The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 3 From the Ashes (41 page)

“He cut his hair too. Only married men in
Arovan cut their hair,” Finn added in a growl.

“And you are mad at him, why? What has he
done to raise this fury?” Fiona pressed.

“She is my wife. That is my son, and he…”
Finn began, his voice a dangerous snarl then fading as he stopped
his pacing to glower at Fiona. “And he is doing exactly what I
asked of him and caring for them as if they were his own. He
doesn’t have to be enjoying it though, damn it,” he finished, his
voice filled with his frustration. Angrily he kicked a chair from
his way and searched the room for anything else he could vent his
anger on. It was empty of everything aside from Fiona who simply
stood watching him with an expression that suggested he was an
utter fool. “I don’t bloody well want this. I want to go home,” he
said lamely and felt his temper cooling far quicker than he wanted.
At least with his anger he could ignore the loneliness and
depression that plagued him constantly. “I took them all for
granted when I had them. I would give anything for a lecture from
Sovann right now. I would sell my soul a thousand times over to
simply be near Jala,” Finn began and then sighed heavily. “I want
to hold my son, Fiona. I want to see the sunlight again. I don’t
want to be alone in this damned black hole attempting to learn
magic. I am a swordsman not a god damned mage. I am not the right
man for this job.”

“You lived your life through death Finn. This
is poetic justice in my eyes. You killed others to live comfortably
and now you serve those that you killed. You are not the right man
for the job, I agree. You are spoiled and selfish, but you are the
only one we have to fill the job and so you will do it,” Fiona said
calmly repeating words she had spoken to him a dozen times or
more.

“And what if I refuse?” Finn snapped, fully
aware of how childish he sounded and not caring a bit.

“Then when your friends die their souls
become lost in the Darklands,” Fiona replied simply with a
shrug.

“There is nothing that says they will die.
They may all survive this,” Finn objected.

“Ahh. Yes, the odds are definitely in their
favor, aren’t they,” Fiona shot back in a mocking voice and gave
him a cold smile. “You’ve had your scry for the day, Finn Sovaesh.
It is time for lessons. Quit sulking like a child.”

“I really truly completely and utterly hate
you,” Finn grumbled as he glared at the dead woman. Fiona was the
only company he had in the Darklands and she was as bitter as he
was frustrated.

“The sentiment is mutual. Now as your first
lesson of the day you can repair our table,” Fiona replied
mildly.

“Truly hate,” Finn muttered as he turned to
regard the wreckage of wood scattered by the wall. “Wouldn’t it be
simpler to get a new one?” he sighed, but already knew the answer
Fiona would give. For Sovann, fixing the table would have been as
easy as drawing breath. Magic had always come easily to his little
brother. For Finn, however, it was a task that guaranteed he would
have a headache. Each and every splinter of wood seemed to defy him
as he wrapped his magic around the fragments and willed them back
together.

“Perhaps if you weren’t such a bitch to him
he would learn faster,” a man’s voice echoed through the room and
Finn dropped his attempts at magic at once.

Turning, he scanned the room searching for
the source of the voice. It was a soft voice with a faint accent he
couldn’t place, and it wasn’t a voice he recognized.

“Go away, Seth, he isn’t ready to deal with
you yet,” Fiona snapped.

“Bugger off, Fiona. I serve Death, not you,”
the man replied smoothly.

The voice had come from the shadows of the
rafters and Finn searched the heights of the room until his eyes
spotted movement. It wasn’t a man his gaze found as he had
expected, but a raven. The bird cocked its head at him and hopped a
bit closer on the rafter peering back down at him. Finn stared
back, unsure if this was Seth or simply a spirit. The Darklands
were full of every manner of spirits, though this was the first
actual bird he had seen so far.

“Have you introduced him to Yasney and
Kaverax yet?” the bird asked, his head cocking to look down at
Fiona.

“He isn’t ready to meet them anymore than he
is to meet you. He is a bumbling idiot still,” Fiona replied
sharply.

“Who are Yasney and Kaverax?” Finn asked, his
gaze locked on the raven as it ruffled its feathers.

“Your dragons, Lord Death. They circle your
citadel day and night,” Seth replied, once more hopping closer on
his perch.

“And who exactly are you?” Finn asked, his
curiosity peaked as well as his hopes. So far the bird was far
better company than Fiona.

The Raven dropped from the rafter and glided
gracefully toward the ground. Its body shifted and grew as it grew
closer to the stone floor. By the time its feet touched the stones
a man crouched in place of the bird. He stood gracefully from the
crouch and bowed deeply to Finn with a smile on his handsome face.
His hair was as dark as the raven’s feathers and stood in tousled
spikes and his face held the delicate bones that were common in the
Fae. His eyes, however, remained those of the bird. Seth shrugged
his black feathered cloak back from his arms as he stood once more.
“I am your Herald, your Ambassador, your Councilor, and your Spy,”
he began, his voice full of a warmth that Fiona never seemed to
possess. “I am your Knife, your Guard, and your Champion when
required. In short, Lord Death, I am whatever you ask me to be and
humbly do my best to please.”

“He is a former assassin that died for his
sins and kisses enough ass to keep from serving the true torment in
death that he earned in life,” Fiona growled. Her golden eyes were
narrowed and she watched Seth with an expression of loathing and
suspicion on her face.

“She is a bitter hag that sees the worst in
everyone and everything. Ignore her and allow me to make myself
useful to you,” Seth countered with a smile.

“How would you make yourself useful to me?”
Finn asked cautiously. While his company was preferable to Fiona’s,
every instinct Finn had screamed that this man was dangerous.

“Yasney and Kaverax for starters. I would
introduce you to your most formidable of defenses. It is best that
you know them well and if you treat them better than the Dark lady
did, then I’m sure they will prove themselves quite loyal,” Seth
replied smoothly.

“He isn’t ready for that yet. He needs to
finish his lessons,” Fiona objected coldly. “If you continue to
interfere, I will make you regret it, Seth,” she added in
warning.

“Empty threats, harpy,” Seth said with a
wicked smile and turned his attention back to Finn. “Allow me to
help you, Lord Death,” he implored and bowed once more.

“Why do you want to help so badly?” Finn
asked with a raised eyebrow. “What do you gain from it?”

“My continued comfort in death, of course,
Milord. I ask only that I be allowed to make myself useful to you
so that I may continue to enjoy the benefits of my job.” Seth spoke
with such humility and subservience that Finn had to smile.

“So which of you inherits my power?” Finn
asked, his smile still in place. He watched Seth’s expression for
any sign of guilt as he spoke, but the man simply looked
shocked.

“Milord?” Seth gasped his tone filled with
disbelief. “I’m afraid I don’t understand at all what you mean.”
Seth’s eyes were wide and filled with such innocence that for a
breath Finn believed he had truly misjudged the man, until he saw
the approving nod from Fiona.

“I mean, when you take me outside of the
citadel to introduce me to the most formidable of my defenses, who
inherits my power? You, or the dragons that rip me apart?” Finn
explained, his gaze still locked on the slender man.

Seth let out a long breath and stood
straighter, letting his feathered cloak fall back over his worn
leather armor. His face lost all expression for a span of breaths
and then slowly he smiled again and there was genuine amusement in
the expression rather than simple flattering charm. He shrugged
slowly and clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Me, if I happened
to be fast enough. Which I usually am, though I’m sure as far as
the dragons are concerned it would be them gaining your power. They
are rather greedy for power you know, but then most dragons
are.”

“And now?” Finn asked, wondering what the man
would do, knowing that his plan wasn’t going to work.

“And now, I’m going to ask how I may serve
you while you continue your training,” Seth replied with a sigh.
“You can’t really blame me for trying, though,” he added with a
grin.

Finn returned the smile and shook his head.
“I don’t blame you at all. I would have tried in your place, I
think,” he agreed.

“If I might make a suggestion, Milord, for my
first order?” Seth prompted and watched Finn with a hopeful
expression.

“Does it involve feeding me to anything
else?” Finn asked.

Shaking his head, Seth smiled again and waved
a hand toward Finn. “It involves finding more appropriate clothing
for the Lord of Death. Honestly, the threads you wear now would be
cast off by most beggars.”

Finn frowned and gazed down at his ragged
clothing. Fiona had brought the scraps of clothes for him and it
was either wear the rags or go naked. The shirt was badly stained
and made of such a poor quality material he wouldn’t have wiped his
horse down with it had he still be among the living. The pants were
in even worse condition and the boots were so tattered he was
amazed they held together each time he put them on. “Please do, and
hurry about it. I think Fiona finds some sick amusement from seeing
me dressed thus,” Finn said with a firm nod.

“It was an attempt to teach you humility and
remind you that your former life no longer has any bearings upon
you. The dead do not care what you wear, Finn Sovaesh,” Fiona
snapped.

Finn smirked and pointed a finger at Seth
with a raised eyebrow. “He apparently does, Fiona.”

“He does not count. He is simply trying to
gain favor with you by pandering to your earlier vices,” Fiona shot
back and glared at Seth as if her expression alone could dismiss
him.

“On the contrary, Fiona. The recently
deceased do, in fact, still notice details as trivial as clothing
and I’m sure Lord Death will be dealing with the recently dead very
soon. He will have to. The line of spirits already extends well
past the city. Ignore them much longer and many will become lost
souls, Milord,” Seth said smoothly, his eyes twinkling at Fiona’s
anger.

“Then I suggest we return to your lessons,
Milord, and stop wasting time with this one,” Fiona snapped and
turned her back on Seth completely as she set her withering gaze on
Finn.

“Go, Seth, and bring me proper clothing when
you return. Fiona is right. I do need my practice,” Finn said with
a heavy sigh as he turned back to the table once more and pulled on
the magic. Carefully he began to pull the fragments back together,
but couldn’t help smiling as he heard the sound of wings behind
him. Even if he wasn’t trustworthy and Fiona apparently hated him,
there was no doubt in Finn’s mind that Seth would prove useful and
entertaining.

Kithvaryn

Warm arms wrapped around her and Jala sighed
in contentment. Her eyes still closed, she nuzzled closer to the
warmth and smiled. “Finn,” she breathed. All of her frustration and
pain melted away with the strength of his arms. “I had the most
horrible dream,” she mumbled as a wave of icy wind brushed across
her face.

“I’m not Finn, Jala, and it’s not a dream.”
Sovann’s voice shattered the fragile illusion her dreams had built
and Jala’s eyes snapped open.

They were huddled together, pressed against a
wall and the ground beneath them was lurching with a sickening
pitch. Another roar of wind sent waves of water crashing down
beside them, but the thick cloak Sovann had wrapped around both of
them shielded the worst from her.

“Where are we?” Jala demanded, her eyes
frantically searching the sky above for any sign of stars. Her
father had taught her a bit about the stars and a glimpse would
have given her a slight clue of her location. The sky however was
shrouded with thick black clouds and driving rain.

“In hell,” Sovann muttered as he raised the
edge of the cloak to block another torrent of water.

“No, that looks different,” Jala pointed out
dryly, her eyes searching frantically for Marrow. There was no sign
of her familiar anywhere around her and she felt panic rising in
her chest. “Where is Marrow? Where is Valor? And most importantly,
where are we?” she demanded once more, her voice rising in pitch
with each word. The last thing she could remember was raising the
dead of Goswin. It had taken everything she had to see the last of
the souls brought back, but with the help of Zachary and the
witches they had finally managed it.

“Marrow is with Valor. I think he is trying
to calm him down. We are on a ship and should be very near
Kithvaryn if the damned boat doesn’t capsize. I’m not sure what you
said to Valor but he is certainly living up to the title Stormlord.
I just wish he would have chosen a better time to do it,” Sovann
explained, his voice thick with misery.

“What? I have no idea what I said to Valor
that would upset him. Are you sure the storm is of his making and
not simply the weather?” Jala gasped, her eyes searching the
surroundings once more. She could see the shape of the ship now
that she was looking for it. They were sitting in a recess on the
deck and leaning back against the door to the hold.

“I’m positive the storm is of his making. It
started in Goswin not long after you finished your magic. Valor was
helping you back to Anthe’s and we had planned to rest there until
you were able to travel. Then Valor’s expression darkened and so
did the skies. He handed you into my care and stalked off around
the time the snow began to fall. Within an hour it was a blizzard
and not long after that, Anthe was very politely asking me to get
Valor the hell out of her country. She has well over ten thousand
homeless people right now and a blizzard was the last thing she
needed,” Sovann grumbled and held up the cloak once more as another
wave sprayed water across their feeble shelter. “The bloody storm
followed us to the coast and now across the sea. I did have us in
the hold for a while but it started to flood below. I made this
damned ship with magic, Jala, it has no leaks in the hold. The
flooding is from all of the bloody storm waves.”