The Lost Prophecy Boxset

by D. K. Holmberg

  Anda nodded. “Nearly.”

  Vaguely, Jakob was aware of Lendra falling to her knees and vomiting.

  “Fight this,” Anda repeated.

  Jakob’s vision faded.

  He was suffocating, and there was nothing he could do. He had come too far and was too close to answers for it to end this way.

  He could no longer see. The voices of Anda and Brohmin seemed to come from down a tunnel. Unable to even remain kneeling, he fell to the ground, landing on his sword.

  He felt its slow vibration. Using a little of his remaining energy, Jakob moved the blade out from under him.

  As he touched it, the vibration from the sword passed into him, filling him.

  There was an urgency to it unlike he had felt before, and it seemed to swell through him. The tightness faded. His vision slowly returned. And finally, his breaths came more easily.

  He stood shakily and looked at the others who stood staring at him, except for Anda who remained at his side. His head pounded with the strength of the pulsing, almost splitting it. There was a distinct crispness to his vision that made everything around him much more vivid. “I… I think I’m better.”

  The pulsing within his head easily split the glamour Anda had created, and he saw her unmasked daneamiin features. Something about those features was as beautiful as the illusion she crafted.

  Anda tipped her head to the side and considered him for a moment before nodding.

  The ground trembled.

  Thunder rolled toward them as a section of the wall between the garden and the city tumbled inward. A hole opened to the street, and countless groeliin on the other side of the wall readied to pour through.

  The sight of them disgusted him. They were clothed in only pants, their upper bodies a mat of hair. He could see their small eyes from where he stood, and their deformed missing ears. Their ahmaean surrounded them clearly, dark and thick and oozing around them, much like the Deshmahne.

  “We have to hold them off while Salindra finds a way into the Tower,” Brohmin said to him.

  They couldn’t let the groeliin enter the palace grounds, not near the Tower. Of that Jakob was certain.

  Nausea rolled within him from the sight of the creatures, but he was spared the worst. Lendra lay on the ground, a pool of vomit near her head.

  “Salindra. Do what you can,” Brohmin said.

  “I don’t know if I can do this alone,” she answered.

  “Try,” Brohmin said. “With me, Jakob!”

  Brohmin unsheathed his sword and raced forward.

  Jakob followed suit.

  As he grabbed the hilt of his sword, the pulsating intensified, filling his mind. He felt the ahmaean of Neamiin as it flowed through him. Jakob pulled at it and felt the pulsing in his head strengthen. With it, came an increased awareness.

  As he ran toward the groeliin, a moment of doubt struck him. There were too many for him and Brohmin to face alone!

  He glanced back and saw Anda watching him. Salindra remained focused on the wall of the Tower. Lendra lay motionless, though had been moved closer to the wall of the Tower.

  We must win. Otherwise, Alyta loses.

  They reached the opening in the wall where the groeliin swarmed. At first, he moved hesitantly.

  There was pressure as his blade sliced through their thick skin, and he smelled the stink of their blood as it poured forth and into the ground. He struggled to ignore it, knowing he needed to keep these creatures from Anda, Salindra, and Lendra.

  And Alyta. He needed answers.

  Fluidity came back to his movements. He stepped from one catah to the next, striking down one groeliin after another.

  It wasn’t enough. There were too many of them. He dared to glance back again and saw Anda’s sorrow-filled eyes as she watched the battle.

  I won’t let them reach her!

  He pulled harder at the vibration pulsing within him, on the ahmaean of Neamiin. Already heightened senses became almost overwhelming.

  Time slowed, and he attacked.

  The groeliin still rushed him.

  Jakob slashed, each movement taking down another of the groeliin, but it wasn’t enough.

  “Neamiin!” he screamed.

  Jakob pulled at the ahmaean all around him, his sword blazed brightly. His body practically shook with a vibrating energy, and he welcomed it. If he failed, they would reach the Tower and Alyta.

  Another worry spurred greater aggression, much as it had with the Deshmahne.

  They could not reach Anda.

  He tore at all the ahmaean he could detect. There was an explosion within him.

  He could explain it no other way. His head felt as if it would burst, torn asunder by the force of the energy. The pulsing tore through his body, his mind, and he hummed with it.

  Jakob screamed again, unaware of what he said. Everything slowed further, but he worried it still would not be enough.

  He pulled upon the ahmaean around him again.

  The pain nearly incapacitated him. He screamed again.

  As the pain receded, he became aware of another part of his mind. If he focused on it, he knew he would find answers. Yet Jakob dared not pause.

  Time nearly stopped, and he took advantage of it, tearing through the groeliin, striking them down mercilessly.

  Jakob yelled at the groeliin as he fought, screaming words that he did not know—words that might have been from his visions and in the ancient language—knowing only that he must fight, and he must win.

  They kept coming.

  He ran through them, his sword flying faster than he knew possible, hacking into their hides bringing down every groeliin in his path. His arms grew numb with the effort, but it was forgotten in his frenzy.

  It was still not fast enough; they streamed endlessly through the hole in the wall.

  No!

  The thought roared through him. Or did he scream?

  His mind tore again, and again he screamed.

  Jakob attacked, faster and faster, his arms growing tired, yet determined not to give up. Still, the beasts oozed through the wall.

  They would not be enough.

  I cannot do this, he thought, not this many at once.

  A slow pressure of helplessness crept into him, and he knew the truth of it. How could the two of them have hoped to stop so many? Better to give up now—the ending would be quicker that way.

  The voice of a memory pulled at him. Yes, you can. You have.

  The voice had opened a crack in the earth once long ago.

  The groeliin surged forward then, over the bodies of the fallen and toward Jakob and Brohmin, as if they sensed his weakness. Brohmin was tired, a sag to his shoulders, and his breathing quick and shallow. He was about ready to drop.

  “No!” Jakob roared.

  His voice filled the air, surprising even him with the intensity of it.

  And then his head exploded again.

  The ground at his feet shook, moving beneath him.

  The ground at the wall began to crack open and widened slowly. Groeliin trying to cross fell through. A hideous scream echoed from them as they fell.

  A few remained on Jakob’s side of the crack, and he struck them down.

  No more remained.

  Jakob took a deep breath, his body tired, his mind in agony.

  What had he done?

  Brohmin turned to Jakob. A huge bloody streak ran down one of his cheeks. “I don’t know what you did, but thank you.”

  “I don’t know either,” he answered.

  What am I?

  Alyta would have answers. He prayed it was true.

  Countless groeliin remained on the other side of the crack. “We can’t let them tear through the city,” Brohmin said. There was a surprising steel in his voice for the level of exhaustion he obviously felt.

  “I think the Magi will finish this,” he said, seeing movement up the street. Pale ahmaean drifted toward him, and he knew without seeing them that it was Roelle and the
remaining warrior Magi.

  Brohmin nodded and opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a shout.

  “Brohmin!” Salindra yelled.

  Brohmin staggered back toward the Tower, and Jakob rushed over to help him. He had to support the man as they hurried back to the Tower.

  “I can’t do this,” Salindra said as they neared. She looked nearly as spent as Brohmin. “It is too thick. It is too much.”

  “We’re lost, then,” Brohmin spoke through the sounds of battle erupting from the other side of the wall. “If we can’t reach her, then Raime has already won.”

  “I can get you through the wall,” Anda spoke softly. Her words were musical and sad. “But it will be all that I can do.”

  Brohmin looked at her intently a long moment, his hard eyes softening, before nodding. “Alisandra om’Lenoalii sen’Enheaardliin, may you be granted eternal peace.”

  Jakob tried to catch her gaze, but she turned away from him.

  Facing the wall, she stared at it until a small hole began to appear, gradually widening. He could see that it would soon be enough for them to crawl through.

  “How can she?” Lendra asked.

  Salindra’s mouth was agape, and her eyes were wide.

  “What does this mean?” Jakob asked Brohmin.

  “She gives up much by doing this,” he said as he watched.

  Jakob looked to her. “How much?” he asked.

  Brohmin would not face him. Would not answer.

  “How much?” he asked again, urgently.

  Brohmin’s eyes flicked to Jakob’s sword before meeting his gaze. “Everything.”

  Jakob looked at Anda, saw her as she focused on the wall. “There must be another way.”

  “I lived with Anda’s people many years. They can do much”—he looked at her with a kind of awe—“so very much. But there is only one way she can accomplish this.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked frantically.

  Brohmin frowned at him sadly. “Look at her, Jakob,” he whispered. “I know you can see it. She cannot live after what she does.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  They had followed Jakob into Thealon, delayed as they watched the groeliin swarm across the armies mounted before Thealon’s tall walls. There had been no hope for the men, and the slaughter was complete. If she and her Magi warriors were unsuccessful, the same would happen to the innocents within Thealon. The Antrilii had moved to the north, hoping to trap the remaining groeliin between them but something had gone wrong.

  The creatures moved into the city.

  Roelle saw a mass of movement that was all grays and swirling blacks. They swarmed toward the wall, struggling at the hole. The opening at this wall was much the same as the one at the city wall. She had wondered how they had done that and wondered again when she saw what they had done here.

  In the distance, she saw Jakob and Brohmin fighting the beasts. The groeliin pressed toward the Tower. They still didn’t know what the groeliin planned or if the other—and more powerful—groeliin that Nahrsin feared was with the remaining creatures. Roelle pressed the Magi forward. Without them, the people of the city would die.

  There was an elegance to how Jakob and Brohmin moved, and a question came to her. She was surprised she had not thought of it before now.

  How is it they can see them?

  The thought didn’t last long. It couldn’t last long. She saw how fast Jakob spun his sword, how quickly the beasts dropped before his blade, and her jaw dropped.

  “I that Jakob? How can he see them?” Selton asked, turning to her. “Who is that man?”

  Roelle continued to stare. “I knew him, once,” she said.

  More than that, she had considered him something of a friend. They’d not had the time to be more than that, though a part of her had been intrigued by him, enough that she wondered if there could have been something between them.

  But now, she could no longer make the claim that she knew Jakob. This was not the uncertain man she’d spent time with after Chrysia. Jakob wielded his sword in ways unlike anything she had ever seen, even more impressive than Nahrsin, and he was a wonder.

  “How can he move like that?” she wondered. She was answered by a steady shaking of the ground beneath her feet.

  In front of them, where the mass of groeliin surged toward the hole in the wall, the beasts suddenly disappeared. As she stared, she realized what she had felt.

  A crack opened in the ground, an impossibly wide crevasse that had just moments before been solid. It stretched back behind the wall, and groeliin fell into it as it widened.

  “It’s the gods!” one of the Magi cried out. “They send their help!”

  Roelle looked up at the Tower and wondered if it could be true. How long had it been since the gods had answered the Magi? Would they care that the groeliin attacked?

  A prayer passed from her lips anyway.

  Others behind her cheered, relieved. It was their first reason to celebrate since leaving the forest. There were still many of the groeliin moving toward the wall, still more than she could easily count, but far fewer than there had been.

  “Ride!” she called. She would smash her remaining Magi into this mass of groeliin, and they would see who would be victorious. It would be decided now.

  Riding forward, she wished they had Nahrsin and the Antrilii with her.

  We should be finishing this together.

  Yet they followed a different path given to them by the gods, circling around to prevent another groeliin attack. She hoped Nahrsin would survive this.

  And suddenly, she was among them. Roelle leaped from her horse, and Selton did the same. Standing side by side, each with sword in hand, they fought. Jhun and Zamell and a dozen other Magi warriors did the same.

  The groeliin swarmed around her, and she felt her arms ache with the first impact of her blade with the beast’s flesh, but pushed on. A final push.

  Her tired mind struggled against her, and she found it hard to stay focused, to push her sword through the forms she knew. A stinging sensation rolled up her arm, and she realized she had been hit. She ignored it and swung harder, forcing her sword to move faster, drawing on her Mage gifts, focusing on the manehlin.

  Soon though, the burning began to overwhelm her. It tore from her chest down into her left arm. She shifted her sword to her right hand and fought on, ignoring her fatigue.

  Selton moved behind her and they were fighting back to back once more. The swirling shapes of the beasts moved about them. Where had Jhun gone? What of Zamell?

  There was no time to think about who might have been lost. There were only those still fighting, and the groeliin. Roelle was thankful that Selton still stood.

  She and Selton fought that way for longer than she knew. Friends from the first moment they’d met, as she’d matured, there was a part of her that had wondered if they could be more. During their journey, she realized that it didn’t matter, if it ever had.

  The presence of her friend gave her new strength, and she pushed with all she had.

  The groeliin fell around them. Roelle wondered distantly how the rest of the warriors fared.

  She heard few screams, so was hopeful. They had survived this far. She hoped this the last battle but knew many would not survive it.

  “We need to push them to the hole!” she called to Selton.

  Selton nodded and grunted in reply.

  They pushed on, the beasts surrounding them. Each time one fell, another took its place. Her strength was failing. How much longer could she hold out?

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Jakob rushed to where Anda stood next to the Tower, her ahmaean streaming from her and into the stone. His mind was still sensitive and raw from whatever he had done with the groeliin. Still, he saw clearly what Anda was doing.

  She truly was sacrificing everything, he realized.

  Ahmaean flowed easily into the stone, creating the opening. The Tower seemed to absorb it, drawing it awa
y from her, drawing her life away from her. It was a sacrifice, and one he wasn’t prepared for her to make.

  “You can’t do this, Anda.”

  “It must be done,” she answered without looking over to him. She kept her focus on the Tower, and on the way she sent herself into the stone. “Alyta must be saved.”

  He took her hand. Always, there had been a wave of peace when he touched her. Now, it was growing cold. “Why?”

  She turned to him. The veil about her flickered, and he knew it would soon be lost. And after it, Anda as well. “She is the last. She needs you, Jakob Nialsen. Your path leads to Alyta. My path ends here.”

  “No. Not like this.”

  She smiled then. “It is my path. I will miss you, Jakob Nialsen. I wish the fibers would have given me more time to know you.”

  When she turned her attention back to the stone, back toward sending her ahmaean into the Tower, frustration welled within him. Could he let her do this?

  Was there anything he could even do to stop it?

  As he watched, he saw her life leeching away, the hole into the Tower growing. They might reach Alyta, but what would they lose in doing so? What would he lose?

  The thought tore at him. Her hand grew icy cold as he held it.

  “No,” he whispered.

  “We can do nothing now,” Brohmin said. “We need a way in.”

  “There has to be another way,” Jakob said.

  “I wish there were. Anda knows the importance of what she does. Alyta needs us,” Brohmin said.

  Without Alyta, his questions may go unanswered, but at what cost? Too many had been lost to him already. His mother. Scottan. His father. Denraen he had not known well enough to call friends.

  There had been too many lost. Anda would not be lost. Not this way.

  But what could he do? There was no answer. No old memory came back to help. This he would do himself. What, though?

  Could he use his connection to the ahmaean?

  Anda used hers on the stone, was it possible for him to save her with his?

  He had to try.

  Jakob reached with his ahmaean into the wall and grabbed at her ahmaean, pulling it back.

  How did he know how to do this?