The Godswar Saga (Omnibus)

by Jennifer Vale

“If he wants that, he better hope the Crell aren’t prepared.”

  Tevek nodded thoughtfully. “I’m also genuinely curious who is leading this new resistance.”

  “It seems like they have a new one every other year,” she commented. “So how much did Alric protest when you told him you were going?”

  “The standard amount.”

  “I’m sure he was joyous you selected me to go, too.”

  “He voiced some reservations,” Tevek said neutrally.

  Elade grunted and then sighed, her blue eyes fastened on him. “I don’t know why you put up with him. I thought he was going to throw a fit when I started teaching Talroy vaeyn moves.”

  “He did throw a fit,” Tevek pointed out. “Just in private. He’s a traditionalist, you know that. But he is also honorable, and it’s his job to disagree with me when he feels it necessary.”

  “So, all the time?”

  He sighed quietly and followed her gaze to the darkening horizon. Despite being an organization built on honor, loyalty, and justice, the Dawn had its fair share of infighting and always had. Politics were inevitable with any group of people, he knew, but he still hated being in the center of it. Gabriel was his oldest friend and most trusted advisor. Elade was…well, she was his protégé, but there was more to it than that.

  He had found her four years ago chained up in a Taurosian warehouse, the victim of a racially-motivated attack by a group of the local humans. The woman she had been traveling with hadn’t survived, and it was an act of pure circumstance that Tevek had found Elade in time. She hadn’t even spoken the local language when he had cut her down and tended to her wounds.

  He could have left her there after dealing with her captors, and many on the Conclave had been annoyed he hadn’t done just that. But he was not so cold. He had brought her back to the Citadel and nursed her back to health. Like any victim of a horrendous assault, she had been angry, depressed, and insular, but he had tried his best to keep her safe. Six months later she had become his squire and the first of her race to enter the Dawn.

  He had knighted her after the battle at the Serogar Gate when she had saved his life and those of a hundred Alliance soldiers. Gabriel had been furious, and Tevek had even thought his friend might leave the Dawn over it. Fortunately reason eventually prevailed, and today Elade was almost certainly the order’s most powerful member. He had never met anyone more skilled with a blade, not even himself during his prime.

  More importantly, though, she was his friend in a way no one else had ever been. He trusted her instincts and sought her company. He didn’t condemn her or the darkness in her past; instead, he saw it as a unique opportunity for redemption.

  Unfortunately, there were distasteful rumors floating around the Citadel about the two of them being lovers, but that was nonsense. She was his friend and confidant, and that was what they both needed. His heart was already taken by a woman who lived very far from here, and it didn’t need another. What it did need was a legacy, something to be proud of when his time on this world was finished. With Elade—along with a young priestess in Solaria—he felt he had that. It was a comfort on cold nights alone here in the Citadel.

  “I’ve already contacted Zyraena; she’ll be there to meet us at the gateway tomorrow,” Tevek said, breaking the silence. “A lot will depend on what they have to say, but I imagine we’ll end up in Lyebel. The last reports I saw suggested that the Resistance had the garrison on its heels in half the city.”

  “Galvians are a stubborn lot,” Elade replied. “I’m not surprised the Crell have struggled so much to keep order there.”

  “Part of it is cultural differences between Galvians and, say, Izarians,” he explained. “But Ishthare’s rebellion cost the Imperium far more than they let on, I think. Combined with the continuing hostilities in Talisham and it’s really not surprising their northern colonies have been left weakened.”

  “I’m sure that’s exactly what Darius tells the Council whenever he sees them.”

  “No doubt,” Tevek murmured. “I’m going to summon some dinner to my chambers and enjoy a book and some wine before we set out, I think. You’re welcome to join me.”

  “I might later. I need to check and see if my armor is repaired and get my things together first, though.”

  He nodded and set off towards his chambers. There were still a few other things he needed to arrange before the trip as well, and he had an inkling they might not return home for a while.

  Chapter Six

  “The people control the slaves, the Bound control the people, and the Sovereigns control the Bound. But at the end of the day, it’s the Zarul who control the Imperium.”

  —Tayzel Darac, noted Crell poet, before sipping a glass of poisoned wine

  The echo of a footfall was a great way to learn about a place, Vice Admiral Onar Tenel thought to himself as he and his darkly-dressed escort made their way down the polished stone hallway. On Tenel’s war galleon, the Perilous, the deck had a tendency to creak and groan, a testament to the tumultuous life one found at sea. Back in his country home outside the sleepy town of Thesik, the virtually silent floors were a perfect match to the serenity of the flowing fields of grain just outside his door.

  But here, in this sterile place, his boots landed with a hollow thump that reverberated up and down the long, empty corridors. It was as if even the air had to announce its presence, and it prickled the skin on Tenel’s arms.

  He had good reason to be terrified. Every Crell citizen with an ounce of sanity trembled at the mere mention of the Zarul Headquarters, and they downright cowered at the sight of the dark green uniforms worn by its agents. Ostensibly, the Zarul guarded the Crell Imperium against all threats, both domestic and abroad, but in practice the Zarul had been nothing less than a shadow government for generations. The Sovereigns held all the official military and political power within the empire, but the “Green Coats” controlled and monitored almost everyone and everything—presumably even the Sovereigns.

  But that was an old soldier’s perspective, of course, and men like Tenel tended to despise politicians as much as covert operatives. In many ways, they were cut from the same cloth: they were both two-faced, cutthroat, and often invisible people who tended to make life more difficult than it already was. Military officers enjoyed the additional perk of having both constantly getting in their way.

  Yet even as Tenel and his Green Coat companion turned another bland, identical corner, the admiral was not wracked by fear—annoyance certainly, and even a fair bit of caution, but not fear. He had been given orders by High Command to attend a top secret debriefing, and when he entered he had found these three Green Coats prepared to escort him halfway across the country. It had been shocking, certainly, but it had also been telling—when the Zarul came after someone, they didn’t bother concealing their identities. They had a reputation for kicking down doors and dragging people screaming into the night. They weren’t concerned with embarrassing their targets, so if they had gone to the trouble of giving him a cover story, they must have wanted something besides an interrogation.

  At least, that was Tenel’s hope. It was certainly possible they were just playing games with him…or maybe even reading his mind right now. There was no way to know until they reached their destination, so he simply resigned himself to being quiet and tried to memorize each turn and every corridor they passed.

  “In through here, sir,” his escort said when they finally reached a double metal door. It didn’t have any apparent handles or even locking mechanisms; if not for the obvious gap between the metal plates, he might not have even known it was an entrance.

  Tenel started to reply, but the door slid open a moment later and revealed a spacious, half-spherical chamber. It was virtually empty aside from a single chair and an unassuming woman sitting in it. Several opaque mirrors lined the opposite wall, all tilted to face the room’s only occupant. Curiously, they seemed to be made of crystal rather than glass, and as a result they weren
’t actually reflecting anything.

  “Come in, Admiral,” the woman in the chair said, spinning about. Her voice was cool and cultured, just like her appearance. She looked like she was in her mid to late forties with straight, shoulder length black hair and green eyes common to many pure-blooded Crell, including Tenel himself. Her dark green uniform and knee-high black boots were clearly military, and she would have fit in perfectly at any command briefing if not for the lack of insignia on her jacket.

  Tenel stepped inside, and the double doors closed behind him. His escort, notably, did not follow.

  “Thank you,” he replied stiffly. “Forgive my bluntness, but it would be nice to know whom I’m addressing.”

  The woman smiled faintly. “Not many people who come through that door are so bold. That’s good.” She stood and leaned forward to offer him her hand. “I apologize for all the misdirection in bringing you here, Admiral, but I had something I wanted to discuss with you in person. I am Sovereign Alexandra Damir.”

  Tenel accepted her hand but felt his face wither. “Your Eminence,” he croaked. “I…I wasn’t quite certain what…who… to expect.”

  “That’s typically the idea, though in this case it was simply an unfortunate necessity,” Damir said. “As I said, this is an important matter.”

  “Of course,” Tenel replied cautiously. His mind raced as he tried to put all of this together. Despite his rank, he had never met one of the Sovereigns in person; almost no one had, as far as he knew. They, like most Ascendants, operated strictly through their Bound liaisons. The mental and physical drain of influencing so many people left them weak and vulnerable, and as a result they rarely risked exposing themselves in public. In some ways, their powers almost seemed more like a curse than a gift.

  But here was Damir, the only Crell Sovereign who did not lord directly over a province, standing calmly before him. Was it because she had fewer Imperators to control? Was she just that much more powerful than the others? Tenel didn’t really understand the intricacies well enough to even hazard a guess.

  “Please, sit down,” Damir offered, returning to her own seat.

  Tenel paused. The room was empty aside from the Sovereign’s chair. He raised an eyebrow. “You wish me to sit on the floor?”

  Damir laughed. There was something mildly upsetting about the sound. “I assure you, Admiral, you won’t fall. Just take a seat where you are.”

  It could have been a game, Tenel figured—a test of sorts, to judge either loyalty or improvisational skill. How did you respond to the needs of social courtesy and proper authoritative deference? He chose to believe that Damir wasn’t looking for pointless humiliation and relaxed his legs.

  And he found himself seated neatly in the air, as if there were an invisible chair beneath him.

  “That’s better,” Damir said. “Now, on to the matter at hand. I assume you are aware of our military situation along the Solarian border?”

  “Of course, my lady,” Tenel murmured, desperately trying to keep his voice measured. It wasn’t easy. “Unless something changed during my trip.”

  “There have been suggestions among the elite that you have certain…doubts about our current strategy.”

  “I have expressed reservations about some tactical decisions High Command has made,” he replied honestly. It seemed pointless to lie to the face of a woman who could probably read his thoughts. “When I first saw the Green Coats, I wondered if that was why they were there.”

  Damir cocked an eyebrow. “Do we have cause for concern?”

  Tenel grunted. “It’s just the culture of the military, I suppose you could say. There’s a tendency to equate disagreement with treason, even among the higher ranks. It fosters a very tribal atmosphere.”

  “Obedience is essential to any command, naturally, but that isn’t what I’m referring to. You have specifically stated you do not feel it is in our best interests to continue to build up forces at key areas along the Solarian border.”

  “That’s essentially correct, yes.”

  “Then please humor me, Admiral,” Damir told him. “I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter.”

  The Sovereign had undoubtedly been briefed on the matter already, Tenel knew, so she was unlikely to get anything new out of this. She must have wanted something else.

  “I’ve raised several logistical concerns,” Tenel explained, “but I’ll assume you’re talking about my general perspective on the situation with the Solarians. I simply don’t feel a prolonged war would be beneficial to the average Crell citizen.”

  Damir’s face was stiff for a moment before smiling thinly. “And for you, that really is the central issue, isn’t it? What is best for the citizens of our empire.”

  “Of course, Your Eminence,” Tenel said, not bothering to hide his confusion. “That is why we serve.”

  “If only that were true,” she whispered, her eyes narrowing. “The strength and prosperity of our empire is rarely on the minds of those who hold power over it. Few can see past their own personal interests, and some become consumed by them.” She gestured to one of the opaque mirrors, and it shimmered with color. A moment later the disembodied image of an auburn-haired, middle aged woman appeared. “Take the former Sovereign Ishthare—an intelligent, cunning woman completely consumed by a lust for power and conquest.”

  “Indeed,” Tenel replied. The Perilous had been at the front line of several of the major naval battles during Ishthare’s Rebellion two years earlier, and it had been his fleet that had ultimately won the day at Veinshel Harbor.

  Damir continued to smile, though her expression shifted. “I don’t wish to leave you in the dark, so I’ll be blunt: I brought you here to offer you a very rare opportunity.”

  “Your Eminence?”

  The Sovereign waved her hand theatrically, and the other formerly opaque mirrors around the room flashed with magic before suddenly sharpening into similar images. But instead of displaying the ghostly visage of a specific individual, they presented a remote view of dozens of varying locations across the Imperium. Tenel could only assume that the images were coming directly from Damir’s servants—Ascendants allegedly had the power to “see” through the eyes of all of their Bound subjects.

  “Our job here is to maintain order and security—both at home and abroad,” Damir said. “When we approach potential recruits, my agents inundate them with speeches about how the Zarul requires ‘exceptional people’ to do this difficult work…but I’m sure you are above such tripe, Admiral. You are here because I believe you can provide me with a perspective I lack.”

  “Perspective? Because I disagree with Command?”

  “Not exactly, but that is part of it,” Damir told him. “I’m sure you’re aware how rare it is for a man like you, a vorhang, to move up the military ranks.”

  “Keenly,” Tenel muttered. Vorhang was a derogatory term used by channelers to describe so-called “normal people,” and it was a favorite expression in some social circles—like the officer’s lounge, for example. “There aren’t many of us, for obvious reasons. We are at a significant disadvantage.”

  “In some ways, but not in others. The Sovereigns are surrounded by supplicants, and they sometimes begin to function in very predictable ways because of it. A lifetime of constant affirmation can inflate one’s ego quite rapidly—and produce poor decisions as a result.”

  Tenel nodded slowly. He completely agreed, but he never would have dared to say such a thing in front of a Sovereign. Distantly, he wondered if all of this was a delayed reaction to the victories Sovereign Ishthare had achieved during her short-lived rebellion. It had been almost two centuries since the First Expansion and the subsequent distribution of power between multiple Sovereigns, and in all that time there had never been a true defection likes hers. Perhaps the High Sovereign, Thelonius, was starting to wonder if the rest of his underlings could be trusted.

  “You are also a family man,” Damir went on. “You have a wife and two childre
n on a farm just outside Thesik, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Yes, Your Eminence.”

  “You’ve felt the human cost of war where many have not. Your first born son was killed in the Galvian attack at Geriskhad.”

  Tenel’s lip twitched despite his best efforts to control it. “Yes.”

  “Some would see your loss as a weakness. They would argue that your judgment has been compromised.” Damir smiled. “I disagree. I believe that even in desperate times, we must always consider the consequences of our actions…and no one can understand that better than a parent who has lost his child.”

  “I suppose not,” he murmured, trying desperately to keep the old pain sealed away. It didn’t work.

  “Tens of thousands of people on both sides have already died in Talisham this year, all because of a series of diplomatic blunders and tactical oversights. I can’t think of a more pertinent example of failures in our command and leadership. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “It certainly hasn’t been our finest hour.”

  Damir grunted softly and pivoted back towards the crystalline mirrors. “The High Sovereign has given me a new directive, Admiral. He believes the Solarians are once again preparing for war. They know that between the stalled Talishite Offensive and Ishthare’s insurrection, we have been substantially weakened over the past two years. They believe it is a perfect time for a preemptive attack.”

  Tenel frowned. “Alliance law explicitly forbids unprovoked military action.”

  “Laws governing behavior in war rarely survive the first engagement. I’m sure you know this as well as anyone.”

  “Normally yes, but the Solarians cling to their laws and code of morality more than most. From everything I’ve read about them, I highly doubt any of the Legion Generals would seriously consider a preemptive strike.”

  “Then prepare to be surprised,” Damir replied mildly. “I have operatives very close to the Alliance Council—far closer than they believe. Several of the Legion Generals have been pushing for a strike on one or all of our border garrisons, but King Areekan and his provincial lords are not yet willing to take the risk.”