Jute knew that when he died he would be carried to his ancestors with stories that would bring his clan renown in the afterlife, so he didn’t mind the thought of dying. Hours passed and the dwarves’ pace was barely more than a crawl, but Jute knew they were drawing near to the tunnel that Brianna had created using her fiery powers. They came around a bend and at last Jute saw sunlight streaming in from the tunnel. Unfortunately he also saw the Groslings, hundreds of them, fleeing out of the sloping corridor and into the Five Kingdoms.
The Bollark was still trapped in the underworld, but Brianna had opened a tunnel for the evil creature’s minions to escape through, and Jute had led them straight to it.
Chapter 18
Lorik ran across the sandy plains. There were two dozen armed outcasts running behind him, but they weren’t chasing Lorik, they were following him. They were all warriors, the strongest of the mutated outcasts, but Lorik stood out even among the hulking soldiers. He was like a god, his body covered with thick muscles, able to run for days without stopping, stronger and faster than any normal man or outcast. The legendary swords of Acromin hung from crisscrossed sheathes on his back. He wore wool pants that were loosely woven so that they stretched with each stride. His boots were thick leather that rose up his calf to just below the knee, but his upper body was bare, the sweat glistening on his wide back and massive shoulders.
Toomis rode behind the other troops, stopping to change horses when one grew weary of carrying his weight. The group had discovered the crevasse that the witch had opened during her ill-fated war. It was little more than a crack in the hard, sandy ground, but it stretched as far as the eye could see. Lorik’s vision was almost as good as an eagle’s, but he couldn’t see where the fault line stopped. The dark magic within him stirred as he stood over the crevasse, drawn to something deep below the earth, but Lorik pulled himself away from the vast scar across the land and continued running.
The rumors were true. The farther south they went the more people they found. Most were living in small villages that had miraculously avoided the scorpion-tailed monsters that the witch had summoned forth from the underworld to capture the innocent. Whenever they neared a settlement or homestead, the outcasts kept their distance. Lorik also waited and allowed Toomis to make an introduction. They had heard more rumors but didn’t meet anyone who had made actual contact with the group in the south until the fourth day of their journey.
They were in a small town, more of a way station than an actual settlement. There were several large farms nearby, and the workers came to the way station to socialize and drink ale brewed by a man with one leg named Tash. While the outcasts hung back, Lorik met with the brewer and his associate, a young man named Lyrak, who had come up from the Wesselton Peninsula. The brewer and his apprentice looked shocked as Lorik approached. It was a typical human response, although the outcasts seemed less impressed with Lorik’s size and musculature.
“You’re a big ‘un,” said the brewer. “I’m called Tash.”
“Lorik. I’ll take a keg of your best ale,” he replied, producing several silver coins.
“You’re a generous man,” Tash said. “I appreciate the business. Lyrak, bring out a keg for this gentleman.”
“Actually,” Lorik interrupted, “I’d like a word with your assistant.”
“I thought you might,” said Tash. “Rumors from the south say there’s a dragon. And rumors from the north say there’s a god building an army of outcasts.”
“Let me set the record straight,” Lorik said. “I am Lorik, rightful king of Ortis. I am laying claim to Falxis and Osla as well, since the people responsible for ruining those kingdoms should not benefit from our loss. Every citizen of those kingdoms is welcome, be they human or outcast. And anyone who would rather not join us, or who might look to make trouble, well…”
He let the thought drift off and the brewer looked horrified.
“I say live and let live. I’m just a brewer, you’ll get no trouble here. Lyrak can answer any questions you’ve got. I’ll just go and get your keg.”
Lorik nodded and the younger man named Lyrak swallowed nervously. He was obviously trying to hide something, but Lorik didn’t think the young man was a threat. There was obviously a reason he had fled from Wesselton, and Lorik didn’t care what crimes the boy had committed, as long as he could provide the information that Lorik needed.
“There is a woman calling herself a queen,” Lorik prompted.
“Aye, Queen Havina.”
“Where is she from?”
“Not Wesselton,” Lyrak stated. “She’s from Osla though, somewhere near the Grand City, I think.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“I was in a bit of pinch,” the boy said, his head hanging down as if he were ashamed.
“No,” Lorik corrected. “Tell me how this woman came to power.”
“She showed up with a dragon,” Lyrak said. “A big, black beast that breathes fire and flies. I’ve seen it a time or two. Not up close, mind you. I wouldn’t recommend that. It eats people that get too close.”
“She just showed up and declared herself a queen?”
“It was right after the Witch’s War. There were a lot of rumors about monsters and wizards. People in the south were worried. She claimed that she could protect us and she had a dragon. It ate Duke Ren, and the countess sided with Queen Havina. The local guard would have been wiped out if they’d tried to fight. The commander surrendered his troops to her and she crowned herself Queen of the South.”
“Does she have powers?” Lorik asked.
“I’m not sure I follow you, my lord.”
“Is she a witch? Can she work magic?”
“No, I never heard of that.”
“Does she bewitch men?”
“She’s a looker, but there’s rumors that she doesn’t like men. There’s no king, if you take my meaning.”
“It sounds like her source of power is the dragon,” Lorik said. “What else can you tell me?”
“She’s been pushing her forces north, not that there is anyone to stand against her. Miller’s Crossing was governed by a council and there were no troops stationed there. All the soldiers from Hero’s Rest were taken by the king to invade Yelsia and never returned. She has claimed land from Megtorry Harbor in the east, to Lorrington in the west.”
“Interesting. How large is her army?”
“I don’t know, hundreds.”
“And you’ve seen these forces?”
“Not all of them,” Lyrak said. “You don’t need to see much except the dragon.”
“You have been helpful,” Lorik said. “Now help your master.”
The young man turned away, but not before Lorik noticed the look of resentment in the younger man’s eyes. It would only be a matter of time before the young apprentice either stole his master’s savings and slipped quietly away, or worse, murdered the older man in his sleep. But Lorik couldn’t spend his time worrying about a young delinquent, not when there was an army to the south led by a woman who controlled a dragon.
The brewer finally came back into the small common area of his shop struggling with a barrel of ale, despite the fact that his apprentice was trying to help carry the heavy keg.
“I’ll take that,” Lorik said, lifting the heavy barrel up as easily as a mother lifting her infant child. Lorik propped the keg on one thick shoulder and bid the men farewell. The brewer and his apprentice stood staring in awe as Lorik walked quickly from the brewer’s shop and into the hot afternoon sun.
Lorik carried the keg for nearly two hours before allowing the soldiers to take turns carrying the barrel of ale. They continued the grueling pace until nightfall, then they built a fire and tapped the keg. There was laughter and merriment in the camp. Their fire was large and the soldiers, each one worn down from days of running, enjoyed the ale and the cool night air. Lorik took the first watch, moving away from the fire so that it didn’t spoil his night vision. The soldiers had consumed th
e entire keg of ale and were sleeping soundly when Lorik felt a tremor of chilling terror in the dark magic that resided within him.
“You took your time,” Lorik said.
“The cursed sun in this place saps my strength,” hissed Spector.
Lorik couldn’t see the wraith, but he had felt the terror of his partner’s presence many times. The ghostly figure made no noise when he moved, and he was completely invisible in the darkness. His body was ethereal, and yet Lorik could feel the wraith as if his old friend Stone had ambled up beside him.
“Can you keep up with us tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Spector hissed. “What is so important that you needed me here?”
“A dragon,” Lorik explained.
“The wizard?” Spector asked, and for the first time since his transformation there was a note of respect in the wraith’s voice.
“No, I believe this is a different creature. It’s black and controlled by a woman calling herself the Queen of the South. Her name is Havina.”
“You want me to slay a dragon?”
“No, I don’t want the beast dead. I want to know how she controls it.”
“A dragon would fit nicely in your menagerie of strange creatures,” Spector hissed. “I will seek out this Havina and learn her secrets.”
“Don’t kill her,” Lorik warned. “We may need her to control the beast and if not, she might be useful in other ways.”
“As you wish,” the wraith hissed, then he was gone.
Despite the fact that Lorik was filled with the same dark magic that gave Spector life, and that they had been close friends before Stone was transformed into a vengeful spirit, Lorik couldn’t help but shiver. He was a man who walked with death as his companion, and despite his resolve to fulfill his destiny he couldn’t help but wonder if that destiny didn’t include one of Spector’s knives in his back.
Chapter 19
“You have news,” the king said in a hoarse voice.
“Yes, my lord. I have a letter from King Ricard.”
Zollin handed the letter to King Hausey who tore open the seal with his frail-looking fingers. It was obvious that the king was ill, and Zollin couldn’t help but think about King Felix whose son had slowly poisoned him in hopes of ascending to the throne. Yet despite the way the king looked Zollin felt no urge from his pendant to heal, and his magical probing detected no sickness in King Hausey’s body. He looked at Branock and the suspicion was clearly evident on Zollin’s face, but the elder wizard ignored him.
“What does it say, my liege?” Branock asked.
“It is an offer to divide the lost kingdoms equally if I will send aid to conquer someone called Lorik.”
“Lorik?” Branock said, clearly unfamiliar with the name.
“He has taken over Ortis and destroyed Ort City,” the king said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“A warlord, then,” Branock crowed. “This is the best news we could hope for. If Ortis is a threat to Baskla, we should attack King Ricard now. With his forces divided we can sweep them away then conquer the lost kingdoms at our leisure.”
Zollin could see the wanton greed on Branock’s face as he outlined his plan. It was obvious that the elder wizard cared for nothing but power and control. He had insinuated himself into King Hausey’s court in hopes that Yelsia could become the sole kingdom.
“Surely this is madness,” Zollin said. “Yelsia and Baskla have been allies for centuries.”
“Statecraft is obviously not your forte, Zollin,” Branock sneered. “One only needs allies when they have a common enemy. With Falxis and Osla in ruins, we no longer need Baskla to support us.”
“But attacking them now is not as simple as it appears,” King Hausey said. “It’s never wise to back a wild boar into a corner. King Ricard is a strong man, who would not take our betrayal lightly, and he is already preparing for war against this Lorik. I say we wait and see what happens. Time is on our side.”
“No, my lord,” Branock said, and Zollin thought he nearly choked on the words. “If Baskla prevails against this Lorik they will be twice as strong.”
“In that case we will have saved ourselves from making a powerful enemy,” the king said.
“You miss my point,” Branock argued. “They are weak now.”
“Perhaps,” Zollin said, “but there is more to consider than Baskla’s military. A great evil is spreading across the kingdoms, my lord. I don’t know if it was caused by the witch or some other force, but in Baskla there are gargoyles ravaging the countryside. I was nearly killed by them myself and I’m convinced they are what has stopped your ambassadors from reaching King Ricard. He said that no one from Yelsia has been to the capital since the war.”
“Gargoyles?” Branock asked in a cynical tone. “Are we to believe more bedtime stories now? Young Zollin, are you sure you are well?”
“I’ve seen them,” Zollin said. “A few attacked me before the war when I was trying to rally the forces of Ortis and Baskla to our cause against Gwendolyn and her Outcasts. This time there were hundreds, maybe thousands, of them.”
“Stop it,” Branock shouted, “you cannot worry the king with your outlandish lies.”
“They are not lies,” Zollin snarled. “And I have met this Lorik. He is a powerful man, touched by magic, but of a type I was unfamiliar with. He looked like a legend from the old tales. Taller and stronger than any man I’ve ever seen. He was single-handedly fighting an entire army of Norsik raiders. If he has taken power in Ortis he would be a formidable enemy.”
“What are you saying, that we should be afraid of a single man?” Branock snapped.
“No,” King Hausey interjected. “He is saying that Baskla is a buffer between this Lorik and Yelsia. If we rush in and conquer King Ricard then we will be stretched thin and vulnerable to Lorik.”
“I can go south and meet with Lorik. I’m going in search of Brianna anyway. Perhaps I can learn his plans and why he has become an enemy to Baskla.”
“On your dragon? You could fly there?” the king asked.
“Yes, my lord,” Zollin said.
“Don’t listen to him,” Branock urged in a low, conspiratorial voice. “He may be in league with King Ricard, perhaps even this Lorik too.”
“I am in league with no one,” Zollin said.
“We will wait, yes,” King Hausey said. “That is the wisest choice.”
“No, you must attack!” Branock insisted.
“I am still king here!” Hausey shouted angrily. “I will decide what is best for my own kingdom.”
Zollin was surprised that the king still had such fire inside, but the young wizard remained silent. It was obvious that King Hausey didn’t need anyone to fight his battles for him. Branock looked angry, but his words were spoken in a humble manner.
“I have overreached, my liege, forgive me. I let my passions rule me sometimes. You are right of course. You are always right.”
“My decision is made, now leave me, both of you. I will see you again in the morning, Zollin. I will have a message for this Lorik.”
“I will return in the morning,” Zollin said.
“There is no need for you to leave,” Branock said. “There is always room in the castle.”
“No,” Zollin said quickly. “I need to visit my in-laws. I will return in the morning.”
“As you wish,” Branock said with a smile.
Zollin left the castle feeling uneasy. He had no doubt that Branock was up to no good, but he couldn’t prove it. Whatever evil plans he was hatching in the castle, Zollin had only gotten the barest hint of it. The amulet hadn’t reached out to heal King Hausey the way it had in the river village in Baskla, yet clearly something was ailing the king. Part of Zollin wanted to confront Branock, but without cause he couldn’t risk killing the king’s advisor, not if he wanted to remain in good standing with King Hausey.
Brianna’s father Estry was happy to see Zollin, but Priam, as always, seemed put out by his visit. Unfortun
ately they hadn’t seen or heard from Brianna, but Zollin hadn’t really expected them to. Instead, he learned that Danella was now residing at the castle, with expectations that her marriage to King Hausey would be announced any day. Zollin felt a twinge of fear at the arrangement. He couldn’t decide if Hausey was really interested in Danella, who was certainly pretty enough, but only a third of the king’s age, or if the match was another of Branock’s tricks. It seemed the evil wizard from the Torr was behind every decision being made in Yelsia and most seemed aimed at hurting Zollin in some way.
The night passed quickly enough and the next morning, after a light breakfast with Estry, Zollin returned to the castle. The gates which led inside and were normally kept open during the day were locked and barred. A small crowd was waiting to get inside. Zollin guessed most of the people were there to petition the king for something, or work with Hausey’s ministers on various projects throughout the kingdom.
“Why are the gates locked?” Zollin asked.
“I don’t know,” said an older man with a wide hat. “Something must be wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“The gates are always opened in the mornings and manned with guards. But no one will even come when we bang on the doors. It’s very strange.”
Zollin felt a trickle of fear. He went to the large wooden gate but it was locked, just as the others had said. He pounded on the door, expecting to hear from the soldiers on the other side, but there was no reply. Zollin could have opened the gate using his magic, or simply blown it to splinters. He could feel his magic pulsing through him, churned by his dread and ready to pour out in an awesome show of force. But he didn’t want everyone rushing into the castle and causing chaos, there had been enough of that.
Chaos Reigning: The Five Kingdoms Book 10 Page 14