As the two wizards battled, the magic became more focused, and the struggle more intense. Zollin’s fear made his magic churn hotter and hotter inside him. He was slowly being pushed backward and he was frantically trying to think of something he could do next, when Brianna filled his mind again. It was as if the world dimmed and her beautiful countenance appeared. She was smiling at him and he felt his heart lift. The thoughts of death and the loss of all he cared about disappeared. Part of his mind screamed that he should be even more concerned, but looking at Brianna he simply couldn’t be afraid. Then Zollin’s father appeared; they weren’t really there, he knew, but he could see them in his memory. And perhaps most importantly, he felt their love. He let that hope and love stir his magic and discovered that where fear churned his magic into a hot maelstrom, hope and love whipped it into a frenzy which neither hurt to wield or bled away his physical strength.
His mind flashed back to his discovery of the depth of his magical power. He was near the river in Brighton’s Gate. The ice had broken and Quinn had fallen into the water. He had tried to save his father when fear uncapped the hidden reservoir of power deep inside him. That power had allowed him to levitate his father out of the river and do more than he had ever imagined. Yet, that same power was like a wild beast that Zollin had to fight to control. Ever since that time his most powerful moments had been fueled by fear. When he had fought the huge, beastly dragon in the north;when he had fought Branock to save Brianna; when he had battled Offendorl outside the city walls in Orrock—every time he had let fear fuel his magical power. Now he experienced something new.
At first their magical duel was invisible, but soon Zollin’s magic began to pop and crackle, as blue energy raced up and down his body and out into the space between the two wizards where their magic clashed. Zollin felt his power growing, not diminishing. It was a wonderful and strange sensation. The more he thought of the people he loved, the more his power seemed to grow.
“You can’t win,” he said to Offendorl. “Give up and I will let you live.”
Offendorl cackled. “I’m already dead!”
The elder wizard pushed harder and Zollin batted the wave of magic aside. He stood up straight and Offendorl’s face clouded with doubt. Offendorl frowned and thrust his hands out—long, flaming, serpentine bodies shot out, speeding toward Zollin. The young wizard raised his own hands and the flames were pulled into them, disappearing as neatly as a candle snuffed between two fingers.
“You can’t match me unless you bring your entire strength to bare,” Zollin said calmly. “But you can’t do that can you? Not and maintain your hold over the army you built.”
Offendorl then snarled and hurled yellow jets of magical energy at Zollin, who deflected each one. Over and over Offendorl attacked, each tactic a little stronger than the last. The floor cracked, dust fell from the ceiling, but the two wizards seemed not to notice. The elder wizard sent a wave of magical energy at Zollin but the younger man sent it hurling back toward its master. Zollin was tired, but he remained focused on the love and hope that fuelled his confidence and his magic.
“I’ll kill you if its the last thing I do!” shouted Offendorl, but Zollin knew it was really Gwendolyn who was screaming in fury. Great chunks of stone fell from the cavern roof; Zollin, already levitating himself off the floor several inches, floated quickly out of the way, but the stone broke through the floor of the cavern and fell tumbling down in the molten rock far below. Zollin glanced down as a large section of the floor cracked and then crumbled.
Offendorl fell too, but he rose up at the last minute, his ragged clothing now smoking and his eyes wild with hatred. The ancient wizard rushed through the air toward Zollin and grabbed onto Zollin’s legs.
“We’ll die together then, wizard,” spat the Master of the Torr.
Zollin didn’t resist. He could feel the heat all around him as they sank down, it seemed to scorch his throat with every breath. He thought he could fight Offendorl off, but he wasn’t sure how long he could continue the fight without exhausting himself. So he relaxed and surrounded his body with a bubble of magic. He wasn’t sure if his magic was strong enough to hold back the overwhelming heat of the molten rock, but he focused his mind only on the magic, pushing the doubts out of his mind.
“Any last words, wizard?” Offendorl said with a cackle, even as his clothes burst into flames that blistered his skin.
He was still laughing maniacally as his feet disappeared into the lava. Zollin closed his eyes, not wanting to see the wizard’s skin turning black and bubbling, nor the look of agony on the old man’s face. Soon though the orange light was intense as Zollin was submerged in the lava. He fed all his power into the magical shield, keeping Brianna at the front of his mind. The heat grew despite his best effort, and then suddenly, he felt himself free of Offendorl’s power. The elder wizard was gone, even the magic which had lingered after the old man’s death, trying desperately to carry out his wicked last wish, dissipated and Zollin rose up out of the lava again. He floated to the edge of a small corridor and set himself down on it.
He relaxed the strain his magic had put on him. He was lightheaded and he pulled the water skin from his pack. The water was more than lukewarm, it was almost hot, but it was wet. He swished it around and around in his mouth and then spit it out. Then he dropped the empty pack and the empty canteen. He had one last task, then he could rest. Then it would all be over, he promised himself.
Chapter 34
The king’s army was surging backward, toward Green Glenn, but they had let Mansel and Quinn pass through. Brianna and Sorva still fought a rear action guard, but the king’s army encountered the first of the mutated soldiers who had gone round the fire attacks on the pass and were now coming down out of the hills. There weren’t many of the grotesque fighters, since they moved even more slowly than usual over the rough terrain of the mountains, but enough had broken through so it was clear Brianna and Sorva couldn’t hold the massive enemy back forever.
Quinn had one arm draped over Mansel’s broad shoulders and was being half carried by the tireless warrior. They passed wagons filled with supplies, but Mansel was searching for Nycoll. They finally found the wagon filled with medical supplies just before dawn, but Nycoll wasn’t there.
“Where is Nycoll,” Mansel asked one of the healers who was getting an armload of supplies from the wagon.”
“They’ve set up a field hospital in the valley,” he said. “She’s there, helping the wounded.”
Mansel and Quinn hurried into the valley as the sky turned gray above them. It would still be several hours before the sun rose high enough that it could actually shine down into the valley, and the thick clouds would block those rays at any rate, but it was become progressively easier to see. The soldiers were now busy moving the refugees further north along the western pass. As Quinn looked across the valley he realized even if they stayed ahead of the enemy army, hundreds would die on the march north. Winter was setting in with a vengeance in the mountain range. The snow would fall deep in the valleys and along the pass. Still, they couldn’t stay here where they would be slaughtered without mercy.
Mansel saw Nycoll and called out to her. She hurried to them.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
“No,” Quinn said. “I’m fine, really.”
“You’re bleeding!” Nycoll said, ignoring Quinn.
“It’s just a scratch,” Mansel said, wrapping his free arm around her. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”
“We had to hurry back here once the front lines collapsed,” she explained. “I was so worried about you.”
“Really, I’m fine,” Quinn said knowing Nycoll wasn't listening to a word he was saying.
"We could use some water,” Mansel said.
“And then we have to get moving,” Quinn added. “This valley will be overrun soon.”
Nycoll nodded, but there was a strange look in her eye. Quinn wondered if Mansel saw it.
“I’ll fe
tch water,” Nycoll said. “And some bread as well.”
She hurried off and Quinn sat down next to a supply wagon, leaning against the wheel. Mansel squatted next to him. They were silent for a moment, watching the chaos all around them. Finally Quinn spoke.
“She won’t go, you know,” he said.
“Yeah, I saw that look in her eye,” Mansel said. “She won’t leave the wounded here to die.”
“And the army can’t stay in this valley, there’s no strategic advantage here.”
“So what choice do we have?”
“I’ll stay,” Quinn said. “You convince her that I’ll protect the sick. Then you get the hell out of here and don’t look back.”
“No!” Mansel said more loudly than he needed to. “I’m not going to leave you here, Quinn.”
“You saved me back there,” he said, pointing into the pass. “You shouldn’t have, but you did. I couldn’t be more proud of you if you were my own son.”
“I wouldn’t leave you then and I won’t leave you now,” Mansel said. “If we go, you’re coming too.”
“I would just slow you down. You’ll need all your strength to keep Nycoll moving. These bastards don’t ever stop, that means you won’t be able to sleep. I know I can’t do it, so you should leave me here and go while you still can.”
“I won’t even listen to that kind of talk,” Mansel said. “Nycoll won’t leave so I’m staying. But we could get you on one of the wagons.”
“Don’t be absurd, they don’t need to waste space on an old man like me. Besides, I’ve got no one to go back to.”
“What about Miriam?”
“I wouldn’t be any good to her now,” Quinn said. “I can’t loose Zollin and you, then go back like nothing ever happened. This is as good a place as any to make a final stand. And today looks to be a good day to die.”
“Who said anything about dying,” Mansel said. “I still think we can beat these mindless bastards.”
“Perhaps you can,” Quinn said. “You are a great warrior. The poets will write songs about you.”
Nycoll hurried over with a bucket of water and two round loaves of bread. Quinn thought she looked tired, he didn’t suppose that meant anything at the moment. They were under attack and she had been up all night tending the wounded. Who wouldn’t look tired, he thought.
“You know we should try to leave,” Mansel said. “We can move as many of the wounded into the mountains as possible and make a stand there,” he explained. “We would have a better chance of surviving than we do here.”
“We can’t move them,” Nycoll said. “Most wouldn’t survive being moved at this point.”
“They won’t survive once the enemy gets here anyway,” Quinn said.
“We could surround them with wagons and make a stand,” Nycoll said.
“The army will be using the wagons to try and save the women and children,” Mansel said. “If we stay, sooner or later we’ll be overrun and killed. Do you understand that?”
“I…” Nycoll hesitated. “I do, I suppose. I just can’t leave them, Mansel.”
“And I can’t leave you,” he said tenderly.
She looked up into his eyes and for a moment nothing else existed but the two of them.
Quinn drank water and ate the bread Nycoll had given him. Then he went in search of a sword.
* * *
Brianna was tired. She had fought for so long now that she felt lightheaded. She could tell Sorva was tired too. She went to the black dragon’s side and put her hand on the beast’s scaly hide.
“It is time for you to go, my friend,” Brianna said.
Sorva blasted more fire toward the enemy horde who always seemed to appear out of the smoke. No matter how many they killed, more always came. The dragon shook its head.
“You must go high into the mountains and rest,” Brianna said. “I will join you as soon as I can.”
A mental image of Sorva and Brianna together flashed into her mind.
“You are brave and kind,” Brianna said. “But you have done your part in this war. There is nothing left for you to do but survive.”
Sorva turned its massive head and looked at Brianna, the bright red eye seemed full of concern and Brianna felt the sorrow from Sorva wash over her mind.
“No, don’t be sad. I don’t plan to go down without a fight.”
Sorva sent a mental image of Brianna escaping with Sorva, the two of them flying into the mountains. This time it was Brianna who shook her head.
“I can’t leave my friends,” she said sadly.
Sorva sent one last billowing blast of fire toward the mob of mindless fighters advancing down the pass. Then the dragon jumped into the air, flapping its wings and rising slowly higher and higher into the sky which grew brighter with each minute. Brianna smiled, sadly. She knew Selix would never have left her, but she was glad Sorva would live. Brianna didn’t know how much longer she could keep fighting, but if she could find Quinn and Mansel, she would gladly make her last stand with them.
She hurried back toward the valley. At a fast walk she could stay ahead of the witch’s soldiers. She couldn’t help but look back over her shoulder as she went. The mindless fighters seemed timid at first, expecting more fiery attacks, but soon they were moving faster. The soldiers who had been smart enough to go up the sides of the hills to avoid Brianna and Sorva were now coming back to the pass where it was easier to travel.
It took Brianna a while to reach the broad valley and the massive refugee camp. When she got there the sun was up, and a dull gray light filtered through the heavy clouds. The king’s soldiers were busy loading the wagons which had brought supplies to the army, with people. The refugees looked terrified and a few squads were busy fighting the enemy soldiers who had reached the valley.
Brianna looked for signs of Quinn or Mansel; she guessed they would be either fighting with the army or trying to find Nycoll. She was so engrossed in her search that she didn’t see the officer who approached her.
“Lady Brianna?” the soldier asked.
“Yes?”
“General Hausey asked me to fetch you,” he said, taking her arm lightly and leading her through the mobs of people hurrying around the valley. They followed the road that led from the well used mountain pass to the small village of Green Glenn which was nestled close to the mountains on the southern side of the valley. Brianna had a strange sensation as she looked up onto the thickly wooded mountainside. She expected to see the enemy come streaming from the trees at any moment.
“Where are we going?” Brianna asked.
“To the inn, my lady.”
“I have no wish to see King Wilam,” she said angrily, but the officer didn’t reply.
He led her past the ring of Royal Guards surrounding the inn. In the common room there were only soldiers. The villagers and refugees had all been moved out and Brianna guessed they were fleeing north at that very moment. She looked around, expecting to see Wilam propped in a chair or lying on a cot, but there were only soldiers. They all looked tired, and defeat hung around their necks like gold chains on a wealthy merchant.
“Lady Brianna,” Hausey said. “I’m so glad you could make it. Your assistance on the western pass was invaluable.”
“I did what I could,” Brianna said.
“You’ve given us a small window of opportunity and again you have my thanks. The army will continue to fight. We are evacuating the valley and moving as many of the refugees north as we can. Have you had any word from the dwarves or King Zorlan?”
“No,” Brianna said.
“I didn’t think you would have. It seems our best efforts weren’t enough to stop the enemy. I suspect they were all overrun just as we were.”
“Is that all, General,” Brianna said, not relishing the conversation.
“No, I’m afraid it isn’t,” Hausey said.
He wasn’t a rude man, but neither did he have much empathy. He stated the next words as if he were giving a report to a superior
officer.
“As you know, King Wilam was wounded in a duel,” he said gruffly. “It appears that the wounds overcame him.”
“What are you saying?” Brianna said.
“He spiked a fever and died in the night,” Hausey said. “His body was loaded onto a wagon, but I’m afraid we won’t be able to carry him back to Orrock for burial. The cold weather may help preserve the body, but the chances are slim that any of us shall survive long in the mountains.”
Brianna stood frozen, hearing Hausey’s report, but feeling completely numb. She was still angry at Wilam, and yet she still loved him. She didn’t love him the way she loved Zollin, but she held deep affection for him in her heart and it shocked her to learn that he had died. She had just seen him the day before, in fact her last words to him had been angry ones. She had stolen his crown and destroyed it, a crime which seemed petty now after seeing how hopeless the future appeared and knowing Wilam was dead. Tears streamed from her eyes.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said, her voice husky with emotion.
The soldiers had fallen silent while Hausey shared the news about the king, but now they went back to work, making plans for their retreat. Brianna was oblivious to everything around her. She was thinking back to her short time in Orrock when she had waited for King Felix to mobilize his army. She had wonderful memories of the time she spent with Wilam then, and her feelings of infatuation at being wooed by the Crown Prince of Yelsia came rushing back.
She turned and slowly left the inn, tears flooding from her eyes and her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs for the man she’d known. Things had not gone the way she had expected they would. She had thought when she left Tranaugh Shire that she was embarking on a life of adventure, but in the end all she got were the deaths of those she cared for most.
Outside, the Royal Guard ignored her. She walked slowly, feeling the cold seeping into her body which only made the horrible truth of Wilam’s needless death so much more real. She wandered out of the town and soon ran into a kind older man who was busy helping people load a wagon with children.
Five Kingdoms: Book 07 - Wizard Falling Page 25