Progeny (The Children of the White Lions) (5 page)

“Hells.”

The water was already up to his calves. They were not going to make it this way.

He stopped where he stood and turned around, looking for his sister. Kenders emerged a moment later and stopped short when she saw the water running down the slope. Recognizing the situation in an instant, she looked at him.

“Now what?”

Splashing through the water, he moved back to where his sister stood. “South. We’ll cut over when we get closer.”

Nodding her head in agreement, Kenders started to jog down the hill, breaking into a run after a few steps. Nikalys followed.

* * *

Some people stood motionless, mouths agape, looking northward. Others had dropped whatever they had held and were running south along with Thaddeus and his family. Still others sprinted in the opposite direction, seeking their loved ones. And sealing their fate.

Dashing through the town, the Isaacs were nearing the main street of the village. As Jak was easily outpacing his parents, Thaddeus shouted out an order. “Go right!”

As Jak turned west, he slowed to wait for Thaddeus and Marie and glanced northward. He halted in his tracks, his eyes opening wide.

The fibríaal was moving fast then, faster than Thaddeus had hoped. Twisting to see where Marie was, Thaddeus cursed, “Blast.”

Spry and athletic in her youth, the years had robbed his wife of the speed and stamina necessary to keep up such a frantic pace. Thaddeus silently urged his wife to hurry before he, too, stole a glance to the north. “Bless the gods…”

Not only was it fast, it was massive, the largest fibríaal he had ever seen. It looked like a giant slate-blue man, towering over the treetops. Judging that the wave had already reached some of the northern olive groves, Thaddeus looked back to his wife.

Back to the fibríaal.

To his wife.

“Hells…”

Marie was moving much too slowly. In that instant, he made an impossible decision.

His mind drifted back to that small, smoky blacksmith’s shop and he muttered, “We’ve done the best we can.”

Scrambling over to Jak, he grabbed his son. “Jak!”

Jak did not respond, his gaze fixed on the wave of water, his eyes wide and mouth agape.

Shaking Jak by the shoulders, Thaddeus shouted again. “Jak! Listen to me!”

* * *

Tearing his gaze from the dreadful, impossible spectacle, Jak looked at his father, wide-eyed.

“Listen, Jak! You need to survive. You
must
survive. Do you understand?”

Jak blinked a few times, unwittingly glancing back to the wave of water. He winced as his father’s fingers dug deeper into his arms.

“Blast it, Jak! Pay attention!”

“What is that!?”

“There’s no time to explain. Find Nikalys and Kenders! Keep them safe!”

Jak tried to pull away. “Let’s go and you can keep them safe—”

Thaddeus squeezed tighter, cutting Jak’s protest short. “Find them! Find somewhere to hide. Change your name and—”

Marie arrived at that moment, interrupting Thaddeus. One look at her husband and a mournful yet determined expression gripped her face. Reaching up, she slipped the leather cord and silver pendant from around her neck, stepped forward and, standing on her toes, dropped the necklace over Jak’s head. “Hold it in your hand and picture their face. You’ll know where they are and if they still draw breath.”

Jak was starting to think this was a dream. A very bad dream.

“I don’t understand.”

Marie patted his chest and, in a strained voice, said, “Hopefully you will.” She kissed his cheek. “Now, go.”

“Go? What do you mean go? You are coming with—”

“No!” said Marie, her voice firm. A lone tear ran down her cheek. “We’ll only slow you down.”

“I’m not leaving you here!”

“You must!” exclaimed his father. “Nikalys and Kenders are your responsibility now. Make sure no harm comes to them!” He paused, his eyes filling with regret. “I’m sorry about this, Jak. We should have told you all the truth years ago, but were afraid.”

“The truth? The truth about what?”

“Promise to keep them safe! They are important!”

“Important? What does—?”

Thaddeus’ eyes flared with the heat of a Year’s End bonfire. “Blast it, Jak! Promise me! Promise me, now!”

Shocked by his father’s intensity, Jak swallowed his question and mumbled, “I promise.”

With tears flowing freely down her face now, Marie wrapped her arms around him, squeezed tight, and whispered, “I love you.”

Jak was too stunned to return the hug, too stunned to respond at all.

Thaddeus embraced them both. “Tell Nikalys and Kenders how much we love them.
Never
let them forget that.” He patted Jak’s back twice, pulled back, and then gave him a little shove. “Now, go.” His eyes were wet now, too. “I love you, son.”

Jak shook his head, baffled. “Why are you—?”

Marie cut him short by placing her hand on his chest and pushing even harder. “Go, Jak.”

“Just come with—”

Using both hands, Thaddeus shoved him hard enough that Jak lost his grip on his mother. Jak stumbled backwards, staring at his parents, numb inside. Dozens of people were rushing past them, eyes wide, screaming in terror. Thaddeus and Marie stood as still as statues.

Jak shook his head. He could—would not—not leave them to die. He took a step back toward them, a step matched by Thaddeus and Marie as both backpedaled.

“Go, Jak!” shouted Thaddeus. “If you love us, you’ll go!” An expression of absolute resolve filled his face. Jak looked to his mother and found a matching one on hers.

“Please, Jak.”

Sick at what he was doing, Jak took a slow step backward.

Then a second.

A third.

He kept waiting for them to cry out for him to come back, or rush forward and run through the streets with him. They did neither.

Shutting his eyes, he turned away from his parents and faced the opposite direction. He started to jog, not opening his eyes for the first dozen paces. When he did, tears blurred his vision. He wiped them away as he sprinted down the street, joining the stream of people fleeing south. He never looked back, knowing that if he did, he would go to them. And die with them.

* * *

Kenders trailed Nikalys by several dozen paces, but was doing her best to keep up. As hard as she tried, however, she could not match her brother’s speed. She had never seen him run so fast.

Hot, sweaty, and exhausted, she pushed past her discomfort. The crackling of magic was still rolling toward her home.

Cold dread sat like a lump of lard inside her stomach.

* * *

Short of growing wings and flying away, Jak had no hope of escaping the wave of water. Yet that did not mean he was not going to try.

Turning a corner, he came upon The Lout and The Witch. Garry, the tavern’s portly owner, stood in front of his establishment, staring north, frozen with fear. Running past the man, Jak grabbed Garry’s arm and began to pull. “Let’s go, Garry!”

Garry stumbled along with Jak a few steps, reluctant to move.

Jak shouted, “Garry! Let’s go!” He yanked the large man’s arm. “Now!”

Garry finally looked down at Jak, his eyes glassed over. “My inn…everything…”

Tugging harder on the man’s arm, Jak exclaimed, “We need to run! Now!”

Shaking his head, Garry pulled his arm free. “I’m too big to run.” In an even, disturbingly calm tone, he said, “I think I’ll go have one last drink.” He patted Jak on the shoulder. “Good memories behind, Jak.”

Jak watched—stunned—as the man marched up the porch step to the inn. “If he wants to die, that’s his choice.”

He turned to start running again and noticed the horse cart in front of him, full of ale kegs. The ruddy brown horse attached to the cart was whinnying, stomping at the ground, its eyes wide with fear. The beast knew something was happening, even if it did not understand the extent of the danger.

For a fleeting moment, Jak considered trying to gallop out of town atop the horse, but he dismissed the thought. Soldiers rode horses, not farmers. Horses were meant for pulling carts, not carrying people. Jak would likely kill himself in a fall before the wave had its chance to end him.

Not wanting to leave the animal strapped to the cart to die, Jak drew his knife from his belt sheath and sliced through its harness. Free, the horse bucked once and ran down the street, straight toward the oncoming wave.

Jak’s eyes went wide.

The water figure now towered over the trees to the north, its roar punishing Jak’s ears. A sick sense of inevitability gripped him. There was no way he could outrun this. Turning to the cart, he sighed, rested his head against a barrel, and accepted his fate.

“I wonder if drowning hurts.”

He pulled his head back and banged it on the wooden keg. He closed his eyes and did it again, harder. Ale sloshed inside. He banged his head a third time—even harder—and winced. The keg was solid as a rock.

Lifting his head, he stared at the barrel’s wood grain. “Hold a moment.”

These were full.

Standing tall, Jak rushed around the cart and ran to the rear of the inn. He skidded around the corner and found a dozen empty barrels stacked neatly near the back door. He smiled.

Choosing the largest, sturdiest-looking barrel of the bunch, he turned the massive cask on end and tried to open the lid, cursing when he found it stuck. Pulling out his beltknife, he dug the tip between barrel and lid and tried to pry it open. It would not budge.

Glaring at the name burned into the lid, he exclaimed, “Blast you, Wembly Brewery!” Screaming, he threw all his weight into the effort and, with a pop and a crack, the lid burst free.

Jak removed the bundle his father had given him, tossed it into the giant barrel, and followed. It was a tight fit, but he managed to fold himself inside the keg. Reversing the lid, he gripped the handle meant for the outside, accidentally dropping his knife to the ground. He stared at it a moment before the sounds of wood cracking north drew his attention north.

The water creature had reached Yellow Mud.

Forgetting the knife, Jak crouched down and pulled the lid as tight as he could. The air inside the barrel reeked of warm, stale beer. Spotting an open hole where the tap had been, he jammed his right foot against the hole, blocking the last bit of light.

Outside, the roar grew louder, reminding him of a thousand snarling badgers.

Wood groaned, popped, and cracked.

People screamed.

Jak closed his eyes, trying to shut out the cries. He wanted to cover his ears, but he dare not let go of the lid. He would never, ever let go of the lid.

A short prayer seemed in order. Before he could settle on which god to beg for aid, the wave arrived. With a violent thrust, the barrel went tumbling.

Jak started to scream.

* * *

Nikalys reached the edge of the forest ahead of Kenders and rushed into the open. Dodging one last tree and bush, she lunged through the same gap as him, burst from the trees, and stopped beside her brother.

The
y
pair stood atop a ridge overlooking Yellow Mud, still a half mile away.

The water creature was now in their village, thrashing about, shattering everything. Buildings lifted up and smashed against one another, leaving only splinters of wood floating on the water’s frothy surface. The massive waves, muddied with dirt and debris, acted against the laws of nature. When a breaker reached the village’s outskirts, rather than dispersing into the countryside, it shifted direction to rush back through buildings, horses, and people. It was as if Yellow Mud was in a giant, invisible bucket.

Kenders choked out, “Nik?”

Nikalys put his arm around her and pulled her close, but remained silent. There was nothing to say.

As Kenders stood there, watching the devastation of their home and family, anguish and sorrow moved aside, allowing a bitter fury to creep in and take root.

Angry now, Kenders muttered, “Why?” She glanced at her brother. “Why, Nik?”

His eyes burned. Muscles rippled in his neck and jaw. Shaking his head, he growled, “I don’t know.”

Then, as though it were a flame snuffed by a stiff wind, the crackling feeling disappeared.

She whispered, “It’s over.”

The creature stopped thrashing. Water fell to the ground and rushed outward, no longer bound by the invisible bucket. As the flood flowed south, it deposited whatever it carried: crushed houses, barns, field carts, timbers, furniture, barrels, horses, and even people. The scene sickened Kenders, but she was could not look away.

Swallowing back a bit of bile, she said, “We need to get down there.”

Nikalys shot a worried look at her. “What about the mages?”

“Mother, Father, or Jak are down there. Our friends and neighbors, too. We need to help them.”

Nikalys pressed his lips together and stared at the village. “Fine, let’s go.” Nodding at the ridge’s sharp drop-off, he said, “South. To the road.” As the pair turned and resumed running down the hill, Nikalys added, “And be careful. Those mages might still be around.”

Kenders nodded, but did not respond. She had thought the same thing.

The path Nikalys and Kenders careened down was nothing like the one they had taken to the lake. Rocks and bare roots jutted from the ground, providing firm footholds for those intent on treading carefully, but treacherous obstacles for anyone in a hurry.

As much as she wanted to reach her family, Kenders began to wonder at the wisdom of rushing toward the ruined village. Whatever their reasons, the mages from the lake seemed intent on destroying Yellow Mud. Surely they would inspect things afterwards. One did not plant a squash seed and not wait to see it grow.

Nikalys, a full two dozen paces ahead of her now, was dashing down the hill when he suddenly shifted directions, taking a sharp right turn to scurry up the western rise. Kenders watched in disbelief, wondering if her brother had gone mad. The top of the slope he was racing up was clearly visible from the village.