“This should be fun,” whispered Nikalys. “Watch their faces.” The darker mood from before was gone. If fact, he almost sounded like an excited child.
“I know, Nikalys,” said Sabine, grinning slightly. “I was there last night, if you remember.”
She had been sitting with everyone last evening when the planning for this meeting was underway. Sergeant Trell would tell the men his tale, along with Nundle. Broedi was to reveal himself as a White Lion, followed by Nikalys showing the soldiers what he had been able to learn with the sword. Kenders had wanted to put on a show as well, but Broedi forbade her from doing anything, insisting she had too much work she needed to do in order to control her power.
Suddenly, Broedi’s form began to twist and flow, shifting from the shape of the tall, strong man into that of the towering, golden bear. A stunned whisper slipped from Sabine’s lips.
“My gods…”
Even though she had seen the beast before, she had never seen the transformation. In the fort, she had been too busy consoling Helene.
Once the shift was complete, Broedi stood on his hind legs, his thick golden-brown fur hanging from him, and let out a tremendous roar. The soldiers, even the ones who had already seen the bear, took a few, wide-eyed steps back. Horses whinnied, pulling at their reins as soldiers held tight.
Sounding a bit perturbed, Nikalys muttered, “I thought we decided lynx last night.”
“You know, you could go tell him you’re disappointed with his choice if you’d like.”
Nikalys glanced back and smiled.
“That’s quite all right. I’m trying not to make a habit of arguing with giant bears.”
She returned his grin with one of her own.
Last night, in the middle of the long and—in her opinion—pointless debate as to what animal form Broedi should take, Sabine had excused herself. Her experience with men was limited, but already she decided they liked to talk more than was necessary.
Broedi returned to his normal, giant self and stood before the soldiers, his arms crossed. While the new arrivals stared in shocked silence, the soldiers who had already seen the bear smiled wide at their friends’ awe, poking their elbows in the stunned soldiers’ sides. Sergeant Trell turned and looked back to Nikalys and Sabine and motioned with his head.
“My turn,” said Nikalys with a low chuckle.
Sabine scooted back, preparing to dismount from the back of Goshen.
“Would you like me to hop—” She stopped upon realizing that she was alone atop the tan horse. Nikalys was standing next to Broedi with his shining, white sword in hand. Her heart racing, Sabine muttered to herself, “Blast it, Nik.”
From the reaction of Broedi, Nundle, and the sergeant, it was apparent they had not expected Nikalys to move like that either.
Sergeant Trell called out for four men from the new arrivals to step forward to challenge Nikalys. Urged on by the Sentinels who knew Nikalys’ capabilities, four soldiers stepped forward, swords drawn, and arranged themselves in a line, preparing to face him one at a time. When Sergeant Trell ordered for them to all attack Nikalys at once, the new arrivals hesitated. The soldiers who had traveled with Nikalys for days grinned in anticipation.
The four men surrounded Nikalys and began to probe at his defenses. As Sabine expected, Nikalys had little trouble with them, moving from opponent to opponent in the blink of an eye. One moment he was facing one man, the next, he was parrying a blow from the soldier behind him. The sound of steel on steel rang throughout the area, pinging and clanging with frequency of a hard rain pelting the earth.
After Sergeant Trell called for a halt to the display, he gave an impassioned speech about the danger rising in the west, the evil gods of the Cabal and demons leading armies of Sudashian oligurts, mongrels, and razorfiends. By the time he was done, Sabine herself was ready to leap from the saddle and charge headlong into a line of demon-led oligurts. He then gave them the same option the soldiers already accompanying them had. Leave now and go home, or stay and help fight.
The men dispersed, talking among themselves, weighing their options. Sabine kept an eye on the new Tracker, most interested by what his reaction would be. The two gray-clad men stood alone with their heads together, whispering quietly. Cero repeatedly pointed downriver in the direction they had been traveling while the other man shook his head and pointed to the northwest.
“Nik overdid it a bit, don’t you think?”
So engrossed in the Trackers’ distant argument, Sabine had not noticed Kenders ride up beside her. Looking at her friend—still with Helene in her lap—she nodded and said, “Your brother can be a bit of show-off at times.”
“Jak’s worse,” said Kenders. She was quiet a moment before looking over, a sly grin spreading over her face. “Some girls like that.”
Without hesitation, Sabine said, “And some like exotic men from faraway lands.” She eyed her friend. “What say you about that?”
Sabine had felt the eyes of many of the younger Red Sentinels over recent days. From their evening chats, she knew Kenders had experienced the same. Yet Kenders ignored every one of their appreciative gazes, and—on more than one occasion—Sabine had caught her eyeing the young Borderlander from the fort.
Kenders stared at Sabine through narrowed eyes and murmured good-naturedly, “Quiet, you.” She stuck her tongue out.
Smiling, Sabine returned the gesture.
From Kenders’ lap, Helene piped up, saying, “Sabine! You said it’s not polite to stick out our tongues!” Her tone contained a type of righteous admonishment that can only come from a child when catching an adult’s mistake.
“You’re right, dear. I’m sorry. I should not have done that. It was rude of me.”
Clearly pleased with herself, Helene looked up at Kenders and smiled, just missing Kenders pulling her own tongue back into her mouth.
Looking down, Kenders said, “Well done, Helene. It’s very nice of you to help your sister with her manners.”
Sabine rolled her eyes and looked away, chuckling to herself. Off to the side of the Sentinels, she spotted Jak and Zecus together. The pair had dismounted and were practicing their sword work. While neither man had Nikalys’ unnatural proclivity for the sword, both had been working hard at learning the more traditional way. Sabine found herself eyeing Jak as he swung the sword in slow, exaggerated movements, attempting to get the form right before speeding up to a respectable pace.
Watching the pair practice, she asked aloud, “So what now? Once the new Sentinels make up their mind, that is?”
“I don’t think we have an answer yet,” said Kenders. “We could try to ford the river here. Broedi says he knows a way to make the surface of the water hard—neat, huh?—but he’s hesitant to do so. He says it takes more effort than he would like to exert. His control over Water is not very extensive.”
“What about Nundle?”
“He can’t touch Strands of Water at all.” Frowning, she added, “And I’ve been ‘forbidden’ to try.”
Sabine sighed and said, “I can make the water clear and cool. But only a little at a time.”
Kenders flashed a grin.
“We’ll keep that in mind if we get thirsty.”
Sabine smiled back, but her mirth was forced. She found herself surrounded with people of tremendous talents and power and she was left being quite normal. Even Helene showed promise, according to Broedi.
After a short while, Broedi, Nikalys, and Nundle came walking through the grass toward them, grim expressions on all three of their faces.
Sabine muttered, “They don’t look very happy, do they?”
“No, they don’t,” said Kenders. As the trio neared the girls’ horses, she raised her voice and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Broedi rumbled, “We have another problem, uora.”
Sabine shook her head.
“Wondrous. What now?”
As the three of them stopped, Nundle stared up from under the wide brim of his hat an
d said, “The second bunch of Sentinels have some information that’s going to make things difficult for us.”
“More than they already are?” asked Kenders.
“Yes, uora,” rumbled Broedi. “Quite a bit more.”
Letting out a weary sigh, Sabine asked, “What’s the new problem?”
Nodding his head back in the direction of the soldiers, Nikalys said, “It seems that some Southern Arms did not take kindly to a large contingent of Red Sentinels in the Southlands. A ‘Corporal Holb’ from the new arrivals said that the morning after they set up camp on the northern side of the river, they awoke to find the southern shore lined with blue and gold. Just over a hundred Southern Arms were waiting for them, watching.”
“What?” asked Kenders “Do they fear an invasion by fifty men?”
“Doubtful,” replied Broedi. “I would assume they are merely curious. It is beyond unusual for the soldiers of one duchy cross into another. In fact, it is against agreed-upon law.”
“Did they attack?” asked Sabine.
“Thankfully, no,” rumbled the hillman. “They had the sense to simply watch. And wait.”
“So, now what?” asked Kenders. “I’m thinking they won’t let us cross when we show up with more Sentinels.”
Lifting a single eyebrow, Nundle said cryptically, “They might not, assuming they were still there.”
“They’re not there now?” asked Kenders.
Nundle shook his head.
Confused, Sabine stared at the tomble and asked, “So then what’s the problem?”
Nikalys let out a heavy sigh before saying, “The soldiers aren’t there anymore because they followed Corporal Holb’s Sentinels. They trailed them here.”
“Are they going to attack now?” asked Kenders.
“Nathan doesn’t think so,” said Nundle. It had taken Sabine a few times hearing the tomble call the sergeant by his first name before she realized that Sergeant Trell and Nathan were the same person.
“Neither do I,” rumbled Broedi.
Kenders, with a hint of frustration creeping into her voice, asked, “Can we go around them?”
Shaking his head, Nikalys said, “They’ll see us try.”
“What if we go right away?” suggested Sabine. “Head north first, then east? Go around them.”
Broedi pointed to the southeastern horizon.
“No, uora. They will see us try.”
Sabine looked up and stared in the direction he indicated, but did not see much besides the natural greens and browns of grass and trees. A few patches of wild flowers—oranges, blues and yellows—that broke up the earth tones.
Confused, she started to ask, “What are you—?”
She stopped when some of the flowers on the horizon moved, and not gracefully as if teased by the wind. Looking closer, she realized that a few men on horses were waiting in one of the patches of wildflowers.
“Oh.”
Nikalys shook his head and sighed.
“You have to wonder what they’re thinking now, seeing the Sentinels double in size.”
Sabine continued staring at the Southlands soldiers, frowning.
“They didn’t ask why they Sentinels were here?”
“They did,” said Nikalys. “But Sergeant Trell had given Corporal Holb strict orders to say that they were here on ‘official business for the duke’ and nothing more.” He frowned. “Apparently, that did not satisfy the Southern Arms.”
Sabine sighed. For a group trying to be inconspicuous, they seemed to be attracting an awful lot of attention as of late.
The group fell quiet, frowning at one another. Sabine tried to think of a solution around the problem and was sure everyone else was doing the same. The silence prompted Helene to twist in Kenders’ lap and stare at Sabine. She looked bored.
“Are more soldiers coming, Sabine?”
“We hope not,” muttered a preoccupied Sabine.
“Why not?”
“Because they’re not like these soldiers.” She waved a hand at the Red Sentinels still milling about and talking.
“Why not?”
Sabine sighed, struggling with how to explain the situation to a four-year-old. “Well…because they’re just different. Now, please be quiet!” Her words were harsher than she had intended. A lack of sleep had her on edge.
Helene dropped her chin to her chest.
“Sorry.”
Sabine eyed her little sister, sighed, and was a moment away from apologizing for snapping when Helene looked back up.
“Nik-lys said they wear blue and gold. I like gold.” She smiled wide. “It’s my new favorite color.”
Sabine could not help but grin.
“Since when, dear?”
“Since this morning,” giggled the little girl. It was difficult to keep Helene’s spirits down very long. “Are the soldiers different because they have different colors?”
Sabine gave a small shrug of her shoulders. “Well, yes. Their uniforms are different. But that’s not what…makes…” She trailed off as an idea wormed its way into her head. Her eyes opened wide as she stared at Nikalys and asked, “How many of them did you say there are?”
“A little over a hundred. Why?”
Sabine smiled wide at her little sister.
“You are the smartest little girl in the world, Helene.”
Her sister beamed at the compliment despite having no idea why she had received it.
Turning to stare at Broedi, Sabine said, “I have an idea.”
Chapter 57: Arms
Beads of sweat dripped from Nundle’s brow, down his cheek and neck, rolling into his shirt collar. Today was warmer than the past few days had been, but he did not think the heat was responsible for his perspiring.
Glancing to his right, Nundle eyed the hillman walking beside him, easily keeping pace with Nundle’s chestnut horse.
“Exactly how far are we from Fernsford?”
Keeping his gaze straight ahead, the White Lion answered, “The city itself is not quite a day’s ride south of the bridge. From where we stand now, we are a half-day’s ride from the northern end of the bridge.”
“That’s close.”
Nodding, Broedi rumbled, “Agreed.”
Riding her horse, on the other side of the White Lion, Kenders said, “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.” She wore a brave, resolute expression on her face, but her tense shoulders and rigid posture betrayed her. She was nervous.
Sighing, Nundle eyed Broedi again. “Cero couldn’t tell you anything about the Constables office in Fernsford? How many Trackers they have? Anything useful?”
Broedi shook his head. “He was…reticent to talk with me. The other Tracker was even less cooperative.”
Frowning, Nundle muttered, “Even if Cero had told you something, I am not sure I would believe it. If he told me the sky was up, I’d ask for proof. I still think we should send him away.”
Broedi rumbled, “I would rather have the Trackers with us. Where I can see them.”
“Nathan says the same thing,” replied Nundle. “It’s just that…whenever they’re nearby, I get an eerie feeling.” He shuddered. “I don’t like it.”
“You are letting your worries best you, little one.” Broedi eyed him, a slight smile on his face. “I believe you are more nervous than she is.”
Nundle and Kenders protested simultaneously, “I am not nervous!”
Turing his gaze straight ahead, the hillman chuckled quietly. “I apologize, then. I was mistaken.” Lowering his voice, he added, “Now, please, no more talking. I must listen.”
Kenders and Nundle complied and the trio continued moving through the trees in silence. As he had been doing for three days now, Nundle stole more than a few sidelong glances at Kenders. He could not decide what astonished him more, that he was riding beside the most powerful mage in all of Terrene, or that she did not understand just how talented she was.
Broedi had shared with him that Kenders was capable of touching each typ
e of Strand that the White Lion knew: Life, Soul, Will, Air, Water, and Fire. From the night in the fort, Nundle knew she was also capable of touching Void. It had been her first unraveling of the moonlight Imperial soldier that had revealed to Nundle how to tear the pattern apart. Taking into account what she had done with Stone by the farmhouse, and her initial summoning of lighting using Charge, it reasoned that Kenders could touch all nine types of Strands. He had never heard of such a thing.
Shifting his gaze to Broedi, Nundle’s wonderment at his current position deepened. A half-dozen years ago, he was sitting in his trading office with his partner Bom, going over ledgers and discussing shipping routes. Now, he was with Thonda’s champion and the Progeny of Indrida’s prophecy. This was madness.
“Do not panic,” rumbled the hillman, his voice soft. “We are about to be stopped.”
Nundle’s head snapped up. He scanned the trees and grass, but did not see anyone.
“What do you—”
“Halt!”
The shout startled him, his mount, and Kenders’ horse apparently as the beast tossed her head and nickered. Broedi reached out and grabbed the bridles of both and in a low, quiet voice, said, “Remember. Neither of you are to say anything.”
Nundle nodded in silence, happy to let Broedi do the talking.
Three longlegs dressed in blue and gold stepped from behind the trees ahead. Nundle was surprised at how similar the uniforms were to the Red Sentinels livery. Where the Sentinels had black, the Arms had a deep blue, the same for red versus gold. The two large differences were the duchy crest and the helmet. The crest on the Southern Arms was a white, embroidered arm grasping a sword on a golden shield. And instead of the silver, domed helm of the Sentinels, these men had a golden, cylindrical helmet with a flat top. It looked as if they wore metallic ale mugs upside down on their heads.
The longleg in the center moved toward them, his right hand on the hilt of his still-sheathed sword. He had a bushy golden beard and deep blue eyes, absurdly matching his uniform. The two Southern Arms flanking him followed a few steps behind, one with his sword drawn while the other held a crossbow at the ready. Both had beards in the same style as the longleg in the center, although theirs were much darker; one solid black, one brown that flashed red when he stepped into the sunlight.
Progeny (The Children of the White Lions) Page 61