Solomon’s
Journey
James Maxstadt
Solomon’s Journey
Copyright © 2019 by James E Maxstadt
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2019
ISBN: 9781704499772
James Maxstadt
Visit at jamesmaxstadt.com
Cover art: SelfPubBookCovers.com/SF covers
To Marty, a buddy for life.
Other titles by James Maxstadt
Solomon’s Exile
The Travels of Solomon, Book 1
Tales of a Nuisance Man
The Duke Grandfather Saga, Part 1
Duke Grandfather Saves the World*
*or at least a small part of it
The Duke Grandfather Saga, Part 2
Duke Grandfather Hears Voices
The Duke Grandfather Saga, Part 3
Duke Grandfather Unleashes Hell
Duke Grandfather: The Whole Story
Death Lessons
Lilly the Necromancer, Book One
Rejected Worlds: A Short-Story Anthology
PROLOGUE
The ruler of the Greenweald sat in his darkened room, staring at the walls. He hated the dark and the things it hid. The vile Soul Gaunts and those from the secret House. The ones that betrayed him and tried to usurp his throne.
But the light outside was too bright. If he drew the curtains wide it would flood the room, exposing all the hidden corners, especially those in his mind. The ones that hid his father, staring at him disapprovingly. The way he had always looked at Jamshir, from the time he was a boy and Jediah first knocked him sprawling when they played.
“No tears,” Roland had said.
Lord Roland. Let’s not forget that. He was always Lord Roland. Never Daddy, or Dad, or even Father. Always always always Lord Roland.
“No, Lord Roland,” Jamshir had muttered, climbing to his feet and casting a grateful glance at Jediah, who helped him up with a kind smile and words of encouragement.
Words that reached Lord Roland’s ears, of course, as Jediah had known they would.
“There,” the ruler of the Greenweald smiled, “that’s how a gracious victor should act. Remember that, Jamshir.”
And he tousled Jediah’s hair before walking away, off to the important business of ruling. Jamshir couldn’t remember the last time his father had touched him at all.
“Enough,” he whispered to himself, his voice cutting into the silence of the room. No one was there to hear, other than him and his memories. No one else, neither his father, nor his dead friend, in the corner of the room. He should get up, throw back the curtains, and let all the sunlight in.
But he didn’t. He stayed seated in his chair, staring at the wall, muttering to himself.
♦ ♦ ♦
Hours passed. Servants came with food, which went mostly untouched, and wine, which was finished quickly. They said nothing to him, and none of them attempted to open the drapes, or commented on the smell in the room.
Even he was beginning to notice that. A sharp, rank smell. It came from him and his refusal to leave the room for days now. The bucket in the corner that he used when the occasion called for it was near to overflowing. Servants had attempted to remove it, but he screamed at them to leave it.
Who knew what those in the hidden House could do with his precious fluids?
♦ ♦ ♦
The room grew darker as night fell over the Greenweald, and still he sat. His back ached, and his legs throbbed. He itched all over, and his eyes felt gummy and hard to keep open.
“Enough of this,” he thought. “It’s night now. It’s okay to open the drapes and look out on my realm. The moonlight through the trees isn’t enough to bother me.”
He sat for a moment more, and then, slowly, trying not to groan loud enough for the guards posted at his door to hear, he stood. The back of the chair supplied much needed support as he let his legs stabilize under him. He slowly shuffled to the window and opened the curtain.
The moon was full, a thought that hadn’t occurred to him, and lit up the gardens below far better than he expected. Members of his House strolled the paths, enjoying the warm summer air. Lovers held hands, friends laughed with one another and servants hurried on their way.
Life, in other words, continued as always for Glittering Birch. It wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. When word of his allegiance with the Soul Gaunts got out….
He shuddered and turned from the window. The light of the moon illuminated his bedchambers, showing the mess he created over the last several days. Clothes thrown in heaps, bedcovers soiled and in disarray. Books were scattered across the floor, some ripped in half, their pages spilling out of them like fallen leaves.
And there, in the corner, was a man cloaked all in black. A man who stepped forward and bowed as Jamshir stared at him and tried not to scream.
“Greetings, Lord Jamshir,” the man said.
He was tall, as all the Folk were, but the rest of his body was concealed by the long, black robe. The hood was deep enough to keep the face within hidden in shadow. Jamshir didn’t know this man. The only member of House Subtle Hemlock he had met was the one who called himself the Advocate. A ridiculous name or title, whichever it was supposed to be.
But that one had been killed, cut down by Solomon at the end of the debacle that was supposed to have been his triumph.
Well, served him right. That was the price for failing to please your ruler, secret House or not.
“What do you want?” he demanded, or at least tried to. His voice, which he hoped would be strong and commanding, instead came out with a squeak and a slight waver. He cleared his throat and reached for his wine to cover his embarrassment.
“I come on behalf of my House to offer our congratulations,” the man from the corner said.
“What congratulations? What are you talking about?”
“On your victory, of course.”
Jamshir could only stare at the man, absentmindedly wiping a bit of drool from his chin. Was there something he wasn’t remembering?
“I … there was no victory … Solomon came….”
“Oh, yes, we know that, of course. Solomon, the hero, returned just in time to pull Towering Oaks from the fire. Or did he?”
“Did he? Of course, he did, you dolt! I watched him with my own eyes! He destroyed the Soul Gaunts with his blasted magic sword!”
He was panting now, a little dizzy from his outburst. He sank into a chair and gulped down the rest of his wine.
The other man moved forward smoothly and poured Jamshir another cup.
“You misunderstand me. Please calm yourself, Lord Jamshir. What I meant was that yes, he did return, but did he really do it in time?”
“What are you talking about?”
“How many died? Before he got there. How many Towering Oaks soldiers were laid beneath the trees?”
“A lot,” Jamshir replied. His voice grew quiet, almost petulant. He didn’t care. Let this man think what he wanted. When word got out….
“Yes. A lot. Including Jediah, who always had designs on your throne, as he did your father. He is gone, and yet, here you are.”
At the mention of his father, Jamshir scowled into his wine. Why were people always bringing him up? Comparing them. Letting Jamshir know by signs subtle and not that they didn’t think he was half the ruler, or man, that Roland was.
Lord Roland. Jamshir chuckled and took a dr
ink. Lord Roland. Mustn’t forget that.
“Lord Jamshir,” the man in black continued, “again, allow me to convey the well-wishes of House Subtle Hemlock, and congratulations on a job performed masterfully.”
“I did win,” Jamshir whispered.
“Now,” the man went on, as if Jamshir hadn't said a word. “There is more to be done.”
“More?”
“Oh, yes. More. You must strike now, while the time is ripe, before Towering Oaks can recover their full strength.”
“I don’t know. There are still many of them left, to say nothing of Whispering Pines. Perhaps I’d be better off going in another direction.”
“Such as?” A hint of suspicion entered the other man’s voice, and Jamshir grinned. If he wasn’t mistaken, a hint of fear was there, as well.
He affected an air of nonchalance and shrugged. “Perhaps the other Houses would like to know of the existence of House Subtle Hemlock, and how they corrupted their beloved ruler.”
He laughed, but the other man stayed silent.
“That would be a very bad idea, Jamshir,” he said after a moment.
Jamshir surged to his feet. “Lord Jamshir!” he screamed. “It’s Lord Jamshir!”
The man in the black robe bowed slightly again. “Of course, Lord Jamshir,” he muttered. “My apologies.”
Jamshir allowed himself to sink back into his chair.
“Remember who you work for,” he said, raising his cup to his lips again.
“We never forget,” the other man said softly.
Chapter 1
“No!” Shireen jumped to her feet, which didn’t surprise Solomon in the least. He had figured on that being her reaction.
It was a couple of weeks after the burials of Florian and Jediah. Luke, Lacy and Daisy stayed on as guests for a few days, saw more of the Greenweald, and then returned home. He smiled thinking of them. They were doing well, and Daisy was adjusting to being just a dog, not a Hunting Hound any longer.
The paperwork and details that came with cleaning up after Jamshir and the Soul Gaunt attack was more than Solomon had been anticipating, and before he knew it, days had gone by. Enough to have sent Shireen and Orlando out on a scouting mission, to make sure that all was at peace in the Greenweald once again.
It was, with no sign of any errant Soul Gaunts or other dangers. The two even went to Whispering Pines, where they were given a polite, though slightly chilly welcome. Whispering Pines had not chosen a new Head of House to replace Florian yet, and was being overseen by a council of elders.
But now, the bulk of the details were taken care of and House Towering Oaks was operating again. They still had a long recovery, but they were moving in the right direction.
Solomon accepted the position of Head of House, although reluctantly. Not that he had much choice, he reflected.
But he only accepted under one condition; that he would take the time to find Celia first. He would bring her home, and if she still wished, he’d stay by her side for the rest of his life.
And now was that time.
“You agreed,” Solomon said, his voice light as he sat back in the chair behind Jediah’s desk. His desk now, he thought, fighting back the wave of sadness that threatened to drag him under when he remembered his lost friend.
"Yes, but." Shireen stopped, her mouth working as she tried to come up with a reason to push this day back further. She sat back down, glaring at him.
“But?” Solomon prompted.
“But…it’s not time yet. Whispering Pines doesn’t even have a Head of House.”
“And?” He was trying not to smile.
“And, well, maybe they’ll want your input.”
She was reaching. Now Solomon did smile. “They haven’t asked me yet,” he said. “What else do you have?”
He really wasn’t playing games with her. Shireen didn’t have any desire to be Head of House, even for a short time. She told him that she didn’t have the temperament for it, although recently, she had shown how capable she really was. Solomon wanted to honestly answer any objections she had before putting this burden on her.
Shireen continued to glare at him. “What about the Advocate and whatever House he belonged to?”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten them. For now, let them skulk in the shadows. They got their heads handed to them, so I think they’ll stay out of sight, licking their wounds. But when I get back, they’re the first priority.”
“And Jamshir?”
Solomon shrugged. “He is who he is. We’ll deal with him too, through cooperation with the other Houses. He won’t be the first ruler of the Greenweald to lose his throne.”
Shireen sat back, her face softening, and Solomon could see that she was coming around to acceptance. “When?” she asked quietly.
“Right away. Tomorrow morning.”
“That soon? Fine. How long will you be?”
Solomon shrugged again. “I’ve no idea. I don’t even know where she is, but I’ll find her. Then I’ll come back as quickly as I can.”
To his surprise, Shireen’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. “Don’t be long,” she said, looking directly at him. “You just came back.”
Solomon smiled, trying to dispel her worries. “Yeah,” he said, “but this time, I remember everything.”
♦ ♦ ♦
He left Shireen there, in the office that she would use while he was away. It was good for her to take the time to get comfortable in it, although, he had to admit that he hadn’t in the weeks since he took over. It was still Jediah’s, not his. Perhaps when he came back he’d move his office somewhere else, let that room sit empty, at least for a while.
Besides, he didn’t see himself sitting behind a desk much. Jediah was a leader who led from the front, and Solomon had no intention of changing that practice. If anything, he would be even more restless.
“How’d she take it?” Orlando fell into step with him as he walked toward his bedchambers.
“About like we thought. Not happy, but she knows her duty. She always did.”
“Yeah, and she’s going to kill me when she finds out that I already knew you were leaving and didn’t tell her.”
“Tell her I asked you to let me break the news to her,” Solomon said. “It’s the truth, after all.”
“And if it were anyone but you, she’d still kill me.”
Solomon laughed quietly. “Maybe so. Keep close to her, though. She doesn’t have the faith in herself that she should.”
“Of course. And you are right, she’ll do fine.”
The two old friends walked through the massive tree that housed the administrative functions of House Towering Oaks. There weren’t many personal apartments there, other than that of the Head of House. All the better to be close to where he was needed.
Shireen and Orlando would take up residence here now, as well. Rooms had been readied for them, and Solomon made sure they were of the highest quality. If he was asking someone to take on his burden, even for a short time, it was the least he could do.
“So, tomorrow morning?” Orlando asked.
“Yep.”
“Any idea where you’re headed?”
“The pool, of course.”
“Well, yeah, obviously, but I meant after that?”
Solomon shook his head. “No. But wherever it is, I’ll get back as quickly as I can.”
They reached the door to his bedchambers and Orlando held out his hand. Solomon took it in a firm grasp.
“I can go, you know,” Orlando said. “Shireen and I talked about it. We’d both feel more comfortable if one of us were with you."
“No,” Solomon smiled. “Thank you. And thank her for me, again. This is something I need to do. Besides, I’d rather have you here with her. Keep her from getting too annoyed at some of the minutiae.”
“Be careful,” Orlando said, his voice growing serious. “We can’t lose you again after you just got back.”
“Been hearing that a lot today,�
�� Solomon grinned.
♦ ♦ ♦
The night passed as they all did, ever since he came back to the Greenweald in time to witness the slaughter of so many of his people and the horror of the Soul Gaunts. Sleep didn’t come easy, and when it did, his dreams were full of white fire and the screams of the wounded.
He lied in his bed, letting the warm air move over him, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. Finally, when he gave in to the fact that there would be no rest for him this night, he rose and walked to the window.
Towering Oaks was laid out with military precision. Everything in rows, all equidistant apart, including the gardens and fountains that occupied space in every House in the Greenweald. There were times that he thought he might like a little less regiment, something more organic like at Whispering Pines.
Still, there was a certain beauty here as well. An orderliness that was comforting and that he hated to leave behind.
Then, his thoughts turned back to Celia, and the fact that she was gone, who-knew-where, enduring who-knew-what. The water spirit who took her was vague, to say the least, but it hadn’t sounded like she put her anywhere pleasant.
It was time to go. He turned from the window and found his clothes, then buckled on his sword belt. He hung a filled scabbard from each side of it, trying to ignore the inconvenience and awkwardness of wearing two swords.
One of those was normal, sharp and deadly in his hands, yet normal nevertheless. The other was Justice, that sword of power and magic that granted unreal power at a horrible price.
He stowed several things into a pack, including the lantern that Jediah had used to save them all, and slung it on his back. Then, with one last look around, he quietly opened his door and went down the hall to the main stairs. Down a few levels, and out the door, into the summer night.
The pool of the water spirit beckoned him, but there was one other stop to make first.
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