Twin Soul Series Omnibus 2: Books 6-10

by McCaffrey-Winner

  “But… the fire…” Ellen said, feeling both surprised that discovering she was not a child of a god upset her so much, and amazed that she could even be so bold as to hope for such a thing.

  “Tonight you will learn how to summon a dragon, Ellen,” Rabel said. “Most people cannot do it.”

  “So how do you know I…?”

  “I made a bargain with Ophidian,” Rabel said, nodding toward the figurine. “And he told me.” He gestured again to the god and then moved beyond to open the window. Cold air with bits of snow rushed in and froze the room. “Close your eyes and think of fire,” Rabel instructed. Ellen closed her eyes.

  “Ophidian has made a bargain with me,” Rabel said. His tone changed and his voice rose above the wind as he continued, “Ophidian, I, Rabel Zebala, wielder of the dragon’s fire do accept your bargain. Life given, lives guarded.” He nudged Ellen who opened her eyes to peer up at him. “Three lives I’ll guard for you, even beyond death.” Ellen’s eyes widened at his promise. Who could promise beyond death? He smiled down at her. “Ellen Unnamed is under my care, with your blessing, to guide to her doom or destiny as the gods decree. By my word, she will not starve. By my word, she will not sicken. By my word —”

  Get on with it! The words were raspy in Ellen’s brain; it took her a moment to associate it with the dragon figurine in front of them, its eyes wide and flaring with red.

  “Touchy, touchy!” Rabel chided the god with a half-smile. “My word, then. And my word for my daughter, Krea —”

  Already given — get on with it!

  “And the third life — your son, Jarin,” Rabel said. “I so pledge my word to provide the same.”

  Call him! Both of you!

  “Jarin, son of Ophidian, I call you,” Ellen said now, loudly, looking out into the night sky. Suddenly she found words inside her that she’d never imagined. “Red and black dragon of pure flame, I call you! My aid for your aid, my blood for your blood —” she winced as she felt her finger pricked and looked to see Rabel holding a small pin against her finger “— I so promise.”

  “Jarin, dragon, friend of wyverns, I call you to us,” Rabel said, pricking his own finger and letting the blood drop on the dragon figurine, indicating that Ellen should do the same. “I am pledged to your father and by his bond to you, your debt to him, I call you for your debt to me.” He glanced to Ellen. “To us, fire-born. Come and carry us away, as your father wishes.”

  Ellen closed her eyes, trying to ignore the pain of the prick in her finger. She imagined the bright red dragon, imagined his flaming breath, imagined him swooping —

  “Open up! In the king’s name!” A voice boomed loudly outside in the snow.

  “And hurry up, please!” Ellen added in a small voice.

  “Fire and flame!” Rabel shouted down the stairs. Ellen felt his magic fly past her and, a moment later, the bottom of the stairs brightened in the red of flames.

  “Out the window, now,” Rabel said, urging her up, dropping the figurine back into the chest and thrusting it into his sack. “Careful, the snow is slippery!”

  #

  Colonel Walpish reined in his horse as his troops dismounted outside the farmhouse. He nodded as they stood guard around the two doors and he marched up the steps to the front door, pounding loudly. “Open up! In the king’s name!”

  He waited a moment then waved his men forward to smash in the door. They started forward but he stopped them with a raised hand — he’d heard something inside. And then he leapt back as the inside of the house brightened.

  “Fire!” One of his troopers cried unnecessarily, jumping back from the farmhouse.

  “Stand away, men!” Walpish called. “Stand back!”

  “There’s a well, sir,” a trooper called out, pointing. “We could get some buckets —”

  His words were cut off by a cry of surprise from one of the mounted troops. He pointed to the sky. “Look!”

  Flame flared above them and they heard a harsh cry from the sky.

  “A dragon!” a trooper called. Walpish frowned at the man. Really, was he stupid?

  “Stand back!” Walpish ordered, directing his words toward the oaf who had twice stated the obvious.

  The dragon descended toward the house, breathing fire over the eaves, stooped, seemed to pause for a moment, and hauled itself upwards, back into the dark night and the white snow.

  #

  “This better be good,” Jarin growled as he heaved himself up into the night sky. “I am not summoned by mortals like I was a pet.”

  “I think you’re wonderful!” the little girl said as she draped herself over his back, nuzzling her chin against his shoulder. “And thank you for saving us, son of Ophidian!”

  “Well,” Jarin huffed, “I might let you stay.” He flicked his shoulders, feeling the weight of the man riding on him. “Him, I don’t know about.”

  “He swore an oath to your father,” the girl said. She continued quickly, “He’s Rabel, and he used to be old but your father made him young again so that —”

  “So that I could be of service,” the man interjected smoothly.

  “To me?” Jarin asked in surprise, though the notion pleased him.

  “And your father,” Rabel added with a bow from his waist — Jarin could feel the change in weight above him. “And Ellen here. And one other.”

  “Very pleased to meet you, Ellen,” Jarin called over her shoulder.

  “Thank you!” the young girl said in a light piping voice that irrationally pleased Jarin no end.

  “Who’s the other?” Jarin asked Rabel.

  “You’ve met her,” Ellen said. “She’s his daughter, only she’s a wyvern now.”

  “You know Wymarc?” Jarin cried.

  “Wymarc?” Rabel repeated in surprise. “No, I know Krea. She’s my daughter.”

  “Well, well,” Jarin said, “this is interesting.” He paused a moment, changed course and resumed climbing at greater speed. “I can help you find her.”

  “Thank you,” Rabel said. “But your father has a different journey in mind for us.”

  “Does he?” Jarin asked in a defiant tone. “And what journey is that?”

  “He wants us to go north, to Soria,” Rabel said. “He wants us to warn them that Markel is sending airships their way.” He paused. “He wants us to prepare to defend them.”

  Jarin was silent for a long while. Finally, he said, “I can take you there.”

  Snow Serpent

  Book 7

  Twin Soul series

  Prolog

  “Rest, you’re going to need your strength,” mage Reedis said as he lowered captain Ford to the snowy ground. Although, given the smoke and flames rising from the distant wreck of captain Ford’s command — the once-proud royal airship Spite — the injured man was, at this moment, captain of nothing.

  Spite had been destroyed by a wrathful wyvern — the same sort of beast it had been built to destroy — and the accidental explosion of the guns firing from its bow.

  “Pfah!” Ford said, making a face. “We’re leagues from anywhere, we’re going to freeze before the dawn.”

  This was true: they were resting on hard-packed snow, centuries old. All around them there was nothing to see but frozen plains and, rising in the distance, a threatening mountain range with a forlorn — and very high — pass somewhere in it midst.

  Of course, even before her destruction, Spite was a dying ship: an airship lost in the frozen north without fuel. In desperation, Ford had ordered the crew to fire off the remaining shot and powder for the guns in the hopes of attracting attention.

  They had. They’d attracted the attention of the wyvern. Which would have been an entirely different proposition had not one of the two bow guns not suddenly exploded, probably from improper — or too hasty — handling.

 
The wyvern’s wrath on seeing the explosion had included destroying as many of the airship’s ten lifting balloons as it could before turning her attention to the ship’s wooden hull, setting it alight with her wyvern’s flames.

  Captain Ford had done all he could help his crew abandon ship — hundreds of feet in the air falling into a frozen waste — but was himself trapped in his cabin after seeing to the safety of his cook and his friend, mage Reedis. Reedis had surprised himself by ordering Annabelle to destroy his safety balloon and falling back to the crashing stern of Spite in a bid to rescue captain Ford from his trap. He’d failed — at least until crown prince Nestor had surprised everyone by charging the stern with an axe and cutting away the window frame that had trapped the captain. But the vengeful wyvern had carried Nestor off in its talons before he could complete the job. He’d done enough, however, and Richard Ford had flown out of his cabin on the bottom end of another of mage Reedis’ magical safety balloons. Reedis had grabbed on hastily and they’d floated to the ground, falling faster than desirable and landing — hard — on the cold plains below.

  “We won’t freeze until our fire dies,” Reedis said, surprising Ford by throwing a bundle of broken planks onto the ground and setting it alight with his magic.

  “You should leave me here,” Ford said. He pointed to his splinted leg. “There’s no way I can walk far. You could, though.”

  “I didn’t come back for you on the ship to leave you here on the frozen ground,” Reedis said testily.

  “The fire’s warm,” Ford said thoughtfully. He glanced to Reedis. “I’d be safe here. You could go on, maybe find some help —”

  “Richard, that’s enough!” Reedis snapped. “We are either going to get through this together or we’re going to die together!”

  “Why —” Ford’s brow creased. “Do you know, mage Reedis, I don’t think I ever learned your first name.”

  “That’s because I don’t like it,” Reedis said sharply. “It was my father’s, I think —”

  “Think?” Ford interrupted. An awkward silence grew between them and then Ford waved a hand at the mage. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “No reason you should,” Reedis said. He stared at the fire for a moment before looking up. “It’s Karol.”

  “Karol?”

  “My first name,” Reedis said.

  “Oh,” Ford said. He glanced to the fire. “It’s not a bad name, all things considered.”

  “I go by Reedis,” the mage said curtly.

  “Very well,” Ford said. He raised his eyes to meet the mage’s, saying, “It has been a pleasure working with you, mage.”

  “So what’s next?” Reedis said. “You said we should avenge Nestor, I believe.”

  “We should,” Ford said. He roused himself, leaning up on an arm, wincing as the movement jerked his broken leg. “I have no respect for a King who wants me to commit the murder of his own son.”

  “His son?” Reedis asked mildly.

  “I’ve heard the rumors,” Ford said with a wave of his hand. “If the prince is a bastard, I guarantee this — he’s Markel’s bastard.”

  Reedis snorted with laughter. “Yes,” he said when he’d recovered. “I can see why you would say that.”

  “You know,” Ford said thoughtfully, closing his eyes to concentrate better on his words, “I could see how, with some training, some guidance, someone to mentor him, he might turn out to be a good king, even better than his father.”

  “You do?”

  “I do,” Ford said. “In fact —”

  “Richard,” Reedis interrupted him in a frightened voice — a voice that didn’t come from the direction of the last voice.

  Ford opened his eyes and glanced toward the mage. Reedis gestured with wide eyes toward where Ford had heard the other voice.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” the owner of the voice said. “Because I have a job for you two. One that deals directly with crown prince Nestor.”

  Ford glanced at the speaker, frowning. He knew that face.

  The owner of the face saw his confusion and smiled. “Imagine me with a beard. Older.” He paused as he saw Ford’s continued confusion. “Frozen.”

  “And as large as a mountain,” Reedis said in a very small voice.

  “Exactly,” the god Arolan said with a nod and a smile. He gestured to the distance. “I think this conversation is better carried out —”

  And suddenly there were in a white room, warm, and both of them were in adjoining beds as the god Arolan continued —

  “— when you’ve had a chance to rest and recover.”

  Chapter One

  “Really, Arolan!” a woman’s voice cried in disgust as she burst through the doorway. “Don’t you ever think to knock!”

  “Sorry, Avice,” the water god replied. He gestured toward Ford. “This one has a broken leg and I know that you’re the only one to handle them properly.”

  “Flatterer!” Avice said with a smile. She moved over to Ford and ran her hand over his leg where it lay under the sheets. She frowned and said to Ford, “That’s a nasty one.” She closed her eyes. “All better now.” She glanced at Reedis. “You heard the god. You should be resting.” She expanded her gaze to include Ford. “Both of you.”

  She motioned Arolan to the door, leaving the two men fast asleep behind them.

  Arolan glanced around the corridors as they left the infirmary room and said to Avice, “It’s a bit white isn’t it?”

  “Feeling cold?” Avice asked him with a grin. “Two centuries of snow a bit much for you, water god?” Avice had no problem teasing him: she was a god even older than himself. Arolan was one of the younger gods. He was the god of water just as Ametza, his much-estranged wife — two centuries is long enough to qualify as estrangement, even for an immortal god — was the goddess of water. Arolan preferred the sea somewhat more than Ametza, who preferred to spend her time with rivers and lakes — and the humans who had slowly spread out across the expanse of Toreen’s World. Mother Toreen was said to be sleeping — leaving her children, the gods, to play in comfort in the world she had created for them. Humans had been created a very long time ago and had proven endlessly amusing — to some gods more than others.

  “I’d like to see some blue,” Arolan confessed. Avice snorted and shook her head at him in amusement, waving a hand in a go-ahead gesture. “And some green,” Arolan added as he nodded graciously to her. The corridors were suddenly decked out with the colors of the sea, sea-foam, and white breakers, artfully added to the pure white marble décore.

  “Ophidian has decorated the main corridor up by the hall,” Avice informed him. “Apparently your artistry inspired him.”

  Arolan snorted. “He and I shall have words.”

  “I expect,” Avice said, guiding him toward the dining hall. “In the meantime, you should eat. You’re probably hungry after being frozen for so long.” She stopped before a door which was now decorated in light green accents with deep blue hues. “I have to prepare some concoctions for the others —”

  “Others?” Arolan said. “Some of Ophidian’s?”

  Ophidian was an older god, like Avice, but quite different in outlook. Arolan and Ophidian — the dragon god — had had more than one encounter in their long lives. Arolan had rarely enjoyed the outcome.

  “And others from the wreck,” Avice said in agreement. She turned back the way they’d come, saying, “I presume you have plans for your two.”

  “Some,” Arolan said in agreement, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Though I’ve no doubt that dear Ophidian has something in his mind.” He paused a moment and added in a different tone, “Not to mention Ametza.”

  “You haven’t talked to her yet,” Avice guessed, watching the younger god shrewdly. Arolan shook his head, “I’d like to keep my return a secret for a while.”

 
“You came to the wrong place for that!” Avice told him.

  “With your help, then,” Arolan said, bowing toward her. “You and Terric were always discreet.”

  “Very well,” Avice said, opening the door to her apothecary. “Do see Sybil, she’s got something especially tasty for you. Fit for a god.”

  “I should hope!” Arolan said with a laugh, waving in farewell and moving quickly to the dining hall.

  #

  “Sybil!” Arolan cried in joy as he jumped over the counter to the kitchen, hugging the goddess tightly. “How I’ve dreamed of you!”

  “Why, Arolan! And what will your charming wife say?” Sybil said, hugging him back with all her might.

  “She’ll probably say ‘urp!’ when I squeeze her traitorous neck,” Arolan growled in response.

  “Lover’s quarrels!” Sybil said, pushing herself away from him and eyeing him critically. She grabbed a tray and pushed it on him. “Eat this, you’ll feel better!”

  “More ambrosia?” Arolan asked, eyeing the god-sized bowl of orange simmering stew in front of him.

  “And what else?” Sybil said with a laugh. “I put this on the stove especially for you when mother said you’d returned.”

  “Join me?” Arolan said as he started back to the dining hall, looking for a table.

  Sybil shook her head. “I’m going to leave you to your food and your murderous thoughts.”

  Arolan smiled at her, saying, “You’re always looking out for my best interests!”

  Sybil laughed. “How many thousands of years has it been and you still haven’t killed her?” She waved him away. “Admit it — she is your soul mate.”

  Arolan gave her a sour look but took his tray to a table and began eating with a murderous intensity. He turned back to shout to Sybil. “Where is Ophidian?”

  “He’s around,” Sybil said, turning back to her kitchen. “You can kill him later. Eat first.”

  “I wasn’t planning on killing him,” Arolan said, knowing that Sybil would hear, adding in a different tone, “but it’s a thought.”