Progeny (The Children of the White Lions) (74 page)

Shifting his gaze back to the swordsmen, Nikalys asked, “So, now what?” He felt even more overwhelmed. “I’m supposed to go there and what? Study?”

Broedi let out a heavy sigh and said, “That was the hope, yes. However, based on what we now know is occurring in the Borderlands, we might not have the time. Nevertheless, we will head to the enclave as quickly as we can and try. You should at least be safe there for a time while we discover Chaos’ true plan.”

With frustration creeping into his voice, Nikalys asked, “And what then? What in the Nine Hells are we supposed to do then?”

Broedi stared at him and said with complete confidence, “You and your iskoa will become the champions Terrene needs you to be.”

Nikalys stared at the hillman, shaking his head. He did not care what Indrida’s prophecy said. This was madness. Apparently, he was not the only one to think so.

“He no champion,” grumbled Sergeant Trell, his voice carried an acerbic edge. The soldier was standing rigid, glaring at Nikalys with critical, disbelieving eyes. “He is a child. They both are.”

Nundle said quietly, “Nathan, try to understand. This must be a lot for a boy to—”

“Exactly, Nundle,” snapped Sergeant Trell. “A
boy
. I don’t care that his parents were White Lions. If
this
is who we must rely on, then Maeana’s hall will soon be brimming with souls.”

“Now, hold a moment!” shot back Jak, leaping to his defense. “You don’t know anything about Nikalys!”

“I know enough, Jak,” barked the soldier. “I know that a turn ago, he was tending olive trees and grapevines. I know that last night, he needed
our
help to get out of that fort. If not for us, you would be dead. All of you.”

Nikalys glared at the sergeant. While the man’s statement was true, his tone was unnecessarily malicious.

Nundle muttered, “What’s gotten into you, Nathan?” The tomble appeared baffled.

“What’s gotten into me?! For weeks, I’ve followed these people, putting my men in danger simply by being in the Southlands.” Pointing at Nundle, he growled, “Then you put these ideas into my head about a blasted prophecy and how I need to forsake everything to help them. And when we catch these ‘almighty’ Progeny,
we
end up saving
them
!” He turned back to Nikalys and shook his head with disgust. “By the gods, does Greya ever have a cruel sense of humor! The fate of the blasted world rests on the shoulders of children!”

The sergeant’s outburst had brought sword practice to a halt. The soldiers stood still, staring at their leader, weapons hanging at their sides. To a man, they appeared shocked.

Nundle said angrily, “Remember what one of those
children
did for your men last night, Nathan!”

“A fine trick, for sure, but look what happened to her.” He pointed to the prone form of Kenders in the grass. “She helps a few men and then passes out. I wonder if the god of Chaos will let us schedule naps for her during battle? She’s more useless than he his.” He jabbed a finger at Nikalys.

Sergeant Trell’s harsh, ungrateful words directed at Kenders were too much for Nikalys to take. Glaring at the man, he growled, “Watch your tongue, Sergeant.”

The sergeant ignored him, shook his head, and said, “I’m done with this! All of it!” Twisting around, he called over his shoulder, “Eadding! Hunsfin!”

The gifted swordsman Nikalys had been watching stepped forward, accompanied by a man whose face resembled a rocky cliff. The pair hurried over and stood in front of Sergeant Trell, swords in hand and sweaty from practice.

Sergeant Trell muttered, “Come with me.” With that, he turned and began to stride toward Kenders. Hunsfin followed instantly, while Wil hesitated a moment before hurrying after the sergeant.

Nundle called, “Nathan! What are you doing?”

“What I should have done all along!” shouted Sergeant Trell over his shoulder. “Arrest the outlaws and take them back home. I’ll let the Constables sort this out.”

Incensed, Nikalys glared at spot just beyond the sergeant and his men—

Shift.

—and stood before the three soldiers, blocking their path to Kenders.

“You will
not
touch her.”

While the two footmen appeared shocked by his sudden appearance, the sergeant did not. Sergeant Trell took an immediate step another step forward and, lowering his voice, threatened, “Get out of our way.”

Nikalys placed his right hand on the silver and gold hilt of the Blade of Horum, his fingers brushing the white stone carving of the lion’s head on the pommel. He set his feet into a ready position and prepared to draw the sword.

“How about all of you get on your horses instead? And ride away.
Now
.”

Sergeant Trell gave a loud bark of a laugh and exclaimed, “Or what?” He pointed at Nikalys’ sword. “You don’t know what to do with that. If you did, you would have used it last night instead of a rock.” With a quick flourish, he unsheathed his own sword and leveled the tip toward Nikalys. “Move aside,
Progeny.
” He twisted the name into an insult.

Beneath his anger, Nikalys was baffled. When Jak had shared the tale of his meeting with the sergeant on the Southern Road, he had sworn the man to be kind and respectful. Nikalys glanced at the rest of the group. Broedi was restraining the tomble, while Zecus was struggling to hold back Jak. He could not understand why they were not helping him.

Looking back to the sergeant and his two men, Nikalys said through gritted teeth, “You are not taking my sister from me.” The absolute conviction in his voice, hard as the white steel of his blade, surprised him.

“Yes,” said Sergeant Trell, his voice firm. “We will.”

The soldiers on either side of the sergeant began to slide away to the side, giving each of them room to work.

As Nikalys drew the Blade of Horum from the ornate leather scabbard, the shining white blade flashed in the sunlight, the metal seemingly twisting while still keeping its sharp edges. All three soldiers—even the self-assured Sergeant Trell—gaped at the sword.

“I will not let you,” growled Nikalys.

The sergeant pulled his gaze from the sword, glared at Nikalys, and said, “Fine. Have it your way, son. Eadding? Hunsfin? Take him.”

The older, jagged-faced man on Nikalys’ right rushed immediately, his sword raised high over his head. Hunsfin bellowed as he swung his blade down, throwing his whole body into the attack. Nikalys calmly raised his own sword up in his right hand, blocking the blow and redirecting it to the side where it sailed downward to strike the grassy ground with a soft thunk.

Nikalys stared, shocked twice over. He had no idea how he had parried the blow or how he had done it with one arm. Hunsfin’s vicious attack should have shattered his bones.

Hunsfin quickly recovered from the deflection and brought his blade back off the ground, quickly whipping it through the air, aiming at Nikalys’ exposed side.

Somehow, Nikalys knew the attack was coming and easily dodged it with a quick hop backwards. After the blade passed him by, he stepped forward and reached out with his left hand to shove the man in the chest, intending to knock the soldier off-balance. To his surprise, Hunsfin flew back through the air nearly a dozen paces to land in the prairie grass.

A slight whistling of air warned him of an attack from his left. Ducking forward, bending at the waist, he sensed a blade fly over his head. Anticipating a reverse follow-up attack, he stuck his shining sword into the air, leading his rise from the impromptu bow, and was rewarded with a solid clang of metal on metal. The gifted swordsman’s blade was right where Nikalys had expected it. Shoving the man’s blade aside, Nikalys spun around to face his attacker.

Wil was already coming at him again, his sword upraised. Nikalys bent his knees, pulled his sword closer to his hip, and easily parried the man’s driving assault.

Wil withdrew and began to circle to his left. Nikalys remained in place while continuing to face him, entirely aware that he was being drawn into a position to allow the sergeant to flank his rear. He shifted his stance again, holding his blade vertical with the hilt low and centered to his body. It was a better defensive position, although he had no idea why.

Once Wil had Nikalys between him and Sergeant Trell, he advanced, attacking with a dizzying combination of thrusts, stabs, and cuts.

Nikalys, in awe of himself, turned each aside with ease.

Seeing an opening in Wil’s assault, Nikalys reached out, grabbed Wil’s shirt, and spun around, easily dragging the man with him as if he were a half-full sack of flour. As he turned, he spotted Sergeant Trell moving toward him, preparing to strike. He shoved Wil away, causing the man to stumble, backpedaling wildly before he fell to the ground.

With a yell, Sergeant Trell attacked.

Nikalys repelled the sergeant’s persistent attacks, flipping the older man’s sword aside effortlessly. Without intentional thought, Nikalys began to advance on Sergeant Trell, using short, swift probing strokes meant to keep the soldier occupied. Despite the sergeant wanting to take his sister, Nikalys did not want to injure anyone unless it was a last resort. He did not want to kill again.

As he pressed the attack with astounding ease, he marveled how he was doing any of this.

Two separate shouts cut the air, and at the edge of his vision, he saw Hunsfin rushing him on his right and Wil charging on the left. Nikalys stepped back from the sergeant, set his feet properly, and waited.

All three men attacked at once, raining blows on him.

Stabbing and thrusting.

Slashing and bashing.

Nikalys repelled their combined onslaught with ease. Even when two blows seemed to come at him at the same time, he somehow turned both aside. While Nikalys felt light and fast, it seemed the men were moving incredibly slowly, as though their limbs were stuck in giant vats of cold fish oil.

Suddenly, something inside of Nikalys clicked. A force shifted deep in his soul. One moment, he had no idea how to control whatever was buried inside of him. The next, he understood with dazzling clarity.

A smile slowly spread over his lips as he stared at the grass behind Wil—

Shift.

—reached out, and grabbed the man’s sword hand from behind. With a gentle twist, he disarmed the man, caught the sword as it slipped from Wil’s hand, and flung it away. As the freed sword climbed into the air, he spotted Hunsfin’s blade coming at his head and turned—

Shift.

—lashing out with the shimmering Blade of Horum. Nikalys sliced clean though Hunsfin’s sword, leaving only a hilt with a hand’s length of sheared metal sticking from the guard. He stared at a spot at the center of the three men—

Shift.

—gave a quick shove to Wil’s chest, spun, and did the same to Hunsfin. Both soldiers flew backwards in opposite directions just as Wil’s sword reached the apex of its arc, the metal blade glinting in the sunlight. Whirling around, he faced Sergeant Trell. The man was staring at him, mouth agape.

Shift.

Nikalys grabbed the sergeant around the neck with his left arm and spun the soldier around to face everyone. Holding very still, he gazed at his impromptu audience.

Jak and Nundle were no longer struggling to break free. In fact, Jak, Nundle, Zecus, and most of the Red Sentinels stood as still as statues, their collective expression one of pure wonderment. Broedi was the only one showing a unique emotion, one of pride.

As he stared at everyone, Wil’s tossed sword made a muted ringing sound as it struck the grasslands two hundred paces from where he stood.

With his arm still around Sergeant Trell’s neck, Nikalys whispered diffidently into the man’s ears, “You are not going to take my sister.” Raising his voice, he shouted, “
No one
is touching her!”

Breathing hard from exertion, Sergeant Trell choked out a response.

“I had no real intention of doing so…”

The man’s tone gave Nikalys pause. He sounded calm and collected. The venom from before was gone. Sergeant Trell dropped his sword to the ground with a soft metallic clatter and gripped Nikalys’ forearm with both hands, trying to free himself. Nikalys held fast without much trouble.

Confused, Nikalys uttered, “Pardon?”

Broedi began to stride toward Nikalys and his prisoner, calling out, “Let him go, uori! I believe the sergeant made his point!”

Nikalys stared at the hillman blankly.

“Point? What point?”

Sergeant Trell frantically clapped at Nikalys’ arm and gasped, “Son? Could you let go? I can’t breathe.”

Broedi reached them, placed a hand on Nikalys’ shoulder, and said gently, “Release him, uori. He is not your enemy.”

A sneaking suspicion that he had been duped—much like how Broedi had tricked him back by the cliff—crept over him. Nikalys freed the wheezing man and Sergeant Trell slumped to the ground.

Glaring at Broedi, Nikalys demanded, “Blast it! Did you put him up to this?”

Shaking his head, the hillman said, “The sergeant did this on his own.”

Straddled on his hands and knees, breathing hard and rubbing his neck, Sergeant Trell said in a ragged voice, “And if I’d had any idea you were that blasted fast and strong, I probably would have reconsidered my approach.”

By now, the wary trio of Jak, Zecus, and Nundle had drawn closer. All three looked as confused as Nikalys felt. Nikalys scanned the area and saw the two soldiers he had been fighting were both sitting up, slightly stunned, but otherwise fine. The rest of the Red Sentinels were staring at him with wide eyes.

Looking back to the sergeant, Nikalys said, “You said all of that just to get me angry, didn’t you?”

With an apologetic shrug of his shoulders Sergeant Trell said, “I did. And I’m only a little sorry about it.”

Nikalys gaped at the man for a moment.

“But…why?”

Sergeant Trell raised a hand from his half-prone position. “Help me up?”

Nikalys took his hand, pulled the man to his feet, and muttered, “I don’t understand.”

The sergeant brushed some stray blades of grass from his uniform while studying Nikalys. The animosity from just a few minutes ago was gone. In fact, the glint in the soldier’s eyes reminded Nikalys a bit of the way his father would look at him sometimes.