Novan frowned. “What is it?”
“They are descended from the daneamiin.”
Novan’s eyes widened. “The daneamiin shared this with you?”
Jakob shook his head. “They showed me a vision, one that is typically restricted to the daneamiin, but…” He still wasn’t certain why they had shown it to him, other than the fact that he had helped Aruhn, and that he was as close as he was to Anda.
“How can such creatures be descended from them?
“How can the Magi be descended from damahne? How can daneamiin spring from damahne?” Jakob looked around him. “All seem to be related to the same beings.” The damahne were responsible for the creation of everything. In that way, perhaps they were the gods that most once believed them to be. What else would gods do other than create?
“If they can be restored…” Novan began.
Jakob nodded. “How many of the Antrilii do you think are able to change the polarity of teralin?”
Novan glanced over to where Jassan sat, and a frown crossed his face. “The Antrilii don’t speak of their crafters often. They have women—mostly women, though a few men join the crafters, as well—who are responsible for the creation of their swords. They refer to them as crafters, and they are often held in high esteem. The women can progress from crafters to sit upon the Yahinv.”
“I think the Antrilii need to change their purpose,” he said.
“You would have them attempt to restore all of the groeliin?”
“As many as possible. We need to do this while I hunt for Raime.”
“Raime,” Novan said with a sigh. “If only we had a sense of where he has disappeared to.”
“I’m trying to better understand him so that I might be able to find him.”
“Understand him? Jakob, you know the dangers in connecting along the fibers. It is not simply one directional.”
“I am aware. I don’t place myself there fully. I know that if I were to do so, Raime would be able to know my thoughts, and he would be able to know what I know, which is why I’ve been careful with how much I expose myself to him.”
“Exposing yourself at all is dangerous. Any connection that you form between yourself and Raime potentially allows him to access your knowledge, and your memories. What if you’re the reason he discovers the knowledge that he has?”
“I’m aware of the risk. I am acting carefully, so that I observe only.” He sat staring at the fire, listening to the crackling of the flames. All around him, he detected the sense of the groeliin, but their ahmaean was so different than it had ever been before. The groeliin remained away from the fire, keeping space from it as if they were afraid of the flames. Maybe they were. The Antrilii preferred to burn the bodies of the groeliin, so perhaps they feared the fire, thinking the Antrilii would use it against them. “Raime was a member of the Historian Guild.”
“How is it that you know this?”
“I told you. I went back and observed.”
Novan squeezed his eyes shut. “That is something the Guild has hidden. There were certain members long ago who abused the knowledge of the Guild and used it in ways that they should not. We have tried to conceal this, but…” Novan shook his head. “Raime was a member of the Guild so long ago that our records are difficult to understand.”
“Because they are coded.”
Novan’s breath caught. “You saw this?”
“In one of the visions, I experienced how Raime struggled with a request made of him.”
“You… were Raime?”
Jakob nodded. “I’m trying to understand him better so I can see if there’s anything I can learn about what he might do in this time.”
Novan frowned, tapping his finger on his lips. “What kind of request did you observe?”
“It was a time of war, and he was trying to infiltrate one side so that he could observe. As he did, one of the requests was for him to reveal the code of the Historian Guild. I don’t know whether he revealed that secret or not.”
“I doubt that he did,” Novan said. “If he had, I suspect we would have maintained knowledge of that code, and a way to interpret some of those oldest documents.”
“You don’t have a way to interpret them now?”
Novan shook his head. “The understanding has been lost over time. We don’t have that record. The code has proven far too complicated for us to break.” He smiled and shrugged his shoulders again. “Perhaps in that, the Guild was cleverer than they needed to be. Had they made it easier to crack, we wouldn’t have lost access to those documents.”
“Where are those records?”
Novan studied him. “Jakob—”
Jakob leaned forward. “Novan, I have revealed to you secrets that should not have been shared outside of the damahne. If you think to conceal from me records of the Historian Guild, I will no longer grant you access to the Great Forest or to the Tower.”
Novan took a deep breath and nodded. “It is difficult for me. For so long, I have been trained to protect that knowledge.”
“The Guild is as responsible for hoarding knowledge as the Magi.”
“It’s not that we hoard knowledge. It’s more that we have long distrusted others from having the same level of knowledge we do.”
Jakob smiled. “What would have happened if the Guild had shared? How much more might others know?”
“The same could be said about the Magi, or the university, or the Conclave, for that matter. All have studied things in a different way. It’s not possible for all scholars to work together.”
“I thought the purpose of the Conclave was to ensure that the type of knowledge needed by others was maintained. I thought they held it as their responsibility to ensure that peace remained.”
“Some of those records are held by the Conclave,” Novan said. “Some are held by the Guild. Most of them haven’t been accessible for hundreds upon hundreds of years, mostly because the code has been lost.”
Was that something Jakob could help find? Could he travel back and revisit Raime—and he intended to—at a time when doing so would grant him the knowledge needed to help interpret some of the ancient Guild journals?
If he could, would it make a difference? That was the better question for him, especially since he didn’t know if anything he might learn from those journals would change the course of what he had to do. It would take a long time to interpret them.
For the sake of understanding, it was something that needed to happen at some point, but perhaps that time was not now.
“I can see that you’ve come to some conclusion,” Novan said.
“Not a conclusion, but I think I am realizing that everything is much more complex than I would like.”
“It always is.” Novan sat considering Jakob for a moment before turning, looking over his shoulder to study Isandra and Jassan. “What do you suggest now?”
“Isandra needs to lead here,” Jakob said. Would she? With what he thought needed to happen, it needed to be guided by someone with the knowledge and experience and compassion necessary to ensure that the groeliin were offered an opportunity to be shifted. If they could be changed, and given an opportunity for peace, did they not deserve that? “When it comes to facing Raime, I suspect we will need her—and all those she has helped.”
“She is an interesting one, Jakob. She once sat upon the Council of Elders within Vasha, and now she has become Antrilii—and something more.”
Jakob studied Isandra with renewed interest. If she had sat on the Council of Elders, then her connection to the Magi was even different than he had realized. She seemed far too young to be one of the Elders, and he would love to hear the story about why and how she had ended up this far north.
“If she can lead the Antrilii, then that must be their new purpose. They need to work on helping the groeliin, saving them if possible.”
“That might be something you could do,” Novan said.
“It’s something I could do, but I don’t know that it�
��s something I should do. Searching for the groeliin will take time, and I suspect it will grow increasingly difficult, even if the shifted groeliin help. I know the effort involved in shifting even a single groeliin is significant, but my time is better used elsewhere.”
“Where else do you intend to go?”
Jakob breathed out in frustration. “I need to find Raime. I need to find my brother.”
“Your brother?”
Jakob nodded. “From what I have learned, Scottan was not who I thought he was when we were young. And then he was influenced by Raime when he suffered from the madness, as were many others, which means that Raime will have damahne—or those with the potential to be damahne—with him.”
“There has never been a battle between damahne and damahne. They have disagreed, but never have they fought.”
“I know this.”
“No, Jakob, I don’t think you fully understand. The damahne are responsible for—”
“For maintaining a balance. I am aware of that,” he said, cutting Novan off. Stating it in that way reminded him of when he’d last attempted to walk along the fibers and the strange and powerful being that had pulled him back. “Has anyone ever spoken to the Maker?”
Novan cocked his head to the side. “The Maker? Most believe the Maker exists, at least those who understand the role the damahne play, but I don’t think even the damahne have ever spoken to the Maker. Do you think that you have?”
Jakob sighed. “I don’t know. Something happened when I attempted to walk back along the fibers. There was someone—or something—that pulled me back. I don’t know what it was, only that it was incredibly powerful and yanked me back in a way that nothing ever had.
“What did you see?”
“Not much, at least, not much that I understand. Everything seemed to fly past me, as if this being—the Maker or whatever it was—moved far too quickly for me to track. When we stopped, we were on a mountain spewing smoke and flame into the sky. It was intense, and I wasn’t entirely sure what it was. “
“You saw Oluantiin Mountain. And you say you had no control over this?”
Jakob shook his head. “I was afraid to assert control, not sure who had pulled me back along the fibers. If I remain distant within my host, it’s less likely that they will discover things about me. In this case, it didn’t seem to matter. My host was able to sense that I was there, and spoke to me, telling me that balance was needed.”
“Balance. That is the seal, a barrier between creation and destruction. Making and unmaking.”
“So you think that I saw the Maker?”
Novan shook his head. “I don’t know what you experienced, Jakob. I’ve not heard of anyone having a vision of the Maker, certainly not like that. The damahne have felt a connection to something greater, and that is what they’ve called the Maker, but even the damahne that have left records have never spoken of traveling back and inhabiting the Maker.”
“I don’t know that I had much of a choice. Whatever it was that pulled me back—if it was the Maker, or something else—overpowered me.” Jakob had never felt anything quite that powerful. Raime had seemed that powerful when he’d first confronted him, but even Raime had been defeatable. Jakob had been able to overpower him when he had finally begun to understand his connection to ahmaean.
“Many of the oldest damahne felt a connection to that mountain. They weren’t able to explain why, only that there was something about it that was tied to creation.”
“A volcano can be both creation and destruction,” Jakob said.
Novan nodded. “It can. That’s the reason the Conclave is headquartered near there.”
“Where is it? On Salvat?”
“That is the mountain you saw when you took me to the headquarters of the Conclave.”
Jakob let out a deep breath. He didn’t know what to make of what he’d seen in his vision. It might be nothing more than that—a vision, and if that were the case, he had to simply try to think of it in those terms, rather than trying to add too much meaning to it.
“I think I need to go back to Salvat,” Jakob said.
“I will go with you,” Novan said.
Jakob looked over to Isandra. For this to work, he’d need her to help. Would she agree to it? Would Jassan?
“You only have to ask,” Novan said.
“I fear asking too much of her.”
“You should not. She has gone through much and has come out stronger. I doubt that you’ll find any other Mage with the same experience—even your friend Roelle.”
If Isandra could be responsible for helping with the groeliin, Jakob would be free to find Raime and focus on the others that Raime might have convinced to go with him, other than his brother.
Though if it worked…
Jakob had to hope that it would work.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Reaching the northern mountains took less time than Roelle would have expected. By the time the lower foothills came into view, a series of undulating hills that rose gradually toward the steeper slope of the mountain, a sense of dread started filling her once more. The air had the same piney quality to it that it had when she had been here last, and there were undertones of something else—either rot or decay—that she found unpleasant.
The air grew colder the longer they rode, and her clothing from Paliis no longer provided adequate protection. Before leaving the Denraen, Endric had helped her soldiers obtain appropriate clothing, and had given her a purse full of coins. Her offer to repay him had been rebuffed, though she hadn’t expected anything else. Endric wouldn’t have wanted money from her. No, whatever he wanted required her to return to Vasha, but Roelle didn’t see how she could do that. When this was done, she wasn’t certain she would even be a Mage anymore. As it stood, she didn’t think she could ever again claim herself a Mage.
“The last time we were here…”
Roelle glanced over to Selton. She had taken Endric’s advice, and Selton had agreed to come with her, and for that, she was thankful. Having Selton by her side reassured her. And she couldn’t deny the wisdom of Endric’s advice. Though Selton might not have the same viewpoint she had, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t come with her, and didn’t mean that he wouldn’t help if it were needed.
She shouldn’t have needed Endric to remind her of that fact. Selton had been her friend for as long as she could remember. Why would she have ever thought of pushing him away?
It was the Deshmahne tattoo that she’d taken. It had to be. As much as she thought she had control over its influence, maybe she didn’t. Maybe there was no control.
Yet the High Desh managed to have some control over the influence the markings had on him. Safran seemed to, as well. She had to find it within her to ensure that the Deshmahne tattoo—and the added power it brought—didn’t influence her too much. And if it did, that was when she needed to lean on Selton. Perhaps it was good that he had refused to take one of the Deshmahne tattoos. It didn’t matter how much additional power he might have been able to obtain, and it didn’t matter that the rest of the Magi had taken those tattoos.
“The last time we were here, we were with Nahrsin, and there were thousands upon thousands of groeliin that we had to deal with.”
“We haven’t seen anyone since we came north of Rondalin,” Selton said.
Roelle nodded. How much had the north changed since the attack? Even before they had come here, people had begun migrating south, trying to escape the influence of the groeliin, and the attacks that they could not see. “It will take a long time for it to recover,” she said.
“If it ever does.”
“There used to be great cities in the north,” Lendra said.
Roelle glanced over at Selton’s cousin. She had been quietly observing everything, choosing to come north despite the risk to her even with the Deshmahne markings she had acquired. At least with the tattoo, she would be able to see the creatures.
“How many cities were there?” Roelle asked.
Lendra shook her head. “Records from before the ancient threat are vague. Even the historians don’t have many records. We’ve found some maps, and on those maps, we have seen that there are places that once existed that no longer do.” She shrugged. “I don’t think Novan even knows most of them.”
“And in the thousand years since the groeliin last attacked, the north had barely begun to recover,” Roelle said.
Would it be like that again? Rondalin had survived, but it had suffered greatly. Would the city be able to recover? If it was the only place that did, would that be enough?
Roelle stared around her. What would the world look like in another thousand years? She had never given it much thought before, but maybe that was the question she needed to be asking. If she didn’t oppose the groeliin, and if they didn’t eliminate the threat, there might not be any world in a thousand years, at least not one with people in it.
“The Antrilii weren’t able to eliminate the groeliin threat. What makes you think that we can do anything they could not?” Selton asked.
Roelle shrugged. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was nothing more than a dream. She had to believe that the Magi would be able to help in some way.
“We need to do as Endric suggested, and we need to find Isandra. When we do, we can see what more needs to be done.”
She wasn’t surprised that there would be a Mage working with the Antrilii. What surprised her was that it would be one of the Magi Elders who would have risked going north and working with the Antrilii. Shouldn’t it have been Roelle or one of her warriors?
“We have to go much farther than we did when we came here the last time,” Roelle said.
“Do you think we’ll come across groeliin before we find her?” Lendra asked. She looked down at her arm. Her tattoo was the smallest of any of them, which made Roelle suspect that Lendra would be the weakest of them, though that did not surprise her. Lendra wanted only the ability to see the groeliin if needed; she didn’t want to have to fight them. She left that to the Magi warriors.
“These are groeliin lands. I don’t know how we won’t come across them,” Selton said.
The Great Betrayal (The Lost Prophecy Book 8) Page 24