Zollin hoped for the soldier’s sake that he hadn’t fallen in love with the girl. She obviously saw him merely as a customer, but Zollin would let him discover that nugget of truth on his own. He walked over, dropped ten silver marks into the man’s hand, and then settled on the bench as the soldier hurried out of the room with the wench.
Warm, mulled wine settled Zollin’s nerves, and he wished the tavern served food. He felt slightly drained from casting his spells in the brothel, but not as taxed as he expected. It made him happy to realize that he was growing stronger. The Star Stone that Zollin had discovered in the caverns of the dwarves seemed to have increased his magic or at least the rate at which it was returning to him.
A half hour later the soldier appeared from the back room of the tavern. He looked almost silly. His hair was awry, and he was adjusting his belt. Zollin felt a little embarrassed, but the soldier did not seem to notice. He made his way back over to Zollin and dropped lightly onto the bench beside the young wizard.
“That was well worth any trouble you had to go through,” the soldier said in a conspiratorial tone. “I am in your debt.”
“You can repay that debt with some information.”
“About the dragon?”
“That’s right,” Zollin said. “I need the details, no exaggeration.”
“All right, it was a week ago. We got word there was a dragon nearby so we rode out in heavy armor. We found the dragon keeper just before sunset. She’s a beautiful woman, the kind a man doesn’t tend to forget.”
Zollin swallowed hard, trying not to react to hearing the soldier talk in a suggestive manner about his wife.
“We ordered her to surrender; she refused. I expected that we would take her into custody, but she cast some type of fire spell that spooked the horses. Some of our men took shots at her with their bows, but then the dragon came flying toward our position. It could have killed us all, but instead it just breathed fire into the air and roared at us. A lot of soldiers were hurt when their horses bolted, but nothing serious. Our commander was trying to rally us for an attack when another creature attacked the dragon.”
“Something attacked the dragon?” Zollin asked.
“Yes, it was a giant bird. Like an eagle or a falcon, only it was almost as big as the dragon. I’ve never even heard of a bird that large. The bird snapped the dragon’s wing, and the next thing I know, the beautiful dragon keeper is running through our lines toward the dragon. She jumps into the air and attacks the bird with a fire spell. It was the craziest, most courageous thing I ever saw. Her fire spell hit the bird, and it fell out of the sky like a stone and burst into flames so bright I had to look away.
“For a long time, we just watched as the bird burned and the dragon lay on the ground nearby. Our commander tried to get us to form up and go after the woman again, but we knew better. Then, out of the flames of the burning bird’s body, came another bird, much smaller. It squawked and flew up into the sky. Some people said it was a phoenix, but I wasn’t close enough to see it clearly. We got our injured back on their horses, the ones that we could catch anyway, and rode back to the fort.”
“And that’s all?” Zollin said. “You didn’t hurt the woman?”
“No, we were lucky she didn’t hurt us.”
“Did you hear where she went next?”
“No,” the soldier said. “That was our first and hopefully our last encounter with a dragon. Now the dragon keeper, I could risk a few burns to see her again.”
Zollin nodded. “You’ve been a big help. You said that this took place a week ago?”
“A week ago yesterday,” the soldier said.
Zollin stood up. He needed to find a place to rest for the night, hopefully one with some decent food. He still had ten silver marks in his pouch thanks to the game of dice, and he dropped one on the table to pay for their drinks.
As Zollin headed for the door, he noticed that the wench was back in the tavern, looking for another customer. He felt bad for the girl, but she didn’t seem to mind selling her body to the soldiers who came to the tavern. And Zollin hoped that the soldier who had given him the information about Brianna wouldn’t be too heartbroken when he saw the wench flirting with a group of men closer to the bar.
Several hours had passed since sunset, but in the seedier part of Felson, the night was still young. Zollin decided he would try to find an inn on the other side of town. He was wandering through the dark streets, his mind on the story the soldier had told him about Brianna, and almost didn’t notice the men rushing toward him out of the shadows before it was too late.
Chapter 10
Crossing the mountains at the start of winter was possible, but with both Quinn and Mansel injured, the crossing was slow. More than once they were forced to dismount and break a trail through snow that was as high as their waists. Quinn, with broken ribs, was unable to help, so Mansel was left to do the work, even though his leg seemed to get worse instead of better as time went on.
There was very little fuel for fires, which meant long, cold nights. Both men huddled together trying desperately to survive the journey. When Quinn grew feverish and lethargic, Mansel knew he had to get his mentor out of the mountains. He tied Quinn to the saddle and led the horses through the night. Finding their way wasn’t difficult; the pass through the mountains was easy to follow, but the terrain was unforgiving.
Mansel couldn’t help but think of their first trip through the mountains. Mansel, Quinn, Brianna, and Zollin had been fleeing the wizards who wanted to capture Zollin. That had been a difficult trip, but they had crossed through the mountain pass just before the snows set in. Mansel made his second trip through the Highlands with Zollin, but that had been in the spring after the snow was mostly melted. Traveling through the passes in the winter was always dangerous, but it seemed even more deadly to him as the snow piled up around his feet, which he could barely feel.
Leading his horse occasionally was purely a necessity, and Mansel walked beside the horse whenever he could so that he could hold the saddle and take some of the stress off his injured leg. The oversized wolverine alpha had clawed at Mansel’s leg, leaving a nasty gash on his calf muscle. And the animal’s long claws had gouged furrows in his shoulders as well. The wounds weren’t deadly, but they were slow to heal and left Mansel sore. He walked slowly, embracing the pain with each step and telling himself how much more he deserved for not being with Nycol when she needed him most.
He still couldn’t believe she was dead. He felt her absence as if there were a gaping hole right in the middle of his body. And nothing he could do dulled the pain. Even his physical injuries seemed slight in comparison. If not for Quinn, he might have simply laid down in the snow and died, but he wouldn’t let Quinn die because of him. Mansel didn’t want to let anyone he cared about down ever again.
“We can build it on the hilltop,” Quinn mumbled.
He was hallucinating. Mansel knew his friend needed rest, a roaring fire, and perhaps even a healer, but none of those things would be found in the mountains. If they could get to the forest, they would at least have fuel for a decent fire, and perhaps a few days of rest wouldn’t hurt. They didn’t have much in the way of rations either, and in the forest Mansel could hunt. It was the hope that things might get better once they reached the far side of the Highlands that drove him forward.
They trudged into another day, and it was just after a gray, uninspiring dawn that he first heard the grunt of the giant bruin. Bears weren’t common in the Highlands, and those that lived among the rugged mountains should have been hibernating. But the grunt was unmistakable, a sort of low-pitched, rumbling grunt that sounded partly like the animal was tired, but also like it was insatiably hungry.
Mansel and Quinn would have made fine meals for a hungry bear, but the horses were enough to gorge even the biggest of the mountain bruins. Mansel looked around, but the bear was nowhere to be seen. The big warrior was in a small ravine between two taller sections of the mountain pass,
which meandered around the base of the mountains, sometimes climbing smaller sections or circling around steep cliff faces. Most of the journey was either climbing or descending a narrow path with steep hills on either side of the trail. But occasionally the pass ran through a ravine that was somewhat sheltered from the elements and relatively level. Mansel had been grateful for the ravine when he entered it, since it wasn’t too steep and the snow was barely above the toe of his boots, but it was not the kind of place to fend off an attack of any kind.
Had the bruin been capable of strategic thought, it would have considered the ravine a perfect place for an ambush, but Mansel didn’t give the creature that much credit. The pass was used by travelers, but most of the mountain creatures avoided it. He stopped the horses and checked his sword. The biggest threat at that moment was that the bear would spook the horses. Mansel knew that they had heard the threat just as clearly as he had. The bear was following their scent, and sooner or later it would find them. When it did, the horses would run for their lives. In normal circumstances the horses could outrun the bear, but in the Highlands there were too many obstacles. A horse galloping through the pass was sure to break a leg or at the very least come up lame, which only postponed the inevitable.
“All right,” Mansel said to his mount. “We’ve only got one option here.”
He turned the horse and tied its reins to the back of Quinn’s saddle. Then he tied Quinn’s mount to the back of his own. There wasn’t a better option to keep the horses together. The rocks and outcroppings weren't suitable for securing their mounts, and there were no trees or even scrub brushes to tie the horses to. By connecting them together and having them face opposite directions, they would only turn circles if they tried to flee.
“You, my good man, better come away from these horses.”
He untied Quinn from the saddle. The older man groaned in pain as Mansel pulled him down. There was no way to keep Quinn’s ribs from hurting him as he was pulled from the saddle. But while the restraints might keep him from falling off a slow-moving horse, they wouldn’t keep him safe if the horses panicked.
Mansel carried his mentor several feet away and set him down as gently as he could, propping him against a relatively smooth section of rock.
“When the baby comes,” Quinn said, suddenly staring deep into Mansel’s eyes, “we’ll be so happy.”
“Yes,” Mansel said, knowing that his mentor was talking about Zollin, not his grandchild that Brianna and Zollin were expecting. Quinn was seeing his wife and remembering their lives before she died giving birth to Zollin. It was a tragic loss that Mansel understood now more than ever, and one that he knew his closest friend understood about him.
He left his friend and scrambled up the side of the ravine. His hands hurt from the cold, his arms felt stiff, and his leg felt numb, but he felt better than he had since the trip began, knowing that he would soon be in a life and death struggle. Fighting was what Mansel was best at. He was a passible carpenter and could have made a living building things, but he excelled with a sword. Combat came as natural to him as breathing, and his only weakness was a tendency to rush into violence without giving his opponent the proper respect.
Mansel knew he wasn’t prepared to hunt a bear. He had a dagger and a sword; both were ill-suited for hunting a beast that was best kept at a distance. What he really needed was a crossbow and a safe place to shoot from, but he had neither. The bear was on the high ground, and Mansel had to stay between the animal and Quinn. Plus, with his own injuries, he didn’t think he could carry Quinn out of the mountains. That meant at least one of the horses needed to survive. Mansel could have left one of their horses behind. A quick slash from his sword could have killed the horse quickly and without much pain. He and Quinn could have taken the other horse and moved on, but there was no guarantee the bear wouldn’t follow them, and if Mansel was being honest, he wanted to fight. If the bear killed him, it would be doing him a favor, so he saw no downside. Plus he could take out his aggression on the beast and harvest the skin. If the bear was big enough, the thick, shaggy hide would cover both Quinn and Mansel at night. At the very least, it would keep Quinn warmer than he was now and give them some fresh meat. All he needed to do was kill the giant bruin.
The terrain above the ravine was not much better; it still sloped up, just not quite so sharp as below. Fortunately there was a tree and several bushes growing above the ravine. Mansel hadn’t been able to see the tree from below, but on the top of the ravine, he could see the tree, the bushes, and a good place to make his attack. He could also see the bear, which was watching him right back. The huge, shaggy bear stood on all four feet with its head held high. There was a large hump between the shoulders of beast, and its back sloped down toward its slightly smaller haunches. It was a dark brown color over most of its body, but with silver-tipped fur around its broad face and shoulders.
Mansel moved forward quickly, wanting to get away from the ravine and onto the more stable ground. The bear stood up on its hind legs and roared. Mansel could see that, rearing up, the bear was taller than he was. He pulled his sword out of the leather sheath and immediately felt a spike in his energy. The pain in his body seemed to fade away, and his frown of determination changed into a smile as he rushed toward the bear.
For a moment the bear looked confused. It obviously wasn’t accustomed to having other creatures attack it, but as Mansel drew near, it dropped to all fours and charged. Mansel had no chance going toe to toe with the mighty bruin. Instead he jumped to the side at the last minute and swung his sword around in a tight arc aimed at the massive paw that swiped at him. The sword sank into the bear’s paw, but it didn’t sever the limb. Mansel jerked back on his weapon as the bear skittered backward in pain.
Mansel knew that the bear’s shaggy fur would make slashing attacks almost useless. Some barbarian raiders from the northern side of the Great Valley wore bear fur like armor. Even well honed blades like Death’s Eye had trouble cutting through the thick, bristling fur. What Mansel needed was a chance to thrust his sword into the bear. The weapon needed to cut deep to have any chance of killing the creature. Mansel didn’t have the luxury of a prolonged fight.
The bear overcame the pain in its paw quickly, rearing up on its hind legs and towering over Mansel, who shifted back out of the bear’s reach. The animal roared angrily and staggered forward, but it wasn’t as fast on two feet. Mansel once more jumped to the side, this time thrusting his sword into the bear’s back as he moved around the animal. The bear dropped to all fours almost immediately, and Mansel lost his grip on the sword.
As soon as Death’s Eye left his hand, he felt fatigue slam into him. His arms and legs felt heavy and sluggish. Fear seized his mind, almost paralyzing him. Luckily, the bear didn’t want to continue the fight. It was limping away with the sword still in its back, just above the rump. It staggered forward, the rear leg dragging a little, obviously in great pain. The bear tried to reach the sword and knock it away, but it couldn’t reach the weapon.
Mansel knew his chance to save Quinn and their horses was slipping away. He was no longer between the bear and the ravine. Worse yet, if he didn’t do something soon, he would lose the sword that Zollin had given him. Without any more thought to his own safety, he rushed forward and jumped onto the bear’s rump. The bear tried to spin around as it saw him coming, but twisting caused it more pain, slowing it even further. Mansel grabbed the sword, immediately feeling his strength return as he jammed the weapon deeper in to the bear. He was forced to leap away again as the bear fell onto its side.
The wounded animal struggled to get back up but it couldn’t. The sword had reached its stomach, and the poor creature was dying but still dangerous. Mansel didn’t know if pulling the sword free would allow the bear to attack him again, but he didn’t want to see it linger in agony. Death was unavoidable, so Mansel took a deep breath and rushed in again. The bear roared at him and made a feeble swipe with a forepaw, but the dying creature couldn’t re
ach him. Mansel jerked the sword free, then quickly stepped forward, stabbing the bear again just behind the massive shoulder and driving the blade down deep.
The killing stroke ended the bear’s pain. It dropped the massive head, the tongue lolling to the side, and gave one last grunt. The danger had passed, at least for the moment. Mansel knew that he couldn’t stay in the ravine. He needed to harvest what he could from the bear and press on with Quinn as quickly as possible. Fortunately, he now had a warm bearskin and fresh meat that might help Quinn's condition improve. And there was also wood nearby that could be used to make them a decent fire. All in all, Mansel felt like perhaps their luck was turning at last.
Chapter 11
Occasionally Lorik heard screams from inside the castle, but he waited, stern-faced, as the crowds gathered in the larger courtyards around the front of the large fortress. The sun was shining, but it seemed pale, and there was no warmth to it at all. The wind was cold, and some of the people stamped their feet as they waited for Lorik to speak. He looked resplendent in his black armor. The long, hard plates rose up his chest and curved over his massive shoulders. His face was covered by the spiked helmet, and he rested his left arm on the unique pommel of the long-handled sword that hung from his belt.
The Swords of Acromin were very similar. Both had long blades that ran straight out from the handle then curved up slightly at the end to form a point. The back side of the blade was serrated and incredibly strong; the front was razor sharp. Both had similar hand guards, which were made like a simple cross piece to protect the hand, both covered in silver and engraved with designs that showed the magnificent tree villages of the Drery Dru. The handles themselves were covered in a hairy tree bark and wrapped with silver and gold thread. The sword that hung from Lorik’s right hip had a normal two-handed grip, but the one on his left had a long handle that could be locked onto the pommel of the second sword, forming one long weapon with a wide handle in the middle and the blades on either end.
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