The Godswar Saga (Omnibus)

by Jennifer Vale

  “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” she asked with a wry grin.

  “Pick one,” Gor muttered as he strode through, the horses following behind him. A moment later, Sarina sucked in a deep breath and followed.

  To her mild surprise, she didn’t melt or ignite or simply cease to exist; the experience was actually quite anti-climactic. In one instant she was standing inside one underground chamber, and a heartbeat later she was standing inside another. It was eerily similar to stepping through a doorway from one room to another, and just as banal.

  “That wasn’t nearly as fun as I’d hoped,” Tam commented, glancing about to see where they were.

  Sarina did the same. The chamber was essentially an exact copy of the one at Garos in terms of layout and overall dimensions, but this one was far more elaborately decorated. The walls were decorated with the normal assortment of military equipment, ranging from weapons to armor to battle standards, and overall the chamber had a much more “used” feeling. Given the facility’s age relative to Garos, Sarina probably shouldn’t have been surprised.

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” an armored officer bursting with rank insignia replied dryly. He stepped forward with two other armored men; they were the only other people in the chamber. “Now if you’ll follow me, we need to get out of here quickly. General Iouna made arrangements to keep this passage a secret.”

  Sarina glanced to the quartet of priests not ten feet away, each kneeling aside the portal’s eye, heads down.

  “They can’t hear a thing,” he soothed. “Now come on, let’s go.”

  Shortly thereafter they were standing in broad daylight in the middle of what had to be Celenest’s central garrison. Pairs of griffon riders soared back and forth through the clear skies, and Sarina could make out plenty of armed cavalry patrols moving about the barracks and offices not too far away, but otherwise the area was surprisingly quiet. General Iouna had come through.

  A few minutes later, they were outside the compound and riding briskly across the city. Sarina had never seen anything quite like it, not even during her trip to Ikara in the southwest. The towering silver spires, the glistening white-gold heraldry, the pristine stone walkways and streets…everything here seemed so perfect she was just waiting for a horde of demons to come pouring out of one of the buildings to shatter the illusion. The trip was relatively short, and soon they were tying up their horses outside a nondescript two-story house somewhere in the heart of the city. The unnamed officer gave them keys and left them alone with firm instructions to avoid the King’s tower and all surrounding areas. He also reminded Elade at least three separate times to keep her hood drawn and remain inside if at all possible.

  “Well, I’ll give these people one thing,” Tam commented as he opened the door to their new house. “This place is sure a lot cleaner than Lyebel.”

  “And safer,” Jason said with a nod.

  “Sure, unless you happen to be an Unbound refugee. Or a vaeyn.”

  “Or a chagari,” Gor added.

  The house itself looked comfortable enough, if fairly aseptic. A cursory inspection showed two rooms upstairs and another on the main level, as well as a wine cellar in the basement below.

  “You know what’s really sad?” Tam asked after a moment. “We could afford a much nicer place if we weren’t fugitives. What’s the point in being rich if you have to hide all the time?

  “An excellent point,” Gor grumbled, claiming the room on the ground floor by tossing his backpack and weapons on the bed. “If you would have listened to me and sold that damn cube in Taig, we could be halfway around the world living inside a palace by now.”

  “I’ll never doubt you again, big guy,” Tam replied with a grunt. “I always assumed being rich would involve a lot less running around and a lot more women. This place is almost too tidy, you know? Do they even have any brothels in this bloody city?”

  Sarina threw her backpack at him and knocked him down into one of the chairs. “Maybe we should have left you back in Lyebel’s red lamp district. At least the whores would get paid to listen to you grouse all day.”

  “This house is fine,” Jason said, his voice strained. He touched his temple for a moment, and his expression seemed to tighten. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot, and his cheeks were the wrong color. He really looked terrible.

  “I take it you didn’t sense any demonic presence during our ride over here?” Selvhara asked Elade.

  The vaeyn shook her head and scrolled a map out on the dinner table. “No, though we didn’t go very far. It will be risky to get anywhere near the central districts, but fortunately your father should be avoiding them as well.”

  “That’s still a lot of ground to cover,” Sarina pointed out. “How far away can you sense them?”

  “It depends on the strength and concentration of the demons. The one we fought at Lyebel was a gal’noth, a small and weak breed that relies upon host bodies, and I had to close within a few hundred feet before I could sense it. But I can detect larger breeds like draeloth at a much greater range, probably close to a thousand feet.”

  “If we have to limit a search pattern to two hundred feet, we’ll be here for a month,” Sarina said. “But if we assume he’s using something larger, we can cut that down to something more reasonable. I think you’ll have to get lucky, though.”

  “Probably,” Elade conceded. “Still, if you’re willing to help I’m sure your skills as a tracker would come in handy. I would ask Gor to come as well, but a free-roaming chagari will probably attract too much attention.”

  “What a travesty,” the chagari grumbled from inside his new room. “I suppose I’ll just have to stay here.”

  Sarina scowled at him. “I’ll help, but frankly I’m not sure how useful I’ll be tracking one old man inside a huge city.”

  “We should be able to narrow down his possible hiding spots,” Jason said. “After Krystia stops by, I’ll head downtown for a while and try to sell off the rest of the artifacts. I can make some discreet inquiries in the process—I know the types of people dad would associate with.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Selvhara warned. “You should be resting.”

  “Rest isn’t going to change anything. If Krystia can’t help me…”

  He trailed off, and Sarina resisted the urge to try and console him. She had never been good at it anyway, and she had no idea what to say. She hadn’t felt this helpless in a long time.

  “Anything to narrow down the search would be helpful,” she said instead. “We have no idea how long your dad’s actually going to stay in the city. Can you sense demons after they’ve left an area?”

  Elade nodded and dragged her own eyes away from Jason. “Yes, their auras linger for a while, especially if they’ve been highly active.”

  “Well, that’s something,” Sarina whispered, glancing back down to the map. She spent the next few minutes trying to memorize the main streets and alleys as best she could. The city’s highly organized layout actually made the process much easier than other places she had been, especially Galvia. The Alliance apparently considered mundane things like accessibility and sensible road design when they built their cities; the Galvians had clearly never heard of either.

  Eventually a soft knock sounded at the door, and Jason stepped over and cracked it open. “Krystia?” he breathed.

  Standing in the doorway was a petite blond woman wearing a bright blue blouse and knee-length skirt that seemed more appropriate for the summer. Her bearing and mannerisms immediately pegged her as someone intimately familiar with city life, and she had probably never gone more than a day without a bath and a warm meal. Even with her heeled leather boots she was still shorter than Selvhara, and Sarina had the distinct impression that she could crush this girl with one hand if she really wanted to.

  Krystia leapt into his arms and kissed him on the cheek. “By Sol, you’ve barely changed!” she told him with an ever-so-faint Galvian accent. “Though I miss th
e beard.”

  Tam blinked. “You had a beard? Seriously?”

  “When you’re stuck in a fortress for a few months without a razor, these things happen,” Jason muttered. “Come on in; I think you know some of us.”

  “Some but not all,” she said, stepping in and closing the door behind her. The group exchanged some brief pleasantries, and Sarina watched the girl’s body language carefully. She was clearly excited to see Jason again, but she was just as clearly making an effort not to look at Elade. Sarina had no idea why, but she filed away the observation for later consideration. Mercifully they didn’t chat long before hopping back to business.

  “Darius told me about what happened to you,” Krystia said to Jason as they all took seats in the living room. She pulled him down next to her and pressed her hand to his head. “He said you’re in a lot of pain. That’s strange—after a Rite of Ascension, the worst of the discomfort usually passes a few days after consciousness.”

  “I’m sure that’s the problem—I didn’t really Ascend.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean? You used the spark, didn’t you?”

  “I did, but it’s…complicated. I’ve spared everyone the details so far.”

  “You’d better not spare me,” she chided him. “I want to know everything.”

  He smiled but sighed. “It might be a bit uncomfortable for you to hear. I’ve learned a great deal about the Immortals and the time before the Godswar. Some of it contradicts conventional wisdom…especially religious conventional wisdom.”

  “Trust me: that won’t bother me at all,” Krystia assured him. “I’ve grown rather fond of ruffling the clergy’s feathers of late.”

  “Uh,” Tam muttered. “Aren’t you a priestess?”

  “Yes, but I’m also Unbound. The priests can justify their bigotry however they like, but I’ve grown weary of the way we’re treated here.” Her eyes finally shifted over to Elade. “And for what’s it worth, the way the Last Dawn is treating you is completely unacceptable.”

  Elade’s cheek twitched. “I’m more worried about Tevek.”

  “Yes,” Krystia whispered. Her eyes narrowed as her hands flashed with magic, and after a few moments a touch of color seemed to return to Jason’s face. “Better?”

  “It’s gone,” he breathed. “The pain, I mean. How did you do that?”

  “The pain is still there, unfortunately, but I’ve done my best to hide it from you. There’s a great tempest in your mind. I can feel it, but I’d rather not probe too deeply until you tell me the rest.”

  Jason rubbed at his head in disbelief. “All right, but this might take some time, and I’m sure everyone else is sick of hearing about it.”

  “Correct,” Gor grumbled. “At least let me close my door first.”

  Krystia smiled. “Then don’t tell me. Show me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She placed her hands on either side of his head and turned herself towards him. “Just think about what you need to tell me. I’ll do the rest.”

  “You might hurt him,” Selvhara warned. “We don’t fully understand what’s happening in his mind.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Jason said, reaching out and squeezing the elysian’s hand. “At this point, I’m willing to try just about anything.”

  ***

  “For what it’s worth, my friend,” Knight-Lord Avilar whispered into the darkness, “I’m sorry.”

  Tevek remained silent as he continued folding the silver-blue tabard he had worn for most of his life. The rest of his personal chamber had already been emptied—the paintings had been taken down, the books had been stacked in the corner, and his collection of souvenirs from across the world had been stuffed into sealed crates. All he had left were his sword and his armor, and he was lucky the Conclave hadn’t chosen to take those as well. Evidently a lifetime of service had earned him that much.

  Avilar sighed heavily. “I know you won’t listen to me, but there’s no reason you have to leave. We have plenty of space, and the Conclave won’t care if—”

  “I appreciate the offer, but it’s not necessary,” Tevek said. “All I ask is that you deliver my belongings to the monastery in Skyfall. The monks will make sure they’re put to good use.”

  He could feel the older man staring at the side of his face, but he didn’t turn. Instead he finished folding the tabard in a neat square with the Last Dawn insignia clearly visible at the center. Right now he wasn’t certain whether he wanted to spit or weep on the heraldry.

  “I wish I didn’t have to ask you this,” Avilar said into the silence, “but I need to know what you’re planning to do when you meet with Gabriel.”

  Tevek snorted. “What do you think I’m going to do? Stab him?”

  “I’m just concerned your anger is misplaced, and I don’t want you to do anything else you’ll regret.”

  “Misplaced,” Tevek rasped, spinning around. “You really think I don’t understand what has happened here, Thomas?”

  “I think that right now you’re angry and disappointed, and you want to blame the Conclave for your mistakes,” Avilar said. “But make no mistake: you brought this on yourself.”

  “Yes, by doing the right thing.”

  The old man sighed and turned away, pacing in the back of the room. “You lied to the Conclave, and Our Lord has seen fit to punish you for it. Blaming us isn’t going to change that.”

  “You’re right. Blame doesn’t fix problems—confronting them head-on does. And sooner or later, the Dawn will come to regret its intolerance.”

  “Maeleon refused to restore your powers, and you really think the Conclave will amend the Code?” Avilar shook his head. “There couldn’t be a clearer signal of our righteousness, Tevek. You’ve lost this battle. You need to accept it.”

  “You know I can’t do that. I won’t sit here and tell you that everything I’ve fought and bled for over the decades was for nothing.”

  “You sell yourself short, old friend,” Avilar said. “You’ve fought for much more than the right of one dark elf to join the order. You have accomplished more in your term than anyone could have possibly imagined. Decades from now you’ll still be remembered as one of the Dawn’s greatest leaders.”

  “Two hundred years ago, we never would have accepted a Crell into our fold,” Tevek replied. “Fifty years ago, we wouldn’t touch a Talishite. How long will it take for you to change your mind about the Unbound?”

  “The Unbound are not a race. They’re…”

  Tevek folded his arms across his chest. “They’re what?”

  “They are tainted,” Avilar said. “They are unstable and untrustworthy. It is our duty to protect Obsidian from people like them.”

  “It is just as much our duty to protect them from the people of Obsidian,” Tevek countered. “This is about bigotry and shame, pure and simple. Right now I am ashamed to walk these corridors. I’m ashamed that I ever wore these colors.”

  Avilar’s face twitched fractionally, and he turned away and shook his head. “Then I rescind my offer. Perhaps it is time for you to go after all. Go and find Elade if you wish, but don’t make the mistake of trying to protect her from us. We will do whatever is necessary to ensure she causes no harm.”

  The knight-lord strode to the exit quickly, but stopped himself just before leaving. “I wonder…how many other lies have you told on her behalf? I remember you once said you loved that faeyn woman. You said that when you were an old man, you would return to her arms. Did you betray her too?”

  Tevek frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  The other man grunted. “There have always been rumors, you know. You spent so much time alone with Elade that many assumed she was just your mistress. It was the only way they couldn’t believe you would sponsor a vaeyn. Tell me: is that what this is really about, Tevek? Your inability to keep your belt buckled when there’s an elf woman around?”

  Tevek clenched his jaw. “I suggest you leave before you say something you’ll
regret, Thomas.”

  With a final snort, Avilar turned and left the room…and it took every ounce of restraint in Tevek’s body not to unsheathe Temperance and hurl the blade at the door. He hadn’t been this angry in a long time—perhaps ever. He had always lived his life with an absolute clarity of purpose and conviction, always believing in himself and his brothers and sisters. Paladins made mistakes just like anyone else, but at least they attempted to act with principle and vision. Maeleon’s Code allowed them to stand above their enemies and alongside their allies. They were the righteous defenders of Obsidian and all the good people within it.

  But now, standing here alone, Tevek wondered if it had all been for nothing. Maeleon himself had damned him. He was little more than a broken shell of a man, and a woman he loved like a daughter would now spend her life on the run. Unwelcome in her home and feared by everyone else, Elade would have nowhere to turn. The same forces which had nearly destroyed her before would rise up again, and now she would have to face them alone.

  Avilar had almost been right before. Selvhara was his first love and the most caring person he had ever met, but Elade was…more complicated. He had taken her in not because of what she was, but of what he knew she could become. And even though it had cost him everything, he still stood by that decision.

  Now she needed him more than ever. He needed to tell her everything that had happened here, and perhaps together the two of them could still set things right before it was too late.

  Whispering a final prayer to Maeleon, Tevek turned and strode out of the Citadel. He did not look back.

  ***

  “It’s…incredible,” Krystia breathed.

  “It’s tough to wrap your head around,” Jason agreed, leaning away from her and slumping into the couch. “I know I haven’t yet.”

  Krystia nodded idly as her brain scrambled to process all the information she had plucked from Jason’s memories. He had an Immortal living inside him—an actual, factual Immortal who had recounted a completely different version of history. The Unbound had been the first true Ascendants, and now their spirits lived on in the bodies and minds of modern kings like Areekan.