The man from the carriage spoke first. "Who's your ranking officer?"
"State your business Mr. Valance," The captain answered.
"It's Lord Valance," he leaned in to make a show of inspecting the Captain's uniform to determine rank, "Captain."
"It is my understanding that you are here to provide security for my visit, correct? Your men have not entered the School have they?" He glanced over at the school main entrance for signs of a breach.
"We are here at the Lord Governors request, Lord Valance." The Captain said, giving the visitors title extra emphasis.
"I have not been instructed to divulge the details of this operation to you. With respect, I ask that you and your men turn around and head back to the city. Once we have accomplished our objectives we will notify the Lord Governor who may then, at his discretion, notify you." The Captain finished.
Lord Valance let a friendly smile creep across his face.
"I admire your strict adherence to orders. I assure you there has been a misunderstanding somewhere in your chain of command. Unfortunately, I do not have the time to work out the errors in your organization. I'm here now with work to do. I must insist."
The Captain let out a raspy chuckle. "Insist what?"
"That you step aside and allow me to do what I came to do."
The captain turned to his first officer. "I think we're done here. Have our guests escorted back to their coach."
"The use of force will be met with consequence, Captain. I would not advise it." Lord Valance explained calmly.
The first officer stopped and turned back to the Captain who replied with an impatient look and a motion to continue. Four nearby soldiers moved to surround the three men.
"As you wish." Lord Valance sighed in frustration. He threw back his overcoat to expose the hilt of a sword strapped tightly at his waist. It clashed strangely with his modern business attire.
"Lord Valance. To draw weapons on the Crown's Special Guard would render you an enemy to the sta..." The Captain fell silent.
Lord Valance had moved his hand to the hilt of his sword. A pattern, etched in the metal, glowed brightly, even in the light of day. He looked back at his two companions.
Lord Barnus's overcoat was already thrown back, his hand already on the hilt of his sword. The same pattern was etched down the handle to the blade. A bright glow trickled down from the hilt in the grooves of the etching.
The four soldiers were frozen in place.
The second companion, Lord Whiting, followed, placing his hand quietly on his sword. A third glow echoed the first two.
The Captain and his group of officers dropped to their knees and grabbed their heads and cried out in pain.
"Tell your friends in the guard we are not to be disobeyed." Lord Valance grunted as he kicked the bent over Captain to the ground.
"Your soldiers will be under Lord Barnus's command. If any of you remain when we return from the school, we will draw our weapons." He stepped over the frozen officers, still bent over moaning. "And you will die."
-
The School Master opened his eyes to the noise of foot steps echoing down the hallway just outside. The broken door squeaked as someone entered. He watched without lifting his head as the legs of a business suit stepped over a shattered bookshelf and kicked aside scattered books.
"Master!" A heavy voice cried.
The school master strained to lift his head. The man in the suit, someone he thought he recognized knelt down beside him.
"How badly are you injured." The man asked as he pulled debris off the School Master's body.
"Valance?" The school master asked, not believing his eyes. The man looked like Lord Valance, his student, but so many years had passed. This man was far too young.
"I can't begin to apologize... They were supposed to provide security for my visit. I don't know why they attacked." Lord Valance tried to explain.
The school master's mind was overwhelmed by a sudden flood of memories; every conversation he'd had with this man when he was still a student, everything that led up to their conflict. "I knew you'd be back someday... I didn't think I'd be this old when you finally came."
Lord Valance's two men clanked into the room. The School Master shifted his weight to look over at them.
"Barnus and Whitting? The three of you stuck together all of these years?" They looked just as impossibly young as Valance did, he thought.
"We didn't come for revenge, Master." Lord Valance explained.
The school master paused to study their faces. Was he right to judge them so quickly? So much time had passed. He had no idea who they'd become. Yet forgiveness had a price. He had so much to protect, so much at risk.
"I will do everything in my power to stop you from taking it. You must know that." He told them with as much strength as he could pull together. To add emphasis to his words, he struggled to push himself up enough to rest on his elbows.
"Master, please. You assume the worst of us. That's not why we're here."
"Then what do you want from me." He questioned.
"I'm no longer the angry young boy that left here so many years ago. I've come to regret, rather deeply, the way I ended our relationship. The memories are... an embarrassment."
At least they agreed on that. The events were an embarrassment to both. The School Master thought. Never had he been so grossly humiliated by a student to whom he had bestowed so much trust. That trust ended in the breaking of a sacred oath. True, it was the boy, not he, who broke his covenant with the school and the order. Yet he held himself just as accountable. The boy was his responsibility.
He had left for his monthly trip to the mountains to perform his duties. The young Valance must have followed him into the woods. He must've been there hiding in the trees watching him when he took the Token from his cloak and opened the path.
That path was visible only to the holder of the Token. So he gave little thought to preserving its secrecy path. He never thought he'd be followed.
At the end of the path, below the gray peaks of mountain range that separated the Zoen lands from the Petra and Botann, a majestic white building rose up out of the mountain wilderness.
He had always paused for a moment as he came through the trees to take in the beauty of the Temple, the Temple of the Order of the Reds. It was the only one in existence, that he knew of.
"You went where you were not invited and took what you were not given!" The School Master accused.
"Yes, yes I did." Lord Valance admitted.
It wasn't enough that valance had followed him to the temple. He was seen hours later returning to the school ground with a sack of weapons and armaments.
He stole from the temple!
The School Master looked up at Lord Valance. "I follow the same rules I asked you to follow? I go nowhere unless invited and take nothing that is not given. It is their decision. And to you, they did not give."
The School master had remembered pushing through a crowd of students that had gathered in the commons. He found Valance at the center of the crowd standing over his loot of weapons trying to stir up the students with his stories of secrecy and oppression. He had wanted to shows the students what was being kept from them, how they were being held back.
The School Master had expected their confrontation to be abrupt. He expected the young Valance to back down, admit his error and accept punishment. Instead, the boy bent over, picked up a sword, removed it from its sheath and held it up as a threat.
The mass of students crowding around them took a step back in reaction, not just from the young Valance's aggressiveness, but from the weapon. The blade that he had unsheathed was moving, or rather, flowing as though it were made of a black liquid. It's entire length radiated a halo of darkness.
The situation had progressed into the most horrific possibility he could've imagined. Violence was something he abhorred. Violence against a child, a student, was unthinkable.
As the boy stood there holding th
is dangerous weapon, his glare fixed on his target, the outcome became clear. The school master slipped his hand into his cloak. In that moment, all thought pushed out of his mind, all that was left was instinct.
The boy lunged.
The School Master stepped aside to dodge the blow, slipped the dagger from under his cloak and put it to the boy's throat. "Put it down," He had commanded.
His short blade shined with a blinding light, filling the room. He remembered the look on Valance's young face as his resolve finally began to weaken. He dropped the tip of his sword.
The awful ordeal was over; he thought. Until another young boy stepped out of the crowd and picked up a weapon from the pile under Valance's feet. He unsheathed it and held it against the school master. An instant later he was followed by another boy.
"Let him go!" The boy shouted.
Their tone was insult enough without the weapons they held up against him. He should’ve know the young Valance would not have acted entirely without support.
The School Master dropped his dagger from Valance's neck and stepped back.
"Leave now!" Were the last words he uttered to any of them. Apparently their fates had been sealed together ever since.
He looked up and considered the aged face of his old student. How much of that angry little boy was left, he wondered.
"I've come to ask forgiveness." The aged lord Valance pleaded.
The School Master regarded him for a moment then took the Lord's hand. He pulled back the strong fingers to reveal the center of his palm. A black mark appeared in his skin, as if the fancy embroidery from the hilt of a sword had been branded onto his skin.
The School Master let out a sigh of disappointment.
"As I feared."
Lord Valance stared at his own palm, stunned.
"Forgiveness? You still have the mark of the weapon on your hand. How long has it been since you've used it? A day, two?"
The School Master dropped Valance's hand. The mark disappeared.
"I..."
Valance looked up at his old Master then back at Whitting, bewildered. He regained his composure.
"We had no idea what it was that we took. Their power... It’s more than we anticipated. We came back to ask... we need... help."
The School Master leaned towards him. "Bring me the swords!"
"If only it was that easy." He shifted his weight. "As you said. One or two days is the most I seem to be able to be apart from it."
"What you've done cannot be undone with a wave of the hand. Bring me the swords and I will help you endure the pain that will come. And I promise you this temporary suffering will pass and in return you will find... rest."
"I understood there was another way."
The School Master shook his head. "The Token cannot help you now. To use it to find them would only seal what's been done."
"But the writings say..."
"Valance," Lord Whiting interrupted.
Lord Valance turned. Lord Whiting pushed open the false door in the back of the room revealing the passageway.
Several sets of foot prints marked a trail in the dust covered stone floor.
Lord Valance hurried to his feet and rushed to the back of the room, knocking over a shattered table in his haste. He stopped himself with the stone wall surrounding the passageway and turned back to the school master.
"What is this?"
Lord Barnus stepped into the room. "Valance, the Soldiers reported a man and two children running from the outer wall."
"There is one way and one way only. Bring back the swords!" The School Master shouted.
Valance eyed his old master. Then turned to Barnus.
"Bind his wounds. Keep the soldiers here. Whiting and I'll go after the man and children."
He motioned for Whiting to follow him as he charged down the passageway. Lord Barnus, alone with the school master, climbed over the debris and stood over him.
"Lets just say, I don't share Valance's affection for the past."
He pulled his overcoat back over the hilt of his sword and drew the dark blade.
-
Lord Valance and Lord Whiting raced down the dark stone passage way. The tunnel turned sharply before ending at a large stone door. They pushed it open and found themselves on the outside of the outer wall of the school. The grassy pasture rose up into gently rolling hills to the south.
On the top of one of those hills. Nemic, carrying a wooden chest, paused in his flight to look back at them. Lord Valance smiled. Upon seeing them, Nemic took off at a full sprint.
-
Nemic ran to the edge of the cliffs and looked down over the edge at the sea below. A blur of panicked thoughts raced through his mind. What were his options? What should he do? He'd been fortunate enough to elude them this long. But how much longer could he count on his luck? Should he continue running along the coast to the west? Could he evade them? Or would he just end up putting the Token in their hands? Could he risk that? Even at the expense of his own survival?
He opened the small wooden chest and took out the tightly wrapped bundle inside. As he unwrapped it, fold by fold, a soft, pale glow cast beams of reddish white light through the misty air.
He pulled back the final fold and revealed the source of the glow. He had always thought that someday he might inherit the right to hold the Token, to see it with his own eyes. But now, under these circumstances, the impact of seeing it horrified him. It meant the previous Keeper of the Token was dead.
He stared at the perfect beauty of its carved form, resembling a shrunken tree with a ball of roots at its base and a slender bird wrapped around its trunk. He had never known what it looked like, only its function and importance. And now, he would've given anything to have this honor, seeing it first hand, take from him. Everything about his possession of it meant that something had gone wrong.
The clomping of horses in full gallop peaked above the roar of the sea below. Nemic turned abruptly.
A tight pack of black horses raced across the black rock of the cliffs towards him. The men on the horses held their swords above their heads ready to strike.
The blood drained from his face. His time was up. There would be no escape.
He turned back to the ocean and held up the figurine in front of him. Its beautiful, he thought, as it glowed softly in the evening light.
He glanced back at the horsemen bearing down on him, only moments away.
"God forgive me!" He whispered.
He pulled the Token back and threw it as hard as he could over the edge of the cliff, doubling himself over with the effort. The wind caught it as it fell, pushing it further out into the sea.
With a cacophony of screaming men and clacking hooves, the swarm of horses over took him.
R aj Handers pushed through the over sized hospital room door; his heavy leather work apron swung in behind him. He had a habit of forgetting to take it if off after work. Not that he made much of an effort to remember. His physical appearance had slipped far from the top of his concerns. He was sure he was breaking some sort of social code of conduct to be seen publicly in work clothes, given his standing. But then, it wasn’t his own reputation that would be called into question. It’d be his in laws. He was sure if they saw him in his work apron he’d hear all about it.
Rinacht struggled through the door after him, balancing a small stack of books in each hand. His small Petra form and formal servant attire contrasted harshly against Raj, his much larger Zoen employer. Petra weren’t small. Rinacht, though, had been the blessed recipient of exceptional genetics. He was small and exceptionally so. In his own land, it had been a peculiarity. Odd, but not enough to stop you in the street. Here, though, he was a peculiar variety of an almost non existent breed. There were almost no other Petra here, and the few that were, were large and intimidating. To see a miniature one? That was enough to stop you in the street.
"We got you some new books!" Raj said as he circled around to the back of the hospital bed tha
t filled most of the room.
"Yes, we..." Rinacht lifted the stack still in his arms to emphasize the word, "brought you all that we could carry."
Emret looked up from a weathered old green book he had spread out over the bed covers next to him and sat back against a pillow. "Hey dad, Rinacht."
Emret was just crossing into those awkward teenage years. Raj was having a hard time seeing him as anything other than how he’d always seen him - as his little boy. Only now he was stretched out a little funny. And he seemed to disagree with him a lot more than he used to.
The boy's attractive young Botann nurse closed the book softly and stood. "Hello Mr. Handers." She greeted him with something slightly more than a friendly smile.
Moslin was beautiful. The Botann were a beautiful people. There was no question about that. They weren't hunched over fury messes like the Zo, or cold unforgiving clumps of mass like the Petra. No. They were slender, elegant. Their skin was a smooth creamy green that flowed in graceful, long curves with only the thinnest hint of fuzz. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like not to have to deal with his thick pelt.
Emret picked up the book they had open and put it on his lap. They'd been reading it together... again, Raj thought, as he returned the smile. He took her hand and bowed slightly. "Miss Moslin."
Despite the annoyance of her continual disregard for his desire that she not read that particular book to his son, he couldn't help but smile when she was in the room.
"What happened?" Emrett asked, a bit surprised.
"What?" Handers leaned to the side to see his boy around the lovely Moslin. He followed the boy's glance down to his apron. The thick leather had long gouges cut down its full length. It appeared as though a large set of claws had raked across it a few times.
"Oh. The Attly Clan's bears. They've become a little aggressive lately, stopped responding to clan issues. I've had to work with them all week."
He leaned over by his son and kissed him on the forehead. "How you feeling today?"
"Fantastic." Emret answered dryly.
Red Leaves and the Living Token Page 2