The Stewards of Reed, Volume 1: The Rise of Fallon (9 page)

Steward Isaiah did not immediately realize Fallon had stopped walking and had to turn around to find him. “What is the matter, son?” the Steward inquired.

“That barn…” Fallon said, but his voice trailed off.

“Aye?” the Steward asked, clearly puzzled. “And what about it?”

“I…I had a dream about it,” Fallon finally answered.

Steward Isaiah looked at the barn and then back to Fallon. “And what was the dream about?”

“You and I were standing in front of the barn,” Fallon began, still struggling to make sense of his dream, “…and then we were not.” His voice trailed off again.

Steward Isaiah frowned. He could tell the boy was troubled by his dream. “Did anything else happen?”

“I do not know,” answered Fallon. It was not quite a lie. He truly did not understand his dream and at the moment did not feel like trying to explain about the horsemen and the ring of fire.

Steward Isaiah decided not to press him any further and had forgotten about the incident by the time they made it back to the house.

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

That night the house was awakened by the incessant ringing of a bell tower in the distance and a heavy knocking on the door. It was Adam. “Steward, there has been a raid. Come quickly.”

The Steward beckoned for Fallon to join him. “There is no better training than a real crisis,” he explained. “You may come, but you must stay out of the way.”

Fallon nodded in understanding. There was no time to change out of their night clothes, so they both just grabbed their coats and fled to the horse that Adam had waiting for them. Another man on a horse was ready to lead the Steward to the site of the raid. “It is not far, follow me.”

In the distance, Fallon could see the start of a fire that was growing larger and larger by the minute. When they finally arrived, he could see that a structure was fully engulfed in flames. Villagers had gathered around and were talking excitedly. Others were busy grabbing buckets of water from a nearby well and trying desperately to put out the fire.

From speaking to his men, Steward Isaiah quickly gathered that the Komanites had raided one of their storage barns and set it afire before fleeing. It appeared to be an isolated attack – there had been no other reports of raids or fires – but the Steward sent men to guard each of the remaining storage barns just in case. Fortunately no one had been hurt and the villagers were starting to gain the upper hand with the fire.

Steward Isaiah was troubled. It was not just that the Komanites had raided yet again – he had known for some time that there was a possibility for an attack – it was the target. Where blackened timbers and ash now stood was once a little green and white barn, a green and white barn that had caught the attention of Fallon. The boy had
dreamed
about it.

There had been other “dreamers” in the history of the Stewards, but the gift of premonition was exceedingly rare, and Isaiah knew of no other Steward that found his gift so quickly. Isaiah himself had not fully grasped his gift of influencing the weather until he had been under Steward Benjamin’s tutelage for nearly three years; Fallon had only been with him for a few weeks.

Steward Isaiah and Fallon stayed until the fire had been put out and word had come back from various messengers confirming no other attacks or sightings of the Komanites. Isaiah did not say anything to Fallon on the ride home, but the following day’s lesson on sword-making was postponed so he could address the dream.

“Fallon, when did you dream about the green and white barn?” the Steward asked.

“Heptaday night, sir.”

Steward Isaiah knew that meant the dream occurred three full days before the attack. “Tell me more, son. Why did you dream about the barn?”

“I do not know,” Fallon replied with a shrug. After some thought he added, “I had just been reading about the history of farming and use of storage barns to protect against famines, so maybe it stuck with me.”

“Had you ever seen that particular barn before?” Steward Isaiah asked.

“No, sir,” Fallon answered, his eyes downcast.

“You do know that it was the green and white barn that burned last night.”

Fallon had suspected as much, but he did not know for certain until now. The structure was already fully engulfed in flames by the time they had arrived. Fallon did not say anything.

“Fallon, tell me more about your dream,” Steward Isaiah pressed.

“Sir, it did not make any sense. It is hard to explain.” Fallon shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Try.”

Fallon did his best to explain the various images of the balls of fire and the men in dark capes on horses and the ring of fire. It did not make sense to Fallon, but it made total sense to Isaiah. The men in dark capes were the Komanites. They were coming, and they were going to set things afire. Things like the green and white barn.

“Son, have you had any other dreams like this before?”

“No, sir,” Fallon answered emphatically.

“Well, the next time you have a strange dream, I need you to tell me about it as soon as possible. Do you understand?”

“Aye, sir,” Fallon replied. “But honestly, I do not want to have another dream like that.”

Steward Isaiah smiled and patted the boy’s shoulder. “A gift can certainly be a curse.”

The ride through the Colton Gap proved treacherous and Gentry was grateful that he had come to his senses and stayed put the night before. For one, the path was not continuous but rather stopped and started in spurts, dictated by the unusual geography of two mountain chains coming together. Gentry ended up walking most of the way with his horse, guiding Casper around large boulders and through narrow passageways with steep drop offs to lands so far below that massive trees appeared as tiny bushes.

There was also beauty mixed in with the treachery. Magnificent waterfalls fell through the surrounding mountainsides and Gentry supposed this was probably the origin of the River Nye. Fortunately the disjointed path steered clear of those waterfalls. It was challenging enough to avoid slipping with all the loose rocks and boulders everywhere.

Gentry was also grateful that the weather was cooperative. His father had been right – there was no good place to take shelter in the mountain pass. He dreaded the thought of being stuck there in a storm and counted his blessings that the sky was blue and the sun was shining. The journey was slow going, but Gentry and Casper had made it through to the other side of the pass before nightfall. They spent another night out in the elements and continued on to the Village of Dawson the next morning.

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

The Village of Dawson was a welcome sight for both Gentry and Casper. It was a small village, but the people were friendly and quickly directed Gentry to the local inn, the Taiga Nest Tavern, which was nestled on the western edge of an immense forest of white trees. After Gentry saw to it that Casper was well taken care of, he settled down for a quick bite to eat (and a nice pint of ale) at the tavern. There was quite a crowd despite it being mid-day, and Gentry found himself listening in on some of the conversations around him.

“Have they found Liam yet?” a waitress asked a patron at one of the small tables near Gentry.

“No,” the patron replied sadly.

“Such a shame,” the waitress said, shaking her head. “Those foolish boys never should have dared him, but he also should have known better. Gertrude must be beside herself right now.”

“Aye. After losing her husband last year, the last thing she needed was to lose a child – especially to the forest.”

“How many days has it been now?”

“Three. And as I understand it, he only brought enough food for one night, so….” The patron’s voice trailed off.

Gentry was intrigued (and alarmed) by the conversation. He could not help but interrupt. “I am sorry, but did I hear you say a boy is missing?”

“Aye,” replied the patron. “Liam has been gone for three days now. He was dared by friends to spend a night in the forest and he has not been seen since. He is but eleven years old.”

The boy is of similar age to Luca,
Gentry thought. “That is awful,” he replied. “And the search party has not had any luck finding him?”

The patron gave Gentry a puzzled look and seemed at a loss for how to respond. “Uh, no. I mean…there is no search party. Most people around here steer clear of the forest. Too many have gone in and never come back.”

Gentry was incredulous. “But this is a logging village, no?”

The patron shook his head. “The only timber logged around these parts comes from the mountains – not the forest – and the loggers only fell enough trees to meet local demand, no more. Most of us are fisherman. The trout are plentiful in the mountain lakes and streams around Dawson.”

Gentry frowned. “But can you not just tie a rope to a tree or leave some other trail to help guide you back out?” He was still hung up on the fact that no search party was willing to go into the forest to look for Liam.
How could they just leave a little boy to die?

The patron looked grim. “Aye, that has been tried before. Somehow the rope comes untied or breaks and the trail disappears. The forest…it plays tricks on you.” With that the patron raised his pint glass to Gentry and turned away, tiring of the conversation with the stranger who clearly did not understand the Taiga Forest.

Gentry thought back to his father’s tale of hunting for the white deer in that very same forest before he was born. “Some people make it out. There is still hope,” he said quietly.

The bartender heard him and started to pour a new pint, which Gentry gladly accepted. “Aye,” the bartender said, “some people do make it out. But the odds are not good. Maybe one in three return. Those that do make it out do not speak of it much, but one thing is for certain – they never step foot into that forest again.”

Gentry took leave of the tavern and headed out into town to stock up on more supplies for his journey. He spent most of the day studying the maps that he had marked up in Bartow. A late supper in the tavern, a few more pints, and Gentry was off to bed for the evening. The bed was not the most comfortable of things, but it was the best night’s sleep Gentry had had in quite some time.

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

There was much fanfare in the Village of Dawson when Gentry awoke the next morning and headed down to the tavern for breakfast. Apparently the lost boy, Liam, had been found wandering near a stream on the southern edge of the forest just before daybreak. Reports were that he was hungry, cold and quite disoriented, and that he kept mumbling about fairy lights, rainbows in the water and white deer dancing. The townspeople were joking that perhaps he ate one too many mushrooms in the forest, or somehow stumbled across some moonshine. The news delighted Gentry and he considered it a good omen for the remaining part of his journey.

Gentry had been speaking with the bartender about his plans to travel to Norman. “You should take the North Road around the forest,” the bartender recommended. “The South Road may be washed out in parts by the River Seville. It frequently floods its banks in the spring and early summer with all the snowmelt coming down from the mountains.”

It took him three days to reach Norman. Gentry and Casper never saw another soul on the North Road and the trip was relatively uneventful, albeit cold. They had camped out on the edge of the forest, as close to the road as possible, when it became too dark to travel. Each night, as he was about to nod off to sleep, Gentry thought he saw some flickering lights deep in the forest. They seemed inviting and fun, and it was as if they were beckoning for him to come closer. Had his canteen been filled with ale instead of water, he might have ventured into the forest to see what those lights were all about. “Must be those fairy lights that Liam saw,” he chuckled to himself before falling asleep.

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

In the weeks after Edwin set eyes on his first Easterner, he encountered several more. They were eating his sheep – every last bit of the animal – and destroying his land with their makeshift campsites. Enough was enough. Tonight he was fighting back.

When Edwin and a handful of his neighbors came upon the latest campsite, they were surprised to find so many people. There must have been at least thirty Easterners – men, women and children – wandering about. Edwin’s entourage was only a party of five. But they had horses and they had torches, and they had bows and arrows if it came to that, so Edwin was not too worried.

“We have told you and all the Easterners before you to vacate our land. You are not welcome here. Go home.”

The Easterners barely acknowledged the presence of Edwin and continued mulling about the campsite in their listless way.

“Perhaps fire is a better motivator than words,” Edwin offered, nodding to his companions. They slowly made their way towards the campsite with the torches in hand, intending to set the tents afire. But the Easterners formed a line to block their path, and for the first time Edwin noticed that the famished people also had weapons – long swords and spears that the horses dared not pass.

Edwin retreated that night. But the next night he brought along twenty more men, all of whom were armed. And so the first of many skirmishes with the Easterners began, and as word spread, the rest of the Western Territories held their breath, uncertain of what would happen next.

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

As he made his way closer to the Village of Norman, Gentry noticed the Taiga Forest, which thus far had been predominately comprised of white-trunked birch trees, was now starting to become more and more dominated by tall evergreen trees. He also started to see some trails, presumably made by loggers, entering the forest.

Norman was about the same size as the Village of Dawson. It was nothing more than a small square of various establishments at the village center with houses scattered all around. The villagers seemed nice enough but mostly kept to themselves. Unlike Dawson, the local pub at the Timberland Inn and Tavern was deserted, even though it was getting close to dinnertime. Gentry took advantage of the quiet and studied his maps some more.