“We are almost ready, my Liege,” said Gunthur, who had been overseeing the ships that were being outfitted for the voyage north.
“Make sure you have medical supplies,” Lorik said. “I want no one to die needlessly.”
“I will see to it, personally,” Gunthur promised. “The warehouses here were full of goods. About half were food. There are sacks of rice from the Marshlands, corn, wheat, barrels of salted pork, and smoked fish.”
“Good, I want your men to have everything they need.”
“What we need is better weather,” Quag said, lumbering up to Lorik and Gunthur. “There’s a storm coming.”
“How do you know?” Lorik asked.
“I can bloody well feel it. Every joint I’ve got is swollen. And this damn hump feels like a block of ice when foul weather is brewing.”
“Will it keep you from sailing?” Lorik asked.
“It should,” Quag said. “It could be nothing more than a snow storm. Been a nasty winter that’s for certain. But it could be worse. If the wind’s up the sea’ll be choppy. Won’t do us much good to have ships full of sea sick soldiers.”
“What if they travel up the coast on foot?” Gunthur asked. “We can keep up with the ships I’m sure. And we can find a place to board again once the weather clears up.”
“I wouldn’t want to take ships without the proper weight into a storm,” Quag said. “Without the men aboard there might not be enough hands to steer the ship or deal with something if there’s an accident. Plus, without the additional weight of the soldiers, the ships will be riding high and be more susceptible to the storm.”
“And we may not find another place to get the men on board without losing a day,” Lorik said. “We have the boats here to ferry them out en mass. Up the coast, there’s no way to know what resources you'll find. I don’t want two hundred soldiers waiting on shore while they’re rowed out to the ships in jolly boats a few at a time.”
“That’s how we’ll get ashore,” Gunthur said. “And how we’ll get back to the ships too.”
“I know,” Lorik said. “But we’ve made a promise to attack in exactly one week. And you’ll need to sail up the coast, not just to the border. There’s too much at stake to risk being late. If we get there early, you can wait out of sight of the shore. But if we’re late, it could be a disaster for Yelsia.
“Get the men on board, and get moving at first light,” Lorik ordered. “No excuses.”
“Yes, my Liege,” Gunthur said, while Quag brought his hand up and knuckled his forehead.
“Use your best judgment about where to attack, but hit Fisstom Bay at dawn one week from today. I’m counting on you, Gunthur. We get this done right and our fighting days will be over.”
“That sounds good, my lord,” Gunthur said.
Lorik left the two men to finish their work and collected a few things for his own journey. He liked smoked fish, but he didn’t want to carry anything in containers. He needed to move quickly. Instead he stopped at a building that he guessed was a bakery from the smell of baking bread. He got a dozen loaves and added them to his supplies. Then returned to the Royal Residence. The sky was just lightening, and he wanted to be back in bed when Kierian woke up.
Chapter 19
The next morning the storm was worse. Snow wasn’t really falling, but the frozen crystals blew in howling gusts that made travel nearly impossible. Mansel didn’t like staying put, but he didn’t want to subject the horses, or Danella, to a dangerous journey that could cost them their lives. So they sat in the common room of the inn, which was an L-shaped building with one long wing of guest rooms. The rooms were poorly constructed and drafty, making them cold. Danella, who preferred solitude, was forced to join Mansel and the other guests in the common room.
The day passed slowly. Mansel showed Danella how to properly care for her dagger. The thin blade was beautifully forged, but didn’t hold the keenest edge. She spent a solid hour sharpening the double-edged blade and finding a sense of contentment in the simple act. Danella and Mansel were quiet, but the other guests were boisterous and heavy drinkers. Three were merchants, traveling together for safety and quite content to be snowed in. Two more were locals who had taken refuge at the inn during the bad weather. They were all men, and Danella caught their eye, but she ignored them. Mansel sat with his big sword across his lap, and the other guests gave them both a wide berth.
When the doors burst open late in the afternoon, Mansel felt his heart sink. Danella went rigid beside him as Homar, his long-haired companion, and most of the war band that traveled with them crowded into the inn. There weren’t enough rooms for all the warriors, they were forced to double up in the small rooms, but the innkeeper did his best to see to their needs. Homar and his friend gave Mansel baleful looks, although Mansel hoped their foul mood was from the weather.
It didn’t take the newcomers long to fill the common room, both with their bodies and with the noise of their rowdy revelry. The inn had a serving maid who was pinched, patted, pulled on, and propositioned by the rough men. She did her best to keep a good attitude, serving large flagons of ale until the men’s supper could be cooked.
Mansel had been nursing his own ale, but had virtually stopped drinking when Homar and his men arrived at the inn. Eventually, once the nobles had warmed themselves, declared the ale to be undrinkable, and forced the innkeeper to serve them wine, they decided to move closer to Mansel. The young warrior was sitting on a bench with his back to the wall, his feet stretched toward the fire. Danella was near him, sitting in the corner, sipping her own drink and watching the group of warriors.
“Mansel,” said Homar in a loud voice as he sat down. “I don’t think you’ve been properly introduced to Brogan. He is Lord of Skayler’s Island. Do you know it?”
“On the coast,” Mansel said. “But I’ve never been there.”
“It’s a beautiful place,” Brogan said, smoothing his long hair over his shoulders. “A thriving fiefdom.”
“I have no doubt,” Mansel said.
“You do know what Skayler’s Island is famous for, don’t you?” Homar said. “They have a fine boxing tradition and train some of the best fighters in the Five Kingdoms.”
Mansel nodded, but didn’t speak.
“Ighar is the reigning champion,” Homar went on. “Let me introduce you. Ighar! Come here, man. Meet Mansel, the wizard’s champion.”
Mansel started to argue that he wasn’t Zollin’s champion. In fact, Zollin didn’t need a champion, he was more than capable of fighting his own battles, but Mansel knew the nobles didn’t really care. They weren’t just introducing Mansel to Ighar, they were setting him up to have to battle the man they thought could beat him. Mansel’s jaw flexed and he did his best to convince himself not to rise to their challenge no matter how they baited him. But Mansel knew that restraint wasn’t his strong suit.
Ighar lumbered over. He was a big man, with large shoulders and a barrel chest. His nose was crooked and there were scars beside his eyes. Around his waist was a thick leather belt, at least as wide as his hand from palm to finger tips. He carried a war hammer, which was a rare weapon for most people, but only added to the imposing presence of the big fighter.
“Ighar has never been beaten in unarmed combat,” Brogan boasted. “He is the strongest man in Yelsia.”
“Strength utilized is valuable, but misdirected it becomes self destructive,” Mansel said.
“What the hell does that mean?” Ighar said.
“Nothing,” Mansel said. “Just idle talk. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“He is offended,” Brogan said. “I don’t think he’s the type to just let an offense go.”
“Nor should he be,” Homar added.
“If my presence offends you, I shall retire for the evening.”
Mansel stood up, and Danella followed suit, but the big fighter stepped close to Mansel and shoved him back down.
“I think he wants compensation,” Homar said.
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“But Ighar is not fond of coin. He prefers to collect his payment in flesh,” Brogan went on. “I think the only way to settle this is man to man.”
“I won’t fight,” Mansel said.
“He’s a coward,” Homar said loudly.
Ighar grinned, revealing several missing teeth. Mansel’s blood was boiling. He could handle being insulted, but it was difficult to be called a coward and not respond. Danella’s hand on his arm was a gentle reminder that there was more at stake than just his pride.
“I have been called worse,” Mansel said in a quiet voice. “Again, I beg your pardon Ighar. If you will excuse us.”
Mansel had just risen to his feet when the big fighter lashed out with a thick hand, striking Mansel hard across his face. He had seen the blow coming and could have ducked out of the way, but he knew if he did it would be almost impossible to stop a fight from erupting. He didn’t want to embarrass Ighar, or make the big man feel challenged. So he took the slap, his head turning from the blow, but his face remained fixed, his jaw clenched, and his mouth shut.
“You are a coward,” Ighar shouted, so close to Mansel that spittle flew into Mansel’s face.
“If you say so,” Mansel said calmly. “You’ve had your fun. It’s over now. We’ll leave.”
“The night is young,” Brogan said. “And besides, we had hoped to get to know Lady Danella better.”
The look on the noble’s face was pure lust, but Mansel still held himself in check. He was outnumbered and in the wrong place for a proper fight.
Ighar unbuckled his belt and dropped it, along with his war hammer, onto one of the tables. He whistled loudly, so loud, in fact, that the common room of the inn fell silent.
“I challenge this coward to a fight. No weapons, no rules, just man to man,” he said, his voice lisping from his missing teeth.
“Clear a space!” Brogan shouted.
“Make room, make room!” Homar added.
The warriors were up instantly, moving the benches back and sliding the tables against the wall. An open space cleared in the center of the room and the warriors lined up around it, making a ring of sorts. Mansel had seen plenty of fights in his day, and he knew what to expect, but he also recognized a trap when he saw one. The fight would not be fair, nor would Danella be safe if he lost.
“I do not accept your challenge,” Mansel said.
“You’ll not leave us without our evening's entertainment,” Homar said in a loud voice. “Ighar won’t kill you.”
“I only wish to retire to my room,” Mansel said, realizing that he needed to get Danella out of the inn as quickly as possible. They would have to brave the storm, but he didn’t see any other option.
“If you won’t entertain us,” Brogan said. “Perhaps Lady Danella will.”
The noble reached for Danella. Mansel grabbed the long-haired man’s arm, and the fight was on. Ighar swung at Mansel again, but with a closed fist that looked almost as big as Mansel’s head. He ducked, avoiding the punch easily enough, and then shoved Brogan away from Danella. The long-haired nobleman crashed onto the reed-strewn floor of the inn, but got quickly to his feet, his hair flying around his shoulders and his eyes wild with anger.
Ighar lumbered close, tilting his chin down and hunching his shoulders to make his face a difficult target. Another roundhouse punch was thrown, this time Mansel swayed back to avoid it, bumping into Danella who was still behind him. He realized that moving backward wasn’t an option, so Mansel countered with a straight punch that smashed into Ighar’s nose. Blood flowed from both nostrils but the big man didn’t seem to notice. He grabbed at Mansel’s hand but the young warrior threw his shoulder into the big fighter, pushing him back several steps into the center of the room. Mansel followed, taking the fight to the bigger man.
Mansel was quick and strong, but Ighar was like a bull, and Mansel's blows seemed to have no effect on the brute. When the big man threw a punch of his own, Mansel raised his arm to block his opponent, only the fighter from Skayler’s Island was too strong. The blow missed its mark but it knocked Mansel off balance and he stumbled into the line of men around the room. One grabbed his arm, while another punched Mansel hard in the back, just above the belt and to the right of his spine. It was a kidney punch, and Mansel felt it all through his body, making his legs feel shaky, as the men shoved him back toward Ighar.
The big fighter drove a fist hard at Mansel’s chest, but he spun out of the way, and then threw an elbow into the side of Ighar’s head. The scar tissue around the big man’s left eye split open, sending blood down his face, but again the blow had little impact on Ighar’s fighting ability. He backhanded Mansel, the blow smashing across his ear. Mansel shook his head, bringing his hands up to either side of his face in a protective stance, before ducking to avoid another blow. Mansel countered with a straight punch to his opponent’s abdomen, but to Mansel it was as if he had punched a sack full of grain. The blow had no effect.
Ighar reached out and grabbed a handful of Mansel’s hair. He jerked the young warrior upright, preparing to deliver the decisive blow and end the fight, but Mansel twisted his body as he was jerked upward, using the momentum to add power to a scooping punch that landed right between the big man’s legs. This time a woof of air came out of Ighar’s mouth, and his eyes glazed for just a moment. Mansel saw Brogan moving toward Danella, and without thinking Mansel brought his knee up and then kicked down hard, slamming his boot into the side of Ighar’s knee. There was a crunch followed by a bellow of pain, and the big fighter toppled over just as Mansel jumped across the empty space and stood between Brogan and Danella.
“Fight’s over,” Mansel said.
“He cheated!” yelled one of the men.
“That was a low blow,” shouted another.
“Danella and I are leaving,” Mansel said, snatching up his sword.
Death’s Eye was a long-bladed weapon made of dull gray steel. The blade was three fingers wide, and the black stone near the cross guard seemed to swallow up the light. Most swords the size of Death’s Eye were heavy, two-handed weapons, but Mansel held his sword with one hand, moving it easily and skillfully before the mass of men.
“You bastard,” Brogan said. “You can’t kill us all.”
“I’ll kill you,” Mansel said calmly. “And the next two men to come close enough to taste my steel. Then we’ll just see how many of your men are ready to die today. My guess is there won’t be many. How many of you warriors are ready to die today for your lord? How many want to say they gave their life for a woman that wasn’t even yours?”
There was a bit of murmuring from the warriors and Brogan looked skeptical for the first time. Homar suddenly reappeared with the innkeeper in tow. The man was terrified, but there was little Mansel could do for him.
“Tell him,” Homar growled.
“You’ll have to leave,” the innkeeper said in a shaky voice. “I can’t have you causing trouble and busting up my inn.”
“You heard the man,” Homar said. “See how far your sword takes you out in this storm.”
“But not the woman,” Brogan said, his wicked smile returning.
“No,” Homar agreed. “Lady Danella can stay. She shall be welcome under my protection. You have nothing to fear, my lady.”
“I warn you now,” Danella said, her voice soft but resolute, “if you lay a hand on me I’ll kill you.”
“There is nothing to fear here,” Homar said. “We are gentlemen. We are the king’s nobles after all.”
“We’ll leave,” Mansel said.
“There is no need to suffer the cold and wet with this fatherless scum,” Brogan said to Danella.
“Stay with us, my lady,” Homar added.
“No,” Danella said.
Mansel took a step forward and the crowd parted before him. He walked to the door slowly, Death’s Eye ready to strike down anyone who confronted him, but the warriors just watched. Homar and Brogan didn’t move. They stayed in the corner, watching
as Mansel made for the door to the inn.
“Last chance, my lady,” Homar said.
Danella stepped around Mansel, opened the door, and slipped out into the swirling snow. Mansel gave the nobles one last glance before following her out, slamming the door behind him.
Chapter 20
The mountains were stunningly beautiful and glistening white. Every needle of the towering evergreen trees was covered in glistening crystals, and the outer parts of the branches were dusted with snow. Below, on the mountains themselves, small creatures stirred, oblivious to the massive dragons above and trying to find food in the midst of the winter storm.
Brianna felt odd being apart from Zollin. Her guilt returned in an almost crushing fashion, nearly drowning the exuberance she felt as the dragons skimmed the treetops of the Walheta mountain range. She loved being with the dragons, and could almost imagine herself as one of them when she was alone with the great beasts. Their journey was so quiet that the cares of the kingdom fell away and she felt light, but in the back of her mind the guilt was growing. She didn’t understand why she loved being on her own so much. Although, in truth, she was rarely alone. Brianna communed with the dragons just as easily as she spoke to humans, perhaps even to a greater degree because they understood her emotions. And of course they had no concept of romantic love or marriage, so there was no judgment, certainly no condemnation for her feelings.
She was glad to be with Zollin again. And overjoyed that he loved her enough to have journeyed to the underworld to save her, yet she also wondered if his intentions were really based in love for her. She was carrying his child, and she couldn’t help but wonder if that was why he had come to her rescue. He was definitely more guarded than before, more protective. She knew she would have to regain his trust, and in word he seemed very welcoming and forgiving, but she could feel the tension. Brianna hoped that what she was feeling wasn't a premonition but worry, but she couldn’t shake the fear that it was more. He needed her power, needed the dragons, but would he still love her if he didn’t? What might he do once the baby came? He was powerful enough to take her child and cast her out of his life forever. It was hard to imagine that Zollin would ever do something like that, but she couldn’t help but fear it. She had opened the door of possibilities when she left him, and there was no security for Brianna after that. She had to live with the possibility that he might do the same thing to her at any time, and the fear of it eroded any security she should have felt with him.
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