The Stewards of Reed, Volume 1: The Rise of Fallon (20 page)

“Wizards be damned, it appears we shall be ending this fishing trip sooner than later after all,” acknowledged Bill as he headed for the nets. Just as he pulled the last of his nets up – which, surprisingly had captured three or four fish already – a large wave pummeled the boat, soaking all three on board.

“Is everyone all right?” Bill asked as he quickly moved to steer the boat towards the shoreline and away from the approaching storm.

“Aye, we are fine,” said Steward Isaiah, “but I think we shall all be better once we are back on dry land again.”

The winds had become especially fierce in a short amount of time and Fallon noticed that the edges of the sails were becoming tattered and torn. Soon the dark purple and grey clouds obliterated the sun and a hard blinding rain began to fall. Lightning repeatedly lit up the sky and a deep rumble of thunder made it even more difficult to hear over the turbulent waters. The
Lucy Grey
was repeatedly assaulted by crashing waves. One was so strong that Fallon was convinced that the boat was going to tip right over, but owing to Bill’s sailing experience (and a rather long keel for the size of the boat), the
Lucy Grey
managed to rock back into position and continued fighting her way through the waters.

Fallon huddled down in the hull of the boat next to the Steward. He was afraid for his life, and he could tell that Bill was nervous too, but the fisherman was trying his best to maintain his composure. It was the sight of another large wave approaching the vessel that finally broke Bill’s resolve; he could not help but let out a cry of fear. That was when Steward Isaiah stepped into action.

The old man somehow managed to stand on the violently rocking boat and raise his hands to the heavens. He seemed to be shouting something but Fallon could not hear what he was saying. The wave grew closer and closer and the Steward’s movements became increasingly dramatic as he waved his arms in the air while shouting at the top of his lungs. Then all of a sudden the wind shifted and the wave collapsed in on itself. Instead of crashing into the little boat, the wave rolled underneath the vessel, raising the
Lucy Grey
high above the surrounding waters. Isaiah continued to shout to the heavens and it was not long before the dark skies parted a little and the wind died down a tad - just enough for Bill to regain control of the
Lucy Grey
and guide her home.

With the parting of the skies, the Steward collapsed into the hull and Fallon rushed to his side. “I am fine, Fallon, though I must rest,” he said hoarsely.

Fallon had never seen anything like it. He was in complete awe of the Steward and the magic he wielded. “That was the most amazing thing I have ever seen – you did not even have a wand!” Fallon would later say when they were back in the comfort of their room at the Samora Spray Inn, watching as the clothes they wore that day dried by the fire.

The Steward smiled but did not immediately speak. The ordeal had taken all of his strength and he could barely walk when the boat finally reached the dock. Bill and Fallon had to carry him back to the inn. After changing into dry clothes, Isaiah had been sitting by the fire – not moving – ever since. “I am sorry we did not turn back when you first suggested it, Fallon,” he finally said. “I should know by now to trust your instincts. We might have been killed. Forgive me.”

The Steward’s words had taken Fallon by surprise. The last thing he had expected was an apology from the man who had just performed a miracle. “But you just saved our lives, Steward. I should be
thanking
you, not forgiving you.”

*************

The journey had been long and her horse was having trouble navigating the steep cliffs, but Lady Dinah was grateful there were no confusion spells or nasty fairies to contend with. The marine layer was deep and she could barely see more than twenty feet ahead of her, but she continued walking along the rocky path, guiding the horse behind her.

It was Lord Clintock who found her. “Hello, Lady Dinah.”

In the distance she could see the gentleman at the top of the path. “Lord Clintock, how do you do?” she replied.

He took the reins of her horse and they spoke no more until they reached his house.

From the outside the house did not look like much – just a little shack really – but as is the way with wizards, looks can be deceiving. Once inside, visitors were treated to a breathtaking view of the ocean below, with the Village of Rocky Point noticeable in the distance.

“How is it possible to have such a view with all the fog encircling this place?” Lady Dinah wondered aloud, staring out to sea.

“Magical powers tend to be useful,” replied Lord Clintock, with more humor than sarcasm.

Lady Dinah smiled at the foolishness of her question. She had always liked Lord Clintock. As wizards go, he was understated and kept to himself mostly. But he was always kind. He disappeared for a few minutes and then returned with some tea.

As she accepted the tea, it occurred to Lady Dinah that she had not seen any attendants around. “You are not here by yourself, are you?” she asked.

“Aye, I am,” he replied. “There is a woman from Rocky Point who comes to help clean this place every once in a while, but for the most part it is just me.”

“But have you no one to cook for you?” The question escaped Lady Dinah’s mouth before she could stop herself. She could not imagine life without having her own helpers around, so it was hard for her put herself in Lord Clintock’s shoes.

Lord Clintock looked at her with amusement. “I am fully capable of working my own kitchen, Lady Dinah. I go to the market in Rocky Point once a week and there is always plenty of lamb and fish to eat. By the way, I hope you are in the mood for some herring tonight.”

“Aye, of course. That sounds lovely,” she said. Lady Dinah stared out at the ocean below, sipping her tea. “It is quite beautiful here.” They sat in silence for some time before she spoke again. “By the way, how did you know I was coming?”

Lord Clintock laughed. “I have been here for more years than I care to count, and in that time I have made friends with the seagulls and other creatures of the mountain. They help keep an eye on things for me,” he explained. “I am not accustomed to receiving visitors, so when they warned me that someone was approaching with a horse, I came out to have a look for myself. I would know the sight of you anywhere, Lady Dinah, even in those rags of traveling clothes,” he said with a wink.

They spent some time talking about the troubles in the East.

“Lord Jameson is quite concerned,” Lady Dinah admitted.

“Aye, I suppose I would be as well if the Easterners were crawling at my doorstep. Do we know why they are coming? Have the Eastern Wizards reached out to you?”

“No. Not a word. It is all quite curious, especially given the great lengths the wizards have gone to in the past to keep them from crossing the mountains.”

“What is your plan, my Queen?”

“Wait, for now. I do not know what else may be done. Our numbers are so few, and I fear it may all be a trap by the Eastern Wizards.”

“Perhaps Lord Edmund might be of service.”

“Aye, I had not thought of that. His talents can be useful at times.” Lady Dinah’s kind words belied the fact that she did not think much of Lord Edmund. He lived in a cave, after all. Nevertheless, she made a mental note to send a message to the wizard.

Later, Lord Clintock showed her to one of the guest rooms. She was amazed to discover that the little shack on the cliff was not that little after all; part of it was actually built into the mountainside. Aside from the main sitting room with the ocean view, the shack contained a massive kitchen, a dining hall, a small study, at least four other guest rooms and the Lord’s private quarters.

The subject of why she was visiting did not come up until after dinner. “I am searching for some of my mother’s journals that were taken from her library before the Second War.”

“I see,” said Lord Clintock. “Well, I definitely have some of her things in my library, and you are welcome to have a look.”

“Aye, Lord Quaid mentioned that you might.”

Lord Clintock frowned at the mention of Lord Quaid’s name. “Have you been visiting all the Western Wizards?”

“So far, just Lord Quaid and you. While it would be nice to visit everyone, in truth I am hoping to find what I am looking for sooner than later.”

“And what exactly are you hoping to find within your mother’s journals?”

Lady Dinah paused for a moment, not certain how to respond. Lord Clintock had declined to leave his home when some of the other wizards took refuge in the Village of Reed, and he had warned that they would be placing the villagers in harm’s way by hiding out there. He had wanted the wizards to stay with him, but at the time they had no idea if his defenses had been compromised by the Eastern Wizards and they were reluctant to take that risk. He had been right of course – they would have been better off staying with him – but what was done was done and she was not interested in letting Lord Clintock know she was motivated to help Steward Isaiah out of guilt.

Eventually she found the right words. “Steward Isaiah, of Reed, is looking for information about a meeting one of his predecessors had with my mother. It seems he has found himself in a rather unique situation and is hoping her notes from that meeting shall shed some light on the matter.”

“I see,” said Lord Clintock. If he was curious about the specifics, he did not ask any questions, and Lady Dinah did not volunteer any additional information.

She spent the next few days going through Lord Clintock’s library, which was buried deep within the mountain behind several doors guarded by magical spells. Lord Quaid had been right – Lord Clintock had taken a sizable portion of her mother’s library. But she was happy that it ended up in such safe hands.

Eventually she did find something of interest – a deep green journal with elaborate gold lettering on the cover. Alas, much of it seemed to be written in code and she was having the most difficult time trying to decipher it. Lord Clintock even tried his hand at it, but after a few hours he returned the journal to her, shaking his head. “Deciphering that could take months, years even.”

With the journal safely tucked away in her traveling bag, Lady Dinah took leave of Lord Clintock and headed back to Mt. Xavier. Having shown her hand to be a magic one, she was not too keen on returning to the House of Silas. Instead she passed through the Village of Koman as quietly as possible in the dead of the night, and continued east towards her home.

*************

The relationship between Fallon and Steward Isaiah vastly improved following their trip to Rocky Point. For Fallon, the Steward had transformed from a reluctant teacher who was respected but not necessarily liked, into a powerful, magical hero that he worshiped. For Isaiah, he knew that his lingering doubts about Fallon had put both of their lives in jeopardy, and he knew it was time to start taking the boy – and the training – more seriously. Although he still was not certain that it was Fallon’s destiny to be the Steward of Reed, he knew it was time to give the boy the benefit of the doubt.

As he had done the year before, Fallon returned to Littlebrook in late Heptuly to celebrate Zeke’s 7
th
birthday and help his father Tobias with the farm. The Steward had cut back the trip from six to three weeks, however, lamenting that there was still much to do before the winter weather set in. Steward Isaiah spent that time revamping Fallon’s training protocol, and Gentry used the time off to spy on Dennison’s crew in Colton.

Gentry had actually been back to Colton several times in the past few months. In that time, he had learned the names and faces of everyone who had been involved in the death of Luca: Dennison, Clive, Barnaby, Taylor and Rex. His plan was to take out the others first, leaving Dennison for last. The passage of time had not squelched his anger at all, if anything he grew more resolute at avenging Luca, whose only crime had been to help him in his time of need.

On a night when Fallon was comfortably asleep in his bed under his father’s roof in Littlebrook, and when Steward Isaiah sat in his study pouring over books as he prepared Fallon’s lessons, Gentry finally took action. Taylor was drunk again and stumbling home. He had just been thrown out of the Settler’s Inn for striking a waitress who rebuffed his advances. Dennison’s entire crew had been there, but they did not help their friend home. They just laughed as he tripped over a hole and fell hard onto the dirt path in front of him.

“I am fine, I am fine,” he slurred, as if his friends had been concerned for him and not laughing at him.

Gentry waited until the others went back into the pub before he started down the road after Taylor. He found the drunk man slumped over on the front porch. Taylor reeked of urine and had recently vomited. Gentry grabbed the drunkard and pulled him into the house.

“Let me go, you fool!” Taylor yelled. “I can make it into my own damn house all by myself.” He sat up on the floor and looked angrily at Gentry, but there was no hint of recognition in his face.

Gentry lit an oil lamp and sat down in a chair, staring at Taylor.

“Why?” he asked in a calm manner that surprised him. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what?” the drunk man asked in a defensive tone.

“Why did you kill the boy?”

Taylor froze, surprised by the unexpected question. He looked up at Gentry again. For a moment he seemed scared, but Taylor’s expression quickly changed to defiance.

“Wizards be damned, if you do anything to me you shall not awake again in this lifetime. You shall be just like that boy – beaten to a pulp – like the filthy dog you are.” Apparently Taylor’s heavily slurred words were quite amusing to himself because he began to chuckle.

He did not chuckle for long. Gentry punched him hard in the face and knocked him backwards. Laying on the floor, the drunk man moaned but did not attempt to rise. Gentry set the oil lamp down on the floor beside Taylor. “I would beat you to a pulp myself except that you are so drunk, you probably would not feel a thing, and that would be a waste,” Gentry said angrily. “But perhaps the burn of a fire shall be painful enough to awaken your dulled senses.” With that he kicked the lamp over onto the floor and let loose the fire.