The Elder Blood Chronicles – Book Three(59)

“Calm yourself, I never said I wouldn’t take you. I simply had the audacity to try to speak reason to you,” Vaze sighed and the shadows rose around them once more. “We will have words about this later, Anthe,” he promised as Goswin faded to shadows.





Chapter 9





Merro





Jala staggered forward as the shadows released them once more. Her vision wavered and the world seemed to tilt drastically below her feet.

“Damn it, Jala, unwrap the cloak let me see how badly you are hurt,” Valor demanded softly as he grabbed her arm once more and steadied her.

Judging by the amount of blood I smell on you and the way your thoughts are processing, I’d say there are pigs hanging at the butcher’s shop that are in better shape, Marrow observed in a level tone as he sat down in the street in front of her, his yellow eyes holding a note of disapproval in them.

Jala ignored them both, her gaze sweeping across the town instead. When they left, Merro had been little more than a scattering of half-built houses. Now there were buildings everywhere. Footsteps sounded beside her and she glanced over to see Vaze staring down at her with narrowed eyes.

“What if we raise Finn and you are so injured that you die shortly thereafter? Do you suppose he will go on a quest to rescue you? Perhaps the two of you can take turns at this for the next year or so,” Vaze said his tone thick with sarcasm.

“I doubt that would happen,” Valor muttered and let out a long sigh.

“It won’t happen. I’m not going to die,” Jala replied as fiercely as she could, which, judging by the expressions her three comrades gave her, was not fierce at all. “Just help me find Ash, please,” she mumbled. Another pain ripped through her stomach and she bowed her head to hide the expression of agony. She’d seen a late-term miscarriage once in the Bliss temple and the woman’s screams had been terrible.

That is a horrible thing to remember at the present. Is that the agony you expect to come? Marrow asked as he stood once more and pressed his broad head hard against her leg.

“Find Ash, please Marrow. Can you detect his scent anywhere?” Jala pleaded, her hand clutching at the thick fur around his neck.

The Bendazzi turned his head slightly and lifted his nose to the air. His ears swiveled as he surveyed the town and then shook his massive head. I don’t smell him but that means nothing. I’m a cat, not a hunting hound. There are too many scents here for me to pick a single one out easily. There are horses approaching however.

Jala looked back up to the road and she watched in confusion as several armored knights approached. The lead rider swung down as they pulled to a halt and the woman advanced quickly, her eyes barely glancing across Jala and Vaze as she stopped in front of Valor. She stared up at his face for a long moment, her expression unreadable to Jala.

I don’t think she even saw me. I’m getting rather sick of that reaction. Bendazzi are to be feared, not ignored. I think it’s the white fur. It makes me look peaceful. When I had black fur even you feared me, Marrow complained, shifting his position for a better look at the horses who most certainly noticed him. Their restless shuffle and nervous whickers seemed to soothe him and he settled back farther against her leg. At least the animals have proper respect, he grumbled.

“My Lord Valor,” the lady knight said in a voice that was near breathless. Dropping down to a knee before him she bowed her head deeply. “I am here to serve,” she said with such a fervent tone that both Vaze and Jala turned to stare at Valor.

“Bridgette,” Valor said in a stunned voice, looking down at the woman with an expression of shock on his face. “Bridgette, by all of the Aspects, what are you doing here? Get up. I have no time for dramatics,” he said as he shifted back from her, looking rather uncomfortable. His gaze rose to the remaining knights who seemed amused by the display.

“I’ve come with your regiment. I’ve been Commanding officer in your absence, Lord Valor. I have reports for you, of course,” Bridgette said quickly as she rose to her feet and brushed the dust from her armor. She seemed to notice their disheveled state then, her eyes locking on Valor’s torn clothing and utter lack of armor, then moving slowly to Jala who stood huddled beside him wrapped in the torn filthy cloak Valor had loaned her. By the woman’s expression, though, she didn’t notice the dirt and blood at all. Her attention seemed focused instead on the black and silver color of the cloak, the colors of house Hai’dia.