Malaya had brought the groeliin here, and they battled against others of their kind, attempting to hold them in place, but the restored groeliin found it was as difficult as Isandra had. There was no way to confine the groeliin.
She stopped the creature in front of her and turned to the next. Like the one before it, she found that it resisted her attempt to restore it.
“What are you doing?” Jassan asked.
“I am trying to stop them,” she said.
He shook his head. “If you were trying to stop them, you would be fighting. You can’t save them all.”
Isandra hazarded a glance over at Jassan, knowing he was right. She couldn’t save them all. It was possible she couldn’t save any of them here.
What choice did she have other than fighting? What could she do other than try to survive this? If this was the final battle, and if she had been called to help establish peace, how could she not be a part of it?
Isandra took a deep breath and threw herself at the nearest groeliin.
Fog thickened all around her. There was something strange about the fog, almost unnatural. Occasionally, she would hear screams but found no sign of the person who screamed. She stopped one groeliin after another and turned to check on Jassan, but he was gone.
The thickening fog made it difficult for her to see through it.
“Jassan!” she shouted.
No response.
“Jassan!”
She couldn’t wait for him. The attack continued to wage around her, and it seemed as if the groeliin, the Magi, and the damahne were being overwhelmed. She had to help them hold. She had to do all that she could.
But what would it even matter, if she lost Jassan?
Isandra couldn’t take the time to think about it. She needed to coordinate this attack. There were restored groeliin fighting—brought here by the goddess—but, she still felt they were outnumbered.
She searched for the first groeliin they had restored, and she found him wielding a sword, sweeping it through movements that were as complex as any that she knew. He was battling two massive groeliin, each of them larger than himself.
Isandra leaped into attack.
It was strange fighting alongside a groeliin, but this was someone she had seen changed. He was only here because of her. How could she leave him to fight alone?
“Leave them to me,” the groeliin said.
“No. You need help.”
“They will overpower you,” he said. There was concern in his voice, and she wondered at the source of it.
Isandra ducked under an attack and brought her sword around, blocking another. Where was Jassan?
“If you perish, the rest cannot be saved.”
Isandra suddenly understood the groeliin’s concern. “Then make sure that I don’t perish.”
They continued to fight, and the two of them managed to defeat the pair of massive groeliin. Isandra continued to plunge through the ranks of groeliin, noting how many of them had black teralin swords, the negative polarity in the blades pushing against her.
Was there anything she could do about that?
She pushed out and connected to the manehlin in her sword, and changed the polarity of the blades.
It happened quickly—far more quickly than what she had managed when trying to change the polarity of the groeliin. Her experience changing the groeliin had allowed her strength that she hadn’t had before.
Her groeliin motioned to the other groeliin they had transported and shouted out a command. They followed him, and he followed Isandra.
She had an army of groeliin.
She tried not to think about what that meant, and tried not to think about how she was going to defeat the groeliin that were attacking. There were thousands of them that remained influenced by the negative teralin. Probably tens of thousands.
Worse, she didn’t want to destroy them. Even after all the death and destruction they’d caused, she wanted to help them.
She looked for the goddess and found her fighting near a massive tree. Roelle was there, and the two of them fought side by side, alongside a Deshmahne. Such strange allies she had now.
“I need your help,” Isandra yelled to Malaya.
The goddess looked over and then appeared in front of her in the blink of an eye. “What help?”
“The groeliin. We can’t destroy them. They can be saved.”
The goddess looked around. “There are so many.”
“Jakob wouldn’t want them destroyed,” Roelle said. “Not if they can be changed.”
The goddess glanced from Roelle to Isandra before nodding slowly. “You will have to watch over me.”
Isandra cast a glance over to the massive groeliin and saw him leading his fighters. She needed to do this for the groeliin as much as she needed to do it for Jakob. She needed to do it because it was the right thing. Isandra couldn’t change the polarity of these groeliin fast enough to make a difference—but the goddess could.
“We will make sure you’re safe,” Isandra said, glancing to Roelle. She nodded.
The other Magi warriors with her formed a ring around the goddess, and Isandra joined them. Though she might be fighting alongside the Magi warriors, Isandra felt like something other than a Mage. She was something other than Antrilii, though she wasn’t entirely sure what that was—not yet. Somehow, she would need to find how and where she fit in, especially since in this new world, a world that seemed to challenge everything she had ever been taught.
They worked their way through the groeliin, and Isandra could feel the way the goddess used her manehlin. There was enormous power to it, and it surged from her. Without intending to, Isandra joined in, pushing out with her own connection to manehlin. It surged alongside the goddess, and power swept over the groeliin.
The goddess glanced over to her before nodding.
Groeliin fell before them. Not killed by the effect of what they had done, but they fell, nonetheless. The use of manehlin upon them, and the way that it flowed over them, shifted that polarity, and left them motionless, unable to attack.
The army of groeliin she had brought with her led by the massive groeliin continued to push forward.
As they did, Isandra realized they weren’t trying to destroy the other groeliin, only slow them and give the goddess and Isandra a chance to help them.
She couldn’t let them down.
Isandra continued to push out with her connection to manehlin and felt it flowing around her, not only in the groeliin that fought alongside her, but in the Magi, and in the forest itself.
Could she use that power?
She attempted to draw upon it and found it flowing from those other sources and out from her.
Groeliin continued to fall in front of them.
They swept through the forest, changing groeliin.
And then there were no more.
“What now?” the goddess asked.
That couldn’t have been it. There had to have been more, though Isandra didn’t know what she would need to do.
“Now—”
She didn’t get a chance to finish. A dozen people—gods—appeared before them. And then another dozen. All were armed with swords.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Roelle glanced over at Isandra. She had controlled much more power than Roelle would have imagined, and strangely, Roelle had been aware of it as she had. The groeliin that fell before them didn’t move, leaving the forest littered with fallen bodies of the twisted creatures. Would they be like the other groeliin and rise again, no longer twisted by the effect of teralin, or would they return to their previous form? Were they forever lost?
When the gods appeared, Roelle immediately felt pressure.
“They’re going to try to shift the groeliin,” Isandra said. “I can feel them making that effort.”
Roelle looked at the gods. Most were thin, and there were remnants of the madness, the lingering illness that had claimed them for as long as it had. There was something els
e, and it reminded her of the groeliin before Isandra had shifted them. All seemed to have swirls of power around them.
“They have taken the mark,” Safran said.
She looked over to the Deshmahne, recognizing the disgust in his voice. “You don’t approve?”
“Those gifting it would not have done so willingly.”
“We need to stop them, especially if they intend to change the groeliin back.”
“I am with you, Mage.”
“Not a Mage,” Roelle said.
With that, she darted forward, streaking toward the nearest god—or whatever they were. Not gods. Roelle refused to believe that. They were the same as whatever Jakob was, though she didn’t know what that was, either. A being of power. Regardless of what else they were, they possessed power. And now that they had taken on the Deshmahne marking, they had even more power.
The first person she approached disappeared, and she felt a flicker of power behind her.
Roelle spun, swinging her sword around, and caught the attacker when he reappeared. She had faced Deshmahne this way, and while there were no walls to press out against, there was something she could use.
“Use the trees,” she hollered. She hoped that her warriors understood.
As one, they backed up to the massive trees. The attackers didn’t seem to know what to do, but there was no way they could appear behind them. Her soldiers ringed each of the trees, and in the forest, with the trees as close together as they were, it created a defense.
When the next wave of attack came, Roelle was prepared.
The person opposing her had reasonable skill with the sword, but she had trained much longer than these supposed gods had, and she had the advantage of learning from Endric. One by one, they fell to her blade.
She felt a flickering of power and turned almost too late.
A blade swept toward her face.
Safran blocked it, appearing in front of her, flickering into place.
“You can travel the way they do?” He had concealed that from her the entire time?
“The High Desh thought such an ability would be valuable. Before I left, it was a gift given to me.”
“By who?”
“By the High Desh.”
Her eyes widened slightly. Such a gift would be impressive, and it would’ve weakened the High Desh, and told her all that she needed to know about how much the High Desh valued what they were doing. He had willingly sent men—two hundred Deshmahne, and with their losses, now barely more than a hundred—leaving his city at risk. She didn’t need confirmation of his commitment, but it gave her even more understanding.
“Why not use it before now?”
“You have taken the mark. You know that it takes time for gifts to manifest. When I saw the not gods appear, I understood how to use this power.” Safran spun and flickered.
The next attacker came, and Roelle fought him back.
The fallen groeliin began to rise and join in the attack as the effect of the shifting of their polarity began to fade.
“Can you change them back again?” Roelle hollered to Malaya.
“I am trying, but there is something that opposes me.”
Roelle glanced to Isandra. She could see how much it pained her to see the groeliin battling. If she had spent as much time with the Antrilii as what Roelle suspected, she would understand the view the Antrilii had of the groeliin, so her difficulty with fighting them surprised Roelle.
Then again, she didn’t know if she would have had the patience to have tried to help them. That took a different skill than what she had. She was a soldier.
And as a soldier, she needed to do what was necessary to end this fight.
“Come with me. Bring as many men as you can,” she told Safran.
She motioned to Selton, and they gathered a dozen of the warriors, disappearing into the line of groeliin. The fighting went quickly. Facing groeliin was something she was familiar with, and it was something she was brutally effective at doing. There came a soft howl, and she recognized the sound of merahl. There were other howls, those that were deeper and foreign to her. Were there other creatures that fought the groeliin?
Groeliin fell before her. As they did, she began to feel a hint of regret, emotions that she never would’ve expected to feel at destroying these creatures. Isandra had been right. They were able to be saved. And if they were able to be saved, shouldn’t Roelle do whatever it took to ensure that they were?
Yet if she did nothing, if she continued to hold back, the twisted groeliin would destroy her as surely as the High Priest.
Roelle fell into her catahs, sweeping through the groeliin, trying not to think of what she did and how many would be lost.
As she fought, she wished for the presence of the Antrilii. She wished for more of the Magi. For that matter, she wished for Endric, though the Denraen would not have been able to face the groeliin.
Pressure pulsed against her, and she looked over to see a row of Antrilii warriors appear, Nahrsin among them. Nahrsin took barely a moment to take stock of what happened and began to lurch into the battle.
“How is it that you’re here?” she asked Nahrsin during a break in the battle.
“One of the damahne brought us here. We can finally fulfill our vows. We can finally have peace.” His gaze swept around the forest, landing on Isandra briefly, before searching for something else.
Knowing he looked for his friend, Roelle said, “I don’t know what happened to Jassan. He disappeared.”
Nahrsin gritted his jaw. “Perhaps he has already gone to the gods.”
They continued battling, pushing against the groeliin, facing row after row of creatures, numbers that rivaled what they had faced when they had chased them to Thealon. It was fitting that she should fight alongside Nahrsin, and fitting that Selton should remain with her. Even having Safran with her felt right.
But the numbers were too great. How would she be able to defeat them?
She didn’t have to—not alone.
The groeliin were fighting alongside them. With the numbers they had, they managed to push the rest of the twisted groeliin back. Roelle began to feel hope, though was it misplaced? Would they actually be able to win?
This battle wasn’t only about stopping the groeliin. There was another purpose. They needed to find the High Priest, and if they did, then someone had to survive long enough to stop him.
Where was Jakob? For that matter, where was Brohmin?
As she fought, fog began to build around her.
There was something about it that was uncomfortable, unpleasant, and almost painful.
The dark groeliin began to fight with increased urgency, pushing against them.
Roelle threw herself into her catahs, slaughtering creatures that she knew in the back of her mind might be savable. What other choice did she have?
She was pressed back and ran into Isandra. The Elder Mage was fighting skillfully, swinging her sword through catahs that Roelle recognized, letting out a frustrated grunt with each groeliin that fell.
“We need to find some way to end this,” Isandra said.
“There might be only one way.”
“We need Jakob,” Malaya said.
Roelle looked around. Where was Jakob?
Had he fallen? With the numbers they faced, it was possible that he was already gone. It was possible that this push had already failed. It was possible that the High Priest had already won.
She didn’t get the chance to look around any longer as the groeliin continued to press against her, forcing her to resume her attack.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Jakob blinked his eyes open and saw another man, equally old, standing across from Gareth. This man held a long, twisted staff that reminded Jakob of Novan.
Gareth stared at the other man with hatred burning in his eyes. “You were supposed to be dead.”
“Both of us should have been dead. What choice did I have but to come here?”
Ther
e was something about the voice that was familiar. Jakob had heard it in a vision before. He had heard it in his head before.
“Shoren?”
“This is my fight, Jakob. You have yours.”
Gareth snorted. “Your fight? You have never fought before.”
“Haven’t I? While you were busy keeping Jakob from your mind, I absorbed everything that he offered me. That includes all the knowledge of fighting that he possessed.”
Shoren swung his staff, and Gareth managed to block the blow, but the longer reach of the staff gave Shoren a bit of an advantage. “And there are others I have chosen to learn from. Where you have chosen darkness, I have chosen peace.”
Shoren tipped his head toward Jakob. “Go, Jakob. I believe there is another battle that requires your assistance.”
Jakob didn’t know what to say, or how to answer, but he felt the pressure from dark ahmaean drifting toward him, and he realized that he needed to do as Shoren suggested. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Shoren nodded at Gareth. “He should not have learned to transport himself along the fibers. Such a thing is dangerous.”
“Dangerous? It’s just another use of our abilities,” Gareth scoffed.
“Not ours. The nemerahl’s. And you have stolen from them.” Shoren smacked Gareth with the staff, dropping him briefly. “Go, Jakob.”
Jakob paused a moment, lingering to watch the two damahne, both of whom he had spent significant time with, if only in their heads. Was it because of him that this had happened? Was this his fault? They were questions for later. He would need to understand whether his connection to the fibers had somehow forged a connection to this time with Gareth or Shoren.
Jakob shifted away and appeared at the edge of the forest. Three massive groeliin appeared, each carrying a neutral-teralin sword, and they quickly shifted, circling around him and plunging their swords into the ground.
The effect would hold him. Jakob breathed in, drawing from the ahmaean of the forest, attempting to fight, but there was little he could do to fully oppose it.
There was another approach he could try—the same as what he had tried with Gareth. He sent his connection to ahmaean through the swords, attempting to change the polarity.
The Great Betrayal (The Lost Prophecy Book 8) Page 33