The Elder Blood Chronicles – Book Three(211)

“You are strong, Jala, but there is more than one mage at work here. I cannot even counter their spells of obscurity to get a glimpse of their true numbers,” Vaze said with a sigh and shook his head. “To use a transport now would be suicide for the mage as well as the ones being moved.”

“Then we press on the last five miles tonight. We have no choice if they are truly closing on us already.” Turning to Valor, Jala smiled. “Care to inform the refugees while I empty some of our supply wagons to clear room for the children?”

“We need the supplies, Jala,” Valor objected.

“I will gem them Valor, I won’t leave them behind. We need the people we are trying to save to survive and if we force march them the weaker ones will die,” Jala said with a final glance over her shoulder toward the south. Valor nodded his agreement and she watched him ride off before turning to look at Vaze. “How bad is it really?” she asked softly.

“If we can hold them until help arrives, Arovan might survive,” Vaze said softly.

“What help?” Jala asked softly. There had been so sign of any other nation rising to Arovan’s assistance and she had difficulty believing they would stir in the face of the newest threat.

“The help that I am praying so desperately for right now,” Vaze replied with a trace of irony in his voice.





Jala watched in mute horror as the ranks of their enemy filled the field beyond the valley they had chosen for their final ground. Tens of thousands of soldiers covered the ground as far as she could see. Her mouth dry, she glanced over at Vaze who stood beside her with a look of resolve on his face. She didn’t dare look back at her own people right now, not with the look of despair on her face. She could hear the murmurs through the ranks behind her. They were nervous enough without seeing the fear and utter lack of hope she knew she wore. There was no way her two thousand could hold against Rivasa. They had faced bad odds before, but nothing like this. Not even the chosen ground they stood in could spare them from death.

“Lady Merrodin!” A voice called from across the field amplified with magic. “I would speak with you, Lady Merrodin!” The voice rose again as a rider broke free of the ranks and stopped several yards ahead of his main force.

Pressing her own horse forward, Jala rode out to the mouth of the valley with Neph and Valor close beside her. The two Bendazzi ranged ahead of her horse and stopped, their bodies both crouched in threat. With a quick spell, Jala amplified her own voice and straightened her back. “Then speak!” she called her voice steady despite her growing fear.

“As you can see, Lady Merrodin, you have no hope of facing us. I find it rather amusing that you turned to make a stand at all, but then you are rumored to be bold. I’m going to offer you the chance to surrender before I slaughter your people, however,” the man called back his voice light and filled with mockery.

“Surrender and step aside so that you can slaughter the people of Arovan?” Jala asked, lacing her tone with disgust. The man was too far away for her to see his features clearly but she recognized the colors of house Rivasa. This was doubtless one of the High Lord’s sons that she addressed and if he was anything like the ones she had already met he had very little in the way of mercy.

“Let me show you what happens if you refuse my offer, Lady Merrodin.” The Rivasan raised a hand and Jala watched in silence as two poles were brought forward. Her throat tightened as she gazed at the bodies that hung suspended like grisly banners. Despite the distance she could clearly recognize the silver of Honor Hai’dia’s hair though his body was too badly burned to tell much else. The other she knew was Micah though not even his dark hair remained to identify him.

“You son of a bitch!” Valor snarled, his voice filled with grief and rage. Frantically, Jala grabbed his arm as he pressed his horse forward. It was clear his emotions had overruled his logic.

“Valor, no, please. He is trying to goad you, please don’t,” Jala pleaded, her arms still gripping him tightly as she turned back to face the Rivasan. The man had moved his horse aside and his attention was fully focused on the ragged figure his soldiers were pushing forward to stand between the two dead Arovan. Her finery was torn to shreds and her silver hair hung over her shoulders in tangles but Blue Bess still managed to stand on her own. Even from their distance, Jala could see the blood that covered the woman.

“Tell them they have no prayer. Tell them to surrender or they will die, herald,” the Rivasan said as he rode up behind Blue and prodded her roughly forward with his boot.