Red Leaves and the Living Token - By Benjamin David Burrell Page 0,7
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.
Chapter
ONE
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."