The Stewards of Reed, Volume 1: The Rise of Fallon (26 page)

Fallon watched as the hooded riders left the village, then turned back to Isaiah. He almost started crying at the sight of the Steward on the ground, and probably would have if he had not seen Isaiah’s left hand slowly move a little. Fallon rushed back to his mentor. “Steward, are you all right?”

The Steward moaned as he tried to sit up, eventually doing so with Fallon’s help. “The fall must have knocked me unconscious for a moment. Nevertheless, I must admit that hurt more than I had imagined it would; it shall definitely leave a bruise.” The Steward slowly began to unbutton his shirt, revealing a heavily padded leather vest beneath. A vest that had stopped most of the arrow’s progress – there was but a small scratch to the skin.

“I thought you were dead,” said Fallon, shaking his head.

The Steward smiled as his apprentice. “I likely would have been if not for you and your dream.”

*************

The bell towers became silent shortly after the last balls of fire disappeared in the distance. It was not too much longer before the sun’s first rays peaked over the horizon. By that time, all the Elders had made their way back to the Council Chambers. They listened with horror as they learned of the attempt on the Steward’s life, but they were grateful for the foresight of the vest, and they were even more grateful for Fallon. The Elders quickly realized that although a considerable amount of damage had been done, had it not been for Fallon’s premonition, they would have likely lost everything.

“He saved this village, he saved Isaiah’s life. He shall be a worthy Steward,” Elder Peter conceded.

Fallon had thus far remained unaware of the division within the Council regarding his fate, so Elder Peter’s words did not hold as much weight with him as it did with the others. Unbeknownst to Fallon, he had finally won over his detractors. All of them.

Nevertheless, the raid came at quite a cost. The destruction of three of the larger storage barns in the eastern part of Reed, combined with the looting of the green and white barn, limited as it was, had a devastating impact on the village’s reserves; it was estimated that less than a quarter of their food stores remained. It was not yet known what sort of impact the blizzards and late snowmelt would have on this year’s crops, but there would likely be some loss. The Elders knew that food would an issue for the foreseeable future.

As he listened to ongoing reports of damage from the raids, Elder Maxwell became increasingly angry. “Perhaps it is time that we raise an army,” he ventured. “If more of our people were equipped with weapons, we would not be such an easy target for the Komanites.”

A hushed silence followed his bold statement. Through the centuries as other tribes went to war, conquering one another and eventually forming the larger towns that surround the village, the Reedites took great care not to become involved.
Let alone and be left alone
is a mantra that had served the village well, along with the unyielding protection of a powerful line of Stewards. Admittedly, there is not much of value within the village to attract the unwanted attention of others – it is not a wealthy mining town like Jessum. Nevertheless, Reed does have sufficient stocks of food, wool, and the general staples that are needed for one to survive the harsh winters of the Laureline Region, and this has not gone unnoticed…particularly by the Komanites.

Elder Catherine was the first to speak. “We have managed thus far without an army,” she protested. “Armies beget wars. Wars bring nothing but death and destruction.”

“Nine of our fellow Reedites paid with their lives last night because they were ill-prepared to deal with their attackers, and three of our storage barns were completely destroyed,” retorted Elder Maxwell. “It seems to me that
not
having an army begets death and destruction.”

Elder Catherine did not respond, but Elder Graham did. “Our fine village has persisted through the centuries as a community of gentleman farmers and businessmen, but one cannot deny that times are changing. Although I personally find the concept of an army to be vile, it may be worth considering, especially with all the troubles in the East.”

“Perhaps,” offered Steward Isaiah, “but I think this conversation is a bit premature. Our emotions are still heightened from the events of last night, and I do not want to make any rash decisions driven by anger and fear. I suggest we revisit this at the next Council meeting when we have the benefit of cooler heads.” None of the Elders offered any arguments so the Steward concluded the meeting. “Now, I should like to adjourn so we may all rest before the candle ceremony for the nine brave souls that lost their lives. I shall see you all at the old oak tree at seven o’clock tonight.”

Steward Isaiah and Fallon slept for much of the day before making their way to the old oak tree. It was a moving ceremony calling out the bravery of all who had died in the attack. Nearly two hundred villagers attended. Many tears were shed and many laughs were shared in the memories of the fallen.

Fallon was so wrapped up in everything that had happened – his dream, the fires, Steward Isaiah being shot with an arrow, the beautiful girl, the leader of the Komanites, the people who lost their lives – that he did not realize Elder Anne had failed to show up for the ceremony. Her husband, Zachariah, held back until the ceremony was over, and then slowly approached the Steward.

Elder Anne, at the ripe old age of eighty-seven, had died in her sleep earlier that day. She died with the knowledge that Fallon had finally been accepted by the remaining Elders. She died in peace.

*************

He had lost thirteen men in the raid, but his mind was primarily on the one person he almost lost. “Wizards be damned, how could you be so foolish? You could have died!”

Jezebel had never seen her father so angry, and she cowered behind her mother in the dining hall. “I -- I was only trying to protect you,” she finally stammered.

“You should not have been there in the first place; and besides, I do not need your protection.” Silas was positively fuming, his fists clenched.

“But he was going to hurt you!” Jezebel pleaded.

“That boy would not be alive today if you had not interfered,” yelled Silas, pounding the table. “His makeshift sword was no match for my bow and arrow. He just needed to come a few steps closer so I could be certain I would hit my target. Instead, I nearly shot my daughter. My daughter who was supposed to be at home with her mother, not in the midst of a raid.”

Tears welled up in Jezebel’s eyes and her lower lip trembled.

Silas stared hard at his daughter. “I am surprised that boy did not hurt
you
. He certainly had the opportunity.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “In truth, I do not know what stopped him.” His voice was softer now, the anger of his earlier words replaced with a certain sense of fear and sadness that comes with knowing how easily your child could have died, right before your very own eyes.

“I am sorry, Father.”

“Go now, go to your room,” Silas said.

Jezebel took off sobbing down the hallway.

Through all of this Zahara said nothing. She had been worried sick over the disappearance of her daughter several days earlier, and she was beyond angry at Jezebel for risking her life so foolishly. But she knew that she would only be stoking the fire if she dared to utter a word. She walked to her husband and forced her way into his initially reluctant arms. She held Silas for a long time, until his heartbeat was not so strong, was not so quick. Then she kissed him softly and went in search of her daughter.

*************

Gentry spent most of the spring, along with his father and several other men, rebuilding the storage barn in Durham that had been destroyed during the Komanite raid. In truth, Gentry thought the Komanites had done them a favor. The barn had been an eyesore and was falling apart anyway. Nevertheless, Gentry knew these were not the kinds of things you said aloud – especially when lives were lost.

It was almost summer before Gentry was able to make another trip up to Colton. In the time he had been observing Dennison’s gang from a distance, Gentry had learned quite a bit about his two remaining targets. Clive still lived with his mother, an angry woman with hair as red as her son’s and a mouth that did not stop. Much to Gentry’s annoyance, Clive rarely ever seemed to be alone – he was either walking in Dennison’s shadow, with the gang at the Settler’s Inn or at home with his mother. It would have been one thing if the mother was an invalid or going senile, but this woman was still as sharp as a tack, very much mobile and overly suspicious of every little sound. Getting Clive would not be easy.

Dennison had a house of his own, and until recently had been living alone. Before the previous winter had set in, Gentry noticed that a rotund woman with small eyes and flat brown hair was spending more and more time with Dennison. When he returned this summer, he found the rotund woman was now a bit on the gaunt side, cradling a small baby in her arms.
Dennison was a father
.

This revelation shook Gentry to his core. He could not imagine anyone wanting to have a child with someone like Dennison, and he could not imagine someone like Dennison having a baby. He knew that if he moved forth with his plans, he would be leaving the baby boy fatherless.
Was it fair to the child to leave him without a father? Was it fair to the child to leave him with a father like Dennison
?

Gentry grappled with this moral dilemma for some time to no avail. So instead he focused his attention on Clive, the man who had just kicked a dog for no other reason than it had dared to wag its tail at him as he walked towards his mother’s little blue house.

Gentry continued to watch from a distance. “His day shall come,” he muttered. “His day shall come.”

*************

Lady Dinah did not venture from her castle on Mt. Xavier until well after the start of summer. Lady Blythe was still unwell and Lady Dinah had not felt comfortable leaving her, even under the trusting care of Abigail. The poor thing had yet to say a word, although Abigail reported that the wizard cried out in her sleep often.

Eventually Lady Dinah’s mind wandered back to her mother’s journal and the set spell. She still very much wanted to help Steward Isaiah, but now she was driven by something else – her own curiosity. She wanted to read her mother’s journals; she wanted to learn more about the woman that could be so distant to her, yet so warm to everyone else. She wanted to know what her mother thought about, her hopes, her fears. Most importantly, she wondered if the journals would finally reveal the answer to the question that had been bothering Lady Dinah since shortly before her mother’s death:
Who is my real father?

Once again she prepared to leave the safety of her purple mountain, amid the protests of her loyal helpers.

“Where are you headed to this time, my lady?” inquired Gordon.

“Aberdeen. Thorpe, Lucerne and Middleton, to be exact.”

“But, my lady,” protested Abigail, “it is not safe in those places, so close to Durango. They say there is a war with the East there.”

Lady Dinah had received some troubling correspondence from Lord Jameson in Cortez, one of the largest villages in Durango, which gave some credence to Abigail’s concerns. But the wizard was undeterred. “I am not going to Durango; I am going to Aberdeen,” she replied. She chose to ignore the fact that two of the villages she was planning to visit were barely a day’s ride away from the Durango border.

“Please, my lady, let me go with you this time,” implored Gordon.

Lady Dinah held Gordon’s gaze for some time. She knew this journey would be more difficult than her previous trips to the Laureline Region; the terrain was much more rugged and unforgiving. Having a helper with her might prove useful. “Aye, all right,” she said finally. “But I shall send you back if you end up being more trouble than it is worth.”

“Aye, my lady,” said Gordon excitedly as he bowed. “I shall be right back with my things.”

After they picked up a horse and a pony from Otto, Lady Dinah and Gordon set out towards the east and then south across the Stratford border into the high steppes of eastern Aberdeen. It was a barren sort of beauty with rugged hills giving way to large expanses of flat, treeless grassland. They suffered under the intense heat of the midday sun, and shivered under blankets during the night, but they made good progress and before too long they could see the Village of Thorpe in the distance.

*************

It had been several weeks since the Komanite raid. The scratch and bruise from the arrow that nearly penetrated the Steward’s skin was gone, the storage barns were being rebuilt with surprising speed, and life in the Village of Reed was slowly returning to normal. Yet the angry calls for raising an army and exacting revenge on the Komanites persisted. The village was divided on this issue. Many argued in favor of an army and the benefits it would provide; many argued against the army and the dreadful prospects of war. One side viewed an army as the only means to save the village; the other side viewed it as the means by which the village would ultimately be destroyed. The Steward did not know where he stood on the issue, and thus decided to take leave of the village for a short while to clear his head.

Knowing how much young Fallon was interested in Bartow – and the university in particular –Steward Isaiah planned a special trip. It was part belated birthday present, part “thank you for saving the village and my life,” and it was everything that Fallon had wanted. They crossed over the Main Bridge and the guards waved them through the western gate without even bothering to question them. “This must be our lucky day,” chuckled the Steward.

Fallon was completely mesmerized by what he saw: towering buildings with elevated walkways; people bustling about between the various outdoor markets; lively music coming from nearby pubs; the energy of it all. “This is incredible,” he said in complete awe.

“We should head to the inn first. Gentry mentioned the Cornerstone Inn and Tavern was quite nice. I believe it is only a few blocks that way,” said the Steward.