Progeny (The Children of the White Lions) (17 page)

He paused, waiting for any corrections. Kenders got the impression he did not expect any. He was reciting the story with confidence.

Sighing, Kenders said, “Amazingly so.”

Nikalys shot her an accusing look. “Kenders!”

She answered Nikalys’ hard glare with one of her own. “What? He seems to know pretty much everything that’s happened so far.”

Nikalys turned his glowering stare to Broedi. “How is that exactly?”

“What I have spoken of is easy for someone with my gifts to discover.”

Kenders supposed a man who could become a lynx would have no trouble tracking them down.

Staring at them both, his eyes alert and intense, Broedi said, “I have but one question for you: Do you know
why
your village was attacked?”

Nikalys’ answer was a derisive laugh paired with a bitter scowl. “You have no idea how many times I’ve asked myself that question.”

“Truly?” asked Broedi with forced calm. “Those who raised you, they told you nothing?”

Nikalys glared at the Shapechanger, his grief raw and plainly exposed.

“Those who ‘raised’ us? You mean
our parents
? Tell us what, exactly? That one day, a giant wave would flood the entire village, killing everyone we know? No, Broedi, I am sorry. They neglected to tell us anything like that before they had the audacity to drown.”

Feeling sorry for her brother, Kenders muttered, “Nik…”

He shifted his hot glare to her. After a moment, he pressed his lips together, shut his eyes, and exhaled slowly.

Apparently recognizing his lack of tact, Broedi bowed his head. “I ask your forgiveness, uori. My words were callous. Two people important to you are with Maeana now. I am sorry for your loss.”

Nikalys’ eyes shot open. “Two people? Try three! Our brother died, too! And, you know what? The entire blasted town was important to us, not just our family!”

“You have another kaveli?” rumbled Broedi. He seemed taken aback by the information.

“Hah!” exclaimed Nikalys. “There’s something you didn’t know, Shapechanger! Yes, we had an older brother. Jak. He was in the village with our parents when the wave…” Nikalys trailed off, the anger quickly draining from his face, his eyes going unfocused.

Inexplicably, Broedi smiled and let out a sigh of relief. The giant’s reaction seemed entirely out of place, considering the tenor of the conversation.

“Then there is at least one thing I know about that day’s events that the two of you do not. Something I could not make sense of until just now.” Looking over their heads, he called into the night, “Please! Join us!”

Alarmed, Kenders spun around and peered into the dark forest. A few moments later, she heard steps coming through the brush.

* * *

After leaving the Red Sentinels’ encampment, Jak had traveled east long after the sun had vacated the sky, wanting to put as much distance as possible between himself and the soldiers. Grateful for the full belly, he had continued down the road, using the light of White Moon to travel.

When he was a few hours from the Sentinels’ camp, he had checked the teardrop pendant. He had braced himself, remembering the pain from earlier in the day. Instead, the original calming feeling had come over him with only a hint of unpleasantness. What commanded his attention now was the sound of the ringing bell, clearly resonating, but no longer straight away east. Turning, he had searched for its strongest point and decided it was northeast, in the forest.

He knew that once he left the road and headed into the wild, travel would become slower, more difficult, and dangerously treacherous. The light of White Moon was sufficient for moving along a dirt road at night, but in a forested area, its stark light was a curse, casting sharp shadows. One hidden hole and Jak would have a broken ankle.

Nevertheless, the decision to veer from the safety of the road was easy. Nikalys and Kenders were near.

The acrid scent of wood smoke was the first thing he had noticed. Cresting a small rise, he spotted a tiny campsite, its light flickering through a screen of tree trunks. Elated, he was set to rush down to his brother and sister when he had seen that three figures were sitting about the fire, not two.

Worried, Jak had crept closer and discovered a stranger sitting with them. Jak swore his eyes were playing tricks on him as the man looked to be a full head and a half taller than Nikalys, even sitting down.

He sneaked closer still, moving from trunk to trunk as quietly as he could manage. The giant man seemed to stare in his direction once or twice, freezing Jak in mid-step. When the man would look away, Jak resumed his approach. A hundred yards away, he stopped behind a large oak trunk and tried to decide what to do. He had only been standing there few heartbeats when the giant looked right at Jak and, in a deep, baritone voice, boomed, “Please! Join us!”

Jak had been so careful on his approach. No one should have been able to hear him.

He briefly considered shooting the man with an arrow, but he was not entirely sure the giant was a threat. And if the stranger could see him—however implausible—he would most definitely notice Jak readying the bow and arrow, giving him plenty of time to reach out to Nikalys or Kenders and snap a neck.

Drawing a deep breath, Jak moved out from the tree, walked the remaining hundred paces to the edge of the camp, and stepped into the fire’s glow.

A week ago, Broedi had arrived in the region and wandered aimlessly, restless. He felt something was going to happen. He knew it to be true as much as he knew the sky was up.

The problem was he did not know what was going to happen.

Or why.

Or how.

Or when.

That was the problem with Thonda’s gift. His sixth sense was never specific.

He had been sitting on a log beside Oligurtears Lake, smoking his pipe, and staring at the water’s surface when Eliza’s beacon had called to him. Within moments, he had been in the air, soaring east and had reached Yellow Mud two days past. Dismayed by the slaughter he found, he nonetheless sifted through the collapsed buildings of the ruined village, dreading what he might uncover. After a thorough investigation of the area, he had come away knowing three things.

A pair of individuals—related, according to the commonality of their scent—had headed east two days prior. The scent of another fortunate soul appeared beneath an oak tree and traveled south but a day before Broedi’s arrival, along with the echoes of the beacon. Finally, the surprising yet unmistakable scent of an ijul covered an outcrop west of town. Broedi had traced the ijulan scent to the edge of the devastation, where it suddenly disappeared, leaving the trail cold.

Broedi had been torn.

South or east.

Beacon or brother and sister.

He had chosen east and sprinted after the pair. If the destruction around him was any indication, they were in grave danger. He would worry about Eliza and Aryn’s package later.

When Jak emerged from the forest’s gloom, Broedi glanced at the leather casing peeking over the young man’s shoulders and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. One of Broedi’s problems was solved.

He had caught the quiet rustle of footsteps the moment Jak had moved over the rise and marked his scent long before that, the same one he had found beneath the tree and in the barrel. Truth be told, the young man had been impressively quiet on his approach. Without the advantage granted by his gifts, Broedi would never have known he was there.

Once in the glow of the fire, Jak stopped, keeping a careful eye on Broedi. A flash of silver drew Broedi’s gaze to the talisman hanging from Jak’s neck. The necklace prompted a wistful smile to creep over Broedi’s lips even as his confusion deepened.

Shock held Nikalys and Kenders in place for a moment before both jumped up and ran to embrace Jak while shouting with joy. Broedi sat silently, letting them have their happy reunion. After the tragedy they had all suffered, they deserved a lone cheerful moment.

As the trio rejoiced, Broedi closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, hoping nothing had followed the boy here.

Smoke from the fire.

The scent of oak and ash.

The minty hint of grannok bush.

Minerals and mud from a nearby creek.

Musty fur of a rabbit in the bushes.

Nothing was out of the ordinary. Shutting out the young ones’ babbling and jubilant laughter, he listened carefully.

The soft rustle of the leaves.

The clicking of a squirrel’s tiny claws against the bark as it ran along a branch.

Water flowing in the creek.

Trees creaking as they bent in the slight breeze.

They were alone. For now.

Doubting that would remain so, Broedi opened his eyes and looked to the young trio. While he would like to know how the Cabal had found the children, it did not matter. They had.

The three children had lowered their voices and were now speaking in hushed whispers. Even though he heard every word spoken, he pretended he did not.

Nikalys and Kenders asked how Jak had survived.

Eyeing Broedi suspiciously, Jak hissed, “Later.”

They asked if anyone else was alive.

Jak whispered, “Later.”

They wanted to know how he found them.

Exasperated, Jak muttered, “Blast it! Not now!”

The young man was rightly wary to speak before a stranger. That was good.

Broedi rose from the ground and stepped forward to stand before them. They seemed so young to him. Kenders was a girl, not a woman. He wondered if either boy could grow a beard.

The trio fell silent. Jak slid his arms around the others—a protective gesture that did not go unnoticed—and stared up at Broedi, his eyes full of defiance, distrust, and only the barest flicker of fear.

Broedi knew he had to choose his words carefully. They needed to know the truth, but now was not the right time. After what they had been through, he would not risk shocking them further. He let out a short, inaudible sigh. This was going to be harder than he had hoped.

Eyeing Jak, he rumbled, “Good days ahead, uori. My name is Broedi.”

Before responding, Jak glanced at his brother and sister. Nikalys and Kenders’ relatively relaxed attitude seemed to ease his anxiety some. Looking back to Broedi, he replied in a steady voice, “And good memories behind. I am Jak.”

Broedi indicated the leftover rabbits and quail next to the fire. “If you are hungry, please eat.”

Jak barely glanced at the roast meat and sticks. “Thank you. That is kind of you to offer.” He did not move.

Motioning to the ground beside the fire, Broedi rumbled, “Please sit and rest. I expect your iskoa and kaveli are anxious to speak with you.”

Jak’s eyebrows furrowed. “My what?”

Nikalys clarified, “It means sister and brother.”

Nodding, Jak muttered, “Ah, I see.” He continued to eye Broedi, unwilling to move.

Tugging on his arm, Kenders said, “Come on, Jak. It’s all right. Broedi won’t bite, I promise.” She glanced at Broedi, a tiny smile on her lips. “You won’t, will you?”

While Broedi appreciated the small jest, he showed no reaction. “No, uora. I will not.”

Jak allowed Kenders to drag him to the fire where he began removing the gear he carried, never taking his gaze from Broedi for more than a moment. Nikalys chose a roast rabbit for Jak and Kenders fetched him fresh water. Broedi turned and retrieved another log for the fire, watching Jak out of the corner of his eye. The young man removed the leather case Broedi recognized from years past and slid it behind him. A moment later, he
tucked the silver teardrop pendant inside his shirt. Broedi found both actions intriguing.

The four settled around the fire, Broedi on one side and the three children on the other—Kenders, Jak, Nikalys, left to right. As Jak nibbled on his cold rabbit, he quietly inquired about Nikalys and Kenders’ wellbeing. Brother and sister were deliberately vague with their story, sharing nothing of their journey before Broedi’s arrival.

Broedi listened to their tale with quiet amusement, surprised to hear that he was a trapper from Dunsvalley on a return trip from Smithshill who had happened to be nearby when wolves attacked. According to the pair, Broedi had leapt to their defense and beat off the wolves with his bare hands. Broedi did his best not to smile at their tall tale.

He noticed both took great precaution not to mention what Kenders had done with the Strands, which Broedi could only conclude meant that young Jak did not know of Kenders’ gift. Considering Nikalys’ reaction to the lightning, that was not surprising.

Throughout their story, Jak’s gaze repeatedly returned to inspect Broedi. His glances were hesitant at first, but he slowly grew bolder until he was openly returning Broedi’s own level stare. The suspicion in his eyes was clear.

Broedi sighed inwardly. The thing he needed the most right now—their trust—was going to be incredibly difficult to gain.

Reaching into his satchel, he retrieved his pipe and packed it with a special blend of smoking-leaf. He stuck a short stick into the fire, waited for it to catch, and then pressed its flame into the pipe’s bowl, puffing gently. He could have used a small Weave of Fire to light his pipe, but based on the others’ unfamiliarity with the Strands, he guessed Jak might not react well.

Broedi smoked quietly, waiting for the inevitable questions to begin. The cloying smell of the Sweetbush cut wafted through the camp. He had taken but two long draws when Jak leaned forward.

“Mister Broedi, sir—”

Holding up his hand, Broedi interrupted, “As I told your iskoa
,
it is just Broedi. ‘Misters’ and ‘sirs’ are for people who need to feel important.”

A faint smile touched Jak’s lips. “So I’ve heard.” Inclining his head, he said, “Simply ‘Broedi,’ then. I would like to ask a question of you.”

“Then ask. Please.”

With his gaze fixed on Broedi, Jak spoke, the words bursting from his lips like cream from a squished pastry. “Who in the Nine Hells are you?”

Kenders and Nikalys stiffened and stared at Jak with wide eyes.

Once the dam burst, a roaring river of inquisitiveness quickly followed, pouring forth from the young man. “Your accent and words are odd. Uori and uora? Iskoa and kaveli? I suppose they are from a different tongue, but not one I’ve heard.”