Free The Lords of Valdeon by C. R. Richards

island. Haven Bay had hired Seth’s uncle to organize a school just before he'd been born. Fergus had agreed. He'd left Horner Isle with his pregnant sister to colonize the one-town island with the rest of the hearty souls out for a new start.
    Tiny lights flickered in the windows of Haven Bay as Seth mounted the last grassy knoll. The residents of Haven Bay were all at their suppers by now if they weren't hiding from the raiders in their homes. He clutched at his rumbling belly. A hot meal and some of Emma's nettle ointment for his cuts would see him right again.
    He hobbled down the footpath, passing the Haven Bay School on his way toward town square. It was the only building in Haven Bay made from real stone. Stories still circulated around town about the headmaster and his treasured schoolhouse. Somehow Fergus was able to convince a crew of wayward sailors into chiseling pieces of the cliff side away. He used most of it for the tall building. The rest went to make the Lookout and the base of the airship port.
    The school’s solid frame towered over Seth as he hurried around the corner to the Main Row. Its empty windows watched as he passed, judging his worth. Resentment filled his heart. He hated each and every cold stone. The headmaster's office window was dark. His uncle had already returned home . He looked down at his bloodied shirt. Perhaps his uncle would postpone the usual angry tirade once he noticed Seth bleeding? The thought cheered him a little.
    His mother would have her own words to say to him. She'd been waiting for him all this time and was probably worried by the alarms. He hadn't wanted to believe her words spoken in anger. The Dagger and his raider friends had changed Seth's mind for him. Passing through the small garden of fading flowers, he jumped over the stone bench and pushed through the little iron rod gate leading to the residential neighborhood. The McCloud home was the last house on the row.
    "Mother? Emma?" Seth called, closing the door behind him. No answer. That was strange. Mother had told him she was coming home to pack her things. Perhaps she had gone to the Logan Farm instead?
    Seth pushed through the kitchen door to find Emma. She had heard everything and would know what the argument was about. Someone had to explain why his world had suddenly fallen into chaos.
    Their well-ordered kitchen was empty. Copper pots rested unused upon their hooks. The kettle sat cool on a dead fire. Seth backed away from it. The world may have been topsy-turvy, but his stomach still expected supper. He pulled day-old bread and cheese from the cupboard. After eating a quick meal, he filled the basin. Soapy water washed away the stench of ash and blood.
    Emma's medicines were kept on a high shelf in their pantry. She'd been anxious to keep them out of 'little hands' when Seth was a child. Now they stayed where they were out of habit. He grabbed the jar of nettle ointment and sniffed its contents. Crinkling his nose, he dipped his finger in with a grimace. The ointment stung when he rubbed it into his cuts. They weren’t deep and the bleeding had stopped, but that didn’t diminish their throbbing. Perhaps in the morning someone would actually notice he had been wounded in battle.
    He let the satisfied grin come. The struggle had been frightening, but oddly exhilarating. Seth’s daydreams were full of adventurous deeds. Tonight, he had been the hero he had always wanted to be. He couldn’t wait to tell Riley.
    Seth climbed the stairs to his bed chamber. Pulling off his tattered clothes, he winced as the fabric brushed against the knife cuts on his chest and arm. Fresh clothes had been laid out for him on top of a traveling trunk. His mother hadn't been idle that evening either. She'd emptied his wardrobe.
    Floorboards squeaked down the hall in his mother’s bedchamber. He replaced the board and put the table back. Easing out of his chamber, he tiptoed out into the hallway. A sudden movement cast shadows