The Children of the White Lions: Volume 02 - Prophecy

by R. T. Kaelin

  “He should have already been here,” murmured Raela.

  Tandyr sighed.

  “I know.”

  “I bet he is torturing the man just for fun.”

  Tandyr shrugged his shoulders.

  “Most likely.”

  Raela shook her head slowly, quiet for a long moment before asking, “Do we still need him?”

  “A little while longer, yes,” answered Tandyr.

  “He causes more problems than he solves.”

  Tandyr nodded, agreeing, “True.”

  “It is a risk to keep him around.”

  “Risks are necessary at times.”

  Raela turned to stare at him, a scowl marring her pretty features.

  “Tandyr. He lost one of the Suštinata.”

  The glowing ember of anger in Tandyr’s chest flared hot in an instant, but he managed to suppress it quickly.

  “Do not worry. We will find it again.”

  Raela cocked a single, thin eyebrow.

  “I would have thought your mongrels should have been back by now.”

  Tandyr frowned. She was right. After a long moment, he spoke in a low, measured tone.

  “One way or another, we will find it again.”

  “How can you be so sure?” pressed Raela.

  “I am sure because I am sure.”

  “Is there something you are not telling me?”

  He turned his head to regard the erijul, the corners of his mouth curling up a fraction.

  “I am sure, Raela. That will have to be enough for you now.”

  A coy smile spread over Raela’s lips.

  “What’s the matter, Tandyr? Don’t you trust me?”

  A dry chuckle slipped from him.

  “Do you trust me?”

  Raela held his gaze for a long, quiet moment before turning away. As she stared back down the hill, her eyes focused on something below.

  “Here he comes.”

  At the base of the bush-covered slope, Vanson emerged from the camp atop the back of a fine-looking roan. Tandyr briefly wondered where the God had found a horse able to tolerate the monstrous races.

  He and Raela waited in silence as Vanson made his way up the hillside, weaving between clumps of grass and short trees. Smoke and the scent of charred flesh hung heavy in the air, yet could do nothing to mask the swamp’s rottenness. Tandyr would be glad when the Marshlands were behind him. The air reeked.

  When Vanson reached them, pulling up his horse a dozen paces short of where they stood, Tandyr did not waste any time.

  “Did you bring it?”

  Raela glanced over, her brow furrowed.

  “Bring what?”

  Tandyr ignored her as Vanson slid from the saddle, boots thudding onto some of the only dry land within miles. The former duke unhooked a cloth sack hanging from the saddle and marched the remaining few paces up the hill, his gaze locked on Tandyr.

  “No worries.”

  He extended his arm, holding the bag out. The bottom of the sack, stretched around its contents, was shaped like a cube.

  Raela’s eyes went wide as she exclaimed, “Are you mad?” She stood tall, glaring at Vanson and Tandyr both. “You trusted him with another one? After what he did with the last?!”

  Tandyr accepted the sack, glanced over to Raela, and said, “I did. And the way you are reacting right now is precisely why I did not tell you.”

  Vanson eyed Raela, saying, “No need to worry. It’s safe.”

  Glaring at him, she stepped to Tandyr’s side and ripped the bag from his hand. Tandyr let her have it. Resisting would have taken more time than letting her see for herself. Reaching into the bag, she withdrew a redwood box, gripped the lid, and flipped it open.

  The world glittered gold as thousands of Strands of Will surged from the Suštinata, flooding the air. With a sharp crack, Raela shut the lid and the strings disappeared. She shoved the box back into the sack and handed both back to Tandyr, eyeing Vanson with a frown throughout.

  The dark-skinned man smiled wide.

  “Told you it was safe.”

  As Raela glared at him, Tandyr placed the bag on the ground and looked back to the duke.

  “Did you learn anything useful?”

  Vanson shook his head, saying, “Nothing new. More and more Southern Arms and Shore Guard soldiers arrive every day. Reed Men reinforcements from the south, as well.”

  “Numbers?” asked Tandyr.

  Vanson gave a careless shrug.

  “I did not ask.”

  “Why not?” asked Raela.

  Vanson shifted his gaze to her.

  “Why does it matter how many they have? We have more.”

  Her eyes narrowing sharply, Raela snapped, “It would be nice to know what we face.”

  Vanson rolled his eyes and turned back to Tandyr.

  “The man was only a footman. Utterly bereft of useful information.”

  “Then what took you so long?” asked Tandyr.

  A wicked smile twisted its way over Vanson’s lips.

  “Once I learned that he has a mother and sister living within Demetus’ walls, I spent some time sharing our plans for the city and its citizens. I included as many details as I could.”

  Raela gave a quiet huff of disgust.

  “You have an army waiting to march and you piddled around just to make one man miserable?”

  Vanson’s eyes widened as he glared at her, snapping, “I held myself in check! Were it up to me, I’d still be down there!”

  Shaking her head, Raela said, “Sometimes I wonder if you have any idea what’s at stake here.”

  “Of course I do!” snapped Vanson.

  “Yet you lost one of the Suštinata.”

  Throwing up his arms, Vanson exclaimed, “When will you move on to the next act?! This is—”

  “Enough!” hissed Tandyr, eyes wide. Both Gods went silent and turned to stare at him. “We must focus on what is to come! Nothing else! Agreed?” Without giving either a chance to respond, he shifted his full attention to Vanson. “Are things ready?”

  Vanson shot one last glare at Raela before nodding.

  “Yes. The captains have their orders and are waiting.”

  With a tiny nod, Tandyr said, “Go, then. We will see you in a week.”

  Vanson nodded and began to turn away, skipping any sort of farewell to either of them. After moving to his horse, he put a boot in a stirrup and pulled himself into the saddle. Laying the reins against his horse’s neck, he gave a firm kick to the roan’s sides and cantered down the hill, heading back to the horde in the valley.

  The moment he was out of earshot, Raela asked, “Are you sure he will not foul this up?”

  Tandyr said, “I do not see how he could.”

  The erijul huffed quietly.

  “Then my imagination is better than yours.”

  Tandyr did not respond. He did not much care what Raela thought. Like Vanson, she was a means to an end.

  When Vanson neared the bottom of the hill, he shouted, his words unintelligible to the Gods standing atop the hill. Moments later, a discordant chorus of horns reverberated through the valley. The low, thudding of the oligurt war chant joined the signal, followed quickly by the haunting howls of the mongrel packs. The front ranks of the great host started moving.

  After watching in silence for a time, Raela turned to Tandyr.

  “Any further word on Nelnora’s attempt to form an Assembly?”

  Tandyr nodded while keeping his gaze fixed on the army.

  “Five in total, now. Saewyn has pledged her support.”

  Raela frowned.

  “She only needs four more.”

  Tandyr muttered, “I can count, Raela.”

  Letting his snide remark slide past, she said, “I don’t suppose you will tell me how you remain so well informed about her actions?”

  Tandyr finally pulled his attention from below, stared into Raela’s eyes, and said, “We’re not the only ones who want to be free of this b
lasted realm.” A sly smile graced his wide lips. “It’s amazing what some are willing to do if the right prize is dangled before them.” His grin grew. “Whatever the cost may be.”

  Chapter 47: Chest

  Khin reached the top of the stairwell and stepped onto the battlements, striding toward his tower. The cold Storm Island wind immediately began whipping at his robes. He almost smiled, relishing the chill. He enjoyed the Winters here.

  Behind him, a light scuffling of Broedi’s surprisingly quiet steps reached the stairs’ pinnacle as well, followed a moment later by one last clack of Tobias’ walking stick against the stone. Broedi had asked one question during their journey up here, Tobias two. Khin had deflected all three. At this point, showing was better than telling.

  As the trio ambled along the battlements in silence, Khin felt the quiet buzz of thoughts of the people rushing about the courtyard below. The images that flashed through their heads were predictable ones, mostly visions of fighting against horrible, yet-unseen foes. Khin blocked it all out for now and focused on the task at hand.

  When they reached the door to Khin’s room, he stopped and turned to face Broedi and Tobias. The pair stared at him, curiosity in their eyes. He must have been quiet for too long because Tobias and Broedi shared a look between one another, after which Broedi looked to him and spoke in his deep baritone.

  “Why did you ask us here?”

  Khin did not answer immediately, noting the irony of the situation. The two souls whose minds he wished to view were the two he had given his word to never do so. Turning his attention to Broedi alone, he asked, “Have you now shared everything about your time with Nelnora? There is nothing else you left out?”

  “A pair of excellent questions,” said Tobias, looking up at Broedi expectantly. “Well?”

  Broedi was quiet for a moment before rumbling, “On my family’s name, I swear I have shared everything.”

  Tobias eyes widened a fraction in surprise.

  “Good enough for me.”

  It was for Khin as well. Before Broedi had deduced his ability to see thoughts, Khin had witnessed a few disturbing memories from Broedi’s past. The hillman’s words were not spoken with flippancy.

  Nodding slowly, Khin asked, “Then Nelnora did not mention what became of the Suštinata na Kamen I studied for so long?”

  “No, she did not,” replied Broedi. “My questions on the subject were met with silence.”

  Khin frowned.

  “Her silence on the issue is intriguing.”

  Broedi’s eyes narrowed.

  “Khin, I asked you about this when we first returned from her temple. Perhaps I should be asking you the same questions you put to me. Have you left something out of your tale?”

  Rather than answer, Khin turned to face the timeworn soldier statue that stood guard by his door. The stone figure had been here when he arrived, its facial features mostly gone, chipped away by the years. Enough of the carved armor remained to mark him an army general from when L’antico Impero had ruled these lands. Khin had watched the nation’s rise and fall from afar, just as he had dozens of others through the years. Each time, the reasons behind a civilization’s collapse could be traced to two things: greed and lack of compassion. The short-lived races rarely learned from their mistakes.

  Staring into the empty air, he reached for a few Strands of Stone, wove them into a quick pattern, and then directed the brown Weave toward the statue’s gut. As the Strands melted into the figure, the stone shifted and shimmered, looking like rippling water in a bucket. Extending both arms, he reached into the statue, grasped the box hidden inside, and withdrew it, releasing the Weave when he was free. The stone turned solid once again.

  Turning to face Broedi and Tobias, he waited. One of them was bound to come to the correct conclusion. Both White Lions stared at the black wooden box he held in silence, the sea wind whipping through their hair.

  “Hold a moment,” murmured Tobias. With disbelief coating every word, he asked, “The Suštinata of Stone is in there?”

  Khin nodded.

  “It is.”

  Broedi’s gaze snapped to Khin’s face.

  “How long have you had it here?”

  “Fifty-eight years.”

  The hillman’s eyes flared wide.

  “And you never told me?”

  “You, too, kept it from others you trust, did you not? If I recall, your exact words were, ‘The fewer who know, the better.’”

  Broedi’s expression softened.

  “You have a point.”

  Tobias stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the black lacquered box.

  “But why do you have it? Did Nelnora not want it?”

  “I did not give her the choice,” answered Khin. “When I went to visit her, I did so without the Suštinata. I hid it before returning to the Seat of Nelnora and retrieved it afterwards.”

  The tomble’s gaze shifted to Khin’s face.

  “Didn’t trust her, did you?”

  “No,” answered Khin. “I do not trust any of them, the High Host, the Neither, or the Cabal.”

  Broedi rumbled, “Did she not ask for it back?”

  “It was the first thing she asked when I arrived,” answered Khin. “And the same question posed to me every day for the next fourteen years.”

  “Fourteen years?” asked Tobias. “You stayed in the Seat of Nelnora for fourteen years?”

  “Not by choice.”

  “Hold a moment,” rumbled Broedi, a hint of surprise slipping into his voice. “Are you saying she held you prisoner?”

  Khin nodded slowly.

  “She named me her ‘guest,’ but, ‘prisoner’ is a more fitting description, yes.”

  “How did she manage that?” asked Tobias. “I have seen what you can do, Khin. You are one of the most talented mages I have seen.”

  “For a mortal, my skills are good, yes. But I am no match for a Goddess and a host of divina priests watching me from sunset to sunset.”

  “So you never gave the stone up?” asked Broedi.

  “No.”

  “Why?” asked Tobias.

  “Both because of what it was and because of how much she wanted it. The Nelnora from five thousand years ago was right: no God or Goddess should have that sort of power. Including the Nelnora of today.”

  Crossing his arms, Broedi asked, “Why did she free you?”

  Answering honestly, Khin said, “I do not know. One day, she stepped into my accommodations and rather than ask for the Suštinata, she told me about Indrida’s prophecy, the existence of the enclave, and then had me escorted from her temple.”

  “So she told you to come here?”

  “No. But I am sure she expected me to do so. Which is why, after I retrieved the Suštinata, I remained hidden for a short time, a decade or so. Then, I came.”

  “If you expected you were being manipulated, why did you still come?” asked Tobias.

  “I was curious.”

  The tomble’s eyebrows lifted high.

  “You…were curious?”

  “My order values knowledge above all else. I needed to know what was to happen next. So, I hid the Suštinata again, and came to Storm Island. Only many years later, when I was confident of your mission here, did I smuggle the box into the enclave.”

  The White Lions went silent and returned to staring at the box.

  In a quiet, somewhat skeptical voice, Tobias asked, “And the Suštinata of Stone is inside?” He glanced around the battlements. “Does that mean there are Strands of Stone all over right now?”

  “Not yet,” answered Khin, bending to a knee to place the small chest on the battlements. Looking up to the pair, he added, “But that is the reason I asked you here.”

  Unlatching the lid’s hook, he opened the box for the first time in fifty-eight years. Inside the box’s hammered gold interior rested a speckled stone, its surface flecked with every shade of brown and tan imaginable. All around him, countless thick, robust Strands fill
ed the air, their color matching those of the specks on the Suštinata. There were so many of them hovering about the battlements that the wind seemed to stop as if blocked by the magic strings’ presence. Khin had experienced this countless times before, yet still the power within the Suštinata staggered him.

  Somewhere to the northeast, he felt a mind consumed by sudden panic. It was like a beacon of light on a dark night, a beacon with which Khin was familiar. Lady Vivienne was alarmed, visions of the enclave under attack dancing through her mind. In moments, she was up and rushing closer, thinking through protocols for responses to assaults.

  “We should hurry,” said Khin, lifting his gaze to Broedi. “Remove the stone for me, please. It is much heavier than it looks.” As Broedi knelt to the ground and reached toward the box, Khin added, “And remember: a portion of the God of Fear is contained within. Contact can be unpleasant.”

  Broedi paused a moment, glanced between Khin’s face and the stone, and then resumed reaching for the Suštinata. His finger barely grazed its surface when an expression of pure terror washed over his face. With a sharp, un-Broedi-like curse, he withdrew his hand and glared at the brown rock.

  Khin had expected some unease from the typically stoic hillman, but nothing as intense as this. The Sustinata’s aura was growing stronger, then. And that worried Khin.

  “Do you think you can try again?”

  Broedi stared at him, reluctance in his eyes, and rumbled, “I will try.” With a determined grunt, he attempted the maneuver again and wrapped his large fingers around the stone. Gripping the Suštinata, he—with great effort—managed to lift the small stone and place it on the battlements. The moment he released it, he let out a relieved sigh.

  Holding out his hand, Khin asked, “Give me the other Suštinata.”

  Broedi reached into his pocket, withdrew the rich leather pouch containing the stone, and handed it to Khin.

  Tobias said, “You said to never open that again.”

  “I will be brief.”

  Positioning the pouch over the box, Khin turned it upside down and—being careful not to touch the stone—shook the Suštinata free. The glossy black stone slipped from the sack and tumbled into the box, rattling around the gold plating inside.

  A small gasp slipped from Tobias. Somewhere to the north, still within the bounds of the enclave, Khin felt another burst of panic as another mind reeled in shock. Khin assumed it was Nundle, also surprised by the surge of Void.