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

  They had been back for a short time and had not encountered any groeliin. That should please her, but instead, it troubled her. Had the Antrilii not done as she had asked? Had they decided to continue their attacks on the groeliin?

  Convincing the Antrilii to stop hunting the groeliin—in essence turning away from the purpose they served on behalf of the gods—would be difficult. It would require that she somehow find a way to prevent the groeliin from attacking, but even if she did, could they be helped? She still wasn’t certain if the mature groeliin could be helped or if only the newborns’ behavior could be changed. If it was only the newborns, she would be able to assist far fewer than she wanted.

  “Why do you think you saw teralin in your vision?” Jassan asked.

  Isandra sighed, taking a step up the mountain, pausing to look down into the valley far below her. She remembered the first time she had come to the mountains, and how she’d felt as she followed Jassan and the other Antrilii through them. They were quite beautiful, the spread of greenery growing along the slopes now growing sparse the farther north they traveled, but there was something about that which appealed to her.

  Back when the Antrilii had found her, wounded and wandering alone, she had been weakened, the branding on her ankle drawing away her manehlin, leaving her empty. Now… since being healed by the Antrilii, she had an ability and a connection to her power that she never had before. Despite the branding—which was still visible—she had regained her connection to her Mageborn gifts.

  “Teralin is important,” she said, turning back toward the mountain. “We saw that in the way the groeliin were bred.”

  Teralin had been part of her vision. She still didn’t understand quite what that meant, or what she was intended to do based on what she saw.

  The merahl sniffed, and let out a soft howl.

  Groeliin.

  They were nearby, and from the way the merahl’s ears twitched, it meant there were many.

  “If they’re here, we need to be prepared to attack,” Jassan said.

  Isandra nodded slowly. “I understand.”

  “I know that you want to help them.”

  “I want to help those that can be helped, I’m not certain that all can.”

  The merahl bounded off, leaving her and Jassan alone.

  How many groeliin could they handle on their own? She had faced a dozen, and knew that Jassan had faced quite a few, as well, but what if an entire brood came after them? Would they be able to withstand an attack like that?

  The merahl could help, but the merahl would have to be present—and willing—to help.

  Jassan unsheathed his sword, and Isandra followed him, hating that it would come to this. What choice did they have?

  The merahl howled again, this time, a call for alertness. Isandra understood the creature much better now than she ever had before, and recognized the intensity in the cry. The merahl expressed no fear, but there was concern for her safety, and the merahl warned her not to approach too aggressively.

  Jassan held his hand up.

  “I heard it,” she said.

  He smiled, somewhat ruefully. “I forget that you speak so well to her.”

  “I’ve always been able to speak to the merahl. It’s only now that they can speak to me.”

  “Is that different?” he asked.

  “It’s quite a bit different.”

  “You need to be careful, regardless. There was a note in her voice that—”

  Isandra nodded. “There was a note that warned me to be careful crossing the mountain, but if we approach slowly, I think we will be able to move through unharmed.”

  She guided him along the mountain pass, and Jassan watched, saying nothing. He was a strong Antrilii warrior and had been accustomed to leading, but Isandra was a Mage Elder, also accustomed to leading. In this, he allowed her to take the lead and said nothing. She suspected that were she one of his Antrilii warriors, his response would have been drastically different.

  As they circled around the mountain, the merahl continued to let out a soft cry. As far as she knew, the groeliin could not hear it, which made it easier for her to move safely and avoid the possibility of attack. The merahl guided them, the cry a warning about where the groeliin might be found.

  They crested a rise, and there came a dark smear of energy toward them.

  Jassan jerked her back, and Isandra stumbled away from the groeliin she hadn’t seen coming. A blackened sword blade swung toward where her head had been and struck the rock near it.

  Isandra leaped to her feet, darting forward. These groeliin—those that fought with swords—were dangerous for the merahl. These were the kind she felt no guilt in attacking and destroying.

  As she attacked, she realized there was another groeliin much like this one. It popped up behind Jassan.

  “Jassan!”

  He spun, barely in time, the sword of the groeliin missing him.

  She didn’t have a chance to see what happened next. She was forced into battle with the groeliin.

  With these creatures, often a single swordmaster groeliin led several others, and this was no different. She steadied her breathing and fell into the patterns Jassan had taught her. She had studied with Endric during their journey to Vasha and had also learned some from him, but most of her skill came from her regular sparring with her husband.

  There was a certain peace in letting herself fall into the patterns, a comforting sense as she fell into the familiar catahs, and found herself deflecting blow after blow from the groeliin.

  The creature was skilled, much like many of the groeliin she had faced. Each time she confronted sword-wielding groeliin, she realized they were quickly increasing their skill. Thankfully, she was, too, otherwise, she would have been defeated. As it was, she managed to keep on her feet, something that was difficult with the unsteady footing on the mountain ridge.

  Isandra spun, dropping lower to get leverage against the groeliin, and sliced through the creature’s arm.

  Rather than slowing it, it simply shifted its weapon into its other hand and continued the attack.

  She was forced backward, away from Jassan, separated from the merahl.

  The attack placed her in a dangerous position. She needed to counter the groeliin, but now the creature had the vantage, and with its longer reach, all Isandra could do was deflect the sword blade. She couldn’t strike the groeliin’s flesh.

  But if she could fend it off long enough, the blood loss from the missing limb should slow it, but would it be in time?

  The merahl howled somewhere nearby.

  A warning.

  She’d forgotten about the other groeliin.

  Isandra slipped to the side, ducking beneath the black teralin blade, and spun around, noting a trio of smaller groeliin. They attacked with claws, fighting with a ferocity that nearly caught her off guard.

  She slipped.

  Isandra dropped her hand down, catching herself.

  Pain surged through her arm with the fall.

  Had she broken it?

  Her mind slipped for a moment, losing the focus that was needed for her to maintain her forms.

  She scrambled back, biting back the pain that ripped through her from the injury to her arm. Thankfully, it wasn’t her sword arm; otherwise, she would have been in even more trouble.

  One of the groeliin approached, and Isandra lunged at it, sweeping her sword toward the creature’s legs, and was rewarded with a satisfying crunch as the sword connected.

  There was a painful hissing sound, and the groeliin fell, attempting to strike at her with its long claws as it did.

  Isandra shuffled off to the side, trying to get away, and felt something rip through the flesh of her leg.

  She swung her sword and connected, noting another hissing sound as she did.

  Something pierced her stomach, and she screamed.

  The pain that burned through her was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. It was hot, and angry, and the
re was an emptiness that came with it.

  The groeliin had stabbed her with that sword.

  Had she returned to the Antrilii lands only to die?

  She had thought she would be able to help counter the groeliin threat and find a different way to slow it, but instead, would she succumb to her injuries?

  “Jassan—”

  Isandra couldn’t finish. She wanted him to know that she was thinking of him in her final moments, but her voice barely came out with a croak.

  The merahl growled nearby, but Isandra didn’t want her companion to get injured. If the merahl attacked, would she be injured by the groeliin and its sword?

  “No.” Her words were little more than a croak, and she tried again. “No.”

  She needed the merahl to stay where it was, not to risk coming closer.

  Pain in her wrist and in her stomach continued throbbing, leaving her with an inability to comprehend anything around her. Flashes of light streaked past her vision, coming at the corners of her eyes, and she blinked away tears.

  She tried moving her good arm, wanting to connect, to prevent the groeliin from ending her without much of a fight, but there was no strength in it. Any attempt to move her arm and to attack caused pain to streak through her.

  Isandra rested her head back and closed her eyes.

  Something punctured her side again, and she didn’t have the strength to scream.

  Blackness consumed her.

  Chapter Six

  Pain greeted Isandra when she awoke.

  She should not be alive. She had broken her arm, and one of the groeliin had sliced through the flesh of her thigh with its sword—a blackened teralin sword.

  She should not live.

  Everything hurt. It was not a single pain, no one place that hurt more than another, but her entire body throbbed, pulsing with the agony of what had happened to her. Her wrist thrummed with that pain, and she could feel a searing sort of pain in her stomach where she’d been stabbed. Other places hurt as well, including her thigh, but that was a dull ache.

  How was she alive?

  The better question was, where was she?

  Had the groeliin dragged her away?

  No. The groeliin didn’t take prisoners—other than the Mindless Men, and they were not aware of themselves once they were captured.

  Could Jassan have gotten her to safety?

  She wouldn’t put it past him, as he was incredibly skilled, and likely would have been able to defeat the groeliin that she had failed to stop.

  How would he have managed to get her anywhere for healing? They still had several days before they reached the edge of the mountains, days before they would arrive in Farsea. Could they have made it time? Surely not, so where were they?

  She tried opening her eyes and saw only darkness around her.

  That wasn’t true. The pain seemed to cause flashes of light, and she struggled to see beyond it.

  “You need to rest,” a voice said.

  It wasn’t Jassan, but it was a soothing male voice, and it was one she didn’t recognize.

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re in the House of Yahinv.”

  Isandra allowed herself a moment to sigh. If she had reached the Yahinv, that meant that she had made it to Farsea. How had she traveled this far? More importantly, why was there some strange man in the House of Yahinv?

  “Who are you?”

  “You know me, Isandra Indrian.”

  Did she? She didn’t recognize the voice, but it was possible that she had met this person before when she had been in the city. “Where’s Jassan?”

  “The Antrilii who won’t leave your side?”

  She sighed. At least Jassan had made it out of the mountains alive, but by that comment, she realized that the person with her was not Antrilii.

  She blinked her eyes again, trying to peer through the darkness, wanting to see who she was with. Moments passed, but eventually, her eyes began to clear, and she was able to make out shapes. It was little more than that, but it was enough for her to recognize the historian.

  “Novan,” she said.

  He smiled. “You recognize me. I thought that you might.”

  “How could I not? Last time I saw you—”

  Novan nodded. “The last time was in Vasha. I had not expected to find you this far in the north, but then from what I hear, you have become something of a groeliin scholar.”

  “I don’t know that I could be called a scholar, but I have learned that there is more to the groeliin than even the Antrilii were aware of.”

  “Interesting. The Antrilii have faced the groeliin for a thousand years, and it’s taken a Mage and the historian to come to their lands and reveal secrets of the creatures.”

  She tried to sit up, but her body didn’t respond. Instead, she turned her head toward Novan, trying to focus on his face. Doing so was difficult. It was difficult for her to push past the pain throbbing through her, and it was difficult for her to keep her eyes focused, even though she wanted to.

  “What secrets have you discovered?”

  Novan chuckled. She noticed that he held a long staff, and had it tipped toward her. More than that, there was a sense of power emanating from his staff. There was something about the staff that pulled at her, as if she should either recognize it, or she had seen it before.

  Isandra blinked. Teralin. Novan used teralin much like the Antrilii—and the Magi.

  “There are many secrets that we need to uncover. I thought that I would be searching alone, but having a groeliin scholar…”

  “I’m no groeliin scholar,” Isandra said again.

  Little was known about the historian, other than the fact that he had been to Vasha before, and had been there during the attack on the city. The attack that Endric had made a point of explaining to her, as if it had set off events that triggered much more.

  “Perhaps not intentionally, but each of us has taken a different path,” Novan said.

  Isandra reached for her Mageborn abilities, pulling on the manehlin, letting it give her strength. That was a new trick that she had discovered since she’d been restored. Before her recovery, she had never been able to use her manehlin to heal her, but now… now she thought that the manehlin was responsible for the fact that she wasn’t suffering nearly as much as what she would’ve expected, considering the nature of her injuries.

  “What path have you taken?” she asked.

  “Mine is a path of scholarship.”

  “How is that any different from what your path had been before?”

  “Before, I had been the one responsible for determining the direction of my journey.”

  “Now who determines it for you?”

  “Someone who had once been my apprentice.”

  Isandra closed her eyes. It was the boy. The god—or whatever he was.

  “He sent you here?”

  “He brought me here.”

  If Novan was here, and if this young man who had been Novan’s apprentice was responsible, it meant the groeliin were close to destruction. She had heard the rumors about the attack on the groeliin, and the way that this Jakob had destroyed hundreds upon hundreds of these creatures. She had heard the rumors about the way the earth had split open, swallowing the groeliin. For her to find a way to help them—and possibly save as many of the groeliin as possible—she would need to figure out what Novan’s plan was. What was his purpose here?

  “Is he hunting groeliin?”

  “He hunts someone else. I don’t know how much he cares about the groeliin, but I know that he intends to destroy the man responsible for how they were drawn into this war.”

  “Jostephon was responsible for it.”

  Novan tapped his staff on the ground. Power surged from it.

  Not power—manehlin.

  “Are you Antrilii?”

  Novan stared at her for a moment before beginning to grin. “I am not Antrilii. I think if you asked that question in front of any of the Yahinv, you wou
ld find yourself exiled from this city.”

  “They can’t exile me,” Isandra said.

  “They can exile any outsider. And they have.”

  “I’m not an outsider.”

  “They invited you into one of the clan?” Novan tapped his staff on the ground again, and power surged away from it once more. This time, the entire length of the staff seemed to flicker with a soft, glowing white light. “I suppose that given your connection to the groeliin, and what you managed to accomplish, you might have been granted entry into one of the tribes. Such a thing is not typical, but it would make sense.”

  Isandra coughed. “I was not invited into a clan.”

  Novan paused and studied her for a moment, then his gaze shifted to a place beyond her. A smile started to spread across his face. “Even more impressive.”

  “What is that?”

  “Convincing one of the Antrilii to wed an outsider.”

  “Why is that even more impressive?”

  Novan laughed again and took a seat next to her. “The Antrilii are secretive. They do so out of necessity and keep to themselves. Outsiders are viewed with skepticism, especially those such as yourself.”

  “A woman or a Mage?”

  Novan laughed. “Yes.”

  “I had traveled with Jassan for a long time before…”

  Novan patted her hand. As he did, there was a washing of warmth through her, and she wondered if he transferred manehlin to her intentionally or whether it was accidental. If it was intentional, his control was much greater than what she would’ve expected from him.

  “I don’t doubt that. You are not the Mage I would have expected to have breached the Antrilii resistance to outsiders.”

  “I was powerless when I came here. I had no choice.”

  Novan’s brow furrowed. “The Deshmahne stole from you. I had not realized that. With your abilities…” He shook his head, as if catching himself. “How were you healed?”

  “The Yahinv attempted a healing, but they only managed to stop the flow of my abilities. I think it kept me alive.”