The Great Betrayal (The Lost Prophecy Book 8) Read online

  “Have them form up,” she said.

  Selton nodded and ran off.

  Roelle searched for Safran again and found him giving directions. He paused long enough to glance over at her.

  “We are forming our lines,” she told him. “The merahl sound like they’re getting closer.”

  “Is that not what you want?”

  “It means groeliin approach. We need to be ready. Have your men keep to the east.”

  “But these creatures are coming from the west.”

  “That’s where we hear the merahl, but groeliin are clever. We’ve been surprised by them before. Just be ready.”

  Safran watched her for a moment before nodding.

  Roelle found her Magi readied. They had lined up in several rows, a formation prepared for any attack. It reassured her to see her Magi so prepared, especially as it had been months since they had faced groeliin. It had been months since they had done anything other than spar. And now they were ready for the forward attack.

  What of an attack from behind them?

  With the thought, she spun and noted shadows shifting along the rock coming down the mountainside.

  “To me!” she screamed.

  She motioned to the groeliin, and a dozen warriors started toward her. Roelle was as pleased as she always was at the speed with which they changed direction. They were well trained and fearless. As one, they unsheathed, and in little more than a few heartbeats, they plunged into battle.

  Roelle shouted as she threw herself at the groeliin.

  How long had it been since she’d confronted one of these creatures? There was a certain comfort in battling groeliin. It was better to fight groeliin than to fight Deshmahne. With groeliin, she had little doubt that they deserved their fate. With Deshmahne—especially now—she no longer felt the same certainty.

  There were hundreds of the creatures.

  Such numbers would once have overwhelmed her—and her soldiers. They fought without hesitation, slicing through the creatures as they attacked with clubs and fangs and claws.

  Roelle spun and faced a groeliin the likes of which she had never seen before.

  A sword.

  The creature slashed at her, and Roelle instinctively fell into the catahs, using the familiarity of the patterns to help her know where to place her blade next. As she went, she shifted her attack, using some of what Safran had demonstrated.

  The groeliin countered and was fast. The initial shock of finding a groeliin capable of wielding a sword quickly dissipated as she focused on his blade, but she soon felt the pressure of her warriors behind her. If she didn’t end this quickly, she would be forced back into the other Magi.

  Roelle used her manehlin, attempting to freeze the groeliin.

  The creature seemed to slash through whatever she had done.

  Roelle pushed her manehlin through her sword. It usually responded, helping augment her ability, but this time, there was a strangeness to it. The blade flashed with a hazy blue light.

  The groeliin stepped back.

  Roelle used that moment to attack, catching the creature on the shoulder and spinning, jamming her sword into its midsection.

  The groeliin fell.

  Roelle didn’t pause. She continued her attack, jumping to the next creature. This one was more familiar to her, the same type of groeliin they had faced countless times before, and she brought her sword around, beheading it.

  She attacked one after another, each time she threw her manehlin at the groeliin, using it to freeze them, so that they couldn’t get too close to her.

  And then there was silence.

  Roelle looked around, searching for signs of her Magi to see how many had fallen. As far as she could tell, all remained standing. There were at least a hundred dead groeliin piled around them, and she was alarmed to see Selton standing over another groeliin that had carried a sword. Where had he found the power to defeat the large creature?

  He made his way over to her. He was panting, struggling to catch his breath. “We’ve never seen any like that before.”

  “Nahrsin warned us that there were more powerful groeliin.”

  “It’s one thing for him to warn us that they exist, and it’s quite another to come across them.”

  “Why do you think the merahl didn’t engage?” Roelle asked. As she had fought, she had been expecting the merahl to join in, but they hadn’t. There had to be some reason that they had chosen not to.

  “I don’t know.”

  Roelle made her way along the line of Magi, checking for injury. Those who had been hurt had only minor injuries. She hoped none were poisoned as she had been, but in the event they were, they needed to find the Antrilii to use their strange healing powers on them.

  Roelle went toward Safran. How many of the Deshmahne had been injured in this attack? She found the priest crouching in front of a fallen groeliin. He frowned as he studied the body and didn’t look up as she neared.

  “When you described them, I never imagined they would be so horrible.”

  “How many did you lose?”

  He looked up at her then. “These creatures move like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

  “They’re hard to kill. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  “And then there are those with swords. You didn’t warn us that they were so armed.”

  Roelle breathed out. “I didn’t know. We’ve never encountered groeliin who fight with swords.”

  “They are skilled.”

  “Yes. They are skilled.” That had surprised her. The groeliin were not only now armed, they were talented. She had managed to kill one, as had Selton. Had Safran’s men encountered even more? How many of their people would die if they encountered these creatures again? “Safran,” she said, trying to get his attention.

  The priest looked up at her and blinked slowly.

  “How many did you lose?”

  He glanced back at the groeliin before standing, then hurried to check on his Deshmahne. When Safran made his way back to her, he shook his head.

  Roelle nodded. “None? Good. We didn’t lose—”

  Safran blinked. “No. We lost many.”

  “How many?”

  “Two dozen. Two dozen priests have gone to meet the gods.”

  Two dozen of them had fallen facing the groeliin? How was that possible? The Deshmahne were skilled enough fighters that they should not have lost nearly that many. But then, how many had the Magi lost when they’d first begun facing the groeliin? How many would she have lost had the Deshmahne not gifted her and the other Magi with tattoos that had enhanced them?

  “I am so sorry, Safran.”

  “They gave of themselves willingly, Mage. Do not think their sacrifice was by any choice but their own.”

  “I never would have said otherwise.”

  She looked at the fallen groeliin, trying to see why more of the Deshmahne would have died when the Magi had not lost anyone. The Deshmahne had taken down at least one hundred groeliin, as well, and of them, she counted a dozen that had carried black teralin swords.

  She didn’t think the Magi had confronted more than the two she and Selton had defeated.

  What was different? Why would the Deshmahne have faced so many more of this type of groeliin than the Magi did?

  “What now?” Safran asked.

  “Now we need to burn the bodies.”

  “Does that not attract more of these creatures to the flames?”

  “That’s not been my experience. The Antrilii tend to destroy the fallen groeliin.”

  “Is that out of respect?”

  “No. It’s because if they do not, they fear the fallen groeliin will attract more.”

  Safran motioned to a few of his priests, and they began dragging the groeliin bodies together. When they had them piled up, Safran himself chanted quietly, and the bodies ignited.

  Roelle saw that the Magi had managed the same. She was pleased they had not needed a reminder. The stink of
the burning groeliin filled her nostrils, but they would remain until all of the groeliin had burned away. They could not leave too soon, something that Nahrsin had explained to her.

  When the last of the bodies burned to ash, Roelle breathed out. She stared into the dark night, thankful that another attack had not come while they were finishing their preparations. But their break would be short. If the groeliin had begun to attack, that meant they were once more in their lands. And she needed to have her Magi ready for the possibility of another attack.

  As she stood thinking, there came a long, mournful howl from a distant merahl.

  This time, the Deshmahne seemed to pick up on it, and Safran glanced over to her. All she could do was nod.

  By the time another howl came, the Magi and the Deshmahne had already formed up and were prepared for the next attack.

  Even though she was ready for it, the fact that it came so soon after the last troubled her. They had faced ten thousand groeliin before, but they’d had the Antrilii there to help, and they had the Great Forest to assist them. There would be no such help this time.

  Had she made a mistake?

  Another howl, this one closer.

  She forced thoughts out of her mind and readied to fight.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Morning came slowly. Roelle was exhausted, the constant attacks wearing on her. She’d barely had a chance to recover after one when the merahl warned them of another. They had so far not seen any of the merahl but had heard them countless times throughout the night, a warning each time that she—and now the Deshmahne—knew to heed.

  The sun rose slowly, but there was little relief in the daylight. Once more, she heard the calling of the merahl, and she nodded to her exhausted Magi. Doubt had begun to creep into her gut, though in reality, it had begun to creep in hours ago. After the third attack, she had started to worry that she had misjudged.

  “There’s something wrong,” Selton said.

  “Something beyond the fact that we continue to face attack after attack?” Roelle asked.

  At least this position gave them somewhat of an advantage. If they could hold—and so far, they had managed to hold well—they could force the groeliin off a rocky cliff, or could crush them between the line of Magi and Deshmahne and the sloping wall leading up the mountainside.

  “Nahrsin told us we would face groeliin if we came north like this, but he said they fight in broods, and that it’s rarely more than a hundred or so. We’ve killed nearly a thousand.”

  Roelle had lost count. Fires from the burning groeliin had lit the night, and all she could smell was the char and stink of the fallen groeliin. They’d faced more of those groeliin with the swords, but they weren’t frequent, thankfully. For the most part, the groeliin seemed to be trying to get past them, and the occasional creature that did manage to get around the Magi or the Deshmahne didn’t turn and come after them. Instead, those groeliin disappeared into the night, toward the southern mountains.

  “I don’t know what to make of it. We’ve never hunted the groeliin in the mountains, so we don’t know what’s normal for them.”

  “I don’t think it’s this,” Selton said.

  Safran stood a step behind them, a strained look to his face. A bloody gash lined his forehead, and his robes had been tattered at some point during the night, but he still stood.

  Safran had lost nearly one hundred Deshmahne. With each one, he sang a mournful song, honoring their passing. There was something about the song that pulled at Roelle, making her feel as if she should sing along with him.

  The Magi had lost a few, but the Deshmahne had taken the brunt of the losses. For some reason, the attacks continued more heavily near the Deshmahne. They fought bravely—honorably. Roelle found herself mourning along with Safran.

  “How many more do you think we can handle?” Safran asked.

  “We’re going to need sleep, and we’re going to need help, especially if the groeliin continue to come at us like this.”

  They would not be able to handle an ongoing deluge of groeliin. Even if they could stay awake—something she was growing less and less certain of—they might not have the numbers to confront the type of attacks they had been facing.

  “How can we sleep? These attacks keep coming at us.”

  “We have to find someplace to hunker down,” Roelle said.

  Safran stared at her. “What do you propose?”

  “There are caves all along these mountains.” They had come across them many times on their way through the mountains but had never explored them. Roelle hadn’t thought they would need to use them for refuge, and even if she had, two hundred and fifty soldiers would have been difficult to hide within the caves. Now that their numbers had nearly been cut in half, that didn’t seem to be quite so outrageous.

  “We will follow you, Mage.”

  Roelle mounted her horse, grabbed the reins, and started along the trail. Selton followed her, along with Lendra, and then the line of Magi. Behind them came the Deshmahne. Roelle was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to find a place to sleep, but sleep meant death, and she was not ready for that.

  “Do you really think we can hide in the caves?” Selton whispered, glancing back at the line of riders behind them.

  Roelle sighed. “I don’t know. First, we have to find the caves.”

  They picked their way along the trail, moving away from the howls of the merahl, and hopefully away from the groeliin.

  “Why this way?” Lendra asked.

  Roelle glanced over. At some point, Lendra had found a sword, though she didn’t know how to use it. She had it strapped to her back, but it was the short staff she carried that she was more familiar with. “If we head west, I’m afraid we will run into more groeliin.”

  “You have us running from them now?” Selton asked.

  “Not running. We need rest. Are you worried that you haven’t killed enough?” she asked with a smile.

  Selton studied her, and for the first time in a while, he began to smile. “No. I think I have had my share of experience with the groeliin. I’ll take the chance to sleep.”

  “If we can find a cave large enough to house most of us, we can defend the mouth of the cave more easily than trying to protect ourselves from all sides as the groeliin surround us.”

  Selton nodded and look forward again. When they finally reached a mountain peak, Roelle motioned across the valley to the next mountain. She saw dark outlines along the side of the rocky slope.

  They were caves.

  Not just a single cave, but many.

  “That’s where we’re heading,” she said, motioning to Selton. Safran had ridden up to join her and peered out across the valley below.

  “How quickly do you think we can get over there?” he asked.

  Roelle looked to him and frowned. “Quickly?”

  Safran motioned behind him. “I’m afraid we won’t have much time.”

  She followed the direction of his gaze and saw groeliin making their way along the trail toward them.

  In the daylight, the grey-skinned creatures looked even more horrible. At least they could see them. There was some benefit to fighting them in the daylight, though even at night, they were visible.

  She noted the merahl howling more acutely and wondered why she had not heard it before. Had she been so focused on the caves that she had neglected to pay attention to the merahl?

  No. It was exhaustion. She could barely hold herself up, and now she would need to fight again?

  The groeliin threw themselves at the first line of Deshmahne.

  There was an urgency—an angry violence—to the way the groeliin attacked. It was unusual even for the groeliin.

  She glanced at Selton. “We have to help them.” If they didn’t, the Deshmahne would take the brunt of the attack, and they had lost so many already. “Bring the Magi.”

  Selton nodded.

  She was thankful he didn’t object. Maybe this was what Endric had been talk
ing about, having a friend who was willing to question but would follow commands when needed. Releasing her horse, she rushed to help the Deshmahne.

  She joined, her sword hewing through the flesh of the groeliin as she cut them down, taking them one at a time.

  She fought shoulder to shoulder with the Deshmahne and breathed heavily for each soldier who fell. The battle was brutal, and she feared they would lose many. She hoped enough survived to help the Antrilii, but they had lost so many already. They might have killed over a thousand groeliin, but how many more lived in the mountains?

  How ignorant had she been? She had come north thinking that she could help with the groeliin threat, but what did she think she knew that the Antrilii did not? They have been fighting the groeliin for centuries.

  The groeliin continued to attack with a savagery that she did not recall from the last time she faced them. Merahl howled, this time much closer than they had been the last.

  Was that why the groeliin were attacking with such ferocity? Did they fear the merahl?

  Roelle was forced back, as were the Deshmahne.

  Magi joined them, fighting alongside the Deshmahne, and she continued to slash at the groeliin, bringing them down as quickly as she could.

  The merahl’s howls intensified. As they did, the frenzy to the groeliin increased. They were forced back, again and again, and soon they reached the edge overlooking the valley. Roelle glanced down. If they did nothing, they would be forced over the edge—the very tactic she had hoped to use against the groeliin.

  “Take as many as you can to the caves,” she shouted at Selton.

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “That’s an order.”

  Selton glared at her, but he nodded.

  Safran was somewhere nearby, but she couldn’t see him. “Safran! Take your priests down to the valley!”

  She wasn’t sure if he heard, or if he would even do as she asked, but the soldiers began to thin out, leaving her with fewer and fewer people fighting alongside her.

  All she needed to do was buy them time.

  She didn’t fear dying. She had nearly died many times when facing the groeliin and had already thought herself gone after the attack in Thealon when she’d been poisoned. She was willing to sacrifice herself and willing to do whatever it took to buy her soldiers the time they needed.