The Warrior Mage (The Lost Prophecy Book 2) Read online

  “It's not supplies,” she said. The soldiers had continued hunting, and now they had more than enough meat. The lands were plentiful, though she wondered whether it would remain the same the farther north they went. “We’re looking for information about the Antrilii. Will these villages have stories about them?”

  Selton had ridden up alongside her. He’d remained somewhat distant over the last few days, though he had joined her in practicing several times, and had improved each time. He said nothing after they finished, returning his practice stave back with the others. She would have to talk with him one of these nights. She couldn't afford to lose her friend over this, or risk marginalizing him either.

  “They get merchants through here the same as other villages, traveling from village to village. That's how rumors reach these places.”

  Roelle looked back at the line of horses. Most rode two or three abreast, a long caravan of Magi. They weren’t nearly as neat or orderly as the Denraen soldiers had been when she had traveled with Endric, but then again, she hadn't expected them to be. She was simply happy they kept a steady pace.

  “Let's take a few into the village,” Roelle suggested. “Not so many that we frighten them, but enough that they get a sense of who we are.”

  Hester smiled and nodded. “Probably a good suggestion. Once they hear the Magi have come, they'll talk. Too many, though, and I suspect they'd tell you whatever you want to hear, regardless of whether it’s true. So maybe only a couple.”

  Roelle glanced to her left. “Selton? What do you think? Bring Jhun as well?”

  “Matthew,” Selton suggested. “He looks younger, might not be quite as intimidating as the two of us. Especially given how you’ve been—”

  He seemed to catch himself before finishing.

  Roelle smiled, letting the comment slide. “You think you'd be too intimidating?”

  Selton started to smile. “I can't help but that the gods gifted me the way they did.”

  Normally, Roelle would think Selton was joking. He had a dry wit, and she'd always appreciated that about him, but now, she wasn't sure what his reaction meant. It was possible that he was being serious as he’d been since leaving the city.

  “Let's go so we can get back before it gets dark,” she said.

  Selton rode back and gathered Matthew. While he did, Lendra rode up to Roelle.

  “Mind if I join you? Just to observe. Novan would be upset if I missed the opportunity to record the Magi's first meeting with the great village of Snider.”

  Hester shot her a look that Lendra seemed to ignore.

  Roelle wondered if there was something she missed, but decided it didn't matter. “You can come. Observe only.”

  “What else do you think I’d do? Isn’t that what Novan did?”

  Roelle laughed softly. Novan never listened to anything the Magi instructed him to do. She didn't know the man well, but it seemed as though he took joy in needling first Haerlin and then her uncle. “I think Novan has his own ideas about what he can do.”

  Lendra grinned as Selton returned with Matthew. Roelle, Hester, and Lendra spurred their horses forward to join them, leaving Jhun in command of the rest of the Magi.

  Roelle cast a glance back as they rode away, deciding that perhaps the term command might be a bit strong. They still didn't have much structure. Endric had tried working with them, getting them to form something of a Denraen organization, but so far, any organization they had was fortuitous more than intentional. The Magi worked together, but they didn't have the same cooperation that she had witnessed between the Denraen.

  Was that something she could work on? Did it matter?

  They approached the wall of the village. Snider. Lendra had proven adept in what she had known, sometimes surprisingly so. In that way, she was much like Novan. Only Roelle was determined to listen to her in ways that her uncle had been unwilling to listen to Novan. Why dismiss an opportunity, especially with someone who traveled with them willingly?

  Inside the village, she expected to see other people, but she saw no sign of movement. No candlelight flickered in windows, and—though she hadn't seen it from the road—she hadn’t noticed until now that no smoke drifted from chimneys.

  She raised her hand, calling them to a stop.

  Hester looked over at her. “What is it?” he whispered.

  “Look around. The village. It's empty.”

  Hester frowned and started studying the buildings with a different intent.

  “If it's empty, something happened here. This village has been here for hundreds of years,” Lendra said.

  Roelle spurred her horse forward, making her way deeper into the village. At the center, there was an open space, a clearing that formed a central square. The remains of a fire were here; logs that were half burned had char marks. The air still had a hint of the char to it, some sort of stink that took away the familiarity of fall from the air.

  Roelle started to say something, but caught herself.

  She heard movement.

  She jumped from her horse, unsheathing her sword. She’d not yet had the opportunity to use the blade Endric had given her, and the hilt felt unfamiliar in her hand.

  “Mage?” Hester asked.

  Roelle shot him a look. “I don’t know what it is. There’s something here, so be ready.”

  Selton climbed down from his saddle and approached her, his sword unsheathed as well, his angular jaw clenched. “What do you see?”

  “That's just it, I don't see anything. What I heard—”

  Movement flickered around them, almost faster than she could react.

  Roelle had seen something like this only one other time and knew immediately what it was: Deshmahne.

  She backed toward her horse, toward Lendra, who had no way of protecting herself. Hester seemed to have recognized the movement and unsheathed his sword, moving out of the saddle more quickly than she would've expected him able to do given his limp. The last to join them was Matthew.

  “Deshmahne,” she said.

  It was the only thing she had to say, and she didn't have a chance to say more. Shadows flickered, darkness moving around her, and she strained to see through it.

  Then the first attack came.

  Roelle darted forward, moving through the forms Endric had taught her, and caught the first Deshmahne. He carried a large, dark-bladed sword, and it collided with hers, sending a muted ring into the air.

  Roelle heard other sounds of the fighting near her, and realized that Selton, Matthew, and even Hester had been forced into an attack.

  She danced forward, her mind going blank as Endric had taught her, moving through the catahs that she had been demonstrating to the others over the last few nights. She twisted, parrying, and then stabbed, catching the Deshmahne in the stomach. Blood spurted, spraying over her hand.

  The sticky warmth almost tore her from the emptiness in her mind. Almost.

  Roelle jumped forward, swinging her sword as she came at the next attacker.

  This time, there were two. Both of whom stepped off to her side, flanking her. Both had the same dark-bladed swords.

  Roelle swept up with her sword, anticipating that she would collide with the other attacker.

  It missed, catching only empty air.

  Roelle dropped and rolled, bringing her sword around as she heard a whistling in the air.

  She managed to catch the attack.

  The strength of the Deshmahne forced her sword down. Her arms shook with the effort of fighting him back.

  Roelle took a different tact, sweeping her sword down and then flickering back around, severing his arm.

  The Deshmahne screamed as he staggered back. It left her with only one of the warrior priests to face.

  Roelle approached him, swinging her sword as she prepared to attack.

  The Deshmahne darted forward, stabbing with his sword, before dropping back. A dark fog swirled around him before disappearing. She held herself ready, prepared to face him, but t
he attack never came.

  When the fog cleared, the Deshmahne was gone.

  Roelle looked for another attack, but it was over. The others with her all stood with sword in hand, all with blades bloodied. Lendra stared from atop her horse, eyes wide.

  “That was—”

  Roelle nodded. “Deshmahne. That was Deshmahne,” she panted.

  Hester grunted and leaned to wipe his blade on the cloak of one of the attackers. When it was cleaned, he sheathed his sword. Roelle copied the movement.

  “They shouldn't be here. Too far north,” Hester said as he searched through the man’s clothing. He moved on to the other four fallen Deshmahne. Roelle realized that she had taken down two while Hester had killed one, leaving one that Selton and Matthew had taken down together. Then there was the one that vanished.

  “They were traveling the north pretty openly before,” she said.

  “Not openly. They might have been traveling the north, but I think they were testing us. This… This is something different.”

  “What happened to the villagers?” Selton asked.

  Memories of what she'd heard of the destruction in the north, stories of empty villages, came to mind. Was this what had happened to them?

  Hester reached the nearest house and turned the knob, before pushing open the door with the tip of his sword. “See anything inside?” Roelle asked.

  She stopped next to him and peered into the darkness inside. Her Mage eyesight gave her an advantage that she could see through the darkness more easily. “It's empty.”

  At least the outer rooms were empty. She hadn't gone any deeper and didn't want to risk going any further to see what else might be in there. Probably nothing. Hester went door-to-door, opening them, checking each house. Roelle, Selton, and Matthew all went with him.

  They found no evidence of villagers. Roelle began to think that they had either been slaughtered, or had run off, much like the rumors that were coming out of the north said many had done. Then they reached a larger squat building. It was twice the size of most of the homes, and had a second story, reminding her of the inns found on the first terrace within Vasha.

  Inside, they found nearly a hundred villagers, all clustered together.

  Roelle came in, raising her hand, and pulled on the empty part of her mind, the part that gave her the Mage abilities, using the small elements in the air that her people called manehlin, drawing them together so that a flame hovered over her hand.

  “The gods!” someone cried out.

  “It's okay. We’re here to help. You can come out,” Roelle said, stepping back and motioning for the people to follow.

  They complied, but did so slowly, stepping into the fading daylight, staring at Roelle then Selton, then Matthew before their eyes settled on Hester. As each of them came across the fallen Deshmahne, they gasped again and made a point of moving away, veering around the bodies, staying far away from the fallen warrior priests.

  “Was this what it was like when you fought them before?” Selton whispered to her.

  “We didn't save any villagers. It was just us and the Denraen,” Roelle said. “And the delegates,” she added.

  “What would they have done with the villagers?” Matthew asked.

  “In the south, when the Deshmahne came, they would oftentimes capture villages like this.” It was Lendra who answered. She watched the villagers, studying them.

  All faces turned to her. One of the village leaders seemed to take control again and started motioning people back to their homes. Hester helped, creating something of a physical barricade in front of the fallen Deshmahne.

  “They would come, and they would claim villages. Many suffered, much like this village seems to have suffered,” Lendra said. “Most of the time, they forced conversions.”

  “How can you force a conversion?” Matthew asked. “You either believe in the plan the gods have for us, or you do not.”

  Lendra looked down at the fallen Deshmahne. “It's more than just forcing the belief, though rumors have said they can do that as well. What we have seen in the south is something more. They demonstrate power, and those who choose it, those who are willing to pursue it, are given the chance to demonstrate it.”

  “How?” Matthew asked.

  “We've seen several different ways. Some have been asked to demonstrate on friends and family. Others have been asked to serve the priests, given the opportunity to gain the strength the warrior priests claim they possess and serve as soldiers for them. Others… Others are given a darker task. Many are not heard from again.”

  Roelle shivered. She had known that Lendra came from the south, and knew that she claimed to come back to see her family, but began to suspect a different reason had driven her north. It was something she would need to talk with Lendra about when she had a chance.

  Hester returned to them. Roelle noted he had piled Deshmahne bodies near a circle of logs and had started a fire, burning the bodies. Normally, such a fate was not imposed on a body. The gods preferred that a body be returned to the earth upon its death, so that life could be nourished from death. Burning was an act of destruction.

  Roelle thought the fate was appropriate for the Deshmahne.

  Hester nodded at them. “We should go. There is no word of the Antrilii here. These people are scared and will need to grieve.”

  “What if the Deshmahne return?” Selton asked.

  “We can't prevent that. We've done what we should've and could've. They're free.”

  “For now,” Selton said.

  They turned to Selton, and Roelle suspected they all thought the same. How could they feel comfortable leaving these people when they knew how they had suffered? How could they leave them when they had experienced such devastation? How could they leave them when they couldn't guarantee the Deshmahne wouldn't return?

  “Roelle?” Selton asked.

  No answers came to her, but this wasn’t the reason they had come. “We move on. We’ve stopped the Deshmahne here and need to keep moving north.”

  As she climbed atop her horse, spurring it from the village, she couldn't help but feel as though she was abandoning these people.

  Chapter Six

  Allay made his way down the wide ramp leading to the first terrace of the city. Far above him stretched both the level of the Denraen, the soldiers occupying the second terrace within the city, and the palace on the first terrace that stretched impossibly high, nearly touching the clouds. Almost at the same height, he noted snow on the nearby mountaintops. The city itself was relatively comfortable. Not cold, certainly not as he would expect, but not snowcapped like the others around it. Another Magi trick.

  He walked next to a compact man, muscular, with pale white skin and deep brown hair. Dougray Collinsworth was from Liispal, and had been friendly with Allay since arriving in Vasha. Dougray had convinced him and the Coamdon delegate, Danvayn, to venture down to the first terrace, where they could explore more of the city.

  Dougray glanced over at him. “I can't believe they gave us time to leave their sessions,” he said. “Gods, I thought they were going to keep us locked up in that palace the entire time we’re here in the city. All I want is a chance to explore and see the amazing city of the gods.” There was a note of sarcasm in his voice, and Allay didn’t know how to interpret that.

  Danvayn smirked. She was tall, nearly as tall as a Mage, and had deep red hair and skin that was nearly the color of Dougray’s. She had a good-natured humor about her, one that had appealed to Allay. She and Dougray had traveled to Vasha together and had grown friendly. Allay had traveled part of the way with Thomasen Comity and still barely knew the man, though partly that had to do with the Deshmahne attack on the caravan.

  At least Dougray and Danvayn were friendly. The Magi wanted all the delegates to get along, and he suspected the reason they encouraged them to leave the palace was to build rapport, but most went in separate directions. Did the Magi know how the delegates split off?

  The las
t few days had been spent in classrooms, each day basically learning about geography or history or studying the Urmahne faith. After the first day, Allay had thought perhaps the next would be better, and then the next day, he thought the next would better, but he began to think this was the entirety of their lessons. If this was all there was, why had he come all this way?

  He wasn't the only one to feel that way. He'd overheard Danvayn and Dougray talking about that as well. Both had a certain homesickness.

  They reached the bottom of the ramp where it opened into the city. The street was enormous, and the entire face of the mountain had seemingly been hacked away, leaving a wide shelf for the city. He couldn't imagine how it had been created, but there was no doubting that it was created. It was almost enough to believe the Magi truly had asked the gods for help, and they had given it to them, gifting them the beauty of their city.

  Shops and inns and taverns all lined the street. Merchant wagons rolled through, a surprising amount of trade, given how difficult it was to reach the city, though he suspected some of them traveled to the university that hugged the flat face of the mountain. The longer he watched, the more he realized that all the merchants were accompanied by Denraen soldiers. Even here, they restricted access, granting it only to those who had been screened by the soldiers.

  “Daydreaming again?” Dougray asked.

  Allay shook himself free from the thoughts and glanced over to the other man. Dougray grinned at him. “Not daydreaming, but trying to come to grips with this city. I could never have imagined something quite like this.”

  “Only because the Denraen make it so damn difficult to reach,” Danvayn said.

  Dougray nudged her. “Careful. The men in the north are a little touchy about the Magi.”

  “You're not concerned about offending the Magi?” Allay asked.

  “Oh, we've been desensitized to such things. I think that's why they have us here, don't you?”

  “What you mean desensitized?” Allay asked.

  Dougray looked to Danvayn. She shrugged and motioned up to the second terrace where Allay could almost hear the soldiers practicing. When he’d passed through the second terrace, on the descent to the first terrace, he could see the Denraen moving in formation, could hear the steady clacking of their swords as they practiced, and had been impressed. They were exquisite soldiers. The best trained, and the best equipped, and they claimed to only be interested in maintaining the peace. What would happen if his father’s soldiers encountered the Denraen?