“Hopefully that will never happen,” Zollin said. “Diplomacy is always the first and best option. If we can stop this foul magic then perhaps we can make peace for the Five Kingdoms again.”
“Not until Branock is dead,” Danella said in a cold voice.
“You’re right about that,” Zollin said, after everyone had stared at the younger girl for a few moments. “But for now, he will have to wait. Once Yelsia is safe, then we’ll track him down.”
When the dragons carried Zollin and Brianna away, Mansel helped Danella back into her saddle and they rode until late afternoon. It was a quiet ride, with Mansel lost in his own thoughts and Danella rarely speaking at all. The harsh weather made traveling difficult and while they could have pushed on to find the next settlement, they chose to make camp near a stand of trees with enough fallen branches to keep a fire burning through the night. They settled close to the flames, using their saddles as pillows, and watching the bright stars move overhead until they fell asleep.
Sometime late in the night the horses neighed and pulled against their tethers which Mansel had tied to his saddle. Mansel woke with a start, the fire having died down to embers and the darkness crowding in on every side. He was on his feet almost instantly, his sword drawn, his eyes and ears straining to discover what had spooked the horses.
There were patches of snow all around the small camp, and Mansel heard the crunch of the frozen snow under a boot. It was an unmistakable sound and one that no animal would have made. Mansel bent his knees slightly, turning his back to the fire and straining to see in the darkness. Two shadows rushed toward him. Mansel waited as long as he dared before slashing at the figures, extending his arm so that his sword had the maximum reach. He felt the tip drag across the first shadow, then sink into the second. He had barely touched the first assailant, his blade had only dragged across the man’s leather armor, but the second attacker was not as lucky. The sword slashed into his shoulder, causing the man to scream and fall to the ground.
Mansel jerked his sword free almost instantly and jumped back over the embers of his fire. He felt the swoosh of the blade from the first attacker, as the man’s sword swept through the air where Mansel had been. The young warrior was just about to drive the attacker back with a powerful thrust when he saw another shadow rise up behind the man. The new shadow was slim and graceful, moving silently. Mansel saw a delicate blade rise up and then stab into the attacker’s neck.
The assailant dropped to his knees, his sword clattered into the embers sending up sparks that gave the scene a ghostly light. He tried to cry out but only managed to gurgle. Danella jerked her dagger free, and blood sprayed from the wound, hissing as it hit the embers and sending up a cloud that made Mansel stagger backward. He snatched up some of the wood he had gathered for their fire and tossed it on the embers. It only took a moment for the fire to kindle on the new fuel, and flames danced upward, illuminating the camp as a third man attacked from behind Mansel.
The young warrior saw movement out of the corner of his eye and dropped to one knee as he spun to face the new threat, once again extending his sword. This time the attack was anticipated and steel rang against steel as the attacker parried Mansel’s blade. The young warrior dove to the side, rolling over his shoulder and onto his feet, just as Quinn had taught him, coming up in fighter’s stance, ready for battle. But the attacker ignored him and instead leaped over the flames of the fire.
Mansel watched in horror as the man snatched Danella up in one powerful arm, lifting her to his shoulder without slowing down as he sprinted from the camp. Mansel gave chase, snatching up a burning branch from the fire and running into the darkness after the man. There was a shout of pain and the sound of people falling, but Mansel couldn’t see beyond the light of his pitiful torch. He hurried forward and found the attacker rising to his feet, Danella’s dagger in his back. The girl was on the ground, struggling to catch her breath as she scrambled back from the man who was raising his sword to chop down at her.
Death’s Eye, Mansel’s long sword with the glossy black stone forged into the handle just above the weapon’s cross guard, slashed through the upraised arm. The attacker bellowed as his severed arm fell at his feet. He turned, his blood spraying across Mansel’s body as the warrior ran him through with the big weapon.
“You okay?” Mansel asked as he shoved the dead man backward and tugged his sword from the man’s body.
She nodded, still struggling to catch her breath. He pulled Danella’s dagger from the dead man’s back before helping her up. She leaned against Mansel for a moment and he felt his own terror draining away, leaving a cold, uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t like the fact that he’d almost lost Danella, and he had to force himself to calm down as they went back to their camp. There would be no more sleep for Mansel, that much was certain.
The wounded man had managed to escape back into the darkness. Mansel thought it might have been possible to track the man’s blood trail, but that would be difficult in the darkness and would leave him open to attack. The last thing he wanted was to be staring at the ground in the darkness when an enemy was waiting to ambush him from the shadows. He decided to stay with Danella in the camp. Once she was settled he checked on the horses, built up the fire, then searched the dead man that was laying near the fire, his blood soaking the ground and forcing Mansel to move his blanket and saddle to keep from getting them soaked and stained crimson.
The man had a few coins in his belt, but nothing to identify who he was. The only thing Mansel could tell for certain was that the man wasn’t an outlaw. He had a well-cared-for sword and leather armor. He was also relatively clean, which was a dead giveaway since most outlaws and brigands were anything but well groomed.
“Who were they?” Danella asked in a quiet voice.
She was sitting close to the fire, her blanket wrapped around her shoulders, but her dagger still in one hand, its blade glinting in the fire light.
“No way to tell for sure,” Mansel replied.
“But you have a hunch?”
“Of course I do and I don’t have to tell you who.”
“The nobles that wanted me to join them?”
Mansel nodded.
“But why attack us?” she asked. “What good would that do them?”
“If they could have killed me they would have taken you.”
“I would never willingly be with that man.”
“Maybe that isn’t what he wanted,” Mansel said darkly. “Some men have vile desires. But more likely he expected you to be afraid, perhaps even grateful for his protection. If so he has underestimated you and overestimated himself.”
“We will find him tomorrow,” Danella said. “He will answer for these crimes.”
“He has thirty men with him,” Mansel said. “And he is noble born. We cannot simply hang him from the nearest tree for his crimes.”
“He should know that he failed.”
“He already does, at least he will when you aren’t brought to him.”
“And then what will he do?”
“If he’s smart, nothing,” Mansel said frowning. “But I don’t think he’s the kind of man who gives up easily.”
Chapter 10
The first leg of their trip to find Lorik in Ortis took them east. They passed the more mobile of the nobles, although many were still in Orrock preparing to take their men east. Later in the day they saw Mansel and Danella. Zollin was surprised to see Brianna’s sister, he hadn’t known that she had left the castle with Mansel, but if she was anything like her sister it made sense. Both had lost people close to them, and both had abandoned the relative safety and security of their family to rush into danger. It made Zollin wonder just how adventurous his and Brianna’s child would be.
They stopped only for a few minutes, letting the dragons rest while Zollin gave Mansel a pouch with several messages. One was a promissory note for any food or supplies that the army massing in Ebbson Keep might require. Unlike his p
redecessors, Zollin felt that the people in and around the border should be paid for any goods the army confiscated. Branock may have emptied the royal treasury to lure Ferno into a trap, but most of that gold was safely buried and the young wizard knew exactly where it was.
Another dispatch was for Duke Ebbson, outlining the danger of the gargoyles and giving the duke orders to prepare his men for an invasion into Baskla. Zollin knew that the evil magic across the border was growing stronger. It had to be stopped and forcibly removed from power. Simply waiting or even fighting a limited war would only allow their enemy to grow in strength.
Finally, there was a document signed both by Zollin and by Homan giving Mansel emergency powers of command. If worse came to worse, or if the nobles refused to work together, Mansel had the power to take control of the army.
After leaving Mansel and Danella, they continued east.until they reached Felson an hour before sunset. Zollin had no desire to make a fuss in the city and it wasn’t time to declare his intention to rule. That would come later, if it was even necessary. So they made camp south of the city near a spring that gurgled from a rock. The dragons waited until dark and then took up the hunt. Zollin and Brianna rested and when morning came they resumed their journey.
Not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to Ebbson Keep, they turned southeast and made for Mace Creek, a sizable city not far from the Rejee Desert. They landed a few miles from Mace Creek and walked into the city, letting the dragons circle wide and then meeting them again on the eastern side after they had restocked their supplies.
They camped that second night on the edge of the desert. It was bitterly cold and snow seemed to blow past them rather than fall. The dragons lay curled together to form a circle and a fire was kept burning all through the night to keep them warm. Zollin and Brianna slept between the fire and the dragons, comfortable despite the frigid temperatures. In the morning the dragons were half covered with snow, but they shook it off and took to the air.
Zollin was miserable as they crossed the desert. The cold seeped into him so deep it felt as if his bones were covered with frost and his blood had turned icy in his veins. When they made camp that night it was well past dark but they had crossed the desert. The Walheta Mountains rose to the south and the Great Sea of Kings spread out to the east.
On the fourth day they crossed the great freshwater sea that sat like a jewel in the center of the Five Kingdoms. The deep blue water was beautiful, but also intimidating. Hour after hour they flew with no land in sight. Zollin worried that Ferno and Sorva would lose strength, but Ferno never complained and Brianna could drift on the thermal updrafts occasionally to give the serpentine dragon a respite. Still, as the sun set they were all relieved to see the shore on the eastern side of the sea.
The normally busy shoreline was nearly deserted and they had no trouble finding a place to land and make camp. They spent the night in an abandoned village, burning wood that had been cut and stacked before the Witch’s War. While their dinner simmered in a small pot over their fire, Zollin let his magic flow out as he searched for Lorik. He could feel every creature, large and small, for a few miles all around him when he really tried, but he wasn’t letting the magic spread all around. Instead, he lowered his magical containment and allowed himself to feel the various magical elements that reached him on the edge of the sea.
Ortis was a foreign place and Zollin felt as though he had stepped into a bizarre marketplace. The magical sensations were like strange scents drifting through the air. He could feel the outcasts to the south. They weren’t magical beings, but they had been transformed by powerful magic that still clung to them. To the north Zollin could feel what had become a familiar sensation. The great evil in Baskla was like a pungent odor that was at the same time repulsive and curious. It felt like the complete opposite of Zollin’s own power, which he compared to fresh, clear water. It was completely open to any use he desired from it. He could build things, transform matter at the most basic level, heal wounds and injuries, even project his magic as pure energy. The magic he felt from Baskla was like dank, murky water, stagnant and unclean. It tainted everything it touched, twisting even good intentions into foul purposes. It thrived on death and destruction. And always it sought more power to remake into its own.
Since he had discovered his powers, Zollin had been able to sense magic in the world around him. He had felt the approach of the wizards from the Torr before they had arrived and turned his world upside down. He had felt magic in the old willow tree not far from the cottage he had grown up in, and in the limb snapped from a tree by lightning that had become his first staff. He could feel magic in living creatures too, like the healing power in Miram of Felson and Brianna's mysterious power in the dragons. Unlike many things, Zollin’s magic wasn’t drawn to the magic in the dragons. It wasn’t drawn to the strange power he’d felt in Lorik when he met the man over a year ago. And it wasn’t drawn to the awful power that had transformed so many innocent people into outcasts. But his power was drawn to the evil in Baskla. Like so many normal things with magical properties, it longed to mingle with the dark magic.
The purple pendant he wore around his neck was a perfect example. The gemstone radiated with strong healing magic. His own power flowed into the gemstone, mingling with its natural power and drawing strength from it. He had always been a good healer, but with the pendant around his neck he was able to heal much more quickly. And the stone had restored his own magical prowess. The long, slow process of regaining his magical strength after expending himself completely to banish the evil being that had been summoned by the witch had been vastly accelerated by the purple pendant.
But unlike the other magical items Zollin had discovered, the evil in Baskla didn’t want to enhance his power, but strip it away. Amvyr had tried to rob him of his power, and it was a lesson he would never forget. Just the idea of living without magic was more frightening than losing his vision, or his ability to walk.
Another magical power was present in the northwest. It was old and strange, but not evil. It was similar to the power he had felt among the dryads in Peddingar Forest. A stately strength that was completely different than anything he had felt before. And he could feel Lorik, even though the warrior was far away. He wasn’t sure how he knew that what he felt was Lorik, but he did. He could sense Lorik’s personality magnified by a power that thrived on chaos. It was dark but not inherently evil, just a sense of disruption, almost as if the strange power were itself an aberration from the natural.
“So what now?” Brianna asked.
“We’ll rest here for the night, then push north in the morning.”
“North?”
“I think that’s where Lorik is,” Zollin said, raising his magical containment once again.
He would be able to feel the magic the closer he moved toward it. He had felt the evil in Baskla even when he was still in the Great Valley with his own power only a fraction of what it had been. And he could feel it even with his own magical defenses in place, but the others would need to be closer.
“You think?”
“I have my ways,” Zollin said, moving closer to the fire.
“You are a mysterious wizard,” Brianna said, standing behind him and putting her hands on his shoulders. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”
“You seem like a different person lately,” Zollin said.
“How do you mean?” she asked as she settled onto a blanket beside her husband.
“You don’t seem as restless for one thing,” Zollin said. “You’re more content with me.”
“I’ve always been content with you, Zollin. I love you and that has never changed. I just haven’t always been content with me. But being held captive by the Bollark made everything I want and everything I am very clear. Nothing is more important to me than being a mother. I was so afraid that I would lose our baby. And the whole time I was held captive I knew without a doubt that you would have rescued me, but I had no idea where you were.
I was lost because I had run away from the one person that I knew loved me unconditionally, and would die for me. It isn’t every day that you come face to face with the reality of your own foolishness.”
“You survived because you are strong,” Zollin said.
“I was strong because I had you in my mind, the entire time.”
He moved close and stroked her face. His feelings for her ran so deep they were almost painful. And he thought she was so beautiful he couldn’t help but smile.
“I love you, Brianna,” he said.
She took his hand and pulled him to her. “I love you, too.”
The next morning they walked north as the dragons spent the first part of the day searching for enough food to regain their strength. It was cold, but pleasant at the same time. Zollin was ready for spring and warmer temperatures, but he knew the winter weather was holding the gargoyles at bay and he hoped the cold wouldn’t snap until he could gather enough strength to defeat them once and for all.
“What will you tell Lorik when we find him?” Brianna asked.
“That depends on how he receives us. The one time I met him before, he was fighting an entire army of Norsik raiders all by himself. And holding his own.”
“Is he a wizard?”
“Not really,” Zollin said. “Not like me, anyway. He was filled with a powerful magic that enhanced his physical abilities. He was bigger, faster, stronger than a normal man. But that was before the Witch’s War. He was just trying to protect Ortis then. King Oveer had taken his entire army south under Gwendolyn’s control, leaving the kingdom completely unprotected. I can’t imagine what happened when the witch’s monsters spread through the land.”
“Mansel said he gathers outcasts to his side.”
“There are rumors, I don’t think anyone really knows. Most people have never even seen the outcasts. I think the rumors are just stories mostly, people making the unfortunate into monsters. I don’t know exactly what Lorik is doing, but I know he defeated King Ricard’s soldiers who were in Ortis with one of his commanders. The king was talking about taking his entire army into Ortis. If I hadn’t felt Lorik’s presence magically, I wouldn’t even be sure he was alive.”
Controlling Chaos (The Five Kingdoms Book 12) Page 7