Chaos Reigning: The Five Kingdoms Book 10

by Toby Neighbors

  Havina was dressed in a long gown, but she also had a vest of shining scale armor that looked more like jewelry than battle garb. Long ewe-skin gloves covered her hands and rose up to her elbows. A woven leather belt wrapped around her slim waist and held a delicate-looking sword.

  “I have heard of you, Lorik of Ortis.”

  “And I you, but I do not recognize your claim to the throne of Osla.”

  “I do not need your recognition or approval. I seek no man’s approval and never will.”

  “Fine words for a woman whose army is forced to fight for her entertainment.”

  Havina’s eyes flashed in anger and Lorik repressed a smile. He wanted to bait her, to give her cause to call out her dragon.

  “It seems you know more about me than I know about you. But unless you are hiding an army inside your fancy armor, I believe I have you outnumbered.”

  “Your soldiers do not frighten me. I could slaughter them like sheep, but I fear you would only enjoy that. Throw down your crown and I will let you leave with your life. Otherwise I will defeat your army and make you my slave.”

  “I will never serve another man, not while I draw breath.”

  “Have it your way,” Lorik snarled as he drew one of the twin swords of Acromin. The steel rang as it pulled free of the leather sheath.

  Havina backed away slowly. Her lips were moving but Lorik couldn’t hear what she said. Her soldiers moved to protect her, but didn’t attack Lorik. He was taller and more muscular than any man they had ever seen before. It was almost as if a god had stepped into their midst and none of them were anxious to join with him in battle, which was exactly what Lorik was counting on.

  The dragon’s roar echoed across the plain just as the huge beast came into view. None of the queen’s soldiers moved, but Lorik heard his own troops murmuring behind him. They couldn’t see the dragon, but Lorik could. It was a huge beast, with massive wings and black scales that seemed to swallow the sunlight. He set his feet and waited. The dragon would attack, there was no question about that, but Lorik wasn’t sure how. He’d seen Zollin’s green dragon breathe fire and snatch men up in its massive talons or sweep them aside with its powerful tail.

  The black dragon was larger than Zollin’s. The green dragon that had saved Lorik from the army of Norsik raiders was thick with muscle, but the black dragon racing toward him now was long and lithe. It had powerful hind legs, but the forelegs and chest were thinner. The neck was long and serpentine, the large wings stretched wide to either side of the dragon’s body, and behind it the tail twitched from side to side.

  Lorik felt an excitement that he hadn’t felt in ages. There was also a twinge of fear. Dragons were fearsome creatures, far more powerful than even an army of men. It could kill him if he wasn’t careful, but it was that element of fear and risk that made him feel so alive.

  “Your pet is even uglier than you, false queen!” Lorik taunted just as the dragon dove toward him.

  The beast fell like an arrow, dropping toward Lorik who stood like a colossus in the dazzling sunlight. The massive wings flared, stretching wide to catch the wind and slow the dragon as its chest filled with air. Lorik knew what was coming and felt a cold breath of fear on the back of his neck, but he ignored it, ignored the compulsion to run and hide from the terrible black beast that was bearing down on him. Instead, he filled his own chest with air, and called up the powerful dark magic that filled him and empowered him. Then he blew out, just as the dragon spewed flame down toward Lorik. He had been ready to drop behind the shield if his own freezing breath didn’t stop the dragon’s fire, but to the amazement of everyone, Lorik’s breath snuffed the dragon’s as easily as a man pinching a candle’s wick.

  Lorik couldn’t help but smile. He sheathed his sword and pulled the shield from his arm. He didn’t need the dented shield, so he hurled it at the surprised dragon and watched as it sailed through the air at the beast, who rose up with a mighty flap of wings and batted the shield aside with its tail.

  “Come get me, dragon! If you dare.”

  The dragon roared and Lorik could feel the beast’s reluctance. It didn’t want to fight Lorik or obey the queen, but it had no choice. Still, it didn’t like being a slave and in that moment Lorik felt pity for the beast. It flew up, then flipped in the air and dove toward him. He had to wait and trust his instincts as the dragon dropped toward him. It was by far the riskiest thing he’d ever done, but something deep inside propelled him into action. The dragon’s talons were open wide, ready to snatch Lorik from the ground, but instead he jumped, his body soaring up into the air where he managed to grab the dragon’s outer claw.

  The next few moments were the fiercest of Lorik’s life. The dragon swung upward, spinning and reeling through the air. It took all of Lorik’s incredible strength to hang on. He was tempted to close his eyes and cling to the dragon, but he knew what was coming and he forced himself to be ready. One arm wrapped around the dragon’s leg, the other drew his sword. Lorik didn’t want to hurt the dragon, but he didn’t want to be hurt by the huge beast, either.

  The dragon swung its tail at Lorik, hoping to knock him free and send him hurtling to his death, but Lorik saw the attack coming and swatted the tail with his sword. The clash nearly knocked Lorik free, but he managed to hold on. The blade crashed against the dragon’s scaly tail, causing no visible damage, but eliciting an angry roar. Lorik quickly scrambled up the dragon’s leg, so that his own feet were above the talon. The beast’s thigh was much thicker and harder to hold onto, but he was able to grip the limb better with his legs. When the tail came around again, it tried to crush him against the dragon’s body. Once again Lorik hacked with his sword, but didn’t deflect the blow completely. The thick tail knocked the breath from Lorik’s body and for a moment all he could do was hold on and struggle to breathe.

  The world spun around him. They flew up and down, rising into the sky and then diving toward the earth. Lorik couldn’t tell if he was right side up or upside down, all he knew was that he couldn’t let go. Bartoom had ridges along its spine and when the dragon banked hard to one side, Lorik used the beast’s momentum to slide over the thick hip and catch onto the spines along the dragon’s back. Another swipe from the dragon’s tail forced him to duck down, hiding his face by the beast’s back. When he looked up, flames were rolling toward him down the creature’s back. He sucked in a breath then blew it out in a freezing stream that quelled the fire.

  Slowly, one spine at a time, Lorik pulled himself forward until he was at the dragon’s shoulders. When Bartoom turned his head, Lorik barely had time to counter the beast’s fiery breath.

  “Wait!” Lorik shouted as the dragon flew high into the air. “I do not want to fight you.”

  Bartoom spun, forcing Lorik to cling to the dragon with all his strength.

  “I will set you free! I know Havina forces you to do her bidding. I can give you your freedom.”

  The dragon roared, flying straight up into the sky until the ground was nothing but a brown canvas far below and the air was cold.

  “Bartoom!” Lorik shouted. “I know your name, Bartoom. Let me help you.”

  The dragon turned, spreading its wings wide and gliding slowly back down toward the ground. Lorik wasn’t sure what the beast was doing, but he didn’t have to struggle to hang on anymore. He wasn’t exactly comfortable on the dragon’s back, but he didn’t fear falling off, either. It was possible that Bartoom was simply trying to lull Lorik into a sense of complacency, but it was also possible that the dragon was thinking about Lorik’s offer.

  “I want your help, but I am willing to treat you fairly. Tell me what you desire and I will make it so.”

  More fire erupted from the great black maw, but it wasn’t directed at Lorik this time. It was time for Lorik to act and he hoped that Spector was ready.

  “Take me to the ground and I will free you.”

  The dragon dove, the huge black body shooting toward the ground like a black bolt of lightning. A
t the last moment the giant wings flared and the dragon slowed. When the beast’s feet touched the ground it roared, spewing flames high into the air. Lorik could see the distress the dragon was in. He jumped from the beast’s back and landed between the dragon and the queen’s army.

  “Now, Spector! Kill her now!”

  Chapter 26

  Landing in the large pile of hay seemed like a good idea, but in reality it was much more jarring than he expected. Several of the stiff straw pieces even pierced his skin like needles, and it took him several minutes to crawl out of the hay. The city was in an uproar, with people shouting and running. Soldiers were scrambling to close the massive gate that led out of the castle proper. Mansel sheathed his sword, but kept his hand on the pommel as he ran.

  The portico was rattling down as Mansel raced through. He was sure his exit looked suspicious but he wasn’t the only person fleeing the castle. His leg burned and there was a stitch in his side, but the young warrior had no desire to stop running. The supernatural endurance stemmed from the sword, but Mansel didn’t mind. For the moment his pain and heartache were swept away. He was going to help Zollin, and for the first time in weeks he felt useful again. His only regret was that he had to leave Danella behind, but he knew that if he escaped with her at the same time Branock was focused on finding Zollin, they would easily be found by the evil wizard’s agents. Mansel needed a solid plan to get Danella out of Yelsia, then he could spirit her out of the castle and escape the wizard’s clutches for good.

  As he ran through the city he caught sight of the dragon flying away to the east and felt reasonably sure he could find the huge beast. He would need to move quickly and do whatever he could for Zollin. The wound in the young wizard’s chest kept flashing in Mansel’s mind. He couldn’t imagine anyone surviving such a blow, but Zollin was able to do things that Mansel had thought impossible, and the young warrior simply couldn’t accept that Quinn had killed his own son.

  It took a while to get beyond the city walls, but things were starting to calm down by the time he made it to one of the many small markets outside of the city. He still had the coin that Danella had given him, and he used a little to buy food and warm clothes, including a new cloak and a small bottle of strong spirits. Then he went to the livery and bought a strong, spirited horse. As Mansel saddled his new mount the horse pawed at the ground and shook its head. The horse was black with a white star on its forehead and white socks. The mane had been allowed to grow long and hung nearly to the bottom of the horse’s neck, but its hooves were clean and well-shod.

  “What shall I call you,” Mansel said. “You need a fine name.”

  The horse shook its head and neighed as Mansel tightened the girth strap.

  “How about Ghost. I like that,” Mansel said. “It suits you. And who better to carry Death’s Eye than a warrior with nothing to lose riding a horse named Ghost.”

  Once the saddle was in place, Mansel hung the sack of food and a canteen around the saddle horn. Then he climbed up onto the horse, which spun and bucked a little, but Mansel held the reins tight and quickly showed the animal that he was in control. The streets around Orrock were little more than mud paths. The winter wind was cold and Mansel pulled his new cloak tight around his shoulders. He wondered briefly who might find the one he’d left behind at the castle and if they might use it.

  Once they were past the city, Mansel let Ghost loose to run out some of the horse’s nervousness with its new rider. For nearly ten minutes the horse galloped and Mansel felt the thrill of having a fast horse carry him. The wind seemed to slice into him, and his leg ached from running, but Mansel’s cares fell away and he was happy for just a few minutes while Ghost ran. When the horse finally slowed Mansel couldn’t help but laugh. Ghost snorted, billowing clouds of hot breath into the cold air.

  “I think it’s time we figured out where we’re going,” Mansel said, patting the horse’s neck. “I don’t think the dragon would have stayed close to the road.”

  Mansel led the horse off the well-worn road that ran from Orrock, through Felson, to Ebbson Keep and beyond. The countryside was frosted with traces of snow that settled in between the gently rolling hills. There were fields and farms, and the occasional tree, but very few places that a dragon could hide. Mansel rode for hours, investigating any abandoned buildings or any place where more than a few trees grew. It was nearly dark when Mansel came upon a small stream. In the waning light he could just make out a grove of weeping willow trees in the distance.

  “Let's get a drink,” Mansel said. “I want to check those trees and then we’ll make camp.”

  After Ghost had drunk his fill from the stream, Mansel walked the tired horse along the bank of the stream toward the willow trees. Ghost had gotten past its nervousness and accepted Mansel as its rider. For most of the day they had traveled together amiably, but the closer they got to the willow trees the more difficult Ghost became to control. Finally Mansel realized that something was making the animal nervous.

  “Alright, alright, it’s okay,” Mansel said soothingly. “You can stay here and I’ll check the trees.”

  He rubbed the horse down and then hobbled Ghost’s legs so that the stallion wouldn’t run away in the night. Mansel was hopeful that Zollin was in the grove of willows, but he knew there could be other dangers lurking in the darkness. He drew his sword and moved slowly toward the trees. Night had fallen, and while the stars shone bright overhead they did nothing to illuminate the dark grove of willows. Mansel wished he had a torch, but it would take a considerable amount of time to build a fire and light a torch, even if he had wood suitable to build a fire, which he didn’t. He needed to search the willow grove and if he didn’t find Zollin at least he could gather some wood for a fire.

  He was almost to the curtain of hanging branches when he heard a low, menacing growl. He waited, trying to determine if what he’d heard was the dragon or some other creature.

  “Zollin? Are you in there? It’s me, Mansel.”

  There was no reply, but a flickering light momentarily illuminated the grove of trees. Through the branches Mansel could just make out the shape of the dragon’s head, the massive eyes reflecting the orange flames that licked up around the huge mouth. Mansel felt relief and fear at the same time. He was glad he’d found Zollin, but uncertain that he was welcome in the grove of trees.

  “I’m coming in to check on Zollin,” Mansel said in a loud voice. “Don’t eat me.”

  Mansel kept his sword out, but held it low and used his other hand to move the hanging branches of the willow tree out of his way. He stepped into the grove but couldn’t see anything but dark shadows. He could, however, hear the deep breathing of the dragon.

  “Is he okay?” Mansel asked.

  The dragon growled.

  “I can’t see anything.”

  More fire rose up in a slow wave from the dragon’s mouth. In the flickering light Mansel could see that Zollin was laid out on the ground beside the huge beast. He looked like he was sleeping, but his skin was pale and there was blood from his chin to his knees. Mansel couldn’t tell whether his friend was dead or alive.

  “I’m here to help,” Mansel said. “I’m not sure what I can do, but I need to get a fire going.”

  In the darkness Mansel gathered fallen branches. The willow branches were thin and long. He cut several with his sword and then approached the dragon again.

  “I can start a fire, but it would be faster with your help.”

  Flames billowed out of the dragon's mouth and Mansel had to jump back out of the way. The ground near the dragon’s head was black from burned grass, but Mansel stuck several boughs into the dragon’s breath, igniting them quickly and allowing him to build a proper fire. In the light he could see that Zollin was breathing, but his friend looked near death. Mansel wasn’t sure what to do. He had found Zollin, but he didn’t know how to help his friend. All he knew was that he was there and if the young wizard didn’t survive, he wouldn’t die alone.

/>   Chapter 27

  When Zollin opened his eyes he was in so much pain that his vision was blurry. His physical pain had not subsided, even though the physical exhaustion of saving the watchtower had eased considerably. He still felt weak, but he no longer felt his magic burning through him.

  He immediately sank down into himself, using his magic to search his wounded body and see exactly how bad his wounds were. Several of the small patches he’d fashioned to hold his wounds together had torn open, and worse still, he felt the beginning of flesh rot building in his body. He had been unconscious for at least a day, maybe more. Blood from his right lung was now seeping over into his left, so that breathing was difficult and Zollin felt like he was drowning.

  His first priority was to repair the lung. He had patched it back together, sealing the delicate organ without actually repairing the torn lining and tiny follicles that brought oxygen into his body. Zollin wasn’t a healer, but he had studied enough anatomy to know what each organ did and how to repair it. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to heal himself either. Working powerful magic always seemed to blind him to his surroundings and he knew that if he survived he would have to be more careful before engaging another wizard.

  Slowly the lung came back together, the wrinkled bits of flesh straightening, the hundreds of air pockets in his lung reforming. It took time to help his body reabsorb the blood in his lungs but eventually he was able to breathe freely again. Then he turned his attention to healing the muscles of his back and chest. Zollin had to slowly remove shards of his broken ribs before rejoining the muscle fibers together. Several ribs had been broken by Quinn’s sword. The bones were slowly fused back together with his magic. Removing the dirty sections of rotting flesh was painful and difficult, but eventually he did it. Around him he could feel the world moving, changing from day to night and back again. The work was slow, aided by the amulet he wore, which seemed to feed strength into his magical reserves and hold the shock in check so that Zollin could work.