Cautiously, Jala brushed against Valor’s magic to test his reserves and found more than she could have possibly hoped for. His reservoir brimmed though part of it seemed locked away somehow behind a barrier that didn’t seem to be magical at all. The magic locked there glowed with such vibrancy that she flinched away and refocused on the barrier. With gentle brushes she pushed against it willing it away so she could reach the formidable power it held. The barrier resisted her touch and Jala pushed with more force and insistence. A trickle of his power brushed against her and her hopes rose further. With another strong nudge, Jala forced the barrier fully open and Valor’s innermost reserves washed over her like a flood. Magic hummed in her veins and she reveled in the ecstasy of it. Faintly she heard Valor let out a gasp and she pulled herself back once more taking care to not drain more than she had to. She would not kill Valor any more than she would allow her child to die.
Jala squeezed his hand in thanks and turned her mind inward, searching once more for Death’s foul magic. The webs of magic blazed clearly in her mind as Valor’s power surged through her. Moving with sure confidence she crossed through the strands once more and began sorting through the webs of magic that cloaked Death like a second skin.
She paused as she found the strand the held Finn so tightly in check and brushed lightly against it once more. She felt a stir through the magic and the faintest hint of Finn’s mind. I’m so sorry I wasn’t strong enough, Finn. I tried, I really did. I am strong enough to help you with this, though, Jala sent the whisper as subtly as she could through the strand, but despite her attempt at stealth she felt Death’s awareness shift inward. Death slowed in her weaving of spells and Jala could feel the Divine searching for her.
The time for stealth was gone. She had moments before the Divine found her and she wasn’t sure if she could win without surprise on her side. Drawing her power closer to her, Jala focused on the strands of magic that branched from the Divine to so many people and severed them in one swift blow. Without pause she slashed the threads holding the Demons under Death’s power and felt Death lurch in surprise and then her rapidly growing fear.
Quickly, Jala began to retreat back toward her own body, her mind changing and shifting the webs of dark magic as she went. She twisted the last web as her mind settled in her own skin and sent the transformed spells crashing back toward their creator.
It was Neph that had shown her how close a healing spell was to a death spell, and it was a healing spell that she had cast on Death in the Darklands that had destroyed her hand. That was the nature of opposing magic. With most magic the reaction of opposite powers wasn’t so severe, but when you combined positive spells of healing with the negative spells of necromancy the results were catastrophic. Death had written her own destruction without even realizing it, simply by wrapping herself in so much dark magic. Jala’s only regret was that she had no way of seeing just how catastrophic the cocoon of healing she had sent back to Death would be.
Letting out a long breath she let her mind brush across her child and found him peaceful and content. A faint smile brushed her lips despite her fatigue and sorrow. Slowly she forced herself back to the sunlit world and her eyes fluttered open. Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window momentarily blinding her and then the world slowly returned to focus. Valor still sat beside the bed his hand still gripping hers and his dark blue eyes intent on her face.
“That’s three times now that you have helped me when no one else in their right mind would be willing to,” Jala whispered.
“My father chose the name Valor instead of Wisdom for a reason. He always said I had more balls than brains,” Valor whispered back with a faint smile. He squeezed her hand lightly and then slowly released it. “I’ll be there every time you need help, Jala. I don’t keep count. I simply listen for the request,” he added softly, the slur still present in his voice. With a faint bow of his head he stood shakily and started to head to the door.
“In that case, Valor,” Jala called weakly and he stopped and looked back at her. “The bottle that waits for you will have to wait longer. I don’t have time to grieve and you don’t have time to drink. I need an army, Valor, and I depend on you to build it.”
It was a struggle to sit up but she forced herself to do so, her gaze slowly moving around the room to each of her friends. Aside from Valor, they all wore expressions of shock, but it was Wisp that broke from the trance first. With a gasp of delight, the Fae rushed toward the bed and wrapped Jala in a hug that nearly sent her crawling back for the safety of the blankets.
“I can’t believe it! Your fever is gone are you truly feeling well enough to sit up?” Wisp asked, her hand moving from Jala’s forehead to her cheeks.
“I don’t feel like moving much more than I have, but yes, sitting up is fine for now,” Jala replied calmly, though in truth she was gaining strength with each breath. With the borrowed power and Death’s spells sundered, healing herself was no longer a difficulty, and her spells were already fast at work on doing so.
“You want me to build an army from what we have out there?” Valor asked as he moved back toward the bed.
“To start with and then add to it with what we bring back when I free Goswin from the curse,” Jala replied, her eyes watching Valor’s expression as it shifted from disbelief to dismay.
“I have a very large collection of thieves, whores, gutter rats, and cowards and that’s not even touching on the dysfunctional lot of knights that I’m supposed to be commanding,” Valor continued, his hand waving toward the window as he spoke.
“And I have at least four nations that will want Merro to fall. I need an army, Valor. Try to look at what they could be instead of what they were. This is a new start for all of us. Give them a chance,” Jala pressed. She brushed a strand of curls back from her face and forced him to meet her eyes. “If you listened to the talk in Sanctuary, I’m no more than a peasant whore. Yet you gave me a chance to prove myself otherwise.”