“Losing me?” Brianna said, as tears rolled gently down her cheeks. “How?”
“You’re growing up, that’s all,” Quinn said. “You don’t need me as much.”
“Oh, Quinn,” she said, her voice choking.
She ran to him and threw her arms around his neck, letting her tears soak his shirt. The dragons moved around them then, nudging Quinn and Miriam. They saw images in their minds of Brianna with the dragons, flying through the air, covered in flames and looking so happy it made Quinn’s heart ache.
“I’m happy for you,” he whispered. “And I know that Zollin needs you,” he added.
“And I need him,” she said.
“We’ll be here waiting for you both,” he told her. “Do you need anything?”
“Just your blessing,” she said.
“You’ve got it,” he said loudly. “You all do.”
Chapter 12
The Northern Star limped into the harbor at Lixon Bay. Lixon was one of the biggest cities in Falxis, with a well-maintained road that ran straight to Luxing City, where King Zorlan ruled his kingdom. Falxis was a large kingdom, but since the treaty of peace between the kingdoms three centuries ago, they had no enemies. It was surrounded by other kingdoms on three sides, and the long western coast was the home to a vast shipping enterprise.
It had taken almost two days to sail back to the coast and into Lixon Bay from the scene of the attack. Zollin had spent that time healing the wounded sailors and helping with repairs to the ship. The Northern Star needed major refitting. While there was an emergency mast and supplies to refit the ship, there was not enough to totally repair all the damage the dragon had caused.
The ship’s captain of course blamed Zollin for the whole ordeal, and had sent word that he was to leave the ship once they reached the harbor. Zollin might have argued the point, but he knew they had been lucky to survive in the open waters. It gave the dragon too much of an advantage and put too many people at risk. Zollin had spent the remainder of his time on board transmuting some lead weights into gold. He also fashioned Mansel a new sword. This time the warrior had made some specific requests. The sword was slightly longer that the previous weapon, with the lower part of the blade thicker and serrated. It was a true broadsword, made to be wielded with a two-handed grip. Zollin thought the weapon was too heavy, but Mansel made the weapon sing. He practiced with it on deck, and his speed and skill with the blade was almost frightening to behold.
As they sailed into the harbor, Zollin was surprised by the number of ships. He, Mansel, and Eustice were leaning on the rail at the bow, taking in the sights of the port and harbor.
“What’s with all the ships?” Mansel asked.
“I don’t know,” Zollin said.
Eustice waved his hands, pointing to himself and then Mansel’s sword, then making a wave-like motion and pointing north.
“What’s he saying?” Mansel said.
“I’m not sure.”
Eustice pointed to the ships in the harbor and then pretended to march like a solider. “Oh, you mean these are the ships that brought the army north?” Zollin asked.
Eustice nodded enthusiastically.
“Well, I guess that makes sense,” said Mansel. “We made good time traveling south.”
“But why are there so many ships?” Zollin asked. “There are enough in the harbor to
transport both armies.”
“And that is strange because?” Mansel asked.
“Why would the troops from Osla stop in Falxis?”
“Maybe it’s just to get fresh supplies.”
“I don’t know,” Zollin said. “If you’d just been defeated, would you want to stop somewhere or get home as quickly as possible?”
Mansel thought about the question for a moment, then agreed. “Okay, so it’s a bit strange. I guess we could poke around a bit and find out what’s happening. But I wouldn’t go bragging about who you are. I doubt there are many friendly people around here.”
“Agreed,” Zollin said. “Eustice and I will get horses and supplies-you get information.”
“I know exactly where to go,” Mansel said, smiling.
“How could you? You’ve never been to Lixon Bay before, have you?”
“No, but taverns are the place to get the latest gossip. Buy a few rounds and men will share their darkest secrets,” Mansel said.
“I’ll remember that,” Zollin said. “Just don’t get falling down drunk. We need to ride hard.”
“Trust me,” Mansel said playfully, a bit of his old sense of humor returning. “When have I ever let drink get the best of me?” Zollin didn’t answer-he just shook his head.
A few minutes later they were climbing down the side of the ship on a rope ladder. The captain had made getting Zollin off his ship the first priority once they weighed anchor. Zollin looked up from the little boat that was rowing them to shore and saw Lady Roleena staring out her window at him. The ship’s healer had fashioned her a set of crutches and she had been able to get around rather well with them, but she had not given up her intense hatred of Zollin.
The boat wound through the other ships in the harbor and came to the dock quickly enough. Zollin and Eustice went to find the city’s stables. Falxis was known for breeding fine horses, and Zollin didn’t expect to have any trouble getting good mounts. He had broken the gold into small pieces and flattened them out like coins. There was no official coinage in the Five Kingdoms, although some monarchs had stamped their likenesses onto coins. Zollin didn’t bother trying to recreate an image on the coins. He had found that pure gold was ample enough without embellishment. He’d given Mansel the last of his silver marks to buy drinks with. A silver mark was usually more than enough to keep one man eating and drinking throughout the night at any inn, but covering the tabs of other drinkers would require more coin.
Zollin and Eustice found the stables. There were several on the outskirts of the city. They were tired and dusty by the time they made the long walk through the busy streets of Lixon Bay. They had passed the large market, but decided to wait until they had horses to load their provisions on before they did their shopping. It took Zollin an hour to inspect the horses. He bought eight horses-two for each rider and two for their provisions. With two horses for each rider, they should be able to ride all through the day and into the night without having to stop and rest their mounts very often, and certainly without having to walk them. It would still be slower than traveling by sea, but they had no other options.
Zollin took the two packhorses back to the market, while Eustice stayed with the other horses at the stable. Zollin’s first priority was to get saddles for the six horses. It was expensive, but he didn’t want to waste time saddling and unsaddling their horses throughout the day. With each horse ready to ride, they could stop, stretch, and then remount their fresh horse. He bought bridles and saddlebags for each horse. He was forced to go to three saddler’s shops before he had enough tack for all of their mounts. He paid extra to have the gear delivered to Eustice at the stable yard.
Then he went to the actual market, where venders were hocking their wares. It reminded Zollin of the harvest festival in Tranaugh Shire. There were brightly colored booths and merchants selling everything from weapons to jewelry. He bought dried fish and smoked fish, a large sack of black-crusted bread, a cask of butter, vegetables, and a cask of salted pork. Most of the rations were made for sea travel, but he packed the horses well enough. He bought blankets, large cloaks with hoods, and some wine. He was just about to leave the market when he saw a booth with a wide assortment of objects. One caught Zollin’s attention-it looked like a polished stone, perhaps volcanic rock. It was strangely shaped and not set in any kind of holder. It was just laid out among some rather plain looking jewelry.
Zollin picked the piece up, examining it. It felt like it was almost vibrating in his hand, as if it gave off a sense of magical power. He looked at the merchant, who was an old man with a deeply lined face.
“What is this?” he asked.
“It’s a Veppra stone,” the merchant said. “They used to be valued for warding off evil, but they aren’t in style much anymore.”
“A Veppra stone,” Zollin said, trying the word out. It made him wish Kelvich were with him. The old sorcerer would have known what it was. The ache of his mentor’s death was acute at the moment and Zollin had to shake himself to keep from sinking into sadness for his old friend.
“How much do you want for it?” he asked.
“They’re quite rare,” the merchant said. He seemed to come to life once the haggling began. “I couldn’t take less than five silver marks for it.”
“Five?” Zollin asked. He wanted to laugh. He knew the stone wasn’t worth more than one silver coin to most people, but the stone’s magical properties made it much more valuable.
“Would you take a gold crown? It’s all I’ve got left.”
“A gold crown?” The merchant looked stunned.
Zollin flipped him the coin and walked away. He examined the stone as he made his way back through the city toward the stables. It was about the size of a large walnut, and Zollin already knew what he was going to do with it.
When he returned to the stables the sun was beginning to set. Mansel was with Eustice and they had the horses saddled and ready to leave. Zollin was tired, but he climbed into the saddle without complaint.
“Give me your sword,” he told Mansel.
The big warrior handed it over without complaint. It had been fashioned from an old anchor that Mansel had found on board the Northern Star. The anchor had somehow broken almost completely in half, so the crew had stopped using it. Zollin had used his magic to transform the rusty metal into a rugged sword for his friend. He place his hand over the crosspiece where the hand guard and hilt met. He let his magic flow into the metal, softening it and then pressing out a section. Then he placed the Veppra stone into the hole and made the steel flow around it. He left a small opening about the size of a coin where the Veppra stone could be seen, but the irregular edges of the stone were covered by the steel. The sense of magical strength could now be felt in the sword, although Zollin wasn’t sure what the stone really did or if Mansel would even be able to notice the power the stone gave his weapon.
“There,” he said, handing the sword back to Mansel.
“What did you do?” he asked, looking at the sword’s new addition.
“Just a little decoration, that’s all.”
“I’ve never known you to care about appearances,” Mansel said.
“Well, the sword just needed a little something to make it complete,” Zollin said. “Now what did you find out on your reconnaissance mission?”
“You mean my drinking excursion? Come on, Zollin, you can’t be a famous adventurer unless you get the lingo right.”
“Well?” Zollin asked, ignoring Mansel’s joke.
“Okay, well, you were right. Both armies landed here. Apparently, rumor has it that King Belphan didn’t survive the invasion.”
“Really?” Zollin said in surprise.
“Lots of different rumors about what exactly happened, but most of them have to do with your friend from the Torr killing Belphan. But that’s not the best part. Apparently all the generals from the Oslan forces died too. It seems that King Zorlan has some ambition after all. He’s taken control of both armies and is claiming stewardship of the Oslan throne.”
“So he wants to rule both kingdoms,” Zollin said. “Offendorl breaks the treaty and already we’re at each others’ throats.”
“So it would seem. But there’s more news. I asked about the witch in Lodenhime and found out she marched south with an army of her own.”
“What army?” Zollin asked.
“All of Ortis’ forces. Even the reserve troops. From what I can tell, King Oveer was suppose to march north with his army and invade Yelsia, but instead he turned south with Gwendolyn and made for Osla.”
“What do you think about that?”
“I don’t know, Zollin. I know the witch has power over men, but I wasn’t there long enough to find out her plans. She sent your father and me north the day after we arrived in Lodenhime.”
“But Prince Wilam is still with her,” Zollin said.
“I’m sure he is. She’s probably got him wrapped around her little finger. Cutting him loose from her power won’t be easy.”
“No,” Zollin said. “This is getting out of hand. If King Zorlan marches south, we’re looking at three armies in Osla. It’ll be a bloodbath.”
“Not to mention leaving Ortis and Falxis vulnerable to attack.”
“If King Felix finds out, he’s liable to send troops south as well.”
“The big question now,” Mansel said, “is what we plan to do. I mean, it might be better for us to just lag behind and let them fight it out. Then we can come in and make sure the Torr isn’t a threat to you anymore.”
“I don’t know,” Zollin said. “There’s so much at stake. If Gwendolyn is as powerful as you say, what’s to keep her from combining all three armies and marching north again? She may be set on ruling all Five Kingdoms.”
“True,” agreed Mansel, “but I don’t want to get caught in the middle of a war, especially one we have no stake in.”
“I’ve got to make sure Offendorl isn’t a threat to me anymore. If he killed King Belphan, then he probably means to take over Osla.”
“But how can he do that without the army?”
“He would have the reserve troops, and we don’t know that the returning soldiers won’t join him.”
“I wish we knew more,” Mansel said. “I hate walking into a fight when I don’t even know what side we’re on.”
“Me either, but it can’t be helped. Luxing City is on the road to Osla-perhaps we can find out what’s really going on.”
“I hope you’re right,” Mansel said, his hand unconsciously griping the hilt of his sword.
* * *
Offendorl was angry. Bartoom had failed once again. He’d seen the fight through the dragon’s eyes. The effort had taxed the elder wizard greatly, but he knew that Zollin wouldn’t give up without a fight and he was hoping the boy would be killed. It would set back Offendorl’s plans, but at least it would put an end to the fighting.
The elder wizard had seen the dragon’s tactics and had been sure that victory was at hand, when the kraken had risen up and attacked Bartoom. Offendorl had read stories of the infamous sea monster. He knew that the kraken was drawn to magic, but he had no idea the monster was active again. In his youth, centuries ago, wizards avoided the seas as much as possible. It was almost as if the oceans created a magical barrier few dared cross. But Zollin had managed to use the kraken to save himself from Bartoom. The boy had skills and brought a creativity to his magic that Offendorl found both frightening and exhilarating.
But now he had no choice. He’d spent a day resting, but now he had to return to his tower in the Grand City. He would have to prepare to battle Zollin again. He needed to find new strength and a way to tilt the odds in his favor. He couldn’t underestimate Zollin any further-the young wizard was too strong and too determined.
He was now in a carriage that was taking him to the Grand City. It was not as comfortable as his wagon had been, but he’d lost the wagon in Yelsia when the invasion failed. Now, he was forced to use a rented carriage. It had a long padded bench and a cover to keep the infernal sun from beating down on him, but there was no stopping the dust, which was everywhere. It stuck to his skin, which was dampened by the heat. It clung to his nostrils and lips so that everything seemed too small and taste like dirt. Offendorl was not so weak that he couldn’t endure the journey, but he disliked the notion of arriving at the Torr exhausted. He despised weakness, and the thought of revealing his own to the servants and other magic-users in the tower was repugnant to him.
They had traveled from sunup until dark, then stopped at one of the many roadside inns that lined the wide road from B
rimington Bay to the Grand City. Offendorl had known something was wrong by the lack of soldiers along the road. King Belphan had always kept troops on the road to deter bandits, but now they were strangely absent. He was sure the news of Belphan’s death hadn’t reached the Grand City before him, but he couldn’t imagine what would cause the troops to be pulled from their duty on the road.
“I want wine,” Offendorl told the innkeeper. “And not that watered down piss you give everyone else. I want the best you have. And food, a double portion.”
“Yes, of course,” the man said.
“Bring it up to me yourself. I want the latest news.”
“Certainly,” the innkeeper said, his hand still holding the gold coin Offendorl had given him. “My wife will show you to your rooms.”
Offendorl followed the portly woman up the stairs to a stuffy suit of rooms. There was a sitting area and a large desk in the first room, and a large bed in the second. The windows were thrown open by the innkeeper’s wife.
“It’s a bit stuffy,” she said, “but it will cool down shortly. I can have one of the maids bring up some cool water to wash with,” she said with a wink and a knowing smile.
“No,” Offendorl said. “The room shall suffice, now be gone, woman.”
The innkeeper’s wife was shocked by Offendorl’s tone, but she left and Offendorl settled into a chair by the window. He would have enjoyed a bath under normal circumstances. In the tower he bathed regularly, but all he wanted at the moment was food, sleep, and to get on the road again. He despised traveling and didn’t trust anyone, especially not young wenches who would almost certainly do anything for money, including slicing his throat when they were supposed to be washing him. He pushed the thoughts away and waited for the innkeeper to return.
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