From the Ashes (The Elder Blood Chronicles, #3)(57)

“They say it is a good sign that you still live,” Wisp’s voice was low and filled with misery. “I wish you would just open your eyes though. I am so terrified for you. Marrow is wasting away just as you are and I feel like I am watching you both die. I feel so helpless right now, Jala. Please tell me what to do.”

“Careful Wisp, don’t get too close to her. She is fever mad right now and she can siphon. Marrow is being drained, that’s why he looks like that. She spent half of the night muttering about spiders and she has been tossing and turning all morning. When the fever passes and her mind clears, she will be safe to approach again,” Sovann warned softly.

Ignore them. Focus. I am fine. It takes more than you to kill a Bendazzi, Marrow growled as her attention moved from the threads of dark magic to the words being spoken above her.

Jala nodded inwardly to the Bendazzi and turned back to the threads once more. She had managed to sort them finally and knew each spell for what it was. There wasn’t enough strength to break them all though, and after Sovann’s words she feared drawing more power from Marrow. Her mind brushed against the magic as she tested its strength once more and she felt the faintest touch of another mind. Cautiously she pressed farther and slowly realized what she was sensing, Death herself. Jala froze. Her touch on the threads was as still as stone. If Death sensed her presence, she gave no indication. The Divine’s mind seemed fully focused on her magics and the weaving of more strands.

Jala pushed her awareness slowly along the threads of magic, her mind constantly watching Death’s progress for any sign that the Divine had noticed her. The weave of magic ended at Death herself and Jala could see the countless threads that covered the Divine clearly. Not all of them led back to her however, and she began to slowly trace the other strands trying to sense their purpose. A smile began to form in her mind as she recognized protection spells and then her mind brushed a thread that was so painful she almost lost all focus. She could feel Finn through that strand. Lightly she brushed against the magic once more and felt the iron control Death kept upon him. It was no wonder Finn’s willpower had not been enough. The Divine was directing so much focus to controlling him that Jala was amazed she had magic left to spare for anything else. Forcing herself to continue, Jala brushed against strand after strand of magic, some leading to people, others to the Demons of the Darklands. The sheer amount of power the Divine held was staggering. Jala had thought she was powerful until now. If she could only redirect some of her strength to here she could severe these threads and force Death’s attention back from her. That would mean risking her child, though, and he wasn’t yet strong enough.

“What are you doing back here? There is nothing more that you can do and you are swaying on your feet.” Neph’s voice echoed as if he stood a thousand miles away, but she heard each word clearly.

“Has she improved?” Valor’s voice was slurred and the words clumsy, but hope surged in her chest at the sound of it. Valor would help her and she knew it.

“You are drunk, Valor, and I won’t have you hovering over her. In your state you are likely to fall on her,” Neph growled in response.

Cautiously, Jala edged back up the strands of magic toward the voices. “Snarly, grumbly, gruff, Neph. Shh,” she mumbled her divided focus made spoken words nearly impossible.

“Jala!” Wisp gasped and she felt the Fae pull back with her damned cold cloth. “She spoke did you hear her? That wasn’t fever ramblings. She clearly told Neph to shut up,” Wisp called to the others in the room.

“Jala, can you hear us?” Sovann asked softly but Jala ignored him. As much as she wanted to reassure her friends she couldn’t spare the strength for more words than she absolutely had to speak.

“Valor, I need help. All of me goes to him and there is nothing left to stop the damned weaving,” Jala gasped and struggled weakly to pull her hand from under the mountain of blankets that covered her.

“Valor, you idiot she is fever mad. She could drain you dry and kill you,” Neph snapped.

“She asked me for help and I won’t refuse her,” Valor mumbled his voice thick and hard to understand.

“Would you say the same sober? This might be your death, Valor,” Sovann spoke gently.

“Twice as loudly and without the slur,” Valor replied as he freed her hand from the tangle of blankets and wrapped his around it in a firm grip. “Take whatever you need, Jala. Squish whatever spiders you keep muttering about,” he urged her. The smell of alcohol wafted from him so strongly that her stomach roiled, but the strength and warmth of his hand was a lifeline that she couldn’t ignore.

“Valor, you are an idiot. You aren’t even a mage. Your reserves are too low for this even when she is thinking clearly,” Neph protested and she felt Valor jerk slightly and knew the Delvay was trying to pull him away.

Valor’s hand tightened further, though not hard enough to bring pain. “If I die, so be it. I’ll call it a good death if she lives. Her life is far more valuable than mine, so back off Neph. There is an entire country out there waiting for her. I have a bottle waiting for me.”

“And three hundred bloody knights that I don’t want to command if you die. Not to mention your niece,” Neph snapped.

“Bridgette is better fit for the job anyway and Devony would be better for not learning from me,” Valor replied with a faint chuckle and leaned closer to Jala, his whiskey-laced breath cool on her cheek. “Hurry up, Jala, before Neph’s bitching does me in and the opportunity is wasted.”