by R. T. Kaelin
She shut her eyes, squeezing them tight, screaming inside. This was her fault. All of it.
In the days following Joshmuel’s death, Zecus insisted he did not hold her responsible, offering gentle words and smiles. However, as the days passed, Zecus grew increasingly aloof and cold. Any attempt by her—or anyone of their party—to engage him in conversation resulted in terse, clipped responses. Eventually, the others stopped speaking with Zecus altogether. Even Boah, normally boisterous and loud, remained silent around him.
Kenders opened her eyes and stared at Zecus’ back. He sat in his saddle, rigid and tense.
She knew he blamed her for Joshmuel’s death. She certainly blamed herself.
Dropping her head, she stared at Smoke’s black mane without seeing it, wondering at the cruel chain of events that had led to here. Had Broedi not taken them on a path leading to the Moiléne farm all those turns ago, Kenders would have never opened a port there. Yet not going to the farm would mean she and her brothers would not have interrupted the bandits attack on the sisters. Most likely, the pair would be dead now.
Sabine and Helene’s lives for Joshmuel’s.
It was a dangerous path of thought to follow, nonetheless she found herself weighing their lives, wondering if given the choice, which she would pick.
“I am going to ride with the Borderlanders for a time. You shall ride with Tobias.”
Kenders’ head snapped up and to the right. She was surprised to find Khin riding beside her, his cool gaze locked on her face. The unprompted words were out of character for Khin. Other than her morning and afternoon lessons, the aicenai rarely spoke.
Before she could form a response, Khin swiveled in his saddle, stared at Boah, and requested, “Come with me, please.” Without waiting for Boah’s acknowledgment, the aicenai faced forward and urged his horse into a gentle trot.
Kenders watched him ride away for a moment and then turned back to Boah.
“What is that about?”
With a shrug of his shoulders, Boah said, “I have no idea. But I’m not going to argue with a mage.” He kicked Hal’s sides, tugging Goshen along behind him. As he passed Kenders, he added with a wink and a grin, “I bet they’ll both talk my ear off.”
Kenders smiled at the quip, grateful for Boah’s presence. Without him, the somber mood traveling with their group would have crushed her days ago.
As she watched the pair ride to catch Zecus, Tobias trotted up to fall in beside her. Keeping her eyes on the trio ahead, she said, “That is unusual.”
“Yes,” muttered Tobias. “It certainly is.” He sounded curious himself.
Glancing to her right, she asked, “Any idea what prompted it?”
Tobias reached up, smacked an insect that had alighted on his cheek, and pulled his hand back. As he wiped the remains of the squished bug on his leg, he swiveled his head to peer at her, an unusual twinkle in his eyes and a slight smile gracing his lips.
“So, Kenders. What’s been on your mind as of late?”
She turned away from the tomble and stared west, out over the swamp. Managing to keep her tone casual, she said, “Nothing in particular. Just that I’m getting tired of these marshes.”
“Of course,” said the tomble. “The marshes.”
She hoped Tobias would do what they had all been doing for weeks: ride in complete silence. He did not.
“Might you still be ruminating on Joshmuel’s death?”
Kenders turned to glare at the tomble and lied, “No. Not at all.”
Pressing his lips together, he nodded and said, “As I thought.” Apparently, he did not accept her claim. “Still carrying the blame on your shoulders, are you?”
Her eyes narrowing, she lied again.
“No.”
“You should be careful,” said Tobias, his gaze boring into her. “Guilt is like a boulder of granite. The longer you carry it, the heavier it gets.”
Annoyed now, Kenders said, “What I am feeling is none of your concern.”
His gaze lingered for a half-dozen horse strides before dropping to Traveler’s chestnut mane.
“Did Broedi tell you much about me?”
Kenders’ irritation dulled a bit at the unexpected question.
“Pardon?”
Looking back to her, Tobias asked, “Broedi. Did he talk about me? About my past? About how I came to be one of the Assembly’s champions?”
Bewildered by the shift in conversation, Kenders said, “Well…no.”
Tobias appeared trapped between a smile and a frown.
“I see.”
“Honestly, besides a few stories about my parents, he never speaks of the White Lions. I’ve asked before, but he says he does not like to talk of the past.”
Tobias nodded slowly, an understanding smile spreading over his face.
“The past grows dull with age, yet some edges stay sharp, eh?”
“Pardon?”
“Sorry,” said Tobias, glancing over. “It’s an old Boroughs saying. It means…” He paused for a moment. “It means that while most memories fade with time, some do not.” He frowned. “Often, those that hurt the most.”
Now Kenders nodded her understanding, saying, “I suppose Broedi has plenty of sharp edges in his past, doesn’t he?” She eyed the tomble. “You, as well?”
Tobias drew in a deep breath and let it back out.
“More than I would like.”
Kenders waited, sensing that the past had trapped the tomble for a moment. She began to face forward when Tobias spoke in a quiet, unassuming voice.
“You should know that I am a murderer.”
Wondering if a frog’s croak or the muddy squish of a horse’s hoof might have mangled his words, she looked back and asked, “Pardon?”
Tobias offered her a slight, remorseful smile. Reading her expression perfectly, he said, “You heard me correctly. I am a murderer.”
Assuming he was talking about his actions during the last battle with the God of Chaos, she said, “What a person does during war is not—”
“That is not what I mean,” interrupted Tobias with a firm shake of his head. “I had blood on my hands before I was a White Lion.”
A quiet moment slipped past before Kenders spoke.
“Pardon?”
Tobias glanced over at her, nibbling on his lip. After a heartbeat or two, he sighed, and stared ahead.
“I am originally from Buttermere Crag, a good-sized town in the Alewold Principal that sits at the base of large cliff. Rock quarries were operated in the bluffs nearby, the stone used to build most of the homes and shops of every town in the region. Half of Buttermere Crag worked at the quarries. My entire family did. I, for much of my early life, however, did not.”
“Why not?”
With raised eyebrows, he patted his right leg.
“It’s hard to carry rocks and hold a cane at the same time.”
Kenders eyes widened a fraction as she said, “Oh. Right. I forgot about your leg.” Three weeks of traveling with the tomble and she had grown so used to his crippled limb that she no longer noticed it.
“Good,” said Tobias while wearing a tiny smile. “I prefer when people do that.” Facing forward, he resumed his story.
“My leg did not keep me from the quarry forever. Despite my limitation, my father wanted me in the rock pit. ‘Generations of Donngords have worked the stone, Tobias,’ he would say. ‘So shall you.’” When a new section of the quarry was opened for mining, he pressed me into service, securing me the position of overseer for the team. I accepted the role, yet within days, I knew I would be poor at the job.”
“Because of your leg?”
“Not at all. A bad leg does not hamper one from standing around all day, watching others work. I was bored to no end, dear. I loathed every moment in that dusty pit, watching the sun cross the sky, pleading with Mu that he move his orb faster.”
For a few rhythmic strides of their horses squishing through mud and muck, Tobias remained quiet
. The expression on his face turned dark, betraying a deep-rooted hurt. When he resumed speaking, his voice was just above a whisper.
“One afternoon, there was an accident. Nine of my team died in a rockslide. My youngest brother, Mallin, was one of them.”
“Oh, Tobias,” muttered Kenders. “I am so sorry.”
He nodded once, mumbling, “Thank you.” He remained quiet a few moments before sitting tall in his saddle and taking a deep breath. “An inquiry turned up negligence on the overseer’s part. Me. I was supposed to have checked the stakes supporting a load-wall prior to the day’s work. I had not. Some of those stakes gave way, letting a pile of stone tumble down onto…” Trailing off, he turned his head away from her, staring eastward.
“That does not make you a murderer.”
Facing Kenders, he said, “The families of those who perished disagreed, dear. They demanded the custodian charge me, and he did so. Had I been found guilty, I would have been sent to the stockades.”
Her voice full of disbelief, Kenders asked, “Over an accident?”
“Ah, but according to Boroughs’ law, it was no accident. I was a criminal. A murderer.”
“Nundle claimed the Five Boroughs had almost no crime.”
A dry and bitter chuckle burst from Tobias.
“Of course there isn’t. Not when punishment is disproportionately ruthless to the offense. Nor restricted to the lawbreaker alone.”
“What do you mean?” asked Kenders.
“Had I been deemed guilty, I would have gone to the stockades and the Donngord family name would have been annulled.”
Kenders shook her head, saying, “I don’t know what that means.”
“Simply put, all Donngords—past, present, and future—would be stricken or barred from the Boroughs’ namebooks. Until the first child of the fourth generation was born, the entire family would remain nameless. The Donngords would be shunned from ‘proper society,’ ostracized, cast out.”
“All of you?” asked Kenders in disbelief.
“To the last,” muttered Tobias bitterly.
“They punish the entire family for one person’s transgression?”
Shrugging his shoulders, Tobias said, “It is the way things are done.”
“But why?”
“Because it’s the law.”
“It’s a brainless law.”
With another mirthless chuckle, Tobias said, “Many are, Kenders.”
“Where would someone get the idea to do something so awful?”
Tobias stared up at the clear, blue sky, sighed, and said, “An excellent question. Decades after the war, I returned to the Boroughs and spent some time in Gobberdale, researching tomble law. Would you believe it that I could find nothing written about annulling a family? Nothing at all? It seems that it was more tradition than anything.”
Frowning, Kenders said, “Tradition is an excuse for doing things without a proper reason.”
Tobias turned his head to stare at her with raised eyebrows.
“That almost sounds wise, Kenders.”
“It is something my father used to say.” Wanting to be clear on the point, she added, “Thaddeus, that is, not Aryn.” Every time Tobias referred to her ‘parents,’ he seemed to be speaking of the White Lion pair. Directing the conversation back to Tobias’ tale, she asked, “Did you tell anyone what you found? Or didn’t find, as it were?”
“Of course. I asked some of the more learned barristers, most never gave me an answer, but the one who did simply said, ‘Tradition is law, too.’ So, I left and came back to the duchies.”
“Does Nundle know about all of this?”
Raising his eyebrows, Tobias asked, “What? About me?” He shook his head. “Gods, no. Right or wrong, the shame of being a law-breaker is branded into you from birth. When I learned Nundle was from the Boroughs, the first thought I had was ensuring he did not find out about my past.”
“You don’t know Nundle. He would never be so judgmental.”
“Perhaps not,” admitted Tobias. “But I did not know that when I met him. I assumed he was like every other Boroughs tomble.”
“You were so worried about being judged unfairly that you did the same thing to Nundle?”
Tobias’ brow drew together, a pair of deep furrows splitting his forehead. After a few moments of quiet introspection, he muttered, “I suppose I did, didn’t I?” Glancing over, he said, “Rather blind of me, wasn’t it?”
Shrugging her shoulders, Kenders said, “We all make mistakes.”
“Very true.”
Kenders waited a moment before asking, “You never did say if you were deemed guilty or not. Were you?”
Tobias shook his head, saying, “I never gave them a chance. I fled Buttermere Crag before the hearing.”
“Truly?”
Nodding, he said, “I thought I could spare my family the pain of my mistake. I did not even say farewell. One cold, Winter night…I just left.”
“Where’d you go?”
“To Marblewater at first, a city on the north coast. I booked passage on the first ship leaving port, not even asking where it was headed, I simply wanted out of the Boroughs. We docked in Keyport in the Northlands Duchy a little over a turn later. Within a day, I found a nice longleg merchant who was looking for a bookkeeper. Two weeks later, I was in Tymnasis, learning the intricacies of the iron and copper trade.”
A smile—a happy one this time—spread over his lips.
“Despite the strange land, food, and people, I enjoyed my life there. Before the war, Tymnasis was a grand city.”
His grin faded, replaced quickly by a grim and dark expression.
“A few years later, stories began to arrive with the caravans from the west telling of a great demon army from the Red Peaks. Soon, war was at our door. Tymnasis was evacuated, the duke at the time seized my employer’s metal stores—without payment, mind you—to forge weapons and armor. He was ruined. With no job and a demon army at the gates, I left the city and went south.”
“Where were you headed?”
“I told you,” said Tobias. “South. It was away from demons and that was good enough for me. I hobbled along, quickly outpaced by everyone else fleeing the city. Late one evening, all alone, I came across a figure standing in the road. A divina, if you can believe it. The first I had ever seen. I stopped in my tracks, terrified. Rumors were the leader of the demon army was a divina.”
“Who was it?”
“He announced himself ‘Tenerva, first priest of Nelnora,’ and asked if I would accompany him to the Celestial Empire.” A lopsided grin spread over his face. “I thought he was mad. However, as I was broke, hungry, and trapped in a country being invaded by demons, I went with him, thinking I might be able to swindle a hot meal from the madman. Imagine my surprise when it turned out he was telling the truth.”
He took a deep breath and exhaled, saying, “You know the rest: the Assembly of the Nine, a choice offered and taken, abilities granted by the Gods and Goddesses. In short order, we eight strangers were on our way to becoming the ‘White Lions,’ destined to save the duchies from the God of Chaos.”
Smacking another marsh fly and wiping it on his leg, he continued his tale.
“The Assembly opened a port to Bard Island and sent us through. We stood on that blasted beach for hours, staring at one another, wondering if we were all dreaming. It was then that some of us first discovered we could use the Strands. Me included. Hells, Broedi accidently set your father’s backpack on fire with a stray Weave.” A wide grin spread over his face. “Twice, actually.”
Kenders smiled at the thought of Broedi fumbling with magic.
Tobias shook his head, saying, “We had no idea what we were doing. None. To a soul, we were terrified. Nevertheless, we pushed our fear aside and did what we needed to do. Aided by a few hundred soldiers of the nearby Postia Barony, we marched on a small detachment of Norasim’s army. We won handily and earned our name in the process from the baron’s pennant
: a white lion on a black background. With that victory, the tide of the war began to change.”
He went quiet for a few moments, his gaze unfocused. Kenders used the break in the tale to look ahead. Khin and Boah were nominally riding with Zecus, trailing him by a half-dozen horse lengths. She looked back when Tobias began speaking again.
“As the war dragged on, my visions began to reveal moments back in the Boroughs, brief visits of life amongst entire families of shunned tombles. At first, I thought my personal guilt was influencing the visions.”
“Were they?”
“Who knows? I didn’t understand how the visions worked then, and I still don’t. Nelnora never took the time to explain anything. None of the Assembly did. They bestowed us with our abilities, told us to stop Norasim, and sent us on our way.”
Kenders wondered why the Gods and Goddesses would do such a thing. It was akin to giving a young child a newly sharpened dagger and asking them not cut themself.
“So what did you do? About your visions?”
“Well, I confided in your mother what I was seeing and she suggested we investigate them. She was the only one of us who had been a mage prior to the Assembly and knew the Weave for a port. She taught me the pattern, I opened a port to the outskirts of Buttermere Crag, and she and I strode into town.”
He paused to let loose a heavy, melancholy sigh.
“The town was absent of Donngords. My entire family was gone, our name removed from the namebooks. My running away had not spared them any disgrace. The shame I felt for what I had put my family through…I feel it to this day.”
Unsure any words could comfort him, Kenders chose to remain silent.
“There I sat on the green,” muttered Tobias. “Feeling very sorry for myself, when your mother suggested something that would not have occurred to me had I thought on the matter for a thousand years.” A shrewd smile spread over his lips. “Something to help shunned tombles prove their worthiness while helping us in our fight against Norasim.”
Kenders suddenly realized to what Tobias was alluding.
“The tombles who fought in the war? They were the annulled families, weren’t they?”
