by Wark, RM
The Steward patted Fallon’s shoulder and left the boy alone with his thoughts.
Later that evening the Council Chambers had been transformed into a beautiful memorial site. The entire building was awash in the flickering light of candles, and the air was filled with the sweet smell of breads and pastries, which Ruth (Adam’s wife) and Beatrice and others had been busy making since hearing the news.
Once everyone arrived and had a chance to taste the delicious treats, Steward Isaiah gathered them into the inner chambers. Everyone stood in a circle, holding a glowing candle in front of them.
“Today we lost a dear friend and colleague. Elder Jacob was a gentle soul and much loved by everyone who knew him. May he find all the happiness he deserves in the next life.” Steward Isaiah closed his eyes and blew out his candle.
Each person in the circle spoke a few words in remembrance of Elder Jacob before blowing out their own candle. Fallon was one of the last to speak, and his voice wavered. “It is difficult at times to be so far away from one’s family, but Elder Jacob’s flat became a second home for me during our Heptaday tea times. I truly hope he has found happiness with Bessa in the next life, though he has left quite a void in this one.” Fallon bit his lip hard to keep from breaking down. “I shall miss you, Elder Jacob,” he sighed, and then he blew his candle out.
Soon the entire circle of flames had grown dark and people began leaving the Council Chambers. Fallon and the Steward walked home in silence, mourning the loss of their beloved friend.
*************
Upon the death of an existing Elder, the remaining members of the Council vote upon a replacement for this lifelong position. It is an honor to be selected, and history does not tell of anyone ever refusing the offer, even though the position carries much burden. Unlike the Stewards, which hitherto have only been confined to males, there is an unspoken rule of gender equity when it comes to the Elders. A male is always replaced by another male; a female is always replaced by another female.
Despite some objections from Elder Tomar and Elder Peter, Fallon had been allowed to witness the discussion of who would be elected as the replacement for Elder Jacob at the following Council meeting. Several names had been brought up, including Fallon’s Uncle Charles, which the boy found alarming as he could not imagine having to work with the man who had always seemed so cold. To Fallon’s relief, Charles was among those who were quickly eliminated for one reason or another.
The discussion soon centered on a farmer named Maxwell. Twenty years prior, Maxwell had been scoffed at by many in the village for purchasing a large tract of land in Trenton, a section of the village located in the far western reaches. Being closer to the sea, Trenton is known for having rather rocky and sandy soils that do not hold nutrients well, and many farmers before him had struggled to produce viable crops. But Maxwell was determined to prove everyone wrong, and it was not long before he became the largest producer of beets and carrots within the village.
Elder Lydia had dealt with Maxwell on several occasions and thought him to be both fair and shrewd. “He would be an excellent addition to the Council,” she beamed. “I believe he has two sons who could take over the farm, so the village – and our beloved horses – shall not go without carrots anytime soon,” she added with a laugh.
The decision was unanimous and the following morning Steward Isaiah, Elder Lydia and Elder Catherine set out for Maxwell’s farm to invite him to be part of the Council. The Steward asked Fallon if he wanted to join them, but the boy declined. He was not quite ready to meet the man who had been selected to replace Elder Jacob. Besides, he was busy transferring Elder Jacob’s library over to the Council Chambers. Elder Jacob’s nephews had sent word that his library was to be donated to the Council in accordance with the Elder’s will. Fortunately there was a decent-sized rear chamber which could accommodate the large volume of books. Fallon had been assigned the task of organizing that room. The process of unpacking the books that Elder Jacob had loved so much and placing them on the shelves in the rear chamber had been somewhat cathartic for Fallon. He took comfort in the thought of being surrounded by the spirit of Elder Jacob whenever he was in the Council Chambers.
*************
The Steward returned the following day with the good news that Maxwell had agreed to become the next Elder of the Council. Maxwell had requested a few weeks to settle some affairs with the farm, and to allow his wife Callie to find a place in the Village Square for them to live. Those weeks flew by and winter soon faded to spring.
Elder Maxwell had been informed of Fallon’s situation and the uncertainty over the mark. If he was inclined to think one way or another, he did not share his thoughts with the others. So when it came to the Tetril Council meeting, just a few days shy of Fallon’s 15th birthday, no one knew what Elder Maxwell would say about the issue of Fallon.
Although he was no longer filled with a sense of dread over the matter, Steward Isaiah was not looking forward to explaining his thoughts on Fallon. He was, however, curious to hear what the Elders had to say about the boy. “The time has come to share your opinions of Fallon now that you all – save Steward Maxwell – have had a year to come to know him better,” he said.
Elder Tomar and Elder Lydia went first. They explained that while they respected Fallon and could see what a bright and capable young man he was, they still did not feel comfortable with the idea that he was meant to be the next Steward. “The mark is not the same, no matter how…talented he is,” said Elder Lydia, searching for the right word to describe Fallon.
Stating that he was still pondering things, Elder Maxwell requested to hear from the others first.
Elder Catherine noted that this past year with Fallon had only convinced her of what she had already suspected: that Fallon was special and deserved to be trained as the next Steward.
Elder Anne echoed Elder Catherine’s sentiments.
Elder Peter spoke next. “I shall admit that Fallon impressed me more than I had expected him to…nevertheless, it was not enough to change my mind. Our true Steward is out there somewhere. We must wait for him.”
All eyes were on Elder Theodora now, and her timid voice reflected her unease. “It seems I may be the only one whose mind has been changed. He is special and talented for certain, and I feel those talents shall be a great benefit to our village. So I am now of the opinion that Fallon is deserving to be our Steward, in spite of the mark being different.”
“Well, my opinion has not changed,” stated Elder Graham. “I support Fallon as our next Steward as I have from the start.”
With Elder Graham’s short statement concluded, all eyes turned to Elder Maxwell. The Elder cleared his throat. “Admittedly, I do not know Fallon as you all do, but his mark is not as history dictates it should be. For that reason alone, I share Elder Peter’s belief that we must wait until the true Steward arrives.”
Once again, the group of Elders found themselves tied 4–4 in the debate on Fallon.
Steward Isaiah sighed. His moment had come. After a short pause he began to speak. “I shall not deny that a part of me is still troubled by the fact that Fallon’s mark does not resemble mine or any of the Stewards who came before me. Unfortunately, I do not believe we can wait any longer for another boy to arrive. No other has revealed himself in the two years I have spent with Fallon. Alas, I fear that no such boy exists.” Isaiah surveyed the room before continuing. “The passing of Elder Jacob was a grim reminder of my own mortality. Time is of the essence. We must have a new Steward trained before I, too, am returned to the ground from which I came.”
The Council was silent. No one – not even Elder Peter – offered an objection, so the Steward continued. “I have not yet heard anything from Lady Dinah, but in truth I do not know that her mother’s old notes shall be of any use to us, Fallon’s situation is not the same as the twins’. So I have decided to give Fallon the benefit of the doubt and complete his training. I respect the dissenting opinions, but it is time to m
ove forward. The Village of Reed must have a Steward.”
*************
As the Council was debating the fate of Fallon (again) and coming into an uneasy agreement with Steward Isaiah to stay the course, Fallon was on his way to Littlebrook to spend his 15th birthday with his family.
Attawan had come to know the path well and they made excellent time. The horse was now fully grown and stood sixteen hands high. Fallon, too, had gone through quite a growth spurt recently. He now stood just shy of six feet tall. He was still fairly skinny, especially compared to the muscular Gentry, but he was getting stronger. Tobias beamed with pride as he watched his son approach the house. “You are growing into a fine young man,” he said.
Zeke had gotten taller, too, but Fallon was more impressed with the non-physical changes. Zeke was still an incredibly happy character who liked to joke around, but he had matured somewhat since Fallon had seen him last. As they were working the farm with their father, it occurred to Fallon that it was not so long ago when Zeke would have required constant correction to keep him focused on a task; now he seemed to take the chores more seriously. “I shall be a farmer like Father when I grow up,” he said matter-of-factly.
They celebrated the first of Pentay – also known as Sunner’s Day – with another lively feast and dance around the bonfire. In truth, Fallon always found this holiday to be quite curious. Sunner’s Day was a day to celebrate the return of the sun and the promise of a bountiful summer, but in a month’s time Fallon knew the sun in Reed would most likely be hidden behind thin veils of fog more days than not. He supposed it was likely an ancient holiday – from the time before the village, from a place where the days of summer were more likely to be warmed by the sun – but such things had long been forgotten, and no records told its tale.
This time it was Jonas on the fiddle, with Elizabeth’s voice filling the air as the others danced.
A Sunner’s Day to warm one’s soul
A Sunner’s Day to dance
A Sunner’s Day to feast until
One splits apart his pants!
A Sunner’s Day to sing aloud
A Sunner’s Day to shine
A Sunner’s Day to laugh and love
And drink up all the wine!
The following morning Fallon stood in front of the farmhouse in Littlebrook, saying his good-byes. “Perhaps you might visit me one of these weekends when things are not so busy on the farm,” suggested Fallon. “Steward Isaiah allows me Heptadays off. Aunt Rebecca and Uncle Charles have come a few times, though in truth, I would prefer to spend my time with you instead.”
“Aye, may we, Father?” replied Zeke. He had yet to visit the Village Square in his short life, and was excited at the prospect.
“Well, Junior might be up for the ride soon,” conceded Tobias.
His dear horse Sadie had passed away the previous fall and Junior had been bought to replace her; not that you could ever truly replace something you loved so dearly. They tentatively made plans for a mid-Hexune visit, and Fallon set out on his journey back to the Village Square.
*************
Gentry did not travel to Colton for some time, but when the winter snows began to melt he could not resist returning to Dennison’s world. A vacant lot filled with debris was all that remained of Taylor’s house. Gentry had been relieved to learn that the accepted version of Taylor’s death was that the drunk man had accidentally knocked over his oil lamp, setting himself and the house afire. Dennison did not seem to care about the loss of his man. “Fool,” was the only thing Gentry ever heard Dennison say whenever Taylor’s name was mentioned.
As he hid out in the shadows of the alleyway across from the Settler’s Inn, he watched as two of Dennison’s crew came outside for a smoke. It was Barnaby, an overweight man of average height with small eyes and short blond hair; and Rex, a short man with dark curly hair who seemed to walk with a limp.
“I hear the salmon are literally jumping out of the streams this year,” said Rex. “I cannot wait to catch my share and take leave of this cesspool for a while. Are you still coming?”
“Aye,” replied Barnaby in a tone that made it obvious he did not share Rex’s excitement.
“Very well. I shall meet you here tomorrow before sunrise.”
“I never rise before the sun,” protested Barnaby. “It is one of my rules.”
“Then you shall find your way to the streams above Dawson without me,” replied Rex angrily. “I do not wait for anyone. That is one of my rules.”
“Aye, all right. I shall see you here tomorrow morning.” Barnaby was clearly annoyed, but not enough to forgo the trip altogether.
Rex turned and started to head home without saying anything more to his friend. Barnaby continued smoking in silence for a while, but he eventually headed home as well.
Gentry’s heart was pounding with excitement. This could be a chance to settle matters with both Barnaby and Rex. Furthermore, they would be traveling through remote areas far from Colton, so there was much less risk of being found out by Dennison. He just had to follow them somehow, and strike when the opportunity proved right. But how can I follow them through the mountain pass? There was no place to hide, no place to take shelter. I would be seen for certain.
Seeing no other option, that night Gentry resigned himself to do something he had been too afraid – and perhaps too wise – to do two years prior, during his journey to Lady Dinah’s castle: he carefully led Casper through the Colton Gap with nothing save the light of the moon to guide them. Although the path was as treacherous as he had remembered, with sudden steep drop-offs on narrow winding trails with loose rocks all around to threaten one’s footing – rocks that could barely be seen in the subtle shades of grey that enveloped the night – the weather was uncharacteristically calm. Everything was still and incredibly quiet. Nevertheless, there were two occasions when Gentry nearly stepped off a cliff to the end of his days: the only thing that saved him was his tight grip on Casper’s reins and the horse’s good sense to stay put. And on more than two occasions Gentry contemplated turning back, but the image of Luca’s beaten body was burned into his brain, and anger propelled him forward against his fear. Eventually Gentry and Casper made their way through the pass, and by mid-morning the following day they reached the other side.
Gentry quickly set up camp in a thicket of trees about a hundred yards away from the trail. From the campsite it was easy to see the trail and anyone approaching. It was not so easy to see the camp, unless you happened to be looking for it. Gentry was exhausted from the journey and decided to take a quick nap, knowing that Barnaby and Rex would be several hours behind. He misjudged how tired he was, and if it had not been for their quarreling ways, Gentry would have slept right through the arrival of Barnaby and Rex.
“Damn, Barnaby, you ate most of our food and we are but a day into this journey. Now we must stop in Dawson.”
“But are we not on our way to catch fish? And is fish not food?” retorted Barnaby.
“It takes time to reach the streams, fool. Besides, we may not catch anything straight away, especially with that big hole in your net. One might think you have never been fishing before,” Rex replied.
Gentry heard the bickering and quickly jumped up to see the two men on horseback coming slowly down the trail. He followed them into Dawson where they stayed the night, and the next day he followed them up the trails to the fishing streams north of the village. Gentry was a decent tracker and was able to stay far enough behind to avoid any suspicions of being followed. In truth, Barnaby and Rex were so engrossed in exchanging insults with one another that even if Gentry had been right behind them they probably would not have noticed.
Just as they arrived at the stream that Rex swore was prime fishing territory, the skies opened up and an onslaught of rain and driving wind began. It took them a while to set up their tents, and both men were more surly than ever.
Seeing the approaching clouds long before, Gentry had set up camp fur
ther down the trail and then walked through the driving rain to find his prey. He sat down beside a tree and waited. He must have sat for hours in the rain before Barnaby finally emerged from his tent and headed off towards a nearby stream to relieve himself.
Gentry closed his eyes. This is it. You must do this for Luca. You owe it to the boy. He opened his eyes and sprang into action.
Barnaby was easy to tackle with his pants down around his knees, but the mud made them slip quite a ways and Gentry almost lost his grip. Fortunately Barnaby was too stunned to realize what was happening and Gentry was able to gain the upper hand rather quickly. He managed to drag the overweight man back to the edge of the stream and force his face into the water.
“Why did you do it?” Gentry asked as he lifted Barnaby’s large head by his hair. “He was just a little boy.” He had to scream to be heard over the pelting rain.
“Who are you?” asked a bewildered Barnaby, gasping for air. “What are you talking about?”
“Luca. How could you do that to him? How could you beat a little boy to death? He never did anything to you.”
There was a change in Barnaby’s expression and it was clear the man knew what Gentry was talking about now.
“I am sorry,” he said, his eyes wide with fear. “I shall not do it again. I promise.” Barnaby started to cry. But if he was hoping for mercy, the crying only made things worse.
There is no remorse in his words or his tears, Gentry thought angrily. He is only concerned with saving himself.
Gentry shoved Barnaby’s face into the water again and this time he kept it there. It was difficult to hold the overweight man down, but eventually Barnaby’s frantic attempts to raise his head above water subsided and his body grew limp. Yet still Gentry held him down, if only to be certain. Several minutes passed before Gentry released his grip and Barnaby’s head slowly returned to the surface. He was dead. Gentry left him there on the banks of the stream. Eventually the body was overtaken by the rapidly moving water. It was swept downstream where it became entangled in a thicket of underwater branches. Barnaby’s body never saw the light of day again.