Progeny (The Children of the White Lions) (39 page)

“We were each touched by the Celystiela who had chosen us and given our individual gifts. I found myself with the ability not only to weave some of the Strands, but also to take the shape of nearly any beast I saw. I became Broedikurja Kynsipitka, Thonda’s Great Hunter. The first shape I took was that of the kisa
,
to honor my feline friend who had led me to the Assembly. It remains my favorite to this day.”

Kenders asked quietly, “What exactly did Horum and Gaena do to our parents?”

Nikalys shot her a dark look. She did not understand why until she thought about her choice of words. She quickly amended her question. “I mean our blood parents.”

Broedi glanced between them for a moment before answering.

“Horum granted Aryn incredible athletic ability. His strength and speed was astonishing. He could move short distances at will, faster than the eye could see.” Shifting his gaze to rest on Nikalys only, he rumbled, “It seems that at least part of that, in its raw form, has passed through his blood and into yours, uori.”

Nikalys dropped his eyes to the forest floor but said nothing.

After a moment, Broedi turned to regard Kenders.

“Your mother was given a great gift by Gaena, perhaps the greatest granted to any of us. While Eliza already had the natural talent to touch some of the Strands on her own, Gaena’s gift allowed her to do things that no known mortal could.”

The hillman leaned forward, his eyes alive.

“Understand this. Those rare few who can weave are able to touch only a few types of Strands. Perhaps Will and Fire only. Or Water, Charge, and Fire. And even if one can touch different Strands, their ability to wield each varies. A mage might be a master with Water, yet barely sense Life or Stone. Most mages can touch two or three kinds.” Pointing to his chest, he said, “I can sense and use six. But, Eliza…” He shook his head and a proud smile spread over his lips. “Eliza could touch all of the Strands. All nine.”

Broedi paused as if to let the momentous information register with them.

Kenders supposed it was as impressive as he made it sound, yet her knowledge of magic was so basic that it was like telling a person who could not hear how skilled a prize flutist was. She forced a look of solemn awe on her face anyway since Broedi seemed to be waiting for a reaction before continuing. “Once we had our gifts from the Celystiela who chose us, Sarphia touched us all, granting us long life. Save for a quick and mortal wound, we were to live far beyond our normal years.”

Kenders was surprised to find herself suddenly filled with a sense of hope. Staring up at Broedi, she asked, “Does that mean our blood parents are still alive?” She was careful to qualify them this time. She did not want Nikalys glaring at her again.

Broedi drew himself up, sitting tall on the log, sucked in a long breath, and released it slowly. His eyebrows drew together as he answered, his voice soft and deep. “I do not know, uora
.
I have not seen them since they left with you fifteen years ago. I can only hope they are.”

“Why did they give us up?” asked Nikalys abruptly. “Did they not want us?”

Kenders glanced at him, wondering if the questions meant that he accepted Broedi’s tale as truth.

Broedi’s gaze snapped to Nikalys. “
Never
think that, uori. Never! Your parents loved you very much. They gave you up in order to protect you.”

“From what exactly?” demanded Nikalys.

Lifting a hand, Broedi rumbled, “If you let me continue, I will explain.”

As the White Lion took a puff of his pipe, Kenders glanced at Jak. He smiled at her and reached over to pat her arm in silent support.

Blowing out a stream of smoke, Broedi fixed his gaze on the three of them and said, “After the Assembly had finished with us, we were taken to where the remnants of the Northlands’ army were gathered. Your father told his superiors in the army what had happened, who we were, and that the Celystiela had offered to help.”

An amused smile spread over his lips. “As you might imagine, they did not believe our tale. So, the eight of us offered to confront a nearby force of Norasim’s army. Some brave men and women from the Milvia Barony aided us that day, and we quickly dispatched a small group of demons. It was from that skirmish we earned our name, the ‘White Lions,’ for the black and white crest of the Milvia baron under which we marched.”

“Our deeds and our name quickly spread throughout the remaining Northlands’ army, and they followed us into battle against a larger force of demon-men. For the first time in years, the duchies won a sizable victory against Norasim’s forces. We eight helped the resistance in any way we could. Some of us were great leaders, some of us brought raw power—magic or brawn—while others were exceptionally clever and devious. Together, we were a force.”

“Norasim slowly began to lose ground. The Freelands, Great Lakes, and Long Coast duchies left their fortified borders and rushed ahead, pushing back against the horde. Finally, on the plains of the Foothills, south of Brassburgh, the eight White Lions converged—along with the combined armies of five duchies—on Norasim and his demons. We defeated him and slaughtered his army. The Demonic War was over.”

Broedi smiled grimly at the memory. “Tens of thousands had died. Homes, towns, villages, and even entire cities had been burned and destroyed. It was a great relief to see the god of Chaos defeated, even though we knew it was only temporary. He would manifest again in the future—as do all of the Cabal eventually—rising to challenge order and good. Time and generations passed, many cities were rebuilt—some were not—and the White Lions remained vigilant.”

Broedi paused and tilted his head upward, staring through the leaves overhead and at the stars in the sky above. He stayed that way for a moment before letting out a long and weary sigh.

“As is the nature of most races, people remembered the bad and forgot the good. They remembered the evil wrought by Norasim’s magic, forgetting how our gifts, our magic had helped defeat him. People began to fear magic itself, forgetting it is the character of the mage that matters. It was troubling to watch happen.”

Staring into the empty forest, he said, “Nearly a century after the end of the war, eight villages and towns along the Carinius coast were destroyed. Burned first, then flooded. The evidence that magic was used was indisputable. Word spread that some of the White Lions were seen in the area before the attacks. Only, none of us were.”

“Then why the rumors?” asked Jak.

“Excellent question,” rumbled Broedi. “And the one we asked ourselves as we eight stood on Carinius’ beaches. Aryn and I suspected the god of Deception and the god of Fear had a hand in what had occurred, but we could not prove any of it. So, the rumors grew, spreading like a wildfire on a Borderlands’ prairie. In stunningly short order, the First Council decreed all magic to be outlawed and named us criminals.”

Broedi stared hard at the three of them. Biting off each word, he asked, “After everything we had done for the people, we were now lawbreakers?”

The three Isaac children stared back in silence. Kenders almost felt like apologizing.

Broedi glared at them for a moment longer before taking a deep breath and exhaling. When he resumed speaking, he was calm again. “Some of us wanted to fight the council’s misguided law, but others felt we should accept their rule and serve in a hidden role. The dissent caused a rift in our group. Your parents and I were of like mind and traveled to the Celystiela to ask for their assistance. To avoid the new Constables, we moved overland like everyone else—I on foot and they by horse.” He looked at Nikalys and Kenders. “During our journey west, your mother and father became close and eventually fell in love.”

“When we reached the Seat of Nelnora, the Celystiela
would not see us. According to Nelnora’s servants, she ‘did not deem the current actions of mortals to be a sufficient threat to the balance of the world.’ We traveled to the Seats of Thonda, Horum, and Gaena, and were rebuffed in each. The Celystiela were done with us. They had used us and then tossed us aside.”

“For our own safety, we left the duchies for a time—myself, your father and mother—and lost contact with the others. To this day, I have not seen any of them since the First Council’s decree. Years later, your parents and I returned to the Southlands and lived in secret.”

Broedi seemed to notice that he had only taken a few bites of his roast pheasant. He reached down, plucked the stick from the ground, and took another mouthful now, chewing while he reflected on the past.

Kenders glanced at hers. She was sure it was cool enough to eat now, but her appetite had yet to return.

After Broedi had swallowed, he continued, saying, “While spending some time near the Sea of Kings’ coast, we learned of a prophecy that had been issued when the White Lions were formed. It seemed that after the Assembly of the Nine charged us with our task, Indrida, the Enlightened Oracle, had a vision. A written copy of it found its way into our hands.”

A frown creased his face and he shook his head.

“It was disturbing to read, even more so when we realized that but a portion of Indrida’s prophecy had been fulfilled. Much was yet to come.”

Her voice quiet in the still of the night, Kenders asked, “What did it say?”

Broedi took a deep breath and began speaking.

The roar of the Lions will drive back the spawn,

And the lines of men, strong once again, will be redrawn.

Yet that which drives man’s soul will fray at the seams,

While the strength of the Lions will fade as do last night’s dreams.

Torn apart by deceit and distrust,

One will perish and One will be lost.

One will leave, while Another will stay.

And Two shall find each Other one day.

Against his will, one must fight,

While it falls upon the Half-man to unite.

Chaos will rise again, unraveling what has been made,

With Strife, Pain, and Deception in tow, lending aid.

Hidden, then found,

Willingly come around,

The Progeny must rise to lead the fight,

Along with new and old, seek to make it right.

When done, he waited a short time, letting them absorb what he had said. While Kenders did not know what most of it meant, the end had made the hair on the back of her arms stand on end.

“Time passed, and eventually your mother found herself with child.” Looking at Nikalys alone, he rumbled, “You were born on a cool harvest day eight turns later, uori.” The corners of his mouth curled up a bit. “You came out screaming like a banshee.”

Nikalys’ eyes narrowed. “Were you there?”

Broedi nodded. “I was. I stood with your father outside the room as Eliza gave life to you.”

“Name the day,” demanded Nikalys.

Broedi answered without hesitation. “The twelfth of the Turn of Rintira.”

Kenders eyes widened a bit. The date was Nikalys’ yearday. She stared at her brother, wondering if he was willing to accept Broedi’s incredible tale yet. He continued to glare at Broedi, unmoving.

“For the first few turns of your life, your parents argued often about what they should do with you. Indrida’s prophecy worried them both. Both were afraid for your safety. Your mother thought you should be hidden and kept safe, away from us. Your father wanted to defend you with his life. He did not want to give up his son.” A wistful smile spread over his lips. “You were obviously too young to remember, but your father was so proud of you. Aryn carried you everywhere he went.”

Kenders glanced back to Nikalys and found her brother staring at the dirt, his chin pressed to his chest.

“Before they decided on a course of action, Eliza was with child again.” He turned and looked at Kenders. “A turn before you were due, uora, we were discovered by agents of the Nine Hells. We repelled their assassination attempt and learned that the Cabal also knew of the prophecy. They were hunting the White Lions, having concluded as we did, that the ‘Progeny’ would be children of the Lions. No White Lions, no Progeny, prophecy unfulfilled.”

“After the attack and your birth, uora, your father conceded you the pair of you were not safe with them. When they told me they were leaving, I believed they were going to hide
with
you, not give you over to be fostered. It would seem they had other plans, ones they did not see fit to share with me.” He sighed and muttered, “They left and I have not seen them since.”

The hurt and longing in his voice was plain. He truly missed them. “For ten years, I waited. For the past five, I have been looking for Aryn, Eliza, and the two of you. I was in the Great Lakes Duchy when the Weave your mother placed on the case triggered, alerting me that you were in danger. The rest, you know.”

He took a bite of his pheasant and chewed slowly. It seemed he was done with his story.

Kenders’ gaze drifted about the clearing, eventually settling on an oak branch hanging low into their camp, its leaves fluttering in a gentle nighttime breeze. She was still looking at the branch, without truly seeing it, when Nikalys spoke, minutes later. “So, our parents…our blood parents. They loved us?”

Broedi’s brown eyes softened. “Very much. More than most, it seems. Their love drove them to do the hardest thing a parent could: leave you in the care of others and walk away.”

Nikalys nodded ever so slightly and dropped his head again.

“Why my parents?” asked Jak. “What about them made two White Lions think that they could watch over them?”

Broedi looked at Jak and shrugged. “I do not know how they found your parents or their reasons for choosing them. Yet it would seem they made an inspired decision. Your parents kept them safe for fifteen years and loved them as their own. They are heroes in my eyes.”

The beginnings of tears teased Kenders’ eyes. She ached and mourned for the parents who had raised her, yet the yearning to see her blood parents was almost equally strong. The dual feelings were confusing. She wondered how she could miss people whom she had never truly known.