The Lords of Valdeon

by C. R. Richards

  A thousand questions competed for Wolf's tongue. He settled upon one. "Who is the boy's mother?"

  Can you not guess?

  "Anne Von Wolkhurst, Princess of Tslavia."

  Edmund, the great fool! This child of mixed blood they had made would not be accepted by either of his people. Their old hatred ran deep. It was the ancient tradition of both countries to kill the babes of mixed Valdeonian and Tslavian blood. What hope did this new lion have of bringing peace to Andara? No. It wasn't for him to question the Jalora or its choice. Faith. He must keep his faith.

  "What do you command, Holiness?"

  Edmund plans to bring his son to Andara in the hopes he will take his proper place. We both know the opportunity has passed. Journey to the little island of Marianna in the Grey Cliff Isles. Find the Heir and take him to San Lucida. He will be safe with our faithful western Lords. The being moved to stand before him. Its shimmering body flickered with bursts of yellow and red. You must be swift, Child. The bastard prince and his allies have already set sail. Beware the agents of the Sarcion. They go to find Edmund, but I fear they will discover the Heir. Protect him at all costs, Right-Hand.

  A jolt of energy struck Wolf's forehead and raced down through his body. Flying backward, he landed on the golden seal within the floor at the center of the throne room. The being and the lion were gone when he opened his eyes. Beside the golden throne, the Orb of Valdeon pulsed softly in time with the Heir’s heartbeat.

  Wolf slowly rose to his feet once more, wrapping his arms about his body to stop himself from shaking. Right-Hand. He shook his head. The Bearer of the Wolf Ring always came after the Hawk in service as a member of the Sacred Guard. It was the Hawk Lord of Estabelle who bore the terrible responsibility of Right-Hand to the Master. Books and songs were filled with accounts of the Lion's rage turning against his second-in-command. A gruesome death awaited those fated souls who bore the title of Right-Hand. Xavier gripped his arms tighter, shaking his head at the implications.

  "My Lord De Vincente? Something woke me and I felt drawn here."

  Chancellor Benito shuffled toward him. He'd hastily dressed in a garish crimson robe. The garment's belt trailed behind him as he walked. Still struggling with one of the sleeves, he came to stand beside Wolf. Sleep-filled eyes saw the Orb of Valdeon alive again. Benito lifted a hand tentatively toward the Orb's surface and then let it fall again. Tears, ignored in his shock, fell down old cheeks.

  Boots, headed to join them at a much quicker pace, echoed against the walls of the throne room. Basilio froze beside Wolf. His shock mirrored Benito's stunned silence. He'd had the presence of mind to dress in full uniform and bring his weapon. Ever faithful, Basilio had never let him down before. Wolf was doubly grateful for his service now.

  He gripped his squire, spinning him around. "Cesar Santiago has remained in San Leonora against my wishes. Go fetch him at once. Beat him with your boot if you have to! Tell him I call him to service. Then hurry to my ship and tell the captain to be ready to sail within the half hour. Go now!"

  "Hope has returned." Benito's voice rose above the stomping of running boots.

  Hope. It was something he hadn't expected to feel again. A special lion born once in a hundred years had come among them. And Wolf was to be his Right-Hand. The knot in his stomach squeezed harder. He'd find this young man first, then worry about the rest of their challenges when they were safely in San Lucida.

  "What are you about, Wolf? Telling your squire to beat me with his boot? I couldn't sleep and was halfway to the atrium…" Cesar's thundering stopped when he saw the Orb. "Am I dreaming? Is this true?"

  "Listen carefully, Cesar. I have little time and can only say this once." He took the older man’s face in his hands. "I leave this very moment to join the Heir. We will come to you in San Lucida within a few days’ time."

  "San Lucida?" Chancellor Benito turned sharply toward them. "Why?"

  "The Jalora commands it. Tell no one of plans for his return to Valdeon, my lords. This is a matter of greatest secrecy. Cesar, you must make a believable excuse to return home. No one can suspect we bring the Heir to you."

  "I will leave before sunrise."

  Wolf raced to the door. He'd burst the sails reaching Edmund and the boy before Julian could find them. Above all else, he must keep this fragile bit of hope alive. Valdeon's future depended upon it.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  "Let the Jalora's power guide your body, Seth. Don't resist it." Leo twisted the sword dummy, setting it back into position.

  Seth smoothed a hand along one of the peg arms, admiring his father's cleverness in building the contraption. The wooden surface was holding up well under the beatings from his strikes. In the early days of his training, the dummy had found its mark more often than his body would have liked. The Lion Ring's power had definitely given him the upper hand on his spiky opponent.

  He joined his father beside the water bucket and drank deeply from the ladle. Their times together had developed into an easy and comfortable rhythm. Leo spoke often of Valdeon. His love of home and country shone through with every word. One day, they would journey across its wide open spaces. Father and son.

  Danger. The Lookout.

  The sudden warning reverberated urgently inside his mind. Images of bloodshed and fire flashed before his eyes. Pain. Fear. The innocent victims shared their terror with him from across the fields.

  "What is it?" Leo's words came from a great distance, piercing through the rushing waves within his ears.

  "Something’s wrong. We need to get to the Lookout."

  Leo took Seth's face in his hands and held it. "You have learned to listen to the Jalora quickly, my son. Come, we must run hard."

  Evening was upon them. Darkness brought thieves in the night. The voice had told him so. He pushed on faster, vaguely aware of Leo calling as they passed the farmhouse. Other boots followed them now. Bouncing light dotted the ground beside him. Seth kept his attention forward as they came to the end of the path. He jumped over the small stone wall running along the row and led them through the fields. The shortcut should save a few minutes, but would they be in time?

  Seth came to the top of a knoll. The torches along the Lookout danced upon the horizon. It was a peaceful Marianna night. Had he been wrong? Was the warning a daydream? He gripped the Lion Ring. Perhaps it had reconsidered accepting Seth as its bearer?

  Then the alarm began to wail. He released his breath in a puff of guilty relief. Spurring his boots forward, he ran toward the Lookout. The alarm clamored louder. Raiders. They'd come in great number this time. Torchlight circled around the base of the airship port. He couldn't be sure if their light belonged to the militia or unarmed townsfolk trying to help. Protect. He must protect the innocent. In his urgency, he allowed the gap to widen between him and his father. Leo called to him, but the words were lost among the pealing bells.

  The last rays of sunlight sank into the ocean behind fast-approaching storm clouds. Droplets struck his face and hands as he drew closer to the cliffs. Approaching the battle, shapes turned into recognizable neighbors. Tom Gunn tugged frantically at the warning bell's cord. Two of his volunteers fired muskets into the darkness. Were they mad? The airship port was a short distance away. They could inadvertently hit someone.

  Then he saw their targets. Several dark shapes stalked across the ground. His vision adjusted sharply until he could make out clothing, hair, and even eyes. It was as if Seth was standing next to the men under a noonday sun. The handful of Amity raiders circled around the Lookout. The musket fire stopped abruptly. Tom Gunn and his friends were dead before they could turn around. Haven Bay was left vulnerable for pillaging.

  "Marianna!"

  Seth charged into the crowd of men with drawn sword. Rather than strike at him under open skies, the rats scurried into the darkness and the cover of the airship port's pillars. He followed with a burst of speed, jumping ahead of them to cut off their escape. One of the raiders lifted his fist above
his head. It was a signal. Others, ten strong, crawled out of the darkness. They swung jagged blades toward their prey as they circled about Seth.

  A lion cannot be trapped by rats. Protect the innocent. Punish the guilty.

  Seth stood in their center, waiting in the First Stance. Brandishing their weapons, they came at him in a rush. Then his sword cut through the air. Precise, well-practiced movements sliced along the throats of the first two men. He lifted higher above the ground, dancing through their numbers. Faster and faster he twisted. Pink mist and dark blood painted the pillars about them. Seth did his dance of death until all the rats had fallen about him. His body came to rest in the First Stance.

  Other swords clashed to his side, but he ignored the exchange. His focus rested on the entrance to the Sea Steps. Another surge of raiders streamed out of the opening and flooded the underbelly of the port. They approached him warily as the rain began to pour.

  Seth slowly raised his face. A new kind of power came to him under the pillars of the airship port. His senses extended out past the docks, over the fields and into the stars. Then they fell back into his body, capturing the agelessness he'd found outside himself. Torchlight exploded under the docks as his energy extended outward once more. The raiders fell to their knees before Seth, screaming and holding their hands before their faces.

  "Ranger! Mercy, my lord."

  Seth stood over them, emotionless and indifferent. His memory flashed to the evening when these raiders had tried to steal away an innocent girl. Other nights they'd snatched children away from their parents and harmed the livelihood of the innocent. His fist tightened on the handle of his sword. It would be easy to kill them all. Marianna would never fear its neighbor again.

  A soft memory touched his heart. It was his mother’s wisdom he remembered now. She'd told him many times mercy was a gift from the Creator. It made the difference between a man of honor and a common killer.

  "Go and never return. Be warned. The Jalora Legion knows of you now."

  The raiders scrambled to the Sea Steps. Their boots pounded down the woodened planks toward the ocean. His heart hardened as the last one disappeared into the darkness. He hoped for their sake they would not try to exact vengeance on Haven Bay. He prayed his warning had been enough.

  "Seth!"

  An insolent touch upon his arm brought Seth spinning around. Sword tip inches from the curly redheaded creature's throat, he hesitated. The mortal creature fell to the ground and covered its eyes with trembling arms. Seth heard the horror in its screams, but couldn’t feel pity for the mortal writhing on the ground at his feet.

  "Seth, listen to me." Another mortal approached him with his cloak covering his eyes and his face turned away. "Remove the mask."

  Mask? He touched his face with tentative fingertips. His nose, mouth, and every other defining characteristic had been replaced with a smooth, featureless surface. The magic he'd joined with earlier had taken his face. Fear loosened the hold he had upon the new sense of oneness. The surface of the mask evaporated. His nose and lips returned. Relief brought nervous laughter with it as he poked and squeezed his face. Then he remembered the mortal on the ground. No, the person.

  "Riley?" Seth knelt down beside his friend, pulling Riley’s arms from his face. "Look. It's me. I'm back."

  Peering under his arm, Riley dropped his hands when he was satisfied Seth was indeed real. "What was that horrible thing? It was like looking into the face of death."

  "Indeed it was." Leo helped Riley to his feet and ushered him into Dante's care.

  He gripped Seth’s arm and pulled him away from the crowd of Islander men beginning to gather. His father took up Seth's left hand and stared at the lion's head within his ring. "This is very important. When I put the ring upon your finger, what did you hear?"

  "The Jalora said it had waited for me a very long time. It told me I’d be great and my name would live on for generations." He regarded his father's troubled face. "Is something wrong?"

  Leo's words came in soft Valic. "Seth, you formed a death mask during the battle. Very few rangers are able to achieve this until they have completed their apprenticeship. Did you notice you were able to go up to the tenth movement? I only showed you five, my son. We leave this very night for the Obsidian Citadel where you'll be safe."

  "Tonight? No, Father, I must find my mother's killer."

  "You have a rare gift, Seth. Many people want what you offer. We must make sure your gift is used only for good. Sandor will wait for a time. You have my word. I will request rangers be sent here to hunt him down."

  Inarguable truth added weight to Leo's words. His time on Marianna had come to an end. The yearning for adventure was dwarfed by a new sense of duty and purpose. Now he understood the unknown ranger's words. It was his time. He scanned the faces of the remaining militiamen, watching him in wary silence as he passed them. They were men he'd known all his life. Deep in some instinctive part of their mind, they knew Seth wasn't a part of their people and had never belonged on Marianna. A new element of fear shone in their eyes. He hated seeing it there.

  Leo placed a hand upon his arm, guiding him toward the bench where Dante and Riley waited. His friend was still trembling. What must he have seen when he looked upon the ancient magic? Seth sat down beside him and bumped his shoulder. Riley nodded wordlessly. He kept his eyes on the ground at his feet.

  "Do you still want to be my squire?"

  "Now more than ever. You need me."

  His best friend slid off the bench and kneeled slowly before him. Riley lifted Seth's left hand and lowered his head toward it. He tumbled backward as the lion's head turned to regard him. Then it floated back into its resting position. Seth guessed the animal spirit approved of its new squire.

  Riley came back to a kneeling position and pressed his lips against the stone of the Lion Ring. "I swear to serve you faithfully as your squire, my lord."

  "I accept you, Riley Logan." Seth smiled down at his solemn friend. "Rise, squire. Rise and serve your lord."

  Dante gave a great sniff and nodded with pride. "I knew this day would come, Curl Top. Now, don’t shame me."

  Constable McTavish came down from the docks. His uniform was soaked in blood. One of his sleeves had been torn, and the skin beneath it was raw and bruised. Eyes filled with triumph took in Seth standing beside his father. They dropped to the Lion Ring upon Seth's hand.

  "We've driven the raiders back to the Sea Steps, Ranger. Thanks to you."

  "The Lion is honored to fight in your company, Constable." Leo stepped between them. "You served in the UR Army, yes? I call you to service now. The Lion must be taken to safety. You will tell no one of his whereabouts tonight until we are safely off the island."

  "You have my word." Constable McTavish bowed again. An odd sense of devotion rather than fear was in the constable's countenance. He gave Seth a quick grin and then left them.

  Devotion or fear. The Lion Ring certainly polarized people. He touched a fingertip to the lion's head within the stone of his ring. He'd hoped all the answers he'd sought would be revealed after he became the ring's bearer. Each answer, however, fostered more questions.

  The euphoria of battle faded, leaving Seth drained and somber. The others joined him in his silence as they walked back to the farm. They would be traveling soon, the four of them. Seth had a thousand questions for his father, but they would wait until sunrise. Perhaps he could convince Leo to wait until the morning to leave Marianna. He just wanted to sleep in the comfort of a real home.

  The farm was engulfed in rain and darkness when they reached the top of the little hill. A cheery fire and warm food would soon chase the damp out of their bones. They crossed the muddy yard, and Seth hurried up the wet steps onto the porch. He reached for the door. Leo gripped his wrist. He lowered the small beam of lantern light, exposing muddied boot prints disappearing under the door. A stranger awaited them in the dark emptiness of the farmhouse.

  Leo's sword pulled free from its scabb
ard. He nodded, and Dante swung the door open. It struck the wall with a boom. Wet and stray bits of leaves blustered inside. Some of the rolling leaves fell upon a man's boot. A candle flashed to life. Fergus McCloud’s face glared at them in the low candlelight. Raw hatred burned within the headmaster's eyes. Gone were the walking stick and the limp it once pretended to aid. A lean, agile body with two good legs stepped forward to meet them.

  "Edmund D’Antoiné, you should have stayed dead."

  "Fergus McCloud, so you call yourself now." Leo spat at the headmaster's boots. "Time and weather have scarred you, Pavel Sandor, but hatred has made my vision clear."

  "Your slow wit finally serves you."

  Fergus's perfect articulation had transformed into a heavy Tslavian drawl. Who was this man Seth had spent his childhood fearing? He'd slept under the headmaster's roof, eaten his food, and listened to him read lessons many a night. How could this same man be a murderer?

  "You have put the Lion Ring upon your half-breed finger, I see, whelp." Sandor shook his head. "It was a foolhardy decision, I'd say. The bastard prince will come for you now."

  "Speak to my son again without my permission, and they will find the pieces of your flesh scattered in the fields!"

  "The famous Lion temper." Sandor let an ugly grin spread across his face. "Do you not have the slightest curiosity which of your loyal rangers turned traitor to hide this boy on Marianna? He is Valdeonian, naturally. I'm sure he'll be in touch soon."

  "My son is with his father now. This traitor will answer for what he has done." Leo gently pushed Seth away and lifted the tip of his sword toward Sandor. "Let’s finish this, Sandor, I grow weary of you."

  Sandor stood slowly to meet Leo. They stared at each other for what seemed like an endless and bitterly cold age. Then Sandor pulled his sword in a deadly burst of steel. Leo anticipated him and raised his blade to block the death blow.