The Blood Wars Trilogy Omnibus: Volumes 1 - 3

by T. A. Miles

  The Vadryn have spread, like a killing fungus, all over the world. They are a swarm bearing poison. The spread of their range is beyond the world you know, but you have come near the nest. You know that they will choke all others out of life if they themselves are not expunged. This reckoning is but a small measure taken on behalf of the Greater World.

  The ‘Greater World’ … Korsten’s curiosity reached for the concept as readily as if he’d been in a library pulling down a book. He had to pull away from his sudden and intense desire to know what that meant. In spite of a world beyond what he or anyone in Edrinor may have known, Edrinor was the world they knew, and they had to live in it. They had to survive to be able to explore what lay beyond the borders that Morenne was even now trying to seal off. Edrinor was so very small. Korsten was beginning to understand that. It may have been insignificant or unheard of to whomever else was out there, beyond the sea and the mountains … on the other side of Morenne even, but it was home to everyone there. It was the country the gods had chosen to inspire the building of the Seminary, perhaps because they were so close to the heart of the Vadryn’s corruption.

  If the world were a body, Edrinor and Morenne are twins … the lungs … one damaged and the other decaying. The heart failed long ago and the lungs are trying to resuscitate a lifeless body.

  An unconscious body, Korsten reasoned, disliking the tone of the spirits’ metaphor.

  Some believe that it might recover. Others believe that it should be allowed to die completely in order to enable a proper renewal.

  Korsten knew immediately that his hope was for recovery. And he saw instantly the clashing views of many of the witches versus himself and other mages. The crone had believed that destruction would clear the way for Nature’s renewal. But if Nature or the gods were so bent on that solution, then why empower men and women to work against the Vadryn? Why give people the power to save themselves if they shouldn’t try?

  The spirits didn’t respond to that thought. They didn’t have to.

  Abruptly, the sensation of a population of souls overtook Korsten’s awareness. There wasn’t time to try to affect the spirits in the water—or of the water—to changing their intentions. He doubted that he would be able to convince them to change their course for him in the same way he had coaxed the demons. The demons craved power, as much as they could consume and more; these spirits were power. He had to return to wakefulness, if it was still possible, and he had to return to the others … to Merran. He knew that waking to his body would put him at too great a distance. He had to do something here, in this dream … or this reality.

  Release me, he requested of the spirits.

  There was a measureless span where he felt they were going to refuse him. He felt them moving closer around him and had a fleeting sensation of the demons and their greed.

  We will return you to your preferred form, the spirits offered.

  Korsten felt a sensation of relief radiate through him at the knowledge that they could and would do that. A sigh of calm radiated through his soul and at this proximity, he felt as if the spirits found something endearing in that.

  Not yet, he replied to their offer. Once again, he made his request. Release me.

  He realized after the fact that he had no real idea what he was requesting, or if that would take him beyond their recovery, ultimately losing him. Losing him to death, he imagined.

  A city of souls was fast approaching. It didn’t matter what would become of his beyond this moment.

  The sensation of so many spirits surrounding his own fell away, but not all at once. As with the demons, he felt himself rising from them, drawing some of them with him in a wake he couldn’t quite comprehend. They did not cling desperately or hungrily, as the demons had. Rather, they seemed to be moving with him for the abstract pleasure of it, simultaneously helping to offer him the lift to separate himself. Beyond that, he had no idea what would happen to him or how.

  He felt for a peculiar instant that he might have some better perspective on Release and on the soul at all. Again, he found his mind on the tip of some epiphany, but there was no time or real want to carry it through. In the periphery of his surreal consciousness, he felt the sea moving … and he saw Eolyn.

  The wave is coming, he said to the moth beating her wings against what felt like a dream rapidly leaving. It’s here!

  The evacuation and transfer of people took place over the course of the next few hours. The wave was still absent.

  Merran stood along the highest outdoor balcony the governor’s mansion offered them. He was still well below the cliffs, but well above most of the other high places within the city. He should have been in plain view of at least one of the witches who would be watching for his signal.

  “People are moving away from the water,” came a voice from beside him as he was joined on the balcony by the governor’s son. By no fault of the younger man, Merran felt helplessly harassed by his presence, as it reminded him that he could do nothing for the governor. He hadn’t done more than assessed the fact that Cayri had successfully stabilized him and that, based on accounts, his faculties had collapsed under strain. There was nothing more he could do without full use of his Healing. It occurred to him also that there may not have been anything to do for Tahrsel regardless; the man was aged and his health may have simply faded.

  “Will this work?” Deitir asked, perhaps to remind Merran that he was there and had spoken.

  “There’s no way of knowing,” Merran answered plainly. He couldn’t elevate his mood beyond stressed and irritable. Granted, he wasn’t really trying to. He’d moved away from despairing. That would have to do.

  “Well, I hope it does,” Deitir said in spite of Merran’s plain answer. “This is my father’s nightmare. I never imagined it would manifest so literally.”

  Merran turned enough to look at him. Deitir was stood at the railing, dark eyes filled with emotion he may not have intended to share so openly and a profile that showed a very distinct nose. It wasn’t a trait the young man had inherited from his mother to look at her. Upon meeting Ilayna Tahrsel it was clear that she kept all of her intensity in her eyes and her mouth. Both had a confident and unwavering set. In fact, she seemed the type of woman who kept her emotions very easily in check. She also seemed very reasonable. That may have been a trait shared between mother and son.

  Returning his attention to the sea, Merran said, “I’ve never been a part of anything of this magnitude. Not quite in this way. But I trust Ceth.”

  In his peripheral view he saw Deitir nod in response.

  In the peripheries of his senses, he felt a sudden, familiar presence. It was like a fleeting brush of the wind across his face and shoulders, a glimpse of red, and then words whispered in tremendous haste.

  It’s here!

  “You’ve all done well here,” Ceth said to Cayri and Vlas as they stood watch with him at the highest point in Indhovan they could manage.

  “We’re not finished,” Vlas answered.

  Cayri translated. “We’re worried about Merran and Korsten.”

  Ceth nodded, his gaze remaining vigilantly on the ocean. Cayri wondered if a part of him was simply taking in a rare view. “I’ve taken a cursory look at Merran’s hand. Eisleth will have a better time assessing the extent of the damage and what’s to be done. As for Korsten … of course we all have to consider that the last time he disappeared with the enemy, he returned to the Seminary on his own.”

  Cayri accepted that in silence. There was not much else she could do or say, knowing very little of what had actually happened.

  “He returned to Ashwin specifically,” Ceth added. “For the moment I have to think that the bonds he’s formed will ultimately protect him.”

  There was something else behind Ceth’s words, though Cayri couldn’t say what. By her perception, it seemed almost nervousness. Did he not believe his own w
ords? Or was something else troubling him about the situation..or about Korsten? Cayri didn’t pry.

  Ceth drew in a breath in her silence, and on its release, he said, “There it is.”

  Cayri looked to him and followed his gaze. She’d half expected to see a wall of water, but she was surprised to instead see the water at the shore lowering. It was shrinking away from the shore, as if a giant were inhaling at the edge of the horizon, sucking it all in. Merran’s Lantern came to life at the governor’s mansion, rising up.

  Ceth took another of his orbs from his pocket and held it out. “Concentrate your spells here,” he instructed.

  As they’d discussed at the start of their vigil at the edge of the cliff, they cast the Barriers directly at the edge of the land they stood upon.

  “Continue to cast it,” Ceth told them, and tossed the orb at the aligned and scarcely visible wall of magic before them. The orb spun as it reached the wall, drawing energy from it into itself. Ceth then took another orb and cast a small Reach gate in the air beside himself, through which he tossed the second orb. It vanished, notifying them of its arrival at its destination when a spark of evening light shone off it above the water.

  In her mind, Cayri could see it spinning, casting out the Barrier to either side of itself, as if unfurling wings to shield the city. It required all of her concentration not to be awed to distraction by the chain reaction of events that followed.

  Crystals throughout the city came to life, from small embers to full-bodied luminaries, to minor stars hanging impossibly low in the sky. They lit the city from previously unknown places, forming a web of glowing strands toward the sea, and toward the Barrier, which swelled to gigantic proportions, casting a veil of light between the city and the sea. It may have been the single most beautiful display Cayri had ever seen.

  The wave came afterward, rolling the waters back at the shore, quickly swelling at the docks. A fist of the water followed within seconds, smashing fiercely against the Barrier. The impact transferred to Cayri. She could feel the immense strength pressing against the Barrier and it stole her breath, but not her efforts. She held her hands in front of her, as if her hands could work directly against the ocean rising against them. Beside her, Vlas held himself similarly. An awestruck expression became a short-lived flash of excitement before a frown of determination took hold.

  Ceth’s hands were aligned with the orbs he’d cast out, as if invisible strings were attached. His face was placid, except for a minor stitch formed between his brows. In the moments that followed versus the weight and will of the water, a frown spread down the length of his face. And then he opened his eyes.

  Cayri could feel the swell of force that inspired it. It felt as if it would physically knock her back, as if she were directly on the shore. Ceth released the orbs, gesturing a Barrier of his own with speed and skill that overlapped the spells, and then he threw his arms apart to either side of himself. His Barrier spread and raced across the web of light from the crystals. It gained momentum and size as it went, matching the existing Barrier in breadth and height when it joined with it. It almost seemed to catch the original as it was falling, and the water that came crashing down after it.

  Lowering her arms, Cayri watched the elder at work. He scarcely seemed to strain, though she could feel how it tested his endurance emotionally, particularly in the moment he did something that only one of his years and station could have performed. Bringing his arms back together, he manipulated the Barrier with a series of gestures that he made appear simpler than they must have been. The magic emulated the orbs, forming several that each captured what Cayri could only consider fistfuls of water, which were then thrust upward. Clouds quickly formed overhead, followed by rain.

  Cayri felt a smile forming on her lips when the cold, heavy drops fell on her, though she didn’t know if she ought to. When she looked at Ceth, he gave a nod that was nearly invisible while catching his breath … letting her know that it was all right. She grinned at him, and while Vlas was moving close to him to see if the elder was overly strained by the feat, she stepped over to Ceth as well and put her arms around him, supporting him whether he needed it or not.

  He allowed it, patting her quickly soaking hair. “We did well,” he said, and brought Vlas into the embrace as well. Surprisingly, Vlas didn’t try to get away, so Cayri hugged him, too. They weren’t finished, but Ceth was right. They had done well in that moment … all of them, including the people of Indhovan who had participated in this first and most vital stage of defense.

  “That’ll make a fleet of war ships from Morenne seem a bit underwhelming,” Vlas commented.

  Ceth lightly dignified his student’s humor with a dry laugh and Cayri kissed her fellow Adept on the cheek over it.

  “Let’s hope they won’t be drawn here quicker for all of that,” Ceth said to sober them. “Now, let’s get out of this rain and organize what else needs to be done.”

  Dreams of smallish creatures raining down onto the city were interrupted by a swift nudge to Irslan’s ankle. He snapped his head up, quickly glanced about, and realized that he was seated in the governor’s assembly hall, at the table where they’d plotted a successful defense against sheer and utter madness. Further madness was to follow, if he recalled accurately.

  He leaned toward the seat beside him. “Assure me that Morenne isn’t here yet.”

  “Not yet,” Mage Vlas told him.

  “Good … good. Don’t let me sleep through the invasion.”

  “I shall kick you again, surely.”

  Irslan smiled tiredly, letting his mind filter back to the situation around him. No longer a state of crisis.

  “Some of the docks were swept away and some of the vessels that weren’t taken out were waterlogged,” someone was in the process of explaining … to Lord Ceth. Now, he had full recall. He was in the presence of a Mage-Superior, and like a fool he was sleeping through it.

  “The pier and surrounding district has taken on some damage as well,” the individual continued. “But no lives were lost, so far as we can tell yet. The sudden downpour created minor flood conditions in some of the streets and brought the canal up dangerously high, but a lot of the wave was channeled by the Barriers and its own momentum into the inlet, as we had hoped.”

  Irslan focused on the governor’s son … not a horribly young man, but young enough. In spite of that, Deitir did what Irslan couldn’t say his father would have. It was unfortunate that the man had fallen ill, but … fortunate at the same time.

  “Unfortunately,” Deitir continued, “it crested the north wall and the structural casualties are heavy in that part of the city.”

  “The extended part,” Ceth clarified and then the man who honestly appeared to have no discernible age, nodded. “And the casualties there in terms of people?”

  “Could be none, could be a few,” Fersmyn offered. “We don’t know yet. Most everyone was evacuated, but some didn’t obey or somehow missed instruction. If anyone’s missing, word will come through the constabulary certainly.”

  Ceth acknowledged with a slow nod, his expression one of consideration. “Right….so, Morennish ships are possibly on their way. Unfortunately, I cannot linger. You should continue to build defenses. Mages Vlas and Cayri will stay here to help as long as it’s necessary. Merran will return with me.”

  The Superior gestured toward each of the mages in turn, and Irslan smiled helplessly at them. The smile was gone with mention of the fourth mage.

  “And Korsten….” Ceth paused, drawing in a breath and then releasing it. “May the gods deliver him, if he’s unable to deliver himself.”

  A tactful space of silence followed those words.

  And then Fersmyn asked, “What of the coven?”

  “Make peace with them,” Ceth advised. “Neglect becomes malignant and leads to what we just experienced. An extreme case, obviously, but the worst scen
ario should always be regarded as possible.” His attention went fully to Deitir. “And you should always act to negate it whenever and wherever possible. Learn more about your city’s residents and encourage your father to do the same. Do not leave a population to their own devices. People in groups require much guidance and individuals are put in place to provide that guidance. Ignoring them is failing them.”

  “I understand,” Deitir answered.

  “Irslan, communicate with this lad and his father.” While Ceth spoke, Irslan was hurriedly coming to the realization and acknowledgment that he’d been addressed. “Work with them. We’re very grateful for all that you’ve done working with us. You’ll hear from me again.”

  Irslan bowed his head respectfully, if not a bit mistimed. “Lord Ceth.”

  Ceth looked like he might dismiss the formality, but ultimately chose not to as he was in the process of moving onto his next target. “Merran.”

  Merran waited for Ceth to walk past him toward the door, then followed. Irslan realized belatedly that it was his cue to leave as well, so that he might escort them back to his home. He was extremely delighted when they left the room to be halted and immediately guided into a Reach portal. He was so delighted—and so tired—that in all honestly, he completely overlooked what the experience felt like.

  The carriage house was as far as Merran allowed Irslan to accompany them. The man had done enough and required rest. He, like everyone else in Indhovan, yet had more to do. Merran himself hoped to return before too long, but he’d been issued no guarantee from Ceth. He watched his elder readying Erschal for the journey that would again be a Reach and had to stop himself from turning his thoughts negative again over his hand. With nothing better to do, he went to Onyx’s stall, considering whether or not they should take Korsten’s horse back to the Seminary as well.

  “I haven’t forgotten how to saddle a horse,” Ceth commented. “I’m relieved.”