The Elder Blood Chronicles – Book Three(47)

“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.”

“I suppose, given the fact that you are here to help that I should forgive you,” Jala sighed, trying not to think of how she had pleaded with Victory and Havoc to take her with them. If not for Vaze’s plan they most likely would have.

“Jala, what did you fear most of all,” Vaze prodded gently.

“Losing Finn,” Valor cut in, his voice thick with anger.

Jala’s gaze snapped up to Vaze and her mouth fell open slightly. “Why? Are you saying I was feeding too much to Lutheron so someone eliminated my fear?” she asked.

“Jala what do you fear most now?” Vaze asked, ignoring her question.

“Failing at this quest,” Jala answered quietly, unsure where he was leading her.

“Lutheron didn’t want me to retrieve you from here. He was adamant about it. This might confuse you because when you bring Finn back you will fear losing him again, right?” Vaze asked.

“I know I will. If I lose him again there is no way I could ever get him back. Death will not be robbed twice,” Jala said, her voice filled with misery. “I am so bloody sick of manipulations. I would like to think there is at least one aspect of my life that isn’t a plot of some kind.” Rubbing her face, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to hear what else Vaze had to say.

“Do you know what happens when you are forced to confront your fears too often?” Vaze asked.