Five Kingdoms: Books 01, 02 & 03

by Toby Neighbors

  “Yes,” said one companion.

  “Let’s move,” said Branock. He was in charge of the small band of Wizards, and they followed him without comment.

  Outside, as they waited for the stable man to prepare their horses, they formed a plan. Branock and Wytlethane, the two older Wizards, both elderly by normal standards, would ride on to Orrock, the capital of Yelsia, the northern kingdom. Cassis would return to the Torr and report to their Master and then meet them in the capital.

  Their task had become easier and harder at the same time. As the young Wizard used his power, he became more definable, taking on a shape and personality that the other Wizards could sense and recognize. On the other hand, if he was learning to use his power, then he could also use that power against them.

  As they rode, Wytlethane spoke, which was unusual for the Wizard dressed in simple brown robes. He was usually quiet and reserved, a very patient and diligent Wizard.

  “At last things seem to be moving forward,” he said.

  “Yes, it has been a wearying search,” Branock replied. “It shouldn’t be long now.”

  “It will be nice to return to the Torr.”

  “I agree. I’ve experienced as much of the Five Kingdoms as I can stand.”

  They rode on in silence for a bit before Branock spoke up.

  “How do you think Cassis will deal with the novice Wizard?” he said.

  “Not well…” said Wytlethane, leaving the thought hanging and unfinished.

  After a moment Branock continued, “But do you think he can co-exist with a younger, brighter Wizard?”

  Branock was confident that Wytlethane felt the same as he did, but this was their first chance to discuss the subject. He waited patiently while Wytlethane measured his words before speaking them aloud.

  “I do not think that is possible.”

  “Nor do I. We must keep our eyes on him.”

  “Cassis is a strong young Wizard,” said Wytlethane after a short pause. “The Master would not be pleased if Cassis’ pride disrupts our mission.”

  “No, nor would I,” said Branock. He disliked the way Wytlethane always made sure to bring up the fact that Branock’s authority was merely temporary. There was no hierarchy among the Wizards of the Torr, there was only the Master and everyone else. “Especially if we end up fighting each other.”

  “That would be unfortunate,” said Wytlethane.

  Branock was confident that he was the stronger Wizard, but magical battles were unpredictable. Strength flowed and ebbed. Knowledge was the power of the Torr and it was often horded like a treasure guarded by a dragon. He looked at his companion. The Wizard in his plain brown robes hid his prowess well. Branock was well aware of the ambitions of the other Wizards. There were only four in the Torr, including the Master. Branock had helped the Master eliminate the other Wizards that resisted the Torr. He had a few scars from those encounters, constant reminders that magical battles could be deadly. Fortunately he had always come out on top, but Wytlethane would be a formidable opponent when the day of that battle came. Branock knew he would face the other members of his order someday – he was ambitious himself, but he could wait. He would need an edge when that day came, and in the back of his mind, he toyed with the idea that this bright young Wizard might somehow become his ally.

  They rode late into the night, using their power to light torches and riding along the gloomy path. Each man held his thoughts until at last they came to a small farm with a barn. They did not wake the occupants of the small farmhouse, but quietly entered the barn, saw to their horses and found a dry place to rest. As dawn broke they rose and started out again. If the farmer or his family saw them, they made no attempt to either greet them or challenge them. Wizards and Sorcerers had a cruel reputation, although that was not Branock’s way. He knew however that Wytlethane would have killed the farmer without cause or an inkling of regret and he was glad they had managed to avoid that.

  Around noon they came to a small town. There was no Inn, and their supplies were beginning to dwindle so they stopped and Branock asked if there was a place they might buy supplies. The townsman who answered eyed them both nervously, but pointed to a small shop where they could buy food. They ate, paying for their fare with copper coins from their bulging purses. They had no fear of being robbed, as even outlaws avoided Wizards.

  The days passed like soldiers in a parade, each one nearly identical to the last. When they finally reached Orrock, they settled into one of the nicer Inns and began their wait for Cassis. Branock spent most of his time in the main hall of the Inn, watching and listening to the local gossip and snatches of news from the other kingdoms. Wytlethane preferred the solitude of his room.

  Cassis arrived two weeks after Branock and Wytlethane had settled. The young Wizard was now escorted by a band of mercenaries. The warriors carried swords and shields, and some even had longbows. They wore chain mail under their black cloaks. They were large men who soon drove the locals from the Inn and terrorized the young bar maids.

  “We are to approach King Felix,” said Cassis to the other Wizards once they had gathered to eat and make plans. “The Master requires it.”

  “King Felix is worthless,” said Branock, who was himself from Yelsia. He made it his business to keep abreast of the happenings in what would one day be his kingdom.

  “Nevertheless, we will go,” said Wytlethane.

  Branock knew the other Wizard was only agreeing because it annoyed Branock, but like it or not, if the Master had ordered it, they would do it.

  “And what are we to say?” Branock asked.

  “We are to request information,” said Cassis. He was arrogant and he dangled his news from the Torr over them because it was the only time he could be superior to the senior Wizards. “The Master is ready for his new pupil.”

  “Perhaps he tires of the last,” Branock said.

  “What?” Cassis thundered, his anger flaring in an instant, showing his immaturity and lack of control.

  “I merely implied that perhaps you have reached the limit of your ability,” Branock said smugly.

  “Old man,” Cassis snarled. “I’ll show you the limits of my power.”

  He was rising from his seat when Wytlethane put a hand on the young man’s arm.

  “Peace, Cassis,” said Wytlethane. “Branock is only baiting you. He is jealous that the Master confided in you.”

  Branock was well aware that Wytlethane had allied himself with Cassis, but the boy was pompous and slow to learn. Of course, most young men were, in Branock’s opinion, simply too full of themselves for their own good. He did not fear the younger Wizard, who thought more highly of his skills than he should have, but Wytlethane and Cassis together could possibly overpower him.

  “The Master is not pleased with your progress,” Cassis said imperiously as he sat back down.

  “I doubt the Master is very pleased with any of us,” Branock retorted, “but he will be happy enough when we return with his new prize. Now, what else did he say?”

  They talked late into the night. The Master had felt the surge of magic just as Branock and the others had. Their quarry was powerful, perhaps even as strong as the Master himself. Of course, that strength had to be harnessed and developed, but if the raw potential was there, this new Wizard was incredibly valuable. In fact, it occurred to Branock that perhaps the Master didn’t plan to train this new Wizard, but merely to kill him and ensure that he remained the supreme power in the Five Kingdoms. If that were the case, then perhaps Branock’s best course of action would not be finding this young Wizard after all. As they talked, a plan began to form in the Branock’s mind, a plan that would establish his own power, or perhaps get him killed.

  Chapter 4

  A few days before the Harvest Festival began, days filled with work from daylight till dusk, a strange sense began to develop in the back of Zollin’s mind. He felt something approaching. He could not see it or tell what it was, but it was getting closer, the mysteri
ous sense growing day by day. They completed the work on the Inn the day before the festival, although it was nearly half-full with patrons already, and the long tables were merely planks of wood set on frames. It was enough for the owner, who paid Quinn the final sum owed and promised him free drinks throughout the festival.

  The atmosphere in Tranaugh Shire was contagious, and after being given a bonus by his father from their payment for the Inn, Zollin was beginning to feel cheerful despite the strange feeling he was experiencing. Zollin had not spoken to Todrek since he revealed his secret in the forest, and his friend had told no one. So the morning of the festival Zollin sought his friend out. He rose early and climbed the stairs to the Butcher’s home above his shop. There was a sickly sweet smell of blood that often blew into the home from the shed nearby where the animals were slaughtered. Todrek opened the door and smiled, which Zollin was hoping for but not expecting.

  “I’m glad you’re here early,” said Todrek, pulling his friend into the home. “I’ve made Brianna’s father an offer and he’s going to make his decision today. I knew this was going to be the best year ever.”

  Zollin sat stunned for a moment; he wasn’t sure what to say. “Brianna, the daughter of Horace the Tailor?”

  “Of course, silly, can you imagine it? Brianna and me, it was actually father’s idea, and he said if Horace accepts the bride price that he would loan me the money to have Quinn build us a house.”

  Brianna was beautiful, thin and graceful, always smiling and jolly. She was 15 years old and of marrying age, but she had never shown any interest in either Todrek or Zollin.

  “Do you think she’ll accept?” Zollin asked.

  “Father does, we made a handsome offer. I know that one of the Tanner boys did too but who would want to marry them, they all stink of the tannery. Plus, none of the farm boys could match our offer and I doubt she would want to move out of the Shire to work a farm.”

  “Well, then, congratulations,” Zollin said.

  “We’ll be married after the first winter snows,” Todrek said happily. “By then the house should be finished. We only need a small place to start. You’ll stand with me right?”

  “Of course, I’d be honored.”

  Todrek grabbed Zollin up in a fierce embrace that made the smaller boy gasp. They rushed out after that to see what was happening in town. Several traveling merchants were setting up shops and a troupe of entertainers was pulling into town. The Inn Keeper spotted the boys as they ambled past the large building, and he called for them to come inside and have some cider.

  And so the day passed quickly, filled with contests and food and laughter and more food. The women had all baked pies and treats which they shared from colorful tents they set up around the town square. There was a merchant from Orrock selling weapons of all sizes, from small daggers to long, two-handed broad swords. There were cloths from Janzia and an array of pottery and finely crafted house goods from all over the kingdom. Craftsmen traded their goods with the merchants and the haggling was as entertaining as the contests. There were wrestling matches and foot races, feats of strength and duels with wooden staves. Finally, shortly before the evening feast, was the announcement of town news. It was traditional that babies would be presented, achievements recognized and marriages announced. People had been gathering all afternoon in the town square. Zollin stood beside a very nervous Todrek, each nursing a tall mug of cider that was cool and crisp.

  Most of Zollin’s coins had gone to treats of various kinds, pies and cookies and candies, but there were also a few trinkets in his pocket. He had been looking through the various goods of the traveling merchants when a small silver ring with a white stone caught his attention. He wasn’t wearing the willow belt or carrying his staff, but he could sense the magic in the ring. It seemed to push against him as his hand drew near to it. It was a woman’s ring and too small for him to wear, but he asked the merchant how much he wanted for it. They haggled for a bit and Zollin even began to walk away at one point but finally a deal was struck. He had also found an amulet that the merchant said would bring good luck, but there was something strange about the small object. It was a shiny black stone on a leather thong and it felt anything but lucky to Zollin. Still, the man had nearly given it away, so it too was in Zollin’s small money pouch. He had no intention of wearing it, but he was interested to see if he could discern the strange magic that it held.

  From the small platform boomed the voice of the village mayor. It was time to announce betrothals and Todrek was shaking with excitement beside Zollin.

  “Nervous, Butcherboy?” Quinn asked from behind them. They hadn’t noticed he was there before.

  Todrek managed to nod.

  “Well, good luck. Your father told me about your offer. If she accepts, Zollin and I will build you a place by the first snows, you can count on it. Right, Zollin?”

  “Yes sir, absolutely.”

  Zollin tried to smile, tried to be excited about the announcements, but he was also confused. Brianna was beautiful, but could she ever love Todrek? Zollin didn’t want to see his friend hurt. He also didn’t want to be excluded, and if Todrek married, he would devote all his time to his new wife. And, even though he hated to admit it, there was also a twinge of jealously. He didn’t feel he could ever be as lucky as Todrek.

  When Brianna and her father approached the small platform, Quinn placed a hand on Zollin’s shoulder. Beside him Todrek was shifting from foot to foot, and as Zollin turned to look at his friend, he saw his father watching him. There was a reassuring look in the older man’s eyes, a glimmer of understanding, and for the first time since he was a small boy he felt his father’s love. It was a fleeting moment, for Brianna’s father announced that she would marry Todrek, and Todrek raced through the crowd that parted before him. There was clapping and cheering, and a few quick-witted men made suggestions to Todrek as he approached the small stage so that the crowd was laughing good-naturedly by the time he arrived. He climbed up to stand next to the girl who had long black hair that hung like a shimmering curtain around her face. Her skin was pale, her lips full and red. She had large, brown eyes and long lashes. She looked at Todrek with neither excitement nor dread. Todrek took her hand and led her away to his family while the next young girl was led up on the stage.

  “We should maybe make an offer soon too,” Quinn said quietly to Zollin.

  “I doubt anyone would have me,” Zollin said as he watched his friend. Todrek had not mentioned their time in the forest and had acted as jovial as always, but Zollin knew that things would never be the same. They had been friends a long time, but now their lives were on diverging paths. Todrek’s was here in Tranaugh Shire, but the little town suddenly felt stifling to Zollin.

  “Father,” he said suddenly. “You served in the King’s Army when you were young. What made you leave your home?” Zollin knew his grandfather had been a carpenter and had taught Quinn the trade. It was something they never discussed, but suddenly Zollin felt he needed to know.

  “Can you guess?” his father asked.

  “A girl,” Zollin said after only a second’s thought.

  Quinn nodded, and they walked away from the crowd. The feast was followed by entertainment. Musicians played and singers sang tales of war and of love and of glory. Zollin sat with his father while Todrek and Brianna sat together. It was traditional for a betrothed couple to share the feast meal, but afterward the groom would make arrangements for their home while the bride prepared herself for marriage. They would not spend time together again until their wedding day.

  Normally Zollin would have delighted in the food and in the entertainment, but he had lost his appetite. He was on the verge of returning home early when a new member of the troupe took center stage. There was a flare from the hot wind of magic within Zollin. He could not detect magic in the man, but he instinctively knew that the man had power. It was the feeling of the approaching magic – Zollin recognized it at once. The magic in this man was different. It f
elt playful and fun. Zollin watched as the man performed illusions, making seemingly solid rings connect and separate. He pulled scarves from his fist and made doves appear in mid air. He made coins disappear and pulled a very fat rabbit from a small box that he held in his hand.

  It was all very entertaining, but Zollin knew that the tricks were simply illusion. He did not catch how the man was doing most of the tricks, but he sensed the magic was of a mocking nature. There was no strength to it, only the feel of laughter. It was trickery in the truest sense. Zollin thought that this man could have used his power to con people out of their possessions, but his strength was only illusion, and he could not move or hurt or heal.

  Zollin stayed through the last of the show and then went to find the illusionist. The man was tall with a head full of thick wavy hair. He had a long mustache which he curled using beeswax. As Zollin approached, the man suddenly looked straight at him.

  “Do I know you?” the man asked.