“What were you doing?” the young commander asked him.
Zollin realized that they were alone on the tower. The other men had gone on without them, but the young commander had waited.
“I was helping a friend across the river,” Zollin said.
“No really, you looked like you were in pain.”
“I was helping a friend. She was caught between the city and the river. I levitated her across.”
“I’ve heard of you,” the commander said. “I’m Corlis, Commander of the King’s Heavy Horse and third son of Duke Shupor.”
“Zollin Quinnson,” he said, holding out his hand.
The commander took it and smiled.
“Zollin Quinnson, not the Wizard of Yelsia?” he said, emphasizing the title.
“No, I’m a wizard from Yelsia, but I don’t serve an official position here.”
“You’re an interesting person, Zollin Quinnson.”
“Thank you,” Zollin said, not certain if the young commander meant what he said as a compliment or an insult.
“Shall we?” Corlis said.
“Sure,” Zollin agreed, walking first through the trap door.
Zollin wasn’t sure if the young commander liked him or distrusted him. They descended back into the King’s chambers. He was pacing in front of the dark fireplace. The room was warm even without a fire, and lamps had been lit and placed around the room. Commander Hausey was giving the King his report. The healers were ready and well equipped for whatever they might face. His troops stood ready to assist the healers and help move the wounded to the infirmary when they were needed.
Once he finished giving his report, the other generals started talking, and Hausey moved over to where Zollin was standing next to Commander Corlis. Hausey reached into his belt and removed the message.
“This came for you today,” he whispered.
Zollin took the note. It wasn’t sealed, and there was no name on the outside. He unfolded the paper and took in the contents in just a few seconds. He felt the blood drain from his face and his hands began to shake from fear and rage.
“Are you well?” Corlis asked.
Zollin didn’t answer; he just handed the note back to Commander Hausey and ran from the room.
“Where is he going?” King Felix asked.
“I think he may be going to check on his friend,” Commander Hausey said, his eyes still on the note.
“Well, go with him, Commanders. See that he gets back here quickly.”
“Yes, my King,” they said in unison and then Corlis and Hausey ran from the room.
Zollin was already halfway down the stairs. His heart was pounding. He simply couldn’t believe what he had read. At first he thought it was a prank: the handwriting wasn’t Kelvich’s, but the signature at the end certainly was. Mansel had killed Kelvich. Zollin couldn’t fathom why, and his mind simply refused to believe it, but he would get answers. Mansel had been evasive and distant. Zollin had chalked it up to shame over not being able to help Quinn. Zollin’s father had been like a father to Mansel, too, taking him as an apprentice and then allowing the big warrior to travel with them when they left Tranaugh Shire. Quinn had taught Mansel to use a sword, and it made sense that Mansel would be grieved by Quinn’s capture. But Kelvich had seen something else. Zollin had let his own grief blind him, and his need to find Brianna had kept him from listening to his mentor. And if the note was right, Kelvich was dead. Zollin couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact.
His magic was churning, and he didn’t notice the snapping, blue energy that was running up and down his arms as he ran from the castle.
“Open the gate!” he shouted.
The guards had strict orders, but the sight of Zollin, his power rippling over him, was all the motivation they needed. They lifted the heavy beam from the side door and opened it for him. He rushed out. They were just locking the door again when Commanders Hausey and Corlis came rushing after Zollin and called for them to open the door again.
Zollin crossed the wide street that ran around the castle walls and made his way to the inn where Mansel had said he’d wait. He was almost to the inn’s door when the innkeeper stepped out.
“Good God!” the man shouted. “Don’t hurt me.”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Zollin said, realizing for the first time that his magic was getting away from him. He reined in the snapping energy, clamping down hard on his magic.
“I’m Zollin Quinnson—” he started to say.
“I know who you are. You’re the wizard. I guess you got the message,” the innkeeper said, thinking that Quinn had managed to get word to his son.
Zollin thought the man was referring to the message about Kelvich’s death.
“What do you know of it? Did you send it?” he said angrily.
“No, not me. The man’s in the stable.”
“What’s going on, Zollin?” Hausey said.
“Mansel’s in the stable,” he answered.
“No,” said the innkeeper, “not Mansel. He’s in his room. The other man was in the stable.”
“What other man?” Zollin asked.
“The one who said he was your father.”
Zollin felt the icy tendrils of fear wrap around his heart. He sprinted for the stables.
“What is going on?” Corlis shouted.
Zollin burst into the stable and saw Quinn lying in the hay, Mansel’s dagger still protruding from his back.
Chapter 32
The dragon was soaring again. The wizard, now its master, had left it in the dirt all night and day. The humiliation had been crushing, and the beast was full of rage. The wizard had marched away with his army in the night and then traveled on to the big city near the river. The dragon had seen the city when it flew south. It was made of stone and wood, the buildings sprawling all over each other. It was full of men and beasts, and now the master wanted the dragon to fly to the city and burn the walls.
The beast could feel the wizard inside its head. It had forgotten how much it hated that feeling, every thought exposed, and the realization that it was no longer a free creature. The dragon had no idea how the wizard had learned its name. The dragon had been careless. The woman it had used to warn the villages must have spoken the dragon’s name. Now it was carved in the wizard’s crown and the dragon was a slave again.
When it had awakened from its hibernation, the dragon had thought only of more gold. Now, the dragon thought of the girl, too, but she was more than just a human, she was dragonkind. The dragon didn’t know how that was possible, but as the wizard’s commands pressed on its will, the beast dreamed of being back in the mountains with the girl. She had been the dragon’s only companion, after centuries alone. She was a fiery spark of hope. If the dragon could escape the wizard’s bondage, it would return for her.
The summer night was cool, and the feeling of wind in the dragon’s wings made it feel powerful. It approached the city from a great height. The walls were easy to see, as were the soldiers on top of the wall. They were the same soldiers it had attacked by the river. Their armor was repulsive, and the dragon would not try to feed on the soldiers: the taste reminded the beast of the wizard who had come into the mountains to kill it. In the dragon’s own lair the wizard had sent small shards of razor sharp metal flying into its mouth. The pain had been intense, but the dragonkind girl had healed that, too.
It dove, pulling its wings close to its scaly body. The wind roared against the dragon’s eyes, causing the beast to squint, but that only helped it focus on a single target. It flared its wings at the last possible moment. The air caught in the leathery wings and stretched the dragon’s breast muscles almost to the ripping point. Two hard flaps and the dragon’s fight had stabilized enough for the beast to roar before spewing fire across the southern wall of the city.
* * *
Offendorl watched with glee as the dragon breathed fire and death onto Orrock’s city walls. The dragon was massive and at first almost invisible. It
was like a shadow above the bright city, but then the dragon’s own fiery breath illuminated the scene. Offendorl could see the gleaming scales, the long, curved talons, and even the horned ridges on the beast’s head.
“Send the message,” Offendorl told the kings.
King Belphan seemed offended, but King Zorlan was now a true believer in the Torr’s power. Using the dragon was the perfect loophole, Offendorl thought. He could let the dragon do the carnage and still claim not to have taken part in the battle.
King Belphan disliked that Offendorl used a golden crown to control the dragon. The King’s jealousy was perfectly understandable to the wizard. Offendorl hadn’t planned things this way, but with the dragon he felt invincible. He would force King Felix to turn Zollin over to the Torr and then there would be nothing to stop their total domination. King Belphan recognized that the crown represented Offendorl’s superiority over even the kings of the Five Kingdoms. His rule would be more direct from this point. The die was cast and there was no stopping it.
“King Felix must concede to our terms,” Belphan said. “This has to be about more than the wizard, Offendorl.”
“The boy is just the first step, Belphan, how often must I explain this?” Offendorl said cruelly.
“King Belphan, if you please, Master Wizard. I am the sovereign ruler of Osla. The problem with your plan is that it does not address our concerns.”
“Without Zollin, the Yelsians are doomed. They cannot venture out of their city, and the threat of the dragon will keep them in line with whatever demands you place on them.”
“We have your word you will support our demands?” King Belphan said.
“Yes, of course, just send the messenger.”
The dragon had made three fiery passes and now Offendorl was calling the beast back. He fully expected King Felix to reject his offer. Perhaps he did not have Zollin after all. Offendorl could no longer feel the young wizard. Somehow the boy had learned to shut himself off from other magic users. But if King Felix didn’t have the boy yet, he would move mountains to get him. That was all that mattered.
* * *
Zollin ran to Quinn. His father was still alive, but just barely. The knife had come down just below the heart, but it had punctured Quinn’s left lung, and the bleeding was on the verge of causing heart failure.
“He’s alive!” Zollin shouted.
Then his mind dove into his father. He rerouted the blood that was filling his father’s lungs. Slowly he drew out the knife and began healing as much of the damage as he could.
“The dragon!” came a terrified shout.
Even inside the stable they could hear the beast roaring. It shook the ground like thunder and then followed the screams of panic. The horse reared in the stall, kicking against the wooden door.
“What the devil is it now!” cried Hausey as he and Corlis ran outside.
Zollin stayed focused on his father, but it was only seconds before Hausey was back at his side.
“It’s the dragon, Zollin. The beast is here. Come quick!”
“I can’t, my father could die.”
“It’s breathing fire on the walls,” Commander Corlis shouted. “Get the men off those walls!”
“This is why the King sent for you, Zollin,” Hausey said. “I’ll see to your father, but you have to stop the beast.”
“I just have to get him stable,” said Zollin.
“It’s coming round again!” Corlis shouted. “It’s hitting the north wall this time.”
Zollin was having trouble concentrating. He knew he was doing only a mediocre job on his father, but it would be enough to buy him some time.
“Zollin!” Hausey shouted. “We can’t wait any longer.”
“Move him into the castle!” Zollin shouted. He had pulled the knife completely out and sealed up the wound, but Quinn’s lungs were still in bad shape and he was bleeding from gashes in his hand, face, and shoulder, too.
“He’s stable for the moment, but I want someone with him all the time.”
“I’ll see to it personally,” Hausey said. “You have to stop the dragon.”
“It’s heading for the east wall,” shouted Corlis.
“I need someone to stop Mansel. I want him alive.”
“I can do that,” said Corlis. “What’s he look like?”
“He’s a big warrior with shaggy hair,” Hausey said.
“The innkeeper should be able to point you to him,” Zollin said. “But be careful. He’s skilled in combat.”
“As am I,” Corlis said with a smile. “I won’t let you down.”
Corlis rushed off as Zollin tore down a stall door to use as a stretcher for his father. He levitated his father onto the board and then levitated it up and out of the stable. Hausey had to run to the castle to get men. They came rushing to Zollin and took hold of the corners of the door his father was laying on.
“Get him inside and safe, Hausey.”
“You have my word,” said the commander.
Zollin rushed back into the castle and levitated himself to the top of the watchtower. The guards there were terrified, but Zollin explained who he was.
“The dragon’s veered off,” said one of the lookouts.
Zollin let his magic flow out. It was as if he had unlocked a dam. The magic rushed out forcefully, and Zollin could feel the beast circling high over head.
“All right, it’s going to take me a while, but tell the King I’m working on the dragon problem.”
“Yes, sir,” said one of the lookouts, before running down through the trap door with the news.
There were already clouds high in the sky, blocking some of the starlight. There wasn’t enough that rain would be an issue, but Zollin didn’t care. He didn’t need rain, he needed electricity. He sent his magic into the clouds and began to focus on the tiny particles of water in the clouds. He pushed them with his magic and swirled them. It was like waving his hand through smoke, but he knew almost immediately that his plan was working.
The tiny water particles were made up of two different forms of gas that were stuck together to form the water. Each of those gas particles had an electrical charge. It was like rubbing his hair and then touching a metal spoon. As a kid he had loved to build up static electricity and give Todrek a shock by touching him. Now the cloud was charging up, and the amount of movement within the cloud’s trillions of particles was creating an electrical power that was stronger than Zollin could produce using magic. He knew that when the dragon came again, he could, if his theory was correct, at least drive the beast away. The dragon may have iron-like scales that most steel could not penetrate, and it might be impervious to fire, but lightning was a different matter.
“What the blazes are you doing?” King Felix said angrily.
“I’m brewing up a storm for the dragon,” Zollin said, trying to maintain his concentration.
“Where were you? I knew something like this was going to happen. Do you know how many people were killed because you shirked your duty?”
Zollin spun on the King then and stared at him angrily.
“This is not my fault,” he shouted. “Don’t blame me. I didn’t send the dragon. If you were afraid of this, why did you station men on those walls? I was seeing to my father, who was almost killed. Don’t you dare speak to me as if I’m your slave. I am here now. That is all that matters.”
“And what will you do if the dragon comes back?”
“I’m going to hit it with lightning,” Zollin said. “If you’ll leave me in peace long enough to prepare it.”
“Sire, there’s a messenger coming from the enemy,” came a voice from down below. “He’s coming to the city gates.”
“Are you sure you can deal with the dragon?” King Felix said to Zollin.
“Absolutely,” Zollin said, sounding more confident than he felt.
“Generals, with me,” King Felix said.
Zollin went back to stirring his storm cloud.
* * *
&
nbsp; It took less than half an hour for the messenger to return. Offendorl was on top of his wagon, while King Belphan and King Zorlan waited anxiously below.
“Well?” King Belphan said when the messenger bowed before him.
“King Felix’s response to your demand for the boy wizard was, ‘Hell no.’”
“Good,” Offendorl said. “We can have some more fun.”
“Shall we send in troops?” Zorlan asked.
“No need for that,” Offendorl replied. “We’ll just continue to soften them up. By dawn they’ll be begging to surrender.”
He levitated the heavy, gold crown onto his head and felt the instant connection with the dragon. The beast was high in the night sky, circling just as Offendorl had instructed him to do. He sent the mental order to strike again, this time directly at the castle. Offendorl wanted King Felix to feel the heat personally.
He watched with the eagerness of a school boy waiting to see a shooting star. His hands were clasped in front of him, and his body was leaning forward. The dragon dropped, diving like a falcon toward its prey. Then suddenly, a bolt of white-hot lightning erupted from the night sky. It was there and gone in an instant, but Offendorl felt the shock of fear from the dragon. Then the thunder boomed. It wasn’t a rolling wall of sound, but a sharp crack, followed by a massive slap that shook the ground.
The dragon veered away from the city, but another bolt of lightning surged out toward it. Once again the beast felt fear, but this time the lightning was close enough that it shocked the dragon, burning its tail. Offendorl felt fear, then pain, then panic, as a thunderclap once more shook the ground.
The dragon disappeared into the night, and Offendorl was forced to remove the helmet to break the link he had with the beast’s mind, which was so crazed with fear it was scrambling the wizard’s own thoughts.
“What is happening?” cried Belphan.
“Zollin,” Offendorl said angrily. “The boy knows how to defeat a dragon.”
“What do we do now?” Zorlan said.
“Now we do what I should have done all along,” Offendorl said. “I’ll go after the boy myself.”
The Five Kingdoms: Book 04 - Crying Havoc Page 32