The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 3 From the Ashes (10 page)

“Take out the bottle of brandy I have and
hold it under your nose,” Valor suggested quietly before turning
back to Fiona. “Answer her question. The Darklands is supposed to
hold the souls of the dead not the bodies. Explain why everything
we have faced so far is flesh and bone.” His voice took on a
sterner note as he addressed her and she stopped rummaging through
the pile long enough to look up at him with amusement.

“Ahh. That’s adorable. Does it work in the
sunlit lands? When you growl and snarl, do the puppies above
cower?” Fiona asked, her tone mocking. “The more powerful of the
dead can emulate bodies,” she began, motioning down at herself. “As
thus. They are by no means our true forms however. We don’t eat,
breathe, or piss as mortals do. We are simply solidified essence,
and we don’t like to discuss it. Nasurai however was a demon. One
of Death’s little creations. As I said, she has five guardians so
those would be greater demons and then all of the little creepy
crawlies you have seen would be lesser demons. The ones near the
edge of the forest were animals in life. The ones by the boundary
where you came in were formerly goblins. The deeper you go in, the
bigger and badder they get.”

“Animals? According to the scriptures all
animals are innocent in the eyes of the gods and thus pass
immediately into the life stream once more to be reborn,” Jala
objected, her nausea finally starting to subside. She leaned
forward to watch Fiona but was careful to keep her eyes locked on
the woman’s face rather than the pile of death she stood in.

“Be sure and tell Death that when you see
her. She seems to have real difficulty letting anything return to
the life stream. Now these sorry bastards that I’m wading in
currently were like the two of you – living creatures that crossed
the boundary. A few of them might have actually been heroes who
came here to set things right, but most of them had darker
purposes…” Fiona’s voice trailed off as she stooped and plucked a
rotting leather bag from the pile. Lifting the flap she began to
dig around inside, mumbling to herself as she did so.

“Let me try healing your ribs,” Jala said
quietly to Valor as Fiona’s attention was distracted.

“Your ankle first,” Valor insisted as he sat
down beside her and leaned back against the wall. “My ribs will
keep but you need to be able to walk,” he added when she started to
protest.

“Don’t heal anything. Every time you cast a
spell you give Death an exact location as to where you are.” Fiona
cut in, her head coming up sharply. “Give me a moment or two and
hopefully we can get you healed. Most come in here a bit more
prepared than you two have.”

“Do you ever say anything nice at all?” Jala
snapped, her temper fraying a bit at the edges. The pain combined
with Fiona’s constant cutting remarks was putting her in a foul
mood quickly.

“No, not usually, but then my company is
typically snarling demons. Let me adjust over to having snot nosed
brats as company and I’ll see if I can be nicer,” Fiona replied
dryly, her eyes still fixed on the bag she held.

“Bitch, if you were like this in life, I see
why he chopped your head off,” Valor snapped as he took the flask
of brandy from Jala’s hand and swallowed deeply from its
contents.

“Weren’t you the one murmuring about
childhood heroes earlier today?” Fiona grumbled.

“History books don’t capture personalities
well. Had they written this particular chapter about you, I believe
I would have found another to emulate,” Valor replied.

“Ahh. Here we go. Smear this on your wounds,”
Fiona said in a triumphant voice as she produced a bottle from one
of the bags. Tossing it lightly to Valor she dropped the bag at her
feet and wiped the worst of the grime from her gauntlets onto the
trailing ends of her cloak.

Valor regarded the bottle suspiciously and
carefully sniffed at its contents. “It smells like a three week
dead skunk,” he complained as he shook his head in disgust.

“Well, be glad I didn’t tell you to drink it
then.” Fiona replied.

“Bitch,” Valor repeated and carefully set the
bottle down beside him and began to unbuckle his breastplate. “I’ll
try it on the ribs first. If it doesn’t kill me we will use it on
your ankle next,” he said to Jala softly.

“You will find most inhabitants of the
Darklands make me seem pleasant,” Fiona said with a bitter smile on
her pale blue lips. Sitting down cross-legged she regarded them
both once again and let out a long sigh. “Why are you two here? You
are both too young for this,” she said in a quieter voice that was
almost pleasant sounding.

“Death has my husband’s soul and won’t
release it. I’ve come to retrieve it.” Jala said cautiously. She
fully expected Fiona to lash out with another comment but the woman
simply sat there staring off into space. “We will succeed in this,”
Jala added after a long moment of silence.

Fiona’s eyes seemed to focus again and she
swept her gaze across the countless bodies that littered the floor
behind her. “They all say that, every last one that comes here. But
then I suppose you two did survive against Nasurai, so that says
something for you at least. Still, you would be better off going
back home now while you still can. Nasurai was the weakest of her
guardians.”

“I won’t leave without Finn,” Jala said
firmly, her eyes locking onto Fiona’s.

“Then you may not ever leave,” Fiona said
softly and turned to regard Valor. “What about you, Arovan, will
you die here too?” Fiona asked.

Valor looked up from his broken ribs and
raised an eyebrow at her. “With what I have learned of the
Darklands and its citizens I will do everything in my power never
to die. The knowledge that I could spend eternity with your
sunshine sweet personality is more motivation than I ever needed.
Not that I intended to die before now, mind you. Jala and I will
succeed and return home with Finn. Of that there is no
question.”

Fiona smiled and the expression seemed
genuine. “Well then, I suppose there is a slim ray of hope. I
promise you both this, though, if I help you and you fail, I will
haunt you both mercilessly.”

Valor gave a mock shudder and handed the
bottle to Jala. “It seems to be helping the ribs and I haven’t
fallen over in convulsions yet, so I think it might actually be a
healing tonic.”

Jala gave a slight nod and accepted the
bottle, her eyes still fixed on Fiona. “We need to go soon, Fiona.
I’m running out of time. I’m not entirely sure how long we have
been in here but I only have three moons to find Finn before I have
to return to the sunlit lands. I made a blood oath swearing I would
be back by that time. I can’t risk breaking my word on it,” she
explained, trying to convey her needs as clearly as she could.

Fiona nodded slightly and tilted her head to
one side still watching Jala. “Do you think you could win against
her now in the condition you are in?” she asked.

“With Valor’s help, yes,” Jala answered
firmly, though she did have doubts on her own capabilities at this
point. Having to be carried up to the cave had done nothing for her
confidence.

“I don’t. I have very strong doubts you can
win against her in perfect condition but we shall see. I’ll be nice
though and put your fears to rest. Time travels differently in the
Darklands. It has to, you see, or she would never be able to tend
to the dead properly. There are five days to every one in the
sunlit world. You two have been in the Darklands for thirty-one
days so far. Not even a week has passed above. You have time. Well,
as far as your blood oath goes. As to your pregnancy, I couldn’t
say. This would certainly not be the place I would want to bear a
child.”

Jala blanched at the thought and looked up
sharply as Valor took the bottle from her hands. Silently he pulled
what remained of her boot from her foot and began to apply the
tonic himself. “Valor, I can do that,” she objected but he ignored
her completely. With a heavy sigh she rolled her eyes and looked
back to Fiona who was watching her.

“You are a
Dasharan
,” Fiona said with
a faint smile. “Once upon a time so was I. That didn’t end well at
all,” she added in a voice that was near whisper.

“I don’t know what that is or what even
brought it up. Unless it means ignored by those that you travel
with,” Jala began, but paused as she noticed Valor had ceased
moving and was eyeing Fiona with an unreadable expression. It was
obvious he knew what the word meant.

“You will learn eventually. I hope it ends
better for you than it did for me,” Fiona said faintly and turned
her attention away from them as she began to dig through the pile
of dead once more, her eyes searching for anything that might be of
use.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Valor murmured and
returned to smothering her ankle in the foul smelling liquid.

“Are you sure? Because neither of you seem
inclined to tell me what it is. If it was something flattering,
surely there wouldn’t be hesitation,” Jala protested, quietly
biting back a yelp as he straightened her foot.

“It has to be aligned to heal right. You
don’t want to limp for the rest of your life. Hold still a moment.
This is going to hurt like bloody hell,” Valor warned as he pulled
gently on her foot with one hand and braced the bones of her leg
with his other.

White fire shot through her leg and she
closed her eyes, reeling. “Oh gods, I hate you right now. Once my
foot heals, I’m going to kick you for that,” Jala whispered through
short breaths.

“And when you don’t limp tomorrow, I hope
that sentiment changes.” Valor replied calmly as he applied more of
the tonic to the swollen, bruised flesh surrounding her foot.

“How far do we have to go before we reach the
city?” Jala asked Fiona, her voice still quavering a bit but she
was desperate for something to think about aside from the throbbing
pain.

“We have to skirt around the Forgotten. That
will take us at least two weeks. Then we will be in Trystan’s
domain, which will require caution if you two want to avoid a
fight. So figure another week or two there depending on how
actively they are searching for you. That will put us on the
outskirts of the city which is guarded by Davrian who we will most
likely have to fight. I don’t see any way of getting around that
particular bastard,” Fiona explained and then shrugged. “Pray he
doesn’t injure you too badly though, because at that point there
are no holes to crawl into for healing.”

“What is the Forgotten?” Jala asked. None of
the names Fiona mentioned meant anything to her, so starting at the
head of the list for questions seemed the best option
available.

“The Forgotten dead, not even Death can
remember who they were. Over the course of centuries everyone has
forgotten who they were, including themselves. They are bitter and
vicious. Even the demons avoid the Forgotten,” Fiona explained.

“The Trystan you mentioned is Trystan
Veyetta?” Valor asked quietly as he at last finished with her ankle
and leaned back once more.

“Yes, you are Hai’dia aren’t you? So that
would make him, what, a cousin of yours?” Fiona asked. She glanced
up briefly at Valor as she spoke but quickly returned to
rummaging.

“Uncle,” Valor corrected and looked to Jala.
“He was a Shadow mage. We don’t want to fight him,” he warned.

“What about Davrian?” Jala asked, looking
between the two of them.

“DavrianDelvayon I’m guessing. I don’t know
many others with that first name.” Valor offered glancing at Fiona
to see if he was correct.

“Someone trained you well Arovan.
DavrianDelvayon, a renowned Spellblade as well as an accomplished
war leader. Father of RenDelvayon, the current ruler of Delvay. He
fell against Nerath the red, consort of Queen Wilamere of
Nerathane,” Fiona said, her voice taking on a scholarly note as she
recited the history.

“So, expect something like Neph from him?”
Jala asked Valor who shook his head with a frown.

“Neph is more spell than blade. A true Delvay
Spellblade uses magic to enhance his sword work rather than just
magecraft. Davrian will use his magic to make him faster or
stronger as well as protecting himself from magic, but he likely
won’t be hurling bolts of fire at us.” Valor explained.

“Sounds easier than facing Neph,” Jala said
with a shrug.

Fiona laughed and looked up at her with a
grin. “Easy for the mage to say. It’s the one carrying the sword
that will suffer the brunt of Davrian. You ready for that fight
Arovan?” she asked looking to Valor.

Valor let out a long sigh and glanced at his
ribs. “Not at this very moment, but I will be,” he said, though
there was a note of doubt in his voice.

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” Jala
pressed gently.

“Davrian was undefeated when he lived. It
took a very large red dragon to kill him finally, and the dragon
nearly died from that battle, if the books are to be believed,”
Valor explained, then shrugged. “But then, as far as the books
explain, he never faced a Stormlord so we shall see.”

“Stormlord?” Fiona asked with another faint
chuckle. “I only see two elements branded on your armor. That
doesn’t exactly qualify you as a Stormlord now does it? Gusty wind
lord perhaps. Your father has command of all of the Elements as
well as the Paraelements. You are a far cry from him yet, pup.”

“I am really going to hate traveling with
you,” Valor sighed as he began digging through his packs with a
disgusted expression.

“Going to hate it even more when Davrian
makes you a permanent resident of the Darklands and I am your
constant companion,” Fiona chimed in bitter amusement.

Valor glanced up long enough to glare at her
and went back to digging through the bags.

“Death can’t keep Finn and you can’t have
Valor,” Jala cut in, causing them both to turn and look at her. She
raised an eyebrow at them daring either to object.