The Lost Prophecy Boxset

by D. K. Holmberg

  The Antrilii traveled to their north. They rode separately, always apart, though Nahrsin frequently rode over to speak. The man was always laughing when not fighting. The merahl ran ahead, hunting, howling, and they followed their lead. The Antrilii said it was how they hunted best.

  The haunting call of the strange cats came frequently. The sound tore at her each time she heard it ringing out in the air, a clarion bell lancing into her soul. It took constant effort to ignore it.

  Selton rode alongside her and did not look nearly as tired as Roelle felt. The man was an ox. “We need to rest soon, Roelle,” Selton told her, breaking the silence.

  She nodded. She knew they would need to stop soon. She did not know what the Antrilii planned. Roelle had hoped they would make it a little further south this day, but their travel had been slower than she had expected. It was unavoidable. Many were injured. Some had been lost. It was the reason she’d sent Hester back to Vasha, not wanting to lose him as well. Endric could use his skill in the days to come. She hoped he had managed to get Inraith and Ronad back to Vasha safely.

  She could name each of the warriors lost. Their names started to roll through her head. It required conscious thought to bring her mind back to task. She supposed that was normal, figuring even Endric did the same, and that thought reassured her. It was hard not to take all the responsibility upon herself.

  Roelle had asked Nahrsin about it one evening. “I struggle with those I’ve lost,” she told the man.

  Nahrsin nodded. “It is normal.”

  “Does it get easier?”

  Nahrsin laughed. “If it did, you would not be a good leader, Mage,” he answered, a strange inflection to his word. The light of the fire crackled and reflected off of his eyes.

  “I’m not sure I am,” Roelle answered honestly.

  Another laugh. “I have seen you,” Nahrsin said. “Your people respect you and follow you. It is enough.”

  Roelle had thought about the comment for a while. “Why do you do this?” she asked Nahrsin. It was the first time the two had sat alone and spoken since they met.

  The Antrilii turned to face her. “I do not do this, Mage,” he said. “I follow my vows and the will of the gods. It is their hand that guides me and their will that drives the Antrilii.”

  “You protect men who do not even know what you do for them,” Roelle countered. “You lose friends for people who do not know you exist.”

  Nahrsin snorted. “Not all are gifted by the gods, Mage,” he said. “It is their will that keeps us here and makes us strong. It is by their will we fight.” He paused before staring at the crackling fire. “It is enough that we know what we do.”

  “Does it ever end?”

  Nahrsin looked up to the sky, savoring the clear night. “The Antrilii have a prophecy that drives us,” he said, a longing inflection coming to his voice as he spoke to the stars. “It is ancient, older than memory, and it says that one day, we will lay down our swords and follow a peaceful path.” He looked over at Roelle. “I pray for that day like all my people,” he admitted. “But until that day, we hunt the groeliin. We do what the gods demand.”

  Roelle had fallen silent at the comment. There was something familiar to it, something that struck a chord within her, but she could not place it.

  She pushed the memory of that night away, looking over to Selton.

  The sound of a merahl’s cry in the distance brought her back from her thoughts. “The merahl still have the scent,” she told Selton, though she did not truly need to say the words. All heard their hunting cries.

  “I know,” Selton replied.

  “What else do you know?” Roelle asked, laughing. It was another thing Nahrsin had told her. Laugh or you will cry. It was a challenging lesson for her, and she struggled with it but tried daily to take it to heart.

  “Actually, there is good news. The report ahead says that we come soon to a small town,” Selton said. The weeks of beard growth on his face made him more grizzled and all the more intimidating.

  It was good news, Roelle knew, and they needed some good after what they had seen today. A small army of men, at least two hundred in all, slaughtered. Some looked like they had been killed by the groeliin, but others had different wounds as if made by men. Roelle did not recognize the banners they’d carried, but Lendra did. Rondalin troops.

  Why were they here? What did they seek?

  “How far off?” she asked.

  “Not far,” Selton replied. “An hour, maybe a little more.”

  She nodded, turning to the sky. They still had a few hours of light. That would help. “They still move east,” she commented.

  Selton nodded knowingly. “They do.”

  Why east? she wondered. Nahrsin had no answer, only mentioning the will of the gods. Roelle was less certain. The creatures had moved south, and moved quickly, almost directed. And now east.

  They still hadn’t encountered the Deshmahne again. After learning of their plan for the north, Roelle had to believe they intended to attack the groeliin. Increasingly, she wondered if they might be able to help.

  Why east now, after moving south? She could understand why they had traveled south, hunted by the Antrilii, but east was a different matter. There were ten thousand of them that they hunted. If they failed?

  She knew the answer. Men would die. Cities would be destroyed. And none would know who had delivered them to their deaths.

  Worse, if Nahrsin was to be believed—and Roelle had no reason not to believe him—many more remained in the mountains.

  “Why do you think they go east?” she asked Selton.

  Selton gave a shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve wondered at that.” He turned to Roelle. “We’ve faced them several times and survived, but each time, it’s only been small numbers. We’ve yet to face a true attack.”

  “There’s something we’re missing,” she said.

  “These are creatures not seen—except by the Antrilii—for over a thousand years,” he said. “And now they push south. With the numbers Nahrsin describes, I don’t think we can win this,” he said quietly, careful not to let his words carry.

  “Nahrsin says that it is the will of the gods for the Antrilii to fight.” She ran her fingers through her tangled hair. “We started this for different reasons, came searching for Antrilii, but I think this is why Endric sent us.” She fell silent for long moments. “I’ve wondered why we seem as skilled as we are learning the sword, and at fighting, but what if this is what we were meant to do? What if the gods mean for us to find the Antrilii and fight alongside them?”

  Or not even the gods, but Endric. Did he not serve the gods?

  Selton furrowed his brow. “That is the closest to understanding the Urmahne I have ever heard from you,” he said in mock seriousness.

  Roelle was forced to laugh. “I feel a purpose,” she answered simply. “Useful.”

  Her friend nodded. “I feel it too,” he answered quietly.

  “I cannot explain why, though,” Roelle said.

  “I can,” Selton said, looking toward his cousin.

  Lendra turned then and caught them staring and veered her horse over. She smiled as she approached, and it traced up into her eyes, leaving no part of her face unchanged. Having seen the effect the groeliin had on her, the overwhelming nausea she and the Denraen had experienced, she was amazed that Lendra managed to smile as much as she did.

  “You look tired, Roelle,” she said, looking down at her from atop her mount.

  “We’re all tired,” she said.

  Lendra laughed, and the sound softened the tension in her shoulders she’d been carrying all day, a tension that tightened with each cry from the merahl. “And when will we rest?”

  Roelle shrugged. “An hour, maybe more.”

  “There is a small town nearby,” Selton told her.

  Lendra arched an eyebrow. “Which?”

  Roelle shook her head. “I don’t know. The creatures move more east today than south, though we
still don’t know why the groeliin move south.”

  “There is not a why with the groeliin,” a hard voice said from behind them.

  They all turned to see Nahrsin ride quietly up from behind. The man was enormous and his horse was equally stout, yet still managed to move at a dangerous trot. Nahrsin’s painted face was smeared with sweat, but his body was erect and his eyes alert. Fatigue had not found him yet.

  “There must be a why, Nahrsin,” Roelle said. “There has to be for them to move in these numbers.”

  “I wonder if a better question isn’t where?” Lendra suggested.

  Nahrsin laughed, and the loud sound startled Selton’s horse. He tapped his forehead and smiled. “Aye,” he agreed. “That is the question.”

  Roelle frowned at the large Antrilii. Her mind moved slowly today from the weariness earned after days of battle and too little sleep. Even the strange bitter tea the Antrilii preferred had not helped. What was she missing that the others seemed to grasp?

  “In the last several centuries, the groeliin have only once traveled farther south than the foothills.” He smiled as if remembering. “And that was because they were chased,” he continued before laughing at a joke none of the others understood. Slowly, his expression turned serious. “This is something different. This time, they are not chased, not at first. This is not the behavior of the groeliin.”

  “Why?” Selton asked.

  “The groeliin live in broods,” Nahrsin explained. “Most are no more than several hundred each. It is these broods we have fought over the years. Now they move in a horde greater than we’ve seen in centuries.”

  “A horde? Not a single brood?” Roelle asked, finally understanding why they had been attacking in clusters. Each brood must move independently, leaving them to face only one brood at a time.

  “It cannot be,” Nahrsin said. “Each brood has certain distinct markings. We have seen at least a dozen different markings upon those we have killed.”

  Roelle wondered about the markings briefly. She hadn’t noticed anything upon the dead groeliin, though she had not bothered to look at them all that closely.

  “That sounds like…” Selton said in a whisper.

  Roelle nodded, troubled by the connection. Could these markings be anything like those the Deshmahne used?

  “So we face dozens of broods,” Selton said, doing the calculation in his head.

  “It is the most likely answer,” Nahrsin agreed.

  “Have you seen anything like that before?” Selton asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Then why are these groeliin different?” Lendra asked.

  The Antrilii studied her, a smile spreading on his face. “You speak the tongue with fluency. There is an inflection I recognize,” he noted, ignoring Lendra’s question. He chuckled softly to himself. “You were Novan’s student.”

  Lendra smiled slightly, a faint sparkle to her eyes as she did, before nodding.

  Nahrsin chuckled again. “Always meddling,” he said, mostly to himself before meeting Lendra’s gaze again. “But no, never have we seen two broods together.”

  “Never?” Roelle asked.

  The Antrilii shook his head.

  Roelle considered the answer for a moment as they trudged along. There came a distant call from the merahl, and she startled briefly. The sound was still far in the distance. She was no longer sure whether she should be reassured or frightened. “Then I think the why is at least as important as the where,” she decided.

  “We cannot know the minds of the groeliin,” Nahrsin said. “I would not want to if we could. And it does not change what must be done.”

  “No,” Roelle agreed, “it does not. But something drives them.”

  Nahrsin nodded slowly as he frowned, his painted face distorted as he did. He seemed to gather his thoughts before speaking. “The groeliin move as if directed, though nothing could direct the groeliin.”

  “They’re going south and east,” Roelle said. “And we near the city of Rondalin soon.”

  “After that, there is nothing but the forest until we reach Shoren.”

  Lendra arched her eyebrows at the comment while Roelle and Selton stared blankly.

  “I don’t know the city Shoren,” Roelle admitted. Though she had rarely traveled outside the city walls, their studies included mastery of geography.

  “It is the ancient name of Thealon,” Lendra said, watching Nahrsin.

  Roelle shivered without intending to do so. Could these creatures truly be moving to attack Thealon? So much about all of this made little sense, but this was the most impossible idea of all.

  She stared at Nahrsin, meeting the large Antrilii leader’s dark eyes and not looking away. “They seek to attack the city of the gods?”

  Selton coughed.

  “I cannot know the minds of the groeliin,” Nahrsin reiterated slowly, “but their path cannot be ignored. I do not think the groeliin care to attack the city itself. I worry the groeliin intend to attack the gods themselves, much as they did a thousand years ago.”

  They sat around a crackling fire. There was no light overhead and the smoke of the flame filtered around them and filled her nostrils. Roelle coughed a moment to clear it, and a gust of wind blew through bringing different smells to her nose, those of decaying leaves and wet earth. Around them in the darkness there was the sound of the breeze rustling through the tall grassy plain they had been traveling through for the last few days.

  Occasional flickers of shadow jumped at the edge of her vision, and she ignored them, knowing it only her mind playing tricks on her. The merahl had ceased their hunting for the night, and their braying no longer pierced the air. There had been few places for the groeliin to hide on the plains, and the merahl had either found them or driven them away.

  Though an occasional copse of trees dotted the plains, it had been otherwise flat and the traveling easier. The guides warned them that the landscape would change as they neared Rondalin, but so far, they had seen no evidence of anything other than vast open plains and a growing cold.

  She sighed and her breath faintly misted the air. They had not brought clothing for cold weather, thinking to be back within the city before winter truly came. Now she wasn’t certain that would happen soon. If at all.

  Roelle turned her attention back to the fire. They had spent many nights around campfires since they had departed the city, and the nights had taken on a different tone since the Magi had met up with the Antrilii. Nahrsin welcomed them to his fire in the evenings, and Roelle made a point of sitting with the man to learn more of his people. So far it had been a mostly futile attempt. Nahrsin spoke little.

  Instead, for him, the time before the fire was meant for reflection and, Roelle suspected, prayer. The large Antrilii had an unfocused look upon his face, and one of the huge beasts sat curled up at his feet. Another lounged beside him, sitting on its paws while staring intently around the fire, its ears flicking intently as if in understanding. Nahrsin scratched at its ears with his free hand, while rested his head on the other. The strange Antrilii face painting was distorted as the flames flickered in the light breeze. The whites of his eyes shone brightly in the fire’s light, creating a haunting expression.

  Another of the Antrilii sat next to Nahrsin, his face a dark blood red that was almost black in the night. He was quiet and leaned back as he stretched his legs to the fire. It had been a different Antrilii each of the nights they had camped, but none had been talkative, so she still learned little about the Antrilii.

  “We should like to know more of the groeliin,” Roelle decided, breaking the silence. She posed the suggestion in the hopes of truly learning more about the groeliin, but also thinking to discover more about the Antrilii.

  Selton looked over to her and shook his head. Lendra sat on her other side and was silent. Hester honed his blade, quietly. He hadn’t been able to help with the groeliin nearly as much as he had with the Deshmahne.

  “What more is there to know?”
the other Antrilii asked.

  Nahrsin stretched. “The Magi think there is more to the groeliin than they have seen, Altian,” the huge man rumbled before laughing.

  Altian smiled and nodded. “They move, we hunt,” he said simply.

  Nahrsin laughed again, and the merahl at his feet looked up at him with irritated eyes. The large Antrilii reached down and scratched its ears, as well, placating the huge cat. He mumbled something in the ancient tongue, and the merahl swished its tail before settling back down and closing its eyes.

  “We hunt,” Roelle agreed. “But there are many more of them than there are of us.”

  “Aye,” Nahrsin agreed. “But we are favored by the gods.”

  Selton laughed then and everyone turned to him. “Perhaps favored, but still outnumbered. I would like our odds better if they were reversed.”

  “Normally, they are,” Altian admitted. “This is the greatest number of groeliin I have faced.”

  “By how many,” Selton pressed.

  “About nine thousand.”

  Selton laughed again, but it faded when he seemed to realize Altian wasn’t joking. “And you wonder why we gather more information?” he asked without expecting an answer.

  Nahrsin shrugged. “What more to tell you? We know little more than you have witnessed. They travel in broods. We do not know anything else about their birthing. They do not typically travel like this.”

  “Why do they typically move?” Roelle asked.

  “To hunt. To kill. They seek little else.”

  “Where?”

  “They roam the northern ranges,” Altian said. “They hide among the rocks and caves. Occasionally they move farther south and attack our grazing land.”

  Roelle arched her brows. If the Antrilii had grazing land, they must also have herds. Maybe even cities. Could it mean they were not all nomads?

  “Do they have a language?” Selton wondered.

  Nahrsin shrugged again. “None that we can decipher. They scream. They grunt. I suspect there is meaning to the sounds, but nothing we can understand.”