Progeny (The Children of the White Lions) (18 page)

Broedi attempted to answer, saying, “Well, it—”

Pointing at the pipe in Broedi’s hand, Jak interrupted, “And please tell me that’s made of wood. Because it sure looks like bone to me. And, by the gods! If you aren’t the largest man in the duchies, I don’t want to meet the one who is. Perhaps the better question to ask is ‘
What
in the Nine Hells are you?’” His mouth stopped asking questions, even if his eyes did not.

Nikalys and Kenders had dropped their gaze during the short interrogation, apparently ashamed by their brother’s brashness. Now their eyes slowly crept back to Broedi, their inquisitive stare matching Jak’s own intense gaze.

Broedi smiled slightly. Jak’s passionate questioning gave him the perfect opportunity to put them at ease. Looking from face to face, he spoke, ensuring he kept his voice even and soothing. “Have any of you heard of aki-mahet?”

All three stared at him blankly.

Jak muttered, “Pardon?”

“Aki-mahet,” repeated Broedi. “Have you ever heard the name before?”

The trio shook their heads indicating they had not.

Broedi said, “In Argot, the name roughly translates to ‘Men of the Hills.’ Most lowlanders—people like you—simply call my kind ‘hillmen.’”

A triumphant smile spread over Jak’s lips. He seemed as pleased as a festival patron did after figuring out a merrymaker’s riddle.

“I knew it. The moment you stood, I knew it. No man is seven feet tall.”

He glanced at Nikalys and Kenders as if looking for congratulations and received none. Both Nikalys and Kenders were staring at Broedi through narrowed eyes.

“Hillmen are myth,” said Nikalys. “Everyone in Yellow Mud said so.” His mention of their village drew a sharp stare from Jak that Nikalys did not notice.

“If everyone in Yellow Mud said that,” began Broedi, “then everyone in Yellow Mud was wrong.” He drew on his pipe and blew out a long stream of white smoke. “Did you live there all your lives?”

“Mostly,” said Kenders. “We were born in Lakeborough, but none of us remember it. At least I don’t. We left right after I was born.” She glanced at her brothers. “They were a little older.”

Broedi sighed quietly, disappointed, and shifted his gaze to the young men. “Do either of you recall anything of your time there?”

Both shook their heads, indicating their memories were likewise blank.

Broedi pressed his lips together, pensive. They knew nothing of the truth. Nothing.

“You must understand something. Yellow Mud is one village in a large barony. That barony is but one of many in the duchy. That duchy is but one of ten in the country. And this country is but one of many spread over Terrene.” He stared at them and said firmly, “What is myth here is accepted truth elsewhere. If I shared but a handful of the things I have seen in my life, you would call me a liar. Or worse.”

The three children stared at him, quiet and thoughtful.

Kenders muttered, “You
are
a hillman, then? Truly?”

“That is not the name we use ourselves, but yes. I am aki-mahet.”

She nodded slowly, seemingly accepting his answer, yet still wearing an incredulous frown.

Broedi bit down on the tip of the pipe, quietly frustrated. They were utterly ignorant of the world outside their village. Worse, they were overtly suspicious, almost afraid of magic. Feeling a quick, familiar flash of anger at what the people of the Oaken Duchies had become, he frowned and adjusted his legs to ensure he was comfortable. He was going to tell them a tale. Their education was long overdue.

Pulling the pipe from his mouth, he said, “The origin of aki-mahet
is a topic of some disagreement. Some believe we are nothing more than men and women who wandered into the mountains ages ago, growing in both size and stature to match our surroundings. Some believe we are the child race of two of the Celystiela.”

“Pardon me,” said Jak. “Celystiela?”

“The gods and goddesses, uori.”

Kenders asked, “Gods can have children?”

Broedi shrugged and said, “Honestly, uora, I never thought to ask them.”

The three children smiled at what they assumed was a jest.

“Our earliest history is lost for we were nomads, letting the seasons guide our path. We avoided other races, preferring to coexist with our neighbors from a distance. Time passed, our numbers swelled, and our tribe grew too large to move at whim. As is common with large groups, there were disagreements. Divisions were natural.”

“Some headed north, to the shores of the sea. Others left and traveled west and south, over the mountains. Those that stayed called themselves Totta Kotiv-aki.” Seeing the question in their eyes, he answered it before they could ask. “In Argot, it means ‘the True Tribe.’ To this day, they consider themselves purebloods and the descendants of those who left to be lesser tribes.”

“Aki-mahet who moved south and west found dry lands over the mountains, as well as creatures vastly different from us. Oligurts, mongrels, and nascepel—you might know them as ‘razorfiends’—lived in the highlands. In order to survive, Tuhka Kotiv-aki
—
the Dust Tribe—were forced to fight. They have seen much hardship.”

“Those who traveled north found a home eventually, but forgot what it meant to be aki-mahet. Greed wormed into their hearts, pushing out harmony and benevolence. They called themselves Vahva Kotiv
-
aki
—
the Strong Tribe—and attacked their neighbors, choosing brawn and blood over words and peace.”

Broedi took a long draw from his pipe and blew out the smoke, pleased to see all three young people listening intently. While he was quiet by nature, he enjoyed telling a story to an appreciative audience. “Not all of the Strong Tribe hungered for conquest, however. Many wished to return home, but were ashamed to crawl back to Totta Kotiv-aki. So, they built great boats and sailed the seas. Saewyn’s winds took them south and east to a land the maps call Ursus. Titaani Kotiv
-
aki—the Titan Tribe—has found a kinship with the primal creatures who live there.”

“Generations passed, yet our nomadic nature could not be suppressed. Some of Titaani Kotiv
-
aki set to the seas again, sailing east and discovering an island full of men and beast where they have tried to carve out a life. Kotiv-aki ei Mitaan
—
the Tribeless—continue to this day to search for a home although one must wonder if they are meant to ever find one.”

He paused and gazed at each one of their young faces before quietly concluding, “And that is the tale of aki-mahet. A story that is, most definitely, not a myth.”

He placed his pipe in his mouth and puffed once. The chronicle of his people seemed to have had the desired effect. The children appeared more relaxed than when he had begun.

After he had been silent for a few moments, Kenders asked, “Which tribe is yours?”

After blowing out a thin stream of smoke, he answered, “I am originally Totta Kotiv-aki.” He shook his head slowly. “No longer, though.” His thoughts drifted back to another time, one full of tragedy. Broedi pushed the old memories away before they came. Now was not the time. Focusing on Kenders, he said, “Now, uora
,
I am without kotiv-aki.”

“You are one of the Tribeless, then?” asked Nikalys.

“No, uori
.
I am unique among my kind. I belong to no tribe. I am alone.”

Kenders stared at him, her eyes sympathetic ones. “I’m sorry, Broedi.”

Forcing a slight smile, he said, “Do not worry, uora
.
I have recently begun a journey to remedy that.” Broedi peered at Jak, pointed his pipe at the young man, and said, “I answered your question, uori. I told you my history. Now I would like to hear yours.”

Jak’s frown returned in an instant. “Pardon?”

Broedi glanced at Nikalys and Kenders, but addressed his question to Jak, asking, “I know what happened after they left Yellow Mud, but what of you?”

Jak glared at his brother and sister, “What did you two tell him?”

“Nothing,” said Nikalys while holding Jak’s accusatory glare. “We haven’t told him a thing.”

Jak stared at Broedi for a long moment, the skin around his eyes growing ever tighter. Broedi had thought his story had helped relax them, but it was apparent now that Jak’s suspicion had never left. Broedi waited for the young man to do something, curious as to what that might be.

With a firm, resolute nod, Jak said, “Thank you again for helping my brother and sister. I’m sure you wish to resume your journey home.” He glanced at Nikalys and Kenders and began to stand, saying, “Let’s go.”

As he reached his feet, Kenders stared up at him. “Go?”

“That’s what I said,” affirmed Jak. “We’re leaving.” He looked back down to Broedi. “We will leave you and trouble you no more. Safe travels.”

Nikalys leapt up immediately. The slight grin on his face seemed to indicate he approved Jak’s plan. Kenders, however, did not move. She stared at Broedi, a disappointed frown on her face. After a moment, she looked to Jak. “Are you sure we should go now? Should we not wait at least until the morning?”

“No,” said Jak, his tone firm. “
Now
.”

Broedi eyed the two young men standing over him. The pair trusted him as much as a rabbit trusted a wolf. Considering things from their point of view, he could certainly understand why. As much as he needed their trust, it was not a requisite at the moment. He did not intend to let them leave. Not now. Not ever.

Placing his pipe on the ground, he rose from his sitting position and, upon reaching his full seven-foot plus height, rumbled, “I would like to travel along with you.”

Jak glared at him. “Why?”

“The woods are not safe, uori. I would worry if I left you alone.”

Jak shook his head, refusing the offer. “Thank you, but that is not necessary.” Hope burned in his eyes that Broedi would have the decency to go away.

“I believe it is,” rumbled Broedi. Now that the Cabal had found them, he could never leave them alone.

Jak and Broedi stared at one another over the crackling campfire. Broedi was not going to back down and he was starting to think neither would Jak. That surprised him.

Kenders broke the stalemate as she stood, walked around the fire, and stood beside Broedi. The top of her head almost reached his elbow. “I’d actually like him to come. If he wants to, I say we let him.”

Broedi, Jak, and Nikalys all stared at her in surprise, although for different reasons. Broedi had not expected to have an ally in this discussion.

Looking to Nikalys alone, Kenders said, “He showed how useful he can be by chasing away those wolves.”

Nikalys stared at her with pleading eyes. “Are you mad? We can’t walk into Smithshill with a blasted—” He stopped short and shut his mouth, giving Jak a quick, sidelong glance.

Turning to look at his brother, Jak said, “Smithshill? Why are you going there?”

Broedi was surprised as well. Surely, they knew of the Constables.

As Kenders and Nikalys shared a quiet look, he frowned. The pair had apparently arrived at some course of action of which he was not yet aware. While it was not the wisest path for them to take, an excursion to Smithshill might give him the time necessary to gain their trust. He glanced at Kenders. She would need to remain with him when they reached the city, however.

Guessing at their plan, Broedi figured it was time to show Jak some of what he knew.

“I would assume they mean to go to the Constables and tell them of the water fibríaal that destroyed your village.”

With disbelief flooding his face, Jak glared at Nikalys and Kenders.

“You told him what happened? Blast it! I thought you two had more sense than that!”

Wheeling on his brother, Nikalys exclaimed, “We didn’t tell him anything. He figured it out himself!”

“Did he?” huffed Jak.

Shaking her head, Kenders said, “Truly, Jak, we didn’t tell him a thing.”

With his eyebrows arched, Jak said, “You expect me to believe that a hillman trapper from Dunsvalley
heading west
figured out that a giant wave destroyed a village that is still nearly two days
ahead
of him?”

Jak’s astute observations impressed Broedi. His opinion of the young man was steadily increasing.

“Your kaveli and iskoa have not been entirely truthful about me.”

While the three exchanged a flurry of accusing looks and uneasy glances, Broedi kept his face blank and waited.

Staring at his brother and sister, Jak asked, “What does he mean by that?”

Nothing but sore feelings would come from Jak interrogating them. Drawing the attention to himself, Broedi said, “Uori, you wish to protect your kaveli and iskoa, a worthy goal. But should the wolves come again, how will you chase them away?”

Jak insisted, “We’ll fight them off.”

“How?”

“I have a bow.”

“How fast can you string a bow, draw an arrow, nock it, aim, and fire? Faster than a wolf can run you down?”

With furrowed eyebrows, Jak said, “You managed somehow.” He glanced around the clearing, his eyes dancing, searching. “I see no weapon here.” Peering at Nikalys and Kenders, he added, “And don’t tell me again he fought them off with his bare hands.”

Broedi did not have time to beg, plead, and cajole. The longer they stayed in one place, the more likely they would be discovered. Making a decision he hoped would not be a bad one, he crouched to the ground and reached for the Strands. Kenders let out a quick gasp and looked to him with wide eyes.

The pattern he wove was so familiar that he needed to think about its design as much as he did about drawing his next breath. Pulling at the verdant Strands of Life, golden Strands of Will, and the silver Strands of Soul, he arranged them in the proper pattern, overlaying, intertwining, and twisting. When the Weave was nearly complete, he added a unique piece from within himself that only he knew how to find and grasp.

The stench of the smoke from the fire overwhelmed him, its acrid blackness briefly blocking out the finer scents in the area. He could still smell the three young ones, however, each one’s odor as distinguishable as sice is from fire. The woody perfume of the forest, dominated by the piney aroma of cypress and the freshness of oak, wafted through the air like waves on a wind-teased pond. The musky, meaty smell of rabbits swelled, prompting a longing for the taste of raw, red meat.