The Lords of Valdeon

by C. R. Richards

  "I truly think the fools would declare war this very day." Cesar gripped the railing and stared out at the vast sky before them. "Alberto and I have warned them to guard their tongues while we are in San Leonora. The men of the west cannot draw first blood. It would ignite the flames of civil war smoldering in the heart of the treacherous."

  The prefects were bound by honor to follow their lords. Cesar Santiago ruled the northwest in his son's name. Lord Alberto Mendoza, steward of the famed San Marimosa fortress, also governed for his son, the Jaguar. Their lands were in the southwest. Another steward reigned along the western coast, but his was a treacherous nature. He was Julian's puppet in the west.

  "What is to become of Valdeon?" Jorge shook his head. "I see very little hope if Julian is allowed upon the throne."

  "Nonsense, the Jalora would never put a wicked creature such as that upon its sacred throne." Cesar nodded as if to assure himself as much as Jorge. "Our friend the Wolf is a clever man. He will know how to lead us."

  Jorge returned his smile. Wolf was a wise man and a powerful ranger. He'd seen Leo's strange behavior and warned them of the danger it meant to Valdeon long before their king had disappeared. Keeping their country stable for two years, he'd remained loyal to the throne. Many wanted to see Xavier De Vincente rise to power. He had supporters from every corner of Andara. No matter how ardently they argued with him to take on the role as Regent, he refused. He could think of no greater man of honor than the Wolf.

  "Will you help me, Jorge?"

  "My lord?" Jorge tore his thoughts away from Wolf and the throne. "I would do anything for you, of course."

  "You were always a faithful friend. I want you to help me keep the peace and our brethren out of trouble. I fear Julian will use any little infraction to start a civil war."

  "You have my word, Cesar. I will do what I can."

  The great ship's crystal engines rumbled as its thrusters went into reverse. They were beginning their descent. San Leonora stretched out beneath the airship like a tapestry. It was the largest city in all of Valdeon and indeed rivaled Lea as the greatest city on the continent. The home of the Lion was the undisputed center of Andarian culture and learning.

  "They have hung the mourning banners for Edmund."

  Cesar shook his head sadly at the city beneath them. His ranger eyes could see what was simply a blur to Jorge. Then details in the streets became visible as the airship began to land. Flags of black lined every street in San Leonora. Their fabric sailed upon the soft breeze.

  "Let us join the others, Jorge. Idle children are prone to mischief."

  Jorge followed silently as they moved across the deck toward the group of men assembling near the gangplank. Angry mutters and grumblings were suddenly silenced as Lord Santiago approached. Their tempers wouldn't be tamed for long. Sweet Erthe Mother. How was he to keep them under control when Cesar could not?

  Running across the stretch of land between Lake Leonora and the Leonora River, the Great Inland Wall rose up to meet them as they moved through the airship port. Thousands of stone lion heads lined its top, ever watchful against invaders. Jorge cast a discreet look among the stone animals. Human eyes were hidden behind the teeth. He had accompanied his ranger many times on patrol along its rim. No better view could be found in Valdeon.

  The eyes upon him as he walked didn't belong to the soldiers on the wall. He was well known among their numbers. Instead the rude looks and murmurs drifted over the row from stands in the market. Savage. Barbarian. He had heard such slights many times. Deeds and heart didn't matter to San Leonorans if a man's blood was not pure Valdeonian.

  Jorge stayed close to his lord more out of habit then concern as they moved down the docks to the waiting carriages. Soon they had passed through the gates of the Inland Wall and were moving up Kings Row toward the Palace of Kings. His attention was drawn out the carriage window by the grandeur of San Leonora. Each time he visited the city it held something new to capture his imagination.

  Sparkling in the sunlight just above the other rooftops stretched the golden tiles of the famed Art Museum of San Leonora. Next to it stood the library. It was said within the fabled structures was contained the greatest collection of work to be penned or drawn in Andarian history. How he longed to walk those rooms, running his fingers along the bindings of leather. He ached to throw himself into the words of the greatest minds their continent had ever known.

  Their carriage entered a roundabout. Mounted on his San Marimosa stallion several stories above the row, Mikel D'Antoiné greeted them as they entered the palace grounds. Mikel had been the first Lion and Jalora Master. His was a great legacy of honor and courage. Edmund had shared his ancestor's bravery, but his offspring sadly lacked the Lion's strength.

  Chancellor Benito was waiting for them on the palace stairs. He stood in the purple robes of office, clutching at a pointed ceremonial hat with one hand. The horrendous contraption tilted precariously atop his head as he tried vainly to prevent it from taking flight in the breeze. The scene was reminiscent of a child's spinning top toy. Jorge didn't care for the chancellor. Their first and only meeting had been a cold one. The prefects traveled to San Leonora to attend his taking of office after Leo had…well, ended the last chancellor's rule. Jorge had sworn to follow the man's leadership, because he'd been Wolf's choice. He'd made his concessions very clear to Benito at the time.

  Cesar Santiago exited the carriage first in accordance with his station. The former Lord of Valdeon led his prefects to the base of the stairs. Giving Benito a nod of acknowledgement, Cesar remained upright. He had only bowed to one man in his entire life. Edmund the Leo had earned his respect rather than demanding courtesies due to his title.

  "Greetings, my lord chancellor. We have answered the call to…"

  "So I see, my Lord Santiago."

  Benito's crisp tone severed Cesar's formal greeting. Jorge noticed the man’s eyes resting upon his braids. Many in the west were used to seeing other tribal people like the Duhnish. These eastern folk knew only their marbled corridors and their silken clothes. Courtesy for visitors had been lost in San Leonora, it would seem.

  "We have no time for refreshments or rest, gentlemen. I have grave news which must be delivered first. This way."

  Benito set a quick pace up the long staircase and into the Grand Atrium. Jorge followed with the rest, expecting to feel the deep sense of awe he'd become accustomed to when nearing the Altar of Providence. Today, the sensation was missing. It had been replaced with the heavy weight of tension and fear.

  Cesar's advancing age didn't stop him from catching up to the chancellor and blocking his path. "Something has happened, hasn't it? Something worse than Leo's death."

  "What could possibly be worse than the death of the king?" Alberto Mendoza grunted. The graying mustache formed a bushy arch over his frown.

  Benito pointed across the atrium toward the golden doors of the throne room. They were closed. The Altar of Providence was a beacon of hope and justice for the people of Andara. Its doors were always open for those seeking counsel or on pilgrimage. Jorge had never seen it locked away from the people it protected.

  "Come, the others are waiting."

  Benito led them into the Great Hall. It was an opulent room with long tables carved in dark wood harvested from the forests of Varianne. Red velvet upholstery covered each chair and sofa around the room. Massive chandeliers of gold hung over the guests as they dined at state dinners or held diplomatic meetings. It was also the room in which a country mourned departed monarchs. Black ribbons waited in crates. Soon they would lay Leo's empty coffin in the family chapel. Jorge's grief surged unexpectedly when he saw the ribbons. He turned away quickly, following Cesar to their table.

  Several men had already arrived. Dressed in their rich finery, they sat sipping wine and speaking in quiet tones. A few cast suspicious glares toward Jorge and the other prefects. Their eastern cousins had been busy building up resentment for this day. Leo's funeral would not be u
neventful.

  "Rise." A voice echoed against the walls of the Great Hall. "The Sacred Guard approaches."

  Jorge stood with the rest of the crowd as the doors swung open. Rangers dressed in their finest ash gray uniforms marched in the throne room, boots striking the ground in perfect unison. A man set the pace at their head. His dark hair, flecked with silver, had been cut short. Sharp lines etched along his chin and nose drew the eye upward into steel orbs. His predator gaze swept the room slowly. The crowd cowered like prey as the ranger’s eyes moved over them. Xavier De Vincente’s ranger friends called him 'Wolf.' Jorge could not imagine a better name.

  The younger rangers circled about him like pups. Wolf tilted his head to the side, listening with patience as they yelped at once. A single bark from their pack leader sent the pups circling the crowd. Jorge kept his attention locked upon their alpha. The pack would pounce upon their prey only by the Wolf’s word. Their leader turned and moved to the ornate ceremonial bell hanging at the head of the hall. Two poles made from the masterfully sculpted wood supported the golden bell. Wolf pulled on the velvet ribbon attached to its clapper. Its song silenced the room. He rang the bell nine times in honor of the nine Lords of Valdeon. Then Wolf let his hand fall from the ribbon and turned his head to the back of the room. He gave a small nod and lifted his chin with pride.

  "Heaven blesses Valdeon for the Sacred Guard has come!"

  Chancellor Benito raised his hands and the crowd rose from their chairs as six men marched ceremoniously into the room. Wolf moved to their head. Most of the men were dressed in gray uniforms belonging to the Jalora Legion army divisions. Two of the men, Rafael the Fox and Yuli the Otter, wore slightly different uniforms reflecting their Naval Division. Great power radiated about them. The hair on Jorge's forearms stood on end as it moved over his body in a wave. The Lords of Valdeon had come to San Leonora.

  "Look at my Lucio. He makes a fine man and a noble ranger, does he not?"

  Jorge moved his gaze to the young man standing at attention in the very center of the line. He remembered the proud day Lucio Santiago stood before his people in the courtyard of San Lucida. It was a bittersweet moment when Cesar had put the Ferret Ring upon his son's finger.

  "Yes, Cesar, he certainly does."

  Chancellor Benito bowed low to the Sacred Guard as they took their seats. The other rangers of Valdeon moved to their positions against each wall. Jorge hid his smile as several of their eastern cousins shifted nervously in their seats. The rangers weren't there for ceremonial pomp. Any skullduggery was bound to be squashed by Wolf's pack.

  "I have dire news which must be carefully weighed." The chancellor raised his voice to carry throughout the room. "As you know, the Orb sits lifeless beside the Altar. Edmund D’Antoiné’s body has not been found. Lord De Vincente has reported this to the Jalora Council."

  Cesar Santiago rose to his feet. He held up a long, flat piece of wood, which had been provided on the table for each of them. Chancellor Benito returned his request for the floor with a nod.

  "Do they fear the Lion Ring lost, My Lord De Vincente?"

  "The Dragon himself searches for the ring, Lord Santiago. The Jalora has blocked his searching. We do not know what this means."

  The men sat in stunned silence. If the Lion Ring was lost, Andara and Valdeon were in the gravest of danger. Jorge regarded the silent Wolf more closely. He had never known a ranger to be this forthcoming on such a dangerous subject. Their practice was to tell only what they must and to seek advice from the Jalora rather than mere men.

  "Prefect Diego, you have the floor."

  Benito gestured to the long table. A prettily dressed prefect stood across from Jorge. He paused to tug the tight waistcoat over his belly. Clearly the man had spent most of his days attending meetings and banquets rather than engaging in physical activity.

  "I think it's very clear, My Lord De Vincente. Leo disappeared without a second thought for his duties. The Jalora is angry. It's punishing us for his indiscretions."

  "Be careful with your words, Diego!" Alberto Mendoza slammed a fist upon the table. "Edmund was a Jalora bishop after all. It's not for you to question his actions."

  "You have not been given permission to speak, Lord Mendoza!" Benito banged his hands together for quiet.

  Prefect Diego puffed up his red cheeks, ignoring the chancellor's attempt to calm the room. "I am simply stating the obvious. Do you pretend these same thoughts have not occurred to you, Alberto? No, of course they haven't. San Marimosa was ever Leo's favorite. Our king considered it above his own prefects."

  "He knew no dagger would be poised to strike at his back in San Marimosa!"

  The words came from one of the western prefects. Jorge couldn't see who had spoken with such heat, but the effects were immediate. East and West leapt to their feet, throwing insults across the room. Jorge remained seated, watching the silent Lords of Valdeon. What were they waiting for? If the screaming didn't stop soon, bloodshed would certainly follow.

  Wolf's intense gaze rested upon him. Was the ranger gauging their allegiance, probing for their loyalties? It would be a logical course of action to expose potential traitors, but the action was contrary to their goal. Bickering and harsh words would not help them find the Lion Ring or keep the peace.

  Jorge stood, waiting patiently to be noticed by the harassed chancellor. He stared with great intensity until the man was forced to return his gaze. A single growl from Wolf silenced the room. Everyone was still as they waited for Chancellor Benito to recognize the strange man from the West.

  "My Lord Pacarro, you have something to say?" Chancellor Benito's strained politeness was proof they shared a mutual dislike.

  "I do. Many of you know me as squire to my Lord Cesar Santiago, a former member of the Sacred Guard. I was just a youth when I first met our king upon the steps of the palace. He greeted me with courtesy. We spoke for many hours of his plans for the future of Valdeon. In every word, every syllable, Edmund's love for his country shined. He gave his youth and his heart defending the Altar of Providence. Years passed, yet his love for Valdeon never faded. Do you imagine what he did over the past few years was done lightly?" Jorge let his words fall upon their hearts as the silence in the room grew. "Would you dishonor his memory by raising past slights when our king’s body has not been found? Let us not decide Valdeon's fate this day, but wait upon the will of the Jalora to make itself known."

  A pair of hands began to clap from the far end of the Great Hall. It was Felix Cristiano, steward of San Angelica. The massive port city on the western coast was home to Rafael, bearer of the Fox Ring. Its steward was expected to rule in support of his ranger son, but the two of them despised each other. While Rafael served in the Sacred Guard, his father had taken control of the city and allied himself with Julian.

  "Bravo. I'm sure your impassioned speech turned every heart toward peace. You would make a great statesman, Duke Pacarro." Felix walked past the Lords of Valdeon and turned his back to his son. Rafael the Fox sat rigid, watching his sire take center stage.

  "Many tales of Jorge Pacarro's courage circulate about the barracks of Valdeon's army. His loyalty to the throne and his ranger are well known. He was even given a plot of land and a dukedom by the king for his services. No one would question his motives for standing before you now. I would go so far as to say he believes what he has just told you." Felix stopped to clasp his hands behind his back. "But does this same loyalty blind Duke Pacarro to the truth? The Lion Ring is lost. Think, my friends. Why was it lost? Why would the Jalora allow such a catastrophic thing to happen?"

  The room erupted in panicked murmurs. It was a question Jorge had asked deep in his heart, but hadn't dared voice aloud. A self-satisfied smirk stretched across Felix's lips. It was as if he knew Jorge's thoughts. No matter. Julian's puppet was deliberately trying to incite panic. He had to be blocked by the one weapon that could take him out of this verbal battle for peace.

  "You are no one to judge the Jalora'
s motives, usurper. I will leave such questions to be answered by the Sacred Guard. If you weren't so driven by greed and ambition, you would trust the word of the rightful lord of San Angelica." Jorge's fingers ached to grasp the handle of his hatchet. One throw and the serpent's tongue would be silenced forever.

  Face glowering with rage, Felix took a threatening step toward Jorge. "Perhaps the services of the Sacred Guard are no longer needed, Squire?"

  The tip of a blade pressed against Felix's throat. It twisted until the tiniest of scratches drew blood. Rafael the Fox stood before his father with the expressionless face of justice. His eyes, however, glowed with fury.

  "Your tongue has wagged enough for one day. Leave me before I have reason to silence you permanently." Rafael stared after his father until Felix had disappeared down the corridor. The room waited in silence until Fox had joined the other rangers once more. Wolf gripped Rafael's shoulder as he passed, then he gave Jorge a slight nod. Jorge bowed to the Lords of Valdeon and sat back down next to Cesar.

  "I must get you home quickly, Jorge. The rangers might make you the Chancellor of Valdeon after today."

  Jorge smiled. "You would never catch me in his silly contraption he calls a hat, my lord."

  He turned his attention to the eastern prefects. They looked frightened, as well they should be. Julian's only hold in the west had been completely discredited. After Felix's inflammatory statement about the Sacred Guard, no one would dare associate with him. One plot had been extinguished, but how many more were smoldering in the halls of the palace? The next few days would be interesting.

  Chapter Ten

  Seth held a great sword before him. The tip of its blade was fixed upon his opponent's murderous heart. Hungry fire devoured the grassland about them. Neither noticed its deadly flames slithering closer like fiery serpents. Every thought, every ounce of energy was focused on the life or death struggle with the mortal enemy before them. Heart pounding, the strange new power surged against his will. Then in a moment of uncontrolled rage, Seth threw back his head in a roar. Power shook the ground between them. He began to fall.