Nikalys had immediately checked on Kenders and had been stunned by her vastly improved condition. Only the particularly grievous wounds remained. Most everything else had healed. Upon inspecting his own body, he had found that he was in the same shape.
Broedi had cleared his throat, drawing Nikalys’ attention. The man pointed in the direction of the fire where a veritable feast—three small rabbits and two quail—had been roasting over the flames. Ravenous, Nikalys ate both of the tiny quail and two of the rabbits before he knew it.
When he was done and wiping the juices from his mouth, he had looked at Kenders and felt guilty. He had not left much of anything for her. Seeing his consternation, Broedi had assured him that he would hunt for more. That being the case, Nikalys had finished off the remaining rabbit. Broedi had left a short time later—giving Nikalys time to change from his bloody clothes—and had returned as evening fell with more rabbits and quail. While the giant had not taken a sling or any other weapon with him, Nikalys suspected Broedi did not need a weapon to hunt.
After Broedi had given the game to Nikalys to clean, he had sat down, pulled out his long, engraved bone pipe, and filled it with smoking-leaf. Its aroma was similar to the cut men used in Yellow Mud, but much sweeter.
Nikalys had prepared the rabbits and quail, set them to roasting over the fire, and then sat down. More than a few times, he had braved a close inspection of Broedi, his gaze repeatedly returning to the white stone lion pendant hanging from the Shapechanger’s neck. Something about the white lion was intimately familiar, yet he could never place why he felt that way. He strained to remember, but it was like trying to remember a dream from last year.
With a heavy sigh, he stood to check once more on the roasting game. The meat was nearly over-cooked. He had wanted to try to keep the rabbits and quail warm for Kenders, but if he did not remove them now, she would be gnawing on blackened, charred lumps.
As he pulled the sticks from the ground, he felt Broedi’s eyes on him, observing. He tried to ignore the man’s gaze, but Broedi’s constant, silent watching was growing increasingly irritating. Standing there, with skewers in his hand, Nikalys could hold his tongue no longer. “At least tell me this: you’re a Shapechanger, aren’t you?”
Broedi pulled his pipe from his mouth, parted his lips, and let a long curl of gray smoke drift out, all the while peering at Nikalys. “Do you mean am I someone who has spent so much time with nature that I have become more beast than person?”
Nikalys nodded slowly, unsure that he wanted the answer now.
A slight smile touched Broedi’s lips. “No, uori. I am not that.”
Exasperated, Nikalys asked, “Then what are you? Who are you? And, Hells, as long I’m asking questions I know you won’t answer, what were you doing in the middle of the forest last night?”
Nodding at Kenders, Broedi replied calmly, “I will answer questions when she wakes.”
Nikalys shook his head in disgust. “Why not now?!”
Broedi stared at him, stoic. “Patience, uori.”
Nikalys glared at the man, pressed his lips together, and returned to Kenders’ side. Jamming the skewers with the roasted game into the ground, he sat next to his sister, ensuring his back was to Broedi. Sighing, he stared at Kenders’ sleeping face, wishing she would wake up so they could be on their way.
A lock of golden hair had fallen across her lips. With each deep breath, she drew strands into her mouth before blowing them out again. Nikalys reached down and brushed the stray hair aside.
“You care very much for your iskoa,” rumbled Broedi. “That is good.”
Nikalys looked over his shoulder and held the man’s steady gaze. “Iskoa?”
“Sister,” replied Broedi.
Nikalys nodded. muttering, “Ah.” He looked back to Kenders. “Of course I care for her. She’s all I have left.”
“I would like it if you shared some of your story, uori.”
A sly, sardonic smile spread over Nikalys’ face. He turned to examine Broedi. “You want my story?”
Broedi nodded. “Very much so.”
With narrowed eyes, Nikalys said slowly and purposefully, “I will answer questions when she wakes.”
Broedi’s faint smile returned, carrying with it a sense of familiarity that made no sense. With an accommodating nod, he said, “As you desire.”
Nikalys swiveled to face Kenders. He was done with Broedi.
Chapter 14: Weaver
Kenders now knew what a nail felt like when struck by a woodworker’s hammer.
She lay on her left side, stretched out on uneven, rocky, ground with something soft under her head. She cracked open her right eye, caught the bright light of the flickering campfire a few feet paces from her, and immediately squeezed her eyelid tight. The light made her head pound even more.
She attempted to speak, but all that came out was a low groan.
Behind her, someone scurried close, kicking up leaves and rocks. Feeling a light touch on her right shoulder a moment later, she heard Nikalys whisper with evident concern, “Kenders?”
“Mm-hmm?”
Nikalys murmured, “How are you feeling?”
She was grateful he was speaking softly. The fire’s cracking and popping was already too thunderous for her liking. It took her a moment to respond, but she managed to scratch out, “What happened?”
Another voice—a composed, deep baritone—rumbled, “Give her a moment, uori.”
Confused, she opened her eyes, but only halfway to keep the jabbing firelight at bay. It was still nighttime, but the air was much cooler than she had remembered it being when the lynx had arrived.
She wanted to sit and see the owner of the deep voice, but her head vehemently protested against the proposed movement. Through lips that felt thick and wooden, she managed to eke out a question.
“Is the cat gone?”
After an unusually long pause, Nikalys answered, “In a manner of speaking.”
The baritone voice reverberated again, relaying instructions. “Get her some water, please. I will get some more meadowsweet for her.” After a brief pause, he muttered, “Perhaps a larger dose, this time.”
Kenders wondered both what meadowsweet was and what the man meant by ‘this time.’
She listened as Nikalys stood and hurried from her, dirt, leaves, and stone crunching beneath his boots. The owner of the baritone voice also moved about the campsite with long, almost silent steps. Nikalys retrieved the waterskins and started moving back to her. Upon hearing the water sloshing within, she realized how thirsty she was.
The stranger sounded as if he were rummaging through a bag or satchel. After a small grunt of satisfaction, he tossed the bag to the ground and approached where she lay. The pair arrived at the same time.
The stranger rumbled, “I think it wise if you give this to her, uori.”
Hearing the unusual word again, Kenders wondered if a third person was here. Nikalys seemed relatively calm, but she was worried.
Nikalys knelt beside her and asked, “Do you think you can sit? I have some water and herbs for you. Broedi says they help with the headache.”
While she was grateful that something might stop the thudding inside her head, she was a little anxious as to exactly who this Broedi was. “I’ll need some help.”
Nikalys slipped his hands under her and helped prop her against a tree trunk. Once situated, he placed the waterskin in her hands and she raised it to her mouth. The first sip was glorious. She tipped the skin back and drank gulp after gulp, relishing the wetness soaking her scratchy throat.
The deep voice cautioned, “Slow down, uora.”
“Yeah,” agreed Nikalys. “Take it easy. Your stomach may not take too kindly to so much water at once. You’ve been asleep for nearly a day.”
She stopped drinking, lowered the waterskin to her lap, and opened her eyes, squinting against the brightness. Nikalys was crouched beside her on her left, a concerned expression on his face. Small red marks
covered his face, neck, and arms.
“Asleep for a day? How in the—”
She cut off as her gaze drifted right. A pair of thick, muscular legs stood before her.
Her gaze traveled upwards to sienna-brown hide breeches that started just above the knees. Further up was a wide chest with two bulging arms crossed over it. Her gaze lingered on a white stone lion pendant that hung around the man’s neck before continuing to the stranger’s face.
“Oh my…”
The man who towered over her had to be at least seven feet tall, had golden-brown hair, tan skin, and dark brown eyes. She held the man’s penetrating stare. There was something vaguely familiar about those eyes.
“Good days ahead, uora,” rumbled the giant. “My name is Broedi.”
Her mouth hanging open, Kenders managed a quiet and impolite, “Uh-huh.”
Chuckling softly, Nikalys said, “You should see your face, sis.”
“Yours looked no different yesterday, uori.”
Nikalys stared up at Broedi for a moment before turning back to Kenders. “As long as your mouth is open, eat this.”
He held out the crushed remnants of a dried plant with tiny, white flowers. A bitter scent came with it. She accepted it silently, held it in her palm, and returned to gaping at Broedi. “Who are you?” Glancing back to Nikalys, she added quickly, “And what do you mean I’ve been asleep for a day? What happened?”
The giant gave Nikalys a long, solemn look that had purpose behind it.
Her brother sighed and stood. In a sober tone, Nikalys said, “Take that and sit for a moment. Then we can talk.” He glanced at the giant. “We all have questions we would like answered.”
* * *
Kenders sat in the clearing, munching on her quail without truly tasting it, trying to grasp everything Nikalys and Broedi had shared with her. Her gaze alternated between her brother, the dark forest, and the giant man sitting across the fire from her.
A Shapechanger. A blasted Shapechanger.
If her brother had not sworn three times to all of the gods, she would have called them both pretenders. After Nikalys’ third affirmation, she had demanded the Shapechanger to prove it to her. Broedi had politely refused her request, asking if she would order a bird to prove it could fly.
Eventually, she had come to accept the claim. Nikalys had no reason to tell a tale, and it certainly explained the lynx and Broedi’s presence now.
Fixing her gaze firmly on Broedi, Kenders said, “I suppose I should thank you for saving us, Mr. Broedi.”
“Please, just ‘Broedi,’ uora.”
Broedi had yet to call her by her name, using the strange term instead. Nikalys had quietly explained that—according to Broedi—he was ‘uori,’ she was ‘uora,’ which meant ‘young one.’
“Thank you, Broedi, then.”
The giant man inclined his head. “You are welcome.”
Glancing between the pair, she ensured her mouth was free of quail before asking, “What happened after you chased the wolves away?”
While the pair had explained Broedi’s role as the hill lynx, they had been silent about events beyond that point.
With a worried frown on his face, Nikalys asked, “What do you remember?”
“The lynx—sorry, Broedi—was walking towards us and…” She trailed off, her eyebrows drawing together as she strained to recall what had happened next. “That’s it. Something obviously happened, though.” Staring at her old, filthy, balled up skirt and blouse a few feet away, she asked, “Why was I covered in blood?” She lifted her arm to indicate the red marks all along it. “And bodfly bites?”
Nikalys glanced at Broedi, his worried frown morphing into open unease.
Broedi ignored him, his gaze firmly fixed on Kenders, his brown eyes awash in curiosity. “Tell me, uora. What do you know of the Strands?”
“The strands?” repeated Kenders, confused. “The strands of what?”
A faint smile settled on Broedi’s lips. “You have nothing to fear. You may tell me.”
Kenders glanced at Nikalys. He shrugged his shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” responded Kenders, looking back to the giant. “Neither one of us knows what you are asking. What are ‘the Strands?’” This time, she put the same emphasis on the word as Broedi had.
A slight furrow appeared in Broedi’s forehead. He stared at her for a few moments before looking back to Nikalys.
Shrugging his shoulders, Nikalys said, “Don’t look at me.”
Broedi shook his head and dropped his gaze to the fire. He remained that way for a while, quiet and unmoving.
Kenders and Nikalys shared a series of glances with one another, having a silent, wordless conversation consisting only of inquiring looks and facial expressions. The gist of their ‘talk’ was that neither one of them had any idea about what Broedi was asking.
Finally, Broedi pulled his attention from the fire and focused on Kenders, a slight frown on his face.
She held the giant’s weighty gaze, expecting him to say something. He certainly looked like he wanted to. Instead, he simply stared at her.
She was beginning to think the man odd when the crumbling straw sensation filled her. A surprised gasp slipped from her lips as the colors swelled and swirled inside her: a hot, coppery reddish-yellow hue mixing with a brilliant, honey color. Her eyes grew round as she caught the faintest flicker of the colors above the campfire.
In quiet, wondering tone, she whispered, “Orange and gold.”
For a fleeting moment, the colors lost some of their elusiveness and turned opaque. Pulsing, bright strings twisted together quickly to form a simple, clearly defined pattern, and then dropped to the campfire.
The flames flared tall, leaping a foot higher than normal. Nikalys jumped up and stared at the surge with wide eyes. Kenders was unsurprised. She knew Broedi had used the strings to manipulate the fire.
Her stomach lurched at the additional confirmation that she was a mage.
The fire fell to a normal height and the crackling of magic stopped. Broedi looked at her and then Nikalys, his stoic expression giving away nothing.
Anxious, Kenders looked at her brother. Nikalys was glancing back and forth between Kenders and Broedi, an almost accusatory glint in his eyes when he looked at her.
Suddenly, the crackling returned. This time, she felt a crisp, pure white coupled with the golden honey from a moment before. Whipping her head back around, she spotted the glowing threads in the air, hovering in place as they arranged themselves into a woven pattern.
“White and gold.”
A firm breeze swept through the camp, whipping up dust and fanning the campfire’s flames. Lifting a hand, Kenders covered her eyes to protect them from the grit in the air. The gust only lasted for a few moments before fading. The crackling stopped but her anxiety grew. Dropping her hand, she stared at the Shapechanger.
Broedi was staring at Nikalys, his gaze searching and seeking. “Anything, uori?”
Mute, Nikalys shook his head.
Broedi frowned a little, turned to Kenders, and said, “What you are feeling is the weaving of the Strands, uora. It is incredible that you are able to distinguish among them so quickly without knowing what they are. As well as use them without training.” He peered at her, his gaze intense. “This is all very new to you, yes?”
With a worried frown, Kenders nodded silently. “Of course, I’ve never—” She cut off as the entirety of Broedi’s statement hit her. “Wait. You said ‘use them.’” Her heart pounded in her chest. “What do you mean by that?”
The giant man pressed his lips together and turned to Nikalys, deferring to her brother. “Perhaps it would be best if you tell her.”
Looking to Nikalys, she asked, “Tell me what?”
Nikalys stared at her with uneasy eyes, shuffling his feet. He almost looked ill.
Nervous, Kenders muttered, “Nik?”
Despite his obvious discomfort, he moved back to her and knelt in the dir
t. Leaning over, he reached out and took her hand. His voice wavered as he said, “After Broedi chased the wolves off, you…” He paused a moment, bit down hard, and took in a deep short breath. “Well…you sort of called down lightning.”
Kenders stared at him, her expression blank. She was sure she heard him clearly, but the words did not make any sense. She began to shake her head.
“No…no…I…”
Nikalys continued, saying, “The thunder tossed us into the fingerpricks. I got hurt bad. And you…gods, you looked terrible. I thought you were dead.” He pointed to the bumps on her arms. “Those aren’t bodfly bites. They’re puncture marks from the thorns.”
Numb inside, Kenders looked at her arms. “No. They’re too small—”
“Strands of Life,” rumbled Broedi. “I used them to help you heal.”
Horrified, she stared up at the giant with wide eyes. “You used magic on me?”
The Shapechanger did not react, his face a blank mask.
Nikalys squeezed her hand and said, “He helped you, sis. He helped us both.” With a half-hearted, teasing smile, he said, “And to be fair, you used magic on him.” He paused. “Me, too, if we’re making marks.”
She dropped her gaze and stared at the dirt ground, confident that she would have remembered doing something that horrendous. Try as she might, she could not.
“Strands of Charge are yellow, uora,” rumbled Broedi. “Air Strands are white.”
Kenders stared up at Broedi. “Pardon?”
The Shapechanger stared at her, silent and unmoving.
Shaking her head, she muttered, “I don’t understand. Why—” Her eyes went wide as pieces of last night bubbled from the depths of her memory.
The buzzing strings.
The wispy white ones.
The pattern.
One image after another rushed through her head. She remembered everything. “Oh.”
Dropping her gaze, she stared into the heart of the campfire. She could not deny it any longer. She was a mage. And an outlaw.
Progeny (The Children of the White Lions) Page 12
