The Stewards of Reed, Volume 1: The Rise of Fallon (16 page)

The fairy was stunned for a moment, but quickly gathered herself and did what any self-respecting fairy would do – she bit deeply into Lady Dinah’s hand and then buzzed off.

“Ouch!” cried Lady Dinah, and she quickly lifted her wand. But it was too late, the fairy had disappeared. The other fairy, still trapped in her bubble, was laughing so hard that Lady Dinah thought she spied a few tears coming from the little gnat’s eyes. With a flick of her wand, the bubble raced up and down and all around before slamming into a nearby tree. Lady Dinah chuckled a bit at the sight of the dizzy fairy that was no longer laughing, but in truth she was worried. She had no idea if the fairy she had just released even cared about trying to save her friend. There was a good chance she would not even go to Lord Quaid, and Lady Dinah would be stuck going in circles in the forest for several more days or even weeks.

Ordinarily Lady Dinah would have tried to make some headway into the forest before the confusion spell took hold, but she felt compelled to stay at the campsite and wait for the other fairy to return. Several hours had passed and Lady Dinah was just beginning to lose hope when she heard a deep buzzing sound in the distance. The buzzing sound came closer and closer and before long, Lady Dinah and her horse were completely surrounded by a swirl of fairies. As if in a tornado, Lady Dinah and her horse were lifted up and carried deeper into the forest. Before she could panic, the fairies set her down on the ground again, this time in front of gigantic fortress of wood and stone.

As the fairies parted, Lady Dinah observed Lord Quaid stepping out from the front door of the fortress. “So good to see you again, Lady Dinah, or I suppose it is Queen Dinah now? To what do I owe this pleasure?” It had been a while since he had seen her, but it was easy to tell that Lady Dinah was not amused, and Lord Quaid quickly dispensed with the questions and invited her in for tea.

*************

Summer quietly turned to fall and a glorious sunshine finally poked through the marine layer that had been coating the region in wispy strands of fog more often than not during the past few months. The days were still cool as the sunlight was not as strong, but the clear blue skies were a welcome sight and the mood in the village was noticeably upbeat.

Steward Isaiah was in a particularly good mood one day when he mentioned to Fallon that later that week they would be heading to the Cadian Forest with Gentry to work on some outdoor skills and botany lessons. Fallon was particularly excited as this would be his first trip out of the village. He spent the next few nights busily reading anything he could find on the Cadian Forest and the nearby Town of Graves.

They were standing outside Steward Isaiah’s house making final preparations to leave when they caught sight of a horseman galloping fast towards them. It was Adam. “Steward, I have received word from your son, Samuel,” he said, catching his breath. “It seems little Calvin is gravely ill. Elder Catherine is on her way to see him now.”

Calvin was Steward Isaiah’s youngest grandchild. He was quite a mischievous five-year-old, but his bright red hair reminded Isaiah of Nora and he had always had a special place in his heart for the boy.

“We can go to the Cadian Forest some other time,” offered Gentry. “You should be with your grandson.”

Fallon nodded in agreement with Gentry’s words, but although he was concerned for Calvin, he was also disappointed that he would not be going on his first journey out of the village after all.

The Steward pondered the situation for a moment. There was no question that he would go to his grandson, but he did not want to delay the trip to the Cadian Forest either. There was much for Fallon to learn. An idea occurred to the Steward and before he could think better of it he started to speak. “Gentry, would you mind taking young Fallon to the forest by yourself?”

“It would be my pleasure, Steward,” Gentry said, though the surprise in his voice was clear.

Steward Isaiah retrieved a botany book from his bag. “Be on the lookout for these plants,” he said, pointing out a sketch to Fallon. “I had wanted to collect some leaves from the bionna plant for a future potion lesson. We shall need at least seven leaves.”

“Aye, sir. I shall look for it,” said Fallon, taking possession of the book.

“I shall expect you back in a week’s time.”

Steward Isaiah guided his horse over to Fallon before jumping onto Adam’s horse and galloping off towards his son’s house.

“Now that it seems you are without a horse, shall we give you a lift back to the Council Chambers?” asked Gentry.

“No, that is all right. Walking is good for one’s soul – especially in times like these.” Adam waved good-bye and started walking back down the way he came.

*************

Lord Quaid’s home was beautiful, with high ceilings and grand stone fireplaces in almost every room. There were also windows everywhere, allowing the outside forest to be as much a part of the visual experience as the interior decor. Although partial to her castle of white, Lady Dinah had to admit it was charming. She had never been inside before. She had only seen the outside briefly as they made their escape to Reed, when the Second War took a turn for the worse all those years ago.

Lady Dinah looked curiously at the aging man who brought her some tea. “Thank you,” she said, but the man only nodded in response before shuffling off. She turned her attention to Lord Quaid, who was sitting on the other side of the fireplace, nursing his own tea. “You have quite powerful spells at work in this forest,” she said.

Lord Quaid chuckled. “Aye, but we must be careful, no?”

“I suppose, though your fairies are quite nasty little creatures. One even had the audacity to bite me,” replied the wizard.

“Aye, they are a bit temperamental,” he mused. “But they are the primary guardians of my prize white deer, so I find that trait to be quite useful.”

“Hmph.” Lady Dinah made her annoyance clear.

Lord Quaid said nothing.

“You are probably wondering why I am here,” she said at last.

“You are welcome here anytime,” he wisely responded, keeping his curiosity in check.

“I am searching for some of my mother’s old journals, from her library. Did any of her materials end up here before the Second War?”

“Aye. I did not take much but I do have some things.”

Lord Quaid was visibly relieved, and Lady Dinah found this to be incredibly odd, but then again, so much was odd about Lord Quaid and the place he called home.

“If you follow me, I shall be happy to show you to the library,” he said eagerly, standing up.

“Perhaps tomorrow,” sighed Lady Dinah. “I am afraid I have a bit of a headache at the moment, and would rather be shown to my bed chambers.”

“I understand, my Queen. I shall have Geoffrey show you to your room.” With that, Lord Quaid rang a bell and the aging man who had brought Lady Dinah her tea reappeared.

“Lady Dinah shall be staying with us for a little while. Please see to her every need,” Lord Quaid commanded.

*************

The ride to Graves was uneventful and somewhat boring for Gentry, who had made this trip many times before. But Fallon was giddy with excitement. Sleeping under the stars by a campfire the first night was a particular treat for the boy. Fallon was not at all tired and kept Gentry up with an endless sea of questions.

“Gentry?”

“Aye?”

“Have you ever been to Graves before?”

“Aye.”

“What is it like?”

“You shall find out soon enough.”

“Have you ever been to Jessum?” Fallon was now thinking of the wayward visitor that had once stumbled upon his classroom.

“Aye.”

“I shall like to go there someday. It must be quite exciting with all the gold and silver everywhere.”

“Hmph. Mining towns are not all about riches, Fallon. They tend to be full of thieves and other foul sorts of people.”

The boy was silent for some time and Gentry grew hopeful that Fallon had finally fallen asleep.

“Gentry?”

“Aye?” he responded, clearly annoyed.

“Thank you for coming even though Steward Isaiah could not.”

There was a pause, followed by a much softer, “You are welcome.”

Fallon finally closed his eyes.

Late the following day they crossed the River Nye over the Sutter Bridge and headed into the Town of Graves. Fallon was amazed at the size of the town and could not believe how many buildings and people there were all around him.

“If you think this is big, wait until you visit Bartow,” said Gentry, amused at Fallon’s wonderment.

They stayed the night at the aptly named Lumberjack Inn and then headed into the Cadian Forest the following day. Gentry sought out a good campsite that was close to a stream. He showed Fallon how to pitch a tent and start a fire. Fallon was not exactly successful at the latter but it was not for lack of trying. Gentry also showed Fallon how to hoist a bag full of all their foodstuffs over a tree limb with a rope in order to keep it safe. He did not know for certain if bears lived in this forest, but he did not want to take any chances.

After their campsite was constructed, Fallon spent a bit of time practicing his archery skills, with mixed results. It was Gentry who first spotted the wild boar only a few yards away, noisily sniffing at the ground. As quietly as possible, he pointed out the beast to Fallon and encouraged him to take a shot. As Fallon shifted his position for a better line of sight, his foot snapped a twig and the boar looked up, startled. The boar caught sight of them and immediately took off running in the opposite direction.

“Shoot him!” cried Gentry.

Before he could even think about what he was doing, Fallon let an arrow fly. It followed the boar through some brush and they lost sight of it, but a squeal from the boar was heard shortly thereafter.

“I think you hit it, Fallon!” exclaimed Gentry as he rushed off to find the boar.

Fallon stood in his place, shocked that he might have actually hit something with his arrow, something that was moving, no less. He watched as Gentry made his way through the same brush that the boar and arrow had entered only moments earlier. He heard Gentry mumble something and then shortly thereafter he heard a scream. Fallon took off running towards the brush.

The mumbling had been Gentry’s disappointment that the arrow had not hit the boar after all. He had gone to retrieve the arrow from the thick of the brush when he was struck. He watched as the black and green snake with a mouth as dark as coal hissed at him and then slithered away. Almost immediately his heart started racing and he felt faint, so he sat down against a nearby tree.

Fallon arrived only a few moments later. He could see that Gentry was sweating and breathing rapidly.

“Snake bite.” Those were the only words that Gentry had the strength to speak. He was already getting dizzy and nauseated.

Without thinking Fallon took off his shirt and tied it around Gentry’s arm above the bite mark. “Try not to move. I shall find something to help you.”

Fallon’s mind was racing. He needed to act fast. Had he seen the snake, or if Gentry had been in a position to tell him, Fallon would have known that Gentry had been bitten by the most venomous snake in the region, the deadly black boca. Victims rarely last more than a few hours after being bitten. The venom attacks the brain and the victim has an increasingly difficult time breathing. Without breath there is no life; there was no time to delay.

The sight of Gentry was enough to let Fallon know the situation was serious, even if he did not know that the black boca was the culprit. He knew that certain plant species had special anti-venom properties and he cursed himself for not reading more of Steward Isaiah’s botany book before arriving at the forest; he was not quite certain which plants to look for. Fallon was about to run back to the campsite to find the book when he spotted the wild boar in the distance, stumbling along on a bum leg. Without exactly knowing how he knew, Fallon was certain that the boar had been bitten by the same snake that bit Gentry; and without exactly knowing why, he grabbed an empty bag that Gentry had been carrying and began to follow the creature.

For what seemed like forever, Fallon followed the boar down dirt paths, through bushes and trees, and across shallow streams and over fallen logs. The boar’s walk was clumsy, and he frequently tripped over his own feet, yet still he pushed forward with every ounce of survival instinct he had. This continued on for quite some time.

There was a moment during the chase when Fallon became overwhelmed with a strange feeling – a sense of dread. He stopped for a moment, looking about him. In the distance he saw the faint outline of a little cabin, mostly obscured by trees. He was inexplicably drawn to the cabin – to the desperation, the fear, the agony – emanating from within. But the boar did not go towards the cabin, and Fallon could see he was getting further away. He glanced once more at the cabin and then turned to follow the beast.

Eventually the boar came to the edge of another stream and started to dig near some tall weeds garnished with a dark purple flower. Fallon moved closer and saw that the roots of those weeds were bright red. The boar began eating the roots as fast as he could and paid no attention to Fallon when the boy walked up beside him.

Following suit, Fallon grabbed a small stick nearby and began digging in the purple-flowered weeds until another set of red roots was exposed. He carefully pulled the roots out of the ground and put them into Gentry’s bag, along with the dark purple petals of the flower. Fortunately Fallon was blessed with a good sense of direction and he was able to make his way back to Gentry without getting too lost.

Gentry looked absolutely awful. His color was gone and he was breathing even more rapidly than before. He barely had the strength to look at Fallon.

“I must go back to the campsite for a moment,” Fallon said, trying hard not to show how scared he was. “I shall be right back.”

The embers from the campfire were still hot and it did not take long for Fallon to bring flames back to life. Using a knife he found in one of Gentry’s other bags (Dennison’s knife, actually) he chopped up the root. He threw half of the pieces into the tea kettle along with the dark purple petals; the other half he tried to mush into a paste as best as he could using a stick and a little water from his canteen. It had been more than an hour since the snake had bitten Gentry. Fallon raced back to him with his canteen now full of tea and a stick coated in paste. He knew he must act quickly.