From the Ashes (The Elder Blood Chronicles, #3)
by Melissa Myers
Prologue
Stars lit the sky with a brilliance that seemed blinding after countless days in the Darklands. Jala paused on the cobbled street and stared up at the night sky as she tried to remember why she was no longer in the Darklands, or where Valor was, for that matter. Her mind was fogged and sluggish. The last she could remember was exhausted riding toward something they didn’t know how to reach. Her gaze moved from the stars to the red moon rising in the sky. Her father had called that a blood moon. By hearth tales, it meant someone would die.
“Will it be you or her?”
The sound of the man’s voice brought her attention swiftly from the heavens to the strange city around her. It had seemed deserted before. He stood leaning in the doorway of one of the buildings, his face mostly obscured by shadows. The armor he wore was mismatched – a chain shirt, plate mail pauldrons, leather gauntlets. It was as if he had scavenged a battlefield to dress. He stepped out into the street as she studied him, allowing the dim light to bathe him. Two swords hung crossed on his back and she felt a memory stir at the sight before the fog of her mind thickened. Confusion welled in her again and she tried to force her mind to work. Should she know him? He acted as though he knew her.
“It was called Shaedrin when it still stood. Nothing but rubble and ruin now,” he said as he turned, his gaze traveling over the shadowed city.
Jala frowned and looked at the buildings around her. They were hardly what she considered rubble.
“This is how it looked when it stood, Jala. This is a waking dream. I apologize for your confusion. I’m afraid that’s my doing. I can’t let your mind work too quickly, you see. If you grow alarmed, you wake up. I can’t reach you in the sunlit lands. The others guard you too closely and my power isn’t what it once was. There are things we must speak of though.” His voice held a note of sadness and he let out a long breath.
“They guard me?” Jala asked, wondering who exactly he was speaking of. Her friends?
He looked back at her and a smile warmed his youthful face. “Guard implies they protect you doesn’t it? I’ve chosen the wrong word. Let’s say they shelter you then. I didn’t even know a child of my blood had been born. It wasn’t until very recently that I realized you existed. They have hidden you from me since your first breath. Had I known…” His voice trailed off and he sighed wistfully. “Well, spilled milk now I suppose, and no use crying over it. Let us see what we can salvage from what they have done.”
“You are Merrodin?” Jala asked dumbly and started to step back.
He laughed and shook his head quickly. “No, no. I’m not Merrodin, Jala. I’m related from your mother’s side. Your Grandfather, I suppose the mortals would call it. To me it is simply a blood tie. You are my line.”
“I thought my family was all dead.” She spoke slowly, still watching him closely. “What is your name?” She wasn’t sure exactly why she asked. Her mother had never spoken of any of her family, so even if he was speaking the truth she wouldn’t recognize it.
“True name? Not even I can remember that far back. I’ve traveled by a variety of names through the years. It depends on what land I’m in for what name I call myself. When they speak of me, however, they all use the same name, War.” He grinned again and winked at her shocked expression. “You knew the gold blood came from your mother’s line. So why do you look so shocked.” He motioned ahead with one hand and raised an eyebrow at her. “Would you like to see one of the most beautiful cities ever built? The Veyetta spared no expense when they built Shaedrin. The murals and statues here are exceptional. I almost felt bad when it was destroyed. Almost.”
Jala nodded and fell into step beside him. Her eyes roamed over the architecture as they walked. Each building was carved from black or deep grey stone with beautiful scroll work lining the doors and windows. “What did you wish to speak with me about?” she asked when the silence stretched between them.
“Partly of your journey in the Darklands and what you hope to accomplish there, and partly of those you believe allies and how they have f*cked you,” War replied, his voice calm.
“I’m in the Darklands to retrieve Finn’s spirit. That is all I wish to accomplish. As to the other, I’m not sure which allies you are speaking of.” Her mind had cleared a bit. Despite that, however, his words were still confusing.
“Let’s discuss the first and then move on to the second,” War suggested, and motioned to the side toward a statue. “High Lady Veyetta. She was a remarkable woman. Beautiful, graceful, deadly, and completely and utterly insane.”
Jala gazed at the statue. Whoever had crafted the piece had been a true master. Lady Veyetta stood poised on a pillar overlooking her city, her posture looking both regal and elegant. The stone had been cut so cunningly that it seemed a strong wind would stir her long hair. “It’s beautiful,” she agreed, glancing back at him. He was watching her closely and the light shining off his dark eyes revealed their true color of deep purple.
“She is a lesson for you. That’s the reason I chose this place for our meeting. She wasn’t born mad. It wasn’t a genetic fault in her line, Jala. Lady Veyetta’s madness came from too much pain and too much power. She held every loss and every grievance close to her heart and over the years they took their toll. At the end, she was seeing enemies everywhere and punishing before crimes were committed. It was one of her own line that finished her finally. Ironically, I believe you travel with his son now.”