“If there’s anything the Antrilii have taught me, it’s that we all must change. Remaining stagnant is the only way we will fail. What I want to know is what you’ve learned from Jostephon.”
“You could ask him.”
“I will. There are things that I suspect he might have said to you that he would not say to me.”
“Why?”
“Because he knows not to underestimate me.” It wasn’t said as a boast. From what she knew of Endric, she suspected it was completely true.
“And you think he will underestimate me?”
Endric sniffed. “He underestimates all the Magi. That’s the reason he was defeated. I’m hopeful that you will have discovered something we can use against him.”
“The only thing I’ve discovered is that he resents that he was captured by Alriyn.”
“As I said.”
“I’ve been trying to understand what he intends with the groeliin.”
“Why do you think he intends anything?”
“They were breeding them for a purpose. When we encountered the groeliin, there were some among them that carried swords and fought as if trained by men. He said something about an army of groeliin, but I suspect he means an army different from the one Nahrsin faced in the south.”
Endric’s brow furrowed as he frowned. “That… is a change for the groeliin.”
“They were larger. Easier for me to see.”
“That’s an interesting observation.”
“Is it?”
“Few who encounter the groeliin ever consider why some are difficult to see while others are not.”
“I assumed it was because they use their connection to the destructive teralin to conceal themselves.”
Endric motioned to the ground, before taking a seat. He waited for Isandra to follow. “Destructive teralin. You have spoken to the Yahinv about this, haven’t you?”
“More to Jassan than to the Yahinv. He’s been more willing to discuss what he knows about teralin.”
“What did you find when you discovered the breeding grounds?”
Isandra closed her eyes, thinking back to when she had been within the breeding grounds, and what she had endured. “We found one of their females lying atop what seemed to be the destructive teralin.”
Endric nodded slowly. “The negatively charged teralin.”
“They are one in the same, are they not?”
“They are. The groeliin have always fed on the negatively charged teralin. I suspect that’s how they gain their power.”
“Have you ever wondered what would happen if they were fed on the creative teralin?”
Endric smiled at her use of the term. The merahl sitting near them crawled slightly forward, keeping a space between her and Endric. She patted the merahl’s head. It might not be a pet, but it still seemed to enjoy it when she petted him this way.
“The groeliin should not be able to feed on the positively charged teralin.”
“Jassan thought the same thing.”
“Thought? As in you have attempted offer it to them?” Endric asked.
“As in we took one of the infant groeliin and enclosed it within a cell with the positive teralin bars.”
“And?”
She shrugged. “And the creature has none of the violence we saw in those that fed on the destructive teralin. I don’t know if it really made a difference, or if it is only that we have separated it from the other groeliin, but so far, we have not seen any signs of the same destruction from it.”
“Interesting. I would be intrigued to see this creature, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“You intended to speak to Jostephon.”
“Yes.”
“The groeliin is kept near him.”
Endric sat for a moment, staring thoughtfully into the distance. Even sitting, there was something about his posture, a sort of fluidity to the way that he made small movements, that made him appear dangerous.
A strange thought came to her: she would very much like to spar with him.
“When the summons came, when Nahrsin sent word, I wasn’t certain whether making this journey was wise. The Magi have barely begun to leave Vasha, and for Alriyn to venture all the way north…” Endric shook his head. “And now that we’re here, I wonder if perhaps this may be the key to everything.”
“The key? You mean stopping the High Priest?”
“Stopping the High Priest. Controlling the Deshmahne. Bringing peace to these lands once more.”
Isandra stared down at her hands. “How do you rationalize it, General?”
“I presume that you mean the violence that the Denraen must engage in?”
She glanced up and nodded. “When I was in Rondalin, I… I had to kill the delegate that we chose.” She swallowed and licked her lips that were suddenly dry. “He had converted to the Deshmahne, and he threatened me on a daily basis. It was in the days after they had branded me, when my abilities had begun to separate from me. I… I think that he would have killed me had I done nothing, so I attacked first. I killed him.”
She sat with her eyes closed, unable to shake the memory of that day. It was one that she tried not to revisit, but it came to her in nightmares, and often enough that she struggled with it. It had happened less often when she’d been off fighting the groeliin, fearing for her life on a near daily basis. The nightmares had not plagued her with the same intensity. Isandra couldn’t say if it was because of the fatigue and exhaustion that claimed her each night, or if she had just finally come to terms with what she had done. But when they had returned to Farsea, the nightmares returned.
“Many have questioned the role of the Denraen and serving the Urmahne over the years. How can one justify using force and violence when the gods have asked for peace?”
“And? How can you justify it?”
“There are those in the world who seek instability and want to prosper from it. There are those who seek violence simply because they enjoy it. There are those who embrace destruction in the darkness, not because they have to, but because they want to. For us to have the world that we want, the world the gods saw for us, there must be others willing to oppose those who seek to destroy, others willing to stand up and say no, and to push back with the same kind of violence that is brought to bear on those who would serve peace. That is the role the Denraen have played, one that they have willingly served. Not because they do not approve of the Urmahne peace, but because they do.”
Isandra studied Endric. She had always known him to be an intelligent man, with a keen mind, but what she saw—and heard—was a man who had given more thought to his position than she would have imagined.
“The Antrilii think much the same way,” Endric said. “They do not love the tasks placed upon them. They hunt and destroy the groeliin because they believe it is a duty given to them by the gods, one that only they can complete.”
“Jassan tells me that they long for the day when they can lay down their swords much as the Magi did.”
“One day, when the fighting has come to an end, when peace has been reestablished and the groeliin have been defeated for good, the Antrilii will lay down their swords. Until that time, they will serve as has been asked of them, and they will fulfill an oath that they made over one thousand years ago, and continue to honor every day, serving in a way that no man can understand.”
“They are noble,” she said.
“They are among the noblest people I know.”
Considering that Endric would have been well traveled, Isandra knew that to be the highest praise that he could offer. Then again, he was descended from the Antrilii, so in effect, he was praising himself.
“You said the Magi have begun leaving Vasha?” she asked.
“After the attack, and at the encouragement of Alriyn and the Council, many of the Magi have begun leaving the city. Alriyn wants them to serve as advisors once more, and to influence the rest of the world as they once did. We have gained a presence in places where the Magi had none. They have eas
ily reestablished themselves in Thealon, and Gom Aaldia has reluctantly granted them access. It would be easier there, but the new king was attacked by the Mage advisor who had been sent with him. The Mage had converted to the Deshmahne. We have managed to push the Deshmahne back from the north, though there remain some small factions.”
She sensed his irritation with that. “New king?”
“Allay. King Richard’s son. He was one of your delegates. He is an interesting man, and he leads his people well. He is respected by the regional kings. If given a chance, he will bring stability that Gom Aaldia has not had in many years.”
“What of the south lands?”
These were questions she should be asking of Alriyn, but she wondered how much he would share with her. He had looked at her differently when he had learned that she had lost her abilities. She wasn’t surprised, and there was the implied promise that either he or his friend Alison might be able to heal her, but there was still that look of sadness when she’d told him.
“Roelle has led her warriors south. They are hopeful that they can bridge an alliance with the Deshmahne.”
“An alliance? The Deshmahne need to be destroyed, removed entirely—”
“The Deshmahne need to be treated carefully. Not all followed the High Priest with the same devotion. There are men and women of the Deshmahne who can be used for good. They must, otherwise, we will face a brutal war in the south. There are too many Deshmahne there.”
It surprised her that Endric, of all people, would view the Deshmahne in such a way. He had been fighting them for years. He had lost his brother to the Deshmahne. Something like that was enough for any man to want nothing but violence for them, but that didn’t seem to be at all what Endric was after.
“I’m not sure anymore what I need to be doing.”
“We need to work together to remove the threat of the High Priest. That has always been what we’ve needed to do. If you’re willing, I’d like to see this groeliin you’ve captured, and then I hope you will be willing to come with me and see what Jostephon will share about his master’s plan.”
Chapter Seventeen
Isandra approached the cave entrance cautiously. Before when she would come here, it was in pursuit of answers, to force Jostephon to share what he had done, and what he intended. Jassan had usually come with her, lending her support, but she took the lead with the inquiry.
“You don’t want to wait for Alriyn?” she asked.
Endric glanced over to her. “Alriyn still sees the world a little differently.”
“Why me, then?”
“I wasn’t sure about you, Mage Isandra. Nahrsin spoke highly of you on the journey here, and Jassan… Well, let’s just say that Jassan speaks even more highly than Nahrsin.” He said that without any smile, but there was almost an edge of amusement in his tone. “There is much that we need to know, and I have begun to realize that those who have searched for answers over the years have done more harm than they realized by their approach.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means that I think you are well suited to ask Jostephon what he might know.”
“And not Alriyn?” There was something afoot, but she didn’t know if it was anything she should worry about. She trusted Endric. It was a trust that had been built on years of his service to the Denraen, but, in all honesty, the true reason for her trust stemmed from the fact that the Antrilii felt so strongly about Endric.
“Alriyn will get there, eventually. I think he holds his disappointment too tightly. When Jostephon escaped, it troubled him on a personal level.”
“It’s personal for me, as well,” she said.
“If it were personal, you would have killed him.”
She glanced over to Endric before her gaze drifted to the merahl that had followed them. Isandra wasn’t surprised that the merahl had accompanied her, and she was pleased that he had. Having the creature along provided her with a sense of reassurance. The merahl had the ability to ignore Jostephon’s Deshmahne skill if he somehow managed to escape the bars of teralin.
“What happened in Vasha?”
She knew that there had been an attack, but that was all she knew. She’d not seen anyone who could tell her exactly what had happened. Maybe she didn’t want to know, or maybe she did. She knew many Magi had suffered, even died. She had once been an Elder on the Council, but now… now she could no longer make that claim, nor was she certain that she wanted to.
“The Deshmahne infiltrated Vasha. They infiltrated the Denraen as well as the Magi. Alriyn took the latter to heart, and it troubled him. Despite that, he fought the Deshmahne, and he watched men die. He attempted something few Magi ever attempted and managed to overcome a Mage who borrowed from dark magic that should not have been introduced into the world.”
Isandra studied Endric. “How is it that you know so much about these things?”
“I have faced men like Jostephon for many years.”
They entered the cave. Almost immediately, Isandra could sense that something was off. She reached for her sword, unsheathing.
Endric flicked his gaze to her but did the same.
“What do you sense?” he asked.
“I don’t know. There’s something different.”
Her merahl prowled forward, hackles on his back raised. He sniffed the air, and his ears were swiveling as he walked.
The cave wasn’t deep. There had been no need for it.
“How have you held him?”
“Neutral teralin. It seemed to contain him. If it didn’t, the merahl would be able to.”
“Neutral? Jostephon has learned to charge the teralin. There would be no neutral teralin for him.”
She jerked her head around and looked at him. “How?”
“It’s not well understood. Some are born with the ability to charge teralin. Not all can. Those who can, often never learn of it.”
“Those with abilities?”
“You would think so, but it’s not quite so easy. There are those without any abilities who are able to impact the teralin.”
“Why would he have remained here?”
“It is as you say. If the merahl were here, he would need some other way of escaping.”
The bars of teralin were set into the stone, and placed deeply enough that he should not have been able to overpower them, but if he did have some way of turning the neutral teralin into the destructive form, could he have used that in some way? She didn’t think he could have, but maybe that had been her mistake.
When they reached the holding area, she recognized that the bars of teralin had been changed. Power remained here, but it pressed against her, a slick, almost oily sensation that came from the metal bars. She reached for them, and Endric grabbed her hand, pulling back.
“Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Even the strongest can be influenced by the negatively charged teralin. It takes someone able to change the metal, to charge it, to avoid that effect.”
Endric approached, and he pushed on the bars, but they didn’t budge. She didn’t expect that they would.
“You said not to… You can charge teralin, can’t you?”
“I can. I discovered it when Vasha was attacked by the Deshmahne the first time. Had I not been able to, I doubt I would have survived, and Vasha would have fallen to the Deshmahne long ago.”
Like most on the Council, she knew they had been attacked once before, but knew few of the details, other than that Tresten had been involved with it.
Isandra approached the bars and, making a point of not touching them, peered through them. Each of the bars had changed, becoming a darker metal, rather than the dull gray of the uncharged teralin.
“How could he have done this without the merahl knowing?” She looked around and saw no sign of the three merahl that should have been watching.
“I suspect they did know. There would have been little they could have done. Not only could they not have reached him insid
e the cell, but the negatively charged teralin would push them back.”
Endric glanced over at the merahl at Isandra’s side. He whistled softly, something that sounded a bit like one of the merahl’s soft cries, and the merahl turned and streaked from the cave. “I hope you don’t mind, but I asked him to find the others, and to send word that Jostephon has escaped.”
“I don’t mind. I wish I knew how to communicate as well with them as you do.”
“Spend enough time with them, and you will learn. They’ll make certain that you do.”
Endric reached the section of the cell that had a door worked in it, and he triggered the latch. It should have required a key, and for him not to have needed one made her smile to herself. For years, Endric had been viewed as skilled, but nothing more than one of the Denraen. When she’d come here and learned that he was Antrilii and that the Antrilii had abilities, she had made the connection that Endric likely had as much talent as any of the Mageborn.
With the door open, power streamed out.
Endric swore under his breath and jumped back, bringing his sword up.
Power surged from it, and it glowed softly. There appeared to be letters worked along the blade, and she noted something in the ancient language.
“Jostephon,” Endric said.
Jostephon stepped free from the cell, swinging a bar of dark teralin. Had he managed to pull it from the rock? That shouldn’t have been possible, but how else would he have managed to obtain it?
Jostephon’s face was twisted with rage. “Endric,” he sneered.
Endric darted forward, the fluid grace of his movements allowed him to attack with more speed than Isandra would have believed possible. Jostephon blocked him, parrying each thrust.
When had Jostephon learned to use a sword as well as he did?
But she saw how. It was all in the way that he pulled on his Deshmahne ability, swirling that dark manehlin around him. She couldn’t see manehlin around herself, then again, she doubted that she would, especially as her abilities had been drained. She saw no such manehlin around Endric, either.
Endric was incredibly skilled, gifted with the sword in such a way that he should defeat any challenger, but Jostephon had dark power that granted him something that Endric did not possess.
The Last Conclave (The Lost Prophecy Book 6) Page 14