Tower of the Gods (The Lost Prophecy Book 3)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “How can he move like that?” she wondered. She was answered by a steady shaking of the ground beneath her feet.

  In front of them, where the mass of groeliin surged toward the hole in the wall, the beasts suddenly disappeared. As she stared, she realized what she had felt.

  A crack opened in the ground, an impossibly wide crevasse that had just moments before been solid. It stretched back behind the wall, and groeliin fell into it as it widened.

  “It’s the gods!” one of the Magi cried out. “They send their help!”

  Roelle looked up at the Tower and wondered if it could be true. How long had it been since the gods had answered the Magi? Would they care that the groeliin attacked?

  A prayer passed from her lips anyway.

  Others behind her cheered, relieved. It was their first reason to celebrate since leaving the forest. There were still many of the groeliin moving toward the wall, still more than she could easily count, but far fewer than there had been.

  “Ride!” she called. She would smash her remaining Magi into this mass of groeliin, and they would see who would be victorious. It would be decided now.

  Riding forward, she wished they had Nahrsin and the Antrilii with her.

  We should be finishing this together.

  Yet they followed a different path given to them by the gods, circling around to prevent another groeliin attack. She hoped Nahrsin would survive this.

  And suddenly, she was among them. Roelle leaped from her horse, and Selton did the same. Standing side by side, each with sword in hand, they fought. Jhun and Zamell and a dozen other Magi warriors did the same.

  The groeliin swarmed around her, and she felt her arms ache with the first impact of her blade with the beast’s flesh, but pushed on. A final push.

  Her tired mind struggled against her, and she found it hard to stay focused, to push her sword through the forms she knew. A stinging sensation rolled up her arm, and she realized she had been hit. She ignored it and swung harder, forcing her sword to move faster, drawing on her Mage gifts, focusing on the manehlin.

  Soon though, the burning began to overwhelm her. It tore from her chest down into her left arm. She shifted her sword to her right hand and fought on, ignoring her fatigue.

  Selton moved behind her and they were fighting back to back once more. The swirling shapes of the beasts moved about them. Where had Jhun gone? What of Zamell?

  There was no time to think about who might have been lost. There were only those still fighting, and the groeliin. Roelle was thankful that Selton still stood.

  She and Selton fought that way for longer than she knew. Friends from the first moment they’d met, as she’d matured, there was a part of her that had wondered if they could be more. During their journey, she realized that it didn’t matter, if it ever had.

  The presence of her friend gave her new strength, and she pushed with all she had.

  The groeliin fell around them. Roelle wondered distantly how the rest of the warriors fared.

  She heard few screams, so was hopeful. They had survived this far. She hoped this the last battle but knew many would not survive it.

  “We need to push them to the hole!” she called to Selton.

  Selton nodded and grunted in reply.

  They pushed on, the beasts surrounding them. Each time one fell, another took its place. Her strength was failing. How much longer could she hold out?

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Jakob rushed to where Anda stood next to the Tower, her ahmaean streaming from her and into the stone. His mind was still sensitive and raw from whatever he had done with the groeliin. Still, he saw clearly what Anda was doing.

  She truly was sacrificing everything, he realized.

  Ahmaean flowed easily into the stone, creating the opening. The Tower seemed to absorb it, drawing it away from her, drawing her life away from her. It was a sacrifice, and one he wasn’t prepared for her to make.

  “You can’t do this, Anda.”

  “It must be done,” she answered without looking over to him. She kept her focus on the Tower, and on the way she sent herself into the stone. “Alyta must be saved.”

  He took her hand. Always, there had been a wave of peace when he touched her. Now, it was growing cold. “Why?”

  She turned to him. The veil about her flickered, and he knew it would soon be lost. And after it, Anda as well. “She is the last. She needs you, Jakob Nialsen. Your path leads to Alyta. My path ends here.”

  “No. Not like this.”

  She smiled then. “It is my path. I will miss you, Jakob Nialsen. I wish the fibers would have given me more time to know you.”

  When she turned her attention back to the stone, back toward sending her ahmaean into the Tower, frustration welled within him. Could he let her do this?

  Was there anything he could even do to stop it?

  As he watched, he saw her life leeching away, the hole into the Tower growing. They might reach Alyta, but what would they lose in doing so? What would he lose?

  The thought tore at him. Her hand grew icy cold as he held it.

  “No,” he whispered.

  “We can do nothing now,” Brohmin said. “We need a way in.”

  “There has to be another way,” Jakob said.

  “I wish there were. Anda knows the importance of what she does. Alyta needs us,” Brohmin said.

  Without Alyta, his questions may go unanswered, but at what cost? Too many had been lost to him already. His mother. Scottan. His father. Denraen he had not known well enough to call friends.

  There had been too many lost. Anda would not be lost. Not this way.

  But what could he do? There was no answer. No old memory came back to help. This he would do himself. What, though?

  Could he use his connection to the ahmaean?

  Anda used hers on the stone, was it possible for him to save her with his?

  He had to try.

  Jakob reached with his ahmaean into the wall and grabbed at her ahmaean, pulling it back.

  How did he know how to do this?

  The sense of her ahmaean was nearly palpable. It was slippery, barely tangible, but he forced the energy back inside her.

  “No, Jakob Nialsen. I choose this. Alyta must be saved.” The flickering veil she had cast upon herself solidified.

  “Not this,” he whispered, holding tightly to her hand. Warmth started to return.

  He pulled harder.

  Though he did it with his mind, it exacted a physical toll on him. His strength waned.

  Anda struggled against him as her ahmaean was dragged away from the wall, but he refused to allow her to sacrifice herself. Drawing on the ahmaean around him, pulling from the Tower itself, he pushed the last of her ahmaean back.

  The hole that had been in the wall was gone. Solid, smooth rock was instead in its place. Anda staggered back, forcing him to release his hold of her hand. Faint colors of ahmaean swirled about her.

  “That is not possible,” she whispered to him.

  “Jakob—we need Anda to get us inside. There’s no other way,” Brohmin said.

  Anger flashed in his eyes as he looked over to Brohmin, and Brohmin took a surprised step back.

  Jakob turned and focused on the wall, needing a way inside, needing to save Alyta. Her pull upon him was strong, and there was no denying the need to reach the inside the Tower, but how?

  Could he use his ahmaean the way that Anda had?

  Not only his but that which he detected around him?

  He reached out with his ahmaean, probing, as if boring a hole, and stretched forward as if through the wall. Toward Alyta.

  He didn’t know what it did, but then again, he didn’t know what he’d done with Anda.

  Praying he’d find the center of the Tower, he reached out. Toward Alyta.

  They had to get to her before the Deshmahne did.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Jakob drew on more ahmaean, letting it fill him. Pain surged through his
head, splitting it once more.

  The wall exploded inward, opening a hole in the wall of the Tower.

  He staggered and fell.

  His mind throbbed in agony.

  Anda placed a hand over his heart. A warmth flowed from her fingers as she touched him. When he looked up at her, he noted how her ahmaean flowed toward him, toward his, and they touched in a way they had never touched before. She pulled at the ahmaean surrounding him, enveloping herself with it.

  “Thank you, Jakob,” she whispered. “I know not how you did that,” she began “I know you should not have been able to do it but thank you.”

  “Your path does not end here.”

  The illusion around her flickered a moment before solidifying again. “No, it does not.”

  “I could not let your path end here,” he said, seeing through the illusion, and peering into her exotic eyes.

  She touched a soft finger to his lips. “I am glad for it.”

  “Jakob?” Brohmin said. “We need to go. Alyta needs us.”

  Jakob looked up, feeling her pull more strongly now. Did the others feel it?

  How could they not?

  Roelle looked at the groeliin in front of her, her mind unable to tell her if she had killed it before. She wasn’t thinking clearly—which she knew was dangerous—but the groeliin seemed to look the same after a while, all amorphous gray and black until they fell. It was only then that she could make out their features.

  Her sword felt heavy, and it moved slowly now, each hack harder than the one before it. Forms no longer flowed; now, she simply swung, hacking rather than slicing. Her arms ached with the effort, and she vaguely heard herself grunting.

  Were we too eager in this attack?

  She pushed the thought from her mind, taking down creature after creature. Exhaustion threatened to overtake her.

  Worse, though, the burning in her chest and left arm continued to intensify. She knew the wound was sapping her strength. It felt as if her energy was draining because of the wound, all that she had left seemed directed to fight the pain she felt.

  Another groeliin moved into her view.

  This one was taller, and she could see it more easily than the others. Dark markings stained its naked hide, stretching up its arms and along its chest. Roelle shook her head as a memory merged with what she was seeing, that of the Deshmahne she’d fought—and fought next to.

  This groeliin moved quickly, catching Roelle’s blade easily on the huge club it carried. There was a stench to it that even Roelle smelled, and a wave of nausea rolled through her. The groeliin around this one fought with a frenzied intensity, and she saw several of her Magi fall.

  A sudden wave of fear and hopelessness radiated toward her, and she pushed through it without thinking. She focused her concentration on the dark groeliin, forcing out her will. Weakness and fatigue stole through her, and her vision blurred again. With a last effort, she stretched her mind to fill her gods-given abilities, stretching for focus and clarity. She struck with her sword as quickly as she could, a dozen rapid slices.

  Roelle felt a spray of warmth but did not see if the dark groeliin still stood.

  She staggered. Spinning, she smashed the nearest beast in the face with the flat edge of her blade. She heard it hit, a loud thunk, and the beast fell. Another moved in to take its place.

  How much longer can I hold out?

  Wanting to check on Selton, she dared not to look around, fearing that even the slightest glance away would give one of the beasts the opening it would need to take her down. At this point, it would not take much.

  In the distance, she saw movement. Roelle hazarded a glance and saw soldiers approaching. Hope was dashed when she realized they were Deshmahne. They wouldn’t help. Fenick had failed her.

  Not Deshmahne. She really wasn’t thinking clearly. Antrilii. Nahrsin led his soldiers to their aid. The merahl howled, hunting with them, and hurtled forward.

  Could she hold out until they reached them?

  Her foot hit a slick spot on the ground.

  Blood. The thought came slowly.

  She fell, hitting her head as she did. Her vision blurred again before righting. Looking up, the beasts surround Selton, who now stood alone among them. Did she still see the large dark groeliin? She didn’t know.

  The bright light of the sun blinded her, forcing her to shut her eyes. And then she heard the merahl braying, close, and with it the roaring rumble of Nahrsin’s anger. Roelle felt a surge of hope.

  “I’m sorry, Selton,” she whispered. “Tell Nahrsin it was the will—”

  Her vision faded to black before she could finish the words.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Jakob stared at the hole in the impossibly thick wall of the Tower, and he couldn’t see where it ended. Salindra had been unable to mar the surface, and Anda had nearly died in her attempt. How had he been able to do this?

  The slow pull upon his ahmaean was all he could feel.

  Find Alyta first, then answers.

  “You must stay,” Brohmin said to Salindra. “The both of you,” he continued, glancing to Lendra. “You both must stay. This is not a place for you.”

  Lendra’s eyes went wide. “I don’t know if my stomach can take it if the groeliin cross this lawn…”

  Jakob’s gaze went back to the groeliin, noting how close they were. She had already emptied her stomach more than once, so he knew the nausea was nearly overwhelming.

  Why don’t I smell it?

  The thought froze him.

  He’d never wondered about that part of it before. Why was he different from Lendra? The Magi were protected, as was Brohmin, but he had whatever abilities the Conclave had long ago granted him. What made Jakob different?

  What was he?

  “If they cross this lawn, there are much greater worries than that,” Brohmin said, pulling Jakob from his thoughts. “Climb into this hole after we have gone through and wait. Do not go further,” he warned. “What waits for us there is even direr than those beasts.” Brohmin unsheathed his sword and held it out to Salindra. “You must take this.”

  Salindra shook her head. “You may need it.”

  He smiled sadly. “If only my sword would be of use in this place,” he answered, looking deep into her eyes. “It will not. Please. Take it.”

  She stared at the sword a long time before speaking. “My people have other means of fighting.”

  Brohmin sighed. “You know that will not be enough. Trust what you’ve seen, not what you’ve been taught. Trust me.”

  Salindra again eyed the sword. There was nervousness in her eyes, an anxiety about what Brohmin asked of her. “Brohmin…”

  Brohmin gestured toward the opening in the wall where Roelle and the other Magi battled. “Do you not see the sacrifice of the Magi? You heard what Roelle has faced. They have saved countless lives; people who will never know what they did for them. Not your Council. More than that, do this for me,” he said, lowering his voice. “I need to know you’ll be safe.”

  She met his eyes and slowly took the sword. “For you, Brohmin. It won’t do me any good. I don’t even know how to use it.”

  Brohmin smiled, relieved. “Let your ancestors guide you.” He held her gaze a moment longer, and Jakob thought he wanted to say something more, but he didn’t, instead turning to him. “We should hurry.”

  “I won’t follow,” Anda said.

  “You may be needed,” Brohmin said.

  “I can do nothing to help. If he is inside, he has stolen from my people often,” she said. “I can do nothing.”

  Brohmin looked from Anda to Jakob before answering. “You can do more than you know. Much of what awaits us within this Tower is uncertain. I don’t know what it is we will find, and there is much you can do that I cannot. We may need you. Alyta may need you,” he whispered. “And you may be more help than I if that happens.”

  Anda tilted her head slightly forward, golden hair falling into unfocused eyes. Finally, sh
e looked to Brohmin, then Jakob. “I will go,” she spoke, her voice soft.

  Brohmin turned and quickly crawled into the hole in the wall, soon disappearing out of sight into the darkness. Anda climbed in after Brohmin, disappearing as well. Jakob hazarded one last look out to where the Magi battled the groeliin. There appeared fewer of the creatures, but those he saw fought with a furious energy. Roelle was not visible.

  May she come through this safely. May we all.

  He climbed in after Anda.

  The stone of the Tower was smooth and cool. Even after what he had done, there were no jagged edges. Light from the afternoon sun did not filter in very far, leaving the crawlspace dark around him. He tried to look ahead, to see Anda or Brohmin but could see neither in the dim light. He strained to hear their progress but could not. Jakob pulled at the slow pulsing in his mind, hoping for sharpened vision and hearing, yet could still neither see nor hear Anda and Brohmin ahead of him.

  He continued forward, wondering how thick the wall was. The Tower itself was massive. Moments of crawling stretched longer and longer. The tunnel grew narrower as he progressed, and soon, he was no longer crawling, forced to his belly to slide forward. The ceiling of the tunnel threatened to crush him as he stretched forward, and Jakob knew a different fear then.

  What if I get stuck?

  The panic started slowly. It felt as if he had been crawling for hours. The tunnel continued to narrow. Soon, the stone was catching his skin, pressing down upon him. Still, he reached forward into open space. With each stretch of his arm, he hoped and prayed he would reach open space. But each time, he found more tunnel.

  Where was Anda? Where was Brohmin?

  Jakob scraped forward. He used his toes and the small space above his back to push forward. With each movement, panic rose. His heart pounded in beat with the slow pulsing of his head. The tunnel crept onward.

  How could I have done this?

  Jakob wondered if Salindra and Lendra had crawled in after him. He couldn’t even turn to look. There was no light in the tunnel now, and the darkness was overwhelming.