“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.
Chapter 4
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.
“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 Fi
nn 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.
The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 3 From the Ashes Page 7