The Godswar Saga (Omnibus)

by Jennifer Vale

  “The High Sovereign wishes to speak with you.”

  Tenel swung his boots off the table and stood. Sovereign Ishthare had spoken to him so infrequently over the past few months that he’d almost begun to take his independence for granted. Was she upset about something? Had his plans annoyed her somehow?

  “Of course,” he said, clearing his throat. “Let me retrieve the crystal—”

  “That will not be necessary,” the Shadow interrupted as she stepped into the room. “She will speak through me.”

  Her black eyes rolled back into her head, and her entire body quivered like she had just been stabbed in the spine. Tenel shivered involuntarily as he watched the subtle transformation from willing servant to abject puppet.

  “Greetings, Admiral,” the Shadow said again. “I hope you are doing well.”

  “Greetings, Your Eminence,” he croaked, standing. The Shadow’s voice was the same, but her tone and cadence were completely different. Tenel could almost visualize Ishthare sitting there cross-legged in front of him…

  “I wished to offer you belated congratulations for your role in our victory at Fort Amberwood,” the Sovereign went on. “Once again you have proven yourself an invaluable asset to the Imperium.”

  “Thank you, Your Eminence,” Tenel murmured. He considered bowing, but it seemed strange to do so in front of a Shadow puppet rather than the real Ishthare. “You are most kind.”

  “You have earned my favor, and more importantly you have earned the trust of the men and women under your command. Our forces have never been more confident, and the results speak for themselves.”

  Tenel nodded but braced himself for the inevitable “but.” The High Sovereign wouldn’t have contacted him like this just to shine his boots…

  “However, I do believe you have made a slight miscalculation in your plans to defend Ashenfel,” Ishthare said. “The appearance of so many Alliance dragons on the battlefield poses a significant threat to our standing forces. Without manticore or dragons of our own, we have no defense against their assault.”

  “I am aware of that, Your Eminence,” Tenel replied, trying desperately to keep any trace of irritation out of his voice. She was the one who had refused to supply him with additional soldiers in the north; she was the one who had called away nearly all her Imperators and manticore riders and left Ashenfel with a half-empty garrison. “Fortunately, I do not believe General Moore will be willing to destroy the city in order to liberate it. He may attack the walls and battlements, but once he opens a breach he’ll send in the Asgardians to reclaim the city one street at a time. Our hidden forces should be able to—”

  “I’m afraid we cannot afford to take that risk,” Ishthare interrupted. “While Ashenfel may not be an important part of our final plans, the Godsoul carried by Jason Moore is. I will not pass up another opportunity to claim his power for the Imperium.”

  Tenel blinked. “You are convinced he travels within the Asgardian army, then?”

  “He is there,” she confirmed. “And he will undoubtedly participate in the attack. But to ensure that he exposes himself, we must prolong the battle as long as possible. We must force the Asgardians to fight for every inch of the city. Their dragons cannot be allowed to intervene.”

  “I see,” Tenel replied, frowning. He didn’t quite follow her logic, and from the dark tone of her voice he had the feeling he didn’t want to, either.

  “My servants on the ground will deal with Jason Moore—you do not need to concern yourself with him,” Ishthare went on. “However, the only way to neutralize the enemy dragons is to make certain that their attacks do more damage than General Moore and the Solarians will tolerate.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The Shadow stepped further into the room, and the door swung shut behind her. “We shall present him with a choice, Admiral—an impossible choice that will gnaw at his heart and conscience. And then, once he has committed, we shall release the power of the Dawn relic and turn his own forces against him.”

  Tenel swallowed heavily, and a nervous tightness clutched at his chest. “And how do you propose we accomplish this, Your Eminence?”

  “Have a seat, Admiral,” Sovereign Ishthare said. “And I will explain everything.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “From these splendorous walls my ancestors repelled the Asgardian hordes. From this glorious throne they united the Hassian clans. Ashenfel is the home of the Whitestone legacy. It is the heart of the Galvian kingdom. Even the Sovereigns would not be so bold as to challenge us here.”

  —King Whitestone to Ethan Moore, 1996 A.G.

  A pale dawn broke across the horizon, and Ethan Moore fidgeted in his saddle as the Solarian griffons looped back from their first scouting pass of the morning. The Asgardian lines were set but thin—five thousand warriors didn’t look nearly as intimidating when segmented into four separate regiments surrounding the city. So far, the defending Crell forces had made no attempt to escape or even return fire. Their archers and channelers seemed perfectly content to allow the griffon riders free access to the air above Ashenfel. Under different circumstances, the Imperium’s lethargy would have been a cause for celebration…but Ethan wasn’t about to be lulled into a false sense of security. They were obviously waiting for something, and the hairs on the back of his neck continued to bristle in warning.

  “The griffons have finished their sweep, Captain,” one of the Solarian priests reported. “The Crell have barely a thousand men in the city along with a few dozen chagari and groll shock troops. They have only two functional ballistae and no other siege weaponry of note.”

  “Perhaps Imperial High Command never informed them that there’s a war going on,” Captain Farkas muttered, her wide face scrunched in thought. “What about aerial defenders? Do we have an accurate count?”

  “The scouts didn’t spot any manticore or dragons, ma’am. As far as we can tell, there are no aerial defenders of any kind.”

  “Impossible,” Ethan said. “There’s not a chance in the Void they’ve left the city defenseless.”

  Clan Lord Halfren turned to face him. “Isn’t that what your allies reported when they breached the city last night? You said they hadn’t noticed any flyers, either.”

  “I assumed the Crell had simply hidden them somewhere. Sovereign Verrator must know that we’ve brought dragons by now.”

  Farkas turned back to her priest. “Does the enemy have enough Imperators to conjure a defensive barrier?”

  The priest’s brow furrowed in concentration. “It’s impossible to know for certain, but I don’t believe so. The griffon commander is requesting permission to make another pass.”

  “By all means—we’re in no rush.”

  “You may not be, but my warriors bore easily,” Halfren grumbled. “The Mon’Gardoth have waited too long to reclaim our glory. We thirst for battle!”

  A cry of chants and shouts echoed down the line of soldiers, and Ethan rolled his eyes contemptuously. He had known the boy was a fool from the first instant he’d spoken to him, but every day the clan lord’s behavior became more and more intolerable. He truly believed his people’s absurd legends about war and glory…

  “If you’ve waited this long, I’m sure you can wait a bit longer,” Captain Farkas said, nodding at her priest to relay her orders. “The enemy has made no attempt to escape or surrender, and I’d rather know for certain what we’re up against.”

  “A wise plan,” Ethan commented, tossing a meaningful glance at Jorgir. “Wouldn’t you agree, Warmaster?”

  “For the moment,” Jorgir replied. “But if your men find no defenses, we should press the attack as soon as possible. I only hope there’s something left to salvage when your dragons are finished…”

  “The plan is to take the city intact,” Ethan said. “There are still tens of thousands of people living behind those walls. We’re here to free them, not destroy them.”

  “Our friends are in position,” Selvhara whispered
from next to him. “They still haven’t found any signs of hidden flyers or additional channelers.”

  “What about the Sovereign and his guard?” Halfren asked. “Has the coward attempted to flee yet?”

  Selvhara shook her head. “Not that they can tell. Castle Whitestone remains sealed and heavily-guarded.”

  “Good,” the boy replied, grinning. “He must know that he’s doomed. Perhaps we’ll find him wading in a puddle of his own piss.”

  His men shared another boisterous laugh, and Ethan sighed and leaned in closer to Selvhara so that only she could hear. “Make certain our friends keep an eye on the castle. We need to know the instant Verrator tries to escape.”

  “They will do what is necessary,” Selvhara said. Her face remained impassive, but he could feel the anxiety pouring off her. She had never been particularly good at masking her feelings, especially from him. “What about your other friends?”

  Ethan smiled. Despite his assurances to the contrary, she remained convinced that he was controlling an entire army of demons. In truth, Kar’zhel was his only minion inside the walls. Controlling any more monsters would require too much of Ethan’s concentration, especially from this distance, and with his powers restored he wasn’t nearly as dependent upon them anyway.

  Still, he had no doubt that Kar’zhel would prove itself useful when the time came. It could disrupt a key point of the Crell defenses or potentially even slow Verrator’s escape. And if nothing else, the demon would ensure that neither Halfren nor Farkas survived the battle…

  “With luck, we won’t require their services,” Ethan told her. “But they will be ready and in position if we need them.”

  Selvhara held her violet eyes on him for several long seconds before finally turning away and conferring with her chagari protector. Ethan grunted and gestured to Farkas.

  “Send in your griffons, Captain,” he said. “Let’s give them one last chance to spot any Crell surprises.”

  ***

  “I have a really bad feeling about this,” Tam said as he peered down over the rooftop into yet another empty street. “The skies are about to be filled with dragons, and it’s like no one here gives a damn. How can they possibly be so calm when they’re about to get roasted alive?”

  Jason nodded solemnly. They had spent the last hour before dawn flitting from district to district trying one last time to locate a secret Crell weapon—hidden siege weapons, manticores, even just a reserve of soldiers—but so far they hadn’t found a damn thing. Tam was right: it was like the Crell didn’t care that they were about to be annihilated from above.

  “The people aren’t calm,” Sarina murmured. “Just look inside a window. They’re bunkered in and terrified.”

  “But the soldiers aren’t,” Tam said. “What does that tell you?”

  Jason pursed his lips “That they’re either a lot more disciplined than we give them credit for…or they know something we don’t.” He sighed. “Either way, we should probably keep moving. We could head to the bell tower and get a good view of—”

  “Wait a second,” Sarina interrupted as she peered through her spyglass. “Over there along the wall, do you see that group of soldiers?”

  Jason followed her eyes and squinted. From here, he could make out about a half dozen Crell approaching the wall. They were walking in a loose escort formation, and in between them was what looked like a large linen sheet.

  “I see them,” he whispered. “What the hell are they carrying?”

  “They’re not carrying anything,” Sarina said. “They’re holding it out to hide something beneath it.”

  Tam frowned. “More soldiers?”

  “What would be the point?” Jason murmured, lifting his own spyglass to get a better look. “A few more men on the wall aren’t going to make a difference.”

  Sarina shook her head. “I don’t know, but…”

  Her voice trailed off as the Crell reached their destination. One of the officers made a gesture with his hand, and his men abruptly pulled back the sheet. There were nearly a dozen people hidden underneath, but they weren’t soldiers.

  They were townsfolk.

  “What?” Tam breathed. “What the void are they doing with those people?”

  Jason swallowed the lump of bile rising in his throat. All of the people were shackled at the ankles, and most of the men were also shackled at the wrists. “They’re going to stick them on the walls,” he whispered in disbelief. “They know they have no defense against the dragons, so they’re going to force us to kill townsfolk if we want to blast a way into the city.”

  “Cowards,” Sarina hissed. “That’s barbaric, even for the Crell…”

  “You have to warn Sel,” Tam rasped. “You have to tell them to call off the attack.”

  Jason closed his eyes and forced himself to take a deep breath. “That’s not going to happen. The Asgardians aren’t just going to turn around because there are a few townsfolk on the walls.”

  “More than a few,” Sarina said, pointing. “Look.”

  Peering back through his spyglass, Jason followed her eyes to the northern wall. The Crell were calmly marching dozens more shackled townsfolk up onto the walls, including plenty of mothers and their wailing children. The strategy was as horrendous as it was clear.

  And he had no idea what they were going to do about it.

  Jason, Selvhara’s voice said into his head. The griffon scouts have returned. They didn’t see any defenses, but they spotted some movement along the walls. What’s going on?

  The Crell are moving civilians onto the walls, he said. It took every scrap of willpower he could muster not to empty his stomach right then and there. Hundreds of them, from the looks of it.

  He could feel the sickened tremor in her thoughts even from here. Let me inform the others. I fear how they will respond.

  So do I, he said, shaking his head. “Sel knows what’s going on, and she’s informing the others.”

  “Like you said, they’re not just going to suddenly stand down,” Sarina told him. “Halfren has already committed his men. There’s no going back.”

  “No, but maybe they don’t have to,” Tam put in. “Look, the Crell don’t have any other defenses we can see, so those Solarian dragons can probably blast a hole in the wall with relative ease, right?”

  Jason nodded. “Sure, but not without killing everything nearby. Dragons aren’t exactly precision weapons.”

  “Right, but we’ve already figured out that the Crell aren’t retreating, so the Asgardians don’t really need to surround the city. All they need is one breach and they can start flooding the streets with their warriors.”

  “In other words, if we can manage to clear the townsfolk away from one small section of the wall, the dragons could coordinate a strike in that area,” Sarina reasoned. “You know, that just might work.”

  “There are only three of us,” Jason warned. “We can’t take on the whole Crell garrison ourselves.”

  “No, but if we’re quick enough we won’t have to,” Tam said, pointing over to the bell tower. “If Sarina and I can get up there, we should be able to hit anyone on that section of the northern wall. We’ll just need someone to swoop in and get the townsfolk clear.”

  Sarina smiled tightly. “What do you say, Demigod? You up to the challenge?”

  Jason sighed. They hadn’t actually come here to fight—they were supposed to be scouts, nothing more. But he had never truly believed that, and he doubted Sarina or Tam had either.

  “I’m glad you’re so eager to throw me to the wolves,” he muttered.”

  “You’re always looking for opportunities to impress me,” she replied with a shrug. “This seems like a great one.”

  He grumbled under his breath but reached out with his mind. Sel? We have a plan.

  It had better be a good one, the druid replied, her mental voice strained. Halfren is growing impatient. He’s accusing the Solarians of looking for any excuse to avoid a fight. I’m not sure how lo
ng we can keep them at bay.

  Just tell him to hold onto his baldric for a few more minutes, Jason said. We’re going to get the townsfolk off the section of the wall just north of the bell tower. Once you see the explosions, send in the dragons to punch a hole in the wall. With luck, it should be clear.

  I will tell him, Selvhara said. He could feel the concern in her thoughts—and the flood of long-buried horrors from the last war. Please, be careful.

  I will, he promised, then turned back to the others. “All right, the army knows our plan.”

  “Do we?” Sarina asked. “How exactly are we going to do this?”

  “The same way we do everything,” Tam said, grinning. “A little skill, a lot of luck, and a poorly-conceived plan that falls apart in the first ten seconds.”

  “Wonderful,” Jason muttered as he peered through the spyglass and studied their target. This wasn’t going to be easy. In fact, it was going to be borderline suicidal. But if they wanted to save those people, there was simply no alternative. “Let’s get moving. We’ll figure out the details on the way.”

  “That definitely sounds like us,” Sarina grumbled and she unclasped her bow. “Remind me again why I decided to rejoin this group?”

  “Because you’re every bit as crazy as the rest of us,” Tam said. “You just hide it better.”

  Jason smiled despite himself. “Come on. Those dragons won’t wait forever.”

  ***

  Unlike the majority of Ashenfel’s tall buildings, the bell tower hadn’t been designed as a defensive fortification. There were no archer slits or parapets, and under normal circumstances Sarina doubted the local garrison commander would have bothered assigning more than a single watchman to guard the entryway. But with an enemy threatening to storm the gates, the Crell had actually boarded-up the main doorway and stationed three men outside just in case.

  Thankfully, neither obstacle posed a problem. Crouching in the shadows of a nearby alleyway, Sarina drew her bow and took out the first two guards before they even knew she was there. The third guard—and the fresh corpses of his companions—were consumed in Tam’s brilliant fireball just a few seconds later. The two of them rushed the entryway as quickly as they could, and Tam blasted a wide enough hole in the wooden barricade for them to slip inside.