The Children of the White Lions: Volume 02 - Prophecy (60 page)

Nelnora forced herself not to react. Recently, she had ignored that particular law, although none but Tenerva knew. She had not even shared the White Lions’ visit with Ashana.

“Then your champion is acting on her own?” asked Maeana.

“It would seem so,” replied Ketus.

“To what end?”

“Short of asking her, we don’t have any way of finding that out, do we?”

Nelnora hoped whatever Miriel Syncent was doing would not interfere with her plans. She let an almost imperceptible sigh slip from her lips. Mortals were like weeds in a well-tended garden, sprouting with impunity, popping up where they were not wanted.

“Have you approached any of the others yet?”

Glancing up to find Ketus eyeing her, Nelnora shook her head, “No. I had hoped that by securing your agreement, gaining additional support would be easier.”

Ketus said, “Well, with me and Ashana, you have three to start with.” He turned an expectant eye to Maeana. “Do we have four?”

Ashana and Nelnora both gazed at the Goddess as well, waiting for her declaration.

Maeana ignored them for a time, continuing to stare at the scene within the window. Looking back to it, Nelnora saw that the young man and the others were gone. The only two left were the pair of black-haired sisters, the eldest singing softly to the youngest. If anything was going to sway Maeana, it was this image.

Nelnora hid a slight smile. Yet again, Indrida had been right.

Maeana murmured, “I support your call for Assembly.”

Nelnora closed her eyes, welcoming the rush of relief that came with Maeana’s words. Letting out a short sigh, she opened her eyes and stared at the white-robed Goddess.

“Thank you, Maeana.”

In a low, mocking voice, Ketus said, “To be clear, then. You are now
for
interfering, yes?”

Nelnora glared at the God, pleading with him to be quiet.

The skin around Maeana’s eyes tightened while most of her face remained blank and emotionless. Speaking in quiet and restrained tone, she said, “No, I am not. But too many souls have already reached my halls before their time. It is wasteful.” She pressed her lips together and faced Nelnora. “Once you have nine, I will do as you ask. Until then, I will continue to abide by our laws.”

Nodding, Nelnora said, “I understand fully.”

As Maeana glanced back to the window, her expression softened.

“Ashana? Thank you for what you did today.”

Her tone one of perfect innocence, Ashana asked, “Whatever do you mean?”

Lifting her eyebrows a fraction Maeana said, “You expect us to believe the young man rushed into the building of his own accord?”

Ashana shrugged her shoulders.

“Perhaps he heard the girl cry out?”

Ketus snickered of disbelief and said, “She was unconscious.”

“Well, then,” said Ashana ponderously. “Truly, it is an enigma.”

“Claim ignorance if you like,” said Maeana. “I thank you, anyway. Watching the girl perish would have been…difficult for me.” The pain that filled her eyes was unlike anything Nelnora had seen in her brethren. It was discomforting to see.

Maeana suddenly pulled her eyes away from the window and, in a voice devoid of emotion, said, “End it please. I do not wish to see any more.”

“Of course,” muttered Nelnora. As she released the Weave, letting the image fade from sight, she allowed herself a small, content smile.

11
^th
of the Turn of Maeana, 4999

Kenders glared at the swamp before her, shifted in her saddle, and tried not to sigh. This was getting old. Yet another series of interconnected ponds and puddles blocked their path. Evergreens, stunted oaks, and willowy briarbirches lined the opposite side of the marsh, taunting them with the promise of dry, firm land.

Smoke lowered her head to sniff the stagnant water immediately before their stopped party. With a disappointed huff and shake of her head, the horse made her opinion of the mucky water known. Kenders peered down at the pale green film covering the surface and wrinkled her nose. A large belch of swamp air burst from the surface a dozen paces away, startling her.

Kenders turned up her lip. The Marshlands were disgusting.

The air reeked of rotting plants and old eggs, the foul putridness having but one redeeming quality in that it covered her own malodorous scent. Her last proper wash had been week ago at a crossroads inn. Grime and grit covered her from head to toe.

No one had spoken since they had stopped. As the silence stretched out, Kenders realized they were going to make her talk first again.

Three of her companions formed a line beside her, sitting in their saddles and staring across the open marsh. Boah and Tobias both wore expressions of open frustration, while Khin’s face was a mask of impassivity. She stared at man, tomble, and aicenai for a few moments, hoping one of them might meet her eye. None did.

Bracing herself, she swiveled to her right and peered over at Zecus. The skin around his eyes was tight, his lips pressed together, deep creases lined his forehead. Unlike the others, Zecus was angry.

“It’s not as bad as before,” she offered. “At least we can see the other side this time.”

Zecus remained perfectly quiet, unmoving.

“Come on, Zecus. We still need to head north anyway, right? So we do it now rather than later, yes? We’ll turn west again when we can.”

Her optimism was met with a clenched jaw, the muscles in his check twitching beneath his curly, three-week old black beard. Without looking at her, he mumbled a quiet response.

“If we must.”

He immediately jerked his reins to the right, turning Simiah north, and kicked the horse’s sides. As he rode away, she stared at his back, a quiet, dejected sigh slipping from her lips. Giving Smoke’s reins a gentle tug, she followed Zecus. The others did the same with Boah softly cajoling the rider-less Goshen to stop eating and come along.

The group rode in complete silence, heading north along the endless maze of ponds, the third time today they had been forced to alter their path. In the past week, detours such as this were commonplace and with each delay, Zecus’ mood grew darker. At times, Kenders barely recognized him. The kind, respectful man she had eyes for was gone, replaced by a sullen, solemn soul.

She shut her eyes, squeezing them tight, screaming inside. This was her fault. All of it.

In the days following Joshmuel’s death, Zecus insisted he did not hold her responsible, offering gentle words and smiles. However, as the days passed, Zecus grew increasingly aloof and cold. Any attempt by her—or anyone of their party—to engage him in conversation resulted in terse, clipped responses. Eventually, the others stopped speaking with Zecus altogether. Even Boah, normally boisterous and loud, remained silent around him.

Kenders opened her eyes and stared at Zecus’ back. He sat in his saddle, rigid and tense.

She knew he blamed her for Joshmuel’s death. She certainly blamed herself.

Dropping her head, she stared at Smoke’s black mane without seeing it, wondering at the cruel chain of events that had led to here. Had Broedi not taken them on a path leading to the Moiléne farm all those turns ago, Kenders would have never opened a port there. Yet not going to the farm would mean she and her brothers would not have interrupted the bandits attack on the sisters. Most likely, the pair would be dead now.

Sabine and Helene’s lives for Joshmuel’s.

It was a dangerous path of thought to follow, nonetheless she found herself weighing their lives, wondering if given the choice, which she would pick.

“I am going to ride with the Borderlanders for a time. You shall ride with Tobias.”

Kenders’ head snapped up and to the right. She was surprised to find Khin riding beside her, his cool gaze locked on her face. The unprompted words were out of character for Khin. Other than her morning and afternoon lessons, the aicenai rarely spoke.

Before she could form a response, Khin swiveled in his saddle, stared at Boah, and requested, “Come with me, please.” Without waiting for Boah’s acknowledgment, the aicenai faced forward and urged his horse into a gentle trot.

Kenders watched him ride away for a moment and then turned back to Boah.

“What is that about?”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Boah said, “I have no idea. But I’m not going to argue with a mage.” He kicked Hal’s sides, tugging Goshen along behind him. As he passed Kenders, he added with a wink and a grin, “I bet they’ll both talk my ear off.”

Kenders smiled at the quip, grateful for Boah’s presence. Without him, the somber mood traveling with their group would have crushed her days ago.

As she watched the pair ride to catch Zecus, Tobias trotted up to fall in beside her. Keeping her eyes on the trio ahead, she said, “That is unusual.”

“Yes,” muttered Tobias. “It certainly is.” He sounded curious himself.

Glancing to her right, she asked, “Any idea what prompted it?”

Tobias reached up, smacked an insect that had alighted on his cheek, and pulled his hand back. As he wiped the remains of the squished bug on his leg, he swiveled his head to peer at her, an unusual twinkle in his eyes and a slight smile gracing his lips.

“So, Kenders. What’s been on your mind as of late?”

She turned away from the tomble and stared west, out over the swamp. Managing to keep her tone casual, she said, “Nothing in particular. Just that I’m getting tired of these marshes.”

“Of course,” said the tomble. “The marshes.”

She hoped Tobias would do what they had all been doing for weeks: ride in complete silence. He did not.

“Might you still be ruminating on Joshmuel’s death?”

Kenders turned to glare at the tomble and lied, “No. Not at all.”

Pressing his lips together, he nodded and said, “As I thought.” Apparently, he did not accept her claim. “Still carrying the blame on your shoulders, are you?”

Her eyes narrowing, she lied again.

“No.”

“You should be careful,” said Tobias, his gaze boring into her. “Guilt is like a boulder of granite. The longer you carry it, the heavier it gets.”

Annoyed now, Kenders said, “What I am feeling is none of your concern.”

His gaze lingered for a half-dozen horse strides before dropping to Traveler’s chestnut mane.

“Did Broedi tell you much about me?”

Kenders’ irritation dulled a bit at the unexpected question.

“Pardon?”

Looking back to her, Tobias asked, “Broedi. Did he talk about me? About my past? About how I came to be one of the Assembly’s champions?”

Bewildered by the shift in conversation, Kenders said, “Well…no.”

Tobias appeared trapped between a smile and a frown.

“I see.”

“Honestly, besides a few stories about my parents, he never speaks of the White Lions. I’ve asked before, but he says he does not like to talk of the past.”

Tobias nodded slowly, an understanding smile spreading over his face.

“The past grows dull with age, yet some edges stay sharp, eh?”

“Pardon?”

“Sorry,” said Tobias, glancing over. “It’s an old Boroughs saying. It means…” He paused for a moment. “It means that while most memories fade with time, some do not.” He frowned. “Often, those that hurt the most.”

Now Kenders nodded her understanding, saying, “I suppose Broedi has plenty of sharp edges in his past, doesn’t he?” She eyed the tomble. “You, as well?”

Tobias drew in a deep breath and let it back out.

“More than I would like.”

Kenders waited, sensing that the past had trapped the tomble for a moment. She began to face forward when Tobias spoke in a quiet, unassuming voice.

“You should know that I am a murderer.”

Wondering if a frog’s croak or the muddy squish of a horse’s hoof might have mangled his words, she looked back and asked, “Pardon?”

Tobias offered her a slight, remorseful smile. Reading her expression perfectly, he said, “You heard me correctly. I am a murderer.”

Assuming he was talking about his actions during the last battle with the God of Chaos, she said, “What a person does during war is not—”

“That is not what I mean,” interrupted Tobias with a firm shake of his head. “I had blood on my hands before I was a White Lion.”

A quiet moment slipped past before Kenders spoke.

“Pardon?”

Tobias glanced over at her, nibbling on his lip. After a heartbeat or two, he sighed, and stared ahead.

“I am originally from Buttermere Crag, a good-sized town in the Alewold Principal that sits at the base of large cliff. Rock quarries were operated in the bluffs nearby, the stone used to build most of the homes and shops of every town in the region. Half of Buttermere Crag worked at the quarries. My entire family did. I, for much of my early life, however, did not.”

“Why not?”

With raised eyebrows, he patted his right leg.

“It’s hard to carry rocks and hold a cane at the same time.”

Kenders eyes widened a fraction as she said, “Oh. Right. I forgot about your leg.” Three weeks of traveling with the tomble and she had grown so used to his crippled limb that she no longer noticed it.

“Good,” said Tobias while wearing a tiny smile. “I prefer when people do that.” Facing forward, he resumed his story.

“My leg did not keep me from the quarry forever. Despite my limitation, my father wanted me in the rock pit. ‘Generations of Donngords have worked the stone, Tobias,’ he would say. ‘So shall you.’” When a new section of the quarry was opened for mining, he pressed me into service, securing me the position of overseer for the team. I accepted the role, yet within days, I knew I would be poor at the job.”

“Because of your leg?”

“Not at all. A bad leg does not hamper one from standing around all day, watching others work. I was bored to no end, dear. I loathed every moment in that dusty pit, watching the sun cross the sky, pleading with Mu that he move his orb faster.”

For a few rhythmic strides of their horses squishing through mud and muck, Tobias remained quiet. The expression on his face turned dark, betraying a deep-rooted hurt. When he resumed speaking, his voice was just above a whisper.