The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 3 From the Ashes (40 page)

Jala had barely managed to finish the edge of
the forest before she was forced to drain power from her staff. At
this rate she would be siphoning from not only Valor, but Sovann
and Madren as well. Grinding her teeth in frustration she refocused
her magic and searched frantically for a way to use it more
efficiently.

“Is she all right?” Sovann asked from behind
her and his voice seemed a hundred miles away.

“She is fine. Jala knows what she is doing,”
Valor assured him calmly and Jala nearly laughed at his words.

Ahh. But I wish I had your faith in
me
, Jala mused silently as she began her repairs once more. She
could work with less raw power she discovered, but it took twice as
long to do. It was that or siphon though, so she was in for a very
long day. Focusing her mind once more she pushed herself further
into the trance and let the world around her fade away. She had
Marrow and Valor beside her and Madren and Sovann barely ten feet
away. There was no need for her to pay attention to her
surroundings. They would keep her safe and she knew it. Her world
narrowed to the strands of magic surrounding her and she felt the
movements of her spells becoming rhythmic, almost hypnotic in their
patterns.

“Jala,” Valor’s voice was barely a whisper in
her mind and Jala stubbornly pushed it away.

She could see the dead now. Their blurred
forms were barely visible against the snow shrouded landscape, but
she could see them. The dead of Goswin lined the hills surrounding
her in tight unmoving ranks held firmly by her magic. There were so
many of them that she wanted to sob in frustration. Her staff was
drained of power, as were the mana gems that she had brought, and
she hadn’t even reached the difficult part of her task.

Repairing the strands should have been
simple. She had counted on most of her reserves going to raising
the dead. What she hadn’t counted on, however, was the sheer
magnitude of the damage to Goswin. She had thought she would be
removing a spell that blanketed everything rather than removing
strands of shattered magic from everything. A single spell would
have been so much simpler. A few strands pulled away and the
remaining threads would have simply faded.

“Jala,” Valor hissed again his voice louder
and more demanding.

“Has the lady gone Mage blind?” The second
voice broke her from her focus and she nearly lost her grasp on the
spirits surrounding her. Jala knew that voice, and Zachary Dark was
the last person she had expected to hear today.

Slowly her eyes came open and she winced at
the lance of pain that shot through her skull. The hours of focus
had taken their toll on her, and she would be suffering for days
for her efforts. “The lady is not Mage blind, whatever that is,”
Jala said in a hoarse whisper. She felt as though she had been
awake for days, though judging by the daylight remaining it had
simply been the afternoon. Dusk was settling over the land now, and
it would be night soon.

Zachary Dark stood looming a dozen feet from
her. The black armor he wore stood out against the snow like a
scar. His ragged black cloak was pulled up over his head to guard
from the chill wind but she could still see the deathly pale face
beneath. His cold blue eyes were locked on her and his face utterly
devoid of emotion as he watched her. “It is what happens when a
Mage pushes themselves beyond their capabilities. You can become
lost in the magic, or shatter yourself. You, however are apparently
stronger than I gave you credit for.” His voice was deep and
monotone. Even the dead in the Darklands held more warmth in their
voices.

“It seems to be a popular trend to
underestimate me,” Jala replied softly, her voice sounding almost
foreign to her ears. It had a serene quality about it that she
couldn’t remember ever possessing before. Tilting her head
slightly, she looked up to meet Zachary’s cold stare. “May I
enquire as to what you are doing here, Lord Dark?” she asked
politely.

“I told you, that should you manage to break
the curse on Goswin, I would help you raise the dead. I keep my
word,” Zachary answered bluntly.

Relief surged through her though she did her
best from letting it show on her face. “I had thought you meant the
dead in Merro. I didn’t realize you meant both lands,” Jala
admitted cautiously.

“I had thought you only meant to raise the
dead in Merro. After watching you today though I have seen what you
intend. Do you wish help here Lady Merrodin or do you believe you
can finish this task alone?” The expression on his face was enough
to tell her that he knew the truth. Somehow Zachary could see how
drained she already was though she didn’t think she had let her
weakness show.

“I would welcome the help,” Jala said quietly
and hoped her gratitude wasn’t too obvious. It wouldn’t do to be
too humble to one of the lords of Oblivion. They were a lot like
Delvay in their regards to strength, and would write you off
quickly if you showed weakness.

Zachary nodded slowly and turned to look
toward the waiting spirits. “I used to be quite the healer before
the fall of Veir. I trained with Rose while I was at the Academy.
They called me a Paladin then. Imagine that, me a holy knight,” he
said softly and his voice held the faintest hint of sadness.

“You were a legend in Sanctuary. It took me
years before they stopped comparing me to you. I’m not sure if I
finally proved my worth or if they simply realized I would never
measure up,” Valor said, his voice filled with respect.

Zachary turned his head to regard Valor and
the edges of his mouth turned up in what might have been a smile.
“We are worlds apart, Arovan, then and now. It wasn’t right to even
compare us. You are a Stormlord. I was simply a knight with a knack
for healing.” Pulling his cloak back he removed a flask from its
pocket and handed it to Jala before turning back to face the
waiting spirits. “Drink. By the time you finish that flask the
Witches of Tolanteer should be here.”

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.

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.