Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Epilogue
Lost City
The Lost Prophecy
D.K. Holmberg
Copyright © 2017 by D.K. Holmberg
Cover art by Rebecca Frank
All rights reserved.
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Contents
Map
Prologue
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
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by D.K. Holmberg
Map
Prologue
The sky was overcast, and it was warmer than it had been in days. Wind swept in small eddies of current, swirling around the rock, sliding past pine trees. The stink of the smoke burning in the clearing nearby masked their sweet fragrance and filled her nostrils. Isandra brought her cloak up over her nose, but it did little to block out that odor.
She had traveled with the Antrilii now for well over a week. She was saddle sore and tired, but she felt a sense of determination and purpose. They were sentiments that she’d missed for some time.
Jassan stood next to her, the muscular Antrilii holding the reins of his horse, seemingly unperturbed by the effort it took to climb through the mountains. Few of the Antrilii struggled with the effort of climbing, and she had discovered that most had spent time traveling this way in the past.
Each of the men Jassan had brought with them had been on the hunt before, and each had faced groeliin countless times, but something was different about this attempt.
All the Antrilii were aware of it. There was an undercurrent of angst, one that none spoke of, that even Isandra could tell they all felt.
They had encountered a few roving bands of groeliin, but none that Jassan referred to as a horde. The Antrilii had dispatched them with cruel efficiency, cutting the creatures down, and gathering the bodies together before burning them. Each time they came across the groeliin, they made certain to burn them.
This time was no different.
“Why do you burn them?”
She hadn’t asked before and thought that it was something that she should know about. Now that she was traveling with the Antrilii, she felt as if there were many things she needed to know about.
“If we leave their bodies, there’s something about their decay that draws other groeliin. They realize others have fallen, and come in greater numbers. Burning them prevents another horde from attacking.”
Isandra bit her lip, staring at the crackling remains of the groeliin bodies as they burned. The Antrilii had a way of lighting a fire with amazing intensity, and the flames scorched through the creatures’ bodies.
“Did you do the same when you attacked them in the south?”
A storm cloud crossed over his face, reminding her of the storms back in Vasha. “We never did the same in the south. There was never the time. We had to continue moving to stay ahead of them.”
“Do you think that by not burning them you allow their progression?”
Jassan shook his head. “The groeliin horde was driven. There was little we could’ve done that would slow it. We tried, but the only thing that worked—”
“Was the Great Forest.” Isandra had heard the story, and still wondered what it meant. There had to be a reason that the Great Forest had some capacity to contain the groeliin, but Jassan and the Yahinv had not known. She had the sense that what had happened with the Great Forest surprised them.
“The Great Forest,” Jassan agreed. “It is a place of the gods, a place where their strength and influence remains, though they have stepped away from the rest of the world.”
“Some claim the ability to still speak with them,” Isandra said.
“Many of the Magi make such a claim,” Jassan said. He paused a moment, considering her. “What of you? Have you spoken to the gods?”
She shook her head. There had been no communication with the gods for her. Some of the Elders on the Council made claims that they could speak to the gods, but Isandra had a growing belief that they had not. It left her with other questions—including one she dared not ask. Had the gods simply abandoned them?
She wasn’t like some, holding the blasphemous belief that the gods didn’t exist. There were too many signs of their existence and too many ways that Isandra could see them in everything. Before she’d lost her ability, that power had been one such sign. Without it, she might not have the same connection to the gods, but that didn’t make her feel any less aware of them.
“Perhaps in time, the gods will come to favor you once more,” Jassan said. “You have joined the Antrilii. We are their favored people.”
He said it with a hint of a smirk, but there was an undercurrent of belief to what he said. The Antrilii truly believed that they were favored by the gods and that their service on their behalf woul
d lead to greater rewards. Who was to say whether that was inaccurate? As far as she knew, the gods might favor the Antrilii. Their people had certainly done more than the Magi to protect what the gods had created.
“You might be their favorite for now, but don’t forget that you agreed to teach me. Maybe I’ll be favored by the gods in time.”
He regarded the sword sheathed at her side. “I have worked with you each day, and your skill grows.”
Isandra touched the sword. It still made her feel somewhat like an imposter, but with each day, she grew more accustomed to the weight. There was something right about carrying a sword. It surprised her that it felt the way it did and that she should feel as comfortable as she did.
Every time she sparred with Jassan, losing each time, she wondered what it must’ve been like for Roelle in those first days. She thought of the Mage apprentice often, even more as she traveled deeper into the mountains, wondering what she must have thought as she led her band of young Magi apprentices from Vasha, departing only with an intent to understand the Deshmahne and to find the Antrilii. They had found much more—and much worse. And Roelle had sacrificed herself for it.
Now Isandra made a similar trek, though hers was somewhat different. She knew what she might face and came willingly.
Then again, so did the Antrilii.
Perhaps that willingness was what made them favored by the gods.
“After we eat, we can spar again—”
His gaze shifted past her, darting to the rocks.
Isandra turned and saw dark streaks of movement.
She recognized that, having seen it too often over the last week.
Groeliin.
Jassan unsheathed and raced toward the rocks. He whistled, and a pair of merahl streaked off with him. Six of the nearby Antrilii saw the movement and followed him.
Isandra stood, feeling as helpless as she always did when facing the groeliin.
The attack happened quickly.
Groeliin swarmed down the rock, and though Jassan and the other Antrilii defended, carving through the groeliin with speed, the creatures came in greater numbers than they had in recent attacks.
Two of the creatures rushed toward Jassan. With his back toward them, he wouldn’t see them.
She reacted.
Isandra sprinted toward the groeliin, screaming as she did.
The sound startled both the Antrilii and both groeliin.
It gave enough of a pause for Jassan to shift his attack, forcing them back.
Another appeared down the rock face, this one close to Isandra.
She fumbled for her sword and managed to pull it from its sheath. She would probably end up hurting herself rather than the groeliin, but she wasn’t about to let Jassan get torn apart by those creatures without attempting to do anything.
She lunged at the groeliin close to her.
The creature swiped at her sword and deflected it. She followed through on the movement, using what Jassan had taught her, spinning the sword around in a sweeping arc that caught the groeliin along one arm, severing it.
The creature hissed and lunged at her.
Isandra stepped back, holding the sword in front of her. It wouldn’t do any good if she held it like that, and she needed to do something that would allow her the chance to either get some space between the creature and her or give her time for one of the real soldiers to help.
No help came.
The more she backed away, the more the one-armed groeliin pressed her.
She swung again, the sword catching it on the other arm. The creature reached for her sword, and she pulled back, cutting its remaining hand open.
It was hard to feel remorse. She could only react, and even then, she felt as if she didn’t know enough about how to slow the groeliin.
What did the Antrilii do?
They attacked.
She could do the same. Jassan had taught her.
Isandra calmed her mind and stepped through the movements he’d taught her. Dance to the side. Lower the sword. Bring it up. There were names for these—she knew there had to be—but she could only do what she remembered.
The groeliin circled her, injured but still fighting—and still deadly.
As Isandra turned, she realized that the groeliin had been trying to push her back toward another.
She danced to the side, avoiding a sure attack.
She swung her blade, catching the new groeliin somewhere. Blood sprayed and struck her hand.
It was almost enough to slow her, but the sound of the battle still rang out around her.
Her heart hammered. She had to keep fighting. If she didn’t, the groeliin would get past her, and they would be able to get to the other Antrilii.
To Jassan.
That bothered her more than it should have. But he had been kind to her and welcoming. She didn’t want the groeliin to hurt him.
Isandra rushed forward, swinging her sword in a sweeping arc at the pair of groeliin approaching her. The creatures were grotesque, all long arms, clawing, and both carrying clubs. She fell into a pattern as she attacked, hacking at the groeliin, slicing at their horrible arms. She wanted nothing more than to bring them down.
Isandra screamed.
Anger filled her with what these creatures were willing to do and the destruction that they inflicted. How could such creatures exist? How was it possible that the gods would allow such creatures to exist?
She would stop them.
She cut through one creature’s chest, and it fell. Isandra turned to the next, continuing through an unfamiliar movement, demanding that her body react. She wished she still had her Mage gifts and wished that she could use them to help hold the groeliin, but all she had was the strength she was born with.
It would have to be enough.
The creature caught her on her shoulder, and she spun, flung to sprawl on her backside. She thrust her sword out in front of her, and her arm throbbed where she’d been struck.
The groeliin hissed. It was a horrible sound that echoed around the small clearing.
As the creature approached, she scrambled back, trying to get away, but she wasn’t fast enough, and the creature moved toward her.
Isandra had no time to get back on her feet. She swept her sword away from her, trying to keep it between her and the groeliin. All she needed to do was slow the creature. She needed to give the Antrilii a chance to appear.
But where were they?
She couldn’t take her eyes off the groeliin approaching. If she did, she risked it attacking.
It came at her with a slight hesitation. She noted a gash on its arm, and one across its chest, and realized that she had hurt it. That had to be the reason the creature didn’t come too quickly. She kicked back again, trying to get space between her and the groeliin, but couldn’t move over the rocks.
She would have to time her next attack perfectly.
Isandra gripped her sword in both hands, steadying it.
The groeliin stumbled and lunged toward her.
She stabbed with the sword and rolled off to the side.
The creature fell forward, landing on the stone where she had been. She breathed heavily, watching it, waiting to see if it would move again, but it did not.
Isandra sat back, her heart hammering, the blade of the sword dripping with the blood of the fallen groeliin, her hands slick with it.
She had taken lives. She had destroyed.
And surprisingly, she felt little remorse.
She should. After a life spent serving the Urmahne, she should feel remorse at taking a life, even one as grotesque as the groeliin, but these creatures did not serve the gods.
Jassan appeared, blocking the sun. He reached forward, and she took his hand to stand. He patted her on the shoulder and gently took her sword from her hand, then wiped it across the fallen groeliin before handing it back and helping her sheathe it.
“You did well for a Mage.”
Her arm throbbed, and she couldn�
��t take her eyes off the dead groeliin—killed by her hand. “Thank you.”
Jassan grunted. “No thanks are needed. When we face the groeliin, all must fight. You did well.”
“This time.”
Jassan nodded.
She would have to be better. She was unprepared and had gotten lucky. But she would be ready for the next attack. She would continue to improve. She would honor the Magi apprentices and what they had sacrificed.
Isandra was determined to be like Roelle.
Chapter One
Jakob stood at the edge of the clearing, the massive trees rising up around him, the ahmaean swirling everywhere he looked. The scents of the forest here were different than they were in other places. It had been a while since he had been to the daneamiin forest, and he had missed the connection he found here. There was something about the ahmaean, and the way that it swirled through the forest, and the power that was present here. That wasn’t the only thing—or the only reason—that he had come.
As he walked into the clearing, Jakob saw a daneamiin in the distance and recognized Aruhn from his dress. Even without his formal robes of office, Jakob thought that he would have recognized the older daneamiin. Ever since walking along the fibers, tracing them back so that he could rescue Aruhn, he had a different connection to him. It was complex, and he saw him differently than he had before that allowed him to recognize the specific nature of his ahmaean as much as anything else.
“Jakob Nialsen, your presence warms me.”
Jakob bowed his head. “Aruhn, may the trees bless my return.”
The Lost City (The Lost Prophecy Book 5) Page 1
