“Animals? According to the scriptures all animals are innocent in the eyes of the gods and thus pass immediately into the life stream once more to be reborn,” Jala objected, her nausea finally starting to subside. She leaned forward to watch Fiona but was careful to keep her eyes locked on the woman’s face rather than the pile of death she stood in.
“Be sure and tell Death that when you see her. She seems to have real difficulty letting anything return to the life stream. Now these sorry bastards that I’m wading in currently were like the two of you – living creatures that crossed the boundary. A few of them might have actually been heroes who came here to set things right, but most of them had darker purposes…” Fiona’s voice trailed off as she stooped and plucked a rotting leather bag from the pile. Lifting the flap she began to dig around inside, mumbling to herself as she did so.
“Let me try healing your ribs,” Jala said quietly to Valor as Fiona’s attention was distracted.
“Your ankle first,” Valor insisted as he sat down beside her and leaned back against the wall. “My ribs will keep but you need to be able to walk,” he added when she started to protest.
“Don’t heal anything. Every time you cast a spell you give Death an exact location as to where you are.” Fiona cut in, her head coming up sharply. “Give me a moment or two and hopefully we can get you healed. Most come in here a bit more prepared than you two have.”
“Do you ever say anything nice at all?” Jala snapped, her temper fraying a bit at the edges. The pain combined with Fiona’s constant cutting remarks was putting her in a foul mood quickly.
“No, not usually, but then my company is typically snarling demons. Let me adjust over to having snot nosed brats as company and I’ll see if I can be nicer,” Fiona replied dryly, her eyes still fixed on the bag she held.
“Bitch, if you were like this in life, I see why he chopped your head off,” Valor snapped as he took the flask of brandy from Jala’s hand and swallowed deeply from its contents.
“Weren’t you the one murmuring about childhood heroes earlier today?” Fiona grumbled.
“History books don’t capture personalities well. Had they written this particular chapter about you, I believe I would have found another to emulate,” Valor replied.
“Ahh. Here we go. Smear this on your wounds,” Fiona said in a triumphant voice as she produced a bottle from one of the bags. Tossing it lightly to Valor she dropped the bag at her feet and wiped the worst of the grime from her gauntlets onto the trailing ends of her cloak.
Valor regarded the bottle suspiciously and carefully sniffed at its contents. “It smells like a three week dead skunk,” he complained as he shook his head in disgust.
“Well, be glad I didn’t tell you to drink it then.” Fiona replied.
“Bitch,” Valor repeated and carefully set the bottle down beside him and began to unbuckle his breastplate. “I’ll try it on the ribs first. If it doesn’t kill me we will use it on your ankle next,” he said to Jala softly.
“You will find most inhabitants of the Darklands make me seem pleasant,” Fiona said with a bitter smile on her pale blue lips. Sitting down cross-legged she regarded them both once again and let out a long sigh. “Why are you two here? You are both too young for this,” she said in a quieter voice that was almost pleasant sounding.
“Death has my husband’s soul and won’t release it. I’ve come to retrieve it.” Jala said cautiously. She fully expected Fiona to lash out with another comment but the woman simply sat there staring off into space. “We will succeed in this,” Jala added after a long moment of silence.
Fiona’s eyes seemed to focus again and she swept her gaze across the countless bodies that littered the floor behind her. “They all say that, every last one that comes here. But then I suppose you two did survive against Nasurai, so that says something for you at least. Still, you would be better off going back home now while you still can. Nasurai was the weakest of her guardians.”
“I won’t leave without Finn,” Jala said firmly, her eyes locking onto Fiona’s.
“Then you may not ever leave,” Fiona said softly and turned to regard Valor. “What about you, Arovan, will you die here too?” Fiona asked.
Valor looked up from his broken ribs and raised an eyebrow at her. “With what I have learned of the Darklands and its citizens I will do everything in my power never to die. The knowledge that I could spend eternity with your sunshine sweet personality is more motivation than I ever needed. Not that I intended to die before now, mind you. Jala and I will succeed and return home with Finn. Of that there is no question.”
Fiona smiled and the expression seemed genuine. “Well then, I suppose there is a slim ray of hope. I promise you both this, though, if I help you and you fail, I will haunt you both mercilessly.”
Valor gave a mock shudder and handed the bottle to Jala. “It seems to be helping the ribs and I haven’t fallen over in convulsions yet, so I think it might actually be a healing tonic.”
Jala gave a slight nod and accepted the bottle, her eyes still fixed on Fiona. “We need to go soon, Fiona. I’m running out of time. I’m not entirely sure how long we have been in here but I only have three moons to find Finn before I have to return to the sunlit lands. I made a blood oath swearing I would be back by that time. I can’t risk breaking my word on it,” she explained, trying to convey her needs as clearly as she could.
Fiona nodded slightly and tilted her head to one side still watching Jala. “Do you think you could win against her now in the condition you are in?” she asked.