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

by RM Wark

  Lady Delia stood at the door and scanned the crowd that had assembled around an oval table in one of the dining halls. Lord Harlan sat next to his wife, Lady Tessa. Their expressions were troubled as they whispered back and forth to one another.

  Lord Quaid sat apart from the rest, seemingly focused on a divot in the wood before him. He had been a little boy when she last saw him, barely one hundred years old. He was a teenager now, and though his features showed no hint of the chubby child he once was, she recognized him immediately. His hair of white and eyes of blue were like no other – just like the deer in his forest. I wonder where his parents are ….

  Her heart skipped a beat when she cast her eyes upon the couple huddled at the far end of the table. They were Lord Gideon’s parents – Lord Nigel and Lady Grace, of Yukon. Seated next to them were the resident wizards of Thorpe – Lord Spencer and his wife, Lady Iris.

  Lady Delia knew the other wizards would be coming in a few weeks as they made the trek from their homes to Mt. Xavier. It was customary to hold counsel with all the wizards following the death of a King.

  “It is good to see you, my Queen.” Lady Tessa was the first to speak, but the greeting was echoed by the others as Lady Delia entered the room. “We have much to discuss.”

  “Aye, we do.” Lady Delia cleared her throat. “Thank you, Lady Tessa, for taking care of my father during his time of need. I am sorry I was not here to help.”

  Lady Tessa gave a sad smile. “I am only sorry that I could not have done more.”

  Lady Delia nodded. “We were fortunate that you and Lord Harlan were in the area when my father took ill. I doubt I would have seen him before he passed had it not been for your care.”

  “We came as soon as we heard he was sick,” Lord Harlan confirmed. “Alas, we came too late. I am sorry, my Queen.”

  Lady Delia nodded and turned her gaze towards the next couple seated at the table. “Lord Spencer. Lady Iris. It is good of you to come so quickly.”

  “Aye, my Queen. We are sorry for the loss of your father, the King.”

  Lady Delia nodded in acknowledgement. She forced a smile as she set her gaze on Lord Gideon’s parents. “Lady Grace. Lord Nigel. It is good to see you. I only wish it were under better circumstances.”

  “Aye, my Queen. Our sorrows are with you.”

  She quickly turned to the last wizard, Lord Quaid. “How do you do, Lord Quaid?”

  “I am fine, my Queen. Thank you.”

  “Are you here alone?”

  Lord Quaid glanced uncomfortably at Lady Tessa and lowered his head.

  “Lady Delia,” began Lady Tessa, “I am afraid that Lord Quaid’s parents were among the early casualties of this war.”

  “I am truly sorry, Lord Quaid,” exclaimed Lady Delia in earnest. “You have my deepest sympathies.”

  “Thank you, my Queen.” He looked at her briefly, but soon returned his focus back to the divot in the table.

  With the introductions over, Lady Delia began to speak. “I know you all likely have many questions for me: why I disappeared, what happened to me. And I promise you I shall answer them. In time. However, I would rather not have to repeat myself, so I ask that you wait until the remaining wizards arrive before I tell my story. That way I may answer your questions all at once, and everyone shall hear the same thing. I hope a few weeks’ delay shall not trouble you.”

  “Not at all, my Queen,” Lady Tessa answered. The other wizards reluctantly nodded in agreement.

  Lady Delia was relieved. “Good. I appreciate your understanding.” She let out a sigh. “Now, I hope you do not mind that I have questions for you. There is much I need to learn about the state of the West and this horrible war.”

  For the next several hours, the wizards began to fill her in on everything that had happened while she was gone. They told her how the war had begun with a surprise attack on Lord Jameson’s house in Cortez. He had survived, but barely. They told her about the scores of other wizards who had not been so lucky, including Lord Quaid’s parents.

  “It started off poorly, but your father is – was – an excellent strategist,” Lord Nigel said. “The war had started to turn in our favor. The East suffered several defeats at our hands. We had hoped the end was near.” Lord Nigel sighed. “But then the King became ill ….”

  “How many Western Wizards remain?” Lady Delia asked, the calmness of her voice belying her apprehension.

  “Perhaps sixty, seventy at most, not including those who are missing,” said Lady Tessa.

  Only sixty remain! It is worse that I had imagined. Lady Delia fought to keep her composure. “Who is missing?” she asked.

  “Our son, Lord Gideon,” replied Lady Grace.

  “And our son, Lord Abner,” said Lady Iris. “They both disappeared around the same time.”

  “We fear they might have been captured by the East,” Lord Spencer explained. “We had feared the same for you.”

  Lady Delia swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “Are there any other wizards who are missing?”

  Lady Tessa shook her head. “Just Lord Gideon, Lord Abner, and you,” she replied. “But now it seems you are found.”

  Lady Delia could feel their stares upon her, their curious eyes searching for something in her expression to tell them why she had disappeared, where she had gone. As her mind raced to find the right words, a high-pitched tone filled the air. It was the sound of a crystal ball – their communication tool of last resort.

  Alarmed, Lady Delia rushed out of the room without saying another word. Several of the other wizards followed her to her father’s study where the crystal ball was housed. Breathless, she stepped towards the sphere and watched as the fog dissipated.

  Lord Jameson’s rugged countenance appeared. He looked more disheveled than ever.

  “Beware! An army led by Eastern Wizards is marching north from Durango,” Lord Jameson said. “They are at least two hundred strong, including scores of commoners. Inverness is in complete ruins.” Lord Jameson fell silent for a moment before clearing his throat. “I suspect the army’s ultimate destination is Mt. Xavier. Take all precautions necessary! There are rumors of a second Eastern army marching west through Quintara. I shall investigate.”

  With those final words, Lord Jameson disappeared in the fog.

  *************

  They had spent an entire day in Middleton, asking about two men on horseback, but no one recalled seeing anything – not even when gold pieces were offered.

  The ranger had been stewing over a pint at the Desert Delight Inn when Len decided to step outside for fresh air and a smoke. He had not enjoyed a good pipe in some time, and he was eager to try the new tobacco he had purchased in Aurora.

  As he blew smoke rings into the air, an elderly man came up with two horses and tied them to the post.

  “Good day, sir,” Len said.

  “Good day,” the elderly man replied with a smile.

  “That is a fine horse you have there,” Len said, admiring the black mare.

  “Aye, sir, that she is.”

  Len eyed the other horse, an old stallion, but said nothing.

  “And this one shall be looking better once he has a proper meal or two,” the elderly man chuckled, patting the stallion.

  Len nodded politely.

  “Can you believe I found him wandering along the road alone?” continued the old man.

  “Which road?”

  Len was startled to hear the ranger’s voice.

  The elderly man regarded the ranger. “Good day, sir.”

  “You said you found this horse wandering alone?” prompted the ranger.

  Len could tell from the elderly man’s expression that he did not care for the ranger’s rudeness, but the elderly man responded nonetheless.

  “Aye, sir. I found him walking along the road to Aurora.”

  “How long ago?” the ranger asked.

  “Earlier this morning. Why do you ask?”

  Len finally unders
tood the nature of the ranger’s questions. “Is this their horse?” he asked the ranger.

  “I cannot say.”

  “You did not see any men with the horse?” It was Len’s turn to ask the elderly man questions. “A big man with a scarred face? Or a tall dark-haired man with a slender build?”

  “No, sir.”

  Len frowned in disappointment. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Good day.” With a nod of his head, the elderly man made his way into the pub.

  “What should we do now?” Len asked the ranger.

  The ranger sat quietly with his thoughts for some time before responding. “I think we should head back to the campsite. Perhaps I missed something.”

  *************

  “You asked to see me, Father?” Lord Etan had just returned to Cetahl after spending the past few weeks interrogating half-wizards throughout the East.

  “Aye,” Lord Jarek replied. “What have you learned from your interrogations?”

  Lord Etan feigned frustration and disappointment. “Nothing, Father. They have all claimed to know nothing of the Princess.”

  “I see.” The Emperor drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair of stone. “Well, I have learned something.”

  “Aye?”

  “I have found the Princess.”

  “Aye?” Lord Etan tried his best to hide the alarm in his voice at this unexpected news. “Was Gage with her?”

  “No,” said the Emperor with a frown. “I do not know where that traitor is just yet, but I shall find him. The Princess, however, is back in the West. She has returned to Mt. Xavier.”

  A sense of relief filled Lord Etan, but he hid it well.

  “Your spies have confirmed this?”

  “Aye.” Lord Jarek drummed his fingers on his chair of stone once more. “There is more.”

  “Aye?”

  “The King is dead. Lady Delia is the Queen of the West now.”

  Lord Etan was speechless for a moment as he processed the news of King Huron’s death.

  “Was it the corpid flower?”

  The Emperor smiled but did not confirm as much in words.

  “What are your plans now, Father?”

  “My army is marching north to Mt. Xavier as we speak, under the direction of your cousin, Lord Conrad. If the Princess has any wits about her, she shall surrender.”

  “And if she does not?”

  The Emperor frowned but did not speak.

  Lord Etan finally brought himself to ask the question on his mind. “Does your spy have any poison left from the corpid flower?” Her escape was all for naught, he feared.

  “Unfortunately, no,” replied Lord Jarek. “There is some pollen remaining, but the quality is degraded. It shall take time to process.”

  Lord Etan nodded.

  “But if the Princess fails to surrender, I shall make sure the corpid flower takes her life as well. One of these days.”

  *************

  “Wizards be damned!” the ranger cursed aloud, startling Len.

  “What is it?”

  “Footprints. Heading that way.” The ranger pointed to the northeast.

  “What is that way?” asked Len, unfamiliar with Aberdeen.

  “The Shilen Forest.”

  “Should we go after them now?” Len asked.

  The ranger frowned. “No. The sun shall be setting soon. If we are to travel into the desert with our horses, it would be better to do so by the light of day.”

  As anxious as he was to reap his reward for capturing the Reedites, Len was relieved by the ranger’s answer.

  “Let us make camp here for now. We shall leave in the morning.”

  *************

  She had been watching Lord Cephas from a distance for some time. The anniversary of his return to Cetahl – when she first learned of her brother’s death – was fast approaching. Selma had hoped she could avoid having to ask him about her brother. She had hoped that Lord Cephas would eventually come to her and tell her what had happened to Wendell. It seemed the proper thing to do, but thus far he had made no such move. She was growing impatient.

  Selma watched as he raised the glass of whiskey, inhaled its vapors, and quickly swallowed the golden contents before setting it back down on the table with a loud thud. He stared absentmindedly out to space, oblivious to her presence.

  Perhaps this would be a good time, she thought. Working up her courage, she approached the young wizard.

  “My lord?”

  Her voice was timid and quiet, and if Lord Cephas heard her, he did not acknowledge it. Selma cleared her throat.

  “My lord?” she repeated, her voice a bit too loud this time.

  Lord Cephas turned his head. It was clear he was not thrilled to see her.

  “What does the Emperor want now?” he asked with annoyance.

  “Nothing. Nothing, my lord,” she stammered.

  Lord Cephas raised an eyebrow. “Then why are you here?”

  “My lord. I … I do not wish to disturb you. I am only curious … about my brother.”

  Her heart was beating rapidly in anticipation of what Lord Cephas might say about Wendell.

  “He is dead.” Lord Cephas turned from her and swallowed another gulp of whiskey. “There is nothing more to say.”

  “Aye, my lord.” She gave a small bow and quickly left the library.

  *************

  They did not stop walking until the desert floor began its gradual transition from compact sand and the occasional shrub to sporadic grasses and the occasional tree. It was beneath such a tree that Gentry and Fallon set up camp.

  Fallon bit into a hard roll that Gentry had given him and stared out across the plain. He had been patiently waiting for Gentry to speak – to explain everything – but his friend had barely spoken a word since they fled his previous campsite.

  “Why are you here, Gentry?” Fallon finally asked, swallowing down a piece of bread.

  “I am where I should be.” Gentry’s voice was flat, his eyes distant.

  “You should be home with Daria and Luca—” Fallon started to protest.

  “No,” Gentry interjected, shaking his head. “They are better off without me. I am where I should be.”

  “What son has ever been better off without his father?” Fallon quipped, but he immediately regretted his tone when he saw the pain on Gentry’s face.

  “A son with a broken father,” Gentry replied. “I am a broken man, Fallon.”

  These words were not new to Fallon, but he was dismayed nonetheless. He had not seen Gentry like this for several years. “Why do you say such things?”

  “Because it is the truth.”

  “You are not broken, Gentry. You are a good man. The best of friends,” Fallon began. “Daria would not have taken you for a husband if you were as broken as you claim. You have a beautiful family. You belong with them, my friend. Not here with me.”

  Gentry remained silent.

  “The winter solstice was only a few months ago,” Fallon continued, remembering Gentry’s promise to his wife. “When you explain, I am sure that Daria shall understand.”

  “Wizards be damned, Fallon!” Gentry barked. “I told you I am where I am supposed to be.”

  Fallon knew it would do no good to argue with his friend anymore. He focused on the hard roll instead, and found himself wishing it were a nice tender rabbit.

  “Daria and Luca … they deserve better,” Gentry finally said, breaking the silence. “You did not see what I saw.”

  “Pardon?” Fallon did not understand what his friend was talking about.

  “In the reflecting pools.”

  Fallon froze upon hearing those words. He had no interest in discussing what was seen in the reflecting pools. “How did you know I was being followed?” Fallon asked, changing the subject.

  “I saw them,” Gentry replied. “I heard them asking around town about you – about both of us.”

  “Aye. The bartender mentioned two men had been lo
oking for us. One of them was a ranger from Aurora,” explained Fallon, recalling Gregor’s story.

  “And the other is a Komanite guard.”

  Fallon was shocked by the revelation. “Really?”

  “Aye. I remember him. He was the one who seized me and brought me to their leader.”

  *************

  It would be several more days before Lady Delia would spot a falcon returning. The bird landed gracefully, and when the smoke cleared, Lord Spencer was standing before her.

  “Where is Lady Iris? Is she all right?” asked Lady Delia, concerned.

  Upon hearing Lord Jameson’s warning, she had sent the shape-shifting wizards to scout out the approaching Eastern army.

  “Aye, my Queen. Lady Iris stopped in Thorpe to warn them.”

  Lady Delia’s heart sank. “Warn them?”

  Lord Spencer frowned. “I fear the situation is even worse than we had thought. The Eastern army marching north has grown to nearly three hundred souls.”

  “Three hundred? But how is that possible?”

  “I heard several Western accents among their ranks,” Lord Spencer explained with contempt. “I suspect the Eastern army has attracted several opportunistic knaves looking forward to enjoying the spoils of war.”

  “Three hundred,” Lady Delia repeated with a sigh. “Even if I were to rouse the entire Village of Yukon to our defense, we would be outnumbered two to one.” Lines of worry crossed her brow. “How much longer until they reach us?”

  “They were about a two days’ march from Thorpe when we left their camp,” Lord Spencer replied. “They are traveling at a rather slow pace, however, so I would not expect them for another two or three weeks.”

  “And what of the rumors of a second army marching west through Quintara?”

  “I am afraid the rumors are true, my Queen. Alas, I cannot tell you much about that army. A heavy, black smoke hovers around the smoldering remnants of Orinda. We were not able to fly far.”