The Children of the White Lions: Volume 02 - Prophecy by R. T. Kaelin
Authors: R. T. Kaelin
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Khin’s robes rustled as he shifted ever so slightly.
Kenders quickly looked back to her teacher, thinking he might finally begin today’s lesson. She waited, staring at Khin, silently urging him to do or say something, anything at all.
He did not, however. He remained perfectly still and quiet.
As she sat there grinding her teeth, a tiny, chilled shiver ran up her spine, through her shoulders, and along her arms. Despite choosing her heaviest wool dress this morning, she was still cold. The stone beneath her mat had been leaching heat from her body all morning.
The chilly weather of Storm Island was new to her. The coldest night of the year in Yellow Mud was never as chilly as it was outside right now, and it was not even truly Winter yet. As much as she disliked the cold, her teacher relished it. At times, she would spot Khin standing atop the battlements, his nonsensically thin white robes whipping in the chill wind.
Khin had given her one instruction when she arrived this morning: “Remain silent.” She swallowed her question as to why her quiet was necessary and followed the directive. The one thing she had learned without doubt during her lessons was that to ask Khin anything was pointless. The aicenai made Broedi look like the village gossip.
During her first few lessons, she had pelted the aicenai with dozens of questions about magic, the Strands, and different Weaves. Khin politely turned every one aside. When she shared her frustration with Broedi, the hillman gave her one of his slight smiles and rumbled a single word.
Patience.
Sitting in the tiny, cold room, Kenders frowned. She and patience did not mix.
Khin was supposed to be teaching her how to better control her ability. He was supposed to be an expert in weaving the Strands. He was supposed to teach her new patterns. What he was doing instead, was wasting her time.
Her bitterness slipped out in the form of a tiny, frustrated sigh.
Khin’s wispy voice followed a moment later, startling her.
“Stone fibríaal first. Then Air. Begin.”
A soft crackling filled her head and chest as the aicenai immediately reached for the Strands. Pushing back a quick flash of panic, she tried to recall the correct patterns, but the heady sweetness of the incense, her cold and stiff muscles, and her irritation with Khin all interfered with her concentration.
Khin’s intricate pattern of loops and curls was half-complete already, hovering in the air above the incense, a mix of heavy, dark brown Strands of Stone and the sparkling silver of Soul. Her eyes went wide. The speed with which he worked the Strands never ceased to astonish her. She had taken half a breath and was already far behind.
Reaching out for her own Strands of Stone and Soul, Kenders began to work the strings of magical energy, knitting her own Weave. She shot a furtive glance towards Khin’s pattern to compare hers to his, and was surprised to see that while their designs were comparable, his had far fewer Strands of Stone.
He abruptly directed his Weave to the limestone in the saucer, surprising her. A soft crack filled the room as the chunk of stone split in half, morphed into a vaguely humanoid shape no bigger than her fist, and stood on two rocky legs. Dust and pebbles fell from the fibríaal’s new joints.
Kenders pressed her lips together, angry with herself. His Weave had been different because he used the limestone with the magic. Despite staring at the hunk of rock for hours, it had never occurred to her to do that. Finishing her Weave a moment later, a tiny stone fibríaal appeared from nowhere to stand beside Khin’s creature. The other half of limestone remained unused in the saucer.
Kenders moved on to the second pattern, glanced up, and found Khin nearly done with his, interlocking white and silver Strands, wispier and less rigid than the first Weave.
She could still beat her teacher, but only by resorting to using her gift from Gaena, the Goddess of Magic. She
Khin’s robes rustled as he shifted ever so slightly.
Kenders quickly looked back to her teacher, thinking he might finally begin today’s lesson. She waited, staring at Khin, silently urging him to do or say something, anything at all.
He did not, however. He remained perfectly still and quiet.
As she sat there grinding her teeth, a tiny, chilled shiver ran up her spine, through her shoulders, and along her arms. Despite choosing her heaviest wool dress this morning, she was still cold. The stone beneath her mat had been leaching heat from her body all morning.
The chilly weather of Storm Island was new to her. The coldest night of the year in Yellow Mud was never as chilly as it was outside right now, and it was not even truly Winter yet. As much as she disliked the cold, her teacher relished it. At times, she would spot Khin standing atop the battlements, his nonsensically thin white robes whipping in the chill wind.
Khin had given her one instruction when she arrived this morning: “Remain silent.” She swallowed her question as to why her quiet was necessary and followed the directive. The one thing she had learned without doubt during her lessons was that to ask Khin anything was pointless. The aicenai made Broedi look like the village gossip.
During her first few lessons, she had pelted the aicenai with dozens of questions about magic, the Strands, and different Weaves. Khin politely turned every one aside. When she shared her frustration with Broedi, the hillman gave her one of his slight smiles and rumbled a single word.
Patience.
Sitting in the tiny, cold room, Kenders frowned. She and patience did not mix.
Khin was supposed to be teaching her how to better control her ability. He was supposed to be an expert in weaving the Strands. He was supposed to teach her new patterns. What he was doing instead, was wasting her time.
Her bitterness slipped out in the form of a tiny, frustrated sigh.
Khin’s wispy voice followed a moment later, startling her.
“Stone fibríaal first. Then Air. Begin.”
A soft crackling filled her head and chest as the aicenai immediately reached for the Strands. Pushing back a quick flash of panic, she tried to recall the correct patterns, but the heady sweetness of the incense, her cold and stiff muscles, and her irritation with Khin all interfered with her concentration.
Khin’s intricate pattern of loops and curls was half-complete already, hovering in the air above the incense, a mix of heavy, dark brown Strands of Stone and the sparkling silver of Soul. Her eyes went wide. The speed with which he worked the Strands never ceased to astonish her. She had taken half a breath and was already far behind.
Reaching out for her own Strands of Stone and Soul, Kenders began to work the strings of magical energy, knitting her own Weave. She shot a furtive glance towards Khin’s pattern to compare hers to his, and was surprised to see that while their designs were comparable, his had far fewer Strands of Stone.
He abruptly directed his Weave to the limestone in the saucer, surprising her. A soft crack filled the room as the chunk of stone split in half, morphed into a vaguely humanoid shape no bigger than her fist, and stood on two rocky legs. Dust and pebbles fell from the fibríaal’s new joints.
Kenders pressed her lips together, angry with herself. His Weave had been different because he used the limestone with the magic. Despite staring at the hunk of rock for hours, it had never occurred to her to do that. Finishing her Weave a moment later, a tiny stone fibríaal appeared from nowhere to stand beside Khin’s creature. The other half of limestone remained unused in the saucer.
Kenders moved on to the second pattern, glanced up, and found Khin nearly done with his, interlocking white and silver Strands, wispier and less rigid than the first Weave.
She could still beat her teacher, but only by resorting to using her gift from Gaena, the Goddess of Magic. She
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