The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 3 From the Ashes (16 page)

“Do you two even have the faintest clue what
stealth is?” Fiona hissed from ahead of them. The fury on the dead
woman’s face was enough to silence Jala of words and sniffles.
Fiona had warned them that morning that they were drawing close to
Trystan’s domain and stealth would be essential once they were
there.

“Are we in Veyetta’s domain then?” Valor
asked softly.

“Not yet but by afternoon we will be,” Fiona
replied, her eyes scanning the area behind them.

“Then bugger off, Fiona, she is having a
rough day. When we must be silent we will be. Do remember however
that while you have existed for centuries in silence, we have not,
and the living still find comfort in the spoken word,” Valor said
in a louder voice, though not loud enough to carry far.

“It’s OK, Valor. I can go back to silence
now. I’m starting to feel a bit more rational,” Jala assured him,
her voice barely a whisper.

“I want to know how she expects me to know
when the bloody hell afternoon is when there is no god-forsaken sun
in this place,” Valor snapped and shook his head in disgust. “And
as I told her, I will be silent when I have to. You may be feeling
more rational, but I still find comfort in talking.”

“I don’t think she wanted us to know exactly
when it was, actually. I think she just wanted us to shut the hell
up now,” Jala said with a shrug. Her stomach seemed to be calming
with Valor bracing her in the saddle. “Do you ever want to just
kick me off the horse so you can actually sit in your own saddle
rather than behind it? That has to be uncomfortable in armor.”

“The blanket is folded back here. I think it
might be more comfortable behind the saddle than it is in the
saddle.” Valor replied with a shrug. “And no, I have never had the
desire to kick you off the horse. I did have the desire to shove
you off the air pad you were sleeping on last night, but that was
spawned from the memory of your shoving me off a bed at Anthe’s. I
decided, however, I will wait until you are not pregnant and then
strike.”

“You wouldn’t wake up at Anthe’s. What was I
supposed to do?” Jala replied, glancing back at him once more.

“Something other than push me off the bed
perhaps? I pity your child when he oversleeps. The poor boy is
going to have the most horrendous fear of falling by the time he is
grown,” Valor said with a note of sympathy in his voice.

“Fiona has stopped walking. Do you see
anything?” Jala said her voice dropping to a hushed whisper.

Valor pulled the horse slowly to a stop and
scanned the area ahead of them. After a long moment he shook his
head slowly. “I don’t, but Valorous smells something,” he
whispered, sounding puzzled.

“What?” Jala asked, glancing back at him.

“Uhh. I’m not sure that he is right. Give me
a moment.” Valor mumbled and moved his hand from her stomach to
rest on the side of the horse’s neck.

“Blackberries, perhaps?” The shadows to the
right of their horse parted revealing a man crouched atop a rock.
Valor let out a curse behind her and dropped quickly from the
horse, already reaching for his sword.

“Wait, Valor. I know him,” Jala blurted,
reaching down quickly to grab Valor by the shoulder before he could
draw his steel. “Vaze, what the hell are you doing here?” she
snapped. It had been so long since she had him, but there was no
forgetting someone like Vaze. With the eerie black armor and the
veritable armory of swords Vaze had a way of stamping himself into
memories.

Vaze stood slowly on the rock and dropped
down to the ground in front of Valor. The knight was slightly
taller, which seemed to amuse Vaze who smiled up at him and winked.
“Visiting. How are you finding the Darklands?” he replied in a
perfectly conversational tone.

“What are you doing back here?” Fiona
demanded as she stalked toward the three of them. Her gaze was
locked on Vaze with an expression that made her earlier fury seem
like mere irritation.

Vaze glanced toward Fiona and then back up to
Jala. “You found the bitchiest guide in the Darklands. Well done.
Here, Shade said these were your favorites.” He tossed a small sack
up to her and turned to face Fiona. “Hello, Fiona. How have you
been?” he asked sweetly.

Jala caught the bag and looked down at Valor
who was staring up at her in disbelief. “He is one of the
Fionaveir,” she explained with a shrug. “I didn’t expect to see
him, though. I haven’t seen him since I was twelve.”

“Vaze, what are you doing here? I really
doubt you are simply visiting.” Jala pressed.

“You are going to need Valor in the city. So
I’ve come to deal with Davrian for you. I suppose Trystan, too, if
we have the misfortune of running into him. He is a bit of an ass,
though. Best to avoid that one,” Vaze explained as if he were
offering to help with minor chores.

“Ahh. Just that easy, eh? Well, then, why
don’t you clear the bloody city for her as well?” Fiona snapped and
rolled her eyes at Vaze.

“I have to leave something for the Forgotten
to do. It wouldn’t be right to take all of the fun,” Vaze replied
lightly.

“You are such an egomaniac,” Fiona snapped
again. “Worse than before, and I didn’t think that was
possible.”

“Wait, you’ve been here before?” Jala asked,
dumbfounded.

“And you were actually willing to come back?”
Valor added sounding just as incredulous as she was.

“It’s been eight years and this place isn’t
nearly as tedious for me as it has been for you two. That’s good
though. Had your progress been faster I wouldn’t have been able to
get here in time. As it stands, it was a near thing. You are about
two days from Davrian now,” Vaze explained.

“Are you saying Valor couldn’t handle it?”
Fiona asked with a smirk.

“I’m not really sure that I could have
handled it cleanly. Davrian is a legendary warrior that is
centuries old. I’m a twenty-five year old tourney knight,” Valor
cut in before Vaze could reply.

“You could have,” Jala said quietly. She had
seen Valor’s determination and courage, and there was no doubt in
her mind that if she needed Valor to accomplish something he
would.

Fiona looked up at her sharply and opened her
mouth to reply, but Vaze’s hand clamped down over her mouth before
a single word could be formed. “Eat your tarts before they get
cold, Jala. There are two in that bag in case you are in a sharing
mood,” Vaze ordered and then looked to Valor. “I’ve brought
supplies. How long since you’ve had a decent meal?”

“Decent? Well, we left Merro around
forty-three days ago so I’d say about forty-four days,” Valor
answered and leaned back against the side of his horse.

Vaze nodded quickly, his hand still clamped
over Fiona’s mouth. The woman was glaring at him coldly enough to
freeze the blood in just about anyone else. Vaze, however, ignored
her completely and motioned with his free hand toward the rock he
had been perched on. “Set up a small camp over there and we will
eat. There are a few things we need to talk about before we go on,”
Vaze offered and then glanced to Valor once more. “You have water
as an element, don’t you, Valor?”

“Yes,” Valor replied, sounding a bit confused
with the abrupt topic change, but Vaze simply nodded and motioned
them both off toward the rock before pulling Fiona aside for an
apparently private discussion.

Shrugging, Valor took the reins and led
Valorous to the rocks and helped Jala dismount. “How well do you
know him?” he asked quietly as he glanced toward Vaze once
more.

“Are you asking me if we can trust him?” Jala
asked as she pulled one of the tarts from the bag. Just the smell
of the food was making her mouth water. She couldn’t remember the
last time she had eaten anything other than dried beef. She started
to offer the other to Valor but he had turned away, back toward the
horse.

“Essentially. Can we?” Valor asked as he
untied the blanket from the saddle and dropped it to the ground for
her to sit on.

“I don’t know. Like I said, I haven’t seen
him since I was twelve, but the memory I have of him is a good one.
Do you remember when…” Jala paused as her mind registered what she
had been about to say. Swallowing her bite of tart she wiped her
mouth with the back of her hand and cleared her throat. “Do you
remember just before we found Finn in the Justicar’s hall, outside,
when I grabbed my head?” Jala asked, the image of Finn lying in a
pool of blood branded freshly onto her mind.

“I remember, “Valor said quietly and from his
expression he was focusing on the same fragment of that moment as
she was.

“That was from a mind block coming down.
Lutheron, another of the Fionaveir had placed it there to make me
behave. Vaze objected to it and encouraged me to keep standing up
for myself. That was the last time I saw him,” Jala explained.

“Ahh. But that’s because I’m not seen when I
don’t wish to be. It wasn’t the last time I saw you though, Curly.
I did check on you,” Vaze said as he walked over and leaned against
one of the rocks. “Forgive my delay. That was a bit of Fionaveir
business that I thought she should be apprised of, given that we
are her namesake. She is checking on something for me now and
should return soon. In the meantime, let’s see about getting you
some food cooked.” He moved away from the rock once more and
shrugged a bag from his shoulder and dropped it to the ground
lightly. Crouching down beside it he began to pull various items
from it and sort them on the ground beside him.

“I mean no offense, but I find your arrival
rather suspicious, so forgive me if I’m slow to trust and hesitant
to eat the food you offer,” Valor said quietly, his eyes locked on
Vaze’s every movement.

Jala froze and looked down at the half eaten
tart and then to Valor with a look of mild pleading. “Please don’t
suggest it’s poisoned. It tastes too good to be poisoned,” she
whispered as she examined the tart critically.

“It’s not poisoned.” Vaze assured her.

“Which is exactly what someone poisoning you
would say,” Valor returned dryly.

“She is halfway through the tart. If I had
actually poisoned her and she asked that, I wouldn’t deny it was
poisoned. I would say ha-ha I win,” Vaze objected.

“He has a point,” Jala agreed as she took
another bite of the tart. The filling was still warm enough to
steam in the chill air.

“You are correct to be suspicious, though,
Valor. I commend you on that. You swore on your friend’s lifeblood
to keep her safe and a death oath is the most sacred word a man can
give. So what can I do to put your mind at ease?” Vaze stood slowly
and folded his arms behind him looking at Valor with a calm
expression.

“Tell me why you are here to help her, for
one,” Valor said, his tone still rigidly formal. His eyes had
narrowed at the mention of the oath, and Jala couldn’t really blame
him. She had been the only witness to those words, and she had told
no one of them.

Vaze leaned closer toward Valor and summoned
a small globe of light in his hand. Holding it just under his chin
he pointed to his eye with his free hand and blinked a couple of
times. “Do you see that?” he asked. “Purple or violet eyes. It’s a
mark of his blood. Magdalyn had violet eyes just as her daughter
does, though Magdalyn chose to hide them.” Standing straight once
more Vaze flexed his free hand and the shiny black armor began to
ripple and then parted like oil on water revealing the muscular
pale flesh beneath. “So is this.” Vaze said quietly as he drew a
small line across his forearm and watched pale gold blood well in
the wound.

“We are kin?” Jala breathed, staring at Vaze
in shock.

“Your Uncle, to be precise. Magdalyn was my
half-sister. War tends to breed during every conflict. Most of the
children die in their mother’s wombs but a scant few have lived.
Magdalyn was a product of the Goswin fall; I am a product of the
Veyetta war,” Vaze explained. “Three Divine were locked in the
Barrier. Of the three of them, only one has chosen to bring progeny
into existence. You and I are proof of his determination to spread
his blood.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jala whispered,
trying to force down the growing pain in her chest.

“How cruel would that be to a child? To tell
you who I truly am, and then leave you behind, regardless. Had I
told you then, you would have believed yourself unworthy and that
simply wasn’t the case,” Vaze said with a shake of his head and
crouched once more in front of his pile of assorted goods. “Sit,
Jala. I’ll explain a few things as I cook. Listen closely because I
will not repeat what I say and these words stay between us.”

Jala sank slowly to the blanket and stared at
Vaze, her mind reeling. How different would her childhood have been
had she known there was someone that actually cared about her.
Father Belson had cared, of course, but as a priest cares for an
orphan. It hadn’t been true love and she had known it. Then of
course, there was no guarantee that Vaze actually cared more than
what was required, either.

“I said listen, Jala. I can see your mind
working. You are forming your own conclusions before I have time to
explain. You might as well sit too, Valor, rather than lurking
above me with that glare of disapproval on your face,” Vaze said as
he motioned toward the blanket Jala sat on.

“Make it good or I may help Davrian in the
fight against you,” Valor growled and sat slowly down beside Jala,
his glare fixed on Vaze.

“Where to begin?” Vaze sighed and began
making a small fire in front of him. “I was born in Veyetta when it
still stood. I was three days old when Lutheron took me from the
castle. The following morning the Stormlord descended on the city
and killed everyone that showed loyalty to my line. Lutheron raised
me in Fionahold. For years he was like a father to me. A strict one
to be sure, but one that I respected.” He paused again and
carefully unwrapped a haunch of meat and spitted it. “I began my
training at age six. Wooden swords and then magic, and so it
progressed. When I was twelve I began to have strange dreams.” He
glanced up at Jala meaningfully and she nodded slowly. “At first
they were vague and unsettling and I took them as nightmares and
didn’t speak of them to anyone. No self-respecting twelve-year-old
boy wants to admit to being afraid to sleep. As it turns out I
didn’t need to say anything. After a week or so of sleeplessness,
my lessons began to falter and Lutheron scolded me, saying
nightmares were no excuse for clumsiness.” Pausing once more, he
seasoned the meat and glanced up at Jala again. “I hadn’t breathed
a word to anyone and magic is not allowed inside the Fionahold. I
had to travel into Faydwer for my lessons on magic and yet Lutheron
knew of my dreams. I let it go, simply believing he had broken
rules. He is second in command, after all, so I figured it was
allowed. As I grew, however, I noticed other instances with
Lutheron and his odd magics and eventually I determined what he
was.”