The Lost Prophecy Boxset

by D. K. Holmberg

  Jakob approached the edge carefully. Salindra and Brohmin went with him. For some reason, Anda, Aruhn, and Elin stayed near the trees.

  Looking down, he saw the sheer face of white rock drop off below him. It was smooth, almost a pearly white, but the bright light of the sun played strange colors off it. Far beneath them, in the base of the valley, he thought he could see where the river ran, but even that was mostly imagined.

  “I never thought I would see this,” he told Salindra.

  She stood tall, back straight. Not the same Salindra as the one who had entered the forest with him all those days ago. “Most never take the time to view what the gods have made for us. It is… breathtaking. I’ve seen it only once before, long ago. And from the other side, of course.”

  “Men have stared across this chasm for centuries,” Brohmin said. “Wondering why the gods created such a rent in the earth. Why prevent man from accessing part of their creation?” He turned his gaze back to the daneamiin.

  They stood for a moment saying nothing, and then Brohmin led them back to the daneamiin, near the edge of the forest.

  “This is where you leave us,” Aruhn told them in his deep voice.

  Salindra cast a puzzled look. “How?”

  Aruhn smiled. “Do not worry, you do not have to walk across the valley as men did many years ago.”

  Jakob looked back toward the Great Valley, trying to measure the distance across. “How was that possible?”

  “Many things are possible, Jakob Nialsen, some easier to explain than others. There was a time when the valley did not cut through here, a time when our lands were connected. There came a need for separation, and it was made. For many years, a bridge connected the two lands. Few knew of its existence, yet still it caused us much pain.” Tears welled in his eyes, as if the memory was still fresh.

  A vision flashed into Jakob’s mind, one of men attacking the beautiful city he’d seen in his vision. This bridge was how they crossed to the Unknown Lands. It was how the daneamiin were first attacked. Memories that could not be his washed through him quickly and were gone.

  It was the High Priest. The same man who chased them now had tormented the daneamiin all those years ago. How? And why attack the daneamiin. What purpose did it serve since they would not fight back?

  Jakob studied Anda, Elin, and Aruhn, and the answer came to him. The attack was the same reason the High Priest had harmed Salindra. Thick ahmaean streamed around them. If the High Priest could steal from the Magi, he likely could steal from the daneamiin as well.

  How many had he stolen from? How powerful was he? How could they expect to stop him?

  They needed a goddess. Alyta. The last.

  He’d seen her in his visions, though imprisoned. And now… now they would have to save her if they were to stop the High Priest.

  Not they. Him.

  He had wondered what he was meant to do, but this seemed beyond him. Yet, if he didn’t, if they failed… He couldn’t think of that.

  Had all of this been about him discovering what he must do? Not only the search for Avaneam, but reaching the daneamiin, and the time with the Cala maah? Had Alyta planned for all of it?

  The only way to know would be to save her. Then she could help them understand how to stop Raime. Then she could help him understand his visions—and what was happening to him.

  “How will we cross?” Salindra asked.

  Aruhn motioned toward Anda. “She will guide you.”

  Anda blinked at Aruhn before nodding.

  “Your welcome warmed me, Salindra Indrianne,” Aruhn said. “Your return warmed me, Brohmin Ulruuy.” He turned to Jakob. “The trees will welcome your return, Jakob Nialsen.”

  When finished, Aruhn turned and walked back into the forest. He flickered in and out of sight as he walked, humming a strange melody as he departed.

  Elin looked at Salindra a long moment before speaking. “Your welcome warmed me, Salindra Indrianne.” He reached out his hand and briefly squeezed hers before turning to Brohmin. “Your return warmed me, Brohmin Ulruuy.” He turned to Jakob. “Your welcome warmed me, Jakob Nialsen.” Elin then followed Aruhn into the forest.

  Watching them leave, Jakob felt a pang of loss. There was something about the daneamiin, something about the way he felt within their land that he knew he would miss. “Your welcome warmed me, Elin. Your welcome warmed me, Aruhn,” he whispered to himself.

  He looked up to see Anda smiling. A flush worked through his cheeks, and he looked away rather than have her see it.

  “What now?” Salindra asked, her eyes slightly damp.

  Brohmin stared across the valley, his jaw clenched. Ever since learning of Jakob’s vision, he’d been anxious. Jakob suspected he knew something more, but not what it was.

  Anda motioned them toward the edge of the valley. Once there, she grabbed Jakob’s hand and then Salindra’s, and Salindra held on to Brohmin.

  Anda’s touch was warm, relaxing. He pushed the thought away, hiding a different flush that worked through him.

  “Close your eyes,” she directed.

  He did, and felt the pulsing in his mind start slowly, and build steadily. It became a roaring sensation, one that filled him, stretching through his body, reaching even his fingers and toes.

  Suddenly, he felt a tug within his mind. It was soft, though like the gentle sense he’d felt inside the house of the Cala maah. He almost jumped, but Anda’s steadying presence reassured him.

  He had the feeling of movement, and then it was gone.

  “You may open your eyes now,” Anda said.

  He opened his eyes and saw that they were back in the forest. It was not the same forest as before. The trees were not close enough together and were not as high. The sounds were different, harsher. The sun shone through a hole in the canopy overhead. He noted a collection of stones, seemingly arranged randomly.

  They were back in the heart of the Great Forest.

  The forest they had just come from was much grander in scale than this one, though as he looked at the trees, he could see ahmaean. It was weaker than that which surrounded the trees in the Unknown Lands, but not much.

  “How did you do that?” he asked Anda.

  She smiled slightly, but said nothing.

  “Do you leave us now?” he asked her.

  “I cannot. The journey for me was one way.” She looked longingly to the east, across the valley, then paused to untie a small bundle she had carried, flipping it open and strapping on a dark cloak.

  “If you brought us here, why can you not return?”

  Pulling the hood of the cloak over her naked head, she simply repeated. “I cannot.”

  Salindra looked at the two of them before interrupting. “You will travel with us then?”

  Anda nodded.

  “Where?” Jakob asked.

  “Alyta is held, though I don’t know where.” He turned to Jakob, hopeful eyes searching for an answer. “Did your visions show anything? Search what you saw in the Cala maah.”

  His mind flashed through the small pieces of half-remembered dreams. Darkness and oppression were common themes. There was one where he saw a candle reflecting off the wall, a wall so smooth that it could not be real. Where to hold a goddess so that she could not be found?

  His hand gripped his sword, but even with the ahmaean flowing through it, there was no answer. “I don’t—”

  “The Tower,” a voice said behind them.

  There was gravel to it, and the hairs on the back of Jakob’s neck stood up. He recognized its owner without turning, without seeing the man’s face; it had burned into his memory when he’d been held by a Deshmahne and his men.

  Jakob took a deep breath, steeling himself, as he turned to face the large Deshmahne priest. Fear and hopelessness washed through him, toward him, and from within him.

  Twelve Deshmahne were arranged behind the large priest, hidden among the stones. Each was heavily tattooed, more so than any other Deshmahne Jakob had yet seen. �
��She is within the Tower. And you will never leave this forest to free her.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Cold wind whipped around them. Roelle held her sword tightly, listening to the soft, steady cry of the merahl. It was a haunting sound, one that had come steadily over the last hour or so. It signified an impending attack.

  The Magi with her all tensed, still not adjusted to the fact that they traveled with the Antrilii, still not adjusted to the fact that they faced creatures out of a nightmare, creatures that could barely be seen. Still, her Magi had fought bravely that night in the village. They knew what to expect now.

  “How long before we come upon them again?” Selton asked.

  “I don't know. The cry from the merahl has been steady, but we haven't seen anything yet.”

  Roelle wasn't certain she wanted to come upon them again. Each time they had encountered the horrible creatures, the Denraen and Lendra were overcome by sickness. Now only Lendra remained to give them warning.

  The steady braying changed, becoming a harsh howl.

  Roelle signaled to the Magi, getting her line into position.

  They were ready. They had already faced these creatures, and had survived. Now they had the Antrilii with them. They would be ready.

  As the first dark shadow appeared, Roelle had already jumped from her saddle. The Magi moved the horses toward the middle, wanting to protect them as they fought. If they lost them, they would have a harder time chasing the groeliin, and a harder time returning to Vasha.

  She was better on foot with her sword anyway.

  As more dark shadows appeared, a flash of brown fur raced through, a snarl roaring across the plain.

  Roelle struggled to comprehend how the merahl attacked. It was a flash of teeth and claws leading to a spray of blood. It tore through the shadows, bringing down the entire groeliin attack.

  Another merahl howled. This time, it was from the west.

  Her attention shifted, and she watched as the Antrilii, riding to their north, suddenly formed lines, looking much like the Denraen soldiers as they did. From a distance, she could easily see how they fought, holding back groeliin, attacking with speed and precision. Even from here, she could see Nahrsin as he fought, reminding her of Endric.

  “How can we face this?” Selton asked softly.

  “What choice do we have?” Roelle asked. “Endric wanted us to come north. I think he knew what we’d find. I think he knew the Antrilii fought these creatures, and I think he anticipated us joining with them.”

  “Did he know how many moved?”

  Roelle wished she had Endric with her and not just his guidance. She had to pray that he knew what he was doing sending her, and the Magi, into battle like this.

  They weren’t warriors, or at least had not been prior to heading north. She didn't know what they were now. Maybe warriors, maybe something less. But they couldn't simply leave this attack to the Antrilii. None of the Magi had been willing to leave the attack to the Antrilii.

  She prayed her uncle would send help. She prayed the Council would listen.

  One of the merahl howled again. With each passing moment, she worried help would not come soon enough.

  Alriyn threw the bag on the small table and the head rolled out. It was a bit more dramatic than he had intended. The Magi of his small council sitting around the table all leapt up, nearly in unison. Someone gagged, and in the dim lighting, he was not certain who it was.

  “This is what our ancestors faced,” he announced.

  “W-what is it?”

  Alriyn looked to see who had spoken. It was Bothar. The Mage was nervous and Alriyn understood why. His son was among those who had traveled north with Roelle. “They are called groeliin,” he answered, speaking it as it would have been said in the old tongue. “This is what Roelle sends us.”

  All eyes turned quickly from the head upon the table to Alriyn. He paused for a moment to place the grotesque head back into the bag. He could not bear to stare at it. What must Roelle feel? He pushed the thought from his mind, knowing it would do no good.

  “Inraith returned bringing this and word that the Antrilii had been found. He died before he could tell me more.”

  “Inraith?” Karrin said.

  The boy was distantly related, Alriyn knew. Most of the Magi were related if they traced their lineage far enough. “And Ronad. Both gone.” He paused, meeting their eyes. “Yet they brought this message. I think it clear enough to bring to the Council.”

  “What do you think the Council will do, Alriyn?” Crayn asked.

  Alriyn noted the loss of formality and nodded. “We must send help. We must choose the Uniter.”

  Haerlin shook his head. “The rest of the Council—”

  “Must be convinced,” Alriyn said. “And Roelle needs our help. She cannot face this alone.”

  “We have not been trained as soldiers,” Haerlin said softly. “They are better equipped than us.”

  Karrin and Isandra nodded agreement. Alriyn sank into his chair, feeling impotent. What had he expected the Council to do? He was not sure what the Council could do about the groeliin, but he knew what must be done about the Deshmahne.

  “We must do something,” Alriyn said quietly. “The Deshmahne and now this.”

  Silence answered him.

  “I intend to propose that the Council choose according to the mahne,” Alriyn said, his mind made up. There was no choice but for them to do so. War was coming, and they could no longer deny it. “We might not be able to do much about that,” he said, motioning to the head, “but we can face the Deshmahne.”

  “How?” Bothar asked.

  “We support the Denraen. We choose the Uniter. We—”

  “We investigate the rumors about the delegates,” Crayn suggested.

  Alriyn looked at him a moment. “What rumors?”

  Most of the delegates had been sent from the city, and there hadn’t been much clamoring to recruit additional delegates. For its part, the Council feared the Delegates had been a failure, and Alriyn was inclined to believe that. How could they have been anything else, especially those who came from the south where the Deshmahne had gained such a presence? Endric hoped to use the northern delegates to band together, to prevent war, but Alriyn wasn’t certain they would be enough.

  Crayn looked at each around the small table. “You have not heard?” he asked. “No, it appears you have not,” he said. “Longtree, the northern delegate, has disappeared.”

  What did it mean that Alriyn hadn’t heard? He should have heard about the disappearance.

  “And his attendant?” Haerlin asked.

  “I have heard nothing,” Crayn replied. “Worse is what I hear about Comity.” All eyes were on him waiting for him to continue. “It is said that he has joined the Deshmahne. They have breached Thealon.”

  “Why?” Karrin asked.

  “Two of the seven lost?” Bothar said. “One to Deshmahne? What of the others?”

  “If Longtree has gone missing, we must assume the Deshmahne there as well,” Alriyn said. Rondalin was surely too far north for the Deshmahne to have reached, but what other answer was there?

  “Could they really have reached that far north?” Bothar asked.

  Alriyn had no answer. But if the Deshmahne could penetrate Vasha, then Thealon would not pose a problem, and if Thealon, it followed they could reach Rondalin.

  “What other answer is there?” Crayn answered. “And much like with the Rondalin advisor, I’ve heard strange stories about the Gom Aaldia king’s advisor. Much suggests he is Deshmahne, perhaps highly ranked as well.”

  “And Gom Aaldia marches,” Haerlin said.

  War. Endric was right. Could the delegates help?

  Not if they’d been turned.

  If war came, then the balance would be lost. The goddess had warned of this. Protect the mahne.

  Increasingly, he felt that this would mean attacking the Deshmahne—only Alriyn was not certain he could. “The other dele
gates?”

  “They are silent,” Crayn answered. “My reach is not long enough,” he admitted.

  “We must know more,” Haerlin said. “It is worrisome that we lose our delegates so quickly. How do the Deshmahne know about them?”

  “Endric tells of having killed Deshmahne in the city. If true, then we have been infiltrated,” Alriyn said. “We must be cautious as we proceed. We must act as if anyone could be Deshmahne.”

  “I will go,” Isandra offered. Karrin looked at her intently, a concerned expression flashing across her face before fading. “I’ll see what we can learn of the delegates.”

  Alriyn squeezed his eyes shut, thinking. Losing Isandra from the council would pose challenges, but perhaps she could save them, use Longtree to join forces with Thealon. Alriyn hoped his conversation with Lansington had been enough. “Rondalin,” he said.

  “Why there and not Thealon?” Isandra asked. “I could stop the conversion—”

  “Because if you go north, I would see if you could find Roelle,” Alriyn said, clearing his throat and feeling a little stronger. “There was something about the Antrilii that Inraith was unable to tell. Find out what it was. See if Endric will send an escort.” She nodded, and he let out a soft sigh. Would it work? Would it be enough to stop war from coming to the north? “Move carefully, but return quickly. I fear the Deshmahne will not grant us much time.”

  Chapter Forty

  Roelle paused to wipe the sweat and dirt from her brow. It was cold and the wind bit at her, whipping through her layers of clothes, yet she was warm with the heat of her labor. A pack was slung to her back, weighing her heavily, though she ignored it as best she could while she walked, leading the rest of the Magi.

  The train of warriors snaked its way behind her in a column four horses wide. It was not a long column. She sighed. Even the horses looked tired this day. She couldn’t blame them. They had been driven hard the last few days. The men and women riding them did not look much better. Bitter thoughts filled her as she wondered how much longer until they heard back from the Council, and if they would have the strength to push forward.