Progeny (The Children of the White Lions) (16 page)

“The lynx—sorry, Broedi—was walking towards us and…” She trailed off, her eyebrows drawing together as she strained to recall what had happened next. “That’s it. Something obviously happened, though.” Staring at her old, filthy, balled up skirt and blouse a few feet away, she asked, “Why was I covered in blood?” She lifted her arm to indicate the red marks all along it. “And bodfly bites?”

Nikalys glanced at Broedi, his worried frown morphing into open unease.

Broedi ignored him, his gaze firmly fixed on Kenders, his brown eyes awash in curiosity. “Tell me, uora. What do you know of the Strands?”

“The strands?” repeated Kenders, confused. “The strands of what?”

A faint smile settled on Broedi’s lips. “You have nothing to fear. You may tell me.”

Kenders glanced at Nikalys. He shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” responded Kenders, looking back to the giant. “Neither one of us knows what you are asking. What are ‘the Strands?’” This time, she put the same emphasis on the word as Broedi had.

A slight furrow appeared in Broedi’s forehead. He stared at her for a few moments before looking back to Nikalys.

Shrugging his shoulders, Nikalys said, “Don’t look at me.”

Broedi shook his head and dropped his gaze to the fire. He remained that way for a while, quiet and unmoving.

Kenders and Nikalys shared a series of glances with one another, having a silent, wordless conversation consisting only of inquiring looks and facial expressions. The gist of their ‘talk’ was that neither one of them had any idea about what Broedi was asking.

Finally, Broedi pulled his attention from the fire and focused on Kenders, a slight frown on his face.

She held the giant’s weighty gaze, expecting him to say something. He certainly looked like he wanted to. Instead, he simply stared at her.

She was beginning to think the man odd when the crumbling straw sensation filled her. A surprised gasp slipped from her lips as the colors swelled and swirled inside her: a hot, coppery reddish-yellow hue mixing with a brilliant, honey color. Her eyes grew round as she caught the faintest flicker of the colors above the campfire.

In quiet, wondering tone, she whispered, “Orange and gold.”

For a fleeting moment, the colors lost some of their elusiveness and turned opaque. Pulsing, bright strings twisted together quickly to form a simple, clearly defined pattern, and then dropped to the campfire.

The flames flared tall, leaping a foot higher than normal. Nikalys jumped up and stared at the surge with wide eyes. Kenders was unsurprised. She knew Broedi had used the strings to manipulate the fire.

Her stomach lurched at the additional confirmation that she was a mage.

The fire fell to a normal height and the crackling of magic stopped. Broedi looked at her and then Nikalys, his stoic expression giving away nothing.

Anxious, Kenders looked at her brother. Nikalys was glancing back and forth between Kenders and Broedi, an almost accusatory glint in his eyes when he looked at her.

Suddenly, the crackling returned. This time, she felt a crisp, pure white coupled with the golden honey from a moment before. Whipping her head back around, she spotted the glowing threads in the air, hovering in place as they arranged themselves into a woven pattern.

“White and gold.”

A firm breeze swept through the camp, whipping up dust and fanning the campfire’s flames. Lifting a hand, Kenders covered her eyes to protect them from the grit in the air. The gust only lasted for a few moments before fading. The crackling stopped but her anxiety grew. Dropping her hand, she stared at the Shapechanger.

Broedi was staring at Nikalys, his gaze searching and seeking. “Anything, uori
?
”

Mute, Nikalys shook his head.

Broedi frowned a little, turned to Kenders, and said, “What you are feeling is the weaving of the Strands, uora. It is incredible that you are able to distinguish among them so quickly without knowing what they are. As well as use them without training.” He peered at her, his gaze intense. “This is all very new to you, yes?”

With a worried frown, Kenders nodded silently. “Of course, I’ve never—” She cut off as the entirety of Broedi’s statement hit her. “Wait. You said ‘use them.’” Her heart pounded in her chest. “What do you mean by that?”

The giant man pressed his lips together and turned to Nikalys, deferring to her brother. “Perhaps it would be best if you tell her.”

Looking to Nikalys, she asked, “Tell me what?”

Nikalys stared at her with uneasy eyes, shuffling his feet. He almost looked ill.

Nervous, Kenders muttered, “Nik?”

Despite his obvious discomfort, he moved back to her and knelt in the dirt. Leaning over, he reached out and took her hand. His voice wavered as he said, “After Broedi chased the wolves off, you…” He paused a moment, bit down hard, and took in a deep short breath. “Well…you sort of called down lightning.”

Kenders stared at him, her expression blank. She was sure she heard him clearly, but the words did not make any sense. She began to shake her head.

“No…no…I…”

Nikalys continued, saying, “The thunder tossed us into the fingerpricks. I got hurt bad. And you…gods, you looked terrible. I thought you were dead.” He pointed to the bumps on her arms. “Those aren’t bodfly bites. They’re puncture marks from the thorns.”

Numb inside, Kenders looked at her arms. “No. They’re too small—”

“Strands of Life,” rumbled Broedi. “I used them to help you heal.”

Horrified, she stared up at the giant with wide eyes. “You used magic on me?”

The Shapechanger did not react, his face a blank mask.

Nikalys squeezed her hand and said, “He helped you, sis. He helped us both.” With a half-hearted, teasing smile, he said, “And to be fair, you used magic on him.” He paused. “Me, too, if we’re making marks.”

She dropped her gaze and stared at the dirt ground, confident that she would have remembered doing something that horrendous. Try as she might, she could not.

“Strands of Charge are yellow, uora,” rumbled Broedi. “Air Strands are white.”

Kenders stared up at Broedi. “Pardon?”

The Shapechanger stared at her, silent and unmoving.

Shaking her head, she muttered, “I don’t understand. Why—” Her eyes went wide as pieces of last night bubbled from the depths of her memory.

The buzzing strings.

The wispy white ones.

The pattern.

One image after another rushed through her head. She remembered everything. “Oh.”

Dropping her gaze, she stared into the heart of the campfire. She could not deny it any longer. She was a mage. And an outlaw.

After a few moments of quiet, she looked up and stared at her brother. “Gods, Nik! I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know, sis. No matter.”

He gave her an understanding smile, trying to be brave and supportive, but the uneasy look in his eyes told a different tale.

She looked up to the large Shapechanger and added, “You, too, Broedi. I’m terribly sorry. It was an accident.”

“Do not worry,” rumbled Broedi. “I have handled worse.”

“How?” pleaded Kenders. “How did I do that?”

A shadow passed over Broedi’s face. “I am not sure. Every Charge and Air mage I know must work for years to do what you did. There is—” He stopped a moment, sighed, and continued, “There
was
only one other I knew that had such an affinity for the Strands.”

“Who?” asked Kenders.

Broedi remained silent for a few heartbeats, staring intently at her, then Nikalys, and back to her.

“Truly? All of this is unfamiliar to you?”

Nikalys huffed, “Magic and mages? Shapechangers? Lightning from a clear sky? If this is ‘familiar’ for you, I don’t want to know what you think is odd.”

The large man drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Tell me of your parents.”

Kenders glanced at Nikalys, wondering at the out-of-place question.

Meeting her gaze, Nikalys said, “He asked about them last night, too. A few times, in fact.” He glared at Broedi. “Why are you so interested in them?”

Broedi appeared on the verge of saying something before he caught himself. “Their names. What were your parent’s names?”

Nikalys asked, “Why should we tell—?”

“Thaddeus and Marie Isaac,” interjected Kenders. Her interruption earned her a dirty look from Nikalys. Holding his sharp gaze, she said, “Oh, come on, Nik. He helped us, healed us, and didn’t kill us in our sleep. What harm is there in telling him Mother and Father’s name?”

Nikalys frowned but remained silent.

Looking back to Broedi, Kenders found the giant man distracted, staring at the ground, but at nothing in particular. Excitement, hope, worry, and a touch of sadness mussed his stoic, pensive demeanor. She could almost hear him thinking.

Intrigued, Kenders said, “Why do you ask?”

Looking up, Broedi stared at her long enough to make her uncomfortable. “I need to think on this, uora. Please, excuse me for a time.” He immediately strolled away from them, moving to the edge of the campfire’s glow to stare into the dark forest.

Kenders gave her brother a searching look. Nikalys shrugged his shoulders and stepped away, making a show of tidying the campsite. He was either pouting that she had given up the names of their parents so readily, or he was giving her time to come to terms with what she had just learned. Regardless, she was grateful for the quiet. At least she was until she began to think about what had become of her life.

This was not fair. None of what had happened was.

She had no wish to be a mage. None whatsoever.

If word reached the Constables that there was a mage in the countryside, they would hunt her down, not resting until they had taken her into custody. After that, she did not know what would happen to her. Captured mages simply disappeared. Most people assumed the obvious.

Playmen’s sagas told of a time when mages had not always been persecuted so, when great heroes had used magic to save the duchies from utter destruction and ruin. Most people in Yellow Mud ridiculed the tales. Only Thaddeus and Marie had not.

Whenever one traveling entertainer or another would regale the village with such a tale, their parents would speak quietly with their children afterwards, telling them magic was not something to fear. They claimed it was a tool, no different from a spade. You could use the spade to cultivate, or you could use it to smash in a man’s head. Either way, the spade was a spade. The person who wielded it was what mattered.

As Kenders sat alone against the tree trunk and her initial shock faded, she realized something. She might be a mage, but she was still the same person. As long as she never, ever did what she had done last night, nothing needed to change. If she did not want to do magic, she would not do it. It was a simple decision to make.

She looked over at the giant man staring into the forest. He was obviously a mage. More importantly, he seemed a decent soul. Perhaps he could teach her how to control these Strands. Not for her to use, but rather so she could suppress them.

At that moment, Kenders decided she would like Broedi to stay with them, regardless of where they were headed. She wondered if he would be interested in accompanying them. Unfortunately, they had almost nothing with which to pay him. She frowned, wishing she had looked a little harder for coin in Yellow Mud.

As she was staring at the Shapechanger, Broedi’s head snapped up and turned to the southwest. His nostrils flared as he took two quick sniffs of air, reminding Kenders of a barncat when it caught the scent of a mouse. Confusion flickered over his face. His eyes narrowed and his lips twitched. His entire body went rigid. Kenders was tense just by looking at him.

The Shapechanger turned, strode back to the fire, and sat across from her. In a quick, almost brusque tone, he said, “I have questions to which I would like answers.” He glanced at Nikalys. “Join us, uori.”

Nikalys was standing a few paces away, leaning against the trunk of an oak tree, clearly upset. She watched him closely as he came over and settled next to her. After everything else, Nikalys now had to deal with having a mage for a sister.

Without preamble, Broedi rumbled, “Tell me exactly what happened in Yellow Mud.”

Kenders threw an accusing glare at her brother. “Nik!”

Broedi lifted a quick hand and said, “Your kaveli has told me nothing. He wanted to wait to speak until you were awake.”

She stared back at Broedi, her mind reeling. If Nikalys had not said anything, then Broedi should have no way of knowing from where they hailed. Full of new worry, she kept her mouth shut. Nikalys remained silent, too.

“You are wary to speak,” rumbled Broedi. “Normally, that would be a good thing.” A slight frown touched his lips. “But not now.” His gaze flicked over her shoulders, out into the darkened woods behind her.

Leaning forward, Broedi said, “Here is what I propose: I will tell you what I know, and you correct me if I go astray.” When neither of them answered, Broedi said, “Someone unleashed a terrible Weave on your home, a massive fibríaal of Water it would seem. When I came upon the remains, I could still feel the power in the displaced Strands.” He looked directly at Kenders. “I know you are not responsible, uora. You do not have the control to do what was done.”

Kenders held his gaze, her uneasiness growing as Broedi continued.

“Whether by Greya’s grace or Ketus’ luck, you two were not in town when the wave struck. You did come into the ruins afterwards—
not
wise at all—but quickly fled.” His eyebrows drew together as his gaze shot over their heads, out into the nighttime forest.

Something in the forest had him worried. If the Shapechanger who had faced down three wolves was anxious, she figured she should be as well. Kenders glanced over her shoulder, but beyond the glow of the campfire, she could see nothing. A nervous chill danced up her spine.

“Uora, listen to me.”

Broedi’s insistent tone drew her attention back to camp.

“You headed east, avoiding the main road. Another wise choice, were it not for the wolves. Am I correct so far?”