The Children of the White Lions: Volume 02 - Prophecy (89 page)

When it was apparent that Tiliah and Zecus were striding toward them, the Dust Men fanned out and revealed Tiliah’s reason for coming back to Demetus.

Rhohn stood at the group’s center, no longer dressed in the rags she had become accustomed to seeing him wear. Rather, his new garb made him look like a true soldier: brown breeches, a tan shirt, and an actual Dust Man tabard draped over his shoulders. His sword and scabbard hung from his belt.

As their eyes met, a smile spread over her lips, accompanied by an unexpected flutter in her stomach. Rhohn glanced to the man on his left, said something, and then strode from the group. The man immediately turned to the Dust Men, shouted an order, and the soldiers began to arrange themselves into rows. On their way here, Zecus had shared that Rhohn had been given command over the Dust Men unit. Tiliah thought it a wise choice, whoever had made it.

Rhohn met Zecus and Tiliah two dozen paces from the soldiers, stopped, and gave a slight bow.

“My pleasure is to meet you in peace today.”

Returning the bow, Zecus replied, “And may peace bless our parting.”

Both men eyed Tiliah, apparently waiting for her to offer her portion of the traditional greeting. A sly smile spread over her face.

“I like your new clothes, Mud Man.”

While Zecus frowned at her casual dismissal of custom, Rhohn actually chuckled and said with a smile, “There’s a war going on. Who has time for customs?”

Grinning in return, she said, “That’s what I say.”

Nodding at the group of Dust Men, Zecus asked, “How goes it with them?”

“As well as can be expected,” said Rhohn with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s a mixed stew, for sure. A few are veterans of Gobas who somehow escaped, but most are from eastern posts who have never seen a Sudashian. I have two corporals, a lieutenant, and the rest are footmen.”

“And how does the lieutenant enjoy taking orders from a corporal?” asked Zecus.

“I don’t know,” said Rhohn with a slight grin. He lowered his voice. “Commander Aiden told them I was a captain. He said there’d be less arguing that way.”

They shared a small chuckle at the falsehood, but their quiet laughter quickly faded. When none of them elected to fill the silence that followed, Zecus cleared his throat and announced, “It seems my throat is rather dry. Perhaps I shall go get a ladle of water.” He turned to Tiliah and said with purpose, “I’ll only be a moment. Stay here if you like.”

With a grateful nod, she said, “I think I will.”

Zecus glanced at Rhohn briefly before turning to walk away, his boots crunching on dry gravel. Tiliah watched him slowly amble back to the water trough by the Duke’s Hall.

“I am surprised to see you here,” said Rhohn. She turned to face him as he added, “I had heard you were in the Southlands already.”

“I was,” said Tiliah. “But I came back.”

“Why, then?” asked Rhohn. The left corner of his mouth turned up a fraction. “Did you miss the marsh and its wondrous smell?”

“No,” answered Tiliah with a shake of her head. “I came to say thank you.”

His eyes widened a bit.

“Pardon?”

“I never did say it to you. Not once. And I wanted to come back and tell you before…well, before whatever in the Nine Hells is going to happen here.”

“A massive, horrible, bloody fight, most likely.”

Tiliah nodded.

“Right. I needed to tell you before
that
.”

Stepping away from her, Rhohn moved to the mud-brick wall of the Duke’s Hall and leaned against it.

“There is no need to thank me, Tiliah. You helped me as much as I helped you. Without you, I would still have an arrow in my leg. Or be dead from wound rot.”

“True, but were it not for me, you would have never gotten shot.”

Rhohn cocked his eyebrow.

“True.”

Tiliah moved closer to him, saying, “And
that
is why I am thanking you. Without you, I’d still be with Nimar and his awful family.” She paused a moment. “Or not. Truthfully, I don’t know where I would be. But it certainly would not be here, with Zecus, with my family.”

A shadow passed over Rhohn’s face.

“I am only sorry your father could—”

Interrupting him, she said, “Don’t want to talk about it, Mud Man.” After sharing her father’s fate with her mother, Tiliah refused to speak of it. It was easier that way.

Closing his mouth, Rhohn nodded.

“I understand.”

Tiliah shook her head and, in a sharper tone than he deserved, said, “I doubt it.”

Dropping his chin to his chest, he said, “The pain digs at your insides, yes? Like someone is trying to scoop out your heart with a rusty, jagged shovel.”

She remained quiet, struggling to keep her anguish at bay. She had not shed a tear in days and was not going to do so now.

Rhohn glanced up, took one look at her face, and said, “I was eight when my mother died and—” he pointed to his scars “—this happened. Losing her hurt thrice as much as the burns. Then my father passed to Maeana and…I…” He trailed off, his eyes narrowing, his scarred lips twitching. He drew in a deep breath, held it a moment, and then exhaled. “The pain never goes away, Tiliah. Just hope that it grows a bit duller with time.” He offered a tiny, sad smile. “A strong soul accepts that and lives with it. And you, Tiliah Alsher, are a strong soul.”

She felt the tears swelling and tried to hold them back.

Rhohn muttered, “I am sorry this was your family’s fate. For you, of course, but for me as well. I wanted to meet the man who raised such a remarkable young woman.”

Reaching up to wipe the wetness from her eyes, she murmured, “Blast you, Rhohn.”

“So I’m Rhohn now?” asked the soldier, a teasing note in his voice. “What happened to ‘Mud Man?’”

A quiet huff of a chuckle pushed past her tears as she stared at him. All of him. His mismatched and burnt skin, his scarred lips, the missing eyebrow and ear, his patchy hair. Most women would be repulsed by his disfigured face. Tiliah was not one of them.

Stepping forward, she stood on her toes and leaned close to Rhohn, brushing her soft, full lips against his cracked and maimed ones, reaching up with her hand to caress his scarred cheek. She held the kiss for a few heartbeats, breathing in his scent, before pulling away just far enough to meet his wide-eyed stare.

“Thank you, Rhohn Lurus of the village Dashti. Thank you for everything.”

He stared at her and blinked twice, remaining completely silent.

Smiling, she leaned in again, gave him a second kiss, a quicker one this time, and then pulled back, dropping her heels to the ground. She patted his chest twice and said, “Take care of yourself here, Mud Man. We’re going to need help in the Southlands when this is all over. I was hoping you might be interested.”

A slight smile started to spread over his lips but arrested as his gaze flicked past her. The happy glint in his eye fled in an instant. Turning around, Tiliah spotted Zecus several dozen paces away, marching straight toward therm. She would not say he looked angry, but he certainly was not smiling.

Glancing back to a visibly worried Rhohn, she smiled.

“What? You’ll stand face to face with a kur-surus, yet you are afraid of my brother?”

Rhohn, his gaze remaining locked on Zecus, muttered, “I did not just kiss a kur-surus’ sister.”

“To be clear, I kissed you.”

He glanced down at her and smiled.

“I suppose you did.”

Arriving a moment later, Zecus immediately announced, “Tiliah, time to go back to the port.”

While the protective tone in his voice was predictable, it nonetheless prompted a quiet chuckle to slip from Tiliah. Turning to face Zecus, she gave him a dazzling smile.

“Whatever you say. I said what needed to be said.”

As she strode toward him, she was amused to see him keep his gaze locked on Rhohn. Tiliah glanced over her shoulder to find Rhohn staring at her alone. She gave him one last smile and turned to Zecus, hooking her arm in his and gently tugging him back to the yard’s entrance.

“Time to go, brother.”

Zecus went with her reluctantly, backpedalling a few paces before turning and walking at her side. After a dozen steps, he looked over and murmured, “You said you just wanted to talk with him.”

Tiliah nodded.

“I did talk with him.”

“I would think it easier to talk when your lips are not pressed against his.”

“Oh, please,” murmured Tiliah. “I’m older than Kenders is and you kissed her.”

Zecus was quiet a moment before responding in a quiet, reserved voice.

“I was unaware you knew that.”

Shrugging her shoulders, Tiliah faced forward and said, “We sat around for a day, waiting for you. It was bound to come out.”

As they neared the stonework water trough, Zecus glanced over.

“Is he a good man?”

“A very good one.”

Nodding once, Zecus announced, “Then I approve.”

Tiliah eyed her brother, a wide grin spreading over her face.

“That’s sweet. You think you have a say in the matter.”

“I thought I did. But then I saw you kiss him.” He glanced over, an amused smile of his own on his lips and asked, “The poor soul had no chance, did he?”

Tiliah extended her left arm, reached around her brother, and hugged him tight as they walked.

“No, Zecus. He did not.”

She glanced over her shoulder and found Rhohn still beside the wall, staring at her. She smiled wide, very glad that she had come.

21
^st
of the Turn of Maeana, 4999

A steady breeze drifted over the barren mountainside, tickling the short stalks of dead thistlegrass and whistling through crevices in the gray rocks and boulders. Heavy, dark clouds cluttered the sky, hugging the mountaintops, the air so thick with moisture that a wet sheen covered every bit of exposed stone. Patches of weeks-old snow and dirty ice spotted the rocky ground.

Tobias drew in a long, deep breath and upon finding it devoid of scent, looked down to his right leg. Straight and healthy. He let a tiny sigh escape.

“And where am I now?”

The clouds completely obscured the peak of the mountain upon which he stood. The crags of some other mountains were visible, however, spread out below him and stretching clear to the horizon. Staring up at the sky, he searched for some hint of the sun, but the clouds were too thick. He had no idea the time of day or which direction was north, east, south, or west.

“Wondrous.”

Spinning in a slow circle, he studied the empty, rocky landscape around him, looking for the reason he was here. There had to be a reason. There always was.

Spotting a tall, narrow cave opening a few hundred feet away in the side of the mountain, he stopped turning and stared. A thin stream of gray smoke curled out, quickly whisked away by the wind.

“Where there’s smoke…”

Tobias scrambled over the mountainside, reaching the cave’s mouth in short order, and hurried straight into its dark, jagged fissure. Once inside, the cave narrowed and the floor sloped downward. A smoky haze filled the passageway, but Tobias could not smell it.

Following the path into the dark, he turned a corner and stepped into a large cavern. A tiny campfire burned against the far wall, its paltry light providing just enough illumination for Tobias to make out the cave’s interior. A number of squat, bulbous pottery jars were arranged neatly about the cave along with stacks of parchments. Sitting amongst them was an incredibly thin figure, resting cross-legged on a simple mat. As Tobias stared, the individual turned her head ever so slightly, the right side of her face moving from shadow to light. Her eyes were closed.

Tobias gasped, “Bless the Gods.” He immediately stepped further into the cave to get a closer look. “Gods, Larin, is that truly you?”

A moment later, he frowned at his foolishness. Larin could not hear him. Nobody could within his visions. Nevertheless, the aicenai’s thin eyelids shot open and Larin’s gaze darted about the room, her blue eyes glinting with reflected firelight.

“How is it you found me?”

Tobias was stunned silent. This had never happened in any of his visions. Ever.

Before he could overcome his surprise and respond, the aicenai dipped her chin to her chest and sighed.

“And now I must move again.”

Finding his voice, Tobias asked, “Larin, what are—”

“I am growing ever weary of this chase,” whispered Larin as she stood, her robes draping over her thin frame. “Come if you like, but I will be gone by the time you find this cave.” She moved to the stacks of parchments and began leafing through them.

Tobias stared at the aicenai, befuddled.

Larin selected some large sheets, set them aside, and then began feeding the rest to the fire. Dry and crisp with age, they caught immediately, sending large plumes of smoke to the roof and out the entryway. Without pausing in her task, Larin stared about the empty cave.

“One of these days I will learn how it is you can track it. From what I can tell, it should not be possible.”

“What are you talking about?” asked the tomble. “It’s me. Tobias.”

She ignored him entirely now. Her behavior made no sense until Tobias realized the aicenai must think he was someone else. Such a revelation was cause for concern. Someone was pursuing Larin and Tobias had a good idea why.

When Khin had shared the true story of the Locking with him after finding the Suštinata of Void, Tobias had been stunned twice over. The first when he learned of the existence of the stones, and a second time when he discovered that Larin, the aicenai with whom he had spent years in Cartu, had been among The Twice Nine tasked to study them.

Frowning, Tobias stared about the cave, wishing there was some way to communicate with the aicenai but knowing from experience there was not. Larin moved through the cave, gathering various items, rolling and binding some parchments but burning most of them. Tobias tried to read what they said, but they were all written in ancient aicenai. He considered going back outside to get an idea where they were, but that would not help if Larin was planning to leave. Dejected and frustrated, he sat on the cave floor and simply watched the aicenai pack.