Isandra surveyed the battle, noting the way the groeliin outnumbered the Antrilii. Each time there was an attack, she feared whether she would survive it. Whether they would survive it. Would the next one be the one she wasn’t able to survive? She had changed much in the time since she had left Vasha. She had suffered and continued to fight and had learned that she was stronger than she had known. No longer was she surprised by violence. That didn’t mean she welcomed it, but she understood that there were times when violence was necessary.
The merahl next to her streaked forward again. He climbed up the rock, and she followed it. The creature attacked three groeliin, slashing at one with its paw, and biting at another while kicking at the third. The merahl were graceful—and violent.
A groeliin approached that the merahl didn’t appear to see.
Isandra sprinted up the rock while unsheathing her sword. She screamed, bellowing with fear and anger as she raced toward the groeliin.
The creature turned toward her, and away from the merahl.
This one was larger than the last one she had faced. It was easier for her to see. Most of the groeliin were trapped in some sort of blackish haze until they were dead, making it difficult for her to see through that until she was up close, but even then, they were somewhat obscured. This one was very clear.
The groeliin snarled at her. It brandished a sword of all things, rather than a club as most of the groeliin she had seen had carried.
Isandra allowed herself to fall into the patterns that Jassan had been teaching her. They came to her more easily this time, and she flashed through the movements, attacking as quickly as she could.
The groeliin was faster.
Isandra took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. The groeliin managed to block the two attempts she made at cutting it down, and she was forced to step back, getting out of the way of the groeliin. She slipped, her feet catching on loose stone, and she nearly tumbled onto the path.
At the last moment, she managed to catch herself, steadying her feet.
The groeliin leapt down next to her.
If it got past her, it would reach the exposed back side of the Antrilii. They had all they could handle facing the onslaught of the other creatures and barely managed to fend them off as it was. Without the merahl, the Antrilii would have been outnumbered.
The creature in front of her snarled again.
Isandra prepared herself and calmed her breathing, remembering what Jassan had trained her to do. Focus on the forms. Easy movements. Allow herself to flow through them.
She could do that.
The groeliin barely gave her a chance to react. It leapt forward, moving with a dangerous speed and grace that reminded her of the merahl, and she was forced back.
She managed to block the first blow and the second, but the third cut her arm.
Isandra nearly dropped her sword, but she knew that she could not. The groeliin would get behind her. The Antrilii would fall.
She would not be the reason that the Antrilii were harmed. She would not be the reason that Jassan died.
The groeliin was stronger than she and larger. Could she use that against it?
Isandra darted to the side, sweeping her sword where she had been. The groeliin took the bait and swung in the space she had vacated. Isandra slashed down with a harsh movement and caught the groeliin across his arm.
The groeliin hissed.
Before it could re-engage, she danced back, putting space between her and the creature. Now her back was pressed up against one of the Antrilii. She didn’t dare look back and didn’t dare do anything—or say anything—that might distract either of them.
The groeliin held its sword in one twisted, grotesque hand, the other hung loose and useless. She had injured it. She had already learned that being injured didn’t mean a groeliin was any less dangerous.
The creature slashed at her, using movements that it should not have known, sword work the groeliin should never have discovered.
She deflected each attack, managing to catch its blade, but the groeliin was strong, and she was pushed backward. There was only so much room for her here, and if she took a wrong step, she would fall off the cliffside.
She would have to take a chance.
She feinted one direction, then darted the other, bringing her blade down on the groeliin’s remaining functional arm.
She caught it across the shoulder.
The groeliin dropped the dark sword it held and lunged at her, its jaw opening wide.
Isandra stood frozen in place. It was a move she hadn’t expected. She had gotten caught up in the sword work, and had focused so much on using the sword to deflect the creature’s blows that she hadn’t expected it to jump at her and attempt to bite her and tear her apart. She probably should have.
A merahl howled.
Isandra wondered if that would be the last sound she heard before she died. Better that than to hear the groeliin hissing or snarling at her.
A flash of fur jumped past her and crashed into the groeliin. The merahl ripped at the groeliin’s throat, destroying it in a spray of blood.
Isandra staggered back and started to slip. The rocky overhang began to give out.
She started to fall but was halted.
The merahl that had attacked the groeliin grabbed her arm, holding her. It pulled, not violently or dangerously, but with a gentle mouth, and managed to give her enough time to settle her feet and scramble back up the side of the rock.
“Thank you.” The merahl deserved more than simple thanks, but she wasn’t certain that it would even understand her. The creature howled again and darted forward, racing back into attack once more.
Isandra stood, unable to move for a few moments. She was lucky that she had survived. Were it not for the merahl, she would not have.
Suppressing her revulsion, she leaned over the fallen groeliin. There had been something different about it. It was more than just the fact that it fought with the sword or the fact that she could see it more clearly. There was the size of the creature.
She didn’t have as much experience with the groeliin as the Antrilii did, but she hadn’t seen a creature quite this size before. It was much larger than the last one she had killed. There were strange markings along its flesh, though they didn’t appear to be tattoos, not like the Deshmahne had. These markings might be what Rebecca thought were how the groeliin had additional abilities.
Isandra knelt next to the groeliin and tried to ignore the stench coming from it. Blood pooled around the fallen creature as she leaned close to the injured arm where she saw most of the markings.
The grayish flesh was raised in places, and she traced her fingers along it, feeling the ridges. There was a pattern to it, though it wasn’t one she recognized.
Jassan knelt across from her. He had blood on his arm, but she saw no injury. Sweat dripped down his face, and his eyes had a drawn expression to them.
“What is this?” he asked.
“A groeliin that attacked me.”
“Not only you. The merahl tells me you protected him.”
“He tells you?”
Jassan nodded. “He says that you protected him when he faced five groeliin.”
The merahl that had saved Isandra padded up and sat close to her. The creature had mostly brown fur, though it was dappled in places. Red stained his jaw and both of his paws.
Isandra looked over to the merahl. “Five? I counted only three.”
The merahl flared its jaw, showing a flash of stained teeth.
Jassan chuckled, a dark sound. “I’ve learned not to challenge their count. Often there are groeliin I don’t see that the merahl are able to see.”
“Had I done nothing, this one”—Isandra motioned to the fallen groeliin, waving her hand over the creature—“would have gotten to the merahl. He had a sword.”
Jassan’s eyes narrowed. “The groeliin do not fight with swords.”
“This one did. More than that, he was skilled
with it.”
Jassan studied the creature before nodding once. “It is good that you were trained, then.”
“How would the groeliin even make swords, much less know how to wield one?”
They might have some ability with them—a dark power—but the groeliin were not artisans. They did not have the same skill as men. For them to have swords—and for them to have discovered a talent with using them—would mean that someone had to have taught them.
Did that mean the Deshmahne were now working more closely with the groeliin? They shared the same markings that the Yahinv suspected meant the Deshmahne had borrowed that knowledge from the groeliin. For them to now carry swords, and fight more like men, meant that whatever relationship existed was much closer than had once appeared.
“They would not,” Jassan said.
“What of these markings?” Isandra asked. “What do you think these are?”
Jassan touched the creature’s flesh, doing much as Isandra had when she was trying to understand what those markings were, and what they represented. He frowned, his mouth pressed into a tight line, and his eyes narrowed so that his face appeared darkened.
“These markings… we have seen markings like this before.”
“You’ve seen them in pictures,” she said.
“The Yahinv do not allow us to view their work.”
“But you know of it?”
“We know of it. When Endric encountered these creatures, he made certain to share what he discovered with Nahrsin.”
Isandra sat back on her heels. Had Endric known that the Yahinv would keep what he had discovered from the other Antrilii?
If she ever had a chance to see the Denraen general again, she would have questions for him. Then again, if she ever had a chance to see the Denraen general again, she suspected he would have questions for her.
“These are not the same features that Endric saw when he encountered the strange groeliin,” Jassan said.
“Then what do they mean?”
Jassan continued to trace his fingers across the groeliin flesh. “These are more like the clan markings.”
“Clan markings?”
“The groeliin travel in clans. Clans come together and form the horde. Each of the creatures that we kill has clan markings. That’s how we know how many of each clan we have killed.”
“Which clan do these markings represent?” Isandra asked.
“That is part of the problem,” he said. “There are markings here from many different clans. There should not be, not based on what we know of the groeliin. We will have to think about this creature.”
Jassan pulled out one of his belt knives and cut away a chunk of the groeliin’s flesh. He tore strips of cloth free from his cloak and rolled the groeliin’s skin inside the cloth, before stuffing it into his pocket.
“I’m not an expert on the groeliin, but others will know more.” He motioned to one of the other Antrilii. “Burn the bodies. All of them.”
“Don’t you think we should try to understand this one better?” Isandra asked. “If it’s different, if this one is so much unlike any other groeliin that you have faced, shouldn’t we try to find out why?”
“It is dangerous to keep groeliin. We will draw them to us if we do. Even this much flesh poses dangers,” Jassan said. “I agree that we need to understand, but I am not willing to risk my people because of this one creature.”
The Antrilii quickly piled the bodies of the fallen groeliin together, and once they were done, they ignited them. They must’ve used manehlin to do so. She couldn’t think of any other way for them to incinerate the groeliin bodies as efficiently as they managed without using their connection to the manehlin.
The stink from the burning groeliin filled her nostrils, and the smoke twisted and twirled up into the sky. Isandra moved away from the fire, not wanting to be too close to the stench of the burning bodies, trying to separate herself from it.
She stood on a cliff’s ledge, looking down at the clearing below, trying to ignore the bloodstains that coated the rock. How long would those bloodstains remain? Would rains wash them away, or would they always be there? Would they always be a reminder of what had happened here, the devastation and violence that had taken place?
As she stood there, she saw two Antrilii warriors lying motionless. She hadn’t known that any of the Antrilii had perished in the fight, but given the brutal nature of the battle, and the swarm of groeliin that had come upon them, she wasn’t surprised the Antrilii had lost some of their men. It was only by the will of the gods that they had only lost two.
As she paced, she noted that the merahl followed her, pacing behind her. When she stopped, the merahl stopped and crouched next to her. The creature had licked the blood clean from its paws, and his jaw no longer had the same staining. In the growing light of day, the merahl almost appeared like an enormous house cat. A violent, ruthless killer of a house cat.
“Thank you,” she said to the merahl. The creature lowered its head and brushed up against her leg. It was the first time that one of the merahl had approached her so closely.
She rested her hand on his head and stroked his fur. It was much softer than she would have anticipated. She had expected the merahl to have coarse fur, more like bristles than fur, but this was much softer.
As she stood there, patting the enormous cat, she felt unsettled. Jassan might not believe there was more to the fallen groeliin, but she did. It might not be the same creature that Endric had seen, the heavily marked groeliin with tattoos that were similar to the Deshmahne, but this one had markings on it, as well. And had fought with the sword.
That seemed an important detail, possibly as important as any other detail they had observed about the groeliin.
“What do you think?” she asked the merahl. She didn’t expect an answer, regardless of what Jassan said about the creatures speaking to him and implying they could understand him. “I fear what will happen if we encounter more groeliin that know how to fight with swords. I fear what will happen if we begin to face an entire horde so armed.”
The merahl pushed up against her.
It wasn’t only her safety and the Antrilii’s that she worried about. The merahl could avoid clubs, and could possibly even tear them free from the groeliin, but they couldn’t as easily avoid swords. If they faced an army of groeliin equipped with swords, the benefit of the merahl would disappear.
She stood like that, her hand resting on the merahl until Jassan motioned that it was time for them to move on. When he did, she followed willingly, ready to be away from this place, away from the death and violence that had taken place here, and away from the unsettled feeling that filled her.
Chapter Eleven
Days passed without any further events, and Isandra began to wonder whether they would encounter any more groeliin. Maybe the Antrilii had somehow lost track of them. It wouldn’t bother her other than the fact that she suspected the presence of the groeliin likely indicated that they were closing in on the breeding grounds. As much as she hated the confrontations, the increased frequency of attacks had seemed to mean they were on the right path. Now that they had stopped attacking, she worried that perhaps they had missed something.
She wasn’t alone in that concern.
Jassan led them, making his way gradually south, the mountains rising all around them in increasingly jagged peaks. Snow topped what she could see of them, though most were obscured by clouds. He followed a trail that she doubted she would have discovered had she not been with the Antrilii. It wove through the mountains and was barely passable.
She had slowly grown accustomed to the travel the farther they went. Her body still ached, but it was simply fatigue, not any real pain. She grew stronger, and her endurance improved, though her strength—particularly her Mage ability—still did not return. Isandra no longer believed that it would.
Though she had lost much of what she was, much of what had made her Magi, she had gained something, as well. Never wo
uld she have believed that she was capable of fighting with the sword, and she found a simple, almost mindless, pleasure in the sparring sessions she spent with Jassan each evening.
Her skill grew. There was no longer any question that she gained ability each day. Even compared to where she had been a week prior, she felt much more advanced. There was comfort in knowing that she could defend herself, especially in these lands, especially where groeliin could attack at any moment, even if they had not.
Isandra wondered whether they would ever encounter the breeding grounds. It wasn’t a given that they would, and there had been enough other activity to make her question whether she even wanted to. How would she react if they reached them? Was there anything she could even do?
She imagined reaching the breeding grounds would be a different situation, but even in the thousand years the Antrilii had spent hunting the groeliin, they’d not found the breeding grounds, so none of them knew what to expect or how to best prepare.
She walked alongside Jassan and was comfortable with the silence that fell between them. She had come to realize that he was a strong and capable leader. That he cared deeply about the other Antrilii. She now also realized that she did not want any harm to come to him. Those feelings were nearly as surprising to her as was her growing skill with the sword.
“We haven’t spoken much about teralin,” Isandra said after they had walked for a while.
Jassan nodded. “We haven’t.”
“You said that the groeliin have something to do with the teralin.”
“The groeliin have much to do with teralin.”
“The Magi once believed that teralin was required to speak to the gods. We no longer believe that, but there are many who still question whether there is some mystical quality to it.”
Jassan grunted his response. “Many wars have been fought over teralin.”
“What wars?” Isandra chuckled. “As far as I know, there has never been a war fought over teralin.”
“There have been many wars. Not one war.”
She looked up at him. Jassan was tall and had a muscular build that was common to the Antrilii warriors, and he had painted stripes of color across his face, making him look more fearsome. He carried himself much like any other soldier that she had ever seen, so why would it be that she suddenly found a soldier appealing? Maybe it wasn’t that she cared for soldiers, but that she cared for Jassan.
The Lost City (The Lost Prophecy Book 5) Page 9