by Wark, RM
Fallon stood up and washed his face. He could tell by the color of the sky that daybreak was still more than an hour away. He pondered whether to brave the icy roads in the dark or wait for the morning’s first light. The image of the Steward, lifeless, sent him out into the darkness. He was long gone by the time his father and brother awoke, though he left them a quick note which they would read with much curiosity over breakfast later that morning:
Sorry, I must go now. Protect your grain stores. Trouble is afoot.
x Fallon
*************
Fallon rode Attawan as fast as he dared towards the Village Square. Despite leaving before the break of dawn, Fallon did not reach the Steward’s house until the middle of the afternoon. The trip had been muddy and icy and it drained every bit of energy from Fallon and his beloved horse. Somehow he still managed the strength to run into the house.
“Fallon!” remarked the Steward, who was sitting in his study. “I was not expecting you back so soon.”
“The Komanites are coming. We do not have much time,” the boy replied, trying to catch his breath.
“You saw them in Littlebrook?” asked the Steward, alarmed.
Fallon shook his head. “I had another dream.”
The Steward had Beatrice put a kettle of tea on the fire and sat down to hear about the dream.
It was easy enough for Fallon to talk of the horsemen and the fire. “I am fairly certain they are going after our food stores.”
“It was a horrible winter. I would not be surprised,” replied the Steward, frowning.
Fallon’s mind turned to the image of Isaiah’s lifeless body on the ground and the way it crumpled into dust. He knew he must warn the Steward, but he struggled to find the words.
Isaiah could see the boy was troubled. “Is there something else?”
Fallon bit his lip for a moment and then sighed. “Aye.”
“Well, go on,” urged Steward Isaiah after yet another awkward pause in the discussion.
“I -- I think your life might be in danger,” the boy said finally. He went on to explain the vision in his dream.
Steward Isaiah sat back in his chair. “I see.” He was lost in thought for the briefest of moments before he jumped up. “We must place the Elders on alert; I shall meet you at the front door shortly.”
Before long they were on their horses riding towards the Council Chambers. Once there, Steward Isaiah gave orders to Adam to alert the Elders and to post guards at the storage barns.
“Shall I have the bells toll?” asked Adam.
The Steward gave it some thought and then shook his head. “No, we do not know exactly when the Komanites shall be here. It could be days from now, and I do not want to panic the villagers needlessly.”
“Aye, Steward,” replied Adam.
*************
As it so happened, the Komanites were already on their way. The night before, when Fallon was dreaming about Steward Isaiah’s lifeless body, Silas and his men were camped out in a remote area just an hour’s ride north of Durham, the area of Reed where Gentry and his family lived.
About a hundred or so men had voluntarily signed up for this campaign. It had been a difficult winter. People were literally starving. Only two weeks prior Silas had presided over a candle ceremony for an elderly couple who had become trapped in their home by the snowdrifts. They had run out of what little food they had and were already dead by the time the other villagers were able to dig them out. Silas did not know the couple personally, but he stewed in bitterness at their passing. “They should have not left this life, not as they did,” he mumbled in anger.
And in this bitter state Silas conceived of his most daring raid ever: to attack all of the storage barns of Reed. Usually the Komanites only targeted one or two sites at most, though they never missed an opportunity to do a little damage to the Village Square while they were at it. But this time their need was so great – and the Village of Reed always had so much surplus – that Silas decided it was time to mount a full-fledged raid.
His men were already divided into groups of fifteen or so, one group for each storage barn. The plan was simple: under the cover of darkness, they would loot the storage barns (reports were that they remained as yet unguarded) and transport as much of the goods as they could carry to nearby stash sites which Silas’s scouts had identified the week prior. They would continue to make trips between the barns and the stash sites – as many as they could before the locals were alerted. Then they would set the barns afire and make their way back to Koman, bringing along their spoils. Should they encounter any guards or locals quick to act, the Komanites were equipped with weapons, though Silas hoped they would not need to use them.
Silas stepped out from his tent and surveyed his camp. In a few hours the camp would split into their respective groups, with each group heading towards separate rendezvous spots near their targeted storage barns. He knew the raid would be dangerous; it was likely that lives would be lost and there was no guarantee that the raids would be successful, but he had no other choice. To return to Koman without food would be a death sentence for many more.
“We depart at sunset,” Silas cried aloud to his men. “Travel with stealth. Rest while you can. These next two days shall be the longest of your lives, the challenges formidable. But I implore you to seek the very depths of your courage in this most trying of times, for a successful raid is a much-needed lifeline to our beloved Village of Koman. And if you act with courage – no matter your fate – you shall be forever honored.”
*************
Fallon waited with the Steward in the Council Chambers. Within the hour, all of the Elders had arrived. The chatter was high when the Steward finally called a meeting to order.
“As you have heard, there is a potential threat of attack from the Komanites. Adam is assembling the guards as we speak, but we must all remain vigilant.”
“Where have they been sighted?” inquired Elder Tomar.
“No sightings as of yet,” the Steward replied. “Fallon had a premonition last night.”
“So it was just a dream,” Elder Tomar said.
“You may recall that the last time Fallon had a dream we were attacked by the Komanites,” retorted Elder Anne.
As Fallon turned his attention to Elder Anne, it occurred to him that she had aged considerably in the last few years, but there was still a feistiness behind her words, even if the voice had become thin and raspy.
“Aye, I recall,” replied Elder Tomar with more than a bit of annoyance. “My point was that I thought the attack was imminent, that there had already been sightings of the Komanites. But if the alert is based on a dream, that gives us more time to prepare. Did not Fallon’s previous dream occur several days before the last raid?”
“Aye,” acknowledged Steward Isaiah, “but that does not mean it shall be the same this time. This is only Fallon’s second dream, after all.”
Fallon tried not to look too guilty when the Steward mentioned it only being his second dream.
Steward Isaiah and the Elders began to discuss their defense plans in more detail. There were six main storage barns within the village. The green and white barn that had burned years ago had been rebuilt. That one was the closest to the Village Square and the largest. The others were located in each of the outlying areas: Littlebrook, Durham, Corning, Chesterville and Trenton. Adam had already dispatched local messengers to assemble guards at these locations.
It was agreed that guard posts should be set up along the known entry points into the village first thing the following day, and that at any given time one of the Elders or the Steward should be at the Council Chambers to help coordinate defense tactics. A rotation was set up, with Steward Isaiah agreeing to take the first shift. They were so wrapped up in discussing the various plans for the following day that at first the Elders failed to notice the faint sounds of bells tolling in the distance. But the echoing sound soon reached their ears, and each of the Elders grew silent a
nd still.
“They are here,” Steward Isaiah said finally, his heart sinking. He, like Elder Tomar, had been hoping there would be more time to prepare. On the Steward’s command, the Elders quickly scattered to their designated locations throughout the Village Square and the outlying areas. Isaiah walked out in front of the Council Chambers with Fallon following close behind.
“Stay close to me, Fallon,” instructed the Steward, “but not too close.”
For a while it was just the sound of the bells in the distance, but eventually the entire village erupted in a chorus of bells as new towers in different areas of the Reed were called to alert. In all his life Fallon had never heard such a beautiful and yet ominous sound. It brought many villagers out into the streets, tentatively looking around for clues as to what was amiss. No one dared approach the Steward though. At the moment his eyes were transfixed on the eastern horizon, which was now lit up with an eerie orange glow.
A new bell tower sounded; this one was the closest yet and broke the Steward from his gaze. “They are in the Square,” he said. He wanted to rush to the green and white barn, to make certain it was still standing, but he knew he could not leave the Council Chambers. He reminded himself that Elder Lydia was there now, and that she – and the other guards – would prove a worthy opponent to anyone who tried to raid the barn.
The bells continued to toll, and the Village Square now seemed to be a chaotic mess of people darting this way and that, unsure of what to do or where to go. Messengers finally started to arrive with reports of the raid from afar: the three eastern-most storage barns – Durham, Corning and Chesterville – were gone. They had been looted and set afire. Alas, Adam’s guards had not arrived in time. News was better on the western front. Owing to Fallon’s note, guards were already waiting at the Littlebrook storage barn and were able to deter the Komanite advances. The bell tolls in Littlebrook had put the people in Trenton on alert and they too had been able to protect their storage barn.
A fierce battle was ongoing at the green and white barn. Those Komanites were heavily equipped with several bows and arrows and spears, and they were not leaving without a fight. At one point they had managed to overpower the guards and gain entry to the barn, but they were not able to loot much before the Reedites, led by Elder Lydia, came swarming in after them.
It was Fallon who noticed it first – the sight of small balls of fire advancing upon the Village Square. “Steward,” he said, pulling at the old man’s sleeve and pointing.
Encouraged by the campaign’s early success in the eastern areas, Silas had decided it was time to parade through the heart of the village and remind the Reedites of their long-time foe. Dressed in hoods and robes of black, the riders charged through the cobblestone streets, holding their torches high, intent on instilling fear into all before them. At last they reached the Council Chambers where only the Steward and Fallon now stood.
“Set it afire!” Silas yelled, and his companions happily advanced towards the round building.
“Halt!” cried the Steward with such force that the Komanites, including Silas, stopped in their tracks. And then Isaiah began to shout to the heavens, presumably summoning a storm or some other weather event to turn the Komanites away.
Not again; not this time, Silas thought to himself. He remembered the incredible lightning storm that thwarted one of his previous raids. “You have shown yourself, you fool, and now you shall pay,” he muttered aloud. Then he let an arrow fly.
Silas had always been a good shot. Within seconds Isaiah was lying on the ground, a single arrow to the chest. It was the exact vision from Fallon’s dream; it was so surreal that Fallon could not move at first. His legs overcame the shock before his head did and he suddenly found himself huddled over Isaiah. The Steward was not moving, he was not responding to Fallon’s calls. The sight of Isaiah’s lifeless body sent a course of rage through Fallon and before he knew it he was charging at Silas with his sword – the same one he had made in Isaiah’s metalworking shop.
Silas held tight to his bow but he did not move. He seemed hypnotized by the vision of the boy coming towards him with a sword. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, another hooded rider came darting in front of Silas in an attempt to block Fallon’s path. It was not exactly clear what happened next – either the horse became spooked or the rider lost control – but regardless, the rider was now on the ground only a few feet in front of Fallon.
Without thinking, Fallon ran and pinned the rider down, grabbing for the hood. Though he tore the hood away in rage, Fallon’s anger quickly turned to shock; she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Jet-black hair, hazel eyes, rose-colored lips. And she was young…no older than himself. She watched him with obvious fear, but Fallon did nothing. His mind was still trying to process everything that he was seeing. Silas seized upon this moment and rushed in, grabbing the girl by the arm and pulling her onto the horse before galloping off into the darkness. The other riders followed suit, abandoning any plans to set the Council Chambers afire.
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.