“As they were during the Founding,” Selton said.
Roelle nodded. That was the connection she had made, and the fact that both the Magi and the Antrilii could see the groeliin made her suspect they were more related than they knew. It had to be the reason Endric had sent them north. He had known about this connection and about how the Magi would be able to help.
No longer did Roelle doubt her purpose, or question why the Magi had the skills they did. They had suppressed them for nearly a thousand years, but they were needed once more. This had to be her purpose.
Endric had known. He had practically pushed her towards this understanding.
Roelle sighed. Even with what she had learned, she wasn’t certain it would matter. They had been nearly a hundred when they left Vasha and had lost some in the attacks. There weren’t enough of them, not against the numbers of the groeliin they faced.
“We don’t have the numbers, Selton.”
“What will we do? We can’t abandon these people to the groeliin.”
Roelle turned her attention to the distant sight of Rondalin, a dangerous idea coming to her but one that she began to think they had no choice but to consider. Only, what would the rest of the Magi think?
The merahl howled again, signaling another attack, and Roelle tore her gaze away from the city, pushing away that plan. For now.
How long could she ignore it? How long could she wait before she attempted reaching out to the Deshmahne for help?
Another thought plagued her—was that something else Endric had planned for?
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jakob stood for a moment, looking around him. The ahmaean that filled the city shone brightly. He looked up the tree at the heart of the Cala maah with its ahmaean reach toward every corner of the settlement. Hundreds of daneamiin moved overhead in the trees.
It was beautiful.
Would he ever see the beauty of this place again? Brohmin had been here and returned, but with the groeliin willing to attack, and the daneamiin seemingly unwilling to fight, would this place end up like the city in his vision?
He stared at the rope bridges overhead, before turning to the trees themselves with their hidden stairs and rooms grown into their trunks. “I wish…”
Anda touched his elbow, guiding him forward. Her hand lingered on his arm as they walked, and he welcomed her touch. They reached the base of the tree in which he’d stayed, and he saw that his belongings had already been gathered, tucked neatly into a woven sack of daneamiin design. Brohmin and Salindra were waiting there. Anda led the way until they reached the edge of the clearing where they were joined by Aruhn and Elin. Jakob glanced over his shoulder to the huge building of stone, grass, and tree. He stared for a long moment at the Cala maah, trying to capture the image in his mind.
Will I see something as magnificent again?
Jakob was slow to leave this place, but the others were quickly falling out of sight as they traveled at a brisker pace. Occasionally, Anda slowed to give him a chance to keep up. As she did, she would take his hand to lead him faster. A wave of peace flushed through him as she touched him.
Along the path, he saw a flicker of golden eyes and dark fur. Jakob stared, hoping for a better view, wondering if what he saw was real, before shaking his head. The strange itch in the back of his mind, annoyingly familiar, returned suddenly. With it came a memory from his visions, something he had known as one of the gods.
Nemerahl.
There was a soft chuckle inside his head, so faint it could have been imagined, then it was gone and with it the strange itch. Was this the creature that had saved him when the Deshmahne had attacked? He could not shake those golden eyes and had never seen another creature like it, yet he knew nothing of the nemerahl other than what he had seen in his vision.
They came to a clearing in the trees, and Brohmin, Salindra, Elin, and Aruhn were already there, waiting for them near a wide-open plain. To the north and south, trees met grass in an almost straight line as they reached the edge of the forest.
He’d not been here before. Where were they?
The thought left him as he saw what lay before them. A huge gash cut into the earth and stretched for as far as he could see to the north and south. Jakob tried to see to the other side, but it was too far. He imagined that he saw green, but could make out no other details.
The Great Valley.
He had never expected to see the valley. The stories of Jarren Gildeun came to him, when he spoke of the Great Valley and his desire to cross it. Yet he never had. Even knowing he had crossed—that the daneamiin were on the other side—was different than actually seeing it. How had he crossed when Jarren could not? The size of it was immense, the far side barely even visible.
Jakob approached the edge carefully. Salindra and Brohmin went with him. For some reason, Anda, Aruhn, and Elin stayed near the trees.
Looking down, he saw the sheer face of white rock drop off below him. It was smooth, almost a pearly white, but the bright light of the sun played strange colors off it. Far beneath them, in the base of the valley, he thought he could see where the river ran, but even that was mostly imagined.
“I never thought I would see this,” he told Salindra.
She stood tall, back straight. Not the same Salindra as the one who had entered the forest with him all those days ago. “Most never take the time to view what the gods have made for us. It is… breathtaking. I’ve seen it only once before, long ago. And from the other side, of course.”
“Men have stared across this chasm for centuries,” Brohmin said. “Wondering why the gods created such a rent in the earth. Why prevent man from accessing part of their creation?” He turned his gaze back to the daneamiin.
They stood for a moment saying nothing, and then Brohmin led them back to the daneamiin, near the edge of the forest.
“This is where you leave us,” Aruhn told them in his deep voice.
Salindra cast a puzzled look. “How?”
Aruhn smiled. “Do not worry, you do not have to walk across the valley as men did many years ago.”
Jakob looked back toward the Great Valley, trying to measure the distance across. “How was that possible?”
“Many things are possible, Jakob Nialsen, some easier to explain than others. There was a time when the valley did not cut through here, a time when our lands were connected. There came a need for separation, and it was made. For many years, a bridge connected the two lands. Few knew of its existence, yet still it caused us much pain.” Tears welled in his eyes, as if the memory was still fresh.
A vision flashed into Jakob’s mind, one of men attacking the beautiful city he’d seen in his vision. This bridge was how they crossed to the Unknown Lands. It was how the daneamiin were first attacked. Memories that could not be his washed through him quickly and were gone.
It was the High Priest. The same man who chased them now had tormented the daneamiin all those years ago. How? And why attack the daneamiin. What purpose did it serve since they would not fight back?
Jakob studied Anda, Elin, and Aruhn, and the answer came to him. The attack was the same reason the High Priest had harmed Salindra. Thick ahmaean streamed around them. If the High Priest could steal from the Magi, he likely could steal from the daneamiin as well.
How many had he stolen from? How powerful was he? How could they expect to stop him?
They needed a goddess. Alyta. The last.
He’d seen her in his visions, though imprisoned. And now… now they would have to save her if they were to stop the High Priest.
Not they. Him.
He had wondered what he was meant to do, but this seemed beyond him. Yet, if he didn’t, if they failed… He couldn’t think of that.
Had all of this been about him discovering what he must do? Not only the search for Avaneam, but reaching the daneamiin, and the time with the Cala maah? Had Alyta planned for all of it?
The only way to know would be to save her. Then she could help them und
erstand how to stop Raime. Then she could help him understand his visions—and what was happening to him.
“How will we cross?” Salindra asked.
Aruhn motioned toward Anda. “She will guide you.”
Anda blinked at Aruhn before nodding.
“Your welcome warmed me, Salindra Indrianne,” Aruhn said. “Your return warmed me, Brohmin Ulruuy.” He turned to Jakob. “The trees will welcome your return, Jakob Nialsen.”
When finished, Aruhn turned and walked back into the forest. He flickered in and out of sight as he walked, humming a strange melody as he departed.
Elin looked at Salindra a long moment before speaking. “Your welcome warmed me, Salindra Indrianne.” He reached out his hand and briefly squeezed hers before turning to Brohmin. “Your return warmed me, Brohmin Ulruuy.” He turned to Jakob. “Your welcome warmed me, Jakob Nialsen.” Elin then followed Aruhn into the forest.
Watching them leave, Jakob felt a pang of loss. There was something about the daneamiin, something about the way he felt within their land that he knew he would miss. “Your welcome warmed me, Elin. Your welcome warmed me, Aruhn,” he whispered to himself.
He looked up to see Anda smiling. A flush worked through his cheeks, and he looked away rather than have her see it.
“What now?” Salindra asked, her eyes slightly damp.
Brohmin stared across the valley, his jaw clenched. Ever since learning of Jakob’s vision, he’d been anxious. Jakob suspected he knew something more, but not what it was.
Anda motioned them toward the edge of the valley. Once there, she grabbed Jakob’s hand and then Salindra’s, and Salindra held on to Brohmin.
Anda’s touch was warm, relaxing. He pushed the thought away, hiding a different flush that worked through him.
“Close your eyes,” she directed.
He did, and felt the pulsing in his mind start slowly, and build steadily. It became a roaring sensation, one that filled him, stretching through his body, reaching even his fingers and toes.
Suddenly, he felt a tug within his mind. It was soft, though like the gentle sense he’d felt inside the house of the Cala maah. He almost jumped, but Anda’s steadying presence reassured him.
He had the feeling of movement, and then it was gone.
“You may open your eyes now,” Anda said.
He opened his eyes and saw that they were back in the forest. It was not the same forest as before. The trees were not close enough together and were not as high. The sounds were different, harsher. The sun shone through a hole in the canopy overhead. He noted a collection of stones, seemingly arranged randomly.
They were back in the heart of the Great Forest.
The forest they had just come from was much grander in scale than this one, though as he looked at the trees, he could see ahmaean. It was weaker than that which surrounded the trees in the Unknown Lands, but not much.
“How did you do that?” he asked Anda.
She smiled slightly, but said nothing.
“Do you leave us now?” he asked her.
“I cannot. The journey for me was one way.” She looked longingly to the east, across the valley, then paused to untie a small bundle she had carried, flipping it open and strapping on a dark cloak.
“If you brought us here, why can you not return?”
Pulling the hood of the cloak over her naked head, she simply repeated. “I cannot.”
Salindra looked at the two of them before interrupting. “You will travel with us then?”
Anda nodded.
“Where?” Jakob asked.
“Alyta is held, though I don’t know where.” He turned to Jakob, hopeful eyes searching for an answer. “Did your visions show anything? Search what you saw in the Cala maah.”
His mind flashed through the small pieces of half-remembered dreams. Darkness and oppression were common themes. There was one where he saw a candle reflecting off the wall, a wall so smooth that it could not be real. Where to hold a goddess so that she could not be found?
His hand gripped his sword, but even with the ahmaean flowing through it, there was no answer. “I don’t—”
“The Tower,” a voice said behind them.
There was gravel to it, and the hairs on the back of Jakob’s neck stood up. He recognized its owner without turning, without seeing the man’s face; it had burned into his memory when he’d been held by a Deshmahne and his men.
Jakob took a deep breath, steeling himself, as he turned to face the large Deshmahne priest. Fear and hopelessness washed through him, toward him, and from within him.
Twelve Deshmahne were arranged behind the large priest, hidden among the stones. Each was heavily tattooed, more so than any other Deshmahne Jakob had yet seen. “She is within the Tower. And you will never leave this forest to free her.”
Epilogue
Locken looked around the room. The stone of the place seemed especially cold today. The room was bare, little to it other than three chairs set around a table. It served its purpose.
He sat in one chair, back tense with the decisions only he could make. His arms rested almost uncomfortably on the armrests. He could feel the cold through his leather boots, and it creep up his legs and into his groin. It was not a pleasant decision he made today. Theresa sat across from him, saying nothing. She already knew his decision, and supported what he would do. It was necessary that she be there, as she would rule in Saeline during his absence.
Lonn also sat at the table. His stout frame filled the seat, seeming nearly too much for the old chair. His short legs dangled slightly above the stone floor. Locken knew the other man lucky to be spared the cold.
But it wasn’t merely the temperature of the room that cooled him. That was caused by something more. The choices he made today were what chilled his heart. He looked intently at his old friend, and listened.
“You are to meet in council with them. They have agreed to listen, though they offer no support yet. They wait to speak with you in person first.”
Locken found himself nodding as he listened. It was much as he had expected. “Thealon will not pledge support to our cause easily. They will need proof that Richard plans to invade.”
Lonn sat quietly for a moment, thoughts turned inward. Locken found his own thoughts disturbing, dark. What he planned could cost his people, his family. His inaction could cost more. It was a difficult choice he made.
Equally difficult was the choice he asked of the nation of Thealon. Asking support from a country his had warred against. A war still all too fresh in some people’s minds. Difficult choices.
“Thealon would not last in a drawn out battle with the full force of Gom Aaldia,” Lonn said quietly after a long pause. The words forced Locken from his own quiet reverie. “Not with their attentions turned north.”
He nodded. “They would not. Richard has planned long for this invasion, been secretive about the whole affair. It would surprise many.”
“Richard might have, but I doubt he anticipated the rebellion in Gom Aaldia. Yet, we still need to offer proof. Proof of the High King’s intent. Proof of our own intent,” Lonn reminded him. Locken needed no reminder.
“We will tell them we are declaring ourselves free,” he decided. Lonn did not seem surprised. “Tell them that we would ask their aid in obtaining our independence, that they will have ours when Richard moves forward. It is inevitable.”
Lonn studied him carefully. He knew the man was counting casualties. “We cannot win, my friend.” The words were soft. The tone sad. “We are few to the many of Gom Aaldia. Even joining forces with Thealon, they cannot offer support or strength enough to help win this battle.”
“I know. But our treason has already begun. We have little choice but to follow through.”
He knew his friend understood. He prayed his people would.
“Thealon will wait to get involved. They cannot risk helping a lost cause. Their strength now lies in the Tower itself and in the gods they house. We should pray for the
ir help.”
Locken smiled. He knew his friend joked, but replied anyway. “I have.” He paused a moment. “Besides, Richard has two possible courses of action. He can fight his way through, risking the commoners and the loss of support from some of the other kings…” An arched eyebrow from Lonn caused him to reconsider. “Well, at least from Robden. His is an honorable house.” Lonn nodded. “Or he can loop around us, slowing his travel but avoiding the loss of troops. Something tells me that he is more concerned with the Tower and Thealon than he is with us. At least, to begin with.”
He saw Lonn nod slowly. It was a difficult choice. “Once he attacks Thealon?” It wasn’t much of a question. He could see from Lonn’s eyes the man knew what he would do.
“We will get their support. We will aid them.”
The room was silent for a long time as the two men sat. Theresa rested her hand on his, and Locken found himself staring, few thoughts coming to his head. It seemed so hopeless. But the alternative was unthinkable.
“We may find we are not alone in our discontent. We may find hidden support,” he told his friend, his quiet voice seeming a yell after the long moments of silence.
A questioning glance came from Lonn.
“Robden will not tolerate this attack for long. What he fights now is his respect for tradition. I think we need to wait and see.” He prayed he was not misguided. Either way, war was coming.
The light of Alriyn’s small outer office seemed dimmer than it should, though likely only because he had a few candles lit. The thin light cast strange shadows about the walls, lending to dark thoughts.
The others watched him as they waited.
Where was he?
The seventh was to have joined them today. Daguin had been harder to convince than Crayn, though just as essential to their success. Alriyn had gently reminded him of all the strange things that seemed to be converging at the same time. He still wasn’t certain he’d convinced him.
“I don’t know what happened to him,” he said, breaking the silence.
The Warrior Mage (The Lost Prophecy Book 2) Page 31
