Darth John snow's Arc

Chapter 7 of 10

The stone waypoint stood quiet under a gray sky. Darth John Snow rode up at dawn and found the bell rope swaying in the wind. No horses at the hitching post. No boots in the dust. The shelves inside held bread and rope and salve, all untouched. A horn wrapped in vines sat by the door, left there by someone who had come and gone without an answer. He picked up the horn. The leather strap was damp. Someone had blown it hard, then set it down and walked away. A call had gone out. No rider had come. He stepped inside the lodge and stood at the map table. He marked the spot where the horn had sounded. Two riders were south. He was here. The third point on the map had no one. The girl had warned him this would happen. He had hoped it would not happen this week. He could not be in two places. He could not split himself. But he could leave a sign that the call had been heard, even late. He carried the worn canvas dummy from the practice yard out to the waypoint and set it by the post in dark cloth, an iron knot pinned at its chest. Not a rider. A promise that a rider was coming. Then he mounted and rode toward the silent call himself. The waypoint would sit empty behind him. The bell would ring for the next traveler, and the next rider through would see the marked dummy and know the trail was already taken. He reached the village by dusk. The bandits were gone, the barn was burning, and a man met him at the road and asked why no one had come sooner. Darth John Snow had no answer. He helped carry water until the fire was out. He rode home in the dark knowing the order had failed its first unanswered bell, and that one more rider would not be enough for the next one.