Isandra nodded.
“Good. Find your delegate. Help him if you can. Know that we fight for the good in the world. We fight so that you don't have to.”
He spurred his horse forward, and the other two Denraen followed him. She watched for as long as she could, fearing that she would not see them again.
Roelle kept the hood of her cloak up as she walked along the road into Rondalin. Selton and Jhun had come along, both skilled with the sword, both willing to take this risk with her. Lendra had come as well, determined to observe. She was the only one without her hood pulled up to cover her face. The rest of the Magi stayed back at the camp with Zamell in command.
Roelle had stopped to visit with Nahrsin before leaving, and the Antrilii had understood what Roelle intended, though he didn't believe she would be successful. For that matter, Roelle didn't think that she would be successful, but they needed to try.
There had to be some way to either appeal to the Deshmahne or draw them out and force them into the war. If it was about appealing to them, she thought that would be easy. She could share proof that this attack was coming and share what it meant. Hopefully, the Deshmahne would assist.
If that didn't work, Roelle had a backup plan in mind. She could draw the Deshmahne out of Rondalin. If they were only interested in attacking the Magi, she could provide a target. That was the least desirable outcome for her, but to make this work, the plan was one she was willing to attempt. Once the Deshmahne were out of the city and faced the groeliin, they wouldn’t have a choice but to fight the horrific creatures.
Making her way down the road, trying not to think of the sack Nahrsin had sent with her in case she needed it, Roelle was overcome by the sheer number of people here. Could the northern villages and mining towns have held so many? Why wouldn't Rondalin welcome them in? The city was clearly large enough. With the massive wall surrounding it, it might even be enough to help keep these people safe from the groeliin.
“These people shouldn't be here,” Selton said.
“Where should they be?” Jhun asked.
Selton shrugged. Like the other two, he had the hood of his cloak up. It was cold enough now that they weren't out of place, with plenty of the transient residents around them dressed much the same, though the quality of the Magi’s cloaks was much nicer than anything she saw here. Most were dirty and torn. Fires that blazed for warmth seemed too close to the buildings that spilled over each other.
The homes had the look of temporary permanence, but also reflected a sense of urgency to them. The way they pressed together was depressing to her. These people once had homes, places they had been proud of. She'd seen that pride in the way they had cared for their homes and villages, the way they had maintained them, keeping them from falling into disrepair. Now . . . now they were little more than reminders of where they had been, the people they once were.
As she walked through the streets, she saw evidence of a fire that had raged through this ramshackle part of the city. Scorch marks had been left along some of the buildings where flames had been hastily expunged; the buildings rebuilt even more hastily than the others around it. How devastating would it have been for this entire outer city to fall to flames?
Jhun and Selton remained mostly silent. Lendra stayed close to Roelle, her eyes scanning everything.
As they passed a group of Deshmahne while approaching the wall, Lendra started shaking her head. “I'm not sure this is right, Roelle,” she whispered. “I have a bad feeling about all of this. Think of what we’ve witnessed of the Deshmahne!”
“What other option do we have? If we’re to find a way to stop the groeliin, we're going to have to make difficult choices.” Roelle turned to Lendra. “When you dealt with the Deshmahne in the south, did you get the sense that they were unwilling to help the people? Wouldn't this be the ideal way for them to prove how powerful they are, and what that means for the people?”
“Roelle—”
Roelle cut Lendra off. “I can’t be so concerned about preserving the role of the Magi and preserving the role of the Urmahne. None of that matters if this city is destroyed and these people lost.”
“Then draw them out, use their animosity toward the Magi against them,” Lendra suggested.
Roelle lowered her voice, looking to Selton and then to Jhun. Both had been hesitant to come with her, both coming mostly because they wanted to support her. She had the sense that they didn’t truly believe in her strategy. “That’s my plan if this fails. But if we can have partners, instead of enemies…” She looked at the scene around them then back to Lendra. “We've seen what these creatures can do. If Novan is right, these are the same creatures that caused the great destruction thousands of years ago.” The words hung in the air. “We need all the help we can get to survive this.
Neither of the other Magi with her said anything as they reached the outer gate of Rondalin. Roelle paused, noting the two soldiers stationed there. Both were clearly Deshmahne, heavily tattooed.
As they approached the wall, Roelle began having the same uncertainty that Lendra expressed. It all seemed like such a good idea when she had suggested coming to Rondalin, seeing if there was some way to plead for the Deshmahne’s help, but now that she was here, she wondered if she’d made a mistake.
Turning back would be easier. They could draw out the Deshmahne.
But risk them attacking the Magi.
Both sides would lose then.
“We could turn back,” Lendra suggested.
Roelle swallowed. She thought about the Antrilii and imagined that she could almost hear the merahl calling from here, as they ranged in the woods nearby, hunting for the groeliin, trying to destroy as many as they could.
Could she leave the attack to the Antrilii alone? Her Magi—the ones that remained of the one hundred apprentices that had come with her—could only do so much. They were skilled with the sword, but there were ten thousand of the groeliin, enough that she doubted that even Nahrsin and the Antrilii would be able to do anything to stop them. If they didn't, all knew what they would face.
Roelle moved forward, stopping in front of the Deshmahne. Pushing the hood of her cloak back, she met the Deshmahne's eyes, trying to do so without too much defiance. “I seek an audience with the king.”
The man eyed her from head to toe, his gaze lingering on her sword before flickering up to her face. “The king doesn't take an audience with just anyone. Especially not some random northern soldier sauntering up to the gate.”
Roelle smiled inwardly. Better to be some random soldier than someone the king might need to fear. Maybe this was how they could play it. They wouldn't expect the Magi to come wearing swords, or being soldiers. Perhaps in this instance, their past might actually protect them.
Roelle’s mind raced through how to approach this. What would convince them?
Lendra stepped forward before Roelle had a chance to come up with an answer, tilting her hips slightly and protruding her chest out. The silent Deshmahne leered at her. “What news have you of the attacks in the north?” Lendra asked.
The man licked his lips, his gaze lingering on Lendra’s hips. “Why don't you find me after my shift, and I can tell you all about what I’ve heard.”
Lendra shrugged slightly. Somehow, she made it appear almost seductive. “I'm just trying to determine whether we should keep going north to find help or if we should head toward Fristin.”
The soldiers shared a glance, and the first Deshmahne, the one standing casually with his arms crossed over his chest and something of a glare to his face, shook his head. “Not much left in Fristin. You'll find all who are left in the outer rim here.”
The implication was clear. Fristin was empty, and the soldiers knew it.
“What is the king doing about the attacks in the north?” Roelle asked.
“There's not much for Rondalin to do about them. They haven't come this far south. They stay in the mountains.”
“You’re not worried they will rea
ch Rondalin?” Roelle asked.
“Rondalin's range doesn't go quite that far, so we don’t worry about rumors.”
Roelle took a burlap sack from beneath her cloak. Nahrsin might have been right sending this with her. He figured it would be the only way to offer proof. Roelle had hoped to talk her way through, not wanting to scare these men.
She handed the sack to the nearest Deshmahne.
“What is this?” the man asked.
Roelle gave a slight shrug. “Take a look. Tell me if you think this is something we need to worry about.”
The man pulled the bag open, and his breath caught. Lendra's nose started to wrinkle. Roelle knew the stench from the bag was probably overwhelming to her. Even dead, the creatures had a foul odor, though not quite as nasty as when they were alive. Roelle didn't understand why the stench was so much worse when they lived, only that the Denraen soldiers and Lendra had not been able to tolerate it.
The other man leaned in to see the contents of the sack, his eyes going wide. “We need to find the captain—”
The first man frowned. “Send them through.”
“The captain—”
“Send them through,” the Deshmahne said again. He handed the sack back to Roelle who took it and slipped it back onto her belt, letting her cloak fall around it. She hated being so close to the groeliin’s head, but Nahrsin had been right that it was the only way to convince the Deshmahne that there was a real threat.
The two Deshmahne moved aside, letting the Magi and Lendra in. They made their way into the city, and Roelle realized the living conditions weren't that much better inside the city walls than outside in the makeshift town.
Crowds of people moved through the streets, filling them completely. Suddenly, the decision to not allow everyone into the city and behind the wall made a certain sort of sense. Did the guards help by keeping people in or restricting access? With the number of people outside the wall, either would make sense.
“Go straight ahead. You'll find the guard station there. Ask for Captain Bannon,” the Deshmahne said.
Roelle felt almost numb as she nodded. They made their way along the street, having to push their way through in places. There was a stench here, as foul as what she imagined from the groeliin, one that came from bodies pressed together. Piles of refuse were pushed into alleys, but it seemed more than that.
She saw clothing from all sorts of different peoples, all different kinds of dress. Most were in a somewhat better state of repair than she'd seen on those outside of the city wall. The people weren't any cleaner, though. The faces of everyone around her were somber, almost with a look of sadness in their eyes that mixed with a look she could only call fear.
Roelle wished she could take a moment to talk to these people, to ask what they'd been through, what they'd seen and experienced. Had they survived the groeliin, or had they come south simply because of the threat of the groeliin?
If Rondalin was like this, what were other cities like? This couldn’t be the only place people traveled. Others would have made their way further south, she was certain. They would have sought safety, even if it were a false sense of security from being close to the large city.
Roelle caught sight of the promised guard station in the distance. It was a large building, one that reminded her of the barracks in Vasha. She stopped long enough to watch, curious how many other Deshmahne came through. If the Deshmahne had already reached a position where they guarded the gates to the city itself, they would have to be present throughout the city.
“Why haven't they converted here?” Selton asked as he took in the crowds, looking for visible tattoos that would identify converted Deshmahne.
“In the larger cities, they attempt their conversions, but there's only so much they can do,” Lendra explained. “Even in those places, conversions are limited. They seek to draw people toward their faith, toward their beliefs, but they don't give the markings to just anyone. That is reserved for those with the highest faith, and those with the highest potential.”
“It's because there's too many people here,” Jhun said. “How could they mark all of these people? It's probably easier in some of those villages.”
Roelle turned, not commenting, and they started toward the guard station, as somber as the people they saw in the streets around them. As they passed a few small groups of Deshmahne soldiers, she realized many had markings that were fresh. When they’d faced the Deshmahne on the road, the freshly marked ones were the least powerful.
Even knowing that, she worried. Did they endanger themselves too much? If something went wrong, if the Deshmahne realized they were Magi, would they attack? Would there be anything she could do to get them free?
Probably not. They would either face capture or execution.
“One of the delegates came from here,” Selton said. “I wonder if the Council is finished with them. Maybe he’s returned home.”
“He wouldn't have been able to return to Rondalin this quickly,” Roelle said.
“Why not? We spent most of our time heading straight north.”
“We were searching for the Antrilii, not looking for the city,” Roelle said.
“My point exactly,” he said. “The delegate could have come directly here.”
The idea gave her a little hope. If one of the delegates had returned, and if they had brought the Mage advisor as her uncle had intended, perhaps the dynamics in the city had shifted. Maybe that was part of the reason they had not been forcibly converting others in the city. It seemed almost too much to ask for.
As she watched, she realized something else. There were more than groups of two and three Deshmahne. She saw dozens of Deshmahne marching along the street, moving out of the city.
“They’re readying for something,” she noted.
“Maybe it’s the groeliin,” Selton said.
Roelle frowned, noting the collection of soldiers, and of weapons. Others pushed carts with supplies. This was battle preparations.
Had they come only to find the Deshmahne readied for the same attack? Or was this something else?
Roelle took a deep breath, gathering her wits. Either way, she had to go inside and find out what the Deshmahne knew. This was something they needed to do. If it was successful, this could be the key to getting enough help.
Maybe more than enough help. If she was successful, they could stave off the threat of the groeliin.
“We’re with you,” Lendra said.
Roelle forced a smile. Lendra was with her, and she knew Selton and Jhun were. Why did she still feel so unsettled? Why did she sense there was something she hadn't accounted for?
Taking another breath, Roelle made her way into the guard station.
Chapter Six
Saeline took its name from the rolling flatland of grasses. Saeline stretched for leagues in all directions, massive, chest-high swaths of thick grass that grew as far as Allay could see, now turning to brown in the late season. The horses rustled up dust beneath their hooves, a mixture of dry soil and the dried grasses.
Allay looked over to Mendi—as he had been doing increasingly often the farther south they traveled—wondering what was on her mind. Did she worry about what was beyond Saeline? Did she worry about Gomald?
Rosahd led them, his map unrolled across the saddle, guiding them south. Walden and Yongar rode in the front of the caravan, with three more riding behind them. They’d seen fewer Deshmahne as they made their way south. Allay didn’t know if it was because they had moved north, or whether the proximity to Saeline and Locken’s soldiers prevented them from gaining much of a foothold.
They followed the narrow road as it cut through the grasses making their way south on their way toward the capital of Saeline. Allay had visited all the kingdoms within his father's rule several times during his youth, one of the few things his father had suggested that Allay had agreed with. Leaving had been an excuse to get out of Gomald, and out from underneath his father's thumb, but recently, it had been away
for Mendi and him not to have to fear their friendship.
Up until now, that was all it had been. Friendship. Perhaps that was all it still could be.
What would happen when they did reach Saeline? What would they find?
Having heard rumors from various sources, the information they gathered about Locken was consistent. The region’s king had ridden south with his troops. Had he joined up with Richard, or had he taken a different tact and chosen to move against the King? There were other possibilities, especially with the number of Deshmahne they’d seen along the road. It was possible that Locken had been keeping his lands clear of the dark soldiers.
Allay had to know what Locken planned. From there, he would continue south, making his way to Gomald, where he would find out the truth or falsehood of this rebellion. If his role were to help encourage peace, he would take it seriously and serve as the Magi intended, even if he was the only one of the delegates to do so. Even if doing so meant organizing his people against the Deshmahne.
“We’re only a few hours out,” Rosahd said. “You must be ready to meet with King Locken's council, and if you can, convince them to abide by the Magi recommendations.”
Allay glanced at Rosahd, frowning. “If things are as you say, if things are as we suspect, then Locken will have no reason to listen to me. In fact, he might have me jailed.” He hoped for a different outcome, but mostly, he hoped that Locken was in Saeline. If he was, Allay thought he might be able to convince him to help encourage peace.
“Prince Lansington, do not make light of your responsibility,” Rosahd said.
“I'm not making light of it. In fact, I am quite certain that I understand it better than you.”
He noted Yongar suppressing a smile and wondered why. The Denraen had mostly ignored the Mage during their journey south. They had protected him when the Deshmahne had attacked, but they didn’t speak to him—or to Allay that much. There had been a time when he thought the Denraen served the Magi, but he no longer thought that was the case.
The Lost Prophecy Boxset Page 73
