The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 4 The Blessed Curse (8 page)

“If I believe Jala is dead, then they have
won.” Valor spoke the words so quietly that Neph almost didn’t hear
him. Slowly the knight looked down at the broken body in his arms
and nodded. “You are right, though. She will need a new body. I’ve
seen her create them before in Goswin. They can bury this.” His
voice was faint and the words stilted as he carefully lowered
Jala’s remains to the ground. He stood slowly and unsteadily and
nodded down at Neph. “You are right. Legacy does need me, and I
need him. He will have faith.” With those final words Valor left
the tent. Neph watched him go in silence and wondered if there was
anything left to the man’s sanity at all. Shaking his head slowly
he gathered Jala’s remains in the cloak and stood. They would want
to give her a hero’s burial, and the sooner that was done the
sooner he could leave Arovan. He would stay long enough for the
ceremony and to gather his wounded, but no longer. Without Jala
everything would be falling apart again very soon and he needed to
reclaim his homeland before it did. The Rivasans still held Delvay,
and it would take all of his remaining strength to win it back.

Arovan

Their horses began growing restless within a
mile of the battlefield. By the time they actually reached the edge
of the camp most of their party was using all of their focus to
keep their animals from bolting, aside from Zoelyn. Her large bay
mare was walking with interest, but not fear. Of course, this was
nothing to her horse. At one time the mare had been a cavalry
horse, before the Blights had come. The mare had been the sole
survivor of a failed attack on the creatures, and it was only
through patient nursing that the horse had survived at all. The
mare had seen battlegrounds before, and the smell of blood was
nothing to her. Zoelyn had not, and the smell nearly made her
gag.

“The battle ended barely a day ago. They will
still be removing the dead, so brace yourselves, girls,” Dominic
warned from the head of the column. His voice was gentle as it
always was. Her guardian was as steady as her horse when it came to
such matters. While Dominic himself refused to participate in any
fighting, he was always the one they called to clean up afterwards.
It was said he was the best healer outside the city of Sanctuary,
and from the looks of the camp he was sorely needed here. “This is
what comes of violence,” Dominic added as they passed by a pile of
bodies wearing the red and yellow of Rivasa.

Zoelyn could hear the other girls gagging
behind her and what sounded like one of them actually vomiting, but
she didn’t look back. The other girls from the village hated her,
and if they had noticed her attention it would have infuriated
them. It was only through Dominic’s protection that she was
tolerated at all. “Violence begets violence.” Zoelyn whispered the
words at the same time Dominic spoke them to the rest of their
small group. The words were a mantra to him and had become one to
her long ago. Her eyes scanned the blackened landscape and she had
to agree with his logic. She had never before seen a battlefield,
but she had seen plenty of injuries during her time living in
Dominic’s house, and from what she could tell they never solved
anything.

“Girls, I want you to gather quickly all of
the soiled bandages you can find and take them to the river to
wash. We can boil them when you return, but most of the filth will
need to be removed before that,” he ordered and then paused as his
dark eyes scanned the numerous tents that had been set up to house
the wounded. “From the looks of things, my magic won’t stretch far
enough here. Some will have to be patched up the old fashioned way
until I have time to get to them with magic,” Dominic explained
with a sigh as he pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted. He was
a tall man, with the frame of a fighter. Thick muscles knotted his
arms and shoulders, but he carried no weapons. The lack of weapons,
combined with his complete lack of armor, made him stand out in the
camp almost as much as the dress-clad girls that swiftly moved to
do his bidding. Dominic turned to watch them leave before looking
back at Zoelyn. Brushing his hand lightly through his short tangled
brown hair, he smiled faintly. “I think we are going to be here a
while, Zoey. Why don’t you take our horses down for water and get
them settled. I’ll see if I can find someone else to care for the
rest of them.”

Zoelyn nodded and dismounted silently. Her
heavy boots thudded loudly in the dirt and a few passersby paused
to give her curious glances. Compared with the rest of her group,
she supposed she did make an odd sight. The rest wore light cotton
or wool in bright colors and she was clad from head to toe in heavy
dark leather. Not even her face showed through the hood of her long
coat. It wasn’t by choice, though, and on days as humid as today
she wished she could shed it all. That simply wasn’t possible,
though, and she knew it. Carefully, she took the reins from Dominic
and gathered the horses as he turned toward the tents.

Dominic paused mid-step and looked back at
her with a thoughtful expression. “Zoey, take a bucket with you if
you would. I doubt any of the girls I sent had enough sense to
realize I will need hot water in large supply to boil the bandages.
They are likely pondering why exactly I’m going to boil bandages in
the first place.” He sighed again and shook his head, rolling his
eyes.

Zoelyn nodded with a faint smile and moved
quietly to the pack horse, taking care not to touch the animal
directly. She wore her gloves, but it was a habit that she had
developed before Dominic had made the gloves for her. She never
touched anything living, directly. Draping the reins of both horses
over one of her arms she moved closer to the beast and began to
work at the rope holding the buckets securely. The thick leather of
her gloves made working the knots loose a larger chore than it
should have been, but she was used to such things.

With a sigh, she grabbed the reins that were
slipping from her arm and tucked them tighter against her. Before
she could glance up again, the bucket fell to her feet with a solid
thud and she looked up quickly to find the ropes that had secured
it swinging loosely against the pack saddle. The horses snorted
softly at the noise and her quick movement. Glancing around, Zoelyn
frowned and reached down to pick up the bucket, taking care to move
slower so the horses would settle once more. She knew she hadn’t
worked at the knot enough to loosen it to the point of falling, but
odd little things like that had been happening a lot lately.

For the past few weeks, small tasks that were
usually a difficulty for her had been done silently, and there was
never anyone around to thank for the help. She hadn’t mentioned it
to Dominic at all, and wondered now if she should have. She had a
suspicion about what was helping her, and if she was right, her
invisible friend was in a great deal of danger in their current
surroundings.

With another quick look around to make sure
no one was watching her, Zoelyn smiled faintly. “Thank you,” she
whispered. As always, there was no response to her words. With
another faint sigh, she turned toward the river and scanned for the
other girls. They were easy to spot in their brightly colored
dresses and she carefully steered her own path upriver and away
from them. Not only would her horse get cleaner water this way, she
wouldn’t have to deal with their sideways glances and hushed
whispers. They would, of course, still be whispering and glancing,
but she wouldn’t be close enough to care.

Zoelyn tossed the loose reins over the
saddles as they reached the river edge and both animals moved
forward quickly to slurp at the cold water. She smiled at them and
moved a few feet away, sure that they wouldn’t stray far once they
had their fill of water. The entire bank was covered in lush green
grass. The battle hadn’t reached this side of the field and from
where she stood everything was pristine, if you could ignore the
smell of burning bodies and blood on the wind.

Setting the bucket down in front of her, she
lifted her hand and slowly began to unbuckle her glove. Normally
she never removed the gloves during the day, but they were heavy
leather and bore iron plates along the fingers and palm. If she got
them wet while gathering the water her hands would be raw and
chapped by nightfall, not to mention the iron rusting. Lifting the
bucket once more, she moved downstream from the horses and walked
carefully out on the rocks to the water’s edge. The iron plates on
the bottom of her boots skittered against the stone and she held an
arm out to her side to keep balance.

“Here, let me help,” a man’s voice offered
from behind her and she felt another hand on the handle of her
bucket. Startled, Zoelyn staggered away, moving her hand quickly
from the handle to avoid letting the man touch her flesh. Her boots
slid once more on the rocks and she lost her balance, tumbling
backward into the river. By instinct she caught herself to keep
from falling flat on her back and almost instantly she could feel
the surge of her curse pouring through her. The cat tails that
lined the bank withered, turning from bright green to brown. Within
a breath the river around her was filled with the small bodies of
fish and frogs as they floated to the surface all life drained from
them.

Thrashing she stood quickly before her
wretched body could do any more damage and found the man who had
tried to help her, staring at her in shock. He was young, or so she
guessed. It was difficult to guess the age of an Elder Blood such
as he appeared to be. His dark hair was long and pulled back, and
his amber brown eyes were wide. Screams began to rise from farther
down the river as the first of the dead fish reached the other
girls. Zoelyn turned at the noise and found all of them staring at
her with utter revulsion on their pretty faces.

“
Undrae
!” One of them screamed loudly
and fished in the water with her hand. The girl rose quickly and
hurled a rock at Zoelyn. Within a breath all of them were repeating
the word and hurling rocks. Several bounced off her long coat and
it wasn’t until one grazed the side of her face that Zoelyn
actually gathered her wits enough to move back behind the cat tails
and out of their sight.

“Stop that at once!” the young man bellowed,
stepping out into the river himself to stare hard at the girls. By
their reactions, Zoelyn guessed the other girls hadn’t known he was
at the river either.

“I’m sorry,” Zoelyn whispered as she quickly
pulled her glove back on and retrieved her empty bucket from where
the young man had dropped it. She stole another glance at him while
his attention was locked on her tormentors and noted the colors of
his uniform: purple, silver, and white. They were unfamiliar to
her, which was why he was still defending her, despite what he had
seen. Had he been from Arovan or Glis, she would have known the
colors of his uniform, and he would have known the word
Undrae
. No one from either nation would help anyone bearing
that title. In the Glis tongue, the word meant
unclean
or
unnatural
. Most often, however, it was simply another way of
saying
monster
. Moving swiftly, she dunked her bucket in the
river and gathered the reins of the horses. It no longer mattered
if the leather of her gloves or boots got wet. She was soaked up to
her chest from the fall.

“Wait!” the man called behind her as he
realized she was already fleeing the area. “Please. I won’t let
them throw anymore at you. Just wait a moment. Who are you?” He was
moving back toward the shore, but the rocks were slowing his
progress enough to keep most of his attention on his footing.

Shaking her head quickly, Zoelyn glanced back
at him and then to the girls. “Thank you,” she repeated a bit
louder, but ignored his question completely as she quickly
continued her way up the hill. She didn’t want anyone in the camp
to know her name, especially after what had just happened. With any
luck at all, the man’s only description of her would be her coat,
and she could hide that with a cloak easily enough.

Water was still dripping from her long coat
as she crossed to the tent to set down the bucket, but thankfully
Dominic was too occupied to notice. “The water is by the entrance,
Dominic I’m going to settle the horses somewhere,” Zoelyn called
softly inside and he nodded absently in response. Turning quickly,
she led the horses off toward the picket lines near the trees and
farther from the bustle of the camp. She could only hope that
everyone had too many other things to attend to than bother
listening to the gossip the girls would spread. If they didn’t,
however, she would be out of sight long enough that perhaps no one
would realize it was her they were speaking of.

Zoelyn’s muscles relaxed and her breathing
slowed as she stepped into the shelter of the trees. The spot she
had chosen was far enough away from the other horses that no one
else would likely bother wandering over, and yet close enough for
the animals to be safe. Leaning heavily on her mare’s saddle, she
watched the camp long enough to spot the man from the river passing
through the crowded tents, his eyes searching. She shook her head
slowly and let herself relax further. He was going farther into the
encampment and farther away from her. There was nothing to worry
about for now.

Standing straight once more, she unbridled
both horses and tethered their ropes to the trees, giving them
enough slack to reach the tall grass, but not enough to become
tangled. With practiced ease she removed the saddles and carried
them far enough away from the pickets that the animals wouldn’t
step on them. Her eyes lingered on the horses’ sweat soaked sides
and her gaze wandered up to their pack horse. Really she should
brush them both, but the brushes were in the packs on the horse in
the camp she was avoiding.