The Elder Blood Chronicles – Book Three(66)

“Both are true,” Victory admitted with a frown. “Vaze says if we travel to Merro we will draw attention to her. He believes we have a traitor in the Fionaveir and says the best way to protect her is to pretend she is dying and we don’t care. He says if we ignore the value of her life they will as well.”

“And what do you think?” Havoc asked watching his friends face for any indication of his emotions.

“I think no matter how much I hate the mountains and the rudeness of the Delvay that the battles there will likely keep my mind occupied. I think that if I remain in this city one more day feeling as though my hands are tied, I might turn into a lesser image of you. I do hate the thought of cursing like a madman while hurling magic about carelessly,” Victory replied with a sigh. His green eyes shifted toward the Merro district and then returned to Havoc. “I feel as though we have failed to protect her at all. I wonder often if we should have ignored orders and kept her with us rather than leave her at the temple. Every time she stumbles, I feel as though it is my fault for not teaching her how to walk in this bloody world. I need something to focus on, Havoc.”

“I need something to kill,” Havoc growled softly. The Fae’s words were a mirror of his own feelings, though spoken more eloquently than he ever could have managed. It wasn’t just Jala the words applied to, however. For him, they hit home in two places. He had watched Finn stumble and had never once managed to help him. “So Delvay, then,” Havoc agreed as he swung onto his horse and settled in the saddle.

“It must be a birthright of the Firym that allows them to bottle everything so deeply inside,” Victory mused as he climbed onto his own horse.

“It’s what fuels our fire, Vic. Every burnt building is a Firym teardrop. Just remember that,” Havoc said quietly as he glanced back at the warehouse one last time. Mages had arrived by now to quench the flames and the fires had died down to embers.

“Then I almost feel pity for the Rivasans. Had I suffered the same losses you have in the past few weeks, I think I would be sobbing. If you express pain through flames there won’t be anything left of Rivana,” Victory replied as he moved his horse closer to Havoc’s and began the spell to transport them to Delvay. “We should take Spell hawk rather than magic you know. With everything in turmoil, traveling like this is risky.”

“Let them pull us out of the transport spell. I hope they do. I’ll cry a river for the bastards,” Havoc growled.





Chapter 11





Merro





“I’ve done what I can for her but it isn’t enough. She is going to lose the child and if she lives she will never have full use of that hand again.”

The words echoed out of the dark fog surrounding her and Jala struggled to recognize the voice. It was a man speaking, though she couldn’t place who. Her eyelids were heavy and it seemed too much effort to force them open. She felt the child move inside her once more and turned her attention fully to him. It didn’t matter who was speaking, they were wrong. Carefully she drew on the scant magic she had managed to rebuild and wrapped it protectively around the child. Be strong. Grow, she urged him, her words sent directly to him with no need to be spoken aloud.

“She is too feverish. Can you do nothing about that?” Another voice, this time Vaze. She felt a hand brush her cheek and it felt like ice against her skin.

“The wound on her side is corrupt and I can’t get the infection out no matter how many times I heal it. That is causing the fever and that will be what kills her if she dies. The hand is maimed but healed and this wound on her neck is clean,” the first voice spoke again filled with frustration.

“If we remove the child now does she have a chance of recovery?” Vaze asked, his tone cautious.

Jala felt panic rising and retreated further into herself wrapping everything she had around her child as if simply her spirit would be enough to protect him.

“We won’t do that. Let her fight,” Valor broke in, his voice firm. She felt another touch light on her face as hair was brushed back from her cheek.

“She isn’t bloody fighting, Valor, she is unconscious. If that would save her it is something we should consider,” Neph snapped.

Fight for me, Valor, Jala urged silently. She didn’t have the strength to spare to fight for herself with words. She could feel the corruption growing in her flesh like tiny little daggers stabbing toward her child. Everything she had, every ounce of magic, every drop of will had to go to him right now.