Red Leaves and the Living Token - Book 1 - Part 1

by Benjamin David Burrell

  Valance hurried down the stone steps that led to the tunnels under his property. He used them to move between buildings without giving away his location. Sometimes a small investment in discretion could pay large dividends. It was also a convenient place to store things of a more sensitive nature. He wouldn’t want his housekeeper, for instance, cleaning the room he was about to enter.

  He unlocked the thick door and pulled it open. A quick round with his lamp to light the gas lights brought the room to full brightness. The green walls were lined with an assortment of old and rusted weapons; spear tips with broken shafts, axes with partially intact blades, armor with plates so corroded they were more holes than metal.

  It depressed him every time he came here. Once, these had been the most carefully crafted weapons he’d ever had the privilege of using. The speed of their decay was remarkable and disturbing at the same time. He wasn’t sure what it would mean for him but guessed it wasn’t good.

  Fortunately, his own life had not been unnaturally shortened. Quite the opposite. Since the day he acquired them his body had remained comfortably fit, healthy and - young.

  While they’d slowly decayed over the time he’d had them, he’d been preserved. What would happen when there was nothing left of them? Would he start to age normally again? He frowned at the thought.

  He moved to the back of the room and opened a black wooden case. The inside was lined with red velvet. Sitting in the velvet was a sword in the same state of decay as the rest of the weapons.

  This was his favorite. It was the one he actually cared about losing. Of course he had done everything he could think of to prevent or even delay its decay, but nothing seemed to help preserve it. Oil rubs, cleansing solutions, polishes of every kind, dry storage, wet storage, cool, heat, all did nothing. Thinking about it brought back feelings of desperation. Everyday meant there was less of them.

  He took the sheath and tied it around his waist and slid the blade in. The mark on the palm of his hand glowed faintly as he released the handle. Its brightness had faded along with the weapons. Now it was hardly visible at all.

  -

  House Lord Valance, draped in a flowing purple robe, stood in the center of a vast chamber. Hundreds of Zoen Senators filled rows of cherrywood desks that stepped in tiers to the back of the room. Opposite the rows, a single Senator sat on an elevated bench with a gavel in his hand. His face was covered with straight white fur that was so thin and scraggly it would’ve looked better had he just shaved it off.

  Valance dreaded the sight of him, Speaker Fiffe. It seemed he tried to make any and every issue discussed in the senate into something more complicated than it was, as though his relevance as speaker depended on how well he could use any particular issue to wage a popularity war with the clans that opposed him. If he wasn’t constantly winning that battle, well, then what was the point of him being speaker?

  Speaker Fiffe addressed Valance. “Am I correct in my understanding, House Lord Valance, that you authorized the wide spread deception of the people regarding the dilution of the people's Manea supply on two separate occasions. And if so by what authority did you take this action?”

  Valance answered, “Mr. Speaker, I'm sure you've studied the situation, and are aware of the implications...”

  One of the Senators on the first row interrupted, “It’s rather convenient that this is coming to light at the same time that we’re to vote whether or not to extend the Manea industry’s rather generous incentives.”

  Valance turned to see who’d interrupted. “Ladies and Gentlemen of the Senate, I am not here to discuss financial assistance to my industry. I am here to inform you of a crisis that is currently developing across the world and in our own nation. We are dealing with unprecedented events that have caused and will continue to cause greater and greater disruptions in worldwide Manea production. These events are unlike anything we've encountered before.

  “Our great Nation has grown and expanded faster than any of us could’ve imagined. We, as a great and numerous people, cannot survive without a plentiful and inexpensive supply of Manea. Plentiful and inexpensive is what has allowed us to become what we are today.”

  He studied their faces to measure their reaction, then continued, “Ladies and Gentlemen of the Senate, we no longer have that plentiful supply. Every man, woman, and child must eat. Every animal of every clan must eat! Not only are we facing a severe reduction in supply, we are facing demand that is not only greater than ever but endlessly growing. I am not here to cause unnecessary alarm or panic. This was kept private for that very reason, until we had done everything in our power to address the problem, to understand fully what we were up against.”

  Speaker Fife interrupted, “With what right have you withheld this information from us?”

  Valance turned back to the speaker. “This is a worldwide phenomenon and not at all limited to my company. You’re own internal agencies have said nothing? I am certain many of you in this room have known of this for a long while. My purpose today is to bring this issue out of the dark. It must be dealt with, and we must have the participation of all - including the public!”

  The crowd of Senators stirred. A subtle roar of discontent filled the room.

  Valance raised his voice to speak over them. “We have done everything possible to stop the shrinking production. That is our business. We're losing money, and we haven’t been able to do anything about it. We are developing alternative solutions, of course, as I’m sure every other large scale Manae producer is. But they will take time to implement. Ten, possibly twenty years. In the meantime, we must turn to the one thing that we can control. Our consumption. Senators, we must cut back. We must ask the public to make sacrifices.”

  “Sacrifices?” The Lord Speaker interjected. “And who will determine these sacrifices?”

  A Senator on the second row stood. “Who'll ensure that these sacrifices will be evenly distributed amongst the houses and clans?”

  Valance answered, “It won't be evenly distributed. It can’t, we…”

  The room erupted into a cacophony of angry voices.

  Valance tried to continue, yelling over them. “Please! Please!”

  Hundreds of voices shouted over the top of each other. Valance reached up to the Lord Speaker’s bench grabbed a gavel and banged it repeatedly. The unorthodox behavior worked. The room quieted.

  Valance regaining their attention, continued, “This is the way it must be done!”

  The Lord Speaker interrupted, “It is not the House Lord Valance’s privilege to dictate what this Senate will or will not do!”

  The room broke out in angered shouts.

  Valance rushed up to the half wall separating him from the first row of Senators, jumped over the wall and climbed up onto the closest desk. With his hands raised, he yelled as loud as he could, “Quiet! Please!”

  The room again subdued into a gentle roar.

  Valance continued. “We have two options. We can allow market forces to dictate who can and cannot buy Manea. As you know, with anything in limited supply the only ones who will have access to it are those with sufficient means. If only those with sufficient means have it and all others are left on their own, who will tend the animals? Who will run the streetcars? Who will keep food coming into the city and water flowing out of our pipes? Without Manea, the entire working class will be lost. Now you tell me, is that a working strategy? Should we allow those with money to hoard and waste while the rest of the population descends into madness? Those with money would not survive such a scenario any more than the rest of us.

  “The second option is to appoint a committee to manage the distribution of Manea, thus allowing us to maintain operation of vital services. Not all houses and clans carry the same weight in terms of our survival. Some hold strategic positions that can't be compromised. Others must step back to let the others survive. However unpleasant or unpopular, the facts cannot be changed. We must set our emotions aside and let our reason dictate. I
t'll be horribly unfair. It'll be the most awful thing we've ever had to do. But in the end we will pass through this, and we will survive.”

  He paused. “Or, if we do nothing we will all die.”

  The room dropped into silence. “We simply no longer have enough for everyone.” Valance said quietly.

  He scanned their faces for their reaction. One outburst triggered an explosion of yelling and screaming.

  “This is your solution?” Someone shouted from the first row.

  “Kill half the population to save the other half?” Another yelled nearby.

  “…Unacceptable! You're insane! Dangerous!” came shouts from the back.

  The Lord Speaker stood and pounded his gavel. After a moment, the roar calmed enough for him to speak.

  “And who, Lord Valance, would you propose to head this committee? You? Is that what this about?”

  Valance turned and answered, “I offer my experience with the production and distribution of Manae as well as with managing consumption rates. I have a plan to reduce the overall national consumption to fit within the limits of supply until we’re able to provide an alternative. If that is of use to the Senate, I will serve.”

  Again, the room erupted in an explosion of shouts from the body of Senators. The Lord Speaker stood up and pounded his gavel to no effect. The Senators refused to quiet themselves.

  Lord Valance turned back to the general assembly, surveying the angry mob shouting at him from behind their desks. Each trying to be heard over the cries of the others. He shook his head in frustration. He was afraid the time had come. He knew what he had to do, yet, his hand stayed motionless at his side. Something deep nagged at him to resist. But what other choice did he have? They wouldn’t listen to logical argument. And even then, he could see they agreed to the need for action and the problem with inaction. They mocked and scorned his solution simply because they disliked the one presenting it? He couldn’t allow this.

  He moved his hand to the hilt of his sword. With the touch of his open palm on the engraved metal, a cool mist rolled out from his body, hitting the ground then swelling up and out over the crowd. As the mist expanded, he could feel the minds of the Senators. He could feel their intense anger, their bitterness, their fear. He could see their distrust of him.

  He focused on that fear and pushed. If he could suppress it long enough for a vote, perhaps they could move forward. He pushed harder, with the absolute concentration that his years of experience with these tools had given him.

  But their minds did not react. The mist that he had spread out over them lost cohesion. Then it was gone.

  His mind snapped back to the confines of his own thoughts, his own body. His hand was still on the hilt of his sword. How was this possible? He hadn’t broken connection with the sword. Yet… He lifted his palm. The insignia, etched into the skin of his palm that had once glowed brightly any time he’d used the weapon, was now dark.

  His tool of last resort had failed.

  He hopped off the desk, turned his back to the Senators and walked towards the exit door of the chamber.

  “Where are you going?” The Lord Speaker demanded. “The general body has not excused you? Do you hear me?”

  -

  Valance’s mind reeled in confusion as he processed what had just happened. He tried to assess where he stood and what his next action should be. But nothing seemed clear. His worst fear had just been realized. The weapons were now useless. Of course, he’d been aware of the decline in their effectiveness over the years. He started phasing out their use years ago for that reason, hoping to save them for when they were absolutely necessary. It’d been over a decade now since he’d last had to use them. Thus, he imagined it’d be years to come before their potency was entirely lost. By that time, he hoped they’d have found the Token.

  Could they really have diminished sitting in his dark storage as much as they might have strapped to his waist? It seemed impossible. Yet what other explanation was there? The power was gone. He and his companions were left naked, without advantage.

  The Token must be found, immediately, he thought.

  Barnus and Whiting waited in the thick crowd that clogged the hallway outside the Senate chamber. Valance grabbed and pulled them down an empty hallway.

  “What have you found concerning the Token?”

  Barnus, caught off guard by the sudden intensity, stammered out an answer, “Nothing yet.”

  “What do you mean nothing?” Valance looked dangerous.

  Whiting jumped in. “We haven’t been able to confirm the sighting. We have two targets identified and confirmed, whom we’ve been watching for several days. Neither has exhibited any unusual activity yet.”

  “We can’t watch and wait this time. Take me to the first target.” Valance demanded.

  “Of course.”

  Barnus put a hand on Whitings shoulder to stop him, “If we spook them and they do have it, they won’t use it, they’ll just bury it somewhere.”

  “You don’t think I’ve thought about that…” Valance snapped.

  “House Lord Valence, if I might have a word.” A large Zo, with neatly trimmed fur and an impressively long jaw, stepped up behind them. He wore a decorated shirt top that hung halfway down his chest and exaggerated his shoulders.

  Valance turned and stared at the man without reply. He recognized the face immediately. It was, Manthis, one of the prominent active Generals. After what had happened in the Senate, he had a decent idea what this man wanted. Most likely a personal threat of some sort would be given at the request of one of the Senators. Now that he had lost favor with the majority he and his views were a liability. They should’ve left the building and conversed about the Token elsewhere.

  “What can I do for you General Manthis?”

  “There was one thing that was not addressed in the chamber, which I was hoping I might now ask you. Have you thought about the foreign policy implications of this supply crunch?”

  “Of course. We’ve taken foreign pressure into account in our usage reduction calculations. We’ve estimated supplies for the next ten to fifteen years based on what we think the other nations will be using.”

  “And how have you come to your conclusions on what share of the total Manea the other nations will be using?”

  “We assumed they would be taking their own reduction measures.”

  “And what if they don’t?”

  “Well, we’d have some foreign policy problems.”

  “Let me ask you this Lord Valance, what would happen to this supply and demand issue if we stopped exporting Manea.”

  “We don’t really export anything. Most of the orchards we operate are already across the borders. If we stopped selling Manea from those orchards to the Bota, they’d just nationalize them.”

  “Now hypothetically, what if they weren’t able to nationalize them? What if we held on to all your current orchards and used the production entirely for our own people. How would that change the picture, domestically?”

  “That’s a big if. Our orchards are spread out all over Botan territory, and a few are across the Petra border. We’d be talking all out war.”

  “The question is hypothetical of course.” added the General.

  “We run two thirds of the world’s orchards. If we maintained all of that production for our own use, there’d be no domestic supply problem. Not for the next twenty years at least.”

  “Thank you for your time. Would you be willing talk this over in greater detail with some of my colleagues?”

  “Of course”

  He had no intention of doing so. This man was clearly delusional, and any further conversation would be looked on with great disfavor by his foreign friends. Foreign friends who currently granted him the right to grow his product on their land. How could he know more about foreign military strength than a Zo general?

  One thing was certain, in any war scenario, he’d be the first to lose. He and his orchards would quickly become the tar
get of all three nations.

  If he could’ve talked the Senate into a plan of demand reduction, he would’ve stood a reasonable chance of getting the Bota and Petra to follow suit. Without war his orchards would stay under his control. He could potentially control the Manea consumption in all three nations. With that he’d have power over the infrastructure and vital systems of all three. He could find ways to integrate them and reduce a great deal of redundancy and waste. A coordinated and collaborative effort would ultimately result in a united three. The advantages of such a union were staggering. The resources of Petra made freely available to the innovations of the Zo all fueled by the extraordinary land cultivation of the Bota. All the current walls inhibiting progress would effectively be torn down.

  None of that seemed likely now.

  At least, not without help.

  -

  Valance’s black carriage arrived outside an old stone Botan church, the home of his old friend Bedic. He was actually a bit surprised that Bedic ended up being the first target. They’d been watching him for almost his entire life. And yet, after all this time, he’d never led them anywhere useful. He’d almost given up, figuring, if Bedic was going to find something he would have found it by now.

  That brought him back to the second target. It must have something to do with this Raj Handers. He needed to find out what Raj and Bedic had to do with one another. Why did they meet recently, and what was the nature of the visit? His guess was that Raj found something and brought it to Bedic for some sort of consultation. But how he’d know to bring it to Bedic was a mystery.

  -

  Bedic sat at his desk, his mind deep inside the pages of a large book opened in front of him. He pushed back the leafy tendrils that had fallen down over the book. Sinesh, sitting on her knees, shifted a puzzle piece back and forth, trying to fit it into a half assembled puzzle spread across the stone floor.

  An unexpected knock on the door snapped Bedic’s attention away from the book. He and Sinesh both looked at the door.

  A young Botan Cleric poked his head in, “Master Cleric, you have some visitors. They're rather...” He looked over at Bedic's granddaughter with raised brow. “Insistent.”

  Bedic closed his book. “Hun, I think its time for Bed.” He waved the young Cleric into the room. “Would you take her back to my quarters?”

  “I'm not done, Grandpa.”

  The young Cleric knelt down by the girl. “Come on sweetie.” He gestured towards the door as he tried ushering her out of the room.

  “I’m not done, its gonna get messed up!”

  “I’ll make sure no one touches it. Good night dear,” Bedic said with a smile.

  She made a frustrated grunt then followed the young Cleric out of the room. He waited for her then closed the door behind them.

  A moment later the door opened again. Three large, well dressed, Zoen men entered. They held themselves further upright than most Zo and looked like the type that came to discuss potential investments to add to the churches portfolio. As soon as Bedic saw their faces, he knew that wasn’t why they’d come.

  The man in the middle stepped forward.“Good Evening Master Cleric Verdu. I hope we aren’t catching you at an inconvenient moment. We were looking for someone and hoped you might be of assistance.”

  Bedic didn’t stand to greet them.

  “I am the House Lord Valance and these are my associates Lord Barnus and Lord Whiting. I won’t…”

  “I know who you are.” Bedic interrupted.

  Bedic’s mind flooded with memories. Flashes of a struggle. Bookshelves knocked to the ground. Swords drawn. Blood. His father! A dark pressure swelled inside him. It felt as though his skin was stretching, boiling from the inside. His brow beaded with drops of sweat. His old body twitched uncontrollably. In that moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to see the three men in front of him die.

  “It would appear that you do,” answered Valance.

  Bedic’s frail body trembled more violently. He tried to control his thoughts, thoughts where his hands wrapped around Valance’s thick neck, or where he took the dagger from the top drawer in his desk and ran it through Valance’s heart. The images came, and he could do nothing to stop them.

  Valance stepped further into the room. “Might I offer that we did not kill your father? He threw himself off a cliff in order to prevent us from retrieving what he had stolen from us. We had no intention of depriving him of his life. Killing would not have served our purpose.”

  Bedic spoke, slowly, trying to steady the tremble in his voice. “And my grandfather? Did he throw himself off a cliff as well?” More memories of that day flooded his mind. He was just a child, but he could still remember the day his father was killed, the day his grandfather died, the day his mother took them away from their home, the day Lord Valance visited their school.

  Valance cut a disapproving glance at Barnus. “I’m truly sorry for your loss Master Cleric. It was an awful outcome of a most unfortunate day. I didn’t kill the School Master. I promise you. In fact, I had come to seek his council. Unfortunately, there were other parties involved that led to some complications. It was not my intention to cause harm to anyone.

  “You are right to your anger. My interest in them, however inadvertent, did lead to the death of both men. But that is not why we’re here today. You can trust that I would not have come, given our history, if it were at all avoidable.”

  Bedic listened to him speak and watched him take another step towards his desk. He tried to calm his mind. He forced his body to relax, unclenched his fist and sank forward a little. He wanted to give the impression that Valance’s attempt at an apology was working. Meanwhile, he slipped his right hand into his top drawer and felt his way through the clutter until his fingertips felt the cold metal of his dagger.

  With his other hand he gripped the soft bark of the snap vine that ran along the outer lip the desk. It was there to make quick, but small, adjustments depending on need. The main structure of the desk was adjustable as well but extremely slow. It could take him the entire day to modify the over-all height or width. The snap vines, on the other hand, would accept a new shape in a matter of minutes.

  As his palm merged into the bark he could feel the placement of the long snaking vine, looping the top of the desk and then dropping into a weave along the side. He created a new picture of its shape in his mind and focused.

  Valance continued, “Our country finds itself in a bit of a predicament. There’s something that we’re looking for that we believe would prevent things from escalating. If we’re not able to find it,” Valance took another step forward, “it would mean war.”

  Bedic watched Valance’s feet as he took three casual steps closer, bringing him within a foot of the desk, just within striking distance. Bedic could feel the snap vine assume the new form he held in his mind. If Valance kept still a moment longer he’d be able to coil it around one of Valance’s legs. Bedic brought the knife as close as he could to the front of the drawer. His heart pounded furiously as he deliberated.

  “Will you help us?” Valance asked.

  The snap vine finished its last wind and tightened. Valance looked down at his leg and pursed his lips. Bedic snapped the knife out of the drawer and lunged at Valance’s heart. The adrenalin made him feel like a projectile shooting through the air at its target. He watched in slow motion as the tip of his blade approached the soft fabric of Valance’s suit.

  Bedic’s momentum shifted, the knife stopped and he fell downward. Then pain. He looked back. His arm, twisted unnaturally, probably broken, was pinned to the table by a large furry hand. He collapsed onto the desk as the shock overtook him. How could he have been so stupid? Why did he think he’d be fast enough?

  Valance’s face soured. He kicked his foot free of the snap vine. “Thank you Barnus.” He took the knife out of Bedic’s arthritic old hand.

  Whiting pinned down Bedic’s other arm.

  “Aaah,” Bedic cried.

&n
bsp; Valance poked the tip of Bedic’s knife on Bedic’s nose, not quite hard enough to break the skin. “Most unfortunate.”

  Bedic strained against the two large men. They held his head and chest flat against his cluttered desk. He could feel a stabbing pain from something underneath cutting into him. “Please!” he begged.

  Valance twisted the tip of the knife playfully. “I had hoped we’d find a mutually beneficial outcome to our reunion after all these years. We help you, you help us. I see that was a bit unrealistic of me to expect. The most we could hope for now is to avoid a repeat of the same dreadful tragedy suffered by you and your family the first time we met. You have a daughter now, do you not?”

  “Please,” Bedic begged. “What do you want?”

  “The man who visited you a day ago, Mr. Raj Handers, what do you know of him? Tell us everything.”

  Bedic’s voice wavered, it was raspy, starting to go. He could smell the intense, salty odor of his own blood. He felt it dripping down his chest under his tunic.

  “He came here looking for his missing son. He thought he might have been with my daughter. She works in the hospital. She was the boy’s nurse. He thought she might have taken him.”

  “Taken him? Now why would he think that?”

  “My daughter and the man’s son both disappeared at the same time. Right after an argument. The man and my daughter disagreed on some terms of care for the boy.”

  “Did she take him?”

  “I don’t know. It’s possible.” Bedic wheezed. Lord Whiting let him up slightly.

  “Where would they have gone?”

  Bedic took a deep breath. He didn’t want to answer that. He tried to think of some possible answers that wouldn’t give her away. “Argh…”

  Lord Barnus twisted his injured arm further. The pain cascaded down his spine.

  “She would’ve taken him to Shishkameen!”

  “Why?”

  “She thinks she’ll find something there that’ll heal the boy.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Red Leaves,” Bedic whispered.

  Valance laughed. “She thinks the Red Leaves is still there? Why would she think that?”

  “Because I taught her through her childhood that it was still there.”

  “Why?”

  “I wanted her to have something concrete to believe in. Something tangible. And…” He paused to think of how to phrase his response. “I wanted her to be proud of who she was and where she came from. It's not easy growing up different from everyone around you. A Botan in a Zoen country doesn’t make for an easy childhood.”

  “Interesting,” Valance added. “Well perhaps, we should go find her.”

  That’s what Bedic was afraid of. “She doesn’t know anything. She’s acting on a stupid lie that I told her as a child and never corrected as an adult.”

  “And what of this Raj fellow? Did he believe your daughter? Was he interested in finding Red Leaves?”

  Bedic thought carefully about how to answer. He didn’t want anyone to get hurt. “He forbid my daughter from reading stories from the Old Books to his son. I don’t think they shared the same beliefs.” He struggled. If he said nothing more, Lord Valance and his mercenaries would probably go after his daughter instead of Raj. And what would they do to her once they found her? The thought filled his heart with dread.

  “Yet…” He paused for a breath. “He was particularly interested in a certain book while he was here.”

  “Which book?”

  Whiting let the old man sit up enough to point out. Valance followed Bedic’s trembling outstretched hand to a large book sitting on a pedestal. He closed it to see the cover. It was covered in green leather with an image of the Token engraved in the center.

  Valance spun back to Whiting and motioned for them to go. “Tie him up!” He looked at Bedic before heading out the door. “Let’s go find them, shall we?”

  -

  Sinesh stuck her head out past a heavy wooden door that she had cracked open and scanned the hallway for adults. Nothing in either direction. She had heard some yelling and loud banging. She’d never seen a Cleric yell before and thought that might be kind of fun to see.

  She tiptoed into the hallway towards the noises. A muffled voice echoed off the stone walls from around a corner. "Stay away from her! She doesn't know anything about this!” It was her Grandpa. She’d never heard him raise his voice like that. Her tiptoeing turned into a quiet run.

  She heard another voice from the same place, but this one was much younger. “Well, It wouldn't hurt to ask her, would it?” It didn’t sound like any of the Clerics she knew.

  She stopped at the corner of the hallway and listened. The loud clomping of boots echoed off the walls. It sounded like there was a bunch of people. And they were leaving.

  She peaked around the corner. “Gah!” She covered her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Her Grandfather, tied at the hands and feet, lost his balance and tipped over. A large Zoen man grabbed the cord around grandpa’s feet and dragged him down the hallway. Sinesh pulled her head back around the corner.

  She could feel her heart racing inside her chest. It was telling her what to do. Grandpa needed her, so she had to help! She waited until she could barely hear their footsteps then turned and followed them down the hallway.

  -

  Emret watched the massive columns of the Botan Clan’s palace as they grew from small sticks in the distance to great towers above them. Moslin pushed his wheelchair at a quick pace. He didn’t think she liked the idea of being out with him at night.

  They slowed as they passed under the towering entryway ceiling, held up by the giant columns. It was certainly an intimidating way to enter a building, not the friendly welcome Emret had hoped for.

  Before they reached the massive wooden doorway, it creaked open, flooding the entryway with a warm light. A small Botan man hopped around the door, holding it open for them.

  “Clan Lord Benthem is expecting you. Please follow me.” He smiled and gave them a polite bow as he motioned them inside.

  She pushed Emret’s chair inside, a bit slower than necessary. The foyer was like nothing Emret had ever seen. There were plants everywhere; in pots, climbing up the walls, in square cut outs in the floor filled with soil. Where the walls weren’t covered with actual plants they were painted with the trunks and boughs of a forest canopy.

  The doorman led them down a long hallway, stopping at a large set of lightly stained wooden doors. He opened one and gestured for them to enter. “Please have a seat. The Clan Lord will be with you shortly.”

  They entered the large room, encircled with fancy chairs of the same nearly white wood, and stopped close to the exit. Moslin turned Emret’s chair so he faced her and then took a seat. A large table of a strange, almost perfectly white, wood filled the center of the room. They could fit a lot of people around it, he thought.

  “I didn’t know the Bota had Clan Lords.” Emret said.

  “Well, they don’t exactly,” Moslin explained. “At least not in Shishkameen, or any other Botan city.” She folded her arms. “Here though, the Clan Lords are pretty important, especially in local affairs. So the bota that live in Pipfe made sure they had someone to represent them.”

  “Ah.”

  “Bentham is also a Phi. That gives him a lot of legitimacy to the Botans.”

  “A Phi?”

  Moslin smiled. “Your dad’s not much for religion is he?”

  “No, that was more of my mom’s thing.”

  “Sounds like she was a good woman.”

  Emret smiled.

  Moslin rubbed her chin. “The Phi for the Bota are a little like the Clan Lords, in that, the people look up to them; they trust them to keep the rest of the government honest.”

  “Bentham is part of the Botan Government?”

  “Oh no, no. The Phi are ecclesiastic. They govern a geographic region of the church. Its just that, in those regions, the local leaders liste
n to them.”

  Emret nodded his head.

  “There are Zoen Phi too I believe, just not part of the same church.”

  “The Bota have their own church?”

  “Well, it’s really the Zo that have their own church.”

  “Oh.” He looked at his feet. “Why?”

  A door across the room clicked and a large Botan man entered. He motioned for them to follow him as he approached.

  “Please come with me.” He smiled and bowed politely.

  Down another brightly lit and colorfully decorated hallway, they found themselves in front of another set of doors. These were larger than the first and almost as massive as the entry doors. Their new escort opened them and signaled for them to enter.

  “The Clan Lord will see you now.”

  Beyond the door was a long hall. Several rows of seats lined the walls on both sides, leading to an elevated bench along the far wall. In the center of the far wall, a Botan man spread his thick translucent green body out across an oversized throne-like chair. His tightly curled tendrils made an impressive four-foot wide halo of green. He motioned for them to approach.

  “Please, please, come.” Clan Lord Bentham said.

  Moslin jolted the chair into motion, whipping Emret’s neck back. Emret looked back at her and chuckled. This was more excitement than he’d had in a long time.

  “What?” she asked in response to his laugh.

  He smiled back. “Nothing.”

  Bentham leaned forward in his massive chair, sending his multiple layers of flowing robes drooping over the bench. “Moslin! Good to see you. How's your father?”

  “Stubborn and ill-tempered.”

  The Clan Lord laughed. “So I guess that means he's healthy as ever.”

  “Thank you for seeing us.”

  “Of course! What can I do for you?”

  “Well...” she looked down at Emret. “We need to secure passage to Shishkameen.”

  “You and the boy?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don't suppose you have any travel papers?”

  Moslin bent over to whisper in Emret’s ear. “I told you this wasn't going to be easy.”

  “I'll be honest with you, Moslin. Even with papers, a Botan woman traveling with a Zo boy is going to attract attention.” Bentham put a pencil down that he’d been fiddling with. “I assume that's why you’ve come.”

  Moslin nodded.

  Bentham shifted in his seat. “Why are you taking this boy back to the old city?”

  “He’s very sick. He needs a treatment that the doctors here won't do. A Botan treatment.”

  “And his parents?”

  She looked at Emret. He twisted to look back at her with a look of pleading on his face. “Please,” he mouthed.

  “He has no one who will help him,” she answered.

  Bentham tilted his head, his eyes narrowed to slits. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Moslin, forgive me, but I'm a little concerned that this might have more to do with your daughter than with this young man.”

  “Sir… Lord,” Emret interrupted, not exactly sure how to address the Clan Lord. “Please! I asked Moslin to do this. I…” he stammered. “If I stay in my hospital bed and do nothing… I’ll just get worse. This is my chance… to do something other than wait.”

  The Clan Lord stared at Emret, twisting a translucent green hair tendril in his fingers.

  Emret sat forward. “The doctors here have tried everything they can think of. They don’t know what else to do.”

  The Clan Lord glanced at Moslin.

  “They’re investigating other options. But yes, for the moment they have no other treatments planned,” she explained.

  “And without further treatment, Botan or otherwise?”

  Moslin looked down at Emret, her mouth opened to speak but remained silent.

  “I know what's going to happen.” Emret said, looking back at her. “My binding is failing. When that happens, I'll die.”

  The Clan Lord sat back heavily. “Yes, rather unpleasant. I'll make the arrangements. You'll travel as part of the next procession going into the old city.” He rubbed his forehead.

  “Emret, you are an impressive young man. I wish you the greatest success on your venture. If there’s anything else I can do for you, please ask.”

  “Thank you!” Emret grinned broadly.

  -

  The next morning Moslin pushed Emret to the river dock early, wanting to avoid as much attention as possible. They stopped in a quiet corner on the pier next to a large river ship and waited. People rushed up and down the loading ramps, carrying barrels, crates, and luggage.

  A crowd of Botan Clansmen wearing reddish brown robes pushed their way through the other travelers and appeared to be headed towards them. A moment later Moslin and Emret were fully engulfed in a crowd of reddish brown. One of the Clansmen stopped in front of them.

  “Moslin?” He asked.

  “Yes.” She nodded.

  He had several extra robes draped over his arm. He handed one to her and one to Emret.

  “Last chance. You sure you want to do this?” Moslin asked Emret.

  Emret beamed, a smile spread from ear to ear.

  “I'll take that as a yes.” She smiled back.

  “Put these on before we board.” The Clansmen said quietly. “Once we're on the ship you'll need to stay below deck, unfortunately.”

  “What do we do if the ship is boarded?” She asked.

  “Processional ships don't get boarded. Just stay below deck and you'll be fine.”

  The Story Continues in Part 2

  Raj begins his journey to find his missing son. Lord Valance plots to save the Zo nation from the impending Manea shortage. Emret and Moslin embark on their dangerous quest to find…

  Red Leaves and the Living Token - Book 1 - Part 2

  Buy Part 2 and Part 3 together and save.

  Red Leaves and the Living Token - Book 1 - Complete

  GLOSSARY

  The world of Rieth

  PEOPLE

  School Master - Botan. Head Master of a Church of the Red’s boarding school. The school under his supervision followed the more moderate teachings of the Unified order. The Unified order claimed to have roots that predated any of the modern religions.

  Lord Valance - Zo. Tall and well framed with silky black hair. He founded the Manea Trading Company.

  Lord Whiting - Zo. The younger and smaller of Lord Valance’s two close confidants. He met Lord Valance as a youth in boarding school.

  Lord Barnus - Zo. Thick limbed, tall and covered in wild red hair. He’s the second of Lord Valance’s close confidants.

  Raj Handers - Zo. A short and well fed young father.

  Emret Handers - Zo. Raj’s slender teenage son.

  Rinacht Turl - Petra. Raj’s friend and house servant.

  Moslin Verdu - Botan. Emret’s Nurse.

  Sinsesh Verdu - Botan. Moslin’s daughter and Bedic’s granddaughter.

  Bedic Verdu -Botan. The head Cleric at the School of the Reds in Pipfe and Moslin’s father.

  Clan Lord Ranth - Zo. A moderately influential Clan Lord with close ties to Clan Lord Mar.

  Clan Lord Mar - Zo. The most influential Clan Lord representing the interests of the united trade guilds.

  Clan Lord Bentham - Botan. The only Botan Clan Lord and the most influential Botan within the Zoen government.

  Holy Master Cleric - Botan. The ecclesiastical head of the Botan Church of the Reds. Although not the official Botan political head of state, his judgements determine Government policy. Whomever forms the current Botan government must maintain his blessing to remain in power.

  General Rant Turl - Petra. The General of the Petra’s northern Army.

  Haden Turl - Petra. General Turl’s young nephew

  Commander Shif Paklin - Petra. General Turl’s top commander.

  PLACES

  Pipfe - The Zoen Ca
pital city. It’s nestled against the coast at the far east of the Zoen lands. The Appease Mountain range to the west provide a secure boarder against the Petra lands.

  Shishkameen - The old capital city of the three nations before they split. Now it is the Botan capital. Surrounded by a wall built by the Petra on one side and the great marshlands on the other.

  Rhashk - The Petra Capital city, carved out of bedrock in the foothills of the great Appease Mountain range which separate the Petra and Zo lands.

  Upper Archlier - A Petra Border Town hidden in the Appease Mountains.