Selix was ferocious, but Bartoom’s scales were much harder and the older dragon was taking less damage than its golden opponent. Selix felt its scales being shredded by Bartoom’s talons and fought savagely to keep the black beast’s massive jaws from its golden neck.
Brianna felt the communication as her pride fought. There were flashes and images racing through her mind, but she couldn’t keep up. She ran and jumped off a rock that was jutting into the air, catching a thermal current and gliding upward. She wanted to be with her dragons, but she couldn’t match their speed.
Selix pushed off of Bartoom just as Tig and Torc slammed into the larger dragon’s side. Their talons impacted Bartoom, but their mass wasn’t enough to injure the larger beast. Selix pulled away as Bartoom turned to face the new attackers, but they sped away before Bartoom could retaliate.
Then Ferno reached Bartoom. Bartoom was larger, but Ferno was thicker and just as heavy. Ferno’s massive muscles tensed as it clashed with the black dragon. Bartoom roared fire, but Ferno ignored it, choosing instead to sink its razor sharp teeth into the black dragon’s shoulder, ripping away flesh before letting go and looping back up. Bartoom was hurt and angry, but the voice inside its head was ordering it to kill the other dragons.
Bartoom flapped its massive wings and flew away from the other dragons, gaining altitude as it flew. Gyia was high overhead, directing the other dragons. Tig and Torc harassed Bartoom, one flying in from one direction, drawing the older dragon’s attention while the other raced in from the opposite side for a hit-and-run attack.
Selix was bleeding from a dozen wounds, but flew to Brianna, who settled lightly on the golden dragon’s back and began immediately healing Selix’s wounds. They flew high over the mountains, where the air was very cold and it was difficult for Brianna to catch her breath in the thin air. Then they dove, hurtling at breakneck speed back toward the fight.
Ferno followed Bartoom, closing with the larger dragon when it slowed to attack the twin dragons. The green dragon’s strength was able to batter Bartoom off course. Ferno started with a massive charge, slamming into the black dragon and then following Bartoom in free fall. Brianna suddenly saw in her mind Bartoom’s wings, the message clear. Ferno twisted around and tried to bite Bartoom’s left wing, but missed. Then the green dragon clawed out with its massive talons, raking across the black dragon’s leathery wings, ripping and shredding.
Bartoom’s tail wrapped around Ferno’s throat and pulled the green dragon backward, then the big black beast flapped its wings, shooting upward. The force of the bigger dragon’s change of direction wrenched Ferno’s neck, but the green dragon’s massive muscles and Bartoom’s wounded wing kept the force from breaking the green dragon’s neck as Bartoom had been trying to do.
Brianna sent out images of the pride regrouping and of Bartoom escaping. She pushed her thoughts toward the other dragons and they flew to her. Selix was growling angrily.
“I know,” she shouted. “But Bartoom is under the control of an evil wizard. We must follow and find this wizard to free our brother.”
Ferno sent images of ripping the dragon apart, but Brianna shook her head.
“We must not kill our kind, not if we can help it.”
They hung back, flying closely together. Brianna sent Tig to watch Bartoom while the others landed and rested from the fight. She checked each of the other dragons, but only Ferno was hurt. She had healed the lacerations that Selix had endured from Bartoom while they were still in the air. The cuts had not been deep and healing them was easy. Ferno, on the other hand, was worse off. The green dragon had several pulled muscles that were spasming in its neck and back, causing the dragon a great deal of pain. Healing those muscles took time.
Once she finished, Brianna took a long drink of her water and then took a loaf of bread from her pack. Then she jumped up in the air, flipping like an acrobat and landing softly on Selix’s back.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s fly!”
Chapter 14
It took Zollin three days of hard riding to reach Luxing City. The town was not all that large. The most impressive building was the castle, a massive structure with high walls and lookout towers on all four sides. The structures around the castle were small, mostly wooden buildings. The entire city seemed quiet, almost empty.
Zollin and Mansel rode into the city while Eustice took the other horses and their supplies around. Zollin didn’t want to waste time in Luxing City, but he did want to find out what was happening with the army. He hoped they might be able to skirt around the army at Luxing. He had thought that King Zorlan would stay in the castle, or at least make camp for a few days. The road had been trampled by the army, and many of the small villages along their route had been picked clean of food and supplies. Some of the farms had even been burned. It made no sense to Zollin, who couldn’t understand why the king would let his army raze his own people.
Unfortunately, it was obvious that the army wasn’t still in Luxing. There were plenty of signs that they had been there, but the town was almost completely empty. Even from a distance Zollin could tell that. Still, they rode into the city to see what they could learn.
“It seems to me that perhaps the rumors of King Belphan’s death weren’t true,” Zollin said.
“What makes you say that?” Mansel said.
“None of this makes sense,” Zollin said. “Why wouldn’t King Zorlan stay here, even for just a few days?”
“Maybe he is here,” Mansel said. “He could have sent the army on ahead of him.”
“But you saw the burned farms. Why would he let his army sack his own villages?”
“I don’t know,” Mansel said. “But to be honest, I don’t know why most people do the things they do.”
“So you think it’s normal behavior, even for a king?”
“I don’t know what’s normal and what isn’t. I just know that the king I met was more than a little crazy. You saved his life and his kingdom from his usurping son, yet he was ready to hand you over to the enemy. None of that makes sense to me.”
“I guess you’re right, I just don’t understand what is driving Zorlan so hard.”
“It’s probably because he thinks that if he doesn’t go lay claim to Osla, someone else will. The witch was marching south with the army from Ortis. At least that’s the rumor. If we’ve heard it, surely King Zorlan has too. I doubt he’d want to sit around in his castle and let someone else beat him to the throne of Osla.”
“How come kings are never content with their own kingdoms?” Zollin asked. “They’re always invading some other kingdom or trying to expand into someone else’s lands. It’s almost predictable.”
“Yet here we are, trying to figure out what is going on with another king and his army.”
“We could just go home if there wasn’t an evil wizard trying to hunt me down.”
“Not to mention the dragon,” Mansel said with a smile. “We’ve got to do something about that dragon.”
They both laughed at the absurdity of their situation. It made no sense to think that two men and one servant could affect the outcome of kingdoms whose armies were at each others’ throats-not to mention the magical creatures that seemed bent on destroying them wherever they went.
They passed several quiet homes and a few workshops. If people were inside, Zollin couldn’t see or hear them. They certainly didn’t reveal themselves. They rode further into the town and found several inns near the castle walls. Zollin swung off his horse and handed the reins to his friend.
“What?” Mansel asked with a grin. “You think I’m really going to sit out here and hold onto the horses?”
“I guess that was a little silly, wasn’t it?” Zollin replied.
“I’d say so,” Mansel agreed. “You get information. I’m getting ale.”
They tied their horses to a post outside the inn and went inside. A tired looking woman stood up.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?” she asked.
“Al
e,” Mansel said.
“And maybe a little news?”
“There’s not much news,” the woman said, stepping into the kitchen and returning with two large mugs of ale. “The king didn’t even stop on his mad dash to Osla. Just paused long enough to resupply and gather the reserve troops.”
“It’s awful quiet here in the city,” Zollin prompted.
“That’s because King Zorlan’s got every able-bodied man in the supply train. There’re tailors and blacksmiths-even leather workers. All of ’em forced into service. The gods only know what for.”
“We saw some farms and small settlements burnt out,” Mansel said, wiping the foam from the head of his ale off his lips with the back of his hand.
“That would be the dogs from Osla,” the woman said. “They have no respect for anything other than killing and raping every innocent in the Five Kingdoms.”
“Why doesn’t King Zorlan stop them?”
“He isn’t interested in what’s behind him. He only cares about getting to Osla. From what I’ve heard, he thinks that King Oveer betrayed him, and King Belphan as well. We’ve heard rumors about the witch in Lodenhime, but I think that’s just poppycock, myself. I think Oveer waited until King Belphan was well on his way to Yelsia, and then moved his forces south. It’s no accident that King Belphan was killed. I imagine Falxis was next on his list, once he had control of Osla’s treasury.”
“That makes sense,” Zollin said, although he knew the rumors about the witch in Lodenhime were true. “We thank you for the news,” he said as he laid a silver coin on the table.
“And for the ale,” Mansel agreed.
They stood up to leave.
“This is too much coin,” the woman said. “At least stay and have some supper.”
“We’re in a hurry,” Zollin said. “But if you have some food we can take with us, we’ll pay.”
“You’ve already paid enough,” the woman said.
“Oh, I’d say that ale was worth that silver mark,” Mansel said good-naturedly.
“You’re too kind, both of you. But let me get you some fresh bread and smoked cheese. It’s my specialty.”
She hurried away and returned a moment later with a canvas sack filled with bread and cheese.
“I’m sorry there’s not more. The army took most of what we have.”
“This is more than enough. Thank you,” Zollin said.
They rode through town and only saw one other person, a small child who looked half-starved. Zollin gave the boy a loaf of the bread the woman at the inn had given them. Then they rode out and met up with Eustice, who was waiting near a stream not far from the city. They stopped long enough to switch mounts and refill their canteens.
“I’m glad we got some ale back there,” Mansel said. “I’m getting tired of drinking water all the time.”
“Me too. We should have gotten something for Eustice,” Zollin said.
The mute servant waved his hand as if to say it was okay, but Zollin still felt bad for the man. They rode hard, late into the night. Then made camp and slept for a few hours. Zollin and Mansel took turns standing watch, even though they didn’t bother with a fire. They ate the last of the smoked fish and enjoyed the cheese they had gotten at the inn. It was soft and had a rich flavor that went well with the salty fish.
The next day they pushed on at dawn, riding hard all day, but still not catching sight of the army ahead of them. They passed several small villages, most of which were either completely wiped out or almost. There was no wine or ale to be had, and most had barely enough food left to see the inhabitants through winter. Zollin had a feeling that bad times were in store for the people in Falxis. If Zollin didn’t stop Offendorl and the kings of the south, then bloodshed and hard times could devastate all five kingdoms. The way Zollin saw it, only Baskla had managed to avoid the bloodshed and senseless loss brought on by Offendorl’s invasion of Yelsia.
The trail left by the armies led south and Mansel was becoming visibly nervous the further they went.
“What’s bothering you?” Zollin finally asked.
“I thought we’d have caught up with the army by now. I was hoping to get around it before they got to the coast.”
“You’re worried about the woman you met there?” Zollin asked.
“Nycoll,” Mansel said, nodding. “She’s all alone. If the army hurts her, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“It wouldn’t be your fault, Mansel,” Zollin said, knowing the words didn’t make a difference even as he said them. “Even if you were there, you couldn’t hold off the entire army.” Mansel just looked at Zollin. He knew his friend meant well, and Mansel had no right to argue. He had killed Kelvich to keep the old man from asking too many questions when Mansel was under the witch’s spell. Still, if he lost Nycoll, he didn’t think he could take the loss. He pushed on, increasing their pace south. Zollin and Eustice struggled to keep up. Zollin understood his friend’s motivation and did all he could to help. They rode late into the second night, and then rode through the third night. Eustice slept in the saddle as they rode on the fourth day out from Luxing City, even with the sun beating down on them and Mansel continuing his punishing pace.
When they finally caught sight of the army, it was merely a dust cloud in the distance, but it was enough to spur Mansel into an even more frantic pace. Zollin knew that even swapping mounts they couldn’t keep up the grueling pace for much longer, but he didn’t resist. He knew that if Brianna had been at the mercy of a marching army he wouldn’t stop either. When night fell they were close enough that they could make out the marching troops. Zollin was surprised that they army didn’t stop or make camp.
“What do you make of that?” Zollin asked Mansel.
“What?”
“The fact that they aren’t stopping for the night. Don’t most armies make camp at nightfall?”
“How should I know?” Mansel said in a surly tone.
“Maybe we should slow our pace a bit,” Zollin said. “We could be running straight into a
trap.”
“I’d welcome a fight at this point,” Mansel said. “If you want to stop, go ahead. I’ll be waiting with Nycoll for you to catch up.”
“I’m not stopping,” Zollin said. “You rode with me to rescue Brianna. I’m not suggesting that we don’t ride as hard as possible. I just want you to have your feelers out for danger.”
“You’re the wizard; you do that.”
Zollin frowned, but he understood his friend’s dilemma. So they rode hard and finally caught up with a contingent of soldiers near midnight. It was a large group and they were making camp for the night. Most of them were laughing and talking. Zollin and Mansel left Eustice with the spare horses and rode forward together. They stopped for a moment just outside the light from the large fire. There were a dozen soldiers, all fully armed.
Finally Mansel rode forward into the light, causing the soldiers to rise to their feet and draw weapons.
“Who are you?” Mansel demanded.
“King’s soldiers,” said a tall man with thick, wavy hair. “And you?”
“We’re just travelers,” Zollin said, riding up beside his friend. “Actually, I’m a magician. I’ll do a few tricks if you’ll share your supper?”
“And who’s he?” the soldier wanted to know, pointing at Mansel, who was glaring at each of the soldiers in turn.
“Oh, he’s just riding guard with me. It’s not very safe to travel alone these days,” Zollin explained, trying to keep his tone light.
“I don’t like him,” said one of the other soldiers.
“Just ignore him,” Zollin said. “He has a surly nature. No idea how to have fun, that one.”
Zollin threw his hand up and sent a flaming ball of light shooting sparks in every direction. It sailed through the air and then disappeared like a firework.
“What do you say, fellas? You in the mood for some fun?” Zollin said, trying to imitate the traveling performers he’d seen as a child.<
br />
“No,” said the soldier with thick hair. “We aren’t in the mood for fun. Jens, go see if they’re alone.”
“Yes sir,” said one of the other soldiers, running into the darkness behind them.
“There’s no one back there but our servant Eustice,” Zollin explained. “We’ll move on if you’re aren’t interested in a night you’ll never forget. There’s no need to get hostile.”
“They’ve got horses,” the soldier named Jens called.
“Bring them forward,” the wavy haired soldier shouted.
“Really, there’s no need for this,” Zollin said.
“Shut it and get down off those horses,” the soldier demanded.
“Fine,” Zollin said. “They’re all yours, Mansel.”
The big warrior drew his sword and spurred his horse forward instantly. The sword that Zollin had crafted gleamed in the firelight. It was a simple weapon, with only the Veppra stone decorating it. Still, it looked like a fabled weapon from a bard’s song. At first the soldiers seemed captivated by it, then it fell on the closest man, slicing through his neck and raining an arc of blood that landed sputtering in the flames.
The soldiers were shocked into action, but it was too late for the next man, who fell under Zollin’s horse and was trampled. Three soldiers ran toward Zollin, but he batted them away with a wave of magic so hard they were knocked unconscious.
Mansel jumped from his horse and whirled into action. Zollin watched his friend fight with a sense of awe. Mansel was big-easily a head taller than Zollin-and his frame was so muscular it was almost bulky. Zollin rarely saw Mansel move quickly, but with a sword in his hand Mansel was all precision, grace, and speed. He moved almost too quickly to keep up with. The soldiers fell before him so easily it was almost laughable, but their screams made the spectacle all too real.
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