The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 4 The Blessed Curse (31 page)

Typically, the souls of the Darklands lost
the magic they had held in life. Seth, however, had not. Death had
allowed him to keep his talents for one simple reason. It was
another form of torment to remind him what he was. In life, he had
never known who his father was. He had been slave-born in Avanti
and that was all he had ever known. In death he learned the truth
of it all, and the Divine had delighted in reminding him of it at
every turn, even if it meant allowing him more power. Donrey Avanti
had been charming when he tried to be. He had been an amateur
compared to his son, though. Seth knew how to charm people better
than anyone else. He could earn trust, love, or favors with nothing
more than a smile and a hint of magic, and it had never been
difficult. It was simply easier to kill them than to waste time
with words most of the time. There were those that were too useful
to kill, however, and those were the ones he reserved his smiles
for.

* * *

There was nothing quite like spring in Firym.
The lush jungles seemed to explode with life at this time of year
and the fragrance of the flowers was intoxicating. The humidity and
heat were enough to suffocate you as well, Seth decided, as he
settled into the upper branches of a tree near the outskirts of the
busy city. His eyes scanned the crowds, finally settling on a
well-dressed young man making his way through the market with an
expression of determination on his face. He carried several bundles
tucked under one arm and to the casual observer he looked to be
running important errands for his house, or perhaps he was a master
tradesman. He was dressed well enough to be important, but the fact
that he was managing his own shopping meant he was not important
enough to be well known. It was a good disguise and a clever one.
The average hunter would have been fooled by it. Seth wasn’t, and
neither was the old man that was slowly making his way through the
crowd browsing at various stands while still managing to keep the
boy in sight.

Had he been in his human form, Seth would
have smiled. He kept his eye on the pair of them moving from tree
to tree as he silently followed them across the city. The boy
seemed nervous and checked behind him several times as he turned
corners or crossed busy streets. His shadow, however, was well
trained and despite the boy’s obvious paranoia, he remained
oblivious to both of his stalkers.

Nearly twenty minutes passed before the boy
finally took to the backstreets and Seth wanted to strangle him for
it. Time passed five times as quickly in the Darklands as it did in
the Sunlit world. Every minute was precious if he was going to make
it back before Zoelyn woke. Below him, the boy’s pace quickened and
Seth glanced back toward the man shadowing him. A faint smile was
creasing the old man’s face and if the hunter was worried about his
quarry escaping, he was showing no signs of it.

Pity I can’t let you keep your prey, after
all the effort you have gone through
. Seth mused as he dropped
down from his perch to land in one of the alleys near the boy. He
shifted form and stepped farther into the shadows as he waited. The
paranoid boy might look harmless, but Seth knew better. It was best
to catch one of his kind completely off guard and strike quickly.
If you gave them time to act, it could get ugly quickly.

The boy’s footsteps grew louder and Seth’s
dagger slipped into his hand in response. His breathing slowed as
he waited, silently counting the footsteps. Three more and the boy
would be in the perfect spot. He caught a glimpse of the boy’s blue
eyes as he glanced down the alley. Morcaillos never seemed to hide
their eye color, and in situations such as now, it made them all
the easier to spot. The Firym people typically had green eyes,
brown and red were fairly common as well, but blue was extremely
rare. Seth moved the moment the boy’s gaze turned back down the
street, one hand sliding quickly under the boy’s chin, pushing his
head up sharply, while his dagger plunged upward at the base of his
skull. The combined force of the maneuver buried the dagger to the
hilt, killing the Changeling instantly. Silently, Seth half
carried, half dragged the corpse into the alley as the older man
turned the corner, his eyes scanning for any sign of his prey.

Seth lifted the boy’s corpse more to keep the
still kicking legs from alerting the man, and waited in utter
silence as the second hunter approached. He wanted to test the man
to see if he would notice the faint scuffs and droplets of blood on
the cobbles. Most wouldn’t have noticed, but the old man did. With
a genuine smile, Seth pushed the body from the shadows and watched
the old man slide back with more grace than anyone his apparent age
should have possessed as the changelin’s corpse hit the cobbles
before him. A knife was gripped lightly in the man’s hand, ready to
be thrown at any moment. His dark eyes scanned the alley, searching
frantically for any movement, but there was no fear there, only
anticipation.

“Glad to see I didn’t waste my time with
you,” Seth murmured in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

“Master,” the man gasped as his form shifted
almost immediately to his true shape. It was a risky endeavor,
considering where they were. Sovaesh was an exile here and if he
was spotted it would mean his death. If the Firym could manage to
catch him, of course. Sovaesh glanced down at the body, then back
into the ally, before glancing behind him toward the busier
streets. “This is the last place I expected to see you and I have
to admit I’m rather confused. Did you have a grievance with this
man?” Sovaesh asked quietly as he lifted the body effortlessly and
moved into the alley once more.

“I needed life energy and I needed to speak
with you. It seemed easier to kill two birds with one stone,” Seth
explained with a smirk as he leaned back against the wall. It never
ceased to amaze him how much Sovaesh and Finn resembled each other.
Perhaps that was why he was willing to tolerate so much from Finn,
even if the boy’s ignorance made his life more difficult.

“What do you need of me, Master?” Sovaesh
asked as he dropped the boy to the ground and gazed up at Seth with
searching eyes.

“It has been several centuries since I taught
you, Sovaesh. I think you can quit calling me master now,” Seth
said with faint shake of his head. It was difficult not to smile,
both from Sovaesh’s words as well as his actions. Seth had been
forced to train others while he served Avanti, but Sovaesh was the
only one he had ever trained by choice, and he had never regretted
doing so. Sovaesh was clever and noticed details that others would
overlook. He was perfect for his role in life and every time Seth
watched him work, he was proud.

“When I know for a certainty that I am
superior to you in the arts and there is nothing more that you
could ever teach me, I will cease. I think I will be calling you
Master for a very long time,” Sovaesh replied softly and bowed his
head with respect.

“Fair enough,” Seth chuckled. “How is
Davahni?” he asked in a softer tone. It, of course, wasn’t what he
was here to speak of, but he always asked about her first. The only
contact he had with his daughter was through Sovaesh. She had been
an infant when he died, and by the time he had enough strength to
leave the Darklands he was cursed with the life of a Demon and
Davahni was fully grown. Too much time had passed to consider
approaching her then, and even if he had, what could he have
possibly said.
I’m sorry I let your mother die. I just wanted
you to know that I love you, but better not trust me since I am
Death’s lackey now
.

So he had waited, and opportunity had
eventually presented itself in the form of Sovaesh. The young Firym
had wanted Davahni, and Seth had wanted her to be safe. The easiest
way to attain both of their goals was to train the boy. It made
Sovaesh useful to Avanti while giving Davahni a shield. The fact
that Seth had arranged for Sovaesh to meet Davahni and used a bit
of charm magic to ensure the Firym was interested in her was
entirely irrelevant. The Changeling blood had been too useful to
ignore, and it made Sovaesh the perfect protector. A Changeling
could escape from the Avanti slave chains. No one else could.

“Davahni is better than she has ever been I
think. Merro agrees with her and the fact that Donrey is dead has
relieved much of her stress. Despite everything I did to keep her
away from him, he still terrified her. I suppose I never noticed
how much he scared her until after I killed him. It wasn’t until he
was dead that I finally got to see her truly happy,” Sovaesh
answered after a long moment. By the crease of his eyes above the
mask Seth could tell he was frowning.

“She held that fear from before the time she
met you, Sovaesh. Donrey never laid a finger on her while she was
in your care. Of that I’m certain,” Seth said quietly.

“I should have killed him sooner,” Sovaesh
sighed. “But at least it’s done now. I’m sure you didn’t come all
the way to Firym to discuss this, though. You look as though you
are in a hurry, too. So what is it that you need?”

Seth smiled again. He hadn’t shown any signs
of impatience that he was aware of, but Sovaesh noticed every
detail. “I didn’t, and I am. As always, you are correct. I need to
know what you know of Zoelyn, Jala’s ward. Where did she come from?
How long has she been with Jala?”

Sovaesh’s frown deepened for a moment and he
shook his head slowly. “I’ve only met her once, so I don’t know
much of her. She has been with Jala for two weeks or so that I know
of. Jala brought her back from Arovan, though I think the girl
might have actually been from Glis. From what I understand, Elijah
was keeping her as a ward in his keep and Jala thought she would
have better luck helping the girl in Merro. When Zoelyn spoke to me
she seemed to have a Glis accent to her voice so at the very least
she is from one of the border villages.”

“But you don’t know where she is originally
from?” Seth pressed. He had known she was from Glis by her reaction
to him. Glis and Arovan were the only two countries where the
locals still spread hearth stories about him. That was thanks to
Death. The Divine had ordered him to work in both of those
countries far more often than the others.

“Originally?” Sovaesh repeated thoughtfully.
He tapped his chin for a moment as he seemed to consider the
question. “It’s difficult to say, going off of her looks. She is so
sickly that her features are obscured by her condition. I wouldn’t
hesitate to say she is full Elder Blood if she were healthy, but
the sickness suggests she is weaker so perhaps half-blood. She is
obviously not a Shifter and with her pale hair she could be of
Arovan blood,” he paused and gazed back at Seth. “What makes you so
sure she isn’t actually from Arovan?”

Seth frowned as he watched Sovaesh and
shrugged a shoulder in answer. He had thought Sovaesh would have
known what an Undrae was, but apparently he didn’t. The creatures
had been extinct for some time, he supposed, but Sovaesh’s mother
had been the High Mage of Firym. She should have trained her son
better.

“I suppose if she is from another land it
could be anywhere. I can check into it if you like,” Sovaesh
replied hesitantly.

Seth shook his head quickly with a faint
smile. “The job Jala gave you is more important. Better that you
finish hunting down the Changelings and free the Blights from their
control. I will look into it more myself,” Seth glanced down at the
Changelings body and nudged it lightly with the toe of his boot. “I
do have another favor of you, though, and it’s one I’m not sure you
will agree to.”

“Ask,” Sovaesh said without hesitation or
sign of suspicion.

“I’d like your dagger. I will trade you my
own for it.” Seth smiled and motioned toward the large blade that
was still sheathed at Sovaesh’s side. It was an unusual request to
be sure and Sovaesh’s eyes widened in shock at his words, but it
was necessary. Sovaesh’s dagger was a Drinker, or in better terms,
enchanted to absorb life energy. With as many people as he had
killed recently the blade would have more than enough energy to
revitalize Zoelyn.

“Not at all what I expected, but of course.”
Sovaesh was already unbuckling the blade from his belt as he
spoke.

“It’s temporary Sovaesh. I need the energy
that is stored within it. I will return it to you when I can. You
have my word,” Seth assured him as he handed over his own dagger.
It was a touchy thing to ask and he hadn’t been sure Sovaesh would
agree. To any warrior, weapons were important, but to an Assassin,
their daggers were more. It was a calling card in a sense. He had
essentially just asked Sovaesh for his identity, and his former
student was handing it over without question, and all it had taken
was a smile.

Glis

His breath frosted in the air before him as
he stepped from his ship. With a frown, Shade pulled his jacket on
and stepped down to the thick grass. Turning slowly, he surveyed
his surroundings, his eyes searching for any sign of life. The
forests of Glis rose to the west of him, barely visible through the
morning fog, while the grasslands of Arovan could be seen faintly
to the east. By Jala’s directions, he should be sitting right
beside Nigel’s guard post. The dragon was supposed to be protecting
the Blights from an invasion from Arovan, and yet there was no sign
of him anywhere.

“Wonderful,” Shade muttered as he gemmed his
ship and dropped the stone into his jacket pocket. He had been
counting on information from Nigel to help him in his search. The
dragon had been stationed here for close to three weeks. There was
no way he could have avoided contact with the Blights in that time,
unless of course he wasn’t actually here.