The riders approached, and she remained motionless, helpless to do anything.
“Greetings. May the gods bless our crossing.” This came from the lead rider, a man in deep maroon leathers, his face painted to match, and a thick beard covering his face. He had an intimidating presence about him, one she wanted to shrink away from.
“Greetings. May the gods forever grant us peace,” Isandra said.
“We didn’t expect to encounter anyone along this path,” the man said. “Where are you headed?”
“Vasha. I am Isandra, member of the Council of Magi Elders.”
The Antrilii glanced at the others with him, a frown twisting the paint along his face. “You travel to Vasha?”
“That’s where I’m trying to reach. The Deshmahne imprisoned me in Rondalin, and I escaped. I need to return to Vasha and warn the Magi of the nature of their attacks.”
“A return to Vasha is not possible from here,” the Antrilii said.
Isandra felt a nervous chill work through her heart. Was he telling her that he would hold her captive? If he did, there was nothing that she would be able to do to prevent it. Even if she had anything more than her tree branch as a weapon, the Antrilii were fearsome warriors. That much of the rumors about them she believed.
“Do you intend to take me prisoner?” she asked. Better to get the question out there, so that she knew what they intended to do. If they were going to take her captive, she would be ready for it, even if there was nothing she could do to stop them.
The Antrilii chuckled. “We would not hold any of the Magi captive. We have much respect for the Magi.”
“You do?”
The man nodded. “We have fought among the Magi for weeks. We have lost many of our warriors, dying alongside those of the Magi.”
The hammering in Isandra’s chest increased. “You fought with Roelle?”
The man nodded. “Mage Roelle is a skilled warrior. She is even more skilled as a leader. She brought her warriors to join with us, and together, we destroyed many groeliin.” He cocked his head to the side, studying her. “You know of the groeliin?”
Isandra squeezed her eyes shut. It was hard to believe that Roelle would have fought with the Antrilii, but wasn’t that what Endric had intended by sending them north? Wasn’t that the reason that he had pushed them north?
“Yes. I know of the groeliin. We received the evidence of them Roelle sent back to us.”
“Is that why you came to Rondalin?”
“That’s not why. We recognize the risk of the Deshmahne, and recognize that something needs to be done about them. The Council intended to…” Isandra wasn’t entirely sure what the Council intended to do. They had no way of countering the Deshmahne, nothing that didn’t depend on the Denraen.
The Antrilii seemed to wait for her, and when she didn’t go on, he nodded. “We do not intend to capture you, Mage Isandra. But south, there are many groeliin still roaming in bands. The Antrilii continue to hunt, and the remaining warriors of Mage Roelle continue to search, but traveling south—particularly without weapon or horse—is dangerous.”
“Those creatures are out there?”
“There were nearly ten thousand that came south,” he said.
“How can there be so many? How is it that we weren’t able to hear of them before now?”
“None have heard of them because, until recently, they have remained in the north, and the Antrilii have protected the north. That has been our mission, that has been what the gods have asked of us.”
Isandra shivered. She had feared traveling north, afraid that she might encounter the Deshmahne. The only other thing that she feared was those creatures. Roelle had taken many of the apprentices, and they had gone in search of the Antrilii, but they had found something else.
“Are Roelle and the others safe?”
He hesitated before answering. “We split off from them before they reached Thealon.”
“Thealon? These creatures have traveled that far south?”
“Not in those numbers, but enough have to pose a threat to that ancient city.” He offered a gruesome smile, one that twisted the paint on his face. “Do not fear, Mage. The Antrilii and the Magi warriors protected that ancient city from these creatures. They and the gods.”
She stared at him blankly for a moment. Did he really imply that the gods had somehow helped prevent the groeliin from attacking in Thealon?
“How did the gods help?” she asked.
“We used their ancient home.”
“The Tower?”
Isandra was feeling confused. How much had happened outside of Vasha that the Council hadn’t known about? How much had happened that they had no way of understanding? If Roelle had faced these creatures, and if she had been fighting them, she might be better equipped to understand the consequences.
Did Alriyn know?
Did the Eldest?
The Council would need to know about what happened.
“Not the Tower. Their ancient home was the Great Forest. We used the power from that place and trapped the groeliin within it. We slaughtered a great number of broods that day,” he said, the pride evident in his voice.
“I need to get to Vasha,” she said.
“As I said, Vasha is not safe. Traveling to the south is not safe until the Antrilii have completely removed the groeliin threat.”
“When do you anticipate that will be?”
“We head north, back to Antrilii lands, and intend to request additional warriors to come help with the cleansing.”
“The cleansing?”
“These lands must be cleansed of the groeliin. If they gain a foothold, they will continue to persist, growing stronger. There are enough groeliin remaining that will allow them to establish new broods. If they succeed, it is possible that they will come in numbers greater than even the Magi and the Antrilii would be able to defeat.”
Isandra breathed out, trying to figure out what she should do. If she couldn’t go to Vasha, where would she go?
“You would be free to travel with us, Mage.”
Isandra looked at the Antrilii warrior, staring at him, wondering whether she dared go with him. He knew of Roelle, knew of the groeliin, and clearly had experienced something over the last few months that even their Council would not understand.
“I—”
“I won’t prevent you from traveling south, but offer you a warning. If you go, it will be at your own peril. If you come with us, I can offer you protection. It is my understanding that the Magi do not all fight like Roelle. If we encounter groeliin, the Antrilii will help keep you safe.”
It was a reasonable offer, and one Isandra suspected she needed to take him up on. Though part of her was willing to risk her safety to travel south, what if she never found her way back to Vasha? And what if she encountered the Deshmahne? That had been her greatest fear. But now, with the threat of the groeliin going south, she had something else to fear.
She still had to get word to the Council. Somehow, she had to let Alriyn and the others know what had happened. Was there a way to do both? Was there a way for her to go north, to learn about the Antrilii, and still somehow send word to the Council?
Beyond that, she needed healing.
She doubted the Antrilii would be able to assist with that.
“Jassan,” one of the other Antrilii said.
The lead man turned, and his brow furrowed briefly. He stared into the distance, nodding.
Two of the Antrilii snapped the reins of their horses and hurried off, unsheathing as they did. One of them whistled, a sharp, almost mournful sound. It was answered by a low-pitched cry.
“What is it?” Isandra asked.
Jassan turned back to her. “It is groeliin, Mage. They are close.”
Isandra licked her lips, knowing that she had no other choice at this point. If the groeliin were nearby, what could she do? She wasn’t a fighter. She had to go with the Antrilii.
Chapter Six
W
eakness threatened to overwhelm Isandra.
With every passing moment, a part of her seemed to seep out through the brandings, draining from her. She fought, but there was nothing she could do to truly resist. She needed healing, and the longer she was with the Antrilii—and facing the groeliin—the more she doubted she would ever find the healing she needed.
Wind whistled around her, a cold and biting type of breeze. Isandra pulled the cloak tight around her shoulders, but even that didn’t keep out all the wind. She sat upon a horse, one that had been given to her by the Antrilii, leaving two men doubled up on horseback. Isandra wondered whether that was appropriate. It might have made more sense for her to double up with another—possibly Jassan—but none of them had said anything to her.
The Antrilii had encountered several other groupings of groeliin as they rode north. Each time, they rode off, slaughtering the creatures before returning. They did so with a workmanlike approach, and each time, one of the men whistled, a sound that was always answered by another cry.
This time, she heard the cry without hearing anything else.
“What is that?” she asked Jassan.
The Antrilii rode near her. She understood from the others that he was something of a leader, a chieftain of sorts, but didn’t understand much other than that. She’d overheard snippets of conversation between the Antrilii in the time that they been riding, but not enough to fully understand their conversations.
“That is the merahl,” he said.
“What are the merahl? Are they some other creature like the groeliin?”
Jassan grinned. “Do not let the merahl hear you say that, or you might get more than you bargained for.”
“What are they then?” she asked.
He whistled, a sharp, piercing sound. When he did, it was answered by a cry, the same sort of cry that she’d been hearing for the last few days.
Within moments, a massive creature appeared. It was something like a cat, though enormous. The creature was nearly the size of the horse she rode, and had silvery stripes along its otherwise black fur. An enormous jaw practically grinned at her, but it was the piercing eyes that caught her attention. They studied her, seeming to weigh her, as if determining whether she could be trusted. She had never had a creature look at her in such a way.
“This is a merahl,” Jassan said. “They hunt with us. Together, we destroy the groeliin.”
The creature loped alongside them for a dozen or more steps, before he raced off, leaving them riding once more through the lower mountain foothills. Isandra watched the creature go, feeling uncertain in ways that she had not for many years. Everything she’d seen since joining the Antrilii had left her uncertain.
There was grace and power to the massive cat, but more than that, there was a sense of intelligence, and—were she honest with herself—something of a sense of purpose that she herself had long lacked.
How did she get that from simply a single glance at a creature?
“Many have that reaction when they see the merahl for the first time,” Jassan said.
“How is it that I’ve never seen them before?”
“The merahl serve the gods, and because of that, they have a way of hiding themselves, a way that keeps them separate from most men.”
“But I’m not man. I’m a Mage.”
“The merahl have a way of keeping themselves from most Magi as well.”
“They hunt with you?”
Jassan smiled widely. No longer did she see the smile as something twisted and grotesque. There was warmth to his smile, and an easy affability to the man. How would she ever have thought that it was twisted? The Antrilii were warriors. They needed to come across as fearsome. She understood the paint, and understood their purpose. It surprised her that she did. They hunted groeliin, and they killed. From what little she knew of these creatures, what the Antrilii did was necessary. Possibly even essential.
“It could be said that we hunt with them. The merahl have long been our partners. Ever since the beginning, since the founding of the Antrilii, we have partnered.”
Isandra thought the choice of words interesting. Founding. It was the same term the Magi used to refer to the original settlers to Vasha. They were the Founders, those who helped develop the city and build it out of what was little more than the Lashiin ruins into the massive and overwhelming city that it was now. The Founders were warriors.
Much like the Antrilii.
It could not be simple coincidence. When it came to the ancestors, and when it came to powers given by the gods, she had long ago learned that coincidence never came into play. The Founders had a greater appreciation and understanding for prophecy, one that the Magi had struggled with over the years. Haerlin was a prophet, but he was a minor prophet, not nearly as notable as those who had preceded him. But the Magi had trusted what Haerlin had to say, and relied upon whatever visions he might have had. If only there had been other prophets between the time of the Founders and now—perhaps greater profits—they might have managed to recognize the growing threat of the Deshmahne.
“He was magnificent,” she said as she looked out toward where the merahl had gone.
“She. Stasha would be offended were you to call her by any other name.”
“You speak to them?”
“Many of the Antrilii have the ability to speak to the merahl. It is a gift that we have, and one that’s essential for success as we hunt.”
“Can anyone speak to them?”
“Many can learn. Any can attempt to speak to them, but the merahl choose who they communicate with.”
“How do they communicate?”
“You’ll know if they do.”
They continued riding for a while, with Isandra thinking through what she’d learned. She wondered how the Magi had not heard of the merahl before, but then they hadn’t heard of these creatures in the north, either. They knew of them vaguely, referred to them as the ancient threat, but they had no other true knowledge of them.
“What happens when you return to your homeland?” Isandra asked.
“When we return, we must find other warriors.”
“Are there others?”
Jassan nodded. “There are many.”
“If so many groeliin went south, why didn’t more Antrilii?”
One of the other Antrilii, a man by the name of Mitchal, glanced at Jassan. Something passed between them, a form of communication that made her wonder if he was warning the other off.
“What is it? What don’t you want to share with me?”
“The Antrilii are multiple tribes,” Jassan began slowly. “We don’t always agree with each other; we don’t always share the same purpose. In this, Nahrsin wanted to come south, he knew the number of Antrilii was not enough to counter the groeliin, but he was willing to make the sacrifice, to do what he could to slow the tide of the groeliin.”
“But if the Antrilii see this as their duty—”
“There are some who struggle with responsibility beyond the north,” Jassan said.
“Do you think that has changed in the time that you’ve been gone?”
“Now we have Magi who have fought and died by our side. Nahrsin hopes that will be enough to convince the others.”
“Are you all part of the same tribe?”
“Nahrsin is not my chief. I followed him because he spoke truly about the groeliin threat. My tribe recognized the threat, as well, but not all were willing to make the journey south.”
“Why wouldn’t they be willing to go?”
“There are still groeliin in the north,” Jassan said.
“How many remain there?”
“Many.”
The terrain started to change, becoming rockier and heading slowly upward. The small shrubs that had lined their path, forcing the horses to weave between them, became thicker. In the distance, she saw the subtle changing of the shrubbery as it became taller, and noted the massive forest that consumed the mountains, spreading along their slopes unti
l stopping. And from there, clouds circled snow-covered peaks.
The air remained cold, a chill gusting on the wind, and occasionally, snow would flutter down. The clouds shifted from time to time, growing thicker, occasionally graying out the sky, only to then clear, the gods parting the sky and leaving a sun shining brightly below.
Two of the Antrilii veered off, disappearing for a moment with a sharp whistle.
As she so often did now, Isandra tensed, wondering if she would ever actually see any of these groeliin. So far, the Antrilii had ridden off, attacking and destroying them before they got too close. Never did they return with their bodies. Jassan said they burned them, a tradition that helped return them to the gods and prevented them from doing anything more violent.
She wondered what more violent things could happen with the dead groeliin but had not been willing to ask. What would happen if the groeliin overwhelmed them?
“What happens if they reach us?” Isandra asked.
“That’s not what you want to ask, is it?” Jassan said.
“What question do you think I should ask?”
“You want to know how many we can handle.”
Isandra hadn’t thought of it in those terms, but that was exactly what she was wondering. How many groeliin could the Antrilii take on if they encountered a larger grouping? Was there a point when they would be outnumbered?
“With the merahl, we can handle a brood. Five is our typical hunting party, though there are times when we will hunt with twice that many. Usually, that’s when we expect to encounter more than a single brood.”
“What is a brood?”
“A brood can be fifty to a hundred groeliin. It depends on their queen.”
“They have a queen?”
“That’s what we call them. I’m sure the groeliin have other terms for their breeding female.”
Isandra looked over at him, arching a brow. “The groeliin speak to each other?”
“The groeliin are clever, often dangerously so. Yes, they speak to each other. They have also been known to organize attacks. We suspect this one was coordinated.”
Twist of the Fibers (The Lost Prophecy Book 4) Page 5