The Lost City (The Lost Prophecy Book 5)

by D. K. Holmberg

  Jakob set the twisted strips of paper down on the table next to Haerlin. “Perhaps once that would have described me. Now, I am something else.”

  “What else?”

  Jakob studied Haerlin, trying to decide how much to share with him. Was the Mage ready for what Jakob knew and had experienced?

  He still didn’t know what Haerlin had seen during his vision, but nothing that the Mage said made it seem as though he had seen Jakob, or what he could do. Haerlin would have experienced the sensation of Jakob’s influence on the fibers and would have felt Jakob pushing him forward, but it was possible that he didn’t know what it was that Jakob did. It was possible that he didn’t know who was responsible.

  What was clear was that Haerlin wasn’t ready for the truth. Maybe no other Magi other than those of the Conclave—and Alriyn—were ready for it.

  “Something else.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “What now?” Roelle asked.

  Jakob stood next to Roelle in the hall near her uncle’s room, no longer drawing upon the strength of her ahmaean to keep herself standing. The longer she’d been awake, the more it became clear that she would recover. She was strong. It was time he shared with her what he knew. At least some of it.

  “The man who instigated all of this is the High Priest who leads the Deshmahne, but he is much more than just the leader of the dark priests. His name is Raime. He’s lived for hundreds of years, and he must be stopped.”

  Roelle’s mission had been to find the Antrilii. During that journey, she had come up against the Deshmahne. And she had fought groeliin. She had proven herself as a strong warrior, and he realized he could use her help.

  She glanced back at Anda, a question remaining in her eyes. Could she see through Anda’s glamour?

  “I’ve attempted to find him using the abilities I’m still slowly learning, but I have failed. Endric suggests that I trust others to help. To do what I cannot do alone.”

  “Such as?” Roelle asked.

  “Such as determining what he might be planning in the northern mountains. He uses the groeliin, and I’m concerned that he’s still using the groeliin.”

  “He uses the groeliin? The Antrilii battle they groeliin. They will oppose him in the north.” Roelle said that with a certain amount of pride.

  What did she know about the Antrilii? Jakob had visions of the Antrilii when he had looked back along the fibers, and those visions had shown him how the damahne once referred to the Antrilii as hunters, a title that Brohmin shared. That couldn’t be coincidence, but he didn’t understand everything that the Antrilii had been through, and all that they had sacrificed.

  “That is what Endric tells me.”

  Roelle smiled tightly. “You are a skilled fighter, Jakob. I saw that when you faced the groeliin in Thealon. I remember thinking how impossible it was the way that you moved. But you are one man—or whatever you are. The groeliin are spread throughout the north. If this man you speak of remains there, the Antrilii will find him.” She paused, and her jaw clenched, her hand dropping to the hilt of her sword. Was she aware of the way she did that? “I could go. I could lead the rest of the warriors—”

  Jakob shook his head “I think you’re right. We need to let the Antrilii do what they have done for centuries.”

  “I’m a soldier now, Jakob. Vasha was my home, but after what I’ve seen, and what I’ve done, I… I don’t feel the same comfort here.”

  It was similar to how Jakob felt about what had happened to him in the time since he left Chrysia, though for Jakob, that feeling had begun long ago. Chrysia had never felt quite like home to him, though he had lived there nearly all his life. Once his mother died, and then his brother fell sick, there had been a tension between him and his father, and Jakob had wanted nothing more than to escape the city and discover what more there might be for him.

  Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined he would experience what he had. Much of what he’d seen and done was more exotic than even his childhood hero, the great Jarren Gildeun.

  “I know that you’re a soldier now, Roelle. Which is why I must ask something else of you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What must you ask?”

  “The Deshmahne remain a threat. They follow the orders of the High Priest, and we need to ensure that threat is neutralized.”

  Roelle laughed, and the sound carried down the hall before fading, practically muted by the stone itself. “You want me to lead my warriors to the south and take on the Deshmahne?”

  Jakob noted that she had said “my” warriors. Roelle had truly become something else, more like Endric than like the Magi that she came from. He nodded in answer.

  “There’s a difference between facing groeliin and slaughtering Deshmahne.”

  Jakob studied her, wishing he could tease apart the fibers and look forward to see what it was she would do—what she must do. If he could, would he see what Roelle needed to do? Would he see anything along her fibers that would help him understand whether she would be effective with what he needed from her?

  “I’m not asking you to slaughter Deshmahne.”

  “What are you asking me then?”

  “They have converted many, but not all will have been influenced by the High Priest. Most of these people were enticed by the promise that following the Deshmahne meant they would have a path to the gods. The power they promised was intoxicating. We need to find a way to reach them, to offer them an alternative. I think the Magi—and in particular Magi warriors—will be able to do that. If we can, we might remove one source of strength that Raime thinks he still has.

  Roelle considered him for a moment. “They may not all have been influenced directly by the High Priest, but they all have been influenced in some way. I attempted to convince the Deshmahne to fight with us, to help us with the groeliin invasion, but none did.”

  Jakob hadn’t realized that but wasn’t surprised that Roelle had attempted to do so. How desperate must she have been to have approached the Deshmahne? “Because Raime commanded them not to.”

  “I know that now. That doesn’t change what we experienced. They could see the groeliin, Jakob. They could have fought them.”

  “And I need you to use your connection to convince them to reconsider what Raime has promised them.”

  “I don’t think I will convince them to give up their power.”

  Jakob didn’t think that the Deshmahne would willingly abandon power, not now that they had a taste of it. He hoped that they might be able to be swayed to view their power—and the way that they had acquired it—in a different fashion. More than that, he needed to have control over the teralin supply, and somehow prevent Raime from using that to feed the groeliin.

  Maybe that was the approach to take with Roelle.

  “What’s happening in the south is connected to what happens in the north. Raime uses teralin that he acquires in the south, and transports it north, where he somehow uses it to create more groeliin. We need to disrupt that supply line so that we can stop him.”

  “Is that all it will take?” Roelle asked.

  It would take much more than that to stop Raime, but it was a step.

  “If we can delay his return to power, it will give me a chance to understand my abilities better, and hopefully, I can find a way to stop him.”

  Roelle watched him. For a moment, her ahmaean swirled, spiraling around in a tight pattern before she pushed it away from her.

  Was she even aware of how she used it?

  It was possible that she wasn’t. She seemed to have a different—but no less powerful – connection to her ahmaean than some of the other Magi. Jakob hadn’t noted that before, but maybe that was how she had developed her sword skill. Or, he wondered, maybe the change to the way she used her ahmaean was tied to the fact that she had been willing to learn to use the sword.

  “I’ll do it. Whatever is needed, Jakob, I’ll do it.”

  “How many others do you think will go with y
ou?”

  She seemed surprised by the question. “All of them.”

  “All of them?” After everything that had happened, Jakob had expected that some of the Magi who had left, forced to fight the groeliin, would not want to head back into that kind of battle again. Were there any other choice, Jakob wasn’t sure that he would willingly go after the groeliin.

  “Everyone had the same experience as I did. Everyone recognizes the need for what we did. It was difficult at first, but each of us that went north has returned different from the Mage we had been when we first left the city.”

  Jakob glanced over at Anda. That seemed to be the general experience for everyone who had faced the groeliin. It had not only been Jakob and Roelle with her warriors who had changed, but even Anda had changed. She came with them, now willingly risking herself, facing the threat of Raime, and the threat he envisioned for the daneamiin.

  Could others of the daneamiin change? The Magi changed, and Alriyn worked with them, helping to push them, encouraging them to leave the city, to join the world, and risk themselves in ways that they had not for generations.

  Even if they would, could they do it in time?

  “It will take us time to get to the south,” Roelle said.

  Jakob glanced at Anda, who nodded. “I think that is something I can help with.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Brohmin remained hidden in the darkness, watching the building across the street. He and Salindra had been in Paliis for the last several days, simply watching. They needed information before they attempted to act, and observing seemed to be the best way to achieve that.

  In the days they’d been watching from the small home directly across the street, it had become increasingly clear that the building was a school. Children came in each morning and remained all day, their teachers a combination of Deshmahne and others who didn’t wear the dark dress. Brohmin hadn’t managed to get close enough to overhear what was taught, and he didn’t dare risk sneaking any closer, so all they could do was watch from their room.

  Salindra grew increasingly impatient. She was ready to do something—anything—to intervene with the Deshmahne’s plans. There were times when Brohmin thought he was managing her as much as observing the school.

  It hadn’t been difficult to find this place. The home was angled across the street from the school, close enough that from their room upstairs, they were able to see inside through one of the school’s windows. It didn’t give them that much additional insight about what was taking place there, but it was patterns that Brohmin was watching for.

  The owner had been willing to let them rent out a room, something that apparently was quite common in Paliis given the number of people coming through the city at any given time. It probably helped that Brohmin had coin to spare, and had been willing to pay more than what most would have afforded. He had to be careful, not wanting to draw too much unnecessary attention to them.

  “We’ve been watching for three days,” Salindra said. “We haven’t seen anything useful in that time. Why are you so determined to do this?”

  Brohmin leaned on the table he had placed near the window. He sat off to the side so that he could look out, but didn’t think anyone in the street could see him. “We’ve seen quite a bit that has been useful,” Brohmin said. He didn’t look over to her, keeping his gaze fixed out the window. He was determined to see whether the Lashiin priest came.

  The man was nearby. Brohmin could sense him, and didn’t dare use too much ahmaean. In the last three days, he’d felt recurrent pressure on his ahmaean, and he knew that it came from the Deshmahne. The more often he detected it, the more certain he was of its source. There was a darkness to it, and he didn’t need to see the dark ahmaean, to know what it was.

  “Because I need to know.”

  “Why?”

  Did he tell her about his Joshua and how he’d lost him? That had been so long ago that it no longer mattered—only it still hurt. “To make amends.”

  She watched him with a strange expression in her eyes. “What have we seen that’s been useful?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

  At least she knew enough to remain quiet, though her impatience was grating on her. Partly, he suspected that was because she didn’t want to risk herself by going into the city alone. Brohmin wasn’t willing to leave his watch during daylight hours, not while the children were at school. Now that he had a plan, he wanted to act on it.

  He glanced over, tearing his gaze off the school for but a moment, before looking back. Having this mission had given him a renewed sense of purpose. Surprisingly, that had invigorated him as much as anything. “We’re watching for patterns. The same thing the Lashiin priest would be watching for.” Brohmin was determined to help him, as long as the man didn’t try anything that would harm the children.

  It was odd to think of a priest potentially harming anyone, particularly children, but this priest was not like any other he had encountered. That was both helpful and challenging.

  “What kinds of patterns will help with this? These students go home in the evenings. Didn’t you say that you had no intention of tearing children away from their families?”

  Brohmin nodded. From what he’d seen, these children appeared happy and well-adjusted. They were not mistreated, not as he would have expected by the Deshmahne. Did it matter what they were learning in the school?

  He had to think that it did, that the content of their education mattered as much as how it was delivered. The Deshmahne could lovingly deliver horrifying information to the students, but that wouldn’t make it any more right than if they were tormenting them.

  Children started to stream from the school, and as he did every day, Brohmin counted them silently, trying to keep track of each one. The students who came to the school didn’t change from day to day.

  “Is this all you’ll do?” Salindra asked.

  “Salindra—”

  Brohmin noted a flash of movement along the street.

  He stood up in a shot and stared out the window, not bothering to hide as he had been in the days before. Likely, he was framed in the window, visible to anyone on the street below, and caution forced him to take a step backward.

  Salindra joined him, leaning over as she peered out the window. As she did so many other days, she took his hand, squeezing it slightly. There had been a friendly sort of closeness between them, and even if Brohmin wanted something more, he wouldn’t do that to Salindra, not knowing as he did how much his ahmaean continued to fade, leaving him with less time than ever before remaining.

  “What did you see?” she asked.

  “I think… I think it was the priest.” He hadn’t been certain, but the flash of brown was more likely to be the Lashiin priest than anything else.

  He made a quick count of the students in the courtyard. From this vantage, he could see them easily enough. Many were young, too young to have any responsibility other than to play. Others were older and tasked with the responsibility of corralling the younger students. Most of them ran and chased each other, and generally acted like children.

  One of the children was missing.

  More than ever, he was certain that the Lashiin priest had been there. How had he moved so quickly?

  Brohmin turned away from the window and headed toward the door.

  “Now where are you going?” Salindra asked.

  He motioned toward the window. “One of the children is missing. If that was the Lashiin priest, then I intend to find him.”

  Brohmin hurried down the stairs and nodded to the homeowner briefly as he and Salindra exited out onto the street. He paused in the crowd of people, focused on his connection to the ahmaean, and sensed the priest moving away from his location.

  He needed answers. And he wasn’t entirely certain that what the priest had done was right. The children he’d been watching had been happy, not in any danger. They were well cared for, and allowed to go home each evening before returning in the morning.


  Something didn’t sit right with him.

  He focused on the ahmaean around him, making certain that there was no pressure on him, even hazarding a glance to the Deshmahne temple in the distance, but there was no sensation upon him.

  Brohmin risked using his ahmaean. Sending out a stream of his connection, he reached toward the distant priest. As he did, he could tell where the priest headed, could practically see him in his mind.

  There was something else. Darkness pressed upon Brohmin.

  Withdrawing quickly, he released his connection to the ahmaean but wondered if he had been fast enough. He opened his eyes and glanced to Salindra. “We should hurry.”

  “Because he’s running?”

  Brohmin shook his head slowly. “Because the Deshmahne may now be aware of my presence.”

  Her jaw clenched, but she said nothing.

  Brohmin squeezed through the crowd, working his way along the street. Many of the people were simply trying to make their way toward the city center where trade took place. As they went, he realized that was the same direction the priest had gone.

  It made sense. What better way to navigate the streets of Paliis than to blend into the crowd and behave much like the traders?

  The crowd grew increasingly harder to squeeze through the closer they got to the city center. In the days that they had been in Paliis, Brohmin had found his way to the trading square several times, but always late in the evening, well after the daytime crowd had gone home. There was still activity in the evening, but many of the perishable items had already been traded for the day.

  Salindra held tightly to his hand, and he was happy to hold on to it here. If he lost her, it would be easy to disappear into the crowd, much as the priest likely thought to disappear.

  Every so often, he glanced back over his shoulder at Salindra, and she nodded. She had come a long way in the time they had been together. There would have been a time when crowds would have bothered her, especially crowds of people she once would have seen as beneath her. That side of her, the Mage side that viewed those without any abilities differently from those Mageborn, had changed. She was better for it.