Cero launched into a short narrative describing how they had traced the magical activity to a location five miles south of Fallsbottom. Nathan purposely did not ask how exactly they did that because he knew there would be no answer. The sky was blue, grass was green, Trackers tracked magic.
Cero described the giant bear marks that appeared from nowhere and just as mysteriously vanished. Four people had been there, one of them a giant of a man and one of them a girl or an older child, judging by the size of the footprints. Three horses accompanied them, led from the cliff and not ridden. After only a few steps into the forest, all traces of the group vanished. The Trackers believed the mage—or mages—used a minor bit of magic to erase their physical tracks. When Nathan pressed them about why they could not track that magic, both men grew tight-lipped, merely saying that they could not.
When they finished, Nathan asked, “To be clear. We are looking for three men, a girl or child, and three horses?” Incredulous, he added, “And a very big bear?”
Mildly chagrined, Cero shrugged. “I did not say it made sense, Sergeant.”
Nathan sat back, confused. He had hoped the Trackers’ report might clear things up. Instead, he had new questions to add to his already long list.
Hearing the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, he twisted around to see Footman Bedwin striding quickly to the Tracker’s fire. Nathan motioned for the soldier to wait for him to come to him. Excusing himself, he stood and moved to meet the young footman.
When Nathan was a few feet away, the young man said, “Sergeant? Fenidar just arrived. He’s waiting for you at your tent.”
Bedwin’s nervous expression gave Nathan pause. “What is it, footman?”
The man frowned, glanced around, and said quietly, “He’s an ijul, Sergeant. A saeljul, by the looks of him.”
Every so often, a group of tijul would move through Smithshill, but saeljul were rare in the region. In fact, Nathan needed only one hand to count the number of saeljul he had seen in his life.
Withholding his surprise, he thanked Bedwin for fetching him and strode past the soldier toward where he had staked his tent. As he strode amongst the camp, he shook his head from side-to-side. Things were getting stranger by the moment.
A tall figure stood alone before Nathan’s tent, shrouded in the evening’s shadows. Like all ijul, his facial features were elongated and his arms seemed too long for his body. The flickering light of the campfires made his white hair appear to glow an unnatural yellow-orange color. Nathan knew the tricks that low levels of light played on the eyes but the effect was eerie, nonetheless.
Dressed in brown traveling clothes and black cloak with a dagger on his belt and a single, large bag over his shoulder, the saeljul looked every bit prepared for a journey through the wilderness, but Nathan easily marked him city bred. He suspected the ijul had never slept a night without the comfort of a feathered bed.
As the pair’s eyes met, a small chill ran up Nathan’s back. There was no logical reason for the sensation, yet something about this ijul gave him an uneasy feeling.
Nathan was still a few steps away from the tent when the ijul addressed him. “You are the sergeant in charge here?”
“I am,” replied Nathan, stopping before the stranger. “You are Fenidar?”
With a nod, the ijul said, “I am.” He tugged at his shirt collar, confirming Nathan’s suspicion that he was uncomfortable in his clothing. “I want the camp ready to move as soon as possible. I will not accept delay. We pursue some very dangerous people.”
He spoke as though he expected immediate obedience. His voice exuded command.
“Do you mean for us to march through the night?”
“Is that a problem?”
Shaking his head, Nathan said, “Not necessarily. It will take a little while to strike camp. Do you have any objections to torches or advance scouts?” Traveling in complete darkness was dangerous.
“No, Sergeant. I leave that to your discretion.”
Nathan stepped away, called Amiles over and told him to tear down the camp, make torches, and send out scouts. They were marching the night. The corporal nodded and moved off, his shouted orders cutting through the evening. Men leapt to their feet to comply. They were anxious to move.
Turning back to the ijul, Nathan said, “As we have some time, I was hoping I might ask you a few questions.”
Fenidar regarded Nathan for a long moment, reminding Nathan of a cat’s unblinking, unending stare. “First, tell me what you know.”
Nathan did so, briefing the saeljul as quickly as he could, stopping for Fenidar’s many interruptions. The saeljul asked numerous questions, most of which Nathan could not answer. When Nathan shared the tragedy of Yellow Mud, Fenidar had waved him on, uninterested. He was much more attentive during Nathan’s recounting of the meeting with the young man on the Southern Road. When Nathan relayed what he had just learned from the Trackers about the scuffle at the cliff, Fenidar halted him.
“These Trackers? They are here?”
When Nathan answered that they were, Fenidar asked he send for them immediately. Nathan called to a footman, ordered him to bring Latius and Cero here, and then continued with his report while waiting for the Trackers to show. The moment they arrived, the saeljul asked to speak with them alone, turned, and stepped inside Nathan’s tent. He did not even bother to ask if he might use it.
The two Trackers glanced at Nathan with inquisitive eyes and followed Fenidar into the tent. Sighing, Nathan turned and watched his men tear down camp, impressed with their efficiency. They would be underway sooner than he had thought. His two best scouts, Blainwood and Hunsfin, rode past, torches blazing.
Hearing the tent flaps open behind him, Nathan looked back as the Trackers emerged from inside. They hastened past without looking at him.
Curious, Nathan called, “Cero?”
The man did not look back as he hurried across the camp.
“Cero!”
The Tracker kept going.
Nathan frowned and peered at the entrance to his tent, waiting for the ijul to come out. When he did not, Nathan moved to the flaps and stuck his head back inside. Fenidar was sitting on his field stool and reading a parchment by candlelight. Without glancing up, Fenidar lifted a hand, indicating he wished for Nathan to wait silently.
Nathan’s frown deepened, but he complied. Whatever the reason, the regent had placed Fenidar in charge, so Nathan would follow the ijul’s orders. That was what good soldiers did.
After a few moments, Fenidar rolled up the parchment and placed it in his lap. He reached inside his bag, and pulled out a quill and sealed inkbottle.
“I’m sorry, Sergeant, we will need to speak later. I have things I need to attend to.”
Swallowing his irritation, Nathan asked, “Will you need a dispatch sent somewhere? I can have a man run something up to Hilltop before we get underway.”
The hint of an amused smile touched the corners of Fenidar’s wide lips.
“Ah…no, that’s quite all right. I have to make a few notes about things; that is all. Now, I’m sure you have plenty to do, don’t you? Please, don’t let me keep you.”
Nathan understood he was being dismissed. “Should you need anything, send for me.”
Fenidar did not respond.
After a few moments, Nathan withdrew his head and took a few steps back. Staring at his tent, he shook his head. He did not feel good about this at all.
Letting out a sigh, he turned his attention to the camp. Half of the tents were already down, fires were being extinguished with handfuls of dirt, and the horses un-picketed and being saddled. Leaving his soldiers to take care of themselves, Nathan strode back to where the Trackers had set up camp. Like the Red Sentinels, the pair was in the midst of packing their belongings.
As he approached, he called, “Cero!”
The black-haired man spun to meet his eye, but then quickly turned away. Nathan strode closer, stopped a few paces from the men, and watche
d them strap their gear to their horses. “What happened back there?”
Cero looked at Nathan and shook his head. “Nothing, Sergeant. Nothing at all. Fenidar just wanted to meet us and hear what we knew.”
“You were hardly in there long enough to tell him much of anything.”
Cero shrugged. “I talk fast.”
Nathan shifted his gaze to the other Tracker. “Latius? What happened?”
Latius shot a furtive glance at his partner and continued his packing. Without meeting Nathan’s eyes, he said, “Nothing. Just like Cero says.” He moved to the other side of his horse and busied himself with checking his saddlebags, ducking behind the roan.
Nathan glared at the pair a moment longer, let out a sound of disgust, and walked away. If they were not going to tell him anything, he would have to work to discover things on his own.
All in all, this expedition was off to an unsettling start.
Chapter 31: Truth
18th of the Turn of Sutri
Kenders sat snug in the saddle of her new horse, warmed by the late afternoon sun and eyeing Nikalys’ back. She let out a worried sigh, frowned, and dipped her head to stare at Smoke’s black mane. For days on end, her brother had been withdrawn, answering any question posed to him in as few words as possible. Sometimes he did not answer at all. He was making Broedi look talkative.
To say that the revelation about their parents had been a shock would be like saying the summers of Yellow Mud were slightly warm. She understood this was hard for him, but she was tiring of his mood. He was not the only one having to deal with a new reality.
When Broedi had told them that Thaddeus and Marie were not their blood parents, a swirling jumble of emotions had rolled over her: disbelief, denial, anger, wonder, fear. As they had hurried away from the cliff, rushing to the Southern Road, countless questions raced through her head and were destined to remain there, echoing in the quiet cavern of her mind as Broedi demanded complete silence. The hillman had been on edge, his head snapping around at every sound. Even the harmless chirp of a redbird had startled him.
Nikalys had seemed perfectly content to remain quiet, falling into a brooding silence that had made Jak’s earlier mood seem festive. Throughout the remainder of the afternoon and evening, no one had said a word.
They had all begun riding their new horses once they reached the road. Broedi had no trouble in keeping up with the horses, despite the brisk pace they all kept. She had the impression Broedi would have moved faster if he had been sure the three siblings would not tumble from their mounts.
When Mu’s orb had set and the moons rose, Broedi had not stopped, ushering them off the road to avoid the nighttime camps of other travelers. It was clear to Kenders that the hillman did not want anyone to mark their passage.
At dawn’s first light, Broedi led the party deep into the forest in order to make camp, finally permitting them to talk, albeit in whispers. The hillman refused to answer any questions, however, keeping his full attention on the quiet forest around them.
Kenders, physically and mentally exhausted, had tried to talk with Nikalys, but he refused. He had lain down and closed his eyes without saying a word to anyone. Kenders wondered if he slept.
Jak had been eager to talk, however. At first, their conversation had been awkward, almost as if they were strangers. After a few uncomfortable exchanges, the uneasiness had passed and they were soon smiling and quietly chatting.
After too short a time, Broedi more or less ordered them to sleep; they were going to be on the move again shortly. The two exchanged a long hug and laid down on their bedrolls, but Kenders could not sleep.
She found herself constantly qualifying everything she thought about her family life, categorizing everything and everyone. Blood parents. Foster parents. What it meant to be a brother or a sister, a father or a mother.
She eventually fell asleep, only to be awakened what felt like a moment later by a gentle shake from Jak. Groggy, she sat up and found that he had already saddled Smoke for her, letting her sleep a little longer. The gesture meant a lot to her.
Broedi relaxed his restriction on talking as they rode that second day, yet still would not answer any questions, irritating Kenders. Nikalys remained uncommunicative throughout the evening and night yet again. Jak tried reaching out to him, but Nikalys rebuffed every effort. Jak took it in stride, but Kenders was disappointed in Nikalys. This situation was difficult for all of them, not just him. He was being incredibly selfish.
When Broedi awakened them this afternoon, he said they were only going to travel until dark. Tonight they would have a real camp. When Kenders pressed him to answer some questions, he agreed to do so tonight. She planned to hold him to that promise.
When the sun set, they moved into the forest and made camp and settled in. Broedi left to hunt—with a sling this time—and returned with five small rock pheasants. Jak prepared the birds for roasting, and Kenders seasoned them with salt and the last of the hillsage before setting them over the fire. Throughout the meal’s preparation, Nikalys sat at the edge of their camp and sulked.
Kenders glanced at Jak and found her eldest brother glaring at Nikalys. He was trying to be supportive, but after three days of Nikalys’ moping, he was getting irritated, too.
The land changed a little each day. A mixture of dry, thin pine needles and dead leaves covered the ground of the camp. Broedi sat on a mossy ash log with his back to the fire, smoking his engraved bone pipe, little wisps of smoke curling up from the bowl. With a start, Kenders realized it was the first time since the cliff that she had even seen Broedi sitting down. He had remained vigilant on end for three days. She wondered if he had slept.
Other than the crackling of the logs in the fire and the soft hum of insects in the trees, the clearing was deadly quiet. Determined to finally get some answers, Kenders stood, brushed some needles and leaves from her new green riding dress, and strode around Broedi’s log to stop before the hillman. Even sitting down on a log, Broedi was nearly as tall as she was standing.
He lifted his eyes as she arrived and stared at her. The sweet, heady aroma of the pipe smoke filled the air.
Folding her hands in front of her, she said, “I would like answers. Now.” She supposed her tone was overly formal, perhaps a bit rude, almost as if she had given him an order.
Broedi considered her for a long moment, his deep brown eyes, studying her, evaluating. Finally, he nodded once, motioning for her to sit down in front of him. “If you so desire.”
Her eyebrows shot up. She had half-expected Broedi to put her off again. “Truly?”
Broedi’s typical, slight smile crept over his lips. “Truly, uora.”
Glancing past the hillman, she waved to an anxious Jak, beckoning him over. He flashed a relieved grin, stood from the ground, and strode to Broedi’s log, kicking up leaves and pine needles as he hurried.
When he arrived, he murmured, “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to listen to this.”
Kenders reached up, placed her hand on his arm, and smiled. “This involves us all, Jak.”
Returning her smile, Jak said, “Thanks, sis.”
She liked that he still called her that.
Looking over Broedi’s head to where Nikalys was leaning against a tree trunk, pretending that he did not know what was happening. Raising her voice, she called, “Nikalys! If you are done pouting, could you come over, please? I don’t want Broedi to have to repeat himself. You know how much he loves to talk.”
Broedi chuckled softly, surprising her a little.
Nikalys turned and gave her an absolutely awful look, one of hurt swirling with a bitter, determined anger. Her irritation with him faded some. After Yellow Mud, he had been nothing but protective and supportive, especially regarding her being a mage. Perhaps she was being was being callous. Sighing, she moved around the end of the log, and approached him. He turned his back to her.
Kenders strolled up behind him and put her hand on his right shoulder. He flin
ched. At once, every bit of annoyance she felt toward him melted away.
Without saying a word, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him from behind, laying her head on his back. Initially, he tried to pull away, but then he stood still and relaxed. After a few moments, he placed his hand on hers and squeezed.
The pair of them stood that way for a time, still and silent. Broedi and Jak left them alone.
Eventually, he patted her hand twice, which she took to mean that he was done being consoled. She released her embrace and he turned around to face her. Firelight gleamed in his tear-moistened eyes. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.”
Kenders nodded slowly and murmured, “Me either.” She paused a moment before adding, “But that’s no reason to be such a lout to Jak and me.”
He pressed his lips together and sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.” Shaking his head, he muttered, “It’s just…I don’t understand what’s happening to me—or to you…and Jak’s not our brother…” He dipped his head and trailed off, sounding utterly lost.
Taking his hands in hers, she said, “Hey, I don’t have any idea what’s going on either. But I do know that—blood or not—Jak is our brother.”
Nikalys looked up, his gaze flicking over her shoulder to where Jak waited with Broedi. “You’re right.”
Pressing ahead, Kenders said, “Something else I know is that the giant hillman back there has done nothing but keep us safe since he’s met us. He says he was our…blood parents’ friend, and I believe him.”
Nikalys’ expression turned hard. “I don’t know if I do. There are too many questions.”
“Yes, there are,” agreed Kenders. Motioning behind her, she added, “And Broedi says he’s ready to answer them now. Let’s see what he has to say.”
Nikalys took a deep breath, held it a moment, and exhaled. “You’re right. Let’s go.”
Wearing a determined expression, he strode past her. She followed him to the other side of the log where Jak was sitting, waiting. Nikalys moved to Jak and offered his hand. Jak accepted it and Nikalys pulled him off the ground to embrace him. Soon, they were both smacking each other on the back. Neither of them spoke a single word.
Progeny (The Children of the White Lions) Page 29
