The Warrior Mage (The Lost Prophecy Book 2)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “Could we have been compromised?” Bothar asked. “You said you’re worried about the Deshmahne. What if they have infiltrated more than the city?”

  The implication meant the Denraen. It could even mean the Magi.

  “There is likely a perfectly understandable explanation,” Karrin said.

  Alriyn nodded, though he had his doubts. He had been careful, perhaps more careful than with Crayn, in selecting the Mage. “There must be an explanation. But we will keep this meeting short nonetheless. Has anyone heard from Isandra?”

  Karrin shook her head. Alriyn thought she hadn’t. His sources had been silent as well.

  “I had hoped that one of you,” Karrin began, nodding toward Alriyn and Crayn, “would have heard more than I. The north is silent to me.” They all knew that strange, given the time she’d served in Rondalin.

  “Perhaps it means nothing,” he told her. “Isandra is a capable woman. It may mean—”

  “I know what it means, Alriyn,” she said. There was a finality to her voice. The room was quiet for a while. “We need to find her. I will go north this time.”

  Alriyn rested his hands on the table in front of him. “No.”

  “I can see if I can—”

  “No,” he said again. “We must trust Isandra, and must trust that she can succeed, that she can bring the delegates together and stop war from coming.” He softened his tone. “Besides, we need you here.”

  Her nod of assent came slowly, but it came.

  Alriyn repressed a sigh. They could not afford to lose one more of them. They needed everyone there to convince the rest of the Magi.

  “What other news do we have?” he asked, tearing his gaze from Karrin.

  “The Gomald army nears Thealon. King Locken does not join the others.”

  “What does it mean?” Crayn asked.

  “The Deshmahne,” Alriyn answered. “It is as Endric said. They spread discord. They have converted Gom Aaldia as they intended. They seek to disrupt the mahne. And now armies march on Thealon. They grow stronger, bolder.” What did it mean? And what next?

  There was only one thing they could do, but they would need to either convince Jostephon—or override him. The delegates had failed. Any hope of using them to restore the Magi influence had failed.

  It was why they needed the seventh. With a majority, they could summon the tradition, and choose the Uniter.

  “We will need to return to tradition,” he said. “It is time we make a stand. The Urmahne must stand.”

  “We have failed every time we have tried,” Haerlin said. “The prophecy is incomplete.”

  “Then we will examine what we know and try again,” he said. What other choice did they have? The balance was failing, and he did not know what would happen if it did.

  No one had a chance to answer.

  The door to the small room pushed open quickly and then banged shut. Faces around the table all looked toward the door, each visibly startled and some scared.

  Endric stood before them again, panting. Sweat dripped from his brow. The historian stood with him, a look of focused concentration on his face but no sign of sweat.

  “What is this?” Karrin started.

  “There is no time,” Endric answered, his voice breathy. “You have been discovered. Your last was captured by Deshmahne. War has come to Vasha. We must move. Now.”

  There was urgency to his voice that carried them quickly out of their seats. Standing, the Magi Councilors looked to Alriyn. Deshmahne attacking the Magi Council? How was that even possible?

  “Where do we go?” Haerlin asked.

  “Somewhere else,” Endric answered. “Now.”

  Alriyn was not sure where they needed to go. Safety was his first thought. He did not dare to think what might have forced Endric to find them as he had.

  He motioned toward the door. He knew where they needed to go. The mahne, he knew. “The library. The mahne must be preserved.”

  They moved quickly through the door and out into the corridor. The light was dim, darker than it should be.

  “We must move,” Endric urged, his voice hushed.

  It was too late.

  Rendrem strode down the hall, a dozen with him. “What is this?” he demanded.

  Alriyn looked to the others Rendrem had brought with him. One he knew to be still an apprentice. Not with Roelle, though. The thought came unbidden. He wondered what it meant. Another was a fully trained Mage. He did not recognize the rest.

  “It is nothing to concern you, Rendrem Lifst. Be on your way,” Alriyn commanded. He would see if his rank and authority still had any influence over that one but did not think it would.

  Could he have been converted? Not the Magi, and surely none of the Council!

  And then another fear entered his heart. If the Magi had converted—if one of the Council had been converted—then the mahne itself truly was in danger. Was that what the goddess had wanted of him? To physically guard it?

  He glanced at Endric then to Novan. Both seemed to know what he was thinking.

  “It is safe,” the historian whispered, pitched only for his ears. “For now.”

  Alriyn felt a strange tingle course through him and he looked at Novan. The historian did not meet his gaze, but there was a strange look to him, a concentration that he recognized.

  Rendrem interrupted his thought. “You think to direct me? You think any of you can direct me while you plot against the Council?”

  Alriyn had to handle this just right. “They should not be a part of this,” he motioned to the others standing with Rendrem.

  “They are with me,” Rendrem answered firmly. A flicker of worry crossed his face before it was gone.

  “You have it wrong, Rendrem. You are being used.” Someone behind him gasped, and Alriyn was not sure who it was. “It must be protected.”

  “There is nothing to that ancient document that applies anymore,” Rendrem said quietly. “The Eldest has instructed me to bring you to him.”

  So Jostephon was a part of this.

  Alriyn felt a surge of panic as he realized he could no longer deny the truth. They needed to reach the mahne to secure it. The goddess had been clear on that. “You have no authority over those of the Council, Rendrem.”

  “It is with the authority of the Eldest that I speak.” There was a slight uncertainty to him now.

  Alriyn heard a moan behind him. Bothar he supposed. The man was weaker than he would have imagined. Alriyn would be forced to travel a path he had not thought necessary. He had thought it would be safer and easier to get the majority of the Council, and the body of the Magi would decide the issue. It was not to be.

  Alriyn closed his eyes for but a moment, realizing there was only one way for him to do this. “I do not recognize his authority,” he said softly.

  Rendrem took a step back, as did the two Magi with him.

  “I challenge the authority of the Eldest,” Alriyn continued, drawing himself up. Though a part of their ancient law, it had never been exercised. The Eldest had always been the most respected, the most revered, and the price of failure of the challenge was too great.

  Alriyn knew their need was greater.

  Protect the mahne.

  He heard Karrin breath in harshly. Haerlin muttered a surprised, “Oh.” The others were silent behind him.

  “Careful,” he heard whispered to him. Was it the historian? How could he know what it was that Alriyn risked by doing this?

  “I cannot answer the challenge,” Rendrem stuttered.

  “The challenge must be answered, Rendrem,” Alriyn reminded. He no longer cared that this Mage before him did not know how far over his head he was.

  Rendrem cocked his head, seeming to listen to a voice only he heard, before shaking it. “You will come with me to the Eldest.”

  “Enough!” Alriyn said. The sound seemed to thunder down the hall. He threw his mind open wide as he reached for the ability the gods gifted to him. He pushed it open wider, almo
st too wide.

  Push.

  It was a soft voice in the back of his mind and Alriyn listened, pushing as instructed. It was more than he had ever pushed before. He pushed again, harder, opening his mind as much as possible.

  He felt a tear within his head.

  An old memory, something read once in an ancient text, came back to him. Could he push his mind further?

  He’d never tried, never had the need, but now he stretched his consciousness, his being, and filled the void he had created. He pushed again, and felt his mind fill even more. It was much farther than he had ever attempted, but in his fear and frustration he didn’t care.

  Through the pain, his senses heightened. Everything around him intensified.

  Rendrem looked at Alriyn nervously before raising his hand and motioning to the men behind him. As they moved forward, Alriyn saw the dark shadow of a tattoo upon one man’s neck.

  Alriyn almost lost control then. “You’re willing to defile the palace?”

  The man smiled and slid forward, a sword suddenly in his hand. Nearly a dozen others—all Deshmahne, Alriyn realized—did the same and moved toward him.

  Alriyn reacted, and reached out with his mind, feeling the tiny manehlin floating around all of those opposing him. He probed farther, something he had never tried before, had never thought possible. With his even wider connection, it was possible.

  He reached his awareness inside them and felt the manehlin comprising them.

  He pulled, dragging with him that which gave them life.

  Rendrem screamed. The Deshmahne froze in place. Someone behind him gasped.

  “We must go,” Endric urged.

  “Hold the manehlin for now,” Novan whispered to him.

  Alriyn heard the words but did not see the historian’s mouth move.

  To complete the challenge to Jostephon’s authority, Alriyn would have to confront him, but a part of him didn’t want to confront his old friend. It was almost too much to believe that their most senior Mage could be a part of the Deshmahne in the palace, but what other answer was there? Rendrem had intended to take Alriyn and the others to Jostephon.

  Could he really have done this? Could Jostephon have betrayed the Magi?

  Rendrem would have answers, but Alriyn would have to somehow pull them from him. He turned back to the man, intending to find out, when Endric laid a hand on his arm.

  “Much longer, and you lose the advantage. They’ve surprised us once. Do not allow them to do it a second time,” the general said.

  Alriyn gave a curt nod, and followed Endric as they started off.

  When they neared the end of the hall to turn onto the stairs, a booming voice from the opposite end forced him to turn.

  “What is this?” a voice thundered.

  The Eldest strolled toward them.

  Book 3 of The Lost Prophecy, Tower of the Gods

  As the twisted groeliin press their way south, countless lives will be lost unless Roelle can find help, forcing her to go to an enemy for aid. It’s a dangerous gamble, but she can think of no alternative, not if she intends to save as many as possible.

  Jakob continues having strange visions and struggles with what he’s becoming. No longer does he question that he has power, but the only person who might be able to answer is trapped in Thealon. They must reach her before all is lost. Doing so forces them to face an army of Deshmahne and a horde of groeliin.

  As their paths converge, war extends throughout the north. All have to sacrifice, but even that might not be enough to defeat both the Deshmahne and the groeliin, all while trying to save the last of the gods.

  Want to read more about Endric? Soldier Son, Book 1 of The Teralin Sword, will be out in March. Set decades before the events in The Lost Prophecy.

  As the second son of the general of the Denraen, Endric wants only to fight, not the commission his father demands of him. When a strange attack in the south leads to the loss of someone close to him, only Endric seems concerned about what happened.

  All signs point to an attack on the city, and betrayal by someone deep within the Denraen, but his father no longer trusts his judgment. This forces Endric to make another impulsive decision, one that leads him far from the city on a journey where he discovers how little he knew, and how much more he has to understand. If he can prove himself in time, and with the help of his new allies, he might be able to stop a greater disaster.

  About the Author

  DK Holmberg currently lives in rural Minnesota where the winter cold and the summer mosquitoes keep him inside and writing. He has two active children who inspire him to keep telling new stories.

  Word-of-mouth is crucial for any author to succeed and how books are discovered. If you enjoyed the book, please consider leaving a review at Amazon, even if it's only a line or two; it would make all the difference and would be very much appreciated.

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  Also by D.K. Holmberg

  The Lost Prophecy

  The Threat of Madness

  The Warrior Mage

  Tower of the Gods

  The Cloud Warrior Saga

  Chased by Fire

  Bound by Fire

  Changed by Fire

  Fortress of Fire

  Forged in Fire

  Serpent of Fire

  Servant of Fire

  Born of Fire

  Broken of Fire

  Light of Fire

  Others in the Cloud Warrior Series

  Prelude to Fire

  Chasing the Wind

  Drowned by Water

  Deceived by Water

  Salvaged by Water

  The Endless War

  Journey of Fire and Night

  Darkness Rising

  Endless Night

  Summoner’s Bond

  Seal of Light

  The Shadow Accords

  Shadow Blessed

  Shadow Cursed

  Shadow Born

  The Dark Ability

  The Dark Ability

  The Heartstone Blade

  The Tower of Venass

  Blood of the Watcher

  The Shadowsteel Forge

  The Guild Secret

  Rise of the Elder

  The Sighted Assassin

  The Painted Girl (novella)

  The Binders Game

  The Forgotten

  Assassin’s End

  The Lost Garden

  Keeper of the Forest

  The Desolate Bond

  Keeper of Light

  The Painter Mage

  Shifted Agony

  Arcane Mark

  Painter For Hire

  Stolen Compass