From the Ashes (The Elder Blood Chronicles, #3)(24)

“We have to skirt around the Forgotten. That will take us at least two weeks. Then we will be in Trystan’s domain, which will require caution if you two want to avoid a fight. So figure another week or two there depending on how actively they are searching for you. That will put us on the outskirts of the city which is guarded by Davrian who we will most likely have to fight. I don’t see any way of getting around that particular bastard,” Fiona explained and then shrugged. “Pray he doesn’t injure you too badly though, because at that point there are no holes to crawl into for healing.”

“What is the Forgotten?” Jala asked. None of the names Fiona mentioned meant anything to her, so starting at the head of the list for questions seemed the best option available.

“The Forgotten dead, not even Death can remember who they were. Over the course of centuries everyone has forgotten who they were, including themselves. They are bitter and vicious. Even the demons avoid the Forgotten,” Fiona explained.

“The Trystan you mentioned is Trystan Veyetta?” Valor asked quietly as he at last finished with her ankle and leaned back once more.

“Yes, you are Hai’dia aren’t you? So that would make him, what, a cousin of yours?” Fiona asked. She glanced up briefly at Valor as she spoke but quickly returned to rummaging.

“Uncle,” Valor corrected and looked to Jala. “He was a Shadow mage. We don’t want to fight him,” he warned.

“What about Davrian?” Jala asked, looking between the two of them.

“DavrianDelvayon I’m guessing. I don’t know many others with that first name.” Valor offered glancing at Fiona to see if he was correct.

“Someone trained you well Arovan. DavrianDelvayon, a renowned Spellblade as well as an accomplished war leader. Father of RenDelvayon, the current ruler of Delvay. He fell against Nerath the red, consort of Queen Wilamere of Nerathane,” Fiona said, her voice taking on a scholarly note as she recited the history.

“So, expect something like Neph from him?” Jala asked Valor who shook his head with a frown.

“Neph is more spell than blade. A true Delvay Spellblade uses magic to enhance his sword work rather than just magecraft. Davrian will use his magic to make him faster or stronger as well as protecting himself from magic, but he likely won’t be hurling bolts of fire at us.” Valor explained.

“Sounds easier than facing Neph,” Jala said with a shrug.

Fiona laughed and looked up at her with a grin. “Easy for the mage to say. It’s the one carrying the sword that will suffer the brunt of Davrian. You ready for that fight Arovan?” she asked looking to Valor.

Valor let out a long sigh and glanced at his ribs. “Not at this very moment, but I will be,” he said, though there was a note of doubt in his voice.

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” Jala pressed gently.

“Davrian was undefeated when he lived. It took a very large red dragon to kill him finally, and the dragon nearly died from that battle, if the books are to be believed,” Valor explained, then shrugged. “But then, as far as the books explain, he never faced a Stormlord so we shall see.”


“Stormlord?” Fiona asked with another faint chuckle. “I only see two elements branded on your armor. That doesn’t exactly qualify you as a Stormlord now does it? Gusty wind lord perhaps. Your father has command of all of the Elements as well as the Paraelements. You are a far cry from him yet, pup.”

“I am really going to hate traveling with you,” Valor sighed as he began digging through his packs with a disgusted expression.

“Going to hate it even more when Davrian makes you a permanent resident of the Darklands and I am your constant companion,” Fiona chimed in bitter amusement.

Valor glanced up long enough to glare at her and went back to digging through the bags.

“Death can’t keep Finn and you can’t have Valor,” Jala cut in, causing them both to turn and look at her. She raised an eyebrow at them daring either to object.

“Well said, I agree she can’t have me,” Valor mumbled and began digging through their bag once again, at last pulling free a small silver container and lifting it out with a triumphant smile. Pulling the lid free he carefully removed a cigar and grinned faintly at Jala. “Most people complain about their smell. Here I think it can only be an improvement.”

“I’ve never seen you smoke those before, but by all means,” Jala agreed with a wave of her hand. Shaking her head she leaned back against the cave wall once more trying not to think of what might be coating the stones behind her.

“I bought them for my brother, actually. I had planned to give them to him before he left the city, but I didn’t have a chance to see him before he left. So I’ve been carrying them around,” Valor explained and then smiled sadly as he tapped one on his hand and glanced toward her again. “It’s somewhat of a tradition my father started. After every victory you smoke one of these. Normally, Honor and I tease each other with it and give half-smoked cigars. He was going against the Blights when he left, though, so I bought him a dozen.” He fell silent again and then lit the cigar taking a long drag from it.

“I’m sure he has already had more than one victory so you can save the ashes for him and give them to him on your return and thank him for winning. The smoke does smell much better than this cave,” Jala offered as she stretched her leg out before her. It was difficult to find a comfortable position to rest the ankle, without propping her foot on the pile of bones before her. She could feel the tingling of the healing though. Despite how foul smelling was the tonic Fiona had found, it did seem effective. She looked up to find Fiona still silently watching her with an enigmatic expression on her face. “What?” she asked after a long moment of the woman’s unflinching stare.