by RM Wark
He walked along the cobblestone paths searching out a place that might have a hot meal and a soft bed to sleep upon. As he neared the Quicksilver Pub, he heard the sound of a fiddle and many a voice cheerily singing:
Stout and ale and wine are fine
But I prefer whiskey anytime
It warms my heart and dulls the pain
It makes me feel alive again
Tra la la la la la la
Tra la la la la la la
Life is short but the nights are long
’Tis better to fill the quiet with song
So grab a whisky and sing with me
And do not fret what the morrow may bring
Tra la la la la la la
The music stopped abruptly when Fallon entered the door, and a very large man quickly approached him.
“You are not welcome here. Leave!” he barked.
Several other men stood up to reinforce the large man’s point. Fallon turned to leave when he heard another voice.
“Let him be, Little Johan. I have been expecting him. Fallon, is it?”
Fallon turned back around to search out the voice. It belonged to the bartender, a grey-haired man with a long mustache.
“Aye, sir.”
“Come, have a seat.”
Little Johan – the largest man Fallon had ever set eyes on – reluctantly moved out of Fallon’s way, but he continued to glare as Fallon walked towards the bar.
Once Fallon sat down, the fiddle began to play, and the chorus of drunken voices continued as if the song had never been interrupted. For all the singing of whiskey, the bartender poured Fallon a pint of beer and set it before him.
“Thank you,” Fallon said, taking a sip. “Sir?”
“Aye?”
“How did you know my name?”
“The old man told me you might be coming this way,” replied the bartender.
Fallon smiled. “I see.”
“I suspect you shall be needing a place to stay for the night?”
“Aye, sir.”
“There is a room upstairs that you are welcome to stay in.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I shall have Claire prepare you a meal. We have some salted lamb.”
“That sounds wonderful, sir. Thank you.”
“My name is Gregor.”
“Thank you, Gregor.”
*************
Lady Delia was surprised when the guards informed her that the Emperor had requested to see her at once. She had not set eyes on Lord Jarek since he banished her to the dungeons.
She was visibly nervous as she entered the throne room. Lord Etan was standing next to his father, but he did not acknowledge her presence.
“You wanted to see me, Emperor?” Her voice sounded so small.
“Aye.” Lord Jarek turned towards the guards. “Bring in the prisoner – the one who remains conscious.”
A few moments later the guards returned, dragging a young wizard behind them. His face was bruised and bloodied, but Lady Delia recognized him immediately. It was clear from the shocked expression on his face that he recognized her as well.
“He refuses to give his name,” Lord Jarek said. “Perhaps you can enlighten us instead.”
Lady Delia turned towards the prisoner.
“No,” he mouthed, shaking his head.
“Well?” Lord Jarek asked impatiently.
Lady Delia faced the Emperor. “This is Lord Gideon, Emperor.” She refused to look back towards the prisoner. She knew he would be angry with her, but she knew nothing good would come from remaining quiet.
“I see.” Lord Jarek fixed his attention back on the prisoner. “Well, Lord Gideon, what exactly were you doing in Zoev?”
The prisoner said nothing.
“My spies tell me you were asking many questions about Cetahl, and that you had several vials of poison in your possession. Is this true?”
The prisoner still said nothing.
“Were you planning to poison me somehow?” The Emperor chuckled as he asked the question. “Was that Lord Huron’s plan for my defeat?”
Lord Gideon only scowled in response.
“Perhaps next time he shall select a more worthy wizard.” Lord Jarek raised his wand and uttered a few soft words.
Lord Gideon immediately fell to the ground, clutching at his stomach. He cried out in agony, and his eyes grew wide with fear when he saw the blood now dripping from his hands.
“Emperor, please!” begged Lady Delia. She shot a pleading glance towards Lord Etan, but his expression remained stoic.
“Lord Gideon, I have grown weary of your refusal to answer my questions. Tell me what you were doing in Zoev, and I shall make the pain stop.”
Lord Gideon wriggled in pain upon the ground, but he did not answer the Emperor.
“Desinomori!”
A pile of dust settled into a pool of blood, and Lord Gideon cried no more.
Lady Delia stifled a whimper, but she could not stop the tears from falling from her eyes.
“What did you know of this plot?” the Emperor demanded of her.
“Nothing, Emperor. Nothing, I promise you.” Lady Delia fell to her knees and sobbed.
“What good are you if you have no useful information to provide?” he muttered angrily. “Take her away!”
“No! I beg of you! Not to the dungeons! I cannot go back there!” she cried as the guards took her by her arms and dragged her from the throne room.
*************
The salted lamb was delicious.
“Would you care for anything else? Claire has baked a strawberry pie.” A satisfied smile appeared on Gregor’s lips as he rubbed his large stomach. “It is very good – I assure you.”
“It has been a long time since I have had the luxury of dessert,” Fallon acknowledged. “I would love to taste Claire’s pie.”
The bartender returned a few moments later with a slice. He smiled in satisfaction as Fallon engulfed the fruit-filled treat.
“It is good, aye?”
“Aye.”
Fallon finished his pint of ale and pushed away his empty plates.
“Would you like another?” asked Gregor, nodding his head towards the empty pint glass.
“No, thank you.”
The feast and pints of beer had left Fallon’s stomach bloated and his mind fuzzy. Between his time in Koman and the cave, his body was not used to such things anymore.
Gregor nodded and started to clear away the dishes from the bar.
“Gregor?”
“Aye?”
“Have you ever heard of a pale green lake beside a tall mountain?”
Gregor’s brow furrowed as he considered Fallon’s question, but he quickly shook his head. “Pale green? No. The waters of Lake Seville are dark, and I am told that Lake Brielle is a beautiful shade of blue. Lake Merced is far from the mountains.”
Fallon could not hide his disappointment.
“But I have never been to Durango. Perhaps the pale green lake you speak of is there,” the bartender quickly offered. “Though you must be careful of the Easterners should you travel that way.”
Fallon smiled. “Thank you, Gregor. Good night,” he said, pushing several gold pieces towards the bartender.
“It is not necessary. Keep your gold.”
Fallon started to protest, but Gregor would not hear of it.
“The old man has already paid for your lodging,” he explained.
“Thank you, Gregor. And please convey my gratitude to the old man as well.”
The bartender only nodded in response.
The room above the pub was small, but it had a bed and a washbasin, and that was all Fallon needed. It took some time to fall asleep. Fallon tossed and turned as he attempted to get comfortable. At one point he heard the sounds of a scuffle – the voice of Little Johan rose above the others – but it died down quickly and Fallon was finally able to fall asleep.
*************
“I am happy to
see you again, dear Selma.” His voice sounded sincere.
“I must apologize – I should not have left as I did,” she replied, embarrassed.
“You were disappointed. Angry. I understand.”
Selma could only nod. Her voice failed her.
Oren reached out from the bars and squeezed her hand. His touch was comforting.
“I brought you something.” Selma released her hand from his grip and pulled a warm biscuit from her pocket.
“Thank you, dear Selma,” Oren said, taking it from her. He bit into the biscuit. “It is delicious.”
Selma smiled.
They spoke of the weather. They spoke of her favorite flowers. They spoke of the places she had always wanted to go. They did not speak of her brother.
“Oren?”
“Aye?”
“Why are you here?”
She had asked the question at their very first meeting, but it went unanswered. He was such a kind man – she had a hard time believing he had done anything to deserve being locked up in the dungeons of Cetahl.
Oren smiled. “I am where I am supposed to be.”
“I do not understand.”
“You shall. In time.”
*************
“Is anyone looking for you?” asked Gregor the next morning.
Fallon froze. “No. Why?”
“’Tis probably nothing, but two men came by the pub last night after you had retired to your room.” Gregor stared intently at Fallon. “They were seeking two Reedite men, and they were offering a handsome reward for any information.”
“I see.” Fallon could feel the beating heart in his chest as his mind raced through the various possibilities of who might be searching for him and Gentry.
My father? Hammond? The Komanites? The last thought made him shudder.
“You are from Reed, no?” the bartender continued.
“Aye. But I am traveling alone.”
“Aye.”
Fallon waited for Gregor to say more, but the bartender remained eerily silent.
“What did you tell them?” Fallon finally asked.
“I did not tell them anything. Little Johan let it be known that they were not welcome at the Quicksilver Pub.”
Fallon let out a sigh of relief, but he remained concerned. “Did you happen to know the men?”
“Aye. One of them at least,” Gregor said with a nod. “Derek was a local ranger once, one of the best. He was foolish, though, and greedy. He would not listen when the other rangers told him it was too risky to cross the Atlian Mountains in Monuary.”
Fallon proved to be an attentive audience, and Gregor continued with his story.
“A merchant known to dabble in the black markets with the East was eager to get his family out of Aberdeen and into Laureline as quickly as possible. He had approached other rangers, but they had all declined his offer – everyone except young Derek. The gold was too much for him to ignore. So he agreed to guide the merchant and his family to safety through the Atlian trails.”
“What happened?”
“Exactly what the other rangers had predicted. A snowstorm came through and trapped them on the mountain. Eventually, they ran out of food. The family died.”
“How awful.”
“Aye.”
“How did Derek manage to survive?”
Gregor ignored the question. “That was over a decade ago. We had not heard from him since – until last night.”
Fallon swallowed hard and tried to ignore his quickening heartbeat.
“You should be careful, Fallon.”
“Aye. Thank you, sir.”
*************
To her immense relief, Lady Delia was not brought to the dungeons but rather to her sleeping quarters in the small north wing of the castle. However, the guards remained posted at her door and let her know she would not be permitted to leave.
She buried herself in her bed, tears pouring down her face as her thoughts turned to Lord Gideon.
It would be several days before Lord Etan would appear. She was staring out at the garden from her terrace when he arrived.
“How are you, Princess Delia?” he asked.
“I have been better,” she admitted, offering him a small smile.
Lord Etan cleared his throat. She braced herself for the awkward conversation that would likely follow concerning the death of Lord Gideon, but to her surprise, he did not mention the wizard at all.
“My father has asked that your movements be restricted for the time being.”
“Aye, the guards have informed me of this already.”
“It is for your protection.”
“Is it?” she snapped. “Because it feels more like punishment.”
Lord Etan frowned. “Do not be angry, Princess Delia. It shall not benefit your plight at all.”
Lady Delia stared into his dark eyes. She knew what he was not saying. She knew there was a chance that she could be returned to the dungeons, or even killed, if she did not appease the Emperor.
“Please, if you have any knowledge that would be … pertinent to share, now would be a good time to do so. My father does not take kindly to attempts on his life.”
“I am sorry,” she replied. “I know nothing, truly. My father told me nothing of his plans. He was very secretive that way. I doubt anyone else, save Lord Gideon himself, knew the exact purpose of his visit.”
Lord Etan nodded and stood up. “Well, if you happen to think of anything, please inform the guards that you would like to speak to me.”
“Does that mean you shall not be visiting me any longer?” Lady Delia was surprised by the immense disappointment she felt at the thought of their visits coming to an end. After all, Lord Etan had watched his father torture and kill a defenseless wizard and had done nothing to stop it. He would not even mention Lord Gideon’s name. He was not the wizard she thought he was, and yet, a part of her was still mourning the loss of his friendship.
He opened his mouth as if to answer but quickly closed it. He gave a quick bow and walked away.
*************
The sun had not yet graced the horizon when Fallon set out towards Middleton on foot. He had briefly considered purchasing a horse but quickly dismissed the thought.
I cannot afford any further delay, nor do I want to invite questions of my travel plans, he told himself. I have already said too much to Gregor about the pale green lake.
The arguments were valid, but Fallon knew the deeper truth. He was reluctant to buy a horse lest it remind him of Attawan and, by extension, Jezebel.
Fallon walked in silence along the edge of the dirt road, always cognizant of the closest bush or tree should he need to hide to avoid other travelers on the road. Given that Aurora was a busy trading village, Fallon found himself darting behind nearby shrubbery more often than not.
As the hours passed, the mountain greenery soon gave way to desert plains. Fallon felt particularly exposed, so he did not bother to light a fire the first night, nor did he sleep much. It was barely spring, and the desert night proved quite cold.
Tired and sore from a restless sleep, Fallon continued his trek the next day. His body tensed at the sound of each approaching horse. There was no place to hide now.
Most of the travelers on horseback were headed in the opposite direction – back towards Aurora – with wagonloads of goods behind them. But a few travelers were headed in the same direction as Fallon. Those were the ones that unnerved him the most. As they drew near, Fallon would step aside and lower his head, hoping to go unnoticed. Thus far, the travelers had all had passed him by without incident. Still, his body filled with fear each time he heard the sound of hoofbeats approaching from behind.
As the sun began to set, Fallon searched for a decent site to sleep for the night. He surveyed the surrounding land and headed for a relatively flat spot about a hundred yards from the road.
“This place is a good as any,” he said to himself, noting the lack of rocks in the ground. He
tried not to think of how cold it would likely be without a fire.
Sleep did not take him that night. He ended up staring up at the vast array of stars and thinking of Jezebel, until the sound of approaching hoofbeats caught his attention. Fallon quickly sat up and found himself reaching for a weapon, only to be reminded that he had left Aurora without purchasing any. I am a fool. Fallon slowly lay back down, making himself as flat as possible in hopes that the traveler would not notice him.
The hoofbeats became louder and louder, and then they stopped.
Fallon dared not move to get a better view of the traveler lest he be spotted. His heart was racing. He heard the unmistakable sound of hoofbeats slowly approaching, and he swallowed hard against the rising fear.
“Fallon?” a voice called out from the darkness.
Fallon sat up in surprise. “Gentry?”
*************
The pounding on the door startled Len awake.
“Wake up, you fool! We must go.”
Len opened the door and squinted his still groggy eyes at the ranger.
“You ruined a perfectly good dream about Bridget, I shall have you know,” Len scolded. It was a lie. He had been dreaming of Amber and her soft kisses again.
The ranger ignored him. “An old acquaintance has confirmed that there was a Reedite at the Quicksilver Pub the other night.”
Len bristled at the memory of being physically thrown out of the pub. A big oaf of a man had picked him up and sent him flying through the air without warning.
I was not even the one asking the questions, he thought angrily. His shoulder was still a bit sore from where it broke his fall upon the ground.
“Did you not hear me?” The ranger was getting impatient.
Len nodded as he yawned. “Aye, I heard you. But you speak of only one Reedite ….”
