The Elder Blood Chronicles – Book Three(58)

Demons swarmed the two Hai’dia who fought back to back, their glass swords flashing with incredible speed as they forced Death’s minions back from them. She could see Valor trying to glance back toward her, his expression frantic. The explosion of the spell must have left him thinking her dead. She wanted to reassure him but when she tried to speak nothing but a sob came from her mouth.

The throbbing in her hand and side increased and she staggered to lean heavily against the wall. Her eyes searched the room frantically for Vaze and spotted the Fionaveir fighting several demons that looked quite intent on getting through the door he blocked.

Her good hand fumbled in the pocket of her cloak until she found the spirit stone. Pressing her fingers tight around it she focused and let out another sob as she felt Finn’s spirit stir within. Gasping, she looked around the room once more, her eyes lingering on Death. The Divine had staggered back against the far wall and was hunched over like an animal, her hands clutching her ruined face. Jala took several sharp breaths and searched inside herself. She had just enough magic for another spell. With trembling fingers, Jala released the spirit stone back into her pocket and cast her last spell. They would have to depend on Vaze to get them out of here. She was in no condition to cast a spell as complicated as a gate spell right now anyway.

“Valor, I need you,” she gasped as the magic released. Darkness swam across her vision and she felt herself sliding down the wall, her knees turning to jelly beneath her. Strong arms pulled her back to her feet. Jala had no idea if he had truly broken from the fighting that quickly or if she had fainted. Her mind refused to focus on anything but her body’s complaints. “Vaze get us out,” Jala gasped, praying the Fionaveir could hear her.

“Jala,” Valor spoke frantically. His voice wavered in her ears and his face blurred before her eyes. “Jala, can you hear me?” he asked the words sounding distant.

Jala nodded her head forward as the shadows around them thickened. The sounds of the throne room faded as the world faded to pure blackness and then bright white light as the forests of Goswin rose abruptly around her.

“Does she live?” a woman’s voice asked distantly. Anthe, a small voice in the back of Jala’s mind informed her.

“She lives and it’s no thanks to you. What were you thinking, sending her into the Darklands?” Vaze demanded, his voice sounding furious.

“I was thinking if I don’t help her she will attempt it herself and likely die in the process. I dropped her at the fringe of the Darklands, Vaze. I gave her plenty of time to reconsider her choice.” The woman spoke again her voice low and calm.

It’s Anthe speaking, the voice informed her once more, louder. Marrow brushed roughly against her leg and she looked down to meet his yellow eyes. Did you suffer a head wound or something? he demanded, his voice rising in her mind.

Every other wound but that, I think, Jala replied, the effort of forming the words seeming nearly impossible. “Finn, need go Merro,” she gasped, her words sounding thick and clumsy even to her ears.

“Jala, you are in no condition to raise him now,” Valor replied sternly, then turned to scan the grove jostling her in his arms as he did. Jala fought back another wave of nausea and pain, inhaling deeply. “Where is Chastity? Did you leave her there, Vaze?” Valor demanded his voice rising.

“I would have brought her had I seen any sign of her. She was gone, Valor. I looked,” Vaze replied, his voice defensive.

“Ash’s magic. Finn, I need Finn,” Jala gasped again, hoping they would hear her. Each word was a chore and she hated him for forcing her to speak so loudly. “Death is just weakened. Needs done before she has strength again,” she managed and clutched her throbbing hand closer to her chest. The wound in her stomach burned like fire, but she didn’t allow herself to look down at it. That would draw attention to how severe her wounds were. Freeing herself from Valor, she stood wavering beside him and drew the hood of her borrowed cloak over her head. She could feel the blood running down her collar bone from the claw marks on her neck, but she only needed a little longer. Just enough time to see Finn raised and then she would submit to any healer they found.

“You need a healer, Jala,” Valor said gently as if she needed the obvious pointed out to her. Carefully, he took her arm once more and tried to steady her on her feet. White fire lanced through her as his arm brushed the stomach wound and she had to clench her teeth to keep from gasping.

“Finn first,” Jala insisted stubbornly. Her last magic hadn’t been directed at Death. She had cast the spell for a different purpose and she knew she had limited time before Death was at full strength again. Pushing feebly away from Valor, she glared at Vaze. They were running out of time to act. Time traveled so much faster in the Darklands that Death could already be recovered. “I don’t have much magic left but I will take myself if you won’t help me,” she mumbled, her words barely audible.