The Lost Prophecy Boxset

by D. K. Holmberg

  The sense of her ahmaean was nearly palpable. It was slippery, barely tangible, but he forced the energy back inside her.

  “No, Jakob Nialsen. I choose this. Alyta must be saved.” The flickering veil she had cast upon herself solidified.

  “Not this,” he whispered, holding tightly to her hand. Warmth started to return.

  He pulled harder.

  Though he did it with his mind, it exacted a physical toll on him. His strength waned.

  Anda struggled against him as her ahmaean was dragged away from the wall, but he refused to allow her to sacrifice herself. Drawing on the ahmaean around him, pulling from the Tower itself, he pushed the last of her ahmaean back.

  The hole that had been in the wall was gone. Solid, smooth rock was instead in its place. Anda staggered back, forcing him to release his hold of her hand. Faint colors of ahmaean swirled about her.

  “That is not possible,” she whispered to him.

  “Jakob—we need Anda to get us inside. There’s no other way,” Brohmin said.

  Anger flashed in his eyes as he looked over to Brohmin, and Brohmin took a surprised step back.

  Jakob turned and focused on the wall, needing a way inside, needing to save Alyta. Her pull upon him was strong, and there was no denying the need to reach the inside the Tower, but how?

  Could he use his ahmaean the way that Anda had?

  Not only his but that which he detected around him?

  He reached out with his ahmaean, probing, as if boring a hole, and stretched forward as if through the wall. Toward Alyta.

  He didn’t know what it did, but then again, he didn’t know what he’d done with Anda.

  Praying he’d find the center of the Tower, he reached out. Toward Alyta.

  They had to get to her before the Deshmahne did.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Jakob drew on more ahmaean, letting it fill him. Pain surged through his head, splitting it once more.

  The wall exploded inward, opening a hole in the wall of the Tower.

  He staggered and fell.

  His mind throbbed in agony.

  Anda placed a hand over his heart. A warmth flowed from her fingers as she touched him. When he looked up at her, he noted how her ahmaean flowed toward him, toward his, and they touched in a way they had never touched before. She pulled at the ahmaean surrounding him, enveloping herself with it.

  “Thank you, Jakob,” she whispered. “I know not how you did that,” she began “I know you should not have been able to do it but thank you.”

  “Your path does not end here.”

  The illusion around her flickered a moment before solidifying again. “No, it does not.”

  “I could not let your path end here,” he said, seeing through the illusion, and peering into her exotic eyes.

  She touched a soft finger to his lips. “I am glad for it.”

  “Jakob?” Brohmin said. “We need to go. Alyta needs us.”

  Jakob looked up, feeling her pull more strongly now. Did the others feel it?

  How could they not?

  Roelle looked at the groeliin in front of her, her mind unable to tell her if she had killed it before. She wasn’t thinking clearly—which she knew was dangerous—but the groeliin seemed to look the same after a while, all amorphous gray and black until they fell. It was only then that she could make out their features.

  Her sword felt heavy, and it moved slowly now, each hack harder than the one before it. Forms no longer flowed; now, she simply swung, hacking rather than slicing. Her arms ached with the effort, and she vaguely heard herself grunting.

  Were we too eager in this attack?

  She pushed the thought from her mind, taking down creature after creature. Exhaustion threatened to overtake her.

  Worse, though, the burning in her chest and left arm continued to intensify. She knew the wound was sapping her strength. It felt as if her energy was draining because of the wound, all that she had left seemed directed to fight the pain she felt.

  Another groeliin moved into her view.

  This one was taller, and she could see it more easily than the others. Dark markings stained its naked hide, stretching up its arms and along its chest. Roelle shook her head as a memory merged with what she was seeing, that of the Deshmahne she’d fought—and fought next to.

  This groeliin moved quickly, catching Roelle’s blade easily on the huge club it carried. There was a stench to it that even Roelle smelled, and a wave of nausea rolled through her. The groeliin around this one fought with a frenzied intensity, and she saw several of her Magi fall.

  A sudden wave of fear and hopelessness radiated toward her, and she pushed through it without thinking. She focused her concentration on the dark groeliin, forcing out her will. Weakness and fatigue stole through her, and her vision blurred again. With a last effort, she stretched her mind to fill her gods-given abilities, stretching for focus and clarity. She struck with her sword as quickly as she could, a dozen rapid slices.

  Roelle felt a spray of warmth but did not see if the dark groeliin still stood.

  She staggered. Spinning, she smashed the nearest beast in the face with the flat edge of her blade. She heard it hit, a loud thunk, and the beast fell. Another moved in to take its place.

  How much longer can I hold out?

  Wanting to check on Selton, she dared not to look around, fearing that even the slightest glance away would give one of the beasts the opening it would need to take her down. At this point, it would not take much.

  In the distance, she saw movement. Roelle hazarded a glance and saw soldiers approaching. Hope was dashed when she realized they were Deshmahne. They wouldn’t help. Fenick had failed her.

  Not Deshmahne. She really wasn’t thinking clearly. Antrilii. Nahrsin led his soldiers to their aid. The merahl howled, hunting with them, and hurtled forward.

  Could she hold out until they reached them?

  Her foot hit a slick spot on the ground.

  Blood. The thought came slowly.

  She fell, hitting her head as she did. Her vision blurred again before righting. Looking up, the beasts surround Selton, who now stood alone among them. Did she still see the large dark groeliin? She didn’t know.

  The bright light of the sun blinded her, forcing her to shut her eyes. And then she heard the merahl braying, close, and with it the roaring rumble of Nahrsin’s anger. Roelle felt a surge of hope.

  “I’m sorry, Selton,” she whispered. “Tell Nahrsin it was the will—”

  Her vision faded to black before she could finish the words.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Jakob stared at the hole in the impossibly thick wall of the Tower, and he couldn’t see where it ended. Salindra had been unable to mar the surface, and Anda had nearly died in her attempt. How had he been able to do this?

  The slow pull upon his ahmaean was all he could feel.

  Find Alyta first, then answers.

  “You must stay,” Brohmin said to Salindra. “The both of you,” he continued, glancing to Lendra. “You both must stay. This is not a place for you.”

  Lendra’s eyes went wide. “I don’t know if my stomach can take it if the groeliin cross this lawn…”

  Jakob’s gaze went back to the groeliin, noting how close they were. She had already emptied her stomach more than once, so he knew the nausea was nearly overwhelming.

  Why don’t I smell it?

  The thought froze him.

  He’d never wondered about that part of it before. Why was he different from Lendra? The Magi were protected, as was Brohmin, but he had whatever abilities the Conclave had long ago granted him. What made Jakob different?

  What was he?

  “If they cross this lawn, there are much greater worries than that,” Brohmin said, pulling Jakob from his thoughts. “Climb into this hole after we have gone through and wait. Do not go further,” he warned. “What waits for us there is even direr than those beasts.” Brohmin unsheathed his sword and held i
t out to Salindra. “You must take this.”

  Salindra shook her head. “You may need it.”

  He smiled sadly. “If only my sword would be of use in this place,” he answered, looking deep into her eyes. “It will not. Please. Take it.”

  She stared at the sword a long time before speaking. “My people have other means of fighting.”

  Brohmin sighed. “You know that will not be enough. Trust what you’ve seen, not what you’ve been taught. Trust me.”

  Salindra again eyed the sword. There was nervousness in her eyes, an anxiety about what Brohmin asked of her. “Brohmin…”

  Brohmin gestured toward the opening in the wall where Roelle and the other Magi battled. “Do you not see the sacrifice of the Magi? You heard what Roelle has faced. They have saved countless lives; people who will never know what they did for them. Not your Council. More than that, do this for me,” he said, lowering his voice. “I need to know you’ll be safe.”

  She met his eyes and slowly took the sword. “For you, Brohmin. It won’t do me any good. I don’t even know how to use it.”

  Brohmin smiled, relieved. “Let your ancestors guide you.” He held her gaze a moment longer, and Jakob thought he wanted to say something more, but he didn’t, instead turning to him. “We should hurry.”

  “I won’t follow,” Anda said.

  “You may be needed,” Brohmin said.

  “I can do nothing to help. If he is inside, he has stolen from my people often,” she said. “I can do nothing.”

  Brohmin looked from Anda to Jakob before answering. “You can do more than you know. Much of what awaits us within this Tower is uncertain. I don’t know what it is we will find, and there is much you can do that I cannot. We may need you. Alyta may need you,” he whispered. “And you may be more help than I if that happens.”

  Anda tilted her head slightly forward, golden hair falling into unfocused eyes. Finally, she looked to Brohmin, then Jakob. “I will go,” she spoke, her voice soft.

  Brohmin turned and quickly crawled into the hole in the wall, soon disappearing out of sight into the darkness. Anda climbed in after Brohmin, disappearing as well. Jakob hazarded one last look out to where the Magi battled the groeliin. There appeared fewer of the creatures, but those he saw fought with a furious energy. Roelle was not visible.

  May she come through this safely. May we all.

  He climbed in after Anda.

  The stone of the Tower was smooth and cool. Even after what he had done, there were no jagged edges. Light from the afternoon sun did not filter in very far, leaving the crawlspace dark around him. He tried to look ahead, to see Anda or Brohmin but could see neither in the dim light. He strained to hear their progress but could not. Jakob pulled at the slow pulsing in his mind, hoping for sharpened vision and hearing, yet could still neither see nor hear Anda and Brohmin ahead of him.

  He continued forward, wondering how thick the wall was. The Tower itself was massive. Moments of crawling stretched longer and longer. The tunnel grew narrower as he progressed, and soon, he was no longer crawling, forced to his belly to slide forward. The ceiling of the tunnel threatened to crush him as he stretched forward, and Jakob knew a different fear then.

  What if I get stuck?

  The panic started slowly. It felt as if he had been crawling for hours. The tunnel continued to narrow. Soon, the stone was catching his skin, pressing down upon him. Still, he reached forward into open space. With each stretch of his arm, he hoped and prayed he would reach open space. But each time, he found more tunnel.

  Where was Anda? Where was Brohmin?

  Jakob scraped forward. He used his toes and the small space above his back to push forward. With each movement, panic rose. His heart pounded in beat with the slow pulsing of his head. The tunnel crept onward.

  How could I have done this?

  Jakob wondered if Salindra and Lendra had crawled in after him. He couldn’t even turn to look. There was no light in the tunnel now, and the darkness was overwhelming.

  Reach, push, pull.

  He repeated the movement over and over as he inched forward.

  Was there light ahead? Jakob could not be certain.

  The walls continued to press down on him, and he could no longer lift his back to gain purchase. Jakob was forced to lock his elbows against the stone to pull himself along, slowly dragging himself forward.

  When will this end?

  A different thought followed, worse than the last: Will it end?

  He was forced to pause. There was nothing but stone around him. No sound. No light. Nothing but the cold stone.

  Jakob took a deep breath before forcing it out. He crawled forward again. As he did, the stone crushed him.

  He struggled to take a breath but could only take a shallow one. Panic filled him, and he tried to push himself backward but could not.

  He would suffocate.

  He tried to call out, but there was not the air for it.

  He was stuck.

  Jakob reached out and struggled to pull himself forward again, but managed only an inch.

  The hilt of his sword dug at his side, and it scraped along the stone as he moved. It was all he heard.

  He reached forward again and felt nothing but stone, waving his arms uselessly for purchase. I will die here, he suddenly knew, and without the answers he needed.

  And then hands were upon him, groping at his arms and pulling him forward. He couldn’t even fight back.

  Was this Brohmin or groeliin that grabbed him?

  Worse, was it the High Priest? What would he do if he caught Jakob?

  Do I care?

  Fear of staying within the wall scared him more than what he would face once he was out. He exhaled the last of his air as he was pulled forward and then felt a sharp pull at his arms, yanking him hard. For a moment, he thought he would be torn apart. The stone scraped against his arms, his legs, and his back, and then he was falling.

  He landed hard, the last of his air pushed out of him.

  He gasped desperately for air. It was stale, thick with the dust of age. Brohmin and Anda stood waiting for him.

  Jakob slowly recovered and, looking up, saw that he was in an immense room.

  Strange lamps hung along the walls. They were not lit by flame or fire but rather glowed with their own pale light. Overhead, high above him, was a ceiling with a dome at the center, and a huge glass chandelier hung with tiny prisms reflecting the light. He imagined it was magnificent when the room was fully lit. Huge shelves lined the walls, books stuffed seemingly haphazardly into them.

  It was a library, and it reminded him of the one in Chrysia. He felt a moment of homesickness, remembering a simpler time when there were no Deshmahne or groeliin.

  A few tables were spaced evenly about the floor of the room, though they appeared made of stone rather than wood or steel. The overstuffed shelves held more books than he had ever before seen in one place. Some books were even stacked in corners, though stacked neatly so that their bindings were seen. A thick layer of dust covered everything. Novan would have a fit seeing all this knowledge neglected.

  “Some tunnel,” Brohmin spoke, breaking the reverie.

  Jakob looked at him. “I—”

  Brohmin’s laughter cut him off. “You did well.”

  “What is this? Why would she be trapped here?” Jakob asked.

  Brohmin frowned. “I don’t know. The Tower once housed the damahne, and I wonder if this is all a part of some sick way he thinks to torment Alyta. We need to reach her. She’s somewhere above us, I think.”

  Jakob could feel it. He felt Alyta pulling at him, at his ahmaean, and knew she was higher in the Tower. Brohmin pointed where there was a break in the line of bookshelves, and a staircase stretched upward.

  Up.

  Now that he’d recovered, now that he no longer felt the same panic that he’d known while trapped within the stone, he realized that the pull on him was not to be denied. It was a pounding upon his senses,
an urgent drumbeat that kept time with his heart.

  They hurried across the dusty floor and reached stairs that stretched high above them, spiraling around. Something about it reminded Jakob of the stairs he had climbed within the tree while among the daneamiin.

  Brohmin started up the stairs.

  Jakob and Anda followed silently. They wound up slowly, widely circling the Tower. More of the strange torches lined the walls. They were spaced farther apart here, and the light they provided was very little, though enough to see their steps. He was glad for that much at least.

  Only two sets of footprints marred the dusty surface of the stone steps. Anda did not seem to leave prints in the dust. She had left no trace or trail in the forest either. This no longer surprised him as it once had. Instead, he felt a different concern. Where are the other footprints? Could they be wrong? Was Alyta not here?

  If it was not she reaching out to him, then what was he feeling?

  The slow thudding prodded him onward, heavy pulsing within him, demanding his attention. He could no more ignore it than stop breathing.

  “Where are the other footprints?” he asked.

  Brohmin paused in his climb and looked back, staring a moment at the dust. “They would not have come the same way we did.”

  Jakob furrowed his brow. “How else would they have come?”

  Brohmin didn’t answer and turned back, continuing his climb.

  “There are other methods of travel than those you yet know,” Anda said and followed Brohmin.

  Jakob had no other choice but to climb after them.

  There were an uncountable number of stairs before they reached a landing. Jakob was breathing hard from the effort and the speed they climbed. As he stepped out onto the landing, away from the stairs, he looked out at the new floor that opened up into a long hall, stretching deep into the Tower. Doorways interrupted the stone walls periodically, countless doors all along the hall. The doors were old with carvings etched into the wood. More of the strange torches lined the walls, casting their pale light upon everything.

  Jakob felt the pull on his ahmaean and knew. “We have to go higher,” he said. The steady drumbeat upon his senses grew faster, and his heart quickened with it.