by Wark, RM
Two down, three to go.
*************
Full of adrenaline, Gentry made his way back to the campsite to find Rex. He wanted to take the man by surprise so he burst into Rex’s tent ready to fight. Nevertheless, Rex did not notice Gentry; he was passed out cold with an empty whiskey bottle next to him. Angrier than ever, Gentry shook Rex awake. The drunk man barely had time to grasp what was happening before Gentry knocked him unconscious with a hard blow to the head from a river rock.
When Rex finally awoke a few hours later, he found himself naked, shivering, and tied to a tree in the middle of the woods somewhere, his head pounding from the impact of the rock. The rain was still falling down hard, so it took him a while to see the outline of Gentry’s frame against the trees across the way.
“What have you done to me?” asked Rex.
“Nothing compared to what you did to Luca,” replied Gentry, his voice cold and hard.
Gentry walked a few steps closer but Rex still did not recognize the face. “Who is Luca?” Rex demanded.
“The little boy that you and the rest of Dennison’s gang beat to death,” answered Gentry, the anger rising in his voice.
Rex now guessed who stood before him – it must be the man that the boy had allowed to escape. He sneered at Gentry and said, “The death of that boy is on you, not me. If you had not angered Dennison, if you had not used that boy to escape, Luca would still be alive today.”
Before he knew what he was doing, Gentry ran at Rex and started beating the defenseless man –punching and kicking him as hard as he could. Blood poured from Rex’s nose and mouth. He leaned over to spit, and a few teeth came out with some blood. Yet still, Rex was defiant.
“You are only angry because you know I speak the truth,” he said. “Tying me up to this tree shall not bring the boy back to life.”
Gentry’s expression was blank. The anger was gone, replaced by a numbness that he was beginning to know all too well.
“Wizards be damned, let me go! Or else my friend shall surely kill you, and I assure you it shall not be pleasant.”
“Your friend cannot help you now. Barnaby is already dead.”
“You lie,” hissed Rex, but for the first time he actually looked scared.
Gentry did not say anything. He just stood in the rain watching the bleeding man.
“What shall you do to me now?”
“Nothing,” replied Gentry and he walked away.
“Wait! You cannot leave me here!” screamed Rex. But that is exactly what Gentry did.
As night fell the temperatures continued to drop, and although it was not as cold as it would have been in the dead of winter, spring had only officially started a few weeks ago and there was still quite a chill to the air, especially with the heavy wind and rain. Gentry knew that Rex would not last long, naked and wet in the cold night air.
Two days would pass before Gentry returned to check on Rex. The rain had finally stopped the night before. Rex was still tied to the tree, but his head was slumped over with his eyes half open. His body was completely stiff. He was dead. Gentry cut him loose from the tree and dragged the body further into the woods where the wild animals would eventually find him and satisfy their hunger pangs.
Gentry had cried himself to sleep that night and for many a night thereafter. By the time he returned to Reed, however, he was numb again. He did not laugh at his father’s jokes; he did not smile at his mother; he did not respond to their endless questions about what was wrong.
Neither Barnaby nor Rex were ever heard from again. Dennison just assumed they were deserters and cursed them whenever someone was foolish enough to mention their names, or for that matter, whenever he was angered.
Three down, two to go.
*************
Not long after he returned to the Village Square, Fallon had another one of his dreams. It was the same unsettling dream that caused him to wake up in a cold sweat every few months or so, the reoccurring dream that he chose to suffer in silence. Every time he had the dream he was in low spirits for a while, yet Fallon said nothing about it to the Steward. “How can I speak of that which I do not understand?” he rationalized to himself.
His father and brother kept their promise and came to visit Fallon towards of the end of Hexune. Zeke’s eyes were wide with excitement and he spoke of everything he saw in the Village Square. “I have never seen so many people in my life!” he exclaimed. “How do you go from place to place without tripping over everyone?”
They enjoyed a pleasant picnic on the hillside by Steward Isaiah’s home and spoke about everything and nothing at all. Mobley, not being one to be left out of the party, soon came running towards them and nearly barreled into Zeke. The not-so-little boy chased the black dog around, and the black dog chased the not-so-little boy around for what seemed like hours. It would be a memory that Fallon and his father would hold on to forever.
That night, Fallon had the dream again. It was coming more often now. And yet he still said nothing to the Steward.
*************
Lady Dinah had spent much of the winter trying in vain to decipher the journal that she had found in Lord Clintock’s library. Frustrated by her lack of progress, that spring she decided to pay a visit to Lord Milton, the last remaining wizard of her mother’s generation. Perhaps his knowledge of her mother (they had been the best of friends) would help unlock the secrets to understanding the journal. Perhaps he would have other materials from her library that might be of interest as well.
Lord Milton lived in Bartow. It was quite unusual for a wizard to live in such a large town – most preferred to live in remote settings far from the prying eyes and meddling ways of the common man – but Lord Milton enjoyed being in the center of all the action. Bartow was one of the largest towns in the Western Territories – only Sandoval and Laredo could boast of larger populations – but Lord Milton would argue that he was in the largest town of importance. Bartow was a center for higher learning, culture and trade, and that is where Lord Milton wanted to be.
The journey to Bartow had been uneventful. It was not long before Lady Dinah was being waved on by a guard at the north gate. The last time she had visited Lord Milton’s flat, Lady Dinah was not quite a hundred years old yet – merely a child by wizard standards. Her memory of how to find the flat had long been diminished by the two hundred or so years that had transpired since that prior visit. She left her horse in the care of a local inn with a stable and went off on foot, anxiously looking for a sign – any sign – that would show her the way.
She had been searching for perhaps two hours before she stumbled upon the little alleyway. It was nondescript, and she would have walked right by it if it had not been for the wind chime. Something about the discordant high note caused her to turn towards the noise, and that is when she saw it: the exact replica of the metal wind chime with a flat black stone that hung in her mother’s garden in Mt. Xavier. She walked closer and inspected the stone. A smile of satisfaction soon crossed her face. Within the black stone was a star-shaped crystal. Although the alleyway was not familiar to her, she was certain that the entrance to Lord Milton’s flat was nearby. “Perhaps he moved,” she reasoned.
The wind chime hung in the corner of an L-shaped alleyway, but as she looked around the corner she saw nothing but a dead end – brick walls on all sides without a door to be seen. She stepped back in hopes of finding something unusual about the bricks that would alert her to the presence of a hidden door, but her eyes detected nothing. It was not until she pulled out her wand with the intent of rattling off various spells she had learned for unlocking doors that something happened. In the glow of the wand, she could see a keyhole in the far wall of the alleyway that had been invisible to her before. Unfortunately, none of the words she spoke had any effect upon the keyhole or the door that it supposedly belonged to – the one she still could not see. Upon trying over a hundred spells to no avail, Lady Dinah found she had no choice but to sit down and wait. �
��Lord Milton must leave his flat from time to time. Hopefully that shall be sooner than later,” she said, with more than a little bit of frustration.
It was almost nightfall before a figure in a long coat appeared before her. He was startled by the sight of an unexpected person in the alleyway and quickly turned to leave, but Lady Dinah called after him. “Lord Milton, it is me, Lady Dinah.”
The figure slowly turned around and eyed Lady Dinah with immense suspicion. “How do I know that you are Lady Dinah and not an Eastern Wizard in disguise?” he asked.
“Because all roads lead to Bartow, or at least that is what you used to tell me,” she replied, the anger rising in her voice. I spend all these hours in this dank alleyway waiting for him and he dares to doubt me? Lady Dinah pulled the scarf away from her head and let her long black hair fly loose. She then pulled out her wand and pointed it at Lord Milton. “So help me, Lord Milton, if you do not let me into your home and treat me as a proper guest I shall not think twice about turning you into a little toad and sending you off to Laredo where you belong.”
Lord Milton could not help but laugh. “Aye, that is the Lady Dinah I remember, fiery temper and all. How do you do, my lady?” he said with a deep bow. “Please, follow me.”
Lady Dinah watched as he tapped on the keyhole three times and quickly opened the door that appeared out of nowhere. She shook her head at the simplicity of the magic and scolded herself for not thinking of it, but she directed her frustration towards Lord Milton. “If that is your primary defense for keeping Eastern Wizards out, we are all in grave trouble,” she chided him.
“It managed to keep you out,” he retorted.
Lady Dinah glared at him but said no more. It was just as well, as she was about to find out that the simple tap was not his only defense mechanism. The door in the alleyway did not lead to Lord Milton’s flat, but rather an intricate network of tunnels that ran below the streets of Bartow. With only the lights from their wands to guide them through the darkness, Lord Milton walked with surprising speed.
They went up and down stairs, passing by some corridors but randomly turning left or right into others. Even Lady Dinah had to admit it would be difficult to find Lord Milton’s home through such a spider web of tunnels, but the hidden passageways made it downright impossible. In three separate locations, Lord Milton tapped on an otherwise nondescript brick. In doing so, openings momentarily appeared in the walls to reveal additional corridors and stairways, and the wizards hurried through before those passageways became hidden once more.
Lady Dinah had long since given up trying to remember the path in her mind when they finally reached the door to Lord Milton’s actual flat. Like the door in the alleyway, this one was hidden to the naked eye; but unlike that door, not even a keyhole was revealed in the glow of the magic wand. Lord Milton was only able to open it with three taps of his wand because he knew it was there. Lady Dinah was impressed, but she would not give him the satisfaction of saying as much.
*************
As was her mother before her, Lady Dinah is the only Western Wizard known for certain by the population at large within the Western Territories to be an actual wizard. The other wizards remain largely unknown, aside from their own trusted helpers who are mostly descended from families with long histories of serving wizards, with long histories of keeping secrets. Rumors persist of course, and villagers are often whispering to one another that so-and-so is a wizard, but those are just rumors.
There are many reasons why the other wizards prefer to live in secrecy. Many do not want to be bothered with the common man and his trivial issues. They do not want to be constantly harassed to perform magic. They are also somewhat fearful of the common man, and do not want to become a scapegoat when things go wrong, as they often do. Even magical powers have limits. For most wizards, living in secrecy usually means living in remote areas, but somehow Lord Milton managed to live in secrecy amongst twenty-five thousand people in Bartow.
As they were sipping tea brought to them by an impeccably dressed young man, Lady Dinah finally asked the question she had always been curious about. “Lord Milton, how is it that you are able to stay here in Bartow without anyone discovering you are a wizard?” she began. “You barely look a day older than you did the last time I visited, and that was more than two hundred years ago.”
“Fortunately the people alive back then are no longer of this world, so I need not worry about them,” he replied jokingly.
Lady Dinah was not amused. “Seriously, Lord Milton.”
Lord Milton shrugged. “It is nothing that a few sabbaticals here and there and a couple of good memory spells cannot fix,” he said. “I also spend quite a bit of time in Lucerne, you know.”
“So Lady Adeline is speaking to you again?” It was now Lady Dinah’s turn to be flippant. Lady Adeline was Lord Milton’s only child. They were both rather eccentric wizards, and as such their personalities tended to clash.
Lord Milton ignored the question. “I try not to stay here longer than twenty years at a time,” he explained. “Usually in the five to ten years it takes for me to return, I find that most of the people who knew me before have moved on to somewhere else. That is part of why I love Bartow – people are always on the move to bigger and better things. And for those who are surprised to see me again, well, with a little tap of my wand it is not long before they are thinking they just met me for the first time.”
Lady Dinah recalled learning about memory spells as a young schoolgirl, but she never did master them. “Is that how you deal with your servants, too? With memory spells?” she asked, as she nodded in the direction of the kitchen, where a handful of well-dressed young men were standing, awaiting the sound of a bell that Lord Milton rang when he needed something.
“Aye, something like that. Those young men are students at the university. They believe me to be a retired professor of philosophy, so they were only too eager to help me with my various household needs in exchange for some philosophical insights.”
“Lord Milton!”
“I was actually a professor once,” he insisted in defense, “but that was before you were born. In any case, I treat them well and they are handsomely rewarded for their efforts, even if their memories of their time with me are a bit…altered.”
Lady Dinah still disapproved, but she supposed a few innocent memory spells were better than what she witnessed in Lord Quaid’s home.
It was Lord Milton’s turn to ask questions. “So my child, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
“I have an old journal of my mother’s, but it seems to be written in code, and I have not been able to decipher it. None of my spells seem to break it.” Lady Dinah started to reach into her bag for the old journal. “I was hoping that you might be able to help me given that you were both taught similar spells in school.”
Lord Milton looked wistful. “Aye, all of my fellow schoolmates are long gone now. I suppose I am the last of that generation.” He met Lady Dinah’s gaze and continued on in a thoughtful tone. “Lady Delia was something else though, the best of friends, and a wonderful queen. And I am certain you shall do a fine job walking in her footsteps.”
Lady Dinah smiled faintly – she hated being reminded that she was now the queen. Yet it was his comment about his fellow schoolmates that shifted her attention for a moment. “Lord Milton, did you happen to know my father, Lord Gideon?”
Lord Milton frowned. “No, not really. I am afraid that was an affair your mother kept secret from me. She never spoke of him. Why do you ask?”
“No reason save my own curiosity.” With that Lady Dinah handed the journal to Lord Milton. “This is it.”
She watched as Lord Milton flipped through the pages of senseless letters and characters. It was as if the journal had been violently shaken and all the words were mixed up in the process. Lord Milton seemed puzzled for a moment, but eventually his face broke out into a big smile. “It must be a set spell.”
“A what?�
��
“A set spell,” Lord Milton repeated. “When we were in school, we would use them all the time to prevent the lesser wizards from being able to read our notes should they happen to steal the journal, which they were known to do on occasion.” Lord Milton could tell Lady Dinah was still confused so he continued on. “There must be other journals to go along with this one. You shall not be able to read this one until you find the others. Once the set is complete, the words shall become legible again.”
Lady Dinah was both excited and disappointed by the news. Excited because she now knew how to decipher the journal, disappointed because she had no idea how many journals were in the set, or where the missing journals might be. “You would not happen to have any journals from her library, would you?” she asked.
“I do not recall taking any, but you are welcome to have a look.”
Lady Dinah spent several days going through Lord Milton’s library to no avail, though she did spend some time reading up on memory spells; they might prove useful in the future. It was not long before they were both wandering back through the dark tunnels below Bartow. Lady Dinah could not help but think about all the people above who had no clue what was beneath their feet.
“Where are you heading off to now, my lady?” inquired Lord Milton as his guest prepared to exit back into the alleyway.
“I must pick up my horse from the stable, then I suppose I shall head over the River White in search of Lady Blythe. I am hopeful she might have one of the missing journals.”
Lord Milton did not look impressed. “I doubt it. I do not believe that wizard reads much. She is far too busy frolicking in that dreadful forest.”