Seppal

By Janet Lane Walters

In Seppal, the prophecy has been heard and the Three and Three are awaited.
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Ranal’s dead mam once told him one day he would learn why he had been born. He has found two companions, boys like himself who have no home and become seaweed gatherers like he has been. His two friends are developing strange skill. He can see no change in himself but he desires a sword. Then they will be three, Seer, Healer and Warrior

Amera returns to the clan after spending the summer with the king windsteed stallion and six yearlings. What she finds is the slaughtered herd and also the clan. Only one person remains barely alive and tells her Bethera, her cousin and almost sister has been taken by the priestesses and their guards. Not knowing what to do, Amera follows the king stallion to a sheltered glen and a huge cave complex. When the stallion calls her, she follows him to the priestesses’ keep and manages to rescue her cousin and another young girl. During the next few years, her friends develop talents and are becoming the Seer and the Healer. Amera wants to become the warrior but she can’t imagine how she can gain a sword.

Now the Three and Three must join to bring justice, healing, order and change to Seppal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BWL Publishing Inc.
• Release date: Dec 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9780228624448

Janet Lane Walters

Janet Lane Walters has been writing and published since the days of the typewriter. She has 30 plus novels and seven novellas plus four non-fiction books published. Janet lives in the scenic Hudson River valley with her husband, a psychiatrist who has no desire to cure her obsession with writing.She is the mother of four and the grandmother of five with two children expected to arrive soon from China. Janet writes in a number of genres - Romance from sweet to sensual and from contemporary to fantasy and paranormal. She has published cozy mysteries and medical suspense. She also has a number of YA fantasies published.

Book preview

Seppal

Moon Rising (Book 5)

Janet Lane Walters

Digital ISBNs

EPUB 978-0-2286-2444-8

Kindle 978-0-2286-2445-5

PDF 978-0-2286-2446-2

Copyright 2022 by Janet Lane Walters

Cover art by Michelle

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book

Dedication

To Jude, publisher wonderful for allowing me to explore my many worlds. To the editors who check for miscues in my stories, to my fellow authors who allow me many chances to explore new worlds and to all the readers who read and hopefully review.

Chapter One

Silence brought Ranal awake. Last night when he’d curled in his blankets for sleep, the wind and rain of the first autumn storm had begun. Slowly, he uncurled from his cocoon and walked to the opening leading to the hilltop above the hidden underground shelter. Before leaving his home, he grabbed three burlap sacks.

Alone. Eerie silence surrounded him. His mother had died during the last days of summer. Her body had been sealed behind a wall of rocks he had carefully fitted together. A small cell-like room had become her final resting place.

An ache of sadness caused his heart to flitter. For a moment, loneliness filled his thoughts. After drawing several deep breaths, he lifted the sacks. Mam had been his only companion for the thirteen years of his life. Not long enough but she had taught him how to survive.

He held the sacks over his shoulder and climbed the stone steps to the surface. The flight had been embedded in the sloping wall.

When he emerged, a slice of sunlight pierced the heavy cloud cover. A grove of trees thrust dark shapes that merged with the gloomy atmosphere. He walked to the narrow path leading to the shore. He hugged the wall of rocks promising safety. The other side was a steep drop to the ground. The earth beneath his feet was slick from the rains and made each step an adventure. When he reached the end, he released a held breath.

Ranal began collecting seaweed and hoped to finish before scavengers from town made their way to the shore. First, he separated the strands of blue from the tangled clumps. When he filled a bag, he set his spoils at the foot of the path. Next, he collected red strands. He finally filled a bag with green. Before dragging the filled bags up the path, he pressed each one to remove as much water as possible.

When he reached the top of the path, he pushed several rocks to cover the opening. He dropped the sacks on the flat rock facing the entrance and hurried down to make himself presentable for his trip to the market. He washed in the fountain pool. Then he dressed in his best clothes. He realized he had grown. The breeches allowed his socks to show and the tunic sleeves bared his wrists.

A smile crossed his face as a memory unfolded. Mam had studied him from her sick bed. The day will come when you’ll be tall and muscular. You’ll become a handsome man. Don’t grow up too soon. But he’d had no choice.

He reached for the boots he’d worn days ago and found his toes were cramped. Ranal shrugged and went to the room where heaps of robes and lines of boots were stored. He had no desire to wear one of the black robes that were women’s wear. He left the room to comb his hair and braid the dark strands into a single plait.

Ranal strode up the steps to the plateau. Gray clouds roiled like the waves of the sea. After hoisting the sacks, he walked to the edge of the mesa. Before descending, he recalled Mam’s words. Never take the same way down or up. Don’t make a path anyone can follow. Someday, you will learn why you were born. You must remain safe until that day comes.

He scanned the slope and planned his descent. With the bags over his shoulders, he made a slow way down to the foot of the hill. He turned and studied the slope relieved when he found no sign of a path. With determined steps, Ranal reached the road and hurried toward town. The sullen sun in a cloudy sky promised more rain. He hoped to finish selling and buying before the rains returned.

By mid-morning, he reached the market and carried his spoils to the man who bought seaweed. He entered the weighing room and sought the buyer.

Noem stepped forward. His shaved head glistened as if oiled. His dark eyes studied Ranal. Greetings. Where is your mam?

She’s coughing and feverish. She remained at home. Said you would deal honestly with me.

The older man’s smile failed to reach his dark, penetrating eyes. Since you are the first gleaner to arrive you will have a bonus. Now, let me see what you have brought.

Ranal handed him the first sack. Noem placed the red seaweed in a press and tightened the sides. Water ran into a drain. He removed and weighed the block. Seven coppers for the red. He moved to compress and weigh the blue and then the green. A good haul. Your man will be pleased. Twenty-four coppers plus ten for bringing the first batch of the autumn. Stop at the pothecaries and buy a cough syrup for your mam. He counted the coins into Ranal’s hand.

I’ll do that. Ranal smiled and turned to leave.

Don’t spend all the coins.

Ranal nodded. Mam told me what to buy. He sighed. I pray she will join me next collecting day. As he turned away, he prayed Noem would believe him. He paused outside the door and studied the sky. Looks like no storm tonight.

How right you are, Noem said. As the season progresses there will be many more storms.

Ranal stepped into an alley. He stored most of the coins in a belt pouch beneath his tunic. He kept enough to purchase what he needed. As he wandered through the stalls offering anything possible to buy, he studied the people. He saw children threading their way among the crowds and taking an opportunity to pilfer food and a coin or two. In the shadows, he spotted the men or women who controlled the waifs and taught them thievery.

He reached a stall where used clothing was sold. He sorted through a bin of breeches and found one long enough for his new height. A tunic with slashes of dark red was his next selection. He passed coins to the seller. Next time, he would buy a second set of clothes. He stuffed them in one of his gathering bags and walked to the pothecary. There, he bought a bottle of feverwort liquid in case Noem checked.

He wandered into the food section where he purchased dried fruit, vegetables, and meat. At a baker’s stand he bought flatbread and a loaf of the sweet bread Mam had liked.

Ranal’s last stop took him to the smithy where he paused to gaze in awe. The back wall held a dozen swords on brackets. He yearned for one though he had no idea how to use a blade. Mam had spoken of the man who had fathered him, a guard of the priestesses.

Tall and broad shouldered. A marvel with a sword. You look like him and will become more alike when you’re grown. I never told the priestesses his name. They tried to take you from me. I ran and found this place. Many people say it’s haunted by those who died here but this has been our refuge.

Ranal sighed and wished he could hold one of the swords.

Like what you see? The man with heavily muscled arms broke into Ranal’s memories.

He nodded. They’re beautiful.

And all forged by me. Unfortunately, they’re not for the likes of you.

I can dream.

To buy one would take ten gold coins, twenty-five silver and fifty copper. More than a man earns in a lifetime.

Ranal nodded. I know. He hoisted the sacks and strode away. He would never accumulate such riches. A knowing arrived and filled his thoughts. Someday he would have a sword and use it for justice.

He made his way from the town and reached the slope. He stared at the rock-strewn area and planned his route. A misting rain began. Slowly he climbed and frequently checked to see if anyone watched.

When he reached the entrance to the underground house, he strode down the stairs. Once inside he removed his wet clothing and donned a robe to keep the chill air at bay. He rekindled the fire in the massive hearth and prepared a hot tea. With slices of sweet bread, he ate his evening meal.

Alone. He wished Mam hadn’t died. He wished for someone to talk to, someone to ease the long days and nights ahead. Finally, he sought his bed and curled in the blanket. All he could do was wait for the next storm.

* * *

The storms continued but for weeks none were as violent as the first. By mid-autumn Ranal had stored enough food for the winter but he needed more meat to see him until summer arrived when he could trap hoppers and climbers.

That night, the wind and rain occurred with thunder and lightning streaking across the dark sky. Ranal laughed. He must rise early tomorrow and head to the shore.

At pre-dawn he arrived on the beach. Though rain still fell, the rushing waves had calmed. He filled sacks with red, blue, and