The Godswar Saga (Omnibus)

by Jennifer Vale

“That’s almost too perfect,” Horsch said. “Imagine what will happen to their morale once we kill the last surviving Legion General.”

  “The Council will panic,” Tenel said. “The High Sovereign believes they might even try to join us.”

  Horsch scoffed. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  Tenel smiled and glanced back to Mirrel; the young woman was still standing there nervously. “You are dismissed, Lieutenant.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, bowing stiffly and slinking out the door.

  “You wear the stripes well, Onar,” Horsch commented with a thin smile. “High Command should have realized that years ago and put you in charge of the whole bloody fleet.”

  Tenel grunted and took a sip of his own drink. Describing the last few months as “chaotic” would have been a grievous understatement; describing them as “completely life-changing” would have been far more accurate. Just before winter, he had still been a Vice Admiral in the Imperial Navy, and he’d been perfectly content ensuring the safety of the Gulf of Zunlai and other vital Crell interests along the western coast. But then Sovereign Alexandra Damir, the head of the dreaded Zarul, had summoned him to her headquarters and effectively put him in charge of the third and hopefully final war against the Solarian Alliance.

  When Tenel actually stopped to think about everything that had happened since, his head started to spin. He had unwittingly played a vital role in a secret coup that he still had trouble wrapping his head around. Sovereign Damir—or rather, Sovereign Ishthare, formerly the governor of Tracordia—had quietly and masterfully eliminated all of the other Sovereigns. Now she alone ruled the Crell Imperium…and the most amazing part was that virtually no one else in the entire world knew anything about it.

  “All things considered, I’m glad they didn’t,” Tenel replied as much to his own thoughts as to his companion.

  “True,” Horsch murmured. “I suppose even a mere admiralship can’t compare to being Supreme Commander.”

  “It’s not the authority—it’s the fact I’d probably be dead. Not many escaped the ‘Coats, as far as I can tell.”

  The other man’s face darkened. The two of them had been friends for a long time, and the only reason Horsch had survived the Zarul’s purge of High Command was because of Tenel’s desperate pleas to Sovereign Ishthare. He had helped her decide who in the imperial officer corps had lived or died, and ever since he had been effectively rebuilding the entire military command structure from scratch. Such an immense power vacuum would have crippled or destroyed any other army in Torsia, but the Sovereign’s power was not to be underestimated. She had taken direct control of nearly every Imperator in the army, and with the aide of her Breakers she continued to crush anyone who refused to obey. The Imperium today was almost certainly more unified than it had ever been before.

  The cost, however, had been an ocean of blood—an ocean in which Tenel was struggling to stay afloat.

  “A part of me still can’t accept what’s happened,” Horsch whispered. “An even greater part doesn’t want to.”

  “I know,” Tenel agreed as he strolled over to the window. “I just try and remind myself that the other Sovereigns weren’t exactly virtuous paragons. At least Ishthare has a real vision for the future beyond petty infighting. Once the Alliance is crippled, the other nations should fall into line. We may see a united Torsia in our lifetime…and real, tangible peace.”

  “Maybe,” Horsch replied, though he didn’t sound convinced. “I still have trouble believing she’s given you, a vorhang, such broad authority. She’s not even sitting here looking over your shoulder anymore.”

  “She’s busy controlling an army of Imperators spread across thousands of miles. I’m sure that occupies most of her attention.” Tenel grunted. “But that doesn’t mean she isn’t keeping an eye on me.”

  Horsch’s lip curled as he glanced warily around the room. They were always careful with their choice of words whenever they were in the presence of other officers, but over time they’d gradually grown a bit more comfortable with personal discussions as long as they were alone. It might have been a mistake—Tenel wouldn’t have been surprised if the High Sovereign was powerful enough to mentally peek in on them every now and then—but latent anxiety couldn’t be ignored forever. Both men were on edge, and they had very few means of venting their concerns. Zarul headquarters wasn’t exactly a bustling hub of social activity.

  Tenel sighed and scratched at his cheek. Not long after the war had begun, Ishthare had moved her throne from here to the Imperial Palace inside Drakendaar. Tenel had barely spoken to her since, at least not directly; her agents were always flitting in and about the otherwise barren corridors here, and he had a sneaking suspicion that she kept plenty of Zarul Shadows lurking around just in case.

  All in all, however, she seemed perfectly content to allow him to conduct the actual war while she coordinated their Bound and Unbound. The results might not have been as decisive as they’d hoped just yet, but once their forces captured Amberwood everything would change for the better.

  Except, sadly, their gradually deteriorating position in the north.

  “Our last report from Lyebel suggests that High King Zharrs still isn’t willing to take up the Solarians on their offer,” Tenel said, changing the subject. “As long as the Asgardians are kept out of the war, we should be able to tread water in Galvia.”

  Horsh stepped back over to the enormous map pinned on the southern wall of the office. “I’m not really surprised. Those savages hate the Unbound even more than the Alliance Council. I can’t imagine why they’d want to throw in their lot with the bloody Solarians.”

  “If they do, we won’t be able to hold Ashenfel. We’d have to pull out of the country entirely and fall back to Geriskhad.”

  “Full circle,” Horsch whispered. “The point where it all began…”

  Tenel nodded wordlessly. Nearly two decades ago, General Ethan Moore’s surprise attack on Gereiskhad had started the Ash War. It had also pressed Tenel into service when his son had been killed during the siege. Now Moore was coordinating the remnants of the Galvian Resistance…even though most of the Solarians didn’t know it.

  When the High Sovereign had promoted Tenel to Supreme Commander, she had promised him revenge against his old foe. She had wanted him to personally conduct the war to destroy Moore and conquer Galvia once and for all…and that more than any other factor had ultimately sealed the deal. Tenel liked to consider himself a patriot; he had always been proud of his homeland, and he understood the value of order and stability. But he was also a man who mourned for his lost son, and revenge was a powerful motivator.

  “Demonic attacks remain our primary concern,” Tenel said into the silence. “They cause chaos behind the lines, and they’re crippling morale amongst our remaining troops.”

  “I’m surprised the High Sovereign’s Breakers haven’t been able to clean them out,” Horsch commented. “Or her Imperators, for that matter.”

  “They’re trained to fight men, not demons. Apparently there’s a significant difference, at least where channelers are concerned.”

  “I guess we’ll have to take their word for it,” Horsch muttered. “Still, there has to be something we can do. The Alliance is stretched so thin they have no business holding onto Garos, let alone Lyebel. If we could open the northern front, their lines will crumble within weeks.”

  “I know, and I’ve already set a plan in motion,” Tenel said, smiling. “We should also have a guest arriving in a few days.”

  Horsch blinked. “Guest? What guest?”

  “One that will help us flush the demons from Galvia and perhaps even kill General Moore himself,” Tenel said. “Once he’s been neutralized, the Solarians won’t have a chance in the Void of holding onto Lyebel.”

  “Perhaps once we plant his head on a pike outside of Ashenfel, the Galvians will finally realize they’ve been beaten.”

  “Somehow I doubt that.”

 
; Horsch scoffed. “They are a stubborn lot, I’ll give them that. But eventually they’ll have to accept reality.”

  Tenel cocked an eyebrow. “Would you?”

  “Thankfully, I’ll never have to find out,” the other man replied with a grunt. “Let’s just hope the Solarian provinces learn their place quickly after the Alliance crumbles. I’m not sure I can stomach another decade of insurrection.”

  “Some say that we were overly lenient with the Galvians. We allowed them to keep much of their culture and traditions. Children in Ashenfel and Cergar still sing songs about Galivar, and we allow them to learn and speak their own language. The High Sovereign believed it would quell the worst of the resentment towards us.”

  “History seems to have proven him wrong,” Horsch said soberly. “And I have a feeling that the new High Sovereign won’t be nearly as forgiving.”

  “No,” Tenel said, clenching his hands behind his back. “She most certainly will not.”

  ***

  “All right,” Tam muttered as he shielded his eyes against the blazing sun and surveyed the horizon. “I thought you said this map of yours had a giant ‘x’ on it?”

  “Sarina said that,” Jason corrected. “And it was a metaphor.”

  “I am going to kill you if we don’t find these ruins soon,” Gor grumbled. “That’s not a metaphor.”

  Jason sighed and took another long sip from his canteen. As far as he could tell, they had followed his map precisely thus far, but unfortunately none of them were experts at navigating desolate terrain, not even their resident Asgardian huntress. There was also the depressing but entirely feasible possibility that the map was simply inaccurate…or, perhaps worse, that the ancient Talishite statue had once again been buried by sand and dust.

  Had they been wandering aimlessly through the temperate forests of Galvia, Jason wouldn’t have been overly concerned. But getting lost in the Radyr Sand Flats was potentially lethal, even for a pair of channelers and a nascent Immortal.

  “Stay still,” Selvhara instructed as she reached out a hand and sheathed Gor inside another barrier of protective energy. In theory, the technique would shield him from the worst of the heat; in practice, the chagari was still panting like a hound.

  “Perhaps we should take another break for water.”

  “No,” Jason said, shaking his head. “He can drink while we ride, and we’re better off pushing on until we find something resembling shelter. The sun will set in less than two hours.”

  Tam made a face. “You’re assuming there’s shelter to find. According to that map, we’re twenty miles from the closest village and almost forty from the nearest town.”

  “I really hate this fucking country,” Sarina hissed. “Why in the bloody void anyone would choose to live in this sweltering hellhole is beyond me.”

  “A lot of people would say the same thing about Asgardia,” Jason pointed out. “Life on the frozen tundra isn’t for everyone.”

  “Yeah, well, they’re idiots. I’d rather camp in the Great Shelf for a week than trudge through this wasteland for an hour.”

  “For once, ka’chek,” Gor mumbled, “we are in complete agreement.”

  Jason sighed. He, Selvhara, and Tam—the resident Aether-wielders of the group—were all more or less fine. Shielding oneself against the elements was much easier than aiding another, Jason had recently learned, and as a result Sarina and Gor were the odd ones out. The fact they were both native to the coldest region in Torsia didn’t help matters. Chagari in particular were poorly-suited to heat; most of the southern Torsian nations like Talisham and Eleria had never bothered with chagari slaves for just that reason.

  Sarina, for her part, had stripped off most of her armor and wrapped herself in a cloak to block out the sun. Jason couldn’t help but appreciate the view; her white bandeau and leather skirt didn’t leave much to the imagination, and he’d always enjoyed the way sweat beaded on her taught belly. It didn’t help that they hadn’t been able to find more than a few minutes alone together in the better part of a week…

  “Eyes on the road,” Sarina chided, smirking out the corner of her mouth. Apparently he’d been staring, and his cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

  “Sorry,” Jason mumbled. Mercifully, everyone else was too busy complaining or drinking to notice. “I just—”

  “Wait a minute,” she interrupted, pointing up ahead. “Is that another mirage?”

  Jason shielded his eyes and squinted off into the distance. As the name implied, the Sand Flats were mostly an endless, level expanse of sand dunes spackled with the occasional parched rock. But up ahead he could make out a vaguely cylindrical structure nestled squarely between a pair of massive sand dunes.

  “That’s definitely not an oasis,” he commented. “Though I’m not sure it’s an ancient statue, either.”

  “If it has walls and a roof, it’s an improvement over baking out here,” Tam put in. Despite the fact his skin was currently tanner than Jason ever remembered, his friend still managed to look pale. He’d been sweating a lot, too, even compared to the rest of them. “I’m not sure our sadrixi are going to make it much further.”

  “This is their natural climate,” Selvhara said, reaching down and gently stroking the long reptilian neck of her mount. “They could survive out here just fine on their own.”

  “How nice for them,” Gor grumbled. “Let’s press on.”

  Jason grunted and nudged his own sadrix towards the distant structure. The “wingless dragons,” as Tam had taken to calling their mounts, weren’t as strong as horses or even camels, but they were smart and surprisingly resilient. Jason had no idea whether or not the sadrixi actually possessed any dragon blood, but he wouldn’t have been surprised. The Al’Rasaad had been breeding them as mounts for hundreds of years, mostly via Aetheric manipulation. They could have been six-inch long iguanas a few centuries ago for all he knew.

  “The structure matches the illustrations you showed us,” Selvhara commented a few minutes later. “I think we’re in the right place.”

  Jason still couldn’t make out any of the details himself, but he trusted her faeyn eyes. “Then let’s just hope there’s a door,” he said. “Otherwise we’re going to be digging for a while—and by we, I mean you and Tam.”

  “You’re the demigod here,” Sarina put in sourly. “Can’t you wave a hand and toss away all the sand?”

  He sighed and pinched at his nose. The next time they had a few minutes alone, he needed to remind her how much he hated when she called him that. Not that it would likely stop her. “If I could do that, I’d just lift the whole bloody thing out of the sand. Now shut up and let’s ride.”

  The structure was farther away than it looked, which wasn’t particularly surprising given the heat distortions and swirling sands impeding their progress. But their sadrixi were unfazed by the extra speed, and soon they were looking up at what had once been the head of a great temple/statue.

  “So, what are the odds the ancient Talishite princes were kind enough to imbed this magical jewel of theirs inside one of the eyes of their statue?” Tam asked once they drew close. “This thing was called the ‘Eye of the Pah,’ right?”

  “If they did, the artifact would have been stolen centuries ago,” Jason said as he slid out of his saddle and offered his sadrix a treat. “Assuming this is the right statue, the Eye will probably be buried somewhere in the torso section. We’ll have to find or make a way inside and hope the whole thing isn’t filled with sand.”

  “These dunes aren’t a natural formation,” Selvhara commented, her voice suddenly grave. “Someone else has been here recently, and they used the Aether to excavate sections of the statue.”

  “How can you possibly know that?” Tam asked. “The dunes all look alike to me.”

  “Because she is a druid, and you are an idiot,” Gor grumbled. “Look at the patterns in the sand and the rocks. Wind did not do this.”

  Jason pursed his lips as a knot slowly twisted in his stom
ach. He wasn’t a druid, either, but he’d been to enough dig sites and ruins to recognize when he’d been beaten to the prize. The only question was when…and who.

  “The excavation was recent,” Selvhara commented. She knelt down over a pile of sand and pressed her fingers into it. “Probably yesterday afternoon or evening.”

  “Yesterday?” Tam stammered. “So they could still be here?”

  “If so, they’ve been inside for a while,” Sarina said. “There aren’t any visible tracks.”

  Gor unleashed a low growl as he ran his claws along the edge of the statue. “You said your source was trustworthy. You said he wouldn’t sell the location to anyone else.”

  “I didn’t think he would,” Jason murmured. “Obviously, I was mistaken.”

  “But you’re a telepath,” Sarina pointed out. “Why didn’t you check to see if he was lying?”

  “You know I don’t delve into people’s minds. Not anymore—not without permission.”

  “And as a result, we have missed our prize and your father will continue to wreak havoc across Torsia,” Gor said. “Truly, you are a moral paragon.”

  Jason scowled at the chagari. “Look, we don’t—”

  “The artifact is still inside the statue,” Selvhara interrupted. She hadn’t moved from the sand pile, though her violet eyes had narrowed into thin slits. “I can sense a powerful echo in the Aetheric currents below the surface.”

  “You want to translate that for us normal people?” Sarina groused.

  Selvhara’s brow furrowed in concentration. “Any object infused with Aetheric energy leaves behind a ripple when it moves, not unlike a fish swimming through the water. Take your bow, for example—whenever you carry it with you, you create a faint wake of energy. It dissipates quickly, but especially powerful objects can create immense echoes that reverberate through the Aether for minutes or even hours after they’ve been moved.”

  Sarina glanced back to the statue. “And you sense one of these echoes inside the structure?”

  “Yes,” Selvhara whispered. “Tam should be able to sense it if he looks hard enough. Jason too, I would expect.”