Twist of the Fibers (The Lost Prophecy Book 4)

by D. K. Holmberg

  Warmth.

  Isandra almost pulled on the reins of the horse, drawing it to a stop. It shouldn’t be warm here.

  There was no questioning the fact that it was. The air had taken on a comfortable sense of warmth, one that felt out of place as far north as they had to be. She was beyond the northern range, a place that few had ever traveled. If she continued this way, many speculated that you could pass around to the east and reach the Unknown Lands. That seemed impossible to believe, impossible to think that she had traveled so far in such a short period of time.

  Even more impossible was the idea that the northern lands were habitable. Most believed they were little more than a continuation of the mountains, and others speculated there was nothing but a frozen sort of tundra, an uninhabitable land that stretched for leagues.

  Isandra sat up in her saddle, looking around, surveying the land around her. As she did, she realized that everyone had been entirely wrong. This wasn’t an uninhabitable land. This was a wide expanse of flat land. Grasses grew in a massive plane that stretched from far below her, near the base of the mountain and stretching even farther north. Trees dotted the plains, and a cluster of them formed a forest far to the east. Beyond that, she could imagine other lands, places that had never been seen, at least not by any who had ever returned to tell of their travels.

  To the west, she scanned, her gaze drifting, drifting, until she saw…

  Her breath caught. A city.

  How was it possible that there was a city in the north?

  There was no question that was what she saw. A sprawling collection of buildings spread out near the base of the mountain, made of a simple stone, with flat roofs. Streets ran between the buildings, and smoke drifted up from the chimneys, telling her this was an active city, not some ancient place that had been lost to time. There were plenty of those scattered around the north.

  “What is that?” she asked Jassan.

  He glanced back. “That is Farsea.”

  “Farsea?” She didn’t recognize the name from any map, though suspected she would not. That was the reason for Jassan’s reticence. That was the reason that he had been unwilling to speak much over the last few days. Not because of the difficulty facing the groeliin, though she suspected that troubled him as well. The Antrilii faced the groeliin frequently, so these attacks would not trouble them. Bringing her north, exposing his home to the Magi—and an Elder—that was reason for concern.

  “Yes. Farsea.”

  She barely heard him. Her gaze remained fixed on the distant city they rode toward. Not only had she found the Antrilii, but she had found that they had cities. They were supposed to be nomads, but they were nothing of the sort.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The wooden cart carried her steadily north, the jostling motion of the horses as they trod across the grassy plain sent sharp streaks of pain through Roelle’s back. Since awakening, she had not been able to sit up.

  He claimed that she would in time, though he also didn’t really know how seriously she was injured. If poison had set in—and Roelle had begun to think that it might have—there might not be anything that he could do to help her.

  Vasha was too far away for her to reach, and the types of poisons she was dealing with were beyond the healers in Thealon. The university possessed scholars nearly as renowned as those in Vasha, but asking them to help her—to somehow heal her—would require a connection the Magi did not share with the university.

  “Is this the only road through here?” Roelle asked.

  Selton rode next to her on a silver stallion. Nahrsin had given him one of the Antrilii horses. With as many men as Nahrsin had lost, there were plenty of mounts without riders. Then again, it was much the same for the Magi. They had lost so many.

  “This is the fastest way north,” Selton said. On most horses, he was large. The Antrilii stallion fit him better. “According to Nahrsin’s map, this is the way back to Vasha.”

  The rest of the Magi riding with her did so silently. They rode in two lines, all keeping their eyes open, knowing that bands of groeliin still existed in the north. Roelle wasn’t in any shape to face them, but the rest of the Magi with her were better suited. Of them, Selton had been the other one with severe injuries, and the Antrilii had managed to heal his.

  Why had Roelle not been able to receive the same healing?

  She tried not to let thoughts like that get to her. She tried not to think that the gods had in some way abandoned her. They had not. She had made a choice. She had willingly ridden after the groeliin, and had willingly fought them. It had been a necessary sacrifice, and one she had chosen to make.

  “We can’t make good time with this wagon,” Roelle said. Her strength hadn’t completely failed her, and the rest of the Magi still followed her lead. She wasn’t certain she was the right person for that, though appreciated their willingness to stand behind her.

  “We’ll make whatever time we need to,” Selton said. “We’ll reach Vasha before…”

  Selton swallowed, unable to finish. He looked down at her, compassion shining in his dark eyes. He had remained by her side since Nahrsin had summoned him once she’d awoken. They had long been friends, though that friendship had been tested in the time following their journey away from Vasha, tested by her insistence that they continue to chase after the groeliin, but Selton now seemed to understand that what they did was necessary. All the Magi did.

  She wished she could sit up to look at the other Magi riding with her. Jhun and Zamell both had survived the fight, but so many others had not. Silently, she began to name them to herself, and forced herself to stop.

  What did that do other than torment her? They had come willingly, much like the Antrilii had come willingly.

  “If I don’t make it—”

  “You’ll make it. Roelle, you’re the strongest person I know,” Selton said.

  She smiled. Coming from him—a man who was as massive as a blacksmith—the compliment felt unearned. She didn’t necessarily feel strong. Had she been stronger, they wouldn’t have lost so many.

  “If I don’t make it, you need to convince my uncle that the Magi can’t continue to abandon our gifts.”

  Selton glanced over his shoulder, looking back at the trail of warriors that road with them. “An entire generation of Magi came with us to the north,” Selton said. “An entire generation saw the threat the Antrilii have faced for centuries. I think we can safely say that the Magi will be different from this point forward.”

  Would they? It was one thing to have a generation of Magi who had taken up weapons, and fought, essentially acting more like the Antrilii than like Magi, but it was another thing entirely for the rest of the Magi to understand and to accept it. If they didn’t, would they oppose what Roelle now understood needed to happen?

  Not only did the Magi need to assist the Antrilii, but she began to believe that the Magi needed to train with the Antrilii, to prepare for the groeliin that would surely attack again. The Antrilii might defend the north, but the Magi should assist, especially since they are as capable of seeing the groeliin as the Antrilii. They didn’t have the advantage of the countless years facing the creatures, and they didn’t have the same culture or dedication to facing the groeliin, but those were things they could learn. Roelle felt certain of that.

  “Just promise me,” she said.

  Selton glanced over at her, watching her for long moments before finally nodding. “I promise that if you don’t survive the return trip to Vasha, that I will do what I can to convince your uncle.”

  “I hope the proof we sent back made it to them,” she said.

  Selton closed his eyes, a frown pinching his face. “I hope so as well. We didn’t hear anything from the Council.”

  That had troubled Roelle as well. If the Council had received word from Inraith, wouldn’t they have sent help?

  But even receiving the groeliin head—proof of their presence, and proof of the threat they posed—what would have chang
ed? The Council, and for that matter, the rest of the Magi who remained in Vasha, didn’t possess the same interest in or skill with the sword as Roelle and the rest of the apprentices—now warriors—who had traveled north at Endric’s insistence. What help could they have sent?

  Not the Denraen. Had they attempted to send the Denraen, those men would have been slaughtered. Roelle didn’t want that, though doubted that Endric would have been foolish enough to even send his soldiers. She had a feeling that he knew about the groeliin, and possibly had faced them himself. If so, there would be more questions.

  “I only hope the Council has forgiven us for disappearing as we did,” Selton said.

  That might be nearly as much of a challenge to overcome as anything else. They had disappeared from the city, going off on their own, abandoning what many would consider the ideals of the Urmahne faith. Yet, they had learned much, and had come to a different sort of understanding, one that she hoped would change something about the Magi.

  “After that is done, there’s something else you’ll need to do,” Roelle said.

  Selton shook his head. “Don’t talk like this, Roelle. Don’t talk like you’re—”

  “Nahrsin was clear that there was little he could do about the poison. If I succumb to it, I want to know the Magi will not ignore what we’ve learned, that we won’t go another thousand years forgetting who we are, and the people we were meant to be.”

  Selton nodded. “What would you propose then?”

  “After meeting with the Council, go north. Join the Antrilii, work with them, train with them. Nahrsin will allow it, I’m certain of it.” She hadn’t actually spoken to him about that part of her plan, though she had a hard time believing that he wouldn’t agree to it. Likely, he’d consider it a part of the gods’ will.

  “You would have the apprentices—”

  “Not apprentices. Warriors,” Roelle said, putting an emphasis on warrior. She didn’t want anyone to consider the Magi who had gone north anything other than warriors. They were no longer apprentices.

  “Fine. Warriors. You would have us leave Vasha again?”

  “Ideally, you would convince others of the Magi to go with you.”

  “To train? I think it’ll be hard to convince others that they need to pick up the sword. It was hard enough to convince them to let us attempt to use the sword.”

  “Not necessarily to train, but they certainly could if interested. I think that any Mage could learn to use the sword with some level of skill. We have a natural gift, Selton. We should use it.”

  “If not for that reason, then what?”

  “The Antrilii share our abilities. There are things we can teach them about using them, much like there are things they can to teach us about using our physical gifts.”

  Selton chuckled. “I can just imagine trying to convince your uncle that not only do we need to encourage the Magi to train with swords and staff, but that we need to head north and work with the Antrilii to teach them how to use abilities they don’t even know they possess.”

  Roelle wasn’t certain whether the Antrilii didn’t know about their abilities, or whether they guarded them as a secret. How much more powerful could they all be if they utilized the full extent of their gifts?

  “What of the other thing that Nahrsin shared with you?” Selton asked.

  Roelle closed her eyes. She still didn’t know what to make of his assertion that Jakob was somehow one of the gods. It would defy the essence of the teachings she’d had growing up.

  It simply wasn’t possible for a god to be born of men. But Nahrsin seemed quite certain that not only was it possible, but that Jakob was, indeed, what he called a damahne. He seemed to recognize something about him, some aspect of his ability that allowed him to identify Jakob as one of the gods.

  It made no sense to her. Then again, what she had witnessed—the overwhelming skill that she had seen from Jakob, the way he had moved in a blur, practically anticipating where the groeliin would be—had been otherworldly.

  Maybe Jakob being a god was the easiest answer. Otherwise, she would have to find some other explanation of how he had the skills that he did. There was no good way to explain either.

  “I don’t know what to make of that,” Roelle admitted.

  “Did you have any idea when you traveled with him?” Selton asked.

  When she’d first told Selton about Nahrsin’s comment regarding Jakob, her friend had taken it more in stride than she had. Then again, he had also jokingly suggested that Roelle had fallen in love with a god. It was the sort of harassment she once had expected from him, but that had changed in the last few months.

  “Other than his ability with the sword?”

  Selton grinned. “I would never have guessed the gods would use a weapon such as a sword.”

  “We don’t know that he’s a god,” Roelle said.

  “I saw him fighting the same as you. And being a god is an easier answer than any others I can think of.”

  She stared up at the cloudless sky. Selton’s thoughts mirrored her own. The road remained rough, jostling her, and she tried to ignore the pain shooting through her back each time the wheels of the wagon struck a rock or divot in the ground. Each time, it seemed to toss her slightly into the air, and each time she landed, she tried not to wince too much. The pain was significant, and even the salves Nahrsin had sent with her did nothing to alleviate it. He had offered her other medications, a liquid that he claimed would ease her pain, but she had hesitated taking it, not wanting to dull her senses.

  “If he is, I don’t think he knew.”

  Selton chuckled.

  “There were rumors about the gods,” Lendra began.

  Roelle tried to twist so that she could see Selton’s cousin. She had been making notes in her notebook, behaving much like the historian Novan had when Roelle had ridden with him. Roelle wondered what sorts of notes Lendra made, and what observations she had come up with during their travels.

  “What kind of rumors?” Roelle asked.

  Lendra looked up and blinked slowly, almost as if realizing she had spoken aloud. “He forced himself into the Tower. Wouldn’t that be something only one of the gods could manage?”

  If nothing else, learning that Jakob had somehow managed to force his way into the Tower should have been proof enough that he was a god. None of the Magi had ever accomplished that, and there had been countless attempts over the years, something that many Magi once considered a rite of passage.

  “Could you tell when you were with him?” Roelle asked.

  Lendra shook her head. “I agree with you that he probably didn’t know what he was. I had a sense that he had questions, and he wanted to reach the inside of the Tower for answers.”

  Roelle had been even more surprised to realize that they had managed to get inside the Tower, and had attempted to save a goddess. Had they been successful? Nahrsin claimed that Jakob had not emerged from the Tower, but he had also reported that the hole into the Tower had disappeared. No one else would be able to enter, something Roelle suspected was just as well. The Tower had been sealed for countless centuries. It was only fitting that it remained that way.

  “See?” Selton said. “What else could he be but a god if he managed to enter the Tower?”

  “I would imagine one of the gods would be able to heal you,” Lendra said.

  Roelle’s mind had been wandering, and Lendra’s comment brought it racing back to the present. “What was that?”

  Lendra made another mark in her journal, before looking over. “Just that I think that one of the gods would be able to heal you. It’s a shame that we don’t have any way of finding him.”

  Selton looked over at her, hope shining in his eyes. Roelle hadn’t realized before now how worried for her he had become. He feared that she wouldn’t survive this. For that matter, she had a growing fear of the same. Even if they reached Vasha, there was no guarantee that the Magi healers there would be able to help her.

  “Ev
en if we could find him,” Roelle began, meeting Selton’s gaze, “and that’s if— especially since I wouldn’t know where to begin—he has barely learned of his abilities. What makes us certain that he would even know how to use them to help me?”

  “We don’t know, but if the Magi can’t help you,” Selton answered, “then at least there’s something else we can try. I don’t want to have you die this way. There has to be something that we can do to help you, Roelle. If he cared about you at all, he would try to help you.”

  He had a pained note in his voice, and it hurt her to hear that from him.

  “I think our best bet is to continue with the plan,” Roelle said. “We need to keep heading to Vasha and see if the healers can help me.”

  “And if you start getting worse?” Selton asked.

  Roelle stared at the sky. “Then, we may have to consider alternative options.” Even if that meant searching for a man she had considered a friend, one who might be something more than he—or she—could believe.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jakob looked out over the valley, staring at the landscape as it swept away, imagining a river in the dry streambed. The last time he had been here, he had come with Novan and Endric, leaving the city with the Denraen as the Magi selected their delegates, back when he had felt a growing fear that the madness was going to claim him as it had claimed Scottan.

  He still didn’t understand what had triggered the strange itch during that journey. It had to be about more than his growing abilities. He didn’t think it was a nemerahl he sensed, nor did he think the creature had followed him until they reached the Unknown Lands. But what other reason would there have been? Now that he had begun to understand how to travel, it was time for him to revisit a few of the places he had been before, now armed with the knowledge of who and what he was.

  The first stop was this valley. After his vision, he recalled what Novan had told him of the ancient valley that had been here. There had been a river that once flowed through here, though he couldn’t remember what Novan had called it. Were there ruins or other evidence that a city had once been here as well? If he could find that, some evidence of the ancient city that he had seen in his vision, maybe he could understand more about what he’d seen.