“Miss, are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m fine,” Brianna said, wiping her eyes and taking notice of where she was for the first time since leaving the inn. “I’m looking for Quinn or Mansel, do you know them?”
“I’m sorry Miss,” the man said. “I don’t know them. Chances are they’re headed north if they’re able. You can come with us if you like.”
“No,” Brianna said. “Thank you for your kindness.”
She was about to walk away when an idea struck her.
“Is there a place where the wounded are being kept?” she asked.
The man pointed. “That way,” he said. “They’re being seen to by some of the healers, but they’re just out in the open, I’m afraid.”
“Thank you so much,” Brianna said.
She hurried forward, and before long she could see the wounded soldiers laid out in neat rows on the ground. It was terrible to think of the wounded lying out in the cold with only thin blankets between them and the muddy ground, but there wasn’t anywhere else to take them. As Brianna made her way through the crowds of people she finally saw Quinn and Mansel. Quinn was sitting, but Mansel stood, his massive sword on his shoulder.
“Mansel!” she called. “Quinn!”
They both turned, Quinn rising to his feet. Brianna hurried to them.
“Well now,” said Quinn, a broad smile crossing his face. “It does me good to see you.”
“Aye,” Mansel added. “Although you’ve looked better. What’s wrong?”
“King Wilam died,” Brianna said, forcing herself not to cry again.
“What?” Quinn said in surprise. “When?”
“Last night, his fever spiked they said.”
“Who told you that?” Mansel asked.
“General Hausey. He’s in the inn now, with his officers, planning their retreat.”
“Damn,” Mansel said.
“That’s a terrible loss,” Quinn added.
“When are you leaving?” Brianna asked.
“We aren’t,” Mansel said grimly.
“What? You can’t stay here,” Brianna said adamantly. “You’ll be killed.”
“Better to die fighting, than freeze to death in the mountains,” Mansel said.
“We haven’t much hope of surviving if we flee,” Quinn said. “Besides, Nycoll won’t leave the wounded behind.”
Brianna started to argue, but the look in Quinn’s eye told her it wasn’t worth her time. She sighed and leaned into the older man.
“So this is it?”
“Not for you,” Quinn said. “You call one of your dragons and help the people hereabouts get to safety.”
Brianna shook her head. “I sent Sorva away. The poor beast was exhausted. I haven’t heard anything from the other dragons. Chances are they didn’t survive.”
“All the more reason you should,” Quinn said. “You can make more dragons, can’t you. That’s reason enough for you to live.”
“Without you, or Mansel, or Zollin,” she said the wizard’s name so softly, Quinn barely heard it.
“Someone has to live,” Mansel said. “Someone has to help the people of Yelsia.”
“Well,” Brianna said firmly. “I won’t leave you three here. Not until I know you’re safe.”
“Brianna,” Mansel said.
“No,” Quinn interrupted the big warrior. “If she wants to stay let her. We’ve no right to tell her what to do. Besides, there’s no guarantees, not anymore. At least here she’s among people that love her.”
The next hour passed quickly. Nycoll stayed busy helping the wounded. Quinn, Mansel and Brianna stood together, watching the mountain pass. They discussed moving toward the pass and trying to hold back the mob of mindless fighters that would soon come spewing out like a swarm of bees, but in the end they decided to stay near the wounded and do their best to protect them.
General Hausey left a group of volunteers at the mouth of the pass and the soldiers formed a shield wall. The soldiers held their own, which was why it took the witch’s forces so long to reach the valley, but less than two hours after Brianna arrived, the enemy came flowing in over the slaughtered shield wall.
As if on cue more came down from the mountains and a huge crowd of the wretched fighters spread out through the valley. At first, the mindless soldiers merely marched north, staying on the broad road that ran through the western pass, but as more of the mutated fighters arrived in the valley, they began to spread out. Mansel dispatched the few that ambled toward the wounded where he and Quinn stood guard. Brianna rested until she was needed, which wasn’t long.
She lay down a ring of fire around the wounded, walking the perimeter to feed the blaze and keep the mutated fighters from trying to cross the barrier. They heard shouts and screams from across the valley as the witch’s horde swarmed in and spread across the wide space. The hovels and tents didn’t slow the mutated fighters, nor did the temptation to search for treasures among the abandoned camps. The mindless soldiers marched forward like a relentless wave.
Quinn had found a weapon among the wounded. He had a shield and a spear, although it was longer and heavier than he preferred. When the mutated fighters came in greater numbers he joined Mansel and they fought with ruthless efficiency. But even their best efforts soon became strained and although they fought bravely, it was apparent they would be overcome.
“Take your woman and flee,” Quinn shouted. “There’s nothing more you can do.”
Mansel didn’t answer. Nycoll, for her part, ignored the enemy fighters, and focused on tending to the wounded as if there wasn’t a battle raging all around them.
Quinn and Mansel were forced to fall back to where the wounded lay, being careful not to step on anyone as Brianna laid down a wall of fire to hold back the mindless soldiers. Brianna continued feeding the fire and Quinn and Mansel began running around the ring of fire fighting any of the enemy that crossed the smoking barrier. They were exhausted in short order, even Mansel, whose stamina was enhanced by the magic stone in his sword, seemed tired and discouraged. But they fought on and held out hope that perhaps they could survive, and then the sky opened and rain fell in thick sheets, drenching everything and making Brianna’s ring of fire nearly impossible to maintain. The rain was so heavy they couldn’t see and so Quinn, Mansel, and Brianna surrounded Nycoll in a tight little circle. They were prepared to die together, but what happened next shocked them all.
At first the rain masked the sound of the huge, pounding feet. Then they thought it was thunder, but after a few moments the ground shuddered.
“What is that?” Nycoll shouted.
“I don’t know,” Mansel shouted back.
“It’s more than thunder,” Brianna shouted.
“Is it dragons?” Quinn asked.
Brianna shook her head. “No.”
Then they saw them. It was a clan of giants. Brianna thought she recognized one of them. It was the giant creature she and Zollin had met in the Norther Highlands. She remembered his name was Rup.
The giants had clubs made from full sized trees they had pulled from the ground. Most of the branches had been snapped off, but the roots still stood out from the base of the tree; only now those roots drank the blood of the witch’s soldiers. The giants hurried past, their huge feet shaking the ground with each step, their massive clubs crushing dozens of the enemy with each sweeping blow. The giants surrounded the grid like pattern of wounded men, most of whom were dead now; those who lived shivered in the cold rain.
The giants stood their ground, beating back any of the enemy soldiers who came close. Quinn and the others laughed until they fell down in the mud exhausted. They didn’t know how long the giants would fight for them, but for at least a moment, they were able to relax.
Occasionally one of the mindless soldiers made it past the giants, but Mansel dispatched each one. The fighting went on for several hours. The rain stopped and the wind blew cold across the saturated ground. Brianna kindled a bon fire and Qu
inn helped Nycoll move the wounded who still lived closer to the fire’s warmth.
It was mid afternoon when the next surprise came. Mansel came shouting toward the fire. Quinn and Brianna were certain the giants were moving on, or some new threat was approaching. Instead Mansel seemed to be celebrating.
“What’s going on?” Quinn said.
“They’re leaving!” Mansel shouted. “Can you believe it? The mindless fools have suddenly come to their senses.”
“What do you mean?” Nycoll asked Mansel after he had picked her up, twirled her around, and kissed her fiercely.
“I mean they’re leaving,” he said. “They suddenly dropped their swords and started running back to the south.”
“You think the witch has called them back?” Quinn asked.
“No,” Mansel said, grinning widely and shaking his head. “I think Zollin is alive and he’s kicking her ass!”
Chapter 35
Zollin walked through a short corridor and into a round cavern with a high domed ceiling. In the center of the room was a large throne made entirely of bones, sitting on a dais of skulls. Around the edge of the room flowed a river of lava, with dancing jets of flame at various spots. Zollin stared at Gwendolyn who sat on the throne. He might not have know it was her; she was so emaciated that her bones stood out underneath the brittle, ancient skin. But across from her, standing with its back toward Zollin, was the fiery demon. The creature’s body was now almost entirely living flame.
Zollin had seen Brianna covered in fire, the flames dancing across her body and enhancing her every feature. It was both modest and alluring, and the flames seemed natural, despite the fact that she was on fire. The demon was exactly the opposite. The creature wore flames but it was as if the fire was feeding off the demon’s flesh. Through gaps in the flame Zollin saw peeling, blackened skin, bubbling under the searing heat, and it occurred to him that being in the world was costing the creature terribly.
“It’s over,” Zollin said. “You should go back to wherever you came from.”
Gwendolyn’s eyes flashed. “Nothing is over, wizard.”
“He speaks to me,” the demon said.
“I won’t let you use me the way you have Offendorl and Gwendolyn,” Zollin said.
“Shut you filthy mouth, wizard!” Gwendolyn screamed, her voice echoing in the round chamber. “This realm is mine and I am all powerful now. You shall die begging for mercy, but you will find no mercy here.”
“Gwendolyn, can’t you see that this magic is killing you,” Zollin said. “What has happened to you?”
“I’ve become all powerful,” she wailed. “I have embraced death and made it my servant. I will rule the Five Kingdoms. I will wipe away every trace of mankind and fill the land with creatures loyal to me. I shall envelope this world in darkness and open the portal to worlds in a hundred dimensions. Nothing shall stop me, wizard, least of all a boy like you.”
“I’m sorry,” Zollin said. “But your power is broken, or soon will be.”
“I will kill you, wizard,” Gwendolyn threatened.
“Perhaps,” Zollin said. “But I will sacrifice my life gladly to rid the world of your evil.”
“You cannot rid the world of evil,” said the demon, its deep voice booming suddenly in the chamber.
“Well maybe I’ll settle for ridding the world of you.”
“Enough talk,” Gwendolyn said. “I grow weary of you whiny voice, wizard.”
“So kill me,” Zollin said, “if you can. You don’t have power of your own Gwendolyn and I won’t let you have mine.”
“I have the power of dark magic, and beings you couldn’t imagine in your worst nightmares. I have the power of the underworld at my fingertips, wizard. This time you have underestimated my power and I shall squash you in darkness.”
Zollin felt the squeeze almost immediately. The shadows that lurked in the darkness of the cavern were alive. Zollin saw them moving, spinning and dancing over the heat of the lava. His defenses were firm, but the squeeze was real, pressing in on every side of him, like the powerful jaws of a dragon.
“It is you who underestimate the power of good,” Zollin said.
His magic was spinning and boiling. It was a familiar sensation, but different at the same time. In the heat of the witch’s lair, his magic felt cool and soothing. It gave him confidence and in turn he focused on the hope which churned his power, whipping it into a frenzy that grew stronger with each minute that passed.
“Your underworld may be real, but there is a reason it has long since been forgotten,” Zollin went on. “You cannot win, you can only seal your fate by giving in to the darkness.”
Gwendolyn seemed to shiver, her body trembling but not with fear or even hatred. She seemed cold, and Zollin saw the ancient looking flesh contracting into goosebumps that ran up and down her arms and across the skin below her throat, already so blue with spidery veins that it looked nearly frozen.
The pressure increased and the demon turned to Gwendolyn.
“You must defeat him,” it said.
“I will defeat him,” she cried shrilly. “I will crush his body and then his spirit. Then I will make his soul my slave for eternity.”
“You must hold nothing back,” the creature said angrily. “We cannot fail now.”
Zollin closed his eyes and thought of Brianna, imagining her bright smile and the light in her eyes. He knew instinctively that Gwendolyn had lost her hold on the thousands of people she had enslaved to her dark purpose. All he had to do was resist her long enough, he thought, and wait for his opening to attack.
“I will not fail,” Gwendolyn screamed.
“Do it now!” the demon growled.
“I am,” Gwendolyn cried, her voice trembling with fear and strain. “I am.”
When Zollin looked up he was shocked to see the blackness around the cavern moving closer to Gwendolyn. He realized what he was seeing wasn’t shadows, but dark magic. As it got close, Gwendolyn absorbed it into herself. She shuddered, her hands gripping the arms of the throne. The skin around her eyes darkened, and her lips pulled back from her blackened teeth in a snarl.
The pressure on Zollin grew stronger and stronger. Simply resisting wasn’t enough, sooner or later the darkness would overwhelm him. So he willed his magic to resist. It wasn’t a focused spell, he could hear Kevlich lecturing him in his mind: You have to be precise. You have to control the magic, know exactly what you want it to do.
Zollin willed his magic to destroy the dark magic. In his mind he could see his magic shining brightly, shattering the dark magic into tiny shadows that trembled and disappeared. What happened around him was something different.
Light began to radiate out of Zollin, colliding with the dark in an intense struggle, like two armies clashing in battle, first one pushing the other back, before the other rallied and made up the ground. The shadows flooded into Gwendolyn and she made a high pitched whining sound which caused the hair on the back of Zollin’s neck and on his forearms to stand on end.
The darkness condensed around him and he fed his magic out into the bubble of light. The strain on Zollin’s body became pronounced and he had to clench his teeth in his efforts; every muscle seemed to flex at once, sweat poured out of him, but he focused entirely on feeding his magic into the spell, seeing a mental picture of his light defeating the darkness.
“There is only one way,” the demon snarled at Gwendolyn.
“I can’t,” she screamed.
“You must!”
The demon stepped to the throne and snatched Gwendolyn up. For a moment there was respite from the intense pressure around Zollin and he thought for an instant he had won. But the demon embraced Gwendolyn, holding her while she screamed and writhed, the demon’s flames consuming her. There was no ash, no smoke, the demon’s flames seemed to feed off Gwendolyn’s frail body until there was nothing left.
Then the pressure returned. Zollin was squeezed so hard he had trouble breathing. His magical bubble w
as still intact, but the pressure was overwhelming. The demon began to laugh, a wicked, booming laugh that seemed cruel and manic at the same time.
Zollin’s magic churned frantically. Doubt and fear began to gnaw into Zollin’s mind. He had made a terrible mistake. This being from another world was too strong, to evil for anyone to overcome. He felt despair filling his mind.
The demon was coming closer and Zollin realized the evil creature meant to destroy him the same way it had Gwendolyn. He thought of Brianna, thought of all the things he loved. The beauty of the mountains, laughter, good food, his father’s affection. Then he thought of something else. He remembered the way Gwendolyn had summoned the demon. It hadn’t come from the underworld, like the stories he’d been told as a child. This demon came from somewhere else, another time and another world that Zollin didn’t know or understand. But he did know he wanted it gone. He wanted it to go back where it came from.
He took a quivering breath and stood up straight. The strain was intense, but he did it.
“Leave,” Zollin said.
“No,” said the demon.
“Go back to where you came from.”
“No,” it said again.
Zollin sent a levitating spell at the demon, but it only laughed.
“Your feeble magic will not work on me,” the creature said in a mocking tone. “I am immortal, from before time. Your pathetic magic is less to me than a puff of smoke.”
Zollin then turned his attention upward. The cavern had a domed roof, but it was stone just like everything else in the underworld. Zollin was in the depths of the great abyss, and he wasn’t sure what he was doing or why, but he needed to find the channel the demon had come through. He had to open it and send the demonic creature back where it came from.
His magic shot upward, pouring through the rock and rising higher and higher.
The demon stopped moving and stared at Zollin. It had no facial features, but it cocked it’s head to the side. It looked up, as if it could see Zollin’s magic flowing up through the solid rock overhead. Zollin felt his magic stretching. Distances had always been difficult, it was like holding a heavy weight away from his body, the farther it went the more strenuous the task became. Still Zollin sent the magic up. It was nothing more than an extension of his senses, a magical blanket that allowed him to feel and know everything it touched. Only this time it wasn’t a blanket, it was a thin beam rising higher and higher.
Five Kingdoms: Book 07 - Wizard Falling Page 26