The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 4 The Blessed Curse Read online

  “Val, she had the blood of the Divine, but she wasn’t a god. She can’t hear prayers as they do,” Neph informed him gently, as he slowly slid his hands down his face and stared at the lifeless body.

  “Look back on everything she has done, Neph, and say that again,” Valor snapped, his head rising once more. The gleam was stronger in Valor’s eyes and Neph wondered if he truly would recover once he moved past his denial. Neph had known the man loved Jala, and was utterly devoted to her, but he had never guessed how deeply those emotions ran.

  Exhaling slowly, Neph leaned forward and pulled the cloak back from Jala before Valor could stop him. Her face was as cracked as the skin on her arm had been and her beautiful violet eyes were completely burned away. The magic within her pulsed slowly, giving off faint light and Neph shook his head slowly. There was no way to soften what had to be said, and the sooner it was done the better. Both of them needed to face that fact and try to move on. Despite how much Neph wanted to give up now, he couldn’t, neither of them could. They both had responsibilities in the world beyond. “Valor, this body is broken and Jala is gone. Even a god couldn’t remain in a form this damaged. Look at her, Valor! Look at the glow of the magic, damn it. Even you can see it; I know you can!” Neph snapped, his words breaking on the last word as his throat tightened. “You have to let her go and so do I, damn it. This does no good for either of us,” The last words came out more of a sob than anything else, and Neph let his arm fall back to his lap heavily as tears coursed down his face.

  “Marrow still lives!” Valor snarled, his hand flying up to point at the shadow of the Bendazzi through the tent. “If Jala was truly dead, her Familiar would be dead! You are supposed to be the one that believes so strongly in the gods, Neph. Why is it so hard for you to have faith in her?” he demanded.

  “Because she wasn’t a god, Valor. She was my friend, she was our leader, and she was truly a Dasharran, but she wasn’t a god. Valor, she channeled enough magic to kill anyone. That much raw power would have destroyed her soul as much as her body. Please let her go,” Neph pleaded. He wasn’t even sure why he was wasting so much energy on the knight. Valor had never been a close friend of his, but he had meant so much to Jala. Perhaps in some twisted fashion he believed that saving Valor would be a last service to her. Perhaps if he could just save Valor, it would somehow redeem him for failing her.

  “I can’t. If I let her go, then I have nothing left. They took my family. They destroyed my home. If I give up on Jala, I have nothing left. It doesn’t end like this, Neph. They don’t win. I won’t let them.” Valor spoke in a broken whisper and shook his head slowly in further denial.

  “Merrodin is your home now, and it still stands. They didn’t win, Valor, we did. You may have lost your brother and sister in this, Valor, but you still have your parents, which is more than Legacy can say. Finn may have sired him, Valor, but you were the closest thing he had to a father. You read to him, you played with him, and you comforted him when Jala couldn’t. You say you have nothing. I say you aren’t looking hard enough. Let her go, Valor and go back to Merrodin. You are the only one that can help that child right now.” Neph let the words pour out of him in a final attempt. If the mention of Legacy didn’t pull Valor back from the brink, he truly didn’t know what would.

  “If I believe Jala is dead, then they have won.” Valor spoke the words so quietly that Neph almost didn’t hear him. Slowly the knight looked down at the broken body in his arms and nodded. “You are right, though. She will need a new body. I’ve seen her create them before in Goswin. They can bury this.” His voice was faint and the words stilted as he carefully lowered Jala’s remains to the ground. He stood slowly and unsteadily and nodded down at Neph. “You are right. Legacy does need me, and I need him. He will have faith.” With those final words Valor left the tent. Neph watched him go in silence and wondered if there was anything left to the man’s sanity at all. Shaking his head slowly he gathered Jala’s remains in the cloak and stood. They would want to give her a hero’s burial, and the sooner that was done the sooner he could leave Arovan. He would stay long enough for the ceremony and to gather his wounded, but no longer. Without Jala everything would be falling apart again very soon and he needed to reclaim his homeland before it did. The Rivasans still held Delvay, and it would take all of his remaining strength to win it back.

  Chapter 2

  Arovan

  Their horses began growing restless within a mile of the battlefield. By the time they actually reached the edge of the camp most of their party was using all of their focus to keep their animals from bolting, aside from Zoelyn. Her large bay mare was walking with interest, but not fear. Of course, this was nothing to her horse. At one time the mare had been a cavalry horse, before the Blights had come. The mare had been the sole survivor of a failed attack on the creatures, and it was only through patient nursing that the horse had survived at all. The mare had seen battlegrounds before, and the smell of blood was nothing to her. Zoelyn had not, and the smell nearly made her gag.

  “The battle ended barely a day ago. They will still be removing the dead, so brace yourselves, girls,” Dominic warned from the head of the column. His voice was gentle as it always was. Her guardian was as steady as her horse when it came to such matters. While Dominic himself refused to participate in any fighting, he was always the one they called to clean up afterwards. It was said he was the best healer outside the city of Sanctuary, and from the looks of the camp he was sorely needed here. “This is what comes of violence,” Dominic added as they passed by a pile of bodies wearing the red and yellow of Rivasa.

  Zoelyn could hear the other girls gagging behind her and what sounded like one of them actually vomiting, but she didn’t look back. The other girls from the village hated her, and if they had noticed her attention it would have infuriated them. It was only through Dominic’s protection that she was tolerated at all. “Violence begets violence.” Zoelyn whispered the words at the same time Dominic spoke them to the rest of their small group. The words were a mantra to him and had become one to her long ago. Her eyes scanned the blackened landscape and she had to agree with his logic. She had never before seen a battlefield, but she had seen plenty of injuries during her time living in Dominic’s house, and from what she could tell they never solved anything.

  “Girls, I want you to gather quickly all of the soiled bandages you can find and take them to the river to wash. We can boil them when you return, but most of the filth will need to be removed before that,” he ordered and then paused as his dark eyes scanned the numerous tents that had been set up to house the wounded. “From the looks of things, my magic won’t stretch far enough here. Some will have to be patched up the old fashioned way until I have time to get to them with magic,” Dominic explained with a sigh as he pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted. He was a tall man, with the frame of a fighter. Thick muscles knotted his arms and shoulders, but he carried no weapons. The lack of weapons, combined with his complete lack of armor, made him stand out in the camp almost as much as the dress-clad girls that swiftly moved to do his bidding. Dominic turned to watch them leave before looking back at Zoelyn. Brushing his hand lightly through his short tangled brown hair, he smiled faintly. “I think we are going to be here a while, Zoey. Why don’t you take our horses down for water and get them settled. I’ll see if I can find someone else to care for the rest of them.”

  Zoelyn nodded and dismounted silently. Her heavy boots thudded loudly in the dirt and a few passersby paused to give her curious glances. Compared with the rest of her group, she supposed she did make an odd sight. The rest wore light cotton or wool in bright colors and she was clad from head to toe in heavy dark leather. Not even her face showed through the hood of her long coat. It wasn’t by choice, though, and on days as humid as today she wished she could shed it all. That simply wasn’t possible, though, and she knew it. Carefully, she took the reins from Dominic and gathered the horses as he turned toward the tents.

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bsp; Dominic paused mid-step and looked back at her with a thoughtful expression. “Zoey, take a bucket with you if you would. I doubt any of the girls I sent had enough sense to realize I will need hot water in large supply to boil the bandages. They are likely pondering why exactly I’m going to boil bandages in the first place.” He sighed again and shook his head, rolling his eyes.

  Zoelyn nodded with a faint smile and moved quietly to the pack horse, taking care not to touch the animal directly. She wore her gloves, but it was a habit that she had developed before Dominic had made the gloves for her. She never touched anything living, directly. Draping the reins of both horses over one of her arms she moved closer to the beast and began to work at the rope holding the buckets securely. The thick leather of her gloves made working the knots loose a larger chore than it should have been, but she was used to such things.

  With a sigh, she grabbed the reins that were slipping from her arm and tucked them tighter against her. Before she could glance up again, the bucket fell to her feet with a solid thud and she looked up quickly to find the ropes that had secured it swinging loosely against the pack saddle. The horses snorted softly at the noise and her quick movement. Glancing around, Zoelyn frowned and reached down to pick up the bucket, taking care to move slower so the horses would settle once more. She knew she hadn’t worked at the knot enough to loosen it to the point of falling, but odd little things like that had been happening a lot lately.

  For the past few weeks, small tasks that were usually a difficulty for her had been done silently, and there was never anyone around to thank for the help. She hadn’t mentioned it to Dominic at all, and wondered now if she should have. She had a suspicion about what was helping her, and if she was right, her invisible friend was in a great deal of danger in their current surroundings.

  With another quick look around to make sure no one was watching her, Zoelyn smiled faintly. “Thank you,” she whispered. As always, there was no response to her words. With another faint sigh, she turned toward the river and scanned for the other girls. They were easy to spot in their brightly colored dresses and she carefully steered her own path upriver and away from them. Not only would her horse get cleaner water this way, she wouldn’t have to deal with their sideways glances and hushed whispers. They would, of course, still be whispering and glancing, but she wouldn’t be close enough to care.

  Zoelyn tossed the loose reins over the saddles as they reached the river edge and both animals moved forward quickly to slurp at the cold water. She smiled at them and moved a few feet away, sure that they wouldn’t stray far once they had their fill of water. The entire bank was covered in lush green grass. The battle hadn’t reached this side of the field and from where she stood everything was pristine, if you could ignore the smell of burning bodies and blood on the wind.

  Setting the bucket down in front of her, she lifted her hand and slowly began to unbuckle her glove. Normally she never removed the gloves during the day, but they were heavy leather and bore iron plates along the fingers and palm. If she got them wet while gathering the water her hands would be raw and chapped by nightfall, not to mention the iron rusting. Lifting the bucket once more, she moved downstream from the horses and walked carefully out on the rocks to the water’s edge. The iron plates on the bottom of her boots skittered against the stone and she held an arm out to her side to keep balance.

  “Here, let me help,” a man’s voice offered from behind her and she felt another hand on the handle of her bucket. Startled, Zoelyn staggered away, moving her hand quickly from the handle to avoid letting the man touch her flesh. Her boots slid once more on the rocks and she lost her balance, tumbling backward into the river. By instinct she caught herself to keep from falling flat on her back and almost instantly she could feel the surge of her curse pouring through her. The cat tails that lined the bank withered, turning from bright green to brown. Within a breath the river around her was filled with the small bodies of fish and frogs as they floated to the surface all life drained from them.

  Thrashing she stood quickly before her wretched body could do any more damage and found the man who had tried to help her, staring at her in shock. He was young, or so she guessed. It was difficult to guess the age of an Elder Blood such as he appeared to be. His dark hair was long and pulled back, and his amber brown eyes were wide. Screams began to rise from farther down the river as the first of the dead fish reached the other girls. Zoelyn turned at the noise and found all of them staring at her with utter revulsion on their pretty faces.

  “Undrae!” One of them screamed loudly and fished in the water with her hand. The girl rose quickly and hurled a rock at Zoelyn. Within a breath all of them were repeating the word and hurling rocks. Several bounced off her long coat and it wasn’t until one grazed the side of her face that Zoelyn actually gathered her wits enough to move back behind the cat tails and out of their sight.

  “Stop that at once!” the young man bellowed, stepping out into the river himself to stare hard at the girls. By their reactions, Zoelyn guessed the other girls hadn’t known he was at the river either.

  “I’m sorry,” Zoelyn whispered as she quickly pulled her glove back on and retrieved her empty bucket from where the young man had dropped it. She stole another glance at him while his attention was locked on her tormentors and noted the colors of his uniform: purple, silver, and white. They were unfamiliar to her, which was why he was still defending her, despite what he had seen. Had he been from Arovan or Glis, she would have known the colors of his uniform, and he would have known the word Undrae. No one from either nation would help anyone bearing that title. In the Glis tongue, the word meant unclean or unnatural. Most often, however, it was simply another way of saying monster. Moving swiftly, she dunked her bucket in the river and gathered the reins of the horses. It no longer mattered if the leather of her gloves or boots got wet. She was soaked up to her chest from the fall.

  “Wait!” the man called behind her as he realized she was already fleeing the area. “Please. I won’t let them throw anymore at you. Just wait a moment. Who are you?” He was moving back toward the shore, but the rocks were slowing his progress enough to keep most of his attention on his footing.

  Shaking her head quickly, Zoelyn glanced back at him and then to the girls. “Thank you,” she repeated a bit louder, but ignored his question completely as she quickly continued her way up the hill. She didn’t want anyone in the camp to know her name, especially after what had just happened. With any luck at all, the man’s only description of her would be her coat, and she could hide that with a cloak easily enough.

  Water was still dripping from her long coat as she crossed to the tent to set down the bucket, but thankfully Dominic was too occupied to notice. “The water is by the entrance, Dominic I’m going to settle the horses somewhere,” Zoelyn called softly inside and he nodded absently in response. Turning quickly, she led the horses off toward the picket lines near the trees and farther from the bustle of the camp. She could only hope that everyone had too many other things to attend to than bother listening to the gossip the girls would spread. If they didn’t, however, she would be out of sight long enough that perhaps no one would realize it was her they were speaking of.

  Zoelyn’s muscles relaxed and her breathing slowed as she stepped into the shelter of the trees. The spot she had chosen was far enough away from the other horses that no one else would likely bother wandering over, and yet close enough for the animals to be safe. Leaning heavily on her mare’s saddle, she watched the camp long enough to spot the man from the river passing through the crowded tents, his eyes searching. She shook her head slowly and let herself relax further. He was going farther into the encampment and farther away from her. There was nothing to worry about for now.

  Standing straight once more, she unbridled both horses and tethered their ropes to the trees, giving them enough slack to reach the tall grass, but not enough to become tangled. With practiced ease she removed the saddles and carried them far enoug
h away from the pickets that the animals wouldn’t step on them. Her eyes lingered on the horses’ sweat soaked sides and her gaze wandered up to their pack horse. Really she should brush them both, but the brushes were in the packs on the horse in the camp she was avoiding.

  “I promise you both an extra-long grooming tomorrow,” Zoelyn said, her voice barely loud enough to carry to the horses. Her mare looked over at her at the sound of her voice, but seemed more intent on chewing on the grass in her mouth than concern about grooming. With a swish of her long black tail, the horse returned to eating and Zoelyn smiled.

  She shrugged out of her sodden coat as she moved back toward the saddles and carefully hung it across one of the lower limbs. The branch swayed under the weight of the garment and she lingered, her hands up and ready to catch it in case the limb gave. After a long moment she nodded faintly and dropped down to sit on the edge of the saddle blankets. Glancing up, she watched the camp for another long moment before peeling off the wet gloves. The skin of her fingers was already pruning from the wet leather and she knew if the gloves didn’t dry before Dominic needed her help, she was in for blisters and misery for several days.

  Leaning back against the saddle, Zoelyn lifted her hand to her face and carefully prodded at the sore spot where the rock had hit just above her cheekbone. It was swollen and likely bruised, but didn’t seem to be too bad. Still it would look as though she had been in a tavern brawl for a few days at least. There was nothing to be done for it, though, even if Dominic had extra energy to spare on her, Healing magics didn’t work on her at all. Her body seemed ravenous for magic as much as it was for life. Every spell or item of magic she touched drained into her with no effect other than the change in her hair.

  She twisted a lock of hair around her finger at that thought and gazed down at the gold and green coloring. Typically, when her curse hadn’t drained anything, her hair was white, almost crystalline in appearance, as were her eyes. It changed, however, whenever she absorbed anything. The green was for the plants that had withered and the gold represented the life she had stolen from the innocent creatures that had been unfortunate enough to be near her.