The Blood Wars Trilogy Omnibus: Volumes 1 - 3

by T. A. Miles

  The man left, and left Korsten both baffled and irritated. He was mad at Merran for saying what he did, but moreover he was mad at himself for his reaction to the words. It distressed him to think that he’d been figured out quite so easily and to wonder if anyone else could do the same. If anyone in Haddowyn took a moment to scrutinize, like Merran obviously had, what would they see?

  They’ll see nothing, Korsten decided angrily, perhaps a bit drunkenly, and left the tavern, alone and without uttering a word to Renmyr.

  The Vadryn were figments of myth, byproducts of a fevered imagination. They did not actually exist and never had.

  That was what Korsten was telling himself, even as he pulled down volume after volume of writings accounting for their existence. Yes, many of the stories were nothing more than that; fictional tales. But Korsten knew well that fiction could often be embellished fact. The stories were too widespread, told in the same tongue by too many different mouths—or hands, as the case may have been—to not have some basis in reality. The details of the soul-stealing demons varied, but the core elements of the legend were identical, no matter what source Korsten consulted on the subject.

  The Vadryn did not simply feed off of souls, but lived off them, like parasites. One of the Vadryn rarely walked the earth in its natural form. It was a freed spirit, a roving ghost with no life force of its own. It found what it was lacking in living humans, selecting one soul to occupy, to twist and to corrupt until it suited its needs. And then, hidden amongst ordinary men and women, the beast would continue to hunt.

  “The demon brings a state of near death upon the victim,” Korsten read aloud, quietly. Two candles burned on the table beyond the book he’d braced there, the flames casting erratic shadows over the words. It had been hours since he left the tavern and shut himself in his library. On impulse he’d begun researching the Vadryn. He quickly became absorbed by the reading and persisted through half the length of the candles as if in a trance. The written words tumbled off his lips now as helplessly. “And sustains the body by constantly replenishing the captive soul with others. Traces of the soul can be found in the blood, which is the essence of life, the life that is passed from parent to child. By taking the blood of its victim, the Vadryn leaves behind a ruined vessel with only the shadowy remains of the complete spirit that distinguishes men from beasts. The conscience, the will, the emotional heart … all of it becomes blackened, warped, fouled. The individual awakes from the attack into a nightmare which they scarcely realize they are experiencing. They seek to prolong their unnatural life beyond what should have been their death … with blood.”

  “Sounds ominous.”

  Korsten jumped a little, then sighed with relief, seeing who it was entering his library unannounced. “Father of the gods, Ren … you know you’re always welcome, but you might think to knock once in a while.”

  “I agree,” Renmyr answered, stepping further into the room, hands folded behind his back, broad chin lifted just a bit. Korsten knew that stance and he knew the tone that accompanied it. “One should announce their coming. And, likewise, they should announce their leaving.”

  He was angry. Korsten felt instantly remiss. He closed the book spread on the table before him. “I’m sorry, Ren. I—”

  Renmyr drew to a halt several paces away from the table and fixed Korsten with a piercing glare. Up until that moment, Renmyr had been looking around the library at the many shelves filled with writing or reading material as if he’d never seen them or the room they occupied before. He never jumped into a fight. He always stalked the matter a bit first. When he did finally go in, it was always for the throat. “Who was that man you were speaking with earlier?”

  Korsten had grown used to Renmyr’s method of discussion and no longer flinched inside when his lover pounced on him. “He was no one of importance. And don’t give me that look. You know better.”

  “No one of importance,” Renmyr echoed, as if he’d heard nothing else. “Then it wasn’t something important he might have said, after dragging you across the room with his gaze, that made you leave so urgently, practically on his heels?”

  Korsten frowned helplessly and could not hold onto the acid words that escaped him next. “To be honest, I thought you were too busy wenching to notice.”

  “You’re the one with the reputation,” Renmyr reminded somewhat icily.

  Korsten glared back at him. “And you’re the one making a public performance!”

  “That would make you, then, the very model of discretion, chasing shamelessly after—”

  “I wasn’t chasing after anyone!” Now the words were beginning to hurt. Korsten’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “Damn you, what has gotten into you? Is it Brenwick’s toxin, or is it something else?”

  “Who was that man, Korsten?” Renmyr asked again. He was demanding. “Tell me, else let me leave without an answer and without intent to return.”

  “Leave!” Korsten shouted unreasonably. “Don’t return! Marry one of Brenwick’s trollops and sire a dozen legitimate children, and solve both our troubles!” As soon as he’d said that, Korsten regretted it. He looked at the table, unable to look at Renmyr any longer.

  A lengthy silence ensued, inspiring the held tears to slip. He despised it when they did this.

  Renmyr eventually came to be at Korsten’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder. Korsten turned his face away from him at first, angry and embarrassed. Renmyr slid his arm across his shoulders. “I’m sorry, beloved. I didn’t mean what I said.”

  And that was all he needed to hear. Elation had Korsten melting into the other man’s embrace, ready to forgive. “I love you, Ren. I’ll never love anyone else. I’ve never thought of anyone else.”

  “I know that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about Calla. Don’t think it wouldn’t please me to take you into my arms right in front of her, in front of everyone, and kiss every inch of you.”

  Korsten let out an unhappy laugh. “You’d probably get away with it. Everyone would be too shocked to stop you; me included.”

  Renmyr drew back a little, slipped his hand under Korsten’s chin and gently forced him to look up at him. “Will you be all right?” he asked. When Korsten nodded, he wiped away a tear with his thumb then added, “I’d still like to know who that was at Brenwick’s. What did he say that made you leave in such a hurry?”

  Korsten slipped out of their embrace and sat back in his chair. He reached out and prodded the edges of the book in front of him with his fingertips, then withdrew from that task as well. “I don’t know why exactly, but he makes me uneasy. That was the visitor I told you about, from this morning.”

  “The one that believes demons are devouring young women in the woods?”

  “The same.”

  “He still insists upon a meeting with Lord Camirey?”

  Korsten nodded, wiping at lingering tears with the back of his hand.

  “Then we’ll give him his meeting.”

  Korsten looked up, frowning with confusion. “But your father….”

  The merest smile traced Renmyr’s lips. “Who said anything about my father?” Then he carried himself to the nearest chair at the library’s long table and sat down. “Anyway, it seems to me that this fellow is a trouble maker. Maybe after he’s given his story to a member of the governing family he’ll be content to leave.”

  Korsten drew in a long breath and let it out slowly, sinking back into a feeling of normalcy as their argument slipped another moment behind them. “I can’t say I want him haunting the area myself, but Hedren and I share concerns that he might have committed the murder he’s talking about.”

  Renmyr looked at him, chin braced on one hand. “What makes you say so?”

  “Seryline Rolce is missing. According to her family, she’s been absent since yesterday evening.”

  Renmyr considered this information then said, “Well, if he did
it he’s completely mad. Any moderately sane man would know that he would be implicating himself with such a tale.”

  Korsten nodded. “I agree. However, as he hasn’t tried to get away in any particular hurry, Hedren and I thought to let him be until we could sort this out ourselves.”

  “And is this….” Renmyr gestured at the books and scrolls spread across the table with his free hand. “…how you’ve decided to sort the matter out? By reading fairytales?”

  “I found myself curious,” Korsten admitted. In a moment he added, “And there’s something else that troubles me about the gentleman.”

  “Oh?”

  “He claims … I know this all seems more foolish by the second … but he says that he was sent here to destroy the demon by the Seminary.” Korsten witnessed Renmyr’s puzzled expression, adding, “At Vassenleigh.”

  “I’ve heard of it,” Renmyr replied. “Everyone died there, didn’t they?”

  “Crimson Plague,” Korsten confirmed, nodding. “Yes. One could be inclined to think that perhaps he was one of the few survivors, but that the event took place far too long ago.”

  “He’s mad,” Renmyr said, then decided it. “The man is without question an utter lunatic. I’d like him gone from here. Sooner rather than later.” He stood and walked back to Korsten’s seat, where he bent down and whispered into his lover’s ear. “And I’d like you upstairs and in bed, where I can remind you that I’m not actually the brute I pretend to be.”

  Korsten leaned just slightly away from him. He deliberately failed to smile when he reopened the book in front of him. “I have all of this studying to do.”

  Renmyr dropped a kiss on Korsten’s shoulder. “I thought you were only curious.” Tugging at Korsten’s sleeve, he brought his lover close enough to nibble at his neck. Korsten’s breath was quickly escaping him, particularly as Renmyr’s lips touched just the right place behind his jaw. “Curiosity can be … a difficult thing to ignore.”

  Renmyr sighed lustily into Korsten’s neck. “To Hell with curiosity. I’ll give you something to study.”

  Renmyr was indeed not a brute. Passionate, yes, but never rough, never anything less than gentle and affectionate. After several nights kept apart for various reasons, including keeping suspicions at bay—after all, how many times could Renmyr reasonably render himself too drunk to make it any farther than his trusted friend’s house on a night spent socializing?—they made love and easily made up for lost time and careless words. Any bereavement Korsten had felt earlier in the day was sufficiently quelled by their closeness now. Long after the closest moments had ended, they lay in each other’s arms, sharing profound kisses. They would fall asleep eventually, but they didn’t look forward to it, so limited was their time together like this.

  The rest of the day drifted far into the background. Korsten could not have cared less what had gone on before, not while Renmyr was with him, embracing him. As if he could sense his lover’s thoughts, Renmyr drew a brief pause, just long enough to gaze fondly into Korsten’s darker eyes before pressing his lips upon him again. Korsten allowed him two light kisses on the chin, intercepting the third with his own mouth. He lifted his hand to the back of Renmyr’s head, tangling his fingers in his freed black mane and holding him in place for several moments before it came time to breathe again. To attempt it, at any rate.

  Renmyr buried his face into the pillow just above Korsten’s shoulder. “Gods … it’s been too long,” he said, his voice muffled.

  “Each time we’re apart feels longer than the last,” Korsten answered into his lover’s shoulder, which he then proceeded to taste. In Renmyr’s overheated state, the flavor of salt was strong.

  “What I wouldn’t give to have you always, every night … even only to sleep. As it stands, I can’t sleep when I’m with you. Not even when I’m tired.”

  “Perhaps we should drink together … like your family believes we are.” Korsten let his fingers wander over Renmyr’s back, tracing the firm muscles beneath his lover’s damp skin. “Then we would pass out before too long.”

  “Kor … it’s been a god’s hour … on top of a miserable day. Drunk or not, we should both be dead to the world.”

  “I’ve never felt so alive,” Korsten whispered into his neck. “Ren … I love you.”

  Renmyr squeezed him in his arms for a moment, then slipped away. He sat up, putting darkness between them. After an immeasurable span of silence, during which Korsten lay confused and chilled in his absence, Renmyr said, “I’ve never loved anyone as I love you. It makes me fear….”

  “Fear what?”

  “Losing you, Kor. It’s why I don’t want to lose even a moment with you. Not to sleep … or to anything else.”

  Korsten sat up, sliding his hand over Renmyr’s back and up onto his shoulder. “You aren’t going to lose me, Ren. And I never want to lose you. I didn’t mean what I said before.”

  “Nor did I,” Renmyr answered softly. “I should not have said those things, but I cannot help that the panic was real. You’ve never done that before; stormed away without explanation. Not even when we’re in the midst of our worst disagreements.”

  “Ren, I’m sorry. It was not my intent to draw panic from you. I know better than to think you’re doing anything more than acting when you’re cornered by a woman like Calla. And I know I’m never removed from your thoughts. Had I been thinking, I would have announced my leaving.” Korsten leaned forward and kissed his shoulder. “Please forgive me … heart’s dearest.”

  “I’m not angry,” Renmyr said, finding Korsten’s hand in the dark. “Nor should I be afraid….”

  “But you are,” Korsten finished. “So am I … more so the longer we’re allowed to stay together. To be close like this.” He dropped his cheek onto Renmyr’s shoulder. “How long before we’ve used up whatever luck is with us?”

  “Luck?” Renmyr echoed, mildly sarcastic. “I thought you were a man of logic.”

  “Very well. Logically speaking, it seems inevitable that we will be discovered … and I can’t allow you to suffer as I did. Worse, even. My father is a tenant nobleman, lord over a moderate holding, not governor to a city the size of Haddowyn. I don’t feel that I truly lost anything at all when I was sent away from Cenily. Everything that matters to me, I’ve gained here.” He lifted his face, adding tenderly, “And I’m not speaking of my undeserved position beneath your father.”

  Renmyr finally turned back to him and took him in his arms once again and lay him back down. It was several minutes before they tired at last and each drifted to sleep.

  Korsten rose into a level of consciousness when Renmyr tenderly caressed his cheek and began speaking to him. “Dawn is breaking, love. Time for me to be discovered in rumpled clothes and with a headache in one of the guest bedrooms.”

  “Yes,” Korsten murmured sleepily, unconsciously turning his face away from contact. “Go….”

  He thought he heard Renmyr laugh. “I think I will keep my initial assessment of your morning hospitality, my dearest. I’ll stagger down to breakfast at the usual time. Until then….”

  Korsten vaguely felt the sensation of warm lips touching his own and heard the voice that followed but not the words as he drifted back to sleep. When he finally opened his eyes, Renmyr was gone. For how long, he could not say. Once awake, he stumbled out of bed and about his personal living space, unconcerned with the bath he found prepared for him. He knew full well that Donnel never appeared on this side of the house an instant before full sunrise, assuming that the master of the residence had been up until all hours studying—which was often legitimate—and sleeping late as a result. Renmyr always disappeared to one of the guest rooms just before sunrise. Somehow, no matter how deep into the small hours their lovemaking carried, he never failed to wake himself up in time to escape discovery. It must have been habit formed of Fand’s waking them with the first sliver of dawn wh
enever Renmyr dared staying overnight in the past.

  “You approve of it?” Korsten recalled asking his uncle not all that long ago.

  With an affected frown, Fand had said, “No, I don’t approve of it, but my brother will have you drowned or poisoned without a doubt if I send you back for the very same reason he sent you here.”

  “I’m too old to be getting sent back and forth anymore.”

  “And you’ve nowhere else to go but back home without money or patrons. You know that. Don’t argue with me. And don’t believe for a moment that there aren’t times when I don’t think that bullheaded relative of mine might not be far from right. But … if there is something wrong with you, lad, it seems clear to me that it’s incurable and if young Renmyr suffers the same ailment—which is not too far off from love, if anyone cares to ask me—then I’m forced to tolerate it. Mind you, now, don’t go hurting that boy … and don’t you get yourself hurt, either. You’re like my own child, bless you, Kor—and you’re damned smart, too. I’d like you to stay and stay sane, so I’m willing to indulge your peculiarities in exchange for the same diligent work ethics you’ve displayed so far and a bit of discretion.”

  Not long after that Fand had blessed them on his dying breath, stating that whatever existed between his nephew and Renmyr was as natural as anything any man and woman under Heaven had ever shared or would ever share. In his fevered state, Fand proceeded to curse Korsten’s red, red hair, which he’d inherited from his mother, along with her deep eyes and soft mouth. From his father he’d received the Brierly nose, long and narrow, and nothing to be proud of, Korsten would have believed, except that others seemed to think that it fit nicely on his face. Before he was done, Fand cursed his nephew’s unmanly beauty as well, stating that it had and would continue to bring him nothing but trouble. A final lucid moment had him thanking the gods for that trouble, as it had led Korsten to Haddowyn and to him; a childless old man, who counted himself blessed and his brother a fool before finally leaving the mortal world.