The same glowing orbs that he’d seen along the stairs leading down were present throughout the library. They glowed with the same steady light, and Jakob studied them for a moment, realizing that the light came from a mixture of teralin and ahmaean stored within it. When he’d seen them before, he had never been clear about how the lights were created, but then he’d never taken the time to try to understand.
Jakob looked around at all of the books, wondering if there might be something here about Raime that he could use. That was the entire reason that he’d come here, hoping to find answers about the man, and perhaps find something that might guide him so that he could defeat him.
“Only the Conclave has access to these records?” Jakob asked.
Novan stopped next to him and leaned on his staff. His gaze darted to the bald man, and he looked at him with caution. “Only those of the Conclave can reach this place. Without having someone from the Conclave, you would not have known it was here, would you?”
Jakob doubted that he would. And even if he had, the door probably wouldn’t have opened for him, even using his connection to his ahmaean.
“You’ve been here,” Jakob said to Novan.
The historian nodded. “When I was first raised to the Conclave, I spent many days here.”
“What do you know about their records regarding Raime?”
“Jakob—”
“Novan, we can’t conceal what might help us find answers. Raime isn’t going to stop whatever it is he’s trying to do, and he’s not going to stop attacking us—or me. There has to be a way of negating his influence. And I need to understand what he’s intending. Just because he’s been stopped once doesn’t mean he no longer reaches for power. As we both know, he grows stronger with every day that passes.”
For Jakob, it was more than just the need to stop Raime. He needed to understand more about the groeliin, and somehow find a way of stopping them, too. If he could defeat Raime, as well as those powerful, darker groeliin, then he thought that he might be able to bring a lasting peace. Maybe then Jakob could finally stop fighting and could begin to understand his abilities.
It was a luxury he had not had. Since learning of what he could do, he had been confronted by challenges he didn’t understand, from Raime, who had centuries of experience and knowledge more than he did, to the groeliin, who were no longer the groeliin of years past, but creatures with power and the ability to control their own ahmaean. Jakob had not been given the opportunity to simply learn what it meant for him to be damahne, not as those in the past had. He had no guide as the others had, and now, he had no nemerahl.
Shoren thought that Jakob had an advantage because he wasn’t born a damahne; he had not anticipated immortality. But Jakob thought Shoren had an advantage because he’d not only grown up a damahne, but had been surrounded by others like him, and had a lifetime to work through what his abilities meant, and how they could be used.
“Anything we find here won’t help us understand what Raime will do,” Novan said. “Even when he was a part of the Conclave, it was a thousand years ago. He was banished so long ago that any record that we possess will not be accurate anymore.”
The bald man watched him, one finger tapping his lips, the other squeezing the fabric of his pants. He watched Jakob with an unreadable expression and had a deep frown on his face. “You seek Raime?”
“The Conclave should seek Raime,” Jakob said. He had come thinking that he could use the Conclave to help him find information about Raime, but more than that, he had hoped that the Conclave could help him, perhaps even ally with him, but that didn’t seem likely. What could these two women, a balding old man, and an aged Denraen general do to help? They had hidden themselves from the world, much as the Magi had hidden.
It was ironic, really, that both the Conclave and the Magi, in trying to establish peace, had removed themselves from the world, choosing avoidance rather than intervention.
“The Conclave does seek Raime. The Hunter—”
Jakob rounded on the balding man, anger surging through him. “Brohmin searches for Raime, but even Brohmin isn’t strong enough to stop him. When we confronted Raime in the Tower, Brohmin was easily defeated. How did you think that one man would be able to stop someone like Raime?”
Jakob turned, glaring at each of the others from the Conclave. None of them would meet his eyes.
Jakob let out a deep sigh. There was knowledge here, knowledge stored by the Conclave, but it was lost to time. It would take far too long for him to attempt to understand what was hidden here. Novan might know some, but even that would be difficult. Novan couldn’t have read all of these books, even if he’d spent a lifetime here. One person could not read all of these books. There was no way for them to know if there might be anything helpful hidden here.
He had come hoping for answers, but there were none here.
Jakob let out a frustrated sigh. He turned to the others, the two women’s gazes still toward the floor, unable to look him in the eye. That was probably for the best. The only one who did meet his gaze was the bald man. Jakob thought it spoke to his position of seniority, and maybe responsibility.
“What is it that you’d hoped to learn here?” the man asked.
“I’d hoped to learn what the Conclave might have known about Raime. I’d hoped to learn whether there was anything known here about groeliin with power that rivals the damahne. I’d hoped to learn…” Jakob shrugged. What else had he hoped to learn? After everything that Novan had shared with him about the Conclave, Jakob had hoped they would have more answers than they did. Instead, the Conclave only left him with new questions. They might be knowledgeable, and they might once have sought peace, using their knowledge of the world to establish it, but they—like the Magi—had changed. They no longer intervened, not as they needed to. Not as the world needed of them.
“If you have faced Raime, then you likely know as much as the Conclave has learned of him over the last few hundred years,” the man said. “Raime has avoided us, and has used his knowledge of the workings of the Conclave to cause more destruction.”
“And of the groeliin?”
“The Antrilii would be your best source of information about the groeliin,” the balding man said.
“And even the Antrilii know little about the groeliin.”
Jakob looked back to see who’d spoken and found Dendril watching him with a clenched jaw.
“Endric spent time with the Antrilii and discovered something about the groeliin that the Antrilii had not, even in all the years they have spent hunting them.”
“How is it that no one else has ever tried to learn anything about the groeliin?”
“The Conclave has taken the same approach as the damahne. There has never been a desire to hunt them, other than allowing the Antrilii to do so.”
“Why?”
It seemed to Jakob that hunting the groeliin was what they needed to be doing. With his abilities and his connection to the ahmaean, he was better suited to destroy them. Certainly, he was better suited to fight them than a common soldier who could not even see them coming. Had the damahne been willing to take up arms and fight, the groeliin threat might have been eliminated long ago.
“We never learned,” Dendril said.
Jakob looked to Novan. “Even you? That’s not like you, Novan. You are the first one to question, to challenge. Why did you not do that with this?”
Novan flushed slightly. “Anytime I asked any questions, Alyta, in particular, chose not answer.”
“Do we even know where the groeliin came from?”
Novan shook his head. “All we know is that a thousand years ago or so, a horde of groeliin emerged from the northern mountains, sweeping south in numbers that quickly destroyed most of the north. It was during that time that the Magi were founded.”
“That’s all that’s known?” Jakob looked from Novan to the bald man, but neither of them answered. They knew how the daneamiin came into existence, the way that the
y had sprung from the damahne mingling with mankind. Considering the power they possessed, and the connection to ahmaean, was there something similar with the groeliin?
“Unfortunately, that’s all that’s known.” Novan looked at the rows of books, the shelves lining the walls, and shook his head.
If that were all that was known, then Jakob would have to discover more, especially if he planned to stop the groeliin and prevent them from attacking again.
Doing so meant that he would likely need to find Raime or someone else who knew about the groeliin.
Maybe the answer had been there the entire time.
He’d been searching for some way to find Raime, and he needed to find out more about the groeliin, but hadn’t he been told of a resource he could use? Hadn’t the Magi shared with him how the Eldest had betrayed them and had gone to serve the Deshmahne?
Jakob frowned to himself. That had to be the answer. That had to be what he would do. If he could find that man, and if he could find a way to use him, he would have a way to finally reach Raime, and perhaps discover the secret of the groeliin.
Jakob turned to Novan. “It’s time for me to go,” he said.
“I thought you came here for answers.”
Jakob looked around him, staring at the others of the Conclave. They were a disappointment, rather than any sort of resource that could be used. “I think I found the answers I needed.”
“Where are we going?”
“You don’t have to come with me,” Jakob said.
“I think that I do. In this, I serve more as a historian, observing the actions of a damahne, and one who is unlike any others. There is value in recording this for the future.”
“I will come with you, as well, if you will have me,” Dendril said.
“Dendril!” Tamera said.
He turned and looked at her. “I’ve grown tired of practicing.”
“If you’re seen—”
Dendril grunted, sounding much like Endric as he did. “If I’m seen, then I’m little more than an old man with the sword. None other than Endric will remember me as Dendril, and Endric is quite aware that I still live.”
He turned to Jakob, nodding once. “If you’ll have me, I will accompany you, and will serve as your sword, though I might be limited in how useful I am.”
Jakob thought of their brief spar and was thankful that Dendril offered himself. Having another skilled swordsman—regardless of his age—would help, and might even protect him if it came to it. Novan was skilled with the staff, though Jakob had yet to see him truly use it in battle, and Jakob missed having someone like Brohmin with him. Perhaps Dendril could serve a similar role.
“You can come, but I don’t know exactly where I’m going.”
“I thought you were searching for Raime,” Novan said.
“I am, but I think there’s another I can find first, and when I do, I think he will give us the answers I need.”
“Who are you seeking?” the bald man asked, twisting one of his eyebrows as he did.
“Before I can find Raime, I need to find Jostephon.”
Dendril surprised him by laughing. “If that’s the case, then I definitely want to join you.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Roelle and Selton had returned from the manor house and now waited for Brohmin outside the Deshmahne temple, but they’d seen no sign of him yet. The early morning sun rose behind her, adding heat to the already warm day. The sounds of the city echoed around them, and already she could hear the shouts from the market. It was the one place she visited within Paliis that was unique as well as welcoming.
She stared at the temple, feeling a sense of energy pulsating against her. It was a strange awareness. Roelle still hadn’t determined why she should sense the temple itself push against her, yet there was no question that was what she detected.
She had rested very little over the last day, and simply standing where she did left her tired, exhaustion threatening to topple her over. Selton watched nearby, and she wondered whether he was there for support, or out of concern that she might actually fall over.
Roelle flashed him a smile. “I’ll be okay,” she said.
Selton nodded. “Where do you think he is?”
She appreciated the change in topic. She didn’t need more conversation about her, or about what had happened, or the way that she no longer seemed to have the same strength she once did. She needed rest and hoped that once she had enough sleep, she would recover, but didn’t think that likely.
A figure approached that Roelle still didn’t fully understand. She’d seen the Mage Elder when they had fought the groeliin, and when Brohmin along with Jakob and the historian had traveled with them to Thealon. There had been something about her that was different from other Magi, though she still wasn’t certain what it was.
“You search for Brohmin,” the Elder said.
Roelle fixed her with a hard-eyed stare. The Mage had dark brown hair that she tied back with a ribbon of blue silk. She was dressed in the style of Paliis, all thin fabrics that flowed with each movement, accentuating the Mage’s curves. It was the kind of clothing that never would have fit in in Vasha, but the Mage somehow made it appear less exotic and more appropriate. Roelle could never wear something like that. She needed something practical that would allow her to have freedom of movement, and that would allow her to attack. Silks would likely get in the way.
She glanced over to Selton. They had sent word through the Deshmahne for Brohmin but had not expected to have the Elder be the one to respond. “We sent word.”
“Brohmin is… preoccupied.”
“Is that why he had us attack the Lashiin priests?”
The Elder’s lips pressed together. “Brohmin had you attack the priests?”
“Not in so many words. He asked that we follow a certain trail within the city. I suspect he knew it led to the priests.”
“He has dealt with the priests before, but you know that.” She turned her attention to Selton, and he flushed.
Roelle almost grinned. After everything they had been through, Selton could still feel shame at something one of the Magi Elders said to him? She had thought him beyond that—and thought all the Magi warriors were beyond that.
“The priests requested protection while they were in these lands,” Selton said.
“You don’t have to explain to me. Brohmin was betrayed by them, as well. He came here thinking that he would chase down child abductors, not realizing that the priests themselves were to blame.”
“We need to see Brohmin,” Roelle said. She had questions about what the Lashiin priest had said. Was there more to the Lashiin priests than she realized? Could there be more than even Brohmin had known? If there was some ancient text, something that indicated that the gods had battled over their mingling with mankind, Brohmin was one person she thought could help.
During her walk back to the city, she had felt a growing certainty that she needed to get word to Jakob. He was now one of the gods, though she doubted that he understood all that entailed. If he didn’t know, and if there was something greater than what he knew taking place, perhaps she could help.
“Brohmin is unavailable,” the Mage Elder said.
“He was in the temple the last time we were here. There is something important that I need to share—”
“Brohmin is unavailable,” the Mage Elder repeated.
Selton turned his attention toward the temple and stared at it. “He was in the temple, but now is not?”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” she said.
“Then what are you saying?” Roelle asked.
The Elder breathed out heavily. “Brohmin… is unique. He has lived a long time.”
“So he told me.”
The Elder arched a brow. “He shared that with you? Interesting. It’s something he usually waits a few months before he shares with someone.”
“We did have the connection in that we fought the groeliin,” Roelle said with a sh
rug.
The Elder studied her a moment, and a hint of a grin came to her mouth. “There is that connection.” She paused, considering Roelle for a moment. “What did you need to see Brohmin about?”
Roelle glanced to the temple. She could feel it, even when she wasn’t paying attention to it. It wasn’t a dark energy, not as she would have expected. Instead, it reminded her of the way she had felt energy pressing upon her from the Tower in Thealon. There had been strength, and a sense of something greater than her, and it surprised her that the Deshmahne could have something so similar.
Could they honor the gods in a similar way?
The Deshmahne she’d interacted with—and fought groeliin with—had not been the same as the terrible priests she’d seen elsewhere in the north lands. There had to be some good among the Deshmahne, and there had to be some who sought to truly honor the gods. No longer did she feel that peace was the only way to bring them honor. She’d seen far too much and had experienced the way the Antrilii celebrated the gods, for her to believe that the Urmahne path was the only one—or the right one.
Still, it surprised her to feel such a connection to the temple here.
The Mage Elder watched her, her expression unreadable. Roelle waited, and breathed out heavily. She was tired—so very tired.
“The priests. There is something about the priests that Brohmin needs to know.”
“What have you discovered?”
Roelle glanced over to Selton, and he nodded, encouraging her to share. “I’m not sure if it’s anything,” Roelle said. “The priests claim to have come into possession of some ancient text that they claim was from the gods. They claim it explains the reason for their behavior.”
“Why do you need Brohmin for this?”
“Because he has knowledge I do not. And because he might be able to put me in contact with Jakob. He’s the one I think needs to hear this more than anyone else.”
“Brohmin doesn’t have any way of reaching Jakob,” the Elder said.
“Then I need to share what I know with Brohmin.” There had to be something he could tell her. What the priest had shared with her troubled her—and she didn’t entirely know why. “Please…”
The Last Conclave (The Lost Prophecy Book 6) Page 23
