by RM Wark
Is that him – standing there in the trees? he wondered. The man who refused to tell me his name? Has he come to save me once again?
*************
She had been wandering in the forest for only a few days when the little girl crossed her path – the girl who did not speak.
My word, she has not aged a single day in all this time! It was a most curious thought from a wizard.
“Hello. I have come to see the old woman. Would you show me the way?” asked Lady Delia.
The little girl nodded.
The wizard followed her through various paths, across several streams, and finally up a little hill to where the old woman was sitting by the fire. Lady Delia did not have a chance to introduce herself before the old woman spoke.
“Welcome, daughter of the King,” called out the woman with clouded eyes that did not see. “Tell me, why have you come, my dear?”
Lady Delia’s face flushed red with embarrassment, and she lowered her head. “Because I am with child, madam, and I do not wish to be.”
She raised her gaze to meet the old woman’s eyes, but she was only met with silence.
“I have been told there is a special tea,” Lady Delia continued.
“I see,” said the woman. “May I feel?”
Lady Delia was surprised by the request, but she did not object.
“Aye.”
The little girl guided the old woman’s hands to Lady Delia’s belly, and together they began pressing around.
The little girl withdrew her hands first, pulling the old woman’s hands away in the process. She held the wrinkled hands tightly in her little palms for quite some time, but did not say a word. Lady Delia thought she noticed a flicker of silver in the young girl’s eyes, but they quickly turned black again. The girl let go of the old woman’s hands and guided her back to her seat upon the ground.
“I cannot promise the tea shall work,” said the old woman. “You have been with child for some time.”
Lady Delia looked down upon the slight bulge to her belly. “I understand. I would have come sooner, but ….”
“But you were detained.”
“Aye. How did you know?”
The old woman smiled but offered no response.
Lady Delia did not prod her. She had watched how her father had dealt with the old woman in the past. She knew it was best to remain quiet.
The little girl eventually handed Lady Delia a cup of tea.
“Is this it?” asked Lady Delia, staring at the white tea leaves that had settled to the bottom of the cup.
The old woman did not immediately answer; it seemed as though her thoughts were elsewhere.
“Aye,” came the distracted reply.
Lady Delia continued to stare at the leaves. She was not sure she had the courage to drink. She looked towards the little girl now busy tending to the fire, but the little girl paid her no mind. She turned her gaze to the old woman and found her staring out into space, her expression revealing nothing of her thoughts.
I must do this. It is for the best.
With those thoughts in mind, Lady Delia sipped the tea. It had a very bitter taste, but she managed to finish the cup.
The old woman spoke again when she placed the cup down.
“If the tea works, you shall bleed again by the next full moon.”
Lady Delia waited for more instruction, but none came.
“Thank you,” she said.
*************
Zeke had never ridden Junior so fast. He turned back on occasion to make sure Steward Isaiah and Elder Catherine were still somewhere behind him, but mostly he pressed his horse forward along the snowy path at a hurried pace, desperate to reach Hammond – so desperate that he had left Holley behind with Beatrice, much to the dog’s dismay.
The guard had woken the Steward up with the news of Hammond several hours prior. It had been dark when they set out from the Village Square, after waking Elder Catherine. The sun was just now beginning to make an appearance in the sky.
“I was able to get him back to his cabin,” the guard had said, “but I fear he would not have survived a trip back to the Village Square. He is gravely injured.” The guard’s voice had cracked under the weight of the emotion. “Edith begs that you come at once.”
When they finally reached Hammond’s cabin, they found the front door ajar. No one answered when they called out. Steward Isaiah walked in first, making his way slowly towards Hammond’s bedroom in the rear of the house. Zeke and Elder Catherine quickly followed.
The sight of Edith silently sobbing – her shoulders bobbing as she bent over Hammond – tore at Zeke’s heart.
“Edith,” the Steward said, his voice gentle.
She turned to face them, her eyes swollen and red. “Steward, I fear you are too late.”
Elder Catherine approached the ashen-faced man lying on the bed and put her ear to his chest while grabbing his wrist between her fingers.
Zeke was struck by how small and frail the mighty Hammond appeared right then. He did not seem like the same man who had taught him so many things – so many fun things requiring skill and strength and stamina. He cannot die. He cannot.
Zeke brushed away a tear as he watched Elder Catherine continue to search for signs of life. He watched her listen, then frown, and listen again. But when the Elder raised her head and shook it with sadness, he knew Hammond was indeed gone.
It was then that Edith’s silent sobs finally became audible. It was then that Zeke decided he must do something.
“Wait! I might be able to help,” he insisted, making his way towards Hammond.
“No!” the Steward cried sharply, giving him a stern look.
“But—” Zeke began to protest.
“Let him be, Zeke.”
Edith’s wails grew louder, and Elder Catherine moved to comfort her. With the sting of the Steward’s rebuke and hot tears pouring down his cheeks, Zeke ran outside.
He could not say how long he spent on the front porch, sobbing into his knees, which he hugged close to his chest.
“Zeke?”
Zeke jumped at the sound of the Steward’s voice.
“May I sit next to you?”
Zeke nodded as he began wiping away the tears.
“I am sorry about Hammond, son.”
This made the tears start falling again. “I could have saved him, Steward,” Zeke sobbed.
The Steward wrapped his arm around him. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. It is a risk I am unwilling to take.”
Zeke sniffled. “What good is my gift if I am not allowed to use it?” he asked.
For once, the Steward was at a loss for words.
*************
“Did you give her the proper leaves?” asked the old woman.
The little girl said nothing, and yet somehow the old woman heard her.
“Are you certain?” There was an uneasiness to the old woman’s voice that was not usually there.
The little girl closed her eyes and nodded.
The old woman could only sigh.
*************
The Village of Koman rejoiced when Silas and his men – and the boy, Henry – returned with food. He noticed Zahara standing at the door – ever watchful – though she kept her distance.
Several mornings later Zahara finally joined him for breakfast.
“I suppose I should congratulate you on a successful raid.” The tone of her voice suggested she was not in a congratulatory mood.
Silas chose not to respond, focusing on the food before him instead.
“I am told that no one lost their lives.”
Silas nodded, even as the image of the fallen guard filled his mind. It would serve no purpose to tell her of him. Besides, he was a Reedite.
“You were lucky. You could have died.”
He had grown tired of her scolding, and a wave of anger washed over him – until he lifted his head and noticed the tears in her eyes. She had been worried for him.
�
�I did not die, my love. I am here,” he said gently.
“Promise me you shall never raid again,” Zahara insisted, choking back her sobs. “Not even if we suffer through another winter such as this.”
Silas sighed. “I cannot, Zahara.”
“Promise me!”
Silas remained silent for some time.
“All right, Zahara,” he said finally. “I promise.” He was not certain he could keep the promise, but he would try.
She smiled at him and took hold of his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
His heart danced at the first hint of reconciliation. He wanted to pull her into an embrace and never let her go. But her eyes told him to take things slowly. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it softly.
*************
The Elders were gathered in the Council Chambers, with Zeke sitting quietly against the wall in the uncomfortable wooden chair.
“The storage barn was raided,” Steward Isaiah was explaining. “We might only speculate that Hammond was killed by whoever raided the barn.”
“It was the Komanites – I am certain,” grumbled Elder Maxwell.
“We do not know that,” countered Elder Tomar. “It is unlike the Komanites to raid without trying to destroy property or intimidate the villagers.”
“But did the tracks in the snow not lead north?” asked Elder Theodora.
“Aye, they did,” acknowledged Elder Tomar. “But Colton and Jessum also lie north. With all the snow we had this winter, I would not be surprised if random gangs of thieves are roving about, looking for provisions to steal.”
“None of this matters,” interjected Elder Graham, his voice quieted with age. “There is nothing we can do about what happened. We can only celebrate the memory of Hammond – a good man – and put our guards at other storage barns on alert.”
“Well said, my friend,” spoke Steward Isaiah. “The candle ceremony is scheduled for seven o’clock tomorrow night by the old oak tree.”
The Steward was about to dismiss the Elders when Adam opened the double doors to the inner chambers.
“Pardon the intrusion, Steward,” Adam said, “but it seems you have a message from Mt. Xavier.”
Greyson chirped from his perch in the entry hall.
CHAPTER NINE
The Right Path
“We must hurry, my friend,” said Gentry, finally entering Fallon’s view. “You are being followed. We do not have much time.”
“What are you doing here?” Fallon stared in bewilderment at his friend upon a horse.
“Did you not hear me? You are being followed! We must go now!”
Spurred into action by the alarm in Gentry’s voice, Fallon scrambled to stand up.
“Where shall we go?” Fallon asked.
“To Middleton, as fast as this horse shall carry us.”
Fallon eyed the aging stallion, shaking his head. “Gentry, that horse cannot support the weight of both of us at any pace, let alone a gallop.”
“He is not Casper, but he shall do,” replied Gentry, irritated.
“He is but skin and bones, Gentry. Even in the dark of night I can see this. Look at him,” insisted Fallon.
Gentry sighed and jumped off the horse. “I did not have time to find a proper horse when I left Aurora,” he grumbled. “I was lucky to get this one.”
Fallon fell silent, deep in thought.
“We must ride this horse, Fallon, or else they shall capture both of us for certain,” Gentry insisted. “Please, let us go.”
Fallon shook his head. His instincts told him such a trip would be folly, and he was not one to ignore his instincts.
“Perhaps we would be better served to leave the road and strike a different path through the desert,” Fallon ventured.
“We cannot take this horse through the desert,” protested Gentry.
“I agree. We should send the poor beast along the road to Middleton, and make our way through the desert on foot.”
Gentry hesitated, his reluctance to travel without a horse obvious.
“Trust me,” urged Fallon.
“Wizards be damned,” Gentry sighed. “All right, Fallon.”
With a quick slap on the back, the horse was sent trotting down the road towards Middleton.
Fallon and Gentry collected their supplies and made their way on foot through the desert under the light of the moon.
*************
As she traveled north towards Mt. Xavier, Lady Delia was overcome with a mixture of happiness and fear. It had been nearly fifty years since she had last set eyes on her father, on her home. She had no idea what to expect. She knew there would be questions, and she was not sure how she would answer them.
The paths leading to the castle of white upon Mt. Xavier were gone. A precaution for the war, she supposed, but it did not matter. She knew this mountain well. She would find her way back home. And so she did.
Lady Delia did not recognize the young gentleman guarding the door.
“Hello,” she called out to him. “Who might you be?”
The guard was clearly startled and jumped to attention, quickly drawing his sword.
“Who goes there?” he demanded, looking all around.
Only then did Lady Delia remember that she had dimmed herself.
“Egedietur ab umbis!” she commanded with her wand.
The guard’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the unfamiliar wizard standing only a few feet from him. He clutched his sword tightly.
“Who … who are you? What business do you have here?” he stammered. He was trying so hard to appear brave, but it only made his fear all that more evident.
“I live here. I am Lady Delia,” she replied in a soft, calm voice. “My father has been expecting me for some time. I should like to see him.”
“Lady Delia?” he repeated, confused and unsure.
“Aye, Philipe. This is Lady Delia. The daughter of the King has finally returned. Welcome home, my lady.”
Lady Delia turned her attention to the door where a woman now stood. “Lady Tessa! What are you doing here?”
Philipe slowly lowered his sword and stepped aside.
“Come, Lady Delia. Your father is quite ill. I fear there is not much time left before he passes on to the next life.” Lady Tessa beckoned her inside.
In spite of her weariness from the long journey, Lady Delia ran down the main corridor of the west wing to her father’s quarters. She found him lying in bed, pale and feverish, his breathing labored.
“Father?” she cried.
King Huron slowly opened his eyes and turned to the voice.
“Delia! You have returned!” He made a movement to grab for her hand but was too weak, so she grabbed his hands instead and kissed them softly.
“I had hoped you would return home before ….” His voice trailed off, replaced by a weak smile. He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. And with that sigh, the very essence of life departed King Huron. His body dissolved into dust before her eyes.
“My condolences, Lady Delia.” Lady Tessa stepped forward into the King’s bedroom and placed her hand on Lady Delia’s shoulder.
“Thank you,” Lady Delia mumbled in reply.
But she did not turn her gaze to the wizard. Her eyes stayed focused on the bed where her father had been just moments before. She was still trying to absorb what had just happened. She was numb.
“He had been sick for some time. I tried my best to heal him, but nothing seemed to work. I have not seen anything like it before.”
Lady Delia nodded her head.
“Have you traveled far?”
Lady Delia nodded her head again.
“Then you must be exhausted. I shall have the servants prepare your room and a bath. There is much for us to discuss afterwards … when you are rested, my Queen.”
The unexpected address finally caused Lady Delia to meet Lady Tessa’s gaze. I am Queen now, she thought. The realization was met without any emotion. Lady Delia only nodded in
acknowledgement of Lady Tessa.
That evening, Lady Delia stared out from the window of her childhood home into the darkness of the sky. She had forgotten how bright the moon appeared to those high upon the purple mountain.
At last, the tears began to fall, hot tears of anger and despair. The moon was full. Her father was gone. And she did not bleed.
*************
The ranger brought his horse to a halt with a pull of the reins.
Len watched as the man jumped from the horse and walked into the desert. When it became clear the ranger had found something of interest, Len hurried after him.
“What is it, Ranger?” Len asked as he approached.
“A campsite.”
Len looked around, but he saw no evidence of a fire pit.
“It is?”
“He did not light a fire,” said the ranger, as if reading Len’s mind. “He wanted to remain hidden to the night. It must be Fallon.”
“How long ago did he leave?”
The ranger did not answer. He was focused on markings in the desert floor.
“What is it, Ranger?” asked Len again.
The ranger frowned. “A horse.”
“I thought Fallon was on foot?”
The ranger did not respond to Len. He was distracted by his own thoughts.
“There are two sets of footprints here,” the ranger said aloud before following the tracks back to the road.
Len followed him.
“What is it, Ranger?” Len found himself asking yet again. He always felt like a fool when he was around the ranger.
“The other Reedite must have come with a horse,” the ranger reasoned.
“Wizards be damned.”
“We might catch them if we hurry,” the ranger said. “I only saw one set of hoofprints. Two men upon a horse do not travel as fast.”
*************
It would be nearly a week before Lady Delia would emerge from her sleeping quarters in the castle of white. In that time, several wizards had gathered upon hearing the news of King Huron’s death.