotted the bird after a moments search. It was built like an owl with feathers the color of the night sky. “Now that you understand, focus upon the bowl again so that you might have your answer,” Anthae said quietly, her tone somber.

  Jala gave a slight nod and remained silent as she turned her gaze back to the bowl and watched her mother drug off toward slavery. The water swirled again and cleared almost as quickly showing an image of her mother beaten and bloody lying on her side on the floor. Her clothing was torn so badly, Jala was sure Anthae had spared her the sight of her mother being raped. A man stood above her, sleek and handsome and obviously Elder Blood. He was wiping his hands on a towel and smiling down at the crumpled form of her mother. He kicked her lightly with his foot, and her mother rolled away, her torn clothing trailing behind her as she sought to escape further abuse.

  “Traven Merrodin,” Anthae said her tone flat. “He was second son of the High Lord and controlled the slave plantations. There has rarely been a darker man born than that one. May he rot forever in the Darklands for his sins.”

  Jala glanced up at the witch and back to the water and watched as abuse after abuse was inflicted on the terrified girl in the vision. She felt her stomach knot as she watched the suffering her mother endured. Her heart lurched as the water swirled again and the image of her father appeared. He seemed as fierce as Havoc had said he was. With brutal efficiency, he cut down the guards of the plantation and met the young Lord Merrodin in combat. It was obvious when he lifted her mother from the floor that some time had passed between her captivity and rescue. The abused, broken girl’s stomach was well rounded with child now.

  “You know the rest of the story, Lady Merrodin; the young Fionaveir carried the girl off and hid her right under their nose in Merro. He raised a beautiful little girl as his own. With love, he taught her honor and values until the fall of Merro.” Anthae’s hand slid out of the water as she spoke and the vision died. She looked up at Jala as if her blind eyes could see. “You have so much work ahead of you, child.”

  “Only school,” Jala replied with a sigh. “And then I’m not sure what, they never told me what came after the Academy, even if I am the product of that rape it doesn’t matter. Merro is gone, it’s just a wasteland, and I’m nothing but a former slave’s bastard.”

  “You will rebuild Merro, child. I can see this, though it is as if through a fog. You will be Lady Merrodin, and I can tell you that your people are not lost to death. The Lords of Oblivion hold their souls and if you are determined, you may yet have them back.”

  Jala’s head snapped up, her sadness evaporating like morning dew. “My parents, you are saying my parents can be brought back?” she asked, hope rising in her.

  Anthae gave a nod and cocked her head to one side. “They can, I see it, though as I said, it is through a thick fog. You can do it. I’m just not sure how you will do it. Death is a greedy mistress and she does not like to release souls, but for the Lords of Oblivion holding tight to their souls the people of Merro would be far past recovery.” Anthae paused and took a sip of the now cool tea, her expression distant and thoughtful. “This is not the vision that I see most clearly when I look at you, though, the other I see I do not understand at all.”

  “What else do you see?” Jala asked with a voice thick with emotion. She wasn’t sure how she would accomplish restoring the people of Merro, but there was no doubt in her mind that she would.

  Anthae held up her hand and a round gold disc appeared in it. “This child, though I don’t understand. Both sides of the coin mean much to you that I can see clearly.” She set the coin down before Jala. “You may look at one or the other, but you will never see the two together. No more than you can look upon both sides of that coin at once.”

  Jala looked down at the coin confused and examined the crossed swords engraved in silver on the intricate gold coin. With hesitation, she lifted the coin and turned it to look at the other side. A badger was engraved there with such careful detail there was no mistaking what it was. Jala turned the coin back over and examined the swords more carefully. Along the blades edge, the silver seemed a bit darker, almost tarnished. She bit her lower lip and nodded to Anthae. “I think I understand, but I hope I’m wrong,” she said quietly.

  “If it is a painful answer it is most likely the true answer, child. An Immortal’s life is a dangerous one,” Anthae said, her voice full of sympathy.

  “What can I offer you for your help, Anthae?” Jala asked, hoping whatever the witch required would be within her means to grant.

  “Succeed where I failed, child, and I will be content,” Anthae replied. She regarded Jala again for a moment and spoke in a low whisper as if afraid of being overheard. �
��One among your companions bears the betrayer’s blood. Be wary, child, and be very careful of who you trust. Now is not the time to be Lady Merrodin. You must gain more strength first. You will know when you must take up that title, but until then, you must tread very carefully. You should go now, dawn grows close, and you have miles to travel.”

  Jala rose at the dismissal then paused as Anthae took her hand lightly. She looked down at the witch and Anthae gave her hand a faint squeeze. “Words of wisdom for you, child. Let no one tell you what you are capable of. Search your heart and find that answer yourself. Others will doubt you. Never doubt yourself. To doubt is to fail.” The witch released her hand and motioned her to the door.

  “Thank you, Anthae” Jala said quietly, her tone sincere. She stepped out of the house and Finn quickly moved to her side. The others watched her with open curiosity, but she shook her head. “I’ll explain later, I promise, I need to sort things out a bit first, though. It was a bit cryptic. For now, I’d just like to get out of these woods.” The excuse would buy her some time, but eventually her friends would want to know what they had ridden through a cursed forest for. She had no idea what she would tell them but at least she would have some time to think of something.

  “Are you OK? You’re pale,” Finn said, his voice filled with concern. She gave a weak nod in reply and slipped the gold coin into her pocket, as she tried to keep her eyes from his swords with their darkened Barllen edge.

  Chapter 24

  Gaelyn

  With closed eyes, Charm brought to mind the image of Sanctuary’s rainbow lights. He took a deep breath and imagined he could smell fresh bread and spiced meat rather than his own sweat and horse. The ground beneath him was stony and he shifted his weight, trying to find some comfort.