Progeny (The Children of the White Lions) (89 page)

Mostly, he listened, wishing he could shift into the kisa and take advantage of the cat’s heightened senses. However, he did not dare do so. Jhaell Myrr could weave Soul and Will, and Broedi needed both to take any animal form.

Outwardly, he appeared a picture of calm. On the inside, however, he was a boiling pot of worry. Very little of this journey had gone as he had wished with one difficulty after another presenting itself. Yet he, the Progeny, and this unexpected collection of good souls had overcome every challenge laid before them. He prayed that string of success would continue.

It would seem the Soulwraith from the Tracker had served its purpose, finding Jhaell and relaying what it knew. And now, a great host of oligurts was traveling through the Southlands, on their trail, and led by the demon-man Urazûd. There was a chance a contingent of Southern Arms might intercept and defeat their pursuers, but Broedi was not counting on it. Typically, oligurt scouts rode within a day’s journey of the main host, meaning the Sudashians had made it to the cover of the Blackbark Forest unchallenged.

A frown spread over his lips. Logic told him that Urazûd, Jhaell, and the Sudashians were near. His extra sense from Thonda confirmed it.

After the second scout died, he had spoken with the group. As was typical, their questions outnumbered his answers.

Sergeant Trell wanted a more accurate count of their enemies’ number.

Nundle worried if oligurt mages were with them.

Zecus asked if there were razorfiends as well. Or mongrels.

Sabine wanted to know if they could make it to Storm Island before they were found.

Nundle wondered if a limit existed to the number that Jhaell could move in a port.

Sergeant Trell wanted to know what type of tactics he could expect from oligurts.

They lobbed question after question at him, all of which he would have happily answered if he could.

Throughout the firestorm of questioning, the three Isaac siblings had remained solemn and quiet. He suspected knowing that the person responsible for the destruction of Yellow Mud—and their previous life—was so near had caused a fresh surge of emotions.

While they debated the best course of action, Broedi had the Sentinels slay the oligurt’s
hurgard
—or bullockboar, as Zecus had called it. He loathed killing any beast, but the
hurgard
would be a terror to the people of the Blackbark Forest if freed. Hunsfin and Blainwood reported that they, along with a handful of other soldiers, had already encountered the other scout’s mount tied to a tree and had disposed of it.

Their company had not taken the trouble to try to bury or hide the bodies of the oligurts or their mounts. Any capable scout—and oligurt scouts were very good—would have been able to find the evidence of the fight anyway. The time would be better spent putting as much distance as possible between themselves and their pursuers. Sergeant Trell had ordered a much tighter formation for the soldiers, and the company had set off at a quick pace.

Throughout the day, every branch that cracked sent a ripple of alarm through the group. Soldiers rode with bows in one hand and arrows in the other.

Broedi reached up to rub his eyes and allowed himself a quiet sigh.

Storm Island was still a week away. No amount of hurried marching would get them to the enclave before their pursuers caught them. Unfortunately, Broedi had no means by which to contact the enclave for help. As the day went on, try as he might, he could not come up with a plan that would enable them to evade Jhaell Myrr.

The ijul was coming, and coming fast. He would find Broedi’s group and try to kill the Progeny. After which, the god of Chaos and the Cabal could do as they pleased.

When Broedi had quietly shared his gloomy conclusion with Sergeant Trell, the soldier had agreed with his assessment. The sergeant had then aggressively questioned Broedi on the terrain of the Blackbark Forest, looking for any place that might offer a tactical advantage against an opponent with greater number of soldiers. Broedi did not know this area of the forest well, but he did know of a lone, large hill about a day’s ride due east. The mount loomed over the road that ran south from Masons Bay to the land bridge leading to Storm Island.

The pair reluctantly agreed that it was as good a place to make a stand as any.

Unable to reach the hill by nightfall and not wanting to stumble about in the dark, they had stopped for the evening with the camp under orders to remain dark, silent, and alert. The Red Sentinels had obeyed without question. Broedi had barely heard a whisper since darkness gripped the forest.

A soft rustling of leaves and pine needles behind him sparked a flash of alarm before a familiar scent wafted over him. Admonishing himself for letting his mind drift, he forced himself to relax. Everyone was on edge, including himself. No matter what, though, he could not let any of them see how nervous he was. Especially the children.

“It’s me, Broedi,” whispered Kenders.

Keeping his tone quiet and calm, he rumbled, “I know, uora
.
”

He listened as Kenders moved closer, each hesitant footstep crunching against the forest floor. Forcing his tone to remain light, he whispered, “You make as much noise as a wounded horse walking on crushed sea shells.”

In an annoyed, hushed whisper, she said, “If I could see, I might pick my way better.” She slipped around to stand on his right and faced the same direction as he was. He doubted she could see much more than a few paces in front of her.

Without looking over, he rumbled, “I am surprised you found me.”

“It was not easy,” murmured Kenders. “Gods, but I wish there were a Weave to help me see in the dark.”

“There is,” replied Broedi softly. “’Are, actually. Especially for a gifted mage like yourself . You could use Fire—or Charge—to create a ball of light. It could hover with you, or you could bind it to a stick or pole. A more complex Weave of Life, Soul, and Charge could grant the ability to see in the dark. Much like a cat.”

“Is that how it works for you, Broedi? When you’re the lynx?”

Only after he shook his head did he realize there was a good chance she might not see it.

“No, uora.”

“How is it you have such tremendous eyesight, then? And hearing?”

“And smell
.
My sense of smell is much better than yours.”

“Is that something that all hillman have? Nundle said tombles’ eyesight is better all of ours—except yours, apparently. Although, even he needs some light to see by.” She paused and giggled quietly before adding, “When I stumbled upon him, he was looking in the wrong direction. Should we be attacked by our own camp, Nundle will be ready.”

Broedi smiled at the thought and rumbled, “My senses are something I gained once I became Thonda’s champion. I believe the part of him inside of me is responsible.”

Kenders was quiet for a long moment before asking, “A part of Thonda is inside you?”

“Perhaps. I do not know for sure. But I do not know how else to describe what I feel. It is…” He trailed off, searching for the correct word. It was not the first time he had struggled to put a name to the sensation. “‘
Vomakasti elosa
’ is how I would describe it in my native tongue. ‘Fiercely alive’ is as close as I can get in Argot. I have always thought of it as Thonda’s Strand. Before the Assembly, it was not there. After, it was.”

Again, Kenders was quiet for a few heartbeats before finally responding.

“Truly?”

Broedi knew it sounded odd. It had taken him time to get used to the idea himself.

“Yes, uora.”

Kenders remained silent, this time, for a much longer period. When she spoke, her voice was strong yet full of curiosity.

“Does that mean I have a piece of a god in me? I mean, if
you
have one, I’m assuming my mother did from Gaena. And my father from Horum. Did they pass it to Nik and me? Could they?”

Broedi looked over and down at Kenders, able to see her profile clearly in the dark.

“I do not know. The two of you are…unique. Only the Celystiela know the answer to that question.” He looked back into the dark, misty forest and sighed. “And truthfully? I wonder if even they know.”

Silence stretched out between them. A soft fluttering of wings overhead drew his attention upward. He listened for a moment and concluded it was a small bat, no bigger than his fist.

Kenders muttered, “You haven’t seen Nikalys or Jak recently, have you?”

“Actually, I have.”

The two young men had stumbled past earlier, announcing their well-meaning intention to keep watch. Broedi had thanked them for their diligence and then sent the pair in a direction to keep them away from the camp’s perimeter.

“How long ago?” pressed Kenders. “They missed eveningmeal.”

Hearing the worry in her voice, Broedi smiled. “Not long. I am sure they are safe.” He hoped he was right

“Oh. Well…good, then.”

“Was that the only reason for your visit, uora?”

“More or less.”

Another round of oppressive silence filled the forest. A squirrel ran up a tree a few dozen paces to the east.

“Broedi?”

He glanced over at Kenders. She seemed reluctant to go.

“Yes?”

“Have you given any more thought to what Helene did in Fernsford?”

Frowning, Broedi rumbled, “Some, uora.”

The truth was that he had thought about the little girl often. They had been very lucky that the little girl had not exposed them all. Should they escape Jhaell and reach the enclave’s safety, he would need to speak with Helene. Now was not the time for that, though.

Kenders muttered, “I’m worried about her, Broedi.”

The hillman turned to stare at her. “Why is that, uora?”

“I don’t know,” whispered Kenders. “I just am.”

Broedi eyed her for a few moments before turning away. Were he not concerned about an imminent attack, he might probe more. For now, he must pay attention to the fog and forest.

“She has a good soul. She will be fine.”

“If you say so,” murmured Kenders, shivering.

“Are you cold, uora?”

“A bit,” admitted the young woman.

Broedi reached out his arm and put it around her. There was no need for her to be cold.

Kenders whispered, “Thank you.”

They stood in silence again, listening to the muted sounds of the nighttime forest.

“Broedi?”

“Yes?”

“Will they kill us if they catch us?”

He was unsure how to best respond to the question. After a long pause, he chose the truth.

“They will try.”

He felt her take a deep breath and expected her to say something. However, she exhaled and remained silent. Broedi patted her shoulder and stared into the forest.

“Jak?”

Sabine made sure to keep her voice low as she stepped through the dark forest, arms outstretched before her. She had already walked headfirst into one tree.

“Nikalys?”

The soldier named Bedwin had seen the brothers in this direction, but all she had found to this point was bushes, trees, and fog.

She kept her back facing the camp as she moved through the forest, knowing that if she veered even the slightest, she might never find her way back in the blackness. Should she get lost, her only true option would be to sit down and wait until morning’s light to find her way back. Sergeant Trell had made it clear they were to be silent.

She shook her head, muttering, “Why am I doing this?”

Shortly after making camp this evening, the Isaac brothers announced their intentions to help the Sentinels keep watch. Kenders and Sabine argued they should stay, but they did not listen, moving off to look for Broedi. Kenders remained, sitting with Zecus and Sabine as they attempted to keep Helene distracted from the tension that filled the camp. Hushed conversation during eveningmeal—a cold meal of dried boar meat and fresh apples bought from the Fernsford market—centered on happy moments from their pasts rather than the uncertainty facing them over the next few days.

Zecus shared a humorous tale about when a goat had wandered into the Alsher family’s home at night and gnawed holes in his father’s breeches by morning. She was surprised to learn that he had a brother and two sisters, something about which the young Borderlander never spoke. When Kenders asked about them, his mood quickly darkened. He sounded heartbroken as he told them about how he had left them—and his mother—in Demetus when he had returned to defend his home.

By the time night came, which was early in the gloomy forest, neither Jak nor Nikalys had returned. Worried about her brothers, Kenders excused herself to go check with Broedi to see if he had seen them, giving Sabine the opportunity to sing Helene to sleep. Once her sister was gently snoring in a tent, she returned to sit with Zecus.

The pair stayed silent, listening to the strange nighttime sounds of the forest. The chirps, creaks, and cracks of this strange place unsettled her. She actually missed the quiet rustling of the prairie, the sweet, heady scent of grass. The air here was musty and smelled of fresh turned mud, It reminded her of digging her father’s grave.

Unable to sit still, she stood, grabbed a canvas sack, and stuffed it with a half-dozen apples. She asked Zecus to keep an eye on Helene and moved off, intent on finding the Isaac brothers and bringing them something to eat. At the time, it seemed a better option than sitting around in the dark, waiting and thinking. Now, however, she was reevaluating her decision.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, she mumbled, “I should have let them go hungry.”

Bumping into another tree, she whispered a short curse, felt her way around the trunk, and resumed walking. Two steps later, she stubbed her toe on what was either a rock or exposed tree root. Drawing in a hissing breath, she dropped the bag of apples, fell to one knee, and grabbed her right boot. Her toe throbbed.

“Blasted forest.”

Once the ache subsided a bit, she began searching for the small sack of apples. Running her hands through leaves, needles, and dirt, she sought the rough cloth of the bag while praying the apples had not fallen out. At one point, her hand swept through a pile of wet, gloppy mush. Grimacing, she wiped her hand in the leaves and resumed her search. She wondered what she had touched, but figured she was better off not knowing.