“We need to move,” he urged Brohmin. His words were quiet, barely even a whisper. He hoped the man could read his lips. He turned to look at the tendrils of fog; several of the fingers probed around the boulders.
“Why?” Brohmin copied his whispered tone.
Jakob nodded toward the northern edge of the valley, where the fog was thickest. It oozed down the mountain face, slowly rolling toward them. Jakob didn’t know how they’d avoid it as it filled the space around them.
Brohmin looked in the direction Jakob indicated, but shook his head. He couldn’t see it.
It was then that Jakob remembered where he had seen the dark fog before.
It had been a dream.
It was darker then, and as he remembered, he saw the tendrils of the fog thicken. They grew darker. There were creatures in the dream, and if the fog was real, then the creatures couldn’t be far behind.
He remembered the creatures, and though he had seen them only from a distance, the evil to them was apparent. Hairless heads and eyes like a rat’s. He didn’t want to see one. Fear surged through him. Jakob gripped the hilt of his sword reflexively.
Is this the danger of the Elasiin path, what Brohmin faced the night in Fristin?
Or was this even real? Had the madness claimed him fully?
With the thought, a hairless head popped over the top of the northern ridge. The dark eyes were as he remembered them, black and soulless. The creature saw him as he saw it. A mouth full of sharp teeth opened up, and a hideous sound echoed across the valley.
He leaped to his feet. “We need to go!”
Salindra followed his gaze up the valley slope, and her jaw dropped. Brohmin followed her gaze before turning back to Jakob, a look of surprise in his eyes, before calmly unsheathing his sword.
“If you can see them, you can defeat them,” Brohmin said.
Jakob shook his head. Fear froze him, more paralyzing than any he had known facing the Deshmahne.
“I’ve seen you with that sword, Jakob. Unsheathe it and join me!” The words were a roar.
Turning again to face the black auras, he watched the creatures as they wound their way down the edge of the valley. They moved quickly toward them, surefooted on the loose rock. He watched Brohmin ready himself to face them.
I must be strong. I can face this.
He counted a dozen or more of the creatures. Too many for the three of them. Two, he corrected himself. Salindra couldn’t fight and had no weapon save Brohmin’s bow.
Slowly, he unsheathed his sword, and the pounding in his head suddenly threatened to shake his body. He shifted the sword in his hand as he surveyed the ground, looking for the best place to make a stand. There were too many of them, and he’d need to hold off and defeat as many as he could.
Panic set in. In the past, the sword seemed to almost vibrate in sync with what he felt within his head. Would it respond now?
He remembered feeling the same panic when chased by the three Deshmahne, the same feeling he had known when running through Rondalin. His heart roared in his chest, pounding with the beating in his head. Waves of nervous nausea filled him. His horse anxiously tramped its feet with the trunk still strapped to his saddle.
How much farther to Avaneam? They were close now, but there was still no sign of Endric or Novan. What would happen in the trunk was lost?
That cannot happen!
He felt a sudden shifting in his head followed by a spinning as he had in his dream. He pulled on it, the way he had in his dream.
Waves of nausea slammed through him, and he closed his eyes to slow it.
When he opened his eyes, it was darker. The moon was up and bright, and the wind whistled through the mountains. It howled against his cloak.
He looked around wondering how it got dark so suddenly. And cold.
Though it was dark, he could see easily. To his eyes, it was almost light, yet he knew it was not. He didn’t have time to wonder as a sudden stream of black auras moved lithely down the mountain face. He knew the shape, knew the source.
There must be more than thirty! he realized. I’d only counted a dozen. How can we stop thirty?
He reached to his side grabbing for his sword, but it was missing.
The shapes had seen him and moved toward him quickly, almost too fast to see. He ducked, hiding behind a large rock filling the path in front of him. This was no place for a confrontation. And he had no weapon. He couldn’t face thirty of these creatures.
I’ve faced many more than thirty!
The thought came from the back of his mind, unbidden.
Jakob had never faced one of these creatures, let alone thirty.
Groeliin, the thought came. And I’ve fought thirty at one time. You can too.
He was talking to himself. It was the madness.
No, came an answer. If you are to use me, then use me! It was a shout, a command.
What? he asked himself.
Was he going crazy? Looking down, he was dressed in the same strange garb as he had been in the dream that night in the forest.
What’s happening to me?
The shapes neared. He looked and saw a flat plateau nearby and decided that it was a better place to make a stand.
Yes, agreed the voice from the distant part of his mind.
The dark auras moving toward him were closer now. They would reach him soon.
He ran toward the plateau, crouching as much as he could while he climbed. The shapes followed, climbing much faster than he had.
Groeliin, the thought came again.
He turned toward the approaching creatures, knowing he would have to make some sort of stand, but didn’t know what he could do. He wouldn’t die without trying.
Wait, bid the voice from the back of his mind.
I have no weapon!
You do! the voice answered.
He waited. Quickly, too quickly, the creatures—groeliin—moved toward him, surrounding him. They came up at him all at once. He turned his head frantically, eyes darting, not knowing what to do.
I don’t want to die!
Then do something, the voice shouted.
I don’t know what!
He opened his mouth to scream and felt another shifting of his mind.
There was a slight tug within his consciousness, and the ground began to rumble beneath his feet.
A crack opened, circling the plateau on which he stood. The crack grew wider as it opened, and the shaking of the earth tossed the groeliin around, tossed them down into the growing chasm. A loud hiss echoed from some as they fell, sharp teeth glimmered in the pale light of the moon.
Jakob felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder and looked down to see a small spear hanging there. He pulled on it, but it wouldn’t move.
Break it off, came the thought.
He did as instructed. Pain filled his shoulder as he did, and he screamed. His voice echoed along the mountain walls.
You could have stopped that too, the voice told him.
How?
You will learn. Now leave me! the voice screamed.
Leave you?
There was no answer.
Jakob looked around again. The plateau was now circled by a huge chasm that reached deep into the earth. He stepped up to the edge and looked down. He saw nothing below.
Jump. It was a whisper in his mind.
Feeling compelled, Jakob ran and jumped, closing his eyes as he did, and felt the shifting in not only his mind, but his body, again. Waves of nausea rolled through him, and he struggled not to vomit. The sense of movement and the nausea slowly subsided. Opening his eyes, Jakob saw daylight again. Brohmin stood as he had only moments before, with sword raised, and Salindra cowered with the horses. A bow was in her hand, but there was hesitation on her face.
His right shoulder ached, and he looked down to find a broken off chunk of spear lodged in his flesh. He looked back toward the valley and saw the creatures streaming toward them. Confused, he tried to raise his sword and ready
himself, but pain shot up his arm, filling him with agony. He couldn’t fight, not with his shoulder as it was.
The creatures were nightmarish, and he saw them more clearly this time. Gray of skin and clad in only breeches, their upper bodies were a mass of hair. The heads were hairless, though, and the baldness allowed him to see their misshapen ears and small dark eyes more easily. The sight sickened him.
He watched Brohmin move toward the groeliin, readying to fight. Jakob struggled with the pain in his shoulder, trying to stay upright. Brohmin could not do this all on his own.
I will deliver the trunk to Avaneam!
Opening his mouth to scream, his mind shifted again.
A loud roar escaped his mouth as he shouted, “No!”
There was a tug in his consciousness. It was the same pulling he’d felt when the thirty groeliin circled him. What it was, he didn’t know.
Boulders along the wall began to fall; the northern mountain face tumbled, crushing the groeliin beneath. The earth shook under his feet, and he slipped, hitting his head as he fell.
We need to get the trunk to Avaneam before the Deshmahne reach us.
As he looked up, he saw a haze around everything. Brohmin stared at him, frowning. Another shape floated into the valley. It was a tall figure, slender, and dark hair cascaded around her shoulders.
A goddess. Am I dreaming or dying?
He tried to look around, tried to look at Salindra, but could not move his head, and felt himself begin to black out. The haze before his eyes grew thicker. Spots crossed his vision. As he passed out, one last thought came to him.
Avaneam.
He had failed. After everything else, he hadn’t succeeded in bringing Endric’s trunk to the north. How would they stop the Deshmahne now? And what of the groeliin?
As much as he wanted them, answers didn’t come.
Then the world was black.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Brohmin looked to Jakob. He’d passed out. It was best. That way, he wouldn’t have to rest the way Salindra did. He looked over at the woman, her brown hair pulled back from her head leaving her sharply elegant jaw outlined in the setting sun. She was a lovely woman.
Glancing at Jakob, he wondered when the boy had been speared. He saw the blood, had seen the stump of spear, but had not seen it thrown. The thought troubled him.
Brohmin turned his attention back to the figure in front of him. The woman was tall, as tall as all her kind, though she was the last. Her black hair seemed untouched by the gentle breeze stirring across the now broken valley. Her pale skin glowed in the late sunlight. He would call her beautiful, but she was something more than beautiful.
“Must she be that way?” he asked, nodding toward Salindra. She was frozen as she crouched on the ground near the horses, a look of fear caught on her face. It looked funny to him now.
Alyta nodded. “She does not need to see me. It serves no purpose.” Her voice was musical and sweet. Magical, though he knew it not.
He shook his head. He knew it would serve no purpose, but it would have allowed the woman some dignity to have caught her in a better expression. No matter, he supposed. He had seen it before, and each time, the person ended up looking the same. It was human nature, he reasoned.
“You healed me,” he stated, remembering his exhaustion after Fristin.
She nodded. “It was necessary. You were weakened after fighting the groeliin. You all were.”
Brohmin didn’t know how close he came to dying that night, but suspected. Had he known Jakob could see the groeliin he would have taken him along. “The boy saw you,” he replied. “I saw it in his eyes before he passed out. Did he recognize you?” A puzzled look crossed her face and was gone again quickly. Brohmin wasn’t sure he had even seen it.
“He’s seen me before,” Alyta replied vaguely. “I’ve been watching him for a long time.”
“That explains what he’s been sensing.”
“Perhaps,” she said.
Brohmin laughed softly. There were never easy answers when it came to Alyta. “He saw them too.” He nodded to the broken rock.
She nodded. “I know.” The music of her voice seemed concerned.
Brohmin turned his attention to Jakob before returning to look at her. He caught her dark eyes with his own. “He saw them before I did.” He spoke the words slowly. They weighed heavy in the air.
“I know.”
It wasn’t the expected reply. He hadn’t known what she would say but didn’t think she had known that. He supposed he shouldn’t be caught off guard, not with this one, but still was.
“You should have warned me about him,” he began. “Is he a Mage?” The question was partly to himself. “I’ve seen things from him that I’ve known from some of the Mageborn.” He gave her a long look. “I’ve seen other things from him as well. Things I’ve never seen from one Mageborn.”
“A Mage?” she questioned, almost evading answering.
A gleam to her eye that may not have been spoke of something she did not tell him. If only he could read her better. As long as he had known her, he never fully understood her. Brohmin knew he never would; it was not for his mind to understand one like hers.
“He had a dream the other night,” he continued. “And thinks he’s going mad.”
“Yes. Many suffer because of the disruption to the fibers.”
“You know of it.” Brohmin shouldn’t have been surprised that she did.
“I have tried to prevent it, but you know that he is powerful.”
Brohmin did. He called himself the High Priest of the Deshmahne now, but they knew him by another name. “The madness Jakob describes is his fault?”
“Partly.”
Brohmin waited for her to say more, but she did not.
He shook his head. “I don’t think Jakob’s experiences are due to this madness. Too much truth in them.”
“Even the mad see some truth,” Alyta offered.
“This is different. In the heart of the Great Forest, he dreamed.” Brohmin paused, looking over to Jakob again. The boy was still, though he thought he had seen movement. That wasn’t possible. Not with what she had done. “I’ve known others to dream in that spot. It is a powerful place.”
“Very powerful,” she agreed.
“But this was a dream I hadn’t expected.” He saw her looking at him, waiting. “He dreamed that he was Shoren.”
She was quiet for a time. A long time. And then she nodded, almost to herself. “You mean he dreamed he saw Shoren? That is common in the heart.”
He shook his head. “No. He dreamed he was Shoren.”
Alyta considered those words longer than she had any others, though he wasn’t sure what they meant. She seemed to know something, though. As she turned her own gaze upon Jakob, he saw a knowing look. If only he could know the thoughts of this woman!
They stood silently for a while. “What’s in there?” he asked, eyeing the trunk.
Alyta looked over to the horses, to where the trunk was strapped. “That had been tasked to Endric,” she started. “Perhaps he is wiser than all of us.”
“It’s been held in Vasha for so long...” Brohmin commented.
Alyta sighed. “Sometimes, I forget how much you know,” she said in answer. She shook her head, looking earnestly into his eyes. “It must return to the east. As to what’s inside it… there are answers.”
“What kind of answers?”
“We must convince the others to join, or Raime will succeed.”
“And the trunk?”
“Possesses a message of sorts. Our cousins will know how to open it.”
“Getting there will be difficult. There are Deshmahne behind us.”
“They cannot cross the valley.”
“I cannot either, not with two others with me.”
“Brohmin Ulruuy, I would never task you with more than you can manage. That is why you have been sent to Avaneam.”
“We haven’t reached it yet.”
/> “No?”
Brohmin looked around, and realized the landscape had changed. The mountains had flattened slightly, leaving a small clearing around them. The wind still gusted cold out of the north, but not as it had. The remains of a city, once a powerful place, were scattered around them, nothing more than fallen stone now. How had she managed this without him realizing?
“I haven’t been here in… years,” he said.
“A place of power even now. It was why I had sent Endric here. Impressive that Jakob managed to make it this far, don’t you think?”
“In spite of everything he faced, Jakob managed to do what was tasked to him and deliver the trunk to Avaneam.”
“It is impressive.” She smiled, and peace radiated from her.
“Only impressive, not unexpected?” She didn’t answer, and he shook his head. “You will take us from here?” He was no longer certain whether she could. She was still powerful, but grew weaker.
“I will take you. This is something that must be done,” Alyta said. “Do you have any concerns about the crossing?”
He shook his head. He would get few answers from her. “Some, I suppose. This task... You say it was to be for Endric?” When she nodded, he sighed. The general was often the best at negotiation. He had seen much in his years, and had served the Conclave well. Now, the task would fall to him. And Jakob. Watching Alyta, he wondered if that hadn’t been her intent. Or Endric’s. If the Denraen general were to be sent to the east, it could be for only one reason.
He looked up at the sky, noticing it getting dark, and wondered if they would have to camp here for the night. He would prefer not to rest near the groeliin. “The Deshmahne still follow.”
Alyta nodded. “As I said, they cannot follow us across the valley.”
He nodded. “I worry about Salindra’s response to the crossing.”
Alyta smiled. He knew she would. The woman was frustrating at times.
“It cannot be avoided now. We must get him to the other side quickly.” She looked at Brohmin a long time before continuing. “I fear time is running short.” She spoke the words sadly.
He was startled by those words. “Whose?” he asked, fearing the answer.
The Lost Prophecy Boxset Page 37