The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 3 From the Ashes

by Melissa Myers

  “Imagine that, a visit from Neph and he will no longer talk to us,” Valor said sarcastically and earned a rude gesture from Neph.

  “You try keeping this place in order for a while, Valor. I’ll lay a heavy wager that in one week with you in control we would have utter chaos, no food, and you would be too drunk to notice,” Neph snapped.

  “Give me time to think on this. In two days we will have another discussion on the matter. That should give me plenty of time to regain my strength,” Jala said with a nod, her eyes flicking back and forth between Neph and Valor. The knight had turned back to the window once more and Neph was watching her again. So she let the comments slide without any words of her own on the matter. In truth, she wasn’t really sure what to think about it at any rate. In the Darklands, Valor had been the picture of quiet competence and had barely drunk any wine. Here in the sunlit world things were apparently different, however.

  “Fair enough,” Sovann agreed and nodded toward the door. “Let’s allow her to speak with Valor and rest. There is plenty of time to discuss everything later.”

  Wisp nodded and gave Jala one last hug before rising from the bed. With a smile she moved to Sovann’s side and they quietly left the room. Jala watched them go and tried to ignore the twinge inside her chest. Sovann looked so much like his brother it was difficult to see him without thinking of Finn.

  “Don’t keep her awake long, Valor,” Neph warned and nodded farewell to Jala as he moved to the door and quietly closed it behind him.

  Jala watched the door for a long moment and then turned to look back at Valor. The knight was leaning against the window frame watching her with a cautious expression. “Why do you look nervous?” she asked as she threw the blankets back from her legs and swung them over the side of the bed. Frowning, she looked down at the short linen shift she wore and searched the room for any sign of her clothing.

  “I was curious as to what you wished to speak with me alone about and now I’m simply wondering what in the hell you think you are doing,” Valor said, his voice incredulous.

  “Oh, there are several things I’d like to talk to you about but they can wait. For now, we have to get to Glis,” Jala replied as she stood shakily and moved to the trunk at the foot of the bed.

  “What?” Valor demanded, moving to her side and trying to guide her back to the bed. “Jala you shouldn’t even be standing,” he scolded, his eyes flicking to the door once more.

  Jala looked at him with a raised eyebrow but didn’t allow herself to be moved an inch. Reaching up she took his chin in her hand and forced him to meet her eyes. “Valor, listen,” she ordered. “Death is a petty vindictive bitch and your brother-in-law is near death. I severed the ties she held on him for now, but once she recovers she will kill him. If I can get there before she does I can heal him. I know I hurt her badly this time but I am not fool enough to think I killed her. So stop wasting time and find my boots.”

  “So you had the others leave because you knew they would stop you from doing this and you kept me because I go along with everything,” Valor sighed.

  “Yes, they would stop me and I kept you to stop the Shifters from ripping my face off when we appear out of nowhere. They know you. They do not know me,” Jala explained as she lifted the trunk lid and sorted through her clothing quickly. “Valor,” she said as she stood back up clutching a tunic and breeches.

  “Hmm?” Valor raised an eyebrow at her and dropped her boots down in front of the bed.

  “There is actually something I do need to talk with you about before we go. Do you know what they did with my old grey cloak?” Jala began slowly, her eyes searching the room for any sign of the ruined garment.

  “Neph burned it, but the things you had inside it are on your dresser,” Valor replied with a look of faint confusion.

  Jala nodded and chewed on her lower lip. After the disaster with Finn’s spirit stone she wasn’t sure she wanted to walk down this path, but Valor had a right to know. Silently she moved to the dresser and sat her clothes on the edge before picking up the gold coin. Turning it over in her hands she stared down at the imprint of the black swords and then the badger before finally looking back to him. “Do you remember when Vaze took us out of Death’s palace and he mentioned not being able to find Chastity?” she asked quietly.

  A pained look crossed Valor’s face and he nodded faintly. Guilt showed clearly in his blue eyes and he let out a slow breath. “I do, and I have no idea how to tell Sebastian about it or even if I should tell him.”

  Jala crossed the short distance between them and took his hand. With another glance down at the coin she placed it carefully in his waiting palm and closed his fingers over it. “Vaze couldn’t find her because my last spell was placing her soul in this. I didn’t have another gem to use, but Ash said it only required an item of value. To others, that coin may look like a simple gold piece but to me it is worth more than any gem. Chastity’s soul is there, but after what happened with Finn,” she let her words trail off and released his hand, moving back to pick up her clothing once more.

  “You barely knew Chas. You had only met her once and you used the last of your strength to save her from that place rather than striking another blow at Death?” Valor asked softly as he turned the coin over in his hand and then looked up to her, his eyes searching.

  “I didn’t do it for Chastity. I know how much you loved your sister and I wouldn’t leave someone you loved in a place like that. It was horrible enough watching Death use that love against you once. I didn’t want to see it happen again. Another strike against Death was a gamble if I would even hurt her. Saving Chastity was something I knew I could do. I don’t regret the choice I made at all,” Jala explained as she pulled the tunic on over her shift and frowned at its tightness. It wouldn’t be long before none of her clothes would fit over her growing stomach. “Saving Sebastian is something I know I can do, too,” she added as she tugged on the loose pants and slipped her feet into her boots.

  “Then grab a coat or cloak because it is bloody cold in Glis this time of year,” Valor said as he wrapped the coin tighter in his hand and watched her with an unreadable expression on his face.

  Nodding, Jala gave Valor a faint smile and pulled her white fur lined coat from the trunk. “I’ve thought about what Vaze told us about the Divines and their manipulations,” Jala said.

  “And?” Valor asked hesitantly.

  “War was the only one that came right out and said what he wanted. War tried to help me, and conflict is coming regardless.” Jala paused as she tugged the coat on and met Valor’s eyes once more. “He says that the Avanti will come for us and our only choice will be fight or surrender. I’d rather die than surrender to an Avanti, Valor. We could, of course, flee back to the city but that doesn’t save us from what’s coming. I think this whole world will feel the breath of war before this is over.” Valor nodded slowly, his gaze moving to the Bendazzi who was sitting up and stretching his powerful muscles. Looking back to her he nodded once more. “Did they have Bendazzi in Merro before its fall?” he asked.

  Jala shook her head and glanced at Marrow then back to Valor. “I think the climate was too warm for them here. Merro rarely gets much snow in winter and it’s very humid in the summer. Why?”

  “They say a Familiar is the reflection of the Sorcerer’s spirit,” Valor began and gave her a faint smile. “We do have Bendazzi in Arovan and they are frequent in Glis as well. The commons have a saying there. Never pick a fight with a Dazzi. It’s rather commonly used for describing anything that would be considered foolish. Everyone in Arovan knows to hunt a Bendazzi is to seek an early grave.” Valor paused and watched Marrow jump lightly down from the bed to pace over to Jala’s side. “When we return I’ll start building your army, Lady Bendazzi, and we will teach the rest of the world an Arovan saying if they attempt to attack Merro.” He still swayed slightly where he stood and the slur was still evident in his words, but his eyes were bright with determination.

/>   “Thank you, Valor,” Jala replied quietly. “Never pick a fight with a Dazzi,” she repeated with a glance down at Marrow. Running her hand across his broad head she focused on Glis and the area she had sensed the strand from Sebastian. She held out her hand offering it to Valor then flinched as she saw the state of it. Without the pain present she had almost forgotten how mangled it had been. She hadn’t even bothered to look at it until now. Whoever had healed her had done a poor job of smoothing the scars on her flesh. Jagged bumps could still be seen where the fragments of the focus stones had been. The worst however were the two stumps that were all that remained of her little finger and ring finger. With a sharp breath she hurriedly lowered the hand once more and offered him her other undamaged one.

  Valor shook his head frowning at her and refused the offered hand, moving instead to the damaged one. Gently he took it in his own and studied the missing fingers critically. “Never be ashamed of scars that you earned with honor, Jala. This is a mark of courage, not an embarrassment.”

  “I doubt the rest of the world will see it that way, Val,” Jala murmured, her eyes drawn once more to the hideous mess the healer had left behind.

  “If they know the story and still find it offensive, most likely they are on the opposing side and we are about to kill them anyway. Slighting you just gives me more reason to drive the sword through their chest,” Valor replied.

  Nodding slowly, Jala gave Valor a considering look but remained silent. Focusing once more she began the spell that would transport them to Glis. Magical transport was risky, especially during the current times, but then everyone thought Jala Merrodin was on her deathbed.

  Chapter 12

  The Darklands

  The throne room was silent aside from the sound of his own ragged breath. Finn stared at Death with more hatred in his mind than he could ever recall feeling. His body was quivering with rage, but he was entirely unable to move. The Divine shifted on her throne and glanced up at him with a wicked chuckle.

  “Calm yourself, she will be back here soon enough, and your child as well,” Death whispered, her hands already weaving another spell. The Divine had been steadily weaving magic since the shadows had dropped him at her feet.

  Finn struggled once more against his magical bonds and felt the Firym flames building inside him, begging for release. A broken snarl burst from his throat and his anger grew further. Valor’s sword lay barely two feet from him, lost in the shadows near the wall and forgotten by everyone. Two feet from him and hopelessly out of reach.

  A gentle brush on his mind stilled his anger for a breath and he tried desperately to find its source. Death’s iron grip upon him was as cold as the grave itself and yet that faint touch had been filled with warmth. Hope welled momentarily in his chest and then died in the slow agonizing minutes that followed as he failed to find any trace of the unknown magic. The rage returned in full force and Finn settled once more into his struggle against Death’s bonds while his dark green eyes locked on her with a glower that would have sent most running. The Divine, however, showed no sign of noticing or caring that she had angered Finn Sovaesh. In life, his name had terrified people; in death he was simply another number on the Divine’s list of souls.

  The gentle brush of magic washed over him once more and his breath seized in his chest. I’m so sorry I wasn’t strong enough, Finn. I tried, I really did. I am strong enough to help you with this, though. Jala’s voice was barely a whisper but he could hear the pain in her words as clearly as if she had screamed them aloud. Finn’s throat tightened and he forced himself to blink several times to keep his eyes from growing glassy. It took him several more breaths before he realized the implications of his actions. His body had responded; he had blinked. Until the moment of Jala’s words even that simple action had been beyond him.

  Without daring to move a muscle he called on his Changeling blood as he had so many times before, and began to make minor adjustments to his body. First the reflexes. With careful precision he honed them enough to make a cat envious. He focused then on the muscles, tightening them and compacting them to bring his strength far beyond what his slight frame should have allowed. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but it was an opportunity that he didn’t intend to waste. When the moment came he would be prepared to strike.

  Death reeled on her chair and staggered upright, her hands flying to her face as an explosion of white light rocked the throne room. The spirits that had been silently drifting by the walls began to wail and screech, and somewhere far above them Finn could hear the battle cry of a dragon. The palace rocked once more and stones fell from the ceiling as the Divine staggered again.

  Without wasting another moment Finn seized the sword from the floor and drew it from its scabbard in one graceful motion. The faint torchlight flickered off the oiled blade as he charged the Divine. His blood sang as all of his fury coursed through his muscles and into the two-handed swing that he sent straight into Death. The blade connected with jarring force into the sweet spot where her neck and shoulder met. As Finn had expected, Valor’s sword was of exceptional quality. The blade bit deep, cutting through the Divine’s leathery flesh as if moving through hot butter. Death staggered back, with one clawed hand grasping frantically, trying to catch hold of him. Snarling, Finn pulled his sword back, amazed that the Divine was still on her feet. Her head hung limply on her shoulder connected only by a few scraps of flesh and muscle. Had she been a living creature, she would be on the floor with her lifeblood pooling around her. Her hands lashed out once more as she staggered. A ragged wheeze pulsed from the remains of her neck. Drawing the blade back once more Finn struck again his sword severing the remaining flesh sending the Divine’s head spinning to the floor. For good measure he spun the blade back around placing one hand firmly on the back of the hilt and shoved it through the chest of the falling body. Droplets of silver splashed across the dark floor as he wrenched the blade free and stepped back, satisfied that she wouldn’t be moving again.

  The air around the room grew heavy and the palace shook once more as Death’s body twitched. Stepping back from the corpse, Finn searched the floor for the missing head and frowned. The chaos of moments before was gone and the room was entirely silent aside from a low droning sound. Turning, Finn searched for the spirits that had been wailing moments before but found the throne room empty aside from himself and the fallen Divine.

  His gaze brushed across the corpse once more and paused as he noticed the shadows above it beginning to thicken and pulse. He took another hesitant step back as the droning noise grew and the shadows rose from the body in tendrils.

  “What the hell,” Finn muttered as one of the tendrils dropped to the floor and began to slither toward his bare foot. Stepping back quickly he moved toward the door as the rest of the shadows twisted and writhed around him. Another tendril shot toward him and he barely dodged it only to feel two more latch onto his legs. Scrambling he tried to pull away as more wrapped his arms and chest. The shining silver sword fell from his numbed fingers and he opened his mouth to curse. With lightning speed one of the tendrils shoved its way into his open mouth and he gasped and choked as his entire body began to scream in agony. His eyes rolled in his head and his breath came in ragged gasps. Convulsions began to rip through his body as the dark magic invaded his flesh and he dropped, gasping to the floor. Head bowed and breath rasping, he stared down at the black flagstones. He could see his skin breaking and peeling away with dark shadows writhing just beneath.

  “Oh, how I have waited for this day,” a man’s voice broke through the droning. Finn forced his head up to see the speaker and watched in agony as the tall red-haired man kicked Death’s remains with a booted foot. The armor he wore was mismatched, a chain shirt, plate mail pauldrons and leather gauntlets. Finn had seen militia among the commons garb themselves in that fashion after they had scavenged battlefields. There was nothing about this man that spoke of common however. Even the term Elder Blood seemed to fall short on describin
g him. “Well done my boy, well done indeed,” the man fairly crowed as he gathered Death’s head from the floor and held it up by the hair, leaning forward to look it directly in the face. “I told you not to fuck with me, bitch,” the man chimed happily as he swung the head back and tossed it over by the body.

  Finn gasped, trying to force his mouth to form words. His body quivered again as more skin peeled back. Feebly he stretched a hand toward the man in a mute cry for help but the strange visitor seemed entirely oblivious to his pain.

  “To say that, implies that you killed her. It was in fact Sovaesh that killed her and I do believe her power is ripping him apart as you gloat over his victory.” The second voice was low and utterly devoid of emotion. The sound of metal clad boots rang through the stone room as the second speaker moved from the door to stop in front of Finn. He was clad entirely in black plate mail that made his pale skin seem almost translucent. His black hair was cut short in soldiers’ fashion and the expression on his face was grim.

  Despite how much the man had changed, Finn still recognized him. “Lord Veirasha,” Finn gasped, his hand still stretched outward in appeal. He had been barely more than a child the last time he had seen Damon Veirasha. Then the man had been full of life and clad in shining silver with a smile on his handsome face. Now he seemed a shadowed mockery of his former self.

  “Well now that you mention it, he does seem to be having a bit of difficulty beyond the normal change,” the first man said with a frown. He chewed on his lip for a breath and then kicked the body of Death once more, forcing it over onto its side. Pulling his gauntlets free he tucked them carefully into his belt and knelt beside the body. Finn struggled to see what he was doing but his body refused to move. The man rose again after only a few moments and moved quickly to Finn’s side. Grasping him by the jaw he forced Finn’s mouth open and poured something in. Gasping Finn tried to wrench his head away as his mouth was coated with a sickeningly sweet flavor. The agony inside him redoubled as the liquid trickled down his throat. His arms collapsed beneath him as his stomach clenched and he found himself curled on the floor moaning softly.