The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 3 From the Ashes (9 page)

“What do you have in mind?” Shade asked,
growing cautious.

“I plan to have you teach Symphony to fly, as
well as a few others. I wouldn’t expect you to use your own ship
for such things, though, so wait, and pick the best of the
unclaimed ships. That should keep Lutheron’s gaze firmly on you. He
will be frantic at the idea of Symphony flying,” Vaze
explained.

“Uhh. Why would I want Lutheron’s gaze firmly
on me?” Shade began, his caution shifting over to outright
distaste.

“Because it will keep his eyes off me while
I’m in the Darklands,” Vaze finished, looking to Shade with a
raised eyebrow. “Three days from now we will eliminate the Blight
problem. Once that has been dealt with, I will leave the city. You
will begin flight lessons that day even if it’s simply teaching her
the parts of the ship and not actually flying.”

“On the day she arrives in the city? We
aren’t even going to give her a chance to get settled?” Shade
asked, incredulous.

“Afraid not. Time works differently in the
Darklands, and while its only three days for us, it’s much longer
for Jala. Symphony will need the distraction anyway. It will keep
her mind off the dead,” Vaze answered with a sigh.

“So you convinced Lutheron to let you go?”
Shade asked, shaking his head slightly. Lutheron had seemed quite
firm on the subject.

Vaze regarded him with deep purple eyes and
the smile slowly returned to his face. “I didn’t ask him, Shade. I
follow the orders he gives me. I will kill the Blights before I go,
as he asked. Whatever I do after that is my own business. I’m a
councilor of the Fionaveir, not a lowly grunt to hang on his every
word.”

“He seemed so adamant,” Shade began but Vaze
cut him off with a quick gesture of the hand.

“And so am I. I have been remiss. She is my
blood and I shouldn’t have left her as I did. When Magdalyn died, I
should have collected Jala myself rather than allow her to be left
at the temple. I don’t think she was foolish in the least for
entering the Darklands. I think she was bold as our line should be.
I won’t see her die because of it.” Vaze stopped walking and looked
to Shade. The smile was no longer on his face as he spoke. “Will
you assist me with Lutheron’s attention until I’m out of the
city?”

“If you will answer one question for me,”
Shade said quietly as he looked around for anyone that might be
listening.

“And what would that be?” Vaze asked. He
raised an eyebrow at Shade and then made a quick gesture with one
hand. The shadows of the street seemed to lengthen around them and
the area grew silent of all other noise. “Speak freely, no one will
overhear. The Shadows guard our words now.”

“What is the council doing about the traitor?
Surely you will admit there is one after the night of the assault.
The Justicars were bloody well waiting for us,” Shade said, his
eyes locked on Vaze’s face. He’d always been good at reading
people, just not so good at acting according to what he read. Vaze
however was difficult to read anything from. The man had a guarded
way about him, not giving any hints to his thoughts.

“I will tell you this. There were only four
people that knew the staging points for the assault. Lutheron, who
planned the attack, and the three group leaders he chose. Myself,
Caspian, and Faramir. The common belief around the council is that
the plans were overheard. I, however, have turned down two lunch
invitations from Faramir since that night,” Vaze said and then
smiled faintly. “Take what you will from my words and use it
discreetly.”

“I see. Thank you for the honesty. I will
distract Lutheron for you,” Shade said with a nod. The answer was
cryptic of course but he had expected as much. Still it was more
than Charm had given him in answer so far.

Vaze’s smile widened. “Of course, if I’m the
traitor that was fabulous misdirection,” he whispered and flicked
his hand. The shadows died away and the noise of the day returned.
Giving Shade a wink, he turned on his heels and headed back toward
the Justicar’s hall.

“Bloody intrigue. It’s like bread and water
to us,” Shade sighed and picked up his crowbar from the ground.
Vaze’s words still rang in his mind regarding the traitor. Only
four people had known and those four should have been the most
trustworthy members of the Fionaveir. Caspian had founded the
organization. It was extremely doubtful that he would be the
traitor to his own cause. Then Faramir of course was Caspian’s wife
and had been a founding member as well. That left Lutheron and
Vaze, and Lutheron seemed a fanatic when it came to Symphony. Vaze
was the only one that didn’t have rock solid reasoning for loyalty,
which made his parting words even more ominous. He had, of course,
never actually said the traitor was Faramir. So what if Faramir
suspected him, and he knew. That would be reason enough to refuse
lunch with her. “Bloody intrigue,” Shade repeated with a growl of
frustration and turned his mind to the ship. At least his ship was
something he understood clearly, unlike Immortals.

The Darklands

“Are you sure that’s Fiona Veirasha?” Jala
hissed as the pale knight stopped several feet from them.

“Positive. She was a childhood hero of mine.
I have several books regarding her and they all have pictures
looking like that,” Valor replied in a hushed voice, motioning
toward the woman. “With the exception of the blood of course,” he
amended just as softly.

“I’m afraid they don’t let you choose your
attire in the afterlife. I count myself quite fortunate that my
head is on my shoulders, considering.” Fiona broke in. Her voice
was a loud whisper with a faint hissing to the words. She looked
them over critically from Jala leaning on the horse, one leg
suspended behind her, to Valor’s rather ragged appearance, and made
a clicking noise with her tongue. “Not what I expected in
champions, but I suppose you will do,” she sighed and gave a slight
shrug.

“Champions?” Jala asked, unsure exactly what
the woman was talking about. They were not champions of any cause
other than rescuing Finn.

“You will both need rest before you face the
Dark lady. Come. I will show you to relative safety.” Fiona
motioned for them to follow and turned toward the trees without
another word.

“Wait. We have no reason to hold faith in
you. Why should we follow?” Valor asked, challenge ringing in his
words.

Fiona glanced back over her shoulder at him
and a faint smile creased her pale lips. “The smaller creatures are
at bay because of my presence. Once I leave they will attack.
Choose your odds, Arovan. One of me or hundreds of them,” she said
with a trace of amusement.

Valor let his gaze sweep over the clustered
demons surrounding them and then looked back to Jala. “She makes a
valid point,” he said quietly and raised an eyebrow at her in
question.

“Well, we at least have to figure out why she
is calling us Champions, don’t we.” Jala said with a sigh and
shrugged at him.

“So we follow,” Valor agreed and moved to
help her onto the horse.

“And quickly because she is still walking,”
Jala said, moving quickly to gain the saddle. Pain lanced through
her leg and she inhaled sharply. “A couple of minutes to heal would
have been nice,” she hissed.

Valor nodded quickly and handed her the reins
before moving to follow Fiona. “Would have been, but apparently we
aren’t getting them. Let’s go.”

“Wait. You aren’t riding? You are hurt too,”
Jala called after him. Valorous gave a soft snort and trotted along
behind his master. She could feel mild irritation through the
reins. Apparently she wasn’t the only one baffled by Valor
walking.

“If there is a fight I’d rather be on foot
for it in this terrain,” Valor replied, and by the way his gaze was
fixed on Fiona’s back it was obvious who he expected to be
fighting.

“Valor, she died over three hundred years
ago. Why is she still in the Darklands and why is she here for us?”
Jala asked, her words just loud enough to reach him.

He shrugged in response. “I suppose we will
find out soon,” Valor replied. He lengthened his stride to gain
ground on Fiona, though the quick movement must have pained him. He
offered no complaint, however, and his expression remained
neutral.

“Careful now,” Valor murmured as he helped
her down from the saddle.

The ride had been a very lengthy and dull one
through rough terrain. Her ankle throbbed steadily as did the burn
on her wrist. Jala glanced past Valor irritably to where Fiona
stood waiting for them outside a small dark cave. “Thank you,
Valor,” she mumbled as she started to hobble toward the cave. The
path leading up to it was too narrow and steep even for the nimble
footed Arovanni.

“Hold on a second,” Valor called after her
and she paused to look back to him. He had removed the bridle from
his horse and thrown it over his shoulder casually. Patting the
Arovanni on the neck he walked up behind her and without so much as
another word picked her up, one arm behind her back the other
behind her knees.

Jala squirmed a moment and shook her head.
“Valor, I can walk,” she insisted. The thought of being carried
around like an invalid was humiliating. She squirmed in his arms
again trying to force him to set her back down.

“On a broken ankle up a steep path with loose
rocks and moss. That seems like a disaster waiting to happen. Quit
squirming before you make me lose my footing and we both suffer for
it,” Valor snapped impatiently and continued the climb to the
cave.

“I feel like an idiot being carried about,”
Jala objected again.

“And you will look like one when I fall on
you and the combined weight of me and my armor flattens you,” Valor
shot back. His breath was coming in shallow rasps from the effort
of the climb and their long walk.

“You shouldn’t be doing this with broken
ribs,” Jala scolded but ceased squirming.

“And you shouldn’t be forcing me to talk at
the moment,” Valor replied, his words clipped short by the exertion
of getting them both to the cave.

“So, how long have you two been married?”
Fiona asked dryly as they reached the cave entrance.

Jala snapped her mouth shut and stared at
Fiona, eyes wide while Valor simply scowled at the woman. “You know
perfectly well that we aren’t married,” Valor snapped as he
carefully sat Jala down at the edge of the cave entrance.
“Personally, I’d like an explanation as to what is going on. While
I appreciate your holding the smaller demons at bay, I think we
deserve some answers as to what you want from us.”

“Inside, and then we will talk,” Fiona said
with a smile that held no warmth to it at all. She turned away from
them and disappeared into the dark interiors of their make-shift
shelter.

“I suppose we do bicker a bit too much,” Jala
mumbled. The loss of Finn was a deep wound and Fiona’s words had
prodded it sharply with her words.

“She was being a bitch,” Valor replied,
offering her his arm for support as they headed into the cave. “I
will cut her some slack on it, however. Having your head removed by
your husband no doubt makes you bitter toward matrimony as well as
being dead for three hundred years. I suppose she has a right to be
nasty tempered.”

“Speaking of bitchy,” Fiona drawled turning
to look directly at Valor with a smile, “I suppose hobbling around
with broken bones has the same effect on you. Sit down while I
rummage about in here and see if I can find anything useful.”

“What is that smell,” Jala rasped, turning
her head away from the innermost part of the cave. The air was
fetid and the worst of it seemed to be coming from that area.

“The rotting dead. This was Nasurai’s lair,”
Fiona replied calmly and summoned a light spell above her hand.
Raising her arm she held the light aloft for them to get a good
look at their surroundings.

“Nasurai Blackwolf?” Valor asked in
astonishment. He barely seemed to notice the tangled bones and
rotting flesh that littered the floor of the cave. Jala however,
found her gaze fixated on the grisly display and felt her stomach
lurching in response.

“The one and only. You just destroyed what
remained of him, but don’t trouble yourself over it. Anything that
was good in him died long ago. Death saw to that. He was one of her
five guardians. With luck I can guide you around the other four so
you do not have to fight them,” Fiona replied in a distracted voice
as she prodded the pile of bones with her boots.

“I thought the Darklands held spirits. Yet,
you aren’t a ghost and those certainly have a bit of flesh left to
them,” Jala said weakly, her stomach still complaining at the
stench.

“If you are going to vomit, hobble back
outside for it, please. There is enough filth in here without
adding more,” Fiona said without so much as glancing up. She kicked
aside another pile and a wave of putrid air rose from the tangle of
bodies. Small white forms wiggling through the rusting armor drew
Jala’s eye and she stared in disgust at the maggots until Valor
stepped in her path of vision.