An image flashed in her mind of what could have been nothing more than a dark spot among the trees of the mountain they were flying over, but Brianna knew that it was more. The spot was an opening in the rock of the mountain, a cave of some sort. It meant shelter from the cold wind and falling snow. A place where she and the dragons could rest in relative safety for the night.
“Take me down there,” she told Sorva. “I’ll make sure it is ready while the two of you hunt.”
The dragons circled, Ferno remaining high, watchful for any sign of danger, while Sorva dropped low and let Brianna leap to the ground. She twisted and twirled, avoiding the snow-laden trees, and landed softly on the ground near the cave. It was larger than it appeared from the air, a great indentation in the rock, shaded from the light and almost free of snow. No vegetation grew in the cave, it was barren rock, cold and hard, but perfect for dragons.
Brianna turned and waved the dragons away, sending them positive feelings before turning back to the shelter they had found. A quick survey of the cave revealed a crack in the back wall, little more than a small fissure in the cold stone. The floor of the cave was mostly flat, although it sloped slightly toward the entrance. Brianna set to work gathering fallen branches and breaking off fern fronds when she found them. She wanted fuel for a fire, not that she needed it but she was tired. She couldn't keep a fire burning while she slept, so the wood would be useful. She also wanted a softer place to sleep than just the stone floor of the cave. The dragons would have let her sleep on them, but their scaly hides were just as rough as stone.
Once she had gathered enough fuel to keep a fire burning the rest of the day and through the night, she used her power to start a fire that would dry out the wood. The last thing she wanted was to fill the cave with smoke, or to alert an enemy to their presence. Her fire was so hot that the wood hissed and popped as the water turned to steam even deep inside the wood. She had to be careful not to let the wood get so hot it caught fire, but she could feel the strength of her flames and kept a close watch on the drying progress.
She didn’t notice the strangely shaped eyes gazing at her from the dark fissure in the back of the cave. There was no way for her to know that creatures that had escaped the underworld were hiding nearby, waiting and watching, intent on ridding their lair of this newcomer, clothed in flames, who reminded them too much of their old master.
The day passed quickly and the light was starting to fade when Brianna let her own magic die down, wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, and used the firewood she had collected to kindle a campfire for the night. The wood took the flames eagerly, creating a warm, almost hypnotic blaze that crackled and popped as it burned. The sound masked the movements of the creatures as they slunk from the fissure in the rock. Two were shaped like humans, the other three were more like insects. The human creatures were short, one had a large hump on its back and was bent almost double, using its hands to support the weight of the hump. The other had scars from burns across its face and neck. They had closed the distance to within a few feet of Brianna, who had her back to the fissure and was watching the sky for signs of the dragons.
One of the insectile creatures made a chittering sound as it approached Brianna, which was just enough for the Fire Spirit to turn around. She jumped to her feet, tossing off the blanket, just as the others charged her. The scarred human creature grabbed her arm in a grip that was supernaturally strong, and one of the others shot its tongue out like a toad, the rough appendage wrapping around her ankle. She couldn’t hold back the scream of terror that rose up inside her, more from being startled by the creatures than fear for her life. Her cry echoed in the cave, and the creatures hissed in reply. Then Brianna burst into flames.
The groslings, escaped from the underworld through the tunnel Brianna had created to help the dwarves, cried out in pain and fear. The two holding Brianna were injured; the human’s hand was blistered and the insect’s tongue was blackened. They all fell back in terror, the one creature’s tongue too damaged to return to its mouth. It dragged on the stone floor, leaving a greasy trail behind it as the creature scrambled away.
Brianna realized the creatures had come up from the crack in the back wall and if they could return to the fissure to escape her flames the cave wouldn’t be a safe camp for her and the dragons. She projected her power into the opening, which burst into flame. The groslings screamed in terror again and then turned, running for the cave opening on the far side of the fire that Brianna had built. She didn’t try to stop them. She knew they might come back and cause more trouble, but she simply didn’t have the heart to harm the wretched creatures.
A roar filled the air as the groslings scrambled out of the cave. The insect creatures moved more quickly than those who resembled humans, but none escaped Ferno’s fiery blast. The green dragon dove and spewed flames down onto the creatures, killing all but the hunchback, who was burned but alive and wailing in agony as its companions died. Brianna moved to the wretched being. Its hideous face, twisted by pain, was almost too frightening to look at. Brianna raised a hand and let flames consume the creature.
The smell of burned flesh was sickening and thick in the air as Sorva landed at the cave’s entrance, a doe still in the black dragon’s foreleg talon. Ferno made another pass over the cave, growling angrily, but there was no more danger. Snow and moisture had kept most of the trees around the cave from bursting into flame during Ferno’s blast, and those that did ignite were easy enough for Brianna to quench. She felt the flames on the trees almost as if they were part of her body. They were like the tips of her fingers and it only took a thought to snuff them out. Steam and smoke rose from the cave in the fading twilight and Brianna turned back to her fire.
“That wasn’t necessary,” she said when Ferno landed outside the cave, sniffing at the immolated corpses.
“Danger,” Ferno growled.
“No, not really,” Brianna replied.
Brianna’s own scream, heard as if from far away, along with the emotion of her shock and fear projected unconsciously to the dragons, echoed in her mind as Sorva moved close to the fire with the doe.
“I was only startled,” she explained. “I was watching for the two of you and they came out of the fissure in the back of the cave.”
Ferno went over to the small crack and unleashed another gout of flame, this one more concentrated so that the flames shot into the opening and didn’t splash all around the barren grotto. Brianna didn’t think his precaution was necessary, but she had to admit to herself that she’d been careless.
Sorva tore a long sliver of meat from the doe and held it out to Brianna, who took it. She remembered how awed she was when Zollin cooked a fish using only magic on their flight from Tranaugh Shire. His abilities had amazed her and still did in many respects, but she could do the same trick since she had gained powers of her own. She let heat rise up from her hands and pour into the meat, cooking it in a matter of seconds.
Ferno and Sorva ripped the carcass of the deer in two, then devoured the creature. Brianna ate more slowly, her gaze constantly returning to the charred remains of the groslings, until Ferno curled up beside her, blocking her view. The dragon felt no remorse for killing the creatures, no more than she would have for killing a spider that was crawling across the floor. Brianna and the dragons communicated through images and feelings, so she knew every emotion the dragons had. And while she didn’t fault the dragon for killing the groslings, she did feel guilty about their deaths. Perhaps they were monsters, but in the underworld she had seen their own fear of the Bollark. She knew they were wretched, miserable creatures and she couldn’t help but wonder if they might have had a better life once they escaped.
She felt that things could have ended differently if only she could have reasoned with them. Then again she wondered if the groslings even had the mental capacity to communicate. She really didn’t know, but for the first time in her life she felt the weight of her own power. Life and death were in her hands, and s
he didn’t want to be an indiscriminate killer. She couldn’t help but think of Zollin and how he struggled with his own power. It seemed every line of reasoning led her back to the wizard she loved. He was showing her the way, she thought. If she did as he did, surely she would be doing the right thing.
Fatigue set in quickly once Brianna finished the strip of venison she’d been gifted by the dragons. A large amount of the fuel she’d collected had burned, creating a thick bed of embers and ash. Brianna picked up more of the branches and fronds, then stepped into the fire. The fresh fuel kindled quickly and soon she was surrounded by flames. She lay down in the ashes, curled around the glowing embers, luxuriating in their warmth, and slept.
Chapter 21
Zollin was frustrated. Not because he was unable to kill the first assassin when the other two attacked him, but simply because the danger never seemed to end. All he wanted was to help people, and yet, at every turn, he faced a multitude of dangers. If not for his ability to magically protect and heal himself, he would have been slain many times over. And despite his altruistic nature, and supernatural acts to help the people of Yelsia, someone was always trying to kill him.
The two assassins slammed into Zollin’s magical shield. He had let his guard down for only a moment just before the first assassin tried to drown him. Since then, he had a magical bubble around him that would protect him from further attack. The assassins’ blades were turned away from Zollin’s body by the shield, but their momentum knocked him out of the copper tub. He fell to the floor, wet, naked, and furious.
Scrambling to his feet, he turned to face the two men who had charged into him from behind. They were dressed all in black, with black hoods and even dark paint on their faces. The lighting in the room was from candles mounted in sconces along the walls. The dim light was perfect for a relaxing soak but not ideal for a fight.
In the past Zollin might have simply blasted out with his magic, using brute force to bring his enemies to their knees, but instead he let his magical senses flow. He wanted to deal with the assassins but he also wanted to make sure there were no other threats in the room. He knew who his assailants were: the Mezzlyn, infamous assassins that were available to anyone with enough gold to pay their price. It wasn’t the first time the deadly group had been contracted to take his life. During the winter he had hidden from the Torr in the snowy village of Brighton’s Gate, he had been attacked by the Mezzlyn. A poisoned dart had nearly ended his life, but he had survived that encounter and he was determined to survive their second attack on his life.
The first assassin was still on the ground behind Zollin, stirring, but not moving quickly. Zollin could feel the man’s pain through the magic flowing through the room. The other two were back on their feet and moving in opposite directions. Their slender blades had been replaced with what looked like the small pickaxes used for climbing mountains. The weapons were black and would have been difficult to make out in the dim light, but Zollin’s magic surrounded the men and everything they carried. He could feel their hearts beating, as well as their determination to kill him.
The two men rushed at Zollin from opposite sides, but before they could reach him Zollin swatted at the men with a magical wave that sent them sprawling into the wall where the first assassin was struggling to his feet. They crashed hard into the unyielding wall as Zollin turned to face the three men. The first assassin drew a short rod from a hidden pocket. The young wizard didn’t need magic to recognize the blowgun or to know that it held a poisoned dart. A well-practiced puff of air sent the dart flying toward Zollin, but his magic altered the projectile’s course. It curved in midair, a seemingly impossible feat, and hit one of the other assassins in the chest.
The first assailant was in no condition to fight. His body was streaked with nasty burns from Zollin’s magical attack, and several ribs had been broken when he was knocked into the wall, yet he drew a dagger and slipped into a fighting stance. Zollin cast a levitation spell that jerked the weapon from the assassin’s hand and sent it plunging into the third man, who toppled over, his blood running across the polished stone tiles.
“I want to know who sent you,” Zollin said. “And how many are coming to kill me.”
The assassin was silent, but that was just what Zollin had expected of the man. He sent a spell across the space between them that paralyzed the assassin who was just seconds away from taking his own life.
“Oh, I’ve heard the stories. In fact, I’ve met your kind before. You’ll die before you’ll talk. Poison yourself, or use one of the blades hidden in your clothes. That’s why I’ve pinned you to the wall. You won’t slip into an easy death. Answer my questions or I’ll make you suffer in ways you’ve never dreamed.”
Zollin did his best to let his frustration show, but he was naked, cold, and exhausted. The last thing he wanted was to torture a man to death. That simply wasn’t who he was, but the assassin didn’t know that and Zollin hoped the man wouldn’t call his bluff.
“Of course, if you tell me what I want to know I can end your suffering,” Zollin said, pulling his clothes on and trying to sound casual. “I’m not talking about a swift death, just the opposite in fact.”
Zollin’s magic was still flowing through the room like a tropical wind. It only took a thought to block the pain signals to the assassin’s brain and for the first time Zollin saw a reaction on the man’s face. It was only his eyes, since Zollin had everything else paralyzed with his magic to keep the man from killing himself. The assassin in Brighton’s Gate had poison hidden in a fake tooth and Zollin didn’t want to take a chance that the man he had captured might try something just as devious.
“That’s temporary, but I can heal the burns and broken bones,” Zollin explained. “If you help me, I’ll help you.”
Zollin could see the man trying to move his jaw, but he wasn’t sure if the man was trying to speak or working to free a hidden capsule full of poison from a false tooth. Zollin stepped close. He could have used his magic to search the man’s mouth. But his fear was that the assassin might have some other way of killing himself that Zollin didn’t know about. He didn’t detect anything out of the ordinary, so he relaxed his spell just enough for the assassin to speak.
“I can also make any poison you ingest work slowly. Don’t cross me.”
“I don’t know who hired us,” the assassin said.
“You’ve got to do better than that.”
“There aren’t many of us left. Owant was killed during the Witch’s War. Muldune leads us now. He commissioned us from Lorye.”
“How?” Zollin asked.
“Messengers. There were three of us in Selphon City. Others are spread through Yelsia. I can’t say how many, but the message from Muldune was clear. Kill the young wizard named Zollin by any means. There’s even a reward.”
“How do you collect it?”
“By bringing your head to Lorye.”
“That’s good enough,” Zollin said.
He kept the man pinned to the wall while he healed the broken ribs and burns that spread across his chest.
“If I let you live, you clean up this mess,” Zollin said. “It never happened, understand?”
The assassin nodded.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m called Quench.”
“Find a new line of work, Quench. Next time I won’t be so lenient.”
Zollin didn’t look back as he turned away, releasing the assassin but keeping his magical defenses in place. He didn’t trust the man, but in Zollin’s experience mercy along with an example of how good his magic could be often worked much better than threats to bring people around to his way of thinking.
The assassin moved his arms and legs, still not quite believing that his wounds were truly healed. Zollin could feel the man named Quench staring at him and not simply through his magic. The center of Zollin’s back burned and itched. Despite his magical shield he expected to feel the assassin’s knife stab into him from behind, but it did
n’t happen.
His bath had been short lived, and as the adrenaline from the attack ebbed he felt fatigue weighing him down. All he wanted to do was eat and sleep, but he still had work to do. The assassin would hopefully dispose of the bodies of his comrades, but Zollin still needed to find out whatever news he could get of the kingdom. That meant a long night in the common room, listening to rumors and hopefully finding someone who had arrived recently from some place other than Selphon City.
He slipped out the door to the bathing room and went up the stairs, catching Elan as she was coming back down. A little nudge with his magic convinced her that there was nothing she needed to worry about in the bathing room. When he returned to the common area he found it warm and full of people. Most were locals who were gathering at the long benches, drinking and eating while discussing the events of their day. There were a few other residents, mostly keeping to themselves, at the smaller tables along the wall. Zollin moved quietly to the darkest corner of the room. He was too far away to hear most of the conversations taking place, but with a little help from his magic, he could hear every word.
A serving girl brought him wine, a loaf of warm bread, a crock of butter, and a shallow dipping dish with olive oil infused with garlic. Zollin ate and listened, focusing his magic on different clusters throughout the room. Some were passing the time in idle talk, others were arguing over local concerns. Selphon City was still rebuilding after a massive fire had damaged most of the town on the harbor side of the city.
Controlling Chaos (The Five Kingdoms Book 12) Page 14