“Do they do that often?” she asked of Jassan.
“The merahl are much like all creatures. They crave companionship.”
“Not all creatures crave companionship. Think of the wolf, and how they prefer to live a solitary existence.”
“They only appear to crave solitude,” Jassan said. “Even the wolves that make their way through our lands will howl at each other, and will listen for the call of another wolf.”
She studied him a moment. Was Jassan a lone wolf? He certainly didn’t mind solitude, but he had remained with her during her time in Farsea. For that, she was thankful. “I would like to see Jostephon again.”
“Will that provide you with answers you do not already have?”
“I am determined to find out what I need to know, but I have my doubts I’ll be successful.”
“If he doesn’t provide answers, why go?”
“Because he was planning something with the groeliin. For the Antrilii to know peace, we need to know all of what has been planned that involves your lands. You don’t have to stay with me. I’m sure I’ll be safe.”
Jassan had remained by her side ever since their return from the breeding grounds. Nahrsin had headed south to Vasha, taking an envoy of Antrilii with him, to let Endric and Alriyn that they were requested in the north. With his absence, she would have expected Jassan to have taken on a greater leadership role, but within the city, he had little leadership. The Yahinv were in charge and provided the guidance for the rest of the Antrilii.
“I have been asked to keep an eye on you,” Jassan said.
“By Rebecca?”
He smiled and shrugged. “You intrigue her, I think. She isn’t certain what to make of you, but then few of the Antrilii have much experience with the Magi. The only experience most of us have is with Roelle and her warriors, and we all recognize how different she is from the rest of the Magi.”
“You have no idea how different,” Isandra said.
Jassan chuckled. “You say that as if you are unlike her.”
“I’m not like Roelle. She willingly headed north, and sought the Antrilii, braving the dangers of the Deshmahne.”
At the time, Isandra had felt the way most on the Council had felt. She had thought it a foolish venture that was likely bound to end in the apprentices getting injured or, worse, captured by the Deshmahne. That had been a time when she thought that was the worst fate that could befall one of the Magi. Had the Deshmahne managed to capture the warriors, they would have suffered much differently. Likely, they would have all had abilities stolen from them, but they had not. They had survived and had gone on to be crucial in the fight against the groeliin. She would never have been brave enough to have gone willingly to chase the Deshmahne, and she certainly wouldn’t have been brave enough to risk herself against ten thousand groeliin as Jassan claimed there had been.
“Perhaps not at first. When I first found you, you were injured, and you felt yourself less than a Mage. You have become more like her than you know. Perhaps one day, you will see her again, and you will see what I see.”
“And what is that?”
Jassan smiled. When he did, the hardness in his features faded, and his expression became warm and welcoming. It still amazed her that he, like so many other Antrilii, smiled as easily as he did. She had glimpsed only a fraction of the horrors that he had faced, and she struggled. What must it be like for him to have lived his entire life as a warrior facing groeliin?
“I see a woman who is more like the Antrilii than she gives herself credit for.”
As they had reached the entrance to the cavern holding Jostephon, she hesitated. It was a surprising compliment, and she found herself flushing. “And here I was just thinking that I doubted I would ever be able to do what you do.”
“And what is that?”
“Continue to smile after everything that you’ve seen, and everything that you’ve suffered through.”
“As I said, we continue to hope for peace, while preparing for the realities of the alternative.”
The merahl forming a triangle around the cage with Jostephon looked up as they entered. One of them was the merahl that had bonded to Isandra, and he rubbed up against her, a soft whine forming at the back of his throat. It was a greeting, and it welcomed her.
“I’m glad to see you, as well,” she said, brushing her hand along the merahl’s fur.
Jostephon sat in the middle of the cell and barely glanced in her direction when she entered.
Isandra looked over to Jassan. What must he think of Jostephon? Jassan had so far said little about the head of the Magi Council, and knowing him as she did, she didn’t expect him to.
“You don’t have a trite comment for me today?”
“Have you come seeking answers? I seem to recall I made an offer the last time you were here.”
“You made an offer, but as I said then, this is not a negotiation. You are held captive by the Antrilii. Alriyn has been summoned, and—”
Jostephon climbed to his feet, laughing. “I don’t fear Alriyn.”
“You were defeated. The fact that you are here tells me that whatever you attempted in Vasha failed.”
Jostephon’s face darkened. “He surprised me. I’ll give him that. It will not happen again.”
“Do you think that you will be given another opportunity?”
Jostephon looked up then. His gaze swept from her to Jassan and then finally to the merahl. He looked at them with a different expression than he had when she first encountered him in the mountains. Then, he had made the mistake of referring to the merahl as her pet. They were anything but pets, and Jostephon had learned just how dangerous the merahl could be.
“You said that Alriyn was summoned.”
She leaned closer to him. “Summoned. That does not mean you will be given over to him. I think the best thing for you will be to stay a guest of the Antrilii and the merahl.” Jostephon’s eyes narrowed slightly. It was a subtle change, but it was enough. “Yes. Now I think I have your attention.”
She had struggled with how to deal with Jostephon. She didn’t think she could intimidate him. Her own connection to the manehlin was faint at best now, and Jostephon was much more powerful, especially as connected as he was to the Deshmahne abilities. But she didn’t have to overpower him. He already had been beaten. She just had to help him see that he was beaten.
“What were you doing with the groeliin?”
A smile spread across his face. “Ah. That is what you are after, is it?”
“What I’m after is answers. You will answer me, and you will tell me what you know.”
“Or what? Do you intend to continue threatening me with the merahl? I think we have both seen that they can hold me, and I have little doubt of their ability to destroy me, but to do so, they would have to get into this cell… where I have access to my abilities.” He leaned toward her, a sneer on his face. “Now. If all you have is empty threats, I think you would be best to leave those to others who will actually act on them. Perhaps your lover there might help you,” he said, motioning to Jassan.
She ignored the taunt, but couldn’t hide the flush that came to her cheeks. “Who said anything about empty threats? I have no intention of opening the cell and putting one of the merahl in danger. As you said, inside the cell, you have access to your connection to the manehlin.” His eyes twitched slightly. “But I have something that you want. You want the complete copy, yes? Well, I’ve read it. I know what was written on those missing pages.”
“That wasn’t the agreement.”
“What agreement? I have questions, and you have questions. I think that we can have a fair trade of information.”
Jostephon stood with one foot forward, leaning as if he intended to run at the bars of the cell. “I told you, I can provide you answers about how to restore yourself.”
It was tempting. Worse, Jostephon knew that it was tempting. More than anything, that was the reason that she couldn’t act on it. She
couldn’t succumb to her desire to regain her abilities knowing she had no way of verifying whether it would make a difference. She had given it much thought, contemplating whether she wanted to know what Jostephon knew about healing the Deshmahne marks, but she had decided that there was a greater need. It was about more than what she wanted, it was about what the Antrilii needed.
“Restore? I’ve already been restored,” she said.
Jostephon glared at her. “I can see that you are not.”
“Can you see it? Can you see the manehlin that I control? Can you see the power I’ve been given because of what was taken from me?” Isandra leaned forward, and her hand fell to the hilt of the sword. “I doubt very much that you can see anything, Jostephon. All you see is power. I would never have guessed that of you before, but it is plain as day now.”
Isandra took a deep breath, calming herself. “Now. If you would have an open exchange of information, I will share with you what I found within the complete copy of the mahne, and you will tell me what you know about the movement of the groeliin, and what you intended to do with the groeliin you bred.”
“You would stay weak by doing this. You understand what you sacrifice?”
“I understand what I would sacrifice if I asked for my own healing at the expense of understanding what destruction you intended. Now, what were you doing with the groeliin?”
Chapter Eight
When Jakob returned from walking along the fibers and speaking to Shoren, he glanced over to the nemerahl, wondering if the massive-cat like creature had known that what Jakob did was different. He suspected that the nemerahl did, and that was the reason he had wanted Jakob to walk back along the fibers. Jakob grabbed clothing from one of the nearby rooms and was unsurprised to find out that it fit him. It was dusty but other than that, the fabric was the same soft, supple cloth that he’d worn in many of his visions. He grabbed a cloak that was both plain and expertly made, and fit him equally well. Beneath this, he buckled his sword, unwilling to leave Neamiin behind.
He shifted from the Tower and appeared within the palace grounds of Chrysia.
The nemerahl appeared next to him, though Jakob wasn’t certain whether he was visible to any other than him. He glanced over to the nemerahl, and he seemed to smile, though it was difficult to tell. Would you teach me how to remain unseen?
When you gain enough knowledge and understanding of your abilities, you will not need me to teach.
There is no other damahne for me to learn from. I will need a teacher.
Do you think all damahne have been taught?
They haven’t?
Many prefer to stay alone, live solitary existences where they study and explore their connection to the ahmaean.
I don’t think I have the luxury of remaining alone.
The nemerahl flared its teeth, exposing long fangs. No, I do not think you do have such luxury.
Then can you teach me?
My understanding of ahmaean is much different from that of a damahne. I can guide, but there is little more to it than that.
Jakob doubted that was exactly it. In his visions, he had looked through the nemerahl’s eyes, whatever bond that had been shared between damahne and nemerahl had granted him a greater connection and understanding. Perhaps there wasn’t a sharing of ahmaean knowledge, but there was a sharing of something.
They reached the temple. A pair of priests was exiting as he approached, and looked up, taking note of Jakob. Jakob paused, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. This would be the first test, but would he be compelling enough to convince the priests? Would it be a mistake to reveal himself so openly? He needed them to believe, and he needed to be careful with that belief so as not to do anything that disrupted the balance within the city.
Jakob swirled his ahmaean around him, using it in a way that was similar to how Anda had used her ahmaean to create a glamour. It concealed him, hiding him from the eyes of the priests.
As I said, you will gain understanding when you need it.
I only did what I’ve seen one of the daneamiin do.
Your connection to ahmaean should be much different from that of the daneamiin.
Shoren had said the same and seemed surprised that Jakob had been able to use aspects of what the daneamiin did. He could flicker, traveling much the way the daneamiin did as they walked, pulling on a hint of ahmaean to do so. When he had walked back along the fibers and stepped into one of the daneamiin, he had been able to still shift.
The priests gasped and looked at each other before hurrying off, speaking excitedly.
If your intent was to convince them that you are a god, I think you have succeeded.
My intent is to reach someone with the authority to help protect those still healing from the madness.
There was a high priest of the Ur in every city, and that priest served the Highest, who lived in Thealon, guiding the church. Even when he was in Chrysia, Jakob had only caught glimpses of the Urmahne High Priest. The man was rarely seen, and he wasn’t entirely certain how to find him.
Keeping himself concealed with the ahmaean, Jakob entered the temple.
It was a massive open room. Rows of benches faced the pulpit at the opposite end, and lanterns flickered throughout. A few simply made statues were set around the interior of the temple, nothing that was quite as impressive as what he had seen in the Tower when looking back and speaking to Shoren.
It was early in the morning, and there were few people here, with only a single priest making his way through. The priest wore long, flowing robes that reminded Jakob of his father. A simple necklace marked with the trefoil leaf, which signified the Urmahne religion, hung from his neck.
This was not where he needed to be.
He strode through the room, the nemerahl walking alongside him, and Jakob wondered whether he would be detected, but no one looked in his direction.
At the back of the room, there were two doors. Both were simply made, and enormous, arching a dozen feet over his head. Which one?
The nemerahl approached each and sniffed before pawing at the door on the left.
Jakob tried the handle and found it unlocked. Had it been locked, he could have shifted to the other side. Once open, he hurried through and closed it quickly. The other side was a large corridor, with tapestries representing the gods hanging along the wall. Lanterns were set between the tapestries, and they glowed with a steady light. A few statues stood along the wall, these more expertly made than those out in the worship hall. The air smelled different here, a hint of incense and a slightly earthy odor to it.
They made their way along the hallway, and he paused at each door, listening for sounds on the other side, but noticed nothing. The nemerahl waited patiently, but Jakob suspected he knew which room they needed to go to.
The corridor ended in a wide staircase, which would lead up into the upper level of the temple. Was there any way for him to detect where the priest would be? These weren’t people of power, and they had no connection to the ahmaean, so he doubted it. The only thing he knew about the High Priest was how he would be dressed.
Jakob climbed the stairs, keeping himself concealed with his connection to the ahmaean. It was something of a shrouding, so he almost blended into the walls. They encountered a few priests, and each time, Jakob paused, leaning back against the wall to wait for them to pass. They did not seem to be aware that he was even there.
The nemerahl padded along the stairs silently, barely present.
Jakob thought his own steps were loud, and his breathing seemed heavy enough for him to be heard. Would the ahmaean prevent him from being detected by noise?
They passed a few landings along the way, several of which reminded him of the Tower of the Gods. There were lanterns here rather than the solid, glowing orbs that occupied the Tower, but otherwise, there was a heaviness all around him that felt the same. Jakob suspected that came from the stone pressing in, and the fact that there were no windows along the corridors.
The nemerahl bounded off at one point, forcing Jakob to hurry along and keep pace. He raced up the stairs, and Jakob found him near the very top of the temple. He waited for Jakob until he arrived, and when he did, the nemerahl hurried down the hallway before stopping in front of a door at the very end. Jakob reached him and waited.
Is this it?
This is where you intend to go.
How do you know?
Because I can see it.
What can you see?
I can see how you take the next step.
Jakob considered the nemerahl for a moment. You are looking forward along the fibers? You can look forward like that?
The daneamiin have never been able to look forward along the fibers. They claim it was an ability that was limited to the damahne. He hadn’t expected the nemerahl to have that ability, though if any creature were able to walk forward along the fibers, it would be the nemerahl.
We exist in all times.
What does that mean?
It means that the fibers are different for the nemerahl. We travel them differently.
But you said you didn’t know Shoren.
I don’t know him the way that those who experienced time with him knew him. You should go, damahne.
Jakob looked over at the nemerahl once more before shifting to the room on the other side of the door.
This room was highly ornate. Gold gilding covered the chairs that angled toward a hearth on the far end of the room. Sculptures that appeared as if they had been taken from the Tower of the Gods were stationed in each corner. A thick, plush carpet had been rolled out over the flooring.
In the middle of the room stood a wooden pedestal with a massive book, likely the Tome of Urmahne, the ancient text written long ago in honor of the Urmahne. Jakob paused in front of it, his hands nearly touching the book. It was one his father had considered sacred and had guided how he lived his life. There had been a time when Jakob struggled with his faith, struggling with the loss of both of his parents, his brother falling to the madness, and a time when he blamed the gods for all that had happened to him. It was amazing what a little perspective did, the way it helped him understand that his lack of faith did not mean he was somehow less than what his father had wanted for him.
The Last Conclave (The Lost Prophecy Book 6) Page 7