“Now,” he told Quinn.
His father signaled to Commander Corlis, who had been waiting with the entire force of Orrock’s Heavy Horse. Whereas the cavalry in Felson were considered light horse, meaning their horses were smaller and built for long-distance riding, the Heavy Horse squad consisted of half a legion of fully armored riders. Their mounts were large warhorses, slower than the light cavalry but bred for war: they would kick and trample anyone who got in their way. The horses’ massive weight made them difficult to bring down in a melee, and when they were moving at a full gallop, nothing could stop their charge.
Quinn waved his arms, and Commander Corlis lowered his visor and raised his own arm. The cavalry filed out of the ruined gate and formed a long line between the city and the opposing army. The riders were completely hidden by Zollin’s dust cloud. Commander Corlis gave another command, and the horses started at a trot, quickly accelerated to a canter, and then reached a rumbling gallop. They covered the ground between the city wall and the opposing army in less than a minute. Zollin’s dust cloud had moved out in front of the cavalry, enveloping the opposing army, and he could sense that the invaders’ panic had devolved into chaos. The enemy soldiers were turning on one another.
“Havoc!” cried Commander Corlis to his troops, ordering them to fight as wildly as possible.
The horses smashed into the unprepared soldiers. Their officers had heard the thunder of hooves, but in the cloud of dirt they couldn’t control their own troops. The cavalry soldiers used long lances, dealing death en masse to the foot soldiers across the plain.
The thunder of hooves diminished as the horses slowed in the throng of soldiers, to be replaced by the cries of the wounded. Men screaming in agony was a sound that Zollin knew he would never forget. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and his bowels felt watery. He was glad that he was high on the city wall, rather than trapped between the panicking soldiers and the massive horses. Once their lances snapped, the soldiers drew long swords. The heavy blades were finely honed and cut indiscriminately through armor, flesh, and bone.
Five hundred men faced well over four thousand, but the Heavy Horse soldiers were practically unstoppable, and Zollin’s dust storm terrified the invaders. More men were killed by their brothers in arms, either due to sheer panic or mistaken identity, than by the Yelsian cavalry.
* * *
“What is that?” King Zorlan asked his generals, who were gathered with him behind the massive army that was forming in ranks ranging along the plain before Orrock’s main gate.
The dust cloud was just beginning to form, and a sense of unease was settling over the army. They watched as the cloud thickened and moved toward them. Some men broke and ran, only to be cut down by others. Desertion was not tolerated in any army.
“I do not know, my King,” said the Falxis general. “But it is coming this way.”
“We need to fall back,” said King Zorlan.
“But, Sire, we were told to attack.”
“Send the army. Send them all forward. I don’t want that cloud to reach me.”
“All ranks move forward!” the general shouted, but the order was only half-heartedly repeated down the line. The rows and rows of soldiers didn’t move.
“I said, send them forward!” King Zorlan said in a high-pitched, frightened voice.
The general beside him grew angry. He turned and threw a punch at his King, who fell from his horse.
“You send them forward!” the general screamed at him.
Then the gathered generals heard the sounds of the army as it began to panic. The dust cloud had reached them, and the men were breaking and running. Some were using their weapons on their own countrymen. It was a total disaster.
When the cavalry broke through the cloud, the army offered no resistance. Even after the cloud dissipated and Zollin stopped casting his spell of dread and fear, the invaders were terrified. They ran screaming in all directions.
The noise woke Offendorl. His eunuch had just returned with the heavy golden crown. It had been in the wizard’s massive wagon that Zollin had destroyed. The soft metal had been dented and bent out of shape on one side by the blast, but it still fit on Offendorl’s head.
“What is happening?” the wizard asked.
The eunuch had no way to communicate what was happening, but Offendorl didn’t expect a reply. He sat up, and the pain in his stomach made him dizzy. He knew he needed more time to rest and heal himself, but from the sounds of things, he didn’t have any time left.
“Put it on my head,” he ordered.
The servant raised the helmet and settled it over the wizard’s wispy, gray hair. Offendorl felt a shock of power that once again wrenched his physical body, but he held himself together. The dragon was not as far away as Offendorl had feared. Obviously the beast wasn’t able to venture far from its master now.
“Come to me,” he ordered the beast.
He left the golden helmet on his head only long enough to make sure the dragon was obeying, then he ordered his servant to lift it off him.
“Get my horse ready. We can’t stay here,” he said.
The servant hurried out of the tent, and Offendorl sagged back onto the bed. Fear was taking root in the old wizard’s mind. He was losing this war, he recognized now. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to restore enough of his physical strength to match Zollin in direct combat again. He knew he certainly couldn’t anytime soon. He needed to get away from the boy. He needed to get back to where he was strong. Somehow he needed to get back to his tower in Osla, before Zollin could find him and kill him. Every second that passed now was agony. He was terrified that he would be discovered at any moment. The fear of death pressed in on his mind, and Offendorl fled.
* * *
Horns sounded, and the invading army began to retreat. Zollin could see the men fleeing in all directions. Just then King Felix came hurrying up beside him and took in the state of the battle in seconds.
“It’s working,” he said. “I never would have believed it.”
“Never underestimate fear in a battle,” Quinn said.
“You can dissipate the dust cloud,” Felix said. “We need to communicate with our cavalry and tell them to herd the enemy toward the river.”
It took less than two hours to push the invaders back to the Tillamook River. Most dropped their weapons and swam to safety on the other side. King Felix sent a delegation to sue for peace. He graciously offered to escort the armies back to Winsome, if they promised to board their ships and sail for home. Over three thousand men had been killed or wounded in the battle.
Zollin was riding out with Quinn and Mansel, looking for a sign on the battlefield of the wizard he’d fought, when the dragon appeared again. It swung low, but far away from the castle.
“There’s the dragon!” Mansel shouted.
Zollin was riding one of the large horses from the King’s stables. He kicked the horse into a frantic gallop, but he wasn’t fast enough. The dragon wrapped its long tail around someone and took to the air. Zollin knew who it was. Offendorl had called the beast. Zollin could only watch in frustration as the beast flew south.
“What was that?” Quinn said.
“I think it was the wizard,” Zollin said.
“The dragon got him?”
“No, he’s found a way to control the dragon,” Zollin said. “He’s using it to escape.”
They rode on and found the tongueless eunuch who had seen to Offendorl’s needs. He was standing alone. The dragon had eaten the wizard’s horse and terrified the servant before taking Offendorl to safety. The Master of the Torr had left his faithful servant to die.
“What do we do with him?” Mansel asked.
“Leave him,” Quinn said. “He’s just a servant.”
“No, he might have useful information,” Zollin said.
He dismounted and approached the man. Offendorl’s servants were broken, pitiful creatures. They served because they feared their ma
ster, and now the man was distraught.
“It’s okay,” Zollin said. “I’m not going to hurt you. In fact, I can help.”
The eunuch shook his head vigorously.
“Please,” Zollin said soothingly. “Did you serve the Master of the Torr?”
The man looked like a dog who had been repeatedly beaten by a harsh kennel owner. His eyes were large and terrified. He opened his mouth and bellowed a wordless shriek.
“Oh, please, put him out of his misery,” Mansel said.
“No! No one is going to hurt him,” Zollin said. “Come with me. I’ll look after you.”
The man looked relieved, but still skeptical. Zollin mounted his horse and pulled the servant up behind him.
“So what now?” Mansel asked.
“Now we go back to the castle to see if King Felix has any useful information. And then we ride south. This won’t be over until the Torr either gives up on me or is destroyed.”
“We have to try and save Prince Wilam, too,” Mansel said.
“Yes, and perhaps we can learn what happened to Brianna.”
Back in the city, the people were celebrating. There were huge bonfires where animals were being roasted and barrels of wine, ale, and cider were being tapped. There was music and dancing in the streets. It reminded Zollin of the harvest festival in Tranaugh Shire, only on a much larger scale.
Zollin rode back to the castle with Quinn and Mansel. All were quiet, each lost in his own thoughts. Quinn was thinking of Miriam. Zollin had shared with his father how he had lifted her across the river the night before, but Quinn was worried that she might not have gotten far enough from the city before the fighting started, or that some of the soldiers who fled across the river might find her. Mansel was filled with guilt. He had murdered an innocent man, and although Quinn and Zollin seemed ready to forgive him, he was having trouble forgiving himself. He wanted revenge on the witch in Lodenhime, but he also wanted to return to Nycoll’s cottage on the coast of Felxis. He understood now why she stayed in the forlorn home all alone. There was something peaceful about the cottage and the solitude. He longed to lose himself there and perhaps someday come to terms with his guilt. Zollin was eager to travel south. He wanted desperately to catch up with the dragon and perhaps learn the fate of his beloved. Brianna was never far from his thoughts, and sometimes it took all his will power not to give into the crushing grief and fear that he would never see her again.
At the castle, the officers of the King’s Army were feasting in the great hall. King Felix was on his throne with a great banquet table spread before him. Zollin was amazed at how quickly the kitchen staff had prepared food. The battle had only been over perhaps two hours, and yet there were cakes, roast fowl, and mountains of vegetables, bread, and cheese. A huge roasted pig sat carved on one end of the banquet table, and two huge venison hams were on the other. Wine and ale flowed from giant barrels that the servants had tapped and were constantly using to refill pitchers for the tables.
Zollin stood for a moment, gazing at the festivities. He noticed that Commander Hausey wasn’t present, nor was Commander Corlis. But the King, his generals, and many of the leading families in Orrock were present. Zollin turned and led the way up to his quarters, followed by Mansel, Quinn, and the eunuch. Inside their rooms Zollin poured a goblet of wine for everyone, even the eunuch.
“Well, to victory I suppose?” Zollin said, holding up his cup.
“To peace,” said Quinn, and they drank.
The eunuch didn’t raise his own cup. He looked frightened and unsure of himself.
“Have a drink, friend. You are safe now. The wizards from the Torr cannot hurt you here.”
The eunuch still looked unsure, but he sipped a little of the wine.
“I can’t believe how fast it ended,” said Mansel.
“Once they lost their advantage in numbers, they had no choice but to retreat,” Quinn said. “We’re fortunate Zollin bested their wizard.”
“Fortunate, indeed,” Zollin said. “I got lucky.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Mansel said.
“I’m not, but you should have felt the power radiating from him. He was old, but he was strong. I don’t think things will be that easy a second time.”
“So why not leave it be?” asked Quinn. “No one says you have to go after him.”
“I can’t just pretend he doesn’t want me. If I do that, how long will it be until disaster visits the people we care about again? I have to go. I have to end this, one way or the other.”
“Well,” Quinn said sadly. “I understand. When we left Tranaugh Shire, things were changing so fast I didn’t know what to think. But I can see that you’re a man now. I couldn’t be more proud of you. But I’m though adventuring. I’m going to Felson, to find Miriam and hopefully settle down.”
“I think that’s great, dad,” said Zollin. “You deserve to be happy.”
“Well, I won’t be truly happy until you are.”
Zollin smiled sadly. He couldn’t imagine ever being happy again. Then Mansel spoke up.
“I want to go with you, Zollin. I have unfinished business in Lodenhime, and I owe it to you to help,” he said sadly. “And then, when all this is over, if I’m still alive, I’m going back to Falxis. I met someone there that I care deeply about. I promised her I would return, and I mean to keep that promise.”
“You don’t owe us anything. I’m as much to blame for Kelvich’s death as you are,” Zollin said. “He warned me that something was wrong with you. If I had just listened he might still be alive.”
“You are both being too hard on yourselves,” Quinn said. “The thing to remember is that Kelvich lived a good life, and we were a part of making it a good life. He was a grown man, who lived longer than most men can dream of, and he was one of the wisest people I’ve ever met. You don’t have to act like his passing isn’t a tragedy, but you mustn’t take on the blame. Remember him for the man he was, not the unfortunate way he died.”
Zollin and Mansel pondered this for a moment. And then Zollin turned to eunuch. The timid servant was sitting in one of the thickly padded chairs and sipping his wine, obviously grateful to be alive.
“And now it’s time to finish this,” said Zollin to the eunuch. “And you, my friend, are going to help me.”
* * *
The next morning, as the four men were preparing to leave, King Felix arrived and asked to see them. He was bleary-eyed, but alert. It was early morning, and most of the city was still sleeping off the excesses of the night before. Their celebrations had lasted long into the night, but Quinn and Mansel had stayed busy preparing their supplies for the journey ahead while Zollin questioned the eunuch. It was difficult to communicate, since the servant had no tongue to speak with and could not read or write. They had to use hand signals, but the eunuch was able to tell Zollin how many servants there were at the Torr and how many other magic users. It wasn’t the most valuable intelligence, but it was better than nothing. The man, whom Zollin had named Eustace, was willing to travel with them and help them in their quest to defeat the Master of the Torr.
King Felix found them in the stables. He was hurrying to catch up with them before they left.
“Where are you going?” he asked. “We missed you at the feast last night.”
“I’m sure you did,” Zollin replied. “But we didn’t feel like celebrating. Orrock is safe for the moment, but the Master of Torr escaped. It’s only a matter of time before he comes after me again.”
“And we shall defeat him again if he does,” said King Felix. “There is no need to run and hide.”
Zollin spun on his heel, and Mansel drew his sword.
“Boys!” Quinn said loudly. “Don’t do anything rash. Mansel, put that sword away.”
“We aren’t running away,” Zollin said. “We’re going to finish what we started.”
“What do you mean?” King Felix asked.
“I mean we’re going to stop the Torr from ever com
ing after me again.”
“What about my son?” the King said. “Where is he?”
“He’s alive and well, Sire,” Quinn said. “But he’s under the spell of a witch in Lodenhime.”
“And you three are going to free him?”
“Not me,” said Quinn. “I’m retiring.”
“We will go to Lodenhime after we deal with the Master of the Torr.”
“But what if something happens to Prince Wilam?”
“You have an entire army,” Zollin said. “Send someone else to rescue the Prince.”
“You are refusing me?” the King said angrily. “After all I’ve done for you? I gave you rooms in my castle. Everything in this kingdom is yours if you need it.”
“I know you think of everything in this kingdom as your own personal possession,” Zollin said angrily, “including the people who live here. But we are not your slaves. I have not forgotten the drugs you put in my food or your intentions to hand me over to the Torr.”
“You volunteered to go,” said King Felix.
“Are you mad? I offered to go and you counseled against it. If you thought I was truly willing to go, why did you drug me?”
“I only did that at the urging of my generals. They thought you might change your mind.”
“You are a liar,” Zollin spat. “You do not deserve to wear that crown. You are no different than Simmeron.”
“You overstep your bounds, wizard!” King Felix said angrily.
“And you yours. We are leaving,” Zollin said as he climbed onto his horse. “Step aside.”
“If you leave, you shall never be welcome in this city again.”
“Goodbye, Your Highness,” Zollin said sarcastically.
They rode out of the stable and out of the castle courtyard.
“Well, that was awkward,” Mansel said.
“He’s a pompous fool,” Zollin said.
They rode through the city, and their horses’ hooves clipping and clopping on the cobblestones was the only sound. At the city gate, which was now guarded by an entire century of soldiers, they passed out of the city and reined up their horses.
“So what’s your plan?” Quinn asked.
The Five Kingdoms: Book 04 - Crying Havoc Page 37