Blood Finale (God Wars #5) (11 page)

"I will not say I grieve for you, Kifirin—as that would belittle your existence and assign the lie to your reality," Quislus whispered. "I will only say that I regret your death."

* * *

Wisdom's Journal

Kaldill Schaff?
I sent mindspeech as I wandered through the Elf King's private quarters.

"I am here," he appeared and bowed before me. "I understand the secrecy and why I and my son were not at the meeting on the Larentii homeworld."

"Then I don't have to explain it," I lowered my hood and smiled at him.

"Ah. I see you as you really are," Kaldill smiled back.

"There are many things we must do, and we must do them swiftly," I said. "That means I need your help."

"Anything you need," he acknowledged.

"Good. We'll start by tracking the Sirenali you detect, then we'll go from there."

"I have anticipated this," Kaldill said. "Here is what I have." He handed a paper to me. Seemingly blank, the moment I touched it, words formed upon it. Kaldill had been casting spells and living in secrecy for a very long time. Breanne was wise to choose him as a member of her army. She might be angry with Lendill, still, for his treatment of Reah. I chose him, instead. The Elves had kept to themselves for so very long, gathering power and searching for secrets. It was time to employ those hidden talents.

"I need someone to go here, here and here," I began selecting targets. "I will be seeing through their eyes. Don't worry," I held up a hand. "They'll never know I'm there."

"Then I may have some suggestions," Kaldill smiled widely. When the Elf King smiles in that way, his enemies should tremble.

* * *

Campiaa—present

Tybus' Journal

"I think we should stay together, now," Jett suggested. "Cayetes is dead, but we have enough among us to track his replacement and those who serve him."

"We find them," Nenzi huffed. "They die. We get what we need. Track others."

"We need to hurry," Kay said, her voice trembling. "If Song and Serenade think Hordace's information is compromised, they'll kill all the children and escape."

"We'll try to keep that from happening," I pulled her against me. "I promise."

Chapter 7
 

Fresno—past

Adam's Journal

"All of these events—whatever they are—are roughly a week apart for twenty weeks, beginning in three weeks." Joey tossed a comp-vid onto the kitchen island. "And they're all scheduled in the largest cities and the biggest arenas. I just wish I knew what this is about."

"As do I." I rubbed Joey's shoulders affectionately.

"You know, Adam, I really liked this house. I liked the strawberry farm better, though." Joey gazed about in nostalgic appreciation.

"At least Lissa relocated the strawberry farm—it's on Le-Ath Veronis, now. Justin and Mack spend a lot of time there."

"I go now and then," Joey grinned. "Erland likes it."

"How is that wily warlock?" I asked.

"He's fine. Still in a male phase, though," Joey shook his head. I understood that to mean that sex from Erland wasn't as forthcoming as Joey might like.

"Let's look at this from our angle," I suggested, changing the topic and steering away from sex. "I believe we need to take what we know of Saxom and begin our search for him and his brother by tailing his habits."

"I don't know much about him," Joey shook his head. "I only saw him a time or two, when he was still on the Council."

"I recall him when he was on the Council," I said, "but that pretty much covers what I knew of him—we had no interaction outside the Council—until Corpus Christi, that is."

"Then what do we have to go on?" Joey gave me a puzzled look.

"You're forgetting about before he was vampire, and who knew him then."

"What?" Joey didn't understand. I did—all too well—and it would make things uncomfortable for several of us as soon as the words left my mouth.

"We don't know much about him, that's true. But for nearly a hundred thousand years, Saxom acted as Griffin's healer in the Saa Thalarr."

Joey's breath caught and his eyes widened. "Oh, my gosh," he eventually whispered, a hand partially covering his mouth. "This won't make Merrill or Lissa happy, will it?"

"Not at all, but if we're going to track the bastard, we need information. And to get information, we need the one who knows the most about him."

"We have to track Griffin down first," Joey pointed out.

"I don't believe that'll be a problem—we have access to his grandson, the current King of Karathia," I replied. "Ry probably knows where Wylend is, and Wylend likely knows where Griffin is."

"I have one other suggestion," Joey said.

"What's that?"

"Thorsten. Well, Thurlow, now. Didn't he have a hand in making Saxom Griffin's healer?"

"It had to meet with his approval, yes," I agreed, but the idea suddenly sent a shiver up my spine and a suspicion began to form. "We need Belen," I muttered. "And anybody else we can gather to sort out this mess."

"You got that right," Joey agreed. I had a feeling his mind was now traveling in the same direction, and the uncertainties we were uncovering weren't pretty at all.

* * *

Karathia—present

Rylend's Journal

"I heard from Adam," my father said.

"What did he say?" I asked, removing the gold circlet from my head. I hated wearing the thing, but it was expected on full court days. Mom likes to tease me and call it a full-court press, but basketball references never amused me as much as they did her.

"We had a lengthy mental discussion," Dad informed me, taking one of the chairs in my private study with a troubled sigh.

Setting the crown on my desk, I looked at my father for a moment before nodding. It was something I expected, actually. We'd have to find my grandfather and great-grandfather. They were needed in this war, but bringing them in wouldn't be easy. Neither wanted to involve themselves in anything, nowadays.

"I sent mindspeech already. No reply, but that's no surprise," Dad added.

"They're still citizens of Karathia," I said.

"You can try, Son, but I can't guarantee results. I'm sure they've heard by now that all the Saa Thalarr received promotions and are now more powerful. As did we." He motioned toward me before tapping himself on the chest. "They were left out. Everybody knows that."

"So they don't want to come slinking back with their tails between their legs, is that it?"

"That's how they'll see it."

"So it won't matter that people may die, as long as their pride doesn't get squashed?"

"That's how they'll see it."

I cursed. Yes, my mother can curse with the best of sailors, as she always puts it, and so can I, if the situation warrants. "Fuck," I ended up muttering under my breath. "I'll have to send somebody looking for Wylend, then. He'll know where Griffin is."

"We need to do it now. Adam and his bunch need information from Griffin, and they need it now."

"It's too bad we can't play on his sense of duty. I believe he lost that, years ago."

"There is one thing we might try." Dad rose from his seat and swirled his court robes about him dramatically—with a wicked smile stealing across his lips.

"What's that?"

"Amara," Dad said and disappeared in a blink.

"Oh, shit," I slapped my forehead with a palm.

* * *

SouthStar—present

"Thurlow?" Amos and Flossie Thompson had gone looking for him. Both outranked him, now, and he understood that when he lifted his gaze to them.

He'd chosen the waterfall on the southern edge of SouthStar to make his home, and he lived there with very little in the way of comforts.

"Yes?" Thurlow sighed.

"You are needed," Amos Thompson said. "On Earth, in the past."

"I have very little power. You would be of more assistance now," Thurlow replied, defeat evident in his voice.

"That's not what is needed," Amos said. "They need information—that only you might have."

Thurlow's eyes widened in surprise.

"We will take you," Flossie Thompson spoke for the first time. "Now is not the time for pride or old feuds to stand in the way of progress. Or justice. Remember that."

"I will remember," Thurlow sighed again.

* * *

Adam's Journal

"You're the one who knows her best." Erland arrived, informed Merrill of his conclusions and sat back while he considered them. His suggestions made sense to me; we only had to make sense to Merrill, now.

"She and I talk," Merrill hedged.

"Look, I realize this could damage the friendship you have with Amara, but she's our best chance at reaching Griffin. Or Wylend," Erland pointed out. "And, as Adam so acutely observed earlier during our extended mindspeech, Griffin knows Saxom better than anyone, as he knew him longer than anyone."

"I understand the logic, but this has little to do with emotions—in either of our cases," Merrill said. "Amara informed me when she was leaving Griffin, and I was there in the meeting with her and Belen, when she asked him to separate her particles. I begged her to reconsider and she still asked. If you fail to understand how difficult that was for me to witness, then you know nothing."

Seldom had I seen Merrill ruffled over anything, but Griffin was the sorest of sore spots with him. Griffin had acted as a trusted friend and brother to Merrill for most of Merrill's life, and it had taken years for him to realize that Griffin had his own agenda all along. Merrill never said it, but lost time with Lissa was one of the worst offenses.

I'm sure Amara felt the same—she'd stayed at Griffin's side, childless for years uncounted, when he'd managed to father two daughters with other women while mated to her. Then, when Lissa made it possible for Amara to birth Wyatt, Griffin and Wylend had sealed Wyatt's fate with their meddling, leaving Amara childless once more.

It had taken that to force the breakup between Amara and Griffin, and we would be asking her to go to him now and demand that he help us. This wasn't going to be easy, regardless of how we approached it.

"Merrill, we need information from Griffin so we can track Saxom. That's it," I said. "This is the way to get it. Amara and Edan are Powers That Be, now. Surely they understand the need for help, no matter how difficult it might be for all involved."

"I still don't like it, but I do understand that my feelings don't matter in the larger scheme," Merrill grumbled. "I'll contact Amara. And I'll talk with Lissa. This will upset both of them, you understand?"

"I understand," I jerked my head in a curt nod.

* * *

Amara?
The familiar voice sounded in her mind.

Merrill?
She sounded happy to hear from him.
How are you, old friend?

I'm fine. Actually, that's not true. Can we meet? I need to speak with you.

Of course. Where?

Lissa's palace? Her study is available.

I'll be right there
.

* * *

Lissa's Journal

I wasn't thrilled with the idea, but it was all we had. Either we got Griffin to tell what he knew or we'd still be grasping at straws. Merrill arranged a meeting with Amara after explaining the difficult details to me, and I'd agreed (reluctantly) to meet with Amara about contacting Griffin.

What we didn't know—until the last moment—was that Thurlow, formerly Thorsten, would be joining us as well. I hadn't seen him since he'd been pulled away from SouthStar and Breanne ended up saving his life. Ashe must have taken him back there—I hadn't heard otherwise and he hadn't contacted me.

"Lissa?" Thurlow arrived first and held out his hand to me. He was accompanied by Amos and Flossie Thompson, who were now members of the Mil'Karha and outranked him.

"Thurlow?" I frowned at him—I couldn't help it.

Lissa, I can't feel her any longer
. His mindspeech sounded thick with unshed tears. The depth of his distress upset me greatly. He meant Breanne, and that upset me as well.

It would be an attempt to locate the One
, I replied.
Don't fret over it. What's done is done
. It wasn't difficult to tell that regret ate at him—he knew all along where she was and he could have stepped in so many times. He didn't, because of the long feud with Griffin. We could lay blame all we wanted but in the end, it wouldn't change one damn thing for her.

"Thurlow," Merrill nodded, breaking our mental conversation. "Amara should arrive at any moment."

She did, accompanied by Edan. "Lissa," she smiled and came forward to take my hands and kiss my cheek affectionately. Edan smiled and nodded to me. "What's this about?" Amara turned to Merrill, then.

"It's about Griffin." Merrill couldn't keep the rough sigh from escaping. "We're attempting to track Saxom and his brother, Moxas, but we need information. Griffin likely has what we need, but he hasn't answered mindspeech sent by others. We need your help, dear friend."

"I see this troubles you just as much as it does me," Amara touched Merrill's face gently. She'd been a healer for millennia uncounted and could read emotions as well as anyone. Merrill couldn't hide this behind the vampire mask—it upset him too greatly.

"Will you reach out to him?" Merrill pleaded, concern for Amara clouding his dark eyes and etching furrows around his mouth—this was extremely distasteful to him, as Griffin had misled him for so long.

"I will. I don't have to like it, after all," she murmured, taking her hand away from Merrill's cheek. "I'd say don't let this overwhelm you, but I'd need to take that advice as well." Her lower lip trembled slightly as she attempted a smile.

"Want me to sit with you?" Merrill offered.

"Yes. You on one side, Edan on the other." She gestured toward the comfortable sofa I kept along a wall of my study.

"Lissa?" Thurlow stepped behind me and slipped his arms around my waist.
I love you
, he said.

I know
, I responded.
Do you believe you might still be in danger?

I doubt it. I have no information to give, and if I did, which of them might confront the One? Acrimus' death was so easy to accomplish, was it not? He had no defense against that and the enemy knows it
.

Thurlow?
I sent.

What, love?

Who made you? Who is your parent?

That is difficult to say. I know who made me in the beginning, but when I was sent back, that changed. I cannot say, now, who was responsible for that change.

Who made you in the beginning?

Quislus.

"Thurlow," I gasped, turning in his arms.

"We no longer have contact, my love. When I returned, he and I—we were no longer connected. I can't describe how I know that, I just do."

"I can explain it." Someone else joined us. A shrouded figure, his face hidden behind a dark cowl.