The Blood Wars Trilogy Omnibus: Volumes 1 - 3

by T. A. Miles

  The Source had been moved in sections. The first Ceth and Jeselle had transferred. The second, Ashwin and Eisleth were to have moved, but the portion they had moved was not the full remains. A small section had been left behind, just as a smaller portion had been implanted within Merran.

  Eisleth entered the room with Merran and the others following. “That,” he said to Merran, “is yours.”

  “Gods,” Korsten murmured from the doorway, looking drained, but uninjured. He seemed to know what he was looking at in the Source, and given that he had been well-educated, he might have. His interest appeared less aroused than it might have been normally, but there was still room through his exhaustion for wonder.

  Eisleth knew that Ashwin’s student had finally defeated his most personal demon. The others could be dealt with over time, before they grew to levels that would pose a threat to him or anyone else. And through that process of dealing with them, Eisleth planned to learn about Song, and how exactly it came to birth itself within their system.

  Merran stood beneath the Source, giving it a look as if it meant to attack him. By now, his presence should have claimed it. It occurred to Eisleth while he observed his student that the reason why it had not was the white moth currently hovering at his shoulder, dampening the signature of his soul.

  Eisleth held his hand out to the creature. She drifted toward him, and in that very moment a hand manifested above his own, encircling the moth and crushing it.

  Merran was floored immediately by the sudden transfer of all of his soul from what had held it for more than three hundred years.

  The long-nailed pale hand of Xelonwyr withdrew, one of the soul-keeper’s wings bent between his fingers. He stood before them, before a tapestry of fantastic beasts that had seemed as if it had concealed his presence. Eisleth believed he had opened a portal, and he believed he had been able to do so because of Korsten.

  Merran began to rise, but appeared disoriented and as if he could not lift himself from the floor. Undoubtedly, he felt exposed and raw after the return. Korsten moved quickly to his side.

  Xelonwyr took steps toward both of them.

  “Let them be,” Eisleth warned.

  Xelonwyr turned his mantled head to look at Eisleth, and Eisleth cast a Shroud that for now separated the Source from any of them.

  “How bold has the quiet one become?” Xelonwyr said, and it might have been meant to taunt, but its delivery was not quite that.

  “Your lies can accomplish no more,” Eisleth told him.

  “My lies?” The Wyrr gave his gaze to Korsten. “I’ve spoken the truth to him, and it is his right by birth to inherit truth from me.”

  “The legacy you would pass on is of misery and false belief. Let it go, and let Korsten be. This is beyond you now. Return to your tomb.”

  Xelonwyr lashed out with a spell of Fire that Eisleth blocked with a Barrier, one which also pushed the flames back, far enough that Xelonwyr had to vanquish them himself, lest he be attacked by his own spell.

  “You have done nothing but disease this land with your misery,” Jeselle said, moving closer to Merran and Korsten.

  “My misery is Ashwin’s doing,” Xelonwyr argued, continuing to pass his gaze over the room and its occupants, like a scavenger seeking opportunity among its competitors. “All of this destruction, the misery of these people, is Ashwin’s doing.”

  “Ashwin is not responsible for your selfishness,” Eisleth said, his eyes not leaving the Wyrr. He knew that he had only come for one reason. “Nor is he responsible for your delusions.”

  “You think that I am trapped there,” Xelonwyr challenged, letting Eisleth know that this manifestation was not the Wyrr himself, but a significant projection.

  “You will never leave there,” Eisleth determined. He made the determination through prediction, of Xelonwyr’s paranoia.

  “I have already left!” the Wyrr claimed, temper and ambition both rising. “In the form of all of my progeny. Korsten is included. Korsten is my child, through my child.”

  Merran began to stand finally. Korsten helped him to steady himself, diligently ignoring the illusion of the Wyrr and its claims. Perhaps, he had experienced too much of the manipulation of the ancients for now. Eisleth could not blame him, and was glad that he kept his focus on Merran.

  “Korsten is not your child,” Eisleth stated. It may have been a bold statement, but he felt confident over where Korsten’s loyalties lay, and where the Mage-Adept felt his family was.

  The Wyrr looked to the ceiling. Eisleth’s shroud remained. Through it, a shaft of light finally reached toward the floor, seeking its foremost human conduit.

  Xelonwyr extended his hand to reach it first, a portal opening up in his enlarged palm.

  It was Jeselle who conjured a Blast forceful enough to throw the manifestation of the Wyrr back, which ensured that the path was clear to Merran. The shaft touched him as gently as if it were no more than a fingertip, a hand identifying him with contact. In the wake of that gentle touch, the entire room fell into a silence, absolute and cleansing.

  Eisleth’s shroud was shut out of existence, as was any remnant of Jeselle’s Blast, and of the Wyrr’s projection. He wondered if it had been a Neutralizing of all of them, except that he felt no different. And when he looked about the room in the wake of the claiming, he could see his Isevka fluttering nearby, and Analee as well.

  Once again, Ashwin had been right.

  The Council Chamber hosted eleven of its original twelve. Korsten looked over the details of the room, his gaze catching on the green stone among the pillars marking the six colors of the Spectrum. Many would remember Ashwin for his association with white, but Korsten would always think of him whenever he looked upon green. His beloved mentor had been formally laid to rest for a week. Damage to the Seminary and to Edrinor’s capital had been minimal. Damage to its people had been significant.

  It felt too early for Korsten to be in this place, addressing concerns of the Seminary’s daily function, which yet included war and hunting. Events were going to have to catch up to the Morennish people, and to the people of Edrinor not centrally located. As far as many of them knew, the war was not over. Indhovan had held its ground, however, with help from both mages and witches. Correspondence with the coastal city had reported no deaths among the mages there, and the governor remained in a position to lead the city. The Morennish forces had retreated back to their last northern conquest and endeavors were being made to attempt to open some form of dialogue with them. There would still be Vadryn among them, but without Renmyr to push them as he had been, forcing them with a brutal hand to win victories for him, only so that he could sacrifice them later….

  Without that, maybe both the men and the demons could be reasoned with. There was also the lonely Wyrr to consider, and the situation of the Morennish people being virtually exiled by his very presence from their own homes. According to Eisleth, Xelonwyr’s appearance during the claiming of the Source—something Korsten had once believed merely legend—had been to divert the Source to him. Xelonwyr had hoped that he might trigger a reaction … a rejection perhaps, that would have had a catastrophic effect on all parts of the Source. The Capital, the Seminary, and Merran, all would have been affected. That was another concern for the Seminary, and for its reluctant ruler.

  The war wasn’t entirely over, and there was still much to do.

  It was for that reason, after much consideration, that Korsten delivered his answer to the Council. His answer to an invitation that had not been expected, but that touched him very deeply. “Though I could not have received a better honor in all my years, and though I love all of you dearly, I simply cannot accept a position among you. Not at this time.”

  Jeselle raised her brow in a stoic display of acceptance. She had expressed that the position would be one long and carefully guided, that he might age into its immense responsibiliti
es. In effect, she had been warning him that to accept would be to isolate himself within the Seminary once again for the sake of learning the role they would eventually like to see him take.

  Eisleth seemed, by his expression, to have already been the one to tell his fellows that their position would not be getting filled, though he might have had more insight.

  “Very well,” Jeselle began.

  Korsten held up a hand to request a pause before she formally reassigned him a Mage-Adept and a hunter. “I’ve accepted another position that may alter the nature of my duties.”

  Jeselle gave Eisleth a glance, then returned her attention to Korsten. “What position would that be?”

  “That of Mage-Consort to the Throne of Edrinor,” he replied, having in actuality accepted it days ago, after he and Merran had sifted through as many of their traumas as they felt they could digest and realized that the very last that either of them wanted now was a significant separation, of any kind. Eolyn had been an especially hard loss for Merran. He was still relearning an existence out in the open spiritually, and without a trusted and dear friend, a mage’s best confidant and savior when alone. Korsten felt that Analee also missed Eolyn.

  Eisleth had been the first they’d told of the decision over the Consort role, which seemed only legitimate since after the preliminary coronation proceedings—something Merran had wanted to bypass altogether—it had been Eisleth who had informed them that the role existed at all.

  Jeselle’s next look to Eisleth suggested that she suspected her colleague of political betrayal on that level. Korsten observed the underlying sentiment behind that look to have been one of strained endearment. It was on that note, that the elder excused him.

  Korsten took his leave with a respectful incline of his head to the entire Council. Once through the doors, he performed a Reach to the stables, where he found a familiar pair of horses waiting.

  Merran was atop Erschal, and passed Onyx’s reins to Korsten when he approached. “How did they take it?”

  “As well as they take most matters,” Korsten replied, swinging up into Onyx’s saddle. “Better than they continue to take your lack of sitting upon a throne.”

  Merran let out a sigh of very little interest in that particular matter. “Later, perhaps.”

  “Perhaps,” Korsten said. “Maybe after you’ve toured the lands and reestablished the presence of something very long lost.”

  “Is that your official advisement, Mage-Consort?” Merran asked, and it was the lightest he had offered any words since having the full weight of his soul returned to him, on the heels of considerable loss to both of them.

  Korsten’s answer was given gently. “As a matter of fact, it is.”

  Merran leaned over and kissed him, then afterward let his Healing hand linger against Korsten’s cheek. They both studied each other for a lengthy span. No, they had not fully overcome anything. They had both gone further than they might have alone, however. Much further.

  “Let’s get back to Indhovan,” Merran eventually said. “Before Vlas gets himself in to trouble.”

  Korsten watched him guide Erschal out of the yard, managing a smile. In light of the losses, hope had been reborn. Ashwin’s faith in the family he had loved throughout generations had prevailed over a darkness that had been poised to crush all of them. Korsten felt strongly that somehow Ashwin knew that.

  Enjoy The Blood Wars Trilogy Omnibus? Your fellow readers want to know. Help them with a review.

  The Blood Wars Trilogy may be finished, but everything is not settled in Edrinor. Join the Chase to hear of more updates on this and other worlds of T. A. Miles.

  T. A. Miles fell down a rabbit hole ages ago, and nothing more need be said about it.

  T. A. Miles has been writing novels for nearly twenty years. She finally presented the results of her mental wanderings to readers in 2011 with the gothic-mystery Raventide, and has published five novels, four short stories, and one novella since.

  Will curiosity pull you down the rabbit hole? Visit T. A. Miles at her blog, The Immarcescible Word, to experience her exclusive collection of snippets, extracts, grotesqueries, and more.

  TheImmarcescibleWord.blogspot.com

  MORE BY T. A. MILES

  The blood Wars Trilogy

  Blood Lilies

  Blood Song

  Blood Reign

  Celestial Empire

  Six Celestial Swords

  Five Kingdoms (Coming 2016)

  Four Barbarian Generals (Coming soon)

  the dreamer serial

  A Bit(e) of Discretion, Please

  A Little Night Magic

  All the Tea in Chinatown

  Four and Twenty Tengu

  Man’s Best Fiend

  Djinn and Tonic

  A Demonstration of Affectation

  A Place for Everyone and Everyone Out of Place

  An Evening of Rest and Repatriation

  Raventide

  See More at RaventideBooks.com