The Blood Wars Trilogy Omnibus: Volumes 1 - 3

by T. A. Miles

  At some length, the silver-eyed young lady said, “You didn’t answer the door.”

  “So that was you,” Korsten muttered with absolutely no enthusiasm.

  “We’re neighbors,” she continued. “I live just above. I wanted to meet you.”

  “Well, when someone doesn’t answer the door that usually means that they’re not willing to receive visitors at the moment.”

  “I wanted to make sure you weren’t dead.”

  “Isn’t that Merran’s task?”

  “I think he’s at dinner or a meeting with his life-mentor presently.”

  “Then I’ve missed my opportunity. I wasn’t aware that Merran was in the habit of eating.”

  The nameless girl smiled at him just then. “I think we’re going to be friends.”

  “I’m not in the habit of befriending girls who drop onto my balcony unannounced and then instantly try to crawl into bed with me.”

  “I am in bed with you,” the very forward young woman pointed out, giggling while Korsten helplessly blushed. Her next words disarmed his angry retort. “However, I shan’t be endeavoring to stay. You’re very nicely made, but I already have a lover.”

  “And is there a reason you’re not with him now?” Korsten asked flatly.

  “My name is Lerissa,” the girl said without giving an answer. “I’m very happy to meet you, Korsten.”

  There came a knock at the door, preceding someone’s immediate entrance. Both the bed’s occupants lifted their heads to see the newcomer at the same time. One smiled, the other groaned.

  “Well, I see you’re a man who’s true to his word, Merran,” Korsten said. “You did indeed knock before entering.”

  “Hello, Merran,” the girl beside him chimed. “You’re looking very serious this evening.”

  “There are evenings when he doesn’t?” Korsten asked disinterestedly, dropping his face back onto the mattress.

  “I like him,” Lerissa announced, sitting up while the mage in black seated himself upon the edge of the bed. “I bet it’d be truly something to see him smile.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Merran replied simply.

  Korsten felt inclined to add, “You never will.”

  “Mind yourself, dearest,” Lerissa said. “I’ve been known to tickle people to their deaths for smaller offenses than lashing their tongue at my Merran.”

  Your Merran? Now Korsten was beginning to understand.

  “How are you feeling?” the Mage-Adept finally asked.

  “Like dying,” Korsten mumbled into the bedding.

  “At least there have been no changes for the worse,” Merran answered somewhat dryly. “Would you like something to help you sleep?”

  “Yes. Privacy.”

  Lerissa took the hint, else she was signaled by Merran, and climbed off the bed. “I think I’ll use the door this time. Sleep well, Korsten … or try to. I suppose I’ll be seeing you later, Merran.”

  “Goodnight,” was all the Mage-Adept said.

  Yes, for now, Korsten added in silence. I see my estimate of your loneliness was off. In that case, you’ve got even less right to interfere with my life … or the end of it.

  “You need your rest,” Merran informed him. “And your strength. Have you eaten this evening?”

  “I haven’t eaten in the last three months,” Korsten reminded. “And I’m not hungry.”

  “You’ve been spell-fed for the last three months,” Merran said. “And you’re going to be famished as soon as the effects of it wear off. I’ll send for a meal.”

  “Let me alone. I’m sorry as all Hell that I ever met you.”

  “I’m quite sure your opinion won’t change after I’ve bound you and fed you perforce.”

  Korsten rolled onto his back and glared up at the ceiling. “Gods, I keep hoping I’ll wake up from this nightmare. It only gets worse by the moment.”

  “The Council wants you to exercise your talents,” Merran told him, indifferent to Korsten’s bitterness. “You are not an Apprentice. You were summoned. Full mage status requires at least one talent at Resonance. Now that you are conscious, the Council will expect that to be soon.”

  “Else what?” Korsten wanted to know. “Summoned or not, I didn’t choose to be here.”

  “And where would you go, if cast out?” Merran asked him. “You’ve no longer a house or a position. Return to your family in Cenily and perhaps you’ll witness again what you witnessed in Haddowyn. If you made it that far. The Vadryn are as attracted to magic as they are to misery. And before you tell me how little death would matter to you, allow me to remind you that the Master who tried to claim you remains unsatisfied. It’s tasted your soul and it will crave it now. More than ever before.”

  “It,” Korsten echoed sullenly. “You’re talking about Renmyr … as if he’s some beast. Well, he isn’t! Whatever happened….”

  “He bonded with the Vadryn,” Merran said, none too patiently. “He made that decision, consciously. I grow weary of your defending him. After what he’s done to you….”

  “He loved me,” Korsten stated. “And I love him. I always will. I don’t care what happened.” In the next moment he sat up, putting the width of the bed between them. “No one here will ever succeed in turning me against Renmyr. Do you understand me? And I will leave here before I let you try.”

  “Don’t make yourself an enemy to us, Korsten,” Merran said severely. “The Essence is strong in you. It’s nothing we can afford the Vadryn to use against us.”

  Korsten gave up trying to be angry. He pushed one hand through his hair then braced both hands on the edge of the mattress. “I can’t do this, Merran … what you do. You know that.”

  “Do I?”

  Korsten glanced back at him. “You saw the way I acted when Areld came at me. You saw the way I froze when faced with the demon in Markam.”

  Merran’s very blue eyes held Korsten’s darker gaze briefly. He was looking at his hand upon the mattress when he finally spoke. “I witnessed the way you went up to that manor, not caring that you might face a demon.”

  “That was different,” Korsten argued quietly. “And I was terrified.”

  “As am I,” the Mage-Adept confessed. “Every time I challenge one of the Vadryn. I am not impervious to pain and fear.”

  “It doesn’t incapacitate you.”

  “Because I know if I do nothing, I will be taken. I may be taken anyway, but at least … I do what I can. I fight as hard as I am able and hope to put off the day or night Eolyn will return here without me as long as possible.”

  “Why?” Korsten had to ask. “Ashwin said that you came to the Seminary voluntarily. That you were not summoned.”

  “I wasn’t,” Merran confirmed. After a long moment, he added, “I awakened to my duty to become a mage after witnessing my mother and brothers and sister slain by a demon … that had come to inhabit my father.”

  Korsten just stared, finally understanding the loneliness … possibly the sadness, he had been reading in the man’s eyes since their very first meeting. He didn’t know what to say, but he suddenly felt blameworthy, as he had after being proved wrong about the presence of a demon in Haddowyn. He owed the man an apology, but again he could not deliver one.

  Finally Merran stood. “I will have food sent. Eat if you can and then sleep. Tomorrow will be strenuous.”

  Strenuous was being awakened by a stranger after having just managed to fall asleep. And at the unholiest of hours. The sun wasn’t even up yet when some gray-clad fellow of about sixteen prodded Korsten out of his restless slumber and began running him about his room, either helping or forcing him to prepare for the day that hadn’t even come yet. For people with unnaturally long lives, these mages certainly liked to rush about.

  Korsten didn’t meet his first glimpse of sunlight until at least an hour after coming
to an enormous, empty hall very far from the residential wing, and the bed he’d been virtually dragged out of. The warm rays peered through the narrow windows high overhead and succeeded in casting deeper shadows throughout the vast space suddenly surrounding him. He scarcely remembered making the journey and he felt as if he might fall asleep on his feet now as he stood waiting.

  I’m positively unsightly, Korsten thought irrelevantly, noticing now the shirt he had managed to pull over his head without properly lacing after pulling on breeches with no hose and finally stepping into the boots meant for outdoors rather than in. He hadn’t even had time for a bath. He made a half-hearted attempt at correcting his appearance before finally just pushing a hand through his falling curls and continuing with his wait.

  This feels like an ambush of some kind. I certainly hope they don’t plan to test me on anything as I haven’t learned or even been taught a blessed….

  The sound of footsteps disrupted the thought. Someone was walking toward him, from the opposite end of the enormous hall. It was a woman, slight of build, but seeming somehow athletic, dexterous. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she was dressed like a man, making her lean form all the more apparent. Her dark hair was tied back and on her attractively birdlike face, she wore a narrow little smirk, like she were privy to some joke Korsten had not been made aware of.

  “You’re even more pathetic standing up than you are lying down,” the woman of indeterminate age said. “Did you forget to preen yourself this morning, peacock?”

  Korsten was almost too tired to take offense. “I beg your … what?”

  The woman flipped the sword he finally noticed she was carrying—one of two—then dropped it on the floor and stepped on the guard to keep it from clattering away. “You’ve survived this far. Shall we see if that was only luck?”

  Korsten was hardly prepared for this, but he managed to raise one foot as the sword spun at him, kicked across the floor by his nameless challenger, and to step down on it. Lifting it with the toe of his boot, he sent the blade up to his hand. After catching the weapon by the hilt, he tested it with a few quick strokes through the air.

  “Pretty,” the woman said mockingly. “Let’s see if there’s anything more to you than that.”

  What does this have to do with magic? Korsten asked himself as he wandered sleepily into the familiar routine of stalking an opponent. He’d never crossed foils with a woman before. None of the ladies at Cenily or even in Renmyr’s family were so daring. Not in front of anyone at any rate. He wondered if this lady would be as brutal on him as his cousins had always tried to be. She was dressed in layers of blue. That made her smarter than average, if Korsten recalled his reading accurately.

  He thought through the list of talents quickly. Reasoning, Endurance, Quick, Strength, Will, and Foresight. All of it in relation to the mind, where this woman was concerned. Through Reason she could determine how he would fight, possibly even how he would react, based on his stance and his movement. Mental endurance; his opponent could be patient, perhaps selecting to fight more defensively than offensively. Mental dexterity; she could be quick to figure his methods out and to react with her own scheme of attack. Will, determination; she could best him with that alone if it were strong enough. Foresight; possibly she would be able to see his moves before he made them. Unfortunately, Korsten had no idea which gifts the woman had and he had even less idea what other colors she had chosen—or were chosen for her—and what her talents were in relation to them.

  And what have I got that will help me through this gods’ awful hour? Grace? I don’t feel very graceful now. Intuition and education? I don’t think that’ll be of much use here. I didn’t need the Council of Mage-Superiors to tell me that I currently lack all will and, gods, I don’t even want to think about those other gifts they mentioned. One is dormant anyway and the other … perhaps if I smile at her just right…. The absurdity of that thought enabled him to give his concentration to the matter at hand. His opponent answered one question and inspired several others by lunging at him, quickly and suddenly, like a thieving child snatching an apple off a vendor’s cart. Only she was after blood, not fruit.

  Korsten turned aside her blow and offered one of his own. The woman evaded and they were circling each other again. Green eyes glared at him, surprising him. She didn’t appear terribly empathic to him. But then that area of the Spectrum wasn’t solely about being sensitive to the emotions of others. It also included, emotional endurance, balance of emotions in terms of self-control, and emotional healing. Perhaps her blue and green combination simply made her strong-willed.

  Well, then. This should be a lot like sparring with … Ren.

  The woman came at him again. He went after her almost angrily, resenting the fervor in her approach, dodging her attack and pressing his own. Their blades quickly locked and a fluid rotation of the wrist sent one flying. Korsten lowered his own sword immediately afterward and brought his free hand to his face, sighing into it.

  “Not entirely helpless, are you?” the woman said.

  Korsten drew his hand down over his jaw. “What has this accomplished?” he wanted to know. “You’ve seen nothing, except how I react after being dragged out of bed before dawn and provoked by an insensitive bitch.”

  “Would you like to go again?” she asked him, chin lifted in defiance. “I wasn’t prepared for such a straightforward attack before, but I’ll watch for your temper the next time.”

  Korsten answered her by throwing the blade onto the floor. “I’m finished. My unplanned temper isn’t going to save me from demons anyway, if that’s what you’re hoping to find out. If I’m to believe what I’ve been told, I’ve three times had the opportunity to give a brave reaction to the Vadryn and three times I’ve almost been taken by them.”

  “You needn’t confirm your cowardice to me,” the woman answered. “I don’t believe that you belong here.”

  “Well, then we have something in common after all….”

  “Sharlotte,” she supplied, almost haughtily; she actually seemed more angry than arrogant. “Mage-Adept Sharlotte. Ashwin is my lover and I don’t like seeing him suffer as you have made him with your selfish, idiotic sniveling over a demon bedmate.”

  “I didn’t invite him to spell-touch me,” Korsten told her, as undaunted by her display of temper as she was by his.

  She took a step closer to him, looking him fiercely in the eye, though she was a full head and shoulders shorter. “He didn’t have a choice.”

  “And I did?”

  “Yes, you did. You could have stayed put when Merran told you to and maybe you never would have awakened. Maybe you’d have died in the arms of your filthy Vadryn lover!”

  “Sharlotte,” someone said, softly, but still somehow forcefully. “If he had not disobeyed Merran’s instructions, perhaps Merran would no longer be with us.”

  The woman looked over Korsten’s shoulder and her expression softened at once. Still, she managed to say, “I … don’t believe that’s true.”

  “Merran does,” Ashwin said, joining them in body as well as in voice. Korsten noticed that he was not wearing robes today, but rather a striking ensemble of ivory breeches, a full-sleeved shirt, slimming vest, and knee-tall boots. His remarkably long blond hair was braided down to the length of it. He looked very pretty and somehow masculine as well, even as he continued to speak in his very soft voice. “What happened in Haddowyn taxed him to his limits. I know that is true. Even had I not witnessed his condition myself when he returned, I can see reflections of what went on in his eyes.”

  Sharlotte cast Korsten another glare. “Forgive me,” she said to Ashwin. And then she left. The crisp sound of her footsteps filled the air, eventually dissipating.

  Silence lingered afterward.

  At length, Ashwin said, “She has always been protective.”

  And rude?

  �
�Perhaps she is a tad jealous as well,” the Mage-Superior offered. “You will have to earn her trust, Korsten.”

  “I’m not so sure I want it,” Korsten replied, ignoring the glance those words drew from the fair blond man. “And what could she possibly be jealous about? I think she’s made her opinion of me very….”

  Ashwin reached out for Korsten, not quickly enough to alarm him, just to silence him, and slid his hand along his cheek. Just as he had in the lily garden. Korsten began to wonder if tears had escaped without his notice, but then he felt something both familiar and unexpected. Something shared through the lingering link between him and Ashwin. The Mage-Superior didn’t give Korsten a chance to react to the sensation they both felt by drawing Korsten to him and kissing him full on the lips.

  He kept the contact mercifully brief—Korsten would have pushed him away otherwise and undoubtedly made yet another enemy—but he hovered near and stared deep into Korsten’s eyes. “I have chosen Sharlotte as my spouse and she has chosen me, but the bond is one of comfort, providing each of us with a home to return to, if you will. We have both strayed into the arms of others.”

  Korsten was sure that he’d just been propositioned by a married man, but somehow he didn’t know how to react. For one, the offer seemed open and that should not have been. True, he and Merran, and probably every other nosy body at the Seminary, knew of Korsten’s preferences, but he didn’t anticipate this level of acceptance. Or was it encouragement? Aside from that, Ashwin may have been beautiful, but he wasn’t the man Korsten loved and he had someone anyway.

  “Perhaps I’d better have a different mentor,” Korsten suggested, feeling weak for a multitude of reasons. “I … don’t want to be the blame for spoiling a marriage.”

  Ashwin smiled at him gently, exhibiting the patience of a parent with his child. “Four hundred years is a long time for a marriage to last. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Four … hundred….” Korsten was confused and didn’t try to pretend otherwise.

  Ashwin backed gracefully away, giving Korsten the space he would have insisted upon within a few more moments. “Granted, Sharlotte and I have not been acquainted for so long, let alone been together. It was only an example. She has only been with the Seminary for one hundred eighty years. Spousal arrangements are somewhat different here from what you know outside.”