Selton watched her for a moment, but then he nodded.
She was thankful that was where it ended. She wasn’t interested in arguing with her friend and didn’t want to get into a confrontation with him.
She glanced at the Magi already in formation and watched Selton move into position up front, then cast a long look at the Deshmahne, thankful that Safran didn’t attempt to push them.
Then she rode off into the darkness.
The horse was surefooted, and Roelle trusted her as she rode quickly toward the Denraen. One of the lead the sentries appeared to notice her and motioned to the others. It was a signal that she recognized from her time training with Endric. She slowed her horse, coming at them with a more measured approach rather than racing toward them. When she reached the front line of the soldiers, she surveyed their horses. All were well cared for, and none appeared over-exerted despite the time of day. How long had they been riding? Why were they riding at night rather than earlier in the day?
The soldiers watched her with an intensity but let her continue onward. When she’d passed a dozen men, she paused and asked, “Who is your commander?”
The nearest of them turned to her. “Who asks?”
There was something about the squat, compact man that was familiar. She had seen him before.
“Pendin?” she asked.
The man guided his horse forward, and in the faint light, Roelle could see the frown on his face. “Gods! Roelle?”
What was the chance that she would encounter one of the Denraen she knew? Not only one of the Denraen, but one of the commanders?
“I don’t suppose Endric is with you?” That would be almost too much good fortune to have encountered Endric.
Pendin shook his head. “He was, but he rode off earlier in the night to scout.”
“Endric went on a scouting mission?”
“We don’t question when Endric tells us what he intends to do.” Pendin frowned, studying her. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m trying to reach the north.”
“It seems last time I saw you, you were doing the same thing.”
“I’ve been to Vasha since then,” she said.
“So I’ve heard, but I didn’t see you then.”
Pendin’s gaze drifted toward the sloping hillside and where she had her Magi, as well as the Deshmahne, camped. “How many travel with you?”
There was something in the question that told her that Pendin knew more than he let on. “How many are with you?”
Pendin’s smile faded, and he motioned behind him. “I haven’t hidden my men. We’re here for you to see how many there are.”
Roelle frowned. “You might be here, but you also said that Endric rode off. He only would do that if…”
She swore under her breath. Endric had to have circled around her. It was the only explanation as to why these Denraen would make so much noise. They would have intended to draw her attention while Endric—and whoever was with them—swooped around and made a different move.
Roelle spun her horse and set off at a gallop. She flew across the grassland, flowing up the hill and streaking toward the gathered Magi and Deshmahne. There was movement near those she had left, but she couldn’t tell exactly what was taking place.
Roelle circled around, moving so that she could place herself into the position where she anticipated Endric would have led his Denraen. What reaction would he have finding Deshmahne? Would the presence of the Magi prevent him from attacking?
Then she saw him.
Endric stood in front of the two hundred Deshmahne, arms crossed over his chest casually, his gaze fixed on Safran. There was a sense of pressure—a soft surge that reminded Roelle of manehlin being used. There was no fear to Endric’s posture, and no sign of agitation that he confronted an army, essentially alone.
Then again, Roelle doubted he was alone.
She galloped toward Endric and threw herself from the saddle, coming to a stop next to the general.
He barely glanced over at her. “Roelle. Interesting companions you have.”
“They are companions, Endric. They haven’t come here to attack.”
“So I’ve gathered. If they had, they would already be dead.”
There was no boasting to it, there didn’t need to be, not from Endric.
“We intend to hunt the groeliin.”
Endric finally turned and offered a hint of a smile. “That is why you have come north?”
“Why else would I have?”
Endric’s gaze flicked to her wrist. “I don’t know. You have taken on the mark, haven’t you?”
How would Endric have known? There wasn’t anything on her that should have revealed the tattoo short of him pulling up the sleeve of her Paliis dress. “It’s not like that, Endric.”
He studied her for a moment, and she felt pressure coming off of him. His eyes narrowed for a moment, and then he relaxed. “Perhaps it is not.”
Endric turned away from the Deshmahne and nodded to Roelle. “Come with me, Roelle. It seems we have much to talk about.”
The crackling fire rose brightly against the night sky. Roelle sat close to it—close enough to feel the heat burning her cheeks. Endric sat across from her, and she wanted to be near enough to determine if he used any connection to manehlin. The pressure she had detected when they had first come across Endric had to have been him manipulating manehlin. If he could, what other secrets did he hide?
Safran stood, choosing not to sit, and Selton stood near him, presumably to keep an eye on the entire proceedings, but it appeared more that Selton was interested in preventing the Deshmahne from harming Endric. Once she would have thought such a thing impossible, but she had seen Safran’s fighting skill. Endric was getting old, and any battle would likely be taxing to him, so much so that she wasn’t sure she wanted to be the one responsible for his demise.
“You don’t need to go north,” Endric said.
“The groeliin are in the north,” she countered. “We—I—have been trying to figure out what we needed to do to help since Jakob brought his brother to me.”
Endric frowned. “Jakob brought his brother to you? Why would he have done that?”
“His brother had been a soldier, and he suffered from some illness. He thought that helping his brother find his connection to soldiering might allow him to recover. I don’t think we managed to do anything to help him. At least, not before he disappeared.”
“His brother disappeared? Do you know what happened to him?”
Roelle shook her head. “Jakob doesn’t share much with us anymore. Perhaps he doesn’t need to, but he no longer seems impressed by the impossibility within the world. With what he can do, he doesn’t think about how amazing much of it is.”
“His kind never did.”
“How long have you known?”
Endric considered Roelle for a long moment. “I suspect I’ve always known somewhat. He had a natural gift with the sword, beyond even your capability. Beyond that, there was the way that he survived when he should not have. Considering everything he was exposed to, he should have been dead many times over. And yet he lived. By all accounts, he saw—and encountered—much.”
“Why are you saying that I don’t need to go north to confront the groeliin?”
“Another approach has been decided upon.”
“Whose? The Antrilii’s?”
Endric frowned slightly. “In a way, you could say that it was the Antrilii.”
“Who else could it be?”
Endric shook his head. “And the Deshmahne? Have they come with you to hunt the groeliin, or have they come for a different purpose?”
Endric put words to her concerns within moments. She had hoped the Deshmahne came with them to hunt groeliin, but given what she knew about the groeliin, and about the Deshmahne, she wasn’t entirely certain that they weren’t interested in using the groeliin’s power to augment their own.
“We would honor the gods by destroying cre
atures that do not so honor them,” Safran said.
Endric turned his attention to the Deshmahne, and there was another sense of pressure.
She had always known Endric to be more than what he appeared, and after learning of his connection to the Antrilii, and seeing the Antrilii herself, she suspected that he had a connection to manehlin much the way that the Magi did. But it was one thing to know about the connection, and quite another to see how comfortable he was using that connection. Endric displayed evidence of control that would make many of the more experienced Magi proud.
“There were others of your priesthood who came north thinking to honor the gods, though they chose to do it in a different way,” Endric said.
“They were fools.”
“Where are they? You don’t have any interest in finding these creatures so that you can take power from them?”
Safran’s eyes widened slightly. “If these creatures do not serve the gods, there would be no purpose in reaching for their connection.”
“Other than to reach for power. The others of your priesthood that I spoke of thought to gain strength by stealing the power from these creatures.”
Safran stared at Endric and nodded slowly. “I cannot speak for those who you’ve encountered before. Those were not Deshmahne.”
Endric laughed bitterly. “I’ve known Deshmahne for decades. Don’t presume to tell me what they believe and what they don’t.”
There was darkness and anger in his tone, and Roelle realized that she needed to be careful with these two. She had always known Endric to be thoughtful, but did he have an impulsive streak when it came to the Deshmahne? Was there something about them that he’d experienced that would make him act in a way that would put her plan in danger?
Roelle shook her head. “Endric, I’ve spent time with the Deshmahne—”
“I can see that.”
“They healed me. And they did so at Brohmin’s urging.”
Endric pulled his gaze away from Safran and looked at Roelle. It was the desired response. Now that she knew Brohmin’s role, and knew how he would have some connection to Endric, she hoped she could leverage their connection so that Endric would be placated.
“Brohmin was there?”
He glanced over his shoulder, looking toward the Denraen camp. He had kept distance between his soldiers and the Deshmahne, something that Roelle was thankful for. Had he been willing to come much closer, she feared that they wouldn’t have managed to remain peaceful. At least in this way, there was distance that kept them apart.
“Brohmin was there. He left me—or so I thought. It wasn’t until later that I realized he had done so as a way to find me help. I had been attacked by the groeliin, and—”
Endric nodded. “You were poisoned by the negatively charged teralin.”
Roelle nodded. “Nahrsin thought to heal me, but there was only so much he was able to do. Jakob tried, but it’s possible that he doesn’t know about teralin.” Roelle tried not to think about what it meant that one of the gods wouldn’t know about teralin. “That left Brohmin to help.”
Endric squeezed his eyes shut, and she could practically see the wheels in his mind turning as he tried to put together everything that she’d shared with him. Perhaps he would come to some conclusion that would explain things better than what she understood. For now, all she knew was that Brohmin had seen to it that she received the necessary healing, but he had also known that the Deshmahne were not the threat that she had believed. How had he come to that conclusion?
And there was something else. Something that had to do with the Lashiin priests. That was the reason that Brohmin had departed.
“Have you heard of priests who serve Lashiin?”
Endric frowned. “As in the ruins? There is no priesthood that serves the ruins, Roelle.”
She glanced over to Safran and saw the set to his jaw, and knew that he had likely suffered from the Lashiin priests, as well. How many had been impacted by their smuggling of children? How many lost young lives that they would never have returned?
If she thought too much about it, she would begin to struggle with how many were lost in cities throughout the north as well because of the Deshmahne. It was a strange turn around for her. The Deshmahne had attacked, claiming lives—destroying lives—and now she was worried about how the Deshmahne had lost those they cared about?
Had her tattooing changed her more than she had realized? Was she somehow twisted in ways that she hadn’t yet discovered? She didn’t feel the anger and rage that she would attribute to the Deshmahne. There was an impulsiveness, but none of the other emotions that she thought she would’ve experienced by taking the tattoos. She was aware that the powers within her were different but other than that, she didn’t feel that much different.
“There was a sect of priests who came to Paliis, and they thought to claim children, and force them to mine teralin.”
“They wouldn’t need children to mine teralin. It’s not difficult to obtain. It’s more a matter of… Oh.”
Roelle frowned. “What is it?”
“Teralin isn’t difficult to mine, but changing it from neutral form to a usable form is. There aren’t many who have the necessary skills to change the charge of teralin.”
That might explain what Brohmin had seen when he had rescued the children. When he returned, he hadn’t spoken of it, preferring to keep what he had seen and experienced to himself.
Roelle didn’t know anything about how it was accomplished, only that she could tell the difference between positive and negative teralin. The Deshmahne preferred the negative, and her sword was positively charged. That alone told her that there had to be some way of transitioning between the two, but it wasn’t anything she had discovered.
She looked up at Safran. “Is that why they wanted them?”
Safran stared at the flames. “The children can influence the neutral metal. Doing so changes something within them. It’s why we seek to protect them from it until they are older.”
“What do you mean that it changes something?” Endric asked.
Safran shook his head. “There is something within the child that changes if they affect the metal too soon. We prefer to wait. When they are older, the effect is less noticeable, but it is still there.”
There was something in the way that Endric watched Safran that made her wonder if perhaps Endric had some connection to teralin. Could he have the ability to charge it as well? If he did, had something changed about him over time?
“What is there?”
“The metal requires a balance. What is given to the metal must come from somewhere.”
“I’ve been able to change the polarity of teralin since I was barely twenty,” Endric said.
Safran studied the general for a moment. “It has to come from somewhere. It is no different from how we transfer power using our ceremonies.”
Endric shook his head. “It is different.”
Safran shrugged. “You would know the metal better than I if you have studied it for as long as you say. I only know what my people believe and what we’ve observed.”
Roelle glanced from Endric to Safran. “Could it be that those with a connection to manehlin don’t have that same challenge? Could the manehlin protect them somehow?”
Endric’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know.”
They fell into an uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Roelle leaned back, moving away from the fire so that it didn’t overwhelm her. “Where were you heading?” she asked Endric.
He wasn’t heading north and not toward the groeliin, which meant he was either on a patrol, something she suspected was not typical for Endric, or he had some destination in mind and had not yet traveled to it.
“I’ve been searching,” he said.
“Searching for what?”
Endric breathed out heavily. “For Brohmin. He has disappeared, and it seems that you are the last person to have seen him.”
Chapter Twelve
&nb
sp; Roelle woke up the morning after Endric’s arrival, a feeling of uncertainty washing over her. She had thought she knew her purpose and thought she knew how she could help, but talking with Endric, and seeing how much more he knew about the events taking place around her made it abundantly clear that she did not.
She found herself standing at the edge of a hillside, looking down at the sweeping plains beneath her. There was so much greenery in these lands, a lush sort of life that she hadn’t realized she had missed while living in Paliis for the last few months. The air smelled of grass and earth and what she could only consider life all around her. It was familiar. It was home.
Thoughts rolled through her head. What was her purpose? Was it to return to Vasha as Selton would have her do? Was it to somehow serve the Deshmahne, especially now that she had taken on a marking that might eventually turn her into one of the Deshmahne? Or was her purpose something else?
“What did he tell you last night?”
She didn’t have to turn to know that Selton approached. There was a sensation upon her that she could detect, that of his manehlin, a signature of sorts. Had she always been aware of Selton in such a way? She didn’t think so. It seemed to her that her connection to Selton had never been one where she could detect him without seeing him. For that matter, she could now detect others around her. Not only was she aware of the Magi—and now that she thought about it, she realized she could detect the different warriors traveling with her—but she was aware of the Deshmahne, and Safran, and even Endric with his Denraen. Awareness of all of them came to her without her making an effort to focus on it.
“I don’t know how to help Endric find Brohmin,” she said.
How was she supposed to help? He had left her in the temple and had gone in search of what, exactly? There was something he had discovered about the Lashiin priests that troubled him, but he hadn’t shared with her. Whatever else she was meant to do, it wasn’t helping Brohmin.
The Great Betrayal (The Lost Prophecy Book 8) Page 11