The Blood Wars Trilogy Omnibus: Volumes 1 - 3

by T. A. Miles

  “Regardless of that,” Korsten continued. “There’s an elderly man of some political experience who insisted on traveling with us. I won’t have him sailing into his death.” However much Sethaniel might have been cheating it during his time.

  “I understand,” Cayri said. “And I suspect it would be unwise to allow them to continue at this point. When the opportunity is right, you should seize it.”

  Korsten nodded. “Yes, and bring back one or both of our colleagues. Lerissa’s specialty is in strategy and Sharlotte….”

  “Sharlotte is a battle specialist,” Cayri interrupted.

  And Korsten’s best response was, “Oh.” He had no further questions. In point of fact, many questions he might have had about Sharlotte’s style and her tactics could well have been answered just then.

  “It will be advantageous to have both of them here,” Cayri said, concluding the topic incidentally when she slowed them to a stop beside an abandoned pier.

  The eruptions from the ships at the far end of the city had quieted somewhat for the time present, which more than likely meant the enemy was preparing to invade by ground.

  Cayri pointed out to the water, at a shallow angle from where they stood. “I believe the fire trap was laid out approximately there. Oshand’s vessel must have been sunk nearby.”

  Korsten scanned the water, now black with night’s settling. There were lights cast onto it from both the city and the fires started several streets away by the enemy. He was able to descry several forms that appeared not quite correctly set on the scene. “I see at least one mast above the water over there.”

  While he pointed Cayri’s sight to what he saw, she nodded. “The water is probably not deep enough this close in to fully submerge them.”

  “Probably not,” Korsten agreed. “Still, I don’t see another, and I can’t see any flag or marking indicating whose ship that mast belonged to.”

  “Look there,” Cayri said, directing his attention closer to the harbor, further along the city’s edge toward the battle, which was experiencing still a mild lull.

  Korsten looked, and saw a vessel floundering with portions of it afire. In the poor lighting, he had taken it for a reflection, or an illusion of something in the proximity of the battle itself appearing to be closer than it was. But as he studied it, he could see that it was neither a reflection, nor an illusion. It was a ship on fire, listing heavily to one side.

  “You heard Captain Oshand mention that the constable had set fire to the deck of their ship?” Cayri said.

  “Yes,” Korsten replied. “And it looks like our hidden enemy soldier may yet have been able to utilize it getting to shore.”

  “Shall we check for survivors, then?” Cayri asked.

  Korsten gave another nod, knowing full well that neither of them were expecting to find a legitimate survivor.

  The crippled vessel was far enough out to not be reachable from the docks, which was to the advantage of the city for more reasons than a demon stepping off in the body of one of their own soldiers. If it tilted onto the pier, it could begin a fire that no one had time for, though that threat was diminishing somewhat, even as they observed. Conditions must not have been proper for a thorough burning of the vessel.

  Korsten and Cayri Reached, since it was well within view, bringing themselves onto the sloped deck. Fire had taken the sails and crashed the central mast, which was largely to blame for the damaged side and its awkward posture. Some areas of the deck floor had been eaten by flame and smoke rolling upward in some areas suggested that it was still feeding in places. Korsten found it odd that it would simply be dying out of its own volition, and so soon, but it mattered little at the moment.

  Stepping toward a section of gaping, charred wood not far from the railing, Korsten cast a Lantern and crouched down, peering below deck. He saw embers glittering indecisively … and bodies heaped upon one another. He made a face of revulsion that Cayri must have seen; she looked at him very deliberately, and then into the hole.

  The stench was active and vile.

  “There aren’t many of them,” she noted, and that was true.

  “No,” Korsten said. “Enough to have thoroughly fed a certain type of invader, though.”

  They both felt the weight of that implication and began to stand, but halted when a form among the corpses moved. It could easily have been a rat or an injured man in need of assistance. Korsten would keep his mind open to either option, though he had already come to terms with the fact that removing one nest of demons from the city did not eliminate the problem of infestation. He consoled himself with consideration of how much worse it would have been had he and Merran not discovered the population gathering in the caves when they did.

  “I’ll go down,” Korsten offered.

  “We both will,” Cayri said.

  Korsten didn’t argue. She was equipped with Release and trained to defend herself, as all Mage-Adepts were. The situation was not uniquely dangerous yet and so didn’t require the specific attention of a hunter.

  “I’ll go down first,” he volunteered simply, and set about lowering himself through the hole.

  The wood was soft from being both burned and then dampened by the incessantly moist sea air. A portion gave somewhat beneath his hand and threatened to send him down quicker than he intended, but he caught himself, urged caution to Cayri, and slipped down to the floor below. His footing was somewhat uneven, though he managed to avoid the stacked bodies. He made room for Cayri and extended a hand, which she accepted. When they were both in the exposed cabin space, he swept his Lantern over the bodies, noting that injury was owed to assault by demons. There was nothing to compare to what the Vadryn did to their victims. Korsten had learned that very early on, and still had not let go the vivid memory of Hedren being torn out of his skin by a veritable apparition. These bodies were in similar states of gratuitous mutilation, in a singular horrific state beyond what a bolt or blade, or even fire would have done to them.

  The stink was atrocious, a volatile blend of moisture, burning, and rot. A tentative weight set onto the toe of his boot, and he slipped it out from beneath a rat that was nosing its way to the corpses. There were likely several already wending through the heap, making their evening meal. But rats didn’t account for presence, not like what he felt. And he felt it very acutely. Not only within this vessel, but within the harbor, encroaching on Indhovan. The Vadryn were here, as they had been in the caves, as they had been throughout his still young career hunting them with Merran. For an instant, the presence of demons seemed so prevalent that it was nearly overwhelming. He had a moment of feeling as if all effort was futile against such an inundating, ceaseless force. It felt in that brief span as frustrating and depressing as attempting to empty a river with a basket. Why were there so many of them?

  And then, as instantaneously as the anxiousness arrived, it departed. In its wake, there was a tender mark upon his mind. Words were set there.

  We cannot hide from you now.

  Korsten glanced toward Cayri, who had stepped further toward the cabin door. As she approached the dark corridor beyond, she brought her own Lantern out. The orb swelled to being, and diminished the shadows to the corner not many steps from her, where a black form sat folded, looking out. Elongated hands were bent over knees that were mere knobs of darkness. Between hunched shoulders of a similar lack of substance, the phantom face of the beast seemed to grin.

  Master….

  He watched the creature, then looked toward Cayri again, knowing that the demon’s eyeless sight followed. The rest of it might have done the same, but Korsten forbade it.

  No. The word isolated itself at the front of his mind for the benefit of the demon.

  It obeyed for the moment.

  Cayri stepped into the hall with her Lantern, expanding the demon’s hiding place once again. But it wasn’t hidden from Korsten. Be
yond knowing it was there now, he could feel it. He could feel how it poised itself, and how it carefully unfolded and drifted toward the door, following the wall low along the floor.

  Come here. Korsten issued the command without consideration or deliberation, and felt its path shift toward him. He envisioned its insubstantial form crawling in his direction, and he watched it with an air of indescribable interest. He was aware of it in such a way that to act against it felt in advance like a betrayal of trust … of innocent trust.

  But the Vadryn were not innocent. This was no curious animal, exploring. This was a demon. It knew what he was, and why he had come.

  You know me, he accused.

  It denied nothing with its continued advance.

  Stop, Korsten insisted. The need to halt its course was almost strong enough to have him vocalize the command.

  The demon hesitated to come nearer, and then it was distracted by another mage in the doorway.

  “Korsten,” Cayri began, looking at him first. Her gaze slowly lowered to the shadowed space between them. She asked, “Do you see it?”

  “Yes,” Korsten answered.

  They looked at each other, sentient darkness hovering between them. Korsten didn’t know if questions were forming or answered for her in the moments that passed. It was Song, yes. She was witness to a demon being held enthrall by a mage. What followed should have been simple, but it wasn’t, as it hadn’t been with Serawe and her minions. He had lured all of them to their demise and he had felt them diminish slowly. Song was not simple.

  Vlas Reached them to the precise place they had docked with Vaelyx days ago. The small vessel yet remained where it had been left. Vlas had retraced the path to the well from this location once already. He set about doing so now without fanfare, emotional or otherwise. Imris fell instep as if it were that night all over again, but rather than Vaelyx trudging ahead, they had Irslan not very surely in tow. A part of Vlas felt antagonized by the delay, another part of Vlas had him slow his steps, turn toward Irslan, and gently invite him forward. He did not attempt to explain that part to himself. Mercy and compassion were recognizable. That was not quite either, not as simply as that at any rate.

  “There’s a fire,” Imris pointed out, having taken the lead for the moment.

  Vlas looked in the direction she had indicated, observing a silhouette of dark clouds streaming upward. “Not the phantom bonfires the cultists had set out the last time,” he speculated.

  “It’s different,” Imris agreed.

  “A fight perhaps,” Irslan suggested.

  “More than likely,” was Vlas’ response. He said to Imris, “Let’s hope that your peers weren’t ambushed and overtaken.”

  She was silent, but that was her way. They carved a path up the soft hill from shore, but rather than head in the direction of the well, they made a path that better paralleled the water, toward the location Imris believed her fellows had made landing to begin their investigation while another ship patrolled nearby. They would soon learn what the soldiers and constables had found, or what might have found them. The reality appeared to be that this was all so much larger than Indhovan had anticipated. The activists had grand notions that seemed to address every subject except for war. The purists appeared so ready to avoid war that they were willing to conspire with the enemy in order to ensure their own safety. Or, at least, the crone had made that decision for them. Meanwhile the cultists actively conspired against the city and had plotted its invasion and annexation as yet another extension of the northern border over Edrinor. What they needed was time to organize a fuller search of the Islands, an attack on them if necessary, in order to root out the dangerous members of their population.

  Looking to Imris, Vlas felt immediately remiss for having the thought, but at the same time … what else could be done? He had no desire to see her native people caught up in the warring, but they were already, even without battles taking place in front of their homes. If Morenne had succeeded in subjugating them, then the worst was surely pending arrival. They might already have had demons among their population; they certainly had traitors handing over their land and resources, such as Konlan. Vlas would still have liked to know what became of the man and whether or not they could expect to see him again. He doubted the latter. Konlan was no fool, nor was the Morennish army commanded by fools. He would not be back to Indhovan before its overtaking. Vlas felt certain of that.

  They reached a high point along the sloped route among sparse growth and Vlas took the opportunity to look out across the water, at the lights over Indhovan. A low layer of smoke and some clouds held the glow close, highlighting the shape of the buildings, and of the ships. He didn’t imagine it would be much longer before the core of the invading fleet made its way, and their soldiers took to shore.

  Zesyl’s wings thrummed near his ear, drawing his focus back to the island. They were close enough to the fire to see its wavering light now. Vlas slowed and signaled for his companions to do so as well. Irslan took up a position to one side of him while Imris stopped just ahead. The setting below appeared to be of the constabulary’s arrived vessel, seemingly untouched, possibly unmanned. There were signs of a battle several yards from shore. The fire looked to be started either intentionally or by accident over a stockpile of some kind. Fire tactics, perhaps. Had Rahl’s men come upon something so quickly and also had the good sense and fortune to render it useless to the enemy so immediately?

  Vlas felt somewhat optimistic in just that moment. Looking at the spread of some few bodies, he felt premature in a celebratory mood. Unless the bodies belonged entirely to the enemy, the unit sent may already have been down somewhat in number.

  “What should we do?” Irslan asked, undoubtedly having made similar assessments to Vlas’. He may not have been eager to get involved in war, but he was intelligent enough to discern what easily could have happened and what that might mean for the battle at hand.

  “We investigate,” Vlas said to both Irslan and Imris.

  Imris gave a nod of agreement and readiness. “But be careful,” she said to Irslan foremost. “The enemy may have been the victor and may be preparing to take our own ship back to Indhovan.”

  “Which would be a risk, if they didn’t properly coordinate with their people,” Irslan said, relaxing in the presence of logic and rational thinking. Vlas imagined it was a great comfort for the man.

  “Yes,” Vlas said of Irslan’s statement. “That’s true. They may also have their own smaller fleet poised to leave from another side of the island, or the next island over. This is where the cultists were mining, however, so I believe that if Morenne made a visit here at any recent time, it was to lay claim to the fruits of those efforts.”

  “That makes sense,” Irslan said.

  “The very last thing Indhovan requires is more enemy ships in its waters. Let’s begin with searching the area below and looking for definitive evidence of what may have gone on. With any luck, we’ll find a man or a few men have been left behind to keep watch over the ship. Then we should be able to obtain answers through simple dialogue.”

  They were all agreed, and proceeded down the slope toward the fire-lit landing site. It became quickly clear, the nearer they came to it, that the fire was a collection of crated wares. The purpose behind it eliminated the possibility of Morenne having started it, unless they were displaying more contrivance than Vlas was prepared to consider in staging what appeared a victory in a location they had no reason to assume would be visited upon at any time soon—if at all—by anyone from Indhovan. No, Vlas felt assured that Rahl’s men had arrived on a scene of the enemy preparing to collect or deliver fire tactics. There was a confrontation, won by the constabulary’s small contingency force, and they pushed on to ensure they had thoroughly extinguished one of Morenne’s sources for weapons replenishment.

  “These bodies are not in uniform,” Irslan reported as he ventured acr
oss the area. “Not most of them. They also look to be Islands people.”

  “More cultists,” Vlas presumed.

  “Or people forced to help,” Imris submitted.

  Vlas conceded that possibility. “Perhaps. Though I doubt that your colleagues would have slaughtered a group of people who might have been willing to run or surrender at the sight of armed soldiers.”

  “It depends on whether or not they were armed themselves,” Imris said.

  “They may have been convinced to view us as enemies,” Irslan posed, in support of Imris’ theory.

  Vlas allowed them both that scenario, as it was quite possible. He made a path over to one of the bodies, observing the civilian attire and darker skin than most Edrinorians. The set of the features were similar to both Imris’ and Konlan’s. They were indeed Islands people. “I see no weapons nearby any of them,” Vlas observed. “But that doesn’t mean they weren’t confiscated. The boat will likely have the answers we’re after.”

  Imris was nearest to the craft and made her way in that direction while Irslan hovered over one of the bodies. Vlas studied the man’s pondering expression and soon felt the need to join him. He’d taken no more than a step toward Irslan, when Imris called out to them urgently. Vlas and Irslan both abandoned their previous study to join the constable. Vlas’ hand went to the hilt of his sword, but didn’t linger since Imris was plainly in view at the shoreline and neither injured nor being assaulted.

  Within wading distance, the small vessel the constabulary unit had taken to the island floated quietly and apparently unmolested.