Blood and Water: The Lionheart Province (The Chronicles of Alburnium Book 1)

by J. R. Castle

  A bonfire blazed in the center of their camp. Leon avoided its warmth and headed for the cold shadows where he’d be left alone to think. No more advisers. He needed to make his own decision on this matter.

  He’d passed the area where the horses were tethered and stopped to pat his own steed. “If only I knew where people of the town stood.” He told his hoofed friend, Stormbolt. “Have they been overtaken against their will? Or had they forsaken King Shaydon anyway?”

  Wouldn’t that make all the difference? He could only help those who wished to be helped. If they were no longer pledged to Alburnium’s ruler, then….

  Leon closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Stormbolt’s nose. “The land still belongs to Shaydon and is my responsibility to protect it.” He blew out a frustrated breath. The horse nuzzled his cloak, trying to get to the inside pockets. “I fear I did not grab a treat for you. I am sorry, my friend. Tomorrow, I will bring you an extra apple. You have my word.”

  He continued on, hating that he’d even disappointed the horse.

  His word…he’d given his word to Issah to protect and care for all the land within the border of Rodonal. All of it.

  Eventually, he reached the stream and sat on a flat rock overhanging the rushing waters. The moonlight sparkled over the splashing current and cast the trees in a silvery glow. How long had it been since he’d taken a stroll outside to enjoy Shaydon’s beautiful lands? He’d been too busy while at the Academy and had taken the plush fields and woods for granted during his stay.

  Back at home, he was satisfied to wander through the manicured gardens and orchards. But there was something about being out in the wilds and experiencing the rugged beauty of the land. His lands. His to care for and protect.

  With a loud sigh, Leon buried his face in his hands.

  Then a strange sound came to him. He reached for his belt but remembered he’d not brought his sword with him. How foolish could he be?

  “Issah,” he whispered, clutching his medallion. The Prince listened, he knew this. “I have no idea why you picked me of all the people in your land. Surely, you could have picked someone with enough smarts to not go wandering around at night unarmed.” How could he protect his region if he couldn’t even protect himself?

  He slowly and quietly climbed off the rock, intent on returning to camp. He’d find a guard, someone armed, to come explore the strange noise that sounded like a…child…crying?

  His heart jammed up into his throat. Why would a child be out here? Alone? Then he thought about the town, what if…Leon went in search of the source of the weeping. Soon he came upon a tiny figure crouched in the shelter of a hawthorn.

  “Hello there,” Leon called out, keeping his voice gentle. “Are you hurt, boy?” Obviously, from the child’s dress, he assumed. His hair was a little long and mingled with dirt and sticks. Even his face and arms were caked with mud. Was this a camouflage? But why? “Where are your parents?”

  The boy looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes. “Hidin’ my lord. We’d seen the men with the Regent’s banner. I said he’s finally come. At last. But the others, they were too scared to come out. So I came. I came to find the Regent and tell him of our plight, sire. Can ye lead me to him? I know he has to be near. I can’t let him pass us by, he’s our last hope!”

  Leon crouched beside the dirty boy. “You call me lord and sire, what makes you think I’m of any importance, lad?”

  “Your dress, sire. Ye look like someone important. I have to see the Regent. Please take me to him, please?” The lad begged, then gasped when he spotted something. Reaching out, he grasped Leon’s medallion. “Ye are here to help. See?” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a similar medallion though it was covered in dirt, there was no mistaking it belonged to one of Shaydon’s children. “This is me, Da’s. We still follow Shaydon’s ways, sire. A few of us, at least.”

  Leon’s heart broke. He scooped the boy into his arms. The lad shivered, and his clothes were damp, probably from wading across the stream to get this far. Wrapping his cloak around the child’s frail frame, he said, “I do not need to take you to the Regent, son. The Regent has come to you. Let us get you warmed up and fed, then you can share your story with us.”

  The boy’s arms wrapped around his neck. Leon’s breath caught in his lungs. He paused and hugged the boy back, wanting to assure him that he was safe.

  “Thank ye, sire. Thank ye. The bad men came to our town, they did. Two years ago now. They took over everything and killed anyone who opposed them. We tried to send messenger birds, but nobody knows if they made it. Then a messenger passed through.”

  While Leon carefully made his way back toward camp in the dark, the boy prattled on. Leon didn’t try to interrupt him or ask questions. He simply listened to the lad’s story.

  “My older brother, Tumms, he intercepted the message that you were coming. Promised the Messenger that he would deliver the news to the right people. He didn’t want the Thieves to know, sire.” The lad looked Leon square in the eyes with a smug smile. “But we did. We knew and have been waiting and watching. Will you help us, m’lord? They took everything. They took our Illuminates and Healers and anyone who had special giftings. They took them away to the mountains. My sissy was one of ‘em that was taken. She’s not returned, and I fear she never will.”

  The boy was nearly out of breath from trying to explain everything as quickly as possible. Leon patted his back. “Be at ease, son. Be at ease. Let us take care of your needs, and then we’ll decide what can be done. By chance, is your remaining family out of harm’s way? Can they be rescued? We can find new homes—”

  “Nay, sire. We can’t abandon our fields. And I can’t accept ye comforts while my family and friends are in such need. Please, tell me ye will come. The sorcerers have no right to take Shaydon’s land. No right, sire.”

  Leon nodded, realizing the decision had just been made for him. “You’re right. They have no right, and we will go reclaim what rightfully belongs to our King.”

  The boy let out a loud whooping holler that roused the sleeping men from their tents. “For Shaydon!” He yelled with everything he had, raising his arms over his head. “For Alburnium and for FREEDOM!”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Fajer, I don’t understand what all the fuss is about.” Darnel followed his partner out of the assembly hall. The Brethren were in an uproar over some new Regent of Rodonal. Who cared about Regents? They were merely caretakers over parcels of land the light King partitioned out. Few did a decent job of it, from what he’d seen.

  The king was perfectly capable of monitoring the goings on of his people. He had that crystal lake to peer into and spy on anyone he wished to. At any given moment. And in any location throughout the land.

  A shiver ran down Darnel’s spine. He hoped that king had long forgotten about him. The last thing Darnel wished for was another run-in with Issah or anyone else associated with Aloblase. Far as he was concerned, the more distance between him and any “kingdom” towns that served the light king, the better he felt.

  Fajer stopped and spun around to face him, his robes whipping around his legs as his face darkened with irritation. They’d agreed to be partners, but Darnel often had to remind of that he was no longer a grunt to be ordered around or scolded like a child.

  Fajer’s tone was like grinding gears. “The reason we are concerned, my friend, is because we have a deep stake in one of those towns. And we’d hoped, under the previous Regent’s rule, to sway more villages to our side. He’d left them bereft and neglected. Abandoned. We came to their rescue. Like I did with that smudge on the map, Goia. For a few coins, they do the work of making their village thrive. They do so out of fear of their Regent. If they don’t take care of the land they live on, he can cast them out of his province.”

  “That’s harsh.” But it wasn’t the first time Darnel had seen that happen. Not that he was technically cast out. He simply wasn’t allowed to enter the Halls of Knowledge. To
him, it was all the same.

  “It is, especially when the said ruler is supposed to help his people. Tarest was on the brink of starvation when one of the Brethren, an elder called Burkus, entered and made a barter for his favor. Burkus was made a Prior of their town, and in turn, the Brethren supplied what the people needed.” He turned and continued walking toward the stables where their horses were housed.

  The Elders had ordered the star clan to go at once to reinforce their claim on Tarest. Word had arrived that the new Regent was making his tour of Rodonal and would soon reach their town. The Brethren wished to let the Regent know that he no longer owned that portion of land. They’d purchased, it and anyone who’d opposed of their purchase had been swiftly dealt with.

  Darnel rushed to keep up with Fajer’s fast pace. “You honestly think the Regent has enough power to stand against us? Is that what all the fuss is about?”

  “No. Of course not.” Fajer answered. “But he can request help if he so chooses. We are going to make sure he understands any attempt to reclaim the paltry little town isn’t worth the loss of his men’s lives. I’m sure he’ll move on and keep pretending we don’t exist.”

  Darnel expected that very thing to happen. Those in power seldom wished to get their hands dirty. They often sent out lesser men to do their dirty work. He expected no less from this Regent. “So, tell me about Tarest, then. From what I understand, they were just a bunch of cotton farmers and cloth makers.”

  Fajer stopped at their wagon to grab his traveling pack and staff. He’d suggested that Darnel make a staff for himself, but he’d brushed the idea aside. He didn’t need a staff to harness his powers. His hands were enough, but he’d not said as much.

  “It’s not what Tarest produces,” Fajer explained. “But what they sit upon. Precious metals below the ground are valuable to us. We must protect our claim. Now, grab your things. You’ll need your weapons, I have a special job for you.”

  Darnel wasn’t too sure he liked the sound of that.

  * * * *

  Leon rubbed his tired eyes. He’d managed to get a couple of hours of sleep, but his slumber was filled with worrisome dreams or rather nightmares. The boy who called himself Mikel had told them all about the take-over of their town nearly two winters ago.

  His father’s indifference had caused a lot of harm, more so than Leon had first realized.

  The town was now swarming with sorcerers. His men had no weapons to fight the conjurers with. How would he ever manage to defeat the trespassers and win back the town? Mikel had said half the people living there were in cahoots with the wizards. The surviving few, who’d tried to fight back, were hiding in underground shelters deep in the woods.

  That was where Leon had directed his men to go. He’d rally those were willing to fight with him. Despite Koloman’s objections over engaging the insignificant settlement, Leon had taken the councilor’s more reasonable advice to send for reinforcements. He could only hope that Osas would send men quickly. It was a three-days ride from there. He’d sent a messenger bird before daybreak.

  Riyah’s suggestion was to not tarry but to go straight forth and reclaim his town.

  Right. As if he could simply march into the center of the hamlet and demand the sorcerers give it back. Most likely, they’d blast him into a pile of dirt and ash. No thanks.

  Leon shook his head as he rode upon his stallion behind the wagons filled with gifts from his previous stops. They’d need to find somewhere to hide them until the matter of Tarest was settled.

  The boy, whose name was Mikel, rode with Leon, perched on his lap. The brave lad looked half-starved. His clothes were worn to threads and his feet covered in broad leaves and bits of cotton tied around his feet to keep him warm during his nighttime travel.

  Leon feared how the rest of the outcasts looked.

  Mikel pointed at a mound rising up in the dense forest. “There it tis, sire.” He tucked his fingers into the sides of his mouth and blew out a trilling whistle.

  Leon called his men to a halt. They waited. From somewhere within the trees came an answering call. Mikel blew out two more blasts, then hopped down from the horse, landing deftly on his feet and scampering off toward the mound. “I brought ‘em, Da! I brought ‘em like you said. The new Regent’s a fine fellow. Come on out. It’s safe. You gots ta meet ‘em.” The last thing Leon heard the boy say was, “An’ praise Shaydon, they gots an Elderad with ‘em, too!”

  Leon glanced at his guardian, noting his satisfied grin. It wasn’t that Leon didn’t trust Riyah’s advice. His counsel simply made no sense. How was his small band of men supposed to go up against a clan of sorcerers? He had no means to kill them, they were too powerful. And though Elderads could not be killed, they also did not kill. They guarded, advised and instructed. They did not fight the wars of men.

  As if appearing out of thin air, a small group of men headed toward them. Leon dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to his squire. Motioning for General Gailid to accompany him, he met the group halfway. With a bow, Leon introduced himself and his general. He then pointed to Riyah and Koloman who remained on their horses.

  One man, with white hair trailing down from the sides of his balding head like a frozen waterfall, knelt toward Riyah. “An honor to be in your presence, my liege. We are at your service, Sire.”

  Koloman’s chest puffed out as he bowed his head in return. “No need for formalities, we are here to help.”

  Leon caught Riyah’s grin and quickly looked away to keep from laughing.

  The white-haired leader cleared his throat, then turned to Leon. “You must be the new Regent.”

  “Leonard of the House of Lion, at your service, friend of the King.” He placed his hand over his heart where his medallion hung.

  The elder did the same. “I am Holand. My brother was the Prior of Tarest, I fear he is now in the Land of Everlasting after trying to withstand the wizard’s take-over of our town. The rest of us fled, unable to withstand their powers. There’d been enough bloodshed. Unfortunately, many of our young men and women sided with the intruders. I’m sure they were simply glad to have someone willing to come in and end their hunger, not counting the cost of their full bellies.”

  Leon rested his hand on the man’s shoulder. “We are here to do what we can to help. Is this a safe place for us to talk?”

  Holand turned to his group and whispered something. They pointed at the wagons as if conversing about what to do with everyone. Was their hiding place limited to how many it would hold? He did not mind having them meet out here. He’d always hated closed in spaces.

  With a nod, Holand sent off a couple of his men who jogged away toward the mound of earth. Again, they seemed to disappear in an instant. “Regent Leonard, I invite you and your men to come inside with us. You will want to keep guards out here to protect your wagons, though we do have a means of hiding them. I’ve sent for someone to get that started. If you and General Gailid would like to follow me, along with your Advisers, I’ll show you where our remnant has been staying. Come along and…well, brace yourselves.”

  * * * *

  “This is the main road into this town,” Fajer said, pointing his staff down the narrow, tree-lined dirt road. “You will join the band of men hiding in the woods and intercept the Regent’s caravan. Whatever goods you are able to salvage, bring with you. We’ll go through it later and disperse it among those who came with us.”

  “What would you have done with the Regent and his men?”

  Fajer waved his hand dismissively. “Kill them for all I care. All of them.”

  Darnel pushed down the sense of foreboding over Fajer’s answer. In his younger years, he never would have dreamed of bringing harm to anyone in such a position. Things had changed. He needed to discard those naive beliefs once and for all.

  “While the prince is scrambling to find a new Regent,” Fajer continued, “we’ll move on to Warton and Goia and claim those towns, as well. I may need to cash in my contract a lit
tle early.”

  Darnel fought harder against that little voice inside screaming for him to not do this. The golden-haired girl with her green, trusting eyes drifted across his mind. Would Fajer do to her what the Brethren had done with the Illuminate? For some reason, he didn’t want to see her given over to the pit demon.

  Things had changed. So had he. Fajer had gained influence with the Brethren because of his cunning in tricking people to trade their gifted children. Most didn’t realize when they’d made the deal, but Darnel had no sympathy for anyone who made deals with wizards. The people of the provinces should know better. If they were true Kingdom people, they would never entertain a sworn enemy of the crown.

  “Are you listening? Time is wasting. We need to be ready when they come.” Fajer gave him a shove toward the woods.

  “What if he decides this speck of a town isn’t worth his trouble?” Darnel backed into the shelter of woods.

  “If he doesn’t engage us now, he will send for reinforcements to come later. We need to stop him while we have this chance. Now hurry. We’ll soon be celebrating over our spoils.”

  Once Darnel was out of sight of Fajer, he stopped to get his bearings. The others, mostly younger apprentices like him, had volunteered to come out and attempt to deter the Regent. They might be able to pick off a few warriors as they passed by, but it would be the Brethren who’d engage the Regent.

  Unless Darnel found a way to stop him first. Doing that would boost his status considerably and perhaps earn him more respect from the clan.

  Darnel took his time getting to the gathering spot while he steadied himself for the task before him. Killing a Regent was no small matter. That blood would be on his hands forever. Someone appointed by the prince had special protections placed on him.