“We are almost there,” Valor assured her as she let out another curse behind him.
“I know and I’m sorry. It’s his frustration as well as mine that you are hearing. I think the fighting must have him trapped in the Halls,” she replied trying to keep her voice from sounding snappish. That, in itself, was growing more and more difficult. A low pain was beginning to fill her head and she wondered if it was from the earlier casting against the gates. She had never released so much raw power at once before, though she didn’t feel drained at all. Now was not the time to mention it, however. Neph would want to check her over and she didn’t want to delay any further.
Valor led them around the last corner, sticking close to the side of the building. The square surrounding the hall was as thick as any battlefield. These fighters were not a common mob though. She could see the tattoos clearly on the men and women that were locked in deadly combat with the Justicars here.
The fighting hadn’t reached the Hall itself yet, and two solid rows of Justicars stood guard there as well as Devron Rivana and a good portion of what was left of his guard.
“There is no way. There are too many of them,” Neph warned, trying to pull her back into the alley.
Valor, however, was frozen in place, his eyes locked firmly on two Justicars standing near the doors. She recognized them at once as the men that had been holding Chastity on the dais. Valor drew in a long breath and uttered something quietly. His armor shifted slightly taking on a glimmer that had nothing to do with the fading sunlight. He held his hand out to the side and a helm appeared in it. Glancing back at her he motioned for her to follow Neph. “He is right, the odds are bad here,” he said quietly, before pulling the helm on and buckling it in place.
“Valor you can’t possibly be considering fighting. That is suicide,” Neph hissed.
“Keep her safe, Neph,” Valor replied, his voice sounding hollow through the helm. She had never actually seen him wear a helm before and it seemed somehow to add more menace to him.
A wave of shock passed through her bond with Finn, followed by pain, and the dull throbbing in her head shifted to blinding white pain. She felt something break in her mind and grabbed her head with a hand, leaning back against Neph as memories came pouring into her mind.
Her fist pounded down into the boy’s face drawing more blood. His left eye was swollen shut and he was crying but she wouldn’t stop. He had teased her too many times about being an orphan brat. This time he had gone too far, though. He had called her a whore’s whelp. She smashed her hand down into his face again. Her breath was coming ragged as she shifted her weight to keep him pinned in the dirt beneath her. Hands pulled her from behind, trying to get her off the bully, but she clung to him, her anger pushing everything else to the side. …
The room around her was utterly destroyed. Pieces of furniture lay in smoldering ruin surrounding her. Gretchen cringed back by the wall, staring at her in mute horror. Jala glared defiantly at the woman, daring her to say another word. The surly housekeeper had accused her of stealing from the kitchens. Then she had the stupidity to suggest it was in her blood to steal. No one insulted the memory of her family. The anger burned in her chest like a living thing.
Father Belson was sitting before her with three strangers standing in the room behind him. “Jala, your temper is going to be your ruin, child. It isn’t right to hold such anger. This man is going to help you.” The elderly priest motioned toward a tall slender man with dark red hair. He wore the tattoos of the Fionaveir on his arm and had a kind look in his green eyes. He approached slowly and knelt beside her with a gentle smile. The scent of mint washed off him and she felt herself relax a bit.
“She nearly killed the baker’s girl this morning. I don’t even know what the fight was about, but it is getting worse. Something has to be done, Milord, she is constantly fighting. It’s as if the child doesn’t know how to walk away from anything. Either she is going to get herself killed or she is going to kill someone,” Father Belson said in a hushed voice to one of the other men. This one had dark hair and sharp features and the look in his black eyes seemed anything but friendly. His entire presence unsettled her but she set her jaw and refused to let it show. The man simply nodded at the priest’s words but never took his eyes from Jala. She clenched her jaw and returned the gaze, showing him that he didn’t scare her any more than the baker’s daughter had.
The last man moved forward toward her. He had grey hair the color of good steel and swords strapped on his back as well as his hips. He dropped to a crouch beside his red haired companion and studied her with eyes that had seemed black from across the room. Now as the firelight hit them she could see the purple in them. She stared into his eyes, the other man completely forgotten. This man before her was the first she had ever seen with eyes almost like hers. He wore shiny black armor that seemed to cover his body in one solid piece. No seams showed as he bent his legs. It was as if the metal were as supple as leather. Without speaking a word, he took her hand and held it up, looking at the scraped and bruised knuckles. With his other hand he tilted her chin up to get a better look at her black eye. He smiled then, a faint thing that was barely visible. “Such a fierce little thing,” he said quietly in a voice that seemed almost familiar. “You did right, Jala. Never let them tell you what you are. Only you can determine what you are and will be.” His voice was so soft she had to lean forward to hear him.
“Don’t encourage her Vaze,” the dark man by Father Belson snapped. “Remedy, fix her mind. This does her no good here. Repress the anger and block her magic.”
“Lutheron, she is holding so much anger, if I simply lock it away she will notice. The void it will leave will be immense,” Remedy objected.
“Fill the void then with things that will better serve her. Give her caution and fear. Give her the basics of being a lady. She is twelve and still refuses to wear dresses. Fix so she will blend in here better and have a chance at surviving,” the dark man answered.
“I don’t need fixed. I’m not broken!” Jala screamed, her anger flaring once more. The idea of walking away or being afraid of the bullies sickened her. She didn’t want to blend in with these people. She didn’t even want to be near these people. She wanted to go home.
“You are asking me to change her entire personality, Lutheron. I have to object,” Remedy said as he stood and faced the dark haired man.
“You are not broken. You are nearly perfect. Now is not the time to show that, though. When the time comes you will know, because I will be fighting right there beside you,” Vaze said as the two men behind him argued. “You will get a chance to punish those that deserve it. Don’t look at it as losing your anger, look at it as saving it up.”
“You will do it because I command you to do it!” Lutheron bellowed and Remedy backed up a step.
With a grudging nod he turned back to face Jala with remorse clearly written on his face. “I’m sorry child. You have my promise that the moment he gives me word to lift this from you I will. I promise I will only lock it away. I will not destroy anything that is you.” He knelt before her again as he spoke and placed a gentle hand on the side of her head.
She locked a defiant gaze on him and smiled bitterly. “Even Oblivion couldn’t destroy what I am. I doubt you are capable either,” she said quietly as the room around her began to fade to darkness. With an iron will she focused on the smell of mint and braced herself against his magic.
Finally you are whole! Marrow’s voice pulled her back from the memories. He sounded ecstatic and she could feel his joy washing over her. I felt it weakening and knew you were close.
I’m sorry it took me so long. Now we can face them with the courage I should have had,” she replied to him her mind still reeling.
“Jala!” Neph said, his voice frantic he shook her lightly.
“I’m fine,” she said, her voice a bit shaky. She pushed back from him and the world snapped back into focus. Valor was just now turning back to face her.
It couldn’t have been long, and yet it had seemed like forever to her. “How long was I like that?” she gasped to Neph. Her emotions coiled inside her, the fear and insecurity melting away under the black cloud she knew so well and hadn’t even remembered was missing. It swelled inside her and she felt her teeth clench in response. Vaze had been right, it wasn’t gone, it had been building.
“Not long at all. Jala, are you OK?” Neph said, his expression growing concerned.
“Why are her eyes glowing?” Madren asked quietly. He still stood in the alley and the confidence he had shown earlier was fading quickly before her eyes.
“Oh Lutheron, you have no idea what you have unleashed,” she whispered quietly as she turned back to Valor. “Follow in my wake, do not get in front of me,” she warned and squared her shoulders. The anger and frustration built up over years fueled her mind as she selected her first target on the stairs. The hesitation that had plagued her in every fight since she had come to Sanctuary evaporated as her mind prepared for the fight.
“Jala, no. We must retreat or wait for the Fionaveir to reach the stairs. There are too many,” Neph protested.
The stones in her hands began to glow again as she drew from her reservoir. She could still feel the link with Finn. It was clouded with pain and shock but he still lived. She had time to reach him and heal him. All she had to do was kill everyone that stood in her way. A month ago that thought would have sickened her, now she felt a smile forming on her lips. Pulling her hand back she hurled a Windblade toward the first rank of Justicars. Blood sprayed as the spell tore through the men taking several down in its wake. Typically a Windblade was a single target spell. She had decided against limiting herself however.
The Rivasan guards broke rank and charged her with drawn swords and she felt laughter welling in her throat. So much easier to let the targets pick themselves. Drawing on her power once more she sent a volley of ice shards into their ranks and neatly dodged the few that did make it past her spell. Valor could handle them easily enough.
A wave of heat drew her attention back toward the stairs in time to see the ball of Hellfire rushing toward her from Devron Rivasa. The flames crackled with an eerie greenish blue light and Neph had warned her that Hellfire could not be countered. Lifting both arms in front of her, she called on her magic once more and the air surrounding her turned icy cold, forming a wall against the incoming fire. She heard Valor cry out as the flames washed over her. It might have been her name he yelled, she couldn’t tell through the roar of flames. She let the cold shield fall as the Hellfire passed and smiled coldly up to Devron who was staring at her as if she were a demon in flesh.
“Shouldn’t pick a fight you can’t win,” she hissed, echoing the words Finn used so often. The spell flew from her hands with scarcely a thought. Devron turned to run but stumbled instead as her magic froze the blood in his veins and worked its way through his flesh. She followed the first spell with a force bolt and watched in satisfaction as the Rivasan’s frozen body shattered on the stairs. A chunk of frozen flesh skittered down the stairs to land at her feet and she kicked it neatly back toward a Justicar. The man’s face paled considerably and he broke to run with several of his comrades close behind. “I have to get to Finn, Valor. Can you finish up here?” she called over her shoulder.
“Go, I’ve got this,” Valor replied, already moving forward toward the remaining enemies, bloody sword in hand. Neph and Madren joined him and she left them to the slaughter.
Marrow rejoined her as she made her way into the hall, expecting enemies at every corner. I don’t hear anyone. I think they may all be outside fighting, Marrow told her as he cocked his head toward the empty rooms ahead.
Jala you have to get up here now. Emily’s voice was frantic in her mind. While you were fighting, I went ahead to find him and he is hurt. I got rid of the one that struck him but I can’t do anything to help him. He isn’t healing like he normally does.
Where? Are there others in the hall? Jala responded, already heading for the stairs. Finn had said he was at the top of the Hall, She hoped he still was.
No it’s empty. Follow the stairs until you reach Kellis’s body and then take the hall to the left, Emily replied. Hurry, Jala, it’s bad.
The Blight’s last words had her running up the stairs taking them two at a time. She felt her heart thundering against her ribs by the time she hit the second floor. She wished she knew the layout of the building well enough to simply use magic. Swallowing heavily, she pushed herself to go faster praying to Fortune that she would be in time.
* * *
She could smell the blood from the room before she entered, and felt her heart sink. The link was still there, but it was weak. Finn was propped against the wall. The floor beneath him was stained red with his blood. His eyes fluttered open as she approached and she felt her throat clench. A dagger was buried hilt deep under his arm and his lips were flecked with blood.
He chuckled weakly, showing blood stained teeth and gave her his typical smirk. “I earned this, Jala. Time and time again, I earned this,” he told her in a voice so weak she could barely make out the words.
She dropped to her knees beside him and called on the healing magic. His blood soaked through the knees of her dress, a subtle reminder of how close to death he was.
“The bastard got me the same way I did him. Only he did it better. I suppose that’s only fitting though. He is the master of his craft,” Finn said, his voice choking on each word.
“Hush, Finn. Don’t talk. Let me work and you will be fine,” she whispered to him, wondering how he still had the strength for words. Any other man would be dead from the blood loss alone. Finn Sovaesh was stronger than any other man, though. She only hoped he was strong enough to pull through this.
“Won’t do any good, Vezradesh. The bastard put shaved Barllen in the poison. I can feel it draining what little magic I do have. There is Tezrae in there, too. I can’t regenerate through it,” Finn gasped ,and more blood flecked along his lips.
He was right, she realized as she felt the first of her healing magic simply disappear. She swallowed heavily and forced the lump in her throat back down. “Just sit still Finn. I’ll draw the Barllen out and then heal,” she said, already working on a spell to pull the metal from him. Most of her energy would be wasted as the Barllen absorbed the magic, but if she used enough power it might work.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs behind her and she looked up just long enough to see Valor storm into the room. At the sight of Finn, he pulled his helmet off and dropped to the floor on the other side of Jala. “What can I do to help?” he asked still breathing hard from the fighting and running.
“See if there is another wound on that side. If there is, try to staunch the bleeding. He has Barllen in him and I have to get it out before I can heal him,” Jala explained, her focus already back on drawing out the metal.
Finn shook his head at Valor and chuckled weakly. “It’s in my back, two stabs. I’m not rolling over for you, though,” he said and let out another ragged breath. His lung was filling with blood despite the dagger still lodged there. She knew better than to try to remove it from the wound. If she did he would be dead within moments. “Valor,” Finn gasped.
Tears welled in her eyes as she heard Finn spending the last of his strength on words. “Finn, please stop talking and just lie still,” she pleaded.
He coughed and shook his head at her. “Valor, swear to me you will protect her. By my blood and your honor keep her safe for me. Get her out of this damned city, Val. This is no place for our child.” Finn’s words were broken by gasps and fresh blood covered his teeth.
“Damn you Fortune, don’t you dare let me lose him,” Jala sobbed, the tears nearly blinding her now. She could feel her magic working slowly. It wouldn’t be in time, though, and she knew it. “I won’t lose you, Finn, just please hang on a little longer,” she pleaded, fighting against the grief that was already building.
“I swear, I will,�
�� Valor replied his voice solemn as he gripped Finn’s hand. “I won’t need to though, Finn. If you will do as your wife asks for once, and shut up, she will have you healed in no time.”
Finn gave another quiet chuckle and coughed again violently. He shook his head at Valor and smiled at Jala. “Build something beautiful, Vezradesh. Make a land like they have never seen before,” he whispered and leaned his head back against the wall. His eyes closed again as they had been when she had first entered the room.
She worked frantically, pushing the metal shavings out through the wound in his back. The bond between them grew fainter as his breathing grew more ragged. It was so unfair that she had come so close to reaching him in time. He was being snatched from her hands while she was utterly helpless to stop it. Her vision blurred again with fresh tears and she wiped her nose on her sleeve as she pressed the magic pouring all of herself into the spell.
“Love you,” he whispered, his words barely audible. She felt the last of the bond fade as Finn’s immeasurable supply of strength finally gave out. A ragged sob tore from her throat as his body relaxed against the wall.
She let the magic drop and wrapped her arms around him collapsing against his chest, willing him to breathe again. “Please Finn, no, please come back,” she sobbed, her face buried in the thick fabric of his shirt. She felt empty without the bond now. Even when she hadn’t been paying attention to his feelings, a part of Finn had always been with her. The void it left now reminded her all too much of memories of ashes and begging for her father to return. Despair warred with grief as his body cooled beneath her.
“Jala, we have to go. I don’t think the Fionaveir are winning this fight,” Valor whispered finally. His voice as choked with grief as her own was.
The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 2 Blood Honor and Dreams Page 41