The Seedbearing Prince: Part I (14 page)

The Defenders had all worked so silently up
to this point that most of the villagers had forgotten nearly
twenty armored offworlders stood in their midst. At the new
Ringman's signal, they sprang into motion as one. Goodwives cried
out, and even the sturdiest of farmers yelped in surprise as the
Defenders melted deftly through them. The unlikely makings of a
riot faltered. The Defenders now surrounded all the Preceptors save
Lurec.

Dayn shared a stunned look with Joam.
So
fast,
Joam mouthed. He held his staff less certainly than
before. He and the rest of the villagers scrambled aside as the
lead Defender strode toward Lurec.

To Dayn's relief, some villagers retreated
altogether, drifting away to search through the rubble, weeping
quietly over lost loved ones. The Square returned to a mournful
quiet, underscored by the remaining flames picking over the
Dawnbreak's guts. Dayn still saw no sign of his father or Tela
anywhere.

The lead Defender addressed Lurec in a hard
voice. “This was an ill-advised venture on your part, to travel to
these...Mistlands. Without my escort. The Ring deals sparingly with
Shard for good reason. Your actions make our presence here even
more tenuous.”

“My dictates never required your presence,
Defender,” Lurec said. “The Lord Ascendant instructed me to
determine the cause of these events. That task is complete, without
the help of your men.”

Dayn goggled and even Elder Buril's eyebrows
rose at the heat in the Preceptor's tone. The Defender stood of a
height with most Shardians, a true rarity for an offworlder. His
brown eyes frosted at Lurec’s words. From behind the circled
Defenders, several of the Preceptors appeared ready to swoon at the
exchange.

“You overstep―”

“Our orders are nothing compared to this
young man's discovery,” Lurec cut in, gesturing at Dayn for the
entire Square to see.

“Leave them to this,” Elder Buril hissed,
appearing suddenly at Dayn's arm. “It's Ring business.” He began to
pull Dayn away, but too late. The Preceptor's words marked him
apart, and suspicion showed in every Shardian gaze that met Dayn's
eyes. The Preceptor beckoned him forward.

“Nassir, this is Dayn,” he said. “He’s found
something you need to see. Something that may turn the tide in
favor of the World Belt.”

Dayn stepped forward on suddenly weak legs,
intimidated like never before in his life. Nassir looked powerfully
built beneath the unforgiving black armor that fit him like a
second skin. A fine layer of ash had settled on the dark brown
dreadlocks that hung past his shoulders, framing his honey-hued
face. Command radiated from his eyes as he regarded Dayn, so the
other warriors' deference―along with the Preceptors'
cowering―seemed only natural. The Defender abruptly stuck out his
hand.

“Well met, young Shardian.” Nassir said
simply. Dayn fumbled the greeting. The Defender did not shake his
hand in the Mistland way, but rather clasped hand to forearm.
Dayn's arm felt like a dry twig ready to snap in Nassir's black
metal gauntlet. He looked at Dayn expectantly. “So how would you
awe me?”

“I...I gave it to him. Preceptor Lurec.”

“What do your dictates say about that,
Preceptor?” the Defender asked. Lurec fumbled at his overcoat
pocket, flushing as the Defender's gaze skewered him in place.
Several of the Preceptors peered at Dayn in an interested way that
unnerved him. They reminded him of Tela at the pond, deciding what
to do with a newly captured tadpole.

Where are my kin?
Dayn began to slink
away into the onlooking villagers, but Elder Buril stopped him with
a slight shake of his head.

“Do not belittle me!” Lurec spluttered, still
fumbling through his pockets. “It's here, I have it here.”

“Something important enough to obtain without
a Defender's presence and you lose it?” Nassir inquired coolly.

A new commotion turned the onlookers back
toward where the eastern road met the Square. Dayn stared in shock
as his mother and Kajalynn appeared, their dresses dirtied from the
road. Once Kajalynn saw Nassir, she began to shriek at the top of
her lungs.

“My husband!” she screamed. “Oh peace help
me, they took my husband!”

The Square erupted like a kicked anthill.
Farmers surged forward with staffs in hand. They boiled toward
Lurec, Nassir, and even the Defenders' impassive circle. Not one
Wia Wells man hesitated at charging the Ringmen after seeing the
distraught wives, and the Southforte folk were only half a step
behind.

“Offworlder filth! Back to the sky with
you!”

“Keep the Preceptors from harm, we must
not―”

Something knocked Dayn to the ground, he did
not see who or what. Shouts sounded out all around him as he
regained his feet. Complete bedlam engulfed the Wustl Square.

“My wife! Let me go to my wife!”

Dayn heard Laman's bellow over the tumult and
spotted him forcing his way through the Square. He felt immense
relief to see his father, covered in ash, but otherwise
unharmed.

A farmer blocked Dayn's view as he rushed
Nassir. The Defender calmly sidestepped the farmer's staff and
planted a boot in the man's rump. His momentum carried him
unceremoniously to the ground.

“Please, please!” Elder Buril shouted, but
the frenzy drowned him out. Nassir turned to Dayn, feet planted
easily in a fighting stance that Dayn recognized immediately.
Leopard's Embrace. Milchamah used the stance often when he taught―a
mocking invitation to strike reserved for an inferior opponent.

Dayn felt the Defender's eyes sift him for a
moment. He swallowed, holding his staff uncertainly. Nassir
abruptly turned away, making measured progress toward the circle of
Defenders, dodging and sidestepping as he went. Never once did he
attack a Shardian.

Another one of the Defenders struggled
through the crowd, protecting himself from the fists and staffs
buffeting him from every side. Defenders took oaths to never raise
arms against a world, but any fool could see how this would turn
out. The Defender lost his feet to a farmer's staff and went down.
Nearby villagers set to pummeling the Ringman with kicks.

Nassir gestured sharply to his circled men.
Two of the Defenders broke into the throng after their comrade.
Metallic pings echoed through the Wustl Square as the crowd fell on
them with fists.

“Stop!” Dayn found himself joining the
shouts.

The fallen Defender had left the safety of
their circle to retrieve Lurec. The Preceptor stood alone and
exposed in the throng as the two Defenders waded toward them
both.

“Leave Shard, offworlder!”

“You've brought enough grief to our
village!”

Things were happening too fast. Joam crept
toward Nassir's back, unnoticed while the Defender signaled orders
with those strange hand signals. Joam stood high, his favorite
darkwood staff in his hand. Nassir's focus lay entirely on his
men.

“Joam,
no!”
Dayn lurched into motion.
Joam drew his staff back to swing straight for the back of the
Defender's unprotected head.

He could not block Joam in time, so Dayn
threw himself into Swallow in the Wind. The strike lanced Joam
perfectly in the ribs. A vicious move, particularly for an
unsuspecting foe―no worse than what Joam intended for the
Defender.

Joam crumpled to the ground, clutching his
side, his darkwood dropped in the village ashes. Blayle the butcher
and several other Wia Wells folk stared at Dayn as though he had
just sprouted horns. Joam flopped onto his back, eyes rolling in
bewilderment and pain. Dayn dropped his staff.

“Why did you...?” Joam rasped.

“I'm sorry, brother! I couldn't let you,”
Dayn said. Nassir looked on for a moment, then turned back to his
men without a word. “Peace knows I'm sorry.”

“Enough of this!” Elder Buril's booming voice
finally broke through the tumult, though only a few Wia Wells folk
stilled themselves to listen. “What are you doing, scared witless
by a fire and biting the hand reached out to help you? The Ring is
here for harm as surely as you are, Henner! Or you, Cael.”

“There’s nothing we could have done!” Lurec
still sought to reason with the people who jostled him from every
side. He stepped out beside Elder Buril, even further from the
Defenders still pushing to reach him. “On my word as a
Preceptor!”

“You’re not wanted here―go back to the Ring!
Take your filthy offworlder ways someplace else!” Dayn recognized
the voice of the beady-eyed Misthavener, calling from the back of
the crowd.

Confusion still ruled the Square. People
rushed toward Hanalene and Kajalynn, or threw themselves at the
Defenders. Others pulled dumbstruck villagers from harm's way. A
Southforte man lunged for Lurec, pulling him savagely by the
collar. The Preceptor struggled in vain as the man raised a
fist.

Lurec's head snapped back so violently that
Dayn cried out. The Preceptor's body went limp for a moment before
he regained his feet. He held his hands up weakly to ward off
another blow.

Dayn did not blink or turn his gaze, but
somehow Nassir simply appeared next to the farmer. The Defender had
slipped through the crowd like greased wind. His black gauntlet
rested on the man's shoulder as though he were reasoning with an
old friend. His hand tightened.

Spasms marched down the farmer’s arm. He
snarled in pain as his grip convulsed open, and Lurec staggered
over to his fellow Preceptors.

But the corded muscles in the Southforte
man’s arm continued to contort of their own free will. He ran
howling from the Square, casting fearful looks over his shoulder
for signs of Defender pursuit.

“Peace embrace us,” Elder Buril breathed. The
same thought flashed across every farmer’s face that Dayn could
see.
If a single Defender could do that with a touch, what
happens if he looses them all?

“Proud of yourselves? Worked up by some fool
Misthavener’s words?” Milchamah demanded loudly. Things were truly
upside down for the weaponmaster to become the voice of reason. He
stood with Elder Buril between the villagers and the Ringmen. Laman
and other members of the Village Council joined them. Many
villagers still angrily demanded to know Grahm's whereabouts, but
order was finally returning.

Dayn looked regretfully at his own staff,
wondering over a better way to stop Joam. It was too late now,
though.

One of the Defenders broke from their circle
to approach Nassir. “The Preceptors are all accounted for...but our
force took none of these villagers prisoner, sir. What do they
mean?”

“Another innocent the true enemy would lay at
our feet. Move us out, Haenlin.” Nassir tapped two fingers absently
on his cheek and muttered to himself before speaking aloud again.
“Jetar will meet us on the northern road. We’ll stay in the capital
until morning before returning to the sky.”

He never stopped watching the crowd.
Villagers shrank away wherever his gaze rested. Finally satisfied
with what he perceived, the Defender turned back. His stare fell on
Dayn. Dayn swallowed hard as those hard brown eyes weighed him to
the ounce.
Take the Seed and go,
he thought.
You need
never see any of us again.

“Forgive us this day, Elder,” Nassir, turning
his focus to Buril. His tone was more command than apology. “The
Ring still serves.” For once, Elder Buril stood speechless as the
Defenders flowed like water into positions around Nassir. They
watched the crowd impassively for any stray stones or fists, but no
fight remained in Wia Wells. The Preceptors allowed themselves to
be herded away wordlessly.

“No, we must stay here!” From somewhere
within the cluster of retreating figures, Lurec shouted at the top
of his lungs. “We’ll lose―” His voice cut off sharply. Dayn could
imagine why, after seeing Nassir dispatch the Southforte man. The
Defenders soon disappeared beyond the last ruined dwellings,
watching every direction at once.

“Provoking Defenders!” Jairn exclaimed,
before stomping off to his ruined gem shop. “What were we
thinking?”

Some started to debate hotly with Elder Buril
about Grahm. “What’s he done? Taken with no Elder permission, and
three new toddlers to look after? They have no right!” Milchamah,
of all people, argued the loudest. He had never uttered a word of
praise for the offworlder before today.

Another innocent the true enemy would lay
at our feet, that Defender said.
Dayn did not want to believe
the gray men, these voidwalkers, did something to Grahm. Guilt
washed over him for being so suspicious over his neighbor’s odd
behavior.
Peace, he helped me out of the Dreadfall. What will
Kajalynn do without him?
He moved to join his parents, but
stopped short.

Joam glowered at him, holding his side as he
stood near the wells in the middle of the Square. Neither of them
made a move to walk closer, or speak. Finally, Joam stalked
away.

Dayn sighed heavily. He did not know which
would be more difficult to repair, the burned out village or their
friendship. A glint of warmth caught his attention, hidden in the
remains of an Evensong booth. He raised his foot to stamp out the
hot ember, glad for the chance to lash out at something, but halted
at the last moment. Dayn could not believe what he saw.

The Seed glowed up at him from beneath the
ash. The Preceptor had lost it in the fight. Dayn quickly looked
around.
Peace, why did I have to see it? Let someone else find
it, I have enough to worry about!
After a moment of agonized
deliberation, he scooped the Seed up and slipped it in his
pocket.

“Dust and blood, but that might have gone
better.” The sound of Elder Buril's tired voice behind him made
Dayn jump. “Are you alright, my boy? That Preceptor was awfully
interested in you.”