The Children of the White Lions: Volume 02 - Prophecy (35 page)

Jak and Zecus were among those sparring and, as usual, they were dueling one another. Although unlike most of the men, they were armed with long, wooden staves rather than swords. As of late, Zecus had forgone bladework whenever permitted and with good reason: he was infinitely better at staves. Jak had been doing his best to fight back the handsome Borderlander all afternoon, but he continued to suffer one defeat after another.

With his eyes still forward, Joshmuel said casually, “I came to watch my son this cold afternoon. What brings you here?”

Kenders blushed. Her reason for coming here was the same.

Trying to sound as nonchalant as she could, she lied, “I wanted to enjoy the sun.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” There was a smile in his voice even though there was none on his face. Tilting his head up to bask in the warm sunlight, he said, “I was beginning to think Mu’s orb did not visit this strange land.”

Kenders smiled.

“It rarely does. I am surprised how much I missed it.”

Turning to eye her, he asked, “This weather is unusual for you as well, then?”

“Most definitely. The constant clouds, the wind, the rain. Oh! And the cold! Gods, it never got this cold in Yellow Mud. Even in the middle of Winter.”

Frowning Joshmuel shook his head and said, “I never imagined the air could chill so.”

“Khin insists that it will ‘snow’ within a turn.”

Joshmuel glanced over at her, raised an eyebrow and asked, “Snow?”

With a shrug, Kenders said, “He says it is like rain, but in white flakes that drift down slowly.”

Joshmuel’s eyes narrowed.

“Surely you are mocking me.”

Shaking her head, she smiled faintly.

“I am not. ‘Like ten thousand flower petals on the wind,’ were his exact words.”

Studying her face, Joshmuel suggested, “Perhaps the aicenai is mocking you?”

Kenders let out a humorless chuckle. Turning her gaze back to the practicing soldiers, she said, “Khin would not know how to mock.”

Joshmuel also returned to staring out into the courtyard. After a few quiet moments, he mused, “If it is not a tale, I would like to see this ‘snow.’”

“Truly?” asked Kenders, mildly surprised. “Why?”

“I have spent my entire life in a dry and brown land,” said Joshmuel. “Cold or not, I would like to see ‘ten thousand flower petals on the wind.’” He turned to stare at her, the tone of his voice changing as he spoke. “With so little beauty in the Borderlands, we have learned to cherish what little we have when we have it. And do whatever we can to hold onto its magnificence.”

Kenders turned to find Joshmuel eyeing her closely. His deep brown eyes were fixed on her, studying, evaluating. There was a definite purpose behind his words.

She asked, “Are we still talking of snow?”

Joshmuel’s eyes twinkled as he shook his head.

“No.”

Eyes narrowing, she asked, “Then what—”

Interrupting her, Joshmuel asked softly, “What are your intentions for my son?”

Kenders sat up straight.

“Pardon?”

Joshmuel studied her a long moment, his eyes kind and gentle.

“In the Borderlands, tradition is for a woman to voice her feelings for the man she cares for first. Were you aware of that custom?”

Kenders stared at Joshmuel, dumbfounded. That was not how things were done in the Great Lakes. In Yellow Mud, young men must speak to a young woman’s father first before any sort of courtship could begin.

After a few moments, she was able to mutter, “Truly?”

Joshmuel’s grin widened a fraction.

“Truly.”

Kenders looked back across the courtyard to where Zecus and Jak were in the midst of yet another bout, the sudden warmth in her cheeks and neck having nothing to do with the shining sun.

“How did you know that I…uh…have an interest?”

“I did not.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I asked
because
I did not know,” said Joshmuel with a smile. “I merely suspected. Your reaction—and words—helped confirm my uncertainty.”

He had politely duped her into revealing her feelings, yet she did not care. Other things occupied her mind now. Staring across the practice yard, she asked, “Does he have—?”

Joshmuel held up a hand quickly, interrupting her.

“Please, no. Do not ask me that. I am obligated to answer any question a person of your stature asks. And it is not my place to speak for my son’s heart.”

Kenders frowned. Joshmuel might refrain from using grand titles for her, but he still saw her as a person worthy of—in her mind—undeserved deference. She stared at the man, tempted to ask the question anyway, yet she refrained. It would have been beyond rude to take advantage of Joshmuel’s customs. Instead, she peered back across the open yard, utterly baffled as to what to do about Zecus.

Her worry and confusion must have been clear to see, for Joshmuel leaned forward and whispered, “I will say one thing. When he is in your presence, his smile is wider than I remember it ever being.”

A warm sensation of perfect joy burst inside her, filling her chest and bringing a smile to her face. Eyeing Joshmuel, she asked, “Truly?”

The Borderlander nodded and said softly, “I would not speak false of something so important.”

She looked back to Zecus just as he advanced on Jak, driving him back with a whirling assault, his staff a blur. Jak backpedaled wildly, an expression of undeniable panic frozen on his face as he frantically deflected the blows.

Staring back to Joshmuel, she said, “Please do not say anything to him. To
anyone
.”

Joshmuel inclined his head, saying, “A request from you earns my silence.”

“Thank you,” replied Kenders.

Lifting his gaze, he smiled slightly, “Although I would have remained quiet regardless. I do not wish to interfere in my son’s life.” Joshmuel’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Zecus’ fate is his own, left to follow its own course.”

Kenders eyed the Borderlander curiously, wondering at the man’s strange choice of words.

He looked away quickly, stared back to the yard, and asked, “He is improving, is he not?”

Kenders looked back to Zecus and nodded.

“He is getting better.”

Joshmuel leaned over and said softly, “Were I two decades younger, I’d be out there myself. Perhaps I could even best him.”

Picturing the father and son sparring one another brought a tiny smile to her face. The pair sat in silence for a time before Kenders finally broke the quiet.

“What should I do?”

Joshmuel glanced over, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Pardon?”

Turning to stare at him, she repeated herself.

“What should I do? About Zecus.”

“Ah,” muttered Joshmuel. He was quiet a long moment, staring at the ground, apparently thinking. “I will tell you what I have always told my own children when they ask for advice.” He lifted his head, locked his brown eyes onto hers and said, “You have good instincts. Follow them, trust yourself, and do what comes natural. Things will work out.”

Now it was Kenders’ turn to be confused.

“Pardon?”

“I have heard your tale,” said Joshmuel. “Numerous times, in fact. While some might mark your actions as rash or thoughtless, it is hard to deny the results. Either you have the luck of Ketus himself or you have incredible instincts. Regardless, keep doing what you are doing. It has served you well so far, yes?”

A rueful grin spread over her lips.

“That is the exact opposite advice that Khin or Broedi would—”

She cut off as a sudden surge of black and white crackled inside her chest and head. The strength of the magic a dozen times greater than the tiny bursts she normally felt at the enclave. She leapt to her feet and scanned the courtyard, using her eyes and whatever the other sense was that allowed her to feel the Strands.

“What is it?” asked Joshmuel in a worried voice.

Running her gaze over the ranks of soldiers, Kenders took a moment to mutter, “Magic.” Spotting a bundle of black and white Strands amongst the soldiers, she said, “There it is.”

Joshmuel stood from the bench and asked, “What? Where?”

There was no reason to point it out to Joshmuel. He would not be able to see the Weave.

A moment later, the sound of ripping fabric filled the yard. The telltale rippling of a port appeared where the Weave had been, hovering in the middle of the practicing soldiers. Two men in the midst of an intense duel were mere feet away from stepping into the inky void. Remaining calm, Kenders reached for a large number of Strands of Air and quickly knit together a simple pattern Khin had made her practice well over a hundred times. The moment the Weave was complete, she directed it at the port.

A quick, almost solid wall of air rushed outward in all directions from the tear, knocking back at least a dozen soldiers. The men exclaimed in surprise, their sharp shouts of alarm echoing through the yard as they were tossed to the ground. She cringed as they rolled backwards, swords flying. The blast of wind whipped past her a moment later, ruffling her heavy winter dress and unbound hair.

Another rush of muted crackling announced a second Weave, one not of her making. Twenty feet above the port, she spotted a number of white Strands pop into existence, mixing with the dirty brown of Stone. The Air swirled into tight, twisted ropes, fusing with the Stone and fashioning a cage of sorts. As the Weave finished, it slammed down around the port, tossing up gravel into the air. The speed with which the Weave had been completed left no doubt in her mind who was responsible. She glanced over her shoulder and spotted Khin standing on the battlement, staring into the courtyard.

She took a quick look around the courtyard. She and Khin were the only mages here at the moment, although she imagined any mage able to sense Air or Stone was running through the halls now.

Commander Aiden called out, “Surround the port!”

Sergeant Trell followed the order, crying, “Swords drawn! At the ready!”

Jak and Zecus were both running to the front of the men, staves up. Former Red Sentinels and Shadow Mane soldiers alike rushed toward the black rip, forming a loose circle around it and closing in quickly.

Suddenly, a short figure wearing a wide-brimmed hat stepped through the tear. Immediately, everyone in the yard relaxed. Jak and Zecus slowed to a walk. A few soldiers even lowered their blades. A large, relived sigh slipped from Kenders.

“Oh, thank the Gods.”

With open astonishment, Joshmuel muttered, “That is the tomble I met in Lakeborough.”

Nodding, Kenders said with a tiny smile, “Yes, it is.”

Nundle took a few steps forward, away from the port, and halted. He twisted about, gawking at the Weave of Air and Stone entrapping him. Wondering why Khin had not yet dismissed the Weave despite having caged an obvious friend, Kenders peered back to the wall where the aicenai stood, his gaze still fixed on the port. His eyes shifted to her and she felt a short burst of Air. Half a breath later, his light, parchment-thin voice spoke into her ear.

“We know not what else might come through. Remain alert.”

Kenders frowned. Khin was right. They should be careful.

She turned her attention back to the port just in time to spot a second tomble stepping through. His hair was light-brown, he was dressed as if he had just come in from the fields, and he used a walking stick to support his right leg.

He stopped a pace from the port and stared about the courtyard with cautious eyes. Nundle said something and waved to the second arrival. The new tomble hobbled over, stood beside Nundle, and appeared to say something in response. Nundle smiled and nodded. They seemed friendly enough. Kenders hoped that was a good sign.

Broedi stepped through the port a moment later, leading Nundle’s chestnut horse behind him. Once the horse was safely through, the port shut with a soft pop. Khin’s cage winked out of existence a moment later.

“They’re back early,” murmured Kenders.

Broedi and Nundle could not have reached the Celestial Empire already. Even by Broedi’s best estimates, it would take two more turns to reach the nation of the Gods.

Glancing over at Joshmuel, Kenders smiled and asked, “How would you like to meet Broedi?”

Joshmuel’s eyes widened at the name.

“The great lion?”

He stared back to the group forming about the three newcomers.

Kenders nodded once and said with a smile, “Come with me.”

Knowing that he would surely follow, she hurried across the courtyard to where everyone was gathering. The bulk of the soldiers were already moving away, ordered to fall back by Commander Aiden. When she and Joshmuel reached the group, she found Sergeant Trell, Zecus, Jak, and Commander Aiden all staring at the brown-haired tomble, half of them with mouths hanging open.

Kenders glanced at each of the men, wondering at the reason for their slack-jawed expressions. Nundle peeked out from under his hat, wearing a wide grin on his face. Broedi’s lips revealed the typical, slight smile that he wore when he found something amusing.

Stepping up to the group, she asked, “Why are you back so soon?” She shifted her gaze to the new tomble. “And who might you be?”

The brown-haired tomble turned to face her and leaned on his walking stick. As soon as his eyes settled on her, he smiled and shook his head in quiet disbelief.

“Bless the Gods. You look
just
like Eliza.”

Kenders froze, her eyes locking onto the tomble’s face.

Broedi looked at the little tomble and rumbled, “Tobias, I would like you to meet Kenders Isaac, born to Aryn Atticus and Eliza Kap and reared as daughter by Thaddeus and Marie Isaac.”

The tomble nodded politely.

“Good days ahead, Kenders.”

Turning to her, Broedi said, “Kenders, I would like you to meet Tobias Donngord, the Eye of Nelnora.”

Kenders stared, stunned. She recognized the title instantly. The Eye of Nelnora was one of the White Lions. Yet a tomble stood before her. Her eyes widened as she realized she was gaping like a fool. In a rush, she said, “And good memories behind, sir.”

The tomble nodded graciously.

“No ‘sir.’ Just Tobias.”