The Lords of Valdeon

by C. R. Richards

  Seth returned their greeting with a wave. A welcome face was with them. Tom, their eldest, had returned home from his service in the UR Army a few days before. He looked so different from the last time Seth had laid eyes upon him. Tom's straight auburn hair was cut short against his head in the military fashion. A well-trimmed mustache hung beneath his nose. Perhaps it was the way Tom carried himself or the worldly look in his eyes, which marked the biggest change.

  "You’ve been busy while I’ve been away, Seth. I heard you took on raiders." Tom took his hand and shook it warmly.

  "Seth rescued the McKenzie girl too." Patrick winked at Seth with a little grin while the others smacked their lips and laughed.

  They quieted down when Tom gave them a sour look. A sad smile, genuine and regretful, dimmed the happiness in his green eyes. The eldest of the Logan boys had seen his own tragedy while he was away from them. Seth wondered if any of them would get a glimpse into Tom Logan's secret pain.

  "I was sorry to hear about your mother. She was a kind woman."

  He nodded and stuffed the gold coin into his trouser pocket. Somehow it had become a talisman, focusing his anger and will. It was his new constant reminder to never trust blindly again.

  "Thank you, Tom. It’s good to have you home."

  "There’s a tail on the dog." George motioned behind them with a mischievous wink at Riley.

  Seth glanced over his shoulder. Beatrice McFadden, the doctor’s daughter, was clearly following them. Strawberry hair bounced upon her shoulders. Her ruffled green dress rustled fiercely against her legs as she sprinted to keep their pace.

  "What’s she doing?"

  "The pest has been following me for a month now. She pops up every time I come to town." Riley rounded on the girl. "Go home, Beatrice!"

  She gave Riley a haughty look, much older than her fifteen years. "What do you think I’m doing? My house is this way. I should think you'd remember since you like peeking through our windows after sunset."

  Riley muttered curses under his breath and turned his back to the girl. Red rushed from under his collar to invade the curly head of hair. His brothers burst into poorly contained snickers. Aching to join them in the first laugh he'd had in several weeks, Seth kept a tight hold upon his amusement.

  Tom smiled gently at Beatrice. "You’ve missed the footpath. It’s just there."

  He pointed to a small, worn path winding across the field toward town. Beatrice gave Tom a quick smile and burst down the path with her strawberry braids trailing behind. Seth regarded Tom as he waited for her to run toward home. Time away from Marianna had changed him. This wasn’t the Tom Logan who used to chase him and Riley around the farm with a rake.

  Tom cuffed Riley gently on the head. "Somebody has a crush on you, little Whiskers."

  "It's his charm!" Patrick's eyes watered as the pent-up laughter exploded onto the row.

  Riley stomped toward Haven Bay. Colorful language spouted from his grumbling mouth. Seth hurried to catch his fast-moving friend. The stream of constant expressions about Beatrice and his brothers continued to bubble from Riley's lips in a rush. Seth hid his smile when he noticed Riley sneak a quick look at Beatrice hurrying toward town.

  "They love to tease you because you get so angry."

  Seth tugged at the hem of his waistcoat to straighten the garment. He winced a little as the fabric of his shirt caught upon his cut. It was healing without comment from anyone. Perhaps it would leave at least a small scar.

  "Does it still hurt? Let me see."

  Seth puffed up and stood a little straighter. Fumbling with the buttons of his waistcoat, he was anxious for the chance to finally show someone his battle wounds. He was pleased when the dark red line on his chest brought a gasp from Riley.

  "Great gulls! How did you fight him off?"

  "The raider gave me this cut. He would’ve slit my throat, but I was able to get his knife away from him."

  New memories came back to him. He'd forgotten the euphoria surging through his body during the fighting. His mind began to conjure up more details from the battle, like golden rings set within black tattoos. The smell of burning grass and the feel of the man’s sweaty hands on his throat. Then a name came to him.

  "He called me D’Antoiné."

  Funny. He'd forgotten the raider’s look of terror and his strange words. More memories tried to come into focus. Words they'd exchanged. Details of the battle. Seth put a hand to his head. They weren't quite ready to come to light yet. One new memory, however, stayed with him. The raider had promised to remember Seth’s face.

  "Hated you, did he? What do you think D’Antoiné means? Some Amity Island curse, I’ll wager."

  "It's a name."

  Sandor had called him a D'Antoiné too. He'd said Seth's house would die with him. The intensity of the man's hatred betrayed him. The mark on Seth's head wasn't just about his payment. It was personal for Sandor.

  "What are you two girls giggling about?" Patrick marched over and pushed Riley out of the way. "Come look at this cut, gents!"

  They gathered around Seth, whistling at the scars. A few of them touched the sensitive skin. Seth winced a little, but didn’t draw away. It was a rare occasion when he could impress the Logan boys.

  "I’ve seen worse scraps during boot camp." Tom shook his head at the pink line upon Seth's skin. Then he rolled up his sleeve and showed them a dark, ragged scar. It began at his wrist, twisting in an awkward arch to his elbow. The ghastly mark made the wound on Seth's chest look like a paper cut. Tom Logan had seen real combat in the army and it had changed him.

  "Have you ever heard of D’Antoiné, Tom?"

  "D’Antoiné?" Tom gave him a frown. "Course I have. The question is how did you come to hear of them?"

  "One of the raiders said it."

  Tom shrugged and began walking toward Haven Bay once again. Even talk of a mystery wouldn’t curb his appetite for a pint. His brothers followed behind him, a new respect for the eldest in their eyes. Tom shook his head with a grin as they impatiently waited for his answer.

  "D’Antoiné is the surname of two brothers — Edmund and Esteban — from Valdeon who became rangers together. They were both high up in the ranks of their legion until one of them disappeared." Tom kicked at a stone with the toe of his boot. "Never found him. It’s quite the mystery."

  Edmund. Was it possible this ranger from Valdeon was his father? Sandor had claimed Seth's mother had married outside her race. Could she have been part of the Tslavian family whose symbol was embedded upon the gold coin? If Sandor was telling the truth, then Seth was a child of two hated enemies.

  Riley whistled low. "Did you know him, Tom?"

  "Regular army like me doesn’t mix with rangers, Little Whiskers. If you’d ever been up close to one, you’d know why. Now, come on. I’m likely to die of thirst!"

  "Why would a raider from Amity Island confuse you with a Valdeonian ranger?" Riley put a hand on Seth's arm, slowing their pace until they fell behind the group. "I know you could pass for Valdeonian. Now, don't be angry. I’m just saying your hair and eyes are darker than the average islander. Maybe your mother’s people had a little Valdeonian in them? You certainly don’t look anything like old Fussbottom."

  Seth looked away. Maybe his dark features hadn’t come from his mother. What if he looked more like her Edmund? Perhaps he truly was the bastard son of this Valdeonian.

  "Let's go to Paddy’s. I could do with a little peace."

  Riley bumped his arm and started back toward the west. His brothers, intent upon their thirst for a pint, continued on toward the Haven Bay Pub. Seth joined his best friend without an argument. He was in no mood for laughing crowds either. His mind was unsettled with bits and pieces of clues to his parents' past. He needed perspective from the one person he could trust in this new world of lies and secrets. Pulling the golden coin out of his pocket, he handed it to Riley.

  His friend held it up against the light and examined both sides before handing it back
to Seth. "What is it besides a sum greater than our farm makes in a year?"

  "I found it this morning when I was searching the fields where the raiders ambushed me. According to one of the books in the school library, that beast is a gargoyle. It represents a Tslavian family by the name of Von Wolkhurst."

  "They must be pretty well off to have a gold coin made for them." Riley rubbed at the back of his neck and shook his head. "Why would these Von whoever they are want to have you killed?"

  The time had come to put their friendship to the test. Many would turn away from him if he disclosed what he was going to share with Riley. Bastards were either claimed by their fathers or shunned and forced to leave the island. What would the elder do if he found Seth's father was alive and Anne McCloud had given birth to his child without the vows? Swallowing hard, ready for the hurt, he mustered his courage. He needed Riley's common-sense point of view. Heaven help him, but a part of Seth very much wanted to believe his mother's old lies.

  "My father isn't dead," he began. "On the day she died, my mother told me his name was Edmund. I believe he is one of the rangers from Valdeon Tom mentioned."

  Riley looked down at his boots and rubbed at the back of his neck again. His best friend had a gift for speaking plainly and honestly. The trait made him someone most people readily trusted. It also made him a horrible liar.

  "You knew? And you didn't tell me?"

  "It wasn't my fault! I overheard my parents and Emma talking to the doctor. Dad said your mother told him their families didn't approve of their relationship. Well, and then Paddy caught me listening and Dad threatened to give me a good wallop if I told you."

  Seth kicked angrily at a rock upon the row. "I wonder what else they're not telling me, like why he left?"

  "You'll find out soon enough. Emma wrote to a friend of your mother's to ask her to help find your dad."

  Perhaps his father had already visited Haven Bay and knew of his son? The ranger who saved him the night of the attack was a mystery. Memories of his voice were just beyond Seth's recollection, but his words had held little sentiment.

  "What about the Tslavian family on the coin? Who do you think they are?"

  "It's possible they are enemies of my father. Or perhaps they are my mother's people?"

  Two large airships floated in the sunset above their heads. Another was moored upon the docks stretching over the cliffside. Three ships, foreign from the look of their build, visiting their tiny island upon the same day had drawn a crowd. Seth and Riley joined the curious spectators against the railings of the empty corral. In springtime, the pen was used to keep livestock awaiting transportation to and from Marianna.

  "Can you tell where they're from?" Riley blocked the sunlight with his hand, straining with the rest to see.

  "Those are trade vessels from the UR. They don't belong to any one country." Teb hobbled over to join them.

  Seth waved a greeting, careful to keep his gaze off Teb's empty left trouser leg. He'd lost it in a war when serving in the UR Army. Many said Teb didn't seem to notice its absence. He was as full of life as the day he’d left Haven Bay for the mainland.

  "Dock master says there's a storm between Larkspur Isle and the mainland. Supposed to be a sail ripper. A few ships had to be routed to Marianna until it passes." Teb pointed at the hovering ship preparing to dock. "Don't know what the Portsmouth vessel is doing this far from home though."

  Sailors from the docked trade ship filed out of the port. Their disappointed expressions were almost comical. They were entering Seth's mundane world, but at least these lucky few could escape soon. One of them, an older man with silver hair and a face pocked by weather, let out a curse.

  "Fighting wind and sea would be better than wasting away from lack of drink on this rock."

  The man was a Tslavian. Seth swept his intense gaze over every inch of the old man. Heart beating quickly, he waited for any betraying sign of a disguise. Old eyes caught him staring. Hatred filled them.

  "What are you staring at, Valdeonian pig?" The Tslavic insult hurled brutally from his mouth.

  "I am an islander, sir." Seth gripped the railing tightly, forcing the anger down. His mother's killer could be standing before him right now.

  "Is there a problem?" Teb, unable to understand the Tslavic tongue, gave Seth a puzzled look as he waited for the translation.

  "Our guests need a lift to Paddy's." Seth kept his voice steady and forced a smile.

  Teb nodded agreeably and hurried to his wagon with the sailors following. Seth stood away from the railing, watching the wagon roll toward the west. The Tslavian sailor met his gaze with an ugly sneer; then he turned away toward the promise of food and drink.

  Riley knew Seth too well to be easily fooled. "What is it? What did he say to you?"

  "That old sea dog recognized me, Riley. Or at least recognized me as a Valdeonian. He could be Sandor in disguise."

  "What do we do now?"

  Seth began the long walk toward Paddy's. "We follow him. I want to know if he's been here before."

  Chapter Twelve

  Light from Paddy's Inn cast box shadows upon Main Row. Laughter escaped the busy common room to echo in the night air. Three ships had brought thrice the business for Paddy and Teb. They rushed about on the warm side of the window to serve food and drink to their eager guests. Seth stomped his feet to chase the chill of the night air out of his bones. He wished they'd decided to spy on their quarry from inside the pub.

  "Look at him in there, the old boozer." Riley pulled his cloak tighter about his body. "He's picked that place beside the window to spite us."

  His friend did have a point. The old sea dog had remained where he was for hours, not moving to join his fellow crewmen. Occasionally he'd look out the window, smile, and then return to his drink. The other sailors left the old man alone, not wasting so much as a wave upon him. The harsh lines of his face and the curve of his frown discouraged such pleasantries.

  "He’s leaving, and about time too." Riley slapped at Seth's arm. "Great gulls. Frost has formed on the trees while we've watched him swill his drink. I should be home in a warm bed rather than following some filthy old drunk."

  The sailor swung open the door to the common room and leisurely descended the stairs. Stretching his arms wide in a yawn, he stood upon the bottom step and took a deep breath. Then he began wandering in the direction of the docks. Hiding places were scarce on the stretch of road between Paddy's and town. They let the sailor move a good distance ahead before stepping out of their hiding spot to follow. It wasn't a challenge to keep up. The sailor kept to a slow pace, pausing now and again to kick at a stray rock.

  Then a gust of breeze struck Seth's face. It carried the faint smell of citrus and spices. In that moment he remembered his mother. Each winter upon the Festival of the New Year's Birth, she'd somehow obtain a small jar of candied orange slices for the celebration. Their scent was distinctive, like the aroma he smelled now. Pausing on the road, he sniffed again. The scent had faded.

  Torchlight danced against the midnight horizon. The airship port loomed ahead, rising in the night like a fleshless bird perched upon the cliffs. Seth froze on the row as the sailor’s silhouette paused in the gateway. Crouching down slightly, the Tslavian sailor seemed to be preparing for something. Then he spun around quickly to face the Main Row.

  Seth pulled Riley down with him as he fell to his belly upon the row. The old sailor stood in his crouch, eyes sweeping across the empty fields. Holding his breath, Seth waited as the moments ran by. Then the sailor lifted his arms over his head and took a deep breath. He disappeared inside the docks, leaving them sprawled upon the ground.

  "Great gulls!" Riley wiped at the mud splattered across his cloak.

  "Hush." Seth covered Riley’s mouth with his muddy hand. "Sorry."

  Crawling quickly to the side of the row, they tumbled into the darkness. More torches were mounted on each side of the gateway. Their circles of light overlapped in the center, ready to c
atch anyone sneaking onto the docks. While no high fences bordered the port, light and a vigilant militia were enough to discourage mischief. The threat kept most trespassers out, except for the youth of Haven Bay. It was a badge of honor to sneak through the back of the port and under its platforms. Tonight, however, they didn't have the option. The sailor was getting away. Sneaking around back would take too long. Seth didn't want to lose his best lead.

  "If we’re quick enough, maybe he won’t see us. If we run I mean."

  Riley pointed toward the far corner of the airship port. "We'll have no place to run if the law sees us."

  Constable McTavish strolled along the road, absorbed in the pipe he was puffing upon. A bludgeon hung down the side of his uniform, bumping against his leg. The constable adjusted the barrel of his musket upon his shoulder. He was taking no chances this night. A full port was good for Haven Bay businesses, but too many strangers could mean trouble for the law. He pivoted upon his heals and headed back toward the cliffs.

  "Coming, Riley?"

  "Might as well. I've gone mad already staying out this late. Let’s go."

  Racing silently across the empty row, they plunged into the torchlight. Completely exposed for a few moments, Seth held his breath. He pushed through the gateway and didn’t stop running until they were safely in the shadows of the pilings along the dock. Two levels of platforms hung above their heads. The docks, seemingly deserted except for lone sentries upon the nearest ship's deck, stretched out across the waters. The entire structure was still. Someone who knew these docks could hide in a thousand places. Seth had spent many a day here, hiding from his uncle among the cargo and rigging.

  A strike, hard and excruciating, struck Seth's shoulder. It sent sparks of pain shooting across his eyes. Riley hit the ground beside him. The Tslavian sailor stood over them. A crooked sneer forced its way upon his chapped lips as he bounced the pipe in his palm.