The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 3 From the Ashes (52 page)

How many did you bloody well eat
? Jala
demanded while keeping her expression as neutral as she could.

Four goats, one calf and a dog
, Marrow
replied, sounding quite pleased with himself.

It’s only been one bloody day Marrow
!
Jala fairly yelled the words back to him before smiling at the
General as sweetly as she could. “I agree to your terms General
with one exception.”

“And that would be?” Kithvaryn asked his tone
growing colder.

“That you change three goats to four goats,
one calf, and a dog and allow me to make restitution for the
updated list of snacks,” Jala said quietly, wishing she could have
simply left it at three goats which was bad enough as far as she
was concerned.

“I can’t imagine the feed bill you must get
monthly for that creature if he reaped that much damage here in one
night,” Kithvaryn said as he shook his head slowly in amazement. “I
accept the terms and if all is settled I will write the contract up
and we can both turn our attention to other duties.” Jala nodded in
agreement and watched the General rise from his chair. “I will
return shortly with the paperwork, then. Feel free to have a drink
while you wait. I will have the servants send up breakfast
now.”

“Thank you, General,” Jala said with a faint
smile as she watched him and Kithkara leave the room. Turning in
her seat she looked up at Valor and found him glowering down at
her.

“Guarding a child with a hatchet,” Valor
grumbled shaking his head in disgust.

“I have to agree with Valor here, Jala. I
don’t like the idea of you giving your blood to anyone,” Sovann
said quietly.

“Everything has a price, Sovann. Kithvaryn’s
was lower than I thought it was going to be after the initial
meeting. I count myself fortunate that he is willing to exchange
vials rather than simply demanding one from me,” Jala sighed and
watched with a growing frown as Valor poured himself a large
tumbler of whiskey. He had been doing so well at avoiding drinking,
and she knew it was her actions that were pushing him back toward
the bottle. There was hardly anything she could say to make it
better now, though. Not with Seravae looming so close in their
future.

Delvay

Dark forms circled the camp, dotting the
smoke filled sky with a scattering of black. Havoc watched the
ravens as they approached and shook his head before glancing at
Victory. The scout’s camp should have been far enough from the
borders that they would have been safe until the arrival of the
main force. From the looks of things, they had been wrong,
though.

“Thirty ravens at least. That’s far too many
for just a few dead,” Victory said quietly. The Fae looked as
haggard and miserable as Havoc had ever seen him and he felt a
twinge at the sight. Victory had taken several wounds in the last
conflict and they had no healers left. The healers were always the
first to die in any conflict and the war in Delvay had proved to be
no exception.

“Kes was in this camp. It was her patrol,”
Havoc said quietly, his gaze flicking over to the small boy riding
behind them. No matter how many times Havoc had argued that the boy
was too young for war, the Delvay had ignored him. This was his
first actual ride from the city and it was likely that the boy’s
first taste of war would be the sight of his mother’s corpse.

“It’s possible that some of them lived,”
Victory countered without much hope in his voice.

“I’m going to ride ahead and see. Keep them
back if you can,” Havoc said and spurred his horse forward before
Victory had time to object. He knew what the objections would be
without hearing them. There might still be enemies. It might not be
safe. Either was fine with him at this point. Let there still be
some Rivasans in the camp. He would gladly help them on their way
to the Darklands.

The cawing of the ravens increased as he drew
closer and Razor snorted in displeasure. The flame steed hated the
carrion birds almost as much as his rider did. A raven was never a
good sign as far as Havoc was concerned. It meant one of three
things: a battle was over before he had arrived, Seth was somewhere
nearby, or the bloody spooks of Seravae had landed. Though in the
latter case, the raven was no more than a sigil on their
banners.

He slowed his horse to a walk as they entered
the small clearing where the scouts had chosen to wait for them.
Dismounting slowly, he took in the burnt tents and corpses with a
single glance, his eyes searching for Kes. At the very least he
could spare the boy the sight of his mother if he could simply find
her and cover the body before they arrived.

His search slowed as he noticed a depression
in the ground near the edge of camp. The track was far too large to
be made by any animal. Moving closer Havoc kicked the torn
remainder of a tent back for a better look and let out a deep sigh.
“Dragon,” he muttered with disgust. That was it then. The war was
as good as over with Nerathane involved. The only hope the Delvay
had for survival now was retreat. Rivana already had them on
numbers, and now with the added strength of Nerathane there was
nothing for it.

“Jani.” The voice was weak and he barely
caught the single word through the noise of the approaching
riders.

Turning quickly, Havoc scanned the area
frantically looking for the only person in Delvay that called him
by that name. “Kes, where are you?” Havoc called loudly, sending
the Ravens back into the sky, squawking in protest.

“The tree, Jani,” Kes called, her voice
choked and filled with pain.

Havoc spun in a full circle his eyes scanning
every tree surrounding the camp until he noticed a knotted rope
tied around the middle of a large oak near the edge of the camp. He
moved swiftly around the tree and nearly choked when he found what
remained of her. There were few wounds more terrible to look upon
than a burn, from what he had seen over the years, and her body was
one large burn. Not a trace of flesh remained on her that wasn’t
black or blistered. Her hair was burned away, leaving her scalp raw
and bloody. Her eyes were the only part of her that seemed
unscathed and they were locked on him with a look of such agony
that he felt his breath catch in his throat.

“Kes,” he managed at last, the single word
holding more emotion in it than he thought possible. Grief, anger,
sadness, and doubt all rivaled for dominance in his mind. He didn’t
know how to help her, let alone how to save her life. The ropes
they had tied her with had cut into her cooked flesh until the hemp
was almost part of her arm. There was no way he could remove the
bonds without causing her excruciating pain. Not that she wasn’t
already in pain, but the shock of adding more might very well kill
her. “Kes, I don’t know how to help you,” Havoc whispered, his
voice thick with grief.

“Listen to me. That is all you can do Havoc.
I don’t have enough strength to last much longer.” Kes coughed and
her eyes welled with tears. “Nerathane has joined the fight, Jani,
and they have Magebreakers with them. You have to tell Kadan. We
didn’t have a chance here.” Kes managed the words through her
broken lips but the effort it was taking was obvious. She was
spending the last of her strength to try to save them all.

“Havoc?” Victory called from the campsite and
Havoc could hear the sound of the other horses.

“Momma?” The higher pitched voice of her son
sent the tears Kes had been holding back spilling down her
cheeks.

“Keep him back, Jani. Don’t let him see me
like this. Make him stay away and tell Kadan,” Kes pleaded, the
tears pouring down her face.

“I’m sorry Kes,” Havoc whispered as he drew
his dagger from his belt. “If we still had healers, Hun, I would do
everything I could to get them to you. I can’t leave you like this
though,” he whispered softly, his head bowed beside hers.

“Do it Jani. I’d rather die to a friend’s
mercy than continue in this pain,” Kes whispered back, her voice
hoarse.

“Tell me the color of the dragon before you
go, Kes, please,” Havoc pleaded softly. Dragons were unique in
their appearance. Each bore a separate pattern of colors to their
scales making each one an individual. If he knew the color, he
could avenge her death.

“Red with pale yellow tracing, Jani,” Kes
mumbled, her voice hoarse and choked.

“I’ll skin it for you, Kes, and I’ll kill
every Magebreaker I see. I swear it by the flames and the Divine
alike,” Havoc promised as he pushed the dagger hard into her chest
until it pierced her heart. She gasped once and let out a soft sob
before her body fell limp against the tree once more suspended by
the ropes.

“Havoc?” Victory called again this time
closer.

“Keep him back, Vic,” Havoc called loudly
trying desperately to keep his voice level. Stepping back slowly he
wiped the unshed tears from his eyes and glanced toward the camp.
Not only did he not want the child to see his mother dead, he
didn’t want the Delvay to see him grieving. They were much the same
as the Firym in most of their beliefs and for him to shed tears in
front of them was the same to verbally announcing he was weak.
“I’ll miss you, Kes. May your journey through the life stream be a
swift one,” Havoc whispered once more as he wiped the blood from
his dagger.

“Are you all right?” Victory had approached
so silently that he hadn’t even heard a rustle in the undergrowth.
The damned Fae had a way about such things and moments like this
made Havoc hate them for it.

“Fine,” Havoc muttered roughly, not bothering
to look up at Victory as he replaced his dagger on his belt.

“From the looks of the camp there was a
dragon involved,” Victory said softly. He doubtless knew that Havoc
had already determined that, but was choosing to give him a subject
other than Kes.

“I’m bloody well sick of losing friends,
Vic,” Havoc said in a choked voice. He hated himself for it, but if
there was anyone in the world that would understand it was
Victory.

“I’ve grown rather sick of it, myself,”
Victory agreed sadly, his gaze straying to the pathetic corpse
hanging from the tree.

“She said they have Magebreakers as well as
Dragons. I don’t even know what the hell a Magebreaker is, but I
promised her I would kill them all,” Havoc mumbled and turned his
back on the camp completely. Having Victory see him with glassy
eyes and a choked voice was one thing, but he would be damned if he
would allow any of the Delvay to see him in this condition.

“As the name implies, they are trained to
break mages. They are created using individuals with the ability to
siphon and through their learning they build up reservoirs bigger
than any mage alive. Unlike a normal mage who stockpiles his
energy, a Magebreaker will spend everything he has before a battle
and go in as dry as a desert with the intention of draining dry
whoever is using magic. They are nearly impossible for a mage to
beat in combat and I can’t imagine the Delvay Spellblades will have
much luck facing them,” Victory explained in an almost droning
voice as if he were reciting an old lesson from memory.

The sound of approaching footsteps silenced
them both and Havoc watched as Kadan approached with a grim look on
his stern face. The Delvay lord barely spared them a glance as he
moved past them to the tree and stood before Kes’s body for a long
moment before speaking. “Was she alive when you arrived?” he asked
in a voice that seemed far too calm for someone that had just found
a dead sister. Even if Kes was adopted, there should have been more
emotion there, at the very least a show of anger.

“She was, but barely,” Havoc answered, his
own voice going colder.

“Havoc,” Victory warned. His partner knew him
well enough to gauge his moods by his voice. Kadan apparently
didn’t.

“This is your knife wound then? Why the hell
didn’t you wait until she had time to report to me?” Kadan growled,
turning to face Havoc with a scowl on his face.

“Because she was in agony, you sorry bastard
and I didn’t want to watch her suffer for your convenience,” Havoc
snapped back, his anger rising to block out the grief.

“Havoc,” Victory warned again with a note of
pleading to his voice.

“Watch your mouth, Havoc,” Kadan hissed, his
hand dropping to his sword hilt. They were all tired from the
fighting they had seen and it made tempers short. Too short
perhaps. Kadan and he had never gotten along even on the best of
days.

“Or what, Kadan? You are going to draw steel
on me? Do you actually think you can win against me? I’ve seen more
fighting in the last year than you have seen in your whole bloody
life,” Havoc snarled as he began to stalk toward the High Lord of
Delvay. “Personally, I wish you would draw, Kadan. I’d love to show
you a fraction of the agony your sister felt and see how willing
you are to live with it.”

“I am Delvay. Pain is nothing,” Kadan
returned, his voice rising with his temper.

“This isn’t solving anything! Don’t we have
enough enemies already without you two fighting? She did give a
bloody report. She gave it to Havoc before she died. If you two
would stop, we can track down the bastards that did this!”
Victory’s voice rang through the clearing with more anger than
Havoc had ever heard from him. Normally, Victory was the rational
one, the even tempered diplomat, now he almost sounded Firym.

“Vic,” Havoc muttered stupidly as he stared
at his friend in disbelief.

“I’m so god damned sick of your dick
measuring. I’ve been watching it for weeks. Honestly, do you two
have nothing better to do with your time than irritate each other?
Kes is dead and you two care more about fighting with each other
than stopping her killers or saving the rest of Delvay. You are
both god damned morons. Firym are tough. Delvay are tough. You are
both complete bad asses and I shudder at the thought of your power.
Are you happy now? Will you shut up and do something productive
now?” The Fae’s chest was heaving as he finished his tirade and he
shook his head in disgust at both of them.