The Warrior Mage (The Lost Prophecy Book 2)

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The Warrior Mage (The Lost Prophecy Book 2) Page 29

by D. K. Holmberg


  “Why?” Selton asked.

  “The groeliin live in broods,” Nahrsin explained. “Most are no more than several hundred each. It is these broods we have fought over the years. Now they move in a horde greater than we’ve seen in centuries.”

  “A horde? Not a single brood?” Roelle asked, finally understanding why they had been attacking in clusters. Each brood must move independently, leaving them to face only one brood at a time.

  “It cannot be,” Nahrsin said. “Each brood has certain distinct markings. We have seen at least a dozen different markings upon those we have killed.”

  Roelle wondered about the markings briefly. She hadn’t noticed anything upon the dead groeliin, though she had not bothered to look at them all that closely.

  “That sounds like…” Selton said in a whisper.

  Roelle nodded, troubled by the connection. Could these markings be anything like those the Deshmahne used?

  “So we face dozens of broods,” Selton said, doing the calculation in his head.

  “It is the most likely answer,” Nahrsin agreed.

  “Have you seen anything like that before?” Selton asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Then why are these groeliin different?” Lendra asked.

  The Antrilii studied her, a smile spreading on his face. “You speak the tongue with fluency. There is an inflection I recognize,” he noted, ignoring Lendra’s question. He chuckled softly to himself. “You were Novan’s student.”

  Lendra smiled slightly, a faint sparkle to her eyes as she did, before nodding.

  Nahrsin chuckled again. “Always meddling,” he said, mostly to himself before meeting Lendra’s gaze again. “But no, never have we seen two broods together.”

  “Never?” Roelle asked.

  The Antrilii shook his head.

  Roelle considered the answer for a moment as they trudged along. There came a distant call from the merahl, and she startled briefly. The sound was still far in the distance. She was no longer sure whether she should be reassured or frightened. “Then I think the why is at least as important as the where,” she decided.

  “We cannot know the minds of the groeliin,” Nahrsin said. “I would not want to if we could. And it does not change what must be done.”

  “No,” Roelle agreed, “it does not. But something drives them.”

  Nahrsin nodded slowly as he frowned, his painted face distorted as he did. He seemed to gather his thoughts before speaking. “The groeliin move as if directed, though nothing could direct the groeliin.”

  “They’re going south and east,” Roelle said. “And we near the city of Rondalin soon.”

  “After that, there is nothing but the forest until we reach Shoren.”

  Lendra arched her eyebrows at the comment while Roelle and Selton stared blankly.

  “I don’t know the city Shoren,” Roelle admitted. Though she had rarely traveled outside the city walls, their studies included mastery of geography.

  “It is the ancient name of Thealon,” Lendra said, watching Nahrsin.

  Roelle shivered without intending to do so. Could these creatures truly be moving to attack Thealon? So much about all of this made little sense, but this was the most impossible idea of all.

  She stared at Nahrsin, meeting the large Antrilii leader’s dark eyes and not looking away. “They seek to attack the city of the gods?”

  Selton coughed.

  “I cannot know the minds of the groeliin,” Nahrsin reiterated slowly, “but their path cannot be ignored. I do not think the groeliin care to attack the city itself. I worry the groeliin intend to attack the gods themselves, much as they did a thousand years ago.”

  They sat around a crackling fire. There was no light overhead and the smoke of the flame filtered around them and filled her nostrils. Roelle coughed a moment to clear it, and a gust of wind blew through bringing different smells to her nose, those of decaying leaves and wet earth. Around them in the darkness there was the sound of the breeze rustling through the tall grassy plain they had been traveling through for the last few days.

  Occasional flickers of shadow jumped at the edge of her vision, and she ignored them, knowing it only her mind playing tricks on her. The merahl had ceased their hunting for the night, and their braying no longer pierced the air. There had been few places for the groeliin to hide on the plains, and the merahl had either found them or driven them away.

  Though an occasional copse of trees dotted the plains, it had been otherwise flat and the traveling easier. The guides warned them that the landscape would change as they neared Rondalin, but so far, they had seen no evidence of anything other than vast open plains and a growing cold.

  She sighed and her breath faintly misted the air. They had not brought clothing for cold weather, thinking to be back within the city before winter truly came. Now she wasn’t certain that would happen soon. If at all.

  Roelle turned her attention back to the fire. They had spent many nights around campfires since they had departed the city, and the nights had taken on a different tone since the Magi had met up with the Antrilii. Nahrsin welcomed them to his fire in the evenings, and Roelle made a point of sitting with the man to learn more of his people. So far it had been a mostly futile attempt. Nahrsin spoke little.

  Instead, for him, the time before the fire was meant for reflection and, Roelle suspected, prayer. The large Antrilii had an unfocused look upon his face, and one of the huge beasts sat curled up at his feet. Another lounged beside him, sitting on its paws while staring intently around the fire, its ears flicking intently as if in understanding. Nahrsin scratched at its ears with his free hand, while rested his head on the other. The strange Antrilii face painting was distorted as the flames flickered in the light breeze. The whites of his eyes shone brightly in the fire’s light, creating a haunting expression.

  Another of the Antrilii sat next to Nahrsin, his face a dark blood red that was almost black in the night. He was quiet and leaned back as he stretched his legs to the fire. It had been a different Antrilii each of the nights they had camped, but none had been talkative, so she still learned little about the Antrilii.

  “We should like to know more of the groeliin,” Roelle decided, breaking the silence. She posed the suggestion in the hopes of truly learning more about the groeliin, but also thinking to discover more about the Antrilii.

  Selton looked over to her and shook his head. Lendra sat on her other side and was silent. Hester honed his blade, quietly. He hadn’t been able to help with the groeliin nearly as much as he had with the Deshmahne.

  “What more is there to know?” the other Antrilii asked.

  Nahrsin stretched. “The Magi think there is more to the groeliin than they have seen, Altian,” the huge man rumbled before laughing.

  Altian smiled and nodded. “They move, we hunt,” he said simply.

  Nahrsin laughed again, and the merahl at his feet looked up at him with irritated eyes. The large Antrilii reached down and scratched its ears, as well, placating the huge cat. He mumbled something in the ancient tongue, and the merahl swished its tail before settling back down and closing its eyes.

  “We hunt,” Roelle agreed. “But there are many more of them than there are of us.”

  “Aye,” Nahrsin agreed. “But we are favored by the gods.”

  Selton laughed then and everyone turned to him. “Perhaps favored, but still outnumbered. I would like our odds better if they were reversed.”

  “Normally, they are,” Altian admitted. “This is the greatest number of groeliin I have faced.”

  “By how many,” Selton pressed.

  “About nine thousand.”

  Selton laughed again, but it faded when he seemed to realize Altian wasn’t joking. “And you wonder why we gather more information?” he asked without expecting an answer.

  Nahrsin shrugged. “What more to tell you? We know little more than you have witnessed. They travel in broods. We do not know anything else about their birt
hing. They do not typically travel like this.”

  “Why do they typically move?” Roelle asked.

  “To hunt. To kill. They seek little else.”

  “Where?”

  “They roam the northern ranges,” Altian said. “They hide among the rocks and caves. Occasionally they move farther south and attack our grazing land.”

  Roelle arched her brows. If the Antrilii had grazing land, they must also have herds. Maybe even cities. Could it mean they were not all nomads?

  “Do they have a language?” Selton wondered.

  Nahrsin shrugged again. “None that we can decipher. They scream. They grunt. I suspect there is meaning to the sounds, but nothing we can understand.”

  “Yet you speak of markings,” Lendra prodded.

  Roelle had almost forgotten that and was glad Lendra had not.

  Altian eyed Nahrsin strangely before looking away. The merahl sitting up growled softly before twitching its ears and quieting. Nahrsin frowned, mostly to himself, and sat silent.

  “You said each brood had distinct markings and that you have seen at least a dozen different markings. That suggests writing, which suggests a language,” Lendra said.

  Nahrsin grunted. “You think like Novan and press like him too,” he grumbled. Lendra smiled at the comment. The Antrilii sat back and gathered his thoughts. “There are groeliin and then there are the others. What you have seen are the hunters, the warriors. Most groeliin are like this.”

  Altian nodded, frowning as he did.

  “Then there are others. Bigger. Stronger.” He shook his head. “Probably smarter. Only once have we killed this type, and many died to do it. We do not know how many of these live as they are rarely seen, perhaps one per brood. Some think they serve as the brood leader, but the one that we managed to kill was covered in markings of the different broods. Most of these markings we had seen before, and had been recorded. There were some we had never seen.”

  He stopped now, and looked into the fire, taking a deep breath. The merahl at his feet swished his tail, and Nahrsin looked down. “So, historian, you have heard more than even Novan has heard. And that is enough for tonight.” His tone was resigned, and the humor Roelle had grown accustomed to hearing in his voice was gone.

  Roelle turned her attention to Nahrsin. The large Antrilii stared at the fire and a blank expression covered his face. Small wrinkles were evident at the corners of his eyes and his brow had the faintest evidence of frown lines. It left his painted face with just the barest distortion, but Roelle saw it there nonetheless.

  Worry.

  Nahrsin had shown himself to be fearless in battle. Roelle had seen that he was likely better with the long sword hanging from his waist than any man alive. He was a fearsome warrior.

  What would worry the Antrilii?

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Jakob emerged from the Cala maah with his mind throbbing, the heightened awareness it brought nearly overwhelming. Anda’s hand on his was almost too warm, too soft, and too smooth, though he was reluctant to remove it. There was comfort in her touch. But when she slipped her hand from his, he acquiesced.

  What did I see?

  A dream, he knew. Nothing but a dream.

  But it was so real!

  Anda watched him, an unreadable expression to her strange eyes.

  What does it all mean?

  “Are you feeling well, Jakob Nialsen?”

  Jakob enjoyed the accented way in which she said his name. Looking at her, he noted for the first time how beautiful the daneamiin were.

  There is distinct grace to them, a beauty. The words seemed to come distantly, from another part of himself, but what part?

  She smiled, almost knowing his questions.

  “In there. I felt…”

  How to explain that he nearly vomited before the Cala maah? How to explain his visions? Would she think him insane if he did tell her? Would she look upon him differently? For some reason, the idea bothered him.

  He averted his eyes, focusing instead on reattaching his belt and sword around his waist.

  A slender finger brushed under his chin and nudged his face upward. He nearly jumped at the sensation. The touch of her hand on his face was electrifying. Jakob looked into her eyes and saw an understanding there.

  “Yes,” she told him. “In there, much is not what one expects. You do not have to share, but many gain understanding in speaking about what they saw.”

  That was certainly the truth. “I saw myself as a…” A what? A god? Brohmin said they were not gods. What then? “An ancient. I watched my daneamiin granddaughter run through the grass.” Memories of the visions returned. There was clarity to them unlike any of his previous dreams. “I saw men attack a beautiful daneamiin city and knew I could do nothing to stop it.” A tear slipped down his cheek, and he wiped it away.

  Her eyes widened briefly, though it could have been his imagination.

  “I saw myself as a man,” he continued, “receiving this sword.” He pointed to the blade now strapped to his waist. “My father said that this sword has been in my family for ages. Did I see the first Nialsen given this sword?”

  Jakob looked up at Anda, at her soft and strange eyes, her hairless head. The understanding in her eyes had not left. There was something more there, too, though he did not know what it was.

  “Why did I see these things?” he asked.

  She studied him before answering. “In the house of the Cala maah, one sees many things. Some are easier to see than others. You were tested according to an ancient custom, one that has not been practiced in many years.”

  “They called me Uniter of Men.”

  Anda nodded. “You were tested. You must restore the balance.”

  She rested a hand on his shoulder, which eased his mind somewhat. Self-doubt, concern for his sanity, racked him. That had been what bothered him for months, ever since the Magi had arrived in Chrysia. That fear had worsened during his journey, and stayed with him still. And now there was too much he could not explain.

  He didn’t notice Salindra approach. Her voice shook him from his thoughts.

  “Where have you been?”

  Her voice was different than he remembered, tinged with an unfamiliar tone. Worry? That didn’t seem right.

  Jakob noted her standing more upright, stronger somehow, and more confident. Brohmin trailed her with a strange bemused expression on his face. The daneamiin Elin escorted them both, his fluid steps silent.

  “I was summoned by the Cala maah,” he told her.

  Brohmin nodded. “She did not believe.”

  Salindra cast him a quick glance that was full of a confidence he had not seen before.

  What happened to her?

  He studied her a long time before he could see it. The ahmaean. No longer did it leech from her. A soft haze now encompassed her, not as bright as the daneamiin, but solid nonetheless.

  “You’ve been healed,” Jakob said, unable to conceal his surprise. What would he see if he looked at her ankles? How was that accomplished? And when?

  Surprise flashed across her face. “How did you know?” she asked, a remnant of the injured Salindra to her voice. “No. Never mind. Where have you been?”

  He looked from Salindra to Brohmin before glanced at the two daneamiin standing nearby. “I was summoned by the Cala maah. There was a…” How would he explain what happened to him? Brohmin called it a testing, but it had not seemed like any sort of test. “A ritual,” he decided.

  “What did you see?” Brohmin asked. “Did you pass the test?”

  What did Brohmin know? Would the Cala maah reveal his visions? Did they even know what he saw? He glanced to Anda, thinking she might help him explain what he’d seen to him. “I saw peace, war, and my sword.”

  Brohmin chuckled. “The visions of the Cala maah are not explained so simply,” he said, but did not press for details. “But did you pass?”

  Again, Jakob glanced to Anda. “They called me the Uniter of Men.�


  Brohmin sighed. “Then we might have a chance,” he said softly. “With so much time wasted, I worried…”

  “We haven’t wasted time,” Jakob said. “We’ve only just arrived.”

  “You entered the Cala maah five days ago. In that time, I have confirmed your vision. She is captured. If you truly are the Uniter, then we need to find her before it is too late.”

  Jakob’s head swam. “Five days? We only arrived a few days ago.”

  Salindra looked at him strangely then. “No, Jakob. It’s been nearly a week.”

  “How?” he asked Anda.

  “Time is sensed differently at the heart of the house,” Anda answered.

  “How is that possible?”

  Anda looked up at the huge tree growing from the top of the tall building. “What are days to the tree? To the tree, a day passes in a heartbeat.”

  “Yet our time is measured in such heartbeats,” Brohmin said. “And we must find answers and Alyta. If you are the Uniter, there should have been something you saw in the Cala maah that would help us, some key.”

  Jakob looked from Brohmin to Salindra. How could he explain that which he didn’t understand himself. Would explaining his visions help to find this key? What was he to make of him as an aging god watching his daneamiin grandchild? Did it mean that the gods created the daneamiin? He didn’t know how that knowledge could be relevant. The Urmahne taught that the gods created everything, so of course they created the daneamiin.

  Yet Brohmin tells us otherwise.

  The vision of the daneamiin being attacked was no more helpful. What was he to take from watching these peaceful people attacked? There was nothing he could understand, nothing, save sadness.

  The other vision, though, was different. He had seen Sharna, had even seen Niall. What did that mean? Sharna gave Niall a sword and explained its forging. His sword.

  Sharna had called the sword Neamiin when she’d given it to Niall. Novan had called it the same when he saw Jakob with it.

  Much ahmaean was poured into its making.

 

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