Progeny (The Children of the White Lions) (90 page)

“It’s a good thing you’re so noisy, else I might have taken you for a deer and shot you.”

Sabine’s head snapped up. “Jak?” She peered about the darkness, but could see only the vaguest shapes in the misty dark.

“Behind you.”

She looked over her shoulder and stared. It was like trying to stare across a windowless, smoke-filled room with only a lit firestick to light the way. As her gaze settled on a nebulous black shape that was about the size of a person, she said, “Is that you? Or a pine tree?”

A light chuckling came from the black shape. “A pine tree. A talking pine tree. And I want to know what you strange people are doing in my forest.”

A tiny smile graced her lips. Shaking her head, she resumed her search for the sack of food.

“Well, talking tree, I’d appreciate it if you would get over here and help me search.”

Still laughing softly, Jak traipsed through bushes and brush, coming up behind her and dropping to his hands and knees.

“So? What are we looking for exactly?”

“Apples. In a bag. At least I hope they’re still in the bag.”

“And why are you out here looking for a bag of apples?”

Crawling forward a couple paces, Sabine said, “I thought I’d bring you and Nikalys something to eat.”

After a moment’s pause, Jak said, “Thank you.” The teasing was gone from his voice. “That’s very nice of you.”

She slowed her search for a moment, glanced at the dark hump that was Jak, and said, “You’re wel—Ouch!” Something sharp had dug into her knee. Checking that nothing had pierced her skin, she shook her head, and sighed. Managing to keep her tone light, she said, “Don’t expect me to do it again the next time you go wandering off into the forest. My generosity has earned me nothing but a stubbed toe and sore knee so far.”

“That’s only the sour, Sabine,” murmured Jak. “You’re forgetting the sweet.”

“What’s the sweet? That you didn’t shoot me?”

“Never mind,” said Jak, a smile in his voice. “You already found it.”

She grinned and continued searching. A few moments later, Jak let out a quick, restrained whisper.

“Ah-hah!”

Sabine turned toward him and murmured, “Did you find it?”

The dark hump that was Jak rose from the forest floor.

“Why else would I whisper ‘ah-hah?’”

“Ever the jester, aren’t you?”

Hopping up from the ground, she strode toward him, intent on retrieving her bag, doling out Jak’s three apples, and continuing to look for Nikalys. Or perhaps head back to the camp, dragging Jak with her. That was probably the more prudent course.

She had taken but two steps when she tripped over an exposed tree root and stumbled forward, crashing into him. He attempted to catch her, but the sudden fall took him by surprise and they both tumbled to the ground. Jak let out sharp hiss and he crashed to the forest floor with her landing on top of him, her elbow jamming into his stomach.

Rolling off him immediately, she apologized, “Oh, gods, Jak! I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

For a moment, Jak simply lay there, making sounds that were a mix between pain and laughter. Through gritted teeth, he muttered, “I sat on a very sharp stick.”

Sabine could not hold back the small burst of laughter that slipped from her lips.

Through continued chuckling, he said, “And I dropped the apples.”

Her laughter grew even though she tried to restrain it.

“All right,” mumbled Jak as he sat up. “This time, how about you find the sack and I tackle you?”

She slapped a hand over mouth to hold in her snickering. Jak’s also sounded as if he was trying to hold in his mirth, but was failing. For a while, the pair sat in the dark forest, laughing. Sergeant Trell wanted them to be quiet. This was not quiet.

Considering their dire situation, the levity was wholly out of place. Nevertheless, Sabine laughed. And it felt wondrous.

Still chuckling, Jak moved to his hands and knees to resume his search for the apples.

Staring at his dark shape, she asked, “Are we mad, Jak?”

“What do you mean?”

“We have an agent of the Cabal, hundreds of orcs, and a demon, tracking us right now. Perhaps razorfiends, too. Yet here we are laughing like fools.”

Jak’s searching stopped, along with his laughter.

Her own quiet chuckling came to a halt a moment later. Sighing, she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean kill the mirth.”

“No, it’s not that. I was trying to think when I last laughed like that. It’s been weeks. Since before any of this started.”

Sabine might not have meant to murder the good mood, but that was what she had done. Frowning, she sighed again and moved to her hands and knees.

“Let’s find the apples.”

The pair scooted around the forest floor in silence, their search literally fruitless. Sabine was moments away from announcing that she was willing to concede the sack as lost when an eerie, mournful cry pierced the forest night.

Her head snapped up as the hairs on her arm and neck stood on end.

The shriek rose, climbing quickly to a shrill pitch before cutting off in an instant.

Neither she nor Jak had been on the bridge the night the Tracker had died, but they had heard the cries. While the others had rushed toward the unnatural sounds, Jak had stayed with her and Helene in the camp.

Sabine leapt to her feet—Jak did, too—without saying a word. He ran his hand down her arm, seeking her hand. Upon finding it, he slipped his fingers between hers and gripped tight.

“Do
not
let go.” His voice was firm.

“You either.”

As the two rushed back to the camp, it was impossible to tell who led whom.

What-Had-Been-Latius had watched the camp from afar for what seemed like an eternity, the sliver of his soul that had not succumbed to insanity wanting wanted to warn them, to scream at them to run. Yet the Soulwraith had remained silent, the magic suppressing the urge to caution them.

The wraith had moved about the outskirts of the camp in perfect silence, watching the soldiers peer into the forest, searching the night. It had discovered the tomble all alone, but had done nothing. It had spotted the White Lion and the girl earlier, but had done nothing. It had seen the boy wandering about the forest alone, but had done nothing.

The master’s orders were clear. What-had-been-Latius was to observe, nothing else.

It had been watching the brother and the farm girl crawl about the forest floor when it sensed the master’s call to return. Latius’ soul managed to push through to the surface for a moment to call out a warning to the pair, but the cry turned into a long, mournful shriek sliced through the quiet of the woods. The bonds that held his soul clamped down tight, cutting off the screech in an instant.

What-Had-Been-Latius knew that they heard his warning, but doubted they understood it.

The wraith headed west for a few miles before turning north, dashing through the trunks of the ebonwoods, nothing more than a shadow of a shadow. Drawn by the master’s beacon, it ran to the Sudashians’ camp, past the oligurt guards and the fires roasting the remains of a family from a nearby homestead, and around the temporary burrows of the razorfiends.

As the Soulwraith neared the center of the camp, the horned demon-man standing beside the master glanced up and eyed the shade. A sneer spread over his lips.

“It’s back, Jhaell.”

Immediately, the white-haired saeljul turned to stare at the wraith with wide, anxious eyes.

“Did you find them?”

The Soulwraith screeched, “Yesss.”

A large smile spread over his wide, ijulan lips as the master looked over at the demon-man. “I told you it would.” Peering back to the wraith, he said, “Tell me everything.”

The Soulwraith shared the every detail it had learned from its observations. When the demon-man heard the distance that remained to the reach their prey, he let out a howl that rivaled the Soulwraith’s and jabbed a fist at the Soulwraith’s master.

“Blast it, Jhaell! We’ve been here far too long!”

“We need but one more day,” muttered the wraith’s master. “We will catch them by tomorrow evening.”

“You had better hope so,” growled the demon. “I cannot stay away from my charge much longer. The bond weakens.”

“You will be back tomorrow night.”

Snarling, the demon-man spun around and began to pace.

“We should start marching now.”

“I would prefer we take some time to discuss our plan.”

Stopping in place, the demon-man looked back and growled, “Why? They have but a hundred men. They do not stand a chance.”

“I don’t care if they had but ten soldiers with them! We are facing those who are supposedly destined to halt Tandyr. We have no idea what sort of power they truly have.”

“They are children.”

“But Thonda’s champion is not! Need I remind you what he and the rest of the Lions did to you and your kind the last time Tandyr marched through this nation?”

The demon-man’s snarl slipped away. Dropping his gaze, he growled, “You do not.”

“Then let us discuss the plans,” said the master. “I have come too far for this to end wrongly.” The part of the wraith that was still Latius heard a strange pleading in the master’s voice. “I need this, Urazûd. I
need
this.”

The demon-man peered at the master for a long moment, curiosity filling his blood-red eyes.

“What exactly did Tandyr offer you that has made you so desperate?”

The master’s eyes narrowed to thin slits.

“We are going to talk about the plans, Urazud. Nothing else.”

The corners of the demon’s mouth turned upward. In a gruff yet soft, amused voice, he said, “Of course. The plans.”

The pair talked long into the night as What-Had-Been-Latius stood idly by, listening, his soul in constant torment.

16
^th
of the Turn of Thonda

Nathan stood on the hill, alone, peering down the slope and through the mesh of tree trunks and bushes. He drew in a deep breath, shook his head, and let the air slowly slip from his lips. The forest was thinner up here, the trees spread out and shorter. They might have the advantage of high ground, but the enemy would have better cover below.

“This isn’t much better than sitting in the open forest.”

When they had reached the rise earlier, Nathan carefully inspected the terrain as they marched to the top, looking for any advantage he could leverage. There were few.

He had interrogated Broedi again, seeking details about oligurt tactics, but had learned little of use. He had pressed Zecus for every detail the young man could remember about the Sudashian camp, seeking some sort of edge to use against their eventual opponent. However, Zecus had been unable to offer anything that would help Nathan. In the end, Nathan was forced to prepare for a battle knowing only that their enemy was—in Broedi’s words—“very big and very strong.”

Unwilling to remain ignorant, Nathan had stationed Blainwood, Hunsfin, and Cero at different points as the company had headed east today, hoping the trio might be able to garner some additional information. Once the men had spotted the enemy, they were to get a force count and then ride to the hill as fast as their horse could run. So far, none had returned.

The company had reached the hill early in the afternoon and had set to preparing defensive fortifications at once. With no idea how much time they had to prepare, and absent any true tools, Nathan did not waste time ordering earthen boundaries. Instead, he had the men collect dead brush, fallen logs, and rocks in order to build small walls that he hoped might slow the enemy’s advance. He ordered strategic holes in the makeshift fortifications that would—with any luck—funnel the enemy into the places Nathan wanted them to go.

Nikalys had been a tremendous help, able to move a large numbers of trees and other material in a very short amount of time. Jak, Sabine, and Zecus had worked as diligently as any of the soldiers, shoring up defenses wherever Nathan directed them. Even little Helene had dragged sticks around, although she seemed to think this was all some sort of odd game.

Earlier, after speaking with Broedi on the matter, Nathan had approached Sabine and offered a horse to her so she could ride away with her sister. He doubted their pursuers had any interest in the two farm girls. After mentioning the option to Sabine, she had gone quiet for a long moment before staring him in the eye and giving a firm “No.” Without another word, she had stepped past him to carry the armful of sticks she had gathered to the fortifications.

Broedi and Nundle had spent every moment since arriving at the hill with Kenders, giving her a series of rushed lessons about magic, tailoring their instructions to what they knew to be Jhaell’s capabilities. Everyone was doing everything he or she could, but Nathan had a hunch it would not be enough.

He dipped his chin to his chest and mumbled a quiet prayer to the god of War. “Mu, we could use some help today.” After a moment, he added, “Ketus, you, even more.” Some luck would be good, too. A lot of it.

Sighing, he tilted his head back and peered at the sky, visible now that the forest had thinned out. The clouds were growing dark again. Thunder rumbled, soft and distant, rolling through the forest and over their hill.

“Wondrous,” he muttered with a frown. “More blasted rain.”

A torrential storm had arrived with dawn and remained throughout the morning, forcing the company to travel in a thick, soupy mess of mud and leaves. The thick treetop canopy caught the rain as it fell and funneled it into streams that poured to the forest floor. The storm had ceased before they reached the hill, but these new, fresh rumblings of thunder seemed to indicate another was on its way.

A distant, jagged flash of lightning briefly lit up the clouds and Nathan waited for the thunder to come, counting.

“…twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty—”

The boom rumbled, rolling over his hill.

“Four miles, then.”

The darkest clouds were south and moving east, not toward them. After sending one last plea to Saewyn the Untamed, goddess of Sea and Storms, to keep the rain at bay, he studied the hillside, judging their accomplishments to this point.