Red Leaves and the Living Token - By Benjamin David Burrell Page 0,6

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