Holmberg, D K - The Lost Prophecy 03 - Tower of the Gods by Holmberg D K

Author:Holmberg, D K [Holmberg, D K]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ASH Publishing
Published: 2017-02-14T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

The rain that had been coming down for the last few days finally lessened. Roelle was soaked and uncomfortable, yet still thankful for the respite. The rain had been cold, and though not heavy, it had been a constant irritant. What was left was a light drizzle that seemed to come from everywhere, leaving a growing fog around them.

Since leaving the Deshmahne, travel had grown difficult. At first, it was due to the soft, soggy ground. They’d been forced to slow their horses so that none would get stuck or turn an ankle. The merahl still hunted, and their cries, muted in the rain, echoed around them. Every once in a while, they would see evidence of groeliin the merahl had brought down.

There had been no sign of Deshmahne. Roelle tried not to think about what that might mean. Had Fenick failed to alert the captain? Had the captain not believed him? Even if he did, would he be able to send enough help to even matter? The dozen Deshmahne had been cut in half by three broods. What would happen were they to face the full onslaught of groeliin? How many Deshmahne would fall then?

And would she care?

Those questions plagued her as they moved east and gradually south, away from Rondalin and whatever help the Deshmahne might offer. Around them, the trees grew thicker until they were upon the forest. The fog and mist made travel even more dangerous, and they worried as much about trees jumping out at them as they did about the chasing groeliin. Something would have to give.

The Antrilii remained separate, leading them. Since returning, Roelle hadn’t had the time to speak to Nahrsin and needed to find the man and ask about his plans for the groeliin. If they continued to move south, and if they didn’t get help from the Deshmahne, Roelle worried about how they would stop the creatures. How many people would be lost?

But if the Deshmahne did help, how would that impact those faithful to the Urmahne? The Deshmahne would be able to claim the power of the gods and would be able to boast about how they had stopped this threat. How many more would convert when they did?

Did those potential conversions matter if it meant people survived?

Roelle knew that it didn’t.

Worse, she didn’t know if her faith would survive. What if the Deshmahne had it right? What if the teachings of the Magi had been wrong all along? The Magi were endowed with abilities that gave them advantages with fighting. Why shouldn’t they use them?

Roelle shook the thoughts away and looked over to Lendra. The dark-haired historian rode alongside her, a thoughtful look on her face. She kept the hood of her cloak pulled up over her head, and occasionally glanced around her, a curious expression in her eyes.

“What is it?” Roelle asked her.

She shrugged. “We enter the Great Forest, I think.”

She looked over to her. The tone of her voice implied something more than mere observation. “It’s a forest.

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