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
Epilogue
The Last Conclave
D.K. Holmberg
ASH Publishing
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
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Also by D.K. Holmberg
Map
Prologue
Isandra stood outside the cell, peering at Jostephon through the bars of heated metal. The teralin was unpleasant this close, but she was determined not to let him see her discomfort and determined to show him that she was not afraid of him. He looked quite a bit different from when she had seen him in Vasha. There had always been a certain distinguished quality about him. With what he had been through—and what he had done—that had faded from his visage.
“Have you come to taunt me?” Jostephon sat in the middle of the cell. It was buried in the rock of one of the lower foothills, close enough to the city of Farsea that it was little more than an hour’s walk to reach him, but far enough that he didn’t have access to the city itself.
“Do I need to taunt you?”
“You are a mockery of the Magi. You recognize that, don’t you?”
Isandra put her face as close to the bars as she dared. “I have made a mockery of the Magi? You’re the one who betrayed everything our people believed in.”
He snorted. “Belief. That is part of the problem, isn’t it? What is belief but the ignorant following of those who don’t know better?”
“You should know that I sent word to Alriyn and Endric of your presence here.” She expected a reaction out of him, but he gave her barely anything.
“Should I fear Alriyn?”
“He defeated you once. Would you really have me believe that you don’t fear him?”
Jostephon stared at her. This was not the first time that she’d visited him here, but it was the first time he had actually responded to her. When she’d come before, he’d simply spat out insults, but after what Isandra had been through over these last weeks and months, insults barely fazed her.
“You are defeated. Can’t you see that?”
He smiled, an expression that looked more like a snarl than anything else. “Defeated? Are you so certain that I’m defeated? I serve a man of such power that time and distance mean nothing to him.”
Isandra knew very little about the man that Jostephon claimed to serve. He was the High Priest of the Deshmahne, but he must be something else as well for the former Eldest of the Magi Council to serve him so willingly. The man had to be more than Deshmahne for Jostephon to have abandoned everything that he believed in, everything that made him a Mage to begin with.
“If your master is so powerful, why has he left you here?”
Jostephon snarled and ran at the bars of his cell, his manehlin pressing against them, but rebounding. That had been a key piece that Isandra had learned. The neutral teralin prevented the use of manehlin. It created something of a barrier and neutralized Jostephon, preventing him from escaping. There were still two Antrilii soldiers stationed at the mouth of the cave along with one of the merahl, but even if there were not, Jostephon would have struggled to escape.
She stood without flinching. But she still reached almost instinctively for her sword and felt reassured that her skill had continued to improve. In the days and weeks since the attack on the breeding grounds, she had continued to train with Jassan, gaining increased comfort with her swordsmanship. She doubted that she would ever rival Roelle, a young Mage that both Nahrsin and Jassan held in high esteem, but she no longer felt the burning pain that came from the loss of her abilities.
She was something else. And she was fine with that.
“Why did you come here?” Jostephon asked.
“The same reason I came to Farsea in the first place. I wanted understanding.”
Jostephon took a step back from the bars and sneered at her. “If you would seek understanding, you would discover that which you believe in most strongly has been nothing more than a lie.”
“What? The gods? Or do you mean the mahne?”
She leaned back in toward the bars, ignoring the heat. She had felt the heat of teralin before while in Vasha, but this was somehow different. It wasn’t only that it was warm and uncomfortable; there was something to the intent that was unpleasant. Even if she had her connection to her Mage abilities, she would not have been able to use it against him. The neutrality of the bars prevented her from reaching him as much as they prevented him from reaching her.
“The Antrilii possess a copy,” she said. “Were you aware of that?”
Jostephon stared at her. “The mahne? Is that what you think I care about?”
“I think you care about connections to the past. If nothing else, you have shown that consistently. You were a scholar once. I don’t know what you are now
, but it is something else.”
“A scholar, but also a realist. I recognized that we are not at all what we have believed ourselves to be.”
“What is that? We are Magi, gifted by the gods—”
Jostephon’s harsh laughter cut her off. “Gods? The more you dig, I think you’ll find that the gods are nothing like what we all believed them to be.”
She stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to elaborate, but he did not. There was much she could learn from him. He was one of the most well read of the Magi and a gifted scholar. That made his betrayal all the worse. Losing Jostephon, and all that he knew was a huge blow, especially as he had apparently begun serving the Deshmahne.
“The Antrilii possess a complete copy of the mahne.”
He looked up and met her eyes. There was an intensity there, and there was something more… Was it hunger?
“The Antrilii would not possess such a thing.”
“Believe what you will, but I have seen it. The mahne is complete, even the sections that we have misinterpreted.” That had been a shock to her. When she had learned that the Yahinv possessed a complete copy of the mahne and that they had considered it little more than a book, she hadn’t known how to respond. The Magi treated the mahne as sacred, and it had been the founding of the Urmahne, the basis of religion for the last thousand years.
“Show it to me.”
Isandra laughed. “Why should I show it to you? I’m not the one in the cage.”
“Show it to me, and I will teach you things that will change the way you view the world.”
“Do you think this is some sort of negotiation? The simple fact that I came north to Farsea, and that I have begun practicing with the sword—and have killed groeliin—proves that my view of the world has changed. What more do you think you can share with me?”
“I will share with you the secret of the gods and the secret to power.” His gaze drifted to her ankles, where the branding remained. It was little more than a scar now, not the burning wound that it once had been, her abilities seeping out, drawn by the torment that the Deshmahne had worked upon her. “You still chase power, do you not? Or would you have me believe that you don’t care that you can no longer reach the manehlin and that you can no longer delve into that hidden part of your mind that lets you access powers that are beyond yourself.”
Isandra stood motionless, her hands clenched in front of her.
Jostephon grinned. “You betray yourself by your lack of response. I can see it in your eyes and the way that you grab at your cloak. You miss it. You long for it.”
“I have come to terms with what I’ve lost.”
Jostephon laughed again, the sound grating on her ears. “You have come to terms? I think that you will have to lie better if you intend to convince me. I can see it on your face, and I can see the way you long for it.”
“I won’t deny that I would like to have my abilities back. I suffered when they were stolen from me. It hurt.” She tried to ignore the satisfied smirk on his face. How many Magi had he stolen from to earn the markings on his arms? How many others with abilities had he taken from? “I have come to terms with what I cannot change.”
He leaned toward her. “What if I were to tell you that you could change it?”
Isandra tried to keep her reaction neutral but feared that she did not. What he offered was exactly what she wanted. She wanted a way to reach for her abilities again, but healing that, in restoring herself, would require a sacrifice. She suspected it was not one she was willing to make. The Yahinv had somehow cauterized her branding, which stopped what remained of her abilities from being stolen. That was enough. It had to be enough.
“Perhaps that will be the trade,” Jostephon said. “You will bring me the copy of the mahne, and I will demonstrate to you how to restore your abilities.”
Isandra took a step back. “As I said, this is not a negotiation.”
She made her way out of the cavern, ignoring the satisfied laughter that chased her. At the entrance to the cave, the two Antrilii standing there both nodded to her. The merahl—this one a deep brown with gray stripes along its sides—brushed up against her. Since fighting the groeliin, the merahl had treated her differently. Not only the one with which she had a connection—some sort of bond—but all of them.
“You look troubled.”
She turned and saw Jassan lounging against the entrance to the cavern. “Did you follow me here?”
“Call it curiosity. I wanted to know what brought you out here. You’ve been seen coming every few days.”
Isandra sighed. She glanced to the darkened cave entrance, thinking of Jostephon trapped inside the cell, unable to go anywhere. It was a fitting sentence for him, especially if he was responsible for the breeding of groeliin, but it was still difficult for her to see any Mage trapped in such a way. After what she’d gone through in Rondalin, it was hard to see anyone imprisoned.
“Imagine if it were Nahrsin.”
“Nahrsin would never betray the Antrilii.”
She smiled at him placatingly. “Imagine it, regardless. This is a Mage who has led my people for many years. Learning that he betrayed us… It is difficult for me.”
“He seeks a bargain with you.”
“You were listening.”
“As I said, call it curiosity. I wanted to know if you were in any danger with him.”
Isandra laughed, trying to hide the bitterness. “He’s trapped within the teralin cage. There is nothing he can do to reach me, even with all the power that he possesses. I only hope to learn something from him.”
“Before Endric claims him?”
“You will give him over to Endric?” She had sent word to Alriyn and Endric but hadn’t expected the Antrilii to give Jostephon over to them.
“He is a Mage. We will let Endric and the Denraen decide his punishment.”
“We haven’t even learned what he plans to do with the groeliin.” That was the other reason she had come here, and in that, she had failed. She had been caught up in promises that he had made, taunts that he offered her. She knew better than to allow him to get under her skin, and get within her mind, but he had.
“He will talk before he travels with Endric.” Jassan watched her for a moment, motioning for her to follow him.
They walked away from the cavern, and the Antrilii standing guard ignored them. The merahl watched them depart, and Isandra had the sense that her merahl remained crawling along the mountains. Though she knew merahl were not pets, it was hard for her to ignore her sense that it was her merahl. The connection they shared was not something she could ignore. She suspected they were all at least as intelligent as humans.
“You’re tempted by his offer,” Jassan said.
“What offer? He made several, and most of them were likely nothing more than bluster.”
“He claimed he could help restore you. That tempts you.”
Isandra sighed. Her gaze turned to the cloudless sky, with the sun shining brightly. It was cool despite the bright sun, and a hint of a breeze gusted from the north. Grasses that grew as high as her knee spread out in front of her before ending at the early slopes that led to the mountains. Everything around her was much greener than she would have ever imagined possible. There was life here in lands that had never been thought to be habitable.
“Should it not tempt me?”
“His offer will be layered with expectations. I think you need to be careful trusting someone like him.”
She glanced over at Jassan. He had a strong jaw, and his face showed no signs of the war paint the Antrilii wore when ranging through the mountains and hunting for groeliin. That didn’t make him any less intimidating. He was a large man, and she knew him to be a fearsome warrior. Despite that, he was cautious with her, almost gentle.
“I won’t trust him. I won’t make that mistake. But what if he knows something that will help others?”
Jassan smiled. “Ah. This is all about helping the less fortunate. It i
s a noble reason to seek answers. In that, you would be considered godly.”
She glanced back at the cave. What had Jostephon claimed about the gods? There were secrets. She didn’t know what to make of that, and she didn’t know what to make of the fact that with his studies, and with his understanding, he probably did know much more than she ever could.
Perhaps when Alriyn and Endric arrived, she would get those answers.
But if she waited, it might be too late. It was possible that by waiting, she risked Jostephon holding back from her. Could she use the threat of Alriyn and Endric’s pending arrival to gain the information she wanted?
If she did, she would have to be forceful with her actions, and she would have to act differently with him than she had so far. She would have to prove that she had changed.
Could she?
She had changed much in the time since leaving Rondalin. No, that wasn’t quite right. The change that she had gone through had started the moment she left Vasha. She had discovered violence on the way to Rondalin, and had experienced it even more once she reached that city. It had forced actions—and decisions—that she never would’ve thought herself capable of. She was a different woman now.
That more than anything else told her what she needed to do. Jostephon thought that he could bargain with her, that he could trade information that she wanted for information that he wanted. She had become hardened in the time since she’d left Vasha. She had fought—and killed—groeliin, creatures that were out of a nightmare.
The Last Conclave (The Lost Prophecy Book 6) Page 1
