The Azar Omnibus: The Complete Azar Trilogy (The Azar Trilogy Book 0)

by Grace McGinty

  Then, just as they appeared, they vanished between one breath and the next. She wished Bast luck trying to keep up with their disappearing act.

  She couldn’t help but smile. “One battle down, body count zero. That’s a success in anyone’s book, I think.”

  Lorcan was just watching the horizon and gave her a non-committal hum.

  He looked back at their group. “Let’s move,” he barked, and everyone fell back into their ranks, and she was hustled back into her sequestered position in the middle.

  She looked over her shoulder at Hemlock.

  “So, Cian’s Golden Guard. Are they all under his enchantment? Are they all devoted to him because they have to stare at him all day?”

  Hemlock nodded. “Yes. But it is a small consolation that most of them don’t realize their love for him is unnatural. There’s some anecdotal evidence that the effect of his power wears off after several decades, but by that time you are well and truly tied to the Prince. Besides, most would stay because it keeps them out of reach of the Blood Prince, and that is a fate far worse.”

  Her eyes shifted to Enya’s arms, where she was giving a report to Lorcan at the front. One hundred perfect scars. She was on the fence about Cian’s ability, but she knew unequivocally that it was better than that. She caught Lorcan’s attention and he fell back.

  “Do you think that I have just let an enemy go so they can circle back and kill us later? Or will Cian actually leave?”

  Lorcan huffed out a sigh. “I would thank you for your compassion, but with Cian, it is often difficult to predict. His dual natures are often at war. He collects those battered Amazons he calls a guard from the slave quarters and low caste Fae, saving them from lives of degradation. He never picks from esteemed warrior clans, instead choosing to nurture the malnourished waifs back to health. But then he subjugates them, taking their free will, as if he needs an ulterior motive for his kindness. Most would probably fight for him without the compulsion of his abilities, but then, the Unseelie Court is no place for trust.” He sighed, eyes constantly scanning the trees. “He may stay away, he may not. I can only hope-”

  An unearthly scream echoed across the forest, making her jump in her own skin.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “Goblins,” Hemlock answered as Lorcan moved back to the front and she followed.

  Enya ran out of the trees.

  “The Goblin King has arrived. I’d hoped he’d forgotten.” There was a definite grimness to her voice.

  Goblins. Azar had never met one in her travels, as she’d never spent much time in the eastern European mountains, where they gathered in secular clans. But she’d heard they were big, grotesque and a little bit dumb. She was about to find out if all those things were true.

  A falcon flew down and landed on Lorcan’s shoulder, squawked several times, and then took off with a graceful flap of its wings.

  “Did you catch that?” she asked Hemlock, but it was Bast, who answered.

  He said that the goblins didn’t send as many troops as promised, and the King only sent his fifth best general. He didn’t make a personal appearance himself. I couldn't pick up Cian's trail either.

  Only his fifth best general and a small army. “We can do this without raising the Originals?” The stomach-churning hope was almost unbearable.

  No, Jaanaman. There are still over six thousand of them.

  Azar deflated. “Fuckballs! If that’s a small contingent, how big is their entire army? No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. We are so fucking screwed.” Hysterical desolation was beginning to creep into her outwardly confident demeanor. Several of the Unbound gave her the side eye, and she took a deep breath. She didn’t want to freak them out. After all, they could only hear one side of this conversation.

  Hemlock, however, had caught the general idea. “Not necessarily. The goblins rely purely on numbers. They swarm the enemy like ants. But they aren’t particularly skilled fighters. They are almost exclusively farmers and sheep herders. The Were outclass them as fighters. If we can break up their ranks, they will be easy pickings.” They’d be child’s play to a Fae warrior then.

  The Goblin mass let out another ear-piercing battle cry. Azar tripped and stumbled at the inhuman sound of it, but Oliver butted her back into position. She reached down and ran a hand through his thick fur.

  “There is a skirmish that way,” Lorcan said, pointing through a stand of ancient pines. “We will provide support. Gird yourselves.”

  In a normal situation, she would have laughed at anyone who used the word gird in conversation. Right now though, she was too busy keeping up as their troops began running faster than any human Olympian, but still be comically slow for the Fae and Weres.

  They burst through the tree line into a small clearing, and Azar got her first look at a goblin. Bile rose in her throat. They were grotesque. An insipid green, they were roughly humanoid with large, oozing lumps on the flesh that was exposed by the rough linen rags they wore. From what she could see, every member of goblin society fought in the goblin army; men, women and children. Although there wasn’t a lot of difference physically between the first two from the waist up, she could spot the difference as their, err, junk swung around between lumpy thighs, ineffectually hidden by leather loin cloths.

  Azar could see a tiny goblin child, no bigger than Freya, standing in the middle of the fighting, holding a short sword and crying. It turned her stomach.

  Oliver let out a disgusted growl when he spotted the child too.

  “What kind of race sends their young into battle?” Azar wondered.

  It was Hemlock who answered again. He was her walking encyclopedia slash guard today, apparently.

  “The Goblin King sends entire clans to fight, any person able to stand and hold a sword. Often women will fight with babes strapped to their backs if there is no one left to care for them. Any goblin or clan who refuses to fight is executed. Whole villages would burn in retaliation. But do not be fooled. Even the young have been trained to kill for survival. They may not be very good, but they can run you through and will not hesitate to do so.”

  “That’s barbaric.” She couldn’t keep her disgust out of her voice.

  “In war, you do what you have to do, and ask Danu for forgiveness about it later.” It was his barely veiled way of saying that he would kill the goblin child just as if she were an adult. She was going to throw-up.

  But the momentum of battle prevented any further conversation, as swords were drawn and battle lines surged together. She drew Basatine and let the sentient knowledge take control of her arm and lift itself into a perfect defensive position. It felt eager, as if it had tasted goblin blood before.

  “No children,” she told the sword, and only felt slightly deranged.

  Azar quickly took stock of the battle. The goblins seemed to have cornered Ethan's squad, who were mostly Unbound and Were, and while they were holding their own, they were outnumbered and slowly being pushed back.

  She let the adrenaline of battle overcome her as she swirled through the oozing mass of goblins. She cut down two, four, and then ten goblins before she lost count. The sword must have listened, because it would shy away from the younger members of the goblin army.

  She was splattered with pus and guts, but eventually she found herself in front of the crying goblin girl, who was still standing in the same spot clutching her sword to her chest like a life buoy.

  Azar leaned down a little, always aware of her surroundings. “It’s okay,” she cooed in a gentle voice amidst the violence. “Why don't you go and hide until this is all over?” The little girl blinked big, black eyes, then turned towards the woods and began picking her way to their cover.

  Azar turned back to the melee of battle. She heard the tiny, high pitched battle cry too late and had only half turned to see the goblin girl’s dull sword inches from her face. Azar froze, Basatine hanging useless by her side.

  Then Hemlock was there, slicing the child
’s sword arm from her body.

  Azar gaped, watching the limb writhe around on the ground, oozing brown blood.

  “I told you not to hesitate,” Hemlock growled as he flashed back into the fray.

  She just stood there, looking at the now still arm, and the little girl who had passed out from pain or blood loss. For the first time in her life, she didn’t know what to do. It was against her nature to leave a child to die, even one that had just tried to kill her. So she whacked a flaming hand over the girl’s still bleeding stump, stopping the flow of blood. Then she picked up the girl’s sword, which was still gripped in the decapitated hand, and turned away.

  Danu could curse her for her inaction later.

  While she had been preoccupied with the smallest member of the enemy army, the tide of the battle had turned, and the goblins began to scatter into the trees, pursued by the Weres. She looked over her shoulder to see someone had picked up the little girl and her arm on their retreat and she felt strangely relieved.

  However, there were plenty of bodies still remaining, mostly goblins but some of her allies as well. She made herself commit every one of those fallen Unbound and Were faces to memory.

  You put too much on your own shoulders, Azar. She knew Bast was serious because he hardly ever called her by her name. They knew death may come for them when they signed up. Their deaths aren’t yours to lament.

  “I am their Councilor, their packmate. Every one of their deaths is mine to lament.” With that, she sheathed Basatine and walked to where Lorcan stood with Ethan.

  “We will wait for the pursuing Weres to return, and then our two squads will join together. I can feel a flood of power from the north-east. It is here we need to go, but we will need numbers.”

  Ethan nodded in agreement, and so did Azar as she slumped down on the closest rock. The hair stood up on the back of her neck every time she turned north-east, the primal part of her brain recognizing the power and prompting her to run away.

  She needed to rest and process. All those epic fantasy novels she’d read didn’t really let on how much your arm hurts when you are swinging around a sword for even a short period of time. Even magic imbued, partially sentient ones.

  She tried not to focus on the brown sludge of goblin blood and dirt, or the unseeing eyes of the dead. Those images she’d just store in an iron chest in her mind, to sort through once this was all over. If she died before that, then it wouldn't matter.

  I would spare you this if I could, the wind whispered in Bast’s voice.

  Oliver let out a yowl of agreement, though it was somewhat less endearing considering he was lying at her feet licking goblin blood from his huge paws.

  “I know. I would spare us all this day if I could.”

  A triumphant chorus went up, as the Weres came barreling back through the tree line. A wolf shifted into a very naked man. “They’ve scattered,” he informed Ethan and Lorcan, not even out of breath.

  “We head north-east,” Lorcan ordered, and everyone was on their feet and in their lines in seconds.

  They moved swiftly and silently for a group so large. As they walked, a medic flitted through the ranks, patching up wounds, giving out water, making sure no one died on the march.

  Too soon, they found themselves on a small sheltered outcropping that overlooked a valley. Given the amount of noise, both psychic and physical, they’d found their battle.

  Enya appeared at Lorcan’s side. “The Queen and the Imposter King are on the ridge. Seven of our squadrons are fighting a primarily Fae force, and we are severely depleted.”

  “What is the Queen doing?”

  “From what I can see, they are just watching the battle, Sir.”

  Lorcan grunted, and Ethan gave a snort. The likelihood that the Queen was just here to enjoy the show and not participate was too fantastical to even hope for.

  “We can’t stand here and let them be slaughtered,” Ethan said, and Lorcan agreed.

  “Circle around to their flank, make them turn back in on themselves. I’ll take care of the Queen and Finlay.” Azar turned to go with the army, but Lorcan pointed one graceful finger in her direction. “You stay.”

  The group split up, the bulk of their little army melting into the trees, leaving only Azar, Oliver and four of the Black Guard with Lorcan.

  “Shouldn’t I go with them?” Azar protested.

  “No. I need you with me.”

  “Because you don’t trust anyone else with my safety.” It wasn’t a question but he answered anyway.

  “Essentially.”

  Azar huffed but she didn’t argue. Only an idiot would begrudge the protection of the Black Prince.

  She’d like to survive today, and if that made her a selfish coward, then so be it. Oliver stuck to her side like glue, and Bast stayed too, of course. No one had suggested otherwise.

  They slanted north across the rocky outcropping, staying low and deep in the cover of the tree line, towards the northern ridge of the valley.

  This needed to be over now. Every time she looked down at the valley, the bodies seemed to be thicker on the ground.

  “Cut the head off the snake,” she assured herself quietly, but Enya still heard.

  “Unfortunately, this snake is more like a hydra. But we can still give her a few less mouths to spit her poison from,” Enya grumbled. Hemlock rumbled his agreement.

  “Quiet,” Lorcan chastised from the front, as they went to their bellies and shimmied up the backside of the ridge, out of the direct line of sight of Finlay and the Queen.

  Azar desperately wanted to know what the Queen looked like. She got brief glimpses of long straight blond hair that hung like a waterfall to the ground, where it curled gently above the dirt. It was beautiful, except that it was woven with the bones and skulls of some small creatures she couldn’t identify.

  The Queen turned, looking directly at the spot where they lay, still splayed out on their stomachs.

  “Lorcan, you’ve arrived!” Lustre, Queen of the Unseelie Fae, sounded like a delighted mother whose prodigal son had returned home.

  Every single person was on their feet in a flash, swords drawn. Oliver let out a roar that cracked off the surrounding trees.

  “Ah, Son, I am so glad you could join us. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Lustre stood in the embrace of Finlay, and she only looked a little annoyed when the smug faced Imposter King put his hands on her breasts. By god, she was beautiful though. There were hints of Cian in her face. Perfect turquoise eyes framed with thick dark lashes, high cheekbones on a perfect heart shaped face. Her body was something that would make grown men weep with joy.

  Lustre closed her eyes, her body pressed against Finlay, who was looking down at her adoringly. Then, as one, everyone in her party dropped to the ground, writhing. Instinctively, Azar dropped with them, looking for some kind of attack. Then they started screaming in pain. Bast was shouting ancient, pained Persian in her head until she had to block him out. She looked for Oliver and Lorcan. She spotted Lorcan, his head pressed between his hands.

  “Lorcan! What’s wrong?”

  “She’s stronger,” he whispered. “I don’t know how, but her illusions are seeping in. I can’t fight them.” His eyes were shifting back and forth between violet and pure liquid black. A black so deep that it made her chest hurt. She had a really bad feeling. When he stood, the grass around him shriveled and turned black. This was bad, bad, bad. So she did the first thing that popped into her head, and swung Basatine like a baseball bat at his skull. His head whipped to the side with a thud, and he was out cold.

  She glanced a look at Lustre and Finlay, who seemed to assume that everyone was under Lustre’s compulsion. They were watching the ensuing chaos with gleeful abandon. The entire battlefield screeched in pain, trying to tear each other apart, even the enemy troops had turned on each other until it was just one big brawl. There were no longer allegiances, just every person trapped in their own living hell, struggling to survive.


  Azar made her way toward the pair of royals, playing possessed marionette, disabling but not harming those in her group. Hemlock and Enya were fighting at a speed that rivaled the swirling winds of a tornado; spinning, kicking and striking at such momentum that it was whipping up the dirt and leaves at their feet. Using their fight as cover, Azar switched forms to Ifrit, lighting Basatine up with its electric blue fire. Stepping around the fighting soldiers, she raced towards Finlay, sword raised.

  Sensing her approach, Finlay’s own sword came up and blocked Basatine.

  “Ah, I thought that was you. How is my cousin? I’d like to give the little abomination my regards.” He parried and thrust, and she flowed away. She gritted her teeth and flowed through sword forms that she didn’t know. Danu bless Basatine, the bloodthirsty blade.

  “Sorry,” Azar grunted out. “Nevyn is a long way from here. Maybe you could send him a postcard from Hell?”

  Finlay laughed. “I don’t think so, Peasant.” He was continually in motion, and she was struggling to keep up. “Soon, your precious Black Prince will wake up, and the Queen’s illusions will bend his mind, and he will kill everyone in this forsaken valley, including you.” He grunted as Basatine’s blade grazed his upper arm. “Then, the Queen and I will repopulate the Fae under one court, with only the superior bloodlines.”

  The Queen in question stayed pressed against Finlay’s back, away from the thrusts of Azar’s blade. The two royals danced around in perfect unison, always pressed so close that if Azar could manage to run Finlay through, it chanced on going through both of them like a shish-kebob.

  His blade glanced off her forearm, and she let out a hiss, dancing back a few steps.

  “Sounds incestuous,” she said between puffs. “But you’re just pretty arm candy. She’s the one doing all the work,” she guessed. She stepped forward, swinging at him with her sword. “So, like a man. Don’t do any of the work, but take all the glory.”

  Finlay’s face scrunched in rage. “I am the only reason she can reach the entire valley at all! Without me, she wouldn’t be able to control half this army, let alone Lorcan!”