The Godswar Saga (Omnibus)

by Jennifer Vale

  For an instant, Fuhr thought she might offer him a chance to surrender. Knights of the Last Dawn always tried to avoid bloodshed whenever possible, or so he’d been told. Dark elf shadow knights, on the other hand, were feared across Calhara for their cold, ruthless efficiency…and when her glowing blue eyes swiveled upon him, Fuhr knew he would find no mercy here today.

  She charged. Screaming in rage and dread, Fuhr vaulted backwards and conjured a coruscating beam of Aetheric energy. He channeled every spark of power he could muster in the blast—enough to burrow through a stone wall or even a thick iron door—and soon the flash was so bright he had to squint before he went blind. But her shield refused to buckle beneath the onslaught, and then she was upon him.

  In desperation, he lashed out with his sword…but needn’t have bothered. In the span of a single heartbeat she battered the weapon from his grip, slashed through his breastplate, and then kicked him backwards into the mud.

  “I won’t beg,” Fuhr spat as he clutched at his wounded chest. “And I will never surrender to the Solarians.”

  The dark elf shrugged. “I’m not here to take prisoners.”

  “You would strike down an unarmed man?” he gasped frowning as her shimmering sword loomed above him. “What kind of paladin are you?”

  “I’m not a paladin,” the dark elf said, raising her sword. “Not anymore.”

  Her blade scythed downward, and Fuhr’s world descended into darkness.

  ***

  Taking a deep breath, Elade Devarath pivoted around and glared at the surviving Crell soldiers. “Leave this village. Now.”

  None of them needed to be told twice. Half dashed towards the palisade at the north end of the town, while the others sprinted off into the hills to the south. Most of them would return, of course; Lanesk’s location was too strategically important for the Crell to ignore forever. But with any luck it would take them weeks to cobble together another unit, and by then these people would be safely behind the walls of Fort Amberwood.

  “I can’t possibly thank you enough for what you’ve done,” the Solarian priest rasped as she leaned down and helped him back to his feet. “I don’t even know what to say.”

  “You don’t need to say anything,” Elade told him. She touched his cheek and channeled healing energy into his mangled jaw. “What I need is for you to help these people get to Fort Amberwood before the Crell return.”

  The man brought a hand to his face and nodded thankfully. “With all due respect, my lady, there’s no room for them at Amberwood. If there were, we’d have evacuated everyone in the province after the Crell took the Ravenscar Bridge three weeks ago. The Third Legion—”

  “General Iouna is personally coordinating the defense of Amberwood, correct?” she interrupted.

  “Er…yes, my lady. Queen Krystia appointed him the High General of the entire Solarian Legion. The last I heard, he had taken personal control over all our forces currently stationed at the fort.”

  “Then tell him Dame Devarath sent you and the villagers to Amberwood. He’ll find a way to take care of everyone—I promise.”

  The priest looked skeptical, but not enough to say “no” to the woman who had just saved his life. His eyes flicked over to the nearby houses and the terrified villagers peering out their windows.

  “I can attempt to gather everyone who’s willing to leave, but I can’t guarantee their safety,” the man whispered. “Not without the Aether…”

  “The road is clear,” Elade assured him. “There aren’t any Crell patrols past this point, and I’ll make sure it stays that way for the next few days.”

  He sized her up for a few moments before nodding and smiling. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about the vaeyn…and about you. I admit I wasn’t sure what to think. Queen Krystia said we should trust you, but the Knights of the Last Dawn have always been stalwart allies of Solaria. If they believe you’re a threat…”

  “Highlord Alric is…misguided,” Elade murmured. “But sooner or later, he will see reason and order the Dawn to fight with you again.”

  “I certainly hope so. Without their help, I’m not sure how we can hold off the Crell.”

  Elade wiped her blade off on one of the fallen soldier’s cloaks before sliding it back into her scabbard. “Paladins are just as vulnerable to these Breakers as you were. Until they are dealt with, I fear General Iouna won’t be able to mount a real counterattack.” She sighed and shook her head. “You should get moving. I’ll follow the surviving Crell and make certain they leave you alone.”

  The priest nodded. “Thank you again, my lady. The queen will hear of your deeds here today.”

  He dashed off towards the closest houses, and Elade paused and took a few moments to catch her breath. After nearly three months flitting across the Solarian countryside, she had mostly learned to ignore the casual aches and pains of travel, but right now her feet and legs felt like they’d been bludgeoned by a groll’s fist. The fact she hadn’t slept in nearly four days wasn’t helping matters, either. At some point, she needed to find shelter and spend a day or two recovering.

  But not now. Not yet. As long as the Crell continued to deploy their Breakers along the front lines, she needed to be there to fight them. Otherwise Darius and his forces would assuredly be overrun.

  Gritting her teeth, she leaned down and started combing over the battlefield in search of anything useful. She didn’t care about weapons or armor, but healing salves, rations, and other basic supplies were always welcome. More importantly, unit commanders tended to carry at least a few scraps of relevant information on their person…

  She found the scroll case buried inside the Breaker’s pack, and a few seconds later she was skimming over the rolled up pieces of parchment. Like most modern armies, the Crell didn’t rely on written missives very often—Ascendants and their Bound were a far more effective method of communication—but some information still necessitated a pen and parchment. Maps and scouting reports, for example, were usually scribbled down for the benefit of the rank-and-file infantry.

  “The Lirisfal Fjord,” Elade mumbled to herself as she studied the maps. She’d passed through that inlet about six weeks ago, but at the time she hadn’t spotted even a single scout patrol. Still, a lot had changed in the last month, and the Alliance had been retreating on virtually every front in the province. If the Crell had established a base inside one of the many caves lining the Fjord, they would be in perfect position to resupply their camps scattered across—

  A flicker of movement from one of the nearby houses caught her eye, and Elade spun around and drew her sword in a single motion. She’d expected to see one of the villagers frantically trying to gather up his belongings, but instead she spotted a single, lightly-armored Crell soldier peeking out from behind a pile of rubble.

  “Please don’t kill me,” the soldier pleaded in a heavily-accented version of the local dialect. She threw up her hands and dropped to her knees. “I’m not armed.”

  Elade lowered her weapon. The woman—the girl—didn’t look like much of a soldier. She was so short and scrawny that Elade doubted she could even lift a sword, let alone swing it with any accuracy. She wore a leather breastplate and accompanying skirt common to Crell scouts, but they’d clearly been fitted for a man.

  “Return to Brackengarde with the rest of your unit,” Elade said. “This village is no longer under Crell control.”

  “I-I can’t,” the girl managed. Her eyes remained fastened shut, and every muscle in her arms seemed to be quivering. “They’ll just make me fight again, and I…I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

  Elade frowned. The girl could have been acting…but if she was, her performance would give the best bards in Torsia a run for their coin. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m not one of them—I’m not Crell! They conscripted everyone from my town and forced us to fight. Most of the others are already dead…”

  “Izarian,” Elade whispered, belatedly placing the accent. She�
��d never been to Izaria personally, but Tevek had spoken of it often—and usually fondly. Half a millennia ago, before the Solarian provinces had united, Izaria had been the heart of Torsia culture. Artists and philosophers from around the world had flocked to its bustling cities, and for a time even their military was second to none. But then the Imperium had decided to expand its borders, and Izaria had been one of its first victims. Its fields had been burned, its museums had been toppled, and its people had been subjugated. Izaria was the living embodiment of what modern Galvians feared their country would become.

  “What’s your name?” Elade asked, leaning down on a knee.

  “Sabine,” the girl whispered. “Please, I have nowhere else to go. I-I heard them say that you were a Knight of the Last Dawn. Can you help me?”

  Elade sheathed her sword and let out a deep breath. “I’m not with the order anymore, and even if I were there’s nothing I can do for you. If you surrender to the villagers, they’ll take you to Fort Amberwood. You can plead for clemency there.”

  “But…they’ll throw me in the dungeon!”

  “They won’t, especially not if you tell them whatever you know about imperial troop movements and supply outposts.”

  Sabine swallowed heavily and nodded towards Elade’s maps. “I don’t know much, but I have been scouting this province for almost two months now.”

  Pursing her lips, Elade walked over and handed over the map. “Do you know anything about a camp in Lirisfal? I passed through a few weeks ago and didn’t see anything.”

  The girl remained frozen stiff for a few seconds, but eventually she summoned the courage to take the parchment. “I never saw a camp, but the Green Coats seemed very interested in that area. They might have moved in recently.”

  “The Green Coats?” Elade asked. “You mean the Zarul.”

  “Yes. I think Captain Fuhr used to be one of them. He spoke with their agents all the time…”

  Elade pursed her lips in thought. There were a lot of rumors surrounding the Crell government right now. The Sovereigns had been mysteriously silent since the start of the war, and some suggested that the Zarul had quietly pulled a coup and taken over the capital of Drakendaar. Others believed the High Sovereign had finally decided to take control of the military directly rather than relying upon his vassals. Elade had no idea what was actually going on, but the Zarul had definitely been more active in this war than in those past.

  “So you don’t know anything specific about their plans?” Elade asked. “Or the location of any hidden supply camps?”

  “No. They don’t tell the conscripts anything.”

  Elade sighed and nodded. “All right, well, let’s get you to the priest. I’ll tell him to take you to Amberwood with the rest of the villagers.”

  Sabine glanced warily around the village. “I-I don’t trust them. If they think I’m Crell, they’ll…”

  “The Solarians won’t harm you,” Elade said, kneeling and placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “You’ll be treated fairly, I promise.”

  “Can I…can I go with you instead? I can help you find the fjord! I know the best paths through the wilds.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have to travel alone. You’ll be much safer at the fort.”

  Sabine was shaking so hard she nearly tumbled over, and for probably the hundredth time over the past few months Elade wished she possessed a fraction of Tevek’s charm. He had been a true master at diplomacy; he could soothe terrified villagers or incensed city folk with just a few words. Elade usually had the opposite effect. Her appearance alone was often enough to terrify most humans before she uttered a single word.

  But this particular girl didn’t seem the least bit concerned about Elade’s grey skin or her people’s fearsome reputation. She’d obviously been so traumatized that she wasn’t thinking clearly.

  “All right,” she whispered after a moment. “I will go with them.”

  “Good,” Elade said, forcing a smile. “Come on, let’s go and talk to the priest.”

  She helped Sabine to her feet, and the two of them caught up with the priest on the other side of the village. Despite his initial reservations, Gammel eventually agreed to take her along, and Elade spent the next few hours helping to prepare the villagers for their journey. By the time dawn broke across the horizon, their makeshift caravan was ready to go. She helped see them off, and once she was convinced there weren’t any more Crell soldiers lingering in the woods, she pulled out her map and began her journey to the Lirisfal Fjord.

  One of these days, Elade knew, she would need to return to Celenest and speak with Darius and Queen Krystia, if for no other reason than to share in their plans for the spring campaign. But right now she remained confident that she could do far more good out here on her own away from politics and prejudice.

  And most importantly, away from her guilt.

  Swallowing heavily, Elade sprinted off the trail and deeper into the woods north of Lanesk. Intellectually, she knew that Tevek’s death wasn’t her fault. Alric and the Conclave were the ones who had banished him; they were the ones who had refused to restore his channeling ability. But if Tevek had never stumbled upon her in that dungeon in Tauros—or if she had simply run away rather than joining with the Dawn—then he would almost certainly still be alive today. She might not have been the one who had plunged the sword through his heart, but it was her presence that had ultimately doomed him. Just like she had doomed so many others.

  The thought made her stomach sink. Everywhere she went, death and misery followed in her wake. Tevek, her mentor, had been stripped of his powers, his rank, and then his life. Squire Talroy, her friend, had been exiled from the Dawn for aiding her at Garos. And then, of course, there was her lover Varess back in Calhara…

  After Tevek’s funeral, Elade had promised herself that no one else would suffer because of her presence. She could still do a great deal of good on her own—she could take on the Crell Breakers one by one and eliminate the greatest threat to the Alliance. And if she eventually fell in battle, then that would be the end of it. At least she would die alone. At least no one else would be made to suffer on her account.

  Sighing in exhaustion, Elade plopped down near a stream and began to set up camp. One way or another, she desperately needed some sleep. She preferred to travel at night these days anyway, if for no other reason than to spare her sensitive eyes from the blinding radiance of the sun reflecting off the remaining snow.

  She was a creature of darkness, after all. Perhaps it was finally time to start acting like it.

  Chapter Four

  “Beware the heart of the enemy. You may find it disturbingly similar to your own.”

  —Kang Xzech, Yamatan commander, 1483 A.G.

  “I have the latest battle reports from the Solarian front, sir,” Lieutenant Mirrel said, her squeaky voice as annoying as ever. “The commander at Brackengarde confirmed our suspicions: the unit at Lanesk was defeated, and Captain Fuhr and his Imperators are dead.”

  Onar Tenel, Supreme Commander of Imperial Forces, nodded in understanding. “And yet the rest of the unit was spared, I’ll wager.”

  “Most of them, sir, though a small number of the conscripts never returned. I suspect they deserted.”

  “Typical,” Colonel Karl Horsch grunted from his chair. “At some point you’d think those Izarian dogs would realize how good they have it here. If they expect the Alliance to take them in, they’re about to be surprised.”

  Tenel tapped a finger against his lower lip but didn’t reply. He wasn’t concerned about the loss of a few conscripts; he wasn’t even particularly concerned about losing a pitiful little village like Lanesk. What bothered him was the death of another Breaker and several trained Imperators. Three months ago, following the Imperium’s decisive victories at Brackengarde and Aman-Dapour, Tenel had expected the Alliance to crumble within a matter of weeks. But despite the power of the Breakers—despite the Imperium’s overwhelming aerial advantage—his forces had bare
ly advanced at all over the winter months. The worst part, however, was that they weren’t struggling because of logistical issues or even poor strategy.

  They were struggling because of a single, incredibly irritating Knight of the Last Dawn.

  “I assume we have no leads on the assassin,” he whispered into the silence, though he already knew the answer.

  “No, sir,” Mirrel said. “She vanished into the countryside and hasn’t been seen since.”

  “You have to give that dark elf bitch some credit,” Horsch muttered as he refilled his whiskey. “She knows exactly how and when to strike. Once our Imperators are dead, we’re effectively blind. And once she takes down our resident Breaker, the rest of his squad is more or less useless.” He downed his new glass in a single gulp and closed his eyes. “What I don’t understand is how one woman—even a bloody paladin—can strike down the High Sovereign’s ‘elite’ soldiers one after another.”

  “For one, she’s not human,” Tenel said. “She can move faster, sleep less, and generally cover far more ground than any normal soldier. For two, our channelers aren’t trained to defend against vaeyn techniques. She has a completely unique skill set, especially when you tack on her paladin training. Even our best soldiers are at a rather severe disadvantage.”

  “Maybe, but she’ll slip up eventually,” Horsch said. “I just hope we don’t run out of Breakers first. If the Solarian priests start operating freely, we won’t be able to hold our position outside of the Darrowmere. We’d have to fall all the way back to the border.”

  Sighing, Tenel placed his palms on the desk and stood. “It won’t come to that. And not even she can defend Amberwood at this point.”

  The other man cocked an eyebrow. “So all of our assets are in position, then?”

  “They will be soon. And before you ask, no, the Solarians still have no idea what we’re planning. Our agents in Celenest have confirmed that General Iouna is on his way to personally oversee the defense of Amberwood.”