Five Kingdoms: Books 01, 02 & 03

by Toby Neighbors

  Branock lifted the horse again and dropped it beside the rider instead of on top of him. Then he broke the horse’s neck and walked down toward the man.

  “My leg’s broke, I think,” said the man.

  “Could be,” Branock replied, but there was no concern in his voice. “You said the family was leaving the valley. Could they get out through Telford’s Pass?”

  “N...no my lord,” the man said through clenched teeth. “The snows haven’t melted in the mountains.”

  “Good, now tell me how the boy died.”

  “He was poisoned,” the man said, groaning. “He died in his sleep. I didn’t see it, but there were a lot of people who did.”

  “Tell me about his companions.”

  “The girl is an arrogant little wench, too good for our boys, is what I’m told. The father has tried to make a good impression. He built the new drawbridge with his sons, but no one wants him around. He’s a good fighter though. Challenged the Skellmarian chief to single combat and managed to kill the barbarian. They say he was King’s Guard, but I can’t say for sure.”

  The man was trembling from the pain in his leg, so Branock used his power to block the nerves that were sending pain messages to the man’s brain. It was a simple spell, one he had used many times when he was interrogating prisoners of the Torr. He had found that by relieving pain, he was able to get much more cooperation than by inflicting pain.

  “Oh...” said the man, his head rolling back onto the muddy ground in relief. “My, my leg is better.”

  “Yes, I thought a little relief might help your memory.”

  The man looked up again. “The other boy’s a swordsman, if ever I seen one. He carries a long sword, and they say he can use it. He killed Trollic’s right hand man in single combat. He’s one to watch out for.”

  “Indeed, what else can you tell me?”

  “Just rumors is all, my lord. Some say the old man Kelvich is a devil worshiper. They say he can channel the dead, and that’s why he volunteered to keep the wizard’s body at his cabin. Other folks say he’s doing evil things to the body. No one knows really, no one goes up there except the girl. She goes every couple of weeks to check on the body, at least that’s what she tells folks.”

  “You said they aren’t welcome to stay at your village. Will the people give them up, you think, if the town is threatened?”

  “I’d say so.”

  “Do you think they’ll be run out anytime soon?”

  “Not as long as they still have coin, I don’t suppose.”

  “Good, that’s very good to know,” Branock said, smiling. “Anything you want to ask him, brother?”

  “No,” Whytlethane said.

  Branock turned his back on the rider, who was now writhing in the mud from the pain that had suddenly returned as the wizard ended his spell. The man was groaning and begging for help. It wasn’t a lovely sound, but in a way Branock enjoyed it. He returned to his seat.

  “I think they faked the boy’s death to keep the assassins at bay,” Branock said. “Someone in that little group has brains.”

  “I hope it’s the boy,” Whytlethane said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Then he’ll see through you.”

  “You do me disservice, brother. Your attitude is as icy as the weather.”

  “Are you going to let that pathetic thing moan all day?”

  “I’m sorry, is it bothering you?” Branock asked sarcastically.

  Whytlethane waved his arm, and there was a loud crack as the man’s neck snapped cleanly in two, killing him instantly. The spell took a heavy toll on the elder wizard, but he tried not to let it show. Unlike Branock, Whytlethane kept no staff; instead, he utilized a medallion which he wore around his neck and kept secret. The stone was black onyx and polished so that it gleamed in the light. It had been a powerful stone, but since their first encounter with Zollin at Tranaugh Shire, when the young wizard had blasted them unexpectedly with the energy from his staff, the stone seemed to be steadily weakening. Whytlethane had worked all winter to restore the stone, but nothing seemed to help. The elder wizard needed to find another powerful object to supplement his own magic, which had grown weak through the years, but he had no opportunity to search for one without Branock knowing. And Whytlethane had no intention of showing his rival any weakness what-so-ever.

  “The end is near,” Branock said airily.

  “Let us hope there are no more surprises,” Whytlethane said.

  “We have an army at our disposal. What could go wrong?”

  “What indeed?” Whytlethane said under his breath.

  Chapter 10

  Zollin was a little disappointed. He sat at the small, wooden table looking at the metal that he’d been given. It was scrap from the smithy’s shop, but it was suitable. It only took an hour to transmute the scrap metal into silver coins. Zollin tried his best to make them look distressed, rather than new. Now he had nothing to do but sit around in the little cabin and wait. Patience was not his strong suit, especially when he felt the dread of the Torr wizards so strongly. He was convinced they were close, perhaps only days away. The more he used his power, the more acutely he could sense the others wizards. The magic inside of him was not only more accessible, it seemed to be growing. In fact, he could feel it coursing through his body like blood, glowing in every fiber and sinew. Even though he rarely tapped into the deep well of magic, he had more power on a regular basis just using what Kelvich called the overflow.

  They had spent time exercising through the winter, and Zollin had noticed his body changing. He was still thin, despite his ravenous appetite, but he had begun to develop some pronounced muscle tone in his chest, arms, and shoulders. He was still nothing like Mansel, whose constant sword practice had hardened the bulky muscles he already had so that he looked like he could burst the seams of his shirt with one flex. But the changes in his physical body had at least corresponded to the changes in his magic. He felt stronger, smarter, and more in control. He no longer needed his staff, but he still carried it whenever he left the cabin. It felt more like an old friend than a tool. The staff may have been dead wood, but the magic it contained was real enough. It may not have been alive in the same sense that Zollin was alive, but it certainly had a will and reacted to his emotions.

  He had already packed his things into a small pack that could be slung over his shoulder. He didn’t have much. Some clothes, although he wore the outfit that Brianna had made him practically every day. He had the pathfinder that his father had given him for his birthday and the medallion that he had bought at Tranaugh Shire. He’d given away the other things he’d made using his magic. The curved daggers had been sold, the gold hidden away by Kelvich. He wasn’t sure if was more anxious to leave Brighton’s Gate because of the dread he felt about the wizards approaching, or just to spend more time with Brianna.

  He’d found peace over his guilt. Todrek’s death had wounded Zollin deep in his soul, but Brianna was free now to make decisions about who she wanted to be with. He’d tried his hardest to distance himself from her, and thereby honor his friend, but she had not been deterred. She liked him, as absolutely unbelievable as that sounded to Zollin, he had to admit that it was true. He wanted to be with her, the truth was that he had always wanted it, but now he was willing to allow it. He had fallen in love with her, and not just because of her beauty. She was strong in a way that he had never known before. She was courageous in the face of danger and adventurous, with an openness to any new challenge. They had shared a few moments together since the attack by the Skellmarian’s, but none as long or as satisfying as the night the assassins had come. He was anxious to be alone with her again, to look into her eyes by firelight, to lie side by side and stare up at the sky, sharing their hopes and dreams.

  He could feel his magic hum as he thought of it. It was as if the magic mirrored his emotions, sometimes giving them a much needed outlet and at other times magnifying them. There was so much he didn’t know about his power, despi
te the fact that he had learned so much. He had refined his defensive spells and honed his reflexes so that he could throw up a magic shield in an instant. He could feel physical projectiles, such as a knife or even an arrow, and deflect their flight with just a thought. Every object around him became a weapon. He could ignite the air around him, channel lightning through his body, transmute practically any substance, and lower temperatures to below freezing. He could heal wounds in humans and in animals. He had learned about magical plants and how to identify the magical properties of minerals. His medallion was the sole exception. Whenever he delved into its depths, all he could feel was darkness. Kelvich had refused to help him discover the mysterious object’s true nature.

  His mind swirled with all these thoughts as he waited for people to return. Brianna and Kelvich had gone to town to fetch the other horse and pack up what little belongings they had. They also needed supplies for their journey. They would be leaving Brighton’s Gate abruptly, and there would be no time to collect what they needed once they had confronted the wizards. Zollin didn’t know exactly what to expect from the confrontation. It was possible that with Kelvich, they could turn the tables on the wizards so quickly that the sinister agents of the Torr would simply surrender, but Zollin doubted it. He knew from experience that magical battles were not easy, but he felt confident that he could do much better than before. He knew what he was doing now and had more control over his growing power. It was exciting, although he told himself repeatedly that the approaching confrontation was no game.

  He was too anxious to sit around and wait any longer. He decided to go on a quick hunt. Many of the animals that had hibernated through the winter were stirring now. It only took a short walk into the woods that surrounded Kelvich’s home before he could feel the movement of woodland creatures. He took his time and finally came upon two fat rabbits that were searching for food. He focused on thoughts of drowsiness and pushed them toward the two small animals. He also gave them a sense of safety and security. They were soon asleep, and he lifted them into the air with his magic. He could feel an unwelcome desire creeping up through the hot wind of magic. He could crush their skulls, or block their tiny windpipes so that they suffocated. He had to push the cruelty away. He’d found that it was much easier to control when he wasn’t emotionally charged, but the giddy sense of power that arose whenever he used his magic was always there, just under the surface, as if it were searching for a breach in his control to exploit.

  He took hold of the rabbits that he had levitated. They were still asleep and never felt the razor sharp knife that opened their throats. He returned to the cabin and skinned the animals, which were a bit on the lean side after the long months of winter. He cut the meat off the bones and made a stew with potatoes, onions, carrots, and celery. Kelvich had herbs, which Zollin used to give the stew a savory flavor. He could still feel the presence of the approaching wizards, but cooking the meal gave him something to focus his mind on. His mouth was watering, and he had just about decided to eat alone when he heard horses approaching. He stepped out on the small, covered porch and saw Kelvich and Brianna dismounting. He hurried to help them with their packs, but the sorcerer waved him off.

  “We’ll leave them for now,” Kelvich said. “No sense unpacking these items just to have to repack them again when we leave. Any word from your father?”

  “No, he and Mansel haven’t returned yet.”

  “Well, it shouldn’t be too long. They won’t be able to do much scouting in the dark.”

  “I’ve got a stew on,” Zollin said. He was talking to Brianna, but Kelvich replied.

  “That sounds great. I’m famished. Let’s eat.”

  * * *

  Quinn had spotted the smoke from the campfire before they were close enough to be seen by the wizards. He and Mansel had tethered their horses and made their way stealthily toward the camp. They were now laying flat on a small rise where they could see the camp on its small hill. They had watched the wizards for some time, noting the body of the slain horse, which their servants had slaughtered downwind of the camp. They had also carried off what looked like a man’s body. Nothing else of importance had occurred, and they were about to head back to the little cabin in the woods when the officers on horseback came into view.

  “Who do you suppose they are?” Mansel asked.

  “I don’t know,” Quinn said. “We’re too far out, and I can’t really see the arms on their banners. But it’s safe to say they’re leading a war band.”

  “A war band? Why?”

  “Can’t say,” Quinn said thoughtfully. “Perhaps for us. At this point that wouldn’t surprise me.”

  “I don’t think we can take on a full war band,” Mansel said in frustration.

  “No, we can’t. We need to see what these riders do and if they have more men with them.”

  They waited as the riders made their way toward the hill where the wizards were camped. Soon they saw the armored cavalry. The riders began to spread out, looking for dry places to pitch their tents for the night.

  “How many would you say?” Mansel asked.

  “I don’t know. It looks like a full regimen. I can’t imagine why there would be that many heavy horses here.”

  “How many are in a regimen?”

  “One hundred.”

  Mansel was silent after that. Just watching the heavily armed men moving around on their horses made him nervous. Running from a small band of mercenaries had been frightening enough. He couldn’t help but think of his encounter in the woods. He’d been wounded by the mercenary’s horse, but he’d survived. Still, he remembered how defenseless he felt as the soldier toyed with him. He had no desire to repeat that experience.

  “Oh damn!” Quinn said under his breath.

  The foot soldiers were coming into view. They could hear the sound of their marching as the soldiers came slowly up the road that ran parallel to the river.

  “There’s more?” Mansel said in surprise.

  “That’s no war band, that’s a full army legion,” Quinn said grimly. “There’ll be archers next and then the supply train.”

  He was right, and they stayed until after dark, watching the soldiers make their camp. They spread all across the valley, their dirty, little tents popping up like mushrooms. They made fires from the damp wood they collected from the forest. The smoke soon settled in all around them like a thick fog.

  “What do we do now?” Mansel said.

  “One of us needs to stay and see what they do tomorrow. They’re close enough to Brighton’s Gate that they won’t break this camp. They may move against the town, but I just don’t know. I simply can’t imagine why so many men are here, it doesn’t make any sense.”

  “What do we do?”

  “I don’t know,” Quinn said honestly. “We can’t fight an army. We need to regroup and make a new plan.”

  “Alright, then, I’ll stay,” Mansel said. “You need to talk to the others and decide what our next move is. Besides, I’m not sure I can find my way back to the cabin in the dark.”

  “Okay, but be careful. Don’t do anything that would draw attention to yourself. Make a small fire well out of sight of the army. You need to be able to see if anyone approaches the town tonight. If they do, ride to us immediately. Just shout when you get close to Kelvich’s cottage. We don’t need any surprises. You think you can stay awake all night?”

  “Yes,” Mansel said. “You can count on me.”

  “I am,” Quinn said. “Be careful. If something happens, don’t try to fight. Run. We need you alive, understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  They crawled off the hill they had been spying from and hurried to their horses. Quinn gave Mansel all of his extra rations. Then he set off for the little cabin in the woods.

  Chapter 11

  They had settled around the fire and had their first bowls of stew as night fell. Brianna looked tired, and Zollin felt for her. He wished he could do more, but the warm stew was all he
had. Everyone was too nervous waiting for Quinn to return to carry on an actual conversation. As the night dragged on, Zollin began to pace. Kelvich dozed fitfully in his rocking chair. Brianna stared into the fire.

  “What could be taking them so bloody long?” Zollin wondered aloud.

  “I’m sure they’re fine.”

  “They’ve run into something they didn’t expect,” he said. “I should have gone with them.”

  “If you had, we’d just be sitting here worrying about you.”

  “I could have protected them,” he argued.

  “Quinn and Mansel can take care of themselves. Our highest priority is to keep you safe.”

  Zollin’s pride boiled at that thought. They were all endangering their lives because of him. He didn’t know what he would do if something bad happened to Brianna, just the thought of it made the magic inside of him almost uncontrollable. He was still pacing when they heard a horse come galloping up to the cabin.