The Last Conclave (The Lost Prophecy Book 6)

by D. K. Holmberg

  How many such places had been created for simply that purpose? So the damahne could practice with their abilities, and create as they did? Maybe Gareth would answer those questions another time.

  The Tower of the Gods had a purpose, and had been used as a residence for the damahne, but there weren’t too many other places that had a similar purpose.

  He still thought he needed to understand teralin better, but that would come later.

  Jakob shifted, appearing within the palace.

  The halls here were empty. Dozens of tapestries hung along the walls, each woven with exquisite workmanship. The Magi who had made them had clearly taken pride in their work. There were statues here, and Jakob glanced at them as he made his way through the halls. The corridors had a sense of age to them, and the air a musty quality that hung with not only a sense of age, but of a weight.

  Jakob had no easy way of finding Novan other than checking where the historian had been before. He shifted, traveling to the rooms Novan had claimed as his own. The quarters were empty, with no sign of the historian here. Jakob stepped back into the hallway, looking around him and searching for other signs of the historian. If he remembered correctly, there had been a library here. That had been where Novan had thought to come the very first time he’d traveled to Vasha.

  Jakob wandered the halls, allowing himself the luxury of walking, searching for any sign of Novan. He reached through his connection to the ahmaean, pressing out, thinking that he could use that to find the historian. As he did, there came a reverberation that echoed against him. It was a familiar sense, and he paused, realizing where he sensed it.

  Jakob shifted again, this time appearing in a large room, with books lining shelves that towered high overhead. A few lanterns glowed softly along the wall, not of a flickering candlelight, and not of a city oil, but glowing softly.

  The historian sat at a table, dozens of books sprawled around him, his face pressed close to the one nearest him. The long staff he carried rested against a chair behind him.

  Jakob moved around the table and took a seat opposite Novan. The historian looked up and blinked. It seemed to take a moment for him to recognize Jakob, and when he finally did, he smiled.

  “I didn’t expect you to return to Vasha so soon.”

  “I didn’t expect to need to return to Vasha so soon.”

  Novan sat up, pushing the book to the side as he leaned forward. “Need?”

  Jakob nodded. “Unfortunately, there is a need. I have discovered a new kind of groeliin. The nemerahl led me to them before we were attacked.”

  Novan frowned, and he rubbed the corners of his eyes, ink-stained fingers smearing a dark smudge across his brow. “The groeliin shouldn’t be able to attack the nemerahl,” Novan said.

  “Why wouldn’t they be able to? The groeliin attack everything else.”

  “The nemerahl are immune to many sorts of attack. That has always been one of their features. None but the damahne have understood it. Ahmaean has little effect against them, especially groeliin ahmaean.”

  If Novan didn’t know how the nemerahl were connected to the fibers, and how they drew power from them, Jakob wasn’t going to be the one to reveal that secret. Yet, he needed Novan’s knowledge, and he needed the historian’s understanding, so that he could see what more he needed to do to defeat them.

  “There were twelve groeliin, each marked up heavily with tattoos that were similar to the Deshmahne, and each with exquisite control over their ahmaean. These groeliin trapped us. We couldn’t shift away.”

  “Even the nemerahl?”

  Jakob closed his eyes and nodded. “Even the nemerahl. Neither of us could shift, and”—Jakob debated whether he should tell Novan how they had attempted to escape, before deciding to go ahead and do so—“I had to ride on his back as we attempted to escape. There were too many groeliin for us to outrun, and we were forced to fight.”

  “Why do I get the sense that you being forced to fight was not the outcome that you desired?”

  Jakob sighed. “The nemerahl was injured.”

  Novan sucked in a breath. “There are few enough nemerahl remaining. Were you able to heal him?”

  “I tried. I think the nemerahl knew his time was short. In that, I suspect he was much like Alyta, and willingly allowed himself to go.”

  “They were bonded, but I thought you would bond with him, as well.”

  Jakob nodded. He had once thought the same. What would happen to him now if there were no nemerahl left? Without a nemerahl to help guide and assist him, how would he succeed? All of the other damahne had nemerahl to assist, and for him to not have that placed him at a disadvantage.

  “You didn’t come here to tell me about the nemerahl, did you?” Novan asked.

  Jakob shook his head. “I need to know what the Conclave knows about the groeliin. The nemerahl was aware of these massive creatures, and claimed that they led the broods, but I would have expected to have heard about attacks from creatures like that.”

  Novan steepled his hands together and leaned back, his eyes searching the inside of the library for a moment. “The Antrilii would be your best place to discover answers about the groeliin. They have hunted them for far longer than anyone else.”

  “Assuming the Antrilii don’t know about these groeliin, what does the Conclave know?” Jakob believed the Conclave had to know something. They had been convening for centuries, and the greatest minds were all members of the Conclave. How could they not know something?

  “The groeliin have been difficult for us to fully understand. They are migratory, much like most believe the Antrilii to be, and only those creatures forming the hordes are seen outside of the mountains.”

  “You don’t seem surprised by the suggestion that there might be a more powerful groeliin.”

  “Not surprised. We’ve long suspected that there must be another type. The markings found on members of each brood speak of knowledge and study. They would not be made by mindless creatures such as the hordes that have been rampaging through the north and south. The problem is that we have never seen anything that would indicate the presence of others beyond the members of each brood.”

  “And the Deshmahne.”

  Novan nodded. “When the Deshmahne first appeared and used their markings to create a dark power, we knew that it must have come from the groeliin. I never suspected that Raime would have controlled the groeliin.”

  “What if he’s been controlling them for hundreds of years? What if he’s been keeping these more powerful groeliin in check?”

  A troubled look clouded Novan’s brow. “That would be possible. Raime has always felt himself to be something more than what he is. For him to control the groeliin, for him to think that doing so makes sense, there would have to be a reason.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Brohmin tells me that you saw the first Choosing. If you did, then you know that the Conclave has been trying to establish peace for generations. Raime was one of the first men to sit on the Conclave. But when he became too curious about power not meant for him, he was exiled. He searched for—and acquired—knowledge that he should never have possessed.”

  Jakob had forgotten that Raime had been a member of the Conclave from the beginning. Brohmin had told him the story a while back.

  Had Shoren known? He would have been one of the damahne on the first Conclave, so he would have known Raime, wouldn’t he?

  Jakob thought back to when he had been in Shoren’s mind, traveling back in time to listen to him and to borrow from his knowledge. Raime had attacked then, but had Shoren known that was who they’d faced? Raime had appeared in the form of a groeliin, so Shoren wouldn’t have known, and Jakob didn’t think that he’d shared that with him.

  “What do the records of the Conclave say of Raime?” Jakob asked. Brohmin’s words were coming back to him from that night when he explained who Raime really was. He had been revered by those on the Conclave as a brilliant mind, a brilliant strateg
ist. But how did he serve them? And what turned him to seek what was forbidden? They would have had years of experience with him, years when they would have worked closely with him, gotten to know him firsthand. They would have more knowledge about Raime than anyone else.

  “Brohmin has shared with you what we know about Raime.”

  “Only that he was a part of the Conclave and that, though thought brilliant, he sought power and knowledge that he should not have possessed.”

  “That is about all there is to know about Raime. The Conclave has resisted him for centuries, placing Brohmin in the role of the Hunter, asking him to slow Raime if he could.”

  Novan sat silently for a while, holding Jakob’s gaze.

  “If only you would have finished him off when you had the chance,” Novan said.

  “I tried,” Jakob said. He hadn’t known enough at the time, and he’d been more concerned about Alyta, and what had happened to her, to be worried about stopping Raime for good.

  “I know that you did. It’s just… It’s just that we have faced him for so long, and now he has outlived the last of the damahne who knew enough about him to help stop him.”

  “I can walk the fibers and see what I can learn.”

  “It isn’t the same. What Raime has done over the years is difficult to explain, even for those of us who have faced him. He has chased power, but he hasn’t attempted outright violence that often.”

  “Was he the reason for the first groeliin invasion?”

  “We have always suspected that he was.”

  “Suspected? You didn’t know?”

  “We weren’t able to prove it. Not with any certainty.”

  “How weren’t you able to prove it? There wasn’t a question about what Raime did.”

  Novan studied his hands. “The Conclave keeps records, but they don’t tell us everything about what the Conclave has experienced in the past. I have tried to increase the rigor of the documentation”—he smiled, and Jakob could imagine Novan’s frustration with trying to search through what he would have considered substandard documentation when it came to the Conclave—“but what I offer is too late for what we need.”

  Jakob questioned whether there was any way he could find what he needed. There had to be some way of him discovering more about what had happened in the past and to understand what the Conclave had done with Raime without him needing to search through all the journals over the years. And if what Novan said was right, there might not be much there that he could learn, anyway. If the Conclave had kept poor records, the information that he needed might not even be there.

  He glanced at the stacks of books around him. The Magi kept records, and the university did as well. How many places like this were there throughout the world? There was a university in Thealon, as well as one in Masetohl, and then there were the records kept by the damahne. Even the Historians’ Guild kept their own records. All of them separate accounts of history, knowledge kept from the public—and each other.

  Eventually, they would have to bring all of these scholars together. The world could not tolerate such separation in the future. There was a need for everyone to work together, and for everyone to share what they knew. Perhaps if they had, they wouldn’t be facing the issues they had now. Perhaps Raime wouldn’t be roaming the world, using his anger against everyone else.

  Jakob stood, and Novan watched him. “Where are you going now?”

  “I need you to take me to the Conclave.”

  “You’ve met members of the Conclave.”

  “Members of it, but not its entirety. I don’t even know who all sits on it.”

  Novan studied him for a moment. “None outside of the Conclave are granted access to it, Jakob.”

  Jakob smiled at him. “You would deny the last remaining damahne?”

  Novan breathed out heavily. “The others will not see things quite in the same way.”

  “Why not? Aren’t the others of the Conclave aware of what’s taken place?”

  “They are aware of it, but they see the Conclave’s role as one of maintaining peace. Several of us have become far too involved in the politics of the world for their liking.”

  “You?” Novan nodded. “Endric?” Another nod. “Brohmin is the Hunter, so he is by his title expected to be involved.”

  Novan met his eyes. “If you think the Magi have been reluctant to engage in the activity of the world, you will find that the others of the Conclave are worse.”

  “The Conclave’s purpose is to maintain peace. Why would they not want to be involved?”

  Jakob watched Novan, and the historian didn’t say anything for a moment. It was then that he thought he understood.

  “There is division within the Conclave, isn’t there?”

  “Jakob—”

  “Why?”

  “The Conclave would rather that we try to reestablish a connection to Raime,” Novan said.

  “Even as Brohmin has been sent to hunt him?”

  “Brohmin never had a chance to actually capture him. Raime has gained far too much strength, and far too much experience over the years, for Brohmin to be able to counter, even with the gifts that have been given to him.”

  Jakob imagined Brohmin’s response if he were told that he would never have been able to capture Raime. Brohmin was a proud man and took his role seriously. Now that he was in the south lands, he was serving differently, trying to help establish a connection to the Deshmahne, so that if Raime were to attempt to reestablish himself, there might be hesitation from the Deshmahne, at least not a blind decision to simply follow.

  “Where is the Conclave?” Jakob asked. He knew where he would have to go now, and he knew what he would have to do. He needed to meet and understand the others on the Conclave, and he needed to know whether they had anyone in contact with Raime. If they did, Jakob needed to reach out to him. The man was evil and far too powerful, but if he has lost control of the groeliin, it might be that he needed to work with Raime.

  Novan squeezed his eyes closed and let out a heavy sigh. “Salvat. The Conclave is housed in Salvat.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The streets remained darkened, but Roelle had grown accustomed to the darkness, feeling that it was necessary for the work that she did. The air was still and didn’t have any of the chill that it had the first night that she’d met Brohmin. The heaviness that hung with the dampness of Paliis had returned, though she seemed to be the only one bothered by it.

  Selton walked near her, patrolling the street with his eyes flicking all around.

  Roelle struggled with the patrol, weakened by the effort she’d exerted over the last few days. It was almost too much for her. She would not say anything to Selton, but the way that he watched her, keeping close by her side, told her that he was concerned.

  She smiled over at him. “I’m fine,” she said.

  He watched her for a moment. “Fine doesn’t seem to describe you these days, Roelle. You may be many things, but fine isn’t one of them. I can see the toll all of this is taking on you.”

  It was the first time he had approached her with his concerns. He, of course, had seen that she was tired and that the effort of maintaining the patrol had taken a toll on her, but Selton being who he was had never said anything to her.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said.

  He considered her another moment, then he nodded down the street. “Do you think Brohmin will do what he’s promised?”

  She looked along the street front. She still wasn’t quite certain what to make of Brohmin, or what he’d shared with them. It all seemed so impossible to believe, but they had faced many impossible things over the last two months. That seemed to be their specialty.

  “We have no reason not to believe him.”

  “We have no reason to believe him, either. This is a man we know very little about.”

  “Other than the fact that Jakob trusts him.”

  When Selton frowned, she shot him an amused look.

  Sel
ton shrugged. “I know what Jakob has done for you, and I know what he is, but I’m still not certain that we should trust him quite as much as you seem to want to.”

  She saw movement down the street and nodded, starting toward it. Brohmin had given them a place for them to search, and she hoped to have answers soon. Selton followed more quietly than she could manage. It hadn’t always been that way. There once was a time when she had been the most silent of them. Now, she feared that her breathing was too loud, that she panted as she walked, though she suspected that was an unnecessary fear.

  “Jakob trusts Brohmin. That’s enough for me. He fought groeliin with us. That alone should give him a pass and should be enough for us to trust him.”

  “He fought the groeliin, but now he’s in the Deshmahne temple. I don’t know what that means, but it makes me uncomfortable.”

  She smiled but doubted it was enough to placate Selton. When he had something in mind, he became determined, and often was stubborn. It was this stubbornness that she appreciated most of the time, but right now, she needed him to focus and help her. They needed…

  “There,” Selton said, pointing along the street. He raised his hand and made a quick signal, alerting the other Magi watching along with them. They had brought six others, all of them battle tested, and all of them willing to do what was necessary to help maintain peace.

  “I see it,” she said.

  The movement that had drawn her attention happened again. This time, it was clear where it came from. There was an alley mouth, and someone moved within it.

  She stepped toward the alley, resting her hand on the hilt of her sword, ready for an attack, but uncertain whether it would come. If it did, she wondered if she would have the strength to fight alongside Selton and the others to eliminate the threat from these Lashiin priests.

  She wasn’t given an opportunity to decide.

  A brown-robed man lunged toward her.

  Roelle didn’t have a chance to unsheathe. She twisted, sliding to the side, and allowed the man to stumble past her. Selton reached for him, but the man lowered his shoulder and plowed into her much larger friend. He let out a breath of air in a grunt.