There were still soldiers in the city, most were hiding, unsure what to do. They helped open the city gates, and the citizens of Ort City fled as Lorik destroyed everything inside the city walls. No building was safe. If anyone opposed him, he cut them down without mercy. He wouldn’t stay where he wasn’t wanted, but he wouldn’t leave the city behind for someone else to take the throne.
Hours passed, and still Lorik’s fury raged. People were crushed who tried to hide inside buildings. Lorik’s dark magic gave him the ability to destroy any structure with a single blow from his axe. By noon the only structure standing was the castle. It was a huge building constructed from stone. Lorik returned to the fortress and went back to the feasting hall.
“Will you rule over a ruined city?” Spector asked.
“No one will rule here,” Lorik spat. “Kora, Yorry, get as much food and drink as you can carry from this place. We are leaving.”
“Where will we go?” Kora asked.
“South. I should have listened to you to begin with.”
“The people would not accept us,” she said sadly.
“No, they would not accept me. They would rather live in bondage, so I will let them. Gather as many supplies as you can, and tell the servants to flee.”
The Outcasts set to work immediately. Lorik sent Toomis to fetch wagons from the castle stable. Then Lorik went down to the dungeons. It was the lowest level of the castle, and still filled with lost souls. Lorik broke open the locks that held the prison cells shut. Most of the people inside were completely insane; some even refused to leave. Lorik warned them of the danger, then he set about freezing the castle foundations. His magically enhanced breath spread through the dungeon and down through the escape tunnel. It even filled the secret room where the darkness had waited for Lorik and hidden him for days while his body was transformed and his enemies thought him long gone. He had no affection for the place, and as he climbed back up the spiral staircase, he was relieved that it was the last time he would ever see the wretched dungeon.
He was almost back out to the side courtyard, where the last of the supplies were being loaded into two wagons that Toomis had found, when Kierian stepped out of the shadows from a small hallway and blocked Lorik’s path. She had a look on her face as if she knew something he didn’t know.
“Well, that wasn’t what I expected from your reign as king,” she said.
“I was never a king to these people,” he said. “They are cowards.”
“Most people are, but not you. Most people are desperate for others to accept them and approve of them, but not you.”
“No,” Lorik said. “I’ve wasted too much time here. There are people who need me, people who long for a place where they can live in safety. Where their leader isn’t afraid to face danger on their behalf and where they can use their gifts to build a better place for themselves and their families.”
“You know of such a place?” Kierian asked, her voice low and eager.
Lorik found the woman almost irresistible. She wasn’t like anyone else he’d ever met. She was confident and self-reliant. Most of all she knew what she wanted and she knew how to get it.
“I’ll build it,” Lorik said. “It will be a new kingdom. A place where anyone can come and be part of something bigger than themselves.”
“A lofty goal,” she said, her voice on the edge of a tease. “I shall have to come with you and see this new kingdom—if you’ll have me, of course.”
“I’ll have you,” Lorik said as he grabbed her and pulled her to him.
He held her arms gently, and she could have pulled away, but she didn’t. He pressed his body against hers, and they kissed. Lorik had to bend down to reach her lips and he could feel how receptive she was, yet he feared she might just slide a blade between his ribs if he dropped his guard.
“Now we must leave,” he said, pulling away.
“Right now?” she asked.
“This place isn’t safe,” Lorik said.
“I don’t need safe,” Kierian said. “I need exciting.”
Her hands were on his shoulders, and she pulled herself up to kiss him again, but instead his hands found her narrow waist, and he boosted her up and over his shoulder.
“Like I said, time to go.”
Lorik carried Kierian outside, and the carnage of what had once been Ort City surprised him. The entire city had been leveled—not just abandoned, but destroyed. He had been in a fury when he smashed every building to rubble, but now he saw it clearly. There was nothing left inside the walls but the castle. Toomis was already leading the Outcasts back out of the city through the hole in the wall that Lorik had made the night before.
“Time to go,” Spector said as the wraith glided by.
“One thing remains,” Lorik said, as he sat Kierian back on her feet.
He raised the heavy axe one last time, holding it by the bottom of the handle so that the dull, ancient-looking metal head was high up in the air. He felt the dark magic building inside him, flowing up into the weapon so that it vibrated with power. Then he threw the axe, spinning it end over end, toward the castle. Lorik could feel the power inside the ancient weapon just waiting to escape.
The axe hit the castle wall, which was made of thick stone, and lodged for a second. Lorik felt the power racing out of the axe and into the fortress. The sudden magic pressure caused the frozen rock in the dungeons to shatter. There was crashing sound from deep below the ground, then Lorik felt a thump from under his feet. The castle slowly collapsed inward, almost as if a huge chasm had opened up under the massive structure. Dust and rock particles billowed up in the air like smoke as the fortress crumbled. The thick walls shattered into tiny pieces; the wealth of kings was swallowed up in the chaos until the destruction of Ort City was complete.
There was nothing left inside the city walls but rubble and the bodies of countless soldiers and civilians who were too stubborn or too frightened to flee. Lorik led the way out of the empty city, and there was a feeling of satisfaction in knowing that he had razed one of the strongest cities in the Five Kingdoms to the ground. It was a fact that would spread through the other kingdoms like wildfire. It would give anyone who opposed him or what he was doing pause, and he hoped that hesitation would give him the time he needed to create something new.
He glanced back one last time before walking out of the hole in the city walls. Ort City had become a tomb. His future was in the south, with people who shared his contempt for the weakness of people who could not change. He would let the darkness lead him to a new place, a kingdom created from the chaos. A kingdom where he could rule as he was destined to.
Chapter 31
For two days Quinn had been silent, but Mansel imagined that he could feel the fury that practically radiated from the older man. It wasn’t clear what Quinn was so angry about, but he had more than enough reasons to be mad. His son’s home was burned, Nycol had been killed by the ravenous beasts that attacked Brighton’s Gate, and as they approached Orrock, there was no sign that Zollin was anywhere near the city.
Mansel was positive that the creature that had bitten Quinn wasn’t rabid, but he couldn’t deny the fact that something was terribly wrong with his mentor. As they rode through the homes and shops that surrounded Orrock, Mansel couldn’t help but worry that Quinn would say or do something that would lead to more violence. And while Mansel wasn’t afraid of a fight, he was afraid that Quinn might kill someone over a petty matter.
“We’ll see if we can track down Estry,” Mansel told Quinn. “If anyone knows where Zollin and Brianna are, it’s him.”
Quinn didn’t answer, but he looked around him at the people who choked the muddy streets with the dangerous gaze of a predator. Mansel had seen a pack of wolves once in the woods near Tranaugh Shire. He was just a boy at the time, but he remembered the look in the eyes of the wolves, as if they’d just seen their next meal. It was a cold, vicious look, and Mansel recognized it in Quinn’s eyes.
To be safe,
Mansel dismounted before they reached the city gates and led his horse. He didn’t take the reins from Quinn’s mount, but he took hold of the bridle to make sure that an accident didn’t lead to more trouble than he was ready for.
At the massive gatehouse, they were hailed by one of the guards. He came running toward them, waving his arms. Mansel recognized the man but couldn’t remember his name. Quinn had been friendly with many of the soldiers in the King’s Royal Guard in the months leading up to King Hausey’s coronation before they followed Zollin to Brighton’s Gate. He’d been one of them when he was a young man, before meeting Zollin’s mother and moving to Tranaugh Shire.
“Quinn!” the man called as he ran forward. “It’s grand to see you again.”
“He’s not well,” Mansel called to the soldier.
Quinn’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak.
“Is he ill?” the soldier asked.
“Recovering,” Mansel said. “I’m sure he’ll be back to his old self soon enough. We’ll be taking rooms near the castle. Come find us when you have a chance.”
“I’ll do that. We’ll lift a pint together again,” the soldier said happily.
Quinn looked away, and Mansel quickly moved on. The city had changed; that much was obvious to Mansel right away. He had always marveled at the grand nature of the capital city, but Orrock was in an incredible wave of growth. The gate that had been destroyed when the armies of Falxis and Osla invaded had been repaired. There were more soldiers on the walls than before, and the city itself seemed to be preparing for another attack.
Most of the buildings inside the city walls were made of stone and well maintained, but inevitably there some that had fallen into disrepair. Now, those buildings were either restored and upgraded or in the process of being removed. The streets were free of clutter. Even around the shops, where garbage or debris was usually found, the refuse was being kept in neat containers, and the streets seemed wider. There were no gaps in the cobblestones, no mud or debris, and soldiers patrolled the streets at regular intervals.
Near the castle was a row of upscale inns. The Horn of Plenty was a large, three-story inn with a large sign that hung over the door. The cornucopia painted on the sign was filled with delicious food. It was the same inn they’d stayed in after the Witch’s War. Mansel and Quinn had only a couple of silver marks left, but he was confident the innkeeper would extend them credit.
“Why don’t we go inside?” Mansel said, stopping in front of the inn. “Zell will be happy to see you.”
Quinn glared at Mansel and didn’t move.
“They’ll probably have sweet cakes and freshly churned butter,” Mansel said, feeling just a little silly that he was trying to bribe Quinn with food. “And you know how much you love their wine.”
Quinn’s glare intensified, and for a moment the big warrior thought that Quinn was going to attack him. Instead, the carpenter got off his horse and flipped the reins over the empty hitching post beside the door. Mansel breathed a sigh of relief and followed Quinn inside.
The Horn of Plenty had a wide common room with two fireplaces on either end. The big windows let in plenty of light during the daytime, even on overcast wintery days. There were already a dozen people in the room, sitting at various tables. The inn had long bench tables like most inns, but it also had smaller tables for customers who came just for meals or to share a quiet drink with friends.
“Oh my, Gynnie, come see who it is,” said a tall, thin man with his sleeves rolled up and a thick apron that covered his shirt and trousers.
A plump woman with a bright, happy face came out of the kitchens. Her already vibrant features were pulled back in a smile that stretched across her face when she saw Quinn. She hurried over and took his hand.
“Master Quinn, it’s so good to see you again,” she said.
“And Mansel,” her husband said. “You are both welcome here.”
“Thank you,” Mansel said.
He started to warn Gynnie about Quinn’s unfriendliness, but she had already backed away, her smile shifting into a look of concern.
“Is everything all right?” Gynnie asked.
“No,” Mansel said. “We’ve had a very hard trip. Quinn is still recovering. It’s a long story, but for now, if we could get a room…”
“Of course,” Zell said. “Right this way. Only the best for you.”
Quinn followed Zell, and Mansel spoke quietly to Gynnie.
“Can you send ale, wine, and some of your cakes to our room?”
The innkeeper’s wife nodded. “Is he going to be all right?”
“I think so,” Mansel said. “I need Trixie to run a few errands if she’s free.”
“I’ll send her to your room with the ale and sweet cakes.”
“Thank you,” Mansel said before hurrying to catch up with Quinn.
Zell led them to a large suite that had two sleeping chambers on either side of a comfortable sitting area with its own fireplace. The room was cool but not cold, and there was a load of wood waiting to be lit already in the hearth.
“Did you ride in?” Zell asked after he’d opened the door for Quinn and given Mansel the key.
“We did.”
“The new king has passed a law that requires us to keep your horses in a livery outside of the city. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, that’s fine. I’m afraid we don’t have much coin right now.”
Mansel handed the innkeeper his last two silver marks. Zell took the coins but nodded encouragingly.
“You know your credit is good with us,” he assured Mansel.
“We appreciate you.”
“Don’t whisper,” Quinn snapped. “I’m not sick.”
“Sorry, Quinn,” Mansel said. “Let me get you a fire started.”
Quinn sat slowly in one of the padded chairs, and Mansel knelt by the hearth. He was beginning to wish that he hadn’t given Quinn the throwing knife he’d dropped when the outlaws attacked them. Mansel didn’t think his mentor would attack him, but he felt exposed with his back turned to Quinn. He knew that if they didn’t find help for him soon, the chances of something bad happening to or because of Quinn was very high.
Just as Mansel got a fire started, there was a knock at the door. Mansel hurried over and let Trixie in. She was an attractive woman and worked as a serving maid, but she wasn’t opposed to wenching if the price was right. She held a large tray with a pitcher of ale, a bottle of wine, several glasses and mugs, and a plate piled high with sweet cakes. There was also a crock of butter and a jar of honey.
“Thank you,” Mansel said, stepping aside so that Trixie could set the large tray down on the table in the center of the room.
“You needed me?” she asked.
There had always been a playful attraction between Mansel and Trixie. When the young warrior had first come to Orrock with Zollin, he’d enjoyed her services more than once, but when he came back with Nycol, she honored his choice and seemed genuinely happy for him.
“Can you find Estry the tailor?”
“Of course, I know his shop,” Trixie said.
“Bring him here,” Mansel said. “Tell him it is an emergency.”
“All right,” she said, laying a hand on Mansel’s arm gently. “Are you two all right?”
“We will be,” Mansel said, suddenly feeling tears stinging his eyes.
“I’ll be back in a flash,” she said.
Mansel closed the door behind her and found Quinn pouring himself wine. Mansel washed his hands, a habit that Nycol had taught him. His tears ran down his face as he washed the grime of the road away. He had completed his task, and the pressure had woken his grief. He swiped at the tears before getting himself one of the sweet cakes.
It took Trixie nearly half an hour to return with Estry. But when Mansel opened the door, he felt another wave of relief. The tailor looked thrilled to see him and shook his hand vigorously. He started to do the same with Quinn, but the carpenter only sneered at him.
“I sent for him, Quinn,” Mansel said.
“Where’s your wife?”
“Priam is at our home,” Estry said in a tense voice.
“That’s good. I can’t stand the bitch.”
“Quinn!” Mansel nearly shouted.
Estry laughed. Mansel had expected him to be angry at Quinn’s rudeness, but he seemed genuinely amused. It was obvious from the look of cold fury on Quinn’s face that he didn’t like the tailor’s response, but Mansel took control of the situation before things got heated.
“We need Zollin,” Mansel said. “Have you seen him?”
“He was here, several days ago,” Estry said. “But he only stayed one evening. He’s on an errand for the king.”
“Damn,” Mansel said. “Do you have any idea when he might be back?”
“Another week, probably? I’m not sure to be honest. Why? What is wrong?”
“We’ve had some trouble,” Mansel said. “Quinn is sick.”
“I’m fine,” Quinn groused.
“He does seem to be in fine form,” Estry said.
“He needs a healer, preferably someone familiar with magical creatures.”
“Then I know just the man,” Estry said. “I’ll need to set up a meeting, but I should be able to do that tonight. Danella is seeing the king this evening. We should be able to set something up.”
“Danella, your daughter?” Mansel asked.
“Yes, Zollin recommended the match and I’m proud to say that it might just work out. The king seems taken with her.”
Into Chaos Page 24