The Gift of Madness (The Lost Prophecy Book 7)

by D. K. Holmberg

  She turned her attention back to Scottan, stepping into the first pattern of a catah, and started walking him through.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “How much longer are we going to remain in Paliis?” Selton asked as they wandered in the darkness at the edge of the city, enjoying the cool breeze that gusted down from the mountains. The night cooled off considerably in Paliis and became temperate—occasionally cold. The sound of thunder still boomed at times, as if the gods drummed in the mountains nearby, and the clouds were thick with dark smears outlined against the moonlight.

  “I think we’re going to have to leave soon,” she said.

  “And go where?” Selton asked.

  Roelle had given that much thought. Where would they go?

  “You suggested that we return to face the groeliin. I think that’s as good an answer as any.”

  “You don’t worry about upsetting your friend the god?”

  “Jakob asked us to come here, mostly to establish a rapport with the Deshmahne. I think we’ve done that. They aren’t a threat, at least not the threat we thought they might be. Whatever else the Deshmahne might be, when they are not guided by the High Priest, they seem actually interested in serving the gods.”

  “It surprises me to agree with you,” Selton said. “What about Scottan? If we head north to help the Antrilii, he won’t be able to do anything there. If we face groeliin, he’ll likely be slaughtered.”

  “We kept Lendra alive.”

  “We kept Lendra alive because we had no other choice. We could leave Scottan in the city. It might be better for him.”

  She could tell her friend was eager to leave Scottan behind but didn’t know whether that came from frustration about what was asked of them, or a real desire to not get caught up in a more dangerous and damaging attack. With Scottan, they would have to watch over him. If they left him behind, if they asked the Deshmahne to keep an eye on him—and possibly continue working with him—they would be unburdened of the possibility of something worse happening to him.

  Why did she feel like Jakob would be disappointed if she left him behind?

  He had asked her only to help this man, to attempt to train him, and see if there was anything she could do to work with him and increase his skill. She had tried—the gods knew she had tried—but so far, be it due to her training or his lack of motivation, he had not improved. He might be somewhat less clumsy than he had been before, and he might have picked up a few new patterns that he’d not known, but she knew if he encountered a dangerous Deshmahne like she suspected remained in the north, he would be cut down ruthlessly.

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure what we’ll do with him. I feel I have an obligation to him that I haven’t fulfilled. I feel like leaving him here and not completing the task Jakob asked of me, means that I will have disappointed him.”

  “Are you concerned about disappointing your friend or disappointing one of the gods?”

  “Are they different?”

  “You know they are. If it’s just about disappointing a friend, then I would argue that we have nothing to fear. You have to make up your own mind about how much you’re willing to help and how much you’re willing to sacrifice if it becomes necessary. If it’s about your fear of disappointing one of the gods, I don’t know how to change that.”

  “What if it’s about my fear of failing?” she asked. The more that she thought about it, the more she realized that might be the greatest concern she had.

  “Why would that bother you?” Selton asked.

  “Because I’m supposed to be a leader. I’ve led the Magi warriors in battle. I trained them back in Vasha before we left. Now, when it seems important that I train this man… that for some reason this is important to Jakob—friend or god—I fail? Why is it so hard?”

  “Do you think Endric can train everyone?”

  “I think Endric would attempt to train everyone who had an interest in learning. I think Endric has never given up on any soldier willing to learn.”

  “You haven’t given up on him. Your immediate need is to keep him from harm. You can ensure that he gets more help, if that’s what your concern is.”

  They paused and looked up at the mountainside where a series of homes dotted the slope. They had some experience with one of them that had been occupied by the Lashiin priests, and the Magi had claimed it, using it as a place for them to regroup.

  “I keep thinking about what the Deshmahne priest said.”

  “You can’t let them influence you like that,” Selton said.

  “I’m not sure that he influenced me. What he said made sense. It struck me as truth. How could I not listen when I recognize that what he said has merit and value?”

  “You’re questioning your role?”

  “I’m wondering whether I have really understood my purpose. Do you know your purpose?”

  “I serve the gods,” Selton said.

  Roelle smiled, recognizing the hesitation in his voice. “Once, I would have believed you when you said that, but now, I see that you feel much the same way as I do. You’re not sure what we are meant to do.”

  “Roelle—”

  Roelle shook her head, cutting him off. “It’s okay. I questioned that for a long time when we began fighting the Deshmahne. How could we, trained to follow the Urmahne, feel that we needed to attack? How could we kill another?” She shook her head. “And then I saw the groeliin. They were horrible and had no regard for life or anything the gods created. I understand that we might have been meant to fight them, that we might have always been meant to fight them, especially after we met the Antrilii. That realization made me wonder if we have been mistaken all these years. Have we as Magi failed in what we were meant to do?”

  Selton looked up at the sky, moonlight streaking along his face. “And the Deshmahne priest helped you with these realizations?”

  “The Deshmahne put words to my realization,” Roelle said.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to stay in Paliis,” Selton said. They had turned to head back into the city, and could just make out the dark Deshmahne temple. It had a strange glow to it at night, enough that it could be seen. Why should that be? “The longer we stay, the more I begin to worry about what you’re doing.”

  “What I’m doing is trying to keep the Magi intact.”

  “That’s not what you’re doing. You’ve been struggling with your place in this new world. I’ve seen it. But trusting the Deshmahne… Roelle, we’ve killed Deshmahne,” he said, his voice hushed. The wind gusted and carried the words away.

  “We’ve killed Deshmahne led by the High Priest.”

  “And these aren’t?”

  “These are different.”

  “I don’t think they are. Not as different as you seem to believe. Think about what we’ve seen!”

  “I am thinking about what we’ve seen. What we’ve seen are priests of the Urmahne who’ve come to Paliis to abduct children. We’ve seen hatred and violence from them—men who should have been serving the peace. I think the Deshmahne are different.”

  Selton shook his head. “I… I don’t know what we’re doing anymore.”

  She turned to her friend and noted him staring at the city. His brow was furrowed, and he gripped the hilt of his sword. “We’re doing what needs to be done.”

  He turned to her. “Are we? When we left Vasha, it was because we knew there was something taking place and we wanted to be a part of it. When we saw the Deshmahne and were forced to fight, we all thought we were serving the gods. Then we found the groeliin—and the Antrilii—and we knew we were serving the gods. This…”

  “This is the same.”

  “Is it? You don’t even have the same faith you did before.”

  She hadn’t realized how much Selton had struggled. When they had first left Vasha, she knew that he had difficulty, but she’d thought he had come around as they had continued to face the Deshmahne. With each battle, it had seemed easier for him. And then ther
e was facing the groeliin. Selton had seemed to relish it.

  She should have recognized how difficult it was for him. In her mind, they had ceased being Magi and had become soldiers. Maybe that wasn’t the same for everyone. Was it the same for Selton?

  “What would you have us do?” she asked.

  “We came to Paliis because we thought we could get a handle on the Deshmahne, but now you’re saying we don’t need to do anything about them? How can we trust them, Roelle?”

  How could they, indeed? It was a valid question, and it was one that she hadn’t given enough consideration to, at least as far as Selton seemed to think.

  “I trust their faith,” she said.

  He snorted. “The faith of the Deshmahne? You think that means anything?”

  “We’ve seen how little the Urmahne faith means. Think about what they were willing to do.”

  “That wasn’t the Urmahne. That was a group of priests who thought they knew better than the rest of the church. The Deshmahne were founded on the idea of violence.”

  “As a way of serving the gods.”

  Selton gaped at her, shaking his head. “You think they have it right?”

  “I don’t think they have it right, but I think they believe that they do. That’s no different from what the Urmahne believe, or what the Magi believe, or even the Antrilii. Each thinks they have the right of it, and each thinks they serve the gods by what they do. How many of us are wrong?”

  Selton turned away with a sigh. “I don’t care for this,” he said after a while.

  “What part?”

  “All of it. This city. The tension between us. The uncertainty.”

  She knew Selton well enough to know the last was the hardest for him. It had to be. He had always been a faithful servant of the Urmahne, and for him to have doubt—which everything they had seen would have only fostered—would be the hardest thing for him.

  “We can return to Vasha.”

  “And do what? That’s what’s been troubling me most of all. At least here, we had a mission, even if it became something I didn’t necessarily agree with. We were to find a way to stop the Deshmahne. If we go back to Vasha, what’s our mission there? What are we to do when we get there? Once again become apprentices? I think that would be difficult for most of us.”

  “There are other ways that we can serve.”

  He grunted. “You would have us become soldiers? Would we become Denraen?”

  “Would that be so bad?”

  He didn’t answer at first. “We are Magi, Roelle. That should mean something.”

  “It does. It means we’re given abilities that grant us an obligation.”

  “What obligation?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. But I’m willing to do what must be done. That is our obligation.”

  There had been a time when the answer would have been easy, but it no longer was. What was their obligation? They had to use their abilities for some purpose, but was it only to destroy groeliin? Was there something else for them? Didn’t there have to be?

  Why would they have been given such abilities if there was nothing beyond this? If they didn’t come from the gods—and learning that Jakob was one of what she once would have called the gods, she no longer knew—where did their abilities come from?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jostephon felt his way along the trunk of the tree. He held his breath, avoiding the stink coming off the trunk. It was something like a mixture of rotting leaves and wet earth, a smell that he found particularly unpleasant. It was cloying and filled his nostrils. If only there was a breeze to carry it away, but this deep in the forest, the wind never reached here, though he would occasionally hear it rustling the leaves in the upper branches. Rains never even reached him. When storms struck, thunder and lightning crashing around him, but rain never reached the forest floor. How, then, did the earth stink as if it were wet?

  His hands moved away from the tree trunk and into the air. There should be nothing here, and yet he felt a barrier. The barrier prevented him from escaping. He remained determined to overcome this obstacle. He would not be defeated by the daneamiin. He was tired of these creatures, and tired of the way they watched him, their eyes surprisingly knowing. There was nothing they should know, but it seemed as if they did, just as it seemed as if they anticipated what he intended, but he knew that was impossible.

  He had made his way around the entirety of the clearing. There was no way past this barrier, and it seemed to press in upon him. Each time he checked it, it seemed to have moved, sliding more centrally. Eventually, he would have no place to go other than where these half-breeds were, and then, he would never escape from their sight. At least for now, he managed to get away, if only for a short while. If this barrier shifted too much more, he wouldn’t even be granted that much freedom.

  He sensed movement and dropped to the ground, ducking between the tall roots that protruded out of the earth all around. He hoped they provided enough cover for him to keep his location hidden from his captors. They seem to have some way of detecting his ahmaean, but perhaps this close to the trees—or the barrier—they wouldn’t be able to pick up on that. Maybe it would protect him.

  He glanced around the thick roots and noted one of the daneamiin walking on the other side of the barrier. They had a strange flickering movement, and it made it difficult for him to follow. It was a way of moving that reminded him of traveling, though he didn’t think the half-breeds had that ability.

  If they could cross the barrier, was there any way for him to sneak across with them? It seemed unlikely. The barrier seemed focused on him rather than them. It was almost as if the forest knew what he intended, that he wanted to escape.

  Jostephon threw himself against the barrier again, resisting the urge to cry out in frustration when he remained trapped.

  He started away, and the daneamiin on the other side of the barrier nodded to him. Had the half-breed known that he was here?

  He suppressed a shiver. Maybe they were more intelligent than he was giving them credit for. They were still animals, but perhaps they were intelligent animals, like the massive cats that prowled the mountains. They had a certain intelligence about them. The one Isandra had controlled certainly had a level of intelligence.

  Jostephon started back toward the center of the forest where the barrier seemed to force him. It was where the daneamiin had begun building structures. They did so in a way that blended in with the trees, integrating in a way. They didn’t carve out spaces, nor did they use stone to build walls. It was almost as if the forest had grown around them. It was impressive, as much as he hated to admit that.

  He paused at the edge of this settlement and climbed up to sit on one of the low-lying branches. He sat for a while, staring at the daneamiin, before deciding to climb higher. The half-breeds crawled through the branches and had strung vines between some of the upper-level branches, using them as if they were bridges. With their odd flickering movements, it was dizzying to watch them.

  Maybe they didn’t travel, though could they do it without knowing what they did?

  He had to stop trying to puzzle out these creatures and begin focusing on his escape.

  Before realizing what he had done, Jostephon had climbed high into the tree. The branches made it easy, as if the tree encouraged him to climb. He glanced down, trying to ignore the dizzying heights. He had never been one to enjoy such heights, and it made him queasy looking down from here. How did the half-breeds manage it without falling?

  He leaned against the trunk, looking at the branches below to find his way back down. He’d had no trouble climbing up, but there didn’t appear to be an equally easy way down.

  Gods, but he was a fool for doing this. How had he ended up imprisoned here to begin with? He looked out toward the settlement and watched the daneamiin going about their lives. Was feeling lost and abandoned up in this tree symbolic of how he felt about his role in Raime’s grand plan?

  Had
he been a fool for supporting the Highest? Had he not, and simply remained in Vasha, he never would have suffered as he had and been imprisoned by these creatures. Then again, had he not, he never would have understood the extent of power available to him. No. He had done what was necessary. The Magi had been far too naïve for centuries, believing that the power they were born to was the only power in the world. Jostephon understood differently. These half-breeds were evidence of that.

  He pushed away from the trunk and crawled along the branch, teetering near its tapering tip.

  What was he thinking? Why was he venturing out here?

  He looked down and felt how far away the ground was. It practically beckoned him, as if the forest floor called to him, wanting him to drop to it.

  He could jump down to a branch below him, but the distance was still far too great for him to safely make it. All he had to do was dangle, and he could catch the next branch…

  That was not all he had to do. Why did he feel so tempted?

  Jostephon looked at the half-breeds. Were they doing something to him? They had a connection to ahmaean, and some of them even seemed to use it intentionally, though he doubted there was much real control there. It was wasted on them and would be of greater use to him.

  All he had to do was jump down, grab one of the creatures, and he could…

  Jostephon shook his head. He could do nothing. Without teralin, there was no way to ensure the transfer took place.

  And why was he feeling such temptation to jump?

  He looked down and realized that he had crawled even farther out along the branch, his weight causing the branch to bow. He scrambled back toward the trunk.

  As he did, his grip slipped.

  Jostephon fell.

  In the back of his mind, there was a sense of satisfaction.

  He reached for one of the branches speeding toward him, but he missed it.