“I apologize, uora,” rumbled Broedi, his voice calm, his tone contrite. “Truly, I do. I did not enjoy a moment of that.” The hillman’s normal demeanor was back: quiet, stoic, and polite. The crazed-eye Shapechanger was gone.
While Nikalys was trying to make sense of things and failing miserably doing so, Jak walked up and stood next to Kenders, shaking his head and smiling.
Nikalys’ eyes went round.
Jak was fine. He looked the same as he had before the fight had begun. There was no blood, not even a scratch.
Sounding equal parts amused and amazed, Jak said, “You are a brave—and terribly gullible—idiot.”
Nikalys was beyond confused.
Broedi stood gingerly, holding his left side. Once upright, he stepped closer to the three, wincing as he moved. Peering at Kenders, he asked, “How are you free? I did not undo the Weave.”
Still angry, Kenders said, “I don’t know. I saw the white Strands—Air, right?—in the pattern holding me and I…I…I don’t know…I just unraveled them.”
Broedi’s eyebrows raised a fraction. Indicating Jak, he asked, “And you did the same with his?”
Jak was staring at her, studying their sister carefully.
Kenders nodded. Her anger was fading quickly.
“Once I knew how to unravel mine, his was simple. The other one was harder, but—” She stopped and peered up at Broedi. “The white, silver, and gold. What was that?”
“A pattern used to make people see things that are not there,” answered Broedi. “Very difficult to get right. It took me years of practice.”
It dawned upon Nikalys that, apparently, Broedi had only made it appear that Jak had been thrown into a tree, although Nikalys could not imagine why the hillman would do that. He tried to voice that exact question, but all that came out was a restrained grunt. He could not even move to talk.
Broedi glanced at Nikalys, still frozen in mid-punch. “And that, uora? How did you manage that?”
Kenders turned back and stared at Nikalys, wearing a pensive, bewildered expression.
Stifling a tiny yawn, she shifted her gaze from Nikalys to the air around him. “I don’t know.”
Nikalys was shocked. Kenders was the one holding him in place. He had thought Broedi responsible.
“Think, uora,” urged Broedi, his voice soft and encouraging. “What happened?”
Keeping her gaze on Nikalys, Kenders shook her head slowly and said, “He was beating on you—” she raised an eyebrow “—and after what you said, part of me did not mind. But, mostly, I just wanted him to stop.”
“Did you use the pattern I used on you?” asked Broedi.
Kenders shook her head, yawning again.
“I just wanted him to hold still and stop punching you. A bunch of the white Strands appeared, already in a pattern.” She sounded and looked very confused. “Then I…threw it at him? And he stopped.”
Nodding, Broedi rumbled, “Good, uora.” He looked pleased. “Very good. But under no circumstance are you to ever do it that way again, do you understand? You must learn the correct way to Weave.”
Kenders nodded, still staring at Nikalys as if in a trance. She looked tired.
Jak, who had been oddly silent throughout all of this, let loose a long sigh. Considering everything, he was handling all of this extremely well.
Broedi rumbled, “You can release him now, uora.”
“How?”
“Feel the hold you have on them?”
Nodding, Kenders muttered, “Yes.”
“Focus on that and imagine you are exhaling after you’ve been holding your breath.”
Kenders focused on Nikalys and, a moment later, whatever was holding him in place vanished. Stumbling forward, he managed to catch himself before he hit the ground. Righting himself, he stood tall and demanded, “What in the Nine Hells is going on?”
Oddly enough, Jak started to chuckle. Nikalys and Kenders both looked at him as if he were mad.
“Are you sure you didn’t get tossed into the tree and hit your head?” asked Nikalys.
“So that’s what you saw? Gods, the look on your face was awful. I kept calling out for you to stop and calm down, but you ignored me.”
“That is part of the Weave, uori,” explained Broedi.
Jak seemed to consider what Broedi said, shrugged with surprising nonchalance, and looked back to Nikalys.
“Once I realized I was helpless, I just hung in the air and watched you pop around and beat on the bear. Impressive, Nik. In a ‘what in the Nine Hells is happening here’ sort of way, but definitely impressive.”
Eyeing their brother, Kenders asked, “Why are you so calm?”
It was a more than valid inquiry. Jak should be upset. Or shocked. Or something other than utterly composed.
Despite asking the question, Kenders did not wait for Jak’s answer. Spinning to face Nikalys, she asked, “And how did you do that? You were in one place one moment, then in another the next.”
Nikalys was about to say that he had no idea, when Jak spoke. “Ask Broedi. He expected something like this might happen.”
A stunned moment of silence passed.
Shifting his gaze to Broedi, a suddenly suspicious Nikalys muttered, “You…expected this?”
Broedi dipped his head in apology and said, “In a manner of speaking. I was going to wait a few more days, but you presented me with an opportunity I had to seize. I needed to be sure.”
“Be sure of what?”
“Unlike your iskoa, your abilities had not yet presented as far as I could tell. As she only seems to be able to use her gifts when distressed, I decided to provoke you in hopes of drawing yours out.”
“Gifts?” mumbled Nikalys, thoroughly befuddled. “What in the Nine Hells are you talking about?”
Broedi’s expression turned serious, his voice solemn. “As your kaveli said last evening, you are important, uori.” He shifted to look at Kenders, adding, “You both are.”
Nikalys looked to Jak. His brother held his stare, but remained quiet. He peered at Kenders and found that she appeared as confused as he felt, perhaps more so. Turning back to Broedi, he asked, “What does that mean?”
With a slight frown on his face, the hillman glanced northward and sighed. Looking back to Nikalys and Kenders, he said, “I have been hesitant to burden you with this so soon after your loss, but I do not think I can continue to wait. We cannot afford to waste more time.”
“Burden us with what?” asked Kenders. “What are you talking about?”
After taking a deep breath, Broedi said, “The two of you are—”
Jak took a sudden step forward, saying, “Broedi, can you hold one moment?”
“We must be—”
“Please, Broedi,” murmured Jak, his gaze on Nikalys and Kenders. “I won’t be long, I promise.”
Broedi glanced north again and pressed his lips together. Nodding, he said, “Quickly, please.” He ran his gaze over Nikalys and Kenders once more before taking a few steps down the slope, giving the three siblings a modicum of privacy.
Jak took Nikalys by the shoulder, grabbed Kenders’ hand, and led them even farther away from Broedi. He stopped and faced them, his expression a strange mix of affection and sorrow.
Visibly worried, Kenders asked, “Jak, what’s going on?”
Looking between them both, Jak smiled and said, “I want you both to know that I love you very much. And no matter what, that will never change.”
After exchanging bewildered looks with Kenders, Nikalys peered at Jak.
“You obviously know something. What?”
“I think it’s best Broedi tell you. Just know that I will do whatever I can to help. I will never leave your side. Never.”
He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around them, and held them both. Nikalys did not know what to do but return the embrace.
From down the hill, Broedi cleared throat. “I am sorry, but we must be going.”
Jak gave them one f
inal squeeze and released them. As he did, Broedi rumbled, “Please get the horses, uori. And hurry.”
Nodding, Jak turned and headed for the tree with the three horses tied to it. Nikalys watched him for a moment and then looked to Broedi. “Why hurry? What is going on?”
Broedi peered at Kenders and asked, “Remember the manner in which I lit my pipe, uora?”
Confused, Nikalys glanced over at his sister and found her nodding. “Why?”
“That was the flickering light of a flashbug at dusk. What you and I just did were bolts of lightning on the blackest of nights.” He stared north again and rumbled, “I would assume Trackers are on their way already.”
Staring at the hillman, Nikalys demanded, “What is happening?”
“We will speak once we are moving.”
Kenders stepped forward, and with a small stomp of her foot, exclaimed, “No, blast it! Tell us what is happening or I’ll stand right here and wait for the Trackers to come. And when they do, I’ll point them straight to wherever you run off!”
For once, Nikalys welcomed for his sister’s stubbornness.
The corners of Broedi’s mouth curled up into a wistful, almost wishful smile. “At times, you remind me so much of your mother.”
“You never met my mother.”
“But I have, uora. She and I were close friends. Your father was my closest.”
“Impossible,” muttered Nikalys. “If you were so close, we would have heard of you.” He eyed all seven feet of the hillman. “Especially you.”
Broedi looked back toward Smithshill and then at the sky. Sighing, he looked back to them and said, “I will tell you some of what you need to know now. But when I say we must move, the questions stop, agreed?”
Nikalys and Kenders both nodded.
In a calm, kind, and yet somewhat pointed manner, Broedi rumbled, “In one sense, you are correct. I never met Thaddeus and Marie Isaac. From what you have told me, and from what I have observed in you and your kaveli, they were good, honest, and wise people. I wish I had known them. They raised you, guided you, and kept you safe. All things good parents do for their children. Only…you are not their children.”
Baffled, Nikalys muttered, “What are you—”
“You are not their blood, uori.”
Nikalys felt like the ground beneath him had fallen away.
“They fostered you,” rumbled Broedi. “Without doubt, they loved you. But they did not bring you into this world.”
Shaking his head, Nikalys murmured, “You’re mad.”
“For this moment only, for your sake, I wish I were.”
Silent and shaken, Nikalys stared at Broedi, pleading with eyes alone that he stop. He did not.
“Nikalys and Kenders, your true parents are Aryn Atticus, the Strong Arm of Horum, and Eliza Kap, the Masterweaver of Gaena, two of the White Lions who helped fight Norasim in the Demonic War. They were my friends. And you…you are their Progeny.”
* * *
Jak stood several dozen feet from Nikalys and Kenders, gripping the reins to their new horses, listening to Broedi tell them some of what he had told Jak the night before. It was infinitely worse hearing everything a second time. Now, Jak had to watch Nikalys’ and Kenders’ hearts break.
Broedi had been thin with details last night, saying simply the pair were children of heroes from the duchies’ past and that forces had been searching for them since their birth—before even—wishing them dead. Jak had fought the hillman’s claims, but Broedi quickly silenced his protests by listing and numbering things that, while not conclusive support of the wild tale, made Jak concede there might be some truth to it.
The necklace that only led to Nikalys and Kenders.
The strange exchange Jak had with his parents in Yellow Mud.
The fact that he looked nothing like his siblings.
Eventually, Jak stopped fighting. He was not sure he believed Broedi, but neither could he call the hillman a liar with any sort of confidence.
He had spent last night and this morning digesting Broedi’s incredible story. Were it true, and it now seemed likely that it was, he decided he did not care if Nikalys and Kenders were blood or not. He had grown up with them. Every memory he possessed included them. They had loved Jak’s parents as their own. They were his family even if they were not.
Nikalys and Kenders remained silent as Broedi spoke to them. Thinking back to his initial reaction last night, Jak supposed he had been quiet for a while, too. A person needs time to adjust to something like this.
After a short time, Broedi motioned for Jak to join the group. Jak sighed, knowing the next few moments would be the most awkward of his life. Steadying himself, he stepped forward, pulling the horses behind him. Nikalys and Kenders did not look up as he reached them.
Eyeing the trio, Broedi said, “I know you all have questions and I promise I will answer them later. For now, we must move to keep you safe. We will lead the horses to the road, and then you will ride.”
Without waiting for agreement, he turned and headed down the hill, apparently expecting them to follow. After a moment, Kenders walked after the hillman, glancing at Jak as she passed, the hurt in her eyes hitting him as if one of the nearby boulders had fallen on his head. Jak felt like he should say something, but did not know what. Kenders was likewise silent, as was Nikalys as he moved after Kenders. He did not even look at Jak.
Jak let out a long, mournful sigh, tugged the horses’ reins, and followed.
Chapter 27: Trackers
Evening’s gloam enshrouded the base of the cliff, making it difficult to see much of anything in significant detail. Yet that did not stop the lone man standing there from trying. Six feet tall with olive skin, he peered downward, studying the ground, his thick, black hair hanging in his eyes.
Reaching a hand up, Cero brushed back his hair and rubbed his eyes. “This makes no sense.”
Hearing footsteps, he pulled his attention from the dirt and scrabble at his feet and looked to the forest’s edge just as Latius emerged from the trees, limping along while swatting at beetles.
Latius was an odd-looking fellow. He had shaggy blond hair, eyes that were too close together, an upturned nose, and reed-thin lips. Like Cero, he was dressed in gray, tough-spun traveling clothes suited for the wilderness more so than the expensive city tunics most Constables wore.
Catching Latius’ eye, Cero asked, “Did you find anything?”
Latius shook his head.
“Twenty paces in, the trail just stops. I’m sure it picks up again, but I can’t find where. Too dark.”
“We should have grabbed a torch before we left.”
“Yeah, well,” murmured Latius. “I didn’t think of it, and neither did you.” He bent over and rubbed his knee. “Gods, this still hurts.”
Cero frowned. Latius seemed more concerned about his hurt knee than why they were here.
They had been sitting in a Fallsbottom tavern when the incident had occurred. While the surge of magic startled them both, Latius jumped from his chair as though someone had stabbed his rear with a dagger, smacking his right knee against the table and knocking over their drinks. Rushing from the tavern, they hurried south, toward the disturbance. They arrived at sunset and spread out to investigate the area. It did not take long before both Trackers were thoroughly perplexed.
Still rubbing his knee, Latius asked, “So what do you think happened?”
“I’m at a loss,” sighed Cero, crouching to study the same dirt he had already looked at a half-dozen times. He nodded at a series of markings in the dirt. “There was a struggle. Two or three men and either an older child or woman. That much is clear.” Turning a bit, he pointed to the oddest thing he had seen in the wilderness since coming to Smithshill. “But those? They shouldn’t be here.”
“And you are sure those are from a bear’s paws?”
“I am from the Northlands, Latius. I am quite familiar with the markings of bears.”
“As am I,” said
Latius. He pointed to the massive set of prints. “Yet I have never seen any that size, have you?”
With a slow, wondering shake of his head, Cero muttered, “No, I have not.” He could have stood on one foot in the center footpad and not disturbed the print at all.
“So, then,” sighed Latius. “What do we do?”
Cero glanced up to his fellow Tracker, curious. “What do you mean, ‘what do we do?’”
Latius nodded at the bear tracks. “Do we report this?”
Standing tall, Cero glared at Latius and said, “Of course we report this.”
“No one will believe us, Cero. A bear? Here?”
Indicating the tracks, Cero asked, “Do you see something different?”
“Oh, no, those are bear tracks. Giant, massive bear tracks. The problem is they are the only ones. Did the beast fall from the sky and then grow wings and fly away? We will be mocked.”
Cero pressed his lips together, disappointed in his partner. “Do you deny the strength of the disturbance?
Latius frowned and dropped his head. “No.”
“Then you know we can’t let this go unreported.”
Looking up, Latius asked, “Do you think Oliver will request a Gray Cloak?”
“Perhaps, but the nearest one I know of is in Redstone. This is up to us.”
Latius murmured, “I suppose you’re right.” He was staring at the tracks again, a worried frown on his face.
Cero began to head back to the tree line, careful to avoid scuffing the tracks.
“Let’s go, Latius. We have a mage to hunt.”
Chapter 28: Council
17th of the Turn of Sutri
Alpert swept into the council chamber and breathed a sigh of relief, the cool air within a welcome change from the blistering heat outside. Channels under certain rooms of the Regent’s House carried water siphoned from Lake Hawthorne before it made its way over the falls. The constant flow kept the white granite floor cool and, in turn, the air refreshing compared to the summer heat.
Progeny (The Children of the White Lions) Page 26
