The Lost Prophecy Boxset

by D. K. Holmberg

  “Did he tell you that?” Selton asked Roelle.

  She shook her head slowly. Endric wasn't much for words when it came to things like that. He'd given her the book on strategy and tactics, though she didn't really expect that he thought her to need it.

  Yet… She wondered. He had made certain to send with her men able to provide what she could not. He'd sent hunters, men able to help with keeping the camp fed, and men who would serve as guides, helping them find their way north. What else might he have planned on her behalf?

  The thought made her smile.

  “The gods have given us gifts,” Roelle said, leaning back on her elbows.

  Hester chuckled. He had a grizzled face, one that told her he had seen much in his days. She knew him to have scarred arms, one with a chunk of flesh missing. Many of the Denraen bore scars. It was something of a badge of honor to them. She hadn't been surprised to see that Hester had them as well.

  “Yeah? The gods saw fit to give me this face. I can't help it the women find me so beautiful.”

  Lendra coughed and covered her mouth with her hand.

  Selton chuckled as he fingered the hilt of his sword. “I think Endric sent you with us to get rid of you. Maybe he did it to torment us.”

  Hester shrugged. “Maybe. I think he got tired of me guffin’ off to him. You know the general, he's not the kind to take too lightly to someone questioning him.”

  Selton arched a brow. “You questioned Endric?”

  “Mostly his plan for you.”

  Selton looked over to Roelle. “Is that what he told you?” She gave him a shrug and returned her attention to the Magi practicing.

  Roelle stared at the pair. Jhun managed to connect twice, once on the arm and once on the leg, and Jimson dropped the practice stave. She stepped back, and he remain crouching.

  Roelle leapt to her feet and made her way out to the practice area. She grabbed Jimson's practice stave, and brought it up and caught Jhun. She attacked several times quickly, running through a series of forms faster than what Jhun could counter. The woman dropped her stave, and Roelle sliced at her neck, a killing blow.

  “Never take a step back until you have finished your opponent,” Roelle said.

  Jhun offered a half smile. She had her hands raised in front of her in surrender. A strand of her thick, black hair hung across her face, obscuring one of her eyes. “Roelle… This is Jimson. I'm not trying to kill him.”

  Roelle looked from Jhun to Jimson.

  The young man dusted himself off and stood, looking at Roelle with an amused glint in his eyes. He chuckled softly, his laughter merging with that of Jhun. “This is just practice, Roelle. A game.”

  “Practice? This was not the kind of practice you need. Real practice is what allowed me to survive when I faced the Deshmahne. Real practice kept me alive when they came in numbers more than what even the Denraen could oppose. If you don't take practice seriously, what will happen when we face a real opponent?”

  Jhun’s smile faded as she nodded slowly. “Like the Deshmahne?”

  Roelle nodded. “Like the Deshmahne. We don’t know how far north they’ve reached. If we come across them, do you think the four Denraen with us will be enough to stop them?”

  It wasn’t only the Deshmahne she worried about. She had a feeling that whatever the rumors spoke of in the north, it was something other than the Deshmahne. Perhaps it was this mysterious ancient threat her uncle feared. If it was, and if they came across it before they found the Antrilii, they needed to be prepared. Which meant fighting with real intent behind it, practicing as though their lives depended on it.

  “Now, practice again.” She tossed the practice stave back to Jimson, who caught it. He stared at Roelle with an incredulous look on his face that she ignored.

  Roelle made her way back toward Selton and the others and took her seat. She noted that Jhun nudged Jimson with her practice stave, urging him to fight again. They began their practice again, this time with renewed intensity.

  “Don't you think that was a bit much?” Selton asked. “It's not like we’re going to find the Deshmahne in the north. Even Endric said that they'd been pushed back south again. If anything, all we’re going to find will be a collection of nomadic horse warriors, and that’s if we’re lucky.”

  Roelle stared at the ground in front of her. Had she been too hard? She didn’t think so. These people hadn’t encountered the Deshmahne. They hadn’t seen the way the warrior priests could move. Had she not prepared, it was possible that she would have died that day. Wasn’t it her responsibility to see that they were ready?

  “You haven't faced them before. You don't understand what it's like when you must make the decision about whether to attack and use what you've learned to take a life. They need to be prepared.”

  Selton studied her for a moment, nodding slightly as he did, but saying nothing. He had taken her at her word about what she had seen when she traveled out of the city with Elder Haerlin. She had assumed that he believed her, but it was possible that Selton still struggled with what she'd shared. It was possible that he didn't really believe the Deshmahne to be the threat that they were, or even that they might encounter something worse.

  Roelle looked around at the other Magi collected in the camp. Many seemed to make a point of not watching her. How many others were like Selton?

  Had she made a mistake? She thought they had come because they believed what she had shared, that they agreed there was a need for those with their abilities, those who could counter the Deshmahne or something worse, but what if they came for a different reason, the same reason she’d left Vasha when offered the chance to go with Haerlin?

  She knew how she had felt when she first left the city. That had been something of an adventure, little more than that. Few Magi ever left the city while training, and when they did, it was rarely to travel quite as far as she had gone.

  But then… Then she’d encountered the Deshmahne.

  Seeing that threat, witnessing for herself the destruction they caused, the disregard for life and peace, had shown her the need for… something. Roelle still wasn't sure what that something was.

  Selton stood. “I think I'm going to get some rest. Long days in the saddle, you know?”

  Roelle nodded. The long days in the saddle had worn her out as well. She suspected Selton was going to bed for another reason, though she didn't blame him. With each day on the road, their friendship changed, though she wasn’t certain quite how.

  Selton made his way toward the tent he had claimed, disappearing inside. Lendra stared into the darkness after him before getting up and following him. She had taken to camping with Selton, mostly to keep her familiarity with her cousin. Their departure left Roelle alone with Hester.

  Hester scooted close to her, saying nothing as he stared at the campfire. After a while, he coughed and cleared his throat. “That was something the general would have done.”

  “What's that? Scare off my friend?”

  Hester laughed, his rough voice breaking the silence of the night. A few of the Magi glanced over at the sound. “No. Though I have seen him chase Pendin away more than once. Those two are thick as thieves most of the time.”

  Roelle had a hard time imagining Endric and his Raen as “thick as thieves.” Had they been friends first? She had a hard time imagining Endric as anything other than the stern man she’d not really gotten to know. “Then what?”

  Hester nodded toward the practice yard. “What you did there. That was something the general would have done. He always felt that if you were going to hold the sword, you had to be ready to use it, and end whatever fight you were in.”

  “That's just the problem. Most people here don't seem to think we’re going to see any action.”

  “Scouting. That was what Endric told me too. But things tend to go awry, and it would be good if you make your team ready.”

  “You don't think we're capable?” Roelle asked.

  “It's not a matter of
capability. It's a matter of the fighting.”

  Roelle arched a brow at Hester. “I thought the Denraen enjoyed their battles. You're telling me that you would rather not fight.”

  He frowned at her. “You’re one of the Magi. You understand the Urmahne.”

  “What does that have to do with this?”

  “Don't you think the Denraen want peace as well? We serve the Urmahne. That's our entire purpose. We fight to maintain peace so that others don't have to.”

  Roelle hadn't given much thought to the Denraen and their attitudes toward their role. The more she did, she realized that what Hester said must be true. The Denraen did serve the Urmahne. That servitude allowed the Magi to have peace and protection, just as they helped maintain peace throughout the land.

  Well, at least the north these days. The south had been taken over by the Deshmahne. And the Magi had allowed it. At least the Council seemed ready to change that if the delegates they chose did as intended.

  “What do you think is in the north?” Roelle asked.

  Hester turned toward the north, the firelight reflected in his eyes. He stared for a long while, sniffing at the air. “Last patrol I took was probably a year ago,” he started slowly. His voice was hushed, and she had to strain to hear him. “Even then, there were stories starting to come. Strange attacks. Most on my patrol thought it was animals. The north has wolves and other things…” He shook his head. “Most just assumed those attacks were related to that sort of creature.”

  “And now?” Roelle asked. “You think there's something different out there?”

  “Don't really know. As I said, my last patrol was a year ago. Lately, I've been in the city, spending my days teaching.”

  “But you're afraid of something. I can see it on your face.”

  Hester didn't look back at her, but nodded slowly. “Aye. I'm afraid of many things. Stories like I hear… Something like that will make any man nervous. Even the most hardened.

  “Is it the Deshmahne? Do they scare you?”

  Hester turned back to her. A hint of a smile played at his lips. “I've faced Deshmahne before. Many of them are skilled with the sword, but they’re only men. They can be defeated.”

  Roelle waited for him to elaborate, but he did not. The fire crackled softly, and there came a distant hooting of an owl. Some in Vasha would call that bad luck. “How many of you have faced the Deshmahne?”

  “How many of the Denraen?”

  “No. How many of the soldiers Endric sent with me have faced them.”

  Hester’s smile faded. “All of us.”

  She wasn’t surprised. Similar to Endric’s plan to use the soldiers to help us with hunting and guiding, it seemed he’d sent men with experience fighting the Deshmahne too. But what was the look of fear she saw on Hester's face when he spoke of the rumors out of the north? Whatever he knew was more than what had been shared with her.

  Had Endric shared with Alriyn? Had Novan known?

  Hester broke the silence. “You keep working with them. I think the general saw a bit of himself in you.” With that, Hester stood and started away, his slight limp notable in the fading light.

  Roelle sat back, staring at the crackling flames, smelling the hint of fall in the air, that of changing leaves, earth, and the dry grass, and wondered whether traveling to the north, attempting to find the Antrilii was right. It was the question that had plagued her from the beginning, even after Endric suggested she learn about her Founders.

  As she stared at the fire, she wondered… what would her Founders have done?

  Chapter Four

  Jakob stared at Brohmin, a question hanging on his lips, before turning his gaze back to the forest and the figures moving toward them. They moved quickly and approached faster than should have been possible. It was as if one moment they were far away, the next they were nearly before them.

  Jakob could tell little about them. He guessed at their height, but wasn’t certain he gauged it well. They seemed to blink in and out of existence as they walked, flickering in a sense. The simple shirts and pants they wore were exotic; bright colors flowing into one another, crashing and overlapping and becoming another color so that it was hard to separate them from the forest. They carried no weapons.

  “What are they?” Salindra whispered. They were almost to them now.

  “They are called daneamiin,” Brohmin answered. “They will give us answers.”

  The word flowed from the man’s mouth in a way that only the ancient language did. Jakob repeated the word, feeling how it slid along his tongue. Something about it sparked a memory; something about the way it felt on his lips was familiar. Then he knew.

  “My sword,” he whispered, looking to his side. The sword was sheathed as usual. “Novan told me it was called Neamiin.”

  “I know.” It was all that Brohmin would say.

  “What kind of answers?” Salindra asked.

  “The kind that will explain the reason we are here.”

  Jakob turned back to the daneamiin. They were no more than ten paces away.

  They were tall, much taller than he and even taller than Salindra. Both heads were bald, eyebrows and all. There was something strange about their eyes; they were set wider apart than his own, large like a curious child’s, and when they blinked, their eyelids shut sideways, toward their noses. Long eyelashes were the only hair he saw.

  Jakob suddenly realized that as he stared at them, they were doing the same to him. He smiled, unsure what else to do.

  “We ask shelter in your forest,” Brohmin said. “We ask for comfort among the trees.”

  One of the daneamiin nodded. “Shelter is not ours to give, nor comfort. Only the trees can decide.”

  The sound of their words was musical, much like those of the gods in his dreams. The quality of his voice was smooth, silky, and yet there was something indescribably more. It was hypnotic. He felt as though, if he let himself, he would drift off, his mind wandering, floating like the grass in the field.

  He shook his head to clear it and realized something else about the ritual to their greeting: Brohmin had known it. None were to have ever been to the Unknown Lands, so how could he have known?

  “You are welcome among us, Brohmin Ulruuy,” the other figure spoke.

  With the naming, Salindra’s head spun around quickly, turning to stare at Brohmin. Her dark eyes were wide as if surprised, though Jakob did not know why. Brohmin nodded slightly, though he wasn’t sure if it was meant for her or for the daneamiin.

  The figures turned toward Salindra, and she managed to stop staring at Brohmin long enough to face them. “You are welcome among us, Salindra Indrianne. You are welcome among us, Jakob Nialsen.”

  Everything around them seemed to stop momentarily. The daneamiin appeared to listen, their strange heads cocked to one side, as if there was something only they could hear. Finally, they both nodded slowly. “The trees grant you shelter.”

  With those words, everything seemed to resume. The daneamiin looked to Brohmin expectantly.

  “Your welcome warms me,” Brohmin said.

  Salindra looked at Brohmin for a moment before repeating, “Your welcome warms me.”

  The daneamiin turned to Jakob and waited. He looked around and again noticed the translucent haze that covered the grass. The same haze flowed around the trees, the flowers, and even the daneamiin. As he studied it, he saw that Brohmin and Salindra had something much like it, though theirs were both tinged with color and seemed to almost shimmer. It was as if what covered them, though similar, was weaker than what he saw everywhere else around him. To his surprise, even the trunk resting now at his feet seemed to rest in a haze.

  It was the energy—the aura—that he saw around the gods in his dreams. How was it that he now saw it so clearly?

  It didn’t surround everything. A bird cawing as it flew overhead wasn’t surrounded in the same haze. The few rocks he saw scattered about the ground were not surrounded by it either.

 
; Looking to the daneamiin, seeing the pale haze surrounding them, he felt its warmth. Jakob could almost feel it pull at him, and it resonated with something of him. He looked down at himself, at his arms, and saw that he, too, had an energy surrounding him. Where the haze about Salindra and Brohmin seemed weak, shimmering in and out, what he saw about him was different. Different even from that around the daneamiin. His seemed thick, milky, and was touched by much more color than that around Brohmin and Salindra.

  Was he dreaming? That had been the only time he’d detected anything like this. Hadn’t he wanted to be like Jarren Gildeun? Was this his mind providing that for him?

  The daneamiin waited silently for him to answer.

  “Your welcome warms me,” he finally answered.

  The daneamiin nodded then, looking to him then to Salindra before one spoke. “Come then, our path unwinds before us.” With the words, they turned and headed back toward the forest.

  With Brohmin leading, they started off.

  Chapter Five

  Jakob followed the daneamiin in silence. It could have been moments, or it could have been days. It was difficult to keep track of. The daneamiin seemed to follow some sort of path, though Jakob could not make it out. Directly in front of him as he walked, it was obvious, but not much past that. Turning to look behind him, he saw no sign of the path or their passing. They could not have found their way without the guides.

  The forest surrounding them grew thicker until sunlight no longer filtered through the trees. Moving deeper into the forest, Jakob continued to see the energy of the trees, the shrubs, everything around him, and felt it as it pulled at his own. He could almost taste the sweet smell of decay from the leaves on the forest floor that mixed with the fragrance of the flowers on the trees. It was not unpleasant.

  Occasionally, he saw animals within the forest, none seeming afraid. What looked to be a deer simply stared at him as they passed, while what resembled a dog looked up from nibbling at some grasses before licking its lips and returning to its business. Huge insects that flittered by with brightly colored wings seemed annoyed by their passage.