From the Ashes (The Elder Blood Chronicles, #3)(23)

“You will find most inhabitants of the Darklands make me seem pleasant,” Fiona said with a bitter smile on her pale blue lips. Sitting down cross-legged she regarded them both once again and let out a long sigh. “Why are you two here? You are both too young for this,” she said in a quieter voice that was almost pleasant sounding.

“Death has my husband’s soul and won’t release it. I’ve come to retrieve it.” Jala said cautiously. She fully expected Fiona to lash out with another comment but the woman simply sat there staring off into space. “We will succeed in this,” Jala added after a long moment of silence.

Fiona’s eyes seemed to focus again and she swept her gaze across the countless bodies that littered the floor behind her. “They all say that, every last one that comes here. But then I suppose you two did survive against Nasurai, so that says something for you at least. Still, you would be better off going back home now while you still can. Nasurai was the weakest of her guardians.”

“I won’t leave without Finn,” Jala said firmly, her eyes locking onto Fiona’s.

“Then you may not ever leave,” Fiona said softly and turned to regard Valor. “What about you, Arovan, will you die here too?” Fiona asked.

Valor looked up from his broken ribs and raised an eyebrow at her. “With what I have learned of the Darklands and its citizens I will do everything in my power never to die. The knowledge that I could spend eternity with your sunshine sweet personality is more motivation than I ever needed. Not that I intended to die before now, mind you. Jala and I will succeed and return home with Finn. Of that there is no question.”

Fiona smiled and the expression seemed genuine. “Well then, I suppose there is a slim ray of hope. I promise you both this, though, if I help you and you fail, I will haunt you both mercilessly.”

Valor gave a mock shudder and handed the bottle to Jala. “It seems to be helping the ribs and I haven’t fallen over in convulsions yet, so I think it might actually be a healing tonic.”

Jala gave a slight nod and accepted the bottle, her eyes still fixed on Fiona. “We need to go soon, Fiona. I’m running out of time. I’m not entirely sure how long we have been in here but I only have three moons to find Finn before I have to return to the sunlit lands. I made a blood oath swearing I would be back by that time. I can’t risk breaking my word on it,” she explained, trying to convey her needs as clearly as she could.

Fiona nodded slightly and tilted her head to one side still watching Jala. “Do you think you could win against her now in the condition you are in?” she asked.

“With Valor’s help, yes,” Jala answered firmly, though she did have doubts on her own capabilities at this point. Having to be carried up to the cave had done nothing for her confidence.

“I don’t. I have very strong doubts you can win against her in perfect condition but we shall see. I’ll be nice though and put your fears to rest. Time travels differently in the Darklands. It has to, you see, or she would never be able to tend to the dead properly. There are five days to every one in the sunlit world. You two have been in the Darklands for thirty-one days so far. Not even a week has passed above. You have time. Well, as far as your blood oath goes. As to your pregnancy, I couldn’t say. This would certainly not be the place I would want to bear a child.”

Jala blanched at the thought and looked up sharply as Valor took the bottle from her hands. Silently he pulled what remained of her boot from her foot and began to apply the tonic himself. “Valor, I can do that,” she objected but he ignored her completely. With a heavy sigh she rolled her eyes and looked back to Fiona who was watching her.

“You are a Dasharan,” Fiona said with a faint smile. “Once upon a time so was I. That didn’t end well at all,” she added in a voice that was near whisper.

“I don’t know what that is or what even brought it up. Unless it means ignored by those that you travel with,” Jala began, but paused as she noticed Valor had ceased moving and was eyeing Fiona with an unreadable expression. It was obvious he knew what the word meant.

“You will learn eventually. I hope it ends better for you than it did for me,” Fiona said faintly and turned her attention away from them as she began to dig through the pile of dead once more, her eyes searching for anything that might be of use.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Valor murmured and returned to smothering her ankle in the foul smelling liquid.

“Are you sure? Because neither of you seem inclined to tell me what it is. If it was something flattering, surely there wouldn’t be hesitation,” Jala protested, quietly biting back a yelp as he straightened her foot.

“It has to be aligned to heal right. You don’t want to limp for the rest of your life. Hold still a moment. This is going to hurt like bloody hell,” Valor warned as he pulled gently on her foot with one hand and braced the bones of her leg with his other.

White fire shot through her leg and she closed her eyes, reeling. “Oh gods, I hate you right now. Once my foot heals, I’m going to kick you for that,” Jala whispered through short breaths.

“And when you don’t limp tomorrow, I hope that sentiment changes.” Valor replied calmly as he applied more of the tonic to the swollen, bruised flesh surrounding her foot.

“How far do we have to go before we reach the city?” Jala asked Fiona, her voice still quavering a bit but she was desperate for something to think about aside from the throbbing pain.