Home (Hidden in the Reed's Book 1)

by Declan, Brian

  “Good morning, Falcon,” said Rocious.

  The boy’s eyes focused and he glanced up at Rocious.

  “Today we are going to start travelling to the capital. Have you ever been to Dominion, Falcon?” asked Rocious intentionally using the boy’s name again.

  Falcon looked away, “My dad was supposed to take me to there on my birthday.”

  Rocious followed Falcon’s eyes back toward Reed, “Maybe he can meet us there.”

  Falcon shrugged.

  “Ah, well that is where we are going. I will escort you, stay close to me on the road. Can you do that?” asked Rocious.

  “Okay,” Falcon said as he got up. “Can we leave now? I don’t like this place.”

  “I just need to speak with the Sergeant, then we can leave,” said Rocious.

  Rocious found Sergeant Chaplin organizing the people from Reed for the day’s travel. He told Falcon to wait as he approached.

  “Chaplin. What’s the status?” asked Rocious.

  “Morning. Everyone is hungry,” said Chaplin.

  “I figured, we need to get them moving. Are they fit to travel?” replied Rocious.

  “Some were injured in the river and there are quite a few elderly that will need help on the road. I’ve asked for volunteers so it shouldn’t be a problem,” reported Chaplin.

  “Then get them moving as soon as possible,” said Rocious.

  “There’s just one thing…” Chaplin began.

  “What is it?” snapped Rocious. The hunger must be getting to me too.

  “They seem to be forgetting things, it’s rather odd,” answered Chaplin

  “Forgetting what things?” Rocious pressed.

  “Nothing major, just the time they spent in the river,” said Chaplin.

  “That is rather odd. But it doesn’t stop them from walking,” said Rocious.

  “Yes, sir. What’s with the kid?” inquired Chaplin.

  “Just one of the kids your men pulled from the river. Apparently his father is still missing so I’m looking after him,” answered Rocious.

  “Ha,” blurted Chaplin. Rocious raised an eyebrow. Chaplin quickly cleared his throat, “Think he’s back at Fort Reed?”

  “No, maybe he left yesterday,” answered Rocious flatly.

  “What parent would leave their kid behind like that?” questioned Chaplin.

  “People do terrible things every day,” said Rocious, losing his appetite at the thoughts that accompanied his statement.

  Not sure what else to say Chaplin returned to his business, “I’ll get them moving.”

  Rocious gestured for the boy and left.

  The pair travelled in silence for close to an hour. Frustrated with the boy’s slow pace Rocious had enough and decided to carry him on his back.

  “Fuck it, come here kid, I can shit faster than this.”

  Falcon laughed as he hopped onto Rocious’s back.

  “Do you even know what that means?”

  “Poop, it means you poop fast.”

  “No, it means you walk slow.”

  “No I don’t. I can run twice as fast as the other boys.”

  “Well, you walk fucking SLOW!” shouted Rocious startling himself. Then he too broke into laughter at the boy’s smirk.

  After sharing a few moments of laughter the two fell into a steady rhythm for another hour before Falcon started to squirm. Rocious stopped to let him down.

  “Yeah, we should take a little rest.”

  Together they found shade nearby and settled down to rest for a few minutes.

  Now that they were more familiar, Rocious thought to see what else Falcon knew about what had happened. At the least he might be able to find out who was taking care of him. Either way, there was no one else to talk to.

  “Falcon, that’s an odd name. Is it normal to name someone after birds in Reed?” asked Rocious intentionally referencing his home county.

  Falcon shrugged in reply; his face blank.

  “You are from Reed, right?”

  “Yeah,” answered Falcon.

  “In the five duchies we usually name people after their grandparents. Or if you’re fool enough to want them to be famous, you can pull a name from the histories,” said Rocious, expecting to get a laugh out of the boy.

  Falcon looked at the ground and started picking at the grass.

  “You named after someone?” Rocious continued.

  “I’m named after the Falcon, guardian of the sky,” answered Falcon with pride.

  “Sounds like a joke to me. People can’t fly,” replied Rocious sadistically.

  “I read that Castor Kard flew to the sunken isles for the Duke of Caledonia. He was attuned to wind,” Falcon said with intensity.

  “No, the attuned jump. It’s unpredictable. Hardly considered flying,” said Rocious laying back and closing his eyes.

  “At least my name has meaning, Rocious is a joke. Like a baby’s rambling,” Falcon said defiantly.

  “Yeah, it is a joke. Just not a funny one,” said Rocious.

  “Who gave you that name?” asked Rocious, breaking the tension.

  Falcon looked up at the old man, his defiance shifted to defeat. He’s lost something, realized Rocious.

  “Was it your parents?” asked Rocious.

  Falcon’s face looked pained, sorrow being replaced with grief.

  “Did your parents give you that name?” Rocious clarified.

  Falcon’s emotions shifted again and he looked away as if to avoid answering the question. When he looked back at Rocious his face was covered in sweat and tears. What the fuck is going on, thought Rocious. Then he saw it; Falcon’s emotions were attracting magic and he was fighting it for control.

  “Everything is okay, you need to calm down now,” said Rocious gently.

  More magic collected around the boy, causing him to panic and in turn attract more magic. It was a vicious cycle that took practice and control to break free, something even Praetorian struggled with. Falcon never stood a chance.

  “Falcon, listen. Take a slow breath and try to calm down,” said Rocious in a firm but a gentle undertone.

  Falcon jumped up and tried to run but Rocious blocked his way.

  “Leave me alone!” the boy yelled.

  “Screw it.” Rocious grabbed a stone from the ground and beaned Falcon in the head.

  Rocious picked up the boy, tossed him over his shoulder and continued down the road. “So much for resting.”

  Rocious walked until midday with the boy in his arms, making surprisingly good time now that he did not have to deal with the kid’s little legs. He had just caught up with the group of refugees that started their journey the day before when Falcon began to open his eyes. Rocious put the boy down and lead the way to see what caused the large group to stop moving. Working his way through the group Rocious caught sight of a group of about twenty mounted soldiers blocking the road with a few war carts.

  Rocious scooped up Falcon and pushed his way through the group. Just before reaching the soldiers he put Falcon down.

  “Stay here until I say otherwise.”

  Falcon nodded an affirmative then squinted and rubbed the side of his head. Rocious looked away then turned to the problem at hand and walked toward the soldiers at a steady pace.

  “Hold, old man,” said the Decurion, as several mounted archers trained arrows on him.

  Asshole thought Rocious. He was expecting to take charge of these men easily due to his station, but it seemed like this Decurion was one of the few officers that did not recognize him or was just a moron. With his mastery of fire he was virtually untouchable and could display his identity through flame and fear. But if the archers felt threatened someone might accidentally get hurt. To be safe he needed to get closer, and disarm them. He could try some subtle way of convincing them to let them pass or take charge. But he did not feel like waiting and subtlety was not really his style.

  “Fuck it.” Rocious traced a line in the air with his middle and index f
inger. A wall of flames formed between him and the blockade. Then he jumped through the flames and used two explosions to flip the carts. A flick of his fingers sent a series of sparks snapping the archer’s bowstrings before they could cause any damage.

  Rocious searched the group of soldiers locking eyes on the man that called him old. “Move the blockade.”

  The men jumped into action to obey. Rocious smiled, pleased and hopped back through the fire to retrieve Falcon. The boy was gone.

  Falcon watched as the grumpy old man casually approached the soldiers as if they were harmless. He knew it was a bad idea; standing up to a bully only got you beat. You had to distract them first. Then again, sometimes taking the beating was the distraction, like right now. Falcon quietly thanked the old man and darted away from the group.

  Mostly unkempt fields surrounded this section of road. A few sparse trees and shrubs were littered around the fields, not enough to hide a full-grown man. But perfect for Falcon to sneak past the diverted gaze of the soldiers.

  Falcon worked his way from shrub to shrub careful not to move too fast or abruptly. He learned at an early age it was better to just move at a steady pace to avoid unwanted attention. Adults were always more focused on themselves and never had time to spare for games. No matter, Falcon did not want their attention, quite the opposite in fact. In his experience adults were mostly boring and always worrying about the weather. What was it about the weather that had them so interested? It’s not like you can change it. He’d had enough of their rules. A few more shrubs and he would be free to do whatever he wanted.

  The soldiers were so distracted that he practically walked right past them. As he made his way back towards the road on the other side of the blockade, he caught sight of more mounted men galloping down the road. They look important, definitely not soldiers, thought Falcon. Falcon rolled off the road and ducked under a bush right before the soldiers stampeded past him.

  That was close, he thought.

  Cautiously, he peeked out of the bush he used as shelter, then skipped his way to freedom.

  Making his way down the road Falcon thought about what he would do next. He was not sure where he was going but a new life where nobody knew him seemed pretty nice. He could forget about everything that had happened and start with a clean slate. He could wake up when he wanted, eat whatever he wanted, maybe even learn swordsmanship. His dad never even let him touch swords. Maybe he could find a teacher in Dominion but then again someone would probably recognize him. On second thought, the swordsmen in Lucitania were the best and he had always wanted to see the ocean.

  Again he heard galloping and his dream of a new life was crushed in an instant. One of the mounted men must have spotted him and turned back. Falcon ran back into the field, desperate to be rid of his pursuer.

  “Hey there lad, I’m not going to hurt you. No need to run,” said the man pulling up behind Falcon.

  Falcon stopped running. That stupid horse took his one shot at freedom.

  “What is your name lad?” asked the man as he approached.

  As he turned toward the soldier his head began hurting slightly.

  “Nice to meet you,” said Falcon returning the greeting with a respectful bow. Rising from his bow Falcon lost his balance and fell forward.

  “Are you alright lad?” asked the man as he dismounted.

  Falcon clutched his head.

  “My head,” he said as he blacked out.

  Falcon woke in a warm bed in a simple stone room with cut stone walls and utilitarian furnishings. There were no lights except a steady fire to the left of the bed. His head did not hurt anymore but he was starving. He looked around the room to see if anyone had left him some food, but all he found was a pitcher of water. He scooped up the pitcher and drank, ignoring the cup that was obviously for him. The door opened while Falcon was still drinking. Startled, he spilled half the water on his lap, and breathed in what was still in his mouth, coughing.

  “Damn kid, you trying to kill yourself?” said Rocious entering the room with a slim woman in servant’s clothes carrying a tray of salted meats and bread. She placed the tray next to the bed and left.

  “Were you?” Falcon replied after she left.

  “Fair enough. Eat and get dressed. I need you to come with me to answer some questions,” instructed Rocious.

  “What questions?” inquired Falcon before tearing into the bread.

  “Maybe none, but it’s not up to me,” said Rocious taking a seat next to the fireplace.

  “Whose questions are they then?” murmured Falcon with his mouth full of bread and salted meat.

  The door swung open again. This time the serving girl brought a second pitcher of water. She filled a glass, placed it next to Falcon, and then put the pitcher on a table across the room.

  Rocious waited until the girl left to answer. “Swallow before you choke. Questions are from the king. Maybe some nobles, or cocksuck politicians. A piece of advice kid, answer the king. Ignore the rest.”

  “Why would the king ask me questions?” asked Falcon.

  “Because I was supposed to do something. Instead I brought you,” said Rocious getting up to leave.

  “Wait, you’re coming with me right?” pleaded Falcon.

  “Yes, I’m to escort you. This time, don’t run,” said Rocious flashing a smirk.

  Rocious and Falcon were waiting in the antechamber to King Dominick Maximus’s throne room. They had been there for almost two hours and Rocious had lost his patience approximately two hours ago. Scratch that, he had lost his patience before they even got to the antechamber.

  “Six times, six fucking times?!” complained Rocious.

  “Why do you keep saying that?” inquired Falcon.

  “It’s just not right,” said Rocious.

  “Everybody does it,” said Falcon.

  “Trust me kid, nobody does it this much unless something is wrong.”

  They had been waiting for two hours and Rocious had escorted Falcon to piss six times. Seven if you counted the stop on the way to the Antechamber. Rocious started to wonder if this was some sort of sick punishment King Dominick had thought up. The king had two sons: Fafnir, who was the same age as Falcon, and Drake who was a few years older.

  The doors to the throne room opened and two armed soldiers entered the antechamber. “Praetorian Lockland, it’s time,” said one of them. Rocious nodded to the men and they returned to the throne room leaving the doors open.

  “Showtime kid. You remember what I told you?” asked Rocious.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Falcon replied.

  “Say it,” commanded Rocious.

  “The only one who matters is the king. Wait to be called. Be respectful,” recited Falcon verbatim.

  Rocious did not reply, he simply entered the throne room with confidence. He walked with the confidence of a man who knew what he was walking into and what he was walking away from. Every step he took displayed the confidence of someone who knew himself inside and out. The casual contempt written on his face was that of a man who owned the world and if he chose to burn the entire place to the fucking ground that is precisely what would happen.

  His aura was so disconcerting that even the Herald forgot to announce him until Rocious cleared his throat.

  “Praetorian Frederick Archibald Lockland, Curia to—” the herald boomed belatedly.

  “Enough,” King Dominick said calmly from his throne, cutting off the Herald.

  “Frederick, my friend,” Dominick said pausing to let the words settle. “You remember why I sent you to Reed?”

  “I do,” said Rocious directly to the king.

  “Then tell us what happened to the message you were supposed to give Count Reed?” inquired the king.

  “I have it here,” Rocious produced a sealed letter from his concealed breast pocket.

  Dominick left his throne and approached Rocious, watching him critically. Rocious had served him well for years. It was not in his character to fail. Dominick
took the message, read it and handed it back to Rocious. The note was in fact the one that Dominick had given Rocious to deliver; Rocious had simply added three words for the king to see. Don’t ask how.

  “Why are there twelve thousand people camped outside my city?” asked the king.

  “I told them to come here,” answered Rocious remaining frighteningly still as King Dominick circled the room.

  “What should I do with them?” asked the king aloud, bringing the rest of the curia and ambassadors into the conversation. Dominick returned to his throne to listen.

  Curia, like Rocious, were the king’s selected advisers and administrators. They advised on topics from magic to grain supplies. Occasionally they would serve as messengers like Rocious. More often they handled the day-to-day functioning of the realm and assisted with resolving disputes. They held no real political power aside from having King Dominick’s ear and would keep their mouths shut unless addressed directly.

  There were also four ambassadors in attendance, one from each of the three surrounding duchies and one from the northern County of Stormhelm. In addition to representing the capital, Dominick spoke for his family’s duchy. Typically there would be a sixth ambassador from Reed, but the previous ambassador from Reed had recently died of old age. Hence the reason Rocious had left for Fort Reed in the first place. Rocious thought most of the ambassadors were cowards but here they held significant power and influence.

  First to seize the moment, Lord Werval stepped forward.

  “Your Majesty, Antioch has food to spare and I’m sure Duchess Camilla will welcome them.”

  Lord Quintus Werval was of course Duchess Camilla Antioch’s ambassador and one of the wealthiest men in all of Lora. He likely had a plan to use the people to some financial gain.

  Lord Blundus Longfellow, Duke Cato Eikard’s ambassador swooped in.

  “Nonsense Quintus, she has too many people as it is. Your majesty, send them back to Reed where they belong. Or at least to somewhere close to Reed, like Keld.”

  Duke Eikard held the lands closes to Reed. He was probably more concerned that if men from Laza, the neighboring realm, invaded Fort Reed, he would be attacked first.