The Stewards of Reed, Volume 1: The Rise of Fallon (4 page)

“You are trespassing upon my land. You are not welcome here. Go home,” he shouted to two men huddled by a fire outside their makeshift tent.

They regarded him but did not speak.

“Do you not hear me? Do you not understand? You must leave!”

One of the men stared at Edwin for a while before he finally spoke. “We have nowhere to go. There is nothing to return to. This is our home now.” Time and distance had given the Easterner’s words an unusual accent, but Edwin had understood them. The words were without despair, without anger, without any emotion whatsoever; they troubled Edwin deeply.

“Your hardships are not of my concern. Be gone by the time I return tomorrow or you shall awake in the next life before it is your time.” Edwin turned away on his horse before his unwelcome guests had a chance to respond.

The following day, Edwin was joined by a few of his neighbors who had listened with amazement as he told them of the Eastern invaders the night before. To Edwin’s relief, the family was gone, though the remnants of their camp remained – a blight on the otherwise picturesque mountainside.

“Is this one of yours, Edwin?” One of Edwin’s neighbors had been walking through the debris of the campsite and was now poking at something with a stick.

Edwin walked closer. On the ground was the carcass of one of his sheep; it had been picked clean to the bone.

“Wizards be damned, even the brain and eyes are gone.” The shock and disgust were evident in his neighbor’s voice.

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

Isaiah remained quiet for some time. There was an uneasy silence in the room, but the Elders held their tongues. At last the Steward spoke. “I feel quite fortunate to have such a wise Council at hand to inform my decisions. You have all raised excellent points regarding the unusual situation we find ourselves in today.”

There was a short pause before Isaiah continued. “It troubles me greatly that Fallon’s mark is not the same as mine, and I question whether it truly is his destiny to lead our village. Alas, as Elder Anne so kindly pointed out, I am not immortal. I have already been waiting for ten years for the next Steward to arrive. With each passing year I grow closer to ground and I do not want to part this life without knowing the village is in safe hands, especially with the escalating threat of the Komanites.”

Isaiah cleared his throat and continued on. “I have a proposal for your consideration. As Steward Elijah did long ago, I would like to seek additional counsel from the wizards, from Lady Dinah specifically. She may have additional knowledge of the meeting between her mother and Steward Elijah, and I am hopeful that she may have some insights on how best to resolve our current predicament. As we are short on time, I would also like to begin training Fallon. Consider it a ‘trial period’ of sorts. At the end of the year, we shall revisit whether or not Fallon has proven himself worthy of further training or if we would be better served by waiting for another boy to arrive – a boy with the proper mark.”

The Elders pondered the Steward’s proposal for a moment. Elder Lydia was the first to speak. “I support seeking additional counsel from Lady Dinah,” she said, “but I question whether it is wise to begin training Fallon. What if the Lady’s advice is to wait until a boy with the proper mark arrives?”

“I agree,” Elder Peter said. “Furthermore, I would not want to develop certain talents in a person who is not meant to be our Steward, even if it is merely a ‘trial period.’ We might find ourselves facing a dangerous enemy who is of our own creation.”

“He is just a boy,” countered Elder Anne. “And besides, it takes years to develop any talents of significance; there is a reason why the training period lasts for seven years. I, for one, do not believe a single year of training shall be of harm.”

“Agreed,” said Elder Catherine. “It is quite possible that Lady Dinah shall encourage us to accept Fallon. Furthermore, the meeting with the wizard could be months away. We shall have wasted precious time if we fail to start the training now.”

Before any of the other Elders could continue the debate, Isaiah raised his hand and spoke again. “I understand the concerns. It is my intent that Fallon’s trial period be focused on basic skills only – with just enough training for me to evaluate his abilities, his instincts, his judgment. Besides, if Fallon really is an ‘enemy,’ would it not behoove us to know his strengths and weaknesses?” Steward Isaiah directed this last question back at Elder Peter.

The Elders conceded to this point. It was agreed that a messenger should be sent to Lady Dinah at once and that Steward Isaiah should begin his assessment of Fallon.

It was also agreed that it would be best, at least for the time being, not to mention to Fallon that it was unusual for the mark to be different. “To properly evaluate him, I need Fallon to believe that everything about his apprenticeship is normal. I worry that it would be a distraction somehow if he knew he was different,” Isaiah explained.

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

After what seemed like forever, Steward Isaiah emerged from the double doors of the inner chambers and approached Fallon. “Please come with me, son. My house is not far.”

“Aye, sir,” responded Fallon. After a brief pause he asked, “Steward, is everything all right?” He was still confused by what had happened inside the Council Chambers.

“Aye, everything is fine,” Isaiah said. He hesitated for a moment before continuing on. “It is not every day that a marked boy arrives at door of the Council Chambers. Admittedly the Elders were a tad excited. Also, the Council had other important business to attend to. We do not typically convene our meetings on Hexadays you know.” Isaiah hoped this explanation would assuage Fallon’s concerns, but it was difficult to tell from the boy’s face.

The two walked in silence on the way to Steward Isaiah’s house. The sun’s final rays were starting to disappear beyond the horizon and people were beginning to light the oil lamps along the cobblestone corridors. Fallon thought about his father and wondered how he and Sadie were settling in at the Hartford Inn. He wondered if his father had paid a visit to Aunt Rebecca and Uncle Charles, and if so, whether he had mentioned anything to them about the mark.

They had arrived at Steward Isaiah’s house on the eastern edge of the Village Square. It was a little two-story stone house on a gentle hillside. One would never know that the Steward of Reed lived there; the only thing of interest was a bright red door, an unusual sight within the Village of Reed. Isaiah, noticing Fallon’s attention to the door, explained, “My wife, Nora – she loved the color red.” There was a touch of sadness in his words.

Steward Isaiah opened the bright red door and motioned Fallon inside. Isaiah’s housekeeper, Beatrice, had already lit the oil lamps and there was a soft glow coming from one of the rooms down the hall. It was a rather small, narrow house. Straight ahead was a staircase leading to the upper floor. Beside it was a long hallway with what looked to be two or three rooms off to either side. “Let me grab a lantern and I shall show you to your room.” Isaiah disappeared down the hall and returned a few moments later. Beatrice and a large black dog followed happily behind.

“Fallon, this is Beatrice, my housekeeper.”

“How do you do?” Fallon greeted the rather jolly, heavyset woman while the large black dog was busy sniffing him up and down.

“Oh, fine thank you. The Steward has just been telling me you shall be staying with us for a while. I am so pleased. Sometimes one tires of hearing the same old stories over and over,” she joked, winking at Fallon. Then she turned her attention to the dog who was still intently sniffing Fallon. “Mobley, leave that poor boy alone!” she playfully scolded. Mobley responded by wagging his tail vigorously at the woman.

Fallon smiled. He liked Beatrice immediately. He liked Mobley, too.

Isaiah took Fallon on a quick tour of the house. The upstairs had three rooms: the Steward’s bedroom, Beatrice’s bedroom and Fallon’s bedroom. Down the hallway of the first floor, there was a kitchen, a sitting room that overlooked the backyard, and a small study where Fallon presumed Steward Isaiah spent most of his time.

Beatrice had set the kitchen table for three and before long they were enjoying a meal of lamb and potatoes, with some sweet rolls for dessert. His stomach more than satisfied, Fallon realized just how tired he was and politely excused himself. “This was a wonderful dinner, thank you. I am a bit tired, however, and would like to go to bed now. May I be excused?”

“Aye,” Steward Isaiah replied.

Fallon was nearly through the door of the kitchen when the Steward called after him. The boy stopped and turned back towards Isaiah.

“Happy birthday, Fallon.”

With everything that had happened that day, Fallon had forgotten it was still his birthday. “Thank you, Steward. Good night.”

“Good night, son.”

At the break of dawn the next morning when Fallon was still fast asleep at Steward Isaiah’s house on the hillside, Adam was quickly riding down the road to Bartow as fast as his horse would allow. The Council Chamber doorman made decent progress until he arrived at the side road to Durham, a rugged area of Reed in the northeast part of the village. As much as Adam loathed this stretch of road – it was very uneven and overgrown in places – Hammond lived in Durham and it was important that Adam see him at once. Two grueling hours later, Adam finally saw hints of Hammond’s house, tucked between the trees in the distance.

“Were you expecting any visitors today, Hammond?” asked Edith, Hammond’s wife, as a knocking sound echoed from their front door. She opened the door before her husband had a chance to respond. “Why hello, Adam!” Edith exclaimed in surprise. “Please do come in!”

“Thank you, Edith,” replied Adam, taking off his coat and handing it to the woman. “By chance is your husband here? I should like a word with him.”

“Aye, he is in the sitting room. Go on back now. I shall have Gentry attend to your horse.” Edith motioned for her guest to proceed down the hall and went in search of her son.

“Have you come to visit me in my time of need?” Hammond’s loud voice called out to Adam as he made his way towards the sitting room.

“What do you mean 'your time of need’?” Adam quizzed as he stepped into the room, though he grew quiet when he caught sight of Hammond. “Wizards be damned, what happened to you, my friend?”

Hammond was seated in his chair with his right leg propped up and ankle bandaged. “Did the news of my great tavern brawl not make its way back to the Village Square yet?” This was said in jest, but Adam’s expression made clear he was in no mood for jokes, so Hammond shrugged and proceeded to explain. “One would think that all these years of life would have taught me how to avoid holes when walking about. It is most likely just a sprain. But alas, my ankle is fairly bruised and swollen.”

“Has a physician seen to you yet?” asked Adam, concerned for his friend.

Hammond shook his head. “One shall be by tomorrow. Meanwhile, it is wrapped tight by Edith’s hand, and the ale most certainly helps with the pain.” He winked, and one might have thought he was joking again, but Adam knew his friend well – Hammond did not need an excuse to partake in the drinking of ale.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Adam?” the injured man asked.

“The Council had hoped to employ your services for a matter of great importance, but I see that shall not be possible given your current condition,” lamented Adam. “Would you happen to know whom else I might entrust with delivering a message to Lady Dinah?”

“Lady Dinah! In Mt. Xavier? That journey is far, my friend, and no doubt the terrain would prove difficult at best. I fear most Reedites are ill-suited for such a task,” replied Hammond.

Adam frowned. He knew his friend spoke words of truth. Very few Reedites possess the adventurous spirit of Hammond – only a handful have ever traveled beyond the lands of Bartow. Fewer yet are skilled at navigating difficult terrain and surviving the outdoor elements, skills often called upon for journeys such as these.

Hammond could see his friend was clearly distressed. “Cheer up, my friend,” Hammond said after an awkward silence. “There is one person who might be willing to make the journey in my stead. I had been thinking it was time for Gentry to face a more difficult challenge.”

“Gentry?” protested Adam. “But certainly he is much too young and inexperienced for something like this.”

Before Hammond could reply, Edith came into the room bringing a cup of tea for Adam. “Gentry is tending to your horse now, Adam,” she said, placing the teacup down on the table before him.

“Thank you, Edith.”

With that Edith smiled and left the men to themselves again.

“Gentry shall turn eighteen in a few months. I have been training him in these matters since he was but a small boy. I am confident he could complete the task.”

Adam remained unconvinced. “I am not so certain, Hammond…”

“Alas, I fear you do not have many options, my friend,” Hammond countered as he nodded towards his bandaged ankle. “If not Gentry – there is only me – and I shall not be able to leave for at least six more weeks.”

“Aye, and that shall be too late,” sighed Adam.

“Do not fret, my friend. I shall go over the maps with Gentry today and make certain he is well prepared for this journey.”

Adam was still ill at ease, but he knew the Steward’s message must reach Lady Dinah as quickly as possible, and his mind could think of no other way for that to happen save by the hand of Gentry. “Aye, all right,” he said finally.

“Very well, then,” said Hammond with a bright smile. “Now, shall we discuss the fee before we fetch Gentry?”

Adam nodded.

“This shall prove a most difficult journey. I am guessing it shall take at least seven to eight weeks round-trip. The fee must cover all expenses – room and board and supplies for Gentry and his horse –plus profit, of course.” Hammond started doing the math in his head, which fortunately was not too impaired by the ale he had been sipping all morning for his pain. “One hundred fifty gold pieces ought to cover it,” he said finally.