The Children of the White Lions: Volume 02 - Prophecy

by R. T. Kaelin

  “My help?” asked Tobias with surprise. “For what?”

  “You will see.”

  Tobias glanced at Sabine, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “Fine.”

  Broedi looked back to Sabine.

  “You look cold. We should return to your room and speak there.”

  “Can we go to the commons?”

  “No,” rumbled the hillman.

  “But Helene is asleep.”

  “Then we will speak quietly.”

  Without waiting for a response, he turned and began to stride toward a set of doors on the far wall.

  Sabine stared at the giant’s back and frowned. She had spent weeks wishing to talk with him about Helene, yet now that the conversation was about to happen, she would not mind if it were postponed a little longer. Steeling herself, she looked back to the openly curious duchess and excused herself.

  “Pardon me, my Lady.”

  Duchess Aleece nodded once.

  “Of course.”

  When the noblewoman did not move, Sabine glanced at Tobias. The tomble waved a hand in the direction of the retreating Broedi.

  “After you.”

  Sabine turned to follow the hillman, listening to Tobias’s uneven steps behind her. She sighed, sending another tiny cloud drifting into the night.

  Chapter 53: Mother

  Sabine cracked the door and peeked inside her room. Thankfully, Helene was still asleep, bundled up under the blankets on the bed they shared and softly snoring. Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, she pushed the door open the rest of the way. The dreams most often came later at night, but Sabine had been worried nonetheless.

  The hearth’s fire had burned low since Sabine had left, letting the room grow dim and cold. Tossing her blanket on the lone chair in the corner, she headed for the stack of wood beside the hearth, grabbed an oak log, and placed it gently on the glowing embers. She heard Broedi step into the room behind her, the sharp crack of Tobias’ walking stick striking stone echoing in the hallway. She glanced at Helene, wishing the tomble would be quieter.

  Lifting the metal poker hanging from the pin on the wall, she stoked the fire, sending forth a shower of sparks that danced up and out the flue. The new log—kept outside until this afternoon and, therefore, still damp from melted snow—smoldered and smoked rather than catch as dry wood should. Using one of the few tricks she knew, Sabine reached for the Strands of Fire, and on feel alone, caused the flames to surge, forcing the moisture from the log and setting it alight.

  In a soft, gentle tone, Broedi chided, “And you said you could not learn magic.”

  Replacing the poker, Sabine turned to face the hillman. He looked massive in her small room.

  “That? No, I’ve known how to do that since I was a girl. Mother taught me.”

  Nodding slowly, Broedi rumbled, “Did she, now?”

  He remained by the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his steady gaze fixed on her. The pair continued staring at one another in silence, the only sound in the room Helene’s gentle snores, the crack of the fire, and Tobias’ walking stick smacking the stone floor in the hall. Broedi’s intense stare never left her. It was as if he were trying to see inside her.

  Oddly uncomfortable, she used Tobias’ entrance into the room as an opportunity to look away. Staring at Helene, she asked, “How go things in Demetus?”

  “Well enough,” replied Broedi.

  Glancing up at the hillman with raised eyebrows, Tobias said, “I suppose that’s true enough. For now.” He reached behind him and gently closed the door. “Ask the question again this time tomorrow, however, and I’ll have a better answer for you.”

  Sabine looked between the pair.

  “What’s that mean?”

  The White Lions briefly reviewed the events of the past few days, sharing the telling of the tale. As she listened, she grew increasingly restless. Things did not sound promising. As they finished with the story about Wren’s flock of birds, Sabine shook her head.

  “If he’s right, tomorrow will be a dark day.”

  “Most likely,” conceded Broedi. “Hope that bright ones follow.”

  Tobias muttered, “You know as well as I, Broedi, many won’t get the chance to see if they do.”

  A shadow passed over the hillman’s face.

  “I know.”

  Sabine frowned. Everyone was in Demetus, preparing to fight the horde of Sudashians. And here she was, hiding hundreds of miles away in the safety of a stone castle hidden by a magical Weave. A large part of her wanted to be in the Marshlands with her friends, doing whatever she could to help. However, Helene’s gentle snoring tempered her desire to rush off.

  She was staring blankly into the fire when Broedi’s deep yet soft, baritone filled the room.

  “Jak told me what happened, Sabine.”

  She froze. While focused on the situation in the Marshlands, she had momentarily forgotten about her and Helene’s own plight. She glanced to the hillman, worried.

  “Did he?”

  “Yes,” replied Broedi. “He did.”

  She studied the stoic hillman’s eyes, hoping to glean some idea of what he was thinking.

  “And?”

  “And there are things we must discuss.”

  Sabine pressed her lips together and nodded.

  “Such as?”

  He regarded her in perfect silence, studying her. Again, she felt as if he was trying to see inside her. At least he did not appear angry, and for that, she was grateful.

  Glancing between the pair, a deep furrow splitting his brow, Tobias asked, “Would someone mind telling the baffled tomble what in the Nine Hells this is about?”

  Sabine looked to Tobias, surprised.

  “You do not know?”

  “Would I have asked the question if I did?”

  Still never taking his gaze from Sabine, Broedi rumbled, “Helene is responsible for the explosions in the mages’ hall.”

  Tobias stared up at the hillman, surprise quickly replacing confusion.

  “Truly?”

  Broedi nodded slowly and remained silent.

  Tobias shook his head, saying, “That’s not possible.” He glanced at Helene on the bed. “I saw the damage myself. A powerful Weave did that. A very powerful Weave.” His gaze shifted to Sabine, the question in his eyes plain.

  “It’s true,” whispered Sabine. “I wish it were not, but it is.”

  Tobias blinked once and stared back to the bed.

  “But how?”

  “She says she doesn’t know,” said Sabine. “And I don’t press her much. It upsets her.”

  Broedi moved from the door and took a step toward the bed. Sabine reflexively slid herself in his path, halting his approach. An icy calmness filled her.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Staring down at her with gentle eyes, he rumbled, “I would like to take a closer look at her if that is alright with you.”

  “Why?” asked Sabine. “What are you going to do with her?”

  “Do with her?” repeated the hillman. “I am not going to do anything with her. I will do whatever I can to help keep her safe, Sabine. I promise.”

  The cool calm within faded a bit. Curious and a bit confused, Sabine tilted her head to the side slightly.

  “I had thought you might be angry.”

  “And why would I be angry over an accident?”

  A flicker of relief tickled her insides, but she held it at bay. Things could still go wrong.

  Broedi was quiet several moments longer—staring hard at her all the while—before finally speaking.

  “I would like to learn more about your mother and father, if you do not mind.”

  His request disarmed her. She blinked once before asking, “Why?”

  “I hope to learn something that could help us understand what happened in the mages’ hall.”

  Sabine shook her head slowly.

  “I don’t see how.”

  “Please,” rumbled Broedi. “Indu
lge me.”

  Sabine eyed the hillman, considering his request. After a few moments, she decided there was no harm in granting it.

  “What do you want to know?”

  Standing tall, Broedi crossed his arms over his chest and asked, “About your life by the Erona River. Tell me about the Moiléne farm.”

  “There’s not much to tell. We lived there my entire life. Before Helene, Mother and Father worked the fields together—Spring, Summer, and Harvest. I helped when I was old enough. In Winter, we stayed inside and played games. It was a quiet, rather mundane existence.”

  “And you never went anywhere?” asked Broedi.

  “Me? No. Nor Mother. Only Father. After every Harvest, he’d take the leftover yield to Stooert to sell while Mother and I waited at the farm.” The corners of her mouth turned up into a fond, wistful smile. “He would always bring us gifts, too. Trinkets or ribbons for me, but for Mother…he always brought some glass figurine or metal bauble in the shape of an everbloom flower. He called her that. ‘My Everbloom.’”

  “An unusual name,” rumbled the hillman. “Do you know why?”

  Sabine thought for a moment before answering, “No. No, I don’t. There was patch of them on the riverbanks. Beautiful flowers. Crimson petals with a black center. They bloom year-round, even in Winter.”

  Broedi nodded, a tiny, knowing smile creeping over his lips. Sabine stared at the hillman curiously.

  “What?”

  “It is no matter,” rumbled Broedi with a shake of his head. “How old was your father when he passed?”

  The question took her by surprise. Shaking her head, she said, “We had celebrated his forty-fifth yearday only two weeks before you found us.”

  “And your mother’s age?” asked Broedi. “When she passed, that is?”

  Sabine shrugged.

  “Forty-one, I suppose. She and Father were the same age.”

  “How do you know?”

  Sabine’s eyes narrowed.

  “Because they said so.”

  Nodding slowly, Broedi asked, “And do you and Helene take more after your father or mother?”

  “Oh, Gods. Father, most definitely. He had gone gray in recent years, but when I was little, his hair was as dark as ours. Mother used to say it was ‘blacker than a one moon night.’”

  “And your mother?” prompted Broedi, a strange glint in his eye. “What did she look like?”

  “Fair skin, bright auburn hair, and eyes the color of the Southlands plains at dawn,” answered Sabine. She turned to look at her sleeping sister, a bittersweet smile spreading over her lips. “You know…when Mother was pregnant with Helene, she would tease Father mercilessly, saying the baby had better look like her as he already had his lookalike.”

  The happy smiles on her parents’ faces flashed before her even now. Not wanting to relive the pain of their loss, however, Sabine shoved the memories aside and looked back to Broedi. As she did, she caught Tobias staring at her, his eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. She stopped and held the tomble’s stare.

  “What?”

  Tobias blinked a few times before running his gaze over Sabine’s face, studying her just as Broedi had been earlier. A single, whispered word slipped from his lips.

  “Impossible.”

  His voice filled with an undeniable sadness, Broedi rumbled, “I am afraid not.”

  Tobias stared hard at her and said quickly, “Your parents’ names. What were they?”

  Sabine hesitated. Their mannerisms, moods, and line of questioning were all combining to make her very uneasy.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Please,” urged Tobias. “Their names?”

  Glancing between the two White Lions, she muttered, “Ebrien and Jeanelle. Why?”

  Tobias looked back to Broedi.

  “That is too close to be a coincidence.”

  The hillman nodded slowly.

  “I would agree.”

  Tobias’ face fell, overtaken by sudden sorrow.

  “And if that’s the case, it means…”

  Nodding, Broedi sighed, “I believe so.”

  The pair could be speaking a foreign tongue and she would have a better chance of following them. Her gaze shifted quickly from one to the other.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Looking at her, but speaking to Tobias, Broedi said, “Sabine can barely touch Fire and Water.” His gaze shifted to the bed. “Helene, however, is quite gifted with Fire, Water, Stone, and Soul.”

  “That’s four of five,” said Tobias. “What about Void?”

  Broedi shook his head, rumbling, “She has never been tested.” Glancing back to Sabine, he asked, “Has she ever mentioned sensing Strands of Void?”

  “No,” answered Sabine, growing more anxious by the moment. “What is this about?!”

  Broedi glanced to the bed.

  “May we wake Helene?”

  “Why?”

  “I would like to see if she is sensitive to Void. Nothing more. I promise.”

  Sabine looked over at her sleeping sister.

  “Must you do it now? She has not been sleeping well.”

  “She is still having the dreams, then?”

  Staring back to the hillman, she asked, “Kenders told you?”

  “Only after hearing about the accident. She was concerned for you both.”

  Sabine was a little upset Kenders had betrayed her confidence, but could understand why her friend had done so. She remained quiet a moment before answering.

  “They seem to have grown less frequent since the accident, but, yes, she still has them.”

  “I understand you not wanting to wake her,” rumbled Broedi. “But we must.”

  Tobias hobbled closer, his gaze fixed on her.

  “One quick Weave and then she can go back to sleep.”

  Looking between them, she said, “Tell me what this is about.”

  “After the Weave,” rumbled Broedi, his tone gentle yet firm.

  She hesitated, gnawing on her lip. It took her a few moments to make her decision. With a short sigh and a nod, she said, “Fine. But I should be the one to wake her.”

  “Of course,” rumbled Broedi.

  Turning from the pair, she moved to the bed and sat atop the blankets, sinking into the cushioned top. Lightly placing her hand on her sister’s shoulder, she gently rocked Helene’s arm.

  “Helene? Helene, dear? I need you to wake up.”

  It took a few more pats and whispered words to wake her, but eventually Helene began to stir, stretching and yawning. Rolling over to peer up at Sabine through bleary eyes, she spoke, her voice small and sleepy.

  “You woke me up.”

  Reaching down, Sabine brushed a lock of black hair from Helene’s forehead, smiled, and said, “I know, dear. I’m sorry. But Broedi and Tobias are here.” She looked over at the White Lions. “And they need to ask you something.”

  Twisting her head, Helene peered around Sabine to stare at the pair hovering a few paces away and gave them a small, tired smile.

  “Hello, Broedi.”

  “Good evening, uora,” rumbled Broedi. “I am sorry for waking you.” He approached them, stopping bedside. “Would you please sit up for me?”

  Helene nodded and began to shimmy around under the covers. Sabine helped while also situating herself in order to drape her left arm around Helene’s shoulders. When they were ready, she gave Helene a gentle squeeze, turned toward Broedi, and nodded.

  The hillman looked to Tobias immediately.

  “Something small.”

  Tobias nodded and stared into the empty air.

  A half a heartbeat later, Helene stiffened. Worried, Sabine looked down to her sister and found Helene staring, wide-eyed, at the same empty space as Tobias. Moments later, the room began to grow dim. It was as though the light was being drained from the air. Helene buried her head into Sabine’s shoulder and whimpered softly.

  Broedi rumbled, “That’s enough.�
�

  The room’s brightness returned to normal in an instant. Sabine stared down at Helene, equal parts concerned and surprised. As Broedi crouched beside them, she shifted her gaze to the hillman. He was focused on Helene alone.

  “What did you see, uora?”

  Sabine wondered why he even asked the question. Helene’s reaction was confirmation enough.

  Helene spoke without lifting her head, her voice muffled by Sabine’s shoulder and dress.

  “The black ribbons.”

  Nodding slowly, Broedi asked, “Have you seen them before?”

  Helene turned her head enough to peer at him and nodded once.

  “I don’t like them.”

  “Why is that?” asked Broedi.

  “They scare me.”

  Sabine kissed the top of Helene’s head, squeezed her tight, and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  When Helene did not answer her, Broedi rumbled softly, “There is nothing to fear, uora. The black ribbons are like the others, but have a different purpose. You still like the other ribbons, yes?”

  Helene shook her head vigorously.

  “Not anymore.”

  Broedi nodded, an understanding smile on his lips, and said, “Perhaps you will again someday.” He hesitated a moment before asking in the softest, gentlest tone possible, “Do you think you can tell me what happened during your lesson with Marick? With the orange ribbons?”

  Sabine shut her eyes tight, knowing the question needed to be asked, but wishing it were not so.

  For a long moment, Helene remained quiet, the fire’s soft crackling the only sound in the room. When she finally spoke, her voice was so soft that Sabine had to strain to hear it.

  “I got mad.”

  “Why did you get mad?” asked Broedi quietly.

  “Because Marick said I wasn’t trying hard and I was.”

  Sabine opened her eyes and stared down. This was more than she had ever gotten out of her.

  “I am sure you were trying very hard,” rumbled Broedi. “Can you tell me what happened next?”

  A long, quiet moment passed before Helene answered in a whisper. “I hurt him.” She looked to the hillman quickly, adding, “I didn’t mean to, Broedi. It was an accident! I promise!” The anguish in her voice was heartbreaking. She buried her face back into Sabine’s shoulder and said, “I tried to make him come back! But he wouldn’t listen to me. He kept going.”