The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 4 The Blessed Curse Page 5

  “Faydwer?” Neph stammered stupidly, glancing to his side for confirmation, but both men were gone and it took all of his attention to stem the flow of Rivasans pressing forward into the gaps in his lines.

  “What in the name of the Divine,” Kay gasped beside him as they managed to push the Rivasans back, giving themselves a much needed moment of rest. At first Neph thought she had witnessed the presence of the Divine as he had, but quickly realized her attention was across the field. The sky had darkened in the north and lightning lit the clouds beyond the battle field. Her gaze, however, was on the single rider charging toward the Rivasan lines. His armor was black as was his horse and it only took a moment for Neph to recognize him as Zachary Dark of Oblivion.

  “Is he mad? He is charging alone,” Kay hissed, her gaze dropping back to their own battle as the Rivasans pressed forward again.

  “He isn’t alone,” Neph replied, his eyes moving past the Oblivion knight to the dark figure standing just beyond the battlefield and barely visible against the darkening sky. The man’s ragged black cloak was stretched taunt in the storm winds and his black armor flashed in the lightning beyond him. Neph pulled his attention away from the Aspect of Destruction as he raised his hands to the battlefield beyond and the black inky shapes of Harvesters began to rise from the ground surrounding Zachary’s charge. Where a single knight had ridden moments before, an army now ran, and from the bloodthirsty cries echoing across the field, the damned souls of Oblivion were more than ready for the fight.

  A snarl from his snow cat brought his attention fully back to his own problems, and Neph quickly dispatched the Rivasan that had managed to score a wound across his cat’s side. The Faydwer battle horns sounded behind him again and from the pitch they were much closer. “Firym is here, and Oblivion. By the looks of those storm clouds, Arovan and Glis will arrive at any moment. Faydwer is closing from behind us. We will make it through this, Kay.” Neph gasped the words out between sword blows and edged his cat closer to his Aunt to strengthen their line. He fought against the desire to gaze across the field. The words of the Divine had left his gut churning with concern for Jala, but there was nothing he could do about it yet. The sound of charging hooves behind him grew louder and he tensed. “A path will be open soon,” he whispered to himself, wondering how exactly the Faydwer were going to open a path through the bloody mess before him. Even with the other allied forces joining the fight, the Rivasans were still standing strong on the field.

  A light hum hissed through the air beside him and the earth began to tremble behind them. Two arrows drove into the Rivasans closest to him, knocking them back savagely. The shots were well placed and buried to the shaft. Both men were dead before they hit the ground. “Wisp.” Neph grinned as he spoke the name, his attention flicking from the purple and white fletching on the arrows to the trembling ground behind him.

  “What the hell are they doing? We are going to be trapped between that rise of earth and the damned Rivasans,” Kay snarled as the ground bucked and rose to form a solid wall behind them.

  Three more arrows pegged into Rivasans, each bearing the purple and white fletching and Neph whispered silent thanks to the Fae, using the moment of peace she had given him to search the field frantically for Jala. The Merrodin forces had moved beyond the valley now, and he could see Valor among the Firym, pushing the Rivasans back, but there was no sign of Jala.

  The hoof beats grew thunderous behind him and the ground shook with the force of it as the first of the Faydwer knights reached the battle. Shadows darkened the ground around him as a massive white horse launched itself from the newly risen earth behind him and Neph barely managed to dodge as a slender form dropped from the back of the warhorse to land beside him. More horses leaped gracefully over the ledge, their riders striking with deadly grace as the beasts landed in the Rivasan ranks.

  Wisp stood gracefully from her crouch as she landed, her bow already thrumming with more arrows as she fired with perfect accuracy into the Rivasan ranks ahead of them. Glancing over, she smiled and winked up at Neph. “Sorry I’m late,” Wisp called cheerfully, her musical voice barely audible over the pounding hooves.

  The field before them was cleared of Rivasans as the Faydwer ranks plowed through them scattering their lines. “Are you going to let the god damned pixies out-fight you?” Neph bellowed to his own forces as he grinned down at Wisp. “Thank you,” he said in a voice just loud enough for her ears. “I have to get to Jala now, Wisp,” he added, his gaze moving once more to the valley as he pressed his cat forward.

  “We will clear a path then,” Wisp responded and raised a hand over her head. More shadows darkened the ground as Faydwer archers moved forward along the earth bank behind him. Wisp dropped her hand, motioning toward the valley, and the archers began their deadly rain of arrows without hesitation. Somewhere beyond their range of fighting, the scream of a dragon rose on the air and Wisp shook her head at him frowning. “My archers can clear the Rivasans but there is nothing Faydwer can do against dragons.

  “We will have to hope that Jala brought her own dragons then, or that Shade can handle them with his Spell Hawk. I’ve seen him strafe the field a few times, but it wasn’t against anything scaly,” Neph replied quickly as he offered a hand down to Wisp to pull her onto the cat behind him. “You have command here, Kay. I have to get to Jala,” Neph yelled back over his shoulder as he pushed his cat forward into the clearing the Faydwer charge had created. It was a risky maneuver. It wouldn’t be long before the Rivasans closed ranks again and then they would be surrounded by enemies, but he didn’t have a choice. Bright light flashed from the mouth of the valley and Neph’s attention snapped in that direction.

  “What spell is that?” Wisp gasped behind him, her bow still thrumming as she peppered the enemies ahead of them with arrows.

  “That’s not a spell. That is raw magic and way too much of it,” Neph replied hoarsely. “Jala, what have you done,” he whispered, his mind filling with dread. The sound of the battle faded around him as his focus narrowed on the magic and he pushed the cat forward faster. He had to reach her now. That was more magic than even he could handle and he knew his reserves were larger than Jala’s. That much power would rip any mage apart unless he could reach her and somehow redirect it.

  “Can you use magic to transport us?” Wisp asked, her voice filled with concern.

  Neph shook his head savagely and motioned with a free hand toward the chaos of the battlefield. “Too many moving objects here, Wisp. I couldn’t find a free place to set us down that would be close enough to her to help. We have to cross this shit,” Neph answered loudly. The Rivasans were closing in around them and the noise of battle was growing so loud words were almost impossible.

  A cheer rose from the inner ranks of the enemy and Neph’s cat slid to a stop as a massive form rose from the center of the field. “Oh shit,” Neph hissed as the dragon rose to its full height and unfurled its immense wings. Its scales were the deep red of drying blood and by its sheer size there was only one dragon it could be. “That is Nerath himself,” Neph gasped. The dragon twisted, his tail lashing, and the screams of horses shattered the air as the Faydwer forces were scattered by the attack.

  “You have to do something, Neph!” Wisp screamed behind him.

  “That is the dragon that killed my grandfather, Wisp. He is a legend. His own damned country is named after him. What do you propose I do?” Neph snarled back. He could see his allies scattering back from the field and knew the battle was swiftly turning against them. Someone definitely needed to do something soon, but he wasn’t sure what.

  “I think you should kill it before it kills my brother!” Wisp snapped, her hand smacking directly into his back driving the spikes of his vest deep into his flesh. Pain flared and Neph seized it channeling the magic into a spell. The wind around his cat rose viciously as his magic tore through the Rivasans that had been closing on them tearing flesh and armor alike to shreds. “Pain is still your focus to cha
nnel, isn’t it Neph?”

  Wisp demanded loudly.

  “Yes,” Neph growled through clenched teeth as he readied another spell.

  Agony ripped through his leg and he nearly lost the spell. Glancing down, he stared hard at the dagger protruding from his thigh and then back at Wisp who was glaring at him. “What the fuck!” he demanded as he unleashed his newest wave of destruction on the Rivasans.

  “Focus and Channel and kill that damned dragon!” Wisp ordered sharply, her slender hand rising quickly to point at Nerath.

  Neph started to answer as another sound rose on the wind and his heart lurched painfully in his chest. It was a scream and he knew the sound of that voice as clearly as he knew his own. By all rights, he shouldn’t have been able to hear her so clearly from across the battlefield. It was filled with complete agony and it was rising from Jala. It was a sound that couldn’t be mimicked and he had fought enough duels and seen enough battles to recognize it for what it truly was. It was a death cry.

  For the second time in his life he hadn’t been strong enough, and someone he loved was dying because of it. Pain and anger rose in his chest and he felt something snap inside. He couldn’t say if it had been in his mind or in his heart, but magic roared in his ears. Every muscle in this body thrummed with power and the only spells that rose in his mind were the forbidden ones. The penalties for Death magic no longer seemed important, however. The only thing that mattered was punishing his enemies. First, however, he had to get rid of the damned dragon. Turning slowly in his saddle, Neph regarded the creature, his gaze narrowing as he studied the ancient magics that protected it. Wards were nothing to the forbidden magic. He had spells that would eat through the protection as easily as they destroyed flesh. Never before had he been willing to unleash them, however. According to the magic lore there were seventeen ways to kill with magic that would utterly destroy a creature with no hope of returning to life or the life stream. Neph knew twelve of them, and he intended to use all of them today.

  “Neph, what is wrong with you?” Wisp gasped as she dropped quickly off the back of his cat, her eyes wide as she stared up at him. Neph glanced from her to the shroud of dark magic that covered him, rising like shadowed flames from his skin. He didn’t bother to answer her question and he ignored the look of fear on Wisp’s face as he began to chant softly in a language that had been dead for centuries, speaking the words of a spell that had been forbidden even longer. The Dragon’s battle cries turned to roars of agony as the first of his magics wrapped around the creature. To the naked eye, it looked like no more than shadows covering the deep red scales, but Neph knew the truth of it. Each tendril of darkness was driving down through the creature, burrowing into muscle and bone alike and twisting. He continued to chant and the dragon writhed as his spell literally ripped it apart from the inside, piece by piece. This was simply the first stage of the spell designed to immobilize the victim, the next stage would target the mind and then finally the soul. By the time he was done, there would be nothing left of Nerath the Red beyond whispered tales of his demise.

  * * *

  Everywhere he looked, there was destruction. The smell of burnt flesh and blood saturated the air so fully that even when he closed his eyes he could still see the battlefield clearly in his mind. Corpses covered the ground before him, but Neph didn’t spare them a glance as he crossed the last stretch of the field that separated him from where Jala had fallen.

  A crowd had gathered in that area and they all watched him in silence with expressions of suspicion on their faces as he approached. The last of the battle was a blur in his mind. He knew he had called on more magic in those few minutes than he had in his entire life, and all of it had been dark. There would be an accounting for it, he was sure. Regardless of how he had used the magic, it was forbidden magic, and even his allies would want him punished for it.

  That could wait, though. He would face it without fear later. After he had seen Jala or what remained of her. The crowd parted as he continued, and Neph could feel their gazes on him, but his focus was on the path ahead. The ground where she had been standing was charred black and cracked from the heat of the magic she had channeled, but there was no sign of her body. It was possible that nothing remained but ashes, but he didn’t think so.

  Neph paused at the edge of the burned ground and scanned the area until he spotted the massive forms of the Bendazzi crouched in front of a tent deeper in the valley where Jala had been camped. Slowly he began moving that way, his gaze lingering on Marrow’s powerful white form. The fact that the Bendazzi was still alive, gave him hope. Marrow was a Familiar and by the laws of magic he should have died with Jala.

  “It’s no use, Neph. The Bendazzi won’t let anyone near that tent,” Shade called as he approached. Neph hadn’t even noticed Shade in the mingling crowd, and pretended as though he still hadn’t. He had no desire to speak to anyone now, and not even the Bendazzi would stop him from seeing her.

  Both cats did appear to be ready to attack, but Neph didn’t slow his steps. His hand dropped to the top of Marrow’s head as his other hand pulled back the tent flap and he lightly brushed his fingers through the thick plush fur. “If anything can be done, Marrow. I will do it,” Neph promised quietly as he stepped inside the dark tent.

  It took only a breath for his eyes to adjust to the dim light and only a second more for him to spot Valor sitting near the back of the tent with her body cradled in his arms. The knight had wrapped her in his battle stained cloak and was holding her tight against his chest. His head was bowed. Neph couldn’t see the expression on his face, but he could tell the man was sobbing by the way his shoulders silently shook. Crossing silently to where Valor sat, Neph crouched down beside the man and slowly sat cross-legged. He could tell by the stillness of her form that she was dead, but for the Elder Blood that didn’t always mean the end. He needed to see how bad the damage was, but couldn’t even get a glimpse of her flesh with the way Valor had her shrouded and clutched so tightly to him.

  “Val,” Neph began softly, his tone as gentle as he could make it. “I want to help, Val, but I need to see her so I know what can be done.”

  Valor shook his head slightly in denial and refused to look up from where his face was buried in the filthy cloak. “You will say the same as the rest of them. They say she is dead and she isn’t. She will return. I’ve seen her do it before Neph. I just have to keep faith and pray. She isn’t dead.” Valor’s voice was ragged with grief and by the tone alone, Neph could tell how close he was to snapping.

  “Valor, you know I will do anything I can to help her. If you are right and she isn’t dead then it will be easier if I can help mend the body for her to return,” Neph pressed. He knew it was false hope he was feeding Valor, but there was not much else he could do. From the amount of raw magic he had sensed, Jala’s body was likely damaged beyond repair, but he wasn’t sure Valor was stable enough to hear that now. Still he had seen Jala do things no one else would ever have been capable of. He felt a flicker of hope rise in his chest at the thought that Valor could be right, and carefully contained it. He couldn’t allow it to grow in his mind until he saw the body. The disappointment would be too bitter to bear if Valor was wrong.

  “If you want to help, Neph, then pray. I tried to tell them that when they tried to take her body. They want to bury her, Neph, and they can’t. She isn’t dead!” Valor’s voice rose as he spoke and he slowly looked up to meet Neph’s eyes. “She isn’t dead, Neph, no matter what she looks like now, or what they say, she isn’t,” he insisted. His blue eyes were bloodshot and Neph could see a faint gleam to them that spoke of madness. “Everything we’ve done. Everything we’ve suffered. It doesn’t end like this, Neph. I won’t let it! We have to have faith.” His words grew slurred as more tears flowed down his face and he shook his head again pulling her body closer to him.

  The cloak pulled away as Valor moved her and one pale arm fell limply to the ground. The skin was cracked and burned in places
and still glowed faintly with magic deep within her body. Slowly, Neph leaned forward and lifted her hand, examining the rents in the skin. Gold dust drifted slowly down to the dirt below her as he brushed a thumb across the wound. The magic had burned so hotly within her that it had dried the blood in her veins.

  It was as he had feared, and no matter what Valor said there was no coming back to this body. With the magic still coursing so strongly through her damaged frame there would be no way to use magic to heal the wounds, and as damaged as she was, her soul would not remain even if Ash himself called it back. His thumb brushed once more across what remained of her hand and he felt his own eyes brimming with tears. He didn’t have the words to explain any of this to Valor without risking what was left of his sanity. Truthfully, he wasn’t too sure about his own state of mind at the moment. He wanted to sob like a child and scream at the same time. They had been so close, a breath from victory, and then fate had stolen her from them.

  Leaning forward he carefully tucked her hand back under the cloak and sat back once more. Resting his elbows on his knees, Neph leaned forward and covered his face with his hands. His anger was gone and his pain was fading to despair. He was drained physically, emotionally, and magically, and he simply didn’t care. There was no longer anything worth fighting for and no reason to get back up again. The world was shit and that was that. How could he find the words to save Valor, when he didn’t know how to save himself?

  “You aren’t praying, Neph,” Valor whispered, and the sound of his voice pulled Neph back from the darkness his mind had been retreating to.

  “I’m not sure exactly who to pray to on this, Valor,” Neph admitted quietly.

  “Pray to her, Neph. Put all of your faith in Jala,” Valor replied without hesitation.