The Elder Blood Chronicles Bk 1 In Shades of Grey Page 4

  Be brave and wait, Daddy will fix it, she whispered to herself. Maybe if she had stayed with Blackjack instead of climbing the tree, he would have carried her away from whatever spell had brought her here. It had to be magic. That was the only thing it could have been. A dark evil spell, just like in the stories.

  She folded her arms across her knees and rested her forehead on her arms. She closed her eyes and shivered, trying to force herself to think of something other than the cold and how scared she was. She wasn’t sure what else she could do, and mother always said when you are lost, stay in the same spot and someone will find you. By now, she was sure she was lost. It made more sense than the entire world was lost. She kept her mind from focusing on details such as why anyone would steal her away. She didn’t want to examine closely the logic of her decision. That path held too many options she didn’t want to consider. Hers was a better one. In hers, the world was still as it should be, and her father was coming to rescue her. She steadied herself and began to piece the story together in her mind. Her father had been a soldier, and he had thwarted the plans of a Sorcerer. So for revenge, the evil Sorcerer had stolen her away. As she pieced the story together, she felt herself warming to the idea that her father was the hero of this, and that heroes always won.

  Chapter 2

  Northern Merro

  She’d convinced herself completely by the time she heard the voice. Her head came up quickly, and she scanned the rain for the source of it. It was too distant to tell if it was father or not, so she stayed silent. Mother had warned her about strangers too, but she wasn’t really sure if that warning applied right now. Anyone would be better than no one, unless of course it was the evil Sorcerer, she reasoned.

  “There is nothing out here.” It was a man’s voice, and not one she recognized. She could see two figures dimly through the rain. One large and white, a huge horse, far bigger than Buck even. The other was a smaller, darker beast. She could barely make out the riders and other than they were both cloaked, she couldn’t make out any details. The smaller horse could be Buck, she supposed. He looked darker when his coat was wet. She stood slowly, and some part of her mind noticed how numb she had become. She shrugged the thought off as quickly as it had come, and moved slowly toward the horses. In this weather, it wouldn’t be hard to get close enough to them without them noticing her.

  “Just a bit farther, humor me.” A second voice called back, thickly accented with a bit of a musical quality.

  “A bit farther of cold rain and ash for nothing,” the first speaker grumbled. She was close enough now to tell he was the darker horse’s rider, and that was definitely not Buck. The horse was black with no sign of white on him at all. And by the set of his ears he was in a mood as dark as his coat. She took care not to approach too closely, and turned her attention to the large white one. He was bigger than even father’s plow horses. He was coated with bright and shiny metal coverings from the nape of his neck and shoulders to the chain mail across his back. She had never seen a warhorse before. In the stories they were fierce. This one didn’t look fierce, though, because his ears were forward and his gait lively. She was still trying to decide if she should call out or not when the white horse stopped and turned his head to regard her. She stared back at him in shock. She hadn’t moved nor made a sound since she had crept closer. He shouldn’t be able to smell her through the rain. And yet there he was, staring at her with ears pricked forward. He gave a soft nicker, and she heard his rider chuckle.

  “And there we are. Avalanche has found something.” He swung lightly down from his horse, and Jala noted the metal that flashed beneath it. He wore armor, as well. He must be a knight. Only knights had warhorses and armor. Maybe father had sent him to find her.

  “What has he found, would be the question,” the second rider growled back.

  “A child, and a lost one, so don’t be snide, Havoc.” He knelt down a few feet from her as he spoke, and pulled his cloak down despite the rain, so she could have a look at his face. He gave her a moment before speaking and her eyes traveled over his face. He was handsome with smooth features and large green eyes the color of spring leaves. His hair was cut short in military fashion, and his ears were slightly pointed.

  “You’re an elf!” she blurted before she could stop herself. His companion gave a snort of amusement and smiled at her.

  “No elf would be caught in this weather or place. They have better sense than that,” the man on the dark horse muttered.

  “I’m not exactly an elf, but I can explain that later.” He glanced back toward his companion and shook his head in silent rebuke. “My name is Victory, this is Avalanche.” He motioned toward the horse and then to his companion as he continued. “And that is Havoc, my traveling companion.” He offered his hand to her in greeting.

  “Did you really just introduce your horse before me?” Havoc asked in a tone of disgust. “You know most people don’t even introduce horses.”

  “In order of importance, my dear friend, so yes, Avalanche comes first,” Victory replied smoothly. Havoc gave a grunt in reply and Jala felt herself relax a bit. Neither of them was acting much like an evil sorcerer.

  “My name is Jaladene,” she replied, trying to sound older by using her full name. It sounded odd to her, though, so she hastily added, “Mother and father call me Jala, though.” She looked around at the bleakness and looked back to Victory. “Did my father send you to find me?” she asked hopefully.

  Victory frowned for the briefest of moments. “No, he didn’t send me, but now that I have found you, I would like to help.” He offered his hand again, and she took it hesitantly. He squeezed her fingers lightly and frowned again. “Far too cold, child! Let’s get you on Avalanche and out of this rain.” He stood gracefully and lifted her onto the massive horse. “Havoc, give me your spare cloak,” he called over his shoulder before mounting behind her.

  Wordlessly the other man dug through his pack and produced a dark bundle of cloth. “Not sure how dry it is Vic, not much is dry in this mess,” he said, tossing it lightly to the knight. Victory caught it easily and wrapped it around her. It smelled of horse and sweat, and reminded her a bit of her father. She felt herself relax further and realized how cold she truly was. Her teeth chattered lightly, and Victory pulled her back against him. She tried to ignore the cold metal of his armor as he gathered the reins and urged his horse into a walk then to a trot.

  “We need to get north as quickly as we can, for she is near frozen and needs shelter and a fire.”

  “Nothing I’ll argue with,” Havoc replied turning his own horse to ride alongside them. “I’ve seen enough devastation and ash to last me a lifetime.”

  “Would be that we never see it again,” Victory agreed. She felt herself drifting a bit as they talked, her mind becoming as numb as her body.

  “I’d love to know how a child her size survived it, and no one else seems to have.” Havoc spoke quietly, and she fought to ignore what he was saying. “Didn’t Badger settle somewhere in these parts with that girl he saved? What was her name? Molly, Martha…” his voice trailed off.

  “Maggie, her name was Maggie, and yes he did if I am judging the area right. It’s hard to tell with no landmarks.

  “Hope to the gods he moved before the property value dropped.”

  “He wouldn’t have. He was from Merro. I remember him talking of it often. He loved this land. The last that I heard, he was doing well for himself.” Victory spoke softly, and silence followed his words for a long while.

  “Well then I hope his life was a happy one before this. He deserved it.” Havoc’s words were the last she heard before she drifted into sleep, trading one nightmare for another.

  She awoke later, bundled heavily in blankets, and for the first few moments, she didn’t remember. In her sleep-fogged mind, she was at home in bed, and everything was normal. Then reality set in and she recognized the sound of fire cracking lightly and another sound of metal being sharpened. She could smell
smoke and the scent of food cooking.

  “She’s awake.” It was Havoc that spoke, though it took her a moment to recognize the voice. She felt her stomach clench and wanted desperately to wake up again and discover this new reality to be just another nightmare.

  “I know, her breathing changed, and she isn’t tossing anymore. Give her a few minutes.” Victory’s voice was calm and quiet and almost as soothing as her father’s.

  She slowly sat up and surveyed the small camp they had made. A few trees surrounded them, and the horses had been tethered to a picket nearby. Havoc sat leaning against one of the trees sharpening a sword. Victory was crouched near the fire tending meat on a spit with his back turned toward her. Neither wore cloaks any longer, and she could see them better in the fading daylight. Havoc had dark red hair trimmed short and was dressed in leathers. He had a slender build and deeply-tanned skin. Victory seemed a bit bigger with a thicker build throughout the shoulders. He had shed his armor and wore only a tunic and breeches now, but still seemed formidable despite the normal clothes. Both of them, she silently noted, had tattoos snaking up their left arms, just as her father had. The story she had made about this horrible day began to unravel as the truth became clearer.

  She turned her attention back to the scenery and felt her heart sink further. She knew this place. It was the road to Brannaford. She’d been this way when her parents went to the market. Her eyes roamed toward the south, toward home. It was black and dark in that direction. At the border, where Merro met the Greenwild, a line seemed to be drawn. One side the country was dark and ash covered, and the Greenwild was still lush with deep grass. Where the road crossed the border it simply disappeared into blowing ash. It was as if Merro had simply been erased. “My family is dead, aren’t they?” She spoke quietly, just above a whisper. She didn’t want to hear the answer. She didn’t want to admit that the black wasteland was all that was left of her home.

  “Most likely, Jala. Havoc and I rode most of Merro before we found you, and you were the only survivor we found.” Victory was watching her now with eyes full of sympathy. With a guarded expression, Havoc had stopped sharpening his blade and watched her too.

  She felt tears welling again and didn’t think the knot in her stomach would ever go away. Her throat felt thick as she spoke again and she barely recognized her own voice. “My momma’s name was Maggie, and if Badger is what you called my daddy when he was a soldier, he was happy.” She sniffled slightly and wiped her tears away from her face. “He had tattoos on his arm like you both do, but he never talked about them. He was happy, though. We all were.” She fell silent and let the tears come as she stared down at her hands, wondering if she would ever be happy again. “What happened?” She asked through the sobs, not really expecting an answer.

  “The High Lords had a disagreement. Most often it is the land that suffers when they do. Usually cities. This time, entire countries, both Merro and Veir, are lost,” Havoc answered. For the first time since they met, his voice was soft and gentle. “It isn’t right, and we do what we can to fix it when it happens, but this time there isn’t much we can do.” There was a note of disgust in his voice when he fell silent again.

  “We can make sure Badger’s daughter is safe. She is one of ours, and there can be no doubt a higher power led us to her. There is no other way we could have stumbled across her as we did.”

  “Agreed, but we can’t take her with us, Vic. Our path is not fit for a child. So what do we do with her then?”

  “I know I’ve given it a bit of thought. The best I can come up with is an Aspectvar for now.” His tone was cautious as if he didn’t care much for the thought.

  “Priests? You want to leave his daughter with priests?” Havoc sounded incredulous. He gave a snort of disgust and shook his head. “He will haunt you for that, I promise you.”

  She gave a slight sob at his words and Victory cast him a sharp look. With a look of chagrin, Havoc gave her an apologetic shrug. She looked back down at her feet and tried to ignore them. She didn’t even know what an Aspectvar was and didn’t care much for the thought of them leaving her anywhere. She had just lost everything, and even the simple fact that they had known her father, reassured her.

  “His sister was a priestess. I remember her well. She followed Fortune.”

  Havoc gave another snort of disgust. “And look where that brought her. As I recall, she lived in Merro as well.”

  “Damn it, Havoc, show a bit of compassion. We may be used to loss and the death of friends but the child is not. That is her family you speak of.” Victory’s voice was as sharp as his rebuke and silence once again followed.

  Jala swallowed heavily and wiped the tears away again. “My Aunt Carissa was a priestess, she gave me this…” her voice trailed off as she tugged her tunic down a bit to pull out the amulet, which wasn’t there. She gave a slight cry as her hand brushed across her skin and pain flared. Dimly she remembered the amulet glowing before the flash. She brushed her hand across the skin winced again at the pain and tried to make sense of it. Had her amulet burned? And if so, why would it just burn?

  “Here, let me see.” Victory had moved to her side at her cry of pain, and he carefully pulled her hand away. He studied the skin near her collarbone for a moment and waved Havoc over. “Here, have a look.” Havoc cast him a skeptical glance and moved closer, his expression changed as he saw the area Victory indicated.

  “What’s Fortune playing at?” Havoc asked quietly.

  Victory shrugged. “I’m not sure. But that’s about as clear an answer as you can get,” he replied.

  “Why? What’s wrong with me?” Jala tried in vain to look down at the wound they were looking at, but it was at the wrong place on her chest for her to get a clear look at it.

  “You have the mark of Fortune burned into your skin, child. It’s not a bad burn but the symbol is marked quite clear,” Victory answered, his expression thoughtful. “So Fortune claims you, and now all we need is to locate an Aspectvar of his.”

  “I don’t know what an Aspectvar is, but he has a Temple near here. Aunt Carissa used to talk of it. It’s by a village called Bliss,” she said, trying to be helpful, even though her words condemned her to being left behind.

  Victory smiled and leaned back. “An Aspectvar is what we call a Temple. We ourselves do not believe in gods. We call them Aspects. As they represent an aspect of life, such as Justice or Healing or Luck as in the case of Fortune.”

  “Why don’t you believe in gods?” she asked, a bit dumbfounded at his words. She had never heard such blasphemy.

  “Because we are Elder Blood and hold enough magic to be considered gods ourselves if we wished it. The only thing that separates us from your god, Fortune, is the path we choose to walk,” Havoc replied to the question. His voice was mild, and his manner did not seem that of a braggart. She eyed the two of them, trying to see the lie, if there was one. Victory simply nodded his agreement and moved back to the fire to check the meat. Havoc studied her for another moment, looking steadily at her eyes. “Did you notice her eyes are violet colored, Vic?”

  “I did, and her hair appears to be a dark red under all that ash. She doesn’t have Badger’s coloring at all, or Maggie’s if I remember correctly. I only met her once. But she knows the names and the tattoos, so there can be no doubt.”

  “Badger was half-blood, wasn’t he? And Maggie was commoner, right?” Havoc pressed, still looking her over. He waved his hand at her and muttered something quietly. She felt her skin tingle for a moment and looked down at herself in amazement. She was clean, entirely clean, and not just her, her clothing was spotless, as well. Her eyes widened, and she looked back up at Havoc. With a wave of his hand, he worked magic. No fancy spell casting like in the stories, just a simple wave as if he was shooing a fly away. “Pretty, too, once you get the dirt off,” he added.

  Victory looked up from the meat thoughtfully. “Aye, Badger was a half-blood, and you are right about Maggie as well.” He glanced
at her and gave her a smile. “And your point?”

  “My point is she doesn’t look mortal. Her hair is more of a mulberry color than red, with a hint of purple. Neither are colors I’ve seen on a commoner before. She doesn’t look half-blood either, if anything she looks pure Elder Blood,” Havoc spoke quietly. His gaze finally left her as he turned to regard Victory fully.

  “Could be a throwback from Badger’s line. Could be there was more to Maggie than he ever told us. I’m not sure, Havoc.” He was slicing meat off the skewer now and carefully handed her a plate. She looked thoughtfully at the food. She knew she should eat, but her stomach still felt tied in knots. “Doesn’t change what needs to be done though. Regardless, you are correct, our path is not fit for a child, and we must make sure she is safe. Be she Elder Blood, half-blood, or mortal, the Aspectvar is the best option that I see. And I like the idea of the one at Bliss, it’s out of the way, and she will likely be the safer for it.” He handed another plate to Havoc and added in a quieter voice. “Your observations do bear attention though. I’ll make a report to Caspian before we leave her and follow through with whatever he decides. It may be he will want her brought back to the Fortress. Badger served there for at least twenty years before he retired and I know Caspian was fond of him. He may want his daughter in sight and as safe as we can make her.”

  Havoc gave a grunt and took a bite of meat. He chewed a moment before speaking. “Aspectvar is probably better than the fortress. That place would be worse for a child than traveling with us. Certainly not fit for a girl.”

  “I’d rather go with you two,” she spoke meekly. She hated the thought of being left with strangers, even if they were priests. She watched them both closely for a reaction. Victory’s was obvious remorse. Havoc once again was impossible for her to read.