The Godswar Saga (Omnibus)

by Jennifer Vale

  “The Watchers?” Elade rasped. They were the servants of the Immortal Orias, and while they were technically allies of the Last Dawn, she had never personally met any of their order. Tevek had always told her that the Watchers were a secretive bunch, and he had never been particularly fond of their order or their methods. Ostensibly, their purpose was to contain the influence of renegade Unbound in Obsidian, and that was probably why he had kept her away from them…

  Another dragon roared past the fortress and belched fire into one of the nearby towers, and Elade braced herself against one of the support pillars on the bridge. Sabine, for her part, didn’t even twitch.

  “Who are you really?” Elade asked, squeezing the grip of her sword more tightly.

  “I am a pawn, not so different than you,” Sabine whispered. “I was summoned to this realm by Lord Dathiel. He dispatched me to Solaria to discern your true intentions and evaluate the extent of your abilities.”

  “Summoned? You mean…” Elade paused and stretched out with her paladin-honed senses. She couldn’t sense anything—no visible Aetheric wake, no lingering aura of power. And that led to only one terrifying conclusion.

  “I am a sareloth, just like your dead lover,” Sabine said. “Alric knew his knights would never find you. They are capable warriors, but stealth and subtlety are far beyond their expertise. Besides, Lord Dathiel has never completely trusted the Last Dawn when it comes to containing the threat of the Unbound. That is why he prefers to employ my kind instead.”

  Elade took a step backwards and forced herself to swallow. “You were foolish to reveal your true nature so readily. I can banish you back to the Void and free this girl of your grip.”

  Sabine shook her head. “No, you cannot. Not anymore.”

  The pain stabbed through Elade’s heart like she had just been impaled upon a spear. Her glimmering shield vanished, and she dropped her sword and reflexively clutched at her chest. In desperation, she reached out to the Aether…but somehow its power was beyond her reach. She felt almost exactly like when she had been poisoned by the Crell in Lirisfall…

  “There is nothing you can do—the corruption has already seeped throughout your body,” Sabine said, calmly stepping forward and retrieving Elade’s sword. “The Crell poison was a fortuitous opportunity to test my limits and ensure I could cripple you when needed. Lord Dathiel warned me that I would be no match for you otherwise.”

  Elade slumped to her knees and blinked. Her vision was quickly darkening, and her breath had become short. “Why…?”

  “Because they fear you. They fear your power. And they should—you are a threat to their control. I know that you have shown mercy to my kind before, and I wish I could help you. But I cannot resist Lord Dathiel’s will. He has commanded me to return you to Calhara to face judgment, and that is what I must do.”

  The girl leaned down and cupped her soft hands around Elade’s cheek. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” she whispered. “Now rest. It will all be over soon.”

  With a final staggered breath, Elade collapsed against the stone and slipped into darkness.

  ***

  “I believe congratulations are now officially in order,” Horsch said with a wide smile. “Let the record show that I never doubted you for a moment.”

  Tenel snorted. He tried to keep his expression flat and professional, at least until the fighting was officially over, but he couldn’t stop the corners of his lips from curling into a satisfied smile. This was a truly monumental victory, both for his command and for the Imperium. With Amberwood under imperial control, the Alliance would be forced to pull back virtually all their southern forces to defend Celenest. Some of the Alliance councilors might even defect, especially if his plans in Galvia unfolded half this well…

  “The ground commanders are asking whether or not they should pursue the enemy troops,” Lieutenant Mirrel said.

  “No,” Tenel said, shaking his head. “I want them to clear out the fort and hold their positions, but they can let the Solarians run.”

  Horsch frowned. “Are you certain that’s wise? Our manticore and dragons can harass them on the road—we could probably wipe most of them out, or at the very least force them to scatter into the hills. Half the soldiers will desert before they return to—”

  “I said let them go,” Tenel interrupted. “Most of the survivors are civilians—civilians who will soon be imperial citizens. Amberwood has been harboring terrified villagers for months, and we don’t need to make their lives any more miserable.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mirrel said. She sounded almost relieved, not that Tenel blamed her. Crell commanders had a well-earned reputation for ruthlessness—a reputation he intended to change.

  Horsch leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “I appreciate the sentiment, but every soldier that survives the trip back to Celenest is one more defender on their walls when we finally attack.”

  “And every civilian we spare is one more refugee for their new queen to clothe and feed,” Tenel countered. “If she turns them away, she’ll appear heartless and increase the likelihood that her nobles will defect. If she takes them in, she’ll be crippling her own supply of resources.”

  The other man grunted. “And here I was starting to believe you had gone soft.”

  “I don’t wish those people ill, Karl, but I have to plan for all contingencies. Besides, every one of those people will have a story to tell their peers, and soon the people of Celenest will realize there’s no point in standing against us. With luck, we can convince them to surrender and spare everyone more needless suffering and bloodshed.”

  “You may be right,” Horsch whispered. “Even a Knight of the Last Dawn couldn’t save them.”

  “Speaking of,” Tenel said, glancing back over to Mirrel. “Have our forces on the ground located any sign of the vaeyn?”

  “No, sir,” she replied. “No one saw anything after the tower exploded.”

  “She was probably killed,” Horsch reasoned. “I bet we’ll find what’s left of her body in the waterway in a day or two. I can’t imagine a paladin would willingly retreat.”

  “Probably not,” Tenel agreed, though he doubted he would be able to relax until they found a corpse. Killing the vaeyn would be as significant a victory as taking Amberwood.

  “Perhaps we’ll find General Iouna’s body as well,” Horsch commented after a moment. “The queen will be lost without her knight and general.”

  “Indeed, though frankly I doubt it matters in the end. A leader can only suffer so many defeats before his men turn against him. Even if Iouna survived, his reputation will be ruined.”

  “With the other Legion Generals dead, they’ll have no one to turn to. I don’t see how they can possibly recover.”

  “The Solarians are nothing if not resilient,” Tenel said, turning back to Mirrel. “Lieutenant, order our men to continue sweeping the fortress. And give them a message from their commander.”

  Mirrel cocked an eyebrow at him. “Sir?”

  “Tell them that the Imperium honors their performance,” Tenel said, smiling and reclining deeper in his chair. “And tell them ‘well done.’”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “There is nothing as treacherous as the cold, dark sea.”

  —Ikaran proverb

  The air was heavy, the water was still, and the moonlight was barely visible through the thick veil of fog. All in all, it was a rather serene night here in the Strait of Kai’Hathi…or would have been, if not for the man lurching over the ship’s port bow.

  “I thought cats were the ones who hated water,” Jason commented as he patted Tam on the back. “But Gor has been as calm as a faeyn druid this whole trip.”

  “We should have stayed on land,” Tam managed between clenched teeth. His skin was pale and clammy, and his mouth hung open like a man fully intent on spilling his dinner back into the sea. Still, at least he looked better than when the demon had poisoned him…

  “You were the one insisting yo
u didn’t want to dodge Crell patrols,” Jason pointed out.

  “Fuck the Crell,” Tam growled. “Fuck their stupid black armor and black dragons and—”

  He learned forward and nearly wretched, but at the last moment he managed to regain control. Jason patted him on the back again and sighed.

  “I guarantee Sel knows a spell or two to repress nausea. Let me go and get her.”

  Tam shook his head. “I’ll be fine. I think it’s this bloody fog. When I can see where we’re going, it’s not so bad.”

  “It is a bit creepy, but it also lessens the chance that any Numenese patrols will try to stop us. I consider it a mixed blessing.”

  “How wonderful for us,” Tam grumbled as he slouched back over.

  Smiling despite himself, Jason turned back to the main deck. They had been at sea for ten days now, and thanks to Selvhara’s ability to conjure and manipulate the wind, they had made truly remarkable time. At this point they were nearly three quarters of the way through the Strait of Kai’Hathi, the long, narrow canal bisecting the independent nation of Numen. The passage was fraught with navigational hazards, from nearly-invisible rocks and shoals to the equally-dangerous pirates hoping to prey upon merchant ships hauling valuable Numenese goods to and from northern Torsia. But a trip through the strait saved them the trouble of navigating the most dangerous waters in the Sea of Splintered Ice, and it would cut several days off their trip.

  Jason expected to land in northern Galvia in just three or four more days, and with luck someone in Tibel would be able to help them track down his father. If not…

  Well, if not, then perhaps he could give up this chase altogether. After a week and a half at sea, the worst of his rage had slowly begun to abate. He wasn’t sure if it was the water or the cool air or the fact that he had just survived a battle with a demigod, but he had finally begun to question whether or not all this was worth it. He still wanted to confront his father, and he still wanted to force the man to answer for all the death and misery he had caused over the past decade…but Jason wanted to make sure he was doing it for the right reasons. And that meant there was one person he needed to talk to.

  Hopping up the stairs to the upper deck, he watched with fascination as Selvhara continued to blast wind into the sails. She had been standing up here nearly all day every day, and somehow she never seemed to get tired—or she was just very adept at hiding it.

  “You know, you are allowed to take a break once in a while,” Jason whispered. He placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. “This can’t be the most entertaining thing in the world.”

  “The faster we sail, the faster we get home,” she told him. “I’m not sure Tam will survive another week out here.”

  Jason grunted. “The good news is that I haven’t sensed any more evidence of the demon’s corruption inside him. I must have removed all of it.”

  Selvhara smiled. “You will be a better healer than I am soon enough.”

  “I seriously doubt that. I still have no idea what I’m doing half the time.”

  “Only half?” she chided.

  “I take it as a sign of progress,” he said dryly. “But you should really try to teach me this air conjuring technique, though. That way you could catch a break once in a while.”

  “I’m not conjuring the air; I’m manipulating it,” she clarified. “And you know that it’s a druid technique, and Anvira doesn’t wish us to share her secrets with others.”

  Jason shrugged. “If she’s allowed you to keep your powers this long, I doubt she’d be all that picky about sharing your tricks. Besides, we don’t really know exactly who or what Anvira really is. I wanted to ask Dathiel, but then he tried to kill me…”

  “Whether or not the goddess is still alive, she was once,” Selvhara said, her voice strange. “And her power lingers on for those willing to protect her creations.”

  A year ago—hell, a few months ago—Jason probably would have picked a fight with her over the true nature of the gods and whether or not she was actually worshipping anything real. But today he decided to let it go. She wasn’t going to abandon her religion of two centuries just because they had hit some proverbial bumps along the road. She could still channel the Aether, and for now that was enough.

  “It’s not as difficult as it looks,” she whispered after a few moments. Her hands glowed a soft blue, and he could feel the magical currents swirling about her like an invisible windstorm. “You’ve seen me move dirt and rocks many times.”

  “Sure, but this seems different,” Jason commented.

  “Not really. The Aether touches everyone and everything. The only difference between sweeping along a pebble and a gust of wind is perspective.”

  “Now you sound like a Solipean monk.”

  “You’ve said yourself that they’re among the wisest people you’ve ever met.”

  “Wise, and frustrating as hell,” Jason mumbled.

  Selvhara smiled and opened her hand. An instant later a crackling spark of electricity flashed in her palm. “You’ve learned to pull the static charge from the wind and shape it into a weapon. Most druidic techniques follow the same principle. The Aether is the blood of the Gods, and drawing upon it allows us to shape the primal forces of the world they left for us.”

  Jason nodded and closed his eyes. A handful of channeling techniques had come very easily to him—telepathy, energy manipulation, and minor bits of healing—but he hadn’t spent years in training like a Bound, nor had he spent a lifetime learning to hone his power like an Unbound. He could try to push and pull at the wind all he wanted, but nothing happened. He felt like an eight year-old boy trying to appreciate the nuances of philosophy.

  “There’s probably an easier way to do this,” he said, reopening his eyes and placing a hand on her cheek. “If you let me inside your mind, it might make it easier to understand.”

  Her violet eyes studied him for a long moment. “Do you really think it’s possible for you to learn that way?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It might not be a common instruction technique, but when I touched Krystia’s mind back in Celenest I was able to learn a great deal in a short amount of time.”

  Selvhara nodded, though her face was still darkened with concern. “Very well.”

  “I won’t hurt you,” Jason promised. “I hope you know that.”

  “I do,” she said, smiling. “Now go ahead.”

  Smiling back, he closed his eyes and gently pressed into her mind. A world of knowledge opened up to him in a way it never had before: ancient Calharan history, faeyn religious traditions, druidic channeling techniques—he felt like he had just walked into the Cergar Historical Archive for the first time. He had known Selvhara for most of his life, and he had long assumed that he knew almost everything about her by now. But apparently, he had been mistaken. Gravely mistaken.

  He sometimes found it easy to forget that she was two hundred years old, and he belatedly wondered if his human mind was simply incapable of handling the raw volume of life experiences she carried with her each and every day. He forced himself to focus exclusively on the channeling technique in question, and after a few more seconds the flood slowed into a much more manageable drip.

  He wasn’t sure how long he remained connected to her, but by the time he eventually pulled away his throat had gone completely dry. The sensations were different than when he had linked with Sarina—they had completely merged minds and thoughts, while this exchange had only been one-way—but he still felt almost as drained.

  “Are you all right?” she whispered.

  “Yes,” Jason croaked. “Are you?”

  “I barely felt anything. Did you find what you were looking for?”

  He shrugged. “Why don’t we find out?”

  With the Aether coursing through him, Jason closed his eyes again and concentrated upon the natural wind blowing against his cheeks. The air wasn’t so different from the Aether; both were invisible but omnipresent, and controllin
g one should have been just as easy as controlling the other. Extending his palms, he attempted to summon a gust of wind…and it actually worked. The sails rippled furiously as he buffeted them with a steady gale, and the ship once again picked up speed.

  “Very good,” Selvhara said approvingly. “Now pull back and attempt a lighter push.”

  Nodding, Jason relaxed his grip on the Aether and slowed the gust to a more gentle breeze. He didn’t exactly understand how—just like he didn’t exactly understand half the things he could do now—but somehow it worked.

  “I think you’re a natural,” Selvhara said, squeezing his arm. “Of course, you’ve also just volunteered to take the helm for the next six hours.”

  Jason opened his eyes and smiled. “That’s all right. I might as well practice considering I’ve just learned—”

  He cut himself off at the sudden rush of air above them, and he instinctively dropped into a crouch as a dissonant hissing roar reverberated throughout the channel. He craned his neck upwards, but he couldn’t see anything through the increasingly dense fog.

  “Galivar’s blood,” Tam blurted out as he awkwardly stumbled to his feet on the lower deck. “What in the Void was that?”

  “A manticore,” Sarina said gravely. Hopping up from her bedroll, she dashed over to the port bow to peer through the spyglass. She swore under her breath almost immediately. “It’s hard to tell through the fog, but I’m pretty sure it has a rider.”

  “Fantastic,” Tam grumbled. “Did he spot us?”

  “If he did, he doesn’t seem to care. He just banked hard to the north and vanished.”

  “What the hell is a Crell manticore rider doing this far north?” Jason asked, mostly to himself. “The closest imperial naval base is hundreds of miles away.”

  “Maybe they decided to make friends with Elashi and Numen over the winter,” Tam suggested. “The Sovereigns are nothing if not efficient.”

  “I find that highly unlikely,” Selvhara said. “The Numenese king is every bit as isolationist as the Pah, possibly more so, and he despises the Crell.”