The Lost City (The Lost Prophecy Book 5)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “How certain of this are you?”

  “I’ve been in Polle Pal long enough to know. I’ve seen it.”

  Brohmin frowned. Not only had he seen it… there was something else Brohmin noted in the man’s voice. “You’re trying to help those children, aren’t you?”

  The man’s face remained neutral. “I only speak to provide the insight of the gods.”

  Brohmin’s gaze drifted to the ring on the man’s finger. “Do you know the history of Lashiin?”

  “Do you?”

  Brohmin tipped his head. “I’ve visited the ruins. I am fully aware of the history there, and what Lashiin meant to those first men. But, I suspect that you know that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have chosen such a mark.” Lashiin was a safe haven to the damahne, a place where they could escape from prying eyes, and away from the rest of mankind. The damahne didn’t always want to be around mankind. That was the reason for the Tower and the reason for places like Lashiin along with others.

  “Some have called it the safe haven. Others call it the passage for the gods. The place where they made their Ascension.”

  Brohmin smiled. “And now you think to provide them with another Ascension? Is that your intent in rescuing these children?”

  The priest stared at him defiantly. More than ever, Brohmin had no doubt that the man was a priest rather than anything else. He might carry himself differently, and he might willingly fight with a knife, though now that Brohmin thought about it, he realized the man hadn’t known how to use the knife, not well at least. What sort of Urmahne priest was willing to fight like that?

  “My intent is to give those children a chance. Isn’t it better to offer it to them now rather than when they’ve already been forced into a conversion? What they are doing to these children is anathema to what the gods ask of us.”

  “You would provide alternative guidance to what their parents would offer?” Brohmin didn’t agree with conversion to Deshmahne, but he also didn’t agree with tearing children away from their families. If a religion was well founded, it shouldn’t require such separation.

  “Most of these children are taken from their parents by the Deshmahne. We have rescued parents along with children. All are brought back…”

  The man stopped himself.

  “Brought back where?”

  After a moment’s hesitation, he answered. “Salvat. There are a great number of Teachers there willing to offer their services, and their protection.”

  Brohmin grunted. It was interesting to him that the teachers in places like Salvat, and even in Thealon, were so willing to make attempts to influence the goings-on in the world, while the Magi had been unwilling. If only the Magi would intervene, if only they would step in and be a part of what was taking place, they could likely have prevented much of the destruction that had occurred in the north lands.

  “How many of you are there?” he asked.

  “How many?”

  Brohmin nodded. “You wouldn’t be able to do this yourself. You would need help. How many?”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “If you think to disrupt—”

  Brohmin stepped forward, cutting him off. “Disrupt? No. I seek to understand. You will need more than yourself if you intend to move children and families out of the south.”

  “There’s an entire network throughout these lands. I don’t work alone. I couldn’t. Even if they had killed me, it wouldn’t have stopped the work.”

  There was something rewarding about that to Brohmin. It meant that not only was there resistance to the Deshmahne but that it came from a source he had never expected. He had not thought the priests capable of opposing the Deshmahne. It went against what they believed, and how they believed. But… What these priests had done fit exactly in line with the Urmahne faith.

  “I would like to help.”

  The priest grunted out a laugh. “Just like that, you think I should accept your help?”

  Brohmin shrugged. “I brought you in from the street.”

  “They hadn’t killed me. I would have survived. Rain does nothing other than provide a washing from the gods.”

  “Unless you drowned.”

  The priest started to stand, and he groaned as he did. He rubbed his arms, grimacing. “Do you intend to prevent me from leaving?”

  “I will not. Just as you will not prevent me from following you and finding what I intend.”

  The priest grunted again. “Trust me. I have years of experience hiding from the Deshmahne. I think I can slip away from you.”

  “Years? Then you should know that I have decades of experience following men I seek information from. And know that I have ways of tracking you that you cannot even fathom.”

  Now that he had found the man, he could use his ahmaean to help track wherever the man might go. It would be a strain and drain his energy, but he’d come to these lands seeking to disrupt the Deshmahne, and it was mere chance had allowed him to come across this priest and learn of his mission.

  Or was it?

  The priest pushed past him and reached the door, glancing out. “Follow me at your own peril.”

  “My peril? I think you forget who was the one lying beaten in the street. Besides, I’m the one carrying a sword.”

  The priest glanced at Brohmin’s sword before meeting his gaze. His clenched jaw made it look as if he were going to say something, but then he turned away and started down the stairs.

  Brohmin decided not to stop him and chose not to say anything to the innkeeper. If he took the time to do so, it would just give the priest more time to lose Brohmin, and he had no intention of letting that happen. It was better for him to know whether the man truly had the ability to evade others.

  He sat the top of the stairs and listened for a moment but heard no sounds of commotion from below. A half smile came to his face. Maybe the man had gotten away.

  Standing there, he focused on the pressure that he’d detected, that sensation of something else along his ahmaean, but there was nothing.

  What had he detected? It wasn’t Salindra, as she had been in the room with him. Was it a Deshmahne as he’d suspected?

  Brohmin pressed out once again, using his ahmaean, but there was nothing.

  He didn’t think it imagined.

  He turned, looking down the stairs, but still didn’t detect any commotion. There was nothing that told him the man hadn’t made it out of the inn, and he had layered a hint of ahmaean upon the man, just enough that he would be able to follow him.

  Brohmin sighed. It was time to gather Salindra and begin tracking the man who’d somehow landed in his path.

  Chapter Nine

  Isandra was exhausted. From all the time they had spent climbing through the mountains to the poor sleep that she’d had over the last few weeks, her body ached in ways that it never had. Her stomach rumbled, the dried meat the Antrilii carried with them no longer satisfying her the way it once had. Her mouth was dry, the limited water supply keeping her from drinking as much as she needed.

  There did not seem to be an end of this journey in sight.

  The Antrilii had been quiet before, but now, they were downright silent. They had faced the groeliin a few more times, but not enough to have become accustomed to the stench of their charred bodies, though she understood the need to burn them. She had not been forced to fight again since that first time.

  Her evenings were spent practicing the sword with Jassan, along with several of the other Antrilii. They were willing instructors, and now that she had been forced to face the groeliin, she was a willing student.

  Isandra doubted that she would ever gain the skill needed to be as powerful in battle as Jassan or the other Antrilii, but hoped to reach the point where she wasn’t a liability. If she could get there, then she felt she could be useful.

  The mountains hid the moon, and darkness spread around them. It was a deep darkness, somehow more impressive than the nights in Vasha. The city there sat high in the clouds, and many nights, they
were all she could see. On nights that were clear, the stars still seemed to be obscured by them. It was rare to have a completely clear night in Vasha.

  That was not the case here.

  Throughout the journey, the mountains rose ever higher, and the Antrilii followed some path known only to them. Were she to somehow fall behind and lose sight of the Antrilii, she doubted she would be able to find her way back to their lands. She was determined not to return to Vasha until she had more answers. She was needed here, even if the Antrilii didn’t fully know that and weren’t willing to completely agree with that. Whatever connection the groeliin had to teralin, she would discover the secret. She would help them be ready. It would be her contribution.

  “You’ve been silent,” Jassan said.

  Isandra stood at the edge of a cliff. It dropped off precipitously from here, and the Antrilii didn’t seem terribly concerned about slipping off into the darkness and falling to the rocks below. Camps like these were chosen intentionally, knowing that it made it harder for the groeliin to attack.

  She wasn’t comfortable camping so close to the edge, but in a way, it reminded her of Vasha. Within the city, the terraces dropped off from each level, the sheer drop off terrifying at first. Gates of warm teralin blocked the Magi from getting too close to the edge, though many of the younger Magi apprentices found it exciting to climb from the upper terrace to the lower.

  One of the massive merahl crouched near Jassan. The creature had silver stripes along its back, and its ears were piqued, turning from side to side, listening to sounds she could not hear. She had grown more comfortable around them and found the merahl impressive. Given their skill with hunting groeliin, it was hard to understand how the groeliin had managed to sneak past the Antrilii and into the south lands.

  “I struggle with this journey,” Isandra said. “I thought… I thought I would find answers.” She hadn’t expected the constant battles, though she knew she should have. What else would there have been? She had come to face the groeliin, and to learn their secrets, including why they were breeding again so soon. Reaching the answers to those secrets would mean battling the creatures at every turn.

  “This was not a journey you had to take.”

  She closed her eyes, feeling the emptiness within her. Her Mage ability, that connection to the manehlin, no longer leached away from her, but it had left a hollowness within her. There was a hint of her ability remaining, but it was faint, and she could barely reach it. “I think it was. I need answers. We need to stop the groeliin.”

  “That is the responsibility of the Antrilii,” he said.

  “It doesn’t have to be. It can be the responsibility of all of us. You’ve served the gods for many years. I think it’s time others share in that responsibility.”

  She looked out into the distance. There were shadows stretching in the growing darkness, the lines of the mountains she could only imagine in the night sky, and the bright moon attempting to shine down on them, as if the gods themselves smiled from above.

  There was something peaceful here. It seemed strange to her that she would come north, and come into such violence, and only then find a sense of peace.

  “If you let others help, you might be able to find what you search for as well,” she added.

  Jassan turned so he could look out over the ridge with her. He fell silent, and Isandra didn’t have to imagine what he was thinking about. The Antrilii sought peace, though they did it through violence. They viewed themselves as warriors by necessity, and she had been surprised to learn that they wanted nothing more than to stop fighting.

  “The Antrilii share a story,” Jassan started softly. “There was a time when our people were peaceful. We have always known that we had gifts that others do not, a way of seeing the world, and our stories tell of a time when those gifts were used in different ways.”

  The Antrilii gifts were the same as the Magi gifts. That had been most shocking to Isandra. How could they have such power, and ability, and yet remain hidden, that ability concealed from the rest of the world—including the Magi and the Council of Elders? What more could have been done over the last thousand years had they only worked together?

  “The Yahinv tell us that we must be prepared for that time of peace to return once the groeliin are destroyed.” He turned to her, a smile on his face. “That is why they lead us. We would prefer to be prepared for that time. If we can lay down our swords, if we are able to finally stop fighting, we would be ready for it. The Yahinv will prepare us for the time.”

  Isandra wasn’t entirely sure how much the Yahinv would prepare them for. Her sense from her meetings with Rebecca was that their focus was on keeping the Antrilii safe. That meant preventing the groeliin from slaughtering the Antrilii. It was the reason they had opposed the planned attack on the breeding grounds. The Yahinv must suspect the groeliin will win that battle, and the Antrilii loss would be great.

  “How much longer do you think we have to go to reach the breeding grounds?” Isandra asked.

  Jassan shook his head. “Not much longer.”

  “How do you know?”

  He flicked his gaze to the merahl. “Our guides lead us.”

  Isandra studied the merahl. She had sensed the connection between the creatures and the Antrilii, but didn’t think the Antrilii followed the merahl. She thought it the other way around. Was it possible that the merahl were the guides here? Considering the way she had seen the merahl attacking, the brutality with which they dispatched the groeliin, it was more than possible. It was likely.

  “Do you think your band of Antrilii will be enough to defeat the groeliin at the breeding grounds?”

  “I am hopeful that it won’t only be us,” Jassan said.

  “Who else would be there?”

  She sensed tension in him and saw the steady way that he breathed out, as if controlling his motion. The merahl seemed to pick up on it, and stood, brushing up against his leg.

  “Nahrsin should meet us, though I haven’t heard word of him in several days.”

  “Nahrsin is the Antrilii who led the attack in the south?”

  “Nahrsin was the first Antrilii to unite the tribes in many years. He has brought us together, bringing us south, having recognized the danger the groeliin posed. Few of the Yahinv believed that they were as much of a threat as Nahrsin believed.”

  “Why wouldn’t they believe him?”

  “We’ve been through this before.”

  “His connection to Endric?”

  “Endric is respected by all Antrilii, but we recognize that he is not Antrilii, not in the same sense as the rest of us.”

  “Endric serves differently. Surely you see that.”

  “Endric and his father both served differently. We recognize that and that what he does is necessary. That does not change the fact that he is no longer Antrilii.”

  There was tension for some reason, though Isandra didn’t understand it. Endric served the Denraen and was considered the greatest general the Denraen had never known, in spite of the fact that the Deshmahne had risen to power during his tenure. It was not his fault that the dark priests managed to gain power.

  “When are we supposed to meet Nahrsin?”

  “Hopefully soon. We don’t have the numbers to confront the breeding grounds otherwise.”

  “What of this other groeliin that I’ve heard about?” Isandra asked.

  Jassan stared out into the darkness, and she had a sense of energy radiating from him, that of power, though she wasn’t sure why that would be, or what it was.

  “None of our tribe has seen this groeliin. We’ve heard of it, and one has seen it, but the creatures are difficult to find, and those, in particular, might be more powerful than what we can overcome.”

  “How do you intend to defeat it?”

  “Much sacrifice.”

  “Jassan—”

  The Antrilii turned to face her in the growing darkness. “If we defeat this creature, any sacrifice will be worth it.
The groeliin must be stopped.”

  “I don’t disagree that they must be stopped, but must there be such sacrifice?”

  “Sometimes sacrifice is the only way to succeed. My people have been willing to sacrifice for generations. We are the barrier between the groeliin and the rest of the world. Making those sacrifices is all that we know.”

  Chapter Ten

  The attack came swiftly. Groeliin crawled down the mountainside, and in numbers unlike anything Isandra had seen before. There was a smell about them that was the mixture of rot and bitterness, a stink she thought she had smelled before.

  It came as they were descending into a valley. The merahl had been on edge for the last hour, their ears constantly swiveling as they searched. Every so often, a pair of merahl would bound off, returning a short time later. Each time, Jassan tensed, distracted by the fact that the merahl were gone.

  The Antrilii reacted swiftly. They moved into a position, creating lines, similar to the formations she had seen the Denraen form. The groeliin slammed into the lines of Antrilii, and the warriors battled through them, slaughtering groeliin with efficient brutality.

  The merahl howled a mournful sound that echoed across the mountains in the early morning light. Each time she heard the sound, her heart fluttered more in her chest, and she knew that she might be called upon to act. But would she be able to? Would she be able to face the groeliin with conscious intent, rather than instinctive reaction?

  She had been training with Jassan each evening, but it was one thing to train with him, and another to face an actual attack from the groeliin. The last time she had, she had come away with an injured shoulder that still throbbed despite the salves Jassan had offered. Isandra didn’t know whether she would be strong enough to withstand another attack.

  The merahl howled again, and one streaked past her, racing up the mountainside, before coming back down. Blood stained its jaw, and its hackles were raised.