“I don’t know. I’m not sure even Endric knew, only that it was important.”
Brohmin took a step back to stand next to Salindra. She had been silently watching, and now her jaw was clenched tightly and her arms crossed in front of her. Brohmin settled her to the ground, almost carefully, before turning to Jakob. “We should sleep. Tomorrow we can talk on this more.”
Brohmin turned from him and began to settle himself by the fire, sitting upright and staring out into the night. Jakob moved away from the fire and stretched out his cloak along the ground before lying upon it. As he settled in to sleep, the familiar itch of being watched chased him to dreams of men with fiery eyes and someone trapped behind tall walls. His sleep was fitful but at least it was sleep.
Jakob woke to dawn colors streaking the sky. A faint light filtered through the treetop canopy to reach them, and he glanced around as he opened his eyes. The fire had long since died. He glanced across the pile of burned ash that had been the fire, and saw the Mage woman still asleep. The cut to her short hair seemed even more severe in the early morning light. She lay covered with a dark-colored cloak, a deep brown he could barely tell wasn’t black.
Brohmin was already up, his pack already strapped alongside his horse.
Jakob stretched slowly, carefully working out his leg. There was no pain. He stretched less carefully and still no pain.
His hand wandered to where the arrow had hit. The skin was smooth and intact. Only a slight indentation the only evidence he’d had an injury.
How?
He looked to the sleeping Mage and then to Brohmin with the question on his lips, but it went unasked as Brohmin caught his eyes and whispered, “Good, you’re up. You can help.”
He sat himself up and moved to where Brohmin worked, digging into the ground to bury the remains of their night, and his mind reluctantly let go of how he’d healed. He grabbed a stout stick lying nearby and began digging next to Brohmin. His short jabs at the hard packed dirt were less effective than those Brohmin made. They dug for a while, the hole growing quickly, and then shoved the ash and remains of the fire into the pit. Brohmin covered it carefully, practiced hands pushing the dirt down gently. When he was done, Jakob couldn’t even tell there had been a fire.
Brohmin tossed Jakob a hunk of hard bread and a flask of water before nodding toward their horses, and Jakob understood. As he ate, he walked over to the animals, untying the one that had been his, and led it away from the others. While doing this, he watched Brohmin gently nudge Salindra awake. They talked softly for a time, and Brohmin glanced quickly to the woman’s feet before helping her to stand.
She dusted herself off, wiping the dirt and leaves from the cloak she had covered herself in, and then moved quickly to her own mount. She was ready to leave only moments after she had wakened. It seemed to Jakob a practiced event.
Brohmin mounted and motioned him to follow. “We’re chased. We’ll ride hard today.”
“How did they find us?” Jakob asked, though he had enough experience with the Deshmahne to know they could find him again.
“They have trackers who know these lands better than most,” Brohmin answered.
“How will we keep ahead of them?”
Brohmin laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Because I, too, know these lands. Come.”
They rode as fast as they could in the ever-thickening forest, slowing considerably several times as they waded through swampy areas. Twice, they led the horses down steep embankments on foot. Brohmin seemed to be taking a direct route, wherever he was going, choosing to ride through rather than around any challenges.
The silent ride allowed Jakob a chance to consider his new companions. Brohmin was more than he seemed, and he wondered about Salindra as well. Something about the Mage was odd. Why did she travel with Brohmin? Why was she not in the Mage city?
Occasionally, faint lines of the sun shone through the tops of the trees, though it wasn’t common. From the position of the sun in the sky, he guessed they were heading north and east. The strange feeling in the back of his mind was still with him, and as they rode silently, his awareness of it increased, like a slowly building fire. Glancing around, he saw nothing. Brohmin saw his movement and looked as well but remained quiet.
About midday, at least from what he could tell, they stopped as the forest opened briefly near a stream. Salindra motioned for him to stop while Brohmin dismounted and tossed his reins to her before starting off on foot into the thick of the forest.
“You do want to eat don’t you?” Salindra asked. “Let the horses drink.”
He walked with the three horses over to the stream and felt a slight twinge in his leg, though it was nothing like the pain he should have. The horses leaned down immediately and lapped at the cool water. He let them have their fill, then took his turn, lowering his face to the slow moving water and dipping his cupped hand in, drinking deeply. It tasted cool, and coppery. A slightly sweet taste was left in his mouth after swallowing.
He stood and turned from the stream, and watched Brohmin stride back into the small clearing carrying two dead hares. The man didn’t appear to have any weapon save the sword strapped to his back, and he doubted he’d caught the hares with that. The bow he’d used the night before was still slung on his saddle. The mystery around Brohmin deepened.
The thought of hot food started churning his stomach, and Brohmin built a quick fire again. Salindra spitted the hares and began to roast what would be his first meal in weeks. Brohmin came to him as he watched the rabbits roasting.
“It’ll be a while as Salindra cooks,” he told him. Salindra nodded curtly. “Tell me, boy, you wear that sword well. Where did you learn the steel?”
Salindra’s head cocked slightly at the question. He looked to the sword sheathed at his waist before looking up.
“First, my brother. He was one of the Ur. When he tried to teach me...” He shook his head. Brohmin didn’t need to know how Jakob had never really learned from Scottan. “Recently, it was Endric, though I practiced with Mage Roelle as well.”
Salindra smiled, almost to herself, and shook her head.
“The Magi do not use weapons,” Brohmin said. “You’d better come up with a better story.”
“I can’t speak of any Mage save Roelle, and she worked with Endric nearly as often as I did. The few times I saw them spar, she was nearly Endric’s equal.” He flushed as he mentioned Roelle.
Salindra had stopped cooking, choosing instead to listen, her attention more direct now.
Jakob looked from Brohmin to Salindra. “I did get the impression the other Mage was not pleased about it.”
Brohmin stared at Jakob, as if weighing what he said. “You say you traveled with the Magi.”
Jakob nodded. “I traveled with Mage Haerlin and Roelle after they chose a delegate. We were to meet another on the way to Vasha.”
“Haerlin?” Salindra said. She looked to Brohmin before turning a disbelieving eye on Jakob. “An Elder traveled outside of the city?”
“I know little of your customs, Mage Salindra, and can speak only of what I saw.” He was more direct than he would have been weeks before.
Salindra laughed then. “You’re quite the storyman.”
Jakob smiled at the compliment. If only this had been nothing more than a story, a tale of Jarren Gildeun on one of his incredible journeys. At least Jarren survived his stories. Yet Jakob was nothing like Jarren, a man without fear, a man who traveled to impossible places. “Not a storyman. I’ve told you what I’ve seen.”
Brohmin stared at Jakob with an unreadable expression before turning to Salindra.
“You know this cannot be true, Brohmin,” she said. “Ask him why the Deshmahne seek him, ask why the reward. We need to know the truth.”
The truth. Jakob didn’t know the truth of the reward or why he was worth fifty gold clips. He now knew Rondalin was controlled by Deshmahne, though, and knew he couldn’t return there.
“Too much is wro
ng. Haerlin leaving the city? And the Elders would never allow a Mage to learn the sword, and they would certainly not do this other.”
Brohmin smiled slightly. “It rings of another practice I know.”
Salindra shook her head. “Not like this. They would not change it!”
Brohmin arched an eyebrow. “I am not as certain,” he told her before turning to Jakob. “There’s one way I know of to find the truth.”
He suddenly unsheathed his sword and swung it toward Jakob.
Jakob reacted without thought, ducking and rolling, before unsheathing his sword and facing Brohmin. Brohmin smiled as Jakob faltered with the weight of his sword. It was a smile of compassion. Jakob paused, uncertainty invading his thoughts.
These people saved my life.
Brohmin didn’t want to hurt him. Instead, he offered a test.
I need to prove myself.
Their doubt must end. If he was to travel with them, it must end.
Salindra saw how he had faltered with his sword, and a smile of almost satisfaction crossed her face. She mouthed the words, “Now we shall see.”
“I’ll go easy on you, boy,” Brohmin told him softly.
“Endric never did,” Jakob answered, his words hard, almost not his own.
He turned toward Brohmin and brought his sword up. One side blazed with the light while the other seemed to suck light from around him. Jakob knew a moment of hesitation as Brohmin paused to look upon the sword, but the pause was brief. Then the man moved to attack.
He was fast, almost too fast, but Jakob caught the movement and turned his own sword around to block. A loud clang reverberated throughout the forest. He turned his block into a quick attack, three quick turns of his wrist. Brohmin countered each.
Brohmin stepped into a catah. It was one he knew. He moved quickly, knowing the weakness of the movement, and caught the man in mid swing. Jakob stepped into a quick attack, but Brohmin broke his in mid movement as well. The man smiled slightly.
The slight limp slowed Jakob and frustration pounded through him. He flashed through a series of catahs, flowing from one to the next, his sword a blur. But each step was blocked by Brohmin’s steel. Something was different.
When he had faced the Deshmahne, his sword had seemed to lead him, and something within him always responded. Without it, he’d have no chance. Brohmin was good.
Jakob had known that from the start but soon realized the man was much better than he’d expected. Possibly as good as Endric. Brohmin was able to block every motion, stop every attack, and turn them against him. He found himself answering but realized he may not be a match for the man.
What happens if I lose?
The thought filtered through his awareness. Would they turn him in for the reward? He couldn’t allow that, too much at stake and too much already lost. The trunk must continue north.
With the thought came a feeling he had known before.
The slow pulsing began in his head.
Jakob welcomed it and felt it roll through him and into his sword. He pulled through the sword, differently than he had ever tried before.
Everything seemed to shift as he did, becoming suddenly sharper, clearer. The pulsing overwhelmed him, filling him and everything slowed. He saw every movement Brohmin made in near slow motion. The man brought his sword around, blade flashing toward Jakob’s face, and he brought his own sword up to block. It was an easy movement.
Jakob attacked several times quickly, almost too quickly, and thought he had Brohmin caught. Somehow, the man was able to catch his blade each time. He brought his sword around again, four quick slices, and again each was somehow blocked.
He moved harder, faster, and again felt a raw tearing of his mind.
Again everything slowed.
Two quick turns of his blade. Neither close enough to harm the man, only enough to scare him. Brohmin had no chance to block either of them. The man would have been dead if he’d not held back. Brohmin’s eyes widened, and he stepped back, raising his hands and lowering his sword.
Jakob sheathed his sword and breathed deeply as the pulsing faded. His mind seemed to click, and time jerked forward again. His arm still hummed. Sweat rolled down his face, his back, and he panted, tired from the exertion. He looked at Brohmin, hoping the man would believe him now.
Brohmin shook his head slowly. His eyes were wide, surprise perhaps, before turning to Salindra. Jakob turned his own gaze to her. Her mouth hung open.
“He’s worked with Endric,” Brohmin said finally. Relief flowed through Jakob. “There are catahs only Endric and I know. And now you.” He looked at Jakob, a question in his eyes. “I don’t know how that was possible. Something else too. I’ve seen it only once before.” He shook his head, mumbling something under his breath. He looked Jakob in the eyes. “You’re a strange one, boy, but you don’t lie.”
Jakob was tired. What was happening to him? Why was he able to fight this way, with such skill now when he’d never had it before?
This was something other than the madness. It had to be.
He looked to Salindra who still appeared shocked. Brohmin walked over to her and whispered. Jakob heard what they said with the slow pulsing in his head.
Salindra seemed near tears, her voice trembling. “I thought... I thought you were dead.”
The words were a whisper but seemed loud in his ears.
“A real fight, I might have been.” Brohmin’s voice had a slight tremor.
She looked up then and saw Jakob looking, and lowered her voice. It didn’t matter. “How could he move so fast? His body was a blur.”
“The boy is a mystery. They said he was important. There is more to him than there seems. I hope we find out soon.”
They looked up, realizing he was still staring at them, and Brohmin motioned him to join them. He walked over to them, their stares almost accusations and their eyes filled with questions.
“What do you mean ‘they said he was important’?”
Brohmin surprised him by winking. “The Conclave.”
Jakob stumbled. “Then... you knew?”
“Not quite. It doesn’t work like that. I know Endric and Novan. I had to be sure you did too. We can talk later,” Brohmin said, shooting Salindra a strange look.
Salindra watched Brohmin silently, her eyebrows furrowed and a frown upon her face. There was a question hanging from her lips, yet it went unasked.
They ate the hares silently before remounting. Jakob was exhausted from the past few days and didn’t argue, yet even tired, the strange itch at the back of his mind was there. He could not suppress it as well in his exhaustion, but he didn’t bother to look around. Jakob knew he would see nothing.
They rode north and east, and the trees grew taller, growing higher into the sky with each passing mile. The light of the sun was slowly blocked until it was no longer visible. Eventually, Brohmin declared it was time to stop, and they dismounted. Nearly dark, Jakob climbed down from his saddle exhausted, rolling out his cloak to lie down. Brohmin strode out into the forest again, hunting, and Salindra wandered away with the water skins, leaving him alone.
The dark night was silent. There were no real sounds from the forest, and his tired eyes struggled to stay open, so he decided to sleep, hoping Brohmin would wake him to eat. He’d learned to survive without eating every day and knew one more night would not hurt him.
As he lay down, there was a crack of broken twigs. He looked up to see someone creeping toward him and only barely saw a dark blur swinging toward his forehead. It collided with him and the darkness of night overcame him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Roelle looked over at Selton, waiting for his answer. They sat in Roelle’s room on plain, sturdy chairs, away from the small desk facing the wall covered with papers and books never read. Her friend was silent. “What did he mean?” Roelle asked again.
Selton looked up at her, concentration broken. His hazel eyes were thoughtful and piercing, so intelligent... and captiv
ating. Selton had recently taken to wearing his hair shorter and it made his face seem more angular and broad. She’d known him as long as she’d been in the city, and they had been friends the entire time. “The Magi were founded by the Great Mother Isalilline Mailell. It was she who gathered the first seeds of our people and founded this city.”
Roelle sat silently, considering. It was the history even the youngest Mageborn knew of their people. The vision and forethought of the Great Mother was taught in their earliest years and was immortalized in many statues. “Endric meant something different, I am sure.”
“There’s nothing in the library, Roelle. I’ve searched.”
If any were to find it, it would be Selton. He’d spent many hours each day reading in the library. If not in the library, where could it be? “There has to be something there.”
“Sure,” Selton agreed. “For Elders of the Council only. I can’t access that section without severe consequences.”
Selton said the words lightly, but Roelle didn’t even want to consider the consequences. The Elders were fiercely protective of their section of the library and the texts contained within. Alriyn had once told her that there were secrets there not meant for younger eyes. “Alriyn won’t offer access to me, and Endric doesn’t give straight answers.” She looked up at Selton. “Who can we ask?”
Selton drummed his fingers on his leg. “The timing is interesting. Normally, I wouldn’t have any suggestions, but with Lendra having returned...”
“Who’s Lendra?”
“My cousin. She’s been out of the city for years, but returned to visit her parents.”
“Why her?”
“Her father is the chief historian,” Selton answered.
“Inilith?” Roelle asked. If they could get Inilith to help, that would give them access to more than they had otherwise. “I forgot he was your uncle.”
“By marriage,” Selton said. “Last I heard, Lendra had been studying in Coamdon. It’s not often she returns to the city, not being Mageborn and all.”
Roelle leaned back. It was more than they had. “Where can we find her?”
The Threat of Madness (The Lost Prophecy Book 1) Page 27