The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 3 From the Ashes (46 page)

“You cannot ignore the dead in favor of the
living,” Fiona objected, her voice nearly a snarl. “Would you have
the Forgotten swell in numbers because you failed to do your duty
for the dead?” she demanded.

“I would send every last soul waiting
straight to Oblivion for just a taste of my former life. Do not
push me, Fiona!” Finn snarled back, his voice taking on the
coldness it always did before he killed. A soft whimper from his
lap drew his attention back from the fight and his gaze softened as
he saw the fear written on his son’s face. “Go, Fiona. I will not
tell you again,” he said in a softer voice without bothering to
look up at her again.

Smiling, he took the child’s hand carefully
and made gentle hushing sounds. He could remember his mother using
those noises with Sovann when they were small, and somehow just
those simple noises seemed to always work like magic. “You look so
much like your mother,” Finn whispered in a soothing voice as he
listened to the angry footsteps of the knight as she left the
room.

Legacy turned his small head and watched the
retreat before turning once more to stare up at his father. Raising
his hand up and down, he murmured and slapped lightly at the chair,
his violet eyes fixating once more on the carved figures in the
wood.

“I meant what I said, Legacy. I don’t know if
you can understand fully what I say yet, but I meant it. I will
always put you and your mother before all. The laws of the Divine
be damned.” Finn spoke softly and smiled again as the child looked
up at him with bright eyes and smiled back. He wasn’t sure if his
son had truly understood or it was simply a coincidence, but it
truly seemed as though the tiny fingers had tightened on his hand
at the words.

Kithvaryn

The journey through the fortress of Kithvaryn
seemed more like a death march than a trip to a parlor. Their
escort marched them through winding halls and upstairs in complete
silence with weapons bared. Jala glanced back toward Sovann once
more and frowned. The mage had finally awoken after being drug
between two of the guards for most of the way, but he was still too
pale. She had tried to heal him but Kithkara wouldn’t allow them to
stop for anything.

“Where does he keep his bloody parlor, on the
roof?” Valor grumbled as they turned down yet another hallway,
their path heading directly for another set of stairs.

“Silence,” Kithkara snapped, her tone as
irritable as her expression implied. Jala had no doubts whatsoever
that had the woman been given a choice they would have been heading
to the gallows instead of the parlor.

“Was he your lover or husband?” Jala asked
softly and had to fight back a smile as the woman nearly
tripped.

“I said silence,” Kithkara hissed, her grip
on Jala’s arm tightening.

“Either way if you want him back then you had
better pray for my success with your general,” Jala continued,
ignoring the woman’s growing fury completely. With a sigh she began
to climb the stairs and wondered if the night would ever be over.
Her body ached, her head throbbed and she was more exhausted than
she could ever remember being. Even with the rest on the ship and
nearly a full day without using any true magic she still hadn’t
recovered from her efforts in Goswin.

“He was my son and I do not forgive as easily
as his father does,” Kithkara said in a low dangerous voice.

“Not really meaning to insult you by pointing
out the obvious, lady, but you do realize Kithkanon died in a duel
against Finn, right? Jala had nothing to do with it and your son
was the one stupid enough to fight Finn in the first place,” Valor
said loudly from behind them on the stairs.

“My son was twice the warrior of that gutter
rat exile. Finn cheated in the duel and drew upon magic. That is
the only way he could have survived the wounds Kanon dealt him,”
Kithkara returned, her voice outraged. Her dark eyes sparkled with
malice and Jala could see the faint hint of glassiness that spoke
of unshed tears. Slowly she began to realize just how offensive
their company must be to everyone on this island. They didn’t just
blame Finn for Kithkanon’s death. They blamed everyone he was
friends with as well.

“Finn could barely cast a light spell. His
proudest accomplishment with magic was figuring out how to cure a
hangover. Beyond that he had no use for it. I’m sorry if that was
the thin thread that you were clinging to, but you are wrong,”
Valor continued in a casual voice despite the growing mutters of
anger from their escort.

“Why don’t you just kick them in the balls
directly, Valor,” Sovann sighed, his voice sounding as weak as he
looked.

“He cheated!” Kithkara repeated her voice
nearly a screech as she whirled to face Valor. “And you will not
speak ill of the dead. I will not allow it. My son is dead because
of you people and you have the nerve to come here? I will see you
dead before the sun rises, Arovan. You killed a scout on the beach
and that is reason enough for Kithvaryn to spike your head on the
battlements.” Whirling once more she faced Jala, her face twisted
into a mask of hatred. “And you…” Kithkara began her voice dropping
to dangerous tones. “You come here offering me my son back and
think I am fool enough to believe it. I will see you die slowly and
you will tell me where the cowardly little gutter rat is hiding
before you die. I can promise you that.”

“Valor will not die and neither will I,
Commander Kithkara. I’m sorry for your loss I truly am. I know how
painful it is to lose one you love, but I will not allow you
whatever twisted sense of vengeance you believe you will achieve by
killing us,” Jala replied calmly. She kept her expression as calm
as her words despite the tension of the moment. It wouldn’t take
much to provoke Kithkara into a fight. She had seen that much
downstairs before Kithvaryn’s intervention.

“I can’t wait to peel that confidence off
you,” Kithkara purred as she grabbed Jala’s arm roughly once more
and continued up the stairs, nearly dragging Jala behind her as
they went.

“I highly suggest you treat Lady Merrodin
with more respect,” Valor warned and Jala turned quickly shaking
her head at him. His dark blue eyes narrowed slightly and he shook
his head at her in defiance.

“Silence,” Kithkara bellowed, her breath
coming in uneven gasps.

It was obvious the woman was close to
breaking and Jala dreaded even looking at Valor. She wasn’t sure if
he was intentionally trying to sabotage her chances or not. Killing
the mother of Kithvaryn’s only child would certainly guarantee that
no arrangement could be made, and if Valor didn’t stop goading the
woman that would be the only choice she had.

A wave of giddy relief washed over Jala as
they stopped in front of a door at the top of the stairs and
Kithkara pushed her forward. “Wait inside and touch nothing. He
will deal with you when he has time,” Kithkara ordered, her voice
filled with loathing.

Nodding slowly in understanding Jala pushed
the heavy door open and stepped inside the dim lit room, slowly
looking around. Maps covered an entire wall, detailing every nation
in Sanctuary. On the opposite side of the room stood an enormous
bookshelf lined with heavy leather bound volumes and assorted
scrolls. Another wall held display racks lined with every type of
weapon Jala had ever seen and a few she didn’t even have a name
for. The last wall had a small table with two heavily cushioned
chairs. A game board was set on the table and, from the scattered
pieces, had recently been used. She didn’t spare time to study it
however. Her attention was locked on the man seated at the table.
His deep purple eyes regarded her with open amusement. Nodding
slowly, Vaze stood and bowed slightly to her. The pale lamplight
glinted off his dark grey hair as he moved while his black armor
seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. She simply
stared at him in silence as she tried to contain her emotions. She
wasn’t exactly sure what she felt other than turmoil. Vaze had
disappeared from Merro while she was still in her sickbed and the
last memories she had of her Uncle were of his sending Finn back to
hell and arguing that taking her child might be the best course of
action. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what emotions she felt, but
none of them were good.

“Jala,” Vaze said in simple greeting as he
stood from the bow and dropped lightly back into the chair.

“What are you doing here?” Jala demanded in a
low voice.

“The same as you. Attempting to negotiate a
deal with the Ten Thousand, I would guess. Although I am rather
surprised to see you here, considering…,” Vaze answered, his voice
trailing off with the last. He studied her as he spoke and she
could see questions that he wasn’t yet voicing.

Jala sighed and nodded slightly before
glancing back to Valor and Sovann. Valor had managed to come
through their ordeals with the storm and shipwreck and still manage
to look presentable. Sovann and she on the other hand must look
like bedraggled street orphans. Glancing down at herself, Jala took
in the salt stained dress and her bare feet. She couldn’t even
remember losing her shoes and hadn’t truly missed them until their
long walk up the stone stairs.

Lamely she raised a hand to her hair and
tried in vain to bring order to her wine colored curls. Her frown
deepened as her hand brushed something and she pulled away a sprig
of seaweed. Looking back at her companions she sighed. “Neither of
you could spare a moment to tell me I had bloody seaweed in my
hair?” she asked her tone one of pure exasperation.

“Hadn’t even noticed it,” Sovann muttered as
he moved to a chair and dropped limply into the cushions.

“I found it rather amusing,” Valor replied
easily, his gaze on her was anything but sympathetic and Jala
couldn’t really blame him. She had earned his anger and she knew
it. Between her private dealings with Seravae and their being held
prisoner, it was a wonder he was talking with her at all.

“Fair enough,” Jala conceded and moved to
kneel beside Sovann. Taking both of his hands in hers she called on
the healing magic and sent the spell coursing through Sovann,
finding each bruise and scrape and healing them all. A wave of
dizziness washed over her as she finished and she fell back onto
her butt on the carpet as the magic faded from her.

“Are you all right?” Sovann asked, his voice
little more than a whisper. His eyes flicked toward Vaze who
watched them with intense interest.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Jala murmured and felt a
pang in her chest as she pulled her knees up against her stomach
and rested her forehead against them. A day ago, Valor would have
been at her side in an instant had she shown weakness. Now he stood
with his back to her, examining maps on the wall with an interest
she knew he didn’t truly hold.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Sovann
asked softly, his voice filled with concern. He hadn’t missed
Valor’s continued anger either. Not that anyone truly could with
the storm still raging outside.

Jala slowly shook her head, not bothering to
look up at Sovann. She didn’t want to see the look of hurt on his
face. Really she didn’t want to see his face at all right now. It
wasn’t Sovann himself. It was how much he resembled his brother. If
Finn were here now, Valor wouldn’t have any reason to be angry with
her and she wouldn’t be in this damned fortress to begin with. She
wouldn’t be contemplating marriage with Ash. None of this would be
happening if she just had Finn. Of course, she wouldn’t have an
army to face Avanti either.

This does no good, Jala. You are borrowing
misery that you don’t need. Lock him away for now please. Now is
not the time to mourn for Finn
, Marrow’s voice was faint as if
he were a vast distance from her and she felt panic rise at the
thought.
I’m just outside the fortress, Jala. You know that. You
are not alone. You are never alone, Jala.

I can’t stand his anger at me, Marrow.
It’s worse than a knife in the gut. Even more so because I know I
deserve it.
Jala tried to keep the desperation from her voice
but knew she failed. Wrapping both arms around her knees she buried
her face farther into the salt stained skirts and squeezed her eyes
as tightly shut as she could.

Have you ever actually had a knife in the
gut? I’m fairly certain that if I were given the choice of having
Valor angry with me for a while or getting stabbed in my innards I
would choose the pissed off knight
, Marrow shot back, his voice
laced with sarcasm.

I’m tired, Marrow. I hurt. I miss my son.
I’ve gotten us all captured. I’m hungry. I think I’m still a touch
hung over, and my closest friend has more interest in maps than
anything I have to say. Please, just this once, allow me to be
melodramatic and not make fun of me for it
, Jala returned in a
voice filled with misery.

Such a heartfelt plea I think I might have
actually had mercy for you had you thought to make the request
before I had already made fun of you. Pity, I suppose we will have
to make a rain check on that one and I will continue to prod you
for your current whininess
, Marrow’s tone was light and mocking
and for a moment she was hurt until she realized what he was
doing.

You are trying to piss me off
, Jala
accused in an indignant tone.

Piss you off, make you laugh, distract you. I
would take any of those options over your pain, Jala. I feel what
you feel, remember. I may not share the sentiments exactly, but I
do share them. I miss him, too, Jala. He was my friend as well. Now
is not the time for it though. You are in your enemy’s lair, Jala,
and you are cowering on the carpet like a frightened hare. You are
not weak. You are not timid. Get up and let all who see you know
you are Bendazzi.