The Children of the White Lions: Volume 02 - Prophecy (62 page)

Kenders shook her head. This was a bad idea.

She turned and stared at her teacher, hoping he might say something. Surely, he knew this was a poor decision. The aicenai eyed her silently, seemingly more interested in her than the mistake Zecus was moments away from making. Frustrated, she looked to Boah. The older Borderlander was fixated on Zecus, his face lined with worry. He glanced up, met Kenders’ stare, and immediately looked to Khin. Kenders’ eyes narrowed in an instant. She would bet good coin that Khin had ordered Boah’s silence.

She peered down at Zecus, let out a tiny sigh, and asked, “Do you mean to cross here?” She felt like she was the one treading on treacherous soil, about to sink at any moment.

Without looking back at her, Zecus said, “I do.”

In as gentle tone as she could manage, she asked, “Are you sure this is wise?”

Zecus stopped prodding the ground, stood tall, and turned around to peer up at her.

“Pardon?”

Pointing northward, she said, “If we go just little farther, the marsh ends. We can turn west then. And not sink.”

Zecus stared to the north, the muscles in his jaw rippling beneath his beard. Without even looking back to her, he turned his back to her and strode further onto the strip.

“No. We head west now.”

“No,” shot back Kenders, glaring at the back of his head. “We will not.”

Zecus wheeled around, evidently surprised that someone had challenged his decision. For the past week, no one had.

“
What
did you say?”

She met his stare and held it, refusing to wither under its heat. Without looking away from him, she asked, ”Khin? Demetus is still to our northwest, is it not?”

“Yes,” replied the aicenai softly. “As far north as it is west.”

“See? There is no point in risking this. We can go north, then west. Get on Simiah, and let’s go.”

He shook his head stubbornly.

“No. We go west
now
.”

Deciding that this had gone on long enough, she dropped her eyes and proceeded to dismount Smoke. Letting the reins fall to the ground, she turned to face Zecus and stepped closer, moving carefully across the mushy ground. He continued to glower at her, his eyebrows drawn together.

She glanced at the dirty white strip wrapped around Zecus’ upper left arm. Without saying a word, she placed her right hand on what had once been Joshmuel’s headband. Zecus flinched at her touch, almost causing her to pull her hand back. Yet she did not. Instead, she wrapped her fingers around his arm and gently squeezed.

“I know you blame me for your father’s death.”

The skin around his eyes tightened. His lips parted as if to respond, but she spoke before he could.

“Please. I need to say this.”

He remained stone-faced for a moment before nodding in silence.

Keeping her voice quiet but strong, she said, “You blame me. You probably don’t want to, but you do. I know what you are feeling, because I feel the same. I blame me, too.”

She waited for a protest, but none came. Zecus held her gaze briefly before dropping it to his boots. He shifted his weight, squishing in the marshy ground.

Kenders took a moment to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat before saying, “So, then. We both blame me for your father’s death. That is the way of things. Perhaps over time, we can both come to terms with that. But what’s done is done. We cannot change the past, we can only shape what is to come.”

He lifted his gaze to her, the sorrow in his eyes striking her like a slap in the face. She steadied herself before continuing.

“You have a choice before you, Zecus.
We
have a choice. We can both push back against the heartache and the guilt, and try to find a way past it. Or we give up, surrender to the hurt, and let it rule us. What say you?”

Zecus stared at her, his lips pursed together, his eyelids twitching. It took him a while to respond, and when he did, his voice was strained, his tone deliberate.

“I do blame you.”

She tried not to wince. Hearing the words hurt more than she thought it might.

He quickly added, “Yet I blame myself thrice as much. I should never have left Demetus. Never!”

“Losing family to Maeana’s realm is hard. Trust me, I know. But—and please don’t get upset—Joshmuel’s life is over. Not yours. You need to move on. It’s what he would have wanted you to do.”

Even though Khin, Tobias, and Boah were a few feet behind her, to Kenders it felt as if she and Zecus were the only two here.

For a long time, Zecus simply stared at her, his face and eyes revealing a man in conflict. She was done talking and was going to wait for him to respond now. She stood there, peering up into his eyes, listening to the croaking of the frogs and the buzzing of the insects.

Finally, he reached up with his right arm and laid a hand on her shoulder. He took a quick step toward her, bent down, and kissed her lips.

At first, she did not react. A moment later, her heart skipping a beat, she squeezed his arm tighter, pulled him close, and kissed him back. A feeling as bright as the midday sun radiated inside her soul, eradicating every dark and gloomy crevice there was. Time either stopped or rushed ahead, she could not tell.

One of the horses whinnied abruptly, cutting into her perfect moment. Pulling away quickly, she stared up with wide eyes, stunned by what had happened. Her cheeks and neck felt warm and flush.

Wearing a slight smile, his eyes clear and kind again, Zecus whispered, “I choose you.”

She stared into his eyes, wondering what to say back when—of all people—Boah spoke up.

“Pardon me for interrupting, but, you two will have to work this out later.”

Zecus’ eyes reluctantly left hers as he shifted his gaze past her.

“What is it, Boah?”

Kenders turned around and found their three companions staring to the north, Khin with his hood drawn to cover his head. Knowing what that meant, she looked northward and spotted a trio of men dressed in green and white uniforms riding towards them.

“Reed Men,” announced Tobias. “Regional patrol.”

Boah asked, “What do we do?”

Turning to Khin, Tobias asked, “How far from Demetus are we?”

The aicenai’s voice drifted from with the shroud.

“Two days by hawk’s wing.”

“Good,” replied Tobias. He did not sound particularly concerned. Peering at Kenders, he said, “Ride with me up front, dear. The rest of you—follow behind as normal, if you will.”

The group used a set riding order whenever they encountered strangers. Boah and Zecus would ride in front, Kenders and Tobias next, with Khin in the rear in an attempt to prevent anyone from marking the aicenai. Tobias had drawn a few stares during their journey, but if anyone were to get a clear look at Khin, there would be no holding back people’s questions.

She glanced back to Zecus. All bitterness and anger was gone from his face.

“Are you alright?”

He squeezed her arm gently and said, “I will be.” He nodded to the horses. “We should go.” He moved past her, she turned to follow, and was in Smoke’s saddle moments later. Their kiss already seemed like last turn’s dream.

Tobias immediately directed Traveler to the north, towards the soldiers. Kenders urged Smoke ahead and drew alongside the tomble. As she did, he glanced over.

“You handled things well back there. Very well. You showed more wisdom than someone thrice your age.”

Kenders cheeks grew warm again.

“Thank you.”

Tobias nodded once, stared back to the approaching soldiers, and said, “And as is always the case in trying times, solving one problem only makes room for a new one.”

Kenders turned to eye the soldiers as well. She could make out the Marshlands crest on the green and white tabards now.

“What do we say to them?”

“We ask them for the safest, least-populated way to approach Demetus. Then we send them along their way, happy and content that we were just a group of common travelers.”

Looking back at the tomble, she said, “It seems unlikely they will consider you or Khin ‘common.’”

Tobias stared at her, a twinkle in his eye.

“Broedi shared what you did to the detachment of Southern Arms near the Fernsford Bridge.”

An understanding smile spread over Kenders’ lips.

“Of course.”

Using a certain Weave of pure Will, she would be able to make gentle suggestions to the soldiers that they would accept without questions.

Tobias asked, “Can you keep the Weaves small?”

Nodding, Kenders said, “I can. Nundle helped me a lot with the pattern.”

“Good. I don’t think we’d need to worry about Constables out here, but the less Strands, the better.”

Kenders turned to study the Reed Men, now only a hundred paces away. All three were staring at their group, their expressions wary.

“They look a touch suspicious,” muttered Tobias. “Whenever you are ready.”

Kenders nodded and began to reach for the golden Strands.

12
^th
of the Turn of Maeana, 4999

An unending shoreline stretched before Nundle, north to south. A sandy beach strewn with black boulders awaited their shoreboat, along with trees that brushed the sky, taller than even the ebonwoods of Blackbark Forest. Leafy palms drooped from the trees’ pinnacles, hanging down to obscure their sheer trunks. Shorter evergreens stood guard at the edge of the forest, a third the size of the behemoths looming over them. Vines draped between the trees’ branches, crisscrossing in such a fashion that they reminded Nundle of the Sapphire’s rigging.

In a voice just loud enough to be heard over the waves slapping against their shoreboat, he muttered, “Simply amazing.”

Nikalys spoke, his voice echoing with wonder as well.

“There’s nothing simple about that.”

As another rolling wave sloshed under their craft, Broedi rumbled, “I did say the forests here were impressive.”

“Oh, I believed you,” said Nikalys. “But seeing it myself is…” He trailed off, never finishing his thought.

Nundle and Nikalys sat at the head of the shoreboat, with Broedi behind them both and half the Shadow Mane soldiers behind him. Captain Scrag and Nathan were in a second boat to their right with the remainder of the soldiers.

Glancing back at Broedi, Nikalys asked, “How did they grow so tall?”

Keeping his eyes straight ahead, the hillman said, “Asking such a question is like asking ‘why does the sun glow?’ I am sure there is an answer, but I do not have it.” Pulling his gaze from the shore, he stared at Nikalys. “The trees are tall because they are.”

A gentle breeze was blowing off the sea and toward the beach, teasing Nundle’s red hair and playing with his wide-brimmed hat. He would not call the weather warm, but as long as he was in direct sun, the day was pleasant.

Moments before the shoreboat’s bottom crunched against the sand, Broedi said, “Nikalys, when we reach land, you and I will pull the boat onto the beach. Move quickly, please. And remain ready.”

Curious at the hillman’s tone and word choice, Nundle turned to peer at Broedi.

“Is something wrong?”

Broedi’s expression tightened.

“I do not know. Perhaps.”

Nikalys joined Nundle in staring at the hillman.

“You said these parts of the Provinces are unoccupied.”

Without taking his eyes from the tress, Broedi answered, “A hundred years ago, they were.”

Nikalys exchanged a worried look with Nundle before saying, “A lot can change in a hundred years.”

“Which is why I asked that you remain ready,” rumbled Broedi.

Nundle twisted around to peer back to the beach. Nothing but sand, black rock, and trees awaited them. He tried to see into the forest, but the thick vegetation obscured the interior.

His voice hopeful, Nundle said, “It looks unoccupied to me.”

Broedi rumbled, “Esinty miset merkitse mitan.”

Nundle looked back at Broedi, eyebrows raised.

“Pardon?”

“Appearances are merely appearances.”

Nundle let out a tiny sigh and faced forward. The excitement he had felt at finally being able to put foot on solid ground again was gone, replaced by trepidation. Suddenly, the decks of the Sapphire seemed appealing.

From the histories he had read, Nundle knew the Primal Provinces to be a loose association of city-states, populated by longlegs and a race of plantlike creatures commonly referred to as ‘thorns.’ The different races kept to themselves, yet shared a common enemy on the southern half of the continent, a nation centered on the fanatical worship of the High Host.

During their voyage east, Broedi had shared some additional details that were not in any book. According to him, a splintered group of hillmen also lived within the Primal Provinces. Broedi said he had searched for them when last here, but had left having never found them.

Now, a few dozen feet from the beach, Broedi shifted in his seat.

“Be alert.”

The bottom of the boat scraped against the sandy shore, throwing Nundle forward and forcing him to throw his hands against the front of the shoreboat to avoid tumbling forward.

Nikalys and Broedi leapt from the boat, splashing into the white-capped surf. Grasping the shoreboat’s sides, the pair easily pulled the craft onto the sandy beach while Nundle and the soldiers stayed inside. Glancing to his right, Nundle found the second boat empty, every longleg wallowing through the lapping waves, struggling to lug the boat behind them.

Once Nundle’s boat was free from the surf, he and the soldiers exited, his own boots sinking into the sand. He basked in the sun, smiling wide. Solid land felt glorious.

A mist of sea spray washed over Nundle, pulling the tomble’s attention to his left. A black boulder loomed over him, standing resolute against the pounding of the sea. The dark color reminded him of the stone that surrounded the Academy of Veduin in the Arcane Republic.

Spotting a smaller sample of the stone sticking from the sand at his feet, Nundle bent down to inspect it and noted countless, tiny holes covering its surface. Running a finger along it, he found its texture matched the lava rock of the academy perfectly. As he pried the specimen from the sand to take a closer look, seawater dripped from the porous stone. Nundle smiled.