The Lost City (The Lost Prophecy Book 5) Read online

  “The breeding is too soon,” Nahrsin said.

  “Yet it comes,” Jassan said.

  “Have the Yahinv discovered why?”

  “Yahinv would prefer that we not attack.”

  “By that, you mean they have not explored the reason for this breeding?” Nahrsin asked.

  Jassan just nodded.

  Nahrsin grunted. “There is much strangeness at work. We have followed bands of groeliin back to the mountains, and they have not attempted to veer off or attack other villages. It is as if they were summoned back.”

  “That will not be the only strangeness with these creatures,” Jassan said.

  He reached into the pocket of his cloak. Isandra saw rips in the fabric that had not been there before the attack, but she realized that he was mostly unharmed. So was she, for that matter. Considering what they had gone through, and the brutality of the attack, she was surprised that they had survived without more injury, and without anything else having happened to them. It should have been worse for them, though she suspected there were Antrilii who had not survived.

  As he peeled back the cloth in which he had rolled up the groeliin skin, he set it on the ground near Nahrsin. The large Antrilii picked up the piece and held it out to the firelight, studying it.

  “Where did you find this?”

  Jassan nodded to Isandra. “It was one that she killed. It had these markings along its flesh.”

  Nahrsin looked into Jassan’s eyes. “These aren’t brood marks.”

  “They are not brood marks. And they aren’t what Endric described, either.”

  Nahrsin traced his fingers across the raised surface of the skin. His frown deepened as he did.

  “What does this mean?” Nahrsin asked.

  “There is something else,” Jassan said.

  “Something more than markings that have never existed on the groeliin?”

  “How many of the creatures did you fight when your men joined us?” Jassan asked.

  “We fought what we could.”

  Jassan glanced over to Isandra. He looked at her, a question on his face, but it was one that Isandra didn’t have an answer to. She knew what Jassan wanted to tell Nahrsin, but she didn’t know why the groeliin would suddenly begin using the sword any more than he did.

  “These creatures,” he said, motioning to the hunk of flesh, “fight in a way that is different from any of the other groeliin we have ever faced. They carry swords, Nahrsin.”

  Nahrsin glanced from Jassan to Isandra. His face changed, the question in his eyes shifting. “Swords? The groeliin have never used anything more efficient than clubs.”

  The two men fell silent, both of them staring at the piece of groeliin skin.

  When neither offered to say anything more, Isandra spoke up. “Have the groeliin ever set a trap?”

  “This wasn’t a trap,” Jassan said.

  “I think it was. They intended to draw us here, and they knew that we would come for the merahl.”

  Nahrsin studied her, and with the intensity on his face, she could understand why he claimed leadership of the Antrilii. Jassan seemed to defer to him, though that deference was less than what she expected, and less than what it might have been had they not come hunting the groeliin breeding grounds.

  “Something bothers you, doesn’t it?” Isandra asked.

  “Much bothers me about the groeliin these days. But what you tell me adds greater concern to what we’ve already seen.” He shifted his gaze, looking back toward the rocks, and toward the clearing where the battle had taken place. “Groeliin behavior is not what it once was. And now, you’re showing me markings that look to be made by something other than one of the groeliin, and creatures that fight nothing like the groeliin have ever fought. This is troubling, mostly because we have been following something, though we haven’t known what it was.”

  Jassan leaned forward. He picked up the piece of groeliin flesh and rolled it back into the fabric, stuffing it into his pocket. “What have you seen, Nahrsin?”

  “Something is mobilizing the groeliin.”

  “The High Priest,” Isandra said. “We’ve already seen that the Deshmahne seem to have influence over them. Within the House of the Yahinv, they have—”

  Nahrsin shot her a withering look. “You have been to the House of Yahinv?”

  “They attempted to heal me. The Deshmahne in Rondalin stole my abilities.” She lifted her clothing so that her ankle brands could be seen. They appeared less angry than they once had, and in the darkness, they were little more than shadows, but Nahrsin seemed to make them out easily, and reached for the markings, holding his hand just above the surface of her skin.

  He looked up to Jassan. “You took her to Farsea?”

  “What else was I to do with her? She would have died had I not helped,” he said.

  Nahrsin removed his hand, and he sighed deeply. “And the House of Yahinv welcomed her?”

  Jassan nodded. “Rebecca herself invited Isandra in.”

  Nahrsin turned his attention to Isandra. “I don’t think the High Priest is guiding these groeliin. He might have before. There are others who think he was the reason they traveled southward as they did, and I have reason to believe them. If he’s responsible, then much of what we know about the groeliin is wrong.”

  “Not wrong. Only different from what we knew before,” Jassan said.

  “You saw what happened. You saw the way they swarmed. That is not the behavior of the groeliin that we knew. If it has changed, if the creatures respond to a new master, we need to be careful. Especially considering what happened in Thealon.”

  “We won in Thealon,” Jassan said.

  “We won, but this man—the High Priest—was not destroyed. He has been weakened and dealt a defeat, but he still lives.”

  “Could he recover quickly?”

  Nahrsin shrugged. “It is possible. He is a powerful man.”

  There was something about the way he said it that made Isandra realize that he did not believe it possible that the High Priest was responsible for these groeliin. “Why don’t you think it’s him?”

  “It’s many things, but partly because of what we have seen, and the strangeness that we have experienced. And now with what you have described, groeliin with new markings, and carrying swords… This is not the work of the groeliin.”

  “I fear that we will find the answer soon enough,” Jassan said. “As we continue to track the breeding grounds, I think we will find all the answers we need and more.”

  One of the merahl howled, and Isandra perked up, looking toward the sound. There was a call to it, a summons much like she had heard before.

  Nahrsin and Jassan also seemed to recognize it. Both men stood, and Nahrsin quickly extinguished the fire, taking a deep sighing breath. “Perhaps sooner than we would like.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Denraen barracks were much as Jakob imagined a barracks to be. They were sparse, solidly built, and decorated with weapons rather than anything more ornate. A sword hung along one wall and crossed axes created an accent. The only ornamentation came from finely wrought lanterns. That surprised him, but he suspected there was some reason behind it.

  The Denraen who escorted him through the halls of the barracks occasionally cast a glance back at him. It had taken Mage Alriyn’s insistence for the Denraen to grant Jakob access, but he probably could have forced his way in, shifting into the barracks and trying to find Endric.

  They stopped at a plain-looking door along a wall of other plain-looking doors. The Denraen soldier knocked and clasped his hands behind his back as he waited for a response. There was a gruff call from the other side of the door, and the Denraen pushed it open, stepping in.

  Jakob waited in the hall.

  It had been a long time since he had seen Endric, and Jakob had changed much during that time. He had not only grown with his sword skill, but he also had come to understand more about the Conclave, and Endric’s role in it, along with No
van’s and Brohmin’s.

  Endric might have answers, but Jakob didn’t come to him seeking the answers of one of the Conclave. He came to him simply to pay his respects. Were it not for Endric, much of what Jakob had become would not have been possible.

  The Denraen stepped back out and nodded once to Jakob. “The general has agreed to see you,” he said. Jakob noted the surprise in his voice and suppressed a smile.

  He stepped past the Denraen and into the room. His gaze swept around the room, taking in the desk and the stacks of books, as well as the general clutter about everything. A massive sword hung on the wall behind Endric, a coating of dust on the blade. The blade was enormous, and surprisingly, Jakob felt a fluttering of ahmaean from it.

  But it was Endric who drew his attention the most.

  The grizzled old general stepped forward, coming around his desk, and reached his hand out, clasping Jacob’s. He had changed little since Jakob had last seen him, with the same wiry frame, the same strength, and the plentiful scars across his body. This time, Jakob was aware that energy swirled around him. Endric had ahmaean and knew it.

  Was he one of the Magi?

  Jakob thought that unlikely, but there was plentiful power there. And it didn’t seem like what Brohmin possessed, ahmaean that was as much borrowed as it was his own. This seemed born to Endric.

  It was a surprising question, and one he hadn’t expected coming here.

  “I didn’t think it was possible that I would see you again.”

  “You knew I survived,” Jakob said, deciding that he would try to understand the ahmaean around Endric another time.

  Endric motioned to the chairs, and Jakob took one, sitting across the desk from Endric. The general sat back down behind the desk and peered over a stack of papers situated there. “I heard that you might have survived, but there was little more than rumors that made it out of the north.”

  “You knew Brohmin was going to be there?”

  Endric grunted. “Knew? Had I known the Hunter was there, I would have had less concern for you. No, I think that was all the historian’s work.”

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  That surprised Jakob more than anything else. Novan and Endric both served on the Conclave with Brohmin. Had Endric not known when Jakob had gone north with Rit and his soldiers?

  “Only after you departed. That damned man can be far too calculating for his own good.” Endric sighed. “So many men were lost. Good men. But the important thing is that you were able to get the trunk to Avaneam.”

  “Did you know? Were you aware of what was in the trunk, or where it was supposed to go?”

  Endric’s face was unreadable. “I have a certain affinity for the north lands, so I do have more than a passing understanding of Avaneam.”

  “So you knew that it would take me to the Unknown Lands?”

  Endric nodded.

  “Did you know what was in the trunk?”

  “Only that it was an artifact created in a different time that granted the beings in the east a way of testing.”

  Endric had known more than what Jakob had suspected. That surprised him, but it shouldn’t have. Novan might be calculating, but Jakob had long had the suspicion that Endric was a master strategist, planning for many eventualities at the same time. It was Endric who had prompted Roelle to travel north. He must have suspected that she would meet up with the Antrilii and that together, they would have enough strength of arms to defeat the groeliin, at least slow them.

  “Get it out there, boy. I can see it on your face.”

  “See what?”

  “I can see that you have something you want to ask, but you aren’t sure how to say it. I think we got to know each other well enough in the short time we spent together for you to speak freely.”

  Jakob smiled tightly and nodded. “You are a member of the Conclave.”

  Endric held up his hand and tapped a dark band of metal that circled one of his fingers. “This is a marker of the Conclave.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  Endric grunted, laughing softly as he did. “Perhaps not. Yes. I am a member of the Conclave.”

  “Did you know that Alyta was captured?”

  Endric’s face changed then, clouding. “She sent the vision when she was captured. Many within the Conclave were aware.”

  Had Brohmin received that vision? Why had Jakob been the one to inform Brohmin that Alyta was captured? Maybe the distance—and the fact that they were in the Unknown Lands—had prevented him from receiving it. Maybe Jakob was the only one capable of receiving the message while they were there.

  “Then you must know that she has passed,” Jakob said.

  Endric closed his eyes, the scar on his face clenching as he did. “Yes, I felt that.”

  “I took her to the Great Forest for her final resting.”

  “She would have liked that.”

  “Before she died, she awoke within me an ability.”

  Endric frowned and studied him. His energy swirled, pushing out softly, not with the same strength that Jakob could summon, but certainly with more control than he had seen from many of the Magi.

  “Were you gifted as Brohmin was once gifted?” Endric asked.

  “No.”

  Endric grunted again. “I didn’t think so. Which means that you’re damahne.”

  “You don’t seem surprised.”

  Endric shrugged. “Surprised? I’m plenty surprised, but when you train long enough as Denraen, you simply learn to roll with the information you’re given. You use the term awoke something within you, which is a phrase I’ve heard the damahne use before. And there is the change in your voice.”

  This time, Jakob smiled. “What changed in my voice?”

  “You’re starting to talk like them.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Endric leaned forward. He shifted the papers on his desk, clearing a space for him to see more easily. “You probably haven’t been around too many of the damahne, but they have a particular way of talking that sounds more fluid. It’s more readily evident when they speak in their native tongue, but even when they don’t, you can hear it when you listen.”

  Jakob leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest. He had wondered if he would manifest any changes, knowing that he was different enough from the damahne he had seen in his visions, but he hadn’t expected his voice to change first. It was the thing that he would be least likely to notice. He rarely heard himself speaking, and ignored it when he did.

  “You came to Vasha for a reason.”

  “Answers. I hoped to learn something about looking forward along the fibers. I need to know what Raime may plan next.”

  “And you thought to question Haerlin.”

  Jakob was impressed by the quickness of Endric’s mind. “Haerlin is the only living prophet. I’ve tried looking back and speaking to my damahne ancestors, but they aren’t able to help, not in a way that would be useful.”

  Endric nodded, pinching his chin as he did. “I imagine walking back is different from looking forward. And once you’re back, it would be difficult to separate what you know from the possibilities they can see.”

  “How is it that you know that?” Jakob asked.

  Endric grunted. “You live long enough, and you see enough, and your mind begins to make connections. You have a quick mind, Jakob. I saw that when I first worked with you. You grasped concepts that not many were able to. In time, I suspect you’ll come up with all the answers you need.”

  In time. He wasn’t sure how much time he had, or how much time he could wait to find the answers he needed. “I need to figure out what Raime might attempt next before he hurts anyone else. I’ve managed to seal off his influence along the fibers, and I weakened him, but he’s not done fighting.”

  Endric frowned. “He shouldn’t have been able to access the fibers. He is not damahne, and hasn’t stolen any damahne ability.”

  “He has stolen enough from the daneamiin that I
don’t think it matters. The daneamiin have the ability to look back along the fibers.”

  Raime had mentioned seeing something about Jakob, a reason that he had first drawn the High Priest’s attention. For him to manage that, he would have to have some ability to look forward along the fibers.

  And if he could, he might already know what Jakob intended.

  “Now I’ve learned that there are types of teralin that grant power.”

  Endric glanced over his shoulder at the sword hanging on the wall before returning his attention to Jakob. “Teralin itself does not grant power, but there is something about the metal that allows it to be stored, and augmented. The practitioner must have some capacity to access that on their own. There are some who believe that teralin underlies everything, and is that which creation is founded upon.”

  He hadn’t heard that from Alriyn as he had explained teralin, but seeing as how ahmaean seemed to be concentrated by it, it was a reasonable theory.

  Jakob unsheathed his sword and looked at the blade. The metal was blindingly bright, as well as painfully dark on the other side. “Is this teralin?”

  Endric looked at the sword. “When you first appeared with that blade, I thought I imagined it.”

  “You recognized it?”

  “I recognized stories of it, not the blade itself.”

  “Is it teralin?” The metal looked different from the other teralin that Jakob had seen, but he wondered if that was because of what the daneamiin had done, the way they must have changed the metal to store power within it.

  “I know nothing of its forging, Jakob. I suspect few other than the daneamiin would be able to tell you anything about its creation. Is it teralin? It’s possible. Teralin can be charged both positively and negatively, what some would call light and dark, which might explain the nature of your blade.”

  “You don’t think so, though do you?”

  Endric sighed and stood, unsheathing his sword from his waist. He set it on the table in front of Jakob, the hilt pointed toward him. “This is teralin.”

  Jakob took the sword and felt warmth radiating from the blade. The metal was slightly dull silver, and he pressed his ahmaean into it and felt it holding there, stored and amplified. Jakob drew it back and set the sword down on the desk once again.