Solomon's Journey

by James Maxstadt

  Malachi took a moment before answering. “Me? Why me?”

  “His wounds need to be consistent with a Soul Gaunt.” Darius was confused. This was the plan all along. He would break Samuel, then Malachi would make it appear a Soul Gaunt had held him for several days, something he was good at and enjoyed.

  He rubbed his chest, feeling the raised line of his almost healed wound there. Glancing up, he caught the ghost of a smile on Thaddeus’s face.

  Malachi didn’t answer, but inside his chest Darius started to feel that something was wrong. He turned to Melanie, suddenly aware that she hadn’t said a word since he entered the room. She sat upright in a chair, back straight and head raised. Her eyes were focused on Malachi, then her gaze flicked to him. She turned her head and gave him a questioning look.

  The feeling of wrongness grew as he regarded her, faded when he looked back to Thaddeus, and then grew again when he turned back to her.

  Yes, there was most definitely something amiss. He smiled and sent a piece of his mind out, trying to probe Melanie’s thoughts.

  There was a flash of brilliant light and a stab of intense pain, as if someone drove a knife through his eye. Darius reeled back, falling into the wall behind him.

  Malachi sat at his desk, watching this happen with no expression.

  “Don’t ever do that again,” Melanie said.

  Darius could hardly hear her through the roar of blood in his ears. He shook his head and stared at the woman.

  “Finish your plan, then let Malachi know. He’ll do what’s needed.”

  She turned away, dismissing him.

  Darius pushed himself off the wall and almost ran from the room.

  Melanie had slapped him down like an insect. And unless he was mistaken, she had control of Malachi, which meant her rumored lover, Thaddeus, was in on it as well.

  He stopped and slumped into a chair along the hallway. He put his temples between his hands and squeezed, trying to push the pain away.

  He needed to think. Malachi was no longer in charge. Not of House Subtle Hemlock, and not of himself. Now the question was, should he try to stop it, or try to join in?

  Chapter 40

  “You’re stupid to even try!”

  Doc Mia was furious. It was evident in her body language as she cleaned up the instruments she had used to help him. To say nothing of the names she called him. Solomon liked the short, fiery woman. Her dedication to healing did indeed remind him of Willow, but her disposition was more like Lacy.

  “I’ve got to do something,” he said.

  “Why? This isn’t your home. What do you care?”

  She stayed at her sink, using a hand-pump to let water sluice into the basin, keeping her back turned to him. Old Sam stood in the corner, eyes downcast, not looking at either one of them.

  “You helped me, right? And so did Sam. How can I do less?”

  “Uh, gee, I don’t know. Maybe because neither Sam nor I were stupid enough to get bit by a plague rat, or to get the snot beat out of us. Now you want to up your game and get taken by those…things.”

  She snorted and kept washing, muttering to herself about wasting her time and idiots with hero complexes.

  Solomon smiled.

  “Doc,” he tried again. “I’m not going to get taken. I already fought one and drove it off. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but there has to be something that can be done.”

  “Idiot.” But her muttering lost some of the vehemence.

  “A sword. If I can get mine back, or find another, or someone to make one, then I can do something. If not…well, I’ll still try, it’ll just be harder.”

  Doc dropped her hands to her sides and finally turned.

  “And how will you pay for a sword? Didn’t you say those bastards who robbed you took your money, too? You can’t even pay me.”

  Good point. Solomon didn’t know how he would pay for anything. In the Greenweald, if someone were truly in need, they’d only have to ask. That wasn’t the case here, any more than it had been on that other Earth.

  “Then I have no choice,” he said. “I guess I’ll have to find mine and get it back. Sam, do you know who those guys were?”

  Sam shook his head. “I didn’t see them. You were already lying there when I got back.”

  “Well, can’t be too hard to find someone around here wearing a sword. It’s not like everyone has them.”

  In fact, Solomon hadn’t seen anyone wearing one since coming to Dunfield.

  “And exactly how are you going to fight those thugs?” Doc Mia asked. “You can hardly bend your one hand, and the other still has three broken fingers. To say nothing of your leg, your one remaining eye being almost swollen shut and what’s probably some sort of brain injury from being kicked in the head. And that last is obvious.”

  Solomon laughed. “You could be right. But you’ll be surprised at how fast I’ll heal up. I always have. If I can sleep somewhere secure tonight, by morning I’ll be in pretty good shape.”

  At least, he assumed he would be. He always was before. But if the rules were different here in Dunfield, it wouldn’t come as a shock.

  Ever since he neared the city, he could feel it. Waves of sadness, rage, and despondency pushing at him. Give up, fight, die, it seemed to say, over and over. Solomon didn’t know how the people here dealt with it. It pushed at his mind, trying to overwhelm any sense of decency or memory of goodness that he held.

  The infection from the rat bite had made it hard to recognize for what it was, but it was coming through now. How anyone stood up under it for long was beyond him. No wonder people like Old Sam were rare.

  “You’re staying here,” Doc Mia said, turning back to her clean up. “You too, Sam. If this idiot decides he’s going out tonight, I’ll need you to hold him down while I knock him out.”

  Sam looked panicked for a moment until it dawned on him that Mia was making a joke.

  “Aw, Doc,” he said. “Solomon won’t go nowhere tonight. Not like he can find my hiding place again on his own. He’ll stay here. Isn’t that so?”

  This last was directed at Solomon. “Absolutely, Sam. I’ll stay tonight. Tomorrow morning, I’ll head out to find my stuff.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  As the room started to brighten the next morning, Solomon had to admit that Doc Mia had been right. Throughout the rest of the evening and into the night, his leg occasionally throbbed, and sharp, stabbing pains came from both hands.

  But he had been right as well. The discomfort started to fade around midnight, and by the time the sky was showing signs of dawn, Solomon was feeling more like his old self.

  “I don’t understand,” Mia said. “This should be impossible. No one gets over a plague rat bite that quickly. Not even with that medicine from the Mar-Trollid.”

  “Told you I heal quickly,” Solomon replied. He sat up and rose from the examining table. “Now, it’s time for me to go. I appreciate what you’ve done, Doc.”

  She regarded him, her mouth twisted. He smiled at her and started to move toward the door, leaving Old Sam to snore in the corner of the room where he curled up the night before.

  “Can you really do it?” Doc asked as he reached for the door.

  Solomon turned back to her, the question dying on his lips as she continued.

  “Can you really fix this place? Dunfield, I mean. Bring it back to how it was?”

  “I can try.” He smiled and opened the door.

  It was early morning, but after dawn, when he walked back onto the streets. People were out and about on whatever errands those who still remained in this place needed to tend to. No one spoke to each other, there were no greetings of old friends running into one another. Instead, people shuffled along with their heads down, muttering angrily when they bumped into one another.

  Solomon considered his intended direction for a moment. Doc Mia’s place was in a neighborhood that had been nice at one point. Large homes, some with store fronts below what were obviously l
iving quarters. He could see faded signs for a baker, a florist, and a butcher. Ordinary businesses in any city.

  Now, the stores were closed, the doors firmly shut, and the houses falling into disrepair. They reflected the attitude of those on the street.

  “One direction is as good as another,” he said and, sticking his hands in his pockets, walked down the cobblestone-paved street.

  He really did feel remarkably better. His leg was still stiff, but he could walk on it without too much trouble. His broken hand was about healed already, while the other one was much like his leg. A little stiff, but manageable.

  Still, he hoped he’d be able to recover his items without having to resort to violence. While he wasn’t too concerned about the outcome of a fight, he really didn’t want to have to return to Mia to patch him up again. He could already hear the vitriol.

  Unlike the citizens of Dunfield, he kept his head up, staying aware of his surroundings. He noticed that only the predators in this city did that, and they did it simply to spot their next victim.

  Which was when a gang of five youths, a mixture of boys and girls, stepped in front of him, obviously intending to block his way.

  They were armed with pieces of wood, held casually in their hands. Their eyes were hard, and their mouths twisted into cruel grins.

  “Going somewhere?” one of them asked.

  This one must be the leader. Taller, slightly meatier than the others, he gazed up at Solomon without a speck of fear in his eyes.

  “That way,” Solomon said, tilting his chin.

  “This is a toll road,” the boy said.

  Solomon smiled and took his hands from his pockets.

  “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  The boy’s eyes hardened further.

  “Toll road. Pay up or go another way.”

  “Fair enough.” Solomon shrugged and started walking across the street, angling in the direction he was heading before they stopped him.

  “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

  The boy’s grip tightened on his wooden cudgel. His friends moved up, frowns replacing the grins.

  “I’m going this way,” Solomon said. “Around you. But I’ll tell you what. I’m looking for someone, and if you help me find them, I’ll pay your toll and extra besides.”

  “Why should we do that? You can either pay us now or go back the way you came.”

  The others spread across the street, blocking the entire thing. Another man walking that way turned and took a side street without a word.

  Solomon stepped forward and snatched the club from the boy’s hand before he could move. With a casual toss he sent it flying far down the street behind him, then turned and regarded the boy.

  “I’m going that way,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I won’t if you don’t make me. But really, I could use your help.”

  “How did…?” The boy was staring down at his hand in shock. There was muttering coming from the others. “How did you do that?”

  “I’m not from around here. Now, can I go on my way without further trouble, or do I need to take those toys away from everyone?”

  The rest of the kids started to move toward him when their leader put up his hand.

  “Stop,” he commanded. “He can go.”

  “Aw, come on, Christoph,” one of the girls whined. “So he took your club away. He can’t do it to all of us.”

  “He can,” the boy, Christoph said, keeping his eyes glued to Solomon’s face. “Let him go.”

  “Thanks,” Solomon said easily. “That job offer is still open if you want it.”

  He nodded at Christoph, smiled at the others and walked on. Behind him were loud whispers, then Christoph’s voice.

  “Hey, mister! Wait. What kind of job?”

  “Easy, really.” Solomon turned and walked back to the kids. “I need to find a couple of people. The first one is a man who stole some things from me. My sword and my pack.”

  “I don’t know.” Christoph hesitated. “I mean…if this guy could take things from you, then he’d be dangerous to us…”

  “Oh, he is. I don’t want you, any of you, going near him. Just if you see him, tell me where, and I’ll get my stuff back.”

  One of the other kids laughed. “How you gonna do that? He already took it once.”

  “Yeah, well,” Solomon ran his hand over his head and grinned sheepishly. “There were three of them, and they got me while I was delirious. Plague rat bite.”

  The eyes of all the kids grew large in their faces.

  “You got bit by a plague rat?”

  “How are you still alive?”

  “Did it hurt?”

  “Did you kill it?”

  Solomon laughed at the flurry of questions.

  “Tell you what,” he said. “Help me find my stuff, and I’ll buy you lunch. You’ll have to show me where we can do that, too. Then I’ll tell you the story. And then, I’ll pay your toll. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Christoph spit on his hand and stuck it out. Solomon grinned at the gesture and did the same. “Now, look for someone carrying a sword. Chances are, it’s mine. I’m going to keep going this way, then I’ll come back along the next street and so on. Can you find me?”

  “We know this place better than anyone,” Christoph boasted. “We’ll find you.”

  They took off running with several backward glances at him, heads turning back to yell to each other. Solomon laughed softly and continued up the street. If this worked, he’d do as he promised, then see if he could enlist the kids to help him find Celia as well.

  Chapter 41

  “What happened back there?” Thaddeus asked.

  “I couldn’t get into her mind. It was like there was an iron shield around her thoughts,” Melanie answered.

  “That’s weird, isn’t it?”

  “Very. Unique as far as I know. I’ve never encountered anything like it before.”

  “Well, not much we can do about it. We told her, now it’s up to her.”

  “You know she’s not going to do anything. Jocasta apparently has her own plans.”

  “Mmm, but what are they?” Thaddeus mused. He turned fully to Melanie. “We seriously need to think about what we’re going to do. Even you having control of Malachi isn’t enough. He’s told us that whatever is going on, it’s already happening at Glittering Birch.”

  “Do we need to go there?” Melanie said.

  “Maybe. To what end, though? If we’re going on a simple reconnaissance mission, that’s one thing. If we’re going to try to stop whatever it is, that’s something else entirely.”

  “We won’t know what we’re trying to stop until we see it, right? I think that’s our first step.”

  “I wish you could get it from Malachi.”

  “Me too, but there’s no way. The risk is too great. Whatever it is, he’s holding it deep. I don’t think anyone knows other than him, and he’ll fight against me digging it out.”

  “But he can’t break free, right?” Thaddeus hated hearing Melanie talk about Malachi fighting. If he was to get free of her control, before they were ready, Thaddeus had no illusions about what would happen to the two of them.

  “No,” Melanie said. “He’s actually gone pretty quiet. He fought me for a good while, but I kept pushing him down. He’s tired now but trying to probe too deep would bring him around. Maybe I could do it, but I don’t think we should take the chance.”

  “You’re the expert,” Thaddeus said. “Whatever you think best.”

  They walked along in silence for a few moments.

  “Ahhh!” Thaddeus broke the quiet by taking a deep breath and letting loose a satisfied sigh. “Much better! I feel like I can breathe up here! If nothing else, at least we’re living better!”

  Melanie slipped her arm into his. “It is nicer. I never hated the tunnels as much as you did, but yeah…this is better.”

  The upper part of the House was designed so that almost every hall and
room had windows that looked out onto stunning mountain vistas. Peaks towering into the sky, laden with snow. Ranges falling away into the distance and blue sky stretching away forever.

  Thaddeus missed the Greenweald and the trees. He always would. But there was something to be said for this. It was truly magnificent.

  The views from their room were equally grand, including from the luxurious bath, with hot water that flowed into a large tub as if by magic. Thaddeus almost chuckled at that thought. Of course, it was by magic.

  He didn’t even have such quarters in the main tree of the Whispering Pines compound. For that matter, neither did Florian. Say what you would about Malachi, the man did have an eye for the finer things in life.

  Thaddeus wondered where Malachi came from. Given his desire for revenge against those that held higher stations, it would seem that he came from a lesser House. Or, even lower, one of the servant classes. Whichever it was, he obviously was now indulging in every privilege he could imagine.

  He smiled at Melanie, glad to be “home,” and reached for the door handle.

  His first warning that something was wrong came from the creak the wooden door gave out before he even touched it. Then Melanie gave a shuddering sigh, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she collapsed to the floor.

  “Melanie?” Thaddeus wasn’t sure what was going on.

  There was another creak from the door. He turned back to it just as it burst, showering the hallway with shards of wood. He cried out and threw his arms over his face, too late to avoid several cuts and scratches.

  A large chunk caught him in the stomach and he bent forward, the air driven from his lungs.

  Drawing in a long, rasping breath, he looked up.

  Malachi stood on the other side of the shattered door, his eyes gleaming with rage, his fists clenched at his sides.

  He growled, and Thaddeus felt pain flare through his body, worse than the last time he had been disciplined.

  With effort, he raised his hand, focused and summoned up a wall of flame between the two of them, pushing it toward Malachi as rapidly as he could. The pain vanished, and he heard Malachi curse from inside the room.