Red Leaves and the Living Token (3 page)

The School Master had expected their confrontation to be abrupt. He expected the young Valance to back down, admit his error and accept punishment. Instead, the boy bent over, picked up a sword, removed it from its sheath and held it up as a threat.

The mass of students crowding around them took a step back in reaction, not just from the young Valance's aggressiveness, but from the weapon. The blade that he had unsheathed was moving, or rather, flowing as though it were made of a black liquid. It's entire length radiated a halo of darkness.

The situation had progressed into the most horrific possibility he could've imagined. Violence was something he abhorred. Violence against a child, a student, was unthinkable.

As the boy stood there holding this dangerous weapon, his glare fixed on his target, the outcome became clear. The school master slipped his hand into his cloak. In that moment, all thought pushed out of his mind, all that was left was instinct.

The boy lunged.

The School Master stepped aside to dodge the blow, slipped the dagger from under his cloak and put it to the boy's throat. "Put it down," He had commanded.

His short blade shined with a blinding light, filling the room. He remembered the look on Valance's young face as his resolve finally began to weaken. He dropped the tip of his sword.

The awful ordeal was over; he thought. Until another young boy stepped out of the crowd and picked up a weapon from the pile under Valance's feet. He unsheathed it and held it against the school master. An instant later he was followed by another boy.

"Let him go!" The boy shouted.

Their tone was insult enough without the weapons they held up against him. He should’ve know the young Valance would not have acted entirely without support.

The School Master dropped his dagger from Valance's neck and stepped back.

"Leave now!" Were the last words he uttered to any of them. Apparently their fates had been sealed together ever since.

He looked up and considered the aged face of his old student. How much of that angry little boy was left, he wondered.

"I've come to ask forgiveness." The aged lord Valance pleaded.

The School Master regarded him for a moment then took the Lord's hand. He pulled back the strong fingers to reveal the center of his palm. A black mark appeared in his skin, as if the fancy embroidery from the hilt of a sword had been branded onto his skin.

The School Master let out a sigh of disappointment.

"As I feared."

Lord Valance stared at his own palm, stunned.

"Forgiveness? You still have the mark of the weapon on your hand. How long has it been since you've used it? A day, two?"

The School Master dropped Valance's hand. The mark disappeared.

"I..."

Valance looked up at his old Master then back at Whitting, bewildered. He regained his composure.

"We had no idea what it was that we took. Their power... It’s more than we anticipated. We came back to ask... we need... help."

The School Master leaned towards him. "Bring me the swords!"

"If only it was that easy." He shifted his weight. "As you said. One or two days is the most I seem to be able to be apart from it."

"What you've done cannot be undone with a wave of the hand. Bring me the swords and I will help you endure the pain that will come. And I promise you this temporary suffering will pass and in return you will find... rest."

"I understood there was another way."

The School Master shook his head. "The Token cannot help you now. To use it to find them would only seal what's been done."

"But the writings say..."

"Valance," Lord Whiting interrupted.

Lord Valance turned. Lord Whiting pushed open the false door in the back of the room revealing the passageway.

Several sets of foot prints marked a trail in the dust covered stone floor.

Lord Valance hurried to his feet and rushed to the back of the room, knocking over a shattered table in his haste. He stopped himself with the stone wall surrounding the passageway and turned back to the school master.

"What is this?"

Lord Barnus stepped into the room. "Valance, the Soldiers reported a man and two children running from the outer wall."

"There is one way and one way only. Bring back the swords!" The School Master shouted.

Valance eyed his old master. Then turned to Barnus.

"Bind his wounds. Keep the soldiers here. Whiting and I'll go after the man and children."

He motioned for Whiting to follow him as he charged down the passageway. Lord Barnus, alone with the school master, climbed over the debris and stood over him.

"Lets just say, I don't share Valance's affection for the past."

He pulled his overcoat back over the hilt of his sword and drew the dark blade.

-

Lord Valance and Lord Whiting raced down the dark stone passage way. The tunnel turned sharply before ending at a large stone door. They pushed it open and found themselves on the outside of the outer wall of the school. The grassy pasture rose up into gently rolling hills to the south.

On the top of one of those hills. Nemic, carrying a wooden chest, paused in his flight to look back at them. Lord Valance smiled. Upon seeing them, Nemic took off at a full sprint.

-

Nemic ran to the edge of the cliffs and looked down over the edge at the sea below. A blur of panicked thoughts raced through his mind. What were his options? What should he do? He'd been fortunate enough to elude them this long. But how much longer could he count on his luck? Should he continue running along the coast to the west? Could he evade them? Or would he just end up putting the Token in their hands? Could he risk that? Even at the expense of his own survival?

He opened the small wooden chest and took out the tightly wrapped bundle inside. As he unwrapped it, fold by fold, a soft, pale glow cast beams of reddish white light through the misty air.

He pulled back the final fold and revealed the source of the glow. He had always thought that someday he might inherit the right to hold the Token, to see it with his own eyes. But now, under these circumstances, the impact of seeing it horrified him. It meant the previous Keeper of the Token was dead.

He stared at the perfect beauty of its carved form, resembling a shrunken tree with a ball of roots at its base and a slender bird wrapped around its trunk. He had never known what it looked like, only its function and importance. And now, he would've given anything to have this honor, seeing it first hand, take from him. Everything about his possession of it meant that something had gone wrong.

The clomping of horses in full gallop peaked above the roar of the sea below. Nemic turned abruptly.

A tight pack of black horses raced across the black rock of the cliffs towards him. The men on the horses held their swords above their heads ready to strike.

The blood drained from his face. His time was up. There would be no escape.

He turned back to the ocean and held up the figurine in front of him. Its beautiful, he thought, as it glowed softly in the evening light.

He glanced back at the horsemen bearing down on him, only moments away.

"God forgive me!" He whispered.

He pulled the Token back and threw it as hard as he could over the edge of the cliff, doubling himself over with the effort. The wind caught it as it fell, pushing it further out into the sea.

With a cacophony of screaming men and clacking hooves, the swarm of horses over took him.

R
aj Handers pushed through the over sized hospital room door; his heavy leather work apron swung in behind him. He had a habit of forgetting to take it if off after work. Not that he made much of an effort to remember. His physical appearance had slipped far from the top of his concerns. He was sure he was breaking some sort of social code of conduct to be seen publicly in work clothes, given his standing. But then, it wasn’t his own reputation that would be called into question. It’d be his in laws. He was sure if they saw him in his work apron he’d hear all about it.

Rinacht struggled through the door after him, balancing a small stack of books in each hand. His small Petra form and formal servant attire contrasted harshly against Raj, his much larger Zoen employer. Petra weren’t small. Rinacht, though, had been the blessed recipient of exceptional genetics. He was small and exceptionally so. In his own land, it had been a peculiarity. Odd, but not enough to stop you in the street. Here, though, he was a peculiar variety of an almost non existent breed. There were almost no other Petra here, and the few that were, were large and intimidating. To see a miniature one? That was enough to stop you in the street.

"We got you some new books!" Raj said as he circled around to the back of the hospital bed that filled most of the room.

"Yes, we..." Rinacht lifted the stack still in his arms to emphasize the word, "brought you all that we could carry."

Emret looked up from a weathered old green book he had spread out over the bed covers next to him and sat back against a pillow. "Hey dad, Rinacht."

Emret was just crossing into those awkward teenage years. Raj was having a hard time seeing him as anything other than how he’d always seen him - as his little boy. Only now he was stretched out a little funny. And he seemed to disagree with him a lot more than he used to.

The boy's attractive young Botann nurse closed the book softly and stood. "Hello Mr. Handers." She greeted him with something slightly more than a friendly smile.

Moslin was beautiful. The Botann were a beautiful people. There was no question about that. They weren't hunched over fury messes like the Zo, or cold unforgiving clumps of mass like the Petra. No. They were slender, elegant. Their skin was a smooth creamy green that flowed in graceful, long curves with only the thinnest hint of fuzz. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like not to have to deal with his thick pelt.

Emret picked up the book they had open and put it on his lap. They'd been reading it together... again, Raj thought, as he returned the smile. He took her hand and bowed slightly. "Miss Moslin."

Despite the annoyance of her continual disregard for his desire that she not read that particular book to his son, he couldn't help but smile when she was in the room.

"What happened?" Emrett asked, a bit surprised.

"What?" Handers leaned to the side to see his boy around the lovely Moslin. He followed the boy's glance down to his apron. The thick leather had long gouges cut down its full length. It appeared as though a large set of claws had raked across it a few times.

"Oh. The Attly Clan's bears. They've become a little aggressive lately, stopped responding to clan issues. I've had to work with them all week."

He leaned over by his son and kissed him on the forehead. "How you feeling today?"

"Fantastic." Emret answered dryly.

Handers stared at the aged green book that looked like it belonged in a museum rather than a kids hands. "What are you guys reading?"

Moslin looked away, uncomfortable.

Emret stared at the book. "Same thing."

Raj turned his attention to the nurse. "I appreciate you taking so much time with my son."

"My pleasure," She replied.

"Although, you run the risk of making your other patients jealous." He jested.

She laughed. "I don't think it's the other patients I have to worry about."

He smiled.

She picked up the green book off the bed and stepped past Raj towards the exit.

"Where're you going?" Emret asked.

"Your father's right. I do have other patients."

"Thanks Dad." Emret muttered sarcastically.

"Don't worry, sweetie. I'll be back later." She said as she slipped out the door.

"Didn't you two just finish that book?" Raj asked as he turned back to the bed.

"Yeah why?"

"Well, how many time have you read it?"

"I don't know."

"Don't you have other books you could read?"

"Dad! Seriously."

A scratching noise reverberated from the wall across from the foot of the bed. They both turned abruptly, startled by the noise.

At the base of the wall near the door was a small ornately trimmed hole. The scratching grew louder until a small rodent scampered out onto the lip of the trim and hopped down onto the floor.

It scurried across the tile and stopped in front of Handers with its chest exposed. A metal plate engraved with the crest of his wife's family hung to the underside of the small animal.

Raj dropped his shoulders. It was such an ugly creature. And it stunk. Fit the message, he supposed, chuckling to himself.

The rodent rubbed his hands together for a few seconds then scampered back the way it came.

Rinacht got up from his seat and moved towards the door. "Shall I admit them, sir?"

Raj stared at him for a moment before responding. What if he said no, he thought. He could. He could simply not let them in. That wouldn't be that bad, would it?

He looked back at his son who was watching him with a disapproving look. "Yes, of course. Why would you need to ask that, Rinacht?" He delivered an uncomfortable fake laugh to his son and then pointed at Rinacht as though he didn't know what had gotten in to him.