The Blood Wars Trilogy Omnibus: Volumes 1 - 3

by T. A. Miles

  “The interruption has sent ripples of irritation across the senses of the gods, who are by now enraged. Their ire was intended for the demons, but the demons are no longer among us. Now we must act to quiet the gods’ anger. We must soothe them by averting the tragedy that would befall all of us. All of us must meditate and unlock the crystals, so that the magic stored within them can be channeled through myself … and our mage guests.”

  As she looked at Merran again, pointedly, others of the coven turned to see him as well. Various expressions of surprise and uncertainty crossed their diverse faces. They were men and women, old and young.

  Before notions of protestation could fully form, Ersana called for their attention with further words. “The sea is coming, representative of the gods. We must face it and ensure our message to this emissary is clear; that Indhovan is yet pure and that another is willing to assume the mantle of Mother.”

  The end of her statement bore a somber note that caught Merran’s attention above the fact that Ersana had reneged on her stubbornness. He required no clarification to understand that she intended to take up that mantle and that in doing so she may have been condemning herself to the caves. Now he realized that, beyond the summoning, the crone had been a source of energy … channeling what she collected to the coven. She had mishandled the magic and the trust she had been given, using that vast cache to perform a spell of destruction.

  Would Ersana be a better mother to the coven? He believed she intended to be and it was possible that the crone had intended to be at first, many years before she may have been driven to madness by her power. Or perhaps she could think of no other way to contend with the Vadryn. Now was not the time to debate the moral base or stability of the coven here. Undoubtedly, many of them would disagree fundamentally with the Seminary’s methods for dealing with demons. If they only agreed in this moment, then so be it.

  Vlas could scarcely quiet his mind since returning from the well. Oddly enough the Master Vadryn was dissipating from his foremost thoughts before anything else. He disliked the outcome with Vaelyx especially and he couldn’t still his worry over Korsten’s absence. He’d seen him leave with demons. Maybe if he’d heard of it secondhand, or the leaving hadn’t been with demons he would be less concerned. But he’d witnessed it. Where had he taken them? Merran had no better idea than anyone else and maybe it was also the fact that Merran had been forced to stay behind with an injury that was crippling for a mage that made the situation that much worse. Thoughts of Imris continued to surface as well; Where had she been stationed? What was Rahl’s response to Vaelyx’ discovery and subsequent death? Had she told her superior by now? Would there be any cause for the two of them to see each other again once the circumstances were resolved? Did they require a cause?

  Tapping the stone railing before him on the balcony, Vlas deliberately set his thoughts aside for the moment, knowing they would be back before long. He looked out to sea and brought his gaze slowly back inland. The water appeared deceptively calm and clear of Morennish ships. Granted, on the latter, they didn’t know whether or not they were headed south directly, or if they were advancing an attack onto Vynndoran. Either way, it would only be a matter of time and as for the wave….

  Maybe the summoning had failed. He wondered how long with no sign of it would be considered long enough? Was there any way that they could properly prepare for it?

  A part of his answer stepped into his view several stories below the balcony. Merran had arrived and been granted entrance into the main yard. Considering the impatient response Vlas had given to their dutiful protest, he doubted they would be quite as stubborn about letting mages pass … at least not until they felt assured that the current lot had left their city. Unbeknownst to them, Vlas would like to leave their city in peace, but that peace might be a long fight.

  Pushing off the railing, Vlas reentered the manor by way of the Lady Ilayna’s sitting room. He passed their hostess and Cayri along the route to the door. The remaining cast of decision makers present in the grand house had paused to carry out various tasks assigned to them to enable communication and preparation to the extended stations beyond the office of the governor. They would be reconvening within the hour, so it was fortuitous that Merran had come.

  Vlas navigated a path to the front hall, where he intercepted a man leading Merran in. “What’s the word?” He asked his colleague immediately.

  Merran and his guide stopped at the first landing. The doorman surrendered the governor’s newest guest to Vlas and returned to his post. When he was out of earshot, Merran said, “Ersana Cambir has persuaded the coven to assist. We’ll have the augmenting power of their crystals to support us.”

  Not us, Vlas knew, but didn’t point that out to Merran. His presence would be support enough, whether he could cast a spell to help or not.

  It was in the midst of that thought that Merran let him know just how he was going to help, fully functioning catalog of spells or no. “When the time comes to act, I’ll alert the coven by casting a Lantern and raising it as high as it will carry. Members of the coven will be located along various high points throughout their city watching for it. They’ll alert the others.”

  Merran stepped around him and headed up the stairs—not that he could have known where he was going—and Vlas turned to follow. It was upon doing that when he realized that Merran’s information had not been for him alone. Cayri stood at the top of the stair with Ilayna nearby and also with one of the twelve last people Vlas would ever have expected to see outside of the walls of Vassenleigh.

  “When did you get here?” he said to his mentor.

  Ceth waved the question off, delivering one to Merran instead. “Precisely what are the witches offering with their assistance?”

  Merran walked partway up the stairs and stopped. “They have magic stores throughout the city. They’ll be granting us access to them in hopes of augmenting the Barrier we planned to cast.”

  Ceth took a moment to place the information provided to him and, knowing him, to sort it neatly with what he already knew and what he’d planned as well. Then he nodded once. “All right. Let’s hurry, then. We want to be waiting for the wave, not responding to it.”

  As he was saying that, Ilayna skirted around the Superior and the Adept to make her way undoubtedly to her son.

  “The casting needs to occur from the cliffs,” Ceth was saying to Indhovan’s officials as well as to the mages present. “The augmentation provided by the crystals placed throughout the city will carry the energy downward. That will render the Barrier as tall as the cliffs are high. With luck that will be high enough. Now it will last only for a matter of minutes. We have to hope that the water diffuses the peak of its energy with its first strike. The residual waves will dissipate, but the city could still take on some damage. The ships are out of their ports and headed north … they’ll have a fitful ocean to contend with, but the devastation will be averted. I cannot stay past the casting. We’re already risking that Masters of the Vadryn will take notice and realign their forces to concentrate on Indhovan. This city is not yet ready for that level of confrontation.”

  The elder paused to consider the maps, then cast brown eyes on Deitir. “You’re evacuating the area south of the inlet?”

  Deitir nodded. “Yes.”

  “Wise decision, and opportune.” Ceth’s attention went to the other mages. “We’re going to attempt to channel some of the water into this inlet by arranging the Barrier primarily south of it. What doesn’t return to the sea will hopefully drive itself in there. It may result in some flooding of the area, but that will be less strain on the Barrier and less backwash potentially onto the Islands. We need to encourage allies, not plague our neighbors with our ill fortune.”

  “The Vadryn’s been plague enough on the Islands,” Vlas inserted.

  “Yes, we’ll talk about that in greater detail later,” Ceth said, and it was in mo
ments like this that Vlas felt like one of the silk ribbons the elder inserted between the pages of his books. His mentor had a sort of rushed order to him that Vlas could never hope to emulate. He was certain he would only get flustered and wind up with a hastier decision made.

  “You’ll place yourselves on the cliff, then?” Fersmyn asked, for clarification.

  “Yes,” Ceth answered. “Have your constabulary bring people in from the docks and direct them to higher locations. Please, do so immediately and quickly. Once that’s accomplished, there will be nothing further for any of you to do except wait.”

  Fersmyn looked across the table to Deitir, who said. “We understand.”

  Merran seated himself in the Lady Ilayna’s sitting room, which had access to the highest balcony belonging to the manor, one which also looked easily out on the ocean. His station would be to stand watch there, waiting for the first detectable traces of the wave’s encroaching presence. He’d been instructed to take a few moments to rest first. It wasn’t long before the one who had instructed him entered the room.

  Ceth had donned some of the simplest blue layers he may have had in his wardrobe, and still he looked from a place well outside of what the people of Indhovan knew. He was too old and too long a mage to not have an air of ancientness that may have made some nervous. Considering what had been uncovered in the city and on the nearest island, it was understandable. Regardless, Merran felt somewhat comforted by the Superior’s presence. Ceth had been one of the most constant guiding factors in his life.

  The elder crouched down before Merran’s chair, scooping his bandaged hand into both of his own. His slim fingers moved over the wrap and the crystal, which was eventually taken between thumb and forefinger and examined before being ultimately left alone.

  “Rudimentary as this is,” Ceth said. “I think it should stay. I can feel it casting a Healing.”

  “A very slow one,” Merran observed.

  Ceth looked up at him. “Only your mentor would be able to have a hope at righting this today and, if you want my very blunt opinion, I feel that the damage might be enough to require a little longer effort from even Eisleth.”

  Merran hated hearing that. He drew in a breath and held back his complaints, and his fears.

  Ceth gave him a moment, then rose to a stand again. “Of course, I’m no physician. But you are, and the governor’s family has need of your experience and knowledge.”

  Merran lifted his gaze to the Superior, feeling almost ashamed at his lack of will to respond. But then he nodded, and lifted himself out of the chair.

  Ceth led him from the room and across the central staircase in silence. It was at the opposite corridor that he turned his head to look at Merran, and spoke. “You must push your worries out of your mind, Merran. All of them. What’s coming is the only focus we can afford. That’s why I’d like you to see Tahrsel. His son needs to stay focused as well.”

  Merran only nodded.

  “If it were so easy to at least temporarily alleviate your concerns for you as well, I would,” Ceth told him. “As would Cayri and as would Vlas. As would Irslan, I’m very certain.”

  “I know,” Merran made himself say.

  “Then take that as a comfort,” Ceth advised. “Korsten left of his own accord this time, not in the literal hands of the enemy. You must trust him to return when he’s able, just as we are forced to trust you and every other Mage-Adept who takes an assignment outside of the walls of the Seminary. All of you are equipped to bring yourselves back, even when you’re thrown from your course.”

  Merran stopped, which drew Ceth to a halt as well. When the elder turned to face him, he said, “Song has Emerged. He was casting Siren. I’m certain of it.”

  “How certain?”

  Merran felt as if the elder didn’t have to ask that while he was responding with, “Very.”

  Ceth said nothing. His pause was too deliberate to offer any comfort, but he nodded anyway. He stepped closer to Merran, putting a hand on his arm. “He has to learn. There’s no one who can teach him this. But,” the elder said quickly, squeezing Merran’s arm through his coat in prompting Merran not to speak just yet. “I believe that he will learn. Recall what he’s done, how quickly he’s risen to his talents. He cares about this war. He’s driven enough to see it through to its end. Have faith in something, Merran. Trust someone besides your teachers.”

  Merran’s eyes stung unexpectedly. He nodded and blinked in a vain attempt to keep that to himself.

  Ceth offered him a compassionate smile, patting his arm and ushering him forward again. “The worst aspect of this coming conflict is that we don’t know how little time we have.”

  Merran understood. He, of all people, understood the imminence of the threat the crone had made. He drew his hands over his face and through his hair as he resumed a pace beside Ceth.

  Korsten felt as if he were in flight. The world of his dreams raced by him, as if the water had become the sky … or as if he had become the water. It was cold, but the fluidity of the motion kept him oddly warm. He wondered the longer he drifted if he were even moving at all. It was a dream, after all … or had he died? Was his spirit returning to the garden?

  Analee?

  She was with him, but he couldn’t see her. It was as if he had her view … as before in the caves. Perhaps that was what it felt like to pass and go with them back to the seminary. Except he hadn’t been dying before when he confronted the demons with Allurance.

  Was he?

  You’re not dead.

  The voice was not a voice at all, but an impression, one—like Serawe—which felt female. But it wasn’t Serawe, was it?

  The demon has passed from that state into one of rebirth. The spirit of that one will reform, but smaller … still malignant. It will grow.

  The answers came as if from his own mind. He was having a conversation with himself … and he was not himself. He could only have been dreaming.

  There are many of us. You are surrounded by us. We are of the Sea. Come with us. You are welcome among us.

  Korsten could only consider the fact that even if he wanted to join these … spirits? … he could neither breathe nor live indefinitely in the water. He was dreaming.

  We can preserve your form if you like it. Both of them, if you wish.

  Both?

  The little red wing suits you.

  Analee. She wasn’t a form of his. The confusion of the voice in his head … He was having difficulty getting his bearings. This was the consequence of near drowning; delirium.

  He tried seeing this dream rather than simply feeling it. He saw water, dark and voluminous, and cold. It rushed all around him. He felt as if he were moving through it, but could feel none of its resistance.

  Your preferred form could not move like this. We placed it safely for you.

  Korsten had to stop listening to the voice for a moment. He concentrated on the water … the ocean….

  The wave!

  There are more demons to quell. Come with us. This is your calling, Singer.

  Korsten finally believed that he understood. Dream, though it may have been, he was following the wave … traveling with the spirits the crone may have summoned to carry it to Indhovan. But he wasn’t anywhere. This was all emotional … spiritual? Was it real?

  Come with us, the bodiless coaxed and a pang of irony struck him. Siren was not something to wield necessarily, but a means of communication … a method by which promises were made on both sides. It was as using the voice of spirits, communicating in their language of emotion. He was learning as the emotive voice of these spirits combined lulled him as he had lulled the demons—and as the demons would lure him—that he was far from fluent. He understood now that these such conversations were dangerous beyond those he’d had physically with demons. Serawe outside of her vessel had nearly held him under and drowned him
and these spirits were literally carrying him away.

  If it were possible for his soul to breathe, then Korsten drew in a long breath. The sensation of movement was taken in more evenly. He felt more level with an understanding of direction and purpose that filtered in slowly through the rushing. He knew that he was in the sea, that there was water all around him, but it was comprised of spiritual essence that he could feel more intimately in this dreamlike state. With a greater sense of how to cope with the sensation, he tried to perceive a greater visual. The speed of motion created a feathery, prismatic effect on the water. Amid the colorful swaths of light were traces of form; gentle, spiraling curves and long trains falling away in their wake. They gradually came to look like an army of seahorses, but with vaguely humanoid faces. It reminded him of his childhood, and how his mother had told him stories of sea faeries. He would always look for them when swimming or playing along the shore with his sisters. It was easy for him to rationalize that he would draw inspiration from his childhood imagination in order to provide himself with a visual interpretation of these spirits.

  One of them flicked its gaze at him, hues of iridescent green, pink, and gold sparkling in the blue darkness. He wondered how he appeared to them, and then remembered what they’d said before about his ‘forms’. He replayed the rest of their words, coming to the topic of demons and his calling in regards to them. He was meant to quell them, yes, but not like this. His place was among mages and in particular, by Merran’s side. He had been on a flight of instinct before. It had carried him much farther than he’d meant to go or ever would have planned to, given the time to think it through rationally. This talent, more than any of the others, was going to have to be mastered. It would lead him to disaster otherwise. He wondered if it had done so with Adrea. He wondered if it was doing so with him now.

  The demons, he reminded himself, more firmly. There were none left in Indhovan that he was aware of. He’d already brought them out to sea … them and their mistress.