The Lords of Valdeon

by C. R. Richards

  Crumbled stone pillars marked the entrance. Riley shook his head, hoping this Leo wasn't a complete fool. Some deceitful thief had let the McPherson Farm to the two foreigners. Abandoned by its original owners years ago, the land had become overgrown with weeds and wild. A farmhouse and barn stood at the south end of the fields. Unkempt and vandalized by weather, neither was fit to house a stray dog.

  Passing between the crumbling stone markers, he marched up the narrow lane, climbing the steep hill toward their farmhouse. Its surface had been grated smooth by horse and hitch. Weeds and overgrowth had blocked half the road for as long as Riley could remember. Now the shrubs were nicely trimmed away from the lane, and not one weed popped its head out of the dirt. This Leo had certainly cleaned up the place.

  He stopped at the top of the hill. Rubbing the back of his neck with a sweaty palm, he gazed down upon the farmyard. Smoke puffed from the chimney. In the distance, an axe chopped firewood. He moved closer to the farmhouse, keeping to the cluster of trees along the hillside. The chopping stopped abruptly. Riley wondered if the man was going to his supper. A full stomach would make him more agreeable to a loan.

  Stepping around a large tree in hopes of getting a better look, he tumbled into a man kneeling beside the trunk. The man rolled to his feet and turned on Riley with sword drawn. Another intruder jumped out of the thicket to Riley's right. Dark brown cloaks hid their bodies in the autumn dusk. Golden rings swung from piercings in body parts not meant for such things. Hideous black tattoos swirled in painted bands across their faces. Each design aimed at terrifying their victims. Amity raiders! How had they come to be this far inland without the militia seeing them?

  "Where is D’Antoiné? No lies now, dung farmer. We’ve been watching you."

  Cracked lips parted against blackened teeth as the man struggled to form unfamiliar words. Amity raiders stuck to the old Islic amongst themselves, but they knew enough words in the common tongue to rob their victims.

  "I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know any D’Antoiné."

  Riley had learned enough old Islic from Seth to hold his own, but responding in their own tongue didn't win him any trust. Their leader pulled his short sword and held its point at Riley’s throat. Cold steel pressed into his exposed skin. No weapons and no aid within a field's width. He was done for unless he could fight his way out of the trees. Riley tightened his hands into shaking fists.

  A flash of silver whisked past his face. Both raiders fell to their knees, a clean red line across each of their throats. Then their heads fell to the side, rolling into the grass. A tall Valdeonian stood over the bodies. Gray mixed with the dark of his shoulder-length hair. Strong features were checkered in shadow as the sunlight struck him between the branches. Intense brown eyes flecked with amber stared down at the two dead men. Great gulls! It could be Seth standing before him if age hadn't shown upon the man.

  The warrior slipped his blade back into its sheath without a sound. Riley’s knees buckled as those fiery eyes turned upon him. His stomach churned with an angry growl and he vomited into the dry grass. Riley sat back on the cold ground and closed his eyes, still seeing the blood leak from the two dead men.

  "Are you well? Ah, here is Dante with the wine skin. Drink! You look as if you would crumble."

  Dante was a balding older man with white grizzled hair and bright, dark eyes. He knelt beside Riley, lifting a bag made of smooth leather to his lips. Riley sipped the wine. It was strong and had a spicy bite to it. Dante lifted the bag a bit higher, forcing him to gulp rather than sip.

  He pulled Riley to his weak legs with an amused chuckle. "I’m not sure we should be showing such hospitality to a trespasser, Leo."

  "I came to see you, Mr. Leo. But I found these two instead."

  The warrior’s eyes focused on his victims again. He knelt down beside one of the dead raiders. Riley turned quickly away as he threw open the man’s cloak to search the body. Dante put the skin back to Riley’s lips. He drank gratefully.

  "What did they want? I didn’t understand them. Their accent is strange, yes?"

  Leo came to his feet and stood away from the bodies. There wasn't a drop of blood upon his clothing or boots. The warrior didn’t look upset in the least by killing two men. He could have been on a stroll through the countryside for all the emotion he was displaying.

  "They wanted me to tell them where D’Antoiné was. How would I know unless they still think Seth is this D’Antoiné person?"

  "Still? They have called Seth a D’Antoiné before?"

  "He fought off the raiders last time they attacked the island. One of them called him by the name." Riley looked down at his hands. "Seth, well, he’s the reason I’ve come to see you."

  "Oh? And you are a friend of his, yes?" Leo asked, folding his arms and waiting calmly for Riley to continue.

  "Aye, sir. I’m Riley Logan, Seth’s best friend." He took a deep breath and burst into his explanation. "Seth is in trouble. He would never have sent me himself. He's just that proud. You see, we had some goings-on today in town, but it wasn't Seth's fault. Constable McTavish locked him up in jail. I can't leave him in there on his own."

  Leo moved with a grace Riley had never seen in all his life. A spicy sort of smell came with him as he walked. It reminded Riley of those wonderful meals Anne McCloud had made for special occasions. Gripping his shoulder, the Valdeonian looked deeply into Riley's eyes. A soft wisp of a touch brushed against his mind. Then it was gone, taking his anxious thoughts and horror at the violence away.

  "Let’s walk to the constable together, my young friend. And you will start from the beginning. Tell me about the death of Seth’s mother."

  "I’ll just take care of the bodies by myself, shall I?" Dante kicked at one of the dead raiders.

  His cursing followed them as Leo guided Riley onto the lane toward town. The Valdeonian warrior didn't seem flustered by the other man's anger. He walked beside Riley as if he didn't have a care in the world. Listening intently to Riley's account of Seth's hardships, he limited his interruptions to ask questions about the night Seth had found his mother's body. Leo showed a keen interest in the stranger Seth said to have saved him from the killer Pavel Sandor. He was also pointedly interested in the death of the Tslavian sailor. Riley wished he'd known more, but Seth hadn't shared a great deal of details.

  "Seth’s had a hard time of it since his mother left us, sir. He’s not mad or troubled like they say. The Creator knows he has the right to be, the way old Fussbottom treats him."

  "Fussbottom?"

  "Aye," Riley grinned. "That’s what we call the headmaster, Seth’s uncle."

  A frown crossed Leo’s face for a moment and then was gone. The amber flecks sparkled like Seth’s did when he was angry. Sharp features upon the older man's face were a familiar match to a much younger bearer. He couldn't be a random stranger. Leo must be a relative to Seth and his father.

  "Are you kin to Seth, sir?"

  Leo smiled and began to laugh. "You might say so."

  "Riley Logan!"

  Mrs. Logan marched up the dirt path toward them, her yellow skirt gripped in her fists. Streaks of gray hair — she claimed her boys had given her — spilled out of her lopsided hair bun. Sharp green eyes flashed in a fury toward them. Pale cheeks glowed red from exertion. He'd not seen Mum this riled since, well, never.

  "What do you think you’re about, boy?"

  Her voice crossed the distance between them with ear-piercing clarity. A few crows plucking at the empty landscape about them had sense enough to take flight. Riley shuffled on the road, feeling like a small boy. He knew she didn’t want to hear any answer he could give her and waited for the angry tirade to finish.

  "Woolies loose from their pen, while you gallivant with Seth all afternoon! And what happened to your clothes?" Her inflamed eyes looked past his shoulder toward Leo. "Who is this? One of the drunken bums from Paddy’s, I’d wager?

  "No, Mum! This is Leo, one of Seth’s kin."
Riley turned an apologetic face to Leo. To his relief, the Valdeonian was chuckling.

  "It is a pleasure, my lady. I am kin to Seth as you say."

  Mrs. Logan allowed Leo to take her hand. A blush swept up his mum's face as the Valdeonian kissed her worn skin. Leo had a charm and sophistication Riley knew he could never muster. It had the desired effect. His mum's countenance softened, and she gave him a begrudging smile.

  "Are you now?" She looked Leo over. "I’m glad to know you. Anne was a dear friend to me, and Seth may as well be one of my bunch."

  "You’re most kind, Mrs. Logan. I’m sure Seth is as grateful as I for your friendship."

  Riley’s mouth gaped open as his mother gave Leo a deeper blush. He hadn't seen her this red since the washroom door fell open and the family saw her bare bottom.

  "Won't you come to supper, Leo? Any kin to Seth and Anne are welcome in our home."

  Leo kissed her hand again. "My thanks to you, Mrs. Logan. Another time, perhaps? Unfortunately, I must go to Seth. He has run into some trouble."

  "Oh?" Mrs. Logan gave Riley a sideways glance. "Is it anything serious? Do you think you can help him?"

  "I will try. Good night. Riley, I hope to see you again soon."

  They stood quietly in the fading twilight, watching the handsome warrior walk toward Haven Bay. If anyone could help Seth, it was Leo. Confidence. Leo had it by the bucketful. Riley supposed anyone who could kill two men so quickly had the right to be confident.

  A hard slap struck the back of his head. Leo’s magic spell had left with him. Mum glowered at Riley with hands upon her hips. Her fury had returned.

  "Back to the farm with you, boy! You’ll have a full day’s work catching up on your chores. Your dad will have a few words to say to you when we get home." She pushed him forward toward their farm.

  Riley shoved his hands into the pockets of his breeches. Thomas Logan didn’t have to say another word to his youngest son. He'd made himself clear. Riley wouldn’t be a burden for his family much longer. He'd go with Seth and make his own fortune in the world. Casting a quick glance at his mum’s stern face, he was certain he wouldn't be missed by the Logan family.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Deep breaths. Leo had told him to take deep breaths to chase his anger away. Seth rested his head on the cell's hard pillow with his arm over his eyes. It wasn't working. Each jingle of keys and slamming cell door heightened his unease. Power prickled along his neck and spine. He turned on his side to face the wall. All this time he'd been hunting for his mother's killer, Sandor had been setting up a trap for him. The man was a renowned assassin. It had been foolish not to take precautions.

  A hand shook him gently. Mulling his own thoughts, he ignored the touch. Then the hand grew more insistent, rolling him onto his back. Seth grumbled a curt, unintelligible warning and rubbed at his blurry eyes. Amber fire burned through Seth's mental fog. The intensity of those eyes brought him fully awake at last. Leo? Seth bolted upright on the little cot. Great gulls. Leo was the last person he'd wanted to find out about his criminal exploits.

  "Come, we go." He put Seth’s boots on the cot. "Your friend Riley went back for them when he came to ask for my help."

  Seth nodded, silently brushing the dirt from his bare feet. Tiny scratches and a large bruise on his big toe ached as he pulled on his boots. Such discomforts and more were well deserved. He'd dragged Riley into more danger than a good friend should. Ruining such an important shipment for his neighbors was an inexcusable travesty. It had been a blessing Riley wasn't part of the accident. Better to have the shame follow him through the streets of Haven Bay rather than Riley and his family.

  Leo pulled him up by the arm. Seth followed him out the cell door and past a disapproving guard. They stopped at the front desk where Constable McTavish sat staring at a pile of gold coins. Quick fingers plucked them up and deposited the coins in a lockbox. The constable tucked the box under the counter and reached for a small parchment.

  "Here is your receipt for young McCloud’s bail, sir." The constable raised an eyebrow of warning to Seth. "It’s a good thing Mr. Leo has agreed to hire you to work off your debt, young man. I’ve agreed to release you into his custody. So, you'd better behave."

  Seth cast a quick glance at the parchment before it went into Leo’s coat. One thousand credits! Leo must be very wealthy, but even so, why would he spend such a large amount of money on someone he hardly knew?

  The last tendrils of daylight peeked over the rooftops as they exited the police station. Absent were the curious onlookers who'd chanted for Seth's head. The town was still. He no longer felt a part of it or the people who'd once welcomed his mother into their homes.

  Leo’s firm hands guided him east toward the little chapel. The Valdeonian was taking great pains to help Seth. Perhaps he owed Seth's father, Edmund, a favor? Were they comrades in the army? Relatives, perhaps? Friend or relative, Seth couldn't take the man's money.

  "Sir, I swear I will work off every penny you paid on my release."

  Those amber-flecked eyes looked sharply upon Seth with an expression impossible to interpret. They held such firmness, Seth began to shrink away. Leo gripped him tighter.

  "I knew your mother." Sorrow filled his eyes, spilling onto his face in a pained frown. "Will you take me to her grave, Seth?"

  Leo had come because of his mother, not for Edmund's sake? He turned away from the man to look out across the fields. The pain and grief were still too close. Emma was constantly after him to talk about his mother, but Seth couldn’t bring himself to admit that she was really gone — to admit that she had left him.

  "I have never been, sir. She was buried when I was ill."

  The sharp stab of grief struck his heart with a sudden thrust. He didn’t want to see his mother laid under the cold ground. She'd spent too many seasons in the frigid wet cold of Marianna. He couldn't bear to think of her alone in the dark frost of death. Who was this stranger to ask so much of him? Unless he wasn't a stranger to their family. The sprouts of suspicion began to grow, bringing his stinging anger back toward the surface.

  "It’s time you spoke with her, yes? You must tell her why you are so angry."

  Leo steered him toward the rolling fields beside the chapel. Seth suspected he knew exactly where they were headed. They walked side by side along the graveled path to the cemetery gate. A gentle mist from the sea rested upon Seth’s cheeks and hair. He smoothed the wetness away and thrust his anxious hands in his pockets.

  They made a silent pair as they passed through the iron rod gate. His mother's grave rested beyond a row of tiny headstones. They marked the little unnamed graves of the babes too weak to last in the harsh Marianna climate. Seth climbed the grassy hill and stopped before her white headstone. Several bundles of little winter flowers lay at the base. Their stark red and purple hues were obscene against the white. Emma. He knelt down to adjust a wayward bunch.

  "I recognize these from Mother’s box garden behind our house." He shook his head. "Emma must have picked them. Mother would be unhappy at the waste. Foolish! Leaving them out here in the cold."

  Seth’s chest and throat tightened. Hot tears escaped through the crumbling wall of his control. Sobs of helpless grief and frustration shook his body. Fist aimed at the ground, he struck again and again at the cold turf. The buzzing sensation at his temples and neck released its power into the ground, leaving a deep indentation by her headstone.

  "Why are you so angry with her?" Leo’s hand rested gently upon Seth’s head. "We do not pick the time when the Creator calls us home."

  "She lied to me! Mother left me alone with no clue as to who I really am."

  "Anne loved you, Seth. This was not a lie, yes?"

  He lifted his face to regard the Valdeonian. Wet glistened upon his cheek in the weak fingers of sunlight. He'd cared for her too. Seth let his fist drop. He wasn't the only one hurting. Exhausted, he sunk down into the chilly grass. It was an odd feeling to release the grief and anger he'd
held inside for so long. He'd leaned upon them for courage in his efforts to find Sandor. Would he have enough courage left to finish their deadly game?

  "Come, son." Leo helped Seth to his feet. "A hot meal should be waiting for us by now."

  They walked side by side out of the cemetery gate and back toward the town square. Great gulls. The weariness penetrated his body down to the bone. Every muscle ached from his misadventures. Focusing on putting one foot before the other, he let his resentment for the man walking next to him subside.

  "McCloud!" Elder Newcastle bellowed from the town hall steps. "What do you think you’re about, boy? Who the devil let you out of jail?"

  "Great gulls. I'm in no mood for him just now. We can take the Farm Row to avoid him."

  "Never cower before fools such as these." Leo walked with firm conviction toward the elder. "Remember who you are! This fool is not fit to share the same road with the man who stood single-handedly against raiders, saving an innocent girl from capture. The shadow of his cowardice must never fall upon the only man with courage enough to defend a helpless child from villainous brutes. This buffoon dares speak your name in such a tone after you climbed down the fabled cliffs of Marianna to save his worthless son’s life? No, Seth. Do not cower before such a one as this."

  He stared open-mouthed at Leo. What in the green, green fields was he going on about? Seth was no hero. He was just…Seth. The Valdeonian warrior's words were true, he had to admit, but on each of those occasions it was his strange new power that had propelled him into action. Without its strength, his own bumbling efforts would have failed.

  "If you have business with Seth, you must take it up with me. He is under my employ now. I won’t have his time wasted speaking to you."

  Elder Newcastle puffed up like a stuffed pig at harvest time. "Now see here! I am the elder…"