The Gift of Madness (The Lost Prophecy Book 7) Read online

  “I understand there was a time when you lost them. This should not be so shocking to you. There are others who have come here and have had a similar reaction, but most of them have never lost their connection before. Most are surprised when they find themselves unable to reach for what they consider abilities gifted by the gods.”

  She looked around. There was no light, but everything seemed to glow. As her eyes adjusted, she realized the door had closed behind her. Was she trapped here with Endric?

  She didn’t fear him harming her. She was armed, and though he was the general of the Denraen, she knew enough about using a sword that she no longer felt helpless in such situations. Rather it was the suddenness of the change.

  “Why would my ancestors have a place like this?” she asked him. Still within the mountain, the walls around her were teralin. As she stared at them, she could sense the connection to the metal. It was a sort of warmth, and that was what she saw glowing.

  “The original purpose has been lost, but in later years, the Magi placed those who they thought acted against the interest of the Urmahne here.”

  She frowned. “Against the Urmahne? Are you accusing the Magi of having been divided before now?” Considering the records the Magi have kept over the years, that seemed unlikely. She would have known about something like that had it occurred.

  “The Magi are no different from any other people. They disagree, and with disagreements, come the potential for punishment.”

  “This is a place of punishment?”

  “This is a place of reflection. The Magi—your ancestors—thought it could be used to grant those who needed reflection a place to do so without the influence of their abilities.”

  Having lived without her abilities for longer than she cared to remember, she couldn’t imagine using a place like this against their people. Why would the Magi have wanted to punish each other?

  “Why wasn’t this used on Jostephon?”

  Endric smiled. “You have a quick mind.”

  She sniffed. “That wasn’t an answer.”

  “The answer is that I didn’t know about it. I have significant experience within the teralin mines, much more than I ever wanted, and I never knew about this place until after Jostephon escaped. I stumbled across it when searching for him.”

  “Then how do you know what it was used for?”

  He handed her a thick book. Her eyes adjusted to the light, the normally excellent Magi eyesight allowing her to acclimate more quickly. The book was unremarkable. The cover had no markings, but as she flipped it open, she saw notations, along with names, and perceived crimes as well as duration of punishment.

  “They kept people here for months?” she asked, looking up to Endric.

  “So it would seem.”

  “That is a cruel fate. There comes a time when such separation…”

  She wasn’t certain what would happen with separation like that, or what it would have meant for Magi trapped here for such long durations. Would they have eventually lost their connections to their abilities?

  Many of the perceived crimes seemed minor. There were notations for disagreeing with a Councilor, and for questioning an interpretation, and even one for holding a sword.

  That last received one of the stronger punishments. The Mage who had last been punished for holding a sword had been confined here for several months. Isandra wasn’t certain exactly how long—the notation was smudged and difficult to read—but long enough that there were notes along the side about the Mage’s appearance when finally allowed to leave. They had suffered, and the Mage making these notations seemed to recognize that and had seemingly done nothing to stop it.

  That wasn’t the way of the Magi, at least not that she had ever known.

  “How long did they continue this tradition?”

  Endric shook his head. “The last record is from almost five hundred years ago.”

  Isandra flipped through the book until she found the final entry. As she did, she realized the timing coincided with the choosing of the great mistake. “Brohmin Ulruuy?”

  “So it would seem.”

  “There were many who were responsible for that mistake,” she said.

  Endric smiled. “As with many things, someone must take the blame. In this case, it seems as if the Mage who first found him was the one who was assigned the responsibility.”

  “How long were they confined?” She couldn’t tell from the documentation. There was a starting point, but there was no ending.

  Endric shook his head. “As far as I can tell, they remained confined.”

  She gasped, staring at the log of crimes, unable to believe the Magi would ever have done such a thing to their own people, but how could she deny it when the proof was right in front of her?

  She closed the journal and handed it back to Endric. “Why did you want me to see this? Why did you bring me here and not Jassan?”

  Endric glanced toward the closed door. “Jassan—like all Antrilii—has a certain devotion to his beliefs. He feels that he serves the gods and believes that with conviction.”

  Isandra started to laugh, and Endric arched his brow. “Jassan was concerned you might try to convert me to whatever belief system you have.”

  Endric shook his head. “There will be no conversion. What I believe is inconsequential. You need to make up your own mind, and you need to understand the purpose of your people and what it means to be one of the Magi.”

  Isandra glanced at the walls. There was pressure from them. She could feel it, and she could practically see the way that it separated her from her abilities. It was a strange thing for her to be aware of, but not be able to reach for those abilities. “When I first reached the Antrilii lands, their particular devotion to the gods was one of the first things I noticed. They have fought the groeliin for countless centuries and are willing to continue that fight, doing so thanklessly, as they believe it is the responsibility given to them by the gods. I struggled with what it meant for them to fight the groeliin, not certain how that aligned with the Urmahne belief and need for peace, but seeing how they have served and their conviction, I understand what they do and understand how it serves the gods.”

  “And I’m telling you that what you know—and what you believe—is not the entire truth.”

  “You had to bring me here to do it?”

  Endric shook his head. “I didn’t have to bring you here, but I needed to separate you from Jassan and prevent him from using his abilities to reach us and observe. Finding this place was an unexpected advantage. In Vasha, there aren’t many places where conversations can be had in secret.”

  Her brow furrowed. “The Magi can manipulate the manehlin. There is no need to hide.”

  “And yet I seem to recall a private council had by Alriyn where he did hide. I seem to recall when he had sealed off the room, hoping to prevent others from hearing your conversation.”

  Isandra shook her head. Having Endric with such knowledge and ability posed challenges for the Council, but strangely, she didn’t feel they were challenges she had any responsibility for dealing with. When had she decided that she no longer was a fit for the Council? Was it when she had agreed to marry Jassan? Or was it when she had a shifting within herself that seemed to call to her to remain in Farsea?

  “I still don’t understand why you brought me here, and what you think to keep from Jassan?”

  “What have you learned of me during your time with the Antrilii?”

  Isandra frowned. “What you mean?”

  “You would have heard something about me while you were in Farsea. What have you learned?”

  “Only that you were responsible for discovering secrets of the groeliin. You are descended from the Antrilii but have chosen to serve the Denraen. I understand that you had some interaction with the House of Yahinv, something few outsiders ever manage.”

  Endric nodded. “All of that is true.”

  “Why are you asking?”

  “Because you need t
o keep that context in mind for what I will tell you next.”

  “I thought you brought me here to help me understand this Conclave you mentioned.”

  “The Conclave?” Endric clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing. “When I first learned of the Conclave, I thought they had all the answers. I remember the first members I met, and how worldly they seemed at the time.”

  “Who did you meet?”

  Endric smiled. “There was the historian, Brohmin Ulruuy, and my father.”

  “No Magi?”

  He snorted. “There was Mage Tresten, but…”

  Tresten. He had died many years ago and had been considered a powerful Mage, some say he could have rivaled Jostephon had he the interest. He was one of the few Magi to leave the city and spent considerable time outside the borders of Vasha. Alriyn had taken after his mentor.

  “But what?”

  Endric shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, not any longer.”

  “Who were the other members of the Conclave?”

  “It took me a long time to learn of them. I searched and searched, and eventually…”

  “Eventually what?”

  “I learned that there was much more to the Conclave than I ever understood. The Conclave does not have all the answers. They have hunted Raime—the man most know as the High Priest of the Deshmahne—for centuries, and have never succeeded in capturing him. That should have been a sign to me.”

  She would have argued that there was no way anyone could live for centuries, but she had experienced what the High Priest had been able to do firsthand. She had experienced the way that he stole power, snatching it from others. If he had done that for centuries, he would have been incredibly powerful.

  “How are we going to stop him?”

  “I had once thought the Conclave would be responsible for stopping him. Now I think it has to come from another place.”

  “The Magi?”

  Endric shook his head. “The Magi can try, but I suspect he has learned to counter them over the years.”

  “How?”

  Endric turned and waved his hand around him. “Places like this.”

  “I thought you said this was a place created by the Magi as a punishment.”

  “What do you notice in that journal?”

  She frowned as she tried to think about what she’d seen in it. What had she noticed? There was punishment for attempting to use a sword, and there had been other minor infractions. All seemed to pertain to the Urmahne faith.

  “Does he try to use the Magi to serve the Urmahne?”

  Endric met her gaze. “An interesting interpretation.”

  Isandra frowned. “All of the punishments seemed to revolve around Magi who didn’t serve the Urmahne nearly as well as they were supposed to. Is that what you’re trying to show me?”

  “It’s something that has troubled me for a long time. It troubles many who serve the Denraen, and your experience with the Antrilii mirrors that. They serve the gods—their belief in the gods—through their commitment to fighting the groeliin. There is no thought that violence is harmful to the gods.”

  “I don’t see the connection.”

  “Don’t you? You’ve already noticed it. What happened when the Magi followed the Urmahne?”

  “We manage peace. That is how we best serve the gods.”

  Endric shook his head. “We find people who are unwilling to stand up and fight when it is necessary. We foster weakness. It’s long bothered me that the Denraen didn’t seem to have the same need for peace as the Magi, and yet we are said to have served the Urmahne in the same way. How can we have both?”

  “I still don’t see the connection.”

  “The connection is that I fear much of this is planned.”

  “What purpose would there be in weakening the Magi?”

  Endric shook his head. “I don’t know, but it bothers me as it should bother you.”

  Isandra took a deep breath, looking toward the doorway. What must Jassan be thinking about what’s kept her in here this long? What more did Endric have to share? Was there a point to all of this?

  “What do you need from me, Endric?”

  “You discovered a missing piece when you learned that the groeliin did not inherently possess darkness.”

  “They’re only dark because of feeding on destructively charged teralin.”

  “I think you’re right. And if you’re right, that means the Antrilii have hunted groeliin for centuries, but that those same groeliin could have been restored centuries ago. It’s much like the Magi having been weakened by the need to pursue peace. It has forced them to withdraw, which placed them in greater danger than they would have been had they taken a more prominent role in the world.”

  “I think you’re reading too much into this.”

  Endric looked at her and held her gaze. “Am I? I’ve spent many years trying to understand these things. And finding this room, and this journal,” he said holding up the book, and tapping it with his other hand, “has given me more understanding than I have managed to find in decades.”

  Isandra started working through what he was trying to tell her, her mind racing. If he thought these things were somehow linked, what was the connection? Why would Endric be so impassioned to share these things with her?

  The connection was to people with power. That had to be it. The Magi were weakened by withdrawing from the world. The groeliin and Antrilii would destroy each other. That left a void of power.

  “Who wants to destroy this power? Is it the High Priest?”

  Endric shook his head. “That’s what’s troubled me the most. The High Priest—Raime—wants power, and chases it. He wouldn’t want to destroy it.” He paused and stared at her. “Which means there’s another reason, one that is much more troubling.”

  “And why is it troubling?”

  “Because it means the gods are responsible.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The inside of the Tower glowed with a soft light. Jakob sat in a chair inside the room that had once been Shoren’s, breathing heavily. His body ached as if he had been the one fighting the groeliin, and his head throbbed from the effort that had gone into him drawing on the ahmaean to stop the creatures while in another’s form.

  “You have returned,” Anda said.

  Jakob breathed heavily again, letting out a deep sigh as he did. “I returned.”

  “Not alone.”

  Jakob looked over where she pointed and realized that Malaya was in the room with him, with Willow. Adam was there with Paden.

  “Not alone,” he sighed.

  The damahne each stared at Anda, and he realized that she must not have her glamour in place.

  “What did you do?” Anda asked.

  “I stepped into their present time.”

  Anda’s breath caught. “I didn’t know such a thing was possible.”

  “I didn’t, either.”

  “And the others? What happened with the groeliin?”

  Jakob looked to Malaya. Without her, he doubted he would have been able to do what he had. And Paden. If he was lost, he had sacrificed himself willingly. “They’re gone. I don’t know whether Raime will have a way to create more, but those are gone.”

  He made his way over to Paden and sent a surge of ahmaean through him. The damahne was weakened and injured, but with Jakob’s connection to ahmaean, he began to improve. He would live.

  “I saw what you did,” Malaya said.

  Jakob nodded. “Good. You will need to be able to help others.” Of the damahne, she might be the best connected to him after what had happened to her, and the way that he had needed to open himself up to her.

  “I will do whatever it takes.”

  Jakob couldn’t say anything more. What was there for him to say? If nothing else, learning that he could do this—that he could move to the present and awaken the damahne and share knowledge with them—finally gave him hope that they would be able to stop Raime, regardless
of what he intended.

  “Jakob Nialsen.”

  He looked up to Anda.

  “There is something you should see.”

  He nodded. “Please stay here,” he said to Malaya. “There is much I will explain when I return.” They hadn’t been to the Tower, so the fact that they were here at all would lead to questions they needed answered.

  “Don’t worry,” Malaya said. “I will explain what I can.”

  He nodded, and Anda took his hand. There was warmth and a tug on his ahmaean, and they shifted.

  They appeared in the room where he’d left Scottan, held in teralin restraints. The bed was empty, and the teralin chains that had held him had shifted to the negative polarity.

  “He escaped,” Jakob said. He had a hard time mustering the necessary sadness. What would it do for him to feel it? His brother was no longer his brother, but something else. Jakob still wanted to save him but was no longer certain that he could.

  “He escaped. I detected the change when you were walking the fibers, but did not want to leave you alone to check.”

  Where would he have gone?

  “Any others?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  He would have to find out. There were a few of the damahne with some potential here, enough that they would be appealing to Raime. He didn’t think they had been twisted by Raime, but he wouldn’t have expected his brother to have been, either.

  “I thought you would be more upset,” Anda said. “I don’t detect that from you. I don’t detect anything from you.”

  “I might not be able to help Scottan, and that makes me very sad, but I have helped Malaya and the others. She can shift. When we face Raime the next time, we’ll have the kind of help I think we’ll need.”

  “What will you do now?”

  He sighed. “I need to know if there’s some way to prevent Scottan from reentering the Tower.” He thought there had to be, especially with the ahmaean that was present within the Tower. Could he use that to prevent others from gaining access?

  Jakob sat on the cot and closed his eyes, drawing his ahmaean inwardly.

  He traveled along the fibers and stepped back to Shoren.