The Great Betrayal (The Lost Prophecy Book 8)

by D. K. Holmberg

  She glanced back at the Deshmahne. At least they had Safran and all of the Deshmahne that he had brought with them. Would they fight the groeliin? When she’d last depended on Deshmahne to fight groeliin, they had failed her. Would they fail her again? She hoped they did not, but even if they did, her warriors would be enough. They had to be enough.

  “These aren’t groeliin lands,” Roelle said. “These are Antrilii lands.”

  And she hoped they would come across the Antrilii.

  The mountains continued to rise in front of them, the climb growing more difficult the further they went. Cold gusted out of the far north, and snow crunched beneath the horses’ hooves. Roelle was ever more thankful for Endric and the clothing he had provided her Magi.

  They had traveled for days into the mountains and had not encountered any groeliin. She was thankful for it but had a growing sense of unease that they would soon. It could happen at any time, and all those with her were prepared for the possibility. They needed to be ready, and her people were, but were the Deshmahne?

  “How much longer do you think we will have a path like this?” Safran asked.

  They rode alongside each other, and Roelle would occasionally glance over at the Deshmahne, wondering what he was thinking. Roelle and her people might have gotten clothing from Endric, but the Deshmahne hadn’t. They were dressed only in their dark robes and had to be cold.

  “From what I understand, there are many paths through the mountains. The Antrilii have used them to travel south many times.”

  “It would be helpful if we had the Antrilii with us.”

  Roelle nodded. Had they even one Antrilii to serve as a guide, they would not have needed to worry about whether they would end up on some blind path. Roelle feared they would have to backtrack, and if they did, how much time would be wasted? At some point, they would begin having difficulty finding food. At least with the snow, they no longer had to worry about water.

  “It would,” she agreed.

  The horses moved swiftly and were sure-footed in the snow, a fact that surprised her. These horses had been acquired in Gomald, and she didn’t think they would have had any experience with snow—or the mountains, for that matter.

  “What are these creatures like?” Safran asked.

  Roelle glanced over at him. It was the first time she’d sensed any uncertainty from the Deshmahne. He’d been confident during their entire ride and hadn’t said anything even when they’d encountered Endric, nonplussed by the fact that the Denraen had more than twice as many men as they did. Was he nervous about the groeliin?

  The Deshmahne hadn’t heard anything about the groeliin before Roelle and her warriors had come to Paliis, and the stories that Roelle had shared were terrifying, indeed. The idea of facing the groeliin again frightened Roelle, and she had survived.

  “They are nightmares,” Roelle said. “With the color of their flesh, they will blend into the mountains. They have a dark power and can manipulate manehlin the same way that we can.” Not entirely the same, but it was close enough as to not matter. “They are deadly and have far more numbers than we claim.”

  “And the Antrilii face them?”

  “The Antrilii do fight them.”

  “Why do you come?” It was a simple question but seemed layered.

  Why did she do this? She could have gone with Endric, but that wasn’t her task. This was. “I do this because it’s the right thing to do. If we didn’t, who other than the Antrilii would? These creatures are deadly enough that they need to be destroyed. I am willing to do whatever is necessary to see that they are.”

  “Even if it means dying?”

  Roelle stared ahead. “Even then.”

  Safran nodded. “You are nothing like the Magi I was taught to resent.”

  Roelle sniffed. “And you are nothing like the Deshmahne I fought.”

  They fell into a silence again and continued their climb into the mountains. The day passed with only a few breaks, letting the horses rest. Roelle was thankful there were places where grasses popped out of the ground so the horses could graze. Without that, their mounts would suffer along with them. They didn’t take long breaks, wanting to make good time. Lendra and Selton rode together, occasionally speaking so softly that Roelle didn’t hear. That didn’t matter. Selton had recommitted to the journey and no longer argued with her about the need for what they did.

  The longer they rode, the more she began to hope that they would encounter a band of Antrilii. The warriors had to be somewhere, didn’t they? They would be hunting groeliin, the same as she was. They had come across no sign of them.

  As night started to fall again, Roelle decided it was unlikely that they would come across the Antrilii. Maybe Nahrsin had returned them to their homes, to recover and regroup. She couldn’t blame them if they had. The Antrilii had lost men no differently than Roelle had. They might have known what they were getting into, but they mourned no less than Roelle.

  They set up camp, the two sides keeping their camps separate. Even with the tattoos, the Magi felt separate from the Deshmahne. They might have taken on their markings, but they were not Deshmahne. Would they always stay separate, or would they eventually come together?

  Roelle took watch, sitting at the edge of the camp and staring into the distance. There were other Magi taking watch, all making certain to look in all possible directions from which the groeliin might come, and Roelle probably didn’t need to do it herself, but there was something peaceful about sitting and staring into the distance, watching for signs of movement.

  “Might I share in the watch?”

  She glanced up at Safran. Firelight reflected off his face, dancing in his eyes, and he took a seat when she nodded.

  “Will it be difficult to see these creatures at night?” he asked.

  Roelle shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve not fought them in the mountains. And when we did face them, we had merahl with us.”

  “What are merahl?”

  Roelle smiled, thinking of the enormous cats. What she wouldn’t give to have them with her now. “They’re something like large cats. They hunt with the Antrilii.”

  “They are pets?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think they would appreciate being called pets. They are partners, almost. They work with the Antrilii and make certain that they remain prepared to face the groeliin.”

  “Are they skilled hunters?” His voice revealed his skepticism.

  She would have shared it had she not seen the way the merahl were able to hunt. There was something about them that was… majestic. That was the only way she could think to describe the merahl.

  “They attack so quickly the groeliin don’t have a chance to react.”

  “I cannot imagine a cat large enough to hunt creatures the way you describe.”

  “They’re not cats, but they’re like them.”

  “Are they related to the laca? We have laca in the south, especially in the mountains around Masetohl.”

  Roelle hadn’t seen a laca in some time. They were found in the mountains around Vasha but left the Magi mostly alone. “Not like the laca, and they’re larger than a wolf.”

  Safran studied her a moment before turning his attention back toward the mountains. “I would like to see these creatures.”

  “Be careful if you do. Don’t think to harm them, or it will be the last thing you ever do.”

  Safran nodded.

  They were silent for a while, and then she glanced over to him. “Do you ever struggle having balance with your abilities?”

  “Balance?”

  “Do you ever feel like the power you can access pushes you in certain ways?”

  “Ah. There is a tendency for it to influence. You must learn how to overcome it.”

  “How? I feel this pressure, and I begin to understand that it is from the way the tattoo pushes upon me, but I can’t figure out how to balance it.” She looked over at Safran, her gaze beseeching him. “I don’t want it to chan
ge me.”

  Safran frowned. “Change you? You are Magi. You had power before you ever came into it. This cannot change you, not if you don’t let it.”

  “I don’t think that’s true.”

  “But it is. The power you can reach is different from what I can, and others who have been given the gift of the gods by the High Desh. What you can do does not require that same connection. Always remember that the gods have favored you from birth.”

  She shook her head. It didn’t feel as if the gods favored her or the other Magi. And their ability was the reason that Selton struggled as much as he did.

  “Help me. How can I use what the gods have given me to balance this strength? How am I able to keep from feeling the influence of it?”

  “Only you will be able to find what works for you. Each Deshmahne needs to find a different balance. Many struggle with it, and because of that, they fail to acquire additional markings.”

  She frowned. “You only gain more markings when you have managed to control this influence?”

  “You did not know this?”

  “There’s much about the Deshmahne that I don’t know.” Had she known that they required themselves to demonstrate a balance, would that have made a difference? She thought they chased power, and perhaps there were some who did, but what she’d seen of the Deshmahne who traveled with her was not consistent with that.

  “What would you like to know, Mage?”

  “Help me understand why the High Priest brought violence to the north.”

  Safran frowned. “It was not to be. Those of us who remained in Paliis at the temple believed that the Highest came north to try to share the knowledge of the Deshmahne.”

  “Oh, they did that. They thought that sharing knowledge required a forced conversion, and those who didn’t convert were killed.”

  Safran’s mouth tightened. “As I have shared, that is not the way of the Deshmahne.”

  “That is the experience those in the north have with the Deshmahne. If that’s not your way, how is it that Lendra had a similar experience?”

  Safran clasped his hands over his lap. “There was a time when the Deshmahne preferred demonstrations of violence, but we have moved past that. The High Desh has shown us that there are ways to demonstrate our strength to the gods without needing to destroy those who choose not to believe. If we destroy them, we don’t have the chance to eventually reach them.”

  It was an interesting philosophy, and it was one that fit with Roelle’s experience of the Urmahne. They didn’t force any conversions, though they rarely needed to. Before the Deshmahne had taken hold, the Urmahne had been the only option. The Deshmahne offered another approach, and was that wrong?

  What would have happened to the Antrilii if they were forced to believe the Urmahne faith? Would they have abandoned their fight against the groeliin? Would those creatures have made it south long before?

  “I can see that you’re troubled,” Safran said.

  “I’ve been trying to help my friend, but don’t think that I’ve helped myself.”

  “What help would you need?”

  “How is it that you think taking power from another serves the gods?”

  Safran studied her for a moment. “You have already accepted the gift. Would you refuse it now?”

  She shook her head. “Not refuse it, but I still struggle with how the Deshmahne think they exalt the gods.”

  “We teach that all may reach for the power of the gods. Not all will claim it, but all may attempt to do so. There is value to striving for something that is attainable even if you fail.”

  “And you think the Urmahne belief in peace is unattainable?”

  “I do not think it’s unattainable, only that peace is not realistic. In these lands, lands that have never veered away from the teachings of the Urmahne, has there been peace consistently?”

  Roelle shook her head. “Not consistently. There has been peace, but…”

  Safran shrugged. “You would serve the gods by trying to reach for something that men simply do not have in them to do. It is not within man’s nature to remain peaceful. Mankind has always argued and has always searched for something more. The Deshmahne would only offer that something.”

  “And by that, you mean power.”

  Safran shook his head. “Not always. There are times when power is necessary. We help those who would serve the gods gain enlightenment. With enlightenment comes a certain level of ability.” He tapped his arms, and even in the darkness, Roelle could see the way the tattoos seemed to writhe on his skin. “There are those who will never gain enlightenment,” he went on. “That does not mean they should not strive for more. That does not mean that they are not destined to know the gods. All it means is that they need more time.”

  “So those who never reach the gods, what do they get out of serving the Deshmahne?”

  His eyes narrowed. “What do they get? They get confirmation of the gods’ existence.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Because you have always known of the gods’ existence. You have had power since birth. That is the way of the Magi. Others have not had that same power, and many have longed for it and are willing to do what is necessary to have an opportunity to reach it. They see what becomes of the priests, the way they are granted power of the gods. That is proof even if they cannot achieve it themselves.”

  There was a strange logic to what he said. Could that be why the Deshmahne appealed to so many? If so, was there any hope for the Urmahne?

  And did she care if there wasn’t?

  “What did you hope to get out of this journey?” she asked Safran.

  Safran glanced over to her. “I was asked to accompany you. There was a need, and I agreed to fill it.”

  “There was more than that. I know the High Desh asked you to come, and I know that you agreed, but there is more than simply the need.”

  “I did not come to try to use these creatures to increase my connection to the gods, if that’s what you fear.”

  “Then what? Why did you make this journey if you didn’t want to try to claim the strength of the groeliin?”

  “If the Highest was responsible for these attacks, I wanted to offer any assistance I could to prevent it from happening again.”

  That was a reasonable response, and Roelle hoped it was true. Even if it wasn’t, she was thankful the Deshmahne were here. If they were able to help her with the groeliin—and she wasn’t entirely certain that they would—there would be value in that.

  She glanced over to Safran, trying to think of what she could say, but what was there? He was here, and she had to take him at face value, and she hoped that she wouldn’t have to find out whether he was being completely truthful with her.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  A long, mournful howl woke her from her sleep.

  Roelle jumped to her feet, and the Magi with her quickly followed. All had heard that sound before, and all knew what it meant.

  She hurried to the sentries standing at the edge of their encampment. Olin stared into the night and glanced over to her when she approached. “Do you see anything?” Roelle looked out toward the mountains but saw nothing other than the dark rock.

  Olin shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “And the merahl?”

  “That’s the first I’ve heard them.”

  Roelle looked around and saw the Magi quickly packing their belongings, breaking their camp. The Deshmahne rose more slowly, but as they saw the Magi packing, they made short work of breaking camp, as well.

  “Keep your eyes open. If you see anything—”

  Olin nodded. “If I see anything, I’ll signal.”

  Roelle hurried back to where she’d been camping and gathered her meager belongings. She had a pack and a change of clothes, along with some jerky and dried bread stuffed in the top of the pack. It was a far cry from the luxury she once had known in Vasha.

  “What is it?” Safran asked.

  “Do yo
u remember me talking about the merahl?”

  Safran nodded.

  “That howl you just heard. That’s a merahl.”

  “Why are you breaking camp then?”

  “If the merahl are howling like that, it means they’re hunting groeliin.”

  Safran’s eyes widened, and he nodded. “They are here then?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t say for sure, but I haven’t known the merahl to raise the alarm unnecessarily.”

  Safran left her, and she finished gathering her belongings and strapped her pack to the horse. As she did, there came another low howl, closer this time.

  She patted her horse’s flank and left her there, and headed toward the edge of the camp.

  If they had to fight, the horses wouldn’t be able to participate. When they had been south of the mountains, the horses had been protected, and the Magi had done everything they could to prevent the groeliin from attacking them.

  “They’re to the west,” Selton said, coming to stand next to her. His hand resting on the hilt of his sword, he stared into the darkness, an intensity to his gaze that she hadn’t seen in a while. Could it be that he had needed to come to help him find his purpose?

  “I’ve only heard the two,” she said.

  “As have I. But if there are two, that means—”

  Roelle nodded. “That means Antrilii.”

  They needed to find the Antrilii. She had brought her people here—as well as the Deshmahne—thinking to offer their assistance with the groeliin. If the merahl they now heard were out there and had located the groeliin, time was of the essence. They needed to reach the Antrilii quickly.

  “We could leave the horses and a handful of Magi with them,” Selton said.

  “If we leave the horses, and those we leave behind to guard them are overrun…”

  Selton nodded. “It was a suggestion.”

  “A good one, but I worry that we might have to do something more.”

  Another howl split the night. It was even closer than the last. If the groeliin were coming their way, it was too late to worry about the horses. They had to prepare for battle. Now.