Solomon's Journey

by James Maxstadt

  “I don’t know. Magic.”

  “I don’t think my use of fire and light is going to do us much good. And there are no minds there for you to try to get into. How about you?” He turned to Darius. “Any special gifts for shutting down gates you haven’t mentioned?”

  Darius shook his head.

  “Didn’t think so,” Thaddeus said. “Which leaves us with what? We’ll go fight our way through the whole place, find these hidden gates and hope there will be instructions for how to turn them off printed on the wall?”

  “All right,” Melanie said, “you don’t have to be such a condescending ass about it.”

  Thaddeus took a deep breath.

  “You’re right. Sorry. I’m tired. And sore. And I don’t see a way for us to end this.”

  “I might,” Willow said.

  “Then, please, almighty Healer, educate us.”

  Thaddeus drew his knees up, crossed his arms on them and let his head sink down. He needed rest. Let Willow have her say.

  “We need help from Towering Oaks, or what’s left of it anyway.”

  Thaddeus started laughing, not lifting his head from his arms. “Sure, sure. I’ll go ask.”

  “It’s why we came here originally. To get Jocasta to agree to work with Towering Oaks to help take down Subtle Hemlock. That won’t work now, obviously. We need a new plan. And I think our best option is still to go get as much help as we can.”

  Thaddeus looked up at the Head of House Whispering Pines.

  She sat at her apparent ease on the stairs leading up to the second level of the main tree, an expression of almost amusement on her face.

  “Well?” he said. “What about it, Jocasta?”

  “What about what?”

  “Are you in, or out?”

  “You’re asking me to crawl Towering Oaks, begging for them to come help save my House?”

  Thaddeus shook his head, unable to believe his own ears.

  “That’s what you got out of this?”

  He struggled to his feet, ignoring the burning pain from his maimed foot, and staggered across the room to her.

  “What is wrong with you? You act as if you have some connection to this House. Who are you? The daughter of a minor noble of the House who got herself pregnant from someone she wouldn’t even talk about. And then you left! You ran off to have your little adventures and left the rest of us here. Then, you only came back when Florian was dead, Celia was gone, and I was … elsewhere. Before that, you couldn’t have cared less about the House. So, don’t give me this high-and-mighty act now. It’s too late for that.”

  He was panting from his tirade and his head swam. Jocasta stared up at him impassively, unmoved by his words.

  “You’re useless,” he muttered and shambled back to the wall to sink down against it once more.

  Silence fell over the room, until it was interrupted by the sound of laughter and running from the floor above. There was a thud, a cry of pain, more laughter and then silence again.

  “What do you mean my mother got pregnant from someone she wouldn’t talk about?” Jocasta’s voice was quiet.

  Thaddeus was suddenly ashamed of that part of his outburst. While the rest was true, Jocasta wasn’t responsible for her mother.

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” he said.

  “But you did. And I want to know what you meant by it.”

  “We don’t have time for this—”

  “Tell me!”

  It was strange to hear such raw pain in the voice of someone as tough and stoic as she was.

  “She went to Florian, when it happened. We were never a big family, of course, so she might not have felt there was anyone else. Plus, he was the Head of House. He never told me who your father was, but he knew. And then when you ran away, after your mother died, he felt horrible. You might not have been aware of it, but he kept eyes on you.”

  “Why?”

  “You were his blood. The daughter of a cousin, sure, but blood nevertheless.”

  “How sweet of him,” she sneered.

  “Yes, it was. And you could never see it.”

  “And my father? You have no real knowledge, right? You’re just dredging this up to try to get to me?”

  “No. As I said, I shouldn’t have said that. Some here can tell you that I have a habit of saying stupid things before I think them through.” He glanced at Melanie, who returned a raised eyebrow.

  Jocasta fell silent, her glare remaining fixed on him.

  “You have this obsession about our House crawling to Towering Oaks for some reason. I’m here to tell you that it wasn’t that way. Most members of that House think very highly of themselves and look down on the rest of us, that’s true. But you’re missing the fact that Florian and Jediah were true friends. They fell out for a time, then came through it. Jediah didn’t lord anything over Florian. Florian didn’t hide things from Jediah. They worked together for the betterment of both Houses.”

  Jocasta snorted.

  “Think what you want,” Thaddeus said. “It really doesn’t matter. Our House is in shambles. Maybe we can find a way to get it back. To do that, we need help. You think the other members of Subtle Hemlock, those still loyal to Malachi, are simply going to let us walk into the place and challenge him? Melanie can take out some, and I can take out others, if I have a chance to rest. But even we won’t be enough. We need more.”

  “Then crawl,” Jocasta sneered. “Crawl to your betters and beg for their scraps.”

  Thaddeus shook his head.

  “Unbelievable. Your myopia on this is staggering. Especially seeing as how you’re very likely one of those scraps.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You really don’t get it, do you? Your father. Florian didn’t tell me who he was, but he did tell me what. He was from Towering Oaks. You have as many ties to that House as you do to this one.”

  Chapter 72

  “Well, that might have been the final leaf to break the branch,” Solomon thought to himself.

  He could hear it in her voice, as if merely knowing how angry she would be with him for manhandling her wasn’t enough. But if he had to do it again, he would, regardless of the outcome.

  Friedrich wasn’t going to hold the hunters back for more than a moment or two, regardless of his resolve. He was a good man, and brave, with deeper reserves than he knew, but he wasn’t a seasoned fighter. The hunters were going to overwhelm him and be in the chamber within seconds. The only reason they hesitated before that was because Solomon held the door against them, a natural choke point. Allowed to surround him, they’d have brought him down from all sides.

  Like they would have Friedrich by now.

  “It was our only chance,” he repeated.

  “Our only chance for what?” Celia’s voice was like ice. “To save ourselves and leave them behind?”

  “Yes. At least for now. They won’t kill Friedrich, or at least I hope not. They’ll take him, like they did the rest.”

  “And we still don’t know what happened to them.”

  “No, we don’t. I can only hope.”

  He slowly climbed to his feet, examining the cave. It was familiar, yet quite different from the last time he was here. Then, it was full of items of magic and wonder, and he’d left Justice leaning against that wall, right there.

  Now, it was empty.

  The Guardian had left, taking all his treasure with him.

  “We should go,” Solomon said, walking toward the open wooden door.

  “Where?” Celia asked.

  “Towering Oaks, first.”

  “Why there?”

  Solomon realized that she wasn’t following him. He stopped and turned to her, fighting back his annoyance.

  “Why not there? Where else?”

  “Whispering Pines. My House.”

  He was hesitant to say it, but she needed to face certain realities right now. Later, when they were done rescuing their friends in Dunfield, they could deal
with the situation here.

  “It’s not your House,” he said gently. “At least, not in the way you mean. You’re not the Head. And your arrival is going to cause a great deal of confusion and uproar. Right now, we should go to Towering Oaks and get the help we need.”

  “You go to Towering Oaks,” Celia spat. “I’m going home.”

  “Celia, we don’t have time for—”

  “Shut up! I’m sick of listening to you! I was doing fine in Dunfield before you showed up! I would have fixed it, but everything sped up when you arrived! Just like it always does!”

  Solomon reared back like she had slapped him.

  That was unfair. He only went there seeking her, to try to right a wrong and because he loved her.

  At least … he did love her at one time. Now, looking at the furious, bitter woman before him, he wasn’t sure what he felt.

  “Blame me if you wish,” he said. “I can accept that. But right now, I’m going to get help for our friends. Are you coming, or do you want to stand here and have a childish temper-tantrum?”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them and wished he could pull them back. It was much too late for that, however.

  Celia’s face hardened, her eyes flashing.

  “No.” Her voice was quiet and perfectly controlled. “No, I won’t stand here having a ‘temper-tantrum’. You go where you want to. I’m going home, to get help from my own House.”

  “That’s fine.” Solomon started for the door. “Through this door, down the tunnel and out through the cave. Without the Guardian here, there shouldn’t be any tricks. From there…well, I’m sure you can find your way home.”

  Without another word, he turned and left her there. Those first steps were some of the hardest he ever took, and his legs felt like two inanimate lumps that he had to force to move. He didn’t look back, even though he was dying to.

  He could. He could not only look back, he could go back. Apologize to her for whatever it was he did, for Florian, for her being taken, for his inability to fix what was wrong in Dunfield. For all of it.

  Only, he didn’t do any of that stuff. And at this point, his apology would fall on deaf ears. Celia was completely through with him, at least for now. Maybe later they would be friends again, but their time together was gone.

  He was right about one thing, though. There were no tricks in the tunnel leading outside. The torches on the walls were unlit, but light filtered through from the open stone door leading to the outer cave.

  There, he found a note, written on a piece of parchment and held down by a stone.

  Solomon picked it up.

  Solomon,

  You’ll find this when you return, and I hope you come back home in good shape and with what you left to find.

  I’ve gone to join my people, far from here. They are in need and I must answer that.

  I wish you the best and hope to see you again.

  Guardian

  PS. I took the sword with me. It’s too dangerous for anyone, even you, to keep.

  Well, that was unfortunate. Not so much Justice. Solomon might have been able to use it to kill the hunters more easily but doubted it would do much to uncover the true evil behind them. But the Guardian probably kept other items which could have helped.

  There was nothing to do about that now. He’d go back to Towering Oaks, tell Shireen that she needed to continue as Head for a short while longer, and figure out the best move forward. Even getting back to Dunfield might require the help of the water spirit and Solomon had no idea how to convince her. For that, he needed better minds.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  If nothing else, it felt wonderful to be back among the trees again. After the gloom of Dunfield, the air felt amazingly fresh. The sun shone between the branches, and he felt like it had been years since he last truly saw it.

  As good as the Greenweald made him feel though, he couldn’t escape what he’d left behind: Friedrich either taken by the hunters, or dead. Greta, Christoph and the other kids, Doc Mia and Old Sam, left to fend for themselves. And now the hunters breaking into homes.

  And Celia. Honestly, at the moment, she felt like the least of his problems. Whatever was eating at her would fade, or they’d find a way to deal with it. Later. Right now, there were people’s lives at stake. That was much more important than her hurt feelings.

  He quickened his pace, determined to get back to Towering Oaks and get the help they needed.

  When he got there, he knew immediately that something was wrong. There were sentries posted, but they were spaced too far apart, as if there weren’t enough of them to go around.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked as he neared the opening in the short fence surrounding the compound.

  “Solomon! Thank the gods you’ve returned!”

  It was always Solomon. Lord Solomon sounded odd to him, and he was from no noble family. He’d encouraged the use of his given name as long as he could remember.

  “Not for long. There are people I left behind that need help. Where’s Shireen?”

  “Oh.” The sentry dropped his eyes. “She’s not here. She disappeared a few days ago…”

  “Disappeared? Where? No, never mind that, you obviously don’t know. Who’s in charge then?”

  “Lord Orlando. Although, there’s becoming less and less to be in charge of. You’ve come back just in time. Things are not good here.”

  Solomon studied the compound. While never as flamboyant as Whispering Pines, or grandiose as Glittering Birch, there were orderly gardens and paths that those responsible for took great pride in. Now, the neatly trimmed beds were starting to overgrow the paths. Weeds poked up among flowers. The signs of neglect were becoming evident.

  And there, two men, in dirty, disheveled uniforms, skulked along, their eyes shifting from side to side, like they were on guard against an unseen enemy, or worse, looking for an opportunity.

  Solomon recognized that look. It was all over Dunfield.

  “Not here, too,” he whispered. He took off toward the main tree, leaving the sentry behind.

  Now that he was aware of it, the signs of whatever evil was in Dunfield being here also were plentiful. Towering Oaks was slipping fast.

  He burst into the main tree and sprinted to Jediah’s office. He could still never think of it as anything but. Once there, he flung open the door to the outer office, finding a thin, nervous-seeming man. Solomon recognized him.

  “Samuel, right? I don’t have time for pleasantries, but I’m glad to see you’re here. Orlando? Is he in there?”

  “Yes, but—”

  Solomon didn’t stay to listen. He rushed into the inner office.

  Orlando sat at the desk, his back to the door, staring out the window over the compound.

  “Orlando …” Solomon said, then trailed off, unsure of where to begin.

  “I saw you coming,” his friend said. “I never realized that Jediah situated his office so that he could see the approach. No wonder he was so hard to surprise. Or maybe someone before him did it, who knows?”

  His voice was flat. The voice of someone who was merely going through the motions, unable to work up any sort of passion or enthusiasm.

  “Orlando,” Solomon began again. “Where’s Shireen? What happened?”

  “Shireen? Gone. I’m not sure where. She took off into the Greenweald, and I don’t know where. And you ask what happened?”

  Now he turned his chair around to face Solomon.

  Solomon was shocked. His friend, who was always thoughtful, yet cheerful, looked horrible. Dark circles surrounded his bloodshot eyes and he hadn’t shaved in days. And like those Solomon saw outside, his uniform was in disarray.

  “What happened?” Orlando repeated. “Jamshir happened. Again. I don’t know what he’s done, but this all started after Shireen went to Glittering Birch to confront him. She brought something back with her. Something that’s spreading and we don’t know how to stop it.”

  “
I’ve seen it,” Solomon replied. “In another world. I didn’t expect to find it here, too. Maybe we can … I don’t know. Heal it? Have you gotten in touch with Willow and the other healers?”

  “Willow was here. She doesn’t know either. She took care of that other guy, the one from the secret House, and then they left together. I watched them, you know. From right here. I could see them leaving together.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “No. I’m far from all right. The Greenweald is dying. Can’t you feel it?”

  “It’s not dead. Not yet, anyway. We can still stop this.”

  “Sure. Of course, you can.”

  “You don’t sound so sure.”

  “I think you can do anything,” Orlando replied. “I’ve seen you do amazing things. But this time? This time, I think maybe you came too late.”

  Solomon was opening his mouth to reply when the sound of a horn being blown by a sentry split the air. He looked past Orlando.

  There were five people coming through the gates. A severe-looking woman, who walked with an easy, arrogant confidence. Solomon didn’t know her, but there seemed to be something familiar about her.

  Then a man that he didn’t know, holding the hand of Willow. Solomon was never so glad to see anyone.

  Following them was another woman, supporting the fifth figure. Someone Solomon thought he would never see again.

  “Thaddeus,” he said.

  “Huh,” Orlando said. “Things keep getting worse.”

  Chapter 73

  Jocasta’s head was swimming the entire walk to Towering Oaks. After Thaddeus’s revelation, she quit arguing, or even talking.

  For the first time that she could remember, she wasn’t only at a loss for words, she was at a loss within herself.

  Her father was from Towering Oaks? That didn’t seem possible. Her mother never spoke about him, but she did constantly remind Jocasta that they were of House Whispering Pines, and from a noble family of that House as well. There was no greater House.

  In truth, it had become smothering. Whispering Pines good, all others bad. And now that she really thought about it, her mother had always expressed a special distaste for Towering Oaks. In all that time, it never occurred to Jocasta that it was because that’s where her father came from. She’d always assumed her father was from a lower station, maybe even a servant, that her mother had dallied with.