Anchors: Loyalty and War 2 Read online

  Anchors

  Loyalty and War 2

  Devon Vesper

  Loyalty and War - Anchors © 2019 Devon Vesper

  All rights reserved.

  Cover art © 2019 Devon Vesper.

  Cover Figure Painting digitally painted by Mathia Arkoniel.

  Cover Background, Font Work, and Design by Devon Vesper.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book contains explicit material in regards to childhood abuse, violence, murder, and M/M (male/male) sexual encounters, and is not intended for any persons under the age of 18 years.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Want to Know More About God Jars?

  Also by Devon Vesper

  About the Author

  Stay Up-To-Date!

  Never miss a new release, giveaway, discount, or free short story!

  Join Devon's Newsletter!

  (http://goo.gl/nEyBpd)

  Short, newsletter-exclusive stories are on their way! Did you like Kerac in the first few books? The first short story that I'm working on now is picked by reader poll from my newsletter, and features Kerac and Darolen's romance!

  And this is just the beginning. :D

  For Cassie, because she's awesome. You and your wife are one. Literally. May they live on into eternity.
  Chapter One

  Two weeks of travel had Valis Bakor and his army of Aesriphos and laymen warriors almost to the edge of Arlvor. They moved at a quick and steady pace for as large as their numbers were. Valis glanced behind him. As autumn wore on, the days became shorter, colder, and they traveled well past dark, using the stars as their guide. Valis turned in his saddle and lifted his voice to be heard as far as possible. “Make camp!”

  The order echoed down the line of soldiers as one person passed it on to those farther back. Valis swung down off his horse as everyone gathered around. They kept their tents in tight quarters each night so that Valis wouldn’t be too taxed by making the giant shield over their camp.

  Once everyone was situated and the men and women started moving their horses to herd formation and relieving them of their burdens and tack, Valis scanned the area using mage lights to see in the darkness. He had to give them and their horses enough room to move, but still keep it tight enough that he wouldn’t expend too much energy. Though, he smirked at himself. He had so much power swirling within him that he doubted it would matter. His mentor and friend, Thyran, had seen to that and every priest and Aesriphos not on this mission with him had poured every bit of magic they could spare into his shield, expanding his personal reserves exponentially until Valis felt invincible.

  Still, Valis wanted to use his magic sparingly, keep himself fresh for the trials to come. And when he found the edge of where the shield should rest, Valis strode toward it and touched the ground, focusing his intent on creating an invisible sphere around their camp. He added permanence, invisibility, and soundproofing in a way that they could hear what happened outside, but none could hear them, and impermeability before breaking the spell off from himself so it wouldn’t continue draining him.

  When he went back to his horse, Rasera, he patted the black beast’s neck and spoke softly to him as he removed his burdens. Tavros had already started setting up their tent. With most of their forces being Aesriphos, bringing their husbands and wives in the Order with them, most people shared tents. It made camp half as big as it would normally have to be. It also made it easier on their horses. Tavros’ horse carried the tent while Rasera carried both their bedrolls.

  Everything went along with military precision. Soon the camp filled with the scents of cooking food, and Valis ducked into his tent to scry as he did nightly. With a lamp hung from the support beam in the tent, Valis had just enough light to see by, but it was dim enough to not cast glaring reflections on the smooth, shiny metal of the gold pocket watch Thyran had given him for his twenty-first birth anniversary.

  With a deep breath to calm his aching heart, Valis pressed the knob on the pocket watch to release the cover and turned it so he could stare at the smooth golden surface inside instead of the watch, itself. He focused his intent on his father. This rescue mission was for nothing if Darolen wasn’t still alive.

  He had to be alive. Otherwise, Valis had fought his friend, bested the Grand Master Aesriphos, and became the new one for nothing.

  Sighing, Valis refocused his thoughts and intent, clearing his mind of everything else and stared into the reflective watch cover. Images started to swirl immediately. The image went black as Valis had anticipated since Darolen was kept in a cell without a lamp or windows. His heart almost stopped when he heard nothing. Then, after a few tense moments, he heard Darolen’s hacking cough. He pulled in a rattling, wheezed breath and let out another cough that sounded wetter than before, and Valis cringed. It sounded like Darolen’s chest infection was getting worse, probably from the fact that his cell was cleaned of his refuse so rarely, and he was forced to sit in his own waste. There was probably mold and fungi everywhere, and Valis felt sick for him.

  Valis watched the blackness for a long moment before refocusing to a two-way scry, using Darolen’s refuse as the medium on his side, since it was the only reflective surface Valis knew about. “Father,” he whispered. “I’m coming.”

  “Valis?”

  “Yes. We’re on our way. Take heart.”

  “My son…”

  “Listen,” Valis stressed. “I won’t contact you again until I get there. But I wanted to assure you that Papa is doing well. Getting stronger. And I am coming. Tavros and I have an entire army of six-hundred and sixteen souls at our command, and we’re coming to bring you home.”

  “So many…” Darolen’s voice was barely a ghost of a whisper. “Valis…”

  “It may be months before I contact you again,” Valis said. “Just don’t lose hope. We are coming. Do what you must to survive.”

  “I will.”

  “I love you. And I will be with you as soon as I can.”

  “I love you, too, my son.”

  Before Valis could abort the scry, the darkness swirled away. Valis’ heart lurched. Had they been discovered? Had someone caught their scry and tampered with it somehow? Would they punish Darolen for it?

  His queasy stomach turned to ice in the next breath. When the swirling stopped, Valis gasped and nearly dropped the pocket watch. Blood and bone showed through the golden reflection. Then he recognized the voices of Aesriphos.

  “Secure the area. Contact Thyran to let him know that Ortima has been defeated and we’re coming home.”


  How did they get to Evakis so fast? Did they ride that hard? It had only been weeks! Then he remembered that each team had a person in it who had the translocation trait, and Valis grinned. That’s rather ingenious. They could have phased to a town nearby that they had been to before. Interesting. Would that actually work? Or is this scry showing a future event?

  The image flashed again, and it looked like the second team had also succeeded, having killed Carnis Doveran. When the image flashed, Valis’ stomach pitted so hard he gagged. It showed four of the six Aesriphos who went after Angas Braywar dead in a heap of armor and hair. The two still alive were tied to a pole, their heads hanging down as if they both had been knocked unconscious, blood dripping from their temples.

  Then it flashed again, showing all six alive and healthy, riding at a steady pace toward their destination in Ges.

  Valis barely dismissed the scry before he snapped the pocket watch closed and bolted from the tent.

  “Valis, what’s wrong?” Tavros strode toward him, worry in his clear gray eyes, his shaggy black hair ruffling in the cold breeze. “Is everything okay?”

  “We need to call a meeting of the reliquary guards and the leaders.”

  “On it.”

  Tavros strode away, calling orders while Valis went to get the map of Peralea that Thyran had given him before he left. He took it over to one of the mage lights and carefully unrolled it, checking their position outside one of the nearby cities and where he knew the Braywar Estate to be on the southern border of Ges and Tonemor. It wouldn’t take them too far out of their way. But he sighed. It would add precious time to their journey, heading more southeast than their current course.

  He went back to his tent for his saddlebags and dug around until he found a pencil. He had to get everything right in his mind, and that meant getting it right on paper. If they headed to Setira city, near the edge of Arlvor and the juncture of Chytan and Aspar, they could refresh their supplies, then head to Venoz City in Ges. It followed the river, which was a necessity, but would take more time than going directly.

  Glancing over his shoulder at the neat rows of tents, he grimaced. With this many men and women to feed, they needed a constant supply of fresh water more than they needed a direct route. With that in mind, he turned back around and penciled in their route changes.

  “The leaders and reliquary guards are assembled,” Tavros said from behind him. “Everyone is waiting.”

  “Thanks.”

  He rolled the map back up and tucked the pencil behind his ear as he headed toward the fire, pausing to steal a kiss from his husband. “Really. Thanks, Tav. I mean it.” Tavros had been nothing but supportive since the incident with Aryn, always by Valis’ side, and always willing to do whatever Valis asked if it would make their lives or their mission easier.

  “What is it, Grand Master?” Shyvus looked at Valis expectantly. While Valis was relieved that some of the reliquary guards delegated to his mission were his closer friends, Shyvus was a handful and a half.

  “If I have to tell you one more time,” Valis growled. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Shyvus, if we’re overheard, they’re going to hear ‘Grand Master,’ and immediately go after me. And right now, I’m our only element of surprise, because it’s going to be hard to miss us coming.”

  The man laughed, his blond hair falling in his eyes. He brushed it back. “I know. And, you can tell me until you’re blue in the face, Valis. But I’m going to rib you about it until the day we die when we’re safe like this. And we can see for leagues in each direction with this moon, so you know we’re not going to be overheard, even if you didn’t soundproof the shield around the camp.”

  Valis let out a sigh and shook his head. The man was insufferable, but he was genuine and knew what he was doing out here better than Valis did. But he wasn’t infallible. And Valis had never tested the soundproofing of his shield, so he wanted to be as careful as possible.

  “You know I can create a shield to make myself invisible, and you also know that Qos adherents know how to do the same thing.” He gave his friend a hard stare. “They could be anywhere, and we would never know because we wouldn’t see them until we were already in their trap.”

  Shyvus gave him a shit-eating grin. “Not true. You would know. Or have you thought we didn’t realize you can feel the magic around you, and that that’s how you beat us so soundly most of the time? You know what spells we’re casting before we do.”

  He couldn’t help but huff a tired laugh. Shyvus was right. Valis could feel the spells they were casting. That’s partly how he managed to beat the two Grand Master Aesriphos and relieve them of their titles.

  Letting the matter drop, Valis straightened his spine and glanced around at everyone present. “I scried after my father, as I do every night, but this time, my scry was interrupted. Whether it was from Thyran, or directly from Sovras, himself, I received news that two of the anchor teams were or will be successful—”

  Cheers erupted from the ranks, and Valis cringed, nearly deafened by the clamor. He lifted a hand to shut them up, and when they all settled down, he went on. “They were or will be successful, but the team going after Angas Braywar are not going to be. We’re changing course to meet them, hopefully before the slaughter I saw.”

  “How do you know they aren’t already dead?” Phalin asked. “They—”

  Valis shook his head. “I saw the future first, the most likely outcome if they go in alone. Then I saw them as they are now, still traveling toward their target.”

  Phalin relaxed, shoving a hand through his black hair with a deep sigh. “Thank the Nine.”

  Valis pitched his voice to carry. “This means we have to split up. I need a team to go with me at a faster pace to make it there in time while the bulk of our army moves at a normal pace with the carts and pack horses. We’ll meet up at the Braywar estate and resume our original mission from there.”

  “How many do you think we’ll need?” Venabi asked. She scratched at the pink scar that ran down her dark cheek and stared at him with intent.

  “I want ten reliquary guards with me and Tavros, as well as twenty Aesriphos and thirty laymen.” He glanced at Jintas. “I’d also like a few scouts and assassins with us. Whoever you can spare.” Then he met Venabi’s eyes again and nodded to her. “As for the Kalutakeni, whoever wants to go, whoever you can spare, leaving at least Vodis behind in case of wagon break-downs or the need for an extra leader.”

  “Done.” She turned and started calling orders to her tribe in their native language. Valis assumed it was so others could start calling orders without everyone getting confused. Jintas did the same while Valis started issuing orders for his own men and women.

  “Shyvus and Phalin, I want you two with me. Seza and Zhasina, are you going or staying with the—”

  “That’s a dumb question,” Seza said. She raised a brow at him. “We’re going with you.”

  “So are we,” Maphias said, hooking a thumb toward Jedai who stood beside him. “Might as well get used to our faces, Valis. We go where you go.”

  “Then that’s settled,” Valis said with a grin. Their support warmed him, even though the deep chill of the night threatened to turn him to ice.

  He turned to Shyvus and handed him the map. “Check the route. I have it penciled in.”

  When Shyvus accepted the map, he immediately unrolled it and started scanning. “You’re taking us to Setira City first.” He nodded. “Good choice.”

  “We’ll need to get more supplies. We’ll travel to Setira as a unified army, then split off from the group once we’ve restocked and rested. Then those of us heading to help the Braywar anchor team will secure the estate and we’ll use it as our camp until the main bulk of the army reaches us. After, we head out directly to our main objective.”

  “We can lash down the carts more securely,” Venabi said when she returned from issuing orders. “Ride harder during the day to make better time as a group. Keep a team behind the carts a
t all times to shout ahead if anything breaks or falls. These carts are well made. It should work.”

  Nodding, Valis glanced around and let out a breath. “That’s good. Let’s get settled in for the night, get our bellies full, and we’ll start a bit earlier in the morning.”

  With that, everyone assumed they were dismissed and went to one of the six fires that dotted the camp to cook food for everyone. Valis took a seat next to Tavros at the nearest one and leaned against his husband’s side, their armor clanking.

  “How was Darolen?” Tavros asked gently. He asked every night, and Valis wondered if it was because he was just as worried as Valis, or he was worried just because Valis was.

  “His chest infection seems to be getting worse.” Valis paused to accept a bowl of stew with a quiet thanks for Maphias as he handed them out. Once Tavros had his, Valis turned to him again and sighed. “His cough is getting worse. I took a risk and let him know we’re coming. I hope that’s enough to keep him alive and fighting until we get there.”

  “It will be.” And Tavros said that with such absolute certainty that Valis wanted to kiss him.

  So, he did.

  Then they tucked into their stew. Valis’ mind went back to those scrying scenes. Either the two teams already had succeeded, or it was a guarantee that they would. Since it had only been a short time since the anchor teams were dispatched, Valis gathered that the outcomes were guaranteed, but hadn’t yet happened. It made much more sense.

  He also knew that neither Thyran nor Sovras—whoever had changed his scrying visions—would ever make him alter his course without giving him enough time to get there. That was only a small comfort, though.