Eve of Redemption Omnibus: Volumes 1-3

by Joe Jackson

  Erik laid his hand on Kari’s shoulder and she turned to face him. “It does,” he said. “I could learn a lot from a woman like you.”

  “That’s why they partnered you with her, genius,” Typhonix said, drawing laughter from the gathered friends. “They may as well have put her in charge of all of us.”

  “I think we all learned a lot from each other,” Kari said, and that drew sage nods from each of the group members. The demonhunter stared in particular at her half-brys friend, and the two exchanged broad smiles. Their conversation came to a halt as more czarikk began to filter into the center of the village and take seats around the large circular clearing. The females preparing the evening meal began moving about at a hectic pace when Oshasis emerged from his tent along with his shaman, and the two came to take their places near where the Silver Blades were gathered. Kari had all of her friends bow in respect to the chieftain at his approach, and Oshasis bowed his head in turn to them.

  “Welcome back, my friend. I see you have brought all of your companions with you. Savarras has explained that friend Makauric was slain, and that you wish to lay his ashes to rest around our sacred fire pit?” Oshasis asked, and he bobbed his head as Kari nodded solemnly. “I believe this would please Sakkrass. The small demon helped defend this village and avenge the slaying of our children; we owe him this honor at least.”

  “Will the people fire dance this night?” Kari asked.

  Oshasis tapped a finger on his chin, and for some reason Kari found it funny to see one of the lizard-folk do so, though she kept her mirth on the inside. “We had not planned to, but we will send our friend to the hereafter with song and dance,” he said. “If it so pleases you, we will fire dance in his honor.”

  “I would appreciate it,” she said, and Oshasis bowed his head in agreement.

  They shared in the evening meal, and Kari’s friends were surprised at the variety of the foods the czarikk prepared, from gathered fruits and the leaves of plants to roasted spiders and insects, along with more traditional meats that they recognized. They tried to be gracious and ate whatever was offered to them without too much fuss, and Kari could see they were pleasantly surprised at how delectable many of the odd foods turned out to be. The Silver Blades watched while the czarikk began gathering wood in the center of the circle, and within minutes it was piled high enough to last well into the evening. The czarikk began to paint each other’s bodies in preparation for the fire dance, and Kari’s friends watched with interest as she stood up and began removing her armor and clothing. The czarikk chieftain and shaman began to paint her with the same symbols and glyphs as on her previous visit, and Kari suspected her friends – and her mate – must be wondering what she was doing.

  “Prepare to be amazed,” Erik said from behind her.

  “Wait a second! Is Sherman old enough to watch this?” Typhonix joked.

  “Are you?” Sonja quipped in return, and the others laughed as the blonde fixed his sister with a squinty-eyed scowl.

  The joking quieted down, and Kari felt the eyes of all of her friends upon her as she walked over to assist in the lighting of the bonfire. Kari spread Makauric’s ashes in a circle around the bonfire as the crackling flames danced up through the center of the wood pile. After a moment she tilted her head back and let out a shrill cry that skirted the line between anguish and exultation. In her mind, Kari imagined the brys running through the celestial forests with the czarikk deity. Based on her impressions of him and Savarras’ words when he blessed Kari and her friends, she assumed Sakkrass was a wilderness runner in the forested lands of the celestial realm. Kari believed in her heart that Makauric’s love of ranging the forest would have drawn the brys’ spirit to the czarikk deity’s side, if Kaelariel had allowed it.

  “As I commit Makauric’s ashes to the land, I salute thee, Sakkrass, Lord of the People, and friend of mine,” Kari called out in the sibilant tongue of the lizard-folk. “Tonight, we dance for you, and for our fallen friend; may his memory live in you forevermore.”

  The people took up a cheer and the females let forth the hissing whistle Kari remembered from her previous visits. After stomping her right foot twice, Kari initiated the fire dance. Her friends watched her dance with the czarikk for hours, though none of their number worked up the courage to join her. Despite Typhonix’s joke, it was clear to Kari each time she passed her friends that Sherman, like his sister, saw Kari’s performance as an expression of how much she cared, and that he was taking careful note of her passion. Grakin couldn’t tear his gaze away from Kari, mesmerized by the sway of her hips and the dance of the flames behind her, and each time she passed him, he smiled broadly.

  The dance was a celebration of life, and the weight of Makauric’s death slowly dissipated from Kari’s heart. She recalled the blessing the czarikk people had received after Sakkrass’ visit, and considered the cycle of life and death that the elves had taught her to respect rather than despise. She felt at peace by the dance’s conclusion, and in her mind she bid her friend a final, silent goodbye. With the fire burning low behind her, she stood before her friends in the deep gloom of night, and without having to speak a word, Kari could see they understood that the ceremony was something she felt she needed to do. Her eyes met Erik’s after a moment and he nodded silently to her steady gaze; it seemed he finally understood. It brought a smile to her face, and she turned to Savarras as the shaman approached her.

  “You dance so effortlessly with our people,” he said. “It is as if you truly are a child of Sakkrass. You doubtless make him very proud, just as you do make all of us proud.”

  “It is my honor to dance with your people,” she replied with a bow of her head.

  “Your friends are welcome to bed down here near the remains of the fire,” he said. “If you wish, you and your mate may share my tent, if such will not cause you discomfort.”

  “We appreciate your hospitality,” Kari said, sparing Grakin a glance. “I will let the others know. Thank you.”

  Savarras nodded and his mate came up beside him, and they made their way to their tent. Kari filled the others in on what Savarras said, and with an anxious smile, Grakin took Kari’s hand and followed her to the shaman’s teepee. The two czarikk were already wrapped up in their blankets when the two entered, so Kari and Grakin bedded down on the opposite side of the tent. Grakin regarded Kari with no small amount of alarm when she began to undress him completely.

  “What are you doing?” he asked with a slight edge to of his voice.

  Kari paid the sharpness of his voice little heed, as rare as it was. “What do you think they’re doing?” she asked, nodding her head toward the bundle of movement on the other side of the tent. Grakin hesitated, but Kari leaned in close and kissed him passionately, and he eased up slightly. “I have to tell you, though: I’ve long since run out of the herb. We’ve been gone longer than I expected, and I haven’t bothered getting more since we got here.”

  “And you still…?” Grakin began but he did not finish the thought, and Kari nodded. “If this is what you want.”

  She cupped his face in her hand and kissed him again. “It’s what I want, Grakin,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears. “More than you can imagine.”

  He smiled and undressed the rest of the way, and with only a single, short glance toward where their czarikk hosts lay, he lay down with Kari to make love to her.

  *~*~*~*

  The czarikk bid Kari and her friends farewell the next morning, and Triela transported them to the city of Riverport with her magic. News was already spreading of the dismantling of Gaswell’s army, and unlike their first trip to the city, the Silver Blades found that an aura of calm pervaded the port. The people still went about their jobs but there were far fewer curious stares or distrustful glares, and when the friends returned to The Port they found the innkeeper in a much better mood. They were able to purchase the rooms without incident, and Marshall’s service was much more hospitable than it was during their first visit.


  Triela gave the group a lengthy thank-you and farewell, and promised that they would meet again in the future. And then she was gone, leaving the Silver Blades to the quiet beauty of Riverport while they considered how to get home. There were no large ocean-going vessels in port when they arrived, so they paid for their rooms for several days in advance and began to enjoy what little entertainment the city offered. They found that many of the taverns doubled as gambling establishments on the upper tiers, and most of the group wasted time losing their money on games of chance.

  Aeligos investigated the city more thoroughly than he had the first time around but found nothing exciting or out of the ordinary. He was able to find out the schedule of ships coming through the port. There was no word on Karmi’s Sword or its next scheduled stop in Riverport, but her sister ship Karmi’s Flail was expected a week later. According to what the port authority knew of the ship’s manifest, she would be sailing eastward to Flora and then around the northern end of Askies to DarkWind. The ship was of the same make as Karmi’s Sword, and the harbormaster said it was quite likely they would be willing to take the group on as passengers.

  Kari told her friends that Master Surallis had mentioned her return trip taking her to DarkWind, and they wondered if he had known the ships’ schedules. Seeing little other choice, the group spent another week in the port and made the best of the time with their feet on dry land, as they knew soon enough they would be cooped up on a ship for several months. Karmi’s Flail arrived in port after seven days. Her crew wasn’t as colorful as that of Karmi’s Sword: they were more businesslike, less personable, and certainly less accommodating. But they were also a compassionate crew, and they stopped at Salkorum to drop off supplies and visit with the seterra-rir just as the crew of Karmi’s Sword had done. With no pressing schedule before them, the Silver Blades were happy to spend time on the island, and enjoyed the sun, the sea, and the rum, and Kari was overjoyed to have a chance to see Dowain and Saisha’s newborn child. Sherman and Katarina got to visit with Elleraus and their old friends and told them of the excitement and sense of pride the mission had provided. The crew of Karmi’s Flail decided to remain there for a week of shore leave, and even Erik was agreeable to the relaxing vacation.

  After nearly a month out of Salkorum’s harbor, the ship came within sight of the city of DarkWind on Askies’ east coast. The city was familiar to most of the group, since many of them had lived or trained there at some point, and it was always an exciting and somewhat dangerous place to be. Kari and her friends stood at the bow of the ship, and they watched as her crew brought her slowly and steadily into port at the direction of the harbor master. Most of her friends seemed glad just to be back on Askies – even the Moreville twins who had never even set foot on the continent before.

  For Kari, it was simply nice to be home, and she looked at her distracted friends before she touched her clawed hand briefly to her lower belly. Only Grakin saw, and there was a light in his eyes as his fingers interlaced with hers in a firm grasp and the word echoed in Kari’s mind once again: Home.

  ~~~ The End ~~~

  Eve of Redemption, Book II

  White Serpent, Black Dragon

  by

  Joe Jackson

  Copyright 2015 by Joe Jackson

  All rights reserved

  Follow the author:

  http://Citaria.wordpress.com

  www.Twitter.com/shoelessauthor

  www.Facebook.com/shoelessauthor

  For my wife, Crystal, who has never stopped believing in me.

  Prologue

  The marshal looked around at the crime scene. This was now the eleventh murder in half as many days, and his detectives still had few clues to solving the mystery. While they all – the marshal included – believed the killings to be the work of a single assassin, they had found no other evidence that would point them to who the killer was. Eleven victims had now been claimed by the killer, but there was little that tied them together: they were of different races, genders, creeds, backgrounds, occupations, ages, and appearances. The marshal knew something had to tie them all together, but whatever that thing was, he did not see it just yet.

  He took his hat off respectfully and knelt beside the body of the innkeeper. Human male, mid-twenties, single, agnostic, owner and operator of a small and barely-profitable inn; the marshal couldn’t see any connection to the last victim or any of those that came before. Death had been swift and inevitable: throat slashed with a straight, non-serrated blade. Something caught the marshal’s eye, though, and he leaned down to inspect the wound more closely.

  “Kinney,” he said, calling to one of his senior-most detectives. “What do you make of this?”

  The other man came and knelt beside the victim, and the marshal pointed out a small puncture wound on the side of the neck. “Thumb claw,” Kinney said. He turned the victim’s head to the other side and pointed out the obvious impressions of fingers on the opposite side from the puncture wound. “Guessing it was a rir, maybe a half-demon. See the fingermarks here, sir? Looks like we have a left-handed killer, and he apparently grabbed the victim hard enough to puncture the neck with his thumb.”

  “No,” the marshal disagreed. He had Kinney turn the victim’s head back the other way and then gestured toward the end of the laceration. “That is what our killer hoped we would believe, but look here: the cut was placed to cover up the presence of a second puncture wound in line with this one.”

  “Gods and angels,” Kinney swore. “Don’t tell me we have a vampire in the city…”

  “Gather the men and tell them of this newest development,” the marshal ordered. He rose to his feet and straightened out the vest and tails of his black suit. He put his hat back on and continued, “I will confer with his lordship. In the meantime, start looking for clues that there may be a vampire in the city. Involve Kaelariel’s priests if need be. The cemetery is the most obvious starting point for your investigations.”

  “Yes, sir,” Detective Kinney said, and he headed outside to gather the other investigators.

  The marshal knelt back beside the body with narrowed eyes, and he turned the victim’s head to look at the fingermarks again. The killer had worked hard to make them convincing, to help cover up the bite wound on the side of the neck, but even with the extra strength it took to leave the marks on the victim, the killer had failed to cover up another important detail.

  She was a woman.

  Chapter I – Conflict of Interest

  Kari closed the book and tossed it casually on the surface of the desk. As with the many others like it, she found she could hardly stand to read it for more than a few minutes before the enormity of what she was reading overwhelmed her. Kari turned her ebon eyes to look at the beautiful spring day unfolding outside, and she found herself wishing she wasn’t tethered to a desk perusing the many records left behind by the Order’s last Avatar of Vengeance. On the other hand, though, she accepted the tedious and dreadfully boring assignment on account of the reason she had earned it in the first place. The previous years had been so unlike anything she’d been through before in her life, and despite the tedium presented by her current assignment, she wouldn’t have traded places with any other demonhunter in the Order: not all of them had the joy of going home to a young son and loving mate at the end of the day.

  She tapped her black claws on the desk as she scanned the interior of her office. It was stacked high with books, papers, journals, and boxes containing all manner of artifacts. Her office, located near the rear of the Order’s administrative building on its DarkWind campus, had become the temporary home to all of the personal effects of Jason Bosimar, the Order’s previous Avatar. Bosimar had been killed in the Apocalypse, and his belongings and all of his records as head of the Order had been largely ignored in the years since. Bosimar had made his abode in the city of Gnarr, far from the campus of the Demonhunter Order, and many believed it was because he didn’t want to clash politically with his father, Ch
ristopher Bosimar, the Duke of Brunswick. Now, with Jason’s death in the War and the lack of a new Avatar, Kari was assigned to sort through his things.

  It had been two months since Jason’s things began arriving in her office, and yet Kari still knew very little about the man or what had occupied his administrative time while head of the Order. Much to her chagrin, she found that Bosimar had been a very well-educated young man, and with her own limited education, Kari often had difficulty understanding many of the records he kept. It gave her a greater appreciation for a man she had hardly known, but at the same time, it often left her frustrated, as she was expected to help the Order pick up where its previous head had left off in terms of goals and investigations. She looked to the journal on the desk before her and sighed, sat back in her chair, and looked out the window of her office once again.

  Outside she could see her blonde brother-in-law, Typhonix, leading a class of new cadets through a rigorous physical training exercise. Though Ty hadn’t officially been part of the Order during their mission on Tsalbrin three years before, upon returning to DarkWind he was given a lot of credit for his work on the Order’s behalf. He was still required to go through the Order’s boot camp and classes, but as Kari had learned during her time working with him, Ty was quite intelligent and graduated in a matter of months. Though he occasionally undertook assignments with his older brother Erijinkor, the Order was most often happy to take advantage of Typhonix’s imposing physique and attitude, and used him well as a drill instructor.

  Kari watched with a smirk while the strapping brute dressed down one of the recruits; she remembered being on the receiving end of such treatment enough times during her days as a cadet. She turned her attention away when one of the laborers deposited another box on the floor of her office. There was hardly room to walk anywhere in the office except from the door to her chair, even given the sparse furnishings the room possessed. She nodded to the young man after he put down the box and sought her permission to leave, and Kari picked up the journal before her once again. She sighed, considering she’d give almost anything to be outside helping to train the new recruits instead of going through paperwork, but then she chuckled at herself, realizing she was just as happy to not spend her afternoons playing story hour with awestruck cadets.