Twist of the Fibers (The Lost Prophecy Book 4)

by D. K. Holmberg

  He and Jessica had wanted to escape the north, to escape the violence, and had come to Polle Pal, but any hope of starting anew had been challenged. The people here were not always welcoming to them, other than Kalyn, and she had another motivation, one that Daniel didn’t completely know quite yet.

  In the distance, ships bobbed on the waves, up and down. Massive sails were unfurled, catching the wind, blowing them closer to shore. Where was the port? Daniel couldn’t remember and didn’t know if it was because of a head injury, or because of something else. His mind did feel foggy, as if he had either slept too long, or not well enough.

  “Those are from Bastiin,” she said excitedly.

  The comment triggered something in his mind. Bastiin ships. They were dangerous to him.

  He started to pull away, wanting to retreat from the wall. All he wanted to do was rest, to sleep off the confusion that he felt. His mind seemed to war with itself, as if it battled over who would be in control.

  Why would he feel such a strange sensation?

  This was supposed to be a fun day, Festival Day, one he could spend with Kalyn—no, with Jessica. Wasn’t that who he wanted to spend it with?

  Daniel no longer knew who he wanted to spend it with. Nor did he know who he was supposed to spend it with. With the confusion, there were snippets of memories that came from Jessica. They had a life, something else… children.

  Had children.

  Something had happened.

  That was why he had come to Polle Pal, and why he feared the ships from Bastiin.

  They were responsible somehow.

  “Daniel?” Kalyn asked.

  “I should get back. Jessica will be—”

  Kalyn’s face clouded. “You should get back. This was a mistake. I thought that we could be here as friends, but…”

  There was hurt in her voice, and Daniel knew that he was responsible for putting it there.

  What had happened? What had he done to her? How had he injured her?

  No answer came to him, though he knew that it should. He knew that he should comfort her, that she had gone through something nearly as devastating as he had, though he might not quite recall what that was. That was her reason for coming to him, her reason for wanting comfort.

  And he pushed her away.

  A memory drifted to the forefront of his mind. It was one of loss. She had lost as well.

  Daniel had lost his children, and he remembered vividly now what it had been like holding Agnes’s fallen body, her limp and lifeless neck rolled back, her eyes glassy. Finding Oleha had been even worse.

  Kalyn had lost as well. What had she lost?

  A loved one. Her husband.

  Despite that, still she laughed. Still she smiled. That was the appeal to Daniel. Jessica no longer smiled. She no longer laughed.

  In the five years since they had lost their children, laughter was rare.

  Daniel stepped toward Kalyn, feeling the warmth coming off her body, noting the curves beneath her silky dress. She looked at him with a question shining in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Kalyn. This…”

  She placed her hand on his cheek and smiled at him. It was that smile that had drawn him to her from the very beginning. It was the laughter that had made them friends. “I know, Daniel. You have suffered greatly.”

  “I’m not the only one who has suffered,” Daniel said.

  “It’s different. I don’t pretend to think otherwise. It’s just…”

  “It’s just what?”

  “It’s just that when I see you, when I see you smile and laugh, you transform. You’re someone else. It’s almost as if the person that you were before comes out, the person who was lost when you lost your children. All I would like is a chance to help bring that person out permanently.”

  “I don’t know if it’s possible,” Daniel said. “With what happened, that person might be gone. Buried.”

  “Only if you want three people to have died that day.”

  The words were said gently, but they were a nudge, and one that Daniel realized he needed.

  “What do I do?” he asked. “She needs me as well.”

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps you only think she needs you. Holding on to the past only traps you there. You need to let go. You need to move on, accept what you can’t change. Only then can you be free to welcome the possibilities the future might bring.”

  Daniel squeezed his eyes closed. “I… I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid that if I let go, and if I move on, that I’ll forget them.”

  She removed her hand from his cheek and placed it on his chest. His heart was hammering there, and he felt a connection to her, one he had not felt in many years. It was one he had never truly had with Jessica. The arrangement of their marriage had made them friends, but not much else. The loss of their children had changed even that.

  “How can you forget them when you hold them so close?”

  “But if I let go of the past, won’t I let go of their memory?”

  “If you hold on to the past, you alter their memory.” She stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. Where her lips touched his skin, it tingled, sending a vibration through him, one that began as a slow pulsing then worked out from his chest and raced down to his toes and through the rest of his body.

  Daniel practically throbbed with the sensation.

  There was something familiar to it, something that he had forgotten for nearly as long as he had forgotten who he had been.

  He stepped back, and Kalyn looked at him with hurt in her eyes.

  Daniel smiled. “Thank you,” he said.

  “What is it? Have you decided that you don’t want…” She shook her head before finishing, forcing a smile.

  Daniel knew her well enough to recognize that it was not genuine, just as he recognized the edge of hurt in her eyes. “I don’t want to cause anyone any more hurt. Let me talk to her first. Then…”

  Kalyn’s face changed, the smile that returned was genuine. “You want to do it during the Drawing Festival?”

  “I need to say something,” he said.

  Kalyn turned to face the rocky shore, and stared out at the waves crashing in the distance. “Do what you must, and know that I’ll be waiting.”

  Daniel stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, turning her to face him. Holding her like this felt right. It felt comforting in a way that he had been missing. It felt as if a part of him returned. Standing this close to her, feeling the warmth from her, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her gently on the lips, to stay with her, but he didn’t want to hurt Jessica. He owed her the truth. Regardless of what had happened between them, or the fact that both of them had changed, and that their arranged marriage was no longer a happy one, he owed her that.

  “Thank you,” Daniel said.

  He kissed her cheek, and stepped away.

  As he turned, in the distance he saw a figure standing on the ridgeline, watching them.

  He knew without question that it was Jessica.

  Daniel glanced back at Kalyn, and she nodded. “Go to her.”

  Daniel ran. Jessica approached the edge of the rocks just as Daniel reached her. She stood there, too close to the edge, the water crashing against the rocks over a hundred feet below them.

  “Jessica?”

  “I’ve known, Daniel. I’ve seen the way that you smile when you’re with her.”

  “Jessica. Take a step back.”

  “All I want is to be with them. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. And you… you seem determined to move past them.”

  “Not past them. I miss them as much as you do.”

  Jessica shook her head violently. “Not as much as I do. You could never miss them as much as I do. I’m their mother. I was their mother.”

  “And I their father.”

  “I can’t find happiness here, Daniel. No matter what you might think. I know we came here to forget, but I can’t. I can’t forget seeing their eyes. I can’t fo
rget seeing the hurt on their faces. I can’t forget seeing their lives dashed from them.”

  “I see all of those things as well,” Daniel said.

  “No. You still see hope where I see nothing but loss.” She stepped a little closer to the edge, and Daniel reach for her, grabbing her hand as she jumped.

  He pulled, trying to keep her from dropping to the rocks below, but she had pushed off with too much force. Her momentum carried him forward, carried him over the edge.

  A smile parted Jessica’s lips.

  As they fell, Daniel spun, seeing Kalyn staring at him horrified.

  The rocks greeted him with a painful crash. Now they would both rejoin their children.

  Then there was no more.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Isandra followed Jassan into the city, unable to help the wide-eyed stare she had as she looked around, studying the buildings all around her. They were simply—and skillfully—built. Roofs were made of a strange slate, nothing like what was used in the south. Most had windows, and the glass set into them was also skillfully created. They had decorative elements, though most seemed to serve a dual purpose, not only decorative but also defensive. The bars over the windows had twisted and exotic designs, but she suspected they also served to protect the inhabitants.

  “How many people live in the city?” she asked Jassan, as they made their way further into the city.

  “Farsea has nearly ten thousand people.”

  Ten thousand? She struggled to believe this city could have that many, though it was possible she hadn’t seen the entirety of it. Maybe she had seen only an outer edge, only enough to recognize that there was a city here.

  “And all are Antrilii?”

  Jassan glanced back at her. “What else would they be?”

  “What about merchants? Traders? How do you—”

  “We are able to provide for ourselves. We produce everything required to survive.”

  Isandra sensed a slightly offended tone in his voice. “I didn’t mean—”

  Jassan smiled. “I know that you didn’t mean anything by that. These lands are the Antrilii’s. No others have ventured here in over a thousand years.”

  “Don’t you want to be a part of the rest of the world?”

  “With what we must do, there is no reason to do so. Too much is at stake, too many could be hurt if we fail. It’s best that we remain where we are, and that we remain hidden.”

  They stopped at a two-story building, and two of the men in their party pulled Tarin from the saddle and carried him down the street, where they disappeared. She wondered where they were taking him, but was pulled from the thought by Jassan motioning her forward, and she dismounted and followed him into the building.

  “Where are you taking me?” Isandra asked Jassan.

  “You have come to the Antrilii lands. Now it is time for you to meet the leaders of the Antrilii.”

  “The tribe chiefs don’t lead the Antrilii?”

  “We lead when there is war,” Jassan said.

  “Isn’t there always war for the Antrilii? I thought you told me that you were always fighting the groeliin.”

  “We always fight the groeliin, but it is different from being at war. Only during wartime do the tribe chiefs lead.” He reached for the handle of the door leading into the two-story building, and glanced back at her. “You will find that the Antrilii can be welcoming. But you may also find that there are those who are not.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that there are those among the Antrilii who were not pleased that Nahrsin led warriors south,” he said. “And they will not be pleased that I have a Mage with me, especially one of the Magi Council.”

  “How much can you know of the Magi Council?” she asked. She turned her attention to the street, taking in the strange city of Farsea. It was like any other city that she’d been to, but in some ways, it was much different. This was a city where none should exist.

  “We know much about the Magi Council,” he said.

  “How? How can you know about the Council when we know so little about the Antrilii?”

  “The Magi have chosen to turn a blind eye to the Antrilii. We have not chosen the same.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means, Mage, that we have been watching our cousins to the south, waiting for a time when you would recognize that there was more that the Antrilii could offer, but that recognition never came. The closest we came was with Endric, and he knew simply because he is Antrilii.”

  The door opened, and he stepped inside, giving her a brief—but encouraging—look.

  Isandra stood frozen in place for a moment. What did he mean by cousins?

  She had recognized that the Antrilii had some sort of ability—they must, considering the way they were able to face and overwhelm the groeliin, an ability she had been taught only those blessed by the gods like the Magi were capable of—but what was that ability?

  There was much of the history of the Antrilii and the Magi that she needed to know, that she needed to understand.

  Even more reason for her to send word to the Council.

  Would the Antrilii allow her to send word? Would they help facilitate it in any way?

  Isandra didn’t know. What she did know was that there was something about the Antrilii that drew her. She didn’t understand it, but couldn’t deny that she felt a kinship with them, and a surge of connection from them, one that seemed natural. Especially from Jassan.

  Why should that be? Why should she feel a connection to the people who lived so far away from what she knew, and where she considered home?

  It was curiosity that finally sent her moving forward.

  She stepped inside the room and found it to be a cozy sort of place. It was the kind of room that could fit in any city. The walls were a paneled wood, stained a soft brown that matched the wide wooden planks that covered the floor. The scent of baked breads and other spices filled the air.

  What stood out were the paintings along the wall. They were exquisite depictions of the gods. Isandra had seen similar paintings, of similar quality, but only in Vasha—and only in the palace. Seeing them here, in a building that looked to be nothing more than a tavern, made her realize how little she knew, and how little she had expected to find here.

  Jassan had gone over to the other side of the room, and now stood before a bench, leaning toward a woman seated in a leather-covered chair. The woman was older and had silvery hair that hung loose around her shoulders. Deep wrinkles creased the corners of her eyes, and she had a sharp nose.

  Isandra frowned a moment, wondering if the grayish leather on the chair was groeliin, before realizing that couldn’t be. The Antrilii had made a point of destroying the bodies of the groeliin after they fought them. They never would have turned them into furniture. She still didn’t recognize the leather, though after years of living with the Magi in the palace, years spent as an Elder, she had an eye for quality. Everything in this building spoke of quality.

  Had they made all of this?

  Jassan had said that no traders came through here, but that meant they must have their own skilled blacksmiths, skilled painters, leather workers, and likely dozens of others that she hadn’t quite considered. In a city this size, it wouldn’t be surprising to have so many different artisans, but to have them of any skill… That would be surprising.

  The rest of the room was similarly appointed. A few tables had empty wooden chairs around them, each of the chairs finely made, but only a few with any sort of decorative carving. That which she saw was skillfully done. A thick carpet ran along one wall, and it took a moment for her to realize it was not carpet like the palace in Vasha had, but rather it was woven from several different furs. Laca, by the look of it. Everything here had a warmth and a comfortable quality to it.

  She stood by herself, waiting for Jassan to finish his conversation with the gray-haired woman. Had Isandra still possessed any of her abilities, she would have
been able to affect the manehlin, and could have used that to reach toward Jassan and the woman, and listen to their conversation. Even thinking about using her abilities left her tired.

  She felt it as a constant drain, one that had eased since joining the Antrilii, but still a drain. She needed to get word to the Council, and warn them of what the Deshmahne could do to the Magi, but what if it had already happened? Was there anything that could be done to help Magi who had been injured like this?

  There had to be something, and Isandra would do what she could to find it. She might not be as capable as she had been as a Mage Elder, but that didn’t mean her mind had been destroyed. She had broken free of the prison in Rondalin. She had done that on her own, as Jassan had reminded her. Had she never been captured by the Deshmahne, Isandra doubted she ever would have discovered what she was capable of doing. She doubted she would have learned that she had that streak of anger in her.

  Jassan stood and hurried toward her, tapping her on the shoulder. “We should go, Mage.”

  Isandra glanced back, looking at the woman sitting in the chair. It seemed the woman had made a point of not looking in her direction. Why would that be? What had passed between her and Jassan?

  She hurried after him, and once back in the street, he breathed out heavily. In all the time that she’d traveled with him, all the danger that came from the groeliin, she hadn’t seen him so shaken before. It troubled her that little more than a conversation could unsettle him this way. What had been said?

  “Jassan?” She didn’t want to push too hard, but then again, he had promised her safety, and given her hope of perhaps understanding something of the Antrilii. If there was something she needed to be concerned about, she would prefer to know it now rather than struggle to find it later.