When they reached the clearing, Jakob saw the sun drifting low in the sky, casting shadows over everything. It was then that he realized the forest did not end as he had thought. Instead, it opened up in a huge circular clearing with forest on all sides. Trees as tall as any of the Great Forest formed the border of the circle.
In the center was a large structure of sorts, glowing more strongly with the hazy energy, the ahmaean, than any he had seen so far. It appeared constructed from a combination of grass, trees, and rock that had seemingly grown together, forming the building. It was huge and stretched high into the sky, the top of the mound reaching toward the upper branches of the nearby trees.
The strange building was beautiful. Walls were covered with lush grass that turned to stone about halfway up the building. A tree grew from the center of the building, its massive trunk stretching high above the roof.
That tree was immense, towering high overhead, much higher than the surrounding trees. Rope walkways hung suspended from its branches, reaching out to the surrounding trees. There were hundreds of these walkways, he saw, all made of a greenish brown rope blending into the forest. A few daneamiin walked along them.
He stood in awe.
Chollin nudged him. “We must continue.”
Jakob looked at him, and the daneamiin smiled. As he turned his attention from the huge building, he realized that the clearing seemed to be filling with more daneamiin. There were more than he could have imagined. He looked up above again, and saw many within the trees as well.
“Many have not seen a man before,” Elin said, addressing Jakob and Brohmin. “Nor a Mage,” he told Salindra.
“Come,” Chollin said.
As they walked toward the building, Jakob found his eyes glued to the enormity of it. His mind found it difficult to understand it, grown from grass, dirt, and stone, yet fitting together perfectly. They circled around the outside of the building, finally reaching a huge doorway. The growing crowd around them cleared as they walked. An occasional whisper was heard, but for the most part, they were silent. It was unnerving.
From within the open doorway came another daneamiin. His hairless head was wrinkled with age, but there was a bright wisdom in his eyes that shone with intelligence unlike anything Jakob had ever witnessed. A white robe covered the daneamiin and flowed in the slight breeze that wafted through the clearing.
“Jakob Nialsen,” came his deep voice as the daneamiin turned toward him. It was full and musical. “You are welcome among us.” The daneamiin turned then to Salindra. “Salindra Indrianne, you are welcome among us.” Turning to Brohmin, “Brohmin Ulruuy, your return warms me.”
Brohmin nodded.
Jakob didn’t know how to respond. “Your welcome warms me,” he spoke, remembering the greeting from the clearing.
Salindra followed his lead. “Your welcome warms me.”
The elder daneamiin smiled at them. “You will find rest this evening. Tomorrow, we will meet.”
With the words, two other daneamiin emerged from inside the building. One walked toward Salindra while the other moved toward him. As the daneamiin approached, Jakob heard a soft, sweet voice call to him, “Follow me, Jakob Nialsen.”
He followed her but looked over his shoulder and saw Salindra was led in a different direction. Brohmin remained with the older daneamiin. They spoke quietly to each other.
The daneamiin led him toward a tree at the edge of the clearing. He was completely disorientated and unsure if it was near where they’d entered the city. It didn’t matter, he realized. He was suddenly very tired, and his body felt as though he had traveled much longer than it had seemed.
They reached an enormous tree and a small arched opening that looked like it was a natural part of the tree’s growth. The daneamiin ducked into the opening and motioned him to follow. He dropped his head and followed her. It was small inside, but a narrow stairway circled upward around the inside of the tree. It, too, seemed as though it had grown that way.
She led him up the stairway; though narrow, it was easy to climb. Enough light filtered in for him to see and after constant turning for step after step, they reached a break in the stairs. It wasn’t the top—the stairs climbed higher—but she directed him into a small room. It was dark, yet enough light filtered in through a hole in what could only be the bark of the tree that allowed him to take in the room. The ceiling was low and the floor was covered in grass.
“You can take rest here,” she motioned.
He nodded, looking down and dropping his pack lightly to his feet. The daneamiin turned to leave, and as she did, he asked, “What’s your name?”
A soft smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I am Alisandra om’Lenoalii sen’Enheaardliin.” He must have made a strange face, because she laughed then and said, “You can call me Anda.”
He smiled. “Thank you, Anda.”
“Rest now, Jakob Nialsen,” she said before turning again to leave.
He didn’t need any more prompting. He lay down in the grass and immediately began to relax. It was refreshing, reminding him of how the grass in the field had felt as he had lain in it. He smiled again and drifted to sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
They were nearly to the lower hills. Travel had become a little more arduous, and forced Roelle and the Magi to slow down, moving at a more controlled pace. The horses struggled at times, but it had as much to do with the changing temperature as it did the terrain.
It had become cold. An occasional flurry of snow drifted around them, but even without that, it would have been cold. She had long ago cinched her cloak tight, but the wind still whipped through to chill her bones. She’d felt strange moving her sword outside the cloak, but the others had followed suit, not wanting to be too far from their weapons.
They had traveled another couple of days beyond the last village and had seen nothing more. Each day had been spent in increasing quiet. They’d been gone nearly two weeks, long enough that they should be preparing to turn back. This was all the longer they were supposed to have been gone, but Roelle still didn’t have a sense of what Endric wanted them to find, and that was what she needed to understand now.
It was noon, or there about, when they came across a third village. Roelle raised her hand, calling the column to a halt. After the last attack, the Magi warriors with them responded more quickly than they had in the past and stopped on command.
They had continued practicing movements each night, Hester and the other soldiers demonstrating them. Roelle and now Selton and Jhun had taken on larger roles, working with the rest of the Magi to hone their swordsmanship. Most had come a long way, becoming much more skilled than they had been when they left the city. Even then, many of them had been talented.
Hester had remarked on it one night, more amused than anything, and made a comment that he wished the Magi could join the Denraen. “Might be then we actually keep the peace,” he had said.
Roelle hadn't known what to say. She still struggled with the concept that they were so skilled with using the sword and staff, something the Magi shouldn’t be, considering the gods wanted them to only have peace, and yet she found a different kind of peace while working with the sword.
It came with the emptiness that she had to sink into when sparring. She remembered the first time she had worked with Endric, the way he had taught her how to open her mind, expand that sense of consciousness, and immerse herself into it. He described it as finding her center, the core part of her. He had promised that when she could do that, she would be a capable fighter. He claimed that any man could reach that state, and that any man could develop such skill, but few could truly reach the center, the core, and maintain it. Some found it from time to time but couldn’t stay deep within it. That was what prevented them from reaching something greater than themselves.
When Roelle practiced, lifting the wooden stave, she always managed to find that peace. What did it mean that the sense of peace came to her so similarly to the way she ha
d to use her Magi abilities? It couldn't be that they were connected, could it?
Strange that Endric would be able to demonstrate it for her, sinking into that as well.
Roelle glanced at the line of soldiers pulling up and waited. They were four across now, ready to split off if needed, prepared for a single hand gesture on her part for them to do so.
Without needing much prompting, Selton, Matthew, and Jhun once more rode forward. Like before, Lendra and Hester came along. They searched the village, moving quickly. Much like the last village, this one was empty. Unlike the last village, it appeared as if these people had departed more hastily.
Some of the doors weren't fully closed. Rain that had seeped in left floors damp. In one house, a meal remained on the table, the food long since gone stale or rotten, a stool tipped over out of the way. One house had been partially destroyed by fire, and Roelle could almost imagine the people having to quickly escape their home before abandoning their village.
What would make them run away like this?
Again, this was too far north. Where were the Denraen who should have provided protection? How were the Deshmahne eluding them?
Lendra’s nose wrinkled as it had at the last village. “I don't think this is the Deshmahne. This is something else.”
Roelle nodded. Maybe not even an attack. There was no sign of violence other than the hasty departure. Something had chased these people away. This was different from what she’d seen of the Deshmahne attacks.
“This is what Endric warned of,” Hester said. “I don’t think he expected Deshmahne as far north as we’ve faced them, but he said places were abandoned. Didn’t expect to see it quite like this.”
For the first time, Roelle began to have a sense of the rumors they heard from the north. This was what Alriyn said he’d seen. People abandoning their homes. Villages empty. But where would they have gone? They'd seen no sign of travelers in there two weeks on the road. Nothing other than two empty villages and the one village that had been attacked by the Deshmahne.
Hester made a mark of the Urmahne across his chest, a gesture intended to summon the gods’ favor. How many of the Denraen were as devout as it appeared Hester was?
“We should go,” Hester said. “I don't know what happened here, but we need to keep moving. Whatever this is, I think we’re heading in the right direction.”
“This isn't what we're looking for. We’re searching for the Antrilii,” Matthew said.
Hester nodded. “I’m beginning to think that when you find the Antrilii, you’ll understand why the north needed roving warriors, don't you?”
Roelle watched him. He knew more than he let on. He had to, which was why Endric had sent him. But why had he sent her? Was it only the Deshmahne? Did he know that they would encounter them as often as they had? Had Endric expected the Magi to help deal with the threat? If so, why not simply tell her?
“They're nomads. Nothing more than that,” Jhun said.
Hester faced her with an amused expression. “Is that what you really think? Why would the north have roving warriors?”
“What do you know that you aren’t telling us?” Selton asked.
Hester shrugged. “I know as much about the Antrilii as you do. Endric doesn’t speak of them, and keeps the Denraen from pressing this far north.” His mouth tightened into a grim smile. “We need to ask questions. And I think that’s why he sent us here.”
They searched the village a little more, but found no other evidence that would help them understand what had happened. They rejoined the others, and a sense of dread began rising within Roelle.
As they rode away from the village, she couldn't help but glance back for one last look at the village before it disappeared behind the rise of the hill. How many more villages would they find? How many more places would they come across empty and deserted like this? What did it mean that so many had already been abandoned?
None of them spoke as they met up with the others, a different sort of pall hanging over them this time.
Alriyn awoke, but not really. He looked around. He was in his room, noting the dresser and the tapestries hanging on the wall that he’d collected long ago, and the plush, brown carpet covering the floor, but everything looked as though a haze covered it, almost like thick smoke. Standing from his bed, he turned and walked toward his office. A sound, a heavy grunt, startled him and he turned. Was he not alone?
There was a shape on his bed, and he walked over to it.
“You are asleep,” a voice behind him said.
Alriyn spun, his heart fluttering in his chest. What was happening?
“You are asleep,” the voice said again. It was soft, high pitched, and the haze obscured the owner. “I have summoned you.”
“Who are you?” Alriyn asked. His voice was steady and it surprised him. He stretched, trying to open his mind to reach for his abilities, and found that he could not.
“You are asleep,” the voice said again.
A shape became visible in the haze. She was tall, willowy thin. As she moved forward, long hair became visible. Yet she was like nothing he had ever seen before. As impossibly beautiful as she was tall, Alriyn suddenly knew what he was seeing.
A goddess.
The Magi had kept up the belief that they still spoke with the unseen gods, but as far as Alriyn knew, no one had actually spoken to one of the gods for centuries, in spite of different attempts to do so. For years, the Magi believed the teralin mined in Vasha the key to reaching them, but that had done nothing, and the practice had been abandoned. Alriyn had never spoken to the gods directly, never anything like this. He’d had the vision when he was much younger, but it wasn’t anything like this. This… this was real.
This was a goddess standing in front of him. Speaking to him.
And he was unprepared.
“You summoned me?” He looked over his shoulder and saw where he was lying on the bed.
The woman nodded. “I did,” she said. “You are needed again.”
“Again?”
The woman stepped closer and Alriyn saw that she was smiling. “The last time we spoke, you listened.”
“The last time?” he repeated. “It was you,” he said as a wave of realization swept through him and the memory became complete. “You’re why I focused on the Founding, why I study what I do.”
She nodded. “You listened.” There was a musical quality to her voice, and she smelled of flowers as she stepped closer to him. “And you are needed again.”
Alriyn composed himself before answering. “Of course. How can I serve the gods?”
She smiled again. “You must leave the north to the young.”
“But the rumors—”
“The Magi must remain in the north,” the goddess repeated.
“Endric sent them to find the Antrilii.”
“That is good.” She was not fully formed, not real, and the smoky haze seemed a part of her, floating and drifting through the room. “Protect your city. There are those who would destroy what you have protected.” She paused. “Do not let him have a presence here.”
“Who?” Alriyn asked, but realized he already knew. The High Priest. The smoke was thinning, and as it did, the goddess drifted away.
“Protect the mahne. Protect your Founding. It is what he seeks,” she said. “I do not yet know what use it will be to him, but he must not have it.” Her voice came from farther away this time, and Alriyn knew she was leaving. “Protect it. You are needed.”
“I will,” Alriyn answered, unaware that he was nodding. The room was nearly free of the haze now, and he felt himself pulled back toward his bed.
“Now awaken,” she whispered and was gone.
Chapter Sixteen
The inside of the tavern was boisterous. Back in Gomald, Allay rarely spent much time in taverns because doing so only put a target on him. He could be protected, surrounded by his father's soldiers, but that only isolated him.
There was something freeing about s
itting in the tavern, holding a mug of ale, sitting across from Mendi, and not fearing what others might say—or do. Here in Vasha, he was just Allay, delegate to the Magi. Here, he could sit next to Mendi, enjoy her company, and maybe… Allay pushed the thought away with a smile.
“What are you grinning about?” Mendi asked.
“I don't think I'm grinning about anything.”
Mendi took a long drink from her mug. He didn't think she was drinking ale. He'd never seen her drinking anything other than tea, the preferred drink of those from Salvat. “You’re grinning. You’re thinking about something.”
He flushed and changed topics. “I met the delegate from El’arash.”
“I would've expected you to have met him when you first came to the city. Gods, even I've met Stohn.”
Allay arched a brow and leaned forward, taking another drink. Even the ale here was lighter and tastier than any in Gomald. “You have? How many of the delegates have you met?”
Mendi shrugged. “A few,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Stohn isn’t particularly concerned about appearances. He explores the city more than you.” There was a hint of an accusation in the comment.
A slight flush crept into his cheeks. That freedom had been one thing he'd enjoyed about the time here. The delegates all spent long hours in classrooms, learning from the Magi. They were taught geography and politics and teachings of faith, but they combined that with many evenings of freedom.
“Have you been watching him?” Allay asked, taking another drink of ale.
“It's hard not to watch him. He travels many of the same places that I do.”
He’d asked Mendi to follow the servants of the other delegates, to try to get to know them. He wouldn't pressure her about how she managed to do so.
“Have you heard the rumors?” she asked.
“What rumors? I've been stuck in these sessions with the Magi, learning nothing more than what they want to teach about geography and politics.” He was surprised they had not spent much time talking about the Deshmahne. That seemed an oversight, especially considering he thought they were the reason the delegates were here.
The Warrior Mage (The Lost Prophecy Book 2) Page 14