He remained connected to the fibers.
He noted the damage to the fibers fade. Shoren had done as he claimed, and had restored it. Jakob added the touch of his ahmaean, smoothing out the fibers, hoping that would be enough to heal Aruhn.
He remained connected to the fibers, and looking along the length of them, he noted other damage still. Damage that hadn’t been here when he had tracked back.
Raime had triggered other injuries along the way.
Jakob stopped at each injury along the fibers, somehow standing outside of the fibers, not tied to any individual, not as he had when he tracked back along the fibers as himself. Was it because of what the daneamiin of the Calla maah had done? Did they grant him this ability to stand outside of the entire fabric of time?
He found that he could restore the damage as he went. He bounced from injury to injury, moving closer and closer to his own time, tracing a trail of darkness.
And then he reached the source of it.
Darkness remained along the fibers. It was power. There was no form to it—and Jakob wondered if he had any form.
The darkness turned toward him, and attacked.
Jakob used a wall of ahmaean, much like what Shoren had done when he had opposed Raime.
It didn’t seem like it was enough.
The darkness manifested, and Raime appeared. He looked much like Jakob had seen him back in Chrysia that first time.
He wore a dark cloak, and his eyes blazed, practically burning with his anger. “You shouldn’t have followed me here. You have grown more skilled, I’ll give you that, but I have studied the fibers for longer than anyone who has ever lived.”
“Was it you?” Jakob asked, taking a form himself. “Were you responsible for the madness?” Alyta had believed herself responsible, and Aruhn blamed the groeliin. Neither had been right.
Raime laughed, a dark and horrible sound. “How do you think I have grown so strong?”
“You walk the fibers to take power?”
“I walk the fibers to gain knowledge. Power comes with it.”
“Why?”
“Must there be a why? The damahne have possessed power for far too long. I only wanted to show that anyone could reach that same power.”
“But doing so is destruction. You will destroy everything.”
“And remake it in a way that allows all to have power.”
“All? Or those who you choose?”
“Enough!” Raime roared. “You may be dangerous to me with the sword, but here… here, I possess power and the knowledge.”
Raime began using his ahmaean, and it swirled, tearing fibers free. They began to wrap around Jakob. If he did not react, the fibers would trap him, walling him into the strand of time.
It was all Jakob could do to push the fibers back into place, but more and more came at him.
Jakob struggled, surging forward, needing to leave the fibers or he could be trapped here.
Even if he managed to leave, Raime might be able to ensnare him.
Raime chased, pulling fibers out, disrupting lives as he did. Jakob threw ahmaean at those fibers, pushing them back into place, but wondered if he was fast enough. He certainly wasn’t strong enough.
He pulled upon ahmaean, drawing on the power that brought him here.
It was a reservoir, one that filled him. In that, it was much like the teralin sword. He could pull on all the ahmaean. Doing so risked leaving it trapped within the fibers, but Jakob feared what would happen if he didn’t succeed.
An idea came to him.
Raime wanted to trap him, but what would happen if Jakob attempted to trap Raime?
He surged forward along the fibers, tracing the strand that he detected came from Raime. There was a signature to it, one that radiated the dark ahmaean he possessed. Had Jakob not seen the groeliin, and not learned how Raime had stolen his power, he doubted he would have known which strand to follow.
Raime chased, fibers spinning around him.
They slowed Jakob, but he stopped expending energy on fixing the fibers. If he failed, it wouldn’t matter, but if he succeeded, then he could repair the fibers.
He reached the end of the weave. This was Jakob’s timeline, and from here, the various fibers remained unwoven. What he wanted to do was find a way to seal Raime. If he could either hold him in the fibers, or exclude him from them altogether, he could eliminate the threat.
Raime closed in. He attacked with a dark energy that was furious with his rage. Jakob attempted to push back, countering with his ahmaean, and searched for the strand he knew was Raime’s.
He found it, recognizing the darkness bursting from it.
Jakob wrapped his ahmaean—and all that he could draw—around it.
Raime attacked. “What are you doing?”
Jakob ignored him, continuing to tie the ahmaean. He created a knot that would trap Raime.
The attack intensified behind him. Jakob did all that he could to defend himself, as he pulled the knot more tightly around Raime’s strand.
Raime screamed. He beat more strongly against Jakob, assaulting him with damaged fibers, and ahmaean, but Jakob ignored it.
He had no choice.
As Jakob pulled on the knot, the attack shifted, and then faded.
Jakob watched as Raime disappeared from the fibers. He was gone, banished from the fibers. As he sealed the knot closed, he hoped it prevented Raime from reaching the fibers again. For now, there didn’t seem any way for Raime to reach them, but would it hold?
There was no way for him to know other than to monitor the fibers. If it worked, he would have weakened Raime. If nothing else, he had to be satisfied with that.
Jakob released his connection to the fibers and returned to his time.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The journey to the Forest left Roelle feeling increasingly fatigued. By the time she reached its edge, she could no longer sit up. When they passed through the first set of trees, she felt the tingling wash over her as it had in both the vision and when they’d faced the groeliin. Entering the Forest left a darkness swirling around her, and shadows filled the spaces between the trees. It was not an unpleasant sensation, nor did it scare her.
The Magi rode quickly, leading their horses through the trees, and Roelle could feel the pull upon her grow increasingly stronger the farther they went. It drew upon her, much like it had in the vision. Much like then, there was a certain reassurance to it.
As they went, Roelle felt increasing weakness. She fought it, straining against it as long as possible. Every so often, she had a surge of pain, and she tried to ignore it, but it was overwhelming to her and she cried out. When that happened, Selton would pause the procession, and administer more of the pain medication Nahrsin had given her. Roelle tried waving him away, and succeeded a few times, but the further they went, the feebler her efforts became, and soon, she was looking forward to the temporary relief the elixir gave her. It did not last for long, certainly not long enough for her to relax and have no pain, but any relief was better than none.
“How far are we going into the Forest?” Selton asked.
Roelle opened her eyes and realized they had entered a darker portion of the Forest. With her eyes closed, she could feel the energy rising in the trees around her.
How was that possible? How could she detect that with her eyes closed?
It reminded her of her vision, though it was strange that it should do so.
“Not much farther,” Roelle said. Her voice was little more than a croak, and she shivered. If she was wrong, if this wasn’t a summons to the center of the Forest, and if there was no way for her to be healed here, she wouldn’t survive this. More than ever, she was certain of that.
“Roelle?” Selton said.
“Keep going. Regardless of what happens to me. Regardless of whether I manage to keep my eyes open. You need to keep going.”
“How will we know when we have gone far enough?”
“You will see… A
collection of rocks. A clearing. Power…”
She slipped into darkness, and felt it faintly as the wagon began jostling again.
Every so often, she would awaken, though it would be brief. Each time it occurred, she opened her eyes weakly, and glanced around, still seeing the enormous trees. None of them had the massive roots, and none of them had the majesty and enormity of the trees she had seen when walking in her vision.
Could it be that they wouldn’t find where she was to go?
Yet she could feel the drawing sensation, that of power calling to her.
It seemed to echo and reverberate within her. It was as if something about her responded to the power of the Forest. Had she not been so sick, and had she not been so weakened, she would have been intrigued, and want to investigate further. As it was, she could barely focus on anything other than the pain.
They paused again.
This time, Selton poured a liquid into her mouth. She fought it at first, before realizing it was water, and then began drinking greedily. She let the water wash over her face, and lapped at it. There is something cold and crisp and… familiar about it. She had drunk this water before in the Forest during her vision.
It soothed her. The water had a relaxing quality to it, one that eased away some of the pain. When the pain disappeared, she could open her eyes. Selton sat on the edge of the wagon, staring at her with worried eyes.
“We need to keep going,” Roelle said.
“I don’t know how much longer you’re going to be able to go on,” Selton said.
“I’m better. I’ll make it.”
“I’ve been watching you. We’ve been traveling for three days since entering the Forest. You’ve barely made any sound. Every so often, you cry out, though you do so in the ancient language.”
Roelle forced a smile. “The ancient language? I barely speak it.”
“I know. That’s what makes it strange.”
“There is power in the Great Forest,” Lendra said. “We saw it before when we faced the groeliin.”
Roelle knew that there was power here, and felt it. That power seemed to be what had strengthened her again. It came from the water, but it came from everything around her as well. Almost as if the power that she felt, the surging energy that drew her onward, provided her strength, keeping her going.
“The water. I think the water is helping me.”
Selton nodded and climbed off the edge of the wagon, traipsing over to a nearby stream. It burbled softly, the sound of it telling Roelle that she was not having a vision, and that this was real. He returned with the full flask and brought it to her lips. This time when she drank, she didn’t allow any to spill. The water tasted clean. She hoped it would heal her.
She leaned back, breathing softly. The pain continued to abate, easing away for the first time in… Days? Weeks? She had lost track of time. How could she have been out for as long as Selton claimed? Could they really have traveled through the Forest for the last three days?
Perhaps it was better that her mind protected her, that she didn’t have to experience the pain of the journey awake. It might be better that she was out, not suffering—at least not suffering quite as much.
As she sat there, she felt the sensation of the energy. It pulled on her, drawing her deeper into the Forest, and she pointed. “There. That’s where were going.”
“Lendra says the maps show the heart of the Forest would be along the stream,” Selton said.
Roelle looked over to Lendra, who had a book open in her lap. “I didn’t know you had a map.”
“Not a map. At least not what you would typically think of as a map. This is more a series of notations. There have been other historians who have ventured to the heart of the Great Forest.”
“Why do you think we’re going to the heart of the Great Forest?”
“Because of what you saw in your vision. If the gods called you, that’s where they would be.”
Roelle took a few shallow breaths. “Your map is wrong,” she said. “I can feel where it’s pulling me, and it’s demanding that we go that way.” She pointed once more in the direction where she detected the power, and sank back in the wagon. How much longer would she be able to remain awake? The water’s healing ability would only remain in effect for a short time, and after that, she didn’t think it would provide her with much more.
As she lay back, she heard Selton and Lendra talking quietly. They seemed to be debating whether they would follow Roelle’s sense of direction or the notation in Lendra’s journal.
“Could you show me?”
She opened her eye, and managed to meet Lendra’s gaze.
“The journal. Can I see where you would have us go?”
Lendra flicked her gaze to Selton before looking back to Roelle. “It’s only a few notations,” she said. “I don’t know—”
“I understand. In my state, you don’t know whether I’ll be able to follow it. Give me a chance to try,” she said.
Lendra handed her the book, and Roelle tried to sit up, but was too weak. She held the book over her face, skimming the page. Much like Lendra claimed, the book depicted what appeared to be a historian’s journey toward the center of the Forest. On the following page, there was a drawing, she saw the stream that they had been following, and how it wound through Forest.
Roelle looked up. “This will lead to the heart of the Forest.”
“You’ve never been into the heart of the Forest,” Selton reminded.
“I have in my vision,” she said.
“But that was only your vision. You can’t really think that it is anything more than that,” Selton said.
Roelle traced her finger along the page. “In my vision, I saw this stream. I paused here, drinking from it. It was much like I’m doing now, though I was not injured and was able to walk through the Forest on my own. Other than that, I was pulled this way,” she motioned on the map, indicating further along the page, and deeper into the Forest. “That’s where you will find the heart of the Forest. That’s where we will find what we’re looking for.”
“Selton, the notes say to follow the stream, and that will bring us to the heart of the Forest,” Lendra said.
“The notes are wrong,” Roelle said. She felt winded from simply having the conversation with them. “If I’m wrong, it’s my life.”
She relaxed, saying nothing, and listened to the two of them debating what to do. There was nothing she could say that would convince them of what she believed was necessary. She hoped that Selton would trust her. Even Lendra needed to trust her. Roelle had proven herself, hadn’t she?
They started moving again, and the wagon jostled her, sending shooting pains through her back into her legs. Roelle tried to ignore the pain, keeping her eyes closed against it, fighting off the increasing agony. As they went, she managed to cock open an eye and looked around the Forest. The trees continued to rise, and she realized they weren’t following the stream as they had been. They were veering off deeper into the Forest, heading in the direction from which she felt the pulling sensation, following what she knew to be the right direction.
“Thank you,” she managed to say. It was hard to say anything. It was hard for her to croak out the words that she wanted, but they came. She closed her eyes again, and time passed slowly, dragging her through the Forest, through the trees, as she felt the steady pulling on her senses.
Finally, the wagon came to a stop. She felt an arm under her neck, and then water touching her lips. She opened her mouth, welcoming the cool liquid. She drank it slowly, enjoying the taste, and the same sense of relaxation, the wave of comfort, washed over her. It was the same sense that she had when she first drank the water, but unlike the other times when she had drunk it, she didn’t have the same resurgence of strength and energy. This was nothing more than a splash of strength that returned to her.
“Why are we stopping?” she asked.
“We’re here,” Selton said.
Roelle still felt th
e pulling energy as it summoned her. It had drawn her deeper into the Forest, hadn’t it? This couldn’t be as far as they needed to come. They couldn’t have reached the heart of the Forest yet.
“Are you certain?” she asked.
Selton propped her up, and she looked around.
Her breath caught. Much like in her dream, much like the vision that she’d had, she was in the center of a clearing, the Forest spread around her. The boulders were scattered, not arranged in a ring as they had been in her vision.
Was this the place?
Maybe something had changed. Maybe this wasn’t where she was meant to go. If that was the case, how would she recover enough to reach Vasha? She didn’t think the water would restore her strength enough times to help her finish the journey.
This would be it for her. This had been the gamble, one that she had willingly made, knowing there was likely little that could be done for her in Vasha, but she’d made it thinking she had been summoned to this place, drawn here by the gods.
Was that wrong?
“What’s wrong?” Selton asked. “Is this not the heart of the Forest?”
Roelle breathed out. “I saw this place in my vision, but it was different. The boulders were arranged in a circle, and the power drew me to the middle of it.”
Selton glanced toward the rocks scattered in the clearing. “There is no middle.”
Maybe that was what Roelle felt. Maybe that was why she felt the energy drawing her further, away from this place. It might be the heart of the Forest, but it was changed from what she had seen in her vision. It was not where she needed to be. She let her eyes sink closed, and fought the urge to cry.
She had failed. She had come here hoping to finding healing, and instead had discovered nothing but disappointment. She would die here, so close to the gods.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
When Jakob returned to the house of the Cala maah after repairing the fibers, he feared what he might encounter. What would the daneamiin have experienced while he was away? What had happened to Aruhn?
Twist of the Fibers (The Lost Prophecy Book 4) Page 30