The Lost Prophecy Boxset
Page 54
“Yes. I fear we won't find the Antrilii fast enough.”
Roelle sighed. She agreed with Selton. They needed to find the Antrilii, and soon, so that they could return to Vasha. Once they did, she suspected they would need to help the Denraen with the Deshmahne attack. After what they’d experienced, she doubted the others would challenge that.
They rejoined the procession and continued their journey north, leaving behind the only people they had seen along the way. Roelle felt unsettled, and knew she was not alone in that sensation. The others with her shared it, and no one needed to speak, as the silence that stretched around them said all they needed.
Chapter Twenty-One
The light of the fire was all they needed. That they dared a fire at all was enough for Roelle, especially after the second Deshmahne attack. Several Magi now stood watch each night, and none took the responsibility lightly. It had been two days since the last attack, but everyone remained on edge.
Different stories had started circulating today, not the same rumors they had been hearing for the last week. After meeting that first family on the road, they had encountered others, people with experiences that told her what they faced was indeed different from the Deshmahne.
They had to be close, yet they had seen no sign of the Antrilii. Roelle was beginning to worry about how— or if—they would find them. Empty villages and the Deshmahne were all they had encountered so far, neither of which had been their reason for coming north.
The camp was quiet tonight. It had been quiet the last few nights since the new stories had first reached them. The laughter of the first few nights was no more.
“Another day, maybe less,” Hester said. “The foothills are not far. If the rumors are right, we should find the Antrilii soon.”
She turned her attention back to the group. She needed to be a part of this conversation. “The family from the other day,” she started. “They were from Drestin. How far was that?”
Hester shrugged. “Three days, maybe four. It’s a small village. I don’t know it well.”
Roelle leaned back from the fire, remembering the family. Three days, maybe four until they reached where that family had experienced violence. There had been no further sign of the Deshmahne, only travelers making their way south, all with the same story. They saw nothing, but knew of destruction.
Roelle had been advised to search near the mountains, and they were nearly there, but where were the Antrilii? Forward scouts had been searching for signs of them yet had found nothing.
Her thoughts turned to her uncle. Would he get the same message Hester sent to Endric? Did the messenger Hester sent back to Vasha even get there? And what would it change? Her uncle thought there was something other than Deshmahne to worry about in the north. What they’d heard made it likely, but they needed more than rumor for the Council.
“Let’s leave at sunrise,” she said. “We must be ready for possible encounters from now on.”
Hester nodded agreement, then stood and started away.
Selton watched him leave. “We have supplies for another two weeks or so,” he began. “That is, if we keep hunting each evening to keep us stocked.”
Roelle had figured as much. Neither quite knew what they would do if the supplies dried up. The Denraen seemed to believe they would find a town where they could stock the things they could not gather. Roelle wasn’t as sure.
“Roelle,” Selton began hesitantly. It was not like her friend to be hesitant in anything. “Roelle… I know I’ve been distant, but I’m beginning to think this is more important than any of us realized. I’m… I’m sorry.”
She rested a hand on his arm, feeling the strength within him. “I understand. I felt the same emotions after we encountered the Deshmahne heading back to Vasha.”
He smiled tightly. “The others admire you. They follow your command. You’ve done well training them. If you hadn’t…”
She nodded. They hadn’t lost anyone. Yet. If they came across the Deshmahne again—and in greater numbers—would they be able to make the same claim?
“Whatever we encounter might be worse than what we’ve faced. They plan something,” she said, thinking of the dark satisfaction the Deshmahne had when sharing that with her.
“We’ve proven capable fighters, Roelle.”
“With the Deshmahne. We don’t know what will happen when we get deeper into the north.”
“After facing the Deshmahne, I think everyone among us now knows what might happen and what might be asked of us. Like I said, we’ll be ready.”
She had done her best, reading through the book on tactics Endric had lent her and quickly grasping several of the key points. Before departing, Lendra had found several other texts from the library, and Roelle had read those as well. It was one thing to read of warfare and quite another to live it.
They sat quietly for a while, Roelle lost in thought as she listened to the crackle of the fire. Lendra stared at her from across the fire, her blue-green eyes seeming to study her.
Finally, she broke the silence. “Tell me about your family, Roelle.” The words were light in the heavy blanket of night. “I know all about Selton, but little about you.”
Selton shot Lendra a warning glance and she frowned.
“It’s fine,” Roelle said to her friend. “There’s not much to say. My parents were born without the gift, a generation removed from being Mageborn. I was their first born, and they knew the tradition.”
She didn’t need to explain to Lendra the tradition she referred to. Those descended from the Magi were all tested for abilities. When manifested, they were brought to the city for training and education.
“They were happy for me, though I wasn’t,” she said, remembering too well the day they’d informed her she would leave them to live in a strange city with only a great uncle she didn’t know as family. “I think it was something they would have chosen for themselves if given a chance.”
Lendra nodded, and Roelle tried to ignore the tears that welled in her eyes. It was a sore spot for many not born with abilities, as if the gods had abandoned them. Her own parents had tried to shelter her from their feelings about it, but had not completely managed.
“You had your uncle. He’s family,” she said.
Roelle nodded slowly. “Great uncle, really. And he was the only one of his parents’ children Mageborn. He’s treated me like a daughter, and I love him like a father, but I would still have liked to have known my parents better.” She shifted on the ground to find a more comfortable position. “I used to get letters from them regularly,” she said sighing, settling back on her elbows and looking up to the sky. Looking up at the stars and the moon with a hint of a blue rim around it, felt peaceful. “There were annual visits, so I was able to meet my younger brother one year. But I never got to know him.”
Selton touched her hand gently, and there was a warmth to his touch. It made her realize that it had been a while since they had shared a connection.
“Why not?” Lendra asked.
She cleared her throat. “One day, the letters stopped coming and they no longer visited. It was two years before I learned they had all been killed.” She cleared her throat again. It still pained her, even after all these years. “It was much later that I learned how.”
She did not say more, and Lendra didn’t press, letting the stillness of the night surround them. Selton continued to hold her hand softly. The touch of his skin, the smoothness of it, relaxed her somehow. His presence was soothing.
“Both of my parents were Mageborn,” Lendra began breaking the silence. “Both had the gift, as did my older brother. When I came, they continued to live in the palace, because had I been Mageborn, it would have been the best for my training. When I was not, they kept me in the palace as long as possible. I knew family then. Happiness.”
“You were trouble then,” Selton said, trying to add some levity.
Lendra gave a soft laugh. Roelle suspected what would come next.
“We moved to Coamdon, where both my mother and father served the Urmahne,” she went on. “They were determined to have me apprenticed. I became ill when I was eleven. I was near death before a healer my father knew came to me. The healer knew more than either of my parents, and I am forever in his debt. I truly would have died were it not for his skill.”
She sat a moment. “I spent some time learning from him before he moved on. Then, once I was better, my father sent me to the historian of the city.” She met her eyes. “I learned much from him, and soon my interests parted from those of my parents.” She sat back a moment and laughed. “Father and mother wanted me to become a priest.” She shook her head in amusement. “I left that to others.”
She sat quietly for a long time until finally Roelle found herself asking, “What did you study?”
“Novan is a historian,” she began in answer. “He knows much of recent history, but it is the times long past that truly interest him. It rubbed off on me,” she said.
“If only he and Alriyn were on better terms,” Roelle said, “they could learn much from each other.”
Lendra crinkled her nose. “Novan respects your uncle, but that’s where it ends, I think. I’m not certain anything more will happen easily.”
The historian had sent Lendra with them, and Roelle had wondered how much she would help. “What did Novan know about the north?” Roelle asked.
Lendra considered for long moments. “There’s not much that’s known,” she said with a sigh. “I think you know as much as I, perhaps more. Rumors, but that’s all. If the change in the north is what Novan thinks, then they are what are known as the unseen. Others called them smoke beasts.” Lendra explained. “They are the creatures that preceded the founding of the Magi.”
“If what Novan said is true,” Roelle admitted. How could their founding be tied to such destruction? Were they not gifted by the gods? The Urmahne taught peace, not war.
The longer she traveled, the more she wondered if what they had been taught was nothing more than a lie? Could the Deshmahne have it right? Was that what Endric wanted her to find?
For some reason, the last thought haunted her most of all.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Allay was bored. It had now been weeks since he'd come to the city. Each day had passed much like the one before. Each day spent sitting in classrooms. He discovered the Magi apprentices also spent their days much in the same way. It should have comforted him, but instead, it only annoyed him. Worse, Mendi seemed to be spending her days wandering the city, exploring it much more thoroughly than he had been given the opportunity to do. He wished he had the chance to see what she was seeing. For that matter, he wished he had the chance to see her.
He sat near the back of the room. They were given wooden desks and instructed to sit while one of the Magi, today a man by the name of Rendrem, lectured to them. Today was another history lesson, detailing previous wars. He wasn't surprised to discover that they'd chosen to focus on the Slavers’ War. It wasn't Gom Aaldia's finest hour.
“I bet you didn't get a lecture from this perspective back home,” Dougray said, nudging him from across the aisle.
Allay avoided looking over at him. Dougray meant well, but there was an edge to him.
Danvayn chuckled softly at the comment. Allay had seen the two of them sneaking off one evening and followed them. He wondered if the Magi had anticipated the delegates connecting in the way that Dougray and Danvayn had. Probably not, he suspected.
“What did the gods say about this war?” a voice asked from the front of the room.
Allay didn't have to look to know that it came from Tresh Longtree. The man had a nasally voice that matched his soft, pudgy body.
Allay still hadn't discovered whether he was some sort of royalty within his own city. He knew little about the ruling of Rondalin. There was a king, but other than that, Allay didn't know. What did the king really rule, given the fact that Rondalin was essentially a city-state?
“The gods demand peace from all of us.” The Magi stopped in the center of the room and swung his gaze over the class. He had dark eyes, almost a gray black, with dark hair to match. Many of the Magi instructors had been welcoming, almost warm, but this man had seemed put out by the fact that they were here. Allay refused to let it bother him, mostly because he still didn’t know why they were here either.
“If they demand peace, then why do the Magi stand by and do nothing about the Deshmahne threat?”
All eyes swung toward Stohn. He sat almost alone, in a row by himself, dressed the same as the last time Allay had seen him. His back was straight, his arms crossed over his chest. He stood as though he wanted to intimidate the Mage.
“Do not presume to know what the Magi intend.”
“It seems the Denraen are the only ones who prepare. They have grown in power over but the Magi have done nothing, not as they once would have. Is this gathering of delegates your attempt to curtail the threat of the Deshmahne?” Stohn asked.
Allay suppressed a smile. He couldn't believe Stohn pressured one of the Magi, especially this one who had seemed so dour and irritable. It was amusing that he would, but he worried doing so would only antagonize him.
“The Denraen are the keepers of the peace. That is the purpose the gods have given them. The gods have given the Magi another purpose.” The hard glare in the Mage's eyes dared Stohn to question him again. “You will be tasked with working with the Magi. That is what you agreed to prior to your selection. If you have changed your mind…”
Stohn fell silent, simply meeting the Mage’s gaze.
“If that is all, I think we are finished for the day.”
The Mage turned and strode from the room, not giving anyone else a chance to ask additional questions.
Allay stood, and the others with him did as well.
“That was… interesting,” Dougray said.
Danvayn nodded. “Interesting? The fool almost had the Mage snapping at him.”
“Don't you think it's a valid question?” Allay asked.
The two of them shook their heads. “It's not like that. You don't understand the Deshmahne. They may be different from the Magi, and the Urmahne, but that doesn't mean they’re worse.” Dougray leaned against the desk, half smile on his face. “You haven't had much experience with them in Gom Aaldia, but trust me, they speak sense. When the warrior priests come…”
Allay could only nod. He didn't expect he would convince them otherwise. Worse, though, was that he didn't know whether there was anything to worry about with the Deshmahne.
What was there to fear from the warrior priests? They had come to Gom Aaldia, but they hadn't spent much time there. They were simply an alternative at this point to the Urmahne. But would that change? Would there come a time when they were a threat?
The delegates started filing out of the room, and he noted that Tresh Longtree and Thomasen Comity went out together, speaking softly. Dougray and Danvayn went out together as well. The few others filed out, and Allay waited, lagging behind and waiting for Stohn.
When the others had departed, he approached Stohn who still stood in the back of the room. “Have the Deshmahne not come to El’arash?”
Stohn smiled tightly. “Prince Lansington. It is good to speak with you off the wall.”
“Have you returned to watching the Denraen?”
“I watch them daily. They fascinate me.” He turned and picked up a notebook off his desk and tucked it inside the pocket of his jacket. “As to your question, my people remain faithful to the Urmahne. The warrior priests have attempted to convert us, but they have failed.”
“It seems they’ve not failed in many places.”
Stohn dipped his head to the side. “They have not. Much of the south has co
nverted. They have… changed.” His jaw clenched almost angrily. “And Gom Aaldia? Do they remain faithful?”
“For now. We’re near enough to Thealon and the Tower of the Gods that it's easy to remember to honor them.”
“These others think to honor them as well. They just happened to do so in a different manner.”
“You seem to know quite a bit about them.”
Stohn started out of the room and Allay kept up. “Not by choice. They came to El’arash, but we remain faithful. The Magi know this. That is why they came for us. That is why the Denraen had a Choosing.”
“I'm not sure how the Magi selected their delegates, but it doesn't seem to be based on who has the most faith.”
Stohn’s brow furrowed. “No. Perhaps you are right. It does not seem to be how they were selected. It is… troubling.”
“What do you think they intend for us to do. They teach us about politics and geography, but nothing that will be any more useful than the positions we already possess within our nations.” And nothing more than he could have learned in Gomald.
“It seems they would have us provide influence. Though the Magi have never lost influence in El’arash.”
Allay grunted softly. “There had been a time when a Mage served as an advisor to our king, but it’s been many years.” Mostly because he exiled the last Mage.
“The Magi once advised all nations,” Stohn said.
Allay nodded. “And now my father has gained a different kind of advisor.”
“You do not care for this man?”
Allay shrugged. “I'm not sure that it matters whether I care for him or not. He is who he is.”
“Does he serve the Urmahne?”
Allay thought about what he knew of his father's new advisor, Raime. The man had appeared from nowhere and quickly gained support from his father. That alone was unusual, particularly for his father, a man who prided himself on keeping his own counsel. What did it mean that he now took on outside counsel, and a man who did not appear to have come from within the borders of Gomald?