The Great Betrayal (The Lost Prophecy Book 8)

by D. K. Holmberg

  Jassan frowned at Novan. “If it’s not about training them, what is it?”

  “It’s more about shifting them,” Novan said.

  When Jassan continued to frown, Novan tapped his staff on the ground. Isandra had a distinct sense of power flowing from it. There was teralin in the staff, and he used that to augment his abilities, much like the Antrilii used teralin weapons to augment their abilities when fighting.

  “Your sword, Jassan. What is it that you did to forge your sword?”

  “I’m not a crafter. We have men and women who are trained in the making of our blades.”

  “And do they use creative teralin or do they start with the neutral form?”

  Isandra smiled at Novan’s use of the term familiar to Jassan.

  “What are you getting at?” Jassan asked.

  “It’s a simple question, Jassan. If your crafters use charged teralin, I would then ask where they acquire it.”

  “They work with the neutral form of the metal, historian. They force it into the creative form.”

  Novan tapped the staff again, and they continued along the path. One of the merahl had ambled up along next to her, and Isandra ruffled the fur on the back of the creature’s neck.

  “Have you ever worked with the negative—the destructive—form?”

  Jassan clenched his jaw. “You know as well as I that the Antrilii would never willingly work with the destructive form of teralin.”

  “Perhaps not willingly, but can your crafters take the negative form and turn it positive?”

  “Such a thing is not possible.”

  “But it is,” Novan said. “Jostephon changed the polarity of the cage that had held him, didn’t he?”

  Could destructive teralin be shifted to constructive? Was there really some way to do the same with the groeliin?

  If there was, she saw Novan’s point and could understand how he intended to help the creatures.

  “From what you say,” Jassan said.

  “How many have this ability?” she asked Novan.

  “Not many,” Novan said. “And those who do often don’t realize what they’re doing. I suspect your crafters are much the same,” he said to Jassan.

  Jassan sighed. “Most of our crafters are women who will one day join the House of Yahinv. They have skill, and they use it to strengthen our people.”

  “They use it to change the polarity of teralin so the Antrilii can best use their abilities.”

  “Is that different?” Jassan asked.

  Novan smiled. “Not different. I think Isandra would claim it was unexpected, but the Antrilii have been using their abilities for centuries, far longer than the Magi have ever been aware.”

  One of the merahl streaked off, letting out a sharp yelp.

  Jassan raised his hand, calling a halt to the line of the Antrilii. Isandra stared down the mountain face, watching the merahl bound along the rocks, running quickly, fur blending into the stone. One of the other merahl took off after her, letting out a similar cry. Both of the merahl signaled to them to wait.

  Isandra’s companion did not run off. The merahl remained with her, and Isandra ran her hand along her fur, thankful for her presence. The merahl had been with her quite a bit over the last few days—as if afraid something more might happen to Isandra. “You can go with them,” she said to the merahl. “I don’t blame you for the last attack.”

  She had never told the merahl that before, but maybe that was the reason the creature had remained with her.

  The merahl sniffed but made no other sound.

  Jassan chuckled.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Don’t offend your companion,” Jassan said.

  “Offend? I’m only telling her that she can go up with the others.”

  “She doesn’t need your permission to go up with the others. The merahl decide where they go, and they decide how they hunt.”

  “It seems as if she feels the need to protect me,” Isandra said.

  Jassan shrugged. “It’s possible that she does.”

  “I just don’t want her to think that I blame her for what happened during the last attack.”

  “She wouldn’t blame herself.” Jassan stretched his hand in front of the merahl’s nose, and she sniffed it, licking it briefly. “The merahl is the reason you still live. She intervened when seven groeliin thought to converge on your fallen body. She risked herself and threw herself at the groeliin, nearly taking a sword in the side for it.”

  Isandra hadn’t heard the details of the attack but was even more thankful for the merahl and her connection to it. She had thought Jassan responsible for saving her, but if it wasn’t Jassan—and if it was the merahl—than she had even more to be appreciative of.

  She crouched next to the merahl and looked into her eyes. The merahl didn’t look away. There was intelligence that shone in those eyes, and it startled her the same as it had the first time she’d seen one of the merahl. They were deeply intelligent, and she doubted she would ever fully understand exactly how intelligent.

  “Thank you for what you did for me.” She ran her hand along the merahl’s fur.

  “That’s not all she did for you,” Jassan said. “I was injured, as well. She helped carry you for part of the journey back.”

  Isandra stood and rounded on Jassan. “You were injured?”

  “I’ve been healed.”

  “That’s not the point. You concealed from me the fact that you were injured?”

  Novan laughed, and she shot him a glare that was meant for Jassan. He ignored it and continued laughing. “I can see why you chose her, Jassan. She’s as fierce as any warrior.”

  “Fiercer,” Jassan said proudly. “She willingly rode into battle for the Chisln, knowing what she might face.”

  Novan nodded slowly. “I admit that I was surprised that you would choose the Mage to wed, but perhaps it’s only because I didn’t realize that she is no longer Magi.”

  “I already told you that the Antrilii welcomed me,” Isandra said.

  Novan shook his head. “This is something different. You no longer see yourself as Magi, do you?”

  Isandra looked at him, uncertain how to answer. “I was born in Vasha and raised to the Council of Elders.”

  “I know the details of your ascension,” Novan said. He seemed to choose the last term intentionally, as if throwing the connection to the gods at her. “But that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking whether you still view yourself as one of the Magi. Is that why you didn’t remain in Vasha?”

  Isandra looked down, uncertain what more to say. She had left Vasha because she thought she had a greater responsibility, but there was more to it. As Novan said, she no longer viewed herself as Magi, even if she had never put words to it. She had thought she would be able to return, to once more serve as one of the Magi, but the longer she was away, the longer she went without being a part of the Magi, the more it became clear that she was something else.

  She was Antrilii.

  Before she had a chance to answer, the merahl called again in the distance.

  There was a sense of urgency to the call. Within it, Isandra noted numbers.

  “This will be a dangerous attack,” Jassan said.

  That was her interpretation of what she heard, as well. If it was to be that dangerous, they might not be able to capture the groeliin.

  “We could try again with a different group,” Isandra said.

  “The merahl were forced to engage. Can you hear it?”

  Isandra realized that she could. There was an urgency now. If they did nothing, the merahl might not be able to escape from the attacking groeliin. The merahl needed them.

  Would they be able to capture a groeliin caught up in an attack?

  Her merahl stood, and the fur along her neck stood on end. She growled, a deep sound that vibrated through her body.

  “Go,” Isandra urged.

  She unsheathed, and Jassan did the same, motioning to the other Antril
ii. As one, the Antrilii started forward, toward the groeliin.

  There was a thrill that went through her, a sense of excitement at confronting the groeliin, but it was mixed with a sense of unease. If this went poorly, it would be her fault. She was the one who had suggested attempting to restore the groeliin. Novan had gone along with it, and claimed that he could help, and that he had an ability to shift the polarity of teralin toward the creative side, but that didn’t change the fact that if Antrilii were lost, it would be because of her.

  They reached the conflict quickly.

  There were nearly two dozen groeliin. She counted five of them with swords. They had the merahl pushed back, two groeliin on either side of the merahl, preventing the massive creatures from snapping at the other groeliin.

  The way they attacked led her to realize they had been trained to fight in unison. They were trained to fight off the merahl.

  But who had trained them?

  She wondered the same the last time she’d faced the groeliin, but with each confrontation, she realized that whoever trained the groeliin had a measure of skill with the sword, enough that they were able to teach the groeliin how to work together, and how to face creatures like the merahl.

  Jassan let out a battle cry.

  He surged forward, and three of the Antrilii followed him. The others split off, each taking one of the five groeliin with the swords.

  The appearance of the Antrilii shifted the attention of those groeliin, letting the merahl free so they could attack the smaller groeliin.

  “Try to capture one of the larger ones,” Isandra said.

  Jassan paused long enough to glance back at her, but he nodded.

  “Capturing one of those will be more difficult than the smaller ones,” Novan said.

  “I realize that. But I think we can learn more from one of the larger groeliin.”

  One of the other groeliin neared them and attacked with a club. Novan swung his staff, catching the club, and then smacked the creature on the head, knocking it down. He winced.

  “I think that was too much force,” Novan said.

  The splatter of blood from the creature’s head confirmed that for Isandra.

  “If I can—”

  Novan didn’t have a chance to finish. Another groeliin appeared, this one carrying a sword. Novan swung, but the groeliin stabbed with the sword, piercing the historian in the shoulder.

  Novan grunted and tried to swing his staff, but the strength that had been in his arms was not there. There was no speed with the staff.

  Isandra leaped forward, putting herself in front of Novan, blocking the groeliin from hitting him again.

  The creature seemed to look at her with a bright intensity that reminded her of the merahl.

  She had never believed the groeliin to be intelligent creatures. When she’d faced them before, there had been no sense of mindfulness from them, but the way this one looked at her made her question that. Had the other groeliin who had fought her with a sword been the same way?

  She fell into her patterns, sinking into the catahs as Jassan had taught her.

  The groeliin matched her, attacking and defending with incredible skill. The creature was stronger than she was, and had a longer reach, enough so that she was forced back, pushing Novan behind her.

  She forced herself through a series of movements, trying to move more quickly than the groeliin could manage. Surprisingly, it was more difficult than she expected. With as impressive as they were, she wondered whether the groeliin were constantly training with the sword. She could imagine the groeliin drilling much like the Denraen drilled in the barracks.

  Isandra slipped and thought that she would fall, much like she had fallen when she had been injured before.

  She caught herself, throwing her weight to the side and swinging her sword around.

  It connected with the side of the groeliin, knocking the creature down.

  She spun, moving out of the way as its long, black teralin blade came down.

  Where she had been, the sword connected with the ground, sending a spray of rock into the air.

  Isandra stabbed with her sword, catching the groeliin through the other leg.

  That would negate some of the creature’s reach, but now she had to either kill it—or stop it.

  If she had more time, she would have looked to see whether Jassan and the other Antrilii had managed to capture one of the other swordmaster groeliin, but there was no time for her to take that break. She didn’t dare attempt it, fearing that if she did, this creature would catch her off guard.

  She pulled upon her manehlin, using it to grant her strength.

  There was pain in her head—the same kind of pain she had felt when she had regained her powers—and she pulled even harder.

  She used that energy—that manehlin—to augment her skill. With the manehlin, combined with the teralin in her sword, she was able to move more freely.

  She jabbed again, slicing through the groeliin’s arm. The creature dropped its sword.

  She spun again, hitting the other arm. The groeliin knelt before her, unable to use its arms, and unable to stand.

  Isandra spun again and slapped the flat of her blade along the back of the groeliin’s neck.

  The creature’s eyes dimmed a moment, before it blinked and tried to surge back onto its feet.

  She spun again and struck the groeliin once more.

  This time when she connected, the groeliin fell forward.

  Isandra looked over to Novan. “Can you watch to make sure this one doesn’t move?”

  Novan tipped the staff, and power surged out of the end of it. “I can watch.” He regarded her with a curious expression, but Isandra ignored it.

  She turned her attention back to the other groeliin. Two of the swordmaster groeliin remained standing. Were the others dead?

  She jumped forward, joining Jassan. None of the Antrilii were down—and for that, she was thankful.

  “We are trying to keep this one alive, but it makes securing it difficult,” Jassan said in a breathless voice.

  “I’ve already stopped one.”

  “Then we can destroy this one.”

  Jassan moved with a flurry of catahs that happened so quickly Isandra had a hard time keeping up. Would she eventually be able to move like that?

  In fewer than a dozen heartbeats, the groeliin was down. The other fell shortly after.

  She looked around the small clearing and saw the merahl surrounding a single smaller groeliin. The creature hissed, but it didn’t dare attack, not with three merahl around it. The rest of the groeliin were down.

  “Fandik,” Jassan said, motioning to one of the Antrilii.

  The man pulled his bow from his shoulder and nocked an arrow, sending it into the groeliin’s shoulder. The creature stood for another moment longer before falling forward, collapsing in between the merahl.

  Jassan approached, his sword now unsheathed, and his brow furrowed in an expression she recognized as worry. “Now we have to see whether your plan will work,” he said.

  Isandra studied the fallen groeliin. She hoped that it would, but even if it did, would it matter? If it was so hard to capture the groeliin, was there any way they would be able to change them without destroying the creatures completely?

  “Now we will see,” she agreed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Five teralin swords were plunged into the ground surrounding the groeliin. The creature was bound, wrists and ankles tied with lengths of thick rope, and then other loops of rope wrapped around the entirety of the creature, keeping it from moving. Only its head still moved. The groeliin looked at Isandra with dark beady eyes and followed her as she made her way around the circle of positively charged teralin swords.

  She turned her attention to the other circle of blades, this one with seven swords piercing the ground. The larger groeliin she had taken down was similarly bound, though she doubted there was the same need. She had sliced through its arms and legs, l
imiting how much the groeliin could move.

  Flames crackled behind them that illuminated the night and outlined the ridge of mountain around them, consuming the bodies of the other groeliin, leaving a stench in the air. Would the groeliin know that they were burning the bodies of their fallen companions? Would they even care?

  “What now?” she asked Novan.

  The historian clutched his staff with the hand of his uninjured arm and stood outside the ring of swords circling the smaller of the two groeliin. He had not moved, standing in place, staring intently at the groeliin. Lines of tension stretched away from the corners of his eyes.

  “Now we will see if I can change the polarity,” he said.

  “How will you know if you are successful?” Jassan asked.

  “I don’t know. There is a particular sense that I feel when I manage to shift the polarity. It is easier when it is in neutral form, and takes much less effort, but it can be done from negative to positive.”

  “Our crafters describe it as shifting the boulder,” Jassan said.

  Novan smiled. “That is an apt description. It requires momentum to start the change in polarity. It takes an immense push to begin with, but once it starts, it becomes increasingly easier.”

  “And when you start from the negatively charged and shift to the positive?” Isandra asked.

  “Then it takes an even stronger push,” Novan said.

  Isandra stood off to the side of Novan, not wanting to distract him anymore. If he was trying to push on the groeliin, she could sense nothing of it.

  Maybe she wouldn’t be able to detect it. Maybe it had nothing to do with his connection to manehlin, and more his connection to the metal.

  He tapped his staff on the ground again, and power surged from the end.

  She could tell the direction of the power and noted the way that it flooded toward the groeliin, but it also washed around the ring of swords, causing them to vibrate softly. Had she not been paying attention, she doubted she would have noticed it. Were they glowing?

  Novan had suggested placing the swords partly to confine the groeliin, but also to help him as he attempted this shift of polarity, this change from destructive to creative, though even the historian was not certain whether this attempt would work.