“I’d rather you not give me a reason to fume and curse,” Valor replied in a broken whisper, his eyes still closed. “Gods be damned but it feels like my head is split in two,” he mumbled.
“My father always said that it’s easiest to fight with those you care for. And it’s not quite split in two but it is a nasty bump. Give me a moment and I’ll have you fixed up,” Jala returned softly. The glow of magic radiated off her hands and highlighted his face making it seem even more ghostly. “I know I’ve seen you wounded before, Valor, and I don’t recall you bleeding like this.”
Valor’s eyes flashed open at her words and then widened quickly. “Jala duck!” he bellowed weakly.
Ducking quickly, Jala snapped her head to look behind her as she rolled to the sand beside Valor who was trying desperately to free himself from her and rise. Lightning flashed in the sky illuminating the edge of a sword blade as it fell directly toward her. “No!” she screamed uselessly as she frantically tried to form a spell.
“Yes,” came the mocking reply as the flat of the blade connected solidly with her head. Spots danced before her eyes and she struggled to remain conscious. “Tough little bitch, aren’t you?” The voice was faint from the ringing in her ears, yet she still tried to target where he must be standing now.
“You will die for that,” Valor snarled and she felt the wind rise once more. This time however she knew it was not the storm causing the violent gust.
“Tasty little peach isn’t she.” Hot breath washed across her face with the words and Jala struggled to open her eyes. Her head felt exactly as Valor had described his own wound earlier. “And already waking up. Can you hear me, little girl?” the voice called again, thick with mockery.
“Get away from her!” Valor snarled and Jala felt relief wash over her at the sound of his voice.
“Just like an Arovan. Trussed up like a pig and still trying to bellow orders,” another voice called and judging by the laughter that followed there were quite a few others with them as well.
Her eyes still closed, Jala let out a slow breath and tried to force her mind to think clearly. They were inside. Of that she was certain. She could hear the storm raging still, but there was no sting of wind or rain. Her arms were bound behind her and someone was holding her upright from behind. Carefully she flexed her leg and felt her heart sink farther as she felt the pull of bonds there as well. Apparently, Valor wasn’t the only one trussed up like a pig. This definitely wasn’t how she had planned to make her entrance.
“Shy one, aye?” The first man spoke again, squeezing one of her breasts painfully as he did.
“I’m not shy, and if you do that again I will remove that hand. I am here to speak with Kithvaryn, not his lackeys,” Jala hissed with as much command as she could muster given her current situation. Where are you? Jala worked the link to Marrow as quickly as she could and took care to keep any expression but outrage from her face.
Outside in this wretched storm. I wish you would soothe him so this bloody rain will stop. They didn’t see me when you were captured and I followed you here, but couldn’t get inside without notice. It’s difficult to hide in a well lit room even for a Bendazzi, Marrow replied almost instantly and she could hear the relief in his voice.
Stay close, but don’t risk yourself. This doesn’t look good at the present, but I don’t think my life is in danger yet, Jala said quickly and dropped the link between them. There was a chance that this room held mages other than herself and Sovann, and she had been told many times how loud her mental links with Marrow were by others sensitive to such things. She may have just given away the fact that Marrow was on the island, but they didn’t know exactly where he was. If any of them were stupid enough to go hunting a Bendazzi at night in this kind of weather she would lay all of her gold on Marrow for the fight.
Laughter echoed through the room once more. “She must be Arovan as well,” the second man called loudly through the noise of the room.
“I am High Lady Jala Merrodin and I demand you release me at once,” Jala bellowed over the amusement. The room fell deathly silent at her words and she slowly lifted her head and opened her eyes. There were perhaps thirty in the room all dressed in assorted armor. From the looks of it they were in a sort of mess hall and had interrupted dinner with their arrival. Benches and tables filled the area surrounding them and she could see several more men still seated. Apparently the entertainment hadn’t appealed enough to them to leave their supper. Turning her head slowly, she let her eyes travel over each and every face. There was no longer any amusement written in their expressions, it was anger now. Valor was perhaps ten feet away from her, bound as she was at hand and foot. Sovann hung limply between two of the mercenaries, his face still lax.
The hands supporting her tightened on her arms. “I can’t believe you were stupid enough to show your face here. Where is the cowardly bastard you call husband? I hear he faked his own death to avoid paying his dues for killing Kanon.”
“Finn was never a coward. He was rash and bold, but never a coward,” A man called from one of the tables. His voice was cultured and low as he spoke and didn’t quite hold the same accent as her captors.
Jala turned her head at the words trying to locate the newest speaker. She hadn’t expected to find any allies here and wasn’t sure who it was. The sound of boot heels behind her gave her pause and she waited as the man slowly circled around her to stand directly before her. He was average height with long brown hair that was pulled back neatly in a braid. The expression on his face was one of interest, but not one of sympathy. His amber eyes trailed across her face and then slowly down her ragged dress to her feet. Leaning back on his heels he straightened his coat carefully and met her eyes. “Do you know who I am?” he asked softly.
Jala remained silent for a long breath, her eyes lingering on the black coat he wore. It was cut just below the waist and made of material that was far beyond the means of a common soldier. It was the embroidery that captured her eyes though. The careful stitching of flames in yellow and orange that lined the bottom of the coat as well as the cuffs. “You personally, no, I’m afraid I don’t. I recognize the colors of Rivana though,” Jala replied coldly.
His eyebrow rose slightly and a faint smile creased the corners of his mouth. “Bound and trussed and still defiant,” he said softly and nodded his head with what might have been approval. “My name is Hexian Rivana. I am the General of the Northern armies in Rivana. It was my nephew that your husband killed in the arena.”
“Devron earned that death,” Jala cut in her eyes narrowing.
“You didn’t let me finish,” Hexian chided with a smirk. “I was about to say I owe you my thanks for that. Pity he didn’t stay dead. Devron is a righteous little shit and in my opinion a waste of the air he breathes.” His smile grew at the look of shock on her face. “Just because we share the name doesn’t mean there is love among us. Release her, Keller. Lady Merrodin and her companions will keep me company at my table until Kithvaryn chooses to speak with one of us.” There was a snap of command in Hexian’s voice and Jala felt the hands on her arms loosen their grip at once, though not entirely.
“She is a prisoner, Lord Hexian. Her Arovan knight killed one of our scouts. I can’t just let her go,” Keller objected, though his voice was wavering.
Hexian’s eyes narrowed and he looked past her to stare directly at her captor. “Are you suggesting that I am not capable of preventing the escape of a half-drowned girl and her two wounded companions?” His voice was low and dangerous as if daring the man to offend him further.
“We don’t take our orders from you, Hex, and I still have a few things I’d like to ask the half-drowned girl.” It was a woman’s voice this time, and from the back of the room. The crowd parted as the woman crossed the room toward them. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and the expression on her pale face was murderous.
“Who is she?” Jala whispered to Hexian as she watched the woman approac
h. It was obvious from her armor that she wasn’t simply a common mercenary. The quality of work on her breastplate rivaled the detail on Valor’s.
“Commander Kithkara, I’m surprised such a trivial prisoner has attracted your esteemed interest,” Hexian said as he half turned to face the woman.
“Trivial? Half of the High Lords are screaming for her blood. I scarcely think she is trivial,” Kithkara returned dryly, her eyes moving past Hexian to fix solidly on Jala’s face. “Where is Finn Sovaesh?” she snarled her eyes narrowing.
“Dead and trapped in the Darklands. I failed to raise him,” Jala answered bluntly, the truth of her words tightening her throat painfully.
“Look at her expression Kara. You cannot fake that suffering. She speaks the truth to you. I attended the services in Avanti myself. It was a small affair that was kept quiet for the most part, but I felt obliged to show my respect for the month of peace he gave me from my nephew,” Hexian said with a sigh.
“I never trust words given so freely. I’ve found that the truth is only revealed by the blade of a sharp knife,” Kithkara replied, a wicked grin curving the corners of her mouth.
A gasping sob erupted from somewhere in the crowd and thunder rumbled loud enough to shake the very stones of the keep. Kithkara and Hexian both whirled toward the sound as the crowd parted once more to reveal both of Valor’s captors writhing on the ground. Valor himself was standing free of bonds, though he seemed a bit shaky.
“Harm her and I will kill you,” Valor warned, his hand dropping toward a sword that was no longer at his side. Rolling his eyes he let out a heavy sigh and moved both hands into a defensive stance before him as if he were prepared to take on the room full of seasoned mercenaries with nothing more than his fists. A spasm rocked the bodies of the two groaning men at his feet and they abruptly fell still.
“If they are dead, your life is forfeit,” Kithkara informed him in a flat voice, ignoring his threat completely.
“Well, this is headed down the wrong path swiftly,” Hexian muttered.
“Now would be a splendid time to wake up Sovann,” Valor hissed, his eyes moving constantly across the crowds for anyone moving. “They aren’t dead for now, simply unconscious. Release her and they will continue to live,” Valor added in a louder voice.
“You are outnumbered forty to one, you idiot,” someone called from the crowd. A wave of nervous laughter echoed through the room then dropped to silence once more as Kithkara held up a slender hand.
Moving slowly, Kithkara began to walk toward Valor. The sound of her boot heels echoed through the silent hall. “Do you know what they call the armies of Kithvaryn, little boy?” she asked softly.
In for a copper, in for a gold. Jala smiled as Finn’s words surfaced from her memories. In this situation, Finn would fight no matter the odds, and there was no way she would let Valor stand alone in any fight. As long as she still drew breath she would fight beside him.
Drawing quickly on her power, Jala sent a violent shock into the man still holding her. It was not enough to kill the man, simply stun him. She felt him spasm and fall back away from her. Her balance wavered as he released her and she barely managed to keep her footing as she quickly cast a spell to cut the bonds that held her.
“Corpses, if we continue here,” Jala answered as Kithkara whirled once more to face her at the sound of her captor’s fall. Flexing her wrists, Jala watched the shredded remains of rope fall from her wrists and straightened her shoulders as she met the other woman’s eyes fully. “I’m here to speak with Kithvaryn, but if you’d rather this become bloody then by all means, Commander, draw your blade,” Jala hissed holding both hands out in invitation.
“Well this explains why Finn loved you. You are apparently every bit as brash and bold as he was,” Hexian sighed as he stepped back several feet.
“We are called the Ten Thousand Immortals,” Kithkara continued, though she had stopped her advance toward Valor. Her gaze flicked between the two of them with an expression that suggested they were both foolish children.
“Long name. I’m not impressed,” Jala replied a faint smile curving her own lips. Let the woman consider them children, underestimating the damage she and Valor could create was a huge mistake. Death herself could attest to that.
“There are no half-bloods or commoners among us. Every man and woman on this island is pure-blood immortal. To attack us at the odds you now have is suicide,” Kithkara snarled.
“I miss Finn. I can’t say that I would mind seeing him again and I’d rather die fighting than under your knife in torture. That is, if we lose, of course. Valor and I have faced Death herself and lived and somehow I don’t think you are quite as impressive as a Divine Commander,” Jala returned the smile widening on her lips. Tilting her head back she licked her lips and let her eyes rove across the room then back to Kithkara. Soft laughter bubbled from Jala’s lips and she waved her hands once more in invitation. “Just draw the blade,” she pressed the words sounding so much like Finn’s that her smile widened further.
“Please,” Valor added as a soft breeze began to build around him. “I have a lot of angst I’d love to release on someone.” Jala could see how tense he was even at the distance he stood from her, though it wasn’t with fear. It was pure anticipation. Every muscle in his body was coiled and begging for release.
“Enough!” The single word cut through the room like a knife and all eyes moved toward the speaker who stood framed in the doorway. Lightning flashed in the sky behind the man as he stepped fully into the room, the massive wooden doors crashing closed behind him. “Back to your duties all of you,” the man snapped and the crowd surrounding them scattered like quail before a hound, aside for a scant few that were brave enough to linger.
“General Kithvaryn,” Jala said with a slight bow of her head. The man was slight and smaller than most in the room. His dark hair was cut short and his clothing was plain and functional. There was, however, no mistaking who he was despite his appearance. While Kithvaryn’s appearance might not be intimidating, his reputation was. This was not a man to bully or bluff and he well deserved the show of respect. In every book at the Academy that mentioned him, Kithvaryn was described as a genius and a brilliant leader. If the text was to be believed, this man had never lost a single battle.
“Lady Merrodin,” Kithvaryn replied, though without the nod of respect and in a much colder voice.
What did I really expect here, tea and crumpets? I should have known I would share the blame for his son’s death and approached with more caution. Jala scolded herself silently and waited for him to continue.
“We will speak, Lady Merrodin, and if I do not like what you say, you will regret coming to this island. I sent no one after your husband despite my son’s death. I was content to allow you to live in peace as long as you kept your distance. Kithkanon was rash and overconfident and while his death was painful to me, it was no true surprise. Your presence here, however, is a surprise, and not a pleasant one.” Kithvaryn’s voice was low and the look in his eyes spoke volumes of his sincerity. “Escort the Lady to my parlor, Kara,” he ordered, then slowly turned to regard Valor. “Have those two thrown in cells.” He paused a moment as the remaining men in the room moved to follow his orders. “Barllen cells,” he added thoughtfully before turning to face Hexian. “I regret our talks will have to wait Lord Hexian. I hope you understand.”
“Of course. I would very much like you to resolve this difficulty first, actually. If the Lady’s words aren’t pleasing to you, Rivana would be very interested in making a deal,” Hexian replied with a smile.
“I will not have my companions imprisoned,” Jala broke in before Kithkara could move her a single step. “I would rather speak than fight General, but I will not have my friends mistreated,” Jala warned and wondered if she had truly gone insane as the expression on every face in the room indicated.
“You are in no position to make demands, Lady Merrodin,” Kithvaryn warned.
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��You are making the same mistake as your son did and underestimating an opponent,” Jala countered, the expression on her face unwavering.
Kithvaryn watched her in silence for a long moment and then slowly smiled. Nodding his head ever so slightly he let out a soft chuckle. “That remains to be seen, but I admire your resolve. I’ll tell you what, Lady Merrodin. I’ll offer you this. Your companions may join us in my parlor, but if they make a single sound or movement that offends me I will have them killed. Or they can wait in the cells and make all of the fuss they like and be perfectly safe from harm. Which do you prefer?”
“That they wait with me,” Jala replied without hesitation.
Kithvaryn chuckled again and glanced aside at Valor who stood rigid before the approaching men, his expression as stormy as the weather. “Then his blood is on your hands, Lady.”
Jala nodded her agreement and turned her head to meet Valor’s eyes. Their gazes locked for a long moment as she could see the same resolve in his eyes. If this went poorly, both of their blood would spill. She would fight to the last breath before she allowed herself or her companions to be sold or imprisoned. Smiling faintly, she bowed her head to Valor. Thank you, Valor. I know you are still mad at me and I know I got us all into this mess, and yet you still stand beside me to the last. She whispered the words in his mind through the most subtle link she could form.
Always, Valor’s response was just as faint but filled with the same promise it always held when he spoke that word to her.
A firm hand gripped her upper arm tightly and Jala turned to glance at Kithkara’s face as the older woman led her toward double doors in the back of the hall. “You are either insane or a complete fool,” Kithkara hissed, her anger still apparent in her voice.
The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 3 From the Ashes Page 32