Farsea was decorated for a celebration.
Isandra stood at the edge of the square, twisting the length of silk between her fingers. Her heart fluttered anxiously, though she also felt a sense of calm. She surveyed the gathered Antrilii, feeling out of place, but also feeling excitement.
Had she really agreed to this?
Across the square, she saw Jassan. He was dressed in traditional Antrilii garb, pants of deeply tanned leather, and a tunic woven of cotton so fine that it practically shimmered. A wide smile spread across his face, and he greeted everyone in the square with his gruff voice and his loud and boisterous laugh.
It had only taken her a moment to agree.
That was unlike her. Why was she so willing to rush into a commitment with Jassan?
The answer to that was easy. Jassan had proven himself time and again, not only as a skilled warrior, and not only as a man who had far more compassion than any other she had met but as someone who respected her.
There had been opportunities for her before, but there had never been interest on her part. After she had been raised to the Council, she had thought that perhaps service to the Magi would be all she would claim, and there were many Magi—Alriyn included—who never married, and who simply served. Isandra had long felt that was a worthwhile purpose.
When she had met Jassan—and when she had realized that she had something of a burgeoning connection with him—she had not allowed herself to think that there could be anything more between them.
“You look nervous.”
Isandra turned and smiled at Endric. The general was dressed in his uniform and somehow made it appear more formal. He smiled, an expression that was unusual for him.
“Not nervous. I’m simply reflecting on my circumstance.”
“Jassan is a good man.”
She nodded. “Very good. I would not have survived were it not for him.”
“There have been many Antrilii who have sought a pairing with him; many seeking the status gained by marrying the tribe chief, but Jassan wanted to share his life with someone more genuine, not someone seeking a connection to authority.”
“Do you think this is a mistake for him?”
Endric grunted. “I can’t claim to know you as well as those on the Council, and I don’t claim to know you as well as Jassan has come to over the last few months, but my experience with you while in Farsea has found you to be intelligent and strong but also open-minded. That is a rare trait for the Magi.”
“Not as much anymore.”
Endric bowed his head. “Perhaps not as much anymore. Regardless, I think Jassan has made a good choice. I think he is incredibly lucky.”
She smiled to herself, watching him from across the square. Members of the Yahinv stood off to the side, and Isandra’s gaze settled on Rebecca. The older woman wore a pale blue dress, and her hair was twisted into a tight bun atop her head, with a colorful ribbon wound within it. A satisfied smile crossed her face.
“Rebecca intended this, didn’t she?” Isandra asked.
Endric chuckled. “The Yahinv think to control things nearly as much as the Magi Council.”
Isandra arched her brow at him. “And that means?”
“That means I suspect she intended this. Does that change anything for you?”
She shook her head. “It changes nothing. I don’t think Jassan would be influenced by the Yahinv, and I know that I would not.”
“As I said, he is lucky.”
She turned back to Endric. Despite the smile, there was an edge to his voice and a hint of sadness to him. “What of you, General? Do you ever deserve happiness?”
He smiled tightly. “Deserve? What does any man deserve? Desire would be a better question.”
“What do you desire?”
“I had my opportunity.”
Isandra frowned. She hadn’t known that General Endric had ever been married. Maybe by his comment, he never had. Did he imply that he had an opportunity, but nothing had ever come of it?
“Who was she?”
“She was a friend. She was a soldier. She was… the strongest woman I have ever known.”
There was great pain in his voice, and Isandra found herself hurting along with him. “What happened?”
Endric looked over. “The same as what happens to most soldiers. Time catches up to them.”
“She was lost in a war?”
“She was lost to subterfuge.”
“I’m sorry.”
Endric shook his head. “She served as she desired. She would’ve had it no other way.” Endric considered Isandra for a moment. “I think… I think that she would have liked the Mage you have become.”
It seemed an odd statement. “Did she know many of the Magi?”
“She was descended from the Magi. Her parents were Teachers, and she came to Vasha to serve when they were lost.”
Isandra sighed. So much suffering. How could Endric survive all that he had? How could he remain so strong? And she never saw him complain. He always did what was necessary. There was great strength to his resiliency.
“Following the ceremony, we have a long journey ahead of us. There is something important I must discuss with you.”
“What is it?”
Endric shook his head. “Not yet. You should enjoy this day. The journey will be a difficult one. Are you prepared?” Endric asked.
Her gaze drifted to Jassan. It would be a long journey, but she would not be alone. “I will be ready.”
He nodded to her and clasped her on the forearm. “Congratulations.”
With that, he strode away from her and left her standing alone, a hint of worry at what Endric wanted to discuss with her creeping in.
She was not alone for long. Alriyn joined her, dressed in his flowing Mage cloak, his jaw set in something that appeared more like frustration than anything else. When he neared, he smiled. “You look radiant today, Isandra.”
She looked down at herself, noting her dress, and smiled. She felt radiant. Some of the women of Farsea had helped, making her a dress out of the same cotton that Jassan wore. Isandra had never been one for finery and had never felt the need to dress in fancy clothes, but this dress—a pure white that seemed to have taken on the color of the snow on the mountain peaks—helped add to the day’s sense of majesty.
“Thank you, Alriyn. It’s nice that you’re able to be here.”
“I can’t say that I understand what you’ve gone through or what you have survived. I don’t think any of the Magi will be able to, but you have my support. You will be welcome back in Vasha. And you can continue to serve the Magi.”
She smiled. “What if that’s not what I want any longer?”
“Will marriage change that much for you?”
She cast her gaze over to the group around Jassan, twisting the silk fabric of her belt between her fingers. It amused her that the Antrilii would indulge in clothing so soft, but perhaps they saw it as a small reward, a simple pleasure that brought comfort when their daily lives were devoted to the protection of others and themselves. Though their warriors faced death every day of the hunt, the villagers had established a peaceful, orderly life that she admired.
“It’s not so much the marriage as it is what I’ve seen.” She looked over at him, deciding to put words to the worry she’d been feeling since returning to Farsea. “I don’t know that I can serve only the Magi now, Alriyn. I don’t know that I can refrain from involving myself in something more.”
In the days since the Magi had arrived, she had spent much time contemplating the Magi and her service to them. In the end, she realized she felt more compelled to work with the Antrilii than with the Magi. They had served the gods tirelessly for the last thousand years. How could she do anything but try to follow in their footsteps?
“Perhaps on the journey to Vasha, you would be willing to tell me what you’ve experienced during your time with the Antrilii. I think it would be helpful for me to understand.”
Isandra nodded. “And perh
aps you would be willing to tell me what you have experienced. I would be interested in hearing the story of Jostephon’s attack and how you managed to defeat him and what it meant for you to force your mind open so that you could do so.”
Alriyn smiled. “That is a worthwhile story, and one I do not share with many. There is danger in learning about forcing your mind open.”
“I’ve already done it,” she said quietly. His eyes widened, but only with the slightest amount of surprise. “When I faced the groeliin, I had to do something similar. It was the only way I was able to survive. I remembered what you had said about it, and how you had described defeating Jostephon…”
She believed she could have pushed even more, but doing so would have been dangerous, and she wasn’t willing to risk harming herself in that way.
Alriyn watched her, his mouth open as if he wanted to say something, but he smiled and, with a tilt of his head, he said, “I think there’s someone else who would like to speak with you.”
He stepped aside, and she saw her sister.
Karrin watched her, her mouth pressed into a tight line. There was no sign of the smiles that others had worn when they looked at her.
Alriyn bowed his head and walked away, leaving her alone with her sister.
“I don’t know what to say,” Karrin said.
“Why must you say anything other than congratulations,” Isandra said.
“Congratulations.” She turned and started away, but Isandra grabbed her by the wrist.
“What is it, Karrin? We were always so close, and I thought that you of all people would be happy for me. I thought you would want me to be happy.”
Karrin took a deep breath and let it out in a controlled sighed. “I do want you to be happy,” she said. “It’s just that I don’t know this man.”
Isandra thought she understood. Karrin had not changed. Though she had suffered during the Deshmahne battle, and experienced fear and loss, her world had been one of isolation in Vasha. And their life experiences were no longer the same. And Isandra thought there might also be a hint of jealousy. Her sister had always felt a fondness toward Alriyn, maybe something stronger than fondness, but Isandra didn’t think Alriyn had ever felt the same. She had seen the way the Eldest looked at the University scholar. There was reciprocated affection there.
Was that the reason for her jealousy? Was it a matter of her wanting the same for herself?
It was possible that it was.
“I’m the same person,” Isandra said. “I still care for you as much as I always have. It’s just…” Isandra didn’t know quite how to finish. It was just that she had experienced things her sister would never understand. She had seen the world in a way that her sister had not—and maybe could not.
Could she help her? Was there anything that Isandra could do to show Karrin what she had seen? There was nothing particularly unique about Isandra’s ability with the groeliin, and if Karrin was willing to learn to use the sword, she could fight the same way Isandra had managed.
“I think you will like Jassan,” she said.
Karrin breathed out. “I’m sorry. This is a time of happiness for you, but all I can think about is what has happened to you. What you’ve been through. You agreed to go north and visit Rondalin, something that we all thought was necessary. What happened to you is as much my fault as it is anyone else’s.”
Isandra tipped her head to the side. “Is that what you think? Do you think I’m upset about what happened?”
“You’re not?”
Isandra shook her head. “Had none of it happened, I wouldn’t be the person I am now. I think what happened is what was meant to happen.”
“You’re pleased?”
Isandra quirked a smile. Pleased seemed a bit of an exaggeration. It wasn’t that she was happy that she had nearly died, or that the torment she had experienced in Rondalin would live in her memories forever, but those things were necessary for her to grow.
“The Magi have resisted the opportunity to experience the world in ways that are meaningful,” Isandra said. “That’s what I saw in my time here. I understand that even the Magi can continue to grow, and our abilities can continue to expand. I lost mine and managed to regain them! Think of what else is possible for us? Think of all the things that we might be capable of doing, if only we open ourselves up to learn and try new ideas.”
“You sound more like Alriyn than ever.”
It was a statement that surprised Isandra. Alriyn had always been a scholar and had always been willing to do things that others of the Magi were not, but did he feel the same way? Their brief conversations had not revealed that to her. Then again, had he not felt anything like that, he wouldn’t have spent all the time that he clearly did with the University scholar.
“Will you stand beside me?”
Karrin’s breath caught. “You would have me?”
“You’re my sister. Of course, I would have you.”
Karrin smiled widely, the first time that Isandra had seen that expression from her since she’d arrived in Farsea. “I would be honored to stand with you.”
They stood together, letting silence fall between them. It was comfortable rather than the awkward silence she had known over the last few days. After a while, a voice started singing, a mournful sound that carried. The voice changed, becoming more upbeat, more boisterous, and Jassan caught her eye from across the distance, nodding to her.
“I think it’s time for you,” Karrin said.
Isandra took her sister’s hand and squeezed. When she released it, she started toward Jassan, watching him with an intense stare the entire time.
He watched her with nearly the same intensity. The singer continued, the song one of joyfulness, and it carried, the voice continuing to rise, until Isandra reached Jassan. She slipped her hands into his, smiling as she did.
“Are you still certain this is what you want,” Jassan asked.
“More than ever.”
He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Good.”
“Are you still certain you’re willing to venture to Vasha, and from there…” Beyond Vasha, Isandra wasn’t certain where they would go. It was possible that she would need to travel somewhere else, away from the mountain city, taking whatever journey Endric required of her. She would do what was needed, especially if it helped gain awareness and understanding of how to defeat the groeliin. The Antrilii wanted to defeat the groeliin with their swords, but it might be scholarship and the application of their gods-given ability that would truly save them.
“I will go with you wherever it is needed.”
They turned to the Yahinv, still holding hands, and Isandra felt a fluttering of excitement within her that was mixed with another emotion, one that she had not known for a long time. It took her a moment to realize what it was. Hope.
Chapter Six
Jakob shifted from Chrysia to the room within the Tower, carrying two of the injured with him. Both had suffered with the madness, and had been healed through his repair of the fibers, though both were weak, and still quite frail. In that way, they were much like Scottan. Neither said anything, and both looked around the room when they appeared with the same wide-eyed stare that Scottan had.
Novan looked up from the table and stood when he realized Jakob had not returned alone. “What happened?”
Jakob shook his head. “An attack.”
“What kind of attack?”
“Groeliin.”
Novan’s eyes narrowed. “The groeliin wouldn’t have been able to reach that deep into the city without raising any other alarms.”
“There are other groeliin with much power,” Jakob said quickly, then shifted, returning to the courtyard outside of the temple.
There was a general sense of chaos, and voices rang out. He used his connection to ahmaean to search for the others who might remain and found a cluster of three near the far side of the courtyard. He shifted to them, and quickly grabbed them and shifted to the Tower.
He said nothing when he left them, trusting that Novan would care for them.
Back at the temple, he searched the area. Where were the others? There should be nearly a dozen with ahmaean, and he’d rescued five. Had the others died in the temple? The smoke continued to consume it, and there was a steady groaning from deep within. Jakob had little doubt that the temple would fall. Would the Urmahne choose to rebuild? After the second attack—and a second destruction of the temple—would there be those who feared whether the temple should be rebuilt? He could easily imagine some taking it as a sign from the gods that it should not.
As he searched through the courtyard, he found no signs of the others.
That troubled him, especially with the powerful groeliin that had been present in the city. Jakob had stopped one, but had he killed it? The fact that the other groeliin had taken its body when they shifted from the courtyard made him question whether it was dead—or merely harmed.
Soldiers of the Ur began circling the courtyard. If Jakob remained, he would be asked more questions, and he was not prepared to answer them. He took another moment to search but found no sign of those he had saved from the madness.
Reluctantly, he shifted back to the Tower.
When he appeared, Novan had arranged all of those he had rescued around the table, where they each took a seat. Jakob surveyed the table, letting out a sigh of frustration. This was not how he intended to introduce them to the Tower of the Gods. They should have been brought here slowly, individually, and given a chance to take it in, and to adjust to what he was showing them. Instead, they were thrown into things that were beyond what they may be capable of handling.
Novan approached Jakob and pulled him off to the side. Lowering his voice, he asked, “What happened?”
“The groeliin attacked while I was here. It’s almost as if they waited for me to be gone from the city in order to attack.”
“The groeliin don’t coordinate in such a way. The Antrilii have said—”
“I know what the Antrilii say about the groeliin. They’ve faced them for centuries, but I don’t think that they have ever encountered the powerful groeliin. Those are creatures with a connection to power that is greater than the Magi connection to their ahmaean.”
The Gift of Madness (The Lost Prophecy Book 7) Page 5