From the Ashes (The Elder Blood Chronicles, #3)(95)

Jala had barely managed to finish the edge of the forest before she was forced to drain power from her staff. At this rate she would be siphoning from not only Valor, but Sovann and Madren as well. Grinding her teeth in frustration she refocused her magic and searched frantically for a way to use it more efficiently.

“Is she all right?” Sovann asked from behind her and his voice seemed a hundred miles away.

“She is fine. Jala knows what she is doing,” Valor assured him calmly and Jala nearly laughed at his words.

Ahh. But I wish I had your faith in me, Jala mused silently as she began her repairs once more. She could work with less raw power she discovered, but it took twice as long to do. It was that or siphon though, so she was in for a very long day. Focusing her mind once more she pushed herself further into the trance and let the world around her fade away. She had Marrow and Valor beside her and Madren and Sovann barely ten feet away. There was no need for her to pay attention to her surroundings. They would keep her safe and she knew it. Her world narrowed to the strands of magic surrounding her and she felt the movements of her spells becoming rhythmic, almost hypnotic in their patterns.





“Jala,” Valor’s voice was barely a whisper in her mind and Jala stubbornly pushed it away.

She could see the dead now. Their blurred forms were barely visible against the snow shrouded landscape, but she could see them. The dead of Goswin lined the hills surrounding her in tight unmoving ranks held firmly by her magic. There were so many of them that she wanted to sob in frustration. Her staff was drained of power, as were the mana gems that she had brought, and she hadn’t even reached the difficult part of her task.

Repairing the strands should have been simple. She had counted on most of her reserves going to raising the dead. What she hadn’t counted on, however, was the sheer magnitude of the damage to Goswin. She had thought she would be removing a spell that blanketed everything rather than removing strands of shattered magic from everything. A single spell would have been so much simpler. A few strands pulled away and the remaining threads would have simply faded.

“Jala,” Valor hissed again his voice louder and more demanding.

“Has the lady gone Mage blind?” The second voice broke her from her focus and she nearly lost her grasp on the spirits surrounding her. Jala knew that voice, and Zachary Dark was the last person she had expected to hear today.

Slowly her eyes came open and she winced at the lance of pain that shot through her skull. The hours of focus had taken their toll on her, and she would be suffering for days for her efforts. “The lady is not Mage blind, whatever that is,” Jala said in a hoarse whisper. She felt as though she had been awake for days, though judging by the daylight remaining it had simply been the afternoon. Dusk was settling over the land now, and it would be night soon.

Zachary Dark stood looming a dozen feet from her. The black armor he wore stood out against the snow like a scar. His ragged black cloak was pulled up over his head to guard from the chill wind but she could still see the deathly pale face beneath. His cold blue eyes were locked on her and his face utterly devoid of emotion as he watched her. “It is what happens when a Mage pushes themselves beyond their capabilities. You can become lost in the magic, or shatter yourself. You, however are apparently stronger than I gave you credit for.” His voice was deep and monotone. Even the dead in the Darklands held more warmth in their voices.

“It seems to be a popular trend to underestimate me,” Jala replied softly, her voice sounding almost foreign to her ears. It had a serene quality about it that she couldn’t remember ever possessing before. Tilting her head slightly, she looked up to meet Zachary’s cold stare. “May I enquire as to what you are doing here, Lord Dark?” she asked politely.

“I told you, that should you manage to break the curse on Goswin, I would help you raise the dead. I keep my word,” Zachary answered bluntly.

Relief surged through her though she did her best from letting it show on her face. “I had thought you meant the dead in Merro. I didn’t realize you meant both lands,” Jala admitted cautiously.

“I had thought you only meant to raise the dead in Merro. After watching you today though I have seen what you intend. Do you wish help here Lady Merrodin or do you believe you can finish this task alone?” The expression on his face was enough to tell her that he knew the truth. Somehow Zachary could see how drained she already was though she didn’t think she had let her weakness show.

“I would welcome the help,” Jala said quietly and hoped her gratitude wasn’t too obvious. It wouldn’t do to be too humble to one of the lords of Oblivion. They were a lot like Delvay in their regards to strength, and would write you off quickly if you showed weakness.

Zachary nodded slowly and turned to look toward the waiting spirits. “I used to be quite the healer before the fall of Veir. I trained with Rose while I was at the Academy. They called me a Paladin then. Imagine that, me a holy knight,” he said softly and his voice held the faintest hint of sadness.

“You were a legend in Sanctuary. It took me years before they stopped comparing me to you. I’m not sure if I finally proved my worth or if they simply realized I would never measure up,” Valor said, his voice filled with respect.

Zachary turned his head to regard Valor and the edges of his mouth turned up in what might have been a smile. “We are worlds apart, Arovan, then and now. It wasn’t right to even compare us. You are a Stormlord. I was simply a knight with a knack for healing.” Pulling his cloak back he removed a flask from its pocket and handed it to Jala before turning back to face the waiting spirits. “Drink. By the time you finish that flask the Witches of Tolanteer should be here.”