Twin Soul Series Omnibus 2: Books 6-10

by McCaffrey-Winner

  Jarin frowned. “Annora Wymarc said that I am twin soul, that she was sent by my father to help guide me.” He closed his eyes in sorrow as he continued. “I didn’t listen to her when she said not to play with the airship. They nearly killed me.”

  “They got her instead,” Rabel said. “She died for you.”

  “Yes,” Jarin agreed in a small voice. “But I got revenge.”

  “You stole from the prince,” Ellen said.

  “It was nothing,” Jarin said, waving it aside. He opened his eyes and glanced to Rabel. “Your daughter was oathsworn twice.”

  “I know,” Rabel said sadly. “I had hoped to spare her, to —”

  “Why?” Jarin demanded angrily. “You’re young! You could take care of her —”

  “He’s young now,” Ellen interrupted. “When I met him, he was old and bald.”

  “Old and… you made a deal with a god!”

  “Your father,” Rabel said in agreement. “‘Life given, lives guarded.’”

  “You?” Jarin said incredulously. “You’re to replace Annora Wymarc?”

  “Just as my daughter replaced Annora,” Rabel said.

  “You can’t fly,” Jarin said. “Why don’t I just leave you here?”

  “Your father is a god,” Rabel said slowly. “I have a feeling that perhaps I know him better than you.”

  “You do?” Jarin challenged. “And how is that?”

  “Because I knew Annora Wymarc,” Rabel said. Jarin’s eyebrows twitched upwards. Rabel twitched a grin. “Did you know why she brought you here?”

  “She said we were going to see someone,” Jarin replied. “You?”

  Rabel shook his head. “Ibb.”

  “The mechanical?” Ellen asked. “The one who helped you get away?”

  “If this Ibb helped you get away, why did you need my father?” Jarin asked shrewdly.

  “That was Ibb’s help,” Rabel replied with a twist of his lips. “I sometimes wonder how much Ibb truly means it when he says he has no use for the gods.” He shrugged to dismiss the question, then said to Jarin, “Do you know why you were to see Ibb?”

  Jarin shook his head. “Annora wouldn’t tell me much.”

  “She learned that from Wymarc,” Rabel muttered.

  “Learned what?” Jarin demanded.

  “Being obtuse,” Rabel said. “And Wymarc learned it from your father.”

  “The god,” Jarin said, shaking his head.

  “You can turn into a dragon,” Ellen told him. “What makes you think that your father isn’t a god?”

  Jarin mulled that over and spread his hands in acceptance.

  “How long did you know Wymarc?” Rabel asked.

  “All my life,” Jarin said immediately.

  “How many years?”

  Jarin frowned in thought. “I don’t count years that much,” he said. “Four? Maybe five?”

  “You’re younger than me?” Ellen said looking up at the tall man and shaking her head.

  “Ophidian tasked me to guard you,” Rabel said to Jarin. “He wouldn’t have done that if you were of age.”

  “How do you know?” Ellen demanded.

  “I have dealt with him before,” Rabel said. “He believes that his children should take care of themselves.”

  “Then I should leave you,” Jarin said, rising to his feet.

  “When they’re of age,” Rabel added hastily, gesturing for Jarin to sit back down. “He won’t leave his children unguarded in the world when they can’t guard themselves.”

  “Annora Wymarc was my guardian?” Jarin said, sounding betrayed. “I thought she was my friend.”

  “There’s no reason the two can’t be one,” Rabel said, flicking a hand toward the dragon man.

  “And you’re to take her place?” Jarin asked. Rabel nodded. “I’m to be treated as a baby?”

  “If you’re only four or five years old, you are,” Ellen told him primly.

  “Dragons mature very quickly,” Rabel said to the little girl. He turned to Jarin. “It’s not your age that determines your abilities. It’s your experience.”

  “Well, I wish to experience being my own master,” Jarin said in a huff.

  “And I wish no less for you,” Rabel said. “But Annora Wymarc is no more. And we have enemies.”

  “Enemies?”

  “Those who built the airships,” Rabel said.

  “You helped,” Ellen piped up, “you said so.”

  “You helped?”

  “I was working with Ibb,” Rabel said. He raised a hand before the dark-haired lad could fume at him, adding, “And, I think, your father.”

  “Who’s a god,” Jarin said, shaking his head again. He glanced up to Rabel. “If he’s a god, why doesn’t he just— just—?”

  “Just what?” Ellen asked, shaking her head. “The gods can’t be everywhere. And they don’t seem to care about us all that much.” She glared at Jarin. “You’re lucky that your father cares enough about you to give you friends.”

  “Friends?”

  “If you’re smart enough to have them,” Ellen said, her jaw clenched in anger. She nodded to Rabel. “He could have died, could have ended everything but he gave his oath for me, for you, and for Krea Wymarc.”

  Jarin absorbed the fierce girl’s words silently. A long moment passed before he turned to Rabel, “So what am I to learn?”

  “Usually,” Rabel replied slowly, “I have found that the teacher is the one who learns the most.”

  Chapter Two

  “The house was completely destroyed, burnt to cinders,” Colonel Walpish reported as he bowed deeply before King Markel and gave his report to General Gergen. “My men formed a bucket line and threw what water we could but we were too few, the fires too hot.”

  “Ophidian’s flame,” Vistos, the mage, pronounced sagely.

  “Did he die?” King Markel said to his mages.

  Vistos frowned. Margen, the other aged mage, looked doubtful.

  “If not in the fire, the dragon would surely have consumed him,” Vistos declared. “He was an old man.”

  “He managed to break out of the jail,” Markel growled. “Scarcely the action of a man too old to take care of himself.”

  “I think,” first minister Mannevy interjected suavely, “your Majesty, that we should not concern ourselves further with this man.”

  “And the dragon?” Markel demanded. “It was the same one which attacked Spite, wasn’t it?”

  “But it’s gone now, sire,” Mannevy replied. “I think we can safely assume that it was only drawn by the fire and the wyvern’s flowers in the field nearby.”

  Markel gave him a doubtful look and then, with a flick of his fingers, dismissed the issue. “That still leaves us in need of someone who can make steel, does it not?”

  “Engineer Newman assures me that it will not present us with an insurmountable obstacle,” Mannevy replied smoothly. “We have two airships commissioned and more under construction.”

  General Gergen frowned at the first minister. Mannevy noticed and flicked two fingers in response, cautioning the general from any outbursts.

  “That’s true,” King Markel said after a moment. “General, how stand your troops?”

  “My first echelon is ready now, sire,” Gergen replied, drawing himself to attention. “We could begin the invasion in a week, with scouts committed tomorrow if the order is given.”

  “And Soria?” King Markel said to Mannevy. “Do they suspect?”

  “They’ve sent an inquiry about their ship, the Parvour —”

  “Vengeance,” the King interrupted with a chuckle. “And they’ll see it soon enough.”

  Mannevy nodded at the king’s jest. “Our spies —” and he nodded to Peter Hewlitt, the King’s spymaster who nodded back “�
�� have reported nothing indicating that King Wendel or any of his ministers have the least suspicion of our actions.”

  “Good!” the king said firmly. “And our airships, are they ready?”

  “The first two, as you know,” Mannevy said with a nod. “The next four are still working up.”

  “I wanted two dozen!”

  “We’ll have six in two weeks, sire,” Mannevy replied calmly. “The other eighteen will take longer, particularly as we’re having trouble finding hulls.”

  “Build them!” the king barked.

  First minister Mannevy gave his king a pained look. “Sire, as you no doubt recall, it takes a good two years to build a ship.”

  “It doesn’t have to be a ship, does it?” the king said. “Just a deck for the cannon.”

  “And the supplies and a place for the crew to sleep,” Mannevy replied with a shrug. “All our builders are convinced that a ship is the best starting point for an airship, sire.”

  “Will six be enough, general?” the king demanded.

  “Sire,” General Gergen replied slowly, “as you know, my expertise is on land.” He gave the king a small bow. “I would expect your admiral to know better about this than myself.”

  “Pfaw!” the king grumbled. He couldn’t trust his admirals — they were far too likely to blubber about the loss to their fleet and, besides, the high admiral had been known to spend far too much time with the queen. He turned his gaze back to Mannevy. “Two years?”

  “Actually, your majesty, we’re planning to levy another six from the fleet and the merchant fleet,” Mannevy said. “Our planning is that should give you an even dozen in another three months. The rest…” he shrugged “... well, we could hope that our sea fleet might capture enough hulls for our needs.”

  “I’m sure Admiral Kettner will be happy to oblige,” the king murmured.

  “Certainly,” Mannevy agreed. “I shall draw orders for him to be given as soon as we commence hostilities.”

  “See to it,” king Markel said with a wave of his hand. He gestured to Colonel Walpish. “Rise, colonel,” he said. “I understand you and your men are to handle our initial scouting?”

  “It is my honor, sire,” Walpish replied with a quick bow. “My men are keen for the work.”

  “I hope they are better suited to that than to apprehending aged men,” the king replied drolly. Colonel Walpish kept his expression rigid. The king decided that he was going to get no joy in goading the man so he waved a hand in dismissal. “You may go about your preparations, then.”

  “Sire,” Walpish replied, bowing once more and backing away diligently.

  #

  “I understand that his majesty was much put out at the failure to capture a prisoner,” Josiah Prentice, the King’s Exchequer, said to first minister Mannevy when they met for tea later.

  “Sadly, true.”

  “One prisoner?” Prentice prodded.

  “One who was instrumental in the steel used for Spite,” Mannevy explained. “We were counting on his skills.”

  “Is this not the same man you were going to have hanged?”

  “If he’s no use to us, there’s no point in feeding him,” Mannevy said with a shrug. “Too many useless mouths in the kingdom as is.”

  “His majesty will surely fix that,” Prentice said, pointing to a map laid out before them, “when he commences this expansion.”

  “Surely,” Mannevy agreed. He gestured to the map. “Now, you’re here to tell me about what we can expect to acquire with our conquests.”

  “Overall?”

  “No, town by town,” Mannevy said. “You know our expenses, tell me how we’ll meet them.”

  Josiah Prentice smiled. “My pleasure.”

  #

  Ellen, with the younger ears, heard it first. Jarin and Rabel were too busy sniping at each other to pay attention to the noises outside the snow fort.

  “Listen!” Ellen cried, interrupting the two men, flinging a hand toward the entrance.

  Rabel held up a hand to silence Jarin who glared at him. The two turned to the girl, then the entrance.

  “I don’t hear anything,” Jarin said.

  Rabel frowned and moved to the entrance, out into the warming sunshine. The other two followed him. Rabel turned to Ellen, “Get our things.” She gave him a look, nodded and rushed back in to gather everything in the fort. To Jarin he said, “How angry are you?”

  “What?”

  “Are you angry enough to burn this fort to nothing?” Rabel said as Ellen rushed out of the fort with their meager belongings in the large sack Rabel had provided when they’d fled his burning home.

  “What?” Jarin repeated, his jaw clenched.

  “Perhaps I should start,” Rabel said. He turned to Ellen, “Do you think you can conjure up fire?”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We’re going to send a signal,” Rabel said. Jarin’s expression changed and he said, “Do we really want to attract attention?”

  “Dragon-child, do you think there is anything that can harm you?” Ellen said with a half-suppressed grin. Jarin’s eyes glowed at her jibe.

  “Ellen, watch,” Rabel said. He raised his hands, pressed the tips of his fingers together in a wide tent, then pulled them apart slowly, revealing a large glowing ball in the air which his hands had enclosed.

  “Wow!”

  “You try,” Rabel said, as he batted the flaming ball toward the entrance of their snow fort.

  Ellen licked her lips and pursed them tight in concentration, putting her fingers together the way Rabel had and pulling them apart. Nothing.

  Jarin chuckled. Ellen scowled at him. The dragon-man relaxed his expression to one more sympathetic.

  “Try again, now that you’re mad,” Rabel said, nodding toward Jarin. “Think of heat, of flame, of a ball of fire that can consume water.”

  “Ametza will be mad,” Ellen said.

  “Good,” Jarin said with feeling.

  Ellen glanced at him, at the snow fort and raised her hands once more.

  “You are using Ophidian’s power,” Rabel told her, “don’t forget.”

  “Ophidian,” Ellen said, pressing her fingertips together. She took a deep breath and pulled her fingers apart. In the middle of the air they had enclosed was a small ball of brightness. She laughed, raised a hand and batted it —

  “No!” Rabel cried, too late.

  “Ow!” Ellen said, clasping her burnt hand to her side.

  “Put it in the snow,” Rabel told her. “I should have warned you not to try to hit it.”

  “You did!” Ellen said accusingly, as she put her hand in a pile of snow. The cold ice eased the pain of the burn in the center of her hand.

  “Jarin,” Rabel said to the dragon-man, “you can help her.”

  “What?”

  “Ellen, show him your hand,” Rabel said. Ellen, with a grimace, complied.

  “That’s a nasty burn,” Jarin said as he looked at the mark in Ellen’s palm. He glared at Rabel.

  “You can fix it,” Rabel said.

  “How?”

  “Touch it — gently! — with your fingernail and think to draw the fire back to you,” Rabel said.

  Jarin frowned but did as Rabel ordered. Ellen gasped in surprise as Jarin’s fingernail barely brushed the surface of the burn and the burn vanished, turning into a stream of brilliant flame that was absorbed by Jarin’s fingernail. Jarin gave Rabel an amazed look.

  “Just as you can throw fire, you can draw it,” Rabel told him. He nodded toward the snow fort. “Now, can you throw the largest, hottest fire to the center of our fort?”

  “To do what?”

  “To create a vent of steam that rises high in the sky,” Rabel replied.

  “And attracts attention all from mil
es around,” Jarin warned.

  “That’s the idea,” Rabel agreed. “But we won’t be here.”

  “Where will we be then?” Jarin asked grumpily. “I haven’t the strength to fly us far.”

  “The flame?” Rabel repeated.

  With a growl, Jarin drew himself up, stood away from Ellen and Rabel, and whipped his body around to throw a huge glowing fireball right inside the snow fort. Instantly, the fort collapsed into a huge gout of steam, blowing first out of the entrance and then billowing up into the air as the entrance and the fort collapsed from the heat.

  The three of them stood in amazement as the resulting steam rose higher and higher in the sky. Finally, Rabel turned to Ellen, “Do you still hear the noise?”

  Ellen turned to listen. Her brows creased. “The noise has stopped,” she said after a moment. “But there’s something else. Odd. I’ve heard it before.”

  “Lead the way,” Rabel said, throwing the sack over his shoulder and nodding to Jarin.

  “There’s a road that way,” Jarin said in warning. “It leads to the village where we got the food.”

  Rabel nodded to show that he’d heard the younger man but said nothing. They walked for about five minutes until they crested a low hill and saw the village in the distance and the road just beside them. Rabel stopped for a moment, passed the sack to Jarin who took it with ill humor, and knelt to the snow, making a quick snowball.

  “What’s that for?” Jarin demanded.

  “Attracting attention,” Rabel said, throwing the snowball to the roadside.

  “What are you —” Jarin began.

  The snowball hit something several feet above the road and fell to the ground. Ellen giggled, knelt and made her own snowball which she quickly sent after Rabel’s.

  “What are you…?” Jarin said again glancing between the two before dropping the sack and making his own snowball.

  “Attracting attention,” Rabel said. “Though I don’t doubt we’re expected.”

  “Who?” Jarin said, throwing another snowball to the invisible thing on the road.

  “Ibb,” Ellen said, still giggling. “He rode away in an invisible wagon.”

  “Which you are making visible,” a voice spoke from behind them. They turned and saw nothing. Rabel grinned and threw his snowball at the voice. The snowball clunked against something and fell to the ground.