The Children of the White Lions: Volume 02 - Prophecy (80 page)

Impressed with Nikalys’ intuition, Broedi shook his head once.

“No, it did not. As I said, I had a difficult time accepting Nelnora’s tale. When I told her as much, she directed me to speak with Khin.

With raised eyebrows, Duchess Aleece asked, “And why did she do that?”

Broedi looked around the room, saying, “None of us were here when Khin arrived at the enclave. Most of you were not yet born. When Aryn, Eliza, and I joined the Manes, he was already a fixture here.” He turned his gaze to the duchess. “Yet from what your great-grandfather told me, the leadership of the Manes at the time was very concerned about his arrival. According to him, Khin simply walked into Claw one day—straight through the protective Weave—and professed his desire to aid the Manes. Yet he refused to give any explanation as to why or how he knew of the enclave.”

Lady Vivienne said, “Khin has proven his trustworthiness and loyalty many times over. No one here doubts his allegiance.”

“Not now, my Lady,” replied Broedi. “But at the time, his appearance was cause for great concern. Time might have dulled the urgency of the questions surrounding his arrival, but they did remain unanswered for a very long time.” He paused briefly before adding, “Until recently.”

A moment or two passed while he waited for someone to come to the logical conclusion. He did not have to wait long.

Crossing his arms, Nikalys said, “Khin was one of The Twice Nine, wasn’t he?” His words were more statement than question.

“Yes,” rumbled Broedi. “He was. He and eight of his brethren were given what he calls the ‘Suštinata na Kamen.’ The Essence of Stone. For nearly five thousand years, they meticulously studied the stone, trying to discover its purpose, its origin, its unique properties. As the centuries passed, his companions perished. For the last five hundred years, Khin has continued his task alone.

“Gods,” mumbled Jak. “Here I was feeling lonely after just a few weeks.”

“So, he figured it out, then,” said Nikalys. “He discovered the nature of the stone, didn’t he?”

Surprised again, Broedi eyed the young man.

“You are proving to be quite insightful.”

Ignoring the compliment, Nikalys raised an eyebrow and asked, “Am I right?”

Nodding, Broedi replied, “Nelnora had given up hope that any of the Daputa Devet would ever return. Their lives may be extraordinarily long, but aicenai are mortal. Then, on a cold Winter day just over a century ago, Khin climbs Nelnora’s temple steps and announces he has discovered the stones’ purpose.”

“And, finally,” mumbled Wren. “We arrive at the point of your tale.”

Choosing to ignore the tijul yet again, Broedi said, “Once in private with her, Khin shared with her what he believed happened during the Locking, that at the height of the battle, the Cabal recognized their defeat was imminent. Rather than be obliterated, they abandoned their bodies. Whatever comprises the soul of a Celystiela fled into the mortal world. Yet their escape was incomplete, as someone atop that mountain crafted an incredibly powerful Weave, attempting to trap the Cabal for eternity. But they were only partially successful, grasping but a piece of each and binding it within one of nine stones of pure Strands.”

“That sounds…impossible,” muttered Nundle in disbelief.

Looking around the room and seeing one dubious expression after another, a slight smile slipped over Broedi’s lips.

“I shared your skepticism. Yet Nelnora spoke with complete confidence that such a thing was plausible. Interestingly, when I spoke with Khin afterwards, he shared that she was as unconvinced as all of you are right now. She insisted no one could do such a thing and refused to believe him. Until he spoke a single word: the God of Fear’s true name.”

Sitting tall in his chair, Nundle said, “But their true names were burned from existence.”

Broedi shook his head slightly.

“Apparently not. Even though that is what people have believed for five thousand years. The Celystiela, as well. The truth is that their names have been trapped along with their essence, wrapped inside the nine Suštinata.”

“Which God or Goddess could—or would—do such a thing?” asked Duchess Aleece.

Crossing his arms, Broedi said, “Nelnora would not answer that question. For me or for Khin. And after speaking with him, he and I agree the reason she would not is simple: she does not know herself. She claimed—”

He cut off as a crackling pulse of white surged through him. Shooting a quick look towards Wren, he found the tijul tense, spear already in hand. Judging Wren not responsible for the magic, he looked to Nundle next. The tomble, like him, was staring about the room, concern in his eyes.

Catching Broedi staring at him, Nundle asked, “You feel that, yes?”

Broedi nodded once.

“Air.”

“And Void,” added Nundle. “No Charge, Will, or Life.”

With his gaze shifting about, Wren said, “No Soul or Water, either.” Looking to Broedi, he mumbled, “Then again, you know that.”

“No Fire, either,” rumbled Broedi. He shot a quick look at Lady Vivienne, the only Stone mage in the room. “My Lady?”

Lady Vivienne shook her head.

“No Stone.”

“Void and Air alone, then,” said Nundle.

Wren muttered, “A port?”

Broedi turned to Nundle, hoping the tomble could recognize the feel of the pattern, and found him with his eyes closed. A moment later, he opened them and nodded.

“I think so. In the courtyard, I believe.”

Those not standing rose from their chairs and the group rushed from the room. Broedi and Nikalys led them through the dark and chilly halls with Wren a step behind. Nundle, despite his short legs, managed to keep pace with them. Glancing back, Broedi found the noblewomen lagging behind a bit as the duchess was helping the still-unsteady Jak along.

Lady Vivienne caught his eye and called out, “Avoid the mages’ hall. It is impassable!”

Noting her instruction, they cut through the armory, passing long lines of weapons racks as they did. Hearing a pair of clangs, Broedi looked back and spotted Jak with a sword in his hand. Duchess Aleece gripped a short blade as well.

Nikalys reached the door to the courtyard first, shoved it open—flooding the room with light and bitter cold—and rushed outside. Broedi emerged next, his boot crunching on the crust of old snow. The cloud-splotched sky was clear enough to allow a few stray rays of sun to filter through, temporarily blinding him. Slowing to a stop, he squinted against the dazzling whiteness that filled the yard.

Wren rushed past him, his ijulan eyes adjusting to the light change quicker than the rest of them. Through half-shut eyes, Broedi saw Wren running towards a group of soldiers standing around a dark slit in the courtyard’s center. Commander Aiden’s voice rang out, shouting orders.

“Full circle, arms drawn!”

“What is going on?” asked Nikalys, a hand shielding his eyes. “Why is it so blasted bright?!” He attempted to draw the Blade of Horum with his free hand, but faltered when he slipped on a patch of ice and nearly fell down.

“Relax,” rumbled Broedi. “It is only sunlight on snow.” Tapping the young man on the shoulder, he pointed in the direction of the port. “The port is there.”

Nikalys moved his hand from his eyes and, still squinting, began to move toward it. Broedi broke into a sprint, careful not to slip on the icy snow.

Wren reached the circle of soldiers forming around the slit and pushed past the men, cursing at them to get out of the way. The men parted and stared, wide-eyed, as the tijul slipped by. Nikalys suddenly appeared next to Wren, his sword held in a ready position. Broedi arrived a moment later and issued a warning.

“Be ready for anything,”

Everyone around the port nodded, their eyes locked on the midnight-black slit in the air. As they waited, Jak, Nundle, and the noblewomen rushed up and moved through the ring of soldiers, stopping to stand a few paces behind Nikalys and the White Lions.

A few anxious moments later, a small figure emerged from the black of the port, hobbling through while leaning on a walking stick. Tobias took two steps in the days-old snow and stopped, staring around the courtyard with half-closed eyes and a frown on his face, completely ignoring his armed reception. A set of horse’s reins led back into the blackness.

“Oh, wondrous. Snow.”

Broedi rumbled, “Good days ahead, Tobias.”

The tomble glanced up at Broedi, nodded a silent greeting, and immediately shifted his gaze to Wren. His frown deepened into a full scowl.

“So, you’re here.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you, too,” said Wren.

“Your hair looks nice. Long and shiny as always.”

“Thank you, Tobias. How’s the leg?”

Tobias sighed and gave a slight shake of his head.

“Haven’t changed, have you, Wren?”

Turning to eye the port, Wren shrugged and asked, “Why would I?”

Shaking his head, Tobias eyed the group around him, asking, “Is all this for me?”

“Better to be prepared than to be surprised,” answered Broedi.

A lopsided grin crept up one side of Tobias’ face. “Bet you a ducat I can still surprise you.” Stepping to the side of the slit, he tugged the reins, and said, “No matter what steps through that port, try to remain calm.”

Worried, Broedi rumbled, “Why?”

“Because I asked, that’s why,” answered Tobias. Glancing at Nikalys’ sword and Wren’s spear, he added, “And lower your weapons. There is no need for them.” He eyed the soldiers at the ready. “All of you, please.”

Nikalys glanced over to Broedi, looking for guidance. After a moment, Broedi gave a short nod, indicating he should follow Tobias’ request. As the young man let the tip of his white blade drop, brushing the snow, Commander Aiden shouted an order that the Shadow Manes were to follow suit.

A moment later, Nundle’s chestnut horse began to emerge from the port.

“You stole my horse,” muttered Nundle.

Tobias glanced over and said, “Ah, yes. Sorry. But you weren’t using him, and he was a good size for me, so…” He trailed off and shrugged. Seeing Wren still holding his longspear at the ready, he snapped, “Hells, Wren. Put your blasted spear down.”

“I’ll put it down when I’m sure it’s safe.”

“It’s safe,” said Tobias.

“So you say.”

“Wren,” rumbled Broedi. “Listen, please.”

The tijul glared at them both before jamming the butt end of the spear into the snow.

“Fine. By chance, are these more lawbreakers from the Boroughs? If so, just tell me now so I can go inside. I do not wish to stand in the cold and greet every one of them.”

Broedi shot a quick glance at Nundle and found the redheaded tomble—hat on his head again—staring at Tobias with narrowed eyes. Nundle was sharp. If he had not yet figured out the implication of Wren’s statement, he would shortly.

Tobias gave Wren a murderous glare and, with thick venom lacing each word, said, “
No
, Wren. I am—”

Tobias cut his response short as a strange Borderlander emerged from the port and stopped but a pace from the slit, immediately shutting his eyes against the combined brilliance of sun and snow.

Old burn scars covered the right side of the man’s face and neck, he was missing an eyebrow, and his black hair grew on only one side of his head. As he lifted his right hand to shade his eyes from the sun, Broedi noticed it was also burned and missing two fingers. The clothes that hung from his body were little more than tattered rags. A beat-up scabbard of Dust Man design was at his side, a sword’s hilt poking from the top.

The Borderlander hissed, “Blast the Gods, it’s cold!”

Tobias stared up at the man and said, “I warned you, Rhohn. Now, like I told you. Step to the side.”

Cracking open his eyes a fraction, the man nodded and scooted a few paces to his right. Behind Broedi, Jak ordered a soldier to get some blankets. Commander Aiden did not object.

Khin stepped from the port next, leading a midnight black horse behind him. He drew in a long, cold breath of air and visibly relaxed, letting out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. Broedi glanced over at Wren, wondering what his reaction would be. The tijul was gaping like a fish seeing a bird fly for the first time.

Khin’s gaze darted about, scanning the crowd before him. Ultimately, his stare settled on Broedi and, in his wispy, slow voice, said, “Remain calm.”

Confused, Broedi asked, “Why must—”

Two dozen Strands of Air popped into existence and came together quickly, forming what Broedi judged to be a partially complete Weave. A moment later, an invisible barrier slammed down, creating a perfect ring of crushed snow that separated the new arrivals from everyone else.

“Khin?” asked Broedi. “What is going on?

As the aicenai stepped aside, he turned his blue-eyed gaze towards Broedi.

“It is for the best.”

His eyes locked on the port, Nikalys asked, “Where’s Kenders?” The young man’s voice was steady, but Broedi could hear the undercurrent of worry in the question.

Tobias glanced up and met Nikalys’ stare, but remained quiet.

A moment later, a creature whose type Broedi had not seen in ages stepped from the blackness of the port. Broedi blinked in surprise as he realized a kur-surus stood before him. Covered in thick, brown and white fur, he—Broedi recognize the male scent in an instant—stood tense and taut, his gaze darting about the yard. His breathing was quick, his nostrils flaring. A concerned murmur arose from the soldiers. Some began to raise their swords again.

“Keep them down!” ordered Tobias. Lowering his voice, he spoke in a calm and soothing tone, adding, “Relax, Okollu. You are safe.” The kur-surus appeared doubtful.

Broedi shot a number of questioning looks at Tobias and Khin. He hoped the pair had an incredibly good reason for what they were doing.

“Where is my sister, Tobias?” asked Nikalys, his tone insistent. Despite the fact that a kur-surus
stood
before him, his focus was elsewhere.

The tomble held up a hand and said, “Against my advice, she has gone into—”

Wren interrupted, exclaiming, “There’s a mongrel standing here and the first thing you ask is ‘Where is my sister?!’”