“If he demonstrated it, then you need to try it,” Alison said.
“I’m not sure that I know how to use it in a way that will help Lawern, or any of the other Magi like him, but…” He closed his eyes, thinking of how he’d felt when he’d pressed through the staff. “I’ll try it.”
She watched him, eyeing him for a long moment, before giving him a sharp nod.
“I would like to be there when you do,” she said.
Alriyn knew he would let her. Trust. It had to start somewhere for the Magi.
Chapter Thirteen
The mountain pass was difficult to cross. Isandra found the ride more challenging than anything she’d ever encountered before. The horse handled it better than she did, keeping her seated in the saddle, its steady feet handling the terrain in ways that she doubted she would have managed were she not riding.
She struggled to stay in the saddle. Was it weakness from the ride or was it the brands? She no longer knew.
From what Jassan said, they had encountered and killed nearly one hundred groeliin since she had joined them. She still had not seen any of the creatures, and began to wonder if she would. There was a nagging part of her mind that questioned Jassan, that questioned whether the creatures were real, and left her wondering whether they had only told her about them to draw her to the north with them.
When she had those doubts, she shook them away, knowing that foolishness.
Jassan had been honest with her—and open.
As she rode, she wondered why she doubted him and his honesty. It took a while for her to realize that it was likely doubts she had about herself. The Antrilii had an understanding and a purpose, something she had long lacked. Were she honest, she felt jealous of that purpose. She might head north with them, she might meet the Antrilii, and eventually make it back to Vasha, but now that she had lost her abilities, now that she had been branded by the Deshmahne, what purpose could she have?
Perhaps there was nothing for her.
She awoke this morning feeling slightly less weakened than the day before. The sense of it wasn’t gone, but at least today, the weakness subsided. As she thought about it, she realized the weakness had been diminishing ever since joining the Antrilii. It was not quite so persistent, and not quite so overwhelming. Perhaps that was because she was fed, and she no longer had to walk, dragging herself across the countryside. Or, she told herself, maybe there was something more to it. Maybe it was something about the Antrilii that helped her.
They neared a small ridge when Jassan whistled.
Isandra looked over, expecting one of the merahl to trot over to them. Each night they camped, she’d seen the merahl on a few occasions, but they usually remained roaming, likely hunting as Jassan had claimed. The creatures probably kept them safe at night, and for that Isandra was grateful.
Jassan sat stiff in his saddle. The other Antrilii did as well. As one, they unsheathed.
“What is it?”
“Groeliin,” Jassan said.
Isandra felt a nervous tremble race through her. She didn’t really want to see one of the groeliin, but now it seemed as if she might.
Two merahl suddenly joined them, bounding from some unseen place.
Where had they come from?
Had they been there the entire time? Had they been tracking them, trailing alongside them silently, and she had simply not noticed?
One of the merahl—the female, she suspected—snarled and jumped, climbing the steep rock face of the mountain in leaps that seemed impossible.
Isandra tracked her movement and watched as the merahl reached a ledge above them, where a strange blackish-colored fog seemed to blanket the area.
The merahl snarled and snapped her massive jaw, then jumped back down.
When she did, a dark gray-skinned creature hung limp in the merahl’s jaws.
“Is that—”
She couldn’t finish. The creature looked grotesque. It was completely hairless, and a strange marking was on its upper arms, a marking that was much like what she’d encountered with the Deshmahne.
“That is a groeliin,” Jassan said.
“Was that the only one?”
He didn’t have a chance to answer. A stream of the same dark gray fog drifted toward them, descending from the upper slopes. As it did, they became clearer.
She’d heard stories of these creatures, and how only those gifted by the gods could see them, but with her abilities seeping from her, how was it that she still could?
The five Antrilii positioned themselves around her, circling her.
At first, she wondered why, but then she realized the groeliin had surrounded them. It reminded her of tactics the Denraen had used, the way they had protected her, and she felt a rising panic. The Denraen had sacrificed themselves for her, and she didn’t want the Antrilii to do the same thing.
Swords crashed into the gray hides, and blood sprayed.
Isandra watched with horrid fascination. She’d never seen violence quite like this. It had been one thing to see the Denraen fighting the Deshmahne, but that had been man versus man. This was man versus beast. A terrible beast.
When she’d traveled with the Denraen, she had thought them outstanding swordsmen. They were, but seeing the way the Antrilii fought made them seem like new recruits. The Antrilii slashed through the groeliin, cutting them down in a sort of sickly efficient way, their movements so incredibly fluid. She couldn’t help but watch with amazement.
As she did, she felt drawn to what they were doing. She noted the movements and how they had a sort of rhythm to them. Was that what Roelle and the other apprentices had learned?
She could see the appeal. When watching the Denraen, there had been a rigid efficiency, even when it came to Stephen, and he had been the best of the Denraen sent to protect her.
Jassan spun in his saddle. Movements that seemed uncontrolled at first were anything but that. Everything that he did had an efficiency to it, and she watched him slipping from position to position, striking with his brutality.
The merahl called as they attacked, a mixture of a snarl and the steady cry that she’d been hearing the last few days. For the first time, she appreciated the way they sounded, a harsh but intimidating cry that was meant to scare the groeliin more than it was meant to scare her.
The fighting died off gradually.
Isandra didn’t move from her saddle, her hands clutching the pommel, her gaze focused on Jassan as he fought. Every so often, she let her eyes drift over to the merahl and then to the other Antrilii, and each time she did, she felt a renewed sense of relief, and the belief that they would survive this attack.
One of the groeliin broke through, jumping over the nearest merahl.
The creature struck Tarin, catching the young Antrilii on the side. A massive gash erupted from his cheek and side, bleeding heavily.
Then the groeliin raced toward her. Jassan turned but wasn’t fast enough.
Isandra did the only thing she could think of.
She pulled the branch that she still had tied to the saddle, and swung it. She managed to catch the groeliin across the side of the head, and it struck with a thud that reverberated up her arm.
That was enough of a break for Jassan to reach her, and his sword sliced off the creature’s head. He gave her an appraising look, long enough to make sure she was unharmed, before turning back to the other groeliin. By the time he did, the fighting was over.
Everything fell silent.
It was a strange sort of silence, one that seemed to echo in her ears. Her heart hammered, a steady thumping as though she’d been racing, when all she’d done was sit and watch and swing the club.
The Antrilii studied the rocky hillsides, and Jassan whistled twice, a signal that seemed to release the merahl to leap off, racing to the mountainsides. When he did, he climbed from the saddle, went over to Tarin, and examined the man’s injuries.
Isandra climbed from her saddle and joined him. “I can help.”
> “Help? Mage, I can sense that you’re injured. There would be little that you can do.”
Isandra brushed off the comment, especially the part about how he could sense that she was injured. “Even injured, there is something I can do for him. Let me try.”
“We have much experience in healing groeliin wounds.”
“Will he survive?” Isandra asked. She couldn’t argue with Jassan. She wasn’t sure that there was anything she really could do, but habit had forced her forward, trying to help. Without her Mage abilities, what was there to do? She wasn’t a Mage without those abilities. She was nothing.
Jassan pulled Tarin from the saddle and rested the man on the ground. Blood oozed from what appeared to be claw marks gouged into the side of his face, raking down along his flank. Jassan worked his hands along the man’s sides, pulling the flesh together, holding it as he took a needle from one of the other Antrilii and began stitching. He worked quickly, his hand clearly practiced, a steady sort of stroke. Jassan worked on the larger injuries first, then moved on to the smaller ones.
When he was finished, he took a jar of some sort of creamy, white salve and began to rub it on the now stitched injuries. The salve had a pungent aroma, one that smelled medicinal, as well as faintly earthy.
Tarin had been moaning softly, but as the salve rubbed into his wounds, the moans began to ease. The bleeding around the stitches subsided. Jassan watched the wounds for a moment before securing the top back on the jar of salve and putting it away.
The Antrilii tied Tarin to his saddle, positioning him so that he could still ride, though he was not alert enough to hold on to the reins. He was injured. Possibly fatally so.
Jassan motioned for her to follow, and she started after him, the horses making their way up the slope of the mountain.
As they passed the fallen bodies of the groeliin, Isandra couldn’t help but stare. She had known the creatures were real—Roelle had sent back the head, proving their existence—but there was something about actually seeing one, seeing the violence that the creatures inflicted, the threat that they presented, that brought everything home to her.
How could she have thought the Deshmahne were the real threat?
The Denraen could handle the Deshmahne. Regardless of what they did, regardless of the way they used whatever dark arts they possess to steal power from the Magi, that wasn’t the threat. The real threat was an ancient one, one that had led to the Founding of her people—and probably of the Antrilii.
She dragged her gaze away from the groeliin and stared at Jassan’s back. There was something about him that drew her.
She didn’t know what would become of her traveling to the Antrilii lands. She didn’t know if there was anything she could do now that she’d lost her abilities, but she could learn. She could observe the Antrilii, and observe what they had done, and learn the ways that they fought and protected the north. In doing so, she might be able to bring information back south, to the rest of the Council. In that way, perhaps she could be useful. Now that she had no other purpose, this might be her way of being useful.
Jassan glanced back at her, his brow furrowed in a frown, and she forced a smile, nodding. He had saved her.
Isandra nodded, indicating that she followed.
As he continued on, she realized that she had a growing respect for him. He was a warrior, but he was something else. And she was determined to see what that was.
Chapter Fourteen
They saw no other groeliin as Isandra and the Antrilii traveled through the mountains.
The Antrilii seemed to know the mountain pass, which was not on any maps that Isandra had ever seen. They rode quickly, the horses practically knowing the way as well as the men, riding hard with Tarin’s injury. The man remained tied to his saddle, but hadn’t woken. Jassan checked on him from time to time, stopping periodically to examine the wound, pour water into his mouth, and ensure that the ropes that bound him to the saddle remained secure. The other Antrilii stayed mostly silent. Isandra said nothing, not wanting to disturb the silence, and not wanting to disrupt the somber mood.
The wind died down as they traveled through the mountain passes, leaving little more than a cool breeze, none of the painfully sharp gusts of wind that they had experienced farther south. She found it strange that the air would grow warmer the farther north they went. The smells to the air changed as well, taking on a hint of the pine, but there was something else mixed in with it, a sent that she didn’t recognize.
She’d lost sight of the merahl. They were there, occasionally howling, their calls providing reassurance now, but nothing else. They didn’t come down from the upper slopes of the mountains, and didn’t appear in camp at night. The idea that they were off hunting gave her pause. She’d seen the groeliin and what they can do. The reality of it chilled her anew.
On the morning of the third day following the groeliin attack, she woke slowly. They’d made camp on a flat section of ground, and it looked no different from any other. Several of the Antrilii were collecting more branches for the fire that was providing a welcome warmth. They didn’t seem concerned about remaining hidden, almost as if the groeliin didn’t seem drawn to smoke or fire.
Jassan came over to her, as he often did in the mornings, and dipped his head in a nod. “Mage. We will reach Antrilii lands today.”
He always treated her so formally. Isandra didn’t know how else she expected to be treated, but it did seem that he would never refer to her by her first name. “Should I be concerned that we reach Antrilii lands?”
“Not concerned, but few have ever ventured this far north. Those who do either know of the Antrilii and seek us, or they make it here accidentally. We have long preferred to keep our presence quiet. Doing so protects others as well as ourselves.”
She smiled. “Who has come to seek out the Antrilii before Roelle?”
“There have been others.”
“Like Endric?”
“Endric is Antrilii, so he is welcome among us.”
She blinked at the casual nature to the statement. “Endric is Antrilii?”
“You didn’t know?”
“Endric doesn’t share anything about himself.”
“Endric is the son of Dendril, son of the former tribe chief of the Shin tribe of the Antrilii.”
Endric wasn’t only Antrilii, he was an Antrilii leader. Had any on the Council known this? Was this the reason that he had been unwilling to share the Antrilii secrets? Had he feared repercussions from his people?
That didn’t seem like Endric. Whatever else he was, Endric was a faithful servant of the Denraen. He had protected her people—and Vasha—for as long as she could remember. He was a skilled general, widely considered to be the best the Denraen had known in generations.
“Other than Endric, who else has come north?”
“Only a few,” Jassan said. “I will warn you, once you reach the Antrilii lands, you will see much that is different from what you expect.”
“What do you think I expect?” she asked.
Jassan smiled. “We know that southerners view the Antrilii as nothing more than nomadic warriors. That’s an image we have cultivated, and for a reason. It keeps us safe. And if others believe the north is dangerous and barren, it keeps them from attempting to settle here.”
“It’s not barren?”
“You will see.”
He signaled to the others that it was time to depart, and after checking on Tarin, they rode quickly, hurrying across the rock, climbing up and up, the pass only wide enough for the horses. There didn’t seem to be any sign of these Antrilii lands, nothing that would be reason for them to hide, or protect themselves.
And then the landscape change.
The trail began to widen. It opened up, allowing the horses to ride side by side where they’d want to, though Jassan kept them in single file. The two merahl that had been ranging in the mountains bounded back down, joining them.
“Where have they been?” Isandra as
ked.
“They continued to hunt,” Jassan said.
“There have been other groeliin?”
“There are always other groeliin.”
“If you are here, and if you continue to hunt them, and if the merahl are so skilled at hunting them, how have you not exterminated them?”
“The groeliin are tenacious. They are able to hide, but there is something about their breeding grounds that makes it difficult for us to stop them. Once they establish a breeding site, we struggle to eliminate them.”
“Why is that?”
“Because they use power.”
“Something like the Magi?”
“It is different. It comes from the earth and everything around them. They draw on it, twisting it, turning it into something it was never meant to be.”
“How are they able to do that?”
“We are not entirely certain. We know there are groeliin who seem to lead the others, those with power.”
One of the other Antrilii glanced back at him, his eyes narrowed.
Jassan shrugged. “It is not something we talk about, even amongst ourselves. The idea that dangerously powerful groeliin exist… There are few who understand what that means, and how dangerous that is.”
“It seems that there would be many who would recognize how dangerous that is.”
“One can only recognize the danger if one acknowledges their existence.”
Jassan said nothing more, and they continued down the slope, gradually switchbacking along the side of the mountain, and Isandra decided not to push.
The path continued to slope downward. They were coming down out of the mountains, and Isandra could see the sun shining overhead, piercing the sky. Clouds that had been chasing them for the last few days lifted the farther north they went, and she felt her mood lifting as well, enjoying the warmth of the sun.
Twist of the Fibers (The Lost Prophecy Book 4) Page 11