Tower of the Gods (The Lost Prophecy Book 3)

by D. K. Holmberg

  They were led to the small wall that circled the palace grounds and stopped briefly at the gate before being ushered through. On the other side of the wall was an immense garden with late-season flowers still in bloom. Trees were planted almost geometrically, though in a pattern he could not recognize from where he stood. For the benefit of the gods, he reasoned. Stretches of autumn flowers, of more colors than he could name, filled the spaces between the trees. The smell was amazing. Small shrubs were allowed to grow only so tall before they were cut and sculpted into scenes of glory for the gods.

  The road stretched up a modest incline as it led to the palace proper. The garden flowed up to the palace walls and, in sections, up the walls themselves with fingers of neatly trimmed creeping ivy. The building was immense. Two wings spread from a central gold-capped dome, angled out toward the Tower that rose within the palace grounds.

  For all the beauty the palace possessed, it paled in comparison to Tower. It rose from the center of the grounds, its huge base impossibly wide, and stretched up and up into the sky. Looking up, he could not make out its peak. The pull upon his ahmaean was more apparent, as if their proximity made a difference. Jakob realized that he could not only see the ahmaean of the Tower, but he could also feel it as well, a distinct sense from what he had been feeling since the forest.

  The Ur led them toward the palace, but Jakob was pulled toward the Tower.

  His horse turned almost as if sensing his thoughts, trying to take him across the garden toward the Tower. One of the rear guards grabbed his reins and forced him back into line with the others. He glanced briefly at Anda, anxiety now settling into him and unseating other emotions. Though Brohmin had told him it was Alyta who instilled the feeling, he couldn’t stop it from wearing at him.

  The daneamiin nodded, as if understanding, and reached over to touch him lightly, sending a small surge of peace through him. It was enough to calm him a little.

  “Brohmin?” he asked quietly.

  The man looked back at him, taking in the Ur with hands upon Jakob’s reins, the anxiety and helplessness upon Jakob’s face, then turned to Salindra.

  “Can you do this?” Brohmin asked her.

  She frowned a moment before nodding. There was a strange tingling to the air as she gathered her focus, and Jakob saw the pale ahmaean around her solidify briefly before it pulsed outward and sluiced through the Ur that accompanied them.

  The men fell forward, suddenly unconscious.

  “They’re asleep, nothing more,” Salindra said, heading off Jakob’s question. “They will awaken in time. Hurry and do what you must.”

  Brohmin took the lead, across the garden and toward the Tower, with Salindra and Lendra following close behind. Jakob lingered, staring down at the Ur, wondering if they really were only asleep.

  “They’re unharmed,” Anda assured him. “It is,” she paused, struggling to find her words, “interesting how she accomplished this.” She watched Salindra a moment before turning to Jakob. “Come. We must save Alyta.”

  As they approached the Tower, he was overcome with a deep sense of awe. The rock was smooth, as if cut from a single block of stone, and of such a size that he felt dizzy just looking up at it. This close, he felt the pull on him even more strongly, as if it wanted to pull him into its walls. The slow vibration of the Tower’s ahmaean pushed upon him as well, steady and as heavy as an ocean wave.

  “What now?” he asked as they all dismounted. They needed to get within the Tower itself—that must be where Alyta was held. “How do we break down the walls?”

  “That cannot be done,” Salindra spoke. “Every Mage who has tried has failed.”

  “There must be a doorway,” Jakob said.

  “Many have studied the Tower and tried to find a way inside to learn the secrets of the gods. None have succeeded.”

  “None have succeeded,” Brohmin agreed, “but none have had the need that we have. Anda?”

  “This is different from crossing the Valley.”

  “There has to be something you can do,” Brohmin urged.

  Jakob realized Brohmin was speaking to him. “I can’t do anything.”

  Brohmin gripped his shoulders. It was a hard squeeze, from strong hands. He looked into Jakob’s eyes. “I know you’re scared. I know you don’t know what is happening to you. Neither do I, but I think you’re the only one who can do this. Alyta must have known, which was why you were chosen.”

  Brohmin didn’t know what he asked of him. “I wasn’t chosen. I fell into it, nothing more than an accident.” Anda took his hand, and he was once again, thankful for her calming touch.

  Salindra had been ignoring them while studying the wall. “I can try. My ability is different since I was healed, so I don’t know what I can do.”

  Jakob felt a brief moment of relief.

  As he did, his chest tightened a little, his breaths becoming more difficult. He struggled for air, fighting the growing tightness within his chest. With each breath, it grew worse.

  He gasped.

  “What is it?” Lendra asked.

  It felt as if some sort of weight pressed down upon his chest, crushing him, and kept him from breathing. He dropped to his knees and fought to breathe. Terror roared through him.

  I’m dying.

  Jakob tilted his head back frantically and struggled to take a breath. Nothing moved. There was no sound, no breath, not even a whistle of air. It was as if his airway had sealed shut. Tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision, and he did nothing to wipe them away.

  Anda kneeled down and touched his shoulder gently, squeezing it. “You must fight it,” she whispered.

  “What is it?” he mouthed. No words came out.

  “Fight, Jakob Nialsen. Do not let them beat you this way!”

  Brohmin caught the tail end of what she said. “What is it?”

  “He feels the groeliin,” Anda said.

  “They’re here?” Brohmin asked.

  Anda nodded. “Nearly.”

  Vaguely, Jakob was aware of Lendra falling to her knees and vomiting.

  “Fight this,” Anda repeated.

  Jakob’s vision faded.

  He was suffocating, and there was nothing he could do. He had come too far and was too close to answers for it to end this way.

  He could no longer see. The voices of Anda and Brohmin seemed to come from down a tunnel. Unable to even remain kneeling, he fell to the ground, landing on his sword.

  He felt its slow vibration. Using a little of his remaining energy, Jakob moved the blade out from under him.

  As he touched it, the vibration from the sword passed into him, filling him.

  There was an urgency to it unlike he had felt before, and it seemed to swell through him. The tightness faded. His vision slowly returned. And finally, his breaths came more easily.

  He stood shakily and looked at the others who stood staring at him, except for Anda who remained at his side. His head pounded with the strength of the pulsing, almost splitting it. There was a distinct crispness to his vision that made everything around him much more vivid. “I… I think I’m better.”

  The pulsing within his head easily split the glamour Anda had created, and he saw her unmasked daneamiin features. Something about those features was as beautiful as the illusion she crafted.

  Anda tipped her head to the side and considered him for a moment before nodding.

  The ground trembled.

  Thunder rolled toward them as a section of the wall between the garden and the city tumbled inward. A hole opened to the street, and countless groeliin on the other side of the wall readied to pour through.

  The sight of them disgusted him. They were clothed in only pants, their upper bodies a mat of hair. He could see their small eyes from where he stood, and their deformed missing ears. Their ahmaean surrounded them clearly, dark and thick and oozing around them, much like the Deshmahne.

  “We have to hold them off while Salindra finds a way into the Tower,”
Brohmin said to him.

  They couldn’t let the groeliin enter the palace grounds, not near the Tower. Of that Jakob was certain.

  Nausea rolled within him from the sight of the creatures, but he was spared the worst. Lendra lay on the ground, a pool of vomit near her head.

  “Salindra. Do what you can,” Brohmin said.

  “I don’t know if I can do this alone,” she answered.

  “Try,” Brohmin said. “With me, Jakob!”

  Brohmin unsheathed his sword and raced forward.

  Jakob followed suit.

  As he grabbed the hilt of his sword, the pulsating intensified, filling his mind. He felt the ahmaean of Neamiin as it flowed through him. Jakob pulled at it and felt the pulsing in his head strengthen. With it, came an increased awareness.

  As he ran toward the groeliin, a moment of doubt struck him. There were too many for him and Brohmin to face alone!

  He glanced back and saw Anda watching him. Salindra remained focused on the wall of the Tower. Lendra lay motionless, though had been moved closer to the wall of the Tower.

  We must win. Otherwise, Alyta loses.

  They reached the opening in the wall where the groeliin swarmed. At first, he moved hesitantly.

  There was pressure as his blade sliced through their thick skin, and he smelled the stink of their blood as it poured forth and into the ground. He struggled to ignore it, knowing he needed to keep these creatures from Anda, Salindra, and Lendra.

  And Alyta. He needed answers.

  Fluidity came back to his movements. He stepped from one catah to the next, striking down one groeliin after another.

  It wasn’t enough. There were too many of them. He dared to glance back again and saw Anda’s sorrow-filled eyes as she watched the battle.

  I won’t let them reach her!

  He pulled harder at the vibration pulsing within him, on the ahmaean of Neamiin. Already heightened senses became almost overwhelming.

  Time slowed, and he attacked.

  The groeliin still rushed him.

  Jakob slashed, each movement taking down another of the groeliin, but it wasn’t enough.

  “Neamiin!” he screamed.

  Jakob pulled at the ahmaean all around him, his sword blazed brightly. His body practically shook with a vibrating energy, and he welcomed it. If he failed, they would reach the Tower and Alyta.

  Another worry spurred greater aggression, much as it had with the Deshmahne.

  They could not reach Anda.

  He tore at all the ahmaean he could detect. There was an explosion within him.

  He could explain it no other way. His head felt as if it would burst, torn asunder by the force of the energy. The pulsing tore through his body, his mind, and he hummed with it.

  Jakob screamed again, unaware of what he said. Everything slowed further, but he worried it still would not be enough.

  He pulled upon the ahmaean around him again.

  The pain nearly incapacitated him. He screamed again.

  As the pain receded, he became aware of another part of his mind. If he focused on it, he knew he would find answers. Yet Jakob dared not pause.

  Time nearly stopped, and he took advantage of it, tearing through the groeliin, striking them down mercilessly.

  Jakob yelled at the groeliin as he fought, screaming words that he did not know—words that might have been from his visions and in the ancient language—knowing only that he must fight, and he must win.

  They kept coming.

  He ran through them, his sword flying faster than he knew possible, hacking into their hides bringing down every groeliin in his path. His arms grew numb with the effort, but it was forgotten in his frenzy.

  It was still not fast enough; they streamed endlessly through the hole in the wall.

  No!

  The thought roared through him. Or did he scream?

  His mind tore again, and again he screamed.

  Jakob attacked, faster and faster, his arms growing tired, yet determined not to give up. Still, the beasts oozed through the wall.

  They would not be enough.

  I cannot do this, he thought, not this many at once.

  A slow pressure of helplessness crept into him, and he knew the truth of it. How could the two of them have hoped to stop so many? Better to give up now—the ending would be quicker that way.

  The voice of a memory pulled at him. Yes, you can. You have.

  The voice had opened a crack in the earth once long ago.

  The groeliin surged forward then, over the bodies of the fallen and toward Jakob and Brohmin, as if they sensed his weakness. Brohmin was tired, a sag to his shoulders, and his breathing quick and shallow. He was about ready to drop.

  “No!” Jakob roared.

  His voice filled the air, surprising even him with the intensity of it.

  And then his head exploded again.

  The ground at his feet shook, moving beneath him.

  The ground at the wall began to crack open and widened slowly. Groeliin trying to cross fell through. A hideous scream echoed from them as they fell.

  A few remained on Jakob’s side of the crack, and he struck them down.

  No more remained.

  Jakob took a deep breath, his body tired, his mind in agony.

  What had he done?

  Brohmin turned to Jakob. A huge bloody streak ran down one of his cheeks. “I don’t know what you did, but thank you.”

  “I don’t know either,” he answered.

  What am I?

  Alyta would have answers. He prayed it was true.

  Countless groeliin remained on the other side of the crack. “We can’t let them tear through the city,” Brohmin said. There was a surprising steel in his voice for the level of exhaustion he obviously felt.

  “I think the Magi will finish this,” he said, seeing movement up the street. Pale ahmaean drifted toward him, and he knew without seeing them that it was Roelle and the remaining warrior Magi.

  Brohmin nodded and opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a shout.

  “Brohmin!” Salindra yelled.

  Brohmin staggered back toward the Tower, and Jakob rushed over to help him. He had to support the man as they hurried back to the Tower.

  “I can’t do this,” Salindra said as they neared. She looked nearly as spent as Brohmin. “It is too thick. It is too much.”

  “We’re lost, then,” Brohmin spoke through the sounds of battle erupting from the other side of the wall. “If we can’t reach her, then Raime has already won.”

  “I can get you through the wall,” Anda spoke softly. Her words were musical and sad. “But it will be all that I can do.”

  Brohmin looked at her intently a long moment, his hard eyes softening, before nodding. “Alisandra om’Lenoalii sen’Enheaardliin, may you be granted eternal peace.”

  Jakob tried to catch her gaze, but she turned away from him.

  Facing the wall, she stared at it until a small hole began to appear, gradually widening. He could see that it would soon be enough for them to crawl through.

  “How can she?” Lendra asked.

  Salindra’s mouth was agape, and her eyes were wide.

  “What does this mean?” Jakob asked Brohmin.

  “She gives up much by doing this,” he said as he watched.

  Jakob looked to her. “How much?” he asked.

  Brohmin would not face him. Would not answer.

  “How much?” he asked again, urgently.

  Brohmin’s eyes flicked to Jakob’s sword before meeting his gaze. “Everything.”

  Jakob looked at Anda, saw her as she focused on the wall. “There must be another way.”

  “I lived with Anda’s people many years. They can do much”—he looked at her with a kind of awe—“so very much. But there is only one way she can accomplish this.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked frantically.

  Brohmin frowned at him sadly. “Look at her, Jakob,” he whispered.
“I know you can see it. She cannot live after what she does.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  They had followed Jakob into Thealon, delayed as they watched the groeliin swarm across the armies mounted before Thealon’s tall walls. There had been no hope for the men, and the slaughter was complete. If she and her Magi warriors were unsuccessful, the same would happen to the innocents within Thealon. The Antrilii had moved to the north, hoping to trap the remaining groeliin between them but something had gone wrong.

  The creatures moved into the city.

  Roelle saw a mass of movement that was all grays and swirling blacks. They swarmed toward the wall, struggling at the hole. The opening at this wall was much the same as the one at the city wall. She had wondered how they had done that and wondered again when she saw what they had done here.

  In the distance, she saw Jakob and Brohmin fighting the beasts. The groeliin pressed toward the Tower. They still didn’t know what the groeliin planned or if the other—and more powerful—groeliin that Nahrsin feared was with the remaining creatures. Roelle pressed the Magi forward. Without them, the people of the city would die.

  There was an elegance to how Jakob and Brohmin moved, and a question came to her. She was surprised she had not thought of it before now.

  How is it they can see them?

  The thought didn’t last long. It couldn’t last long. She saw how fast Jakob spun his sword, how quickly the beasts dropped before his blade, and her jaw dropped.

  “I that Jakob? How can he see them?” Selton asked, turning to her. “Who is that man?”

  Roelle continued to stare. “I knew him, once,” she said.

  More than that, she had considered him something of a friend. They’d not had the time to be more than that, though a part of her had been intrigued by him, enough that she wondered if there could have been something between them.

  But now, she could no longer make the claim that she knew Jakob. This was not the uncertain man she’d spent time with after Chrysia. Jakob wielded his sword in ways unlike anything she had ever seen, even more impressive than Nahrsin, and he was a wonder.