“Exactly.” Daha smiled softly. “Are you ready?”
I nodded and he held out his hand expectantly. I knew the routine, I'd seen a Naga prophesy before. I laid my hand in Daha's palm.
Daha's eyes closed. His hood shivered like a rattlesnake's tail and he took a sudden, deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, they were glowing to the point where he appeared blind.
“You fight against yourself,” Daha intoned. “There will come a time when you must surrender; it is inevitable when you are both opponent and defender. And the victor is inevitable when one side has all the weapons.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked in a hushed tone. “This has nothing to do with why I'm here. Fight against myself? What does that even mean?”
“Just listen and remember, Elaria,” he chided me but it was with a resonant voice that held no censure. “If you want to even the odds, go to the Witches; they will help you fight.”
“You're talking about the Rooster Spell, aren't you?” I whispered. “About how I'm trying to stop its need for more lovers?”
Daha nodded. “It has become more important to you than any other magic, even that which you have been reunited with. It must be dealt with, even in the midst of this.”
“What is this?” I asked urgently. “What's happening in the Zone?”
“So many things. More than you think. More than you can possibly expect.” His expression went sad. “The Zone bleeds and so will you if you're not wary.”
“Can you be more specific?” I grumbled.
One uniting truth about seers; they speak in riddles. I don't think they do it on purpose; their prophecies seem more like a recitation of what they're told or possibly their best description of what they're shown. This seer, at least, was doing better than most. I'd actually gotten a straight answer from him, and he seemed inclined to offer more. Fingers crossed.
“You have the answer already,” Daha declared to my immense disappointment. But then he went on, “You have seen the infection yourself; your magic has followed it into the depths of the Zone. Vengeance now rises.”
“Is it Gargo? Is it his spirit?”
“It is and it is not.”
“Damn it!” I hissed. It was practically the same thing I had said after singing, but I still didn't know what it meant. Perhaps the visions seers received were similar to the ones I got from my magic. In which case, I could hardly get mad at Daha for his lack of specificity. Still, I couldn't help a little whine, “That isn't helpful, Daha. Can you see who or what it is?”
“It is blood.”
I froze. Blood. How's that for a straight answer? And Daha was right; I had been given the answer already, I just couldn't understand it until now. Gargo but not. Not his spirit, but his blood; physical essence opposed to metaphysical. When we went to destroy Gargo's body, it had fought back, even without his soul in residence. His body had been formed from magic and had a certain sentience; basically, a knee-jerk reaction of divine proportions. We had to resort to some drastic measures to subdue it before we could burn it to ash. Measures that inflicted numerous wounds on Gargo's enormous body, releasing a virtual tidal wave of his blood.
Blood that had seeped into the Zone.
“There's magic in blood,” I whispered.
“Yes, now you understand.” Daha nodded. “As a Goddess reborn, your blood had the power to wake a God.”
A Goddess reborn; I liked that. But I had to focus. “So, if my blood—the blood of a reborn Goddess with limited power—could do that, what could Gargo's blood do?”
It was rhetorical, of course, and Daha only nodded again; acknowledging that the possibilities were both endless and terrifying.
“How do we cleanse the Zone?”
“There's only one way to counter blood magic,” Daha declared. “I believe you know the answer to that as well.”
I grimaced. “With more blood?”
“Blood equal in power.”
“My blood.”
“No, Elaria.” Daha continued to stare into the distance with his glowing eyes, despite his focused speech. “Your blood is too hot; pitching it against Gargo's will bring you a stalemate, not a win. You need blood that cools. Blood that can counter that which boils beneath us.”
“Darc's blood,” I whispered in horror.
Daha bowed deeply.
Giving my blood wouldn't have fazed me; I'd bled here before. But the idea of Darcraxis opening a vein filled me with fear. He's a God, I shouldn't have worried, but still... he wasn't as divine as he once was and even Gods can be killed.
“How much of it will we need?” I finally asked.
“I cannot see that but I assume it will be substantial. The infection has spread.”
“Is there no other way?”
“There may be one, but it will not be available to you until later, and it would leave the Zone to suffer in your absence. I don't recommend it.”
If I hadn't been so worried, I'd have been more impressed by Daha. He may have started vague but he'd rapidly become precise. I'd gotten more useful information from him than from any psychic before. Frankly, I didn't know it was possible to get such clear answers out of a seer. Daha was beyond talented; I'd go as far as to call him a master of his craft. I could barely believe that it was Binx who brought us to him. But, as I said, I was worried so my reaction was a bit more... frustrated than awed.
“Damn!” I cursed again, rubbed at my forehead, then squared my shoulders. “Okay, one more question, if you don't mind. Is the spirit of Gargo—his soul or essence, whatever you wish to call it—loose in the Zone?”
Daha went silent. His hood shivered once more. His glowing eyes seemed to focus on me, making me shiver too. I got the impression that he was weighing his words before he spoke them. Or searching me for the
