The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 4 The Blessed Curse (7 page)

Wisp demanded loudly.

“Yes,” Neph growled through clenched teeth as
he readied another spell.

Agony ripped through his leg and he nearly
lost the spell. Glancing down, he stared hard at the dagger
protruding from his thigh and then back at Wisp who was glaring at
him. “What the fuck!” he demanded as he unleashed his newest wave
of destruction on the Rivasans.

“Focus and Channel and kill that damned
dragon!” Wisp ordered sharply, her slender hand rising quickly to
point at Nerath.

Neph started to answer as another sound rose
on the wind and his heart lurched painfully in his chest. It was a
scream and he knew the sound of that voice as clearly as he knew
his own. By all rights, he shouldn’t have been able to hear her so
clearly from across the battlefield. It was filled with complete
agony and it was rising from Jala. It was a sound that couldn’t be
mimicked and he had fought enough duels and seen enough battles to
recognize it for what it truly was. It was a death cry.

For the second time in his life he hadn’t
been strong enough, and someone he loved was dying because of it.
Pain and anger rose in his chest and he felt something snap inside.
He couldn’t say if it had been in his mind or in his heart, but
magic roared in his ears. Every muscle in this body thrummed with
power and the only spells that rose in his mind were the forbidden
ones. The penalties for Death magic no longer seemed important,
however. The only thing that mattered was punishing his enemies.
First, however, he had to get rid of the damned dragon. Turning
slowly in his saddle, Neph regarded the creature, his gaze
narrowing as he studied the ancient magics that protected it. Wards
were nothing to the forbidden magic. He had spells that would eat
through the protection as easily as they destroyed flesh. Never
before had he been willing to unleash them, however. According to
the magic lore there were seventeen ways to kill with magic that
would utterly destroy a creature with no hope of returning to life
or the life stream. Neph knew twelve of them, and he intended to
use all of them today.

“Neph, what is wrong with you?” Wisp gasped
as she dropped quickly off the back of his cat, her eyes wide as
she stared up at him. Neph glanced from her to the shroud of dark
magic that covered him, rising like shadowed flames from his skin.
He didn’t bother to answer her question and he ignored the look of
fear on Wisp’s face as he began to chant softly in a language that
had been dead for centuries, speaking the words of a spell that had
been forbidden even longer. The Dragon’s battle cries turned to
roars of agony as the first of his magics wrapped around the
creature. To the naked eye, it looked like no more than shadows
covering the deep red scales, but Neph knew the truth of it. Each
tendril of darkness was driving down through the creature,
burrowing into muscle and bone alike and twisting. He continued to
chant and the dragon writhed as his spell literally ripped it apart
from the inside, piece by piece. This was simply the first stage of
the spell designed to immobilize the victim, the next stage would
target the mind and then finally the soul. By the time he was done,
there would be nothing left of Nerath the Red beyond whispered
tales of his demise.

* * *

Everywhere he looked, there was destruction.
The smell of burnt flesh and blood saturated the air so fully that
even when he closed his eyes he could still see the battlefield
clearly in his mind. Corpses covered the ground before him, but
Neph didn’t spare them a glance as he crossed the last stretch of
the field that separated him from where Jala had fallen.

A crowd had gathered in that area and they
all watched him in silence with expressions of suspicion on their
faces as he approached. The last of the battle was a blur in his
mind. He knew he had called on more magic in those few minutes than
he had in his entire life, and all of it had been dark. There would
be an accounting for it, he was sure. Regardless of how he had used
the magic, it was forbidden magic, and even his allies would want
him punished for it.

That could wait, though. He would face it
without fear later. After he had seen Jala or what remained of her.
The crowd parted as he continued, and Neph could feel their gazes
on him, but his focus was on the path ahead. The ground where she
had been standing was charred black and cracked from the heat of
the magic she had channeled, but there was no sign of her body. It
was possible that nothing remained but ashes, but he didn’t think
so.

Neph paused at the edge of the burned ground
and scanned the area until he spotted the massive forms of the
Bendazzi crouched in front of a tent deeper in the valley where
Jala had been camped. Slowly he began moving that way, his gaze
lingering on Marrow’s powerful white form. The fact that the
Bendazzi was still alive, gave him hope. Marrow was a Familiar and
by the laws of magic he should have died with Jala.

“It’s no use, Neph. The Bendazzi won’t let
anyone near that tent,” Shade called as he approached. Neph hadn’t
even noticed Shade in the mingling crowd, and pretended as though
he still hadn’t. He had no desire to speak to anyone now, and not
even the Bendazzi would stop him from seeing her.

Both cats did appear to be ready to attack,
but Neph didn’t slow his steps. His hand dropped to the top of
Marrow’s head as his other hand pulled back the tent flap and he
lightly brushed his fingers through the thick plush fur. “If
anything can be done, Marrow. I will do it,” Neph promised quietly
as he stepped inside the dark tent.

It took only a breath for his eyes to adjust
to the dim light and only a second more for him to spot Valor
sitting near the back of the tent with her body cradled in his
arms. The knight had wrapped her in his battle stained cloak and
was holding her tight against his chest. His head was bowed. Neph
couldn’t see the expression on his face, but he could tell the man
was sobbing by the way his shoulders silently shook. Crossing
silently to where Valor sat, Neph crouched down beside the man and
slowly sat cross-legged. He could tell by the stillness of her form
that she was dead, but for the Elder Blood that didn’t always mean
the end. He needed to see how bad the damage was, but couldn’t even
get a glimpse of her flesh with the way Valor had her shrouded and
clutched so tightly to him.

“Val,” Neph began softly, his tone as gentle
as he could make it. “I want to help, Val, but I need to see her so
I know what can be done.”

Valor shook his head slightly in denial and
refused to look up from where his face was buried in the filthy
cloak. “You will say the same as the rest of them. They say she is
dead and she isn’t. She will return. I’ve seen her do it before
Neph. I just have to keep faith and pray. She isn’t dead.” Valor’s
voice was ragged with grief and by the tone alone, Neph could tell
how close he was to snapping.

“Valor, you know I will do anything I can to
help her. If you are right and she isn’t dead then it will be
easier if I can help mend the body for her to return,” Neph
pressed. He knew it was false hope he was feeding Valor, but there
was not much else he could do. From the amount of raw magic he had
sensed, Jala’s body was likely damaged beyond repair, but he wasn’t
sure Valor was stable enough to hear that now. Still he had seen
Jala do things no one else would ever have been capable of. He felt
a flicker of hope rise in his chest at the thought that Valor could
be right, and carefully contained it. He couldn’t allow it to grow
in his mind until he saw the body. The disappointment would be too
bitter to bear if Valor was wrong.

“If you want to help, Neph, then pray. I
tried to tell them that when they tried to take her body. They want
to bury her, Neph, and they can’t. She isn’t dead!” Valor’s voice
rose as he spoke and he slowly looked up to meet Neph’s eyes. “She
isn’t dead, Neph, no matter what she looks like now, or what they
say, she isn’t,” he insisted. His blue eyes were bloodshot and Neph
could see a faint gleam to them that spoke of madness. “Everything
we’ve done. Everything we’ve suffered. It doesn’t end like this,
Neph. I won’t let it! We have to have faith.” His words grew
slurred as more tears flowed down his face and he shook his head
again pulling her body closer to him.

The cloak pulled away as Valor moved her and
one pale arm fell limply to the ground. The skin was cracked and
burned in places and still glowed faintly with magic deep within
her body. Slowly, Neph leaned forward and lifted her hand,
examining the rents in the skin. Gold dust drifted slowly down to
the dirt below her as he brushed a thumb across the wound. The
magic had burned so hotly within her that it had dried the blood in
her veins.

It was as he had feared, and no matter what
Valor said there was no coming back to this body. With the magic
still coursing so strongly through her damaged frame there would be
no way to use magic to heal the wounds, and as damaged as she was,
her soul would not remain even if Ash himself called it back. His
thumb brushed once more across what remained of her hand and he
felt his own eyes brimming with tears. He didn’t have the words to
explain any of this to Valor without risking what was left of his
sanity. Truthfully, he wasn’t too sure about his own state of mind
at the moment. He wanted to sob like a child and scream at the same
time. They had been so close, a breath from victory, and then fate
had stolen her from them.

Leaning forward he carefully tucked her hand
back under the cloak and sat back once more. Resting his elbows on
his knees, Neph leaned forward and covered his face with his hands.
His anger was gone and his pain was fading to despair. He was
drained physically, emotionally, and magically, and he simply
didn’t care. There was no longer anything worth fighting for and no
reason to get back up again. The world was shit and that was that.
How could he find the words to save Valor, when he didn’t know how
to save himself?

“You aren’t praying, Neph,” Valor whispered,
and the sound of his voice pulled Neph back from the darkness his
mind had been retreating to.

“I’m not sure exactly who to pray to on this,
Valor,” Neph admitted quietly.

“Pray to her, Neph. Put all of your faith in
Jala,” Valor replied without hesitation.

“Val, she had the blood of the Divine, but
she wasn’t a god. She can’t hear prayers as they do,” Neph informed
him gently, as he slowly slid his hands down his face and stared at
the lifeless body.

“Look back on everything she has done, Neph,
and say that again,” Valor snapped, his head rising once more. The
gleam was stronger in Valor’s eyes and Neph wondered if he truly
would recover once he moved past his denial. Neph had known the man
loved Jala, and was utterly devoted to her, but he had never
guessed how deeply those emotions ran.

Exhaling slowly, Neph leaned forward and
pulled the cloak back from Jala before Valor could stop him. Her
face was as cracked as the skin on her arm had been and her
beautiful violet eyes were completely burned away. The magic within
her pulsed slowly, giving off faint light and Neph shook his head
slowly. There was no way to soften what had to be said, and the
sooner it was done the better. Both of them needed to face that
fact and try to move on. Despite how much Neph wanted to give up
now, he couldn’t, neither of them could. They both had
responsibilities in the world beyond. “Valor, this body is broken
and Jala is gone. Even a god couldn’t remain in a form this
damaged. Look at her, Valor! Look at the glow of the magic, damn
it. Even you can see it; I know you can!” Neph snapped, his words
breaking on the last word as his throat tightened. “You have to let
her go and so do I, damn it. This does no good for either of us,”
The last words came out more of a sob than anything else, and Neph
let his arm fall back to his lap heavily as tears coursed down his
face.

“Marrow still lives!” Valor snarled, his hand
flying up to point at the shadow of the Bendazzi through the tent.
“If Jala was truly dead, her Familiar would be dead! You are
supposed to be the one that believes so strongly in the gods, Neph.
Why is it so hard for you to have faith in her?” he demanded.

“Because she wasn’t a god, Valor. She was my
friend, she was our leader, and she was truly a Dasharran, but she
wasn’t a god. Valor, she channeled enough magic to kill anyone.
That much raw power would have destroyed her soul as much as her
body. Please let her go,” Neph pleaded. He wasn’t even sure why he
was wasting so much energy on the knight. Valor had never been a
close friend of his, but he had meant so much to Jala. Perhaps in
some twisted fashion he believed that saving Valor would be a last
service to her. Perhaps if he could just save Valor, it would
somehow redeem him for failing her.

“I can’t. If I let her go, then I have
nothing left. They took my family. They destroyed my home. If I
give up on Jala, I have nothing left. It doesn’t end like this,
Neph. They don’t win. I won’t let them.” Valor spoke in a broken
whisper and shook his head slowly in further denial.

“Merrodin is your home now, and it still
stands. They didn’t win, Valor, we did. You may have lost your
brother and sister in this, Valor, but you still have your parents,
which is more than Legacy can say. Finn may have sired him, Valor,
but you were the closest thing he had to a father. You read to him,
you played with him, and you comforted him when Jala couldn’t. You
say you have nothing. I say you aren’t looking hard enough. Let her
go, Valor and go back to Merrodin. You are the only one that can
help that child right now.” Neph let the words pour out of him in a
final attempt. If the mention of Legacy didn’t pull Valor back from
the brink, he truly didn’t know what would.