The Godswar Saga (Omnibus)

by Jennifer Vale

  “Those ‘inferiors’ are Legion soldiers,” Darius replied coldly. “And without them, the Crell would have already stolen and indoctrinated your precious students. If we can figure out a way to turn them back, you and your ilk will beg for the day you had a nice, cozy room all to yourself.”

  “I said stop!” Krystia snapped. She opened her eyes and glared at them one after another. “We need to work together. We’re all on the same side here, remember?”

  “Of course,” Darius whispered. “How could I forget?”

  The two men continued glaring at each other, and for a moment she almost wished Darius had stayed away from the capital. It was no secret that he and Sovan loathed each other. Darius had been mistrustful of all the Unbound from the first moment they’d left the Asylum. He had his reasons, of course; the students were an unknown variable in an already tenuous situation, and military minds hated unknown variables. There was also the undeniable fact that Sovan wasn’t exactly the most congenial person Krystia had ever met. At his best, he was aloof and arrogant. At his worst...well, at his worst he could be downright terrifying.

  Unfortunately, he was also the only one the other students seemed to trust. He was their unflinching advocate in all matters, and he also happened to be the most powerful channeler Krystia had ever met. Even with all her Ascendant powers—even with the accumulated knowledge of dozens of Solarian kings coalescing in her mind—she still wasn’t sure she could overpower him.

  “We all understand the difficulties here as well as the need for haste,” Krystia said after a moment. “Is there any way we can adjust their training to ease the transition?”

  Eventually Darius pulled his eyes from Sovan and shrugged. “I don’t know. Personally, I’m not convinced it’s the training that’s holding them back. We recruit young men and women for a reason—aside from their physical condition, their minds are also easy to shape and mold. But many of these people are in their late twenties and thirties, and they’ve lived their entire lives inside a cloistered community. Just because they hurl a fireball doesn’t mean they’re ready for combat. If they can’t learn their proper place in a unit, they’ll just get themselves or their unit killed.”

  Krystia pursed her lips. “Then perhaps we should find other ways to harness their talents. We could deploy them behind enemy lines in order to cause chaos.”

  Darius shuffled awkwardly in place, and she couldn’t help but hear his thoughts. I know you’re trying, but you don’t understand anything about war or tactics…

  “Being able to stand toe-to-toe with a Breaker is one thing—surviving and contributing on a real battlefield is another,” he said instead. “We can’t just snap our fingers and transform a bunch of former prisoners into an elite squad.”

  “Would you trust them even if you could?” Sovan asked calmly. “I’m genuinely curious.”

  Darius’s lip twisted in a half scowl. “I will do whatever it takes to win this war. And right now your people are more of a liability than an asset. I pray to Sol that will change before it’s too late.” He scowled at the other man for a moment longer before glancing back down at Krystia. “I have another meeting to attend before nightfall, and I’m leaving for Amberwood first thing in the morning.

  She smiled and reached out to squeeze his hand. “Come visit me in my chambers later. I’d like to see you off.”

  Darius smiled, though it was clearly forced. “I’ll see you then.”

  He strode out of the room, and once the door closed behind him Krystia let out a long, tired sigh.

  Perhaps someday you’ll remind me why you keep him around.

  She turned and unleashed her own glare at Sovan. “Because I love him. And he also happens to be a brilliant commander.”

  I doubt the Crell would agree, he replied snidely. You could also explain your insistence on using words.

  “I can listen to thousands of conversations going on inside my mind any time I want,” she grumbled. “There’s something to be said for the simplicity of conversation.”

  “That’s an honest reply, at least,” Sovan said aloud.

  Krystia frowned. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that eventually you’ll see your general for what he really is, not what you wish him to be,” Sovan told her. “He is deaf to the Aether. He cannot perceive the world as we do.”

  “That’s hardly a crime,” she bit back. “And besides, I could forge an Ascendant bond with him whenever I want—I could give him the power of the Aether if he desired it.”

  “You could, yes, but that wouldn’t really change anything. At his best, he would forever be a parasite doomed to leech off your power. Is that truly what you desire in a mate?”

  Krystia started to snap back but bit her tongue at the last instant. She’d gained an entirely new appreciation for patience since her installation as queen. She hadn’t expected the Unbound to instantly acclimate to their new lives as free citizens…but she had expected them to come around eventually, especially after three months. Some of them had been such a danger to themselves and others that she’d been forced to waste resources monitoring them almost like they were still at the Asylum; others had simply refused to cooperate and had vanished into the countryside. And then there was Sovan himself, who was nearly as insufferable as Ethan Moore. At this point, she felt like she had more control over the Lord’s Council than she did over her own people.

  Nevertheless, she still didn’t regret what she’d done. Most of the Unbound had at least been making an effort to fit in, either by joining the Legion or by helping to infuse new arms and armor for their soldiers. Eventually, she believed, they would become a real asset. The question was whether that would be before or after the Crell won this war…

  “If you really loathe spending so much time with regular people, you could leave,” Krystia said. “Some of the others already have. I often wonder why you haven’t followed.”

  “No, you don’t,” Sovan murmured. “You know exactly why I’m here.”

  “I thought I did, but now…” She shook her head. “You obviously have no loyalty to the Alliance, and you don’t seem to care about the Solarian people. You could flee to Solipei or Yamata. You could even hire a ship and sail all the way to Calhara.”

  “And do what, exactly? Spend my life on the run from hordes of ignorant peasants? Pretend I’m one of them so I can ‘fit in’ and have a ‘normal life?’” Sovan scoffed. “You and I both know that there’s nowhere else for people like us to go. One way or another, Solaria is our only hope for the future.”

  “Then perhaps you should start acting like it,” Krystia told him. “Darius may not be an Unbound, but he’s always been supportive of our plight. The same is true for many others. They deserve to be respected, not patronized.”

  “Is it patronizing to point out that a bear is stronger than a fish? Or that a human is smarter than a groll?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Just because we share the same blood does not mean we share the same capabilities,” Sovan said. “You and your general are no more alike than I am to a chagari…probably less, in fact. Until you accept that, you will never realized your full potential.”

  Krystia grunted. She’d heard about a hundred variations of this particular diatribe over the past few months. “I am an Unbound Ascendant Queen—I’m as close as this world has seen to a living goddess in thousands of years.”

  “And yet you could still achieve more. But first you must shed your pathetic human attachments.” His eyes narrowed. “Tell me: when was the last time you and your general made love?”

  Krystia blinked. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Before today, you hadn’t seen him for what, two weeks? Six months ago, you would have been crawling over him the moment he returned. Now he just walked out of the room without so much as a parting kiss.”

  “He’ll return tonight, if you must know.”

  “And yet yo
u aren’t the least bit excited by the prospect,” Sovan said. “I’ve seen into your mind, my queen. I know how you used to long for him to touch you, to kiss you, to take you so roughly you could hardly breathe—”

  “That’s enough,” Krystia interrupted.

  “Now you barely feel anything even when he’s buried inside you,” Sovan went on, unfettered. “And why would you? You’ve known the caress of the Aether. You’ve bathed in its warmth and tasted its power. How could a mortal man possibly compete with the power of the gods?”

  “You wouldn’t understand. You’ve never been with a woman.”

  “I have no need to sate my primal desires like an animal. Physical intimacy is a pale shadow of what you and I know. You’ve fucked him hundreds of times, and yet after five seconds of touching your mind, I know you better than he ever could.”

  Krystia shook her head. “If you know me so well, then you should understand how much Darius means to me.”

  “What I know is that you continue to delude yourself,” Sovan said. “And if you can’t let go, if you can’t see these Sightless for what they truly are, then I fear this war may already be over.”

  “We’re done here,” she growled. “Go and help with the training if you wish. Otherwise I will see you in the morning.”

  “Of course, my queen,” he replied with a mock bow. “Whatever you desire.”

  He spun about and left, and Krystia curled her fingers around the stone windowsill and let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She still had an ever-expanding line of petitioners to deal with today, and she suddenly understood why so many other Ascendants empowered a “Voice” to speak for them. Between the obligations of being a monarch, the hundreds of disparate voices constantly whispering in her head, and the lingering troubles of her own personal life, it was impossible for her to have even a few minutes alone. Capturing King Areekan’s “divine spark” had granted her enormous new insights and channeling techniques, from the ability to empower Bound minions to intense telepathic manipulations she’d never before dreamed of. It had given her the political power to free the Unbound and mold Solaria in her image…but it had also changed her in ways she couldn’t have possibly anticipated.

  And not necessarily for the better.

  Taking in another deep breath, Krystia focused her attention on just one of the many voices inside her head. The technique was still difficult, even now after she’d had months to practice. The sages had described the process as “searching for a single blade of grass amongst a field,” but that wasn’t right. It was more like sifting through old memories, except in this case each image and sound was a living, breathing person somewhere else in the country. Intense stimulation could draw their consciousness to the forefront of her mind—if they were attacked, for example, or felt their lives were threatened—but otherwise her Bound were just an abstract blur of thought and feeling.

  But even when she couldn’t sense them individually, she could still feel their inexorable drain upon her power. Every time her Bound channeled the Aether, they were essentially leeching that energy from her. Sometimes she became weary even when she’d just been sitting down, and to this day the thought sent a cold shudder down her spine. In theory, she would eventually have the luxury of severing the bonds and fully returning to her own mind and body…but not yet. Not until this war was over. Not until the Unbound were ready.

  Ethan, she whispered across the vast gulf separating them. She could tell that he was somewhere in eastern Galvia, and she didn’t press any farther. What is your situation?

  I wondered when you’d reach out to me again, Your Majesty, he replied. Even though he wasn’t actually speaking the words, she could still hear the sarcasm in his voice. I trust the Lord’s Council is still squirming beneath your heel?

  Not exactly. We just received word that Lanesk has fallen, and we don’t have sufficient forces to take it back. General Iouna has ordered all our soldiers in the region to pull back to Fort Amberwood.

  I see. Perhaps you should deploy your Unbound convicts, then. I’m sure the Crell will fall back to Drakendaar within weeks.

  Krystia grimaced. For a brief moment before her Ascension, Ethan Moore had actually been a decent human being. He had defended her from High Priest Kaeldar and thrown himself protectively in front of her. Then she had restored his long-lost channeling ability, and within weeks of her crowning ceremony his “acerbic old man” persona had made a triumphant return. She could take his powers away at any time, of course, but unfortunately he remained one of her most vital—and secret—assets in this war.

  We need a victory in Galvia, and soon, she told him. Morale is at an all-time low, and we need to force the Crell to divert more resources to the north.

  We just need the Asgardians to join us, Ethan said. With a few thousand of their soldiers and a handful of their shaman, we could easily take Ashenfel.

  Lord Alistan has already sent his best diplomat to Lyebel, but I’m not sure how well she’ll be received. High King Zharrs seems convinced that I pulled a coup, and he’s not willing to trust any nation ruled by an Unbound.

  Then he’s smarter than we’ve given him credit for, Ethan replied dryly. I have a plan to earn their support, but you won’t like it.

  Have I ever liked one of your plans?

  No, and I doubt that’s going to change anytime soon. But I can bring the Asgardians into the war…and once I do, you’ll get your victory in the north. We’ll re-take Ashenfel, and if everything goes as planned Sovereign Verrator won’t have time to escape.

  Krystia grunted. And then what, you kill him? You Ascend and claim Galvia as your own?

  He will die, but this has nothing to do with Ascension, Ethan told her. This is about justice.

  Of course it is, Krystia said, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. For a long moment he remained silent, and she stretched out her senses and tried to read his mind. But his thoughts were slippery as always, and she gave up without much of a struggle.

  You should be pleased, Your Majesty, he said after a moment. Once I have Ascended, I shall no longer be a drain upon your wondrous power.

  Just remember that removing the Imperium from Galvia is only the first step in this war. Solaria will still need your help.

  And we shall do everything we can to aid our benevolent neighbors. In the meantime, however, it’s probably for the best that you don’t know the specifics of my plan.

  Because I will disapprove?

  Because then you can’t be blamed if something goes wrong, Ethan corrected. But rest assured, the Asgardians will join the war. I will keep you apprised of my progress.

  That makes me feel so much better, she replied, sighing. Good luck.

  Krystia withdrew her mind from his, and she allowed herself a long, pensive silence to yet again contemplate the nature of their relationship. Just before the coup that had vaulted her into power, she had seriously started to wonder if she’d made a mistake allying with Ethan in the first place. He clearly wasn’t trustworthy, and his thirst for vengeance against the Crell had long since blinded him to the consequences of his actions. But the bottom line was that he’d come through when she needed him, and if there was anyone who could drive the Crell from Galvia, it was a rejuvenated Ethan Moore. The question wasn’t whether or not he could be of use—it was whether or not his aid was worth the cost.

  Allegedly, he had abandoned his demons after Krystia had restored his magic…but she didn’t believe that for a moment. He had never been one to throw away a tool that could prove useful later, and he had always been willing to do whatever it took to take down the Crell. But as long as she didn’t press too hard, as long as she kept just enough distance between them that she couldn’t be blamed for his actions…well, then perhaps it was worth keeping a monster around to fight other monsters.

  Shaking her head, Krystia made her way to her throne room and ordered her guards to bring in the afternoon’s petitioners. She dealt with their complaints as swiftly
and as justly as she could, and it was well into the evening when she finally returned to her personal chambers. Darius arrived shortly thereafter, and it wasn’t long before she was on her back with her ankles up on his shoulders. But even as he slowly and deliberately made love to her, she found herself growing bored and distant. She tried using her magic to enhance his pleasure, but that also became tiresome quickly.

  The clock had barely even struck midnight by the time she trapped him in a telepathic fantasy and left him alone and naked on her bed. She sat at her desk, rubbing at her temples and trying to assuage her guilt. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make herself return to his arms.

  And she wondered if perhaps, just perhaps, Sovan had been right all along.

  Chapter Three

  “Guilt is the whetstone, remorse is the blade. Together, they are capable of striking down even the mightiest warrior.”

  —Shau Losa, Solipean Philosopher

  “I…I apologize for the intrusion, Captain,” the scout stammered as she peeked inside the tavern doorway. “But we’ve finally located the last Solarian priest.”

  Captain Andreas Fuhr grunted softly and finished his last swig of vodka before pivoting around. “It certainly took you long enough.”

  “Y-yes, sir,” the woman managed. No, not a woman—a girl. She couldn’t have been older than seventeen or eighteen seasons at most. Fuhr remained appalled that his unit was still forced to rely upon conscripts, but with the Alliance counterattack in full-swing, Crell forces were stretched thin across this province. Supreme Commander Tenel had the bulk of the army fighting skirmishes here in the Solarian heartland while their southern troops pressed hard against the enemy’s southern flank. The strategy itself was sound: the constant harassment here in the heartland would force the Alliance to keep a significant number of troops stationed in Celenest and its surrounding forts, and eventually the Imperium might even be able to cut off enemy supply lines entirely. The problem was that Fuhr hated being so low on the priority list.