Wolf's eyes drifted back to his own lovely bride. The other Ranger Wives followed Dulcina not because she was wife to a Lord of Valdeon, but for her own merits. Heralded as one of the greatest soloists on Andara, Dulcina used her voice for supporting many social causes as well as making heavenly song. He had been a confirmed bachelor for many years until he felt the touch of her hand. His heart belonged to only her.
"Cesar seems troubled, my love." She gave their old friend a fond smile. "Fausto. Jorge, how good it is too see you."
"I am far too irritable today." Cesar snatched the gruesome linen package from Wolf and tossed it behind him.
Wolf kept her hand in his and gave it a little squeeze. "Julian's friends are stirring up trouble, my love. I fear they will be outspoken in their objections during Leo's funeral."
"Julian has them ready to riot, I'd guess." Fausto's typical grin was missing. Anger replaced it.
"I suspect his plans may be far more subtle." Jorge ran his eyes across the crowd. "It would help his cause if the West was the first to draw more blood."
Dulcina let a sly smile cross her face. "I believe you may be right, my clever Lord Pacarro. Have you noticed the Ranger Wives are the only ladies present? I have it on good authority Prince Julian has ordered the ladies of court to leave San Leonora for the country estate of one of his allies. The only woman he will have near him is his half-sister."
Wolf shivered slightly as the Jalora's power ran along his spine. Prickles of warning lifted the hair on his arms. He hoped the other Lords of Valdeon were paying attention. Julian couldn't be trusted and would dare anything to take the throne. Edmund, the fool, had grown too bold in his dalliances with women. He had not waited for the Jalora's wisdom in choosing a bride. The black-hearted viper roaming the palace halls was a result of his disobedience.
"Perhaps, my love, the legion should leave intelligence gathering to our wives? You honor our house." He leaned closer to his squire waiting patiently for orders. "Basilio, tell Owl and Griffin the Lords of Valdeon fear a threat to our families. Have the Ranger Wives guarded. None of them are to wander about alone. Understood?"
His squire bowed low and hurried away. Heaven help any who tried to stop Basilio. Though he would never show his foul mood to his lord, others often suffered the brunt of it.
"May I escort you into the Great Hall, My Lady De Vincente, since this husband of yours must parade about with the other rangers?" Cesar took Dulcina's arm. "I warn you, Wolf. I may have Dulcina's heart by the time you've finished with the pomp and circumstance."
Dulcina gave the old ranger a kiss on the cheek. "You are the very essence of flattery, Cesar."
She and the other ladies entered the Great Hall. Their three escorts stayed close beside Dulcina, not just for the pleasure of her sweet company, but to protect her as well. He was grateful to them. If anyone tried to harm her, even the Jalora could not stay his hand.
Fausto reappeared at the doorway. Anxiety. Rage. Disbelief. They radiated from his old comrade's typically jovial energy. Something was wrong. Wolf cleared his mind and let the Jalora come to him. Yes. He could feel them now. Their hungry ambition was taking an ugly turn. Wrapping his power about him, he swept into the Great Hall to join Fausto. Shouts and rough shoves filled the room. Violence was moving dangerously close to Dulcina and the other ladies.
Julian sat at the head of the hall with his viper sister at his side. The pleased smile he gave Wolf was a clear sign his treacherous plans were already underway. His confidence was disturbing. The bastard prince's manner didn't contain any of his regular pretense as the grieving son. He knew something hidden from Wolf. It was time to probe the bastard prince whether Benito agreed or not.
"Someone must rule Valdeon until the heir is named. Julian is the last Prince of the D’Antoiné house. We must declare him Regent."
One of the Eastern prefects waved his hand toward Julian. Wolf recognized him. His name was Orryo. An ambitious man from a small province to the south, apparently he'd decided to enrich his station. What better way to move up in the world than to clutch at the Prince’s coattails?
A western prefect, red-faced and patience exhausted, pushed through his comrades to face Orryo. "Esteban is the king’s brother. The duty falls to him."
"You speak of a ghost! The king's brother has not stepped foot on these lands for years. What makes you think he'll come back?"
"I'll not see Julian the bastard prince upon the throne!"
Orryo flew at the western prefect with an angry growl. Wolf pushed his way through the crowd to reach them. Pulling the men off each other, he held them at arm's length as they struggled to continue their fighting. His demands for peace were lost among other shouts as the room exploded in furious movement.
Power raced suddenly along his back. Its warning alerted him just as another man with a dagger approached from behind. Wolf summoned the power to his arms. Yanking both men inward, he slammed the prefects together. They fell into an unconscious pile at his feet. Then Wolf turned in a whirl of ash to face his would-be assassin. Reaching the villain, he knocked the dagger away and grabbed him by the throat. Wolf lifted him off the floor until his feet dangled between them. He brought forth a ranger's deadliest weapon. A solid reflective surface completely covered Wolf's face, causing his features to disappear behind the cold silver. The death mask's power reached out to the assassin's very soul. It brought back the final moments of the man's life. His fear and his pain were reflected back to him within the cold surface. Many criminals and enemies described looking into a death mask as the single most terrifying experience a person could endure. Mortality is finite. Death is inevitable. None can escape it, but most feared what they would find at its door.
"Mercy! I beg you, my lord. Please grant me mercy!" He gripped Wolf's wrists, but his pathetic sobs were lost in the sea of fistfights.
Clang! Clang! The Great Hall's ceremonial bell pealed above the sounds of battle. Used for state dinners and other irritating court customs, its music was not designed to sooth. Rather its purpose in life was to drown out noise. Any noise. It worked well. Wolf turned with the rest of the men to see Jorge Pacarro standing upon a chair wildly ringing the irritating bell. The stunned crowd fell silent.
"Stop this bickering!" Jorge gave a final tug on the bell and then released its cord. "The welfare of the people of Valdeon must be considered first, not which D’Antoiné would be better suited to further your own selfish interests. You call me a barbarian from the West, but it is not I who dishonors the memory of our king and these ancient halls."
Wolf dropped the groveling man to the floor and released the mask. Jorge was right. He was only adding to the violence and dishonor. Resentment from the crowd thundered against Wolf's senses. The Pacarro tribesman’s words had slapped them across the face. Jorge would have many new enemies after today. He hurried to stand beside Jorge, blocking a few of the prince’s more ardent supporters.
"Do you imagine any but the Jalora will decide who rules Valdeon, you great fools? Chancellor Benito will remain in power. And the Lords of Valdeon will enforce his reign. Julian's plotting and planning will not see any of you rise higher within the court." Wolf let his furious gaze connect with each of the prefects. "Now, go and prepare yourselves to mourn our king. Do not test my patience further."
Julian's gaze bore through him from the doorway. The slithering snake had made certain his entourage was well away before the fighting began. He may not have ordered the attack upon Wolf, but Julian most certainly had instigated it. The challenge for battle had been issued. This fight, however, would not be fought like men upon the field of honor. Julian was using his weapons of deception to gain the throne. It would require all Wolf's cunning to win the day. Their country's future was at stake.
Eyes downcast and seemingly repentant, the prefects began to shuffle out of the Great Hall. Dulcina weaved her way between the sulking lords and came to stand beside Wolf. He took her arm, leading her out of the hall. She pulled gently to sl
ow his angry march. He relented, allowing her to keep them at a dignified pace out the door and through the atrium. No one dared follow as she moved him out the door and into the palace gardens. Ignoring the beautiful flowers and shrubs lining the path, he sunk down on a bench under the nearest cherry tree. Dulcina rested her hands upon his shoulders and began rubbing away the tension she found there.
"Damn the entire D’Antoiné family!" he hissed, resting his head in his hand. "Hawk and Leo have both abandoned their duties, leaving that bastard son to lust after Valdeon. They have left our country exposed and weakened."
Oath breaker. He couldn't forget his part in the turmoil. The night Leo had visited, wounded and asking for help, Wolf should have locked him in a room and called the others. Leo may have listened to reason if Cesar were there. He shook his head. No. Leo hadn't heeded anyone's advice for many a year.
"My love," Dulcina wrapped her arms around his neck. "Valdeon has you to keep her strong. Why else would the Jalora grant you such strength and wisdom as its third seat? You have faith in the Jalora, and I have faith in you."
He clutched at her hand. She was his strength and his very heart. "I hope for the sake of our family I don't disappoint the faith you have in me."
"You never have." She came to stand before him and gently rested his forehead to her breast. "Our sons worship their father, and my heart could never be turned from you, my Wolf."
She brought his hand to rest on her belly and smiled at him. "Our new little one will love you as much as the rest of us do."
The happiness flooding his heart washed away Wolf's anger. He smoothed gently over his baby growing inside her. "Our third little blessing will bring much joy."
"You are one baby closer to those ten children you promised me, my love." Dulcina kissed the top of his head. "Now, you see? Everything will right itself. The Jalora will help you find the Lion Ring and its heir. He will rule Valdeon with your wise council, and our family will continue to grow."
Wolf stood and pulled her into his arms. He prayed she was right. Whatever the case, he must stabilize Valdeon until the Jalora was ready to reveal their new king. The future happiness of their family depended upon it.
Chapter Sixteen
Jorge ran his fingers along the empty shelves of the vacant library. Once the Palace of Kings' book collection had rivaled the largest libraries in Andara. Now it stood vacant. Leo must have donated the precious collection to the San Leonora Library. A blessing in disguise. It would give him an excuse to visit the famed establishment while he was in the city. He was aching to find a book on the art of growing hybrid grapevines. The Pacarro family winery was due for a new blend.
A loud creek from ancient hinges echoed down the hall. He doused the light. This was a very old section of the palace. It housed many treasures from Valdeon's history. No one came here anymore except by special permission from the D'Antoiné Family. Despite being a friend to the Lords of Valdeon, it would be awkward explaining his presence in such a treasure trove of history.
Jorge backed into the shadows, waiting with the stillness of long years of training. His people were sometimes called the "Unseen Terror." They could disappear into the landscape and then sneak up upon their enemies, coming within feet of their quarry. It was a matter of pride that they could wear beads in their warrior braids and still not be heard. Other than a ranger in the Jalora Legion, only a Pacarro could move without making the slightest sound.
Three men passed by the darkened door of the library. The tallest was a bald man with a long scar along the back of his head. His short friend scampered alongside of him, regarding the treasures with a greedy eye. Orryo, the outspoken troublemaker, was among them. It was unlikely they had any more permission to be here than Jorge. He remained absolutely still as they crept by. Waiting until they were a little further down the hall, Jorge began to follow. The men were heavily armed. Obviously they weren't here to admire the priceless paintings lining the walls.
"Where did Prince Julian say it was?"
"It's supposed to be in one of these cases. He warned us not to break the glass." Orryo lifted his crystal lantern higher, casting shadows along the walls.
"How are we supposed to get it out then?"
"With the key, you idiot." Orryo held up a large brass key to show his inquisitive friend.
The bastard prince had sent his lackeys on a quest. Jorge, curiosity piqued, moved silently behind them. Orryo motioned to his friends when they stopped before the door of a massive space. Once a secondary dining hall, Leo's father had converted the space into a private family museum. Several glass cases stood in rows about the hall. Each case housed precious historical artifacts and family treasures. Strange. Julian was a son of the D'Antoiné Family. Why would he send these sneak thieves to steal what he could simply take?
Jorge kept to the tapestry-covered walls while they wandered between the rows of artifacts. Orryo finally stopped beside a glass case a few feet in front of Jorge. He gestured excitedly to his friends. They hurried over, their bodies blocking Jorge's view. He wanted to move closer, but cover was sparse among the glass cases.
Orryo leaned to his right for a moment, giving Jorge a brief glimpse inside. The case didn't contain any jewels or golden artifacts upon its shelves. Orryo carefully eased the key into the lock. Then a great whoosh sound burst into the silence of the room as the glass popped open. Jorge caught another unobstructed look at the contents of the case before the men huddled around the open door. Old music boxes and crude metal containers seemed unremarkable to him. Perhaps he'd been wrong about the importance of their quest?
"You take it." Orryo pushed at his bulky companion. "I unlocked the case. Someone else can touch it."
"What's wrong with you fools?" Their shorter friend pushed into the opening. He reached inside the case.
Orryo stopped him. "Have a care. They say magic protects it. Find something to wrap it up in."
Jorge crept closer to the open case as they scattered. The bright glitter of solid gold burst through its blanket of dust. His short burst of breath revealed an oval medallion attached to a heavy chain. Engraved within the gold was a chair with a sphere suspended above it. The image was very similar in nature to the symbol of the Altar of Providence. Only the Crown of Sorrows was missing. He didn't recognize the object, but if Julian wanted it obtained by dishonest means, then it was best protected.
Fast-moving boots echoed close by. Julian would do better to hire quieter thieves in the future. He grabbed the necklace by its chain, careful not to touch the medallion itself. One could never be too careful with magic, as his grandmother used to say. He crouched down behind a particularly dusty case just as the three thieves returned.
Orryo held a piece of fabric most likely ripped from one of the tapestries. Letting out a curse, he pushed aside the remaining artifacts within the case. Suspicious eyes turned back upon his comrades.
"It's gone! Which one of you took it?"
"Someone's over there behind the case. Hey, you there! Stop!"
Jorge ran through the cases in the direction of the door. Orryo gave chase. His two friends had taken rows on either side. It was a race to see who would reach the museum's door first. Their match ended abruptly when the glass case to Jorge's side fell over to block his path. The bulky bald man jumped over the ruined case and its fallen treasures. He pulled his weapon and stood like a human barrier between Jorge and the door. His short friend joined him seconds later. They had him surrounded. Jorge stood his ground with the chain hanging from his hand.
"Give me the Regent Medallion, barbarian." Orryo gripped his sword, waving its tip at Jorge's outstretched hand. "It doesn't belong to you."
Jorge's fingers tightened upon the powerful symbol he held dangling from his hand. Of course Julian wanted this treasure. Any man who wore the Regent Medallion around his neck would rule Valdeon — if there were no lion upon the throne, of course. It all made sense now. What better way to rule Valdeon if the king was dead and you knew the
Lion Ring would never accept you?
The magic within the golden oval chose who would rule in place of the lion. And it didn't necessarily have to be a D'Antoiné. Even a minor landowner and thug could rule their nation if he had the medallion around his neck. The Lords of Valdeon would be bound by honor and duty to uphold his rule. They would have no choice. Any who opposed the new Regent would be called a traitor. He understood now the dangers Valdeon really faced. Hungry ambition began to grow in the eyes of the men surrounding Jorge. Julian may have commissioned Orryo to snatch the Regent Medallion, but the draw of power was sucking in another victim. Julian had competition for the throne.
"This medallion doesn't belong to you, either. It's going to the one man who can keep it safe."
Orryo lifted his wild eyes, taking in the new threat to his ambition. The tip of his sword swung slowly from one rival to the next. Jorge had seen such a look many times. Orryo was ready to kill all of them to take the treasure.
"Do you hunger for the throne as well, barbarian? A Pacarro tribesman as Regent of Valdeon, can you imagine such a ridiculous notion?"
"I am no more worthy to wear this than you are, Orryo. Listen to me. Valdeon's future is at stake. I must take the medallion to Xavier the Wolf. He'll know how to keep it safe."
Jorge chanced a look at the talisman in his hand. It could either save or destroy Valdeon. Magic or no, he must keep it safely out of the hands of Julian and his men. He tucked the medallion inside his shirt. Flinching at the cold metal, he let it rest against his skin. Power began to hum at his side, and a strange warmth grew within his torso. Saying a small prayer to the Erthe Mother, he readied his body for the desperate escape he must make.
"You aren't leaving alive, Ranger Stooge." Orryo's face had taken on a deadly, mad glower. "The Lords of Valdeon are relics like the trinkets in this room. We have no more need of the Sacred Guard or their Lion. The Jalora, if such a thing truly exists, has no place in Valdeon anymore either. It is the dawn of a new era."
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