“Her guards were slain, and she is missing.”
“Where?” Branock said, sounding bored, almost as if the news were of absolutely no consequence to him.
“Outside the castle. She was given three guards, just as you instructed. She and the oafish boy she favors traveled into the city. Her maidservants said she was going to find something to ease her headaches, but they went to a tavern called The Copper Pot.”
“A tavern?”
“She must have been meeting someone.”
“Of course she was, fool!” Branock stood up and slapped the pudgy servant.
Loman scurried back, whining. The dancers stopped and the ministers who were feasting looked up. A few even had the nerve to cast baleful looks in Branock’s direction. He would deal with the impudent fools another time. For the moment he had to track down the girl who was turning out to be more trouble than she was worth.
“Commander Keynon, come with us,” Branock said as he stalked from the room.
The others continued to drink and stuff themselves like the greedy, gluttonous fools Branock took them to be. He knew they supported him only because they saw a chance to indulge their own fantasies. King Hausey had been a firm ruler, one that expected results from his ministers and didn’t mind checking their work regularly to ensure that they were managing the kingdom well and treating the people fairly. Branock had no desire to watch over every move of his underlings. He didn’t care if they took more taxes than were required in order to fatten their own purses, or if they accepted bribes, or even if they abused the servants assigned to help them in their tasks. That was why they supported him, and it meant that few of the ministers respected Branock. All they wanted was a chance to grow rich, but he would change all that soon. He would make examples of the petty fools, and fear would bring the rest into line.
The commander of the Royal Guard was an unassuming man. He enjoyed his position and the perks it afforded him, but unlike the other ministers he wasn’t drunk and hadn’t stuffed himself with the rich foods the castle servants had prepared. He kept his hair cut very short, and his body was small but powerfully built. He drilled with the men in his elite unit on a regular basis, and managed the different watches so that the castle was guarded, as was the king, and more recently, Danella.
They climbed a flight of stairs and went to Branock’s personal study. The wizard had wasted no time moving into the ornate rooms that belonged to the king of Yelsia. Large wooden doors carved with rearing stallions led to an expansive study where the floor was covered with thick rugs. All of the furniture was made of heavy wood, carved with exquisite patterns and softened with thick cushions. There were lamps at various places along the walls, crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the fireplace was large. Branock had moved his books and personal possessions into the study, which was where he preferred to spend most of his time.
There was a large desk and behind it a large painted map hung on the wall. All five kingdoms were shown on the map, as well as the frozen tundra north of the highlands. Tooga Island, Norsik, Shuklan, and the Borian Tribelands were also on the map, although none of them were part of the Five Kingdoms. Those places were wild and foreign to Branock. Perhaps one day he would take an army and lay claim to the lands outside of the Five Kingdoms, he didn’t know, but he loved to spend hours staring at the kingdoms that he planned to rule over.
“What is this about your men being killed?” Branock asked the commander.
Keynon looked from Branock to Loman. “It is the first I am hearing of it.”
“The guards you assigned to Danella were slain,” Loman said, with just a hint of gloating in his voice.
“Where?” the commander asked.
“A tavern called The Copper Pot.”
“I will see what has happened and bring you a report immediately, my Liege,” Keynon said, bowing.
“Be quick about it,” Branock said. “And send men to find the girl. I want her locked in her rooms until the coronation from now on.”
As the commander left, Branock sat slowly in a chair behind the large desk. He was tired, but he didn’t like to show physical weakness in any fashion.
“Tell me everything you know,” he ordered the steward.
Loman bowed, then told his story. “I was given word that the guards were slain by a drunken warrior. A large man with a unique sword.”
“Did it have a dark gem in the cross guard?”
“I cannot be certain, my King. But my spies tell me that the girl and her servant fled with the warrior.”
“Why wasn’t the alarm raised?” Branock asked.
“Gold was paid to keep that from happening.”
Normally if one of the king’s soldiers was harmed an outcry would be raised immediately. The murder of three of the King’s Royal Guards should have echoed through the city like the blast of a hunting horn. But in the right places coin could buy a person a little time. And gold could only mean one person was behind the murder. There were wealthy merchants in the city, but none that would want Danella unless it was to oppose Branock's claim to the throne. But merchants were intelligent people, and opposing him at this stage was pure folly. Branock had control of the army as well as most of the kingdom's ministers. The coronation was nothing but a formality and any hope that someone else might steal the crown was preposterous.
On the other hand, gold could also mean magic. Forging gold, even transmuting common metal into gold, was easy enough for a powerful wizard. And Zollin had been saved by a warrior, the same warrior who had brought Quinn to the castle. Branock had men watching for the warrior, but it was not a high priority. The man had fled the city shortly after saving Zollin’s life. But it was possible the man had returned and Branock’s spies hadn’t noticed him.
Branock spread his hands across the smooth top of the desk. His fury was building inside him and he would have to make someone pay. The only question was who. The big servant that Danella favored perhaps. He had intended to let the girl have her pet. The servant was a hulking boy, barely into manhood, and considered by most in the castle to be slow witted. If Danella had simply done as she was told she could have been queen and had her love affair at the same time. Branock certainly wasn’t interested in having a marriage of equals.
Danella was to be a token that people would see as confirmation of his right to rule. Many people in Orrock had already taken to calling Danella princess and talking about her as if she were their queen. Isn’t she lovely, they said, The queen will be an eager mother, bearing the king strong sons. That, in Branock’s opinion, was the only use for a queen, to bear him a legitimate heir. Danella’s popularity with the populace was a boon that Branock intended to use for his own benefit.
There was no use in punishing the Royal Guards, those that had failed to protect Danella had already paid with their lives. And those that remained would be more prepared for danger because of it. If his men succeeded in catching the warrior, then Branock could vent his fury in a slow, satisfying fashion. Just the thought of torturing the young rebel eased the wizard’s mind.
Hours passed without results. Eventually Branock began to pace. By midnight it was obvious the king’s betrothed had escaped him. When Keynon finally returned to the palace to give his report it was almost dawn.
“They have escaped us, my King,” the soldier said. “I have men posted at every gate, and squads searching every building inside the city. More are combing the river district, but the odds are not in our favor.”
Branock was furious, but he didn’t let it show. Instead he let his rage fuel his magical power, feeding his mystical strength.
“There were rumors that three people took passage on a barge to Tragoon.”
“Did anyone see them?”
“Only three figures, all in cloaks. But one was thought to be large. I could send men to the bay. If they’re there, we’ll find them.”
“No,” Branock said, swallowing the bitterness that formed on his tongue at the very thought
of losing Danella. “I want all of your men here and on high alert. I have a feeling this wasn’t simply the whim of a foolish girl running away.”
“You’re expecting danger?” the commander asked.
“I’m merely reading the signs around me,” Branock said, his voice low and menacing. “It is your job to expect danger. You are the commander of the King's Royal Guard, you should be prepared for any eventuality.”
“How could I have known that three guards wouldn’t be enough to protect the queen?”
“She isn’t the queen!” Branock thundered, the books on his shelves quaking as his power began to ripple out into the room. “She is nothing but a foolish child. You, however, are commander of the most elite regiment in the king's army. Your men are the best trained soldiers in the kingdom, but they are not all warriors. Most have never even fought in battle, or struggled for their lives. There are assassins, and warriors, and creatures of the night that would run through your vaunted Royal Guard like wind through wheat.”
Branock’s magic could no longer be contained. Invisible strands of power shot out like spider webs, clinging to the commander, wrapping around and entangling this body. Pain erupted in the veteran soldier wherever the magic touched him. He fell to his knees howling in pain until Branock pulled back on his power. He didn’t release it completely, the magical strands were still there, invisible but pulsing with might just waiting to be set loose.
“Your job is to plan for the worst that might happen. Believe me, Commander, it would be better to die in the line of duty than to fail me again.”
The wizard let his magic flare up once again, causing the soldier to scream so loudly the agonized wail echoed through the entire castle. Then Branock released him. Keynon lay quivering on the ground, panting and crying, his body curled into a ball as he wept. Branock left him there, and went slowly to his private chambers. There were servants waiting for him. Women to please him in any fashion he desired. Men to carry out any order he gave. He called several to him and feasted on their pain as the cold night entered its darkest hour.
Chapter 6
The captain of the Ox Back was a tall man with round shoulders and a belly that hung over his belt. He was standing on the dock as the last of his cargo was loaded onto the barge. He squinted at Mansel as the trio approached. Danella had a hood up over her head, concealing her identity but failing to hide the fact that she was a woman. But it wasn’t Danella that the captain was staring at, it was Vyctor.
“He’s big,” Yoryn said. “Looks like he eats as much as two men.”
“He’ll be no trouble and won’t take more than his share,” Mansel assured the barge captain.
“No, I suppose he won’t. He might have to go swimming if he tried. And the water is mighty cold this time of year.”
Mansel didn’t have to look at Vyctor to know the captain’s words frightened him. He was a large man, but young and despite his size he was unaccustomed to fighting.
“You have my word we’ll be no trouble at all,” Mansel said.
“Make sure of it,” Yoryn said. “Get down below and we’ll shove off as soon as we’re loaded.”
Mansel stepped onto the barge, which swayed slightly under his weight. Mansel felt sea sickness rising up in him almost immediately. He clenched his teeth and followed a sailor to the small pilot house, where a stairwell led down to the crew’s quarters. A small room, barely larger than a closet, had two beds and a chamber pot. The beds were narrow and short, but Mansel knew they would have to do. He stepped inside, trying not to let the sour smell of sweat and sewage make him sick.
Danella wrinkled her nose, but didn’t complain. She sat on the nearest bed, and Vyctor sat beside her, holding her hand. Mansel closed the door and they waited. Despite the late hour, none of them even tried to sleep. They couldn’t shake the fear of being discovered. To Mansel, waiting for the barge to shove off and sail away from Orrock was worse than fighting his way through the city. He felt as if the Royal Guards were going to burst into the room at any moment. But after almost an hour, the barge began to move. Mansel felt the movement and almost immediately he felt bile rise in his throat.
“I’m going to be sick,” Mansel said. “I’ll go out.”
Danella nodded, and Vyctor looked frightened, but Mansel couldn’t help them. He rushed back up the stairs and hurried to the railing of the long, flat boat. He barely reached the side of the ship before his stomach spasmed hard, sending the ale he’d had earlier spewing out in a violent rush. He wretched over and over again, his stomach cramping hard and his sides aching as the sailors on the barge laughed at his misery.
Mansel felt weak and out of control, his stomach aching in torment. He fell to his knees and had to take hold of his sword's leather-wrapped handle and adjust it so that it wouldn’t jab painfully into his side. As soon as he touched his sword he felt strength flood through his body. His stomach settled and he was no longer sick. He slumped onto the deck, still holding the handle of his sword, breathing in the cold night air. His lungs burned, and he felt a headache building behind his eyes, but his stomach wasn’t sick and for that he was grateful.
He laid out on the deck of the barge until he couldn’t stand the cold anymore. They were sailing downstream, and the long, flat ship didn’t take much work to maneuver along the wide, muddy river. Most of the crew were asleep in their quarters below and when Mansel returned to his own cabin he found Vyctor and Danella sleeping. The room was cold, and the blankets smelled musty, but Mansel didn’t care. He had slept under horse blankets still damp with sweat after riding all day. He had huddled in the rain with Zollin, burrowed into the snow with Quinn, and spent nights in the muck outside of taverns too drunk to realize where he was. He could sleep under musty blankets and thankfully Vyctor was curled on the floor beside Danella’s bed.
With all his clothes still on, including his boots and cloak, Mansel stretched out on the remaining bed and cast the blanket over him. The only thing he removed was his sword belt, and, keeping his weapon in its sheath, he hugged the sword against his chest and kept one hand on the handle. Sleep came quickly and he rested as the barge sailed on through the night.
Without a window there was no way to tell if it was morning or still night when Mansel awoke. Danella was sitting up on her bunk and Vyctor was huddled next to her. The young warrior could just make out the shadowy outlines of his charges in the gloom.
“Where are we going?” Danella asked as Mansel sat up and rubbed his face. He was careful not to let go of the sword.
“Tragoon Bay,” he said in a croaking voice.
His throat ached and he was very thirsty, but he took his time getting to his feet. He could still feel the barge rocking along the river, which was different from the ocean, but still unsettling to the young warrior.
“And from there?” Danella pressed.
“South,” Mansel said. “Probably down to Selphon City. I’ve got enough coin from Zollin to get you both settled there.”
“Zollin?” Danella asked. “Is he alive? Branock sent soldiers to kill him.”
Mansel felt a stab of fear. He'd left Zollin alive and well, and the young warrior couldn't imagine anything that could defeat Zollin with the huge dragon he traveled with. But if Branock sent men to kill him it was possible they could have succeeded. Still, if Zollin had been captured or killed, Mansel guessed that Branock would have paraded the young wizard through Orrock. He would have made a spectacle of his enemy's defeat. Mansel felt a little better knowing that if Zollin had been slain he would have heard about it in Orrock.
“He's alive, and he’s coming back to deal with Branock. Once that happens, you’ll be able to go wherever you like.”
“So why flee so far south?”
“Zollin was going to find your sister and I have no idea how long that will take. In Selphon City you’ll be close to the mountains and if things get sketchy you can take shelter there or even move farther south.”
“Isn’t Falxis a wasteland?�
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“I don’t know,” Mansel said honestly. “But there are rumors that the king’s army will be marching to Baskla, so going east isn’t a good idea. You could go north, but you’ll be boxed in by the Northern Highlands. I wouldn’t send anyone north of the Great Valley.”
“But you’ll be with us, won’t you?”
“No,” Mansel said. “I’m going back to help Zollin.”
“You can’t just leave us in Tragoon Bay. We have no idea how to get to Selphon City,” Danella complained.
“I’ll book you passage on a ship. It won’t be like this smelly barge. You’ll have a cabin with a window, food, there might even be other passengers. But it isn’t a good idea for the three of us to stay together. I killed some of the King’s Royal Guard. When they come looking for us they’ll be looking for a group of three.”
“So we split up, but you should stay close. We might need you.”
“You have Vyctor,” Mansel said.
“Yes, but we’ve never traveled. You’ve seen all of the Five Kingdoms. You’re a great warrior.”
“That isn’t really true.”
“I saw the way you dealt with my guards. I’ve heard of how you raced into the castle and fought Quinn and how you jumped from the roof to escape. You are a man of great courage. We need your help.”
“I’m not much help to anyone at the moment. I can’t even keep my food down.”
“Speaking of food, Vyctor’s hungry.”
“I’ll go on deck and see what I can find.”
Mansel strapped on his sword and went back up onto the main deck of the barge. The sun was shining and despite the cold, it was a beautiful day. The terrain along the Tillamook was rich farmland. There were homes occasionally, but for the most part the land rolled by in neatly cultivated fields. It was winter and most of the farmers were home near their hearth fires, or working in the relative warmth of their barns. Mansel didn’t mind. The less people were out and about the slower news from Orrock would travel.
Chaos Raging (The Five Kingdoms Book 11) Page 4