“As with many things, the truth is much different from speculation.”
“And what truth is that?”
“The truth is that the Eldest has sought to keep from the university information about the teralin mined deep within the mountain.”
Novan tapped his staff on the ground once, and the light surged along its length. Ahmaean flowed, both out from Novan, and out from the staff, before retreating back into the staff, and drawn back into the historian. How much of what he did was he aware of? It was easy to imagine that Novan didn’t know what he was doing, but Jakob suspected that with the control he displayed, he had to know, didn’t he?
“Teralin has caused many problems over the years.”
Alison frowned. “Do you think the Historian Guild is the only source of knowledge?”
Novan again tapped his staff. “Not the only source, but the guild has long maintained what others would ignore.”
“And the university has long maintained its efforts to prevent outsiders from accessing knowledge that might be dangerous. In that way, are we not more similar?”
Jakob had the sense that this was an old argument between the two. Alison might be smaller than Novan, barely coming up to the top of his shoulders, but she had an intensity in her eyes that practically dared Novan to challenge her. Even her stance, with her feet spread slightly apart, unwilling to cede even a foot of space, demonstrated her stubbornness, and likely her overall strength.
Jakob ignored them, stepping up to the nearest of the Magi lying on a cot. The markings along the Mage’s ankle were cold, and he remembered a similar sensation from Salindra’s, and recalled how her ankle had felt when he’d touched it, trying to prevent all of her ahmaean from leaching out from it.
There was a mixture of senses here, and he traced his finger along the leg of the injured Mage, feeling both hot and cold.
Surprisingly, some of the markings here were new. He noted the way the branding existed, and recognized the work of the Deshmahne, having seen what had been done to Salindra, but there was something else to it as well.
He pushed out with his ahmaean, letting the sense of it flow from him and out into the injured Mage.
The injury was there, but it was different. Whatever had happened to the Mage, whatever the Deshmahne had done—branding him in such a way that allowed them to steal power, and ahmaean—had been halted. It was not the same as the healing Salindra had received, but her healing had not left her completely restored, either. Her power had changed. Jakob didn’t understand it, and as far as he knew, Brohmin hadn’t understood it, but her connection to her power was a little less like the Magi, and a little bit more like the daneamiin.
Could Jakob reverse the effect?
That had to be the question, didn’t it? If he could somehow reverse what had happened to the Magi, could he give them back some of the strength they once possessed, or if he managed to heal them completely, could he return them to what they had been before the attack?
He pushed ahmaean into the Mage. It flowed into him, and when it met the Mage’s brandings, there was resistance. It was a strange sort of resistance, the kind that left him feeling as if he were trying to push ahmaean through something where it was not welcome, but Jakob still pushed. He began to feel the resistance easing, and still, he pushed.
Anda touched his hand. “Jakob Nialsen, you can do nothing but expend energy of yourself here.”
“But Salindra was healed.”
“By the Cala maah. She was healed by many, and only because there was great need.”
“Wouldn’t there be great need in healing these Magi?”
“I cannot see that, Jakob Nialsen.”
“The daneamiin can’t see anything of the future. How did you know that there was great need to heal Salindra?”
“Because the Hunter had need of her. The daneamiin do not need to glimpse the fibers to know that much.”
“I could help them. I think if I push hard enough, I could help them.”
“And how much would you sacrifice in doing so? Alyta gave you a great gift, granting you power of the damahne, generations of your ancestors. You may be asked to sacrifice, but should you not know who it is you will sacrifice for?”
Jakob studied the Magi. He had more ahmaean than he could fully control, but her question was a reasonable one. What did he know about the Magi he attempted to heal? Should he be more judicious when using his ahmaean? Wouldn’t that be something Alyta would expect of him?
Wouldn’t that be what the nemerahl would expect of him?
If only he had the creature and its bond to question, he would have a better understanding of what he was supposed to do, and how much he should risk.
Jakob withdrew his ahmaean, drawing back that connection, and pulled his hands away from the Mage’s leg.
“The time may come when you will make a similar decision, Jakob Nialsen. You still have much to do, and will have need of much strength before your path is ended.”
He turned back to Novan, who stood watching him, an unreadable expression on his face. Jakob imagined he would have questions later, but they were questions that he might choose not to answer. Why had they come to Alriyn?
Novan had suggested it, but why? Jakob had wanted to meet with Haerlin, to see if there was anything that the Mage knew about prophecy that would be useful to Jakob.
What of Alriyn? Was there anything that he might know, or was it only that Novan had known that Roelle would be here?
“I see that you have healed these Magi,” Jakob said.
Alriyn stepped forward and looked at the nearest Mage. Ahmaean swirled around the Eldest, more powerfully than most of the Magi Jakob had seen before. Karrin had mentioned that Alriyn had discovered some way of doing something. Had he managed to find a way to access even more ahmaean than most of the Magi were able to do?
That would be worthwhile to know if true.
“Halted, not healed. We have halted the damage to them. It’s better than leaving them constantly weakened, but they remain incomplete.”
It was an odd choice of words, but incomplete felt right. The branding remained, and it somehow prevented the Magi from reaching their full potential. “And this has something to do with teralin?” He would have to learn more about the metal, especially if it had something to do with the way the Deshmahne branded the Magi—and likely the way they branded the daneamiin.
“Many things have to do with teralin,” Alriyn said.
Jakob glanced at the three scholars in the room. Between Alison, Novan, and Alriyn, there seemed significant knowledge and understanding present here. If he could somehow harness that, there would be great value to him.
“I would like to know all that you know about teralin.”
Novan smiled, the same placating smile he had tried earlier. “Jakob—”
Jakob pushed out with his ahmaean. It had the effect of startling Novan, but Alriyn had felt it, as well.
Jakob had not meant it to be subtle. The slight widening of Alison’s eyes made it clear that she had felt it also. Interesting that she would.
“No. If this is how Raime has gained his power, and if this is how he has grown over the years, then I need to be informed so that my future decisions can be justified.”
Jakob felt a little guilty about how forceful he was, demanding they share with him what they knew of teralin, but why was there a hint of a smile on Novan’s face?
Chapter Sixteen
The rain had left the grounds soggy, and each step Brohmin made forced him to sink deeper into the ground. Salindra struggled alongside him, moving with a lighter gait. He tried not to think of what that meant, or why she should be able to move so much more smoothly than he, but he worried about his weakening connection to the ahmaean.
“Are you sure this is the right way?”
Brohmin strained with his sense of ahmaean and nodded. “He’s still out there.”
Brohmin had been surprised when the priest had left the city. He had expected him
to remain, but he had departed quickly, heading west, and slightly south. It was a difficult road that wouldn’t take him directly toward Masetohl, as Brohmin would have expected. Instead, they headed toward the massive waterway that was nearly impossible to cross.
“How certain are you that he is out there?”
Brohmin glanced over. “I’m certain.”
Salindra fell silent. They had left Polle Pal in a hurry, not wanting to lose sight of the priest, but also not wanting to be followed themselves. Brohmin had been careful as they made their way, avoiding several clusters of Deshmahne as they went.
He was thankful that they were able to track the priest using ahmaean. It was more of a strain than what it once would have been, but he was still able to manage it. How much longer would he retain the ability to reach the ahmaean, and stretch out with it, straining for the connection that had long ago been gifted to him?
He was thankful for every moment that he still had.
He would need to start working with Salindra. When his ability failed, they would need to lean on hers. He suspected that his ability with the sword would remain, but even that would fade over time.
Brohmin thought he understood what Alyta must’ve felt, and how she must have wanted to do everything possible before her time ran out. Now, that was how he felt, and the urgency that he worked under.
The path meandered through a massive forest. The trees here weren’t nearly as old as in the Great Forest, but they still were tall, with root systems that popped out of the ground, creating a network beneath them. They were forced to weave around these roots, and with the muddy ground, his feet were sucked into them, attempting to tear free his boots.
This forest was bereft of wildlife. With his connection to the ahmaean, Brohmin was able to detect the few animals around them, nothing like what was found in the Great Forest, and certainly nothing like was found on the other side of the Valley. Strange that there would be not so much as a squirrel scampering along the branches above.
There were birds, and the deeper they went into the forest, the more he encountered other wildlife, but they still were less frequent than he would’ve expected.
A frown on Salindra’s face began to deepen the farther they went.
“You sense it, too,” Brohmin said.
“I sense… something. What is it?”
“It’s an absence.”
Salindra closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly. As he watched, ahmaean streamed out from her in fine tendrils. He doubted that she even knew what she did. It was likely that this was instinctual, and that she used her new connection in a way that she didn’t even understand.
Seeing it gave him hope in a way that surprised him. With the loss of the damahne, he was concerned that much knowledge and experience would never be found again. Perhaps the daneamiin had awakened something else in her that was useful in ways he did not fully understand.
“I think I understand what you’re feeling,” she said. “But why? What changed?”
“The Deshmahne are what changed.”
“How would they matter to the animals in the forest?”
He breathed out a frustrated sigh. “There have been rumors, and I have never taken the time to investigate them as I should have.”
“What kinds of rumors?”
“The kinds that involved the Deshmahne using others in their ceremonies,” he said.
It took a moment for what he’d said to sink in. As it did, her mouth opened in a surprised gasp, and she looked around her, trying to stare into the darkness of the forest. With her Mage eyesight, she would have had an easier time than he, though with his connection to the ahmaean, he knew there wasn’t anything for her to even see.
“I thought you said they used those with ahmaean,” Salindra said. She rested a hand on the trunk of a tree, and her ahmaean swirled around it, likely without her knowing what she did. The trees of this land had ahmaean of their own, though it was faint and weak, especially compared to what was found in the Great Forest and in the lands the daneamiin called home.
“All living things possess ahmaean. Some possess it in greater amounts than others. It is what binds us together, that which the Maker has created. It is life. Most of the time, it is too faint for us to see, and even when I can see it, there are few who can do anything with it.”
“Jakob can use it.”
Brohmin nodded. That had been surprising. When he’d learned that Jakob could use the ahmaean of the forest, he had been shocked. Unlike the Deshmahne, Jakob had been able to use it in a nondestructive way, drawing on the power of the ahmaean, but not destroying it the same way that the Deshmahne did when they stole it from creatures.
“These ceremonies, what do they entail?”
“They entail the Deshmahne using power stolen from others. They do not only steal from the Magi, or from the daneamiin. Those would be reserved for those highest within their faith. Most are given more simplistic gifts, power stolen from, say, a wolf or a deer, granting aspects of those creatures’ abilities and augmenting what the Deshmahne would be able to use on their own.”
Salindra took a deep breath and shook her head. “How can they steal from others without any real power? How is such a thing even possible?”
Brohmin paused and unsheathed his sword.
“What are you doing?”
“You asked how they could steal power from others.”
“By killing them? The brands that were placed on my ankles didn’t kill me. Maybe they would have in time, but it wasn’t anything direct.”
“Not direct. It’s all about this metal.”
He offered the sword to Salindra, and she hesitated before taking it. She studied it for long moments before her eyes widened slightly. “This… this is teralin.”
“You recognize it.”
“I think most of the Magi—at least those who have lived more than a few decades—would recognize it. But I recognize it for a different reason. Rondalin has stores of teralin. The king suddenly became interested in it, when he never had been before.”
“It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested. It was that the Magi had claimed it useful for them to speak to the gods.”
Salindra shook her head. “The Magi haven’t claimed the metal useful in reaching the gods for many years. Its role in allowing the Magi to communicate with the gods has long been debunked.”
“Not quite as long as you would believe.”
“How do you know? The Council—”
“I was there. When teralin was no longer mined, I was there.”
“You came to Vasha?”
“I have served the Conclave for many years. That takes me many places. Vasha is but one of them.” Brohmin felt the priest moving, the distant sense upon his ahmaean pulling him slightly along. Leaving a layer of ahmaean on the man was a trick he’d learned long ago from one of the damahne. That was a time when there had been many damahne for him to learn from. It reminded him of how old he was, and how little time he had remaining.
“What did happen then?” Salindra asked. “I remember stories, rumors, but I was nothing but a young Mage then.”
“You probably know more than I do. I was there, but my role was facing Deshmahne.”
Her eyes widened. “The Deshmahne have attacked Vasha before?”
“The Deshmahne were drawn to Vasha. There was a man who sought revenge, blaming the Denraen for what he perceived as inaction.”
She nodded slowly. “I remember hearing something about one of the high-ranking Denraen. That was before Endric became general, wasn’t it?”
Brohmin grunted. “It’s hard to think of a time before Endric was general, but it was. It was a time when Endric didn’t want to be general. I think his father forced him into the role.”
“If he didn’t want it, why would his father force him?”
“Because he was a member of the Conclave.”
Salindra shook her head. “You speak of the Conclave as if it’s this secretive group, ye
t I’ve met many members. How is this possible?”
“The Conclave consists of those who seek to serve real peace. The general of the Denraen is one, as are others.” It wasn’t his position to share the makeup of the Conclave. Brohmin was The Hunter. That was his role. He might have served longer than many of the others, but that no longer means what it once did.
“And the gods?”
“Alyta served the Conclave for many years.”
“And the historian?” she asked with a smile.
“You saw me with the historian. You recognize his value.”
“In Vasha, there have long been stories about the historian Novan. He was banished from the city for attempting to access the inner library.”
“Banishing him only would encourage him.”
“You sound as if you know him well.”
“I’ve known Novan for many years,” he said.
“And he sits on the Conclave?”
“He does.”
The priest seemed to have stopped moving, and the pressure on his ahmaean had changed. Brohmin closed his eyes and focused on what he detected, wondering where the priest might have gone, and why he had stopped moving. There was nothing that he could easily determine.
“Who else sits on the Conclave?” Salindra asked. She seemed oblivious to the fact that Brohmin focused on trying to track the priest. With her connection to her ahmaean being what it was now, that surprised him. He thought that she would have the ability to know when he was using his ahmaean.
“I could only share that with you if you sat on the Conclave.”
“Is that an invitation?”
“You would be welcomed. There has not been a Mage on the Conclave for many years.”
“The Magi have sat on the Conclave? Why wouldn’t they have brought it back to the Council of Elders?”
Brohmin shrugged. “Mage Tresten was a wise Mage.”
Salindra frowned. “Of course, it would be Tresten. He was lost too soon.”
“Killed, you mean.”
“Killed? No. Tresten fell while visiting with the priests in Thealon. He was always willing to travel from the city. I think his loss contributed to the Magi choosing not to serve outside of the city.”
The Lost City (The Lost Prophecy Book 5) Page 13
