The Gift of Madness (The Lost Prophecy Book 7)

by D. K. Holmberg

  Jakob shook his head. How could something like that have happened? How could the daneamiin have been a part of it?

  Jakob watched Anda, trying to understand how the daneamiin and the groeliin could be related, but a more pressing question came to him. How could she not have told him before now?

  When he asked her, she stared at her hands, the fabric of her dress bunched up within them. “It did not matter.”

  “It didn’t? If the groeliin have attacked the daneamiin because of what happened to them long ago, I think that matters very much.”

  “The groeliin have changed over time, and they no longer are what they were during the time that you observed, Jakob Nialsen. They still have their connection to ahmaean, but the empathy they once possessed, and the similarity to the daneamiin is no more.”

  It troubled him that so much would have changed for the groeliin, but hadn’t he observed that firsthand? He had seen that there were different types of groeliin. There were those that he’d faced when traveling with Brohmin, the kind that had swept toward Thealon. Then there were those that fought with swords, like the creature he’d faced in the Unknown Lands. And lastly, there were the massive groeliin that had the ability to manipulate ahmaean and could shift. They were the most dangerous of them all. Not only were they larger and physically stronger, but their connection to their ahmaean was significantly greater than any of the others.

  Was there a connection between the massive groeliin and the first groeliin?

  Could that first groeliin be connected to these larger groeliin?

  Anda likely didn’t have those answers for him. The daneamiin had separated themselves from the groeliin over the years, maintaining their peaceful existence, and maybe trying to forget their past transgressions against the groeliin. Jakob understood why they had resisted engaging the groeliin. It was not only for a sense of peace, and a desire to avoid violence, but out of their shame.

  “What is the connection between the powerful groeliin and the one that I saw in my vision?” he asked.

  Anda shook her head. “I don’t know. They have changed, but then, so have we. We are not the same people that tormented those creatures. They would be welcomed now, they would be treated with kindness, and they would…” She shook her head again, staring down at her hands. “They would be the children of the forest, much like we are.”

  Jakob sighed. “There’s a connection between teralin and the groeliin. I don’t know if all groeliin are tainted, and I don’t know if there’s anything that I can do to change it. But much like the polarity of teralin can be changed, I’m wondering if we can somehow change the groeliin. But if there is anything that can be done, short of destroying them completely, I’ll need help.”

  Anda looked up at him. “You won’t destroy them?”

  “I will do what I can to save as many as I can. I’m not willing to sacrifice others to do so. Some groeliin might die, much like some Magi and daneamiin have died.”

  He thought of the powerful groeliin. They may be too far gone for him to be able to do anything, and if they were, he would have no choice but to destroy them. If that’s what it took—if that’s all it took—it would be worth it.

  They sat in silence for a while, and Jakob noted that the sounds of the forest were muted. Perhaps they always were muted in the Old Forest. The trees themselves seemed to call for quiet. He breathed in deeply, taking in the sense of the forest, and focused on the ahmaean within it. There was power, and he could reach it, though he wasn’t certain how well he could control it, not as he had in the daneamiin forest, and certainly not as he had in the Great Forest. This ahmaean seemed to have more of a life of its own than any other that he’d ever detected.

  It was the Old Forest.

  There had to be some source for it. The forest itself came from a time before the damahne, and Jakob suspected most of the damahne thought the Old Forest was created by the Maker, that it represented the first drawing of ahmaean. That seemed more superstitious than what Jakob was willing to believe, but he could not deny the power he felt within this place.

  “What will you do with Jostephon?” he asked.

  “He will be reformed, or the forest will make a decision about him.”

  Jakob smiled. “Should we trust the forest to make this decision?”

  Even as he asked, he felt a slight buildup of ahmaean, and it pushed against him. He pushed back, resisting with his connection to the ahmaean, but had to accept that perhaps the forest did have more sentience than he realized.

  Was it some extension of the Maker?

  When his father had been a priest, Jakob had not shared his devotion to the Urmahne religion, and now that he had discovered his connection to the damahne, Jakob claimed no ties to the Urmahne. That didn’t mean that he did not believe in some greater power, something that guided things. But when he stood outside of the fibers, he couldn’t help but think that maybe there was nothing more. The fibers themselves seemed to possess all of the power that he experienced. Maybe there was nothing beyond the fibers of time. Maybe they were all that was needed.

  What purpose would he have, then?

  Why would he have been given the ability that he now possessed?

  Finding that purpose was critical to him. He had to find what he was meant to do, and discover whether there was anything more for him. There had to be. He didn’t know what it was, and his connection to the fibers did not tell him what it was, but there had to be something more.

  “Now that you know, what will you do?” Anda asked.

  “The groeliin still have the others who were rescued from the madness. I can’t leave them, not if there’s something more that can be done for them.”

  He didn’t even know if they still lived. Perhaps that was what he should have done when standing by the fibers of time, while within the teralin cave. He might have been able to find those answers. In that place, with all of the power that he had been exposed to, there would have been an opportunity for him to know.

  He could return, and glimpse to see if they still lived, but would it matter?

  He still needed to confront those groeliin.

  “You intend to go alone?” Anda asked.

  “Scottan trains with Roelle, and I’m hopeful that she will draw more from him. That regaining some of his skills will somehow allow Scottan to rediscover his purpose, and maybe find that bit of peace.”

  “And if it does not?”

  Jakob didn’t know whether it would make a difference. He needed others with the potential to be damahne to access their abilities. If they didn’t—or if they couldn’t—he would be forced to fight alone, and against that many groeliin, he was not certain he would succeed.

  “Even if it does, I’m not sure it will make a difference. They won’t have enough time to develop their abilities.”

  “You could assist them,” Anda said.

  “I’ve been trying to. That’s the reason I have walked back along the fibers, trying to understand how the damahne who came before me had done it. If I can, then I would hope to awaken their connection to their ahmaean.”

  “You could awaken it the same way that it was awoken within you.”

  Jakob frowned. “With a dying damahne?”

  “I can’t claim to understand everything about what the damahne do, but you should be able to gift part of your ahmaean to another damahne. As much as you have collected, there is much within you that could be passed on.”

  It would weaken him. But would it weaken him so much that he would not be able to confront Raime—or stop the groeliin if it came to it?

  And if he died, all of that ahmaean would leave with him.

  Perhaps that was the answer that he needed. He couldn’t hold on to all of the ahmaean. He needed to pass it on to others.

  And if it had the added benefit of allowing them to have their abilities awoken, so much the better.

  “I should’ve thought of it before.”

  “You’ve been thinking of what
you must do.”

  “I don’t know how to do it. Is this something the Cala maah can help guide?”

  “Not the Cala maah. This must come from a damahne. This must come from you.”

  “What’s needed?” Raime had attempted to use some ancient artifact to steal from Alyta, but was that even necessary? She had simply touched Jakob, pouring her ahmaean into him. If some artifact were needed, why hadn’t it been necessary when it came to her passing on to him? Maybe Raime had needed it because he was not damahne and needed the power from the artifact to help.

  “Would you be with me?” he asked. This was not something he would want to do alone. If something happened, he would need Anda to help guide his recovery.

  Anda watched him, evidence of the shame still present in her eyes. After a moment, she nodded. “I will be with you, Jakob Nialsen. When would you do this?”

  When. How could he wait when there were so many things that needed to be done? If this was a way that he could help them discover their abilities, which in turn would mean they could be of help to him, he had to act on it as quickly as he could.

  Jakob stood and held out his hand. “I think we have to do it now.”

  Anda followed him to her feet. “So it will be.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Darkness surrounded her within the temple, but Roelle didn’t struggle to see through it. With her Mage eyesight, there was no challenge. She could sense the pressure from the teralin, which she had learned was negatively charged teralin, but even that no longer bothered her as it once had. Whatever the Deshmahne had done, whatever healing they had imposed upon her, it had somehow made her less sensitive to the teralin.

  She remembered how it had caused problems when facing the Deshmahne before. There had been power within the dark teralin, and when the Deshmahne had attacked her and the other Magi warriors, there had been the strange sense of uncertainty and despair that the dark teralin had caused. Now, she no longer knew whether that was the teralin or the person who wielded it.

  Was it the Deshmahne? Could it be the High Priest—and the other Desh who served with him—who controlled and influenced that connection?

  That seemed as likely an answer as anything.

  “Why do you feel compelled to return here?” Selton asked.

  “I’m not compelled, but I think the High Desh is an ally.”

  “I’m not comfortable with any of the Deshmahne serving as an ally. How reliable do you think they are?” Selton asked.

  Roelle glanced over. “They assisted with searching for the Lashiin priests.”

  Selton grunted. “Only because the Lashiin priests thought to abduct the children of the Deshmahne. It would be no different from…” Selton hesitated, thinking. “I don’t know what it would be different from, only that the Deshmahne can’t be trusted.”

  Roelle knew so little about the Deshmahne. That was part of the problem between their people. The Deshmahne had gained power and influence, and they had used that to unify the south lands. Even the Urmahne couldn’t claim the same.

  “We need to trust them. At least we need to find a stability.”

  “He also claims that you need to train this soldier he brought to you.”

  Roelle frowned. The man Jakob had brought to her bothered her. There was something not quite right about him, though she couldn’t place what it was. Was it only that he had a haunted expression, or was it the off-putting way that he watched her—and the rest of the warriors?

  He seemed to have some familiarity with his sword, but there was nothing more about him that seemed like a soldier. Given his lack of coordination, he might never develop enough skill to make a useful soldier, though Jakob seemed to think otherwise.

  “That’s what he claims, and for Jakob, I’ll at least try.”

  That was what she had agreed to, though she still wasn’t certain whether that was the right thing to have agreed to. Jakob might be godlike, but she remained unconvinced that she needed to follow him without question. Yet she didn’t disagree with his desire for stability. Stability made more sense to her than a shortsighted ideal for peace. Seeing what she had, experiencing the brutality of the groeliin, she understood that peace required fighting.

  “Then why have we come here?” Selton asked. “What do you need from the Deshmahne priest?”

  Roelle stared straight ahead along the hallway of the temple, watching the back of the Deshmahne who guided them through it. “He managed to help me, so I thought that he might be able to help Scottan.”

  Selton chuckled. “You’ve seen the man. There’s not much that’s going to help him.”

  It didn’t help that Roelle felt the same way. What if what Jakob wanted wasn’t possible? What if there wasn’t anything she could do to help this man he’d brought to her?

  Would he be angry?

  She didn’t fear Jakob, but he had changed, and she didn’t necessarily want to have him angry with her. What might he do in that case?

  She sighed. “We have to do whatever we can to try to help him.”

  The Deshmahne stopped at a door along the hall that Roelle had never been to before. He stepped inside, motioning for them to wait.

  Selton glanced over at her, an eyebrow arched. “I still think this is dangerous.”

  “It’s no more dangerous than what Brohmin did to get me the help I needed,” she said.

  “You don’t know that it’s negatively charged teralin that poisoned the man.”

  “I don’t know that he’s poisoned at all.”

  The door opened, and the High Desh stepped outside. He was youthful and had a sharp jaw, with eyes that seemed knowing. He was dressed all in black—the same as all of the Deshmahne. He carried himself with a certain authority, and a sense of energy swirled around him that Roelle was surprised she could detect. As with other Deshmahne with power, the markings along his face and neck seemed to move all on their own. When she stared at them, she had a sense of a pattern.

  “Roelle of the Magi,” the priest said. “I thought you would have departed Paliis by now.”

  “Would you prefer that we depart your city?”

  The priest merely narrowed his eyes. “The Great One seemed interested in you. For that reason alone, I think your presence is welcome.”

  “What other reason would there be?”

  “The same reason the Hunter brought you to us.”

  Roelle still didn’t know what connection Brohmin had to the Deshmahne, and why he had chosen to bring her to the Deshmahne. It had to be about more than simply thinking they could help her.

  “And what reason is that?” Roelle asked.

  “The Hunter wanted you to recognize that there is not the same darkness within the Deshmahne as he believed. We serve the gods, no differently than the Magi in that regard. It is the manner in which we serve them where we differ.” He regarded Roelle, and his gaze drifted to her sword. “Or, perhaps, where we had differed.”

  “I wonder if we still differ,” Roelle said.

  “Did you come to discuss philosophy of our religion? I would be more than happy to have such a conversation with you. I think you might appreciate the Deshmahne more than you realize.”

  “Not to discuss philosophy.” Now wasn’t the time, though if the priest was interested, Roelle couldn’t deny that she had a certain curiosity. She would be interested in learning more about the Deshmahne and more about what they believed. After her experiences fighting the groeliin, her faith had been shaken, and then learning about Jakob—and what he was—it had been shaken even more. Perhaps she was not meant to have any specific faith.

  “Then why have you come?”

  “There is a man who I think might need your assistance.”

  “I would not agree to heal just anyone,” the priest said.

  That was a difference between the Deshmahne and the Urmahne. The Urmahne would offer healing to any. “This is someone the Great One brought to me for help.”

  The priest watched her. “If the G
reat One brought him to you for help, then you will disappoint him if you fail.”

  “Which is why I have come to you for assistance.”

  The priest grinned. “If you fail and I succeed, I will gain the favor of the Great One.”

  “I don’t care who gains the favor,” Roelle said. “All I care about is seeing if there’s anything that can be done for this man. Are you willing to consider this?”

  The High Desh regarded her with the same intensity in his eyes that he always seemed to carry. “I will see if there’s anything that can be done.”

  The grassy square was barely more than a dozen paces across and framed by buildings on either side of it, leaving Roelle feeling a bit claustrophobic. There was no easy route to escape were they attacked here.

  The day was hot with the sun shining high overhead. Clouds to the north threatened rain, though in her time in Paliis, she’d come to accept that was typical. Rain often threatened and never came. Most of the time, there was the occasional peal of thunder, but never anything more than that. She had grown accustomed to the sound of thunder and the heat of the sun, an odd combination.

  She shook away those thoughts and focused on the man at the far side of the clearing. He worked with Alan, practicing the sword, but Alan was far more skilled than Scottan. Not only was there the odd clumsiness, but there was a hesitance to his attack. Despite that, the catahs he worked through were more advanced than what she would’ve expected a soldier of his skill to know.

  Was that why Jakob had brought him to her?

  The man was tall and rail thin. It was an unusual appearance for a soldier. Most were muscular and had trained long enough to gain significant strength. Scottan looked as if he needed to put on weight to simply hold the sword upright.

  “This is the man you think needs my help?” the priest asked.

  Roelle glanced over to him. The High Desh clasped his hands in front of him and regarded the Magi arranged around the square with curiosity rather than fear or irritation. Most of the Magi were armed, either with sword or staff, and several of them fought, practicing their catahs. The Magi had an incredible ability that stemmed from their connection to the gods. Or perhaps not to the gods. Now that she knew of Jakob, she questioned whether that was a part of it or not.