The Children of the White Lions: Volume 02 - Prophecy (82 page)

At the edge of Kenders’ vision, she spotted movement by the now rider-less Goshen. Swiveling her head forward, she spotted two Borderlands men quickly approaching the horse, one watching Tiliah’s hurried path through the crowd while the other had his gaze fixed on Kenders. Both were dressed in rags and looked as if they had not eaten in some time.

“Uh oh.”

Once, when Kenders was a little girl, her mother had caught her sneaking from the house one evening after eveningmeal. Earlier in the day, nine-year-old Kenders had seen a stray, starving dog wandering Yellow Mud and she was intent on sneaking it some table scraps. Marie Isaac sternly ordered her back inside the house and kept a watchful eye on her the rest of the evening. The next morning, they learned that the dog had bitten a neighbor boy several times. Her mother’s words from that morning leapt to her mind now: the most dangerous creatures in this world are often the most desperate.

Kenders could not imagine any beings more forlorn than these refugees were. Duke Rholeb’s soldiers and the orders of the temples within Demetus were distributing food and water, but demand far outweighed supply.

The intent of the two men striding toward Goshen was clear. They were going to take the horse for themselves. Quickly slipping from Smoke’s saddle, Kenders hurried forward to Goshen’s side, grabbed the reins, and glared at the approaching Borderlanders. With eyes alone, she pleaded for them to walk away.

The lead man’s step faltered as he caught her stare, a battle between needy desperation and shame playing out on his dark-skinned face. In their condition, honor had little chance of victory. After a moment, he took a few slow steps closer, bowed, and said, “My pleasure is to meet you in peace today.”

The polite introduction threw Kenders. She recovered quickly, however, when he followed the greeting with a whispered order.

“Give us the horse, miss.”

Shaking her head, she said, “No.” She glanced over to where Tiliah was now crouched beside a very surprised Debrah. “We will need him to get my friend’s mother away from here.”

The second man arrived to stand beside the first. The pair’s beards were unkempt and wild, as was their hair. Both wore bands—white at one time, but now brown with dirt and grime—around their foreheads. Kenders’ heart sunk. The strips of cloth meant they were married. They at least had wives, perhaps children as well.

The second man leaned towards the first and murmured, “Bemsiah, I do not believe I can do this.”

Bemsiah shook his head and said quietly, “If you and yours would like to starve, you may leave.”

For a brief moment, Kenders considered handing over Goshen, letting the men take him and sell him.

The second man hissed, “But this is
wrong
!”

“If you feel so strongly, Hanoch, you can go!”

Glancing around, Kenders noticed that a number of refugees were staring at them. She had no doubt that if these men succeeded in taking Goshen from her, someone would try to take Smoke within moments. The image of a pack of wild dogs fighting over a single hunk of meat flashed through her head. She could not let this happen.

Knowing that reason had no chance to prevail today, she peered to the east and eyed the mud-brown walls of Demetus proper over a mile away. The capital sat atop a sloped hill, clearly visible from the lowlands. A tiny frown spread across her lips. Constables were inside those walls.

Looking back to Bemsiah and Hanoch, her frown deepened. Even though Constables were in Demetus, these men were a bigger threat now. Taking a grand risk, she reached out for the honey-gold Strands of Will, quickly wove two patterns, and directed them at the pair of men. She only used a handful of Strands, hoping she might avoid detection if there were Trackers in the city.

As the Weaves melted into the men, she said, “I understand you want to do whatever you can for your families, but this?” She gave a disapproving shake of her head. “You both look like honorable, respectable men. Perhaps you ought to return to your families now. Quietly, please.”

Hanoch bowed immediately while apologizing, “Please grant us your forgiveness, miss. You are right, this is wrong.” He reached out and grabbed Bemsiah’s arm. “Come, we should go.”

Ripping his arm free, Bemsiah snapped, “No! My family must eat!” He glared at Kenders. “I
am
taking this horse. It will be the first decent meal we’ve had in weeks.”

A reflexive grimace spread over Kenders’ face. She had thought the men were going to take and sell the horse. Recovering quickly, she drew in a breath and crafted a third Weave, using twice the number of Strands of Will this time. She directed the pattern toward Bemsiah and said, “Leave and go back to your families.
Now
. And not another word.”

As one, Bemsiah and Hanoch nodded, turned around, and walked away in perfect silence.

Watching them stride back into the throng of refugees, Kenders muttered, “Oh, bless the Gods.” Her relief was short lived as she noticed a number of people staring at her, suspicion filling their eyes. It was time to go.

Spinning around, she saw Tiliah approaching, helping her mother through the crowd. Debrah was thinner than her daughter was and her hair a tangled mess, but there was no doubt she was the Alsher matriarch. Her gaze remained locked on Tiliah as they stumbled along, an expression of disbelieving wonderment on her face. Kenders caught Tiliah’s eye and, with a swift jerk of her head, urged them to hurry.

As the pair reached the horses, Kenders offered a quick and friendly smile to Debrah before looking at Tiliah and saying, “We need to move. Now. I had to use…ah, I had to use my talent.” She had almost said ‘magic.’

Tiliah did not immediately respond. For the first time, Kenders noticed the young woman’s brow lined with worry.

“What’s wrong?”

It took Tiliah a moment or two to answer. When she did, her voice was quiet.

“I felt it.”

Kenders froze.

“You what?”

Tiliah hesitated again.

“I felt it. Your ‘talent.’”

Shock shoved aside the urgency to move. Staring hard at Tiliah, Kenders muttered, “What exactly did you feel?”

Tiliah shot a quick look at her mother before whispering, “Sort of like the wind rustling through the grass.” She hesitated. “Only the wind…felt gold? Does that make sense?”

Kenders frowned. It made perfect sense. Before she could say anything, though, Tiliah spoke again in an even softer voice.

“Although, it was not as strong as the black from yesterday.”

Kenders’ eyes widened.

“Why didn’t you say anything about this?”

“I was truly hoping that I was imagining it all.”

Debrah was looking back and forth between them, clearly confused by the conversation.

Ignoring the woman’s bewildered stares, Kenders asked, “Was that the first time?”

Tiliah shook her head once.

“For the black, no. The gold? Yes.”

Kenders sighed. If it was not one thing, it was another.

With a wary eye on the refugees collecting around them, murmuring and staring, Kenders muttered, “We’ll discuss this later.” Shifting her gaze to Debrah, she said, “My name is Kenders—”

Tiliah interrupted, saying, “I already told her who you are.”

Kenders stared at Tiliah carefully.

“What did you tell her exactly?”

“That you’re a friend of Zecus and here to help.”

She glanced back to Debrah. The woman did not look as upset as Kenders would have expected if she had known about Joshmuel.

“Nothing else?”

Tiliah shook her head and said, “Only that Zecus is well and here, looking for them.” Her tone shifted, becoming more direct. “That is all, though.”

With a quick nod, Kenders glanced at Debrah. The woman’s gaze was fixed on Kenders’ blonde hair.

“How are you friends with Zecus?”

“It’s a long story,” murmured Kenders, glancing around at the gathering crowd. “And one to be told another time.” Looking back to Debrah, she asked, “Where are Jerem and Jezra?”

A wave of sorrow washed over Debrah’s face. In a dry, raspy voice, she answered, “In the stockade.”

Kenders’ eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“The stockade? Why?”

“For stealing a loaf of bread. They’ve been locked away for three weeks.”

Kenders blinked in surprise.

“Surely you are jesting.”

Debrah shook her head slowly.

“I wish I were.”

Kenders glanced at Tiliah. Fury burned in the young woman’s eyes.

“An army is marching on the city, and they are arresting children for
stealing bread
?!”

“The Reed Men have been harsh in their justice,” said Debrah.

“The Dust Men did the same in Gobas in the final days,” hissed Tiliah. “Keeping order ruled every action.”

“It has been the same here,” said Debrah.

Kenders believed she had reached her capacity for grief during her journey to Demetus. Yet as she stared at Debrah’s gaunt face, a new sorrow surged forth, flooding her soul. Over the last several turns, this poor woman had endured more misery than anyone should in a lifetime.

Her home abandoned and most likely destroyed.

An arduous journey to Gobas, then Demetus.

Joshmuel headed east to Freehaven to seek aid, Zecus west to defend their lands.

Then Tiliah rushes off after Zecus, leaving Debrah alone with the two youngest Alsher children, wallowing in conditions no one should suffer.

Now, with Jerem and Jezra in the stockades, she had been all alone for three weeks. If it was possible to die from misery alone, Debrah Alsher should be well on her way to Maeana’s hall. Kenders worried that learning of Joshmuel’s tragic passing might do just that.

This woman—this family—deserved some bit of happiness and it was within Kenders’ ability to give it. A determined frown spread over Kenders’ lips. Lifting her gaze over Debrah’s head, she stared at Demetus and its bastion towers jutting out and up from the long, straight line of walls.

Nudging her chin towards Goshen, she muttered, “Both of you. On the horse. Now.”

Tiliah nodded and turned, pulling her mother’s arm gently.

“Come, Mother.”

Debrah shot a quick, bewildered look at Kenders but went along with Tiliah without protest.

After Tiliah mounted Goshen, Kenders helped Debrah up to sit behind her daughter, moved to Smoke and, once in her saddle, directed the horse ahead of the Alshers, leaving the crowd of gawking refugees behind. A few began to shout out questions, but Kenders ignored them, riding away quickly while choosing a path that brought them closer to Demetus’ walls.

It did not take Tiliah long to notice where they were headed.

“Kenders? Where are we going?”

Without looking back, Kenders called over her shoulder, “To Demetus.”

There was a moment’s pause before Tiliah replied.

“We are supposed to return to camp if we found anything.”

Keeping her voice steady, Kenders replied, “I know.”

Tiliah was quiet for a few more horse strides.

“Tobias seemed rather insistent about not going into the city.”

Kenders pressed her lips together.

“Yes, he was.”

“Perhaps we should—”

Kenders swiveled around, stared back at Tiliah, and said, “Jerem and Jezra are in the stockades. They have been for
three
weeks. Do you want to leave them there?”

Tiliah’s eyes tightened.

“No.”

“So let’s go get them out.”

While cautious hope flashed over Debrah’s face, Tiliah’s expression shifted to one of open concern.

“Do you have a plan, Kenders?”

With a confident smile and nod, Kenders answered, “Would I be riding into the city without one?”

Tiliah’s eyes narrowed and her frown deepened.

“I would certainly hope not.”

“Just follow me, do as I say, and things will be fine.”

When Tiliah did not protest further, Kenders nodded and quickly turned around. Upon facing the city, her self-assured grin fled in an instant.

She needed to come up with a plan.

Quickly.

Tandyr swiveled his head to the right and eyed Raela. The erijul was leaning against one of the pine trunks, her delicate arms crossed over her breasts.

“Impressive, is it not?”

Raela nodded slowly, her gaze remaining locked on the teeming mass of Sudashians in the valley below.

“Are there any left in Sudash? Or did you collect every soul there?”

A slight smile touched Tandyr’s wide lips as he turned back to stare at his army.

“I might have missed one or two.”

Sudashians filled the vale, their ranks stretching north and south, horizon to horizon. The southernmost three-quarters were alert and ready to march while the remaining force was still encamped. They were not leaving until tomorrow morning. Great, orange bonfires burned in the oligurts’ area, short and muddy burrows rose from the ground were the nascepel slept, while the packs of kur-surus simply lay on the ground, waiting. The demon captains wandered throughout the assembled forces, doing whatever necessary to keep order. So far, only fourteen Sudashians had had to be killed today.

Raela said quietly, “I will admit, Tandyr…” She turned to eye him, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear “…I doubted you could do this.”

Tandyr’s smile widened a fraction.

“I know you did.”

The erijul studied him for a long moment before asking, “What about you?”

Tandyr glanced over.

“What do you mean?”

Raela nodded at the amassed force in the valley.

“Did you think you would come this far?”

He lifted his gaze to a pine bough, pondering the question. With a sigh and small shake of his head, he admitted, “No. I did not.”

Now it was Raela’s turn to smile slightly. Turning back to stare at the army, she said, “I appreciate your honesty.”

Considering he was eyeing the God of Deception incarnate, Tandyr chuckled softly before saying, “Hearing the word ‘honesty’ coming from you is strange.”

Raela’s smile widened a bit.

“Catch that, did you?”

A comfortable quiet fell over their vantage point, a clump of pines atop one of the many hills that began to rise from the swampy landscape a day ago. Advance oligurt scouts reported the hills increased in both number and height further east, most likely slowing the army’s progress. Tandyr did not mind much. A delay of a day or two should not make any difference in his plans.