The Last Conclave (The Lost Prophecy Book 6)

by D. K. Holmberg

  The man streaked down the street, and neither of them made an effort to reach for him. The other Magi would grab him.

  Roelle stepped into the alleyway and nearly had her head taken off.

  She ducked, and the sword crashed into the stone of the building near her. Roelle spun, unsheathing as she did, and brought her sword around in a rapid arc. She heard Selton fighting nearby, and realized someone else had engaged him.

  She didn’t have a chance to consider much about the attack. She had to fight, or she wouldn’t last long. She allowed her mind to go blank, to fall into the patterns that she’d learned from Endric over the years. Each thrust required more exertion than it should, but she forced herself through it, pushing herself so that she could withstand this swordsman.

  In the dim light of the alley, she could see that this man was one of the Lashiin priests. He had the shaved head and the dark brown robes that the other priests had worn. She’d never battled against the priests. This one was a decent swordsman, though not of the skill that she should have difficulty defeating.

  Selton grunted behind her.

  Was he struggling as well?

  Unless there were more priests that they faced.

  Roelle pushed out with her manehlin, using it to slow the priest she fought. That should have been her first action, and that it wasn’t said more about her state of mind than anything else. The priest slashed with the sword and freed himself.

  She frowned. Even when facing the Deshmahne, they hadn’t been able to slice through her connection to the manehlin. Either her connection wasn’t a strong as what she expected, or the Lashiin priests had some technique that allowed them to overwhelm her connection. She hoped it was not the latter.

  Roelle drew on the manehlin once again and pushed outward, trying once more to wrap energy around the priest. As before, the priest managed to slice through what she did, and lunged forward and attacked.

  Was there another way she could use her connection to the manehlin? She had used it to slow him by wrapping energy around him, but maybe there was another way that she would need to act.

  She pushed her connection into the priest, reaching inside. It was not anything she’d ever done before, and as she did this, she reached for the small parts that comprised this man.

  He screamed.

  Roelle lunged forward, piercing his shoulder.

  The man dropped his sword.

  He threw himself forward, and she braced for his collision, bringing the hilt of her sword around as he crashed into her. It struck his temple, and he collapsed.

  Roelle took a steadying breath and turned to see Selton finishing with two other swordsmen. Had he faced more than that? The one she had faced had taken enough energy from her. It embarrassed her that a single fighter had almost bested her.

  “Did Brohmin know there would be so many?” Selton asked as he approached her and took in the priest on the ground beside her.

  She shook her head slowly. She didn’t think Brohmin had expected they’d encounter nearly this many Lashiin priests, but then, she wasn’t certain. Maybe this was the reason Brohmin had sent her.

  “What do we do with them now?” Selton asked.

  “Now we question them.”

  “Where would you have us take them?”

  They couldn’t keep the fallen Lashiin priests in the city. They needed to ensure that they found answers, and staying within the city risked the Deshmahne learning what they had done, and possibly coming for the priests themselves. Roelle would prefer to have a chance to speak with them before the Deshmahne did.

  “You said they had a manor house on the edge of the city?”

  “They have something. We only knew how to find it.”

  “That’s where we’ll go.”

  Selton stepped out of the alley and made a motion with his hand, and several Magi appeared and quickly lifted the fallen Lashiin priests, swinging them over their shoulders as they carried them away from the street, and out of the city.

  As Roelle followed, she cast a glance back at the temple. For a moment, she wondered if she should be sending word to Brohmin, alerting him of what they found, but decided against it. Brohmin had told her enough. And Brohmin had implied that he needed the Magi to take care of the Lashiin priests. She would see that they did what was necessary. As they did, she hoped the gods would forgive them.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The inside of the manor home was comfortable, at least on this level. There were chairs that surrounded the table, and a few plush chairs angled toward the hearth along one wall. The fire that once had glowed in the hearth had long been extinguished, and now there was nothing more than ash and the charred remains of a log within it. The air stank, a hint of rot, as if remnants of decay had lingered. Roelle wondered if some animal had crawled in here and died while the owners had been gone.

  Selton appeared at the top of the stairs, his face ashen. “Roelle. There’s something down here that you need to see.”

  She breathed out heavily. The walk from the city up the gentle slope leading to the manor house had winded her, leaving her exhausted. It didn’t help that she’d felt that way for weeks, each day thinking that her strength would return, and each day hoping that somehow she would regain the capabilities she once had. But each passing day left her knowing that she was unlikely to recover—at least fully. The way that Selton looked at her told her that he had begun to believe that, as well.

  She followed him down the stairs, and the wood creaked beneath her. What would have drawn Selton’s attention and have upset him as much as he clearly seemed to be? Selton had battled groeliin and had nearly died as many times as Roelle.

  At the bottom of the stairs, the stench that she’d noted in the house intensified. She covered her nose, breathing through the fabric of her jacket, but even that wasn’t enough to prevent her from smelling the horrors that must have taken place on this level.

  “What happened here?” Roelle asked. She caught sight of a scrap of fabric, and boots, and realized that at least one body lay nearby. There were possibly others, but a few of her Magi warriors obscured her vision.

  “There was an attack,” Selton said.

  “Who died?”

  Stefan, a younger Mage with a sharp nose and a scruff of beard adorning his chin, stepped forward. “We think they are Lashiin priests.”

  “How can you be sure?” Roelle asked.

  “We’re not. Their clothing is similar to what we’ve encountered with other Lashiin priests, and…”

  Roelle arched a brow, encouraging him to complete his thought. “And what?”

  “And this one,” he said, motioning toward one of the bodies that she now could see, “was one who had convinced… us… to help them.”

  Selton shook his head. “Me. I’m the one he convinced to help,” Selton said.

  “How were we to know?” Stefan asked.

  “I should have thought to question more,” Selton said.

  Roelle touched her friend on the shoulder and wished there was something she could do to soothe him, but Selton did not like the idea that he had somehow caused the warriors to be in harm’s way. Roelle understood that feeling better than anyone. It had been the same for her when they had traveled north, and when they had agreed to abandon their mission of simply finding the Antrilii to focus on fighting the groeliin. She had known that doing so would lead them into danger, and that danger would cause them to lose several of the warriors. They had lost far more than that.

  “Who did this?” she asked.

  Selton sighed. “Possibly Brohmin?” He glanced back, and his gaze took in the fallen bodies. “He pursued them from the city. I wonder if he somehow tracked them here when he went in search of the missing children.”

  Roelle breathed out. Could she blame Brohmin for slaughtering these men if they really were responsible for abducting children?

  At the same time, these were priests, and she had to believe that they could be reformed, and that if
given enough time, they would be able to once more serve the gods.

  “Burn their remains,” Roelle said. She turned away and headed back up the stairs, leaning on the railing more heavily than she liked.

  Selton followed her up, and she could feel his eyes on her back. He said nothing, but then she knew that her friend would not, not wanting to draw attention to it around others. As she often was, she was thankful for her friend, and thankful for the discretion he showed, but suspected her diminishing strength was becoming more and more obvious. Eventually, transition would have to take place that would force her to hand over the authority that she had claimed over the warriors, and allow Selton to lead them.

  At the top of the stairs, she turned to him. “Selton—”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” she said.

  Selton laughed softly. “I’ve known you much of my life, Roelle. If anyone is going to know what you might say, it would be me. So, no.”

  “I can barely keep standing, especially after a night like tonight,” she said, pitching her voice low and in a whisper.

  “Yet you do keep standing. You force yourself on. You don’t recognize it, but the others see that. They see how much of an effort it is, and yet you still fight. You inspire them. It’s something I could never do.” He smiled at her, his strong chin fixed in a way that told her that he would listen to no argument. “So, no.”

  Roelle shook her head. “Fine. The next time we’re attacked by groeliin, you won’t have me to help save you,” she said.

  He shrugged. “Nahrsin has the groeliin. We have a different responsibility.”

  It was one that she wished she understood better and wished that she had some way of completing. It was an open-ended task, nothing like what she had done before. There was nothing she could study, no knowledge for her to master, that would allow her to finish their assignment here so that they could return to Vasha.

  And even if there were, did she want to return to Vasha?

  There were other Magi in Vasha, but Roelle no longer felt like a Mage. She was a soldier now, for better or worse, and that meant that she needed to serve in a way that the Magi could not. Maybe she’d be better off heading north and joining the Antrilii, inviting the rest of her soldiers to follow. She had little doubt that they would agree to it, that they would want to continue their fight against the groeliin.

  They had come to this house to interrogate the Lashiin priests, and so far, they had only discovered dead ones. The others that they had captured and brought here remained unconscious. How much longer would they remain that way?

  Roelle wasn’t sure how long she would be able to stomach the smell here. It was a foul odor that left her nearly gagging. How had Selton managed as long as he had?

  Once again, she was reminded of how strong Selton was, and of all the value that he brought to the Magi warriors. Without him, they likely would not have been nearly as successful as they had. Without him, she wouldn’t have been challenged in the way that she was. Without him, she would have died before managing to return to the Great Forest where Jakob was able to find and heal her.

  She stepped outside of the manor home and stood looking over the city in the distance. The air was clear and cool, still somewhat humid, but less than it had been earlier in the day. The moon was full and fat as it hung in the sky. A few lanterns burned in windows within the city, giving a faint glowing light. Roelle simply stood there, taking in the view, feeling a sense of unease that still filled her.

  “You could ask him to try and heal you again,” Selton said, stepping up behind her.

  She turned to her friend and shook her head. “I’m not sure what else he can do. This might be the extent of the healing offered to me.”

  That was something she feared. If this was it, if this was as strong as she got, how would she serve? What would she be able to do?

  “He is your friend,” Selton said. “Don’t you think he would do whatever you need to continue to get stronger?”

  “I think he has done everything that he can,” Roelle said. “I’m not sure that Jakob knows his abilities any better than we do.”

  That surprised her the most. In her mind, and in the minds of the Magi who had spent centuries studying the gods, they were infallible. The gods knew how to use their abilities, and knew how to do things that others simply did not. Learning about Jakob, and learning about the way his powers were connected to him, and the fact that they developed in someone she had known as a common man, made her question everything that she had been taught.

  Selton stood next to her, and neither of them spoke, letting the silence of the night press around them.

  After a while, Wanda stepped out of the house and approached them. Wanda was a slender Mage, slightly shorter than Roelle, and had blonde hair that had a reddish tint to it. “One of them is awake, Roelle.”

  Roelle breathed out and nodded at Selton. “Are you ready?”

  “I think this is yours to lead,” Selton said.

  She sighed. Perhaps it was, at least for now.

  Wanda led them back inside, and Roelle tried to ignore the stench, now augmented by what burned in the hearth. She tried not to think about it, and for the most part, she managed.

  The Lashiin priests they had brought out of the city were tied to a post in the center of the room. One of them watched her as she approached, his eyes flat, and his expression neutral. She crouched down in front of him, staying out of reach of the possibility of flailing legs, and fixed him with a hard expression. Given how tired she was, Roelle wasn’t sure how successful her glare was, but it was all she had.

  “I thought the Magi served the Urmahne,” the man said.

  Roelle crossed her arms over her chest. “And I thought the Urmahne served peace.”

  “We do serve peace,” the man said.

  “You have come here to incite violence.”

  “We’ve come here to convert, the same way the Deshmahne came to these lands decades ago seeking conversion.”

  “The Deshmahne claim to honor the gods.” Roelle remained doubtful that the way the Deshmahne attacked did anything to honor the gods, but at least their intentions were predictable, if not pure. “Is what you do your way of honoring the gods?”

  “You don’t understand. You have been shielded for too long from too much.”

  Roelle chuckled. “Perhaps I have been shielded, but I also have spent the last few months cleansing the north lands of creatures of darkness and horror. Had I not, everything you know and care about would have been destroyed before you even had a chance to recognize it was there.”

  The man glared at her. “You risk the wrath of the gods by restraining me.”

  “I risk nothing. I am far closer to the gods than you will ever understand,” Roelle said.

  “If you were closer to the gods, you would understand that what we do serves them. By destroying the Deshmahne, and destroying their way of tormenting the people of this land, we honor them so much more than even the Magi do.”

  She stared at him. It was hard to argue with the fact that the Magi had done so little to honor the gods, and they had done so little to intervene in the function of the world, but that had changed. The Lashiin priests were not a better change than the Magi warriors.

  Yet this man would not see it. She doubted she could convince him. This was the ramblings of a man of devotion, and the ramblings of someone who believed in what he was called to do.

  Was she so different?

  A flash of metal on his hand caught her attention, and she moved forward, grabbing the ring off of his finger. He tried jerking his hand back, but Roelle held it in place and pried the ring free.

  She stepped back, holding the ring up to the light. It was made of teralin, and she could feel the heat coming from it, but there was something else to it as well. There was a pulsating sense to it.

  “What is this?” she asked him.

  “It’s a
marker of the Lashiin. If you would not have abandoned your oath, you might understand.”

  She frowned at him. “My oath? I made no oath.”

  “You who live in Vasha know so little about the place you call home.”

  “And what is there to know?”

  “There once was a powerful place that rose above the mountain. It was a place known as Lashiin, a place where the gods were celebrated, a place they called home long before they ever called the Tower home. That is what we celebrate.”

  “What happened to this place?”

  “Lashiin was one of the few places where there was purity.”

  “Purity?”

  The man sneered at her. “The gods were not all infallible. Some succumbed to urges of man and flesh, and from them stemmed darkness.”

  He seemed as if he were reciting something from memory, as if he had found something in an ancient text and decided that it mattered, and that it was an answer to his religion.

  “What darkness are you referring to?”

  “The darkness that caused Lashiin to fall. It’s the same darkness that caused many of the gods’ homes to fall. It has no name. It is simply the darkness. Had the gods not dabbled with mankind, they would have remained pure, and peace would have survived.”

  “That’s quite the story,” Roelle said.

  “If only it were a story.”

  “How is it that you know this?”

  “All peoples keep records,” he said.

  “And you have found the records of the gods?” If the Lashiin priests had found records from the gods, she would need to let Jakob know, so that he could do whatever he could to recover them.

  “We have found records even the historians don’t know exist,” the man said.

  “Who found them?” she asked, glancing over to Selton. She could imagine the historian’s irritation in learning that there might be records the Guild didn’t know about. The historian didn’t take too well to remaining ignorant about such things, and she suspected that he would not be pleased about it.