Solomon's Journey

by James Maxstadt

  A moment later a huge rat appeared, blinking in the sunlight over the dead body on the ground. It hissed at Solomon, showing bloody fangs.

  “Get!” he yelled and strode forward, aiming a kick at the vile creature.

  Rats would run from that. This one was the size of a young raccoon, but it was still a rat.

  But it stood its ground, guarding its meal protectively. It dodged Solomon’s half-hearted kick with ease and sprang forward, climbing up his leg and burying its sharp front teeth into the hollow space behind his knee.

  He yelped, reached down and grabbed the rodent, tearing it loose and sending it flying, but not before it scored another bite to the back of his hand.

  “Damn thing,” he said, watching it scurry off.

  He twisted to look at his leg. His pants were bloody where it had gotten him, and the wound stung, but it didn’t seem to be too bad. There was some blood still flowing, and walking was sure to make it open a little wider, but it wasn’t an injury that would stop him.

  Grimacing, he moved on, coming closer to the city gate. There were more rats, some feasting on the remains of people, some scurrying along in the shadow of the wall. They were all large, although none were the size of the one that bit him.

  His leg itched by the time he made it to the gates. They stood open, hanging drunkenly from the posts embedded into the walls. Walls that were crumbling, as he could now see.

  Dunfield. This must be it, and from what he saw so far, it was worse, far worse, than Gan-Rowe had any reason to believe it would be.

  Chapter 20

  Everywhere he looked the signs of the battle were evident. The torn up ground outside of the compound, the low fences that had been overrun, and especially the evidence of fresh digging near the roots of so many trees. Places where those who fell were returned to the earth.

  Yet those signs didn’t extend to the people. The soldiers, scouts, tradesmen, and even the servants of House Towering Oaks comported themselves with dignity and discipline. That wasn’t to say it was a cheerless place, because it wasn’t. Folk laughed and smiled as easily as any other House, and showed no sign of being beat down.

  This wasn’t what Jocasta would want to hear. She was waiting for him to come back with news that House Towering Oaks was weak, teetering on the edge of despair, and pining for their absent leader. Instead, they were vibrant, strong, and well on their way to recovery.

  Darius needed to meet this new, temporary Head of House. For all that Solomon was or wasn’t, the one currently in charge was obviously doing more than simply taking up space.

  “Darius, wasn’t it?”

  It took Darius a moment to recall the man who was speaking to him. Ah, yes. Orlando, the scout who came to Whispering Pines to meet with Jocasta. And told her about Solomon leaving and Celia still being alive.

  Darius had done some digging since then. This Orlando was the mate of Shireen, the Head of House. Strange that she sent him out on a simple errand, but honestly, what did he know of such things? Let the high-and-mighty run the Houses; he was simply there to do as told.

  He smirked at that, letting it turn into a smile as he greeted Orlando.

  “Orlando, good to see you again.” He clasped the other man’s hand. “Lady Jocasta sent me here to meet with Lady Shireen and convey her well-wishes, in return for the visit from you.”

  “Nice. I’m not sure if she’s available right now, but I’ll find out. In the meantime, something to drink?”

  “That’d be great. It was a hot journey here from Whispering Pines.”

  Orlando led him to the main tree of the compound. “How are things in Whispering Pines?” he asked. “I imagine the news of Celia caused a stir.”

  “Oh, indeed. For Jocasta most of all. If truth be told, she doesn’t feel overly suited to be Head of House. She’s looking forward to Celia returning and assuming the burden herself.”

  “I can relate to that,” Orlando chuckled. “Shireen is exactly the same way. She’s doing an incredible job, yet every day complains that Solomon is taking too long and that he should be the one here.”

  Darius smiled. “They sound like two peas in a pod.”

  “Maybe they can be the new Jediah and Florian. Friends and allies to the end.”

  “Perhaps,” Darius replied.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Half an hour later he was being escorted by Orlando through an outer office that contained a well-organized desk and a few chairs. Orlando knocked on the inner door and a tired voice called out, “Come in.” He motioned for Darius to enter, stuck his head in to say hello, and left with a cheery wave. Darius waved back and then entered the office.

  So, this was Lady Shireen, the temporary Head of mighty Towering Oaks. Darius made sure to keep his face passive and his voice neutral as he studied the slightly disheveled woman before him. She wore a scout’s uniform, even as she sat behind a large desk that, in direct contrast to the one he’d passed, was a mess.

  “Who are you?” Shireen asked after glancing up and then turning back to the chaos in front of her.

  “My name is Darius, Lady Shireen, and I’ve been sent to you by Lady Jocasta, Head of House Whispering Pines.”

  He’d agreed with Orlando about the similarities between the two women to make him feel at ease and develop a sense of comradeship. But that greeting made him think that there was more truth to it than he thought. Although, Jocasta’s terseness was a purposeful ruse to put others off their game, while with Shireen it felt different. It felt less guileful, not a ploy. In Shireen’s case, Darius thought it might be nothing more than simple frustration.

  She looked up after he finished speaking and set her pen to the side, sure to be lost in the drift of papers already there.

  “My apologies,” she said, standing and holding out her hand. “Of course. Orlando told me he’d be bringing you by. How is Lady Jocasta?”

  “Much as you appear to be, my Lady. Working hard and feeling like she’s running in place.”

  Shireen laughed briefly. “That’s about right, I’m afraid. Except I’m only temporary here. She’s the permanent Head, right?”

  Darius shrugged and sat when Shireen indicated that he should. “Perhaps. Although the welcome news that Orlando brought with him on his visit makes her think that maybe she can see an escape also.”

  He smiled as he said it and Shireen returned it. Good. So far, this was going very well.

  “When you go back, tell her that when we’re both freed up we’ll have to get together for a glass of wine or two and commiserate.”

  “I certainly will.”

  “And as nice as that thought is, it’s not why you’re here. What can we do for you?”

  “Honestly, nothing, Lady Shireen. Lady Jocasta simply wanted to return the courtesy you showed her when you sent Orlando to visit us. To reaffirm the long bond of friendship and respect between our Houses.”

  “I see. But I sent Orlando for a further purpose, as I’m sure you know. And Heads of Houses, temporary or not, don’t have time to send out an important aide for pleasantries. Not at this time anyway. So forgive me for being rude, Darius, but what is that Jocasta really wants?”

  Ah. This Shireen was sharper than Darius gave her credit for. He should have been less flippant. Still, no harm done.

  “To the point then. Lady Jocasta desires that House Whispering Pines become more… self-sufficient. She has fears that we depend too much on the good graces of Towering Oaks to be our strong shield-arm. While that has worked in the past, with Florian and Jediah being childhood friends.” He hesitated.

  “We don’t know each other at all,” Shireen finished. She sat back with a sigh. “She has a point, and frankly, I should have seen it. But I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves. I am only temporary for sure. As soon as Solomon comes back, he’ll be Head of House. Surely Lady Jocasta wouldn’t doubt his word on something like this?”

  “No, I’m sure she wouldn’t. And at that time, Lady Celia will most assuredly ta
ke over House Whispering Pines. But Lady Jocasta desires to leave her with an easy path forward. To ease her transition back into the Greenweald from wherever she’s been.”

  “And?”

  “She would like for us to arrange a trade. Some Towering Oaks soldiers who can train our troops to be more efficient and effective. In return, she’ll send a few of her own to train some of yours on…shall we say intelligence gathering?”

  Shireen made a face at that but didn’t say anything. She looked down and pushed a couple of papers around, her face growing more thoughtful. “I’m not sure about that,” she said finally. “On the surface, it sounds like it could be beneficial. But I think a decision of that magnitude belongs to Solomon.”

  “I completely understand,” Darius said, standing. “I’ll relay that to Lady Jocasta who, from my experience, will understand as well.”

  “How long have you been with her?” Shireen asked, standing also.

  “Oh, years. I’ve been with her since she first left Whispering Pines all those years ago and followed her to the Southern Seas. Frankly, I don’t know what she’d do without me.” He smiled, showing his humbleness at his own joke.

  “Those are some stories I’d love to hear,” Shireen said. “Why don’t you stay for a day or two? You can join Orlando and I for a late dinner and tell us some of those tales.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Darius said.

  He shook her hand again and turned to go. “Oh, by the way, Lady Shireen. Forgive me if I’m being too bold, but you really should get an aide of your own.”

  “I have one. He’s been working himself to death, so I gave him the day off. Forced it on him, actually. I think he’s out somewhere, looking at birds.”

  “Birds?”

  Shireen shrugged. “You’d have to ask him.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  While birds were common in the Greenweald and many nested in the trees of the compounds, if one really wanted to see them, one would go into the spaces between the Houses, those owned by no one and where there were fewer people to startle them.

  At least, that’s what Darius assumed. He never actually thought about it before, but it seemed to make sense.

  After he left Shireen’s office, he told Orlando he was tired from his trip and would like to lie down for a while. The look the scout gave him was almost one of pity. Pity that a soft aide from Whispering Pines didn’t have the stamina of a Towering Oaks scout.

  It was true, of course, he didn’t. He also wasn’t nearly as tired as he pretended to be, though. As soon as Orlando was well out of sight of the guest quarters he escorted Darius to, he was moving again.

  He walked with confidence to the compound gate, nodding to the guards as he passed through. They were on guard for unannounced visitors to the compound, not leaving it, after all. And despite telling Shireen he would be delighted to have dinner with them, he had no intention of returning.

  Once out of sight of the guards, he stopped and took an item from his shirt. It was a simple needle, hung from a black thread. “Samuel,” he whispered, staring at it intently. He had seen the man’s name on a paper on the neat desk, over the title, “Aide to Head of House Towering Oaks.”

  That was all he needed. Once he had the name, he could tell where almost anyone was. It was one of several spells that he had a special knack for.

  The needle twisted back and forth and then the string snapped taut, the needle no longer swaying but pointing resolutely to the right. Darius walked slowly that way, concentrating on it until it moved again, changing direction. In this way, he followed it deeper into the forest, until he saw another of the Folk, sitting peacefully on a log and gazing up into the branches.

  Darius moved behind him without the other man even being aware that he was there. Another of his gifts. And the final spell, while not something that he was particularly adept at, was enough to put Samuel out, his chin dropping to his chest and tumbling from his seat.

  Jocasta would be pleased enough with his work today, he supposed; not that it really mattered. What did was what Malachi would think. And finding a way for Subtle Hemlock to infiltrate Towering Oaks should make his true Head of House very happy indeed.

  Chapter 21

  The flames roared around Thaddeus, spiraling high into the air then crashing back to the ground before rising again, tightening around him. It was a game of his own devising, to see how close he could get without singeing himself. And the height of the wall of flames that spun around him got higher every time he did this.

  Yes, he was growing stronger by the day, now that he knew he could be. Now that he wasn’t holding himself back, or being held back by others.

  The snow on the ground kept the fire from igniting any dry wood or leaves that would normally be in an area like this. A secluded mountain glade that Melanie had introduced him to as a place to sneak off for a rendezvous. She had no idea that he also used it as a practice spot.

  Finally, he let the flames crash to the ground once more and shut them down. In the beginning, that process took time. Making them grow smaller, corralling them, slowly quelling their fury. Now, the flames obeyed him; and when he wished them gone, they went in one fell swoop.

  The forest was quiet again except for Thaddeus’s heavy breathing. The melted snow puddled on the frozen ground began to ice over. He was getting stronger, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t take a lot out of him.

  Mopping his face with his sleeve, he began the walk back to the Subtle Hemlock compound, a huge edifice made from carved logs and stacked stone, construction that would be sacrilege in the Greenweald. It sat on the side of the mountain with stunning views of the peaks and valleys surrounding it.

  But most of it extended back into the mountain, through caves and tunnels carved out by magic long ago. Down among the storerooms, kitchens, workshops and labs were where most of the acolytes of the House lived and worked.

  From what Thaddeus could tell, very few of the House ever came outside. They spent their time indoors, away from all this, honing their skills to the benefit of Subtle Hemlock.

  And Malachi? Malachi and whoever he favored lived in that magnificent edifice that was visible on the surface, able to look out vast windows at the panoramic views surrounding them. Even Florian hadn’t been so ostentatious.

  Still, they were nice views, and Thaddeus had no doubt he would enjoy them.

  “There you are.” Melanie was walking toward him, bundled up against the bitter cold.

  “Here I am,” he said, walking past her and letting her catch up to him.

  “What are you doing out here?” she asked.

  “Practicing. I find it more conducive out here.”

  “Aren’t you freezing?”

  Unlike her, Thaddeus wore a simple robe with pants beneath and sturdy boots.

  “No, I don’t seem to get cold anymore.” He didn’t either. Ever since that day in the dark room, the day that he burned the Soul Gaunt to ash, Thaddeus had been warm. At first, too much so, but then he learned to control it and now was always comfortable, no matter the temperature around him.

  “Are you okay?” Melanie asked, linking her arm through his.

  “Hmm? Fine. Why do you ask?”

  “You’ve been cold lately.”

  He laughed at her choice of words, although he knew perfectly well what she meant by them. “Have I?”

  “Yeah, you have. And frankly, I’m starting to get tired of it.”

  Thaddeus simply shrugged as an answer.

  “All right, that’s it!” she exploded.

  There was a sudden sharp pain in his head. He spun and dropped to his knees, feeling blood trickle from his nose.

  “I’ve had it,” Melanie snarled. “I don’t know who you think you are, or why you’re acting this way, but I’m sick of it, and I’m sick of you!”

  The pain was starting to make him sick, but Melanie had made a huge mistake. Thaddeus was no stranger to pain, not any longer. He narrowed his eyes, about the on
ly movement he could do, and concentrated.

  In a circle around them, the snow started to sizzle and melt. A tube of fire roared from the ground, the searing heat intense, but Thaddeus didn’t feel that any more than he did the cold.

  “Ah!” Melanie screamed. “Stop it!”

  He smiled, and the walls of the tube started to creep in, like the light he had tried this with before. Only there was no subtlety this time. It was pure power, his will against hers, his resolve against the pain she was causing.

  “I’m not kidding,” she screamed again. “Stop!”

  The noise that came from him was nothing more than a growl, but it should have conveyed the disdain he felt for her pitiful efforts. She would either release him, or…

  “I warned you,” she said.

  Something in his mind tore. A ripping sensation that cut him off from his spell and caused the flames to vanish as if they were never there. Then the ground hit him hard and that was end of it.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  When he woke, he was soaking wet, muddy, and for the first time in several days, freezing cold. He was lying where he fell, shivering in the frozen over puddle of melted snow.

  There was no sign of Melanie, and for that he was grateful. The ease that she cut him off from his magic unnerved him and he needed time to consider what that could mean. How strong was she?

  Then a fresh thought came to him. He scrambled to his feet and held his trembling hand out in front of him. He stared at it, but nothing happened.

  “Come on,” he whispered, and tried again.

  Nothing. Nothing. Something. A thin wisp of smoke, followed by a small, pale flame dancing above his palm.

  He began to laugh. She hadn’t cut him off permanently. He didn’t even know if that was possible, but the relief he felt was overwhelming. He let the flame grow larger, until it was a ball as big as his head.

  Thaddeus watched it turn, the flames coiling about each other and his shivering began to stop. Warmth seeped into his bones and he climbed wearily to his feet.