He walked boldly up to his rival and stood staring down at the wizard. Wytlethane was slowly eating his soup and had yet to look up. Finally Branock cleared his throat to get the other man’s attention.
“What do you want?” Wytlethane said.
Branock realized the other wizard hadn’t recognized him. He smiled. He forgot that he looked so different. For an instant he considered attacking Wytlethane, but he quickly discarded the idea. He still needed the older wizard as part of his plan, and even though he might not have recognized Branock, another wizard this close was enough to ensure Wytlethane’s defenses were up.
“It’s me, brother,” Branock said.
Wytlethane looked up and peered into Branock’s eyes. After a moment, he waved at the seat across the table. Branock sat just as an elderly maid waddled over and set a crystal goblet down on the table.
“Food, sir? Lodging?”
“Yes,” Branock said, producing a gold coin from his robe and handing it to the woman. “And we’ll need more wine.”
“Of course, sir.”
When the maid was out of hearing, Wytlethane asked the obvious question.
“What happened to you?”
“Almost the same thing that happened to your apprentice,” Branock said as he poured wine into his glass.
Wytlethane’s eye twitched, but otherwise he took the verbal jab without any outward sign of his anger. He knew Cassis was rash and not as talented as the boy imagined, but he should have been a match for the new wizard. Now, things were more difficult. Still, he had expected the insult, but he hadn’t expected Branock to admit that he, too, had been bested.
“The boy?” Wytlethane asked.
“Yes,” Branock said, taking a long drink of wine. He hated admitting that he had almost been killed, but he needed Wytlethane to believe that Branock needed his help. “I came upon the group and underestimated the boy. He escaped me.”
“It looks as though he did more than escape.”
“Indeed, I’m not as handsome as I once was.”
“I think the outside is starting to match the inside,” Wytlethane jeered.
Branock swallowed the insult with another mouthful of wine. He wished he could destroy his rival, but that would only invite the wrath of their master, and Branock was not yet strong enough to defeat the head of their order. He smiled and did his best to sound believable.
“I thought I could take him by myself,” he said in a humble tone. “I was wrong. I should have listened to the master.”
“Yes, and I should have insisted that we stay together.”
“We will need all our resources to bring the boy in.”
“I’m sure that other methods have been employed,” Wytlethane said.
“What do you mean?” Branock asked, not having to pretend to sound surprised.
“I believe the master has employed the Mezzlyn.”
The statement hung in the air like a thick cloud of noxious fumes. Branock hated the Mezzlyn. They were assassins, extremely skilled assassins, but without a trace of human feeling and utterly vicious. If the master had hired the Mezzlyn, it could only mean that Branock’s and Wytlethane’s lives were forfeit. Even if they did manage to bring in the boy, would the master trust them again? He felt a deep bitterness erupt inside him. He couldn’t believe that after years of service, he was suddenly being replaced like an old broom.
“How do you know?” Branock asked.
“I have seen them in this town,” Wytlethane said.
“That doesn’t mean they are after the boy. The Mezzlyn have agents in every major city.”
“Agents, yes, but this is a mass gathering.”
“Perhaps they are meeting to discuss leadership or something,” Branock suggested, but he sounded desperate and he knew it.
“Don’t be naïve,” Wytlethane snapped. “The master felt Cassis’s death the same as you and I. We have failed, they have been employed, and our only chance now is to bring in the boy ourselves.”
“Will that be enough?” Branock wondered aloud.
“It will have to be. Dead or alive, we must not return empty-handed.”
“I agree, but perhaps we can use this situation to our advantage.”
“What do you mean?”
“If we can get to the boy before the Mezzlyn, somehow begin to earn his trust, if we rescue him from the assassins—perhaps we can bring him back alive.”
“That is a farfetched scheme,” Wytlethane sneered. “I don’t think the boy would trust us, not after Cassis’s attack on him.”
“What if, instead, we ally ourselves with the Mezzlyn?” Branock proposed. “That would allow us to keep track of the assassins, and at the right moment, steal away with the boy.”
“He would be dead.”
“True, but at least we would be alive.”
“I don’t trust the Mezzlyn,” Wytlethane said.
“Neither do I, but our options are limited. We do not even know what the master’s orders were. They may be here for us as well.”
“How can we possibly infiltrate their ranks?”
“Just look at me. If I turn up with information about the boy, I can offer to lead them to him. They won’t recognize me—you didn’t. You can stay at a distance, and I’ll contact you when the time is right. What do you think?”
“It might work,” Wytlethane said slowly. “Or you might get killed.”
“I’m not that easy to kill,” Branock scoffed. “Besides, I doubt you’d lose much sleep if that happened.”
“True enough,” Wytlethane conceded. He actually thought the idea of not having to put up with Branock was divine, but he was also afraid. If they failed, that would mean Branock’s death and, by proxy, his own. Still, he could think of no better plan.
“All right,” said the elder wizard. “Infiltrate them and report their plans to me.”
“Of course,” Branock said. Inside he was bristling at Wytlethane’s superior tone, but he held himself in check. If things worked out, carrying out his master plan might be easier than he anticipated. “I should go,” he said, standing.
Wytlethane merely waved his hand as a platter of food was set before him by the elderly maid. Branock helped himself to a small loaf of warm bread and the full bottle of wine the maid had brought.
“I’ll not be needing that room after all,” he said as he strode out of the common room. At the door, he was met by an icy blast of wind. He wrapped his scarf around his head and smiled, then stepped out into the cold twilight. He couldn’t help but smile. Things were finally working out in his favor. He had bet his future on his alliance with Prince Simmeron, and now it looked as if that gamble would pan out. He recalled a sailor’s song he had learned as a boy and began whistling as he rode off through the snow toward the harbor, where he expected to find the Mezzlyn and his future.
Epilogue
The master paced back and forth in his tower. He had felt the surge and sent all his evil intent toward the boy, but he had been rejected. Sentimental fool, the ancient wizard thought to himself. It was a shame such power had to be destroyed. The boy had already disrupted his plans. Cassis was dead, and now he would have to send his most secret and powerful weapon to intercept the boy if he moved south. Still, the assassins might succeed. He had little faith in the tottering old fool Wytlethane, nor in the scheming Branock. But there was still a chance.
He remembered the days when he had been young. He had traveled the Five Kingdoms and battled his way to supremacy. He had no desire to do that now. He would send the twins. He could count on their combined power and absolute loyalty. He had given the girls everything they wanted and kept them from the other wizards. When the spring thaws came, he would send them north. Until then, he would have to wait. He could feel the world powers moving, propelling him forward, toward his destiny—to rule the Five Kingdoms and be the sole source of magical power in all the land. To do that, he would have to kill, but he had no qualms about shedding innocent blood. When the time
came, and it would be soon, he would come down from his tower and let the world tremble at his feet. He was Offendorl, Master of the Torr, and all would know his name and fear him.
***
Zollin opened his eyes. Brianna was there, sitting on a stool beside his bed. His stomach growled loudly, and she smiled. Her eyes were blue around the edges, and turned a rich, green color toward the dark pupil. It reminded Zollin of early autumn leaves.
“How long have I been asleep?” he asked. His voice was raspy from his parched throat.
“Almost a day and a half,” Brianna said. “But Master Kelvich says that’s normal. Here, have some water.”
She raised a cup to his lips and let the cool water trickle in. It tasted better than any drink he had ever had. He sucked greedily at it until the cup ran dry. She poured more water from a pitcher near the head of Zollin’s bed. He drank that down, too, feeling the cold liquid run down his throat and into his empty stomach.
“Master Kelvich said you would be hungry,” she said, helping him sit up.
His head was a little dizzy, but otherwise he felt okay. She settled a tray with soup and bread onto his lap, and he smiled. The warm soup smelled so delicious, he couldn’t help himself and started eating right away.
“You are hungry,” she said, smiling.
He nodded, and after a few more mouthfuls, he managed to ask a question.
“How’s my father?”
“He’s fine. Working, of course. He and Mansel are next door, but they should be here soon.”
At the mention of Mansel, a dark cloud appeared over Zollin. He wanted to tell Brianna how he felt about her, that she was constantly in his thoughts, that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, that he would do anything for her. But what if that caused more problems? He thought about his dilemma as he spooned more soup into his mouth. If she and Mansel were together, declaring his love could drive them all apart. But he wasn’t sure if he could hold back his feelings. She was watching him, her autumn eyes peering deeply into his soul.
“Is there something on your mind?” she asked.
“No,” he said with his mouth full.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said softly. “I was worried about you.”
“Worried?” he said bashfully. “Why?”
“It’s just, when I saw you lying on the floor, bleeding...” she let the thought trail off.
“I don’t know what I would have done if Mansel hadn’t saved you,” she said.
Saved me, he thought to himself. Mansel didn’t save me, I saved him, he wanted to say, but he knew that Mansel had stepped in right as the assassin Allistair was about to kill him. I guess Mansel hadn’t mentioned the fact that I saved him from the assassin’s knife, he thought bitterly. But now he knew he couldn’t say anything. He owed Mansel that much. Brianna obviously loved him and he would not divide her heart.
“Yeah,” he said. “Mansel was terrific.”
She smiled, and it felt like a knife in Zollin’s heart. He wished he had died. He closed his eyes and yawned. He knew it was rude, but he couldn’t help it. Besides, Brianna being this close only made him yearn for her, and that was a longing he could never fulfill.
“I’ll let you sleep,” she said.
She took the tray, and Zollin lay back on his pillows. He closed his eyes and saw Todrek’s face. His friend, Brianna’s slain husband, smiled at him. It was the first time he had remembered his friend without seeing Todrek’s angry glare, or his face contorted with pain and fear as he bled to death outside Zollin’s home in Tranaugh Shire. I’ve got to let go of her, he thought as if he were speaking to his friend. He heard the door close as Brianna left and heard voices in the hallway outside. He recognized Mansel’s somber tones although he could not hear what the older boy said. Tears sprang from his eyes and he felt the aching loneliness he had always felt for his mother spring up again, swallowing his hope and happiness. Then sleep came, and he floated away into the bliss of nothingness where his wounded heart no longer ached.
***
“Is he awake?” Mansel asked.
“Yes, he ate and drank a little, then went back to sleep.”
She made her way down the hallway of the Valley Inn toward the large common room.
“Did you tell him how you feel?” Mansel asked.
“No, I...” she wasn’t sure why she hadn’t said anything. “I didn’t think the time was right,” she lied. She knew why she hadn’t said anything—it was because she would have sworn Zollin was about to say something. Not that she knew what he would say, probably that he wished she had never come with him, but she had hoped he might say that he cared for her. She had realized that she loved him, but she didn’t know how to show it. Sometimes she thought he felt the same way, and sometimes he acted like he hated her. She knew he blamed her for Todrek’s death. She blamed herself, too, but she knew she was supposed to leave Tranaugh Shire with Zollin. She had dreamed it, and even if he rejected her, she would never regret it. Her dream had almost come true, she had almost been left behind, and the thought of it had filled her with dread. Now a new fear was rising. She was still seeing the evil man with the ruined eye in her dreams. She always awoke to the sound of marching feet and screams of horror. She didn't know why she needed to be here with Zollin, but she knew she did, and that was enough for now.
For More Information Toby Neighbors And His Books Visit His Website: www.TobyNeighbors.com
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The Adventure Continues in Magic Awakening (Five Kingdoms Book 2)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Other Books by Toby Neighbors
Dedication:
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Book II
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
For More Information Toby Neighbors And His Books Visit His Website: www.TobyNeighbors.com
You Can Also Follow Toby on
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The Adventure Continues in Magic Awakening (Five Kingdoms Book 2)
Wizard Rising Page 26