The Lost Prophecy Boxset

by D. K. Holmberg

  “Even though it goes against everything you believe?”

  He had hoped that she didn't know how difficult this was for him. “You've been spending too much time talking to your mother.”

  “Not to Mother. This is what you've taught me.”

  “And what is that?”

  “That doing what is right and doing what is easy are not the same thing.”

  Locken's gaze drifted toward the valley, the space between Thealon and Saeline. The landscape blended together, a better match than the harsh change between Saeline and the rest of Gom Aaldia. In many ways, he shared Alayna’s sentiment. Saeline was a better match for Thealon.

  He let his gaze drift farther to the east, and could almost feel the pull of the Tower of the Gods. It was there, distantly, almost chastising him for what he contemplated. Did they dare risk the peace the gods required? If he played a part in it, what did that mean for him?

  “Father?”

  Locken turned back to his daughter, meeting her eyes. “I think, I think perhaps I have taught you too well.”

  She offered a tight smile. “You know that your people will support you.”

  He nodded. It was the same thing Lonn had told him. He just hoped he did right by them.

  He turned his mare away from the valley, and Alayna followed. They rode back in silence. It was as if Alayna knew that he needed that silence to contemplate, and prepare.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Alyta blinked open her eyes as she filtered out the darkness. Something was amiss. Even though her vision at night was nearly as good as in the daylight, she saw nothing to worry her. Inhaling deeply through her mouth, tasting the cool northern air, a small voice at the back of her mind, the companion of her kind, deciphered the scents for her. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

  Still, she couldn’t shake the sense.

  Alyta had come north to see the desolation for herself, already knowing what she would see. The reality of it all was no surprise. The empty towns stank of the creatures that men long ago had named groeliin, the odor foul enough that she did not need her companion Elaysa to explain what she smelled. Alyta didn’t linger long enough to see the creatures themselves, remembering their features too well from her last encounter with them. She had come only for confirmation.

  She sighed. From her lips, it was the sound of the wind, quickly lost in the night air. A part of her was thankful for the wan moon and the black sky, though it didn’t hide from her the desolation that now overran the bleak northern mountains. Were she no more than the goddess that men thought her kind to be, she could change much of this. The truth was both simpler and much more complex. Never as all powerful as men would believe, her kind served the Maker as few others—and no man—could claim.

  Soon that would end.

  She was the last. Once, such a thought seemed impossible, but she had grown accustomed to the impossible. With each breath, she felt the passing of time, far too aware of the work remaining. Preparations had to be made, and the Conclave, once numbering the wisest and most powerful of this world, could now be counted on her two hands. Not enough for what was needed.

  The stink of the air reminded her of what the Conclave needed to accomplish. Spread thin, there seemed little hope that they could capture the man responsible, not after what Raime had become. They should have been more proactive with him years ago, back while he still learned his craft. Before he had stolen his power.

  Now she was not even certain she could stop him. At some point, it would come to a confrontation. None of her kind had dared confront him before, fearing to upset the balance critical to the Maker, yet Alyta had learned the price of their delay. They all had.

  Alyta took another deep breath. She had not given up hope that additional help was out there somewhere. Following the fibers of time did nothing to clarify where she might find that help, as many times as she had tried. There had been a glimpse of something, little more than a suggestion, not enough to understand its meaning. Searching along the fibers for help had only triggered something else, but that illness had to be tolerated were they to succeed.

  Lingering did nothing, certainly not with so much work remaining. She gathered herself and felt a slow quivering in her mind as she prepared to travel.

  Something held her in place.

  She tried again without success.

  Her heart suddenly hammered in an unfamiliar sensation: Fear.

  Alyta glanced around and saw nothing, but the distant golden glow of Elaysa’s eyes. Normally, that would be reassuring, but now?

  She closed her eyes, looking through the darkness using Elaysa’s better sight.

  There she saw what she feared. Three of the creatures stood around her, like the points of a triangle. Their inky energy surrounded her, masked somehow from her sight. Each was marked with more runes than she had ever seen on one of their kind. Alone, they would be formidable. Together—she had no chance. If they could hold her in place, prevent her from traveling, there was little she could do to oppose them.

  Seek help, she commanded Elaysa. Find the Conclave. If I am lost, we must find the other, she begged, showing Elaysa the vision of what she had glimpsed in the fibers. If she failed, that might be their only remaining hope, the one glimmer she had glimpsed along the fibers, the reason she still searched. Alyta was not even certain whether she had succeeded.

  Her companion paused before loping off into the night. Even Elaysa had been fooled by the creatures’ veil.

  Yes, she decided, these creatures were powerful.

  Had her time already run out?

  She prayed she could last long enough to find the one she’d seen when looking along the fibers of time. If she couldn’t, Raime would truly win.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jakob was unsure where he was when he first awoke. He remembered the forest, but this wasn’t the forest. He was in a strange room. Light filtered in through a small hole in the wall, and a low, translucent haze hung in the air. There was a familiar scent in the air, one of flowers mixed with earthy undertones, and he was comforted by it. Jakob stretched, pulling tension from his arms and legs, feeling the muscles ease as he did, and he suddenly remembered.

  They had feasted, dining on food unlike anything Jakob had ever tasted, listening to rhythmic music. There had been more, but most of it was a blur, and he struggled to remember.

  The thick carpet of grass that covered the floor pulled at him, seductively dragging him back toward sleep. He resisted the urge and stood, shifting his sword where it had remained attached while he’d slept, and the slow pulsing in his mind returned. There was a buzzing, almost a quiet humming, that he sensed around him, and he could see the haze around everything.

  Jakob had to duck to keep from hitting his head on the low ceiling of the strange room as he stood. That helped his memory a bit as he recalled one of the daneamiin escorting him up the inside of a tree. Through the open doorway, a small landing gave view of the narrow staircase winding its way both upward and downward. He saw nothing in the darkness above him, only the stairs spiraling higher and higher. He chose to go down. Walking carefully down the steps, he ran his hand along the wall, finding it smooth.

  Jakob reached the bottom of the stairs, at the base of the tree, and bright light streamed in through the small arch. He had to duck to get out and into the light of the day. Many daneamiin wandered about the clearing, and the huge building in the center was especially abuzz. The daneamiin moving around the enormous structure seemed to blink in and out of sight, as if they were disappearing and reappearing.

  It was not only in the clearing where the daneamiin wandered. Overhead, others moved along the rope walkways connecting the trees, strolling casually. Others were even higher still, walking along the branches themselves. Each movement shimmered as they flickered along their path. Jakob could not help but stare.

  A light touch on the back of his arm caused him to spin quickly. The daneamiin he had met the night before, Anda,
stood before him. She was tall, at least four fingers taller than he was, yet carried herself gracefully and did not seem to tower over him.

  “Anda,” he said as he hid his surprise at how quietly she had come up on him.

  She nodded, the top of her hairless head tilting toward him in reply. She blinked briefly, her strangely exotic eyes closing almost like curtains, and then smiled. It spread to her eyes, and Jakob found himself smiling back at her.

  “Did you find your sleep restful, Jakob Nialsen?” Her voice was soft and sweet with a tone and an accent that tugged at him the way the ahmaean did.

  He nodded. It had been restful, perhaps more than any sleep he had ever known. And dreamless. His sleep had been fitful lately, dreams of fiery eyes and the goddesses haunting him at night. “It was. Thank you.”

  “Thanks are not needed.” She stepped away from beside the tree, where it looked like she had been waiting for him to wake. Motioning to him with a long, slender finger, she said, “Come, you will have a busy day. Cleanse yourself before you start it.”

  She led him into the forest, through the trees and on a winding route. All along, ahmaean surrounded everything. He soon lost his sense of direction and couldn’t tell which way they had come. As he looked behind him, he couldn’t even see his footprints. The more he tried, the more confused he became.

  Above them were still a few of the tree structures, though he was unable to see any of the rope bridges connecting them. He wondered if the trees in this part of the forest grew close enough together that the bridges weren’t needed. He couldn’t tell and couldn’t see any daneamiin moving above him, only an occasional glimpse of their buildings, all leafy green and blending with the trees. Ahmaean surrounded everything in the trees too.

  Finally, they reached a large pond with trees growing by the edge of the water, casting shade over its surface. Bright flowers also grew at the water’s edge, with small insects hovering over them. Some sunlight streamed down, giving a little light to the water. Anda nodded toward the pond. He began to undress, and Anda moved to a nearby tree and averted her gaze. As he stepped into the water, he found it to be incredibly warm, and his skin tingled as if bubbles burst along his flesh.

  “Are you going to bathe?” he called out to Anda who still stood near the tree, though her gaze was no longer averted.

  “I have already, Jakob Nialsen.”

  He ducked fully beneath the surface, feeling the warm tingling the skin on his face and neck, before emerging once again. The water refreshed him. He let the silence of the forest surround him as he scrubbed himself. Anda seemed content with the silence. He sighed as a feeling of relaxation moved through him.

  After relaxing a while, he opened his eyes to see Anda watching him. “Why do the daneamiin live in the trees?” he asked.

  She stepped away from the trees and closer toward the water’s edge. Slowly, she eased herself to a sitting position and let her bare toes just dip into the water. “The trees allow us to live with them.”

  He laughed lightly, feeling a little strange. “Why do you want to?”

  A confused look crept across her face. “Why do your people choose to tear down the trees only to build something less than what was?”

  He had no response. He watched her slender toes as they traced a strange design in the water. The movement was casually deliberate.

  After a long pause, she spoke again. “You have seen the groeliin?” Seeing his face, she continued. “Yes, I thought that you had.” She stared at him a moment, her large dark eyes holding his gaze. “They came into our lands long ago. We hid from them by staying within the trees. Still, they destroyed much.”

  “You didn’t fight back?”

  She shook her head slowly. “Your kind always rushes to violence,” she began. It was a gentle admonition. “No, we could not destroy the groeliin. Our doing so would only damage the Maker.”

  “Sometimes, fighting is the only way to prevent more fighting.”

  “Another of your kind told us the same thing,” she said softly. “Yet, it has changed little.”

  Jakob didn’t know what to say. She obviously thought very little of his kind. How many other daneamiin thought the same way?

  “Why did they leave, then?”

  “They didn’t, not really. They live on violence, and we live in peace. The trees protected us,” she said before falling silent.

  The groeliin did not seem as if they would simply leave because there was nothing to destroy. He knew little about them, could not even guess their motivation, but that seemed unlikely.

  “Are you cleansed?” she asked, breaking into his thoughts.

  He nodded.

  “We must prepare then,” she told him.

  “To where?” he asked, beginning to move toward the edge of the pond.

  “You meet with the Cala maah today,” she answered.

  He mouthed the words, and they did not come off his tongue easily, yet reminded him of the ancient language. “What is the Cala maah?”

  She paused to think. “The Cala maah guide us,” she answered, turning away as he got out of the water. “We are to see them once you have been cleansed.”

  Anda guided him to the edge of the forest. “I will see if the Cala maah are ready for you. When they are ready, I will find you.”

  As she went toward the clearing, he wandered off on his own. He wanted to see the daneamiin city, but he decided to explore the forest—and the ahmaean he saw within it—a bit more.

  The canopy of the massive trees blocked the sunlight and the forest had a muted sound. There was the occasional rustling of leaves as a breeze blew through, as well as the chirping of birds, and every so often, a scurrying sound as something made its way across the tree branches. A few insects buzzed nearby, but none of them bit him. The air had that familiar fragrance to it, one of flowers and fruit and leaves, a sweet and pleasant aroma.

  This was the first time he’d been alone since coming to this place. His mind swam with what he had seen, barely able to take it all in. For so long, he’d dreamed of adventure like those told in Jarren Gildeun’s stories, and now he was here, beyond the Great Valley, where even he had never reached.

  Still… he worried about the purpose here. They brought the trunk, but after all that was lost to get it here, it held only a few small stones. What did those have to do with anything? What help would they provide?

  And now he was so far away from everything and everyone he knew. The fear that he was going mad had faded, replaced with overwhelming sense of surprise… and worry about the changes that had occurred within him, changes he had no answers for. Brohmin and Salindra both seemed to be better equipped for this.

  Then there were the daneamiin. Though exotic and interesting, he still wasn't certain what to make of them. In some ways, they reminded him of the Magi, the sense of power they seemed to command, but in other ways, they were entirely different. There was a peace about them. A sense of calmness the Magi he’d met did not possess.

  Jakob felt that being here, staying with the trees, within the forest, away from the rest of the world, protected him from Deshmahne and from the groeliin—the creatures out of a nightmare—but was that what he was meant to do?

  Jakob didn't know.

  He had completed the mission Novan and Endric had given him. He brought the trunk north. What now for him?

  Was he meant to return to Novan? Was he meant to stay apprenticed to the historian and serve under him? Would that be enough anymore?

  Novan would be disappointed to know that he hadn't documented what he'd seen very well. Much of what Jakob had done, the way that he’d intervened, would have disappointed the historian. What would Novan have thought about coming east of the Great Valley? What questions would he have for the daneamiin? That Jakob didn’t even know what questions to ask told him that he wouldn’t make a very good historian.

  Jakob turned back toward the daneamiin city, marveling at the size and scope and the way it integrated into the
forest. But even here, where he thought he was alone, there was a sense of eyes upon him.

  Though he enjoyed the peace and serenity he found in the forest, he found himself not wanting to be away from the beauty of the city any longer than necessary. How long had it been since he had known the sort of relaxation that he felt while here?

  He sighed. It felt calming. All of his fears, worries, and regrets—what might happen to his brother still within the santrium, the loss of his parents, his worry for his friend Braden who had joined the Denraen—all of that faded away within the forest.

  It was a sense of calm he wanted to keep, but that meant staying here, and Jakob knew that wasn't possible. He didn't know what he was destined to do, but he couldn't remain here. This was not his home.

  Waiting for Anda, he sat on a boulder where he could look at the city. He leaned forward and thought he caught a glimpse of a pair of golden eyes, but when he turned, they were gone. It must have been his imagination.

  He blinked slowly, fatigue threatening him, when he sensed of movement.

  It reminded him of the sense of movement he had when dreaming at the heart of the Great Forest, or even the strange vision he’d had as they neared Avaneam when the spear pierced his shoulder. Much like then, he saw the same energy, that which the daneamiin called ahmaean, swirling around everything. It was a translucent sort of energy, one that faded when he wasn't paying attention to it, but became more apparent when he did.

  He blinked again, and felt a part of his mind shift.

  It was a sensation he'd felt several times, one that he had once attributed to the madness, but that couldn't be what it was at all. Whatever he experienced was something else. Jakob didn't know what was happening to him, only that whatever it was meant he had abilities he shouldn’t have.

  Perhaps Brohmin might have answers—if he was willing to offer them. Maybe Novan would if he could rejoin him. More than anything else, that would be reason enough to find the historian again.

  He blinked again, and there was another sense of shifting.