The Stewards of Reed, Volume 2: The Dungeons of Cetahl

by RM Wark

  “I would not go down that path if I were you.”

  “Why not?” asked Gentry, turning to face the old man.

  “Many have gone that way before. None have returned.” There was no emotion in the old man’s voice. It was as though he was merely stating a fact.

  “Where do all these passages lead?”

  The old man shrugged. “Most lead nowhere. Some lead to enlightenment. Some lead to certain death. A handful lead to the lands beyond this mountain.”

  Gentry studied the old man before him. “How long have you lived here?”

  The old man smiled. “Long enough that time has ceased to have much meaning.”

  After that day, Gentry did not try to follow the old man again. Instead, he focused on building the strength in his leg within the confines of the cavern. With time, his uneven gait became a slight limp that only appeared when Gentry was tired.

  “You are better,” the old man observed one day before leaving the chamber yet again.

  Days upon days passed, with no sight or sound from the old man. Gentry became increasingly worried. He judged that there was enough soup in the pot to last another day, but that was it. Gentry did not know the way out of the mountain. He was convinced he would starve.

  The next morning Gentry awoke to find the old man had returned.

  “Where have you been?” demanded Gentry. “I could have died!”

  The old man did not answer. Instead, he handed a canteen to Gentry. “Drink this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Are you afraid it might be poison?” the old man asked as his eyes flickered silver once more.

  Does he know about Dennison?

  Gentry reluctantly took the canteen and brought it to his mouth. He sighed with relief as his tongue tasted the contents. It is just tea! He drank some more and handed the canteen back to the old man.

  “It is your time to go,” the old man said. “You must find that which you seek.”

  That was the last thing Gentry remembered before he awoke in the shadows of the Atlian Mountains. He was at his old campsite.

  There was no sign of the pack of thieves or his dead horse, but Gentry found most of his belongings still hidden behind the large boulders that had sheltered him months before.

  He also found his knife – Dennison’s knife – lying on the ground. It still bore traces of Casper’s blood. Gentry reached down to pick it up and slowly, methodically, began to clean the blade with a rag from his pocket. When the knife was finally clean, he carefully hid it in his stocking.

  He stood up and surveyed his surroundings. For once, the wind was silent. Based on the position of the sun in the sky and the cooler temperatures, Gentry guessed it was late autumn.

  Finally free from the cave, Gentry briefly considered returning to Reed. But the final words of the old man who had saved him from certain death stayed with him: You must find that which you seek.

  “I shall try once more,” he mumbled aloud.

  Gentry camped out that night and set off north towards Colton the next morning. And hopefully, when I finally do return to Reed, I shall bring Fallon with me.

  *************

  The violent storm had left several mudslides in its wake, rendering the mountain path unnavigable for several days, so Lady Dinah remained as Lord Clintock’s guest. They no longer spoke of the East, and she found herself enjoying her stay quite a bit more than she had expected.

  Lord Clintock had gone down the mountain trail that morning to ensure it was stable. He was just now returning.

  “It is safe to travel now. You should arrive in Reed in two or three days’ time,” he said upon reaching Lady Dinah.

  “Thank you, Lord Clintock. I sincerely appreciate all your hospitality.”

  “It has been my pleasure, my Queen,” he replied. “Please give my regards to the Steward.”

  “Thank you, I shall.”

  Lady Dinah was about to mount her horse when the call of a raven reverberated through the chilly autumn air. Upon closer inspection, she recognized it as one of her ravens from Mt. Xavier.

  It landed on a nearby stone and waited patiently for her to untie the message from its claw.

  Lady Dinah’s eyes grew wide as she deciphered the note. The color drained from her face.

  “Is everything all right, my lady?” asked Lord Clintock, concerned.

  “It is Lord Edmund,” she replied. “He has come back from the East. I must return to Mt. Xavier at once.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Remembered

  Jezebel had come to see him again that night. She was not feeling quite well – “It is almost my moon time,” she explained – so they mostly just sat side by side on his mat of straw and talked, taking care to keep their voices low.

  “Have you had any more dreams?” she asked.

  “No.” He had not had any of his dreams since he came to Koman, months ago.

  “Does that bother you?”

  Fallon shrugged. “Not really. I like to think I am not having any dreams because I finally am where I belong – for the moment, anyway.”

  Jezebel smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “I must get going.”

  “Feel better, my love.”

  That night Fallon fell into a restless sleep.

  In his dream, Fallon found himself in a mountain meadow, surrounded by a heavy fog. He could hear the desperate neighs of a horse all around him, but the dense grey mist revealed nothing.

  “Attawan?”

  His eyes finally detected a slight movement in the fog, and the faint outline of a horse appeared in the distance. Though the horse was but a shadowy figure, Fallon felt certain he recognized the beast.

  “Casper?” he called out, surprised. “What are you doing here? Where is Gentry?”

  Fallon took a step towards the horse, hoping to get a better look. But with every step forward, Casper retreated further into the fog until he could no longer be seen. Fallon wandered aimlessly in the fog for what felt like hours, Casper’s neighs continuing to taunt him all the while. Fallon would occasionally catch sight of the horse, but each time he drew near, Casper would once again disappear into the mist.

  Discouraged, Fallon sat down upon the wet grass. Perhaps the horse is meant to come to me, he thought, closing his eyes. He felt a cold movement of air upon his face. It began as a delicate breeze that danced playfully around him, but it soon began to take the form of angry gusts of wind, incessant and assaulting.

  When Fallon opened his eyes, he saw the fog was slowly clearing. Despite the howl of the wind, Fallon could still hear the sounds of Casper all around him. But although the fog was fading, the horse remained elusive.

  Fallon was suddenly overcome with an inexplicable desire to run. He stood up and let his legs carry him as fast as they could across the meadow. He could no longer hear the neighs of the horse – he could only hear the sound of his own labored breathing.

  Fallon stopped running when he reached a ridge that gave way to a deep ravine. At the bottom of the ravine was a large lake whose waters seemed to glow pale green. He studied the surreal landscape for a while, but his thoughts were interrupted by the neigh of the horse again.

  When Fallon turned his head towards the direction of the sound, his heart skipped a beat. Just a few yards in front of him stood Jezebel. She was pointing across the ravine at the peaks of a mountain unfamiliar. She turned to him, holding her hair against the wind. Her mouth moved, but the only sound Fallon heard was that of Casper’s neighs. The fog crept back into Fallon’s dream, and he remembered no more.

  Fallon woke to the sound of a tapping at the window.

  *************

  His limp had become quite pronounced, as it had a tendency to do after a long day of walking, but Gentry pushed himself forward. He had managed to pass through Colton in the dead of the night without incident, and he wanted to do the same for Koman.

  He judged he only had a few more hours before daybreak. If Gentry did not make it thr
ough Koman now, he would be forced to camp out nearby – essentially wasting away a perfectly good traveling day. He was determined to get to Jessum sooner than later.

  “I must find that which I seek,” he mumbled aloud. “The old man said so.”

  Gentry continued along the path that would take him through the Village of Koman.

  “Halt!”

  The command caught Gentry by surprise.

  “Who goes there?” Two guards stepped out from the shadows. One had drawn his sword.

  Gentry. Son of Hammond, of Reed. The automatic response echoed in his head, but fortunately he caught his tongue in time.

  “Gentry, sir,” he replied.

  “What is your purpose in Koman?”

  “None. I am only passing through. My purpose is in Jessum.”

  The guard with his sword drawn stepped closer to Gentry and looked him over with suspicion. “Why are you traveling in the dark of night?”

  To this Gentry had no good answer. “I am just trying to get to Jessum as quickly as I can, sir.”

  “Why?”

  Gentry knew he could not outrun the guards, not with his leg as it was. He knew he could not fight. His only weapon was Dennison’s knife, and that was no match for two guards equipped with swords. He also knew he could not turn away – he had come too far. His only choice was to respond to the guard’s questions and hope that they would let him pass.

  “I am searching for someone,” Gentry replied.

  “Who?”

  “What does it matter?” replied Gentry, irritated.

  The guard pointed his sword at Gentry’s chest. “Who?”

  “His name is Fallon,” Gentry huffed.

  “Is that so?”

  “Aye.”

  The two guards exchanged quick glances. Before he had time to react, Gentry was seized by the second guard.

  “Then you must come with us,” the first guard replied.

  With a guard’s firm grip upon his arm and a sharp sword pointed at his back, Gentry marched through the streets of Koman as the villagers slept.

  *************

  It was unusual for someone to be knocking at the door at such an early hour. At first, Jezebel thought she had dreamed hearing the sound, but when she heard the door open, she knew it was no dream. She rushed to the top of the stairs just in time to see her father’s guards lead a man into the dining hall. She hurried back to her room and pressed her ear to the crack in the floor.

  “Who are you?” her father demanded.

  “My name is Gentry, sir,” explained an unfamiliar voice.

  “Why are you here?”

  “As I explained to your guard, I am on my way to Jessum.”

  “For what purpose?”

  There was a pause in the dialogue. “I … I am searching for someone.”

  “Who?”

  Silence.

  “If I may, Minister,” offered another voice that Jezebel presumed belonged to one of the guards, “he said he was looking for a man named Fallon.”

  Did he just say Fallon? Jezebel’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Are you from Reed?” her father pressed.

  If the man answered, Jezebel was not able to hear his reply.

  “Are you from Reed?” her father repeated, the anger rising in his voice.

  Still there was no answer.

  “Why are you searching for Fallon?”

  “How do you know Fallon?” The shock in the stranger’s voice was evident.

  It was her father’s turn to remain silent.

  “Should I take him to the Keep, Minister?” asked the guard.

  “That would be foolish, no?” snapped her father.

  “Aye, Minister,” came the sheepish reply.

  “Put him in the guest room for now. Guard the door. And place another guard at the window.”

  “Aye, Minister.”

  Jezebel heard footsteps, followed by the closing of a door. But then she heard the door open again and the voice of her mother.

  “Is he a Reedite?” Her mother’s voice was filled with worry.

  “He did not say as much, but I suspect that he is. He told the guards he was searching for someone named Fallon.”

  “Our prisoner?”

  “Aye.”

  “Why?”

  “He did not say. Perhaps he shall be more inclined to speak the truth of his purpose in the morning – with a little help from one of my potions.”

  “And then what?”

  There was a long pause before her father responded. “I shall kill him.”

  “Kill him? Are you certain that is necessary?” Her mother’s words were cautious yet gentle.

  “Aye. We cannot afford to keep another prisoner, and nothing good shall come from his release. He now suspects we know something about Fallon. If we let him go, he shall likely return with the Reedite army.”

  “But Fallon came to us,” her mother protested. “We have not harmed him.”

  “That shall not matter to the Reedites. They shall believe what they want to believe.”

  There was a long pause in the discussion.

  “So what shall you do about Fallon?” her mother asked.

  There was another long pause. “I do not know. I am tempted to just kill him and be done with it. He has yet to show any sign of being the one.”

  Jezebel heard her father sigh.

  “I do not want to make any decision about Fallon in haste. Let us see what the Reedite has to say.”

  She heard the door close and nothing more, but her father’s words echoed in her head. There was a time when she would not have cared about the fate of a Reedite. But she had grown to love Fallon with all her being.

  His life may be in danger. And while she had no ties to the Reedite they called Gentry, she could not deny that he might be Fallon’s friend. And if he is a friend, Fallon would never forgive me if I let him die. I must warn him.

  She tried to ignore the queasiness in her stomach as she stood up. She quietly made her way down the stairs and grabbed her coat. She opened the door with as little sound as possible, keeping a watch for the guard she knew was just around the corner. When no one came, she stepped out into the night, closing the door behind her.

  *************

  “Have there been other healers?” Zeke asked.

  Steward Isaiah regarded his student and smiled. “Much of our history was lost in the Great Fire, but I recall hearing stories of others like you. It is an incredible gift. You are fortunate to have discovered it so soon.”

  Zeke frowned. “I would still rather have the gift of knowing everything,” he said, glancing towards the pile of books upon the Steward’s desk.

  Isaiah laughed. “So much alike, and yet so different.”

  It was hard not to make a comparison between Zeke and Fallon, but the Steward’s statement had the undesired effect of dampening the mood.

  He cleared his throat and picked up a book. “Shall we learn a bit about potions today?”

  “Aye, Steward,” came the less-than-enthusiastic reply.

  *************

  “Jezebel! What are you doing here?”

  “Help me up, Fallon. I still do not feel well.”

  Fallon pulled her into the room. “Is everything all right?”

  “Aye. No. I do not know.”

  “What is the matter?”

  Jezebel sat down on the bed of straw and looked up at Fallon. “Do you know someone by the name of Gentry?”

  A cold shiver went down Fallon’s spine. “Aye.”

  “Is he a friend, or a foe?”

  “A friend. The best of friends, actually.”

  Damn. “Why have you not spoken of him to me before?” she asked.

  Fallon shrugged. “I have been told by many that I am a man of few words.”

  Jezebel frowned. “Well, I am afraid I bear ill tidings.”

  Fallon stiffened. “Aye?”

  “Your friend has been captured. My father plans to kill him �
�� perhaps as early as tomorrow.”

  “What?” Fallon exclaimed, a little too loudly.

  “Hush,” she whispered, placing her finger at his lips. Fortunately, there was no sign of movement from the guards.

  “What do you mean he has been captured?” Fallon whispered.

  “He came looking for you,” Jezebel explained, her eyes filling with tears.

  “He came here? To Koman?”

  “Aye.”

  “I cannot let him die, Jezebel.” Fallon began pacing back and forth in the room.

  Jezebel nodded her head in understanding. Just as I cannot let you die. Your life is in danger, too, she wanted to say, but the words would not come.

  “Where is he now?”

  “My father’s house. Under the protection of guards.”

  Fallon continued to pace around the room. “I have nothing to save him. No weapon. No wand,” he fretted.

  I must find a way to save Fallon, and his friend. Her frantic thoughts eventually wandered to her father’s potions.

  “Perhaps I can help,” offered Jezebel.

  “How?”

  Jezebel smiled weakly. “Come, help me up. We must leave now, before it is too late.” She gave a quick glance towards Fallon’s hourglass. The guards would be making their rounds soon.

  *************

  They did not want to be seen, so they took the long way to Silas’s house, through the fields of wheat and corn.

  “Stay here. Stay hidden in the corn,” Jezebel said as they approached the far side of the house. “I shall be back shortly.”

  “No. I must come with you – to help,” Fallon insisted.

  “If the guards find you in my father’s house, they shall most certainly kill you. It is not safe, my love. Stay here.”

  Jezebel walked to the house and slowly opened the front door. She held her breath, waiting for someone to discover her, but no one came. She quietly hung up her coat. It was rather dark, so she lit a candle and walked down the hall. Her heart sunk when she saw who the guard was, but she forced a smile.