The Great Betrayal (The Lost Prophecy Book 8)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “How does he think you can?” Selton asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe all of this was simply a mistake. Maybe we should return to Vasha. I know that’s what you want.”

  Selton’s jaw clenched. “I don’t know what I want. I’ve… I’ve struggled, Roelle. Ever since we started facing the groeliin.”

  “It was before even that,” Roelle said.

  Selton closed his eyes, his jaw clenching again. “We are taught to establish peace. We are taught that the gods want us to serve and that our gifts are an extension of the gods.” His eyes opened, and he looked over at her. There was a hollowness to them, a haunted expression. “How can what we’ve been taught be true?”

  “I don’t know that it is true. I think we have been deceived for many years.”

  “But why? If we have these abilities, why would those who taught us want to deceive us?”

  Roelle wished she had an answer for him. Her friend needed one. More than anything, she could feel the way he struggled. He was tormented, pained by what he had seen and experienced. If she could take away that pain, she would, but how could she? She couldn’t change what they had been forced to do, and she didn’t think they had done anything wrong. No, what they had done had been necessary. They didn’t have any choice in confronting the Deshmahne, or in attacking.

  “Maybe you should return to Vasha. The answers you want won’t be found here on the battlefield.”

  “They won’t be found in Vasha, either.”

  Roelle frowned, but couldn’t deny that he was probably right. “Just think about it. Regardless of what answers you may or may not find, I think the city might serve you better than the battlefield.”

  “When we were last in Vasha, your uncle was preparing to send Magi out of the city.”

  “And?”

  “Even the Magi have begun to change, Roelle. I know that I need to change with it, it’s just…”

  She turned and considered her friend. He’d always been strong, his massive build belying a gentleness within him, and he fidgeted as he stood before her. She hated seeing his uncertainty and how he struggled as they faced these changes. It was a sentiment that she understood well. “What can I do to help you?”

  Selton turned away and stared out over the plain much as Roelle had done. “When you were sick, that was the only thing I could think of. I focused on finding you help, getting you well, so that you could once more lead the warriors.”

  “You could’ve led them had I not recovered,” she said.

  “I don’t think that I could have. Why do you think I worked so hard to help you recover?”

  “Because you’re my friend.”

  “Of course. We’re friends. We’ve always been friends,” Selton said, looking over at her. “But it was more than that. I didn’t want to be the one leading the warriors. I didn’t have the conviction that you have.”

  “And what conviction is that?”

  Selton took a deep breath. “You see everything with a clarity that I don’t. You seem to know what you need to do. You knew that we needed to go after the Deshmahne. And when we first encountered the groeliin, you knew that we needed to do that. Without you, we would not have gone with the Antrilii.”

  “The rest of the warriors would have—”

  Selton shook his head. “The rest of the warriors would’ve return to Vasha. They followed because you felt that conviction. You lead, and we follow because we know that you search for ways to do what is right and necessary.”

  “If it’s right and necessary, why do you struggle?”

  Selton shook his head. “What is right is not always easy.”

  He fell silent, and Roelle resisted the urge to break the silence or to possibly misspeak. “What do you want to do?” she asked him.

  “I… I want to have the same conviction that you have,” Selton said softly. “I want to know that I’m serving some higher cause.”

  With that, Roelle thought she understood. How many of the Magi warriors felt the way Selton did?

  She had been leading them, but she hadn’t been leading them. They needed to know that what they did was just as important as when they believed they were gifted abilities by the gods. They had seen Jakob and knew that Roelle had known him as a historian’s apprentice, which would make them question. How could one of the gods come from such humble beginnings?

  “Do you remember when we were in Rondalin?”

  Selton frowned. “I remember Rondalin.”

  “It was the first time we realized that the Deshmahne weren’t the monsters we believed. It was the first time that we came to see that they might potentially be an ally when facing the groeliin.”

  “They didn’t help us, Roelle.”

  “Didn’t they? Had we not seen the Deshmahne then, would we have been able to go to Paliis, and would we have been able to ask for help from the Deshmahne?”

  Selton’s brow furrowed.

  “Think of what we did in Thealon. How many lives were saved because we were willing to fight?”

  “I don’t question the need to confront the groeliin.”

  Roelle smiled and motioned toward the landscape in front of them. “You search for a higher power. I’m trying to tell you that you always observed a higher power.”

  “That was when we thought we were fighting on behalf of the gods.”

  “And now you don’t?”

  “How can I? I know Jakob. I don’t know him as well as you, but I know that he’s no god.”

  Roelle smiled. “Maybe not the kind of god that we were raised to believe in, but he has power. And he continues to try to do what is necessary to stop a great evil. He wants to help those who will never know what he has done. How is that not godly?”

  Selton stared straight ahead, saying nothing. She didn’t need for him to say anything more. She hoped he would realize the value of what Jakob had done, but if he didn’t, then maybe it was best that he return to Vasha. It would be difficult for her. She appreciated having Selton and appreciated his insight. He was the reason that she still lived. Had he given up on her, would the groeliin poisoning have claimed her?

  “What will you do?” Selton asked.

  Roelle sighed and looked back toward the Denraen camp. Endric’s arrival had presented her with a difficult decision. Were it up to Endric, she would travel with him, searching for Brohmin, and… What else? How else would Endric presume for her to serve?

  And was that how she wanted to serve?

  She had come north with a purpose, and even though it might not be the one that Endric wanted for her, she didn’t feel that her purpose was any less valuable now that she had seen the Denraen.

  “We need to continue north. I understand if you can’t come. Any of the others who might want to return to Vasha may do so.”

  “How many others do you think might leave you? Only a few of us didn’t get the marking, Roelle, and I’m the only one who didn’t because of questioning whether it was the right thing. The others simply didn’t have an opportunity.”

  She breathed out heavily. “Then you may return to Vasha. I’m sure Endric will send some Denraen with you for support if you would prefer.”

  Selton swallowed. “That’s it? You would dismiss me so easily?”

  She shook her head. “Selton, this is not a dismissal. If you don’t feel that you can follow and do what is necessary, I don’t want to force you.”

  “What if you need my help again? What if something happens and—”

  “If something happens, it will have been the gods’ will.”

  “You throw Nahrsin’s words at me now?”

  “I’m not throwing anything at you,” she said. “I’m trying to tell you that I understand. I’m trying to let you know that you don’t need to follow a path you don’t believe in. This isn’t my way or no way. You have to believe that what we do is valuable.”

  Selton stared at her. “I thought I did.”

  Roelle nodded. “I thought yo
u did, too.”

  He stared at her for a few moments longer before turning and striding away from her.

  Roelle watched him go, conflicted. Could she really let her oldest friend leave her? After everything that they had been through together, could she simply no longer have him at her side?

  She glanced at her arm and the marking that was tattooed there. It was a thin dark line that had been placed in a pattern, one that the High Desh claimed represented power, though he hadn’t shared with her the full meaning. Roelle had been forced to take it on faith that he had placed the marking without any intention of harming her.

  As she stared at it, she wondered was it the mark that made her feel the way she did? Before getting the marking, would she have been willing to dismiss Selton?

  Except, she didn’t dismiss him. He had to choose on his own, and as painful as it was for her, she couldn’t force him.

  As she turned, she noted Endric watching her with eyes that shone with a bright intensity. In the growing daylight, the general’s scarred face had a grizzled appearance, but shadows still played along his features. Energy from his sword pushed upon her, and she realized that he carried teralin with him. That didn’t surprise her. What did surprise her was the size of the blade, and the familiarity to the hilt. It was likely the massive sword that she had seen hanging over his desk in his office back in Vasha.

  “How much of that did you overhear?”

  Endric shrugged. “Enough.”

  “Do you think I should not have been so hard on him?”

  Endric took a few steps toward her. “Does it matter what I think?”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  Endric offered her a half smile. “You lead the Magi, Roelle. Not me. You have to lead them in the way that you think is appropriate.”

  “And what would you have done?”

  “He’s been faithful to you. I think that you need to surround yourself with men—and women,” he said with a smile, “who are faithful. They don’t always have to agree with you, but you will want them to follow you when you issue commands.”

  “Even if he doesn’t believe in our purpose?”

  “Do you want people to follow you blindly and not challenge your thinking?”

  “What if he challenges my decisions?”

  “Has he?”

  Roelle shook her head. “No.”

  Endric shrugged. “It’s been my experience that you need others who make you question. If you move forward with your decision after having it challenged and still feel that you have made the right decision, it only reinforces that what you’re doing is right. If you have soldiers who are willing to offer you their counsel, and yet follow even if they don’t completely agree, they are more valuable than men who will follow you blindly.”

  Roelle sighed. Having these moments with Endric was almost enough to make her believe in some higher power, a guiding influence that had brought Endric to her when she needed him most. After everything she had experienced, she still needed his guidance. “I need to keep him with me, don’t I.”

  Endric nodded slowly. “I think you do. That marking has the potential to make you impulsive. You might need someone who doesn’t share that impulsivity to help with your decisions.”

  “So you know that I am not going with you.”

  Endric sniffed. “I wouldn’t be the Denraen general if I couldn’t discover that fact. I don’t know that it’s necessary for you to travel north and confront the groeliin, but you need to lead your people in the way that you think is appropriate. But promise me one thing, Roelle.”

  She cocked her head to the side, waiting. “What?”

  “When all of this is over—and presuming we survive,” he said, his smile once more tugging at the scars on his face, “find me in Vasha.”

  “Why?”

  “Just find me. Promise me that.”

  “When this is over, I don’t know that returning to Vasha will be something I can do.”

  “Why? Because you don’t think that you’re the right kind of Magi?” When Roelle nodded, Endric grunted. “What makes you think that the Magi in Vasha have been the right kind of Magi? You’ve learned more about your ancestors than those living in the city—and serving on the Council—have learned in all of their time hiding. You’ve seen the world, and you have realized that you need to use your abilities to fight—and better it. If you ask me, you are exactly the right kind of Magi.”

  Roelle found herself smiling. A compliment like that from Endric meant much to her, much more than she thought it would.

  “I will try to find you in Vasha when this is all over. Presuming I survive.”

  Endric shrugged. “And presuming that I do, as well.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Endric glanced at the Deshmahne. “I’ve been trying to ensure that we have a measure of peace. That has always been the purpose of the Denraen.”

  “And yet your purpose has been something else,” Roelle said.

  Endric nodded. “It has. It seems that the southern lands are less in need of Denraen influence than I realized. For that, I thank you.”

  “I don’t think we can blame the Deshmahne simply because their beliefs are different from ours,” she said.

  “No. Perhaps in that, you’re right.”

  “Will you continue to look for Brohmin?”

  “I think that a better use of my time would be to look for Jakob. I have a feeling he will need help.”

  “You know what he’s become. Why do you think he’ll need help?”

  “I think he’ll need help because of what he’s become.”

  She waited, hoping that he would elaborate, but he did not.

  “Search for Isandra when you travel north. She can offer you assistance.”

  “Isandra?” Roelle recognized the name. There had been a Mage sitting on the Council by that name, though she doubted it would be the same one.

  “Yes. Search for her and see if there’s anything she can help you with. See if perhaps she might change your mission.”

  “Thank you, Endric.”

  Endric grunted. “All these years I have tried to do what I thought was necessary, and serve the Conclave in a way that would help maintain peace, and I have discovered how little I have known.” Endric clapped her on the shoulder. “Find me when this is over.”

  Roelle nodded. When Endric turned away, she wondered if this would be the last time she would speak to the man. If it was, at least he had given her advice she could act on. Perhaps, if nothing else, he had helped her see that she needed to take a different approach with Selton. She needed to keep her friend close to her. And she wondered which of Endric’s friends had served a similar role for him?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Isandra’s injury had mostly healed. She healed faster than she thought she should but suspected that was related to her new connection to her manehlin. She drew upon power to heal herself, something she never would have thought possible before. It left her feeling achy, but not with the same throbbing pain that she expected—and certainly nothing like what she’d experienced when she first awoke from her injuries.

  Jassan hunted with her, moving carefully along the mountain trail. Every so often, he glanced over, his wide face drawn and wearing an expression of concern. He questioned whether they would be able to accomplish what she intended, but if they failed… they would have lost nothing.

  “We could have brought a larger party to do this,” Jassan said.

  Isandra glanced over her shoulder. A dozen other Antrilii followed them, each armed with bows, and their arrows were tipped with sedatives. Three merahl prowled along with them. They sniffed the air, and occasionally let out a small yelp, enough to let Isandra know they were heading in the right direction. The historian took up the rear position, having insisted on coming along with them. He brought only his staff and wore a heavy cloak over his shoulders. Amusement twinkled in his eyes.

  “Larger than what we have? How many Antrili
i would you have preferred we bring to capture a single groeliin?”

  Her husband looked over at her intently. “It’s never about a single groeliin, Isandra. You’ve hunted them enough to know that as well as I.”

  She sighed and nodded. It really was never about only a single groeliin. If they encountered another attack similar to the last, with groeliin armed with swords, she and Jassan couldn’t withstand them alone. They would be better equipped with more soldiers along with them. Besides, even if she had wanted to come with only Jassan, the women of the House of Yahinv had required a larger hunting party. The men might rule in times of war, but the women ruled in a time of peace, and for now, the Antrilii viewed this as a peaceful time. That alone amused her; she could not imagine what they would consider a time of war.

  “I understand that it’s not about a single groeliin. I just want to know…”

  Jassan took her hand and squeezed. It was most affection he would show in front of the other warriors. “I understand that you want this to be effective, but I think you need to be prepared for the possibility that it won’t be. We’ve faced the groeliin long enough to know that they do not change their ways.”

  One of the merahl yelped softly, and Isandra recognized the suggestion in it—west. “Has anything like this ever been tried?”

  Jassan led them along the path. “We have captured groeliin before, and we have tried to train them, but nothing has ever been successful. There is no changing the groeliin. They are vicious and attack regardless of anything we might try with them.”

  “So you don’t think this will work?”

  Jassan stared at the path in front of them. “I’m not saying we can’t capture one, but I don’t see how you—or the historian—can train these creatures.”

  “It’s not about training them.”

  Isandra turned to see Novan standing behind her. How had the historian moved so silently? He moved more silently than the Antrilii did over the mountain path. It made her question him again. He hadn’t answered her about his origins and hadn’t answered why he had the same ability she did—and the Antrilii. He had to have a similar heritage, though what was it?