Twin Soul Series Omnibus 2: Books 6-10

by McCaffrey-Winner

  “So if you weren’t planning on killing him,” a different voice spoke up, right beside Arolan, “and thank you for that — why do you want him?”

  Arolan smiled at the god seated next to him. “Hello, Terric, and you’re welcome. I wouldn’t want to put you and Bryan to unnecessary trouble.” The god of death nodded and raised an eyebrow, imploring Arolan to answer his question. Arolan sighed. “I’ve been out there in the frigging snow for the past two centuries because I did a good deed.”

  “That’s not my department,” Terric said with a wave of his hand. “But as you’re obviously dying to tell me, pray, what good deed was that?”

  “One of Ophidian’s get came my way,” Arolan said, scooping up a large spoonful of the orange stew and swallowing it loudly. “A twin soul. Only with one soul.”

  “Oh?” Terric said, eyebrows going high on his forehead. “That’s dangerous. We had that trouble with another just recently —”

  “A dragon,” Arolan said, shaking his head. “Matched him up with a child, as I understand. And the twin soul calls itself Jarin, after the boy.” He frowned, shaking his head. “Just Jarin.”

  “And how do you know that?” Terric asked him sharply. “Weren’t you a frozen ornament these past two centuries?”

  “I still have followers,” Arolan said, tapping his forehead knowingly. “They worship me, tell me things.”

  “You’ve got one at least in the infirmary,” Terric allowed. “A most interesting young man.”

  Arolan smiled. “Richard Ford. I like to keep good ones around.”

  “You and Ophidian, both,” Terric said with a note of disapproval in his voice.

  “You’re not complaining are you?” Arolan asked in a tone of alarm. “I thought you’d be glad not to have the extra work.”

  “No, I’m not complaining,” Terric said. “But it’s a circle, you know.” He made a circling motion with the forefinger of his right hand. “Life. Death. Life. You and Ophidian are stretching it all out of shape with your favorites.”

  Arolan stirred unhappily in his seat. “Didn’t I pay the price?”

  Terric burst into a grin. “So you noticed? Two centuries as frozen stone got your attention, did it?”

  “It was rather hard to ignore,” Arolan said with a grunt. Then his expression changed. “But I had a lot of time to think.”

  “Yes, I would imagine,” Terric said. Wistfully, he added, “Must be comforting, all that time.”

  “Like your garden,” Arolan agreed with a nod.

  “And what did you grow in your frozen garden of thought?” Terric asked him.

  “Ideas,” Arolan said. He gave the god of death an unhappy look. “Something is not right. Something is out of balance.”

  “Agreed,” a boy’s voice added. Aron, god of judgement.

  “Well, hello,” Arolan said, reaching out his free hand and ruffling the young boy’s head. “Did you miss me?”

  “You paid your price,” Aron said.

  “And Ophidian?”

  “He paid his price long ago,” Aron said, a sad look on his face.

  “We need a soul for that dragon,” Arolan said firmly. “It’ll be moving soon, without me to keep it frozen. It’s been nearly a week, now.”

  “Yes,” Aron agreed. “And we’ve got another imbalance.”

  Arolan quirked an eyebrow upwards in question.

  “A kitsune twin soul was betrayed,” Aron said.

  “A kitsune found a twin?” Arolan asked in surprise. The land-based twin souls rarely called for his attention but he liked to keep up with the works of his siblings. The kitsune had become interesting not just because they were Moon-born but because they’d famously never found a human soul twin. “Why didn’t I hear of this?”

  “I’m not saying that you might want to gather more followers,” Terric muttered sardonically, “but it is obvious none of them were close enough to the matter to learn of it.”

  Arolan frowned. He nodded to Terric, tacitly accepting his suggestion. “What happened?”

  Quickly Aron sketched the events that led up to the judgement in the hall of the gods that left the girl, Hana, behind and her kitsune, Meiko, bound to Lyric, twice-murderer.

  “We should have words with Ibb,” Arolan said. “He has much to answer.” Ibb the mechanical had spent thousands of years learning knowledge. Arolan had heard some mutter that he knew more than any other god except the Mother herself.

  “If you bring him here, I shall have to judge him,” Aron warned.

  “He has warped the circle of life,” Terric added sternly.

  “You know why he does it,” Arolan said to them.

  “None the less,” Aron said.

  Arolan threw up his hands. “I’m not doubting you, little brother. But Ibb has become… interesting.”

  Aron smiled. Terric pursed his lips tightly but, at Arolan’s prodding look, unbent enough to nod in agreement.

  “You should talk with Ophidian,” Aron said as Arolan emptied his bowl of stew.

  “I shall wait for the mortals to wake and recover,” Arolan said. He’d left his two in the good care of Avice who’d mended Ford’s broken leg before sending them to sleep.

  “And Ametza?” Aron asked.

  “I have been thinking of her a great deal,” Arolan said, smiling. It was not a pleasant smile.

  Chapter Two

  Annabelle was shivering with the cold. She didn’t know how long it had been since she’d last seen anyone. The snow was blinding her and her breathing hurt. Worse, it seemed that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. The strange belt that Ford had given her had transformed itself into a magical lifting balloon and hauled her free from the wreck of the Spite. At mage Reedis’ urging, she’d used her knife to puncture the mage’s own lifting balloon so that he could fall back onto Spite and attempt to free Captain Ford. But that had been hours back.

  Ice clung to her eyebrows and the tops of her ears. Her nose was nearly frozen, and she couldn’t feel her fingers or toes.

  Suddenly, the cold seemed to vanish from her. She glanced around hopefully in the dimness of the snow storm. Was help coming her way?

  You are dying, a voice said to her. The air is too thin for you to breathe. Your body is saving you the pain as you freeze to death.

  Are you Terric, the god of death? Annabelle thought.

  No, silly, came the quick reply, I’m just your mind. Terric is too important a god to waste his time on you personally. The gods have no time for you!

  That’s not true! Annabelle thought heatedly. She knew better. All her life she had used her devotion to the gods to create spells, build potions, make her witch craft. And Reedis had used magic — ‘the brains of the gods’ as Richard had so aptly called it — to make the airship fly. The steam engine was magic, too: built with the steel that only Ophidian’s flame could create. The gods care.

  So why is it that you’re floating higher and higher, freezing to death?

  I don’t know, Annabelle admitted. If she had a knife, she could puncture the balloon like she’d done for the mage. But, she realized, she was very high in the sky. The fall would kill her. There must be a lesson here, she thought after a moment. She already knew that cold air would freeze her. What else was she learning floating so high in the sky?

  The air gets thin up here, Annabelle realized. Too thin to breathe. The revelation pleased her and she thought, I must tell Reedis.

  “If you want to do that, you’re going to need help,” a voice said in her right ear. Annabelle twisted her head around. The voice continued, “What will you do for it?”

  Ophidian, Annabelle thought. What is your game?

  To know, little one, you’ll have to bargain, Ophidian said in her head.

  “You don’t have permission to be in my head,”
Annabelle croaked out loud.

  You’ve been asking for warmth and life, that was my permission.

  Trickster!

  Of course, the dragon god replied with pleasure. Now, what do you offer?

  Nothing, Annabelle said.

  Ophidian was shocked at her refusal… and intrigued. He left the question floating between them.

  You want something from me, Annabelle said. Or you wouldn’t be here. She was silent in her own head for a moment as she thought rapidly. It’s Richard, isn’t it?

  Arolan has him, the fire god admitted.

  Annabelle would have smiled if she could move her lips that far. Very well, hear my bargain: I will help Richard for a week, if you save me. She imagined bargaining with the dragon god from her initial offer for a good while before they reached agreement. Ophidian was a notorious haggler.

  Done!

  Annabelle had just enough time to blink in surprise before she found herself in a bed, in a white room, in a place she’d never seen before.

  “You used this one hard,” a woman’s voice said sternly to someone out of Annabelle’s sight — Ophidian, she was certain. The woman turned to Annabelle and said one word: “Sleep.”

  #

  Arolan found Ophidian in the Hall of the Gods at the end of the main corridor in this, the House of Life and Death. The Hall of the Gods contained statues of all the known gods and, given that it was part of the building created by Avice and Terric — the gods of Life and Death — Arolan had no reason to imagine that it didn’t contain images of all the gods. Except their Mother, of course.

  “You’ve got some explaining to do,” Arolan said to Ophidian when he met him.

  “Always,” Ophidian agreed. He gave Arolan an amused look. “You’re a bit slow, so I expect no less.”

  Arolan ignored the taunt. He’d gotten better in dealing with the older god over the course of thousands of years.

  “What are going to do?” Arolan demanded. His lips twitched as he taunted, “You can’t me expect to shed dragon tears over this.”

  Ophidian snorted at the younger god’s attempt at humor.

  “I don’t want it killed,” Arolan offered as a starter.

  “No,” Ophidian agreed with a snort that hid a threatening growl, “you don’t want it killed.”

  “So we need to control it,” Arolan said.

  “And there’s only one way to do that,” Ophidian agreed. He sighed, glancing over at the sea god. “King Markel had Spite made into an airship with the hopes of winning wars and killing wyverns.”

  “And dragons,” Arolan said. He raised an eyebrow as he added, “And didn’t he get some help from the gods?”

  Ophidian grinned slyly. “He might have.”

  “I don’t understand why you would want him striking at the wyverns and dragons,” Arolan muttered.

  “That was merely a means to an end,” Ophidian said, reaching over to pat the sea god on his head patronizingly.

  “You were trying to help me?” Arolan asked in surprise.

  “Well, you’re free now, aren’t you?” Ophidian asked him with a smirk. “And we have lots of choices when it comes to the sea serpent.”

  “Sea serpent! Just a wyvern in the water!” Arolan said with a snort. “So your problem became my problem and you’re claiming that you helped me?”

  “Well, I got you away from your wife,” Ophidian added, his eyes glowing red.

  “For which I will properly thank you at some later occasion,” Arolan promised, his eyes glinting. He turned toward the exit. “I brought Ford —”

  “One of your pet projects, as I recall.”

  “— and the mage,” Arolan said. “Your pet wyvern is here and there’s that half-kitsune —”

  “More like kitsune remains,” Ophidian corrected. “The bond was sundered.”

  “Your doing?”

  Ophidian shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “And that concerns me.”

  “You’re a god, you’ll cope,” Arolan told him scornfully. “But the half was bound once —”

  “She might do,” Ophidian agreed. “She’s loved by the moon and your siblings touched her.”

  “That’s three,” Arolan said, “unless you’re planning on making Wymarc renounce her bond —”

  “No,” Ophidian said shaking his head vigorously. “I tried that once.”

  Arolan laughed. “I remember! She showed you.”

  “Let’s not talk of it,” Ophidian said, almost pleading. It was an old, bitter memory for him and a source of constant amusement to his sibling gods. “But we’ve got more than three.”

  Arolan raised an eyebrow.

  “I collected the witch, Annabelle,” Ophidian said, sounding smug. “And,” he added in a different tone, “I suppose if the serpent’s hungry, there’s the crown prince.”

  “Nestor?” Arolan said without much fervor. “Isn’t he —?”

  “Well, he’s here,” Ophidian said. “Apparently Wymarc’s new girl didn’t want him dead when the airship crashed. So that’s four. And then there’s Rabel’s apprentice —”

  “Rabel?” Arolan asked sharply, shaking his head.

  “Not your concern,” Ophidian said, waving a hand aside. “He was the father to Krea, Wymarc’s new half.”

  “Oh!” Arolan said. “And you use first names with him!”

  “I’ve made his acquaintance, yes,” Ophidian added slyly.

  “So that’s six,” Arolan said. “Five if you don’t count your wyvern’s half.”

  “Four,” Ophidian agreed. “Ford, Reedis, Annabelle, and Angus, the apprentice.”

  “What about Nestor?”

  “Him?” Ophidian said with a snort. “He’s just an appetizer.”

  Chapter Three

  “You’re alive!” Crown Prince Nestor cried joyfully as he spotted captain Ford and mage Reedis seated at a table in the huge dining hall. He’d been led there by Avice, the goddess of Life herself. He guided Krea Wymarc — the winter wyvern and the cause of his quest to the bitter north — to a seat and then rushed over to grab the two startled men in a big hug. “I’m so glad!”

  Reedis looked at the prince in surprise. “Nestor, is that really you?”

  “It is!” Nestor replied. He gestured toward another young woman who came in with Angus Franck, lately Spite’s steam engineer. “This marvelous young lady took it upon herself to rescue me.” He leaned in to add in awe, “Her name is Hana. She can fly, you know!”

  Hover, only! Wymarc snorted to Krea. Krea was growing more used to sharing her body with another — her twin-souled wyvern half. Krea sent Wymarc a soothing thought.

  “Your food is growing cold,” Sybil, the cook, growled from her counter, waving a hand toward the many trays waiting on it.

  “It’s best to do as she says,” Krea told the others meekly.

  Soon, Krea, Hana, and the four survivors of the wreck of the Spite were all seated and eating contentedly.

  Avice, who wandered nearby looked at the group, and scowled. “We’re missing someone,” she said, waving a hand and creating another place setting. She glanced up. “Waiting to make an entrance, Ophidian?”

  “She was tired and slept in,” Ophidian said, suddenly standing in front of Avice and gesturing toward the now-filled eighth seat.

  “Annabelle!” Richard Ford cried, leaping from his chair and rushing around to hug the witch tightly. “I was just going to ask about you!”

  Annabelle, still seated, allowed him to wrap her in his arms and hugged his arms back, before releasing them, saying, “Ophidian offered me a deal.”

  Richard stood up and glanced at the suave man with dark straight hair, dark cinnamon skin — and eyes that glowed brightly with an inner heat. Ophidian, in one of his more common human guises, regarded the captain with veiled amusement. H
e dismissed Ford immediately, turning to Reedis, “Are you responsible for that floating magic that saved her life?”

  “Y-yes, Lord Ophidian,” Reedis stammered.

  Ophidian frowned at him and moved toward him, hand upraised. Reedis quivered in his seat, ready for the wrath of the dragon god. At the last moment, the god smiled at Reedis and extended his hand to him. Awkwardly, Reedis rose from his seat, made a hasty bow, and gingerly took the god’s proffered hand.

  “That was a very nice piece of magic,” Ophidian told him with a smile. Reedis responded with a smile of his own which Ophidian destroyed when he added, “The same magic that caused the death of Annora Wymarc.”

  “The mage is blameless,” Nestor said rising in Reedis’ defense. “I ordered the guns fired, the shot was mine, the blame was mine.” He glanced toward Krea Wymarc and bowed deeply, “My lady Wymarc, I regret all the harm I caused you.” He swallowed and added, “I put my life in your hands.”

  The sound of sullen clapping distracted him and he turned to see Ophidian, a sour expression on his face. “Very noble,” Ophidian said, sneering at Nestor. Then he smiled. “Your offer is accepted.”

  Nestor’s eyebrows rose and he glanced back between Krea and the dragon god, at a loss for words.

  “Ophidian, stop playing with the boy,” Wymarc said. “He’s pledged his life to me, that’s enough for you.”

  Ophidian’s jaw clenched and he looked ready to argue the point but Wymarc lifted Krea’s head haughtily and… stared the dragon god down. Ophidian, unwilling to concede his defeat in the battle of wills, shook his head irritably.

  “They need to eat,” Avice said to the dark-haired man who glanced at her, eyes flaring gold, before glancing back to the group.

  “Very well,” Ophidian said, taking in Reedis, and Nestor in turn, “eat.” He dropped himself into a waiting chair and sat, legs crossed, the upper leg jerking in a steady, impulsive beat.

  Reedis found himself unable to eat until Avice moved to his back and touched his shoulder. “You need your strength.”

  Ford kept glancing to Annabelle, Nestor, and Reedis as he crunched his way through his warm bowl of gruel.