"You’re safe now."
"Fire! Go fetch the militia!" A man's voice boomed into the night.
Boots and angry shouts approached them to his right. A group of Marianna men had come to investigate. Faces, masked with alarm and anger, shown in the torchlight as they raced toward the burning grass. Alice’s father appeared to be leading the search. He raised a hand to stop the men. His eyes rested upon his daughter in Seth’s arms. They took in her dress in shreds and the wild state of her hair. His large musket came up. The barrel pointed at Seth's forehead.
"I can explain!"
Seth pushed Alice gently away. Honestly, what ill-favored moon had caused everyone to go mad?
"Seth McCloud? Is that you?" Mr. McKenzie slowly lowered the weapon. "What are you about, boy? I nearly put a hole in that foolish head of yours!"
"What are you waiting for? Bind him. The young hooligan has set the entire hill on fire."
The torches parted as the wide frame of Elder Newcastle pushed to the front. Sweat beaded on his balding head despite the cool evening. His large burgundy waistcoat expanded under the torchlight as he took great, heaving breaths.
"Wait a moment, Elder." Constable McTavish elbowed his way through the men to stand beside him. "Look there by young McCloud's feet."
The men followed his finger to the raider sprawled on the ground beside them. Mutters of astonishment circled around the mob. Several of them pounced upon the unconscious man, holding him down though it was unnecessary. Slowly their eyes turned to Seth.
"Did you best that raider, McCloud?" Constable McTavish asked, leaning over the raider. His bushy brown eyebrows arched to mimic the frowning mustache.
"Yes sir. Another man was with him. He ran off toward the Lookout."
"What an absurd lie," Elder Newcastle snorted. "How could the weakling nephew of the headmaster best a raider when the militia cannot?"
Seth let out an irritated breath. Of course the man would question anything he said. A feud between Fergus McCloud and Elder Newcastle had been raging for as long as Seth could remember. Oftentimes he found himself in the middle.
"I saw him!" Alice cried. "Seth saved me. He was wonderful."
She threw her arms around Seth’s neck and kissed him on the lips. Hot flashes moved up and down his spine. He’d never been kissed before and hadn’t imagined his first would be with the prettiest girl in Haven Bay.
"Alice!" Her father snapped. She released her death grip on Seth with a small grin and ran to her father.
"Thank you, Lad." Mr. McKenzie regarded Seth with a frown for a few moments and then began to pull his daughter across the field toward their farm.
"You there," Constable McTavish called to one of the farmers staring at Seth. "Take some men with you to the Lookout. Tell Sergeant Gunn to keep half his men at their posts. The other half are to go out into the fields and beat the grass until the other raider is found. We'll need every other free hand to fight this fire."
The constable led his volunteers toward the flames. Elder Newcastle followed, casting one last dark look at Seth. Letting out a pent-up growl of frustration, Seth leaned his hands upon his thighs. His cuts and bruises were beginning to ache. Fighting a grass fire with the others would be a feat his body might not endure.
A fist as large as a shovel struck Seth's face. He plummeted to the ground, landing on his backside. Danny McKenzie stood over him with his massive fists raised.
"Thank you for saving my sister, but that’s all you’ll do, McCloud." Danny stomped over to join Mike.
"My brother's right, McCloud. Alice can do better for herself than to marry a poor school mouse. Come on, Danny. We're going to take this brute for a midnight walk by the cliffs."
The twins nudged aside the group of men holding down their prisoner. Danny and Mike pulled the dazed raider to his feet, holding him in place when he swayed. Mike nodded at his twin when Danny smacked their prisoner across the face. Seth brushed off his trousers, glaring angrily at the departing men. He wiped at the fresh blood dripping from his lip. Well, a punch was what a person got for risking his life to save their sister.
"Keep her on the farm next time," Seth grumbled under his breath. He pulled at the front of his ruined shirt. No amount of washing would see it clean.
"Get the dirt off the wagon! We need to smother those flames and block the fire's path!" Constable McTavish shouted orders to the silhouettes around the flames.
Seth watched mutely from his seat upon the ground. Marianna had finite land mass. A grass fire could easily destroy every bit of life upon its surface. The Islanders were well practiced in fighting fires caused by the angry lightening storms pushing in from the sea. This particular fire had seemed larger than it was, and they quickly smothered it.
"I don’t envy the greeting you’ll get at home, young McCloud." The constable joined him at the edge of the smoldering grass. "I’ll have more questions for you." He helped Seth to his feet. "Why don’t I stop by to see you in the morning? I can have a word with your uncle about what happened here tonight. Off you go, then, and stay on the row. We don't want you mistaken for a raider and shot by one of your own."
"Ho, Constable!" The elder beckoned from the wagon. His large bulk took up most of the seat, leaving the driver to hold the reins at an odd angle.
Constable McTavish's mustache squirmed upon his frowning lip. He nodded to Seth and headed to join the other men in the back of the wagon. The comforting lights from their lanterns suddenly faded as the wagon dipped down into a dale. He was alone again in the darkness.
Spinning about, he looked for Nan. The pony was nowhere to be found. Alarm bells rang in the distance. Their ear-piercing clamor had most likely driven the already frightened pony back to her stall.
Rubbing his arms to keep warm, he headed across the lonely fields. Damp grass and other soft remains squished about his wet boots. He tried not to imagine what else he may be stepping in along the abandoned woolie fields. Lifting his eyes up to the heavens, he breathed in the familiar stillness of a Marianna autumn night.
Crystal engines roared over Seth’s head, knocking him to the ground. It was a small airship flying dangerously low. He brushed the wet grass off his filthy shirt, watching the bright glow of the crystal chamber flicker toward Haven Bay Airship Port. It was a good day’s airship ride from the coast of Andara to the nearest tower of the Grey Cliff Isles. Take another half day and that would see you to Marianna. An experienced crew would wait for daylight to avoid being dragged into the massive cliffs of the tiny island. The captain who flew that ship must either be mad or in a great hurry. Seth shook his head. Who would ever be in a hurry to visit Marianna? It was the most remote stretch of land upon which a man could stand.
Marianna had stood unpopulated for many centuries. Seafaring vessels could not find a safe haven from the turbulent ocean surrounding the little island. The cliffs were impossible to scale. It was the mastery of air travel that finally conquered the little island's difficult shores.
Many people, tired of the booming population of Cliff Bench on Larkspur, had volunteered to colonize the little island. Haven Bay had hired Seth’s uncle to organize a school just before he'd been born. Fergus had agreed. He'd left Horner Isle with his pregnant sister to colonize the one-town island with the rest of the hearty souls out for a new start.
Tiny lights flickered in the windows of Haven Bay as Seth mounted the last grassy knoll. The residents of Haven Bay were all at their suppers by now if they weren't hiding from the raiders in their homes. He clutched at his rumbling belly. A hot meal and some of Emma's nettle ointment for his cuts would see him right again.
He hobbled down the footpath, passing the Haven Bay School on his way toward town square. It was the only building in Haven Bay made from real stone. Stories still circulated around town about the headmaster and his treasured schoolhouse. Somehow Fergus was able to convince a crew of wayward sailors into chiseling pieces of the cliff side away. He used most of it for the tall building. The res
t went to make the Lookout and the base of the airship port.
The school’s solid frame towered over Seth as he hurried around the corner to the Main Row. Its empty windows watched as he passed, judging his worth. Resentment filled his heart. He hated each and every cold stone. The headmaster's office window was dark. His uncle had already returned home . He looked down at his bloodied shirt. Perhaps his uncle would postpone the usual angry tirade once he noticed Seth bleeding? The thought cheered him a little.
His mother would have her own words to say to him. She'd been waiting for him all this time and was probably worried by the alarms. He hadn't wanted to believe her words spoken in anger. The Dagger and his raider friends had changed Seth's mind for him. Passing through the small garden of fading flowers, he jumped over the stone bench and pushed through the little iron rod gate leading to the residential neighborhood. The McCloud home was the last house on the row.
"Mother? Emma?" Seth called, closing the door behind him. No answer. That was strange. Mother had told him she was coming home to pack her things. Perhaps she had gone to the Logan Farm instead?
Seth pushed through the kitchen door to find Emma. She had heard everything and would know what the argument was about. Someone had to explain why his world had suddenly fallen into chaos.
Their well-ordered kitchen was empty. Copper pots rested unused upon their hooks. The kettle sat cool on a dead fire. Seth backed away from it. The world may have been topsy-turvy, but his stomach still expected supper. He pulled day-old bread and cheese from the cupboard. After eating a quick meal, he filled the basin. Soapy water washed away the stench of ash and blood.
Emma's medicines were kept on a high shelf in their pantry. She'd been anxious to keep them out of 'little hands' when Seth was a child. Now they stayed where they were out of habit. He grabbed the jar of nettle ointment and sniffed its contents. Crinkling his nose, he dipped his finger in with a grimace. The ointment stung when he rubbed it into his cuts. They weren’t deep and the bleeding had stopped, but that didn’t diminish their throbbing. Perhaps in the morning someone would actually notice he had been wounded in battle.
He let the satisfied grin come. The struggle had been frightening, but oddly exhilarating. Seth’s daydreams were full of adventurous deeds. Tonight, he had been the hero he had always wanted to be. He couldn’t wait to tell Riley.
Seth climbed the stairs to his bed chamber. Pulling off his tattered clothes, he winced as the fabric brushed against the knife cuts on his chest and arm. Fresh clothes had been laid out for him on top of a traveling trunk. His mother hadn't been idle that evening either. She'd emptied his wardrobe.
Floorboards squeaked down the hall in his mother’s bedchamber. He replaced the board and put the table back. Easing out of his chamber, he tiptoed out into the hallway. A sudden movement cast shadows over the small band of light coming from under her door.
"Mother? Why didn’t you answer me earlier?"
He tapped lightly on the door and pushed it open. Interrupted in her packing, his mother's things had been strewn about in piles of chaotic clutter. Her trunk was open, dresses and her cloak had been scattered upon the floor next to it. Anne McCloud lay on the bed wearing her best gown. Her dark hair streamed across the fabric. The glossy wood of her treasured Valdeonian guitar rested upon her chest. His mother’s face was pale and her lips were an odd blue color. Something was clenched in her cold hand. Seth moved to her side with unsteady legs. His own hand reached for her dead fingers, prying away a tiny glass vile. Eyes locked upon her blue lips, he put the vile in his pocket and sat down in the rocking chair across from the bed.
The bedchamber door slammed shut. Seth turned in a slow daze at the noise. Standing beside his mother’s wardrobe was the Dagger. His thick cloak opened exposing a naked sword. The blade twisted slowly in its master’s hand.
"I underestimated you, boy. You escaped those bumbling idiots with just a few scratches. Let me guess, you rescued the girl as well. Of course you did. It’s in your half-breed blood. You can’t help but play the hero."
"Did you do this to my mother?" Seth managed to stand.
"Your mother married outside her race and then came you." He spat upon the floor between them. "I’ve watched this house for years. Anne grew more unhappy each day. You were such a burden for her."
"No. You're wrong. She loved me." Seth shook his head. "We're leaving together."
"What a fool you are, boy. Do you honestly think either of you would be welcome? Who do you think sent me here? Your family wants you dead." The blade's tip lifted until it was level with Seth's chest. "I have given your mother peace. Now I can finally be rid of you."
Seth yelped when his mother’s dead hand brushed against his own. Anne McCloud had been a kind and loving woman. He had no doubts in his heart about her feelings toward her son. It was the only thing he didn't doubt now.
"I had hoped to make your mother’s death look like suicide, but you’ve necessitated a change to my plans. How shall I finish the job, I wonder? The sword? No, we don’t want that fool of a constable to suspect foul play." The Dagger’s masked face tilted until the white blade was at an awkward slant. "What a tragedy for the crippled old headmaster! He comes home to find his household struck down by a mysterious illness. What a pity. Poor man."
Reaching his gloved hand inside the dark folds of his cloak, the Dagger pulled out a small vial matching the one hidden in Seth's pocket. A sickly green liquid splashed inside as he shook it gently. Such a small concoction, yet it had utterly ruined his life.
"The mastery of poisons is a proud tradition in my family. Century upon century we have developed the skill of assassination to an art form. I am their finest son." He lifted up the tiny vial, examining it fondly like a master craftsman. "This gem is very special. The Tslavian hillside beside my home is the only place this rare and deadly plant grows. It was once called ‘Love’s Bonnet’ until my great, great grandmother discovered its deadlier purpose. She first used it to seek revenge upon her faithless lover. Ah yes, this special plant is now called, ‘Devil’s Cape.’ One simply must pluck the young leaves off the plant before it flowers, mash them, and boil slowly until you have this concoction. Of course the real trick is not poisoning yourself by touching the juices."
The dark mask lowered to fix upon Seth once more. "Your mother was well versed in its use."
Seth’s eyes were irresistibly drawn back to the woman he thought he knew. She had been a tireless supporter of the poor and a friend to every soul on Marianna. The thought of her creating such an awful substance was inconceivable.
"Now drink this like a good boy."
"Never! You’ll have to use your sword, murderer."
"Aren’t we full of ourselves. Do you imagine yourself to be a warrior now simply because you fought off raiders?"
He flew at Seth, throwing him to the floor. Air rushed out of his lungs in a painful burst. Struggling for breath, Seth was helpless to prevent the killer from pinning his arms. The Dagger pressed his knee down hard upon Seth’s chest. He was forced to take a hand away from Seth's arms as he popped the top off the vial. Seth gagged. The poison smelled of dying flower petals and rotting fruit. He clamped his mouth shut and turned his head away.
"Now, be a good boy and open your mouth."
Desperate to break free of the killer's grip, Seth thrust his body upward, throwing the Dagger off balance. He slammed his free fist into his attacker’s side and pushed at the man’s body. They rolled along the cold floor until Seth found himself pinned again.
"One last show of spirit!" He jabbed Seth in the midsection with a lightning blow. His mouth involuntarily opened as he gulped for air. The Dagger's hand slammed Seth's head against the floor and poured the murderous liquid into his mouth. It tasted bitter, almost like berries that weren’t quite ripe. His tongue and throat began to burn. He tried to spit the poison out, but the Dagger held firm. His killer pulled away at last. Seth turned onto his stomach, vomiting the nasty liquid out of hi
s body. The floorboards began to swirl and blur beneath him.
"Try as you might, D’Antoiné, death comes for you and your house."
Power thundered into the room with the force of a savage storm. Its large gray body slammed into Seth's killer, propelling him across the room. The Dagger's body disappeared from Seth’s blurring vision behind the wall of gray. Angry flashes of red and gold hues crackled around the new stranger's body. When he finally spoke, the walls of the room shook under the power of his voice.
"Sandor, you fool! We had an agreement. I need this boy."
"Anne!" Emma's sobs lifted the haze about his heart. It was true. His mother was dead and he would soon join her.
"The boy, woman! See to the boy. Are we in time?"
Insistent fingers pushed at Seth’s throat, then moved to his face. They gripped a clump of his curls, forcing Seth’s head back and a cup to his lips. A nutty fragrance mixed with the scent of dried herbs made his stomach lurch. He tried to pull away.
"Drink it, Seth." Emma forced his mouth open again. He swallowed the bitter liquid. Then he fell back on the floor, coughing as the burning in his throat grew worse.
"Will he live?" the new stranger asked.
"We reached him before the poison stopped his breathing. There’s still a chance he’ll survive."
"How many will thank you, woman?" The Dagger's blurry body came to join them.
"This boy has grown dangerous, though his mother tried to hide it. Don't deny you feel the power radiating about his body. It has drawn out his temper. One can only imagine what he’ll be capable of when he reaches his seventeenth year in a few months’ time." The Dagger turned to the stranger. "I've grown weary of this island, ranger. You cannot expect me to continue to languish."
The Lords of Valdeon Page 6
