“Downward?” Lendra said.
Roelle nodded. “I don’t know how else to explain it. The power is there, and it pulls on me.”
“I thought you said it did that in your vision,” Selton said.
“It did. But I feel it now as well.”
“What do you want us to do?” Selton asked.
All along, the destination had been Vasha. Roelle had convinced herself that if she could reach the city, she could find someone there able to heal her. If she didn’t, then she didn’t know if she would survive this poisoning. Even then, it was possible that she wouldn’t survive.
Since the vision, she had felt rejuvenated. That sense had begun to fade somewhat, though still remained with her. She didn’t know how much longer it would remain. She feared that if they continued on their quest toward Vasha, and if she reached the city only to find no one able to help her—and heal her—she would ultimately die from the poisoning.
The alternative was risky, especially since she wasn’t entirely certain that the Great Forest was where she was meant to go. But if she was right, and if the vision was meant to guide her, she might find real healing. And maybe something more. She might find understanding.
“I think we have to return to the Great Forest,” Roelle said.
“You know what will happen if you’re wrong,” Selton said.
“I know what might happen if I’m wrong. But if I’m right…”
“If you’re right, then we might meet a god,” Lendra said. “How can we not make such a choice?”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The courtyard was empty. In the time that Isandra had been with the Antrilii, the courtyard here had never really been full, never having more than a few people present at any given time. The Antrilii used this space differently than those in the south did. Here, it was more like the way the Denraen use the barracks, a place for training and practice and developing sword skill. Since the warriors had all left to find the groeliin breeding location, the courtyard had been underutilized of late.
Isandra found a place of peace where she could sit and reflect, staring at the mountains when the sky was clear enough for her to see them, otherwise she stared at the clouds when she could not. She spent that time contemplating her purpose, and what she was meant to do, and whether there was any way she would be able to help the Magi now that she no longer had her abilities. So far, she had not come up with anything.
Since her time in the House of Yahinv, she had regained some ability, though it was limited. No longer did her Magi abilities leech from her, and no longer did she feel as though she had run for days and days. She was still weakened, and still struggled to reach for the empty part of her mind that would allow her to use her Magi ability, but something had changed that night.
If she were completely honest, many things had changed that night.
She had witnessed the power and ability of the women of the House of the Yahinv. They were able to manipulate the manehlin nearly as well as the Magi, and perhaps that was enough. Perhaps learning that the Antrilii possessed abilities that rivaled the Magi was enough for her to have learned, enough for her to take back and report to the Council.
But that did nothing to explain her reluctance to leave.
She didn’t feel like a prisoner, and knew she would be allowed to leave at any time, but as much as she longed to return to Vasha and longed to see the palace rising above the rest of the city, she needed to be here. For some reason, she felt that deep within her.
But why?
That answer was more difficult. Though the feeling that she belonged—that she needed to be here—was strong, she struggled with it. Was it some message from the gods? Or was it something simpler? Was she afraid of returning to Vasha, afraid of returning without her full power, and afraid of revealing that she no longer belonged on the Council?
Staying here risked the other Magi not learning of what the Deshmahne were capable of. Was willing to risk that? To consciously put those she cared about into harm’s way? Those like Karrin, or others on the Council? She did not, but she also needed to gain a deeper understanding of the groeliin and of the Antrilii.
“How long do you intend to sit there?”
Isandra looked up to see Jassan watching her from the far side of the courtyard. He had his arms crossed over his muscular chest, and an unreadable expression on his face. “Have you been watching me for long?”
“Not for long.”
“You don’t need to watch me.”
“The House of the Yahinv thinks otherwise.”
“They do? I thought them attempting to heal me would have been their way of saying I could be trusted.”
Jassan started toward her and paused a few paces away from her. “Their willingness to heal you doesn’t mean that they are willing to give you free rein in the city.”
“They intend for me to return to Vasha?”
Isandra remained uncertain how she felt about that. Why was it? Certainly it had nothing to do with Jassan—did it?
“Returning you to the south would require that we send enough of an escort to keep you safe. We don’t have enough Antrilii to make such a journey.”
“Until you figure out what’s happened with the breeding ground.”
Jassan nodded. “Until then.”
“You intend to head south, to investigate the breeding grounds soon?”
“It isn’t so much an investigation of the breeding grounds as an attempt to eradicate them.”
“What’s involved?”
“We haven’t been able to get close enough to know. The groeliin defend it too well. We can hunt the groeliin, and we can destroy those we find, but…”
Jassan wasn’t telling her everything he knew. What makes it so difficult to find the breeding grounds? There must be something about the breeding grounds that prevents the Antrilii from finding them and destroying the females who would birth the next generation. If they are only able to destroy the newborns as they emerge, they will never eradicate them all, the hunt will continue, their oaths will continue.
“For the Antrilii to have what you truly desire, you need to find some way to end the hunt, which means finding a way to end of the groeliin.”
Jassan nodded. “We have killed many groeliin, especially around the breeding time, so many that we think that no more will appear, but each time, more come.”
“What’s the longest you’ve gone between seeing them?”
He shook his head. “Years. We can go years at a time without ever seeing the groeliin. There have been times when we have thought that we finally succeeded. We had nearly a decade of peace. Long enough to build, to develop our people, to think about heading south, rejoining the world. And then…”
“Then there’s another breeding,” Isandra finished for him.
Jassan nodded. “Yes. There is another breeding, and the cycle repeats. But, though we destroy many of them, they are often the weakest ones, and we are left with only the strongest. We know that the next cycle will be bloodier and more brutal than the one before. Over time, their numbers begin to wane again, the groeliin breeding enough that those who were alive during the previous attempt at a cleansing died on their own.”
“And with these two breedings so close together?” There had to be something to it, but what? Jassan didn’t know—she knew that from asking him directly—but what did the House of the Yahinv know? Possibly nothing more, but she suspected they were scholars of a sort, and studied much in the same way that the Magi scholars studied.
She jumped to her feet.
“Where you going?” Jassan asked.
“I need to find one of the Yahinv.”
“The only one who remains within the house is Rebecca.”
“Because she leads them?”
“Because it’s closest to Farsea.”
That didn’t answer her question, but Isandra didn’t think it mattered. “Then I’m going to speak to Rebecca.” In the days since they had attempted to he
al her—and to a certain extent, they had healed her; after all, the scar had changed and the rate at which the power leaked from her had slowed—she hadn’t returned to speak to any of the Yahinv. She didn’t know if they were interested in speaking to her, or if they had helped her—at least attempted to help her—because she was one of the Magi, or if there was another reason for it.
“When you’re done, I thought I could work with you a little,” Jassan said.
Isandra frowned, staring at him with a blank expression. “Work with me?”
Jassan unsheathed his sword. “If you are to remain in Antrilii lands, you need to learn how to use a sword. All must have some proficiency with the sword.”
“Even the women of the Yahinv?”
Jassan nodded. “Especially the women of the Yahinv. They are often the first instructors any of the Antrilii have. With the possibility of facing groeliin at any time, we must be prepared.”
“I am one of the Magi, and an Elder…”
Perhaps no longer an Elder, but she still was one of the Magi, wasn’t she?
“That doesn’t mean you can’t learn the sword. I’ve seen the Magi fight. I saw the way Roelle and her warriors faced the groeliin. Even if you don’t know, you can learn.”
She stared at him a moment, trying to think of how she would respond. How could she refuse when she had already displayed more violence than one of the Council should? She had taken another man’s life. That didn’t fit with the Urmahne faith, regardless of how much Longtree had deserved it. Even the belief that he had deserved it didn’t fit with the Urmahne faith.
She had changed, but had she changed so much that she would take up the sword?
“I am no Roelle,” she said.
Jassan watched her. “There are few who could make such a claim, even among the Antrilii.”
Isandra knew that Roelle had earned Jassan’s respect, but his statement showed her the depths of his respect. Just what had Roelle done?
“Even if you are not Mage Roelle, you still can learn. And if you intend to remain with us, the Yahinv will require it of you.”
Isandra squeezed her eyes closed. She remembered the fast judgment that she had made when word of the apprentices working with the Denraen had come to her. She had wanted them to stop, feeling the way that all the Magi who had spent nearly their entire lives in Vasha had felt. They wanted the apprentices to learn how to utilize their Mageborn gifts, and to find a way to master those, focusing their energy on developing those gifts rather than learning such brutal weapons like the sword of the staff.
It was a measure of how much had changed for her that she didn’t simply dismiss it out of hand. A part of her was curious what it would be like to hold a sword, to swing it as she had seen the soldiers doing. Another part knew that she could not, that she was no soldier, just a wounded Mage.
“I’ll consider it,” she said.
Jassan nodded, the satisfied expression on his face making it seem as if he had already decided what her answer would be.
She left him, heading away from the courtyard, and quickly through the city, before reaching the border, and hurrying along the path that led to the House of the Yahinv. Once there, she knocked on the stout wooden door, and waited. She didn’t know how she would be welcomed—if at all. The first few times she had been here, Jassan had been her escort. Then she had been brought before the entirety of the Yahinv. And now she came of her own accord.
She would demand an answer, though she wasn’t certain she deserved it.
The door opened slowly, and Rebecca stood on the other side, meeting Isandra’s gaze. She crossed her arms under her chest, and watched her, a stern expression on her wrinkled face. “There is nothing more we can do,” Rebecca said.
“You have done enough,” Isandra said. “Without your willingness to try anything, I would have been even more injured. I might not have lived much longer.” She still didn’t know if that was a potential side effect of having her abilities stolen from her, but it seemed logical, especially given how integral a part of her those abilities were.
“Then why have you come?”
“Because I wonder if there is something I can do.”
Rebecca chuckled softly. When Isandra arched a brow, she shook her head. “There’s nothing the Magi can do to assist the Antrilii. Not only don’t we need your assistance, but experience has proven that any assistance you might offer would not be helpful.”
Isandra took a step back, recoiling as if slapped.
All she wanted was to offer something back, a way of repaying the Antrilii for the kindness that they had shown her, and this was the response? Perhaps she had made a mistake in even considering that she should do anything to help them.
“I would like to understand the breeding grounds.”
Rebecca grunted. “We would all like to understand the breeding grounds, but we have studied them for centuries and have learned very little in that time.”
“What if I can help?”
“Why do you think you could help? What makes you think the Magi could know anything more about the groeliin than the Antrilii?”
“Only because it doesn’t seem that the Antrilii know any more about the groeliin than the Magi.” She was being harsh, but so was Rebecca, and she felt that some strength was needed. Strength needed to be met with strength. She might not have the strength she once had, but that didn’t mean that she had none. That was what she was learning from the Antrilii. They had ability and strength, yet not all of them possessed the same as the Magi.
Rebecca stood at the door, staring at her with eyes that seemed to weigh her. There had been few others in Isandra’s life who had looked at her in the same way, and all of them had sat upon the Council of Elders. That she would find a similar weighing gaze here in Antrilii lands should have surprised her, yet at this point, nothing surprised her anymore.
Rebecca took a step back, motioning her into the House of Yahinv.
Isandra hesitated. Now that she was here, now that she had gotten what she had thought she wanted, she was no longer certain it was what she did want. What would Rebecca do once she was inside?
But if there was anything she could do, any way she could help the Antrilii, Isandra wanted to do it. They deserved that from her.
She followed Rebecca inside and stood in the entryway. She still didn’t know what this place was used for, but suspected it was a place of celebration, and perhaps a place of reflection. The way the benches were positioned reminded her of congregation seating. And there was the raised platform at one end of the room that led her to believe that perhaps the Antrilii had something like priests, though she had seen no evidence of it. She didn’t know whether they considered themselves Urmahne or whether they viewed their religion differently.
Rebecca didn’t pause, leading her to the stairs and up to the second level, where the shelves of books and the comfortable chairs were.
She took a seat in one of the chairs, not waiting or motioning Isandra to do the same. Isandra took a seat across from her, sitting on the edge of the chair so as not to get too comfortable, and met her gaze.
“What is it that you think you can help the Antrilii with?” Rebecca asked.
Isandra appreciated the lack of preamble. “Jassan mentioned that the Antrilii have never been able to completely eliminate the groeliin.”
“That is correct. Had we been able to remove the groeliin threat, we would have done so by now.”
“What do you know about the breeding grounds?”
“If you have spoken to Jassan, you should know what we know of the breeding grounds,” she said.
“I have the impression that Jassan doesn’t know everything,” Isandra said. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs, feeling much like an apprentice.
“Perhaps not,” Rebecca said with a sigh. “There are things we’ve kept from our warriors, things that they can’t know, mostly for their safety.”
“Why for their safety?”
> Rebecca glanced over before standing and grabbing a book from a shelf. It had a thick spine, and the lettering along the side was in a language that Isandra didn’t recognize. Was it a native Antrilii tongue? From what she’d seen, the Antrilii didn’t have a native tongue, speaking the common tongue fluently, though she had seen some of the Antrilii using the ancient language with nearly as much fluency as what the scholars in Vasha would have been able to manage.
She brought the book over and set it on her lap. She began flipping through the pages, and eventually settled on one near the middle, before turning the book around so that Isandra could see what was written on the page.
It appeared to be something of a diagram, and she sat back with a start when she recognized what it was. It was a depiction of a groeliin, though not like any she had seen.
“What is that?”
“That is a creature we have never seen. Not alive.”
“How do you have such a reproduction of it?”
“Because another did see it.”
“Not Antrilii?”
“Of a sort,” Rebecca said.
Isandra wondered what that meant, but that didn’t seem to be the point of what she was trying to show her, or what she was trying to tell her. “It appears to be a groeliin, but not one like I’ve encountered.”
“It is a groeliin,” Rebecca said, tapping the page. “These markings, they are symbols of power, I believe you have seen something similar?”
Isandra reached for the book to study the page more closely, surprised that she had recognized those symbols. She had seen them before.
“Deshmahne?”
“Your dark warrior priests use something similar,” Rebecca said.
“The groeliin have mimicked what the Deshmahne do?”
“You have it backward,” Rebecca said, with a shake of her head. “The Deshmahne have copied the way of the groeliin.”
How would that be possible? How was it that the Deshmahne—priests who had spent their lives focused in the south—would have known about what the groeliin did this far north? She struggled to understand how they could be connected, but there was a certain sort of logic to what Rebecca told her, and it made a sick sort of sense.
Twist of the Fibers (The Lost Prophecy Book 4) Page 26