From the Ashes (The Elder Blood Chronicles, #3)(39)

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jala whispered, trying to force down the growing pain in her chest.

“How cruel would that be to a child? To tell you who I truly am, and then leave you behind, regardless. Had I told you then, you would have believed yourself unworthy and that simply wasn’t the case,” Vaze said with a shake of his head and crouched once more in front of his pile of assorted goods. “Sit, Jala. I’ll explain a few things as I cook. Listen closely because I will not repeat what I say and these words stay between us.”

Jala sank slowly to the blanket and stared at Vaze, her mind reeling. How different would her childhood have been had she known there was someone that actually cared about her. Father Belson had cared, of course, but as a priest cares for an orphan. It hadn’t been true love and she had known it. Then of course, there was no guarantee that Vaze actually cared more than what was required, either.

“I said listen, Jala. I can see your mind working. You are forming your own conclusions before I have time to explain. You might as well sit too, Valor, rather than lurking above me with that glare of disapproval on your face,” Vaze said as he motioned toward the blanket Jala sat on.

“Make it good or I may help Davrian in the fight against you,” Valor growled and sat slowly down beside Jala, his glare fixed on Vaze.

“Where to begin?” Vaze sighed and began making a small fire in front of him. “I was born in Veyetta when it still stood. I was three days old when Lutheron took me from the castle. The following morning the Stormlord descended on the city and killed everyone that showed loyalty to my line. Lutheron raised me in Fionahold. For years he was like a father to me. A strict one to be sure, but one that I respected.” He paused again and carefully unwrapped a haunch of meat and spitted it. “I began my training at age six. Wooden swords and then magic, and so it progressed. When I was twelve I began to have strange dreams.” He glanced up at Jala meaningfully and she nodded slowly. “At first they were vague and unsettling and I took them as nightmares and didn’t speak of them to anyone. No self-respecting twelve-year-old boy wants to admit to being afraid to sleep. As it turns out I didn’t need to say anything. After a week or so of sleeplessness, my lessons began to falter and Lutheron scolded me, saying nightmares were no excuse for clumsiness.” Pausing once more, he seasoned the meat and glanced up at Jala again. “I hadn’t breathed a word to anyone and magic is not allowed inside the Fionahold. I had to travel into Faydwer for my lessons on magic and yet Lutheron knew of my dreams. I let it go, simply believing he had broken rules. He is second in command, after all, so I figured it was allowed. As I grew, however, I noticed other instances with Lutheron and his odd magics and eventually I determined what he was.”

“What is he?” Jala broke in. She had thought he was simply an Immortal like the rest of them.

“The Divine of Fear,” Vaze answered with a faint smile. “He can read your fears all the way down to the darkest secrets you have. He can locate you through your fears as long as you walk in the sunlit world. He can cause fear and remove fear with the flick of a finger. There are perhaps three individuals that I know of that are completely fearless, everyone else is under Lutheron’s thumb.” Vaze looked to Valor then Jala and gave a bitter smile.

“I fail to see what this has to do with Jala. This sounds more like your life history,” Valor pointed out in a tone that showed he was not impressed.

“The youth have no patience,” Vaze sighed and rotated the meat once before leaning back away from the fire. “Once I had determined what Lutheron was, I acted with more caution but kept my knowledge to myself. As I grew older, I began exploring my fallen homeland for secrets of the Veyetta magic. Over the course of several years I mastered the shadows, which led me to all kinds of interesting secrets such as the other children of my blood. I had thought I was alone, with no one else in the world outside of the Fionaveir. More importantly, it led me to my father, War.” Vaze looked to Jala once again with a knowing look on his face.

Nodding slowly, Jala fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. “I’ve spoken with him once,” she admitted quietly.

“What did he ask of you?” Vaze prodded quietly.

“For War,” Jala replied.

Vaze nodded with a smile. “That’s what all of the Divines as well as the Aspects are like, Jala. That’s why I left you at the temple rather than bringing you home with me. It took me a while to convince Lutheron to leave you be, but eventually I did. The nightmares I had as a child, they weren’t random. They were induced. We are divine blooded, Jala. Our prayers are worth more than a thousand mortals. Each time you awaken from sleep in a cold sweat you are praying to him. Every time you pick a fight you are praying to War. Every time you kill, you whisper praise to Death and so on. I convinced him to let you be feared by thousands rather than know fear yourself. I convinced him you would rise as a Merrodin and all who thought your line dead would know fear. I put you in the wretched place you are right now because I was trying to help you. You see, I no longer knew fear at that point. I had the shadows and my own formidable skills by that time. I was no longer useful in that aspect to him, but you were.” Vaze trailed off and then looked to Valor and locked eyes with him. “So you see, Valor, I’m here to help because I have a very guilty conscience. I thought I was spinning a tale for Lutheron. I thought at best she would attend the Academy and marry well. I thought the only way she could find out who she truly was, required asking the Fionaveir. I never even considered Anthe. As Fiona said, I am an egomaniac and I thought I had the perfect plan. I never truly believed Merrodin would rise again.” Vaze sighed and rubbed his face then looked to Jala and nodded respectfully. “This is one of the few times I will say this and likely the only time you will ever hear it yourself from me. I was wrong and I am sorry.”