“Gor will keep her safe,” Sarina said. “I wouldn’t worry about her.”
Tam raised his eyebrows. “Now that’s a surprise. I thought you didn’t trust him, either.”
“We have an understanding. But Sel is also the one person in our little band that Gor would actually risk himself to protect.”
“You might be right. He’s such an adorable little monster sometimes, isn’t he?”
Jason snorted and turned away. He craned his neck to the side until he could make out the moonlight-dappled silhouettes of Castle Whitestone’s mighty towers at the center of the city. As a boy, they had made him feel safe and welcome. But now…now he wasn’t certain what feelings they evoked. His mother was buried there behind the inner walls, and in a way his previous life was buried there with her. A part of him had assumed he would never return to Ashenfel again. This city wasn’t just Galvia in the abstract; it had been his childhood home.
But Jason wasn’t a child anymore, and this certainly wasn’t home. It was just another city as far as he was concerned, and while he had no reservations about fighting the Crell and helping in the war, even if they succeeded Ashenfel would never be the same. The Galvia of his past was gone, and it wasn’t coming back. If only his father could agree.
“Come on, there’s nothing else to see up her,” Jason said into the silence. “Let’s go and find ourselves some shelter.”
“You realize you won’t actually be able to sleep,” Sarina said as she stuffed her spyglass back into its case.
“Probably not, but it’s worth a try. I have a feeling we’re going to need all the rest we can get.”
***
“They abandoned their homes and their families for this,” Selvhara said. “They have too much at stake to bother harassing you.”
“I don’t care what they say to me,” Gor replied. He narrowed his orange eyes and glared at the latest group of Asgardian soldiers strolling past their tent. “I am evaluating whether or not they will make worthy allies.”
“And what is your opinion so far?”
“I remain unimpressed. Clearly, there is a reason this clan of theirs has fallen on hard times. I’m not sure I’d trust them to raid an Izarian winery, let alone one of the oldest cities in Torsia.”
Selvhara grinned despite herself. The two of them were hunched close to their tent and campfire while Ethan made final preparations for the attack tomorrow. Jason, Tam, and Sarina had already made their way towards the city, and at last update they were attempting to find a place to hide for the night.
“Every griffon scout so far reports that we severely outnumber them,” she said, once again thankful that none of the Asgardians seemed to understand the faeyn language. And she remained as impressed as ever that Gor had picked it up so easily. “Perhaps the Crell will see reason and surrender before we’re forced to battle in the streets.”
“You don’t believe that for a moment,” he said with a grunt. “They will make the Solarians bleed for every building and every street. I’ll be surprised if this is settled by the end of the week.”
Selvhara wanted to argue, but she knew it was futile. Not just because Gor was notoriously obstinate, but because he was almost certainly right. She had seen too much war and too much death to seriously believe in “tidy resolutions,” and Ashenfel was unlikely to prove any different. This siege could very well last for days, and lingering skirmishes in the streets could go on for weeks or even months.
“Jason and the others may yet discover a weak point,” she whispered. “They’ve only just entered the city.”
“You don’t believe that, either,” Gor muttered. “Between the three of them, they’re more likely to do something stupid and end up in the castle dungeon.”
Selvhara studied him for a moment. To an outsider, he probably appeared calm or even menacing, but she knew better. From the subtle twitching of his tail to the ripples in his fur, she could tell he was anxious. “You still believe it was a mistake for them to leave.”
“Of course it was. The entire trip has been one enormous mistake from the moment we left Celenest.” He hissed between his fangs. “I guarantee the Sovereigns are more interested in capturing Jason than they are in holding Ashenfel. Torsia is filled with cities, but the soul of an ancient god is the rarest of all prizes. If they discover his presence, they will empty the walls just to track him down.”
“Jason understands the risks,” she said, wishing she believed it. “And if he doesn’t, Sarina does. She’ll keep him in line.”
“If only she had opened that cube, things would have turned out very differently.”
Selvhara cocked a curious eyebrow. “A chagari making friends with an Asgardian. Now I really have seen everything.”
“We are not friends,” Gor corrected. “But the ka’chek is significantly less intolerable than the rest of her ilk.”
Smiling, Selvhara placed a hand on his shoulder. “And you are significantly less intolerable than most chagari. I’m glad you decided to stay here with me.”
“It was a practical decision. Only a fool would expose his healer to harm.”
“I understand,” she said, smiling and rubbing her hand through his fur. “I appreciate your presence nonetheless.”
Gor remained silent for a few moments, though she caught his left ear twitching in pleasure several times. A few minutes later, however, he abruptly glanced back over his shoulder. “The harbinger returns from his meeting with the officers.”
Selvhara turned. Ethan was striding towards them, a grim look on his face. Not that she was surprised—he had been wearing that same expression ever since they had arrived. Distantly, she wondered how much time had passed since he had genuinely smiled.
“I would like to speak with him for a few minutes,” she whispered. “Privately.”
Gor grumbled deep in his throat. “That would be a mistake.”
“Perhaps, but it’s mine to make. He will not harm me.”
The chagari swiveled his orange eyes up to hers. “If he tries, I may not be able to reach you in time.”
“If he tries, he will fail,” Selvhara replied coldly. She patted Gor’s mane one last time, then followed Ethan into his tent. He didn’t turn to greet her; he simply sat down on the fur-lined cushion inside and immediately reached for the bottle of whiskey he had propped up in one of the last remaining patches of snow.
“Has Jason learned anything useful?” he asked.
“No,” she told him. “If the Crell have any secret defenses, they are hiding them well.”
Ethan muttered something under his breath before swigging straight from the bottle. “Clan Lord Halfren is convinced of our imminent, resounding victory. If he has his way, his warriors would probably storm the walls right now.”
“He’s such a fool, trusting in his closest advisor without realizing the man has been possessed by a demon,” Selvhara replied. She didn’t bother to mask the contempt in her voice. “The boy and his army would still be sitting comfortably in Frostgarde without your manipulations. Now you may get him and his entire clan killed.”
Ethan’s lip curled, and he dropped the whiskey bottle back onto the mound of ice. “I don’t expect you to understand the necessities of war. You never did.”
“I understand war just fine. What I don’t understand is you. You’ve had a hundred chances to turn and walk away, but you just can’t bring yourself to pull your hands out of the muck.”
“The whole world is muck,” he countered. “The only question is how deep we’re willing to dig.”
“Deep enough to get Kyle and the others killed? Deep enough to conspire to kill the Solarian king? Deep enough to lie to your own son and—”
“I’m not going to argue with you about what has already been done,” Ethan interrupted. “You’ve made your feelings clear many times.”
“You just don’t care.”
Ethan shrugged. “You hate me. I’ve come to accept that.”
“No,” Selvhara whisper
ed. “I hate what you’ve become.”
He scoffed. “I’m the same as I have always been. I am a loyal steward of Galvia, and I will do whatever is necessary to set her free.”
“This crusade stopped being about Galvia a long time ago. Now it’s about—”
“Revenge?” Ethan said. “Hardly. Verrator is just another puppet of the High Sovereign. I don’t care about—”
“Not revenge,” Selvhara interrupted. “Vindication.”
His brow creased. “For what?”
“For starting this war. For prodding the sleeping beast and unleashing the Crell upon Torsia.”
Ethan laughed. It was bitter and stale. “As if the Sovereigns wouldn’t have invaded anyway. If the king had given me the men I needed earlier, we might have crushed Drakendaar before they could respond. If Areekan wasn’t a coward, we could have ended this war before it ever began.”
“I wonder, how many times have you whispered those words to yourself in the darkness of the night?”
“Probably as often as you’ve tried to convince yourself that you fell in love with a different man,” he countered. “Has that ever worked, by the way? Do you still believe you were unfairly dragged into the war, or have you finally accepted that there’s as much blood on your hands as mine?”
The silence grew between them until it was nearly deafening. For months now Selvhara had practiced what she would say to him when they finally met. But after dozens of imaginary diatribes filled with hate, scorn, and bitterness, she had eventually decided to say nothing at all. Until today.
“Tevek was a better man,” Ethan whispered. “I never wondered why you chose him, not even for a moment.” He sighed and took another swig from the bottle. “The only thing I wondered is why a woman like you would ever choose a man like me.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but her voice refused to cooperate. There was nothing to say.
“The Solarians managed to intercept a few missives between Crell encampments a few weeks ago,” Ethan said, clearing his throat and unrolling a scroll of parchment. “There’s nothing particularly interesting, just the name ‘Supreme Commander Onar Tenel.’ Do you know him?”
Selvhara swallowed and let out a deep breath. “While we were in Elashi, the locals often spoke about the Battle of Velashel Harbor where the Crell finally put down the Ishthare Rebellion. I seem to recall them mentioning something about an Admiral Tenel.”
“I believe it’s the same man. My few surviving contacts inside the Imperium informed me that Admiral Tenel vanished from his post about five months ago. They say he was dragged away by the Green Coats.”
“And now he’s suddenly in charge of the entire war effort.”
“In a manner of speaking,” Ethan said. “I’ve always been skeptical of exactly how much power the Sovereigns cede to High Command. Still, I suppose it adds credence to the theory that the Zarul has even more power than before.”
Selvhara nodded and crossed her arms. She could still feel her muscles trembling. “The Solarians might know more.”
Ethan snorted. “The Alliance spy network was pitiful even before Areekan’s death. Now it’s virtually nonexistent. But based on the details I’ve gleaned about the recent battles, the Crell have definitely employed newer, subtler strategies. Their tactics at Amberwood and Blackburn were downright brilliant, and Brackengarde and Aman-Dapour were almost as impressive. We need to be prepared for anything.”
“I’m still not certain how you expect this to end. You’re not actually going to give Verrator’s divine spark to Halfren.”
“I will do whatever it takes to ensure Galvia’s security,” Ethan told her. “If that means temporarily granting control to the Asgardians, so be it.”
Selvhara studied him carefully. He was lying, clearly—there was no way in the Void he would hand his country over to any foreigner. But she had no idea what he had planned instead.
“I’m surprised you don’t wish to claim the spark yourself,” she said. “You could rebuild everything exactly the way you wished.”
Ethan smiled thinly. “I doubt I would survive the merging process, and despite what you think I have no interest in ruling Galvia. I never have. I only wish to see it free.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Believe whatever you want,” he said, shrugging. “There is someone else who could lead our people, of course. He wouldn’t even need the Sovereign’s power.”
Selvhara shook her head. “After all the horrible things you’ve said about your son, you really wish him to be king?”
“There is no one else. The remaining noble families are either broken or complicit with the Crell. The Moore name is synonymous with resiliency.”
“And foolish pride,” she countered. “But it doesn’t matter. You and I both know Jason would never accept the crown. He isn’t interested in power.”
“All men are interested in power, whether they admit it or not.”
“He’s not like you. He never was, and he never will be.”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” Ethan finished the last of his bottle and then tossed it into the snow. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe once this is all over he’ll be content to turn and walk away. He’s never had a problem with abandoning his responsibilities before.”
Selvhara clenched her teeth, but this time she refused to take his bait. He wasn’t worthy of her scorn, only her pity. “Just remember, I will not allow you to murder Halfren or anyone else,” she told him. “Once this battle is over, so are you. You will banish your demons, and you will surrender to the Solarians.”
“Once this battle is over, Galvia will be free and my purpose will be fulfilled,” Ethan said. “I will have no further use for my minions.”
“And what about your magic?”
He chuckled softly. “I’m sure Jason will wish to drag me back to Celenest to confront the queen. They’ve always shared a special bond, ever since he dragged her out of the flames at Isen all those years ago.”
Selvhara shook her head. “She was a sweet girl. What did you do to her?”
“I offered her nothing she didn’t already desire,” Ethan said. “Just like with Halfren and the Asgardians.”
“So you twisted her. You manipulated her.”
He scoffed. “Areekan held her in a cage, and once she saw how the rest of the Unbound were being treated…”
“Tevek moved Aether and earth to keep her out of the Asylum. He made certain Areekan treated her well.”
“A gilded cage is still a cage,” Ethan replied. “And as her powers grew, so did the bars around her. Sooner or later she would have acted on her own. I merely gave her an early push.”
Selvhara struggled to keep the contempt off her face. He had always been skilled at manipulating the people around him. His king, his wife, his son...even Selvhara herself. She closed her eyes, and her thoughts flashed back to when they had first met decades ago. He’d been so passionate, so intense, that she’d felt an instant attraction to him. She had stayed in Torsia much longer than the druids had expected, and eventually she had fought side by side with him in the war. His war.
“If you had returned home to Sorthaal, I would be dead,” Ethan said into the silence. “But so would Jason and countless other people. It would be folly to regret a decision that has saved so many lives.”
“I don’t regret staying in Torsia,” she whispered. Her eyes cracked back open, and she glared at him. “I regret staying for you. Whatever happens tomorrow, you will face judgment for what you’ve done. I will make certain of it.”
Selvhara strode out of the tent without waiting for a reply. Gor was waiting for her outside, his claws unsheathed and ready.
“Are you all right?”
“No,” Selvhara said, pulling her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. But somehow the thick fabric did nothing to diminish the chill rattling through her body. “Perhaps I never was.”
***
If history had taught Onar Tenel anything, it was
that the night before a major battle was never a good time for sleep, not even when victory was all but assured. He had learned this lesson many times over the years, and so tonight he didn’t even bother with the pretense of retiring to his quarters. Instead he poured himself a tall glass of Izarian 2006, propped his boots up on his desk, and allowed his mind to wander in whatever manner it saw fit. Unfortunately, tonight’s topic of choice had nothing to do with strategy or logistics. All he could think about was his wife, his family, and his long-dead son.
At this point, Geriskhad felt like a lifetime ago. Tenel had been a very different man back then. He had scarcely given thought to war; he had scarcely given thought to anything aside from his crops and his wife. Cassandra had been so beautiful back then, and even though they’d owned very little, they had been happy in their simple existence. Then Ethan Moore and his fellow Galvian crusaders had ruined everything, and almost twenty years later Tenel barely recognized his own reflection.
He sighed and sipped at his drink. The problem, of course, was that he couldn’t actually blame Moore for everything. Not anymore. Tenel could have easily walked away after the last war. He could have returned to his wife and his farm; he could have chosen to help her rebuild their family. But instead he had left her alone with two other children, and when High Command had assigned him to a post half a continent away on Velashel Harbor, he had welcomed it with open arms.
The truth, when it came right down to it, was that Tenel didn’t want to return to his farm. He didn’t want to return to his old life. The thought of tilling fields and harvesting crops again made his stomach turn. And the thought of staring into his wife’s face and trying to explain to her why he had forsaken her…
“Admiral.”
Tenel’s eyes popped open. Standing in the open doorway, her features barely visible in the dim lighting, was one of the Zarul Shadows. Tenel had never been able to tell them apart anyway; their shaved heads, pale faces, and terrifying black eyes made them all look alike.
“Yes, what is it?”
The Godswar Saga (Omnibus) Page 126
