The Godswar Saga (Omnibus)

by Jennifer Vale

  “And High King Zharrs has officially disavowed any involvement with the attack on Ashenfel. There’s no way in hell we’ll ever convince them to join with us now.”

  The major nodded distantly as he shifted his eyes over to the main stage at the center of the plaza. Krystia was scheduled to make her appearance at any moment, but so far there were no signs of movement.

  “Do you have any idea what she’s going to say?” Lennox asked softly.

  “Not a one,” Darius told him. “We’ve barely spoken for the past week. I haven’t even been able to get time with one of the priests.”

  “Perhaps she just needs more time to recover from her wounds.”

  Darius shook his head. “Her wounds have nothing to do with it. She’s just…”

  He bit down on his lip. He had procured dampening crystals for himself, Lennox, and the rest of his top advisors, which meant they shouldn’t have had to worry about Sovan’s Unbound thugs snooping in on their thoughts or conversations. Still, he had grown so accustomed to watching his words and thoughts that it was difficult to let go and speak his mind.

  “I don’t know what happened during the battle with Areekan’s assassins,” he said after a moment. “I don’t know if it was Tevek’s death or just the raw shock of claiming the king’s divine spark. But something inside her changed that day, and it’s just been festering ever since.”

  Lennox curled his fingers around the ledge and visibly braced himself. “Many of the councilors believe she was involved.”

  “I know, and for the past few months I dismissed it as absurd. But now…” Darius swallowed heavily and tried to ignore the sudden tightness gripping his chest. “Krystia would never harm Tevek, not willingly. But she hated Areekan—she blamed him for the plight of the Unbound. And just before the attack, she had been secretly visiting the Asylum and meeting with Sovan and the others.”

  Lennox frowned. “You’ve never mentioned that before, sir.”

  “I’ve never had cause to. But I’ve spent a lot of time thinking these last few days, and I’ve started to wonder…” Darius closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. “I can’t imagine she would murder an old man, but what if Sovan got to her somehow? What if he’s been doing something to her mind ever since she met him at the Asylum?”

  “Is that even possible?”

  “I don’t know. But it certainly opens up a whole new range of possibilities, doesn’t it?”

  For several awkward minutes, neither of them spoke. They just stood there leaning over the balcony and watching the ground, and the silence of doubt and despair hung between them like a black cloud. Eventually, a flicker of movement from the stage drew their attention, and they watched as Krystia stepped up to the podium. Her long, white-gold gown was practically glowing in the afternoon sun.

  “Citizens of Celenest; people of Solaria,” she said, her magically-enhanced voice booming across the plaza. “As you all know, our nation faces a terrible crisis, perhaps the most terrible it has endured in centuries. Our beloved king was brutally murdered in his own palace. Our brothers and sisters have been ruthlessly cut down in their homes. Our villages burn, our forts crumble, and our armies lie spent and broken.

  “Some have suggested that we surrender while there is still time. Rather than stand and defend our homes, they would have us bend our knees to the Sovereigns. They would have us willingly relinquish the freedom and prosperity we have come to enjoy. They would allow our great Alliance, our great society, to quietly vanish into the annals of history. They would allow evil to win.”

  Krystia shook her head. “This cannot happen. This must not happen. And I give you my solemn pledge that as long as I remain your queen, it will not happen.”

  The resulting cheers were as middling and anxious as Darius expected. While he doubted that many of the people wished to surrender outright, they also weren’t blind to the reality of the situation. If the loss of Amberwood had been a truncheon to the gut, then the loss of Lyebel and the destruction of Garos had been a sword to the knee. Solaria was crippled and broken, and no amount of false promises or stirring speeches was going to change anything.

  “Unfortunately, rebuilding our forces and strengthening our coalition will not be easy,” Krystia went on. “It will require cooperation and patience as well as unity and obedience. Sadly, certain powerful individuals and factions within the Alliance have already betrayed our trust. Several members of the Lord’s Council, men and women who were once respected all across Solaria, have turned their backs upon us. They have willingly betrayed their own people to the Sovereigns, and this treachery has already cost us tens of thousands of lives.”

  “What is she doing?” Lennox whispered into Darius’s ear. “She’s going to start a bloody panic if—”

  Darius raised his hand for silence. “Be patient.”

  “But make no mistake,” Krystia went on. “Now is not a time for division. In order to rally and defeat the Imperium, all of Solaria must stand united. That is why, as of today, I have officially dissolved the Lord’s Council until further notice. Those who have openly betrayed our great nation and her people will be punished accordingly. Those who have proven their loyalty will be allowed to remain within my court and act as my emergency advisors until this war is over. Their courage and wisdom will prove invaluable during the turbulent days ahead.”

  A cold tingle shuddered down Darius’s spine. He hadn’t expected her to reveal the division among the councilors to the public, and he certainly hadn’t expected her to dissolve the Council entirely. She had obviously swallowed Sovan’s ridiculous story about Savilen and the others plotting to kill her, and now…

  “Many of you are undoubtedly wondering how we plan to strike back against the Crell,” Krystia continued, hushing the chorus of frantic whispers rippling through the crowd. “The harsh reality is that over the past few months, we have been outmaneuvered on virtually every front. The death of our beloved king left our defenses weak and brittle, and the Sovereigns have exploited our vulnerabilities with ruthless precision. Worse, our supposed allies in Torsia and Calhara have all but abandoned us. It is clear that if we are to win this war, we must do so alone. And we will.”

  Stepping in front of the podium, Krystia dramatically thrust her hands up into the air. A low rumble shook through the air like a distant thunderstorm gathering on the horizon, and Darius glanced up just in time to watch dozens upon dozens of amorphous black splotches blot out the afternoon sun. For an instant he thought Krystia really had used the Aether to conjure a thunderstorm, but they realized that the splotches weren’t clouds—they were living creatures.

  They were dragons.

  “Sol have mercy,” Lennox breathed as the dragons roared past overhead, their golden scales glinting like flying jewels. “How…?”

  Darius shook his head. He had been skeptical every time Krystia had mentioned the Golden Hatchery; he had assumed it was all part of Sovan’s growing web of lies. But this…this seemed downright impossible. He had never seen so many dragons in one place before. No one had.

  “Behold the weapons that will allow us to retake our lands,” Krystia said. “Behold the power that will allow us to wipe the Imperium from the face of Torsia. From this day forward, no Alliance citizen will fear for her safety or that of her family. From this day forward, no Crell soldier will be safe on Solarian soil.”

  She extended her arms to the side, and two of the mighty dragons circled briefly overhead before landing on either side of the stage. Clouds of dust and debris buffeted the crowd, and some of them even screeched in terror and tried to run. But then the dragons unleashed a joint, deafening roar that shook the entire plaza, and everyone in Celenest seemed to freeze in place.

  “From this day forward, I shall be known as the Dragon Queen of Solaria,” Krystia proclaimed. “Those who stand with me will share in the glory of a new world, a better world.” She reached out her hands, and the dragons leaned their heads in close enough that she could pet them
.

  “Those who oppose me shall tremble in despair.”

  ***

  The foliage was still damp with last night’s rainfall, and the budding flowers and dense undergrowth glittered in the afternoon sunlight. In another month or two, this grove would be as verdant as an Izarian corn field, but for now it remained an indecipherable swirl of green and brown, new and old, alive and dead. And Sarina Zharrs couldn’t imagine a better place to bury their cherished friend.

  She crept through the weeds towards their makeshift camp and waved at Tam to signal her approach. Jason and Gor were still tending to the burial mound deeper in, and she didn’t want to disturb them. Tomorrow, perhaps, they would finally pick up their belongings and return to the road, but for now they all wanted a little more time to say goodbye.

  “Any news?” Tam asked once she drew close.

  “Some,” Sarina murmured, leaning against a tree next to him. “The battle is over, more or less. The remaining Crell forces either surrendered or fled before nightfall.”

  “What about Halfren?”

  “Dead, just like we expected. Warmaster Jorgir cut the clan lord down right in the middle of the street. Frankly, I can’t believe his warriors didn’t turn on each other. But somehow Captain Farkas managed to keep them organized and focused. She’s holed up in the castle with her priests and soldiers, but unless Celenest gets her reinforcements soon…”

  Tam nodded in silent understanding. The Crell might have withdrawn from Galvia for the moment, but without a real government it hardly mattered. Once the various gangs and guilds reorganized themselves, the streets would erupt in violence again. Ashenfel would descend into total anarchy, and the other large cities across the country would probably follow their example.

  “How are they doing?” Sarina asked, gesturing towards the others with her chin.

  “About as well as you’d expect,” Tam whispered. “Jace has barely spoken a word, and Gor…well, I would say he’s even grumpier than normal, but that’s not really fair. Sel might have been the only one of us he actually liked.”

  She sighed. “I still can’t believe…”

  “I know.”

  “I should have killed Ethan when I had the chance,” Sarina said. “I had a knife planted right at his back. All I had to do was push.”

  Tam winced. “We did the right thing given what we knew at the time. No one could have possibly predicted that the Crell would have a way to free his demons.”

  “We could have stayed with Sel in the camp. We should have known that Verrator wasn’t actually in the castle.”

  He didn’t reply. Instead he reached out and placed his hand in hers, and together they allowed the serenity of the grove to calm their nerves and dull their pain.

  Sarina closed her eyes. Asgardians were taught to embrace their strongest emotions, to channel them into a powerful weapon just like the Aether. But she didn’t feel powerful right now. She felt weak. She felt helpless. After all their battles and all their victories, a part of her had started to believe they could never fail. They had survived Taig and Lyebel and Garos. They had survived an attack from a bloody demigod. But now…

  “Easy,” Tam warned.

  She opened her eyes and released his hand. Evidently she’d been squeezing so hard that her knuckles were white.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  “It’s all right. Trust me, if no one else was here I’d probably burn down every tree in this forest.”

  Smiling tightly, Sarina buried her face into his shoulder and slid her hand around his waist. He held her close.

  A few minutes later, just as the skies clouded over and threatened another downpour, Jason and Gor stepped away from the burial mound and approached them. The chagari was still limping, and he probably would be for several more days. His wounds had been the worst by far.

  “We should get moving as soon as possible,” Jason said. “Another storm is coming, and the closest village is still several hours away.”

  “Where are we headed?” Sarina asked. “I doubt Lyebel will be much better off, and Solaria isn’t safe anymore, either.”

  “I’m going to Celenest.”

  She frowned. “It’s under siege or will be soon. There’s no way we’ll be able to get inside.”

  “We won’t,” Jason said. “But I will.”

  Sarina shared a confused glance with Tam. “What are you talking about?”

  “I have to speak with Krystia,” Jason explained. His voice was so grave it almost sounded like it belonged to a different person. “I need to hear her explain why she murdered Areekan and started this war.”

  “But you already learned everything from your father, didn’t you?” Tam asked. “What could she possibly say that would change anything?”

  “I don’t know,” Jason conceded. “But I need to hear her say it.”

  Sarina stared at him for a long moment. “Fine. Then we’re going with you.”

  “Speak for yourself, ka’chek,” Gor grumbled. “I refuse to follow this fool on any more of his misbegotten endeavors. I am returning to my ship, and with luck I will never see another Crell again.”

  “Good luck with that,” Tam muttered. “Where do you think you’re going to hide, big guy? If they find you alone on the sea, they’ll throw you in shackles and—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” the chagari hissed. “Anywhere is better than here.”

  He spun around and stomped back towards his campsite, his tail thrashing behind him. Sarina was tempted to pursue but immediately thought the better of it. Gor was hard enough to deal with when he was in a good mood. He usually came around, given sufficient time. But after everything that had happened…

  Tam snorted and shook his head. “Well, while Captain Sunshine goes and lives his dream of being a pirate, the rest of us can head to Solaria. I just don’t know how you plan on—”

  “I’m going alone,” Jason interrupted.

  Sarina shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re right about Solaria being dangerous,” he said softly. “It won’t be easy to get into Celenest, and I can’t guarantee anyone else’s safety.”

  Tam’s face scrunched in confusion. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Everything,” Jason said. “You’ve taken more than enough stupid risks on my behalf, and I’m not going to lead anyone else to their deaths.”

  Sarina grabbed his shoulder and forced him to look at her. “Sel’s death wasn’t your fault. She knew what she was doing and—”

  “This has nothing to do with her,” Jason insisted, pushing Sarina’s arm away. “Both of you have wasted years following me around Torsia, and for what? A bunch of empty caves and a few bricks of gold?”

  “More than a few,” Tam murmured. “We still have a bunch left over from Malacross’s tomb.”

  “The point is that I’ve almost gotten everyone killed countless times by now. That ends today. This is too dangerous.”

  “Then why go at all? What do you think she’s going to tell you that you don’t already know?”

  Jason’s eyes flicked between them, and eventually he swallowed and rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Krystia and I share a special bond. When we connected all those months ago in Celenest, she took a fraction of Malacross’s power in order to keep me from going mad. Maybe I can get it back somehow. If not…”

  “You want to kill her,” Sarina breathed. “The queen of Solaria.”

  “Not if there’s any other way to stop her,” Jason said. “But she’s responsible for this war. She’s the one who allowed the Crell to march across the border and slaughter thousands. She needs to answer for it.”

  Tam threw up his hands in disgust. “So, what, you get to be the supreme arbiter of justice now? You’re going to start assassinating Ascendants? You realize how absolutely insane this sounds, right?”

  “I need to speak with General Iouna, and as far as I know Elade is still somewhere in the Solarian countryside
. Together we might be able to figure something out.”

  “Fine,” Sarina said. “But there’s no reason that Tam and I can’t go with you. Or Gor, once he gets his horns out of his ass.”

  “No,” Jason insisted. “Dathiel will be back soon enough, and the Watchers will chase me all the way across Obsidian until they find a way to extract the Godsoul. Just being near me is a risk.”

  “Yes, but it’s our risk,” she told him. “You can’t just make decisions for us.”

  His brown eyes locked onto her for a moment, and he eventually turned away and sighed. “There’s somewhere more important you should go,” he whispered. “No matter what happens with Krystia—no matter what the Crell do to Celenest—this war is eventually going to spread across all of Torsia. Until someone can figure out a way to defend against the Breakers, the Sovereigns will keep toppling regime after regime.”

  Tam glanced to Sarina. “And how are we supposed to stop that?”

  Jason drew in a deep breath and then slowly turned around. “You’re going to return to Asgardia,” he said. “And you’re going to look your cousin in the eye and tell him what’s about to happen if he refuses to get involved.”

  Sarina’s throat went dry. “You can’t be serious. What in the bloody void makes you think he’ll listen to me?”

  “He might not,” Jason admitted. “But we’re out of options. We need everyone’s help if we’re going to stop the Sovereigns before it’s too late, and you may be the only one in Torsia with a chance of getting through to him.”

  “He happens to hate me, in case you’ve forgotten. He’s just as likely to kill me on the spot as he is to listen to anything I have to say.”

  “Your family name will guarantee you an audience. And if it doesn’t…”

  Sarina crossed her arms. “Then what?”

  “Then you challenge him for leadership of the clans,” Jason told her. “And kill him.”

  ***

  A single column of light filtered down through the grate crowning the narrow cell, and Elade Devarath flinched away and closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure how long she had been imprisoned here, but after just a few days surrounded by darkness she had already become hyper sensitive to sunlight again. Her captors would probably view her discomfort as yet more proof of her dark and depraved nature. Not that they needed any. If Highlord Alric had his way, she would remain buried here forever.