The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 3 From the Ashes (22 page)

Nodding slowly, Ash looked down at the stone
and nodded again more firmly. “I can, but I am more concerned with
how it was damaged. Did you have difficulty with the stone?”

Light-headed with relief, Jala barely heard
the question as she sagged against Marrow’s side. She shook her
head slowly. “The stone worked perfectly. I wasn’t even aware that
the soul was damaged, but if you can repair it there is nothing to
worry about, right?”

Ash shifted and his eyes locked on her
desperate expression. After a long moment he nodded once more. “We
will see,” he said quietly.

“Can it truly be repaired or are you soothing
her because of her condition?” Vaze asked as he moved to her
side.

“There could be complications,” Ash admitted
softly as he turned the stone over in his hand once more, his eyes
scanning it as if searching for damage to the stone itself. “It
truly depends on how the soul was damaged, to know what
complications,” he added and let out a long sigh. Looking up at
Jala once more he shrugged at her. “If you wish me to continue, I
will.”

Jala stared down at Finn’s body, her eyes
going glassy once more. Looking up, she searched Ash’s face,
looking for some sign of his true feelings on their chances, but
his expression was simply serene. She turned to Vaze and found him
frowning down at her. He gave a slight shake of his head. Slowly,
she turned back toward the doorway and found Valor leaning on the
frame. He had the look of someone preparing to meet the executioner
and she could relate completely. Simply the thought of everything
they had endured in the Darklands being in vain, was almost as
painful as the throbbing of her wounds.

Turning back to Finn, Jala pressed a hand
against the cold flesh of his chest. “I would give anything to see
Finn’s eyes open once more, to feel warmth in his skin, to hear his
voice.” Her throat was tight and she spoke each word carefully to
ensure she was fully understood. Moving slowly, she traced her hand
up his chest and rested it gently on his cheek and felt the warmth
of tears trace a path down her face. She swallowed heavily through
the tightness of her throat and looked back up to Ash. “If you can
give him back to me, I will owe you more than I can ever repay. If
there is any possibility that he can be raised, then I want to try.
I need Finn.”

“As you say,” Ash agreed with a slight nod.
Stepping back from the table he raised the stone in his hand and
met her eyes once more. “First, I break the stone, and then I
repair the spirit. Depending on how severe the damage is, that
could take a long while. It will be some time before he awakens,
though. Once the spirit is back in the body, he lives, however, so
when you see the rise and fall of his chest you will go to the
healers. Is that understood, Lady Merrodin?” His tone was firm and
while she wanted to argue to stay with Finn she knew it would be a
useless waste of her waning strength. With Valor and Vaze both in
the room, it would be three against one and she was in no condition
to win against those odds.

“Agreed and understood,” Jala replied weakly
as she slowly drew her hand back from Finn and crossed it over her
stomach. She felt the child inside her kick once again as if in
protest to her ignoring him and braced herself for another spasm of
pain. Her muscles seized and she let out a weak ragged breath as
Ash closed his fingers around the tiny soul stone and began to
chant in a language that was utterly foreign to her ears. “Soon,”
she murmured once again. This time to her unborn child as well as
Finn.

There was a sharp crack and a faint glow
emanated from Ash’s pale hands. Carefully the Soulreaver lowered
his cupped palms to the body on the table before him. With a touch
as gentle as new falling snow, he brushed his fingers across Finn’s
forehead and traced a path down the center of his face and neck to
rest on his chest. The glow faded from his hands and seeped into
the skin of the dead flesh. Ash continued to chant as he carefully
raised his hands back away from the body. There was a long moment
of utter stillness in the room and then the ever so faint rise of
Finn’s chest.

Jala choked back a sob and forced herself to
remain still. She wanted so badly to wrap her arms around him, but
the signs of life were still so fragile that she feared disrupting
the magic. His chest rose and fell again with more strength and she
watched the color slowly seeping back into his smooth bronze
skin.

“He lives. Now you go to the healer,” Vaze
said sternly beside her.

“One more minute, Vaze, please,” Jala
pleaded, her voice filled with desperation. She knew Ash said he
wouldn’t awaken for a long while but she could swear she had seen
his eyelid flicker. The motion came again and she held her breath
as his eyes fully opened staring blankly at first and then
blinking. “Finn,” she breathed, joy and relief rising so quickly
that a wave of dizziness washed over her.

“Soulreaver?” Vaze’s voice sounded cautious,
but she ignored him completely.

Finn turned his head slowly and looked up at
her with his beautiful dark green eyes. “Jala,” he murmured, his
voice thick and hoarse. He blinked and licked his dry lips with a
growing expression of confusion on his face. “Jala, what have you
done?” he gasped.

“I’ve brought you back, Finn. Everything will
be fine now,” Jala promised, her hand reaching to take his. She
felt his fingers wrap around hers lightly and the warmth of his
hand was more soothing than anything she had ever known before.
Tears coursed openly down her face but they were tears of relief.
Every fear and pain that she had felt in the past weeks had been
worth it simply to hear him speak her name once more.

“Jala,” Finn gasped as his body writhed on
the table. His expression of confusion was replaced with one of
agony and his grip on her hand became crushing.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jala gasped, her
eyes flying to Ash who had been steadily working his magic despite
Finn’s early awakening.

“Step back from him!” Vaze yelled as he took
hold of her arm roughly and tried to pull her back.

Finn’s grip on her hand tightened again and
she felt her bones scream in protest. “Finn!” she screamed, more in
concern for him than her own welfare.

Finn’s back arched, every muscle in his body
taut, then slowly relaxed. Still gripping her hand he slowly sat
up, his green eyes locked on hers once more but no trace of warmth
remained in them.

“What the hell is happening?” Vaze demanded
trying once more to pull Jala back from the table.

“Jala, step away. This isn’t right. He should
not be moving yet,” Ash’s voice called to her before breaking into
another chant that held no trace of the soothing tones of his
awakening spell.

“You stupid bitch. Do you have any idea what
you have done?” Finn demanded, his voice filled with hate as his
free hand caught her fully across the jaw in a backhanded blow.
“Did you really think you could meddle with the Divine and win?”
Finn snarled.

There was a flash of movement to her side and
then Valor was between her and Finn, his fist crashing into Finn’s
face with a sickening crunch. “Let go of her!” Valor commanded, his
voice filled with fury.

Finn’s hand released her at once as he turned
to face Valor fully, his eyes still cold and hate–filled, but a
smile forming on his lips. “Brave protector, eh Val? You have never
beaten me in a fight before. What makes you think you can now?” he
asked as he flexed his hand and formed a fist.

“This is not Finn. She is soulriding him,”
Ash called loudly with fear clearly written in his voice. “That is
the Dark Lady herself. Move away from him quickly!”

Finn lunged toward Valor with the savagery of
a hunting cat and Jala felt Marrow’s full weight pushing her
farther back from the fight. Finn’s first blow caught Valor in the
side and the breath exploded out of him as his ribs caved.
Staggering back, Valor reached for the sword he always wore at his
side, but it wasn’t there. The memory of handing it to Jala flashed
through his eyes as he clumsily dodged Finn’s next swing and landed
a glancing blow of his own across Finn’s jaw.

“Stop them!” Jala wailed as she struggled to
break free of Vaze’s grip. “Finn, no! Fight her! That’s Valor you
are trying to kill, your closest friend! Finn, please!” Her voice
rose frantically, but her struggles against Vaze were as futile as
her words to Finn.

Ash had retreated well away from the fight
and she could see him preparing another spell. The look on his face
was filled with doubt, however. She knew the fear the Soulreavers
had for Death, even speaking the words
Dark Lady
made Ash
nervous.

Shadows began to rise around the table and
Jala spun to look back at Vaze, her eyes searching desperately for
his intent. Perhaps if he could simply restrain Finn long enough
they could find a way to force Death from his body. The sound of
splintering wood brought her attention sharply back to the fight
and she saw Valor rolling quickly from the broken table. Finn
stalked after him, stooping to pluck a table leg from the wreckage
as he moved. He gave a wicked smile as he hefted the wood in his
hand and examined the jagged broken edge.

“Ready to see your sister again, Val?” Finn
asked as he kicked another piece of the table from his path.

Valor had regained his feet and squared his
shoulders. He watched Finn approach with no fear on his face at
all, despite the wounds he had already taken. Jala wasn’t sure if
the knight had noticed the ring of shadows slowly surrounding
Finn’s feet or if he simply did not fear the thought of dying.
Whatever the case, Valor simply nodded with a faint smile of his
own. “You always did spit on the most important things in life,
Finn. I know you have willpower, you bastard, but you never use it
at the right times.”

Finn let out a bitter laugh and raised the
table leg for a swing. “Sage advice, coming from you,” he chuckled
as the shadows rose swiftly from the floor completely shrouding him
in darkness.

Jala sagged back against Vaze and looked
hopefully at the shadows praying that they would hold Finn long
enough for Ash to cleanse him.

Valor staggered slightly and leaned back
against the wall, a trickle of blood coming from the side of his
mouth and more matting his fine silver hair. He looked across the
room toward her, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you OK?” Valor
asked softly.

Jala nodded slowly, her eyes moving back to
the shadows. It was too still there. There wasn’t even the sound of
Finn’s voice. “What did you do, Vaze?” she whispered as she began
to move toward the receding shadows. Vaze remained silent behind
her as she moved with faltering steps toward the empty place where
Finn had been moments before. “No,” she gasped, her eyes searching
for any sign of him. “No, no, no!” Jala wailed, dropping to her
knees. Her hands scrambled futilely over the wood searching for any
trace of the magic Vaze had used. “Finn.” The single word broke
from her lips in a sob that shook her. “What did you do, Vaze?”
Jala screamed as more sobs shook her body. Her wounds throbbed with
protest but she no longer cared.

Footsteps sounded softly behind her and Vaze
knelt in front of her. His dark eyes forced her to meet his gaze
and he carefully placed one hand under her chin, holding her
steady. “I’ve saved your life. Hate me if you must, but know this,
Jala. That was a Divine, not Finn. Valor would have died and you
would have died and the only one in this room that might have had a
chance at facing Death and winning was too wounded to fight.
Without you at full strength, we had no hope of winning. There was
nothing else I could do to stop it and you did scream for me to
make them stop.” He spoke calmly but there was a tone of sadness to
his voice. He watched her cautiously as if he expected her to pull
away or slap him.

Jala stared at him for a long while and then
slowly nodded. “My fault then,” she whispered, more tears coursing
down her face. “I should have listened to you and allowed the
healing. Then I could have fought.” Her eyes fell from his face and
her body slumped as another wave of agony ripped through her
stomach. “My fault,” she repeated. This time speaking for the child
that was coming too early.

Sanctuary

The eyes of the dead woman seemed to follow
him as he paced in the small circle his chains allowed. Havoc
glared back at her and then past her to the countless others in the
room. Each bore marks of flame upon them in some fashion. From
scorched skin to smoke blackened clothes. It was obvious what had
killed them. His breath fogged in the cold air as he let out a
disgusted sigh and kicked a rock toward the corpse with the
accusing eyes.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have huddled like a rat.
Maybe you should have fought! You might have lived had you not been
such a damned coward,” Havoc called and kicked another piece of
rubble toward the dead woman.

If Lutheron had meant to teach him remorse
with this ordeal, he had failed miserably. The only emotion that
stirred inside him was anger, and a lot of it. Had these pathetic
dead things been Firym they would have died in the streets with
blades in hand, not huddled inside buildings cringing in fear. It
wasn’t murder he had committed, as Lutheron said, it was a
cleansing of the weak. In Firym the weak died, either in training
or in the Scarlet Jungle, and no one mourned their loss.

With a faint snarl he pulled on the chains
once more as he paced another small circle in the freezing
warehouse. His fires coiled inside him, keeping his body warm, but
that was the best that they could do. The wards on the chains
prevented him from actually unleashing any of his fire or he would
have burned the bloody place down within his first day of
captivity.