Hester stared straight ahead. His jaw clenched, and as it did, one of the scars on his face twitched. It reminded her of Endric. “Aye. I worry about more than that.”
“What is it?”
Hester glanced over at her, then his gaze drifted back toward the caravan of Magi. “You have prepared well, Roelle. I think this is what Endric intended for you.”
She laughed softly. “You think Endric intended for me to find empty villages?”
“We knew the villages would be empty. It's the why that we care about,” Hester said.
They crested a rise and started downward. The road skirted a wide, sloping hillside. Occasional mounds of dirt appeared out of place, rocks strewn as if they had been tossed aside. As they neared, the rocks took on a shapes, a stacked appearance, some almost resembling fallen buildings. In a way, it reminded her of the Lashiin ruins found within Vasha, and she wondered if they were similar. Unlikely, she decided. The ruins in Vasha had been left by her Founders. This was too far north for the Founders to have been here.
As they passed the rocks, a tingling eased over her skin. Roelle let out a soft sigh.
Hester nodded slowly as she did. “You feel it?”
“Feel what?”
“There are places of power still scattered throughout the land. The Lashiin ruins within Vasha is one such place, but there are others that are similar. This is another, I suspect.”
Roelle studied Hester for a while before turning to look back at the fallen rocks. Could they be related? What's more, how were they related? What sort of power did this place possess?
“When you patrol, you get to see things like this.” Hester patted the side of his dappled brown stallion, and checked his sword strapped to his waist. “It's not only places like your city, or like the Tower, there are dozens of places. Most are found within the north, many throughout these lands and even down into Gomald, but there are a fair number across the sea in places like Liispal and Coamdon. Enough that it makes me realize that there was a time when we were much more interconnected than we are now.”
“The gods once had a greater presence. It is not surprising we should recognize that,” Selton said, riding up.
Roelle hadn't realized he'd been listening. He remained distant, the friendly comfort they once had shared had changed. It saddened her that it would. That comfort had come from years spent as friends growing up together and learning side by side, and ultimately both taking up the sword as they challenged old traditions. She had thought Selton had joined her on this mission because of a shared interest, but what if that wasn’t it? What if he'd only joined her as a distraction?
Although, were she honest with herself, even her interest in learning the Denraen way had initially been only a distraction. It was once she’d traveled with the Denraen and realized the extent of the Deshmahne influence that she had taken a more active role, and realized the extent that her Magi abilities would allow her, and the other Magi, to be more than what they had been.
Yet… that still troubled her. It bothered her that they should be so skilled with using sword and staff, weapons that her people had not held for centuries. The Founders had once been soldiers, but that had been a time of great destruction. It made sense for them to have been soldiers. But they had embraced the peace of the Urmahne faith. More than that, they were the Urmahne.
“The gods were present,” Hester said. “When you travel in patrol, you get to see the extent of the influence they once possessed, even over the land. It's subtle, such as in the contours in places like Maron, or the flow of the river north of Gomald. Even when you reach the Great Valley, you see the depth and strength of the gods. These places,” he said, waving his hand back toward the fallen rocks, “these are another sort of reminder, one that we don't fully understand, but…” He smiled as he trailed off.
“But what?” Roelle asked.
“Some think these were places the gods once called home,” Lendra offered. She'd been riding near them, close enough to listen, but had not spoken. Every so often, she made a note in the small notebook she carried with her. In that, she was much like Novan when Roelle had traveled with him. Jakob, as well, had made notes in his small notebook.
Thinking of Jakob, she wondered what had become of him. He had been sent north with Endric's men, and most of them had been lost. Before leaving Vasha, she’d had no word of what had happened to him. Would they encounter him in the north, or had he been lost to the Deshmahne? That bothered her more than it should.
It had been Novan who sent him north, asking him to accompany Endric’s men on their mission, though she didn’t know what that mission had been. Had he sent him to Rondalin? Or some other northern city? Novan had not been free with the answers, and it was times like this that Roelle wondered—and worried—about Jakob.
Hester stared at the rocks. “When you get near enough to these places, and feel that sensation of power, it’s not hard to believe that the gods once lived here.”
They followed the road around the curve, and in the distance, they caught sight of another village. Roelle raised her hand, a gesture that was sent down the line of Magi. A soft murmuring followed those riding with her. What would they find this time? Would it be empty as the other had been? Would there be—
A flicker of darkness appeared near the ruins.
Roelle jerked her head around, looking toward the rocks.
“They’re impressive—”
Roelle brushed Selton off with a quick shake of her head. She nudged her horse forward toward the darkness. As she did, Selton and Hester followed.
“What did you see, Mage?” Hester asked.
They couldn't be this far north, could they? They’d seen the empty villages, but they had seen no sign of the Deshmahne. Was it possible that they could have reached this far?
Her mare Betty danced around the road, suddenly nervous.
“Gods!” someone swore behind her.
Roelle spun, and noted nearly a dozen Deshmahne attacking the Magi.
How had they appeared, and so silently at that? It was as if they had come from nowhere.
She barely had to say anything, and her Magi formed lines as Hester and the other Denraen had been instructing the last few nights. She watched with a grim expression as her Magi were forced to fight, the same way she had once been forced to fight.
Steel rang against steel, the muted sound of the Deshmahne blades hardly carrying. There were occasional cries, and Roelle started forward, looking to help, when another cluster of Deshmahne appeared in front of her.
She had little a chance to think, to wonder where they had come from.
Roelle jumped from her saddle, unaccustomed to fighting from atop her horse, unsheathing her sword in one swift movement. She cut down the first Deshmahne, her body whipping through one of the catahs she had learned long ago from Endric. She lost herself in the movements, fighting Deshmahne after Deshmahne.
Distantly, she was aware of Selton and Hester fighting near her. She worried for Lendra’s safety, and hoped the other Magi managed to guide her into the center, keeping her away from the Deshmahne.
Blood covered her hands, and her mind was an empty slate. She flowed through movements, the blade an extension of her arm.
And then there were no more attackers.
Roelle stepped back, breathing heavily. She looked around, searching for others to fight, but there were none.
“How many?” she asked Selton.
“I counted ten that we faced. Maybe another dozen.”
“Not how many Deshmahne. How many did we lose?”
That was what scared her more than anything. Endric had taught her what it was like to fight, and she had seen firsthand the brutality of the Deshmahne, but she also knew that with battle came death and loss. They had been spared so far. The Magi lived long lives, longer than most men, and to fall in this fashion, to warrior priests, seemed an even greater insult than their defiance of the Urmahne ideal of peace.
“I
'll check.”
Roelle took a moment to look at the bodies. Tattoos marked arms and necks, much like they had with the other Deshmahne she had faced. These were fewer, and some still had pink edges to them, making her think the tattoos were recent.
Her mind went back to what she had heard Lendra say. The Deshmahne converted those in the villages they visited. Was that what had happened here?
But why would these people abandon the Urmahne?
The answer came all too easily.
Could these people feel abandoned by the Urmahne? The Magi no longer had the presence in the world they once had, and because of it, the Deshmahne were allowed to take on a greater role. To become strong. To destroy.
To some extent, this was the fault of the Magi.
Roelle sighed to herself. What would Alriyn think of her now?
Selton came riding back and shook his head.
“How many lost?” she asked again.
“None. A few injuries, most minor, but the Magi held up.”
Jhun had ridden up next to her. “We were lucky.”
“I don't think this was luck.”
Selton looked at her askance. “Why? You've seen it yourself, we’re well trained, and we continue to improve.”
Roelle motioned toward the fallen Deshmahne nearest her. “Think of what we faced in that first village. Those few Deshmahne were almost more than we could manage. We might have had them outnumbered, but this…” She shook her head. “This was too easy.”
Hester pulled her aside and whispered in her ear. “Let them have this victory, Roelle. They need it. If you're right, and if we do face an even greater threat of Deshmahne, we’ll need them to feel confident. And it needs to come from you. You’re their leader now.”
Could that be true?
Roelle noted the distraught expression on not only Selton’s face, but on Jhun and several of the other nearby Magi.
Hester was right. It did no good bringing them down after their victory. They already struggled with what they had done, why should she add to it?
She turned to Jhun. “Pass on word that we fought well. Praise the rest of the Magi. Let them know I’m proud of them.”
Once more, she was thankful for Endric, and the wisdom he provided even from afar through Hester’s counsel.
Chapter Fifteen
The night following the Deshmahne attack, the Magi were awoken by a shout from one of their night watch. It came as a shrill call, loud enough to get everyone moving.
“Deshmahne!”
Roelle woke in a sort of daze and grabbed her sword hastily, not having a chance to even reach for her Magi robes, throwing only her cloak over her shoulders. She raced out of her tent, already seeing chaos in front of her.
Several tents burned. Magi fought with sword and staff, facing dark blurs of Deshmahne. There were dozens—too many for her to face.
A wave of emptiness flooded her.
She hadn’t felt that during the last attack, or even during the attack in the first village.
The only other time she’d felt it was when she’d been with Endric.
Roelle recognized it, and knew how to counter it. She prayed the others with her did as well.
Leaping into action, her sword practically guided her toward the nearest attacker. When she reached him, she noted the heavy tattoos lining his face and arms, and a dark smile that marred his face. This would not be a Deshmahne like they had faced earlier.
“Mage. We have been watching you.”
She swung her sword, but he blocked it easily.
“You pose an interesting challenge for our plans here.”
She stepped back into her catah, blocking his next blow. “And what plans are those?” Roelle asked, sword colliding with his sword.
Much like the Deshmahne who’d attacked on her journey south, he had a deep black blade, one that gleamed dully with the early morning light, contrasting with the sharp brightness even now of the steel blade Endric had gifted her. Without realizing it, her sword had become much more comfortable, almost as if she were meant to carry it.
“Plans you will never live to realize.”
He danced around her, spinning so fluidly that she almost couldn't follow him.
She sank into her Magi abilities, pulling on the small manehlin, the tiny elements of energy her people could use. She used them now, drawing them tight around the Deshmahne. With that, he slowed the barest fraction, but enough that she caught him on the arm, drawing blood.
The Deshmahne grinned at her. “Perhaps you will be a more interesting challenge than I expected. Few of your kind have ever given me any real challenge.”
Roelle didn't allow herself to linger on the idea that any of her people would have given him a challenge. She drew upon her Magi abilities even more. As she did, she wrapped them around the dark priest, drawing energy from him, from the earth, from everywhere, slowing him. She brought her sword up, arcing in a swift slice, and he swung his sword to counter.
Roelle quickly shifted positions, bringing her sword down, across the backs of his legs, severing the tendons there.
He fell, sprawling across the ground.
Roelle dodged another attack, driving her sword through a Deshmahne that suddenly appeared near her. She spun back around, and the hamstrung man reached for his sword. Before he could, she severed his arm.
“What is your plan for the north?” she asked the heavily tattooed Deshmahne.
“As I said,” he began with a grunt, “you will not live to realize it.”
Quicker than she could blink, he unsheathed a knife she hadn't seen and jabbed it into his heart, dropping onto it with a satisfied smile on his face.
Roelle spun, looking for others to face, and saw a trio of Deshmahne approaching her.
These were more lightly tattooed then most of the Deshmahne she had faced, especially compared to the man she’d just fought. She sank into the emptiness of her mind and quickly drew upon her Magi abilities.
She would end this quickly. Now was not the time to worry about using her abilities in this manner. Now was the time to survive.
She killed the first two quickly. The third stared at her, eyes wide, before dropping his sword and running into the early morning light.
With that, the attack was over.
Roelle stood for a moment, turning and looking for others to attack, before realizing it was truly finished. She sighed, wiping the blood off the blade and sheathing it.
Hester found her. He had a long cut down one of his arms that he had wrapped with a strip of cloth, but it still bled through it. It would be another scar for him.
“This was a more formidable attack. They sent nearly fifty at us.”
Roelle shook her head. Fifty Deshmahne. “How many did we lose?” Facing this many of the dark warrior priests, the question was how many, not if.
Hester shook his head. “There were only a handful of truly capable Deshmahne here. It's as though they didn't expect you to pose much of a threat.”
Could that be what had happened? They might even have sent the most recent Deshmahne recruits along with whoever had recruited them. Why would they have expected the Magi to be capable swordsmen? Doing so meant going against most of their traditions, much of their beliefs.
“They’re planning something. I don't know what it is, but that one,” she started, motioning toward the Deshmahne who’d taken his own life, “admitted there was some plan to the north. From what we’ve seen, I think it has to do with recruiting Deshmahne.”
Hester frowned. “It makes no sense. It's one thing to attempt conversions, but what do these villagers think to gain? The Denraen have never stopped patrolling these lands. The people must know the Deshmahne would not offer the same protection as the Denraen.”
The Deshmahne must be offering something of importance for the people of the north to so readily convert, but what would it be?
It was a troubling thought, one that she had no answer for.
And she d
oubted their search would provide any answers, either.
Chapter Sixteen
They were nearly to the lower hills. Travel had become a little more arduous, and forced Roelle and the Magi to slow down, moving at a more controlled pace. The horses struggled at times, but it had as much to do with the changing temperature as it did the terrain.
It had become cold. An occasional flurry of snow drifted around them, but even without that, it would have been cold. She had long ago cinched her cloak tight, but the wind still whipped through to chill her bones. She’d felt strange moving her sword outside the cloak, but the others had followed suit, not wanting to be too far from their weapons.
They had traveled another couple of days beyond the last village and had seen nothing more. Each day had been spent in increasing quiet. They’d been gone nearly two weeks, long enough that they should be preparing to turn back. This was all the longer they were supposed to have been gone, but Roelle still didn’t have a sense of what Endric wanted them to find, and that was what she needed to understand now.
It was noon, or there about, when they came across a third village. Roelle raised her hand, calling the column to a halt. After the last attack, the Magi warriors with them responded more quickly than they had in the past and stopped on command.
They had continued practicing movements each night, Hester and the other soldiers demonstrating them. Roelle and now Selton and Jhun had taken on larger roles, working with the rest of the Magi to hone their swordsmanship. Most had come a long way, becoming much more skilled than they had been when they left the city. Even then, many of them had been talented.
Hester had remarked on it one night, more amused than anything, and made a comment that he wished the Magi could join the Denraen. “Might be then we actually keep the peace,” he had said.
Roelle hadn't known what to say. She still struggled with the concept that they were so skilled with using the sword and staff, something the Magi shouldn’t be, considering the gods wanted them to only have peace, and yet she found a different kind of peace while working with the sword.
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