The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 3 From the Ashes (44 page)

“Harm her and I will kill you,” Valor warned,
his hand dropping toward a sword that was no longer at his side.
Rolling his eyes he let out a heavy sigh and moved both hands into
a defensive stance before him as if he were prepared to take on the
room full of seasoned mercenaries with nothing more than his fists.
A spasm rocked the bodies of the two groaning men at his feet and
they abruptly fell still.

“If they are dead, your life is forfeit,”
Kithkara informed him in a flat voice, ignoring his threat
completely.

“Well, this is headed down the wrong path
swiftly,” Hexian muttered.

“Now would be a splendid time to wake up
Sovann,” Valor hissed, his eyes moving constantly across the crowds
for anyone moving. “They aren’t dead for now, simply unconscious.
Release her and they will continue to live,” Valor added in a
louder voice.

“You are outnumbered forty to one, you
idiot,” someone called from the crowd. A wave of nervous laughter
echoed through the room then dropped to silence once more as
Kithkara held up a slender hand.

Moving slowly, Kithkara began to walk toward
Valor. The sound of her boot heels echoed through the silent hall.
“Do you know what they call the armies of Kithvaryn, little boy?”
she asked softly.

In for a copper, in for a gold
. Jala
smiled as Finn’s words surfaced from her memories. In this
situation, Finn would fight no matter the odds, and there was no
way she would let Valor stand alone in any fight. As long as she
still drew breath she would fight beside him.

Drawing quickly on her power, Jala sent a
violent shock into the man still holding her. It was not enough to
kill the man, simply stun him. She felt him spasm and fall back
away from her. Her balance wavered as he released her and she
barely managed to keep her footing as she quickly cast a spell to
cut the bonds that held her.

“Corpses, if we continue here,” Jala answered
as Kithkara whirled once more to face her at the sound of her
captor’s fall. Flexing her wrists, Jala watched the shredded
remains of rope fall from her wrists and straightened her shoulders
as she met the other woman’s eyes fully. “I’m here to speak with
Kithvaryn, but if you’d rather this become bloody then by all
means, Commander, draw your blade,” Jala hissed holding both hands
out in invitation.

“Well this explains why Finn loved you. You
are apparently every bit as brash and bold as he was,” Hexian
sighed as he stepped back several feet.

“We are called the Ten Thousand Immortals,”
Kithkara continued, though she had stopped her advance toward
Valor. Her gaze flicked between the two of them with an expression
that suggested they were both foolish children.

“Long name. I’m not impressed,” Jala replied
a faint smile curving her own lips. Let the woman consider them
children, underestimating the damage she and Valor could create was
a huge mistake. Death herself could attest to that.

“There are no half-bloods or commoners among
us. Every man and woman on this island is pure-blood immortal. To
attack us at the odds you now have is suicide,” Kithkara
snarled.

“I miss Finn. I can’t say that I would mind
seeing him again and I’d rather die fighting than under your knife
in torture. That is, if we lose, of course. Valor and I have faced
Death herself and lived and somehow I don’t think you are quite as
impressive as a Divine Commander,” Jala returned the smile widening
on her lips. Tilting her head back she licked her lips and let her
eyes rove across the room then back to Kithkara. Soft laughter
bubbled from Jala’s lips and she waved her hands once more in
invitation. “Just draw the blade,” she pressed the words sounding
so much like Finn’s that her smile widened further.

“Please,” Valor added as a soft breeze began
to build around him. “I have a lot of angst I’d love to release on
someone.” Jala could see how tense he was even at the distance he
stood from her, though it wasn’t with fear. It was pure
anticipation. Every muscle in his body was coiled and begging for
release.

“Enough!” The single word cut through the
room like a knife and all eyes moved toward the speaker who stood
framed in the doorway. Lightning flashed in the sky behind the man
as he stepped fully into the room, the massive wooden doors
crashing closed behind him. “Back to your duties all of you,” the
man snapped and the crowd surrounding them scattered like quail
before a hound, aside for a scant few that were brave enough to
linger.

“General Kithvaryn,” Jala said with a slight
bow of her head. The man was slight and smaller than most in the
room. His dark hair was cut short and his clothing was plain and
functional. There was, however, no mistaking who he was despite his
appearance. While Kithvaryn’s appearance might not be intimidating,
his reputation was. This was not a man to bully or bluff and he
well deserved the show of respect. In every book at the Academy
that mentioned him, Kithvaryn was described as a genius and a
brilliant leader. If the text was to be believed, this man had
never lost a single battle.

“Lady Merrodin,” Kithvaryn replied, though
without the nod of respect and in a much colder voice.

What did I really expect here, tea and
crumpets
?
I should have known I would share the blame for
his son’s death and approached with more caution
. Jala scolded
herself silently and waited for him to continue.

“We will speak, Lady Merrodin, and if I do
not like what you say, you will regret coming to this island. I
sent no one after your husband despite my son’s death. I was
content to allow you to live in peace as long as you kept your
distance. Kithkanon was rash and overconfident and while his death
was painful to me, it was no true surprise. Your presence here,
however, is a surprise, and not a pleasant one.” Kithvaryn’s voice
was low and the look in his eyes spoke volumes of his sincerity.
“Escort the Lady to my parlor, Kara,” he ordered, then slowly
turned to regard Valor. “Have those two thrown in cells.” He paused
a moment as the remaining men in the room moved to follow his
orders. “Barllen cells,” he added thoughtfully before turning to
face Hexian. “I regret our talks will have to wait Lord Hexian. I
hope you understand.”

“Of course. I would very much like you to
resolve this difficulty first, actually. If the Lady’s words aren’t
pleasing to you, Rivana would be very interested in making a deal,”
Hexian replied with a smile.

“I will not have my companions imprisoned,”
Jala broke in before Kithkara could move her a single step. “I
would rather speak than fight General, but I will not have my
friends mistreated,” Jala warned and wondered if she had truly gone
insane as the expression on every face in the room indicated.

“You are in no position to make demands, Lady
Merrodin,” Kithvaryn warned.

“You are making the same mistake as your son
did and underestimating an opponent,” Jala countered, the
expression on her face unwavering.

Kithvaryn watched her in silence for a long
moment and then slowly smiled. Nodding his head ever so slightly he
let out a soft chuckle. “That remains to be seen, but I admire your
resolve. I’ll tell you what, Lady Merrodin. I’ll offer you this.
Your companions may join us in my parlor, but if they make a single
sound or movement that offends me I will have them killed. Or they
can wait in the cells and make all of the fuss they like and be
perfectly safe from harm. Which do you prefer?”

“That they wait with me,” Jala replied
without hesitation.

Kithvaryn chuckled again and glanced aside at
Valor who stood rigid before the approaching men, his expression as
stormy as the weather. “Then his blood is on your hands, Lady.”

Jala nodded her agreement and turned her head
to meet Valor’s eyes. Their gazes locked for a long moment as she
could see the same resolve in his eyes. If this went poorly, both
of their blood would spill. She would fight to the last breath
before she allowed herself or her companions to be sold or
imprisoned. Smiling faintly, she bowed her head to Valor.
Thank
you, Valor. I know you are still mad at me and I know I got us all
into this mess, and yet you still stand beside me to the last
.
She whispered the words in his mind through the most subtle link
she could form.

Always
, Valor’s response was just as
faint but filled with the same promise it always held when he spoke
that word to her.

A firm hand gripped her upper arm tightly and
Jala turned to glance at Kithkara’s face as the older woman led her
toward double doors in the back of the hall. “You are either insane
or a complete fool,” Kithkara hissed, her anger still apparent in
her voice.

“Neither, actually. Reckless perhaps.
Confident certainly, but mainly it is simple tenacity. I don’t back
down and I don’t give up. You might have won, Kithkara, from sheer
numbers, but I would have given you enough fight that you would
never forget facing me no matter how long you lived,” Jala replied
in a soft voice.

“An overconfident fool,” Kithkara muttered
sourly and Jala simply smiled in response.

Merro

Emily crouched on the edge of the roof and
stared hard at the surrounding area. Ravens filled the town,
clustered on every roof and in every tree as thick as flies in
summer. The noise from the creatures was hideous and almost
overwhelming enough for her to retreat back inside. Her eyes moved
from creature to creature as she tried to determine exactly what
the birds were doing. They didn’t seem to be interested in food or
showing any interest in the city beyond the perches they sat upon.
It had been like this since the sun had risen and the commoners of
the town were beginning to mutter about ill luck.

“I say we use the damned things as archery
practice,” a passing knight muttered as they rode by the roof Emily
perched upon.

“Ill luck to shoot a raven,” his companion
returned in a voice that quavered slightly. Raising a gauntleted
hand to his chest he made a quick warding gesture as they continued
down the road.

Emily shook her head at the gesture and
returned her attention to the birds. It might have been interesting
to see what happened if the animals were attacked. Her instincts
told her the creatures weren’t entirely natural and who knew what
would happen if they were attacked.

A soft whimper from below her perch drew her
attention and she edged toward the sound and leaned down toward the
open window. The noise from the birds was so loud that she nearly
missed the cry. A second whimper followed and Emily frowned. It was
Legacy crying, probably hungry again. The child always seemed to be
hungry, especially in Jala’s absence. Another louder wail rose from
the window and Emily dropped soundlessly to the sill to peer
inside.

The crying wasn’t unusual. Legacy was
miserable without his mother nearby. The unusual part was the fact
that Wisp wasn’t in the room yet. The Fae was seldom far from the
child and usually responded with the first whimper. Silently Emily
slid through the open window and looked down into the crib at the
fussing baby. Her gaze moved from the crib to the door that was
still closed tightly. It was possible that Wisp hadn’t heard the
noise through the racket the birds were making. Moving slowly,
Emily advanced on the door, her head cocked toward the outer hall,
listening closely for any noise that spoke of trouble.

Legacy wailed again and Emily glanced back at
the crib with indecision filling her mind. She didn’t want to
actually touch the child. She had refrained from even getting too
close to him since he had been born. It wasn’t that she disliked
him. It was the simple fact that she didn’t trust herself by him.
He was so small and fragile, and the Blight instincts seemed so
much sharper when Marrow was away. Yet she didn’t want to leave him
alone either, especially when he was upset. She could relate with
his feelings completely. It was horrible to be left behind.

A soft patter at the window drew her gaze
past the crib to settle on the huge black bird that had landed. The
bird cocked its head, looking around the room before hopping
farther in and closer to the crib. She was about to attack it when
a soft rasp at the door drew both of their attention. They froze as
the door knob slowly began to turn the bird’s attention as focused
as her own. Definitely not a natural animal then, she decided with
growing interest. So which is more dangerous here, the bird or
whoever is at the door? She pondered silently and wished that
Marrow was with her once again. The Bendazzi not only had more
experience with life than she did, he was a partner in situations
such as this. Had he been here they could have divided their
strength and eliminated both threats at once.

Wisp would already be in the room. Emily
realized with a frown. Whoever this was opening the door was far
too cautious to be a member of the household. All of the maids
adored the child and would have scrambled had they heard the
pathetic cries he was making. Her breath slowed as the door slowly
pushed open revealing a sliver of shadows from the darkened hallway
beyond. A black gloved hand appeared against the wood frame of the
doorway and the faint coppery smell of blood filled the room.

Emily crouched beside the wall waiting for
the intruder to enter the room fully. There was no question of it
now. This was an enemy. All she needed now was a full target. The
door opened farther and a man stepped fully into the room. His
features were impossible to make out between the murk of the
hallway and the heavy black cloak he wore, but Emily had no doubts
on attacking.

The moment the stranger cleared the door
frame she moved, lunging forward with a speed that would make a cat
envious. One hand locked around the man’s throat, her claws digging
in deep as she slammed him hard against the wall, her other hand
slashing at his stomach. Warm blood gushed from both wounds and the
smell was intoxicating. A broken gurgling noise tore from his
throat as the wound to his stomach tore farther spilling his
innards onto the thick carpet. Emily smiled and watched the frantic
look in the man’s eyes as his body began to fail him. “Not this
child you don’t. This one is protected,” she hissed as she slowly
released the dying man and watched him slump to the floor his
lifeblood pooling around him.