Jala took the flask and opened it then sniffed its contents cautiously. The sweet smell was familiar and she raised an eyebrow at Zachary in question. “Essence wine?” she asked a bit unsure.
“It restores your magic and I will never drink the stuff. It was a gift from Victory the last time I saw him, and it was something that I never thought would be used,” Zachary answered quietly.
Jala nodded slowly and took a long pull from the flask. She hadn’t drunk Essence wine since the night she had met Finn, and she well remembered how drunk she had become then. She would have to be careful about how much she allowed herself to drink despite the sweet intoxicating flavor. Essence wine was far more potent than its taste led one to believe it would be.
Jala was on her third pull from the flask by the time she saw the dark forms emerging from the edge of the forest. Anthe walked in the lead with Myzra close beside her. Jala watched them approach in silence and took a final drink from the flask. She could feel her head becoming lighter with the alcohol, but she could also feel renewed magic coursing through her veins. With a faint smile she replaced the lid on the flask and offered it back to Zachary.
“Keep it. As I said I will never use the stuff,” Zachary said as he shook his head slightly in refusal.
“I thank you for the gift then,” Jala replied and moved to meet Anthe as she climbed the gentle slope to where they stood.
“You never cease to amaze me,” Anthe called in greeting. Her pale falcon rested easily on her shoulder and its golden eyes were devouring every detail around them to pass the images back to its master.
“I gave you my word, Anthe,” Jala replied as the Witches stopped just before her. All seven of them were present though she didn’t know any of their names beyond Anthe and Myzra. Jala could see the wonder lighting all of their faces though, and knew she had made firm allies with her actions today.
“Many give their words, few keep them,” Anthe pointed out with a warm smile.
“I would say any that give you their blood oath keep their word Anthe. Though I would have kept mine, regardless,” Jala returned with a faint smile.
“I think you likely would have,” Anthe said with a nod. She shifted slightly where she stood and offered a hand to Jala. “You will forgive us for our delay in arriving. The magic you worked took its toll on us and it took us time to recover.”
Jala nodded and smiled as she took the Witch’s offered hand and bowed her head in acceptance. “Of course, Anthe. I am grateful you are here now, but there are some things that we must discuss before I finish here.” She felt Anthe stiffen slightly as she released her hand, but the Witch simply nodded for her to continue. “I am giving you back your people today, Anthe, but it comes with a price.” There were mutterings throughout the witches at those words and she heard Madren inhale sharply behind her. She hadn’t discussed this part with anyone other than War. “I have with me the last of the Goswin line. I’m not sure if you know Madren or not, but he is the sole survivor of his house. If I give you back your people as well as your land, Anthe, you must acknowledge him as the rightful lord. I don’t ask that you give him complete control over the land and its people. I simply ask that you accept his right to it and council him until he is ready to lead.”
Anthe visibly relaxed and smiled warmly at Jala. “I had thought to hear different words from you when you spoke of a price. This is something that we would have done even had you not named it as the cost,” the witch replied with such obvious relief that Jala wondered what she had been expecting instead.
“There is more, Anthe,” Jala warned and the witch nodded once more though she seemed less cautious than she had, been “I’m giving you back your land at a time when war is breaking out across the entire world. I don’t know how capable your people will be at defending Goswin in the beginning and I have no intention of working so hard to see things set right only to watch Rivana destroy my efforts. When I leave here, I travel to see Kithvaryn. I intend to make contract with him on behalf of Goswin. You must work with them if I succeed in making the arrangements. Do you agree to my terms?”
“We are doing what?” Valor hissed beside her and Jala glanced at him in apology. She hadn’t mentioned that part of the plan either, but it was necessary. Goswin would be just as vulnerable as Merro was until it had time to rebuild.
“I accept your terms willingly and with gratitude,” Anthe replied without hesitation.
“Have you ever actually met Kithvaryn?” Zachary asked quietly, his voice still utterly emotionless.
Jala shook her head slightly and smiled. “No, but he will deal with me on this,” she assured him.
“What makes you so certain? Neither Merrodin or Goswin are wealthy nations, and the mercenaries will want to work for the highest bidder during these struggles,” Zachary pressed.
“I have something no other nation can offer him. I may not have a never-ending gold supply, but I have his son’s soul. If he wants his only child back, he will deal with me,” Jala answered and the area around her grew silent with her words.
“Be careful how you deal with that one. Kithvaryn is as clever as a fox and as cruel as a cat. You may tempt him with the offer of his son, but he will want more than simply a soul to do as you wish,” Zachary said after a long pause but the look he gave her was one of respect.
“We all want more than we can have, Lord Dark. I’ll give him what it takes to get what I want and not an ounce more,” Jala said softly, her gaze once again on the spirits.
“I don’t like the thought of dealing with mercenaries. They can’t be trusted,” Valor objected with a sigh.
If I only dealt with those I trusted, my arrangements would be limited to you, Neph, Marrow, and Sovann. I’m not asking you to trust Kithvaryn in this, Valor. I’m asking you to trust me. Jala sent the thought directly to Valor’s mind and she saw his expression shift with her words.
“Always,” Valor replied simply and moved back to give her room to work her magic, though not so far that he couldn’t be at her side in an instant if the situation demanded it.
Chapter 18
The Darklands
“That son of a bitch,” Finn railed as the scry faded before him. Fiona stepped quickly back from him as his full temper seized him. Snarling, Finn kicked the table back from his path and barely noticed as the wood shattered against the wall. “Did you see the earring he wears now? Do you know what that signifies in Arovan?” he demanded as he whirled to face Fiona.
“It is a Widow’s ring, as they are called. It represents your son and his devotion to the child and its mother,” Fiona answered simply, her pale gold eyes watching him as he paced the room.
“He cut his hair too. Only married men in Arovan cut their hair,” Finn added in a growl.
“And you are mad at him, why? What has he done to raise this fury?” Fiona pressed.
“She is my wife. That is my son, and he…” Finn began, his voice a dangerous snarl then fading as he stopped his pacing to glower at Fiona. “And he is doing exactly what I asked of him and caring for them as if they were his own. He doesn’t have to be enjoying it though, damn it,” he finished, his voice filled with his frustration. Angrily he kicked a chair from his way and searched the room for anything else he could vent his anger on. It was empty of everything aside from Fiona who simply stood watching him with an expression that suggested he was an utter fool. “I don’t bloody well want this. I want to go home,” he said lamely and felt his temper cooling far quicker than he wanted. At least with his anger he could ignore the loneliness and depression that plagued him constantly. “I took them all for granted when I had them. I would give anything for a lecture from Sovann right now. I would sell my soul a thousand times over to simply be near Jala,” Finn began and then sighed heavily. “I want to hold my son, Fiona. I want to see the sunlight again. I don’t want to be alone in this damned black hole attempting to learn magic. I am a swordsman not a god damned mage. I am not the right man for this job.”
“And what if I refuse?” Finn snapped, fully aware of how childish he sounded and not caring a bit.
“Then when your friends die their souls become lost in the Darklands,” Fiona replied simply with a shrug.
“There is nothing that says they will die. They may all survive this,” Finn objected.
“Ahh. Yes, the odds are definitely in their favor, aren’t they,” Fiona shot back in a mocking voice and gave him a cold smile. “You’ve had your scry for the day, Finn Sovaesh. It is time for lessons. Quit sulking like a child.”
“I really truly completely and utterly hate you,” Finn grumbled as he glared at the dead woman. Fiona was the only company he had in the Darklands and she was as bitter as he was frustrated.
“The sentiment is mutual. Now as your first lesson of the day you can repair our table,” Fiona replied mildly.
“Truly hate,” Finn muttered as he turned to regard the wreckage of wood scattered by the wall. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to get a new one?” he sighed, but already knew the answer Fiona would give. For Sovann, fixing the table would have been as easy as drawing breath. Magic had always come easily to his little brother. For Finn, however, it was a task that guaranteed he would have a headache. Each and every splinter of wood seemed to defy him as he wrapped his magic around the fragments and willed them back together.
“Perhaps if you weren’t such a bitch to him he would learn faster,” a man’s voice echoed through the room and Finn dropped his attempts at magic at once.
Turning, he scanned the room searching for the source of the voice. It was a soft voice with a faint accent he couldn’t place, and it wasn’t a voice he recognized.
“Go away, Seth, he isn’t ready to deal with you yet,” Fiona snapped.
“Bugger off, Fiona. I serve Death, not you,” the man replied smoothly.
The voice had come from the shadows of the rafters and Finn searched the heights of the room until his eyes spotted movement. It wasn’t a man his gaze found as he had expected, but a raven. The bird cocked its head at him and hopped a bit closer on the rafter peering back down at him. Finn stared back, unsure if this was Seth or simply a spirit. The Darklands were full of every manner of spirits, though this was the first actual bird he had seen so far.
“Have you introduced him to Yasney and Kaverax yet?” the bird asked, his head cocking to look down at Fiona.
“He isn’t ready to meet them anymore than he is to meet you. He is a bumbling idiot still,” Fiona replied sharply.
“Who are Yasney and Kaverax?” Finn asked, his gaze locked on the raven as it ruffled its feathers.
“Your dragons, Lord Death. They circle your citadel day and night,” Seth replied, once more hopping closer on his perch.
“And who exactly are you?” Finn asked, his curiosity peaked as well as his hopes. So far the bird was far better company than Fiona.
The Raven dropped from the rafter and glided gracefully toward the ground. Its body shifted and grew as it grew closer to the stone floor. By the time its feet touched the stones a man crouched in place of the bird. He stood gracefully from the crouch and bowed deeply to Finn with a smile on his handsome face. His hair was as dark as the raven’s feathers and stood in tousled spikes and his face held the delicate bones that were common in the Fae. His eyes, however, remained those of the bird. Seth shrugged his black feathered cloak back from his arms as he stood once more. “I am your Herald, your Ambassador, your Councilor, and your Spy,” he began, his voice full of a warmth that Fiona never seemed to possess. “I am your Knife, your Guard, and your Champion when required. In short, Lord Death, I am whatever you ask me to be and humbly do my best to please.”
“He is a former assassin that died for his sins and kisses enough ass to keep from serving the true torment in death that he earned in life,” Fiona growled. Her golden eyes were narrowed and she watched Seth with an expression of loathing and suspicion on her face.
“She is a bitter hag that sees the worst in everyone and everything. Ignore her and allow me to make myself useful to you,” Seth countered with a smile.
“How would you make yourself useful to me?” Finn asked cautiously. While his company was preferable to Fiona’s, every instinct Finn had screamed that this man was dangerous.
“Yasney and Kaverax for starters. I would introduce you to your most formidable of defenses. It is best that you know them well and if you treat them better than the Dark lady did, then I’m sure they will prove themselves quite loyal,” Seth replied smoothly.
“He isn’t ready for that yet. He needs to finish his lessons,” Fiona objected coldly. “If you continue to interfere, I will make you regret it, Seth,” she added in warning.
“Empty threats, harpy,” Seth said with a wicked smile and turned his attention back to Finn. “Allow me to help you, Lord Death,” he implored and bowed once more.
“Why do you want to help so badly?” Finn asked with a raised eyebrow. “What do you gain from it?”
“My continued comfort in death, of course, Milord. I ask only that I be allowed to make myself useful to you so that I may continue to enjoy the benefits of my job.” Seth spoke with such humility and subservience that Finn had to smile.
“So which of you inherits my power?” Finn asked, his smile still in place. He watched Seth’s expression for any sign of guilt as he spoke, but the man simply looked shocked.
“Milord?” Seth gasped his tone filled with disbelief. “I’m afraid I don’t understand at all what you mean.” Seth’s eyes were wide and filled with such innocence that for a breath Finn believed he had truly misjudged the man, until he saw the approving nod from Fiona.
“I mean, when you take me outside of the citadel to introduce me to the most formidable of my defenses, who inherits my power? You, or the dragons that rip me apart?” Finn explained, his gaze still locked on the slender man.
Seth let out a long breath and stood straighter, letting his feathered cloak fall back over his worn leather armor. His face lost all expression for a span of breaths and then slowly he smiled again and there was genuine amusement in the expression rather than simple flattering charm. He shrugged slowly and clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Me, if I happened to be fast enough. Which I usually am, though I’m sure as far as the dragons are concerned it would be them gaining your power. They are rather greedy for power you know, but then most dragons are.”
“And now?” Finn asked, wondering what the man would do, knowing that his plan wasn’t going to work.
“And now, I’m going to ask how I may serve you while you continue your training,” Seth replied with a sigh. “You can’t really blame me for trying, though,” he added with a grin.
Finn returned the smile and shook his head. “I don’t blame you at all. I would have tried in your place, I think,” he agreed.
“If I might make a suggestion, Milord, for my first order?” Seth prompted and watched Finn with a hopeful expression.
“Does it involve feeding me to anything else?” Finn asked.
Shaking his head, Seth smiled again and waved a hand toward Finn. “It involves finding more appropriate clothing for the Lord of Death. Honestly, the threads you wear now would be cast off by most beggars.”
Finn frowned and gazed down at his ragged clothing. Fiona had brought the scraps of clothes for him and it was either wear the rags or go naked. The shirt was badly stained and made of such a poor quality material he wouldn’t have wiped his horse down with it had he still be among the living. The pants were in even worse condition and the boots were so tattered he was amazed they held together each time he put them on. “Please do
, and hurry about it. I think Fiona finds some sick amusement from seeing me dressed thus,” Finn said with a firm nod.
“It was an attempt to teach you humility and remind you that your former life no longer has any bearings upon you. The dead do not care what you wear, Finn Sovaesh,” Fiona snapped.
Finn smirked and pointed a finger at Seth with a raised eyebrow. “He apparently does, Fiona.”
“He does not count. He is simply trying to gain favor with you by pandering to your earlier vices,” Fiona shot back and glared at Seth as if her expression alone could dismiss him.
“On the contrary, Fiona. The recently deceased do, in fact, still notice details as trivial as clothing and I’m sure Lord Death will be dealing with the recently dead very soon. He will have to. The line of spirits already extends well past the city. Ignore them much longer and many will become lost souls, Milord,” Seth said smoothly, his eyes twinkling at Fiona’s anger.
“Then I suggest we return to your lessons, Milord, and stop wasting time with this one,” Fiona snapped and turned her back on Seth completely as she set her withering gaze on Finn.
“Go, Seth, and bring me proper clothing when you return. Fiona is right. I do need my practice,” Finn said with a heavy sigh as he turned back to the table once more and pulled on the magic. Carefully he began to pull the fragments back together, but couldn’t help smiling as he heard the sound of wings behind him. Even if he wasn’t trustworthy and Fiona apparently hated him, there was no doubt in Finn’s mind that Seth would prove useful and entertaining.
The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 3 From the Ashes Page 30
