“How have you hidden it from Raime?”
“The forest prevents him from accessing our home. He is unable to reach us, much as other men are unable to reach us.”
Would anything have changed that would allow Raime to reach that pool?
Jakob had beaten him, and had forced him away from the fibers, but was there anything he might have learned? Would there be some way for him to have discovered how to reach the pool of power within the daneamiin lands?
He closed his eyes, focusing on his ahmaean, trying to turn it inward, forcing it forward as he had seen Haerlin do. Could he re-create that well enough that he could understand how to separate the fibers, and reach along them to see the possible futures?
As he did, he tried to search for the possibilities, thinking about what Haerlin had shown him. There was nothing clear, nothing that made much sense to him. Could he focus on something in particular?
Not Raime. There would be too much to try to understand if he focused on Raime.
What about the pool itself?
Jakob thought about it, using that as his focus, and as he did, he saw numerous possibilities.
Within those possibilities, there was an undercurrent of danger. There was darkness, emptiness that had not been there before.
Jakob opened his eyes, releasing his connection to the ahmaean. That hadn’t weakened him nearly as much as he had thought it might. “We need to return.”
“He will not be able to reach it, Jakob Nialsen. As I said, the forest protects us. He will not be able to reach us.”
Jakob wasn’t quite as certain. Raime had proven that he was able to do things that others did not think possible. He had managed to live for as long as he had, destroying much in his search for power. Why wouldn’t he be able to reach the pool?
And yet, Jakob was weakened, unable to make that journey back. He could not simply shift, not safely.
A growing fear rose within him. What if Raime had planned for that?
Raime had already proven that he could glimpse along the fibers, that he could look forward. Jakob had closed him off from stepping back, and influencing the past, but had he managed to separate him from looking into the future?
And would it even have mattered?
If Raime could venture along the fibers, and if he had already seen enough, he might already know what he needed to do to eliminate Jakob.
Yet he hadn’t anticipated Jakob when they faced each other in the tower.
That meant at the least that Raime had been unprepared.
“I need you to guide us back to your home,” Jakob said.
“You wanted to rest. I think that you should, especially with what you went through.”
“I was able to look forward, barely a little, but when I did, and when I looked at the pool, I saw…”
Anda watched him. “What is it that you saw?”
“I saw darkness. I fear that if we don’t return, Raime will have gained access to that source of ahmaean, and if he succeeds, he will grow stronger than he has ever been before.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
They tracked the merahl through the cool night. Isandra had grown tired hours before and was now settling into exhaustion. Somehow, she managed to keep going, though at a certain point, she knew she would collapse. There was a limit to how far she could walk, and how much she could do, and she thought she had surpassed that point even before the battle with the groeliin.
Neither Nahrsin nor Jassan seemed troubled by the ongoing march. They soldiered on, as did the other Antrilii, none speaking much as they made their way through the mountains. The merahl howled at times, their call an ongoing summons, and the Antrilii followed.
She glanced over to Jassan as the sun began to creep above the mountain peak. “How do they not alert the groeliin of their presence?”
Her words seemed slurred, as if she had too much to drink. It was interesting that fatigue would have an effect similar to an abundance of ale.
“We think the groeliin can’t hear them,” Jassan answered.
“How could they not hear them? I hear them fine.”
“Because you are a Mage. There are some men who cannot hear them, either. We’ve always suspected that was the reason the groeliin do not know the merahl hunt.”
“How much longer will we be going this morning?”
“The merahl think they have found the breeding grounds,” Nahrsin said. “We’ll keep going until we reach it.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to be well rested when you reach it?”
Nahrsin glanced over to her, and his face had the same intensity that it had when she saw him the night before. “The merahl do not rest, so we do not rest.”
They fell into silence, and Isandra continued the climb, following them wordlessly.
The mountains surrounded her, the rocky hillsides sweeping down and then back up, little more than scrub plants growing along their sides. The air held a hint of pine, and there was a growing warmth. Why would there be warmth here? The mountains had been cold, the wind biting, and had been increasingly unpleasant the longer they traveled.
One of the merahl made a low cry that was less of a summons, and more of an alert.
“They found it?” Isandra asked.
“I suspect they did,” Nahrsin said.
The climb took them higher, and she couldn’t tell which of the men led, whether it was Nahrsin nor Jassan. It seemed as if both of them did. The steady howling of the merahl continued to drag them forward. Isandra no longer questioned when they would reach them. It seemed an impossibility that they had traveled as long and as far as they had and that she could stay on her feet for as long as she had. Her body ached, and her mouth was dry, but still, she climbed, traveling with the Antrilii as they hunted.
They reached a tall mountain peak, and they stopped.
Below them, the mountainside descended into a narrow valley. All along the rocks, she saw merahl, simply standing, remaining motionless. With their dark fur, they blended into the stone, hunting, but they had stopped.
“Is this it?” she asked in a whisper.
“We’ve never found a breeding ground.”
“What did Endric describe of the breeding grounds he saw?”
Nahrsin glanced at Jassan. “Endric described caves and dozens upon dozens of groeliin. Much of what he described is difficult to imagine.”
The Antrilii arranged themselves along the rock, taking a position where they could remain concealed, using the mountains to hide them.
Isandra stayed near Jassan, looking over the rock. She was tired—so very tired.
“What now?” she asked.
“Now, we must wait.”
Isandra awoke to a shrill whistle.
How had she fallen asleep?
She sat up, leaning away from the rock, and rubbed her back. It ached from where she had been resting, and her sword jabbed into her side.
Jassan crouched next to the rock, peering over the edge. He whistled again, and Isandra stayed low, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she crouched next to him.
“Why did you let me sleep?”
“Because you needed it. We will face danger in time. And you will need to be alert.”
“I shouldn’t have slept.”
“Many of the Antrilii took a rest,” Jassan said. “We learned long ago that we need to rest when we can. The battle will claim us soon enough.”
Isandra looked around and saw that many Antrilii still slept. She hadn’t been the only one who had rested. Many slept sitting upright, their hands resting on their swords, prepared to attack at the first sign of fighting, ready in ways that Isandra was not.
“What have you seen?”
Jassan shook his head. “There has been no sign of any activity. The groeliin have not moved.”
“Are you sure the groeliin are here?”
“They are here. The merahl detect them. Even if they don’t do anything, the merahl detect their presence.”
Isan
dra surveyed the narrow valley and watched the merahl on the rocks surrounding her. They were all alert, prepared for anything that might come. She saw no sign of the one merahl that had essentially claimed her, the creature that had protected her, and had made certain that she was safe when facing the onslaught of the groeliin. Had it abandoned her? Or did it hunt with the others?
As she watched, she noted movement down in the valley. It was little more than shadows, and as she stared, she realized that what she saw was something other than the groeliin. “What is that?”
Jassan shook his head. “They are the Mindless Men.”
“What are the Mindless Men?” Isandra asked.
Jassan motioned down to the valley. “The Mindless Men are slaves claimed by the groeliin. They serve them.”
“Why do you call them that?”
“Because they no longer have the capacity to think. They are not all men, but they all have been… altered… in some way that changed them, and turned them into what you see below.”
Isandra watched. She had thought it bad enough that the Deshmahne had stolen abilities from her, and from other Magi, but this was just as bad, and possibly worse, especially since these people were left as mere shells of themselves.
“Why do the groeliin need the Mindless Men?”
“They need servants. There are things that the groeliin cannot do. For this, they need the assistance of the Mindless Men.”
Watching the people below horrified her. “Are they like that because of markings similar to what was placed on me?” she asked.
Jassan glanced over at her and nodded slowly. “There are markings. Most have believed that the markings on the Mindless Men are a way to claim them, to identify which brood they belong to. Others fear there is a different reason for the markings. When the Deshmahne declared themselves and began demonstrating their dark magics as they stole power, there were those, particularly among the Yahinv, who questioned whether the markings might have a different—and darker—purpose.”
Isandra doubted there was anything that could be done for those people, any more than there was anything that could be done for her. They had managed to seal off the damage, but more than that? She was still injured, and still less of the Mage she once was.
“The Mindless Men are how you know that the groeliin are here?”
“It is how we know. That they are here makes it even more likely that we have neared the breeding grounds.”
She sat back, ducking behind the rocks, trying to understand what she was seeing. She had come here for answers, hadn’t she? Wasn’t that the reason she had wanted to make this journey? She had wanted to understand more about the Antrilii, and about the breeding, and why the groeliin would be breeding again so soon, but there was quite a bit more about the groeliin that she still didn’t understand. She might never fully understand it.
“Can the Mindless Men hear the merahl?” she asked.
Jassan glanced down. “It’s possible. Each of the Mindless Men we have ever attempted to save has been mute. If they have some way of speaking and communicating with the groeliin, we have not discovered it.”
“You don’t think that they will alert the groeliin of the presence of the merahl?”
“That has not been our experience,” he said.
How else could the groeliin have nearly trapped the merahl—and the Antrilii—drawing them into an attack that had nearly claimed Jassan and his men. Were it not for Nahrsin, they would have been claimed.
There was something missing, but she wasn’t entirely certain what it was.
The groeliin were behaving differently. There was a connection between what was happening. “You’ve never encountered groeliin fighting with swords before?”
Jassan shook his head. “They are brutal creatures, clever, but we have not thought them to possess much intelligence.”
“Wouldn’t at least some of them have to have some intelligence to have mastered these techniques of placing the markings? Not to mention those that can wield a sword.”
He turned to her, his brow furrowed, making his face appear clouded. “When Endric returned with word of what he’d seen at the Chisln, we realized there was more to the groeliin than we had ever understood.”
”And from what we’ve faced on this journey, it seems there is even more to them than what you may have imagined.”
He nodded. “That is possible, and if they are gaining intelligence, and becoming more tactical in what they do, we will have a harder time containing them.”
“Does it have anything to do with the Deshmahne?” It seemed logical to consider that since the Deshmahne had learned how to steal power from the groeliin, that the groeliin could somehow gain knowledge from the Deshmahne in return. And if the High Priest of the Deshmahne had used the groeliin as his army, then what better way to improve the skill of his soldiers than by teaching them how to use weapons?
They needed to understand whether it was the High Priest—and if it was, the timing seemed odd, especially since he had been defeated—or whether it was someone else.
Could another of the Deshmahne lead them in the High Priest’s absence?
One of the merahl howled softly.
Isandra stood and shifted so that she could look down over the rock, getting a better view. The movement in the valley had changed, and now there were more of the Mindless Men moving about, but there was other movement as well. Groeliin.
They moved as dark shapes, a fog of darkness that surrounded them making it difficult to see them clearly. The darkness of night made it even more difficult, but there was no question in her mind what she was seeing.
Were there any of the larger groeliin?
What she saw seemed to be the smaller creatures, and they were easier for her to see. As she watched, she became aware of something else down in the valley.
It was flashes of movement, but these were not the Mindless Men—men and women who were naked, their bodies gleaming with the brightness of the moon—and were not the groeliin. These were easier for her to see, and she could make out what appeared to be dark cloaks.
Her breath caught.
Any question about the role of the Deshmahne with the groeliin disappeared.
Isandra motioned toward them, getting Jassan’s attention. “Do you see them?”
“I see them.”
“The merahl will have to be careful. If they make too much noise, the Deshmahne will hear them, and will know that we are here.”
Jassan turned and nudged one of the sleeping Antrilii. The man was awake and standing in only a few heartbeats, much more rapidly than Isandra would have managed. Jassan whispered something to him, and the man crept off. “We will make certain that does not happen.”
“We need to find out more about what role the Deshmahne have with the groeliin,” Isandra said.
“I agree. We have many Antrilii with us, and the merahl will hunt with us, but against men armed with the sword? That is a difficult battle for them. I intend to lead a small scouting party.”
“You? What happens if you’re captured?”
“Then Nahrsin leads. It has to be me, as Nahrsin is more valuable to the rest of the Antrilii warriors.”
She looked over to where Nahrsin crouched, staring at the rock with the same intensity as Jassan. Had he slept at all? It was possible that he had been awake just as long as Jassan.
“I will go with you to scout,” Isandra said.
“You fight well, but this is not a battle you should attempt. There is a chance we could be captured.”
“You said if I fought, I would be Antrilii. I have fought. I am with you.”
She flushed as she said it, but stood before him refusing to take it back.
Jassan watched her and breathed out slightly. “I would like to have met you under different circumstances.”
Isandra smiled. “Under different circumstances, not only would we not have met, but you would not have cared for me.” He offered a hint of a smile. “When wil
l we go?”
“Soon, or we will be forced to attack.”
She looked down at the Deshmahne, her gaze taking in the groeliin, as well as the Mindless Men, more of both appearing as she watched.
Did that mean more Deshmahne would appear?
They would have to move quickly. If they didn’t, it was possible that they would soon be heavily outnumbered, if they weren’t already.
For some reason, her attention continued to be drawn to the Deshmahne. They shouldn’t be here. They shouldn’t be working with the groeliin.
Her heart fluttered as she contemplated what she would need to do next. And she wasn’t certain whether she was strong enough. Even if she still had her Mage abilities, she wouldn’t have felt strong enough to do what needed to be done. Without them, she was nothing more than a woman with a sword against monsters and men who had more power and strength than she possessed.
Yet she had survived.
When she could have died, when she could have been destroyed by the groeliin, she had survived.
Isandra took a deep breath, and when Jassan nodded to her, indicating that it was time to begin, she nodded back. She was as ready as she could be.
They descended carefully, and she made certain to place each step in Jassan’s footprint, not daring to risk loose gravel slipping beneath her boot and revealing them before they were ready. Isandra might have other skills, but she knew she was not as skilled as Jassan at navigating the mountain passes.
They paused periodically, hiding behind rocks, and looking around, making certain that they weren’t seen, before moving on once more.
When they reached the edge of the valley, they positioned themselves behind large boulders as they took in the activity ahead before continuing.
The stench from the groeliin increased the closer they got. The now familiar odor was musky and unpleasant. There was something almost oily about it, a slickness that practically burned the back of her throat. It hung in the air, almost palpable, like the fog that surrounded the groeliin.
The Lost City (The Lost Prophecy Book 5) Page 26