The Gift of Madness (The Lost Prophecy Book 7)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “That’s not the only reason you frown.”

  “I don’t frown.”

  Jassan bowed his head. “No. Perhaps I have it wrong. You only stare at that mountain as if you would bring it down yourself, but from what I have heard of your home city, it already has been carved out of the mountain itself.”

  “There was a time when I thought Vasha was the most impressive place in the world.”

  “You don’t think it’s impressive any longer?”

  “It is, but I’ve seen things that are more impressive than any city, and I have begun to recognize that our city—however amazing it might be—is only one place.”

  And it might not be the place she needed to be. Her heart felt drawn back to the mountains, and back to Farsea. Had she become Antrilii by marrying? Or had her experience changed her so much that she was no longer the same woman she once had been?

  “I would still like to see it. Nahrsin said the city was impressive and that the Magi claim power even greater than the Antrilii.”

  “You know that’s not true.”

  He laughed. “Perhaps I do, but that doesn’t change the fact that the Magi believe. I would like to be there—by your side—when you return and announce you have an Antrilii husband.”

  She laughed, thankful for Jassan. “I would have it no other way.”

  The mountains continued to rise around them, a familiar sweep of landscape that for many months she had not thought she would ever see again.

  The climb toward Vasha passed quickly. Isandra said nothing, and Jassan seemed to notice that she needed her solitude and left her to that silence. Others with them were equally quiet, though for different reasons. Isandra suspected that Alriyn would have been more vocal, but he had been just as quiet as everyone else. Was there something about this journey that made him reluctant?

  She rode over to him, and he looked up. “We haven’t spoken about what happened with Jostephon,” Isandra said.

  The Eldest glanced over at her. He sat upright on his horse, his eyes fixed straight ahead, though occasionally, he would glance over to Alison, and she noticed that Alison often glanced over to Endric. Whatever passed between them was a shared interest, not one-sided.

  “We have not. You have been preoccupied with your new husband.”

  Isandra glanced over to Jassan. He rode on the other side of her as they made their way along the wide path leading up the mountainside toward Vasha. It switch-backed here and eventually would narrow, but for now, there was plenty of clearance for them to ride side by side. The air was cool and crisp, carrying none of the warmth that it would as they made their way higher into the mountain, warmth that came from teralin buried within the mountain itself.

  Isandra flushed. “Perhaps I have been distracted, but…”

  Alriyn shook his head. “You don’t need to justify your newfound happiness. It is good to see.”

  “Well, my personal happiness doesn’t change my need to understand what you went through with Jostephon?”

  Alriyn’s eyes tightened, the only part of his expression that changed. “Jostephon surprised us. He betrayed the Magi and converted to the Deshmahne.”

  “I’m aware. I experienced Jostephon’s Deshmahne skills myself.”

  “Yes. I forget that you confronted him. I suspect you were as surprised as we were when we had to face him. Probably as unprepared.”

  She straightened, almost not even realizing it. “I can’t say I was unprepared. I had the advantage of having learned to fight with the sword, training with Jassan and other Antrilii.”

  “That would be an advantage.” He rode in silence for a moment. “I remember the first time I saw a Roelle fighting.”

  At the mention of Roelle’s name, Jassan’s ears seemed to perk up. She had rarely spoken to her new husband about it, but she knew that he respected Roelle after spending months fighting with her and the Magi apprentices. Warriors. They were no longer apprentices, not if they hunted groeliin. She suspected she understood that more than most.

  “Most members of the Council were irritated with the apprentices when they chose to begin studying with the Denraen.”

  He smiled at her. “I say most were annoyed. It took me a while to come to terms with it, but eventually, I came to see that there was some benefit in it. If she could gain even a part of what we once were…”

  Isandra nodded. She understood that the Magi had once been warriors, and felt closer to those Founders now than she ever had. Before taking up the sword, and before she had gone to the Antrilii lands, there had been a certain level of arrogance to her—much like the rest of the Magi—regarding the abilities they possessed, and how they had embraced peace rather than retaining their barbaric connection to fighting. Now she had become something more like her Founders, and she felt complete in a way she had not before.

  “I understand.”

  Alriyn smiled. “I suppose you do. You are much like her, do you realize that?”

  Isandra bowed her head slightly. “I’m not sure that I’m anything like Roelle, but I will accept the compliment.”

  “Mage Roelle has proven herself brave time and again,” Jassan said. “I fought next to her for leagues while facing the groeliin. Without her, and the warriors she brought, we would have failed in our mission long before we ever reached Thealon. Because of her, we not only succeeded, we stopped the groeliin entirely. Ten thousand of the creatures destroyed.”

  Isandra watched Alriyn’s face as Jassan was speaking and caught a glimpse of a surprising emotion there. Could it be that he felt pride? It was something she had not expected out of him, especially considering how Roelle had abandoned the Magi beliefs.

  “She and the others served the Magi well,” Alriyn said. “She accomplished something that those of us on the Council were unwilling to do, and showed bravery that the rest of us were unable to. I live each day trying to replicate the level of bravery that she exhibited.”

  They fell into silence for a while, following the road up the mountain. “Tell me about how you forced your mind open,” Isandra said.

  “There is nothing more to say. I learned that I could force my mind open at the same time I discovered the way to use teralin as a reservoir.” Alriyn looked past her, taking in Jassan.

  Could Alriyn already know that the Antrilii used teralin as a reservoir when they fought? She had thought that was a secret of the Antrilii, but perhaps it wasn’t. Perhaps Alriyn had discovered that secret, and he had used it to his advantage.

  “How did you learn of teralin?” Jassan asked, putting voice to her own question.

  “It was the historian.”

  Jassan started laughing, and Isandra looked over, surprised.

  Jassan only shrugged. “If any were to discover the secrets of teralin, it would be the historian. He has a sharp mind, and he has demonstrated a perseverance that borders on irritating.”

  Alriyn snorted. “I would say it does more than border on irritating. Novan is incredibly irritating. But, at the same time, he is also well connected and possesses a certain talent that surprised me.”

  There is something to the way that Alriyn mentioned a talent that caught her off guard. Could Novan have an ability to reach manehlin much like the Magi? Could he be connected in the same way that the Antrilii—and the Magi—were?

  If Endric could be, why couldn’t Novan?

  “Where is the historian?”

  Alriyn shook his head. “As far as I know, he has traveled back to other cities where he claims he’s needed. Places like Thealon, or perhaps Gomald, or even to one of the southern nations.”

  “And how would he travel like that?” she asked.

  “There is a young man he travels with. He’s equally capable and equally talented.”

  She remembered hearing about the historian apprentice, but this was the first she’d heard of him having any ability.

  Isandra glanced to Endric. The general rode at the head of their caravan. He seemed distracted, as if he wanted
to deposit them in the city as soon as possible so he could return to his other responsibilities. What those were—even though she knew she was to play some role in them—she didn’t know. Would he remain in Vasha? He said he needed her help, but where would that help take her? What would she be asked to do?

  Regardless of the questions, the answers required that she come to Vasha and that she have a willingness to do whatever was necessary. It was the reason she had left the Antrilii lands and agreed to come with Endric. She believed he knew more and that he would be able to guide her to the next place she needed to go.

  She glanced toward Jassan. At least he would be with her. If nothing else, he would help ensure that she was not alone as she fought, not as she had been in the first days that she had begun to develop her connection to the Founders.

  Jassan seemed to notice her watching and smiled.

  She hoped the gods wouldn’t take him from her before they had a chance to live in peace, but with everything that she had experienced, she didn’t know if that was a reasonable expectation.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Do you want me to bow before you?” Roelle asked. She managed to keep her voice low, and there was a hint of a smile on her lips as she looked at Jakob. She stood before him in the room where she’d been healed—somehow, finally and fully healed—and she wondered what she was now supposed to do in his presence.

  Jakob had been a friend. He had been a sparring partner. And now, he was a god.

  Seeing him with the High Desh had solidified that for her in a way that nothing had before. There was a confidence to him, and there was power. The way he had simply shattered the door to the room had demonstrated that power. It amazed her.

  Roelle could almost feel the power radiating from him. It suffused him, lending him an even greater sense of strength. Even if she hadn’t known him, she would have recognized that power.

  Then there were the changes to him. Since the last time she’d seen him, he seemed to have grown even taller. His voice had changed as well. It was deep, and there was a musicality to the way he spoke, an accent to his words that didn’t fit with what she knew of him. Did becoming a god change a person so much?

  It must.

  The way he had forced the priest into deferring to him had been frightening… and somewhat inappropriate. The Deshmahne were helping. They were not the enemy here, not the way they had been in the north lands. For Jakob to be so forceful… it was unnecessary.

  But then, he was a god. What she thought was unnecessary might be anything but that. There might be a reason—and a very good one—for him to treat the High Desh the way that he had. She understood that Jakob needed to find the High Priest, so maybe this was all a part of it for him.

  Jakob turned back to her. He’d been staring at the door as he watched the priest depart. “Bow if you must.”

  She waited for a smile or some acknowledgment that he was joking, but there was none. Instead, he frowned, the serious expression on his face the same one he’d worn when she had spent time with him last, though the last time had been within the Magi palace in Vasha, and he had been preoccupied. Gone was the hesitancy, and the innocence, she had known of him when she’d first met him.

  How much had he put upon himself these days? Probably everything, as he was the last of the gods—or not gods, if what Jakob had shared with her was true. She found that both easy and difficult to believe. She had known him as an apprentice historian, so it was easy for her to think of him in that way. But she had also witnessed his great abilities and a power that seemed impossible for him to possess. He had saved her. Perhaps she would have survived regardless, but he had saved her.

  “Why have you come to Paliis?” she asked.

  “I saw that this was where I was needed.”

  “You saw? As in prophecy?”

  His face clouded a moment. “It’s not prophecy, not the same way that Haerlin does it. What I can do is more controlled. I can see along the fibers and can use that to guide what I must do. That’s how I knew that Brohmin needed me before.”

  He said it in such a matter-of-fact way that Roelle had to smile. She believed that Jakob could somehow see into the future, though what exactly that meant remained a mystery to her. He claimed a greater control than what Haerlin possessed, but that wasn’t surprising. Haerlin was a minor prophet and didn’t have the same ability as the great prophets. Those were few and were highly regarded by the Magi when they appeared, knowing that their visions predicted much that would come to pass. It was visions like those that had led the Magi to choose their Uniter, a position that had caused trouble through the years—including when it had been Brohmin.

  “What compelled you to come to Paliis then? Was it me?” Was Jakob having visions of her, and if he was, what had he seen? Might he have seen something that would help her understand what she must be? Since she’d been in the temple, she hadn’t felt the same overwhelming weakness that she had known before. The priest might actually have healed her, despite the fact that she had been afraid when she’d first come here, not certain what they intended for her. Convinced Brohmin had betrayed her.

  “You were not a part of what I saw.”

  Again, he spoke so bluntly that she knew not to be offended but couldn’t help but feel that she should have influenced him somewhat. They had been close once. She had worked with him, training with him when he had begun to develop his potential with the sword. She might not have seen what he would one day be capable of doing, but she recognized that he was more than a simple swordsman.

  “Then what did you see?”

  “The Deshmahne. This temple. Ahmaean.”

  As he said each, he paused, the frown on his face deepening.

  It seemed that along with the changes that made him more godlike, there were other changes. The sense of wonder Jakob once possessed seemed to be no more. He was withdrawn, almost somber. That must have something to do with what he’d experienced.

  “You’re still searching for the High Priest?”

  “I have to find him, Roelle. He’s already caused more problems than I ever would have imagined. He nearly destroyed the fibers, and if he would have succeeded…”

  She had no idea what the fibers were, or what would happen if the High Priest managed to destroy them, but evidently, it was not good. From what she’d gathered from Brohmin, they had to do with prophecy, though she didn’t fully understand it. Much of what Jakob now knew—and experienced—she didn’t understand. That would have to change, especially if she was going to help him, something she knew that she needed to do.

  “What can I do to help?”

  Jakob watched her for a long moment before shaking his head. “I’m not sure there’s anything you can do.”

  Again, it was the bluntness of the statement that took her aback. “I’ve faced groeliin and the Deshmahne, Jakob. I might not have the same power you possess, but I’m not helpless.”

  Arguing with someone who would be considered a god was strange, but she had experienced much. There was no reason for him to think to exclude her from this. She would be a part of stopping the High Priest and bringing a lasting peace, regardless of what it took.

  “I would never accuse you of helplessness. It’s just that…” He frowned and seemed to consider his words carefully. “When I’ve faced Raime, I’ve nearly failed. I’ve been given gifts that grant me incredible strength, but even those are almost not enough when it comes to Raime. I might not be enough, and if I fail, then we all lose.”

  She took a step toward him. There was compassion in his eyes and a sense of loss. She saw it there, as clear as daylight. She knew he’d lost his parents, but that was an old injury, one that he’d struggled with during their journey toward Vasha, but not one that had burned in his eyes quite like what she saw now.

  What had he experienced since she’d last known him? How could he have lost so much? Brohmin still lived, and as far as she knew, so did the historian. Who else would he have lost to make him
so withdrawn?

  Was it the goddess she’d heard Lendra speak about? Losing her would be devastating, and she could understand such a reaction, but when he’d found her in Vasha, he hadn’t carried that same sense of loss in his eyes.

  This was new.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “A realization of what must be done.”

  “And what is that?”

  He took a deep breath and stood tall. He’d grown. There was a time when he’d been shorter than she was. But the Magi were all tall. Now Jakob was now the taller one.

  “I have to stop him, but doing so will likely require a sacrifice.”

  “What kind of sacrifice?”

  He looked away.

  As he did, she understood. “There has to be another way. There are others who can help you with this.”

  “There aren’t. Not for what must be done. I thought…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. The help I thought I might have is not going to be available.” He turned back to her and met her gaze. “The Magi will be needed to establish stability. The Urmahne would demand peace, but I think peace is simply a balance. What we need is stability. That’s where I’ll need your help. Do you think this is something you can do?” he asked her.

  “Do you think I haven’t attempted to reach for peace in the past?”

  Jakob watched her, an unreadable expression on his face. There was a maturity to him that hadn’t been there before. Was that something that came from his connection to the gods?

  “It’s not peace so much as it is stability,” he said again. “That’s been what’s troubled me the most. I thought that we had to find and ensure peace, but perhaps that’s not at all what needs to happen.”

  He said the last almost to himself, trailing off as he spoke. His brow furrowed, and he scratched his chin, as if puzzling through a dilemma.

  “The gods have always wanted us to maintain peace. That’s the purpose of the Urmahne faith.”