The Lone Rider

Chapter 4

Kell rubbed his eyes groggily.

Exhaustion had taken over his body and mind but he hadn't slept in a long time. He told himself that was the reason he was slow in his fight with the old man. In top form he would have bested him, not easily, but it would still be a win to put over his extensive list of losses. As tired as he felt, he already itched for a second round, but even he knew when enough was enough.

"...that was the last time I saw Da...Kell," Faundell told Adaline and Waylon. They listened with anticipation to the old man's stories. Most of it was bullshit. Lies. Lies mixed with some truth, yes, but still far from what really happened. This was how the old man operated. Manipulation though extensive lying. Getting what he wanted by telling you what you wanted to her, by distracting you with fanciful stories of heroism and valor. Making you like him. Making you trust him. Making you need him. Then he took what he needed, threw you away when he was done, and called on you again when something else came up. And he always came back running saying to himself, this time will be different...

Kell glanced at the old man across the table, caught his eyes, then looked away. He stared into the crackling fire instead. "Isn't it about time you told us why we're here?" he asked. The other two finally looked his way, as if they had forgotten all about him already.

Four empty wooden bowls lay bare on the table they sat around inside of Faundell's cabin. Kell's broken finger had a splint and the old man's bleeding head was wrapped tightly with an old bandage. The broken window had been hastily boarded up and the glass shards swept outside. This place was strange and he didn't like how warm it was. Paying attention to the smallest details was important when dealing with the old man. He knew he wasn't going to be told the whole story and picking up on the details hidden around him may extract the information he needed.

What is this place really? he thought.

Adaline nodded at Kell's question. "Yes," she agreed, "why are we here? Our original destination was Rouche, but Kell made us come here. He said it was important... that you knew what was going on. That you would help us."

"I never said that," Kell muttered.

"What?" said Adaline.

"I never said he would help us. Just that he was involved somehow."

"That's right," Waylon added, attempting to feel useful. "How is it that you're involved with this whole mess? How much do you know?"

Faundell chuckled, crossed his arms, then nodded his head. "I know you have many questions. That there is a lot of anxiety in your bones. Uncertainty swelling your guts. So let me tell you first that no explanation I can give will help soothe your minds. I could lie of course, tell you that I have a plan, that everything is going to be okay... But that wouldn't help, would it?"

He looked the three of them in the eyes. One at a time.

"So I'll tell you straight. By the Breath of Creation, I will tell you what I know and what I intend to do. But first, I have questions of my own. Questions that, when answered honestly, will better help me understand you, and give me insight of my own."

He paused there and continued to stare at his guests. Adaline and Wayne waited with bated breath. Kell sniffed.

"Cut the bullshit, old man," Kell yawned. "Just tell us already and let us be done with your drama."

Adaline looked back at him quizzically with a face that seemed ignorant to everything but with a passion to learn it all. Waylon glanced at him half annoyed and half stupid. Kell looked back at the fire.