Five Kingdoms: Books 01, 02 & 03

by Toby Neighbors

  “Does it always feel like that?” the sorcerer said quietly.

  Zollin thought about the question as he chewed another bite of food. He knew that his mentor had the power to control other magic users, but sorcerers had no power of their own. Kelvich could feel Zollin’s magic, and the temptation to take control of Zollin and dominate his power must have been almost irresistible.

  “It was only my second time,” Zollin said.

  “Well, I didn’t feel any evil or malice,” Kelvich continued.

  “But you felt the power.”

  “Yes, as vast as the ocean.”

  “I wouldn’t know, but right now I feel like I could eat every fish in the sea. I’m starving. Do you have any more chicken?”

  “No, you’re eating me out of house and home. We better eat at the inn tonight,” Kelvich explained.

  “We’re ready if you are,” Mansel said.

  “What, you’re done working and there’s still daylight?” Zollin teased his father.

  “We’ve done enough for today,” Quinn said stoically. “Let’s head back.”

  They walked through the snowy path that led to the Valley Inn. It was a long, low building with smoke pouring from its stone chimneys. It reminded Zollin more of an animal’s den than a structure built by men. Still, it had been their home since they had arrived at Brighton’s Gate. The other inn had been damaged in a fire, and Quinn had earned their keep by working on the repairs.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Quinn said as they walked along the path. “Perhaps we should take a ship down the coast, perhaps even spend some time in Toogah.”

  “Why?” Zollin asked.

  “It’ll get you away from the Torr, for one thing. I’ve heard it’s an amazing place.”

  “It’s primitive,” Kelvich said. “But very beautiful, especially along the coast.”

  “Brianna would probably like it,” Mansel said.

  Zollin bristled but did his best to hide his feelings. He hated the fact that Mansel and Brianna were getting along so well, but he wanted the girl to be happy. She hadn’t had a chance to be happy with Todrek. Zollin thought back to their wedding. He had stood as Todrek’s second when his best friend had married Brianna. The next day, the wizards from the Torr had shown up with their mercenaries, and Todrek had been slain. The merest thought of that horrible day made Zollin’s eyes sting, but he was learning to deal with the guilt. He no longer thought of Brianna only as Todrek’s widow, but he still wished that things had turned out differently.

  “I hope Ollie has something good prepared to eat,” Quinn said. “I’m starving.”

  “Well, we know there’ll be plenty of ale,” Mansel said, smiling.

  “The drunkard returns to ale like a dog returns to its vomit,” said Kelvich in a cheerful voice.

  “I’m not a drunkard, old man,” Mansel said angrily.

  “Never dreamed that you were, my boy,” Kelvich said, throwing a wink to Zollin.

  “You two go ahead,” Quinn said. “I need to speak to Zollin for a moment.”

  Mansel and Kelvich went inside the inn. It was growing colder as the sun sank behind the mountains. Zollin shivered in his cloak. It was still damp from the sweat his exertion had produced.

  “You know when we left home, I really didn’t have time to get much,” Quinn said. “But I did get two things. One was your mother’s silk scarf. She gave it to me before we were married and then after she died...” his voice broke. “It reminds me of her.”

  “Dad, are you okay?” Zollin asked.

  “Yes, but there is one other thing. It’s not much, and your seventeenth birthday is special, unfortunately this is all I have left,” he said, holding out a small leather pouch.

  Zollin had completely forgotten his birthday. It seemed so ordinary, and nothing was ordinary in his life anymore. The small bundle was light, but the item inside the pouch was hard.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “My father gave it to me when I was your age. I don’t know how he knew I was leaving home, but somehow he did. I don’t want you to leave, but this is all we have left. It’s the last thing that is part of our family. Whatever the future holds for us, I want you to have it. Perhaps someday you’ll have a son to share it with.”

  Zollin felt his eyes stinging again. His dad had remembered his birthday. It was one of those moments when he felt loved and accepted. There had been so few of them in his life that each one was sweet. He looked at his father, who was nodding at him. He opened the little pouch, the cold completely forgotten even though the light was fading.

  “It’s a pathfinder,” said Quinn. “The little needle always points north, no matter where you are. It’s a simple tool, but one I’ve always cherished.”

  “It’s amazing,” said Zollin. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, son, I’m very proud of you.”

  They hugged for a moment before Quinn pulled back and looked at Zollin.

  “I know that you’re experiencing a lot of change right now, but you’re up to the challenge. I have faith in you.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Zollin admitted.

  “I know I am,” Quinn said, smiling. “Now, let’s go celebrate!”

  Chapter 2

  The two assassins had survived the voyage up the icy coast to Whistle Bay. They had a specific mission and were now traveling across the snowy landscape in search of a wizard. Neither cared about the cold that was their constant tormentor. They wore the finest seal skins, but there were no fires to warm themselves by, not even a horse to increase their body heat. The thick snows rarely melted in the valley, so they were forced to use dogs to pull sleds across the frozen land. It was an efficient way to travel, but cold. At night they burrowed down into the snow just like the dogs, and while they never got warm, they didn’t freeze to death, either. They ate cold rations and drank melted snow.

  The dogs were friendly, but they shied away from the assassins, somehow sensing that the men were devoid of any feelings of compassion or companionship. They were like arrows fired from an archer’s bow, intent only on their target and oblivious to anyone who inadvertently got in their way. They talked only when necessary to plan their movements, or to discuss what they had learned spying on the people of the small villages they passed through along the Great Valley. They were heading east and both expected to reach Brighton’s Gate shortly after dark. Even in the frozen valley, word had spread of the Skellmarian attack and how a group of outsiders had saved the town. The other villages looked forward to spring, when they might learn more, but the assassins had heard enough. They had caught scent of their quarry, and now they were focused on only one goal, to find and kill the wizard in Brighton’s Gate.

  * * *

  It had taken the pigeon the better part of three days to return to Isos City. Branock had taken up with the pale leader of the Mezzlyn. Branock feared no man other than his master, but the leader of the Mezzlyn, Owant, as his unsavory companions called him, was enough to set the wizard’s nerves on edge. Of all the Mezzlyn assassins, Owant alone seemed to have the capacity to enjoy anything. The others, the ones trained to kill without hesitation or feeling, were like empty shells. They were alive, but they had no personality, no emotion what-so-ever. Owant, on the other hand, was petty and cruel. He mistreated everyone, and only his ranks of soulless killers kept Branock from putting the man in his place. They were settled into a nice inn, although Branock had no idea where the Mezzlyn assassins actually stayed. He had a notion that they slept out in the stables, or perhaps were strategically positioned throughout the town. Their leader, however, preferred the finest food, wine, and entertainment. Women did not seem to interest him, but he ate and drank in a way that defied his skeletally thin frame. He also insisted that singers and storytellers perform nightly. Throughout the day, he saw to his pigeons, although how the filthy birds found their way to the man from all across the Five Kingdoms was a mystery to Branock. Still, he was glad that his suspicions had been con
firmed when the bird arrived bearing the name of the town Brighton’s Gate. Branock has suspected that Zollin would settle in the town. It was a good strategy, in a way. The snows had blocked their pursuers and given them time to plan their next move. Unfortunately, it also gave them a false sense of security. The assassins had learned that Zollin was at Brighton’s Gate and would continue on in hopes of killing him there.

  Branock was not happy about the situation, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it. There was no way to warn Zollin, and the army that Prince Simmeron had promised him wouldn’t arrive until the spring thaws. Then he could set his own plan in motion, dispatch his rival, and take control of the boy. He had spent his days refining his plans and, unfortunately, had spent his nights keeping the despicable Owant company. He envied Whytlethane with his solitude. The elder wizard was also waiting to travel with Branock into the valley to claim their prize, although they had no reason to believe the task would be that simple. They had been shocked by the young wizard’s attack at his village. Branock had been gravely wounded in a battle with the boy, a battle that still troubled him. He had been confident that he was winning until his blast of fire rebounded onto him so quickly that it had burned much of his left side. He had repaired the damage, mostly, but his scalp was now bald, his beard had been burned away and no longer grew. His face was still scared somewhat, and his left eye was now milky white and sightless. His appearance intimidated many, but Owant didn’t seem to mind, although his own pale skin, colorless hair, and yellow teeth were shocking as well.

  So Branock waited, knowing the attack would come soon. He reached out with his power to feel the spark of the young wizard. Zollin was still alive, but for how much longer Branock did not know. But if the assassins were successful in killing the boy, Branock would have to face the wrath of his master. His plans would certainly be revealed, and his treason would be dealt with in a most painful death. It was not something he cared to dwell on, so he waited, fully expecting to feel the flash of power that would come from Zollin as he battled the assassins.

  * * *

  Zollin opened the door to the inn and was met by a wave of warm air. The common room was full of people, all eating and drinking. It was a common sight, although none seemed to notice Zollin or pay him any attention at all. Quinn stepped in behind his son, and they made their way over to where Mansel and Kelvich sat, cups in hand. They settled onto the benches just as Ollie arrived with steaming cups of mulled wine.

  “This should warm you up,” she said merrily. “I hear we have a birthday to celebrate.”

  Zollin felt his face grow warm with embarrassment. He wasn’t fond of attention and hoped that his father wasn’t going to make a spectacle of him. He nodded politely to the inn keeper’s wife, and she returned the smile. Buck and his wife and daughter were among the small circle of people who didn’t seem to hold his powers against him. They did their best to treat him well, the only exception being that their daughter Ellie no longer lavished him with her affections. He wasn’t sure if that was a decision that had been made by her parents, or if the girl had simply realized that falling in love with a wizard was a bad idea, but either way it was one less thing for Zollin to worry about.

  “Where’s Brianna?” Zollin asked.

  “She’ll be along soon enough,” Mansel said.

  “So how does it feel to be a year older?” Kelvich asked.

  “It feels like a lifetime has passed since we left home,” Zollin admitted. “It’s kind of hard to believe it has only been a couple of months.”

  “Time flies when you’re having fun,” Mansel said.

  “I wouldn’t call running for our lives fun,” Quinn said, but there was twinkle in his eye.

  “I say this calls for a toast,” Kelvich said. “To the promise of a bright future,” he said holding his cup in the air.

  “And a happy life,” Quinn added.

  “With plenty of excitement,” Mansel said, smiling.

  “And love,” Brianna said. She had come up quietly from behind them.

  “Here, here!” Quinn and Kelvich said loudly.

  They all took long drinks from their wine cups, except for Zollin. He had turned around to find Brianna in a long dress of pale yellow. The neck line stretched around her upper arms leaving her shoulders bare. Her long, dark hair glistened in the light of the fire. Her eyes seemed to sparkle, and she was holding a package tied with a brightly colored ribbon. Zollin was frozen by her beauty. He had hoped to see her and had been pleasantly surprised when he heard her voice, but he hadn’t been expecting to see her looking so incredibly beautiful. She had followed him from Tranaugh Shire wearing a plain wool dress and thick winter hose. She had begun wearing soft leather pants instead of a skirt, and she almost always had a cloak around her shoulders.

  “Have a seat here,” Mansel said, sliding over so that Brianna could sit down beside him.

  “You look very lovely,” Quinn said.

  “Thank you,” Brianna said. Then she turned to Zollin. “Happy birthday.”

  Zollin was having trouble finding his voice, but at last he managed to say thank you.

  “It’s not much, just something I made for you,” she said hastily. “I hope you like it.”

  Zollin pulled the ribbon, which he recognized as one of Brianna’s, and folded it neatly. He knew everyone was watching him, and he lifted up the shirt that Brianna had made. It was a dark brown color and there was a black leather vest as well. The shirt was made from soft wool, and he held it up in front of his chest.

  “That’s very nice,” Kelvich commented.

  “Much better than your old clothes,” Quinn added.

  “I think it brings out the color in his eyes,” Brianna said.

  “I love it,” he told her, and they held one another’s gaze for a moment, until Mansel started shouting.

  “More wine, we need more wine over here!”

  Someone across the room took up the chant.

  “No, we need wine over here. Serve us first,” came shouts from around the room.

  People were laughing and shouting, some had already been served their supper and were talking about the events of the day. Quinn was telling Brianna about their work, but Zollin was staring at the ribbon she had tied his gift with. He tucked it quietly into a pocket.

  The night wore on, with stories and laughter that grew louder the more drink the inn’s patrons consumed. Zollin wanted desperately to talk to Brianna, and so he waited for her to retire to her room. When she finally did, he followed her down the long hallway that led to the guest rooms. There were lanterns on the walls, but Zollin had never seen them lit. Guests carried candles from the common room to light their way and to light the lamp in their room. Brianna carried one and its soft glow was like a bubble of light around her. Zollin was hurrying to catch up and was just about to call her name when he saw a shadow rise up from the gloom beyond the glow of her candle.

  Brianna caught sight of the assassin just as Zollin called out to her.

  “Brianna, get down!” he shouted as he ran forward.

  He didn’t have his staff, but he threw up a magical shield to ward off the attack he knew was coming. He had expected an arrow or a knife, but it was only a small dart that hit his defenses. Brianna had dropped her candle and was crouching down by her door as Zollin rushed forward, the magic inside of him churning wildly. He raced past Brianna, but he could see nothing in the darkness.

  “Flame,” he said loudly, holding out his hand palm up. A bright flame sprang to life just above his hand, casting a strong, yellow light down the hallway, but there was no one in sight. “Where did he go?” Zollin asked.

  “I don’t know,” Brianna said.

  “You saw him, right? A shadowy figure.”

  “Yes, I saw something.”

  “How could anyone disappear like that?”

  “It was dark,” Brianna said. The light she was carrying had gone out when she dropped the candle on the floor. “He could have
gone into any of those rooms.”

  Zollin bent over and picked up the dart that had hit his shield. It was nothing more than a needle with a puff of dark feather on the end.

  “Well,” he said. “Here is our proof. Let’s see if anyone knows about this.”

  They walked back to the common room together. Zollin was scanning the crowd for any face he didn’t recognize. The fireplace in the common room was large and cast the room in a dancing light that faded gradually toward the kitchens. Buck, the inn keeper, was hurrying out of the brightly lit rooms where the ale and wine were kept as Zollin scanned the dark corners of the room. The light from the storeroom was just enough for Zollin to see the man in dark clothes standing as stiff as a pole in the farthest corner. Zollin snatched up his staff and was spinning back around to confront the man, but the shadowy figure was already slipping away. He had bolted for the storerooms and slipped through the swinging door.