Tower of the Gods (The Lost Prophecy Book 3)

by D. K. Holmberg

  Anda is daneamiin. What does it mean?

  A scurry of bare feet suddenly pounded along the stone toward them, seeming to flicker from lamplight to lamplight, bypassing the shadows. Aimielen inhaled deeply, the cool Tower air filling her lungs and clearing her mind. Somehow, even the children did not liven the Tower today. For that, she felt a brief surge of anger.

  Aimielen shot Shoren a look that promised to resume the discussion later, then turned to the children. The hall behind her remained empty, though the sense of watching eyes did not depart. Aimielen pushed away the sensation. There was little guaranteeing their privacy anywhere within the Tower.

  “Great Mother!” Inrii cried as he neared. His bright yellow and red shirt hung loosely on him, the yellow nearly matching his eyes. His wide face pulled into a smile before glancing past her. “Great Father,” he said more calmly, nodding to Shoren as well.

  The children were all more deferential with Shoren. Most adults deferred to him as well. Narsa, younger and shier and dressed only slightly more subdued in pale purple and blue, pulled up next to her brother and hid behind him.

  “Children,” Shoren acknowledged.

  His face was neutral, though a smile hid under the indifferent expression. Only Aimielen saw the way the corners of his mouth tugged ever so slightly, the irritation from moments ago little more than a memory. Few knew how much the children pleased him. It was safer that way.

  Aimielen, on the other hand, needed no such reserve. She did not hold the same position as Shoren, though still understood showing some restraint. Kneeling, she pulled the children into a tight hug, only releasing them when Inrii began squirming. He pulled away, and she stood, patting his smooth head. Narsa stepped away reluctantly.

  “Now. Where is your mother?” she asked.

  Inrii glanced quickly at Shoren and waited for his slight nod before answering. Aimielen waited for the day that the children learned just how little he cared for such formalities. Perhaps it was better that they didn’t know. For now.

  “Mother is in her chambers. She is expecting you.”

  Aimielen smiled. “Of course she is,” she said. “And your father?”

  Inrii shook his head once. “Father told us that he had some work to attend to.”

  “Oh?” Aimielen said. The look on Inrii’s face told differently.

  The boy smiled and shrugged. “He does not care to enter the Tower. We are not supposed to know.”

  Am I in the Tower of the Gods?

  Be silent, Aimielen forced, pushing the intrusion to the back of her mind as she heard the softest of sounds from Shoren, one only she would recognize as a slight snort of annoyance. Not with the children or their father. At least, she thought not. As far as she knew, Terran had done nothing to earn Shoren’s irritation. She again rubbed a hand across Inrii’s head affectionately, and he smiled, almost as if reading her thoughts.

  They started toward the rooms at the end of the hall when Aimielen felt the shifting.

  She paused, turning slowly, and saw that Shoren had done the same. In the hall, empty only moments ago, now stood Drasol. He looked at Shoren expectantly, his hands clutching the long brown robe he wore. Shoren nodded slowly, acknowledging the newcomer.

  “Shoren. Aimielen,” Drasol said, nodding to each. He was below Shoren but above Aimielen in the standings. Aimielen had to wait for his nod before she replied in kind. “I must apologize for the intrusion.”

  Shoren’s mouth tightened. Aimielen saw the annoyance on his face but knew that Drasol would not. Today was to have been spent with the children. He said nothing for a moment, only tilting his head slightly to the side as if thinking. “Some on the council wish to meet,” he finally said.

  Drasol frowned before nodding, probably wondering how Shoren knew. Few understood the fibers the way that Shoren did. Few bothered to try.

  “A concern has been brought before the council.”

  “The entire council must meet for a single concern?” Aimielen asked.

  Drasol turned and considered her for a moment. The deepening at the corners of his eyes told her everything she needed to know about how he felt. Aimielen held back a smile, knowing her occasional lapse with protocol bothered some.

  “The entire council has been called,” he answered, speaking to Shoren, implying that the majority would be present.

  Though she also sat on the council, the intent to dismiss Aimielen was clear. She was nearly the lowest of the councilors, and in many eyes, only sat upon the council by the strength of her husband. In that, they were wrong. Shoren followed tradition almost to a fault. Inwardly she smiled, preferring to be underestimated.

  “When the council meets, we will be there,” Shoren answered. His voice was hard but unthreatening. He turned from Drasol and started back down the hall.

  Aimielen hesitated, watching Drasol’s face as Shoren walked away from him nudging the children ahead of him. A flicker of emotion crossed his eyes—annoyance, she wondered—but it passed. With another shifting, Drasol disappeared, leaving the hall empty once more. The sense of watching eyes never left.

  Aimielen turned and quickly caught up with Shoren. “He did not even look at the children,” she whispered, knowing she needn’t have bothered. They either heard or sensed what she said anyway.

  “Some prefer to pretend they do not exist,” he said, reaching out and touching Inrii then Narsa on the shoulder. The gesture was nearly a hug from Shoren.

  The children looked back, and their faces split into similar smiles. Aimielen could not help but smile back. “When will the council meet?” she asked as they neared Enila’s room.

  “Soon,” Shoren said.

  “And the concern that has been raised?” she questioned. Aimielen thought she knew but wanted Shoren to confirm it.

  Shoren glanced at her and nodded once.

  “If the council is involved, it is time to warn—” she cut off, pausing outside their daughter Enila’s door. Narsa pushed it open and rushed inside while Inrii waited with them. She sensed a hesitation to him and wondered how much he understood.

  “Den’eamiin,” Shoren said, again using the language of their ancestors.

  Inrii’s wide eyes looked from Shoren to her, a question plain on his face. Aimielen did not know if he knew the ancestral language—they had made sure Enila knew it—but wasn’t sure that it mattered with the children.

  The boy smiled slowly and nodded, placing a long-fingered hand upon her arm for a moment before pushing past her through the open door, rushing in. She felt a tingling warmth where his hand had been and the edge taken off her anxiety.

  A bittersweet smile came to her face as she recognized what he had done for her. He was growing stronger with each year, but the power the children possessed was unlike anything their people knew. She had not decided if some of her people’s fear came from ignorance or jealousy.

  Shoren and Aimielen knew what would follow; they had seen the same cycle in men. Already, the anger threatened to become something worse. And then the children would no longer be safe.

  Aimielen pushed the thoughts away. She would enjoy her family and the unexpected visit.

  “Mother,” Enila said, coming through a door in the back of the room. “Father.” The shirt she wore was striped bright yellow and orange in quieter tones than the children wore, though was still more color than their kind preferred.

  She waved a hand to the room she had come from, motioning to the children. Narsa complied quickly, but Inrii looked at her a moment, his strange eyes seeing something the rest of them could not, before finally nodding and joining his sister, closing the door behind him.

  Enila nodded her head deeply to her father, waiting for him to offer his in return before speaking further. When Shoren nodded, she looked at him and smiled fondly. Enila had always shared a special connection to her father.

  “I would say that it is refreshing to be back in the Tower,” Enila continued. There was a hesitation toward the end as her eyes flicke
red to the door as she spoke.

  Aimielen smiled at her daughter, hoping to hide the emotion roiling inside her. “We know it is difficult to visit the Tower these days,” she said, choosing her words carefully. She saw the tension in Enila’s posture. It was constant when she was in the Tower and only seemed to worsen with each visit.

  “Not difficult,” Enila said. “Just that it is no longer home.”

  Aimielen frowned. She sensed Shoren’s displeasure near her as well. “You do not miss these walls?” she asked.

  Enila shrugged. “I have been gone a long time now,” she answered, hands rubbing along her sides. “And outside, there is simply more…” As she trailed off, she shrugged again. The tension in her shoulders remained.

  Aimielen did not need her to finish, knowing what her daughter was thinking. Outside the Tower, there was more vibrancy, color. Life. Inside the Tower was quiet, drab, but still home. She sighed, uncertain what to say.

  “The children grow quickly,” Shoren commented.

  Enila smiled then, a twinkle in her eye, and nodded, understanding that he did not comment on their physical growth. Aimielen was pleased he had picked up on that as well. Sometimes, even she underestimated Shoren’s own empathic gifts. Before the children, Aimielen had been the most skilled in that area. Now she paled in comparison.

  “They miss you,” Enila admitted. “I miss you as well.”

  “You are welcome anytime,” Aimielen said.

  “Are we?” Enila asked.

  She could not help but feel Enila’s pain as she asked the question. The Tower was their home and had once been Enila’s as well. These quarters were still assigned to her, though she rarely used them. Now Enila questioned whether she was even welcome within its walls.

  “We are pleased to see you and the children, but there is another reason for your visit,” Shoren said.

  Enila tilted her head as she considered her father. She looked much like Shoren as she stared at him. They shared the same probing eyes and intelligent mind, as well as the determined thrust to the jaw. Once she had shared the same quiet confidence, but that was gone, replaced by a nervous edge.

  “Lisenda is missing,” she said.

  “Lisenda?” Aimielen repeated. She was the first of the children, her mother the first Den’eamiin. “Where would she have gone?”

  Enila looked at her mother. The fear that had edged her words now entered her eyes. “None of us knows,” she admitted.

  “She nears her maturity,” Shoren commented.

  Enila met his eyes and nodded. She watched him for a moment, as if waiting for what he would say next. When he said nothing, she continued. “I had hoped you could help.”

  Aimielen frowned. She knew what Enila asked. Of their kind, only Enila neared her father’s abilities with the fibers. It was strange that she had seen nothing.

  Shoren nodded, the movement, like everything he did, slow and deliberate. “I will search the fibers,” he said. “Though may not have success with Lisenda.”

  Enila’s eyes widened briefly and then flickered toward the room where the children played. “Thank you, Father. Her parents are worried. When Lara could learn nothing from the fibers, she asked for my help. When I could see nothing…”

  “I will do what I can,” he said. Aimielen heard a hint of uncertainty and wondered what it meant. Shoren’s skill with the fibers was unrivaled. “There are other matters we must address, Enila,” Shoren said.

  “I have seen,” Enila admitted.

  “Then you know that time may be growing short.”

  Aimielen frowned again. What was Shoren referring to? This was not something that they had discussed.

  Enila shook her head once. “The fibers are not fixed on this,” she answered.

  “Are you certain? Do you dare take the risk?”

  Enila closed her eyes briefly. “No,” she answered. “I am not certain.”

  Shoren sighed, and an edge to his face softened. Aimielen realized that he had been hoping Enila saw differently than he. “Nor am I. And it worries me. There are those among the council who fear what the children have already become.” He paused, blinking slowly. “There are others who fear what they may yet become.”

  Enila frowned, biting her lip. “I have considered leaving. The others as well,” she admitted.

  Aimielen frowned. “You have already left the Tower!”

  Shoren narrowed his eyes briefly. “Where would you go that you could not be found?” he asked.

  Enila hesitated. “To the lands of the east.”

  Shoren’s grey eyes went unfocused, as if looking elsewhere. “East?” he echoed, still thinking. “There is much there that is unexplored. Much more unexplained,” he said carefully.

  “No!” Aimielen interrupted, shaking her head. She glanced from her daughter to her husband. Neither met her eyes. “The Tower is your home. Those lands are unknown, unexplored. They might not even be safe.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “None have settled the east,” Aimielen argued, her heart pounding faster. She turned to Shoren, hoping to plead with him but saw his stony expression. “What of the strange power in the east?” she asked him. “How can the children be safer there than here?”

  He didn’t answer, and long moments passed before she turned to look at Enila again. Enila flicked her gaze to the back room where the children played before meeting her mother’s eyes. Resignation hovered briefly on her face, passing as it was replaced with a determined expression. Aimielen recognized it, and the anxiety she felt suddenly weakened. She understood why Enila could have such determination, understood the emotion that drove her daughter.

  Suddenly, much of the fight left her.

  “And you have already said they may not be safe here,” Enila said, the hushed words heavy with sadness.

  Aimielen took a deep breath and pushed back the tears that threatened to well in her eyes. “Shoren,” she said, turning to her husband and fighting to maintain her composure. “You must fix this!”

  Shoren laid a long-fingered hand on her arm. She felt the coolness of his touch and wished he could give her the same reassuring sensation Inrii had given. “I will try,” he said.

  Sometimes, she wished she did not know him as well as she did. Aimielen understood what he said and what was left unsaid. He would try, but he did not expect to succeed.

  Chapter Ten

  The sounds of the night drifted through the open window. There was a heaviness to the air, thick with humidity that left a dampness here in Saeline. The scents of dried grasses mixed with a hint of pine blew through the room on a steady breeze. Allay lay awake, unable to sleep.

  He had a vague reassurance that two Denraen stood on the other side of the door, keeping watch. Mendi was in the room next to his, though hers was much smaller. She had two Denraen with her as well. The last Denraen soldier accompanied Mage Rosahd, though Allay hadn't seen the Mage since they had come to the Saeline castle.

  Allay stared at the ceiling. The dinner had been exquisite, a feast befitting a prince, but he noted that the queen and the princess had eaten little. Allay had picked tentatively at his meal before diving in. Were they to poison him, there was little he would be able to do to stop them, though he doubted Queen Theresa intended to poison him. Locken was too compliant to the throne to attempt something like that. He didn't fear for his safety in Saeline, though there might be other kings willing to attempt such a thing.

  He heard his door opening, and looked up, feeling a moment of hope. Was Mendi sneaking in?

  A dark figure stood outlined in the doorway, a sword in hand.

  Not Mendi.

  Allay sprang from his bed.

  Had Theresa lulled him into believing there wouldn’t be an assassination attempt in Saeline? Perhaps they preferred a bloodier end to him than a simple poisoning. Maybe he’d inadvertently avoided the poison they’d intended for him.

  Allay dove toward the figure in the doorway, rolling as he did. He had
trained with some of the best fighters in hand-to-hand combat within Gomald but had never used it for his own safety.

  He drove his fist into the attacker’s stomach. And missed.

  Where he had expected to find the attacker, there was nothing.

  Allay rolled again, coming up to a crouch with his hands in front of him in a protective stance. It was the stance he’d been taught when first learning to fight. He and Theodror had often sparred together, practicing their fighting skills on each other. It always angered their mother, but their father had laughed at their foolishness. After her death, they no longer sparred, much like his father no longer laughed.

  Allay kicked, but the attacker danced away from it.

  The sword swung down, and Allay twisted, barely moving out of the way.

  He was at a disadvantage without a weapon.

  He surveyed his room and found a chair near the back wall. He grabbed it by its back, swinging it at his attacker.

  The attacker caught the chair with the sword, and the chair splintered. He now guessed his attacker was a man, but who? One of Theresa’s soldiers? He was swift with his movements and deft with his sword.

  It left Allay with a handhold of the back of the chair and nothing else. He swung this at his attacker, connecting with the side of his head, mostly through luck.

  Allay ducked the next attack, sweeping up with the chair piece like a shovel. The motion knocked the sword out of his attacker’s hand.

  The man jumped higher in the air than Allay would've expected possible. When he landed, he pummeled his fists into both sides of Allay's head.

  He crumpled, pain shooting through his head, spots flashing across his vision.

  Allay blinked, and looked up, wanting to see his attacker before he died. He noted the height, the hint of a beard on his chin, and the long dark hair tied back behind his head.

  “Rosahd?” he croaked.

  Rosahd’s hands gripped Allay’s throat. “You are a foolish child. But you will be useful. This way, it will appear as if Saeline had you killed. It will serve to unify the rest of your country against Locken and his plans.”