Five Kingdoms: Books 01, 02 & 03

by Toby Neighbors

  “You better get some rest soon, too,” Kelvich said. “I’d prefer for you to wake up early.”

  “Won’t the people here grumble about that?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’m counting on it. Hopefully they’ll be too hung-over to pay too much attention to what is going on. By the time they regain all their senses, we’ll be gone and all of this will seem like a bad dream.”

  “It feels like one to me now,” Brianna said.

  Kelvich smiled at her. He felt bad for the girl and understood her feelings, but also knew how important it was that they do everything in their power to keep Zollin safe. Too much depended on the boy for them to take unnecessary chances. He could feel the world waking up, and Zollin was the key. He needed to be ready by the spring, and Kelvich had a very short amount of time to prepare him for that.

  Chapter 5

  The next morning, Brianna woke stiff and cold on the floor of the common room. Unlike the majority of townsfolk, she hadn’t consumed enough ale to have passed out on the rough wooden floor. Instead, she had tossed and turned all night, barely doing more than dozing. Just before dawn, the fire had died and the cold night air had invaded the inn. She shivered as she sat up, rolling her head on her shoulders to work out the kinks. She found Kelvich and nudged him awake with her foot. To be honest, she didn’t like the sorcerer’s plan. She was jealous that Zollin would be kept hidden in the old man’s cabin, especially after she had worked so hard over the past few weeks to make him the clothes for his birthday. Now she would have to spend the rest of winter trapped in the inn with no friends other than Mansel, who seemed to have no time for her now that the local girls thought he was a hero.

  She longed to be on the road again. Their trip from Tranaugh Shire had been difficult and full of dangers, but she had loved every minute of it. In fact, she had already begun to make herself a new set of clothes. A pair of thick, leather breeches lined with soft wool would be warm and hopefully give her a little protection from saddle sores. That had been the hardest part of the trip for her. She could ride well enough, but she had never had reason to go on prolonged rides. The old mare, Lilly, was a gentle animal, but Brianna had been sore and she knew she would be again when they set out in the spring. Still, she also knew she would adjust and get over the soreness, just like before.

  She sat looking at Zollin. He looked so peaceful, lying wrapped in one of the blankets she had brought to him last night. He didn’t look dead, only sleeping, although his breathing was so shallow that she had to watch intently to see it. She needed to work up some tears to give a convincing performance, not that many of the people sleeping off their night of excess drink would be aroused enough by the commotion she was about to make to see it. Still, it was part of the plan and, although she resented it, she could see the wisdom of it.

  More than anything, she wanted Zollin alive and well. When the assassins had shown up the night before, her fear for Zollin had been like an icy dagger in her heart. She hadn’t felt afraid for herself, although she guessed she should have been, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Zollin. When he’d been hit with the dart, she’d almost broken down in tears. Her hands had shaken uncontrollably. It had been the worst time in her life, even if it was only a few minutes. She had never been more frightened.

  “Let’s get this show on the road,” Kelvich whispered to her.

  She nodded and stood up, looking over to where Quinn was guarding the front door. He looked tired, but he nodded to her and she bent over Zollin.

  “Wake up,” she said loudly. “Zollin, wake up. Zollin? Wake up, Zollin! This isn’t funny. Zollin? Oh, my God, he’s dead!”

  The townspeople began to stir, and Kelvich hurried to her side.

  “What?” he asked in surprise. “He was fine last night.”

  “He isn’t breathing,” Brianna said.

  “No,” cried Quinn, who came running to them.

  People were sitting up now and looking around in bleary-eyed wonder at the early morning commotion.

  “Zollin!” Quinn shouted. “Zollin, wake up, son! Wake up right now.” He shook Zollin, but he didn’t stir or make a sound. “You can’t die,” Quinn said, hugging his son’s limp body to his chest.

  Brianna felt tears stinging her eyes. Mansel came into the common room from the kitchens and joined the inn keeper and a few of the townspeople who were just starting to gather around Zollin.

  “It must have been the poison,” one of them said.

  “I can’t believe it, he seemed fine last night.”

  “Poison’s tricky that way,” someone else said.

  Kelvich put his hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “He’s gone, Quinn.”

  “No,” Quinn howled.

  Brianna couldn’t stop the tears now. She knew that Zollin wasn’t really dead, but she couldn’t help but imagine that he was as she watched Quinn grieve. She covered her face, and before she knew it, Mansel had his arm around her.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “Zollin’s dead,” she said through her tears

  “It must have been the poison,” Kelvich said. “He must not have gotten it all out.”

  For several minutes the scene grew as more people started to wake up and come over to see what was happening. Finally, Kelvich offered to keep Zollin’s body at his cabin.

  “I’ve got a shed out back, and there’s room for him. He won’t be disturbed and, come spring, we can bury him properly.”

  Quinn nodded. He and Mansel lifted the body. The townsfolk were frightened at the thought of the poison and none offered to help. They carried Zollin out to the shed. Buck the Inn Keeper followed them.

  “I’ve got a sleigh you can use,” he offered. “We don’t use it much, but your horse can pull it on the snow. It’s over there, on the other side of those empty wine barrels.”

  “Thank you,” said Kelvich.

  Quinn was pretending to be too distraught to talk. Mansel and Kelvich hitched one of their horses to the sleigh. Brianna laid out a blanket on the sleigh, and Quinn laid Zollin down tenderly. Then they climbed onto the sleigh on either side of Zollin. There was enough room on the bench seat for Kelvich and Mansel to sit side by side. The sleigh was obviously intended to haul firewood or hay. It was completely utilitarian. There weren’t even springs under the driver’s seat. Mansel led the horse out of the stable and into the bright sunlight before climbing up to sit next to Kelvich.

  “It seems too beautiful a day to be doing this,” Quinn said.

  Brianna looked down at Zollin, whose only signs of life were the goose bumps on his neck from the cold wind. She wanted to cover him up, but there would be no need if he were really a corpse. The inn keeper had stayed with them until they left the stable, and no one talked as they maneuvered the sleigh through the little town. They saw no one, but they could feel the eyes of people watching. Silently they all hoped that the assassin would see them and move on.

  Once they were far enough outside of Brighton’s Gate, Quinn began talking.

  “We should sweep the town for the assassin,” he said to Mansel. “Once we get Zollin settled, we’ll come back and see what we can find.”

  “We’re far enough from town,” Mansel suggested. “We could hop down and double back.”

  “No, I’m afraid there were too many people watching us. We’ve got enough time in the day to play the grieving family. When we come back to town we can pretend to be the vengeful family.”

  They made the rest of the trip in silence. Kelvich stopped the sleigh at the back of his little cabin. They carried Zollin’s body inside while the sorcerer built a fire in the hearth. Soon the frigid, little cabin was warm and cozy. Brianna helped Kelvich prepare breakfast. He had plenty of eggs and some old biscuits. It wasn’t as good as the food they were accustomed to at the inn, but it was suitable.

  “When will Zollin wake up?” Brianna said. She knew the herb had put Zollin into a deep sleep but seeing Quinn grieve for his son, even if he was just pretending, made he
r uneasy. She wanted to see him wake up and reassure her that he was okay.

  “It generally lasts a full day and night,” Kelvich explained. “He’ll probably wake up this evening, shortly after dark.”

  “Oh, I was hoping to see him come around before we left,” she said sadly.

  “Well, you’ll get to see him soon enough,” said Kelvich. “I suppose we could say that you decided to stay and help settle the body.”

  “You’ll need to come back to the inn with us,” said Quinn. “Then you can gather some of his things and return with your own horse.”

  “That’s a good idea. Zollin has some of my things,” Kelvich said. “He’ll need them here. If anyone asks, you can show them those and explain you are returning them to me. Although, from the looks on everyone’s faces at the inn, I doubt anyone will care. They all seemed a bit relieved to be rid of their Wizard.

  “Cowards,” Brianna said bitterly. “He saved their lives, and they can’t even thank him?”

  “People always fear what they don’t understand. Magic has been asleep in the Five Kingdoms for a long time. Zollin is going to change that, and there are some powerful people who don’t want that to happen. Our job now is to get him ready for whatever he’ll have to face in the spring.”

  “Why is everyone so intent on killing him?” Mansel asked.

  “That’s a good question,” Kelvich said as he sipped the hot tea he’d made after they finished their breakfast. “I suppose there are different reasons. Most people are simply afraid of magic. They’ve heard stories but never experienced it for themselves. They say sorcerers are all evil demon worshipers who steal children, but I’ve never done any of those things. Then there are the people who do know about magic, yet can’t explain what it is exactly or where it comes from. There’s no logical reason why one person is born with magical power and another isn’t. In ancient times, it was believed that in every generation a great wizard was born. It was nature’s way of keeping the world in balance. But the Torr began enslaving or killing any person with magical power about the same time that the Five Kingdoms formed their confederacy. They were given sanction by the leaders of each realm to consolidate all the magical power in one place, so that the leaders of each realm could be reasonably sure that their neighbors wouldn’t use magic to invade their lands. In a way it worked out well, there’s been no full scale war in the Five Kingdoms for over three centuries.”

  “How do you know so much?” Mansel asked.

  “Oh, an old sorcerer like me has his ways,” he said, smiling. “Knowledge is the key to magic, and those of us with the gift are wise to learn as much as we can.”

  “So if the Torr was a good thing,” Brianna asked, “why don’t we want Zollin to join them?”

  “Well, I said that it worked out in a way. The truth is the Five Kingdoms are in essence ruled by the Torr. The wizards of the Torr were successful in consolidating all the magical power in the Five Kingdoms, but their means were cruel. Anyone who did not bow their knee to the wizards was killed. Bands of mercenaries were dispatched with one or two wizards to roam through the Five Kingdoms. There was no way to check their power, and they began to rob and plunder the innocent as well as the magical. The people began to resent anyone with magical abilities, and soon there were so few people with magical gifts left that the thing that made our land so wondrous eventually faded away. For hundreds of years now magic has been asleep because of the Torr’s dominating control.”

  “But there are still magic users,” said Quinn. “Yourself for instance.”

  “True, but we all either joined the Torr or fled for our lives. I’ve been living in secret for most of my life.”

  “What’s so wondrous about magic?” Mansel asked. “I mean, I’ve seen Zollin do amazing things, but I’d call it more scary than wondrous.”

  “That’s because you’re experiencing those things in a land where to be gifted means to be hunted. You saw what Zollin was able to do with those posts for the drawbridge. Imagine what the world could be like if dozens of wizards pooled their power to build monuments and cities. And it’s not just about wizards; magic has been instrumental in all of mankind's greatest discoveries. Apothecaries could have the freedom to expand their knowledge of the healing arts. Alchemists could delve into their lore and create new things no one’s dreamed of. Imagine the lushness of the forests tended by dryads, and the dwarves returning from their hidden lairs to craft weapons and jewelry and tools so fine you’ve never seen anything like them. Imagine the wonder of seeing a magical creature like a unicorn or an angel fairy. That’s the potential that Zollin holds, to rouse the magic of the world wherever he goes. It’s not just about his power, but what he represents.

  “The wizards of the Torr don’t want that. They covet power so much that they are constantly striving for more. Their leader now is a cruel man named Offendorl, who helped his mentor slay the wizards who founded the Torr and then murdered his mentor so that he alone could be the master of all the others. It’s Zollin’s destiny to break their strangle hold on the Five Kingdoms and revive the true nature of the world. It’s already happening, I can feel it. That’s why he is so important, and why so many people want him dead.”

  “Then we have to protect him,” Brianna said fiercely.

  “Yes,” Kelvich agreed, “protect him and prepare him.”

  Chapter 6

  Quinn and Mansel set off to search for the assassin after they returned to the Valley Inn. Both were fully armed. Quinn had donned his chain mail and collected his short sword and throwing knives. Mansel preferred a longer sword, which he had now strapped to his back. He had a thick, leather vest over his shirt and a wide, leather belt where he kept a wide dagger. He also carried his hunting bow and a small quiver of arrows. They started by looking for any tracks outside of the shoveled paths that were used by the townspeople. They searched every shed, lean-to, and out building in town with no success. The one place they didn’t search was the Gateway Inn, where they had been working for weeks to rebuild the fire damaged building. If they had, they would have come upon the assassin, who had been waiting to see the reaction to his kill.

  He had seen Quinn and the others leaving the inn shortly after dawn with Zollin laid out in the back of the sleigh. He was confident of his kill now, but he had decided to wait until after dark to head back to the sleds he and his companion had arrived on. They had left their cross country sleds several miles from the town so that no one would see or hear the dogs. They had made their way to the town of Brighton’s Gate on foot using snow shoes which were made of light birch wood, woven into a grid and strapped to their feet. It spread their body weight across the snow so that their feet didn’t sink more than a couple of inches and allowed them to move much more quickly. They had watched the village for most of the day, had seen the wizard working on the drawbridge at the edge of town. They saw him return to the inn, and they made a plan.

  Now he needed to get back to his sled and release the last pigeon with a note relating his success. He had already written the tiny note and was just waiting for the cover of darkness to make good his escape. He’d been awake for 36 hours, but he knew that sleep was not a good idea. He’d seen Quinn and Mansel searching for him. It was like so many other kills before. And while he didn’t fear dying, he had been trained not to throw his life away needlessly. The Mezzlyn spent years training their assassins from the time they were very young. And their ruthless efficiency was ample evidence of the success of their system.

  Quinn was frustrated, although he hadn’t expected to find evidence of the assassins easily. Still, he was anxious to find out who had sent the silent killers to harm his son. He had just about gotten used to his son’s extraordinary powers, but he still struggled with the fact that people who didn’t know him or his son wanted to kill Zollin. It made him angry, but he had learned long ago that his anger did not help him deal with violent problems, so he pushed the anger down and focused on finding out as much as possible.
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br />   “There’s no sign of them,” Mansel said in frustration.

  “Keep that anger in check. Odds are he’s still here.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because,” Quinn said, scanning the snowy horizon, “he’ll want to confirm his kill.”

  “Alright, so where would be the best place to do that?”

  “That’s an excellent question,” Quinn said. “Ideally, they would need to be able to see both exits of the inn.”

  “The only place to do that is the Gateway, from the second story.”

  “You’re right, so let’s check it out. But we don’t want to kill him, not right away.”