The Lost Prophecy Boxset

by D. K. Holmberg

  Roelle reached into a pocket beneath her cloak. As they continued to move farther north, the heavy cloak had become more necessary. The air had a bite to it, cold where before it had been comfortable. She held up the slender book that Endric had given her.

  “He gave me this to study.”

  Hester took it from her, eyes scanning the title before slightly widening. “You know what this is?” When she nodded, he shook his head. “I can't believe he would give this to anyone, let alone one of the Magi.”

  “He said his father wrote it.”

  “Aye. The man is widely regarded as the second best general the Denraen have ever had.”

  “Second best?”

  Hester shrugged. “We all think Endric is the best general. Because of him, we've known a different kind of peace in these lands than has been known for a long time.

  “Peace?” She frowned. “Other than the Deshmahne—and those attacks have been recent—we haven't had fighting for hundreds of years.”

  “Not here. But the south… That's where the Deshmahne have taken hold. The people in those provinces have seen bloody fighting that even the Denraen haven't been able to corral. Endric has sent Denraen to the south, but all they’ve been able to do is limit the extent of the Deshmahne reach.”

  Roelle watched the Magi get out of line little bit, and stepped forward. “No. Stay together as you move. Like this,” she said demonstrating the movement to the Magi.

  It wasn't that she knew it herself, but she had seen it from the Denraen when traveling with them. And not just from the Denraen, she realized, but she’d also read about this maneuver in the book Endric had given her.

  When she had demonstrated to the others, they acknowledged and began practicing again.

  Roelle stepped back, and Hester laughed softly. “See? You don't need to practice. You're the one teaching the others.” He returned to the Magi, demonstrating another maneuver.

  She watched Hester work with the Magi for a while longer, then headed over to the weapons practice area. Once there, she saw three of the Magi, Jhun, Stan, and Beckah all facing off against each other.

  Roelle stood back and watched, observing the movements, admiring the grace with which the Magi were able to move. It was undeniable that they had a specific physical ability. Were they somehow destined to use the ability the gods’ gifted them with to fight? As she did every time she watched the Magi, she wondered: Why would the gods want them to use their abilities to fight and then teach them to maintain the peace?

  “You look troubled.”

  Roelle turned to see Lendra approaching. She wore a heavy leather cloak with a fur-lined hood. Unlike the Magi, Lendra was dressed in winter riding pants and a similarly thick shirt. Both were simply made, but looked to be of warm spun wool. Roelle wore something similar but beneath her Magi robe, which was covered by the cloak she wore. They hadn't abandoned wearing their traditional garb, remaining dressed like they were still in the city.

  “Not troubled, just thinking.”

  “You asked me earlier what I think we will find in the north,” Lendra said.

  “And you didn’t answer,” Roelle said. “I didn't think you wanted to offer your opinion.”

  Lendra shrugged. “I'm not quite like Novan. But I don't know what he knows. I haven't heard the same rumors out of the north. My time was spent in Lakeliis, far removed from those rumors.”

  “You spoke of your experience with the Deshmahne. Are they the reason you came north?”

  Lendra met her gaze. She had deep blue eyes, and there was an intensity behind them, a deep intelligence that reminded Roelle of looking into Novan’s eyes. Novan had a similar expression, one of deep knowledge, a wisdom that could only be gained by seeing the world. It was the kind of wisdom the Elders on the Council were lacking.

  Had her uncle felt the same way? Was that why he had ventured out of Vasha and into the north? These days, it was unusual for any of the Magi not assigned as advisors to leave the city, and there were fewer and fewer advisors.

  “The Deshmahne came to my city several years ago. At first, nothing seemed to change. They came in, offered a different method of reaching the gods, preaching at various places throughout the city. They built a temple and offered those interested to travel there to learn. Some took them up on it, but not as many as did in other places.”

  “You said, ‘At first.’”

  Lendra nodded. “That was what happened at first. Over time, they began having confrontations with the Urmahne priests. In the beginning, it was nothing more than skirmishes. They would argue with them, claiming they had a better way of reaching the gods. The priests, as you know, were not confrontational. They had no interest in fighting the Deshmahne. They taught as they always had, too proud to realize that the Deshmahne had gained influence. They thought no one would see the value of the Deshmahne teachings. They couldn't fathom how any would turn to the Deshmahne way of serving the gods.”

  The practice battle in front of them continued, Jhun forcing Beckah back. Stan attacked, driving both of them back with a flourish. Then, with a nod, the other two joined forces and drove Stan back. They caught him on each arm, and he dropped his practice stave. This time, Jhun stayed close, leaving her sword up against his neck.

  Roelle couldn't decide whether she should be proud that Jhun had remembered the lesson and taken it to heart, or ashamed that Jhun had attacked another and mimicked killing him. The answer wasn't easy.

  She pulled her gaze away and back to Lendra. “What happened with the Deshmahne over time?”

  “I witnessed how they changed their approach. First, arguing with the priests. But when that proved ineffective, they began fighting them. It started in secret, nothing more than rumors about attacks, and then more openly. They would capture them, brand them, and demand that they convert.”

  “The priests would not comply with such demands to convert,” Roelle said.

  “No, they did not comply.”

  “So what happened?”

  “To demonstrate their strength, to show how they could reach the gods, the Deshmahne killed Urmahne priests. They claimed this was their way to power.”

  Roelle shivered. She believed the Deshmahne capable of doing that. She had seen it herself in the way they had attacked and destroyed the temple in Chrysia. Had that been an attempt to convert? Had the Deshmahne failed, which was why they had destroyed it?

  Why risk coming openly into what were known Urmahne strongholds? Roelle's gaze drifted toward Hester. Could the Denraen have done something that would have stopped the attacks?

  Lendra followed the direction of her gaze. “The Denraen tried. By the time they came, by the time patrols reached us, the Deshmahne had taken over, and there was no further fighting.”

  Roelle closed her eyes and sighed. She could imagine what had happened. Without an actual attack, without any reason to engage with the Deshmahne, the Denraen would have let peace remain, in accordance with Urmahne beliefs. It was unfortunate, but it made a sort of sense that they would do so.

  “Is that why you left?”

  “I think there is much that we could learn from the Deshmahne. I would've stayed, but they began to chase out those who sought learning. The teachers first, and then they came after the historians.”

  “There can't be that many historians to come after.”

  “Not as there once were. There was a time when the guild was quite large, with representatives throughout the land. Like the Magi, their influence has faded.”

  Roelle sighed at the comment. It was bad enough knowing the Magi influence was not what it once was, but having Lendra comment on it made it somehow worse. “Are you a member of the guild?”

  “I’m not. You have to be named to the guild by a member,” she said, frustration seeping into her voice. She waved her hands in the air. “It's all very complicated.”

  Roelle couldn't help but smile. She imagined the order of historians as some sort of nebulous group, but that probably wa
sn't it at all. They were probably more like the scholars within the university in Vasha, educators, but nothing more. Well, other than Novan. “What role did Novan have with the order before coming to Chrysia?”

  “Novan was always a little different from other historians,” Lendra said.

  Roelle chuckled. “Different how? I haven't met any other historians who really know what to expect.”

  “Most of the other historians are of the philosophy that they should simply watch and be neutral observers. Novan… Well…”

  Roelle laughed again. “I've seen him. I traveled with him. Neutral doesn't really fit your historian, does it?”

  Lendra grinned. “No, I suppose it doesn't. Still, Novan is quite respected within the order. Few are quite as well-known as he, and there aren't many who are as… well, I suppose respected is about the only way I can describe it.”

  “Why did Novan leave Coamdon? That’s where you worked with him, wasn’t it?”

  “Novan keeps his own counsel. There aren’t many he respects enough to share his thoughts with. Endric is one. Your uncle would be another.”

  Roelle shot her an amused look. “Are you sure about that? Alriyn didn't seem that fond of Novan.”

  “You didn't hear some of the comments Novan made about your uncle. It was clear he respected him. I think he respects you as well. He wouldn't have encouraged me to come otherwise, and he wouldn't have shared with me what he revealed to you otherwise.”

  “Novan didn't reveal anything to me. All I know is that we're heading north, searching for the Antrilii.”

  “Is that all we’re searching for?” Lendra asked. “Don't you think we’re looking for something more than just Antrilii? Why else would your uncle be concerned about what was taking place in the north? Why else would they tell you to search out your Founders?” She nodded toward the Magi practicing and then tipped her head toward where Hester worked with another group. “Why else would the general have been so willing to work with you, teaching you his techniques? A violation of everything your people have taught for so many years.”

  Roelle had thought it was related to the fact that she had impressed him, but maybe it was more than that. Maybe it was something that Endric himself feared. If that was true, what might it be? What would the general be worried about, and why would he not have shared that with her?

  She glanced at Lendra. “Whatever it is, he's more worried more about it than he is about the Deshmahne.”

  Lendra nodded. “And you’ve faced the Deshmahne more than once now. So you know that whatever it is that we might face is something worse.”

  Roelle sighed. What could be worse than the Deshmahne? That was the question that troubled her. It was the question she still had no answer to.

  Chapter Twelve

  Roelle marched alongside her horse, leading the mare today instead of riding her. She was a dappled gray, a friendly horse named Betty, a strange name for a horse, at least in her opinion. Endric had promised the horse would be battle hardened, and that she wouldn't have to worry about how the mare would handle an attack. Considering that the horse hadn't bolted when they faced the Deshmahne attack, she suspected he knew exactly what she was getting.

  Not that she would have expected anything less from Endric. Given everything she’d seen from him, she believed he had anticipated everything they might need, including the quality of their mounts.

  Roelle wasn't the only one walking today. Selton walked alongside her. They still hadn't taken the time to talk about the attack, but Selton had been working with the Magi. Now, he led one of the groups, a true raegan in more than title, leading the daecka as Endric had instructed. It was a group that could be managed more easily, though many of the Magi still didn't quite understand why that mattered.

  To be honest, Roelle wasn't certain yet either. All she knew was that, if it came to an attack, she wanted her Magi to be ready. She didn't want to fear them being unprepared for whatever they might face.

  To the west, the ocean crashed against the rocks. They were probably only a few miles from the ocean itself, and the occasional breeze carried the sound of the waves, or the calling of gulls nearby. The air smelled of salt, a briny odor that had grown more prevalent the farther they had followed this path steadily north.

  A day back, they had come across a branching road that Hester claimed led to Rondalin, a large city isolated in the center of the north, its own nation amidst a sea of unclaimed land. One of the delegates had been called from Rondalin, but what influence would someone like that have? The man from Chrysia had been the son of a councilman, but being from Thealon, there was an advantage. The nation was at the heart of the Urmahne faith. That presented them with a unique position, gifted with the Tower of the Gods, presumed to have the favor of the gods, something no other nation could claim.

  “You look like you’re deep in thought,” Selton said.

  She took a breath and sighed. “I’m just thinking about the last time I was outside of the city.”

  “The attack?”

  She nodded.

  “That delegate who traveled with you was lucky you were there to protect him.”

  She hadn’t really thought about it at the time. But it was the delegates on her mind now. “I know they were summoned to work together to help restore peace, to begin restoring the Magi influence, but what can they really do to stop the spread of the Deshmahne?”

  Selton glanced over. “I don't know. I’m not sure how much influence they’ll have.”

  That had been her concern as well. Especially because several of the delegates came from the southern lands, lands that have been claimed by the Deshmahne. Now that she had heard Lendra's take on what happened in the south, and the way the Deshmahne had pushed out the Urmahne priests, she wondered how much influence any delegate of the Magi would have. Did the Council overestimate their ability to influence?

  She watched Selton as he turned back to staring straight ahead. It was time for the strangeness between them to end. “You've been quiet since we left the city.” She waited for him to turn toward her and readied what she hoped was a friendly gaze. Selton didn't need her accusation. And she needed her friend.

  Selton swallowed, his jaw clenching, then looked over at her. “It was one thing when we were planning a scouting mission,” he began, seeming to choose his words carefully. “When Endric requested that we learn of the Antrilii. That… that was something I thought would be exciting. Leaving the city, exploring…” He shrugged. “You had that opportunity when you went south with Haerlin, but most of us did not.”

  “You heard what Endric and Novan said. You understood—”

  “They were concerned about the Deshmahne, and we’ve left the city, getting away from the Deshmahne. I didn’t think… Even with the stories out of the north, I didn’t think they would send us anywhere dangerous.”

  He had been caught up in the excitement of leaving the city, the same as the others. Had he thought they only played at being soldiers? “We could go back.”

  Selton shook his head. “I don't think we can. Not anymore.” A pained expression came over his face. “I didn’t know what to expect, but when we saw how those people were treated…” He shook his head again. “No. Even if the general sends Denraen to push back the Deshmahne from the north, we need to know what else is taking place here.”

  Silence fell between them. She felt the same way about that village. It had been devastating to see what had happened there. Those people corralled into a small building, and the Deshmahne… She didn't know what the Deshmahne intended for them, but she feared what they had in mind. Especially after hearing from Lendra, and hearing the way the Deshmahne had treated the priests in the south. Would they have been slaughtered or simply forced to convert? Why did both give her a queasy sensation in the pit of her stomach?

  “Once we find the Antrilii, we’ll learn what Endric wanted us to know, and then we’ll return.”

  Selton nodded. “I've been giving it thoug
ht. Why send us? Why not simply tell us what we’ll see? What’s Endric hiding? I know these are questions you’ve been asking, but they trouble me the farther we travel. There has to be a reason he wanted us to come all this way, and it can’t only be for a story, can it?”

  Hester was riding close enough that I saw his posture change. His back stiffened slightly, but he gave no other sign that he listened.

  “I don’t know. Something he thought we needed to see—or hear— ourselves.” The other possibility troubled her, but it was one she wouldn’t put past Endric. Had he wanted the Magi to help deal with the Deshmahne?

  “Then it's not the Deshmahne. You’ve already seen that firsthand.”

  “I don't think so.”

  “But you don’t know,” he pressed.

  They hadn’t seen anything to make her think the rumors out of the north were about anything other than the Deshmahne. And maybe that was bad enough. If they had reached this far north, how much more extensive was their reach?

  The two fell silent again. Selton occasionally reached over to pat his horse, a thin stallion named Hank that Endric said he had once ridden. Roelle was sure that had given Selton a little bolster of pride. She hadn't thought of it at the time, but now she wondered if that hadn’t been his intent. Everything Endric did seemed calculated.

  It was these calculations that troubled her. What other calculations had he made? What plans did he have that involved sending them north?

  They topped a rise, and in the distance, she saw the low wall of another village with buildings tucked behind it.

  Roelle motioned to Selton, who motioned to Matthew and Jhun, and the four of them advanced toward the village, signaling the other Magi to hold their positions. Hester rode up, joining them, with Lendra alongside. The six of them made an unlikely group, and Roelle wondered what the villagers might think if they knew four Magi, a historian, and a Denraen soldier all approached.

  “Should we be ready?” Matthew asked.

  Hester grunted. “You should always be ready. That's one thing the general has taught me. You should always expect a battle, even when you think it unlikely.