Progeny (The Children of the White Lions)

by Kaelin, R. T.

  “Our deeds and our name quickly spread throughout the remaining Northlands’ army, and they followed us into battle against a larger force of demon-men. For the first time in years, the duchies won a sizable victory against Norasim’s forces. We eight helped the resistance in any way we could. Some of us were great leaders, some of us brought raw power—magic or brawn—while others were exceptionally clever and devious. Together, we were a force.”

  “Norasim slowly began to lose ground. The Freelands, Great Lakes, and Long Coast duchies left their fortified borders and rushed ahead, pushing back against the horde. Finally, on the plains of the Foothills, south of Brassburgh, the eight White Lions converged—along with the combined armies of five duchies—on Norasim and his demons. We defeated him and slaughtered his army. The Demonic War was over.”

  Broedi smiled grimly at the memory. “Tens of thousands had died. Homes, towns, villages, and even entire cities had been burned and destroyed. It was a great relief to see the god of Chaos defeated, even though we knew it was only temporary. He would manifest again in the future—as do all of the Cabal eventually—rising to challenge order and good. Time and generations passed, many cities were rebuilt—some were not—and the White Lions remained vigilant.”

  Broedi paused and tilted his head upward, staring through the leaves overhead and at the stars in the sky above. He stayed that way for a moment before letting out a long and weary sigh.

  “As is the nature of most races, people remembered the bad and forgot the good. They remembered the evil wrought by Norasim’s magic, forgetting how our gifts, our magic had helped defeat him. People began to fear magic itself, forgetting it is the character of the mage that matters. It was troubling to watch happen.”

  Staring into the empty forest, he said, “Nearly a century after the end of the war, eight villages and towns along the Carinius coast were destroyed. Burned first, then flooded. The evidence that magic was used was indisputable. Word spread that some of the White Lions were seen in the area before the attacks. Only, none of us were.”

  “Then why the rumors?” asked Jak.

  “Excellent question,” rumbled Broedi. “And the one we asked ourselves as we eight stood on Carinius’ beaches. Aryn and I suspected the god of Deception and the god of Fear had a hand in what had occurred, but we could not prove any of it. So, the rumors grew, spreading like a wildfire on a Borderlands’ prairie. In stunningly short order, the First Council decreed all magic to be outlawed and named us criminals.”

  Broedi stared hard at the three of them. Biting off each word, he asked, “After everything we had done for the people, we were now lawbreakers?”

  The three Isaac children stared back in silence. Kenders almost felt like apologizing.

  Broedi glared at them for a moment longer before taking a deep breath and exhaling. When he resumed speaking, he was calm again. “Some of us wanted to fight the council’s misguided law, but others felt we should accept their rule and serve in a hidden role. The dissent caused a rift in our group. Your parents and I were of like mind and traveled to the Celystiela to ask for their assistance. To avoid the new Constables, we moved overland like everyone else—I on foot and they by horse.” He looked at Nikalys and Kenders. “During our journey west, your mother and father became close and eventually fell in love.”

  “When we reached the Seat of Nelnora, the Celystiela would not see us. According to Nelnora’s servants, she ‘did not deem the current actions of mortals to be a sufficient threat to the balance of the world.’ We traveled to the Seats of Thonda, Horum, and Gaena, and were rebuffed in each. The Celystiela were done with us. They had used us and then tossed us aside.”

  “For our own safety, we left the duchies for a time—myself, your father and mother—and lost contact with the others. To this day, I have not seen any of them since the First Council’s decree. Years later, your parents and I returned to the Southlands and lived in secret.”

  Broedi seemed to notice that he had only taken a few bites of his roast pheasant. He reached down, plucked the stick from the ground, and took another mouthful now, chewing while he reflected on the past.

  Kenders glanced at hers. She was sure it was cool enough to eat now, but her appetite had yet to return.

  After Broedi had swallowed, he continued, saying, “While spending some time near the Sea of Kings’ coast, we learned of a prophecy that had been issued when the White Lions were formed. It seemed that after the Assembly of the Nine charged us with our task, Indrida, the Enlightened Oracle, had a vision. A written copy of it found its way into our hands.”

  A frown creased his face and he shook his head.

  “It was disturbing to read, even more so when we realized that but a portion of Indrida’s prophecy had been fulfilled. Much was yet to come.”

  Her voice quiet in the still of the night, Kenders asked, “What did it say?”

  Broedi took a deep breath and began speaking.

  The roar of the Lions will drive back the spawn,

  And the lines of men, strong once again, will be redrawn.

  Yet that which drives man’s soul will fray at the seams,

  While the strength of the Lions will fade as do last night’s dreams.

  Torn apart by deceit and distrust,

  One will perish and One will be lost.

  One will leave, while Another will stay.

  And Two shall find each Other one day.

  Against his will, one must fight,

  While it falls upon the Half-man to unite.

  Chaos will rise again, unraveling what has been made,

  With Strife, Pain, and Deception in tow, lending aid.

  Hidden, then found,

  Willingly come around,

  The Progeny must rise to lead the fight,

  Along with new and old, seek to make it right.

  When done, he waited a short time, letting them absorb what he had said. While Kenders did not know what most of it meant, the end had made the hair on the back of her arms stand on end.

  “Time passed, and eventually your mother found herself with child.” Looking at Nikalys alone, he rumbled, “You were born on a cool harvest day eight turns later, uori.” The corners of his mouth curled up a bit. “You came out screaming like a banshee.”

  Nikalys’ eyes narrowed. “Were you there?”

  Broedi nodded. “I was. I stood with your father outside the room as Eliza gave life to you.”

  “Name the day,” demanded Nikalys.

  Broedi answered without hesitation. “The twelfth of the Turn of Rintira.”

  Kenders eyes widened a bit. The date was Nikalys’ yearday. She stared at her brother, wondering if he was willing to accept Broedi’s incredible tale yet. He continued to glare at Broedi, unmoving.

  “For the first few turns of your life, your parents argued often about what they should do with you. Indrida’s prophecy worried them both. Both were afraid for your safety. Your mother thought you should be hidden and kept safe, away from us. Your father wanted to defend you with his life. He did not want to give up his son.” A wistful smile spread over his lips. “You were obviously too young to remember, but your father was so proud of you. Aryn carried you everywhere he went.”

  Kenders glanced back to Nikalys and found her brother staring at the dirt, his chin pressed to his chest.

  “Before they decided on a course of action, Eliza was with child again.” He turned and looked at Kenders. “A turn before you were due, uora, we were discovered by agents of the Nine Hells. We repelled their assassination attempt and learned that the Cabal also knew of the prophecy. They were hunting the White Lions, having concluded as we did, that the ‘Progeny’ would be children of the Lions. No White Lions, no Progeny, prophecy unfulfilled.”

  “After the attack and your birth, uora, your father conceded you the pair of you were not safe with them. When they told me they were leaving, I believed they were going to hide with you, not give you over to be fostered. It would seem they h
ad other plans, ones they did not see fit to share with me.” He sighed and muttered, “They left and I have not seen them since.”

  The hurt and longing in his voice was plain. He truly missed them. “For ten years, I waited. For the past five, I have been looking for Aryn, Eliza, and the two of you. I was in the Great Lakes Duchy when the Weave your mother placed on the case triggered, alerting me that you were in danger. The rest, you know.”

  He took a bite of his pheasant and chewed slowly. It seemed he was done with his story.

  Kenders’ gaze drifted about the clearing, eventually settling on an oak branch hanging low into their camp, its leaves fluttering in a gentle nighttime breeze. She was still looking at the branch, without truly seeing it, when Nikalys spoke, minutes later. “So, our parents…our blood parents. They loved us?”

  Broedi’s brown eyes softened. “Very much. More than most, it seems. Their love drove them to do the hardest thing a parent could: leave you in the care of others and walk away.”

  Nikalys nodded ever so slightly and dropped his head again.

  “Why my parents?” asked Jak. “What about them made two White Lions think that they could watch over them?”

  Broedi looked at Jak and shrugged. “I do not know how they found your parents or their reasons for choosing them. Yet it would seem they made an inspired decision. Your parents kept them safe for fifteen years and loved them as their own. They are heroes in my eyes.”

  The beginnings of tears teased Kenders’ eyes. She ached and mourned for the parents who had raised her, yet the yearning to see her blood parents was almost equally strong. The dual feelings were confusing. She wondered how she could miss people whom she had never truly known.

  Broedi stood from the log and stretched, his long arms reaching almost to the branches of the oak above them. Dropping his arms, he smiled at Jak and rumbled, “And whether Aryn and Eliza meant to or not, they found a very good kaveli for them as well.”

  Jak smiled as a bit of color came to his cheeks. With a friendly, mocking tone, he said, “Ah, Broedi, you’re such a flatterer.”

  Kenders laughed a little through the tears, grateful for the moment of levity. Even Broedi chuckled, a deep, rumbling, yet somehow quiet, laugh.

  Suddenly, Nikalys jumped up, startling them all. “Are you all mad?! How can you all just laugh like that?! Did the two of you even listen to what he said?” His face a mask of anger and denial, he darted around to the other side of the log. “Kenders! If our blood parents are White Lions, they are outlaws! Just like you!” He glared at Broedi. “Him, too!”

  With an edge in his voice, Jak muttered, “Nik. Calm down.”

  “No!” shouted Nikalys, turning his hot gaze on Jak. “How can you both just sit there and take everything he says as complete, utter truth?! White Lions? Prophecies?! Meeting the blasted gods?! It’s madness! Blasted madness!”

  Kenders raised a hand, pleading, “Please, Nik. Yelling helps nothing.”

  Nikalys stopped in his tracks and glared at her. It took him a few deep breaths before he appeared to relax. Sighing, he ran both hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” He looked askance at the hillman and muttered, “It’s too much for me to believe, Broedi. Any of it. It’s all…too fantastic.”

  “He knew your yearday,” said Kenders.

  “He’s a mage! Perhaps it was a trick!”

  “The necklace,” rumbled Broedi. “How do you explain it away?”

  Nikalys’ hand flew to his neck. Tugging at the leather cord, he pulled the silver pendant free of his shirt.

  “What about it?”

  “It belonged to Eliza,” said Broedi. “She bought it in a market in Cartu at least a century before you were born. She placed a Weave on it—bound to you and your iskoa alone—so that she would know where you were at all times and if you were safe. I assume she gave it to Marie Isaac to do the same.”

  Nikalys stared at Broedi for a moment dropping his gaze back to the necklace. “There has to be another explanation.”

  Kenders stared at her brother and shook her head, wondering what it was going to take to convince him.

  Jak muttered, “I think now would be a good time for the case, Broedi.”

  “I agree,” rumbled the hillman. “Will you please get it for me?”

  Kenders shot her brother a quick, perplexed look as he stood, walked to where Broedi had put the leather case—the hillman had been carrying it since Smithshill—and bent to retrieve it. Returning to Broedi, Jak held it out to the White Lion. Broedi took the long tan leather package and Jak came to stand by Kenders’ side.

  Glancing at her brother, she whispered, “What’s in the case?”

  Jak shrugged his shoulders and murmured, “Broedi only told me it was something that belonged to your father. Something meant for Nikalys.”

  Kenders’ eyes narrowed as she stared back to the hillman.

  Eyeing Nikalys, Broedi said, “Even as a little one, you were stubborn.” He lifted the case, holding it at arm’s length and in Nikalys’ direction. “Perhaps this will help you accept what I have shared.”

  Clearly skeptical, Nikalys looked at the bundle for a moment before walking to Broedi and stopping on the opposite side of the fallen log.

  Remembering that there was not a single seam or cord along the bundle’s length, Kenders asked, “Shall I get a knife?”

  “Thank you, but no. That will be unnecessary.” Holding Nikalys’ gaze, he urged, “Take it.”

  As Nikalys reached out with both hands, Kenders found herself leaning forward in anticipation. The moment Nikalys touched the leather, Kenders felt a tiny crackling inside of her. For a brief moment, she spotted a Weave of silver and gold Strands around the case before they quickly unraveled and faded.

  A slit appeared down the length of the package and the leather fell to the sides, exposing a richly made, reddish-brown scabbard emblazoned with a golden emblem of some sort of bird she did not recognize. Sticking out from the top of the scabbard was the silver and gold hilt of a sword. The grip and guard sparkled brilliantly in the light of the fire, but her eyes settled on the pommel. A silver ring encircled an impossibly white stone, carved into the face of a roaring lion. A belt made of the same rich brown leather was folded beneath the scabbard.

  So focused on the scabbard and sword, she almost did not see the folded parchment stuck between the folds of the belt. Nikalys did, though, and, with his eyes drawn tight, pulled the parchment out and turned it over in his hands. He moved to the fire and opened it.

  “What is it?” asked Kenders.

  Nikalys glanced up with wide and rounded eyes. “It’s a letter.” He stared back the parchment in wonder. “From…Aryn.”

  With a rush of nervous excitement, Kenders hurried to her brother’s side and stared down at the black words scrawled on the yellow parchment in a neat, practiced hand.

  Nikalys —

  I have spent countless days thinking what words I would write in this letter. Even now, as I put ink to parchment, I still do not know what to say. Yet I must write something now as your mother and I are leaving shortly.

  If you are reading this, I will assume you know the truth. Or at least some of it. Thaddeus has promised to tell you and Kenders when you are old enough to understand.

  No doubt you have questions about why your mother and I have done this, but realize that it is our deep love for you and your sister that have driven us to leave you both behind. Thaddeus and Marie are good people. Steadfast, strong, and admirable parents. I pray this letter finds them and little Jak well.

  I have lived longer than any man should, son. Many of my days have been wondrous. Many I am still trying to forget. Let me take this opportunity to share with you what I learned through the years.

  Stay strong. Be resolute. Live well. Love fully.

  Follow this bit of advice, and the rest of life is almost simple.

  I am sorry that all I can offer you is my sword and some words on a parchment, but it is
the fate Greya has given me and I must do with it what I can.

  I pray you never face the horrors your mother and I have, but considering your heritage and Indrida’s blasted words, I suspect that is a foolish hope. Nevertheless, it is one to which your mother and I cling. It is why we are leaving you. We are going to try to make it so you never read this letter.

  As I write this, it has occurred to me that I do have one more sliver of advice for you, something that took me a very long time to understand and accept:

  Do what you must, when you must. Move on as best you can, as soon as you can. Else, the shadows of the past will darken your present and douse the light of future’s promise.

  Watch over your sister, please. If she grows up to be anything like she is now, I’m certain she can be a handful. In fact, that dribble of ink in the corner is her doing. She is sitting on my lap and cannot seem to sit still.

  I must go now. Your mother is telling me to hurry.

  We both love you very much.

  Be safe.

  —Your father, Aryn

  One last thing: should a tall fellow by the name of Broedi ever track you down—and your mother insists he will—trust him with your very life, son. I have done so countless times and that overgrown tuft of fur has always come through.

  Kenders reached up and wiped away the tears that were rolling down her cheek. Sniffling, she glanced over at Nikalys and saw he was struggling to remain stone-faced. She slipped an arm around his waist and gave him a small squeeze. “See, Nik? They did love us.”

  Nikalys nodded silently.

  Kenders looked back to the letter and stared at the black blob in the corner. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly as a wistful, sad smile found its way on her face.

  Pointing at the ink stain, she muttered, “See? I’ve always been trouble.”