The Lost Prophecy Boxset

by D. K. Holmberg

  “She’s right,” Anda said. “You have been troubled since your rest.”

  Jakob debated how much to tell her. Would she have any answers? The gentle, encouraging look on her face convinced him to share. “Troubled. It's more than that. I dreamed the night we were in the heart of the forest.”

  Anda laughed softly. The musical quality of her voice reminded him of the gods from his vision. As she stood next to him, he watched the energy around her swirl toward him, touching his. He didn't need her physical contact for him to feel the relaxation. Worry about what was happening to him, about the changes that were taking place, began to dissipate. There was nothing he could do about that worry anyway.

  “Everyone dreams,” Anda said.

  “Not like me. Lately, my dreams are like visions. They’re so real! The last one…” He couldn't tell her about having a vision of the gods thinking to abandon the daneamiin. How would that affect her? “It felt as if I were living it.”

  Anda met his gaze. She had such exotic eyes, and Jakob lost himself as he looked into them, feeling a different sensation than the relaxation he often felt from her. “There are some who can see along the fibers.”

  He’d heard about those who could see the fibers before, from daneamiin like Anda, and Alyta, who Brohmin said could read the fibers but didn’t know what it really meant. Had Novan referred to it the same way? “You once told me you could, but not as well as others. I don’t know what that means.”

  “It is a term we use to describe time,” Anda began. She plucked a few fallen leaves from the ground and began pulling their stems free. When she had nearly a dozen clutched in her hand, she held them splayed out in front of her. “The fibers are like a rope, with many strands woven together. There are many possible futures, but there is one past. Some can see along the past, and some—”

  “Can see the future?” Jakob asked.

  Anda nodded. “Those who are powerful at stepping along the fibers can see into the future. Some can catch glimpses. Little more than shadows, almost as if dreams, or memories, of what could be. My people have limited ability in looking to the future. Some can look to the past. There are some who are so strong they can travel backward, along the fibers, and use that connection to gain understanding.”

  “That's what happened in the Cala maah, isn't it? I was forced backward along the fibers.”

  Anda smiled. “In the house of the Cala maah, you are able to step backward to see your ancestors.”

  “But I saw myself as a god.”

  And it wasn't the first time he'd seen himself as one of the gods. The first had happened when he'd first been in the Great Forest, and again in the mountains of the north when he defeated the groeliin, and even the last time, when he dreamed he was Aimielen.

  “There are many who can claim a connection to the gods,” Anda said. “There was a time when the damahne and the people of man mingled more closely. It was not uncommon for such things.”

  “You've seen this?”

  “My people are a result of that mingling.”

  Jakob's mind flashed back, thinking of what he had seen. Was that what he had glimpsed during his vision? “Not all were pleased with that, were they?” Jakob looked up at Anda and saw something—a question or was it something else, worry?—written on her face.

  “No, not all were pleased with the mingling or the ultimate results. That is the reason we moved to the east.” Again, he saw what could be pain cross her face.

  Anda watched him for a moment while weaving the stems together. As she did, she formed something almost ropelike that she handed to Jakob. “The fibers. We all follow the path. We all move forward into many possible futures that are woven together.”

  Jakob took it, staring at the twisted stems. “And you said some people can travel backward.” Was that what had happened to him? Could he really have gone back along the fibers?

  It made as much sense as anything else that had happened to him. More than that, it might actually explain what had happened to him.

  Anda smiled. “I see from your face that you know this already.”

  “I… I had a vision the other night. I saw myself as Aimielen. She feared for her children and her grandchildren. She called your people Den’eamiin.” He didn’t speak in the ancient language as fluidly as others but tried to pull it from his vision.

  Anna nodded slowly, her exotic eyes changing, widening into what looked like worry. “If you are able to trace your fibers back to Aimielen, you should be proud. She was a great damahne. My people still exalt her.”

  “Who was she?”

  He'd had visions before in which he’d heard the name. In the very first, he'd dreamed as Shoren, thinking of what it had been like when he had sat in the forest, calling for the first Conclave. He remembered thinking about another goddess, one named Marli, but words came back clearly to him: Aimielen was beautiful too.

  Why was he having these visions?

  Could it be as simple as him walking back along the fibers? Could that be all there was to it? If so, what did it mean that he was a god in his dreams? If Anda claimed he could walk back along the fibers of his ancestors, and that the Cala maah took him back along the fibers of his ancestors, did that mean he really was descended from gods?

  And then what of the vision he had while in the Cala maah, having visions of daneamiin?

  Could he be what Brohmin hoped? Could he be this nemah? Was that why he had the abilities he seemed to possess?

  It was all too much for him to understand.

  “Help me understand, Anda. Something is happening to me.”

  She rested her hand on his arm and let it slip down until she held his hand. She squeezed. This time, the relaxation that came from her was different from before. There was nothing of her ahmaean pressing upon him. This was the simple comfort of her touch. “You should not fear the past, Jakob Nialsen. There's nothing you can change about it. All we can do is hope to influence the future.”

  “Then why am I having these visions?”

  “I do not know. My people don't have dreams of our ancestors except when we visit the Cala maah. That is our gift, a chance to look back, to know where we have come from so that we will understand where we must go. Others have different gifts.”

  They stood in silence for a while, and the sounds of the forest surged around them. They were soft and gentle, a healing sort of sense. He turned and saw Brohmin fast asleep on the ground. Salindra sat next to him, watching over him, a worried look on her face.

  He wasn't the only one who had changed since visiting the Cala maah. Salindra had changed as well, the confident Mage having returned. Jakob was pleased to see that, just as he was pleased to see the energy, the ahmaean swirling around her. She used it as she ministered to Brohmin, though Jakob had a sense that she didn't quite know what it was she did. As far as he knew, Salindra couldn't even see the energy.

  Why was it that he could?

  “You said the gods—the damahne—mingled with the people of man,” Jakob said. He had a hard time thinking them anything other than gods, though he had heard from both Brohmin and Anda that wasn't the case. And yet… If he were truly descended from them, that would mean he was a child of the gods. He wasn't ready to believe that either. Perhaps it would be easier to believe them some other type of being. “You said that daneamiin are the result of that mingling.”

  He looked over to Anda, and she nodded slowly.

  “Were there any other minglings?”

  “I do not know all of the histories of the damahne,” Anna began. That is not my strength. I have glimpsed my ancestors and can trace them back to the damahne, but I have not been able to glimpse anything beyond that,” Anda said.

  “But there's something you know,” Jakob said.

  “There is something.”

  “What is it?”

  Anda took a deep breath. She motioned to the trees, to the flowers near her feet, even to Jakob. “All who can reach the ahmaean, all who can touch t
he energy that surrounds us, are descended from the damahne.”

  “All?”

  Anda nodded again, her hands running atop the grass. As she did, the ahmaean around her shifted, drawn toward her.

  Jakob looked back at Salindra. If what Anda said was true, and Jakob had no reason to believe that it wasn't, then it meant that even the Magi were descended from the gods.

  He hadn’t thought he was gaining the abilities of the Magi, but what if he was?

  Yet what he could do seemed different from the abilities of the Magi.

  What other explanation was there?

  Darkness had fallen in full, but Jakob still couldn't sleep. He didn’t know if it was because he had just eaten, or because his anxious mind was still racing. Regardless of the reason, he continued to lay there, unable to slow the thoughts racing through his mind.

  On the other side of the clearing, he could see Brohmin still sleeping. He breathed heavily and remained motionless as he slept. Jakob worried about the man, wondering if he'd been pushing himself too hard. Salindra still sat next to him, awake. She had been unwilling to move, unwilling to leave him. He’d appeared weaker tonight, the exertion of the last few days taking its toll on him.

  Anda rested near Jakob. She lay on her side, her legs pulled up, her eyes closed. She looked youthful, the effect of the glamour faded while she slept, and Jakob wondered how old she might be. Aruhn had seemed youthful as well, but Jakob had the sense that he was very old, at least within the spectrum of age of the daneamiin.

  Unwilling to lie there any longer, Jakob stood and went to Salindra, crouching next to her. She looked up at him, the concern she felt for Brohmin playing on her face. “He sleeps so long,” she said.

  “He was very injured,” Jakob said.

  Salindra nodded. “I did what I could, my… abilities… are different since…” She shook her head. “It doesn't matter. All that matters is that they are different. Had it been a year ago, I might have been different. I might have been able to help him more easily.”

  Jakob watched Brohmin as he slept, a peaceful expression on his face. He seemed less hearty than he had been. He understood Salindra's worry, the fear that Brohmin would fail, and that he would leave them. Jakob wasn't sure what they would do then.

  They needed Brohmin. Not only his expertise and the knowledge he possessed but the confidence and the belief that he knew what they should do, that everything would turn out as needed.

  Only… There was no question that Brohmin was failing. How much longer would he have? How much longer before he fell, unable to awaken again?

  “He's recovered before,” Jakob said.

  “Before,” Salindra agreed, nodding. “But he is old. Older than I would have believed possible even a month ago. Twice, he has been called Brohmin Ulruuy. It’s a name I recognized. The name of a man who lived long ago.” She sighed, her gaze hanging on Brohmin. “But there is no other explanation as to why they would call him by that name.”

  “Who was this man?” Jakob asked.

  Salindra sighed. “There was a tradition the Magi once attempted to follow, one that allowed us to influence events in ways that we were not willing to do so directly. They would choose a man, one who was deemed capable of bringing together the people, a man chosen in time of great uncertainty.” She smiled, looking down at Brohmin and shaking her head.

  “The Uniter,” Jakob said. “He told us about the practice that night in camp. Of the Conclave choosing the first Uniter, Aalleyn Tompen. He said the Conclave created the mahne, and founded the Urmahne.” Truth be told, Novan had told him about the Uniter as well, but then, both men were part of the Conclave.

  Salindra studied Jakob a moment, a frown on her face. “A similar practice and one the Magi have attempted to follow as we chose a Uniter… and often failed.” Jakob sensed frustration in her voice. She looked down at Brohmin. “Brohmin Ulruuy was the last Uniter chosen by our people following an ancient prophecy.”

  “But not the same prophecy Brohmin spoke of?” Other than the one he’d described about the Conclave, Jakob had only heard about the prophecy regarding the nemah. Were they the same?

  Salindra looked up at Jakob, her eyes going distant. “Throughout time, some among my people have possessed the ability to glimpse the future. They were called prophets. Some were more skilled than others. There have been seven prophets we refer to as the great prophets. There have been many other minor prophets. Only one minor prophet still lives, an Elder I believe you met.”

  Mage Haerlin had been able to glimpse the future? Had he seen anything about Jakob? Had there been anything that he had recognized?

  Salindra went on, as if not even realizing Jakob was troubled by what she’d said. “We’ve used these prophets to help guide our people. They have seen when we must find this Uniter.” She stared at Brohmin. “We haven’t chosen a Uniter in… many years. Brohmin Ulruuy was the last, our great failing, and it was because of him we began to retreat from the world.”

  “How many came before Brohmin Ulruuy?” Jakob asked.

  Salindra nodded. “I do not know an exact number, but none have been successful. But the last time,” she said, almost reaching for Brohmin, “did not go as my people had intended. Our scholars suspect those of that time did something incorrectly, maybe didn’t follow the prophecy as they should have, because Brohmin did not restore peace. He did not achieve the goals of my people.”

  “What did he do?” Jakob had a hard time imagining Brohmin listening to any suggestion, particularly from the Magi.

  Salindra again looked down at Brohmin. “If he truly is Brohmin Ulruuy, he would be hundreds of years old,” she said. “The records from that time tell of a man willing to destroy in order to restore. It did not go over well with the Council of Elders who chose him.”

  She breathed out slowly. As she did, energy swirled around her, touching briefly upon Brohmin, leading to a slight flash of color before retreating. Did Salindra even know what she was doing? Was she aware that she used the energy in this way?

  Jakob watched her and realized she probably was not.

  “My people had a name for him,” she said.

  “What was it? Jakob asked.

  Salindra chuckled to herself. “He was known as the Great Mistake. He brought violence instead of peace. And yet… no one among those who know of him can deny the fact that through his efforts, peace was restored.”

  Jakob looked down at Brohmin and realized his eyes were open. He had been listening.

  “Yes. Peace was restored,” Brohmin said. “And I was not your Great Mistake. The great mistake was the Magi withdrawing their influence. Look what has happened since.”

  Salindra stiffened.

  “How? How is it possible that you could be this man, that you could be hundreds of years old?” Jakob asked.

  Brohmin's eyes closed again. “I already answered this for you. I served the Conclave, and for that, I was given a gift.”

  “Like the Deshmahne?” Jakob asked.

  Brohmin's eyes flickered open again, and for a moment, they flashed with hot anger. “Not like the Deshmahne.” He stared at Jakob for a moment and then the anger subsided, easing away, as if it had not been there.

  Jakob shivered. He didn't want to anger Brohmin, and should not have made such an accusation. And yet he didn't understand. How could he understand, when what they were dealing with, these events, were beyond his comprehension?

  “After the Magi named me the Uniter, the Conclave came to me. I was tested much as the Uniters have been tested for centuries. It was then that I first met the daneamiin, and then that I first went to the Cala maah.”

  “How?”

  “There were more damahne then, and they traced along my fibers,” he said softly.

  Brohmin fell silent, and Salindra touched Jakob's arm. “Let him rest. He might not believe it, but he still needs it.”

  Jakob looked at Brohmin for another moment, and the man took a few deep breaths, before letting
them out slowly.

  He stood, leaving Brohmin with Salindra leaning over him, still ministering to him. The energy swirled off of her, reaching toward Brohmin before pulling back. Whatever had happened between them before, Jakob knew that Salindra would keep Brohmin safe and see him back to health.

  As he left them, moving closer to Anda, he realized that was for the best. They couldn't rescue the goddess Alyta without Brohmin’s help. If they lost Brohmin, he feared they would lose the goddess as well.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jakob didn't know how late it was, but from the occasional hoot of the owl, the occasional sound of insects fluttering, even the stirring of animals, he guessed that it must be near morning.

  When he had managed to sleep, he'd done so fitfully, his eyes occasionally drifting closed only to snap open. Part of him worried what would happen when he slept, whether or not he would have another vision, whether he would be subjected to dreams he should not have. Those fears kept him awake, preventing him from getting the sleep he needed.

  He knew they would need his strength, and they might need his sword, in the days to come. If he was not rested and didn’t recover, he didn't know whether he would be of any use to them with what they might face.

  Occasionally, he would hear Anda stir, but otherwise, she slept quietly, barely breathing. He had to focus to even notice that she breathed at times. Even Salindra, lying next to Brohmin, finally fell asleep. Other than the few words Brohmin had spoken earlier, he’d been sleeping solidly.

  Only Jakob remained awake.

  After a while, he stood, making his way into the forest, staring into the darkness. They hadn't talked about it, but what would they do if the Deshmahne were to return? He didn't like to think of it, but it was possible that they would find them again. Jakob had no idea how they had found them so easily the last time, as if the Deshmahne were somehow attuned to them, knowing exactly where to come for them. But how was that possible?