by RM Wark
Lord Abner looked briefly at the wizard. “He did not tell me about you either.”
“Do you think there are others?”
“I do not know,” Lord Abner answered honestly. “Lord Gideon and I were captured together. But I know not what happened to him.”
“Was that during the First War?”
“Aye.”
“You have been gone for a long time.”
Lord Abner bit his lip. “Aye.”
During the voyage, Lord Abner learned much of what had transpired in the West after his capture. He learned that Lord Huron had died during the First War, and that the death of Lady Delia precipitated the Second War. Lady Victoria explained that her parents had been killed during the Second War, the same day she was taken captive. She knew of many other Western Wizards who had died, including his own parents. But – as far as she knew – his brother was still alive.
“Are you excited to see him again?” she had asked.
Lord Abner’s eyes unexpectedly filled with tears that he quickly blinked away. In truth, he was nervous. So much time had passed. He had long ago given up hope of ever seeing his family again.
She did not press him when he did not answer. “Do you have a wand?” she asked instead.
“No.”
“Then how are we—” she started to ask, but a stern look from Lord Abner cut her off.
“Voices carry, my lady, and listening ears are probably closer than you might think.”
Lord Abner was right. A rat tucked away beneath his seat was listening intently to everything the wizards were saying.
*************
He opened his eyes to find an old man tending a fire. He had no idea where he was. Struggling to make sense of it all, he remained motionless upon his mat of straw and said nothing.
The old man eventually caught sight of the eyes watching his every move.
“I was beginning to think you would sleep this life away.” The words were gruff, with no hint of humor.
“Have I passed on to the next life?” Gentry asked, his voice hoarse from lack of use. “If so, why do I still feel pain?” He reached for his leg and discovered it had been splinted.
“I am not aware of anyone who does not feel pain with a broken leg,” the man replied, “whether it be in this life or the next. But to answer your question – no, you have not passed on to the next life. Not yet anyway.”
“Where am I? How did I get here?”
The old man poked at the fire. He did not bother to answer Gentry’s questions.
Gentry struggled to sit up. In some ways, it was as though he was back in the castle upon Mt. Xavier, waiting to heal – except the walls of white had been replaced with dark stone, and a grumpy old man had taken the place of the endearing Abigail.
“Are we in a cave?” Gentry asked.
The old man still did not respond. He scooped out a thick soup from a pot above the flames and handed the bread bowl to Gentry.
“Eat.”
Gentry did not need to be told twice. He was starving.
*************
They had been discussing geography lessons and the history of the Laureline Region all morning. Zeke noticed that Steward Isaiah seemed distracted. The old man kept rubbing at his shoulder where the Komanite’s arrow had struck him long ago.
“Steward?”
“Aye?”
“What about the Komanites?”
“What about them?”
“Where did they come from? Why do they hate us? Why do they steal our food?”
The Steward smiled. It was rare to see Zeke take such an interest in regional politics. “All very good questions … to which I have no good answers.”
Zeke frowned. “How is it we know so much about Bartow and Jessum but nothing of Koman?” the boy asked, his frustration obvious. “They nearly killed you. I would think we should want to know more about them.”
“Aye, there is wisdom to that.”
“Then why have we not tried to talk to them?” Zeke pressed. “I know Fallon mentioned you visited several of the other towns and villages to speak with their leaders. Why not Koman?”
The Steward struggled to answer the boy. It was just something that was understood – to leave Koman alone and hope that they did the same with Reed. No one had ever questioned the logic before, not even after the raids started to escalate. The Steward wondered why he had not thought of it before.
“I do not know,” he confessed.
“Perhaps I should look in the Council Chamber library. Perhaps there are books that might explain,” said Zeke, thinking aloud.
“Alas, I fear that would be a waste of your time, Zeke. I have read nearly every document within that library and cannot recall a single one regarding the history of Koman. I can only guess that those books must have been destroyed by the Great Fire.”
“That is a shame.”
“Aye, it is.”
*************
Lord Milton and Lady Delia walked along the garden path beneath the winter moon, hand in hand. Their footprints left fresh imprints in the newly fallen snow, and each breath hung frozen in the air. The wizard was reluctant to break the peace of the evening, but he did not want Lady Delia to hear the news from someone else.
“All is not well in the Village of Reed, my lady.”
“No?” she asked, concerned.
“Steward Elijah passed on to the next life some time ago.”
“Really? He did not seem that old ….”
Lord Milton shrugged. “It seems the elder Stewards do not live long once the younger Steward is formally accepted into his post. Soren has been the Steward of Reed for nearly three years now.”
“Why do you say things are unwell?”
“There have been several skirmishes between the Reedites and the Komanites. The villagers have begun taking up arms.”
“For what reason?”
Lord Milton shrugged. “The winters have been long. It is said that the Komanites keep stealing food, sheep, and other items from the Village of Reed. But the Komanites claim those items are rightfully theirs.”
Lady Delia frowned. “I see.”
“There is more,” Lord Milton continued. “Rumors abound that Seth attempted to kill his brother Soren and take control of the Village.”
“No!”
“They are just rumors, of course. But I suspect they may possess an element of truth.”
“This is terrible! It is exactly as my father feared,” Lady Delia groaned.
They walked in silence for some time, each deep in thought.
“We must do something about this. We must fix this somehow,” she said, giving voice to her thoughts.
Lord Milton frowned. “I am quite certain the King has no interest in meddling in their affairs, my lady.”
“I know,” she acknowledged. “I just wish I could have been more helpful to Steward Elijah when he was here. Perhaps this whole situation might have been avoided.” Her voice was one of sadness and defeat.
“This is not your fault, my dear.”
“But I cannot help but feel that it is – in a small way at least.”
Lord Milton could see his love was deeply troubled by the news, but he could think of nothing else to say to ease her mind. He continued to ponder the situation as they walked in silence. A broad smile appeared on his face when an idea finally came to him.
“Perhaps there is something I can do to help,” he offered.
Lady Delia raised an eyebrow. “What do you have in mind, my lord?”
Lord Milton patted her hand. “Perhaps it is time I put these memory spells of mine to use.”
“Memory spells?” Lady Delia looked at him quizzically. “How might that help the situation?”
“It is hard to be angry if you do not remember why it is you are angry,” he explained, touching the tip of her nose. “Perhaps such a spell would help the Reedites forget all about their history with the Komanites, and the Komanites forget all about their
history with the Reedites. And perhaps I shall use my unique … charm … to persuade the Komanites to travel south to Quintara, where the winters are not so harsh, and the food is more plentiful.”
Lady Delia did not seem to share Lord Milton’s excitement.
“But there must be nearly a thousand villagers,” she replied. “Surely you cannot wield a spell for that many.”
“Is that a challenge, my lady?” Lord Milton leaned in and kissed her, and they spoke no more of the Reedites and Komanites.
*************
One day blurred into the next with the same routine. The old man would wake him, feed him, and check his leg. He would hand Gentry a wet rag – the closest thing Gentry ever got to a bath – and then disappear into the tunnels leading from the cave. The old man would return once again at the end of the day (though it was difficult to say which was dawn and which was dusk), and the routine would be repeated once more.
The old man said little, and rarely responded to Gentry’s questions. But that did not stop Gentry from trying to engage in conversation.
“Where am I?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“Are we in the mountains?”
No answer.
“Have you a name?”
No answer.
“Then what shall I call you?”
“Whatever you wish. It matters not.”
“Where is it you go all day?”
No answer.
Gentry would accept the silence for a time, and his thoughts would turn to Daria and Luca, his parents, Fallon. On occasion he would think of Casper, but that memory was still too painful. Inevitably he would launch into a new course of questions that the old man would rarely answer.
“How did I get here?”
No answer.
“What happened to the men who tried to kill me?”
“You need not worry about them any longer.”
“How is it possible that I am not dead? Are you a wizard?”
The old man gave a short laugh. “No. I am much more than a wizard.”
“What are you then?”
No answer.
“Why did you save me?”
The old man looked up from the fire. “I am not one to argue with the reflecting pools.”
“Reflecting pools?”
No answer.
“Your eyes are strange.”
“Is that so?”
“They change colors with the light. From dark to silver and back again. I have never seen anything like it.”
“You should hope never to see the likes of them again.”
“Why is that?”
No answer.
*************
The boat reached the mouth of the River Santos in the dead of the night. There was no formal harbor, so passengers were rowed to shore two at a time. A few of the children cried at the thought of being separated from their parents – if only for a short while – but for the most part, everything went smoothly. Lady Victoria and Lord Abner were the last to depart.
“You shall reach Cortez in a few days if you follow that path,” the captain explained when they finally reached the shore.
“Thank you,” replied Lord Abner.
Lady Victoria only nodded and smiled. It had been agreed that Lord Abner should do most of the talking until they were no longer surrounded by Easterners so as to avoid drawing attention to her Western accent.
They watched as the captain rowed back towards the boat. There was no sign of the other passengers. They were alone.
“I believe Lord Jameson resides near Cortez. He could bring us to the Queen,” offered Lady Victoria.
The name sounded familiar to Lord Abner, though he had difficulty recalling what the wizard looked like. “But how shall we find him?”
“I do not know. I seem to remember he was a bit of a recluse. It shall not be easy.”
“Nothing ever is.”
They walked in silence for some time along a dirt path adjacent to the River Santos.
There was a chill in the air, and Lady Victoria held herself tight. “It is strange to be back,” she admitted, staring up at the sky. “Even the stars seem different.”
Lord Abner glanced upward. “Aye.”
They had been walking for some time when Lady Victoria spoke again. “Are we to walk through the night, or shall we find some place safe to sleep?”
“I see no campsites or villages around, my lady. I have no wand to make a fire or protect us from danger. I say we walk.”
“I fear we shall never make it to Cortez, let alone to the Queen,” grumbled Lady Victoria.
A fox trotting some distance behind them finally worked up his nerve to confront the wizards – to confront his long-lost brother.
I am back in the West. They have no wands. They shall not hurt me. I must know what they want with the Queen.
Before he could talk himself out of it, the fox rushed up ahead of the wizards and turned to face them. Lord Abner instinctively reached for his wand. Finding none, he pulled Lady Victoria behind him instead.
“Go away!” he shouted, hoping to scare the fox.
In a puff of smoke, the fox was gone, replaced by a man pointing a wand in their direction. Despite the darkness, Lord Abner recognized his brother immediately. It took longer to find his voice.
“Lord Edmund!” exclaimed Lady Victoria, sounding at once both shocked and relieved.
“Lady Victoria,” acknowledged the wizard.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“What are you doing here?” he responded. “You are supposed to be dead. Both of you are supposed to be dead.” Lord Edmund looked squarely upon the brother he had not seen in nearly four hundred years.
“How long have you been following us, Brother?” Lord Abner finally asked.
“Long enough,” Lord Edmund replied. He was still having difficulty reconciling the Eastern accent coming from the mouth of his brother. “You have not answered my question.”
“We were captured by the Eastern Wizards and held captive until now,” Lord Abner explained. Lady Victoria nodded in agreement.
“They told us you were dead,” insisted Lord Edmund.
“They lied.” Lord Abner’s explanation was without emotion.
“Why did they release you now, after all this time?”
An awkward silence ensued.
Lady Victoria gave a quick glance towards Lord Abner, who seemed to have lost his voice again. “We have a message for the Queen,” she answered. “From the Emperor.”
“And what might that message be?” asked Lord Edmund, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
But it was Lord Abner who answered. “The Emperor apologizes for the Easterners crossing into the West. He is working to resolve the situation as quickly as possible. Our release is meant to serve as a gesture of good faith,” he explained, reciting what the Emperor had told them weeks prior.
Lord Edmund still could not believe he was staring at his brother – that his brother was alive after all this time. A part of him wanted to rush towards Lord Abner and embrace him. But another part of him remained suspicious, so he refrained.
“I shall take you to the Queen,” Lord Abner said, “though I cannot promise you shall be well received.”
“Aye. We understand,” replied Lord Abner. “Thank you.”
*************
Steward Isaiah had declined to accompany them on their adventure to the Cadian Forest. “I must apologize, Zeke, but I fear I shall only be in the way. I am not the youthful spirit I once was, and though autumn is only just now upon us, its chill is not kind to my bones.”
“I understand, Steward,” Zeke had said, but it was clear he was disappointed.
Hammond did his best to make sure Zeke enjoyed the adventure. They set up camp quickly and practiced archery skills most of the day.
“I would never tell Gentry this, but I do believe you are a better shot than he is,” Hammond admitted with a smile as Zeke hit another bu
ll’s-eye.
“Have you heard from Gentry yet?” asked Zeke.
Hammond’s smile quickly faded. “No,” he said, shaking his head.
“I hope he finds my brother and comes back soon.”
“Me, too.”
Later that evening, as they were huddled by a fire, Hammond brought up the subject of Fallon. This was not something he would usually discuss with Zeke – especially if the Steward was around – but he had more than his fair share of sips from his flask, and he missed his son.
Perhaps the boy knows more than he thinks.
“Zeke?”
“Aye?”
“Do you have any idea where your brother might have gone?”
“No, sir.”
“Did he ever tell you about his dreams? The ones he mentioned in his note to Steward Isaiah?”
Zeke frowned. “The only dream he ever mentioned to me was about going to the university in Bartow … but that was before he was marked. He actually liked school.”
“And I take it you do not?”
Zeke shrugged. “I would much rather be outside.”
They were quiet for some time, watching the flames dance a little in the breeze.
“Do you think Gentry went to Bartow to find him?” Zeke asked.
“I cannot say.”
A frown formed upon Zeke’s face, and he pulled knees up close to his chest. “He did not even say anything to me or my father. He just left.”
“Heh. Gentry did the same to his mother and me. Not a word.” Hammond took another sip from his flask and wiped his mouth. “Poor Daria was beside herself, trying to explain that Gentry was gone.”
“At least Gentry promised to come back.”
Hammond pretended not to notice the tears that Zeke quickly wiped away from his face. “Aye.”
*************
One morning the old man came back with a wooden walking stick. “It is time that you try to walk again.”
Gentry looked down upon his splinted leg. It still throbbed with a dull pain. “I am not ready.”
