Progeny (The Children of the White Lions) (40 page)

Broedi stood from the log and stretched, his long arms reaching almost to the branches of the oak above them. Dropping his arms, he smiled at Jak and rumbled, “And whether Aryn and Eliza meant to or not, they found a very good kaveli for them as well.”

Jak smiled as a bit of color came to his cheeks. With a friendly, mocking tone, he said, “Ah, Broedi, you’re such a flatterer.”

Kenders laughed a little through the tears, grateful for the moment of levity. Even Broedi chuckled, a deep, rumbling, yet somehow quiet, laugh.

Suddenly, Nikalys jumped up, startling them all. “Are you all mad?! How can you all just laugh like that?! Did the two of you even listen to what he said?” His face a mask of anger and denial, he darted around to the other side of the log. “Kenders! If our blood parents are White Lions, they are outlaws! Just like you!” He glared at Broedi. “Him, too!”

With an edge in his voice, Jak muttered, “
Nik
. Calm down.”

“No!” shouted Nikalys, turning his hot gaze on Jak. “How can you both just sit there and take everything he says as complete, utter truth?! White Lions? Prophecies?! Meeting the blasted gods?! It’s madness! Blasted madness!”

Kenders raised a hand, pleading, “Please, Nik. Yelling helps nothing.”

Nikalys stopped in his tracks and glared at her. It took him a few deep breaths before he appeared to relax. Sighing, he ran both hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” He looked askance at the hillman and muttered, “It’s too much for me to believe, Broedi. Any of it. It’s all…too fantastic.”

“He knew your yearday,” said Kenders.

“He’s a mage! Perhaps it was a trick!”

“The necklace,” rumbled Broedi. “How do you explain it away?”

Nikalys’ hand flew to his neck. Tugging at the leather cord, he pulled the silver pendant free of his shirt.

“What about it?”

“It belonged to Eliza,” said Broedi. “She bought it in a market in Cartu at least a century before you were born. She placed a Weave on it—bound to you and your iskoa alone—so that she would know where you were at all times and if you were safe. I assume she gave it to Marie Isaac to do the same.”

Nikalys stared at Broedi for a moment dropping his gaze back to the necklace. “There has to be another explanation.”

Kenders stared at her brother and shook her head, wondering what it was going to take to convince him.

Jak muttered, “I think now would be a good time for the case, Broedi.”

“I agree,” rumbled the hillman. “Will you please get it for me?”

Kenders shot her brother a quick, perplexed look as he stood, walked to where Broedi had put the leather case—the hillman had been carrying it since Smithshill—and bent to retrieve it. Returning to Broedi, Jak held it out to the White Lion. Broedi took the long tan leather package and Jak came to stand by Kenders’ side.

Glancing at her brother, she whispered, “What’s in the case?”

Jak shrugged his shoulders and murmured, “Broedi only told me it was something that belonged to your father. Something meant for Nikalys.”

Kenders’ eyes narrowed as she stared back to the hillman.

Eyeing Nikalys, Broedi said, “Even as a little one, you were stubborn.” He lifted the case, holding it at arm’s length and in Nikalys’ direction. “Perhaps this will help you accept what I have shared.”

Clearly skeptical, Nikalys looked at the bundle for a moment before walking to Broedi and stopping on the opposite side of the fallen log.

Remembering that there was not a single seam or cord along the bundle’s length, Kenders asked, “Shall I get a knife?”

“Thank you, but no. That will be unnecessary.” Holding Nikalys’ gaze, he urged, “Take it.”

As Nikalys reached out with both hands, Kenders found herself leaning forward in anticipation. The moment Nikalys touched the leather, Kenders felt a tiny crackling inside of her. For a brief moment, she spotted a Weave of silver and gold Strands around the case before they quickly unraveled and faded.

A slit appeared down the length of the package and the leather fell to the sides, exposing a richly made, reddish-brown scabbard emblazoned with a golden emblem of some sort of bird she did not recognize. Sticking out from the top of the scabbard was the silver and gold hilt of a sword. The grip and guard sparkled brilliantly in the light of the fire, but her eyes settled on the pommel. A silver ring encircled an impossibly white stone, carved into the face of a roaring lion. A belt made of the same rich brown leather was folded beneath the scabbard.

So focused on the scabbard and sword, she almost did not see the folded parchment stuck between the folds of the belt. Nikalys did, though, and, with his eyes drawn tight, pulled the parchment out and turned it over in his hands. He moved to the fire and opened it.

“What is it?” asked Kenders.

Nikalys glanced up with wide and rounded eyes. “It’s a letter.” He stared back the parchment in wonder. “From…Aryn.”

With a rush of nervous excitement, Kenders hurried to her brother’s side and stared down at the black words scrawled on the yellow parchment in a neat, practiced hand.

Nikalys —

I have spent countless days thinking what words I would write in this letter. Even now, as I put ink to parchment, I still do not know what to say. Yet I must write something now as your mother and I are leaving shortly.

If you are reading this, I will assume you know the truth. Or at least some of it. Thaddeus has promised to tell you and Kenders when you are old enough to understand.

No doubt you have questions about why your mother and I have done this, but realize that it is our deep love for you and your sister that have driven us to leave you both behind. Thaddeus and Marie are good people. Steadfast, strong, and admirable parents. I pray this letter finds them and little Jak well.

I have lived longer than any man should, son. Many of my days have been wondrous. Many I am still trying to forget. Let me take this opportunity to share with you what I learned through the years.

Stay strong. Be resolute. Live well. Love fully.

Follow this bit of advice, and the rest of life is almost simple.

I am sorry that all I can offer you is my sword and some words on a parchment, but it is the fate Greya has given me and I must do with it what I can.

I pray you never face the horrors your mother and I have, but considering your heritage and Indrida’s blasted words, I suspect that is a foolish hope. Nevertheless, it is one to which your mother and I cling. It is why we are leaving you. We are going to try to make it so you never read this letter.

As I write this, it has occurred to me that I do have one more sliver of advice for you, something that took me a very long time to understand and accept:

Do what you must, when you must. Move on as best you can, as soon as you can. Else, the shadows of the past will darken your present and douse the light of future’s promise.

Watch over your sister, please. If she grows up to be anything like she is now, I’m certain she can be a handful. In fact, that dribble of ink in the corner is her doing. She is sitting on my lap and cannot seem to sit still.

I must go now. Your mother is telling me to hurry.

We both love you very much.

Be safe.

—Your father, Aryn

One last thing: should a tall fellow by the name of Broedi ever track you down—and your mother insists he will—trust him with your very life, son. I have done so countless times and that overgrown tuft of fur has always come through.

Kenders reached up and wiped away the tears that were rolling down her cheek. Sniffling, she glanced over at Nikalys and saw he was struggling to remain stone-faced. She slipped an arm around his waist and gave him a small squeeze. “See, Nik? They did love us.”

Nikalys nodded silently.

Kenders looked back to the letter and stared at the black blob in the corner. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly as a wistful, sad smile found its way on her face.

Pointing at the ink stain, she muttered, “See? I’ve always been trouble.”

The comment had the desired effect as a tiny chuckle slipped from Nikalys.

Kenders glanced over at Broedi and Jak. Both were impossibly still.

The moment she met Jak’s eyes, he asked quietly, “What does it say?”

Kenders looked to Nikalys.

“Can they see it?”

With a silent nod, Nikalys handed the parchment to Kenders and stared into the flames. Jak and Broedi moved to the fire, kicking up leaves as they approached. She handed the letter to Broedi and waited as he and Jak read it, side-by-side.

Tears welled in Jak’s eyes and Kenders assumed it was because of the mention of his parents. Broedi showed no reaction at all until the very end when a slight smile touched his lips.

Looking up, the hillman said softly, “It is a good letter.” The smile grew a fraction. “Which is odd. Aryn never was very good with words.”

Jak glanced up at Broedi, lifted a single eyebrow, and said, “Overgrown tuft of fur?”

Broedi’s smile grew a bit more. “Aryn favored the term.”

Nikalys asked, “Can I see that?”

Looking over, Kenders found her brother pointing to the opened leather package still clenched in Broedi’s left hand. The hillman lifted his arm and extended it.

“Take it, uori
.
The Blade of Horum is yours now.”

Nikalys’ face was blank. He reached up haltingly, took hold of the scabbard and sword, and gently lifted it from Broedi’s hand. He studied the hilt of the sword, lightly tracing a finger over the stone carving of the white lion’s head. Placing one hand on the hilt of the sword and the other around the scabbard, he drew out the blade. The quiet whisper of steel scraping leather filled the clearing.

Kenders gasped.

The white metal blade seemed to glow in the light of the fire. All along its length, the metal shimmered bright, much brighter than it should have given the meager light from their small campfire. Kenders blinked and tilted her head, thinking she had merely caught the sword at an odd angle.

Nikalys took a few steps back from the fire and held the sword upright. Even as he moved farther from the light of the fire, the white blade held its gleaming glow.

Kenders said encouragingly, “It suits you.” In one aspect, it did. In another, he looked exactly what he was: an olive farmer holding a glowing sword.

Jak voiced his support. “She’s right, Nik.”

Nikalys glanced at Jak with uncertain eyes. He stared back to the blade, tilting his head up as he studied its length. With a confused expression, he muttered, “Is it just me, or is it…glowing?”

Broedi rumbled softly, “It is the Weave inside the blade, uori. When the dirgmour forged it for Aryn, Eliza added a Weave so it would never dirty nor dull. Even after cutting stone.”

With incredulous eyes, Nikalys stared at Broedi. “Stone? That’s impossible.”

Broedi rumbled, “I assure you it is not.”

Grinning, Jak said, “Try not to cut off any fingers, Nik.”

A small smile graced Nikalys’ lips as he peered back to the sword. A moment later, the smile slipped away, replaced by a bewildered frown. “What in the Nine Hells am I supposed to do with it?”

“Learn to use it,” answered Broedi.

Staring up at the hillman, Kenders asked, “Are you going to teach him?”

Broedi shook his head. “Unfortunately, I do not know the art. I have never seen a need to learn.”

Kenders supposed the fact Broedi could change into a lynx or bear negated the need to know how to use a sword.

“Bless the gods,” muttered Jak. “Just think. For fifteen years, that’s been hidden in our home.”

Kenders sighed. The sword had not been the only thing hiding in the Isaac home. Looking to Nikalys, she said, “Please tell me you believe Broedi now.”

Nikalys nodded at the sword and said, “This is difficult to deny.” Pointing to the letter still clasped in Jak’s hand, he added, “And that even more so.” Sighing, he turned his gaze to the hillman. “I’m sorry for my behavior, Broedi. What you shared was…not easy to hear.”

Broedi inclined his head, accepting the apology with grace. “Aryn had a difficult time accepting things he did not want to hear as well, uori.” He paused and, with a hint of wonderment in his voice, said, “Seeing you stand there with his sword is strange for me. Yet good.”

Kenders was relieved that everyone was in a decent mood once again. Considering what they had been through, it was rather remarkable. However, nothing said tonight had addressed a very important question that was yet unanswered. “So now what?”

Broedi, Nikalys, and Jak all turned to stare at her.

Jak said, “Good question.”

As one, the trio of siblings shifted their gaze to the White Lion.

After a short sigh, Broedi rumbled, “We head south, to a safe haven. I will try to help you both with the gifts you have inherited, although I fear I will only be able to help you, uora. Aryn and I talked about his capabilities at times, but even he did not understand how he did what he did.” He eyed Nikalys and said apologetically, “I will share with you whatever I can remember.”

With an appreciative nod, Nikalys said, “Thank you, Broedi. Anything would be helpful.”

Turning to Kenders, Broedi said, “And when it is safe, we will resume your lessons on the Strands, uora
.
”

Kenders remained quiet, unsure how she felt about that. Knowing she was the daughter of a White Lion mage could not chase away her unease about being a mage herself.

“Where exactly is this safe haven?” asked Jak.

“South,” rumbled the hillman.

“‘South’ is a big place,” noted Jak. “Feel like narrowing that down some?”

“No, I do not. It is best this way, uori. Please trust me.”

Jak frowned, obviously unhappy with the lack of a clear answer, but he did not press further. None of them did, although Kenders wondered why Broedi was reluctant to share their destination.

Nodding to the south, Broedi said, “Sometime tomorrow we will reach the outskirts of Lakeborough. There, we will move along the river for a while, until we are past the city. Too many eyes in Lakeborough.”