The Godswar Saga (Omnibus)

by Jennifer Vale

  For most of her life, Elade had viewed the Dawn and their “sacred charge” as somewhere between absurd and outright dangerous. Now she found it noble…if sometimes a bit naïve. In practice, the knights weren’t quite the glorious champions of legend; they were mortal men and women who meant well but made plenty of mistakes. And of course, there was more “evil” in the world than a few thousand paladins could ever hope to banish, especially now when they were spread so thin.

  The sound of booted footfalls made her blink away the reverie that always seemed to ensnare her out here. Two hundred feet from the ground, situated on the top balcony of the Citadel, the view of the ashen plains and blood-red sky was not for everyone. She knew that many of the other knights found her so-called “dusk watching” a bit disturbing. The Wastes were not known for travelers or sight-seers hoping to catch a pristine waterfall, sparkling rainbow, or even just beautiful people. But she found it relaxing; it was a permanent reminder of the power of greed and corruption even among those who claimed to fight them. Humans in particular had such short memories and seemed doomed to constantly repeat mistakes of the past. Maeleon had chosen this location for a reason, and she found great wisdom in his decision.

  It was also the lure of dusk itself, she knew, when her sensitive eyes didn’t burn as badly.

  “Dame Devarath,” a male voice announced his presence from behind her. When she didn’t turn, he continued his timid approach. His footsteps were just slow and awkward enough that she knew he was nervous. She waited until he was almost upon her before turning towards him with a cocked eyebrow. The breeze caught her thin white hair and blew it across her face.

  “Squire Talroy,” she said. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  He paused awkwardly. He always paused awkwardly; it was one of his defining character traits. His round face, pudgy nose, and bushy eyebrows completed the portrait of a perpetually nervous young man who had a good heart but an untrained mind.

  “Um…anything new and exciting today?”

  Elade remained still and silent. His anxiety would grow the longer she made him wait, and she took something of a perverse pleasure in watching him fidget nervously and stumble over his words.

  “Dead dirt and a dusty wind,” she said eventually. “What else would there be?”

  “Er, right,” he nodded, clearing his throat and glancing out to the horizon.

  Elade smiled despite herself. Talroy was adorable in his own way, but she liked to believe that her torment served a greater purpose. Like many of the recruits the Last Dawn picked up, Talroy was a good kid, but he was also intimidated by almost everything and everyone here. He had probably grown up with stories about heroic paladins slaying monsters and saving innocent princesses, and he was having trouble internalizing the less glorious reality of Citadel life. Recruits spent almost all their time in training. In his first two years, he hadn’t yet slain a dragon or rescued anyone.

  He was also terrified of her—or had been, at least, for a year after they first met. He had almost assuredly never seen a vaeyn in person before. His only knowledge of her people came from cultural fables that portrayed her kin as grotesque spawns of demons who lived only to drink human blood…or something equally outlandish. It wasn’t an entirely unusual reaction around here, unfortunately. Even most of the elder knights avoided her whenever possible.

  Still, in some ways Talroy possessed a well of courage they lacked. It had taken him a while, but he had eventually tried to get to know her. In the last few months, he had tried to spar with her as often as he could.

  At first Elade had thought it was just some type of youthful infatuation—she wouldn’t have been surprised if he had never had a sexual encounter in his twenty years. But it was more than that. He really wanted to learn from her, to add her exotic fighting techniques to his own. Very few of the knights had ever expressed interest in that. His mentor, Sir Alric, shied him away from her as much as possible, and she was glad he tried to learn anyway. She had almost a century’s worth of fighting experience on even the oldest knights, after all. It was why, despite his awkwardness, shyness, and occasional idiocy, she really liked Belek Talroy. He faced his fears and ignored his ego.

  But that didn’t mean she couldn’t mess with his head from time to time.

  “I was wondering if you could teach me a few more of your moves,” he said eventually. “I overheard Lord Dracian speaking with Sir Alric, and I think he’s going to send you out again soon. I’d like to shore up a bit before my Second Trial.”

  Elade waited a few moments before turning to him. The request was hardly a surprise. Aside from the fact that he had asked her to spar almost every day since she returned from Tauros a week ago, he was carrying a pair of practice blades with him.

  She nodded and took a few steps away from the edge of the balcony and its railing. It was a large area, with a good twenty feet between the silver fortress and the walls. She wasn’t really in proper sparring attire: her loose-fitting silver and blue dress, matching cape, and soft black leather boots were flexible enough, but they offered no protection. The knight’s cape was, of course, purely a thing of fashion that could easily cause a warrior to trip or stumble during a real fight, and her untied hair tossing about in the wind wasn’t doing her vision any favors, either.

  “Start with what I taught you yesterday,” she said, taking a moment to relax and stretch her muscles. Talroy nodded and offered her a sword, but she shook her head. “Your weakness is footwork and close-quarters fighting—you don’t react properly when someone slips under your guard.”

  “You…want to fight hand-to-hand?” he asked, confused. “That’s not really tested in the trials.”

  “No, I want you to fight with a sword,” she corrected. “Use the stance I taught you or any other you prefer. Just don’t let me slip inside.”

  Talroy thought about it for a moment before tossing one of the practice blades aside. They were actually valuable items in their own right, forged by the Last Dawn smiths to perfectly replicate the weight and balance of a knight’s chosen weapon. The blades were tempered with an enchantment that blunted the worst of their attacks and made the wounds they inflicted easily healable by even a squire. Elade had never seen anything like them before coming here. Among her own people, the Matriarch’s shadow knights trained with live weapons and considered painful mistakes the best teachers…assuming they didn’t end up permanently chopping something off.

  Talroy settled into the basic stance the knights taught their squires, raising his weapon in a two-handed grip before him. He was a large young man, half a head taller than her with probably an extra fifty pounds and all the muscle that came with it. Without training, he could crush her at his leisure, but she had spent decades learning how to turn an enemy’s strength against him.

  He was hesitant to attack her unarmed, and his first several moves were weak feints designed to read an opponent rather than take initiative. She allowed the first two to go unanswered, dodging easily and letting him get a feel for her movements. On his third maneuver, she struck. Easily dancing inside his guard, she had him flipped on his back within seconds.

  “I’ve warned you about hesitating,” Elade said, helping him to his feet. “Always take the initiative. Dictate the pace of the fight or your opponent will.”

  Talroy groaned as he stood. “Sir Alric would disagree. He says that opponents will eventually reveal their weakness, given enough time.”

  She smiled. “Taking initiative doesn’t necessarily mean attacking first: it means being ready and setting the pace. You can do that in other ways besides swinging.”

  “Positioning and footwork,” he replied sheepishly. “I should know better.”

  “You do,” she told him. “So show me.”

  Talroy came in again. He had chosen one of the more aggressive stances she had taught him; it was designed to batter down an enemy’s defenses with precise force, and it was a form his stature supported well. He was a quick study, too�
��in three days he had gotten most of the footwork down. She managed to dodge the first strike but knew she wouldn’t be able to fend him off with just her fists in this style. Fortunately, she had other options.

  She focused on the Aether around her and channeled its power through her body. An instant later a blue, translucent shield of pure energy flashed into existence on her left arm. Talroy’s second strike glanced off the barrier, and she flipped herself backwards to prepare for his next assault.

  The “Aetheric shield” was undoubtedly her favorite technique in the Dawn’s arsenal. A traditional shield brought enough bulk that it could severely hamper a warrior’s balance and dramatically limit her fighting options. But this weightless disc could be summoned and dissipated with a mere thought, and it could stand up to virtually any attack as long as she maintained her concentration. They also made for a handy thrown weapon in a pinch.

  In this particular case, Elade just required the defense. Talroy came in harder this time, and she had to angle off his blows so the force didn’t crush her arm. She allowed him several solid strikes before deflecting him off-balance and slipping inside his reach. An elbow to the kidney and sweeping kick to the back of his knee flipped him back to the ground once more.

  “Better,” she said. “Good form, good movement. Not hesitating just because I had no weapon.”

  “We’re not supposed to strike unarmed targets,” he grunted as he once again stood up.

  “No, but there are always exceptions to that—and plenty of foes who are dangerous without a blade. You have to know your opponent and act accordingly.”

  Talroy nodded, flexing his fingers as if to test the grip on his sword. “I didn’t hesitate and I took the initiative, but you still slipped inside.”

  “I still knew what you were going to do,” Elade explained, reaching down and lifting her own practice blade. It was an excellent replica of her own sword, a vaeyn cavalry saber with a swirled basket hilt and extended handle that allowed her a more comfortable two-handed grip if she wanted it. She dismissed her shield and readied the weapon before her. “Don’t be predictable.”

  “If I shift forms during my trial, I’m in trouble. It’s about rote execution.”

  Elade offered him a dry smile, then leapt at him without another warning. He parried her initial attack and spun away, but she didn’t let up. She struck his inner body, thrusting and slicing in fast arcs designed to keep him from having a pause to reset his defense. It worked for a few seconds before he finally switched up his approach—he let one of her attacks through, a slash that would have caught his ribs, in order to drive a foot into her midsection and toss her back a few feet. The gambit would have left him dead against some foes, but most wouldn’t be able to slip past his Dawn-forged armor, and knights were taught to use that knowledge to their advantage. And in this case, it gave him the opportunity to launch into his own assault.

  He dropped into one of her forms and used it well. The attacks drove low and high, and she allowed him to maintain the assault while gauging his movements. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than she had expected with only a few days of practice. Once she was content with his form, she waited for the next inevitable step in his attack chain and prepared to quickly parry it and flip him over again.

  But it didn’t come.

  Talroy changed his stance at the last second, and her planned parry was suddenly useless. He caught her blade awkwardly and wrenched it aside enough to present a large opening, then drove in for the kill. Despite the non-lethality of the blades, Elade’s shadow knight training kicked in. Instinctively reaching out with her powers, she folded the balcony’s shadows into an invisible, insubstantial doorway and stepped through it. In the blink of an eye she vanished from in front of him and appeared behind. His attack, having nothing to stop it, caused him to careen forward and stumble off balance.

  Elade placed her sword at his back.

  “What?” He caught her out of the corner of his eye and groaned audibly. “That’s not a fair move.”

  “Fight with honor, but never assume your enemies will do the same,” she said, lowering her sword and grabbing his shoulder to spin him around.

  He didn’t reply, but his face just screamed “I beat you and you cheated.”

  She offered him a genuine smile and brushed the unruly white strands of hair from her face. “You did well. You learned that form in only a few days. I figured you’d been practicing it so much you would just stick to it regardless of circumstances, but you didn’t. Excellent.”

  It took him a second, but his face flushed as he smiled. “Erm…thanks.” He paused, and she imagined he looked a bit like a child about to ask for a treat from an out-of-reach jar. “Could you teach me whatever that was you just did?”

  She patted his arm and appreciated the mass of youthful muscle. “I’m riding the line even teaching you vaeyn fighting styles. I think some of the others would froth over with rage if I tried to teach you shadow knight tricks.”

  Talroy nodded in reluctant understanding. “All right.”

  “Maybe someday,” she told him. “For now, focus on your trial. When I get back, we’ll both get suited up properly and I’ll slap you around a bit.”

  He smiled. “That’d be great.” He took the practice sword she offered him and bowed before heading back inside.

  Elade stood there for a moment in the cool evening breeze, watching the last of the day’s light melt into the horizon and the giant crimson eye in the heavens fade into black.

  ***

  “My lord,” Squire Talroy saluted as he moved past. The smile on his face was wide enough that Tevek almost paused and asked him what was going on. He knew he had been dueling Elade off and on for the last week or so, but he almost always left frustrated and shaking his head. Maybe she had actually cut him some slack for once. He was a nice kid, and she liked nice kids. It was the bitter old men she had problems with.

  Fortunately for him, he was aging but not bitter—at least not yet—and he didn’t have to worry about getting smacked around in a duel just to impress elder knights during trials. One of the side benefits of being the Highlord was not worrying about showing off to anyone, at least not here. Fencing duels and combat maneuvers didn’t really impress foreign dignitaries or heads of state in the same way as actual accomplishments on the field of battle.

  He opened the great metal doors that lead to the balcony. The enchanted torches lining the outside of the citadel burst into flame at almost the same moment the night swept its way across the Wastes. Elade was standing still at the edge like she often did, peering out into the nothingness. Tall and lithe, she had the athleticism of a warrior in her prime despite being three times his age. In a hooded robe or other concealing attire, she could have passed for human like any other vaeyn or their elysian cousins, but her dark gray skin and sharp features helped set her apart. Her hair was pearly white and long, but her eyes were her most striking feature. The sapphire orbs glowed with an inner radiance, especially in the evenings, and they contrasted sharply with her skin. A pattern of matching luminous blue tattoos stretched from her right hand all the way up her arm. She typically concealed the rest, even around the Citadel, given the reaction they elicited in others. They were inscribed on servants of their Matriarch Queen as wards against demons, but rumor and legend among humans had twisted that meaning into almost the exact opposite.

  “Do I want to know what you did with the poor squire?” Tevek asked as he approached.

  Elade turned with an impish smile. “I’m apparently an excellent teacher. He would have landed a blow if I hadn’t cheated.”

  “I’ve seen your teaching technique,” he said doubtfully. “You’re probably just getting old.”

  “Mmhmm,” she murmured, facing forward again. “The gossip mill suggests I’m going on a trip.”

  “How quickly news spreads in a closed community,” Tevek murmured. “King Areekan sent word. He wants to meet with me personally and ask a favor. I have a
feeling he’s going to want to send me to Galvia.”

  “Galvia?” she frowned. “What for?”

  “It’s just a suspicion at the moment, but you’ve read the reports. They’ve been making serious progress, especially in Lyebel. I’m betting General Iouna is pressing them to pounce on the opportunity.”

  “It’s about time,” she said. “He’s believed that since Serogar.”

  Tevek drew a deep breath. “It’s controversial at best. The Alliance doesn’t strike first; they strike last.”

  Elade snorted. “That’s the slogan. It hasn’t worked out so well for them recently.”

  “You know that I usually agree with that position, but in this case they might feel they take advantage of the Imperium’s recent losses at the hands of the rebels.”

  “That’s exactly what he’d argue,” she confirmed. “So you’re probably right about his intentions—but that means he’s using us. They’ll send in paladins because people will trust our reports more than their own politically-motivated spies or agents. Then they just hope we find something shocking that will push the public in favor of a war.”

  Tevek nodded. “I’m sure that’s the idea.”

  “Smart. I knew he’d make a fine general.” Elade turned to face him. “The question is whether you like being used.”

  “Gabriel protested. He actually feels the same way as you.”

  She laughed humorlessly. “That I doubt.”

  “He’s concerned about our willingness to jump through hoops for anyone who asks,” he explained. “But still, I’d been planning a trip soon anyway. Areekan isn’t a young man; I’ve been wondering if he’d ask for help during a Rite of Ascension for his successor.”