“Wesley is beyond our reach now, but Jexon isn’t,” Jala said softly as she rose to her feet once more.
Turning, she moved for the door to the tent, her stride gaining speed as her strength slowly returned. She heard Marrow move behind her as she pushed the flap of the tent back and stared out into the storm filled night. She could see a cluster of people standing near the center of the encampment and the faint noise of ringing steel sounded above the wind. Letting her hand fall back to her side, Jala stepped out into the rain, her bare feet sinking in the mud. The wind and rain pelted her, whipping her hair and torn gown as she silently approached the crowd. They parted before her as the spectators of the fight stared at her in shock. Still silent, Jala continued past them, her eyes locked on the two combatants. Neither had seen her approach. Both men were too consumed with the fight to notice the shifting of the crowd. Pausing at the edge, Jala watched as Valor brought a vicious blow down across Jexon, his face a mask of grief and fury. Jexon parried hastily, his feet sliding in the mud as his sword caught Valor’s blade at the last moment.
“Jexon!” Jala called loudly, her voice rising over the storm. Both men froze, their swords dropping in shock as they turned as one to gaze at her. Her eyes locked on Jexon as she stepped forward into the circle. “Betrayer,” she hissed her eyes narrowing.
Jexon staggered back, his eyes widening at the sight of her. “You were dead. I saw him kill you. There was no one that could have raised you,” Jexon stammered. The expression on his face was one of pure terror and his sword shook in his hand.
Jala nodded slowly in agreement as she took another step forward. “Had you shown me kindness, Jexon, I might have cared for you.” Jala spoke the words slowly as she took another step forward. “Had you spoken to me, I might have understood you,” she continued as she advanced once more. “Had you shown me courage, I might have respected you,” she said, stopping just in front of him. “Instead, you have shown me nothing but pain and treachery, and you have my hatred in return,” Jala finished, her magic rising swiftly as she pointed a hand at him. Jexon’s look of fear changed to agony as her spell shredded the flesh of his back ruining the protective magic. “Kill him, Valor,” she commanded as she stepped back giving her knight room.
Valor moved with no hesitation, his sword rising in a single graceful arc as he brought it down hard on Jexon’s neck. Blood sprayed across her face as she watched her husband’s body fall to the ground, his legs kicking feebly in the mud. “A widow again,” Jala said softly as she turned back toward her tent, her hand dropping to rest on Marrow’s head as she walked. The crowd around her was deathly silent and she noticed a few of the Soulreavers dropping to their knees, their heads bent in submission as she passed.
You have mastered the art of scary bitch, I’m proud to say. Your eyes glowing, the wind tossing your hair around like that, the blood covering your chest and gown. I’m impressed and I think at least a few of them pissed themselves when you approached, Marrow said, his voice light in her mind as he attempted to make her smile.
“Jala, wait,” Valor’s voice called out behind her, but she didn’t have the will to face any of them at the moment. Not even Valor.
Silently she pushed the tent flap open and stepped into the darkness before the first of the tears filled her eyes. Swallowing heavily she dropped to the floor and pulled her knees up against her chest. Crossing her arms around her legs, she lowered her head and let the pain wash over her in choking sobs.
“Jala,” Valor called softly as he stepped into the tent and knelt before her. “Jala, please, what's wrong. Are you hurt?” His voice was near panic.
Looking up, Jala could see the confusion written clearly on his face. He didn’t have a clue what to do in this situation. Wiping her eyes, Jala swallowed heavily and let out a choked breath. “He isn’t dead, Valor,” she whispered her voice hoarse.
“Jexon? He is, Jala. I promise you that,” Valor said sounding even more confused.
“Finn. He isn’t dead,” Jala corrected, her head dropping once more to her knees.
“Then why isn’t he here?” Valor demanded, his voice sounding nearly as hoarse as her own.
“I’ll see him again soon, I’m sure,” Jala muttered darkly, her chest tightening at the thought. After the way Finn had acted she wasn’t sure if she could face him again. He had been so casual, so calm. It was like a knife in her chest. She heard Valor stand, but didn’t bother to look up. Another sob tore through her as more tears flowed down her cheeks. “It was the enchantment for him, Val. He never loved me,” she whispered, the words almost sticking in her throat.
He’s gone, Jala. He left the tent, Marrow informed her quietly as he lay down beside her and wrapped his body around her legs. Give him time. I’m here for you until Valor comes to his senses. He doesn’t understand at all. Give him time and then explain.
The sound of the tent flap opening drew Jala’s attention briefly from the scout reports. She watched for half a breath as Jail stepped into the tent. With a nod and a faint smile, Jala turned her attention back to the paperwork before her. The reports she had so far were good. Over the past few weeks the war on the western coast had taken a dramatic turn as Oblivion joined the fight. From what she was reading, Avanti’s army that had been staged in Han’shy was all but destroyed. The Han’shy had risen the moment Oblivion attacked Morcath and victory was nearly complete for her allies. All they had to worry about now were the Blights.