“Let me ask you a serious question then. Are you coming along because you feel you owe me something? Because you really don’t. Killing Kelvich wasn’t your fault. You weren’t acting on your own mental powers.”
“I know, but that doesn’t make the responsibility any easier to bear. I took a man’s life, a man who had never harmed us and who had helped us a great deal. That’s something I don’t think I’ll ever be free of.”
“He wouldn’t want you to suffer,” Zollin said. “You didn’t know him like I did. He wasn’t proud of a lot of things he had done in his lifetime either. He knew what it was to feel remorse. I don’t think he would want you to live with guilt over his death.”
“But I do, Zollin. I want to help you, and I want to stay with Nycoll. Hell, I even want to bust some heads just because I like to, but the honest truth is, I feel like I have to do something to redeem myself.”
“You don’t, I forgive you. I’m sure Kelvich would too.”
“But I can’t forgive myself,” he said quietly.
Zollin didn’t respond at once. He knew self-forgiveness was difficult. He had struggled personally with the death of his mother, even though he was just an infant and his father had told him many times it wasn’t his fault. Still, the guilt plagued him all through his childhood, every time he missed her, or every time he saw the pain of loneliness in his father’s eyes.
“Well, I’ve got your back, whatever you decide to do,” Zollin finally said.
“I appreciate that,” Mansel said, looking Zollin in the eyes as he spoke. “Your family has been better to me than I deserve. Better than my own family ever was.”
“You will always have a friend in me,” Zollin said. “And I know my father loves you like a son.”
Mansel smiled. “I wish Quinn were here now,” he said. “I could use a good pep talk.”
“Well, I’m not Quinn, but I think you know what you need to do. You just need to give yourself permission to do it.”
They rode through the day, and made camp at sunset. The small villages along the coast were leery of anyone they didn’t know after the army’s foul treatment. Their winter stores had all been taken. The men who weren’t drafted into service or killed outright were busy fishing or rebuilding homes—many of which had been burned to the ground. No one had food to sell or time to bother with strangers, so Zollin and Mansel chose a secluded spot surrounded by tall sea dunes. Zollin made a fire and then saw to the horses while Eustice prepared supper. Mansel looked after Nycoll who never complained, but was obviously very saddle sore. She still refused to let Zollin heal her, so after he had seen to the horses he began transmuting some of the stones he found around their campsite to gold. It was long, tedious work, but it kept him busy and gave Mansel and Nycoll some privacy.
The next day, he gave the gold to Mansel.
“I didn’t think she’d accept it from me,” Zollin said, handing over a small bag full of plain gold coins.
“What’s this for?” Mansel asked.
“You’ll need it, or she will once we find a quiet inn where she can stay. That should be enough to keep her housed and fed for a year. Or, if you prefer, it will help the two of you make a new start together.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Mansel said. “I can work, you know. I’m a pretty good carpenter.”
“Yes you are, but I hate to think of you selling your sword for tools,” Zollin said smiling.
“I’d rather cut off my own hand,” Mansel joked.
“Well, then use it for whatever you need. I’ll feel better knowing that you have it.”
“What about you?”
“I can always make more,” Zollin said.
They had to stop more frequently because of Nycoll’s pain. She was bruised all along the underside of her upper thighs and bottom. Even walking was painful, and finally around noon on their second day she relented and agreed to let Zollin help. He let his magic flow into her body, sweeping away the blood and antibodies that were making the bruises so painful. He also used some of the remaining Zipple Weed to boost her stamina.
The next three days passed quickly. They had left the trail of the army and were following the coast south. The army was traveling southeast, making straight for the Grand City. Zollin hoped they could reach a village that hadn’t been razed by the army where they might find a safe place for Nycoll. She seemed less intimidated by Zollin since he’d healed her, but she was still a melancholy woman, not given to idle talk or laughter. She seemed to come alive when Mansel paid her attention, but she faded into the background when the group was all together.
Staying along the coast also allowed Brianna an easier way to find them once she had information to report. Zollin couldn’t keep himself from worrying about her. Her powers were amazing and her pride would do all in their power to protect her, he knew, but she had gone toward the Grand City and the Torr, the one place he would have like to keep her from. He still had no idea what to expect from Offendorl and the Torr. He didn’t know if there were other wizards there, or if the place was empty. It made sense to assume that Offendorl was there—he had fled south and Brianna had followed the big black dragon—which she claimed he was able to control—almost to Osla. All the evidence suggested Offendorl was going back to the Tower, which meant he would be more dangerous than before.
And Zollin wasn’t sure what to expect from the witch that had cast a spell on Mansel and his father. They both assumed that Prince Wilam was still with her, and now she too had an army, if the rumors were true. Just surviving this crazy quest was probably more than Zollin could hope for.
The next day they finally came to sizable village. There was a good-sized harbor, although Zollin doubted that large trading vessels used the port. There were over a dozen fishing boats, and the market was busy when they arrived. They decided to stay, rest a little, and re-provision. They ate boiled seafood along with spicy cornbread that was fried. There was also fresh fruit, cheese, steamed vegetables, and ale. They settled into a two-story inn that overlooked the ocean. Zollin made sure that Nycoll had a room with large windows that faced the sea.
She retreated to the room while Zollin and Mansel shopped for more supplies.
“Should I be buying enough for you?” Zollin asked as he haggled with the smoked fish vendor.
Mansel looked down. “I don’t know,” he said.
“I think you should stay,” Zollin said. “Give her some time to decide what she wants. You said she would never leave her cottage, but it’s gone now. So maybe you go north together. Find a new place to live, or maybe go back to Tranaugh Shire, introduce her to your parents.”
“I don’t want to scare her away,” Mansel joked. “Besides, I wouldn’t feel right leaving you when you’re still in danger.”
“It’s okay, Mansel, really.”
Zollin bought fish, but just enough for himself and Eustice. When he made his order, Mansel didn’t object. They bought more bread, cheese, fruit, and vegetables. There was no beef or mutton in the village, not even pork—only fish. Once they had enough supplies they looked in on the horses and then returned to the inn. There was a bard at the inn that night, and they ate a hearty supper of thick, spicy stew. Zollin drank wine and watched as Mansel showed incredible self-control with the ale. They listened as the bard sang songs of battle and of love. Zollin even dropped a gold coin into the bard’s upturned hat. Then they turned in for the night.
The next morning, Zollin sent Eustice to prepare their horses. They were taking three, and leaving Mansel with the rest. They saw their friend at breakfast, looking haggard. It was obvious he hadn’t slept.
“Is Nycoll okay?” Zollin asked.
“She’s fine,” Mansel said.
“Well, you look terrible and you didn’t even drink too much,” Zollin joked.
“I’m staying,” Mansel said, his voice distressed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Zollin said. “You’re doing the right thing. What are your plans?
”
“We don’t have any, at least not yet. I told her I was staying and she’s happy, but we haven’t talked about what we’re going to do next.”
“Well, if you leave here, let the innkeeper know where you’re headed. If things work out, I’ll be back this way.”
“If you need me, for anything at all—” Mansel began.
“I know,” Zollin said, smiling. “Stop feeling guilty. I’m happy for you, and so is Eustice.” The mute servant gave Mansel a big smile and thumbs up gesture.
“See? Now, go take care of Nycoll. You deserve some happiness.”
Mansel saw them out after they had eaten.
Zollin felt a hollowness as he climbed up into his saddle. He had spent years as a young boy resenting Mansel. When Quinn had taken the big warrior on as an apprentice Zollin had been humiliated. When Mansel had outperformed Zollin at every task, he had felt worthless. And Mansel, the youngest of a large family, had done nothing to make Zollin feel any better. In fact, he had taunted Zollin, always making sure Quinn’s son knew that Mansel was the better carpenter.
But when Zollin had been forced to flee their small village, Mansel had come too, abandoning his own family to take the sword in Zollin’s defense. Mansel may have come for Quinn, but he’d become an outstanding swordsman, saving Zollin’s life on more than one occasion. He’d fought the Skellmarians in Brighton’s Gate, stood with Zollin against the King’s Army in the Great Valley, fought with Zollin in Orrock to first save Brianna and then later to help save the kingdom. In the midst of all the fighting and struggle, Mansel had been there for Zollin.
Now, as he looked back and saw his friend waving from the yard in front of the inn, he realized their lives were diverging, going in opposite directions. Zollin had never thought about how leaving Mansel would feel, but there was an emptiness as he rode away without his friend. He knew the big warrior was doing the right thing, but somehow, going on without him felt wrong at the same time. Zollin looked back one last time, but Mansel had gone back inside and Zollin wondered if he would ever see the big warrior again.
Chapter 21
Brianna and her pride had just taken flight shortly after sundown. They were being cautious, waiting until the sun was fully down before taking to the skies and then finding a place to take cover an hour or so before dawn. They had nearly caught up with the army on their first night, and now they could see King Zorlan’s force spread out below them. The fires from their camp winked and glistened in the darkness. Brianna and the dragons could see the men moving around or curled next to their fires. It was a warm night and very few of the soldiers had bothered setting up tents, preferring to sleep out in the open.
They saw Prince Wilam’s army across the valley. Brianna didn’t know much about war or battle. She had heard stories, of course—mostly songs by traveling bards—but she was able to count the numbers of men far below. It didn’t seem as if they had met in battle, since she saw no wounded or slain, or large areas where healers seemed to be working. She had gotten as much information as possible and was about to return to Zollin when an image flashed into her mind.
Brianna couldn’t hear the magical voice calling to her pride, but the dragons did. They were almost like eager puppies, anxious to run to whoever would give them attention. Brianna thought of Zollin and pushed the thought out toward her pride.
Selix, on whom Brianna was riding, seemed to be the least affected by the magical voice, but the others seemed convinced they should seek it out. They sent her images of a kindly, older wizard calling out to them. Brianna had no idea how they came up with the images—Zollin was the only wizard they had ever seen, and yet they all sent back mental pictures of a kindly looking man with a long beard and a pointy hat.
She sent them images of dragons in chains, and of Bartoom. They sent back images of dragons fighting and killing the slave masters. She sighed, wishing they could understand the danger, but the truth was she couldn’t be sure what the danger was. All she knew was that Bartoom had heard a voice too, right before Offendorl had enslaved the massive, black dragon. Still, the dragons were insistent, and so she allowed them to go. She wasn’t their master, only a member of the pride. In most cases they followed her lead, but she refused to force them to do her bidding. She had seen the pain and loathing in Bartoom’s eyes. The big, black dragon had no choice but to obey, and that fact filled the beast with hate. She would not be the source of such anguish for any dragon.
They flew south, rising high into the air where it was difficult to breathe once the sun came up. Brianna lay across Selix’s back and neck through the day. The air was cold and she was forced to hop from one dragon to the next so that they could warm themselves with fire as they flew. Brianna had no spare clothes, so she couldn’t let the flames wash over her and warm her like the others. By evening she was exhausted and aching with cold, but they were near the source of the magical voice.
The other dragons had sent her mental images of castle ruins on a hill, which they spotted just as the sun set. Brianna was leery, but she was too tired to resist. The pride was tired too. They had been flying for nearly 24 hours without rest or food. The smaller dragons were affected most. They didn’t eat as much as the larger dragons, so they needed to feed more often. They were circling the hill, which was near a wide river and a small village. Brianna was surprised to see that no one was moving about in the village. There were animals, but no signs of the villagers at all.
“Danger,” Brianna shouted, pushing the emotion out to the pride, who would be hard pressed to hear her words in mid-flight. “Beware.”
She sent them mental images of people moving around in a village, but she wasn’t sure they understood. They were searching for the source of the voice in their heads, which was calling for them to land in the castle ruins. The twins, Tig and Torc, landed first, stretching their wings and letting their heads droop a little.
There were cattle tied up in the center of the ruins. Cows, sheep, goats, and pigs, all crying out in terror at the approaching dragons. Images of eating the cattle popped into Brianna’s head. Ferno joined the twins, but Selix and Gyia were more cautious, even when the others began to feast on the defenseless animals. It only took a moment to recognize the trap, but for the three dragons in the castle ruins it was too late.
* * *
Offendorl had devised a simple yet devious plan. He had spent a full day stacking the huge slabs of stone back onto the sections of castle walls. The effort had been stupendous, but he was beginning to feel his strength returning. After nearly a month of desperation, he was growing strong again. The women at the inn were terrified of him, all except for the young woman who’s husband’s manhood Offendorl had ruined. She alone seemed happy to take care of the wizard’s every need. She made sure food and wine was always available and kept the other women working hard.
The inn had become a fortified palace, and Offendorl was the king. He spent most of his time in the large chair, which was covered with blankets and quilts. There were finely embroidered cushions as well as animal skins. The village had been searched, and Offendorl was now served all his meals on fine dishes and crystal goblets. Offendorl didn’t need gold or jewels, but he insisted that the women sew new garments from the best linen and silk in the village.
Then, Offendorl called to the other dragons. It was a simple technique, not unlike the way Brianna spoke to her pride, but Offendorl amplified his wishes, sweetening them with magic that made them almost irresistible to the dragons. They were drawn to magic and thrived whenever they were near it. So Offendorl had called, starting before dawn, sending images of himself as a kind wizard who only wanted to help them. He kept the crown he used to control Bartoom close at hand, and the women fed him throughout the day to keep his strength up. He knew he would need all his magical prowess if he were to defeat the pride of dragons.
Then, as the last light of day faded, the dragons arrived. Offendorl hurried to the large window of the inn and watched as the dragons circle
d the castle ruins. He waited as first the two smallest dragons landed, and then he enticed them to eat. A third dragon, a great green brute, landed next, but the other two seemed hesitant. Offendorl decided that two dragons were no match for Bartoom and his own power. He reached out with magic and pulled the loose stone slabs down. From the four corners of the castle ruins the heavy stones fell. They were large stones, easily several tons each. The dragons feasting on the cattle had no warning before the stones fell. Ferno launched itself up, trying to fly out of the trap, but the stones battered the hulking green dragon back down, knocking it senseless. Fortunately, the green dragon deflected most of the stones, saving the smaller dragons’ lives. One managed to escape without injury, but the other’s wing was broken. There were savage roars of anger that made the women in the inn cower, covering their ears, and several even began to cry. Offendorl laughed at their fear and misery, then placed the golden crown on his head and ordered Bartoom to attack.
* * *
Brianna watched in horror as the castle walls fell. Dust rose in a thick cloud but she didn’t wait for it to clear. Instead, she dove off of Selix’s back, rushing toward the hill like a cliff diver, disappearing into the dust cloud before she flipped and slowed her descent. The sound of rocks and stones sliding and bouncing filled her head with a cacophony of noise as she landed. Torc raced past her, roaring in fury, while Tig limped to her side. The small blue dragon’s left leg was gashed and its wing was broken, the leathery skin in tatters with shattered bone gouging through the flesh at an unnatural angle.
Brianna placed both of her hands on the injured dragon, sending magical fire into its body to begin the healing process. She was looking over at Ferno, who was still breathing but who was also covered in a mountain of broken stones. Then, only seconds after she had landed, fire lit the sky. Selix and Gyia were spewing fire, illuminating the massive form of Bartoom as the beast dove past the larger dragons, blowing through their fiery breath the way a child would splash through a fountain. Then it swooped, its talons outstretched, fire flooding from its open maw, and snatched Torc right out of the air. The smaller dragon was defenseless, held fast by Bartoom’s massive claws.
Five Kingdoms: Book 05 - Fierce Loyalty Page 22