The Lost Prophecy Boxset

by D. K. Holmberg

  The trees were dark blurs at night, and shadows seemed to shift, though the trees didn’t move. The ahmaean energy surrounded the trees, and he studied the nearest one a moment, wondering again why he saw it. Could he reach for that energy again?

  He had done so when they’d faced the Deshmahne. Could he use it now?

  Focusing on the ahmaean, he tried pulling on it, but failed.

  As he did, he thought he saw a flash of movement.

  Deshmahne? Or something else?

  Jakob reached for his sword, unsheathing it.

  In the darkness, he could make out the ahmaean swirling around the blade, but it didn’t have the same bright intensity that had before. He’d failed pulling on the tree’s energy, but could he use that of the sword?

  Unlike the tree, when he pulled on the ahmaean coming from the sword, it filled him.

  Jakob tried not to think about what it meant that he could do this.

  Was that how the Magi used their magic? It was a question he could easily ask Salindra, but he hadn’t. He didn’t want to anger her, and she could be touchy about such things.

  He watched again, looking for that flash of movement?

  He turned, thinking he heard something, but there was nothing.

  Was it only his imagination?

  Jakob moved deeper into the forest. As he did this time, he was clearly aware of movement. He stopped, focused on where he had seen it.

  There was a strange itch at the back of his mind.

  It was a familiar sensation that reminded him of what he’d felt while they had traveled north from Chrysia, the same as he’d had while traveling. He’d felt the strange itch and had started to believe he was going mad, thinking that he was slowly becoming like his brother. Much like then, he convinced himself it was imagined.

  And yet… He had felt it another time as well. When he had been on the other side of the Valley, when they were making their way out of the daneamiin settlement. Anda claimed the nemerahl weren’t found here, but what if one was?

  There came a soft chuckling within his mind.

  Jakob froze.

  He’d heard the same chuckling before. Was this time real, or was it imagined?

  Again a flash of movement, and then he saw a faint reflection of eyes.

  Jakob was certain they were real. A nemerahl, like he’d seen in his vision.

  He stepped toward it. His sword remained at the ready, prepared to strike were it necessary, but hesitated. If this was a nemerahl, they weren't aggressive. At least he didn't think they were.

  He took a step forward, and could practically feel the presence near him. As he did, he became aware of movement behind him.

  Jakob spun.

  Anda stood there, glowing softly with ahmaean flowing around her.

  She smiled when she saw him, but her eyes drifted to his sword. “That is not necessary.”

  “I saw something moving here,” he said, turning back toward the trees, but the eyes—and the creature—were gone.

  “But your sword is not necessary.”

  “It is if we’re attacked.”

  “The nemerahl won't attack you, Jakob Nialsen.”

  He turned to her. “You knew?”

  “I didn’t think they would cross the Great Valley, but they are powerful creatures.”

  “I could barely see it.”

  She smiled. “They are difficult creatures to see. They will make themselves visible only when they want to. As I said, powerful.”

  “I saw one in my vision.”

  Anda nodded toward the space in the trees where he’d seen the creature. “They once were more numerous. Over time, their numbers have faded.”

  “Just like the gods.”

  “They are connected. The damahne and the nemerahl. They have long shared a unique connection. In that way, it is much like my people and the forest. We have shared a connection with the trees.”

  A part of Jakob wondered what connection man had to the world. If the damahne had a connection to the nemerahl, and daneamiin had a connection to the trees, what connection did man have?

  “Can you help me find it?” Jakob asked.

  “It is not for me to help you find. If the nemerahl chooses to be seen, you will see him. I don't know the mind of the nemerahl. They are ancient creatures, and proud. They are considered wise, guardians of a sort. It is possible that the nemerahl leads us to Alyta.”

  “Possible? What would be the other possibility?”

  Anda studied him a moment. The ahmaean around her swirled before she smiled. “Why are you up?”

  Jakob sighed, scanning the forest for evidence of the nemerahl, but none came. It was as if the creature had vanished, disappearing completely.

  “I am… I don't know. I close my eyes, and I think I drift off. But then I awaken again. My mind thinks about the Deshmahne, about the groeliin, and about Alyta. I know we need to rescue her, but I worry about the others as well. Those creatures are terrifying.” Those weren’t the only reasons he couldn’t sleep, but Anda wouldn’t have answers about what was happening to him either. For that, they needed to find Alyta.

  “They are horrible creatures. They once moved into the east, but the trees prevented them from moving too far. The groeliin weren't as strong then. I suspect they have grown, and their knowledge has grown.”

  “Why?”

  “There is no why with the groeliin. They seek destruction.” She took his hand, and he felt relaxation flow through him. He wondered if it was her simple touch again, or if it was the effect she had upon him, using her ahmaean to flow over him. Either way, he appreciated what she did.

  “The Deshmahne seek destruction,” Jakob said. “Between them and the groeliin, it doesn't seem as if there's going to be peace.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Did you not say you were called the Uniter of Men by the Cala maah?”

  Jakob sighed. “They called me that. Brohmin wonders if I’m the nemah, but I don't know what that means. What am I asked to do?”

  Anda led him back toward the clearing where they had made their camp. “Only you can know what you must do. Only you know what the fibers hold for you in the future. If it involves bringing peace, then you will do so.”

  “We need to rescue the goddess. That has to be first, doesn't it?”

  Anda nodded. “I think that must be first. If we lose her, much power will be lost from the world, and it will be dispersed.”

  “Or stolen,” Jakob said. He thought about what happened to Salindra, the branding that had attempted to steal her ahmaean. The Deshmahne had said they stole from many Magi, even commented about stealing from others beyond the Magi. If they were able to steal ahmaean from the Magi, what would prevent them from stealing from the goddess?

  A troubled expression flitted across Anda’s face. “That is even more reason for us to rescue her if we can.”

  She settled next to Jakob on the ground. Wave upon wave of relaxation washed through him. As it did, he realized she intended him to sleep. He looked up, smiling, and saw her leaning over him, much like Salindra had over Brohmin.

  A question intruded, a mixture of conversations he'd had with Anda. “You said all of the beings who can use the ahmaean are descended from the gods.”

  Anda nodded. “Rest, Jakob Nialsen.”

  “What of the groeliin? They can use ahmaean, though it’s dark.”

  A troubled expression furrowed Anda's brow. “Rest, Jakob Nialsen.”

  He couldn't fight sleep this time. But as he let go, he wondered if he would have visions again or would he finally be able to sleep it soundly.

  Still, he worried. Why hadn’t she answered his question? Could the groeliin also be descended from the gods?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  They reached the port of Chrysia within a few days. The ship had sailed quickly, cutting through the water faster than what Allay would have believed possible, though he rarely traveled by ship. He had been surprised to discover that Mendi was aboard,
though he still wasn't certain what to make of things between them. There were several others, though all appeared to be men and women from Salvat. Among them, was a Teacher.

  That had surprised him most of all. And yet it made sense. Mendi had always been ever faithful to the Urmahne, and he was now realizing the deposed rulers of Salvat had been as well, as evidenced by their interest in stopping the Deshmahne. Thinking it through, of course they would have such an authority of the Magi accompany them.

  Mendi stood next to him, watching as they made their way into the harbor. Since departing Gomald, she had been reserved with him, as if she hadn't known what to say. Allay wasn't certain that he knew what to say either. He needed answers. Now that they neared Chrysia, he had to clear the air between them.

  “Who were your family?” Allay asked.

  “In Salvat, prior to the war, we were nothing,” she said. “When the war ended, much of the ruling family had been lost. It left only a few with the ancient bloodline remaining.”

  “Your family shared that bloodline.”

  She nodded. “I don't understand what happened to Gomald while we were gone,” she said. “The rebellion has been fed by merchants who sought a different relationship with the throne. Trade with Salvat once had been pleasant,” she said. “After your family attacked and claimed it, that changed.”

  Allay breathed out, wishing he understood what had happened. “What does your family think I can do?”

  “The Magi asked you to serve. Salvat respects them. They've kept the Teachers as advisors, and they have continued to serve my family, doing so as discreetly as possible.”

  The Teachers were descendants of the Magi, not powered like the Magi, but scholars. He thought of those he'd met in Saeline, Locken's Teachers. They had been angry with him. Had they known more about the rebellion than they let on?

  “We remain faithful to the gods, Allay. When the Deshmahne came, my father knew he had to act. We had seen what happened in the south.”

  “You knew this when we were in Vasha?” Why wouldn’t she have told him before now?

  “Not then. Not until we returned.”

  “Why Chrysia?” Allay asked.

  “Because that's where we'll find King Locken. My father heard the report that he's come here, seeking allies. He wants nothing of this war your father seeks.”

  Allay still wasn’t certain he would be able to influence anything, but he would try. He was determined to do what he could, recognizing that this plan of his father's made no sense. There was no purpose to the war, no reason to fight with Thealon. Certainly not when so much more was at stake.

  “I've heard that Comity died,” Mendi said after a period of silence.

  He looked over at her. “How did you hear that?”

  She nodded toward the Teacher standing on the opposite railing. “They have some way of communicating. He tried to do… something. I'm not exactly sure what it was. There was an explosion, and he and his brother were lost.”

  “Where?”

  “Near the Tower.”

  They were gone. A delegate who had not been Deshmahne when he had come to Vasha but had left converted. How many others had converted during that time? How many remained?

  Had even Stohn converted? Was that how the Deshmahne intended to attack the north?

  Allay hadn’t thought of him since leaving Vasha. There would be little he could do to work with the man as far away as he was. It was more likely that Allay would work with Dougray and Danvayn.

  How much of this had the Magi anticipated? Did they expect him to stop this war?

  If he couldn’t, what would happen?

  Answers didn’t come to him as they sailed into the port.

  Inside the Council chamber in Chrysia, Allay met with Lord Comity. Soldiers had escorted him to the chamber, and they had watched him with uncertainty. He needed to find Locken, but he would start with the Chrysia Council. They needed to be warned of the Deshmahne threat, and somehow, he had to coax them to join the fight, if Locken hadn’t convinced them already.

  Lord Comity was an older man, dark hair with some gray in it. He was soft, a little on the pudgy side, and a thin beard covered his face. He wore flowing robes, more in the style of a priest than someone who ruled. Though of course, Allay wasn't surprised. Chrysia might be on the edge of Thealon, but there was a different devotion to the Urmahne faith in Thealon.

  “Lord Comity. I present myself before you seeking peace.” He had decided to start with honesty. He didn't want his father's plan to precede him.

  “Peace? As your father gathers troops near our border?”

  “I have nothing to do with what my father plans. But with your help, I will see that we prevent a greater catastrophe.”

  Allay looked around the room, and with sudden surprise, he realized that King Locken stood near the back wall. He hadn't realized it when he'd entered the Council chamber, having been escorted by soldiers of Chrysia. What did it mean that the Council allowed Locken to remain?

  Allay forced his attention back to Lord Comity. The man hadn’t spoken, and Allay realized he needed to say more. What could he say that would appease the man?

  Honesty. That was why he’d come.

  “I’m sorry about the loss of your sons,” Allay said.

  Lord Comity tensed. “You heard?”

  Allay nodded. “I knew your sons. Thomason had a bright mind. The Magi had hoped that we would be able to work together to bring peace. Even with their passing, I continue to hold onto that hope.”

  Lord Comity squeezed his eyes closed. “They rest with the gods now. And I am sorry about your brother,” he said as he opened his eyes.

  Allay tried to keep his face neutral. It was difficult, especially as he thought about Theodror. “There is no trade between our people now, yet trade has maintained peace for many years,” Allay said. “The gods call for peace, and through peace, we honor them.”

  “Through peace, we honor them,” Comity replied.

  “I would see peace restored. I would see trade resumed.” If he didn’t convince his father, all of this would be for nothing, but the display was as much for Locken as it was for Comity. “But for that—for all of that—I will need your help. I will need Thealon’s help.”

  Lord Comity’s gaze swept around the room, skimming past King Locken. When it returned to Allay, he nodded. “We aren’t equipped for much. The captain tells me our troops are strained, and we don’t have supplies for any sort of campaign, especially since our grain supply is low. We have barely enough to last through the winter.”

  “If I could offer assistance with grain? Gom Aaldia had a bountiful harvest.” He resisted the urge to look to Locken. It would be his lands that had the grain needed to secure this trade agreement.

  “We might be able to entertain your request,” Comity said.

  Allay nodded. “There can be more to trade than grain.”

  “Do you speak on behalf of the King?

  Was he willing to take this stand? To enable peace, he suspected he would have to.

  It meant deposing his father. He didn't know how he would, only that he needed to.

  “I will see to it personally.”

  Lord Comity looked at his Councilors, and slowly, they nodded.

  Only then did Allay turn to King Locken. He wondered what the man was thinking. Once a trade agreement was forged, he would seek him out privately to discuss it.

  Allay met Locken in the rooms he'd been given by the Chrysia Council. Locken was a strong man, someone Allay knew to be honorable, though he didn't know him very well. He wasn't sure how this meeting would go, whether Locken would listen or whether he would turn against him.

  Mendi was with him, as was Mosd, the Teacher who had been on the ship. He had served her family for years. They allowed Allay to lead, though he wasn't certain exactly what they expected of him.

  With Locken was a stout, older man, likely one of his senior soldiers. There were a few other soldiers with him as well.
Allay doubted Locken was worried about him. Instead, this was a show of force.

  “You’re a long way from Gomald, Prince Lansington,” Locken said.

  “And you’re a long way from Bastiin.”

  Locken smiled. “I understand you came through Saeline.”

  How much had Locken heard? How much did he know of what Allay been through in Saeline? Did he know about Rosahd? Would he think Allay responsible for his death? That meant that he was in communication with the Teachers. If that were the case, what more did Locken know?

  “Rumor has it that you studied with the Magi.” Locken stood with one hand near the hilt of his sword. The man was skilled with the sword, if stories were to be believed, and had trained with the Denraen. Other rumors claimed the general had suggested Locken take up the Denraen gray. That he hadn't taken the general up on his offer had been a boon for Gom Aaldia. But that he had spent time with the Denraen had been what Allay had counted on.

  “It seems you know as much as I do.”

  “I think there are some gaps you could fill in,” Locken said. “Such as what happened to the Magi traveling with you.”

  “He turned out to be Deshmahne.”

  Locken made no show of surprise. “And the Deshmahne bother you?”

  “My assignment is to help reestablish peace.” Allay wasn't sure whether that would sway Locken or whether he simply didn't want to face his father. Either way, it didn't change what Allay needed to do. “I believe that requires that we unite against the threat of the Deshmahne. That means both Gom Aaldia and Thealon.”

  “Your father intends to attack Thealon. I'm not willing to be a part of that.”

  “Nor am I.” He hesitated. “Did Queen Theresa find the message I left?” He hoped that she had, and hoped that she had sent word to Endric.

  Locken looked at him, a question on his face. “My wife saw your note and sent the few men we could spare to Endric.”