The Gift of Madness (The Lost Prophecy Book 7) Page 3

  He noted movement—and then saw dark ahmaean that swirled toward him in a thick cloud. The groeliin ahmaean.

  Jakob unsheathed and shifted forward to attack.

  Chapter Three

  The dark cloud of ahmaean coming off the groeliin drifted toward Jakob. The air stunk, a stench that he’d grown increasingly sensitive to in the days since first encountering the creatures. No longer did he suffer from the same shortness of breath as he had when he’d first encountered them, the sense that there was something sitting atop his chest. Now, there was only the strange connection to the ahmaean.

  Holding on to Neamiin, he stalked forward. One side of the sword blazed with bright light, glowing with the ahmaean stored within it, and the other incredibly dark.

  Jakob hesitated, holding his sword up.

  He’d never given much thought to why his sword would have a darkened blade like it did, but what if there was something of the groeliin ahmaean in it? What if that was the reason it had the other side to it? Could there have been groeliin involved in the forging of his sword?

  That seemed impossible, but so too was the idea that daneamiin would have given up their lives to commit themselves to creating a sword. They were a peaceful people, but they had helped forge a weapon of death.

  Now wasn’t the time to focus on those thoughts.

  Jakob pressed his ahmaean through the sword, augmenting it. It surged, and he sent it out in a wide circle around him, a tangible cloud of energy that allowed him to detect where to find the groeliin.

  They were around the temple.

  He knew to be careful. It was likely that whatever groeliin were here would be powerful. They might have the ability to shift, like the groeliin he’d faced in the far north—the kind that had been responsible for the loss of the nemerahl. Would these have some way of holding him, like those in the north? They had prevented him from shifting.

  But if he did nothing, those whom he’d rescued from the madness might suffer. They had nascent abilities, and they were only now beginning to understand what they were capable of doing. Jakob needed their help.

  Novan had suggested that Jakob was scared, and perhaps he was scared, but not so much that he refused to act when it was necessary.

  He sliced through the ahmaean as he stalked forward.

  A cluster of groeliin appeared. There was nothing particularly unique about them, and he had faced similar creatures countless times. He counted nine groeliin, enough that it would be a challenge, but not particularly difficult.

  Jakob flowed through them, striking them down with a calm violence.

  When they were down, he turned, looking for more groeliin.

  That couldn’t be all that had come to the temple. These groeliin wouldn’t have been able to reach it—not without help.

  Had Raime brought them?

  Why would Raime risk coming to the temple… unless he knew there had been an appearance of others with a connection to the damahne. Raime would be drawn to them and would want to use them to steal their abilities—abilities that would allow him to more fully challenge Jakob.

  Those people were his responsibility.

  He had saved them from the madness, and he would not allow Raime to get to them. They would not be tormented the way that Alyta had been tormented. With everything they had been through, Jakob doubted they would be able to tolerate such suffering for long.

  Another cluster of groeliin appeared. There were more than the last time—nearly a dozen—but such numbers no longer struck fear into him.

  Jakob danced through the groeliin, cutting them down.

  Maybe Raime had nothing to do with these groeliin. There didn’t seem any coordination to the attack, not as he would have expected were they commanded by someone, and not like those he’d seen in the northern mountains when directed by the powerful groeliin.

  Could this be nothing more than a remnant of the attack on Thealon? Was that why there were so many groeliin this far south? They had defeated the massive horde that had come south before, and there shouldn’t be so many still roaming free, but maybe bands of them remained despite the efforts of the Antrilii to clear them out.

  No one in the city would be able to defend against the creatures.

  How many were here? How much danger was Chrysia in?

  Though if they had reached the temple, that meant the city had already been attacked. They would have needed to pass through the city to reach here. How much had been destroyed by the groeliin? Would he be able to prevent further destruction?

  Anything he did would reveal his abilities to the residents in the city. He had been careful to avoid that, only showing himself to the priests, and doubting that they would say anything to the ruling council. Fighting openly would draw attention, but how could he not?

  Jakob shifted, quickly making a circle of the temple. Each time he appeared, there was another cluster of groeliin. The clusters were never more than a dozen or so. Enough that he had to pause to destroy them, but not so many that he was in danger. Had they worked together, they would have been a more formidable challenge, but even then, Jakob had other ways of slowing them.

  There came the sound of distant screams. He couldn’t tell where they were coming from but knew it must be close.

  Was it within the temple?

  With the fire consuming it, there shouldn’t be many people still in there, but what if others were trapped? Again he thought the first Deshmahne attack on the temple. His father had been lost trying to help others escape the destruction. Could Jakob do nothing?

  He shifted, appearing inside the temple.

  The smoke was thick here. Using his ahmaean, he pressed the smoke down as much as he could, allowing him to see above it. In the corner, he could see two people cowering. Jakob shifted to them and took them from the temple.

  When he returned, the smoke had once again filled the room, forcing him to focus on his ahmaean again. There was a moan near him. He sent out a circle of ahmaean in a pulse and used that to detect where others might be. There were still almost ten people in the temple.

  Jakob shifted to them, working as quickly as he could to get them out. Each time he went back inside, the smoke had thickened again. He stopped trying to push it back and focused instead on getting out all those he could.

  When he’d brought out what he thought was the last person, he hesitated.

  There was still the chance that someone remained in the temple. He couldn’t stop without knowing for sure.

  Another cluster of groeliin appeared.

  Did he destroy them first or go back into the temple?

  The stone of the temple groaned. If he waited too long, it would collapse. Anyone still inside would be trapped—much as his father had been trapped by the stone.

  Jakob shifted.

  Inside the temple, the smoke was too thick for him to even risk taking a breath. He didn’t want to take the time to press it back, so instead, he used his ahmaean to search for anyone who might remain.

  There were none on this level, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be anyone higher up. Jakob had visited the upper levels of the temple… and worried that the high priest remained there. If she had been in the upper levels of the temple, she—and maybe others—might not have been able to get down and out to safety.

  When he shifted, he found the high priest lying on the ground.

  Her throat had been ripped open, and blood was splattered across the room.

  Groeliin had been here.

  Heat billowed up, drifting from the burning part of the temple far below. He pushed out with his connection to his ahmaean, sending it out and downward, searching for any others who might still be within the temple.

  There were none.

  What had happened to those afflicted by the madness? Had he rescued them or had they been trapped—or worse, killed by the groeliin?

  He couldn’t recall whether any of the people he’d rescued had been those he’d healed from the madness. Between th
e smoke and the way his eyes had burned from it, he hadn’t been able to tell. Could he use his connection to the ahmaean to detect whether they were safe?

  Jakob tried, but there was resistance.

  Groeliin.

  He’d left a group of groeliin near the base of the temple. Seeing the high priest lying dead had distracted him too much. He shifted and readied for his attack. When he appeared, he found the groeliin moving toward the barracks.

  Jakob attacked.

  There were enough groeliin that the attack required focus and for him to remain committed to the catahs. Any wrong movement would risk a stray claw ripping through him. Jakob flowed through his patterns as he tore through them, destroying the groeliin.

  When they were all down, he looked for others, but there was silence.

  Not complete silence. A few people still came from within the temple.

  Had he been wrong? Were there still others trapped inside? He had thought his connection to the ahmaean would allow him to know whether there were any there… unless there was something the groeliin had done that prevented him from detecting them.

  He started toward the temple, ready to help with the rescue again. As he went, he searched for signs that there might be other groeliin remaining but found none. It seemed strange that they would attack here—and strange that they would risk coming through a city this large. Was there something—or someone—that forced them?

  He had stopped Jostephon, and with the former Eldest Mage’s presence in the north, Jakob had known there were others aware of the way the groeliin could be used. Maybe there were others of the Deshmahne involved. He had asked Roelle and the Magi to travel south and find a way to neutralize the Deshmahne, but he hadn’t followed up with her to see whether she had succeeded. What if the Deshmahne had managed to escape the Magi and somehow returned to the north to command the groeliin? There could even be the occasional Deshmahne remaining in the north that might come upon a horde of groeliin and use them to attack.

  None of that seemed quite right.

  Why Chrysia?

  And why the temple?

  There had to be a reason.

  He looked behind him, searching for those he had rescued from the temple. There had been over a dozen, but had any of them been those who had potential to be damahne?

  The more he thought about it, the more he realized there was another possibility. What if these groeliin had been only a distraction?

  With the thought, he noted pressure upon his ahmaean. Two groeliin appeared.

  They were massive creatures, and they had markings all along their bodies. Both towered over him, less twisted than the usual groeliin. The black ahmaean swirling around them obscured their gray flesh but did nothing to hide the deep-set eyes in their faces or the malevolence that shone from them.

  Both carried swords of dark teralin.

  They studied him, waiting, not attacking.

  Jakob hesitated. Something was off. They had appeared, but why weren’t they attacking? And why were there only two of them?

  Almost too late, he shifted, appearing behind the two groeliin.

  A third appeared where he had been standing.

  Had he not shifted, he would have been trapped between them. There was something about the triangle of power that would confine him. He’d seen it with Alyta when the other groeliin had held her, and he’d experienced it himself in the northern mountains when he’d been trying to reach Jostephon.

  Whatever else he did, he couldn’t allow them to surround him.

  Jakob attacked.

  His first attack brought him to the nearest of the groeliin, sweeping in with his sword in a deadly strike. As he did, he pushed a trail of ahmaean inward, using that to focus his connection to the fibers, to slow his perception of time.

  When time had slowed for him before, it had been accidental. Now, he understood that he had a control over the fibers and that he could use that connection to give him an advantage in battle.

  The groeliin reacted, bringing its sword around faster than it should have been able, especially with the way Jakob connected to the fibers.

  Jakob shifted, moving behind the other groeliin.

  When he appeared, he sliced, sweeping his sword toward the groeliin’s leg. If nothing else, he wanted to slow the creature.

  The groeliin blocked him.

  Jakob pushed more of his connection to his ahmaean inward and forced a connection between himself and the fibers. He held himself to this time. The same technique would allow him to travel back and walk the fibers, and using a modified version was difficult—and painful, making his head split in a way that nearly shattered.

  With a scream, he darted at the next groeliin.

  Everything had slowed to almost no movement.

  He had experienced this sensation before, and when he had, nothing had been able to overpower what he managed. This time, the groeliin still reacted.

  They would be tied to the fibers.

  Jakob breathed out, trying to steady himself. They might be anchored to the fibers in the same way that he was, and they might be able to slow time so they could react, but they would not have his training with the sword. If nothing else, that had to be the advantage he relied upon. Jakob had trained with Endric and with Brohmin, men who were superior swordmasters. The groeliin would not have had the same benefit.

  Sinking into a catah, he flowed through his movements.

  With time slowed as it was, there was a strange, almost quiet sense about everything. The smoke drifting from the temple barely moved. The people running from the temple were practically frozen in place. A hawk circling overhead was stuck to the sky, making Jakob wonder if it might fall.

  The groeliin still had freedom of movement.

  Jakob shifted with the catahs, combining his connection to the damahne ability with the lessons taught to him by Endric. He managed to cut one of the groeliin, drawing a wide gash across its arm. The next movement carried him to one of the other groeliin, and he caught the creature along the back. He spun, shifting, blocking the groeliin attacks. With nothing but the patterns and his focus, there was a beautiful sort of dark grace to the fight.

  Then one of the groeliin connected.

  Jakob nearly lost his grip on the sword. He did lose his connection to the fibers and quickly surged his ahmaean inward again, slowing time once more to allow him to reconnect. In that fleeting moment, another of the groeliin struck him.

  He screamed but refused to release his connection.

  Shifting, he appeared behind one of the groeliin.

  It started to spin. He would need to take a risk.

  Jakob stabbed forward.

  It wasn’t a movement from the catahs, but it was deadly and effective, and he slammed his sword through the groeliin with another scream.

  The groeliin hissed and thrashed as Jakob drove the sword through its chest. He clung to his blade, and shifted, withdrawing the sword.

  When he appeared, he swung, expecting the other groeliin to still be there to attack, but they were gone.

  The injured groeliin was also gone.

  Chapter Four

  The inside of the House of the Yahinv was warm and comforting. There was nothing intimidating about it, certainly not as there once had been. A fire in the hearth and the rows of bookshelves lining the walls made it seem as if this was nothing more than a comfortable inn, or perhaps a well-appointed manor house.

  Isandra stood off to the side, listening to the sound of the crackling fire. Her mind was elsewhere, drifting back to the battle they had experienced. She tried to keep it focused, to pay attention to what the women of the Yahinv were saying, but none of it mattered.

  She had returned here to provide a report, but this was not where she could stay.

  She glanced to Jassan. He stood at attention, looking more like a soldier than she had ever noticed before. He cut a striking figure, and had she not known him as well as she had, he might be imposing. The man was muscular and inti
midating, but also gentle and encouraging, and…

  Isandra had to push thoughts like that away. Those were not to be. As much as they might have shared a warmth and connection by the fire each night traveling back to Farsea, both of them were aware that her time remaining in Farsea was limited. She was not Antrilii, and they did not welcome outsiders. It was a wonder that they had tolerated her as long as they had.

  Had they not, what would have become of her?

  She would not have been healed. The Yahinv had sealed off her injury, preventing more of her abilities from seeping out, which provided her with a certain measure of strength. Before they had managed that, she had continued to grow weaker, and would have grown increasingly weak without that attempt. Would she have died?

  Without the connection to the gods, she might have.

  And now, she was restored. Her abilities had returned. Isandra was no longer certain how, but she couldn’t deny that she had her Magi connection once again, however different it was now.

  With her abilities restored, she had another commitment, one that required her to return to Vasha and serve the Magi Council.

  That had once been all she’d ever wanted to do, but now… now she thought there was something else that she wanted, though it was difficult putting words to it. Even more difficult was the idea that she should allow herself the luxury of such desires when there remained so much suffering.

  And there was what Endric had told her. He had spoken to her of a need for shared scholarship, and she thought she could participate in that, even be pivotal in helping find success. Already she had proven her worth—not only to herself, but to the Antrilii, as well as Endric. None had ever believed the groeliin could be saved. Isandra had proven otherwise.

  As she watched Jassan, she noted tension in his posture. There had been increasing tension in him over the last few days, and despite the closeness between them, there was something of a distance. It was a strange dichotomy, and it made her uncomfortable. It was strange that she would even want a connection to him. Jassan was not the kind of man she ever would have desired before, and now, she could think of nothing else.