by RM Wark
I made it. And with that final thought the rat fell fast asleep.
*************
Jezebel returned time and again, crawling through the bedroom window – unbeknownst to the guards at the front door – and into the waiting arms of Fallon.
Their kissing soon progressed to wandering hands, and to Fallon’s surprise (and delight), Jezebel did not recoil from his advances. In fact, she seemed to encourage it. And one night, wandering hands led to so much more.
The straw mattress was not especially comfortable, but Jezebel did not complain as he laid her naked body down upon it. She pulled him close and kissed him hard on the mouth. His whole body shook as he entered her. It was over as soon as it began.
The entire encounter had been somewhat awkward, and Fallon was embarrassed. He had heard enough of Gentry’s drunken boasts to know that things had not gone as they should have.
“I am sorry, Jezebel.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Fallon,” she replied, wrapping her arms around him. “The first time is always like that.”
“You have done this before?” Fallon asked, surprised.
Jezebel frowned. “Does that bother you?”
Aye! How could it not? The thought of another man knowing Jezebel in that way filled Fallon with an intense jealousy unlike anything he had felt before.
“No,” he lied.
Jezebel studied Fallon’s eyes. “I did not love them,” she said adamantly.
Them?
“But I do love you.”
She kissed him softly.
She loves me?
“I love you, too, Jezebel.”
Fallon’s unexpected jealousy slowly dissipated, and he returned her gentle kisses. The second time was not so awkward.
*************
Lord Edmund woke up to the sound of drunken voices singing an unfamiliar song with a bit too much enthusiasm. When he emerged from his hiding place behind the stacks of hay, the darkness of a vacant alleyway greeted him. The rat hurried along the edge of a wall until he found a door, slightly ajar, from which the sound was emanating.
A pub is as good a place as any to learn more about the East, he thought. Besides, I smell bread and cheese.
The door led to the kitchen area behind the main bar. Stale bread crumbs littered the floor, and Lord Edmund ate them up greedily. The scent of cheese hung in the air, and his stomach rumbled. His poor rat eyes caught sight of what looked to be a wheel of cheese, and he quickly scampered towards it. The climb to the counter had been relatively easy, and he even managed to chew off a few bites of cheese before an angry man cursed at him and shooed him away with a broom.
Lord Edmund leapt from the counter and climbed high into the rafters. He carefully navigated the network of wooden planks until he found himself in the main area of the pub. And then he felt it – the presence of other wizards.
Lord Edmund’s first instinct was to run, but he remembered the purpose of his journey. He needed information on the East, and the unsuspecting wizards might be the perfect source for such information.
I am but a rat. They shall not know I am here, he told himself. Although he was not quite certain he would go unnoticed, he crept along the rafters in search of the wizards.
Lord Edmund scanned the crowd below as best he could given his poor eyesight – not that one could easily spot a wizard amongst the common man anyway. He was forced to rely entirely on the tingling sensation in his spine. The closer he was to the wizards, the more pronounced that sensation became. It took some time, but he was finally able to pinpoint the location where his spine tingled most. Directly below him was a small round table where three people were seated – an old man, a young man, and a woman by the looks of it.
“The boat shall leave tomorrow at the break of dawn. I trust you have everything you need?” asked the younger wizard.
“Aye, Lord Cephas.”
The reply was definitely that of a woman’s. But it was her accent that interested Lord Edmund more. He could have sworn the accent was that of a Westerner.
How is that possible?
“How long shall the journey be?” the older wizard asked. This man did not have a Western accent, but his cadence vaguely reminded Lord Edmund of the way his father used to speak.
“I do not know. I have never traveled there by sea. I hope never to travel by sea again.” The young wizard swallowed the remaining contents of his pint glass. “We should go now.”
The three wizards stood up to leave and began making their way through the crowded pub towards the stairs near the rear of the building. Lord Edmund skillfully maneuvered through the rafters, trying his best not to lose sight of the wizards. The stairs led to a hallway with many doors, and Lord Edmund guessed the pub must also serve as an inn.
“Good night, Lord Cephas,” called the older wizard before stepping into his room.
“Good night.”
“Good night, Lord Cephas,” echoed the woman.
“Ah, Lady Victoria. You are welcome to join me if you truly wish for me to have a good night.”
“Alas, I do not believe your father would approve,” she replied with feigned disappointment. “Good night.”
Both wizards entered their respective rooms.
Lord Edmund was left dumbfounded. Lady Victoria? No. That cannot be right. She is dead.
The rat climbed down the wall and squeezed under the doorway to the female wizard’s room. He quietly crept along the floor, coming as close as he dared to get a better view of the wizard.
She was staring at her reflection in a mirror, wiping her face with a wet cloth. He heard her sigh, but he did not get a good look at her until she leaned forward to blow out the lantern. When her face became fully illuminated, Lord Edmund gasped in disbelief. The beautiful Lady Victoria – whose death was one of the greater sorrows of the Second War – was in fact still alive.
Still half in shock, Lord Edmund crawled back under the doorway and made his way towards the older wizard’s room. Squeezing under the crack in the door, he found the old wizard staring out the window.
“I wonder if they shall remember me,” the old wizard said aloud. “I wonder if my parents are even alive. And Lord Edmund … he must be nearly five hundred years old now. He was but a child when I saw him last.”
The voice spoke with an Eastern accent, but the voice was not that of an Easterner. Though he could not see the wizard’s face, Lord Edmund knew at once that the voice belonged to his older brother, Lord Abner.
He is alive? What is he doing here in the East? Where is he going?
His mind spinning with questions he desperately wanted answers to, Lord Edmund crawled into the satchel near Lord Abner’s bed and buried himself under some clothing. He was going wherever it was that his brother and Lady Victoria were going. His journey to the East had just taken the strangest of turns.
*************
Spring had long ago transitioned to summer, and autumn would be coming soon, but their passion did not fade with the change of the seasons.
Jezebel did not come to Fallon every night, but more often than not she would sneak to the Keep to be by her lover’s side.
Ever cognizant of the guards outside – and what it would mean if they were ever to get caught – they were always very careful when they were together. They spoke in whispers, they hid in shadows, they walked upon their toes. And, more often than not, they quietly danced upon Fallon’s bed of straw.
Fallon longed to have her beside him, to taste her lips, to see the way she arched up to greet him, to feel her tremble in delight. Afterwards they would lie together, cuddled in each other’s arms. She would often tell him tales of her childhood and all the trouble she had gotten into. He rarely spoke of his own life in Reed, and she never asked.
“Have you dreamed of me lately?” she asked one night.
“Aye. Whenever I am allowed to sleep, that is,” he chuckled.
Jezebel ignored his comment and began tracing the mark up
on Fallon’s chest with her finger.
“Yours is not the same as my father’s.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your mark,” Jezebel repeated as she pointed to his chest. “It is different from the one my father has.”
“Your father is marked?”
*************
“I come bearing news, my lady.” Lord Milton bowed and presented Lady Delia with a beautiful white columbine before sitting beside her on a bench in the garden.
“Has my father changed his mind?” she asked, excited.
Lord Milton frowned. “Sadly, no. I fear he never shall.” He grabbed Lady Delia’s hand and stared into her eyes. “But I shall love no other, even if we are never to be married. On that you have my word.”
“And I the same.” Her voice was sad and quiet, but she smiled softly and kissed him deeply. “So what news do you bring?” she asked as they broke their embrace.
Lord Milton smiled. “Rumors … from the Village of Reed.”
“Aye?” Lady Delia asked cautiously. “Did Steward Elijah kill one of the twins?” She was almost afraid to hear the answer.
“No,” Lord Milton replied, shaking his head. “But he did banish one – the twin they called Seth, the one whose mark was not the same.”
“Really?” Lady Delia’s eyes widened at the bit of unexpected news.
Lord Milton nodded. “Apparently it caused quite an uproar. Half of the Village Elders followed Seth into exile in protest – as did scores of other villagers – including the boy’s father.”
Lady Delia bit her lip. Her brow furrowed as she contemplated Lord Milton’s words. She was relieved that Steward Elijah had found another way to resolve the problem of the twins, but the news troubled her nonetheless.
“And where did the banished twin and his people go?” she asked.
“They were a wandering tribe for some time, but they seem to have settled in the foothills of the Cook Mountains, just east of Jessum. The Komanites, they call themselves now.”
“Interesting.”
“Indeed.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The Other Brother
Steward Isaiah lifted up the sword with its newly crafted hilt and eyed it closely. It was a beautiful specimen, quite unlike the other. But Zeke was so different from Fallon in many ways; it really was not that surprising. The Steward placed the sword back in its sheath and set it aside with a sigh.
Things had gone reasonably well since Zeke’s arrival. The boy was sharp, but not in the same way as his brother. It was clear Zeke did not care much for studying – or books for that matter – but he was polite and eager to please, and he always managed to muddle through his assignments somehow.
Zeke much preferred the outdoors and hands-on activities, like the sword-making. He was a natural athlete and took readily to all weapons. This time it was Hammond who stepped in to augment those training sessions, as Gentry had left some time ago and had not been heard from since.
Zeke did not have dreams – not like his brother – though it was still too soon to tell what his “gift” might be. It usually took a few years for Stewards to figure out their gift, though Isaiah found himself wishing more Stewards were like Fallon.
I am much too old to be starting this all over again. The sooner Zeke masters the required skills and his gift, the better. The Steward sighed again. At least the boy has the proper mark.
The Steward’s thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of footsteps, followed by the distinct clicking of paws, coming down the stairs. The boy was up, and so was his dog.
Holley was the latest addition to the household – a mischievous puppy that Beatrice had picked up in the Town Square shortly after Mobley died. The puppy had taken to Zeke immediately, and it was rare to see one without the other. She even tried to keep up whenever Zeke took Junior out for a ride – as much as her little, still-uncoordinated legs would allow – but she would ultimately give up and resort to barking incessantly until the boy returned.
Beatrice would complain loudly whenever this happened, but the Steward knew it was mostly pretense on her part. In truth, the sound of Holley’s barking was somewhat comforting. It would always be preferred to the quietness that filled the air after Fallon left.
*************
“Good morning, Steward,” Zeke said.
“Good morning, Zeke,” the Steward replied. “You seem to be in a cheery mood today.”
Zeke smiled brightly. “Hammond said he would show me how to throw knives today! I cannot wait!”
The Steward chuckled. “I am not surprised, though first you must get through your daily lessons with me. Stewardship is not all about defensive tactics, you know.”
“Aye, Steward.” Zeke gave a quick glance towards the books on the Steward’s desk. “I hope my gift is that I just know everything so I do not have to learn from books anymore,” he mumbled.
The boy was so earnest in what he said that the Steward could not help but laugh out loud.
“I have not heard of that particular gift before, my son. But I suppose it is not entirely impossible. In the meantime, you must do things the old-fashioned way,” Isaiah said with the wink. “But first, let us have some breakfast. I learned long ago that it does no good to try and think on an empty stomach.”
Zeke smiled again – he was a big fan of Beatrice’s cooking. This was well received by Beatrice, who had quickly learned she needed to double her recipes, as Zeke always seemed to ask for seconds and sometimes even thirds.
The Steward and the boy slowly made their way through the geography lesson that morning. Zeke did not share Fallon’s passion for the lands beyond the confines of the village, but he managed to retain more facts than the Steward would have expected given the boy’s dislike for books.
He is a bright boy, the Steward thought. He just has too much energy.
The Steward gave the young boy a smile and closed his book. “You may go now. I believe Hammond is waiting for you outside.”
“Thank you, sir!” Zeke ran for the door, Holley following close at his heels.
*************
Lady Dinah had taken refuge in her study once again, her thoughts consumed by Lord Edmund and his expedition. She knew the wizard had not been too keen on venturing back into the East, but in the end he had conceded there was no better alternative. The Western Wizards were in desperate need of more intelligence on the East if they were to have the upper hand in what promised to be the next – and hopefully last – battle of the wizards.
Lady Dinah wondered which form the shape-shifter had chosen for his travels. She hoped Lord Edmund had managed to avoid the wolves, and the Eastern Wizards, and anything else that might jeopardize the expedition. So much depended upon its success. But Lady Dinah knew she would be waiting for some time before she learned whether or not Lord Edmund’s journey was in fact successful. The wizard was not expected back until the spring at the earliest, when passage over the Divisidero Mountains was not so treacherous.
Tiring of thoughts of war and things over which she had no control, Lady Dinah rose from her desk and stretched her arms wide.
I should pay a visit to Lady Blythe, she thought. I wonder if her fever has broken yet.
She walked down the main corridor of the east wing, to the farthest room at the end of the hall, and knocked at the door.
“Come in,” a familiar voice chimed.
“Good evening, Abigail. How is our patient doing?”
“Better, my lady. Her fever is down, but she has not awakened yet.”
“You are a very good nurse. I am sure she shall be fine soon.”
Abigail acknowledged Lady Dinah with a small smile and turned her attention to Lady Blythe, wiping the sweat from the sleeping wizard’s brow.
“I wish I could believe that, my lady. It has been so long – years – since she arrived, and yet she has not spoken a word. She still cries out in the night,” Abigail remarked. “I only wish I knew how to fix her.”
<
br /> Lady Dinah shifted her gaze to Lady Blythe. The words she spoke were gentle. “Not everyone can be fixed, Abigail.”
“Aye, I know,” replied the nurse. “But I can still hope, my lady.” Abigail stood up to leave. “If Gentry can come back from the brink of death, perhaps our silent lady shall one day speak,” she said with a smile. Abigail bowed to Lady Dinah and left the room.
Gentry.
Lady Dinah had not given the messenger much thought in recent years. She wondered what sort of trouble the young man was getting into these days. She wondered how Steward Isaiah was doing. It was only then that she remembered.
“I still owe him a letter!” she exclaimed aloud. In all the discussion of the East and the impending war, she had completely forgotten to inform the Steward of what she had discovered about the twins in her mother’s journals.
She sat down next to Lady Blythe and took her hand. “My apologies for such a short visit, Lady Blythe. I have only just remembered I have an important task to complete. I shall return soon.”
*************
The boat’s passengers huddled in the galley. Lord Abner had come to know each of their faces over the last few days, but they mostly kept to themselves. There were fifteen souls in all: two families with small children, a handful of young men, the captain and his mate, and Lady Victoria and himself.
The wizards spoke in hushed tones.
“Do you suppose one of them is a spy?” Lady Victoria asked, surveying the galley.
“It would not surprise me.”
Lady Victoria frowned. “I did not know him as well as I thought I did.”
“The Emperor is a man of many secrets, my lady. I do not believe anyone knows him well … not even his son.”
“He did not tell me about you,” she said. “I thought I was the only one.”
