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

by RM Wark

  “Hello, Dirk. It is good to see you.”

  The guard jumped. “Jezebel! You startled me.”

  “I am sorry. I did not mean to.”

  “You should be sleeping. Is everything all right?”

  Jezebel smiled. “Aye. I just need a bit of tea to settle my stomach. Would you care for some?”

  “I would love some. Thank you.”

  Jezebel made her way into the kitchen. She lit the fire in the small stove and placed a kettle filled with water on top. The cabinet at the far end of the kitchen held all her father’s herbs. He was quite the alchemist. She moved the jars around until she found the red powder she had been seeking. It was not long before the water started to boil. She poured the water into a cup and stirred in the red powder.

  “Please, sit with me, Dirk. It has been a while since we have talked.” Jezebel sat down on the floor in the hallway and Dirk sat down beside her. “Here is your tea.”

  “Thank you, Jezebel.”

  “How have you been?”

  Dirk shrugged. “All right.” He sipped on his tea and glanced quickly in her direction before focusing on the ground. “I miss you, Jezebel. I still love you.” He looked up at her, hopeful and sincere.

  Jezebel smiled at him and patted his hand.

  Dirk took another sip of his tea.

  She watched as Dirk slowly closed his eyes. Jezebel managed to grab the tea cup before he slumped completely over.

  I am sorry, Dirk. But there was no other way.

  She stepped past the guard and opened the door to the guest room. A startled man sat up in bed.

  “Hello, Gentry.”

  “Who are you?”

  “A friend.”

  “I have no friends in Koman.”

  “I am a friend of Fallon’s,” she explained. “He is waiting outside. We must hurry.”

  “So Fallon is here?”

  “Aye.”

  “I do not believe you.”

  “She is telling the truth, my friend.”

  Both Gentry and Jezebel were startled by the voice.

  “Fallon! I told you to wait.”

  “I could not wait any longer.” Fallon turned his attention back to Gentry. “Hurry, my friend. Your life is in danger.”

  Unaware that they were being watched, the trio hurried out into the night.

  *************

  Selma continued to feel his pull. More than once, she caught herself standing in front of the door to the dungeons. The guard no longer questioned her presence; he merely nodded, opened the door and stepped aside to let her pass.

  But as of late, she would stop at the first sight of darkness. It was then that she would remember how angry she was. Oren was supposed to be her friend. He knew things. He knew things about Wendell. Things she wanted – needed – to know. Things he had refused to tell her.

  With much effort, she continued to ignore her growing desire to see him.

  “I am sorry to have bothered you,” she would tell the guard, retreating from the darkness. “I have just remembered something else I must do for the Emperor.”

  Her curious actions no longer surprised the guard. He would simply nod and close the door.

  *************

  They ran as fast as they could away from the house of Silas. They did not stop until they reached the shadows of the cornfields.

  Jezebel sank to her knees, out of breath and dizzy. She immediately threw up.

  “Are you all right?” asked Fallon, worried.

  “Aye, my love. It must have been something I ate. I have been unwell all day. This unwelcome excitement does not help matters,” she replied, giving Fallon a weak smile.

  Gentry shot a glance of surprise at Fallon, but it went unnoticed. Fallon was too busy helping Jezebel stand.

  “What do we do now? How shall I escape Koman if all the roads are guarded?” Gentry asked.

  “There is a way,” said Jezebel, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. “The old mountain road,” she said, pointing to the north. “It has not been used for some years now, so it is likely overgrown, but it shall provide safe passage out of Koman. You may take it west to Jessum, or east to Colton.”

  “Shall I be traveling alone?” inquired Gentry, his eyes set on his friend.

  Jezebel spoke before Fallon had a chance to respond. “You must go too, Fallon,” she insisted. “My father shall suspect that you had something to do with Gentry’s disappearance. It is not safe for you to remain.”

  She could not bring herself to tell him that she heard her own father contemplate his death.

  “I shall not leave without you,” replied Fallon, taking Jezebel by the hand.

  Jezebel’s eyes filled with tears. “I am not well, Fallon. I cannot travel with you. Not now. I would only slow you down. I could not live with myself if you were recaptured on my account.”

  “Then I shall stay.”

  “Stay and you shall most certainly die.”

  The trio jumped at the sound of another voice. Zahara stepped out of the darkness.

  “Mother! What are you doing here?”

  “I might ask you the same question, Jezebel.”

  Jezebel lowered her gaze, saying nothing. Zahara frowned at her daughter and turned her attention to the Reedites.

  “Why did you come to Koman?” she asked Gentry.

  “I came looking for him,” Gentry admitted, pointing towards Fallon.

  “Why? Are the Reedites planning to attack us?”

  “What? No!” exclaimed Gentry. “I was just looking for Fallon. He has been missing for some time, and I thought perhaps he had gone to Jessum. I never expected to find him here.”

  Zahara studied Gentry and Fallon carefully before speaking again. “I am prepared to let you both go free, but you must promise never to tell your fellow Reedites that you were ever here – and you must promise never to return to Koman. Ever.”

  “I shall not tell the Reedites anything; on that, I give you my word. But … but I am in love with your daughter,” Fallon confessed. “I cannot promise never to return. I cannot.”

  “You can, and you shall. Or else I shall alert the guards.” Zahara revealed a small wooden whistle tied around her neck. She raised it to her lips.

  “Mother, no!” Jezebel pleaded.

  Fallon remained quiet, deep in thought.

  “We shall leave,” Fallon said at last. “But not without my horse. Not without provisions.”

  “No. There is no time,” replied Zahara. “You are trained as a Steward. If your training was worth anything, you shall survive.”

  Fallon said nothing.

  “I shall take care of Attawan, Fallon. I promise.” The tears were now pouring down Jezebel’s face.

  Fallon took Jezebel into his arms and kissed her tenderly. “I shall return. I promise,” he whispered softly in her ear. He pulled away from her reluctantly and cast one last glance towards Zahara. “Let us go, Gentry.”

  The two men set out into the darkness, heading north towards the old mountain road.

  Zahara did not speak to her weeping daughter until the Reedites were out of sight. “He does not know, does he?” she asked, her eyebrow raised.

  She knows! Jezebel looked up at her mother, surprised.

  “No,” she admitted, wiping away the tears. “He would have never left had he known.”

  *************

  “Wizards be damned! How is it they are both gone? What fools do we have for guards?”

  Len, the guard charged with the unfortunate task of having to inform Silas of the Reedites’ escape, bowed his head in shame.

  “I am terribly sorry, Minister. We are searching for them now. All the horses are accounted for, so we know they are on foot. It should only be a matter of time before we hunt them down.”

  “Where were the guards who were supposed to be watching over the prisoners?” demanded Silas.

  “Those guarding the Keep were at their post, Minister. At the front door. They walked the perimeter
every hour, but the open window in the rear was not spotted until this morning.”

  “And the other prisoner?” asked Silas through a clenched jaw. “The one with a guard at the door and the window?”

  Len cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly. “It appears that the guard at the door fell asleep, Minister.”

  “And who might that fool of a guard be?”

  Len hesitated. “It … it was Dirk, sir.”

  Silas’s eyes flashed in anger. “Get. Out.”

  *************

  “Beatrice?”

  “Aye?”

  “Have you seen Holley?”

  “No, not recently.”

  Zeke frowned. “It is getting late. It is not like her to be gone for so long.”

  Beatrice patted Zeke on the shoulder. “I am sure she is fine, Zeke. I am sure she shall return soon.”

  Zeke stepped outside and called the dog’s name once again. “Holley! Here, Holley!”

  His eyes scanned the fields for any movement, but it was difficult to see anything in the dark. The night was bitter cold, a reminder that winter was coming soon. He reluctantly retreated inside, back into the warmth of the Steward’s home.

  Holley did not join him that night as Zeke curled up in bed, and she was not there in the morning when he awoke.

  When Zeke walked into the kitchen the next morning, he was surprised to see Hammond standing there, talking to the Steward and Beatrice. Once Hammond caught sight of Zeke in the doorway, he became quiet. Although Hammond spoke no words, he might as well have been shouting. Zeke could feel the sorrow emanating from him, and he knew at once something was very wrong.

  “I am afraid Hammond comes bearing ill tidings, my son,” the Steward said.

  Beatrice stifled a sob and excused herself.

  Zeke finally noticed the blood stains upon Hammond’s shirt. “Are you all right, Hammond?”

  “Aye, my boy,” he replied. “But …,” Hammond paused and looked towards the Steward.

  “Something happened to Holley,” the Steward said. “I am truly sorry, son. Holley did not survive.” The Steward placed his arm on the boy’s shoulder.

  “I found her this morning,” Hammond explained. “It looks like she was attacked by a coyote.”

  Zeke’s heart was racing.

  “Where is she?”

  “Out back. I wrapped her in my coat.”

  Zeke ran outside. His eyes were immediately drawn to the table, where Hammond’s coat was bundled around a furry brown creature.

  Holley.

  Zeke ran to the table. He carefully unwrapped the coat and let his eyes wander to the various wounds scarring her lifeless body. Her neck, her paws, her belly. She put up a good fight, he thought, choking back tears.

  He scooped her up in his arms and sat down at the table, rocking her as if she were a child. He began to sob openly. The air was crisp and cool, and though he knew he was not dressed properly, Zeke did not leave. It was not long before he felt his body run cold and painfully numb, but still he did not let go. He had already lost his brother; he could not bear the thought of losing his best friend.

  *************

  Within the hour they reached the promised mountain road. It was more of a narrow path than a road, and it was indeed quite overgrown. Had it not been for the moonlight, navigating around the fallen logs, bushes, and weeds would have likely proven impossible.

  Fallon made his way east towards Colton, and Gentry followed. The night air was frigid, but they dared not take up shelter until they had placed more miles between themselves and the Village of Koman. To stop was to risk death – so they continued on.

  With the exception of the occasional warning to “watch out for that rock/branch/hole,” neither man spoke much. They took advantage of the small streams that occasionally crossed the path – cupping their hands and eagerly drinking the frigid water – but they were careful not to linger for long.

  It was not until the sun finally rose over the peaks of the distant Atlian Mountains that they finally stopped to rest. Only then did Gentry realize how cold and tired and hungry he was, and how much his leg hurt. But more than anything, Gentry was angry.

  “I am going to look for some food. I shall be back soon,” said Fallon, watching as Gentry began to massage his leg.

  Gentry saw Fallon hesitate, as if waiting for a response. When none came, Fallon quickly left.

  When Fallon returned some time later, he came with a shirt full of elderberries.

  “I am afraid these shall have to do for now,” he said, sitting down next to Gentry and spilling the berries onto the ground between his legs.

  Fallon scooped up a handful and offered them to Gentry, but Gentry did not take any.

  “Are you not hungry?” Fallon asked.

  Gentry did not answer.

  “You really should eat,” Fallon urged, pushing his hand forward once more.

  Gentry finally turned to face Fallon. “Do not tell me what I should do,” he barked. “You have no right. You betrayed me. You betrayed us all.”

  “I did no such thing,” Fallon protested, surprised at his friend’s anger.

  “You abandoned us … for a girl. A Komanite, no less.”

  “I did not abandon you, Gentry,” replied Fallon, shaking his head. “My mark was not the proper mark. I was never meant to be the Steward of Reed.”

  “How can you say that? You were marked on your 13th birthday. Steward Isaiah shall not live forever, you know,” Gentry’s voice began to crack. “You did not even say good-bye. You just left without a word.”

  “I am sorry, Gentry. I did not mean—”

  “I cannot believe I left behind my wife and child to search for you,” interrupted Gentry. “I have not seen them in months. I just had to find you. I thought I owed it to you.” Gentry’s eyes filled with tears. “I nearly died searching for you, Fallon. And … and Casper did die. He would still be alive had I not come searching for you.”

  “What? What hap—”

  “And when I finally find you, I find you in the arms of a Komanite.” Gentry wiped away the tears and glared at Fallon. “How could you betray us like that? How could you?!”

  Fallon’s mouth fell open, but he did not speak.

  “Well?” prompted Gentry.

  “I am sorry, Gentry. I had no idea ….” Fallon seemed to struggle to find the right words.

  Gentry continued to glare.

  “Ever since I was marked, I have had these dreams,” Fallon began. “Dreams that I did not tell anyone about because I did not understand them. But these dreams … they kept telling me that I did not belong in Reed, that I needed to leave. I tried to ignore them, but once I learned … once I learned my mark was not the proper mark, I could not ignore them any longer.”

  “And these dreams told you to leave us without a Steward? To abandon us?”

  “There shall be another marked boy. A boy with the proper mark.”

  “How do you know?”

  Fallon shrugged. “I just do. For all I know, Steward Isaiah is training him now.”

  Gentry turned away from Fallon and stared into the nothingness of the open fields below the mountain path.

  “So you felt compelled to leave,” Gentry said at last, “but why do so without saying good-bye? There are people who care for you, Fallon. We deserved more.”

  “Aye,” Fallon acknowledged. “For that I am sorry, my friend. My decision to leave was made in haste, and perhaps I did not think things through. I suppose I was worried you would try to stop me. But I knew I needed to leave, to follow my dreams.” Fallon paused for a moment. “I never imagined you would try to find me, my friend. I am truly sorry…”

  “But why Koman? Wizards be damned, Fallon – of all the places to find you.”

  “I dreamed of Jezebel, Gentry. She holds the key to my true destiny. She is my guide, the one who shall eventually show me wherever it is I belong.”

  “And what if your dreams are wrong? What if you are re
ally meant to stay in Reed?”

  “My dreams are not wrong.”

  “But she is the Komanite leader’s daughter!”

  “Aye. That she is. But she is also the person who helped you to escape. The one who saved your life.”

  Gentry frowned.

  “I love her, Gentry. I have been in love with Jezebel since I first saw her during the Komanite raid nearly five years ago. ”

  “She was part of the raid?”

  “Aye.”

  “The raid in which the Komanites tried to kill Steward Isaiah?”

  “Aye.”

  “And yet you profess to love her?”

  “Aye,” Fallon said with conviction. “I know it does not make sense to you, but I love Jezebel. And she loves me.”

  Gentry shook his head. “You are a fool, Fallon. Your infatuation with Jezebel has made you blind. Your instincts are clouded … perhaps your dreams are, too. She may be beautiful, my friend, but she is still the enemy. You do not belong with her. You belong in Reed. Come home, Fallon.”

  “I am no fool, Gentry. And I am not going back to Reed,” Fallon replied, irritated. “You may think what you want, but I am not wrong. Falling in love has never interfered with a Steward’s gift before, and it has not interfered with mine. I trust my dreams. I trust my instincts. My gift has not faltered. It is the same gift that warned Reed of the Komanite raids. It is the same gift that prompted Steward Isaiah to wear his leather vest. It is the same gift that saved your life once. It is the same gift that is telling me my destiny lies elsewhere.”

  Gentry was silent for some time. He let out a long sigh, and as he exhaled, he felt his anger recede.

  “Well, you cannot go back to Koman, and you say you shall not go back to Reed. So where shall you go?” Gentry asked.

  “I shall return to Koman someday. I promised Jezebel. But there is somewhere else I must travel to first.”

  “Where is that?”