The Lost Prophecy Boxset

by D. K. Holmberg

  “Yet you speak of markings,” Lendra prodded.

  Roelle had almost forgotten that and was glad Lendra had not.

  Altian eyed Nahrsin strangely before looking away. The merahl sitting up growled softly before twitching its ears and quieting. Nahrsin frowned, mostly to himself, and sat silent.

  “You said each brood had distinct markings and that you have seen at least a dozen different markings. That suggests writing, which suggests a language,” Lendra said.

  Nahrsin grunted. “You think like Novan and press like him too,” he grumbled. Lendra smiled at the comment. The Antrilii sat back and gathered his thoughts. “There are groeliin and then there are the others. What you have seen are the hunters, the warriors. Most groeliin are like this.”

  Altian nodded, frowning as he did.

  “Then there are others. Bigger. Stronger.” He shook his head. “Probably smarter. Only once have we killed this type, and many died to do it. We do not know how many of these live as they are rarely seen, perhaps one per brood. Some think they serve as the brood leader, but the one that we managed to kill was covered in markings of the different broods. Most of these markings we had seen before, and had been recorded. There were some we had never seen.”

  He stopped now, and looked into the fire, taking a deep breath. The merahl at his feet swished his tail, and Nahrsin looked down. “So, historian, you have heard more than even Novan has heard. And that is enough for tonight.” His tone was resigned, and the humor Roelle had grown accustomed to hearing in his voice was gone.

  Roelle turned her attention to Nahrsin. The large Antrilii stared at the fire and a blank expression covered his face. Small wrinkles were evident at the corners of his eyes and his brow had the faintest evidence of frown lines. It left his painted face with just the barest distortion, but Roelle saw it there nonetheless.

  Worry.

  Nahrsin had shown himself to be fearless in battle. Roelle had seen that he was likely better with the long sword hanging from his waist than any man alive. He was a fearsome warrior.

  What would worry the Antrilii?

  Chapter Forty-One

  “This is a mistake.”

  Roelle looked to Selton and shrugged before nodding agreement. It probably was a mistake bringing nigh upon three hundred troops so close to a human city, but it could not be helped. The groeliin moved south and they chased.

  Rondalin could be hardly discerned in the far distance, its bold wall and stout tower just coming into view above the sweeping hillside. The terrain had grown increasingly contoured during their last few days of travel, the flat grassy plains giving way to the rolling hills. Trees were thicker here, and though not quite forested, there was the hint of the neighboring forests.

  Everything around them was brown. The heavy tall grass of the plains had long since lost its green, and in the rolling Rondalin valley, the shorter grasses were drying as well. In the north, there had been many pine trees, a bit of color dotting the plains, but as they moved south the pines grew less frequent, and the deciduous trees were now bereft of their leaves. A gloomy overcast had settled in, even managing to steal into her heart.

  The merahl still hunted.

  Nahrsin had said something to them so that their braying was quieter, and they did not range nearly as far, returning to the Antrilii more frequently, almost as with messages. Roelle would not have believed it had she not seen it herself. The creatures were more intelligent than she could imagine any animal being, and she began to wonder just how much they comprehended, adding to the growing list of questions she had about the Antrilii.

  “What choice do we have?” she answered.

  Selton shook his head as he smiled. “Are you taking Nahrsin’s view now?”

  Roelle laughed. The Antrilii viewed everything as the will of the gods. Roelle did not think everything she did was preordained. Life could not be lived without choices, otherwise what was the point?

  “No,” she said. “Only that I see little hope for these people if we veer away.” She shrugged. “Though they may not know it, we are their only hope.”

  “And if they send soldiers out?”

  Roelle sighed. “I don’t know what we’ll do then.”

  It was not much of an answer, but it was honest and all that she had for now. To a soldier or villager, the Magi would only be viewed as warriors—potential enemies—now, and the Antrilii looked fearsome enough at night, let alone broad daylight.

  A commotion nearby startled her as a rider neared.

  Zamell rode up to her and waved a quick salute. Roelle waved it off. Selton had started saluting her as more of a joke, but it had taken hold and now all the Magi saluted her. The gesture made her uncomfortable at first, and now, she merely tolerated it.

  “Zamell,” she said, nodding.

  Selton eyed the young woman casually and said nothing. There was an expression to his face that Roelle recognized. Zamell was lovely, though had so far ignored Selton’s advances. She tried to push back the fluttering of jealousy. Now was not the time.

  “Antrilii scouts bring word that the groeliin change direction.”

  Roelle grunted. The creatures had been moving southeast, but if they headed more south, they would run straight into the heart of the city. There were not enough of them to battle the mass of groeliin, even if they attacked in broods.

  “Selton?” she asked, not needing to form the question.

  Her large friend nodded quickly. “I will see,” Selton answered. “Care to join me on a ride, Zamell?”

  She followed, leaving Roelle leading the remaining Magi as they rode forward. She often liked to ride separate and at the vanguard, it helped her organize her thoughts and plans. Slowly, she crested a hill, and Rondalin came into better view.

  She signaled for a stop and sent word to Nahrsin to do the same. After a while, the large Antrilii rode over to meet her. His face was painted in red and black today, smeared on, and Roelle wondered again if the markings held any meaning.

  “We near Rondalin.”

  Nahrsin nodded. “Aye.”

  She frowned at Nahrsin. “How far south have you traveled?”

  Nahrsin looked around before shrugging. “There is a test we Antrilii have, a rite of passage into adulthood, where we travel the countryside. Usually we move at night.”

  “You understand that you can be a bit intimidating?” she asked dryly.

  Nahrsin laughed. “That is the intent, Mage.”

  “They are changing course,” Roelle commented.

  The Antrilii nodded. “We are prepared. We have ridden hard.”

  Roelle knew she needed to prepare to protect the city. If everyone reacted like the Denraen guides and Lendra when exposed to the groeliin, the city would be destroyed easily. No army of man could defend against such destruction.

  The Antrilii had not disagreed, and they had ridden hard to block the groeliin should they move upon Rondalin. None were sure it would work.

  The merahl had helped. The huge cats had harried the groeliin, slowing their advance as the Magi warriors and Antrilii traveled to reach the great northern city. Roelle was still uncertain what they had to gain from their efforts, other than their own deaths. There remained too many groeliin for their small band of warriors.

  The two of them fell silent as they stared down at Rondalin. It was a goodly sized city with a thick wall surrounding the city proper. An outer city had formed, recently from the looks of it, circling the city itself. A mass of tents and shacks flowed out with little thought of pattern or sanitation, and even at a distance, she could detect a faint pungent odor of human waste and filth.

  Small roads wound through the outer city toward the main city gate. Roelle noted people milling about the outer city, smudged dark with dirt and wearing clothing long since ragged. Soldiers marched along the roads in patrol, most with dulled armor long, and each paired with another unarmed man. Roelle sucked in her breath as she realized what she saw.

  Nahrsin looked over
to her and frowned. “You see something, Mage?”

  “I can’t be certain,” she admitted. The distance was still great, even for the enhanced Magi eyesight. She looked again and knew she had seen truly. “Deshmahne,” she grunted. Her sword hand flexed involuntarily.

  Nahrsin eyed her carefully. “You fear these men?” he asked with a hint of surprise in the tone of his voice.

  Roelle focused on the city. “I have faced them and have been forced to kill.” She did not meet his eyes. “That act violates the Urmahne principles my people were founded upon, and yet I had no choice.”

  “Too many think the Urmahne demands strict peace,” he started slowly. “Misunderstood,” he continued, shaking his head. His dark, braided hair swung with the motion. “The path to peace is sometimes darkened by the blood it takes to achieve. The gods understand this.”

  Hearing his words, Roelle turned to Nahrsin. “You follow the Urmahne?”

  The large man laughed again, as he did so easily. “We follow the mahne. It is enough.”

  “How do you know of the mahne?” she asked, unable to conceal her surprise. She had only learned of it when Alriyn admitted its existence, claiming its words were meant for the Council only. How did the Antrilii know of it?

  “All men should know the mahne, Mage,” Nahrsin said. “The Urmahne priests teach it though they know it not.”

  “Our Council shares nothing of the mahne,” she admitted. “I know only what my uncle told me of the text. He mentioned a balance that must be maintained that was the core of the Urmahne.”

  Nahrsin sniffed contemptuously. “Oversimplified, but true enough,” he grumbled but did not elaborate.

  Roelle turned back toward Rondalin, finding it difficult to comprehend what she had just learned. It was another fact of the Antrilii that she was determined to understand. How much of these people did Endric know? Novan?

  Certainly, both knew there was more to the Antrilii than simple nomads when they sent her from the city to find the Antrilii. Could they have known the extent of the mystery surrounding the Antrilii?

  She was interrupted from her thoughts as a rider approached. Selton gave a slight nod to Nahrsin, before stopping. Sweat covered him.

  “The groeliin now move east,” he said in lieu of greeting.

  “Are you sure?” Roelle asked.

  Her friend smiled and pointed to his sweat-covered face. “I have seen. East about five leagues.”

  “They will bypass the city,” Roelle said. “This after they’ve torn through two villages.”

  Nahrsin frowned at the comment.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I am not sure,” he said, seeming troubled. “All we have witnessed of the creatures’ behavior of late has been unusual, but this seems the strangest.” He paused, looking down again at Rondalin. “The groeliin crave destruction almost as if they feed upon it. They have been known to move toward towns by scent, leaving every last person dead or dying. Never have I seen the groeliin turn away from such an opportunity.”

  Roelle knew what Nahrsin meant. They had seen towns decimated by what these creatures could do, and this did seem unusual. It was almost as if they did not have time to be slowed by destroying Rondalin.

  She cast another glance down at the city. Too many Deshmahne wandered there. Was there another reason the groeliin did not attack? And if there was, could they use it?

  “You thought they were being directed before. This would make that a more plausible scenario,” Selton said.

  Nahrsin eyed him a moment. “That is what I fear,” the large Antrilii rumbled.

  Roelle had seen the worry lines on Nahrsin’s face and knew the man did not discuss all that concerned him. The Magi were not acting with all the available information and that fact bothered her.

  Nahrsin would answer, she decided. “Why?”

  The Antrilii shook his head. “No matter. They move and we follow.”

  Roelle hardened her tone, and faced him. “It does matter, Nahrsin. We must know what we are facing. Who do you think directs the groeliin?”

  Nahrsin stared at the line of Antrilii troops, his people, for a long moment, before turning back and choosing to answer. “We have spoken of the groeliin much, Mage,” he said, looking at Roelle and Selton equally. “We face the hunters. They are fast and strong, and have numbers, but we kill them easily.”

  Roelle looked at Selton and they both nodded. Easily would be an overstatement, but the creatures died regardless.

  “I have mentioned the large warrior groeliin, the one we killed many years ago, marked with a symbol of many different broods.”

  They nodded again, and Roelle began to worry where Nahrsin was leading them.

  “There is probably a third groeliin,” he continued. “Never seen but oft suspected. We think there are but a few of this type and born of a certain power. We think these groeliin make the markings upon the others.” He paused before meeting Roelle’s eyes. “We talk of symbols and what might direct the groeliin, and so I answer. There is likely a groeliin with fearsome power, power enough to direct the groeliin.”

  She looked to Selton and felt a different fluttering in her chest. Could the groeliin have their own dark gifts?

  Selton had been staring down at Rondalin while Nahrsin spoke and looked back with the words. “Acting alone or with another?” he asked. His eyes flicked back to the city.

  Roelle shivered and followed Selton’s gaze, his eyes seeming to level on the Deshmahne down among the city. She feared the connection for more reasons than she could put words to, but the Deshmahne came from the south and moved north. There had to be a connection. They had to intend to attack—almost as if they knew the groeliin moved south.

  Once more, she wondered if they could use them. She turned when Nahrsin set a calloused hand on her arm, and met the Antrilii warrior’s intense gaze.

  “Hear me, Mage. What I say to you now is important. You cannot question what you feel in your heart,” he said, thumping his own chest. “The Deshmahne, like the groeliin, twist the mahne and seek to unmake that which it protects. I have seen you in battle.” He paused and offered her a smile. It was a warm expression, almost fatherly. “You serve the gods and the mahne by what you do. Fight with the Antrilii. We will be enough.”

  With those words, Nahrsin rode toward the Antrilii, leaving Roelle staring after him.

  “What was that?” Selton asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Roelle?”

  “He thinks we can stop the groeliin,” she started, “but there are too many. If the broods begin working together—if there is a powerful groeliin that controls them—then we will be overwhelmed. Everyone in these lands will be overwhelmed.”

  “As they were during the Founding,” Selton said.

  Roelle nodded. That was the connection she had made, and the fact that both the Magi and the Antrilii could see the groeliin made her suspect they were more related than they knew. No longer did Roelle doubt her purpose, or question why the Magi had the skills they did. They had suppressed them for nearly a thousand years, but they were needed once more.

  And Endric had known. He had practically pushed her towards this understanding.

  Roelle sighed. Even with what she had learned, she wasn’t certain it would matter. They had been nearly a hundred when they left Vasha and had lost some in the attacks. There weren’t enough of them, not against the numbers of the groeliin they faced.

  “We don’t have the numbers, Selton.”

  “What will we do? We can’t abandon these people to the groeliin.”

  Roelle turned her attention to the distant sight of Rondalin, a dangerous idea coming to her but one that she began to think they had no choice but to consider. Only, what would the rest of the Magi think?

  The merahl howled again, signaling another attack, and Roelle tore her gaze away from the city, pushing away that plan. For now.

  How long could she ignore it? How long could she wait before
she attempted reaching out to the Deshmahne for help?

  Another thought plagued her—was that something else Endric had planned for?

  Epilogue

  Locken looked around the room. The stone of the place seemed especially cold today. The room was bare, little to it other than three chairs set around a table. It served its purpose.

  He sat in one chair, back tense with the decisions only he could make. His arms rested almost uncomfortably on the armrests. He could feel the cold through his leather boots, and it creep up his legs and into his groin. It was not a pleasant decision he made today. Theresa sat across from him, saying nothing. She already knew his decision, and supported what he would do. It was necessary that she be there, as she would rule in Saeline during his absence.

  Lonn also sat at the table. His stout frame filled the seat, seeming nearly too much for the old chair. His short legs dangled slightly above the stone floor. Locken knew the other man lucky to be spared the cold.

  But it wasn’t merely the temperature of the room that cooled him. That was caused by something more. The choices he made today were what chilled his heart. He looked intently at his old friend, and listened.

  “You are to meet in council with them. They have agreed to listen, though they offer no support yet. They wait to speak with you in person first.”

  Locken found himself nodding as he listened. It was much as he had expected. “Thealon will not pledge support to our cause easily. They will need proof that Richard plans to invade.”

  Lonn sat quietly for a moment, thoughts turned inward. Locken found his own thoughts disturbing, dark. What he planned could cost his people, his family. His inaction could cost more. It was a difficult choice he made.

  Equally difficult was the choice he asked of the nation of Thealon. Asking support from a country his had warred against. A war still all too fresh in some people’s minds. Difficult choices.

  “Thealon would not last in a drawn out battle with the full force of Gom Aaldia,” Lonn said quietly after a long pause. The words forced Locken from his own quiet reverie. “Not with their attentions turned north.”