Five Kingdoms: Books 01, 02 & 03

by Toby Neighbors

  Kelvich made his move, usurping Branock’s control before the wizard knew what was happening. He raised his hand, attempting to levitate Whytlethane out of his saddle, but the elder wizard was ready. His defense caught the spell and sent Branock sprawling off of his horse. The animal reared, neighed loudly, and pawed the air before crashing back down. Its right hoof landed squarely on Branock’s left arm, shattering the twin bones in his forearm. The pain sent Kelvich reeling backward. He tripped over a stool and fell, hitting his head on the thick edge of the wooden table and knocking himself out cold.

  Branock was in shock at the pain, but he was in control of his body and magic once again. He didn’t know if the controlling spell had been from Zollin or someone else, but he was able to disconnect his mind from the pain in his arm and scramble to his feet. He was dizzy and he staggered backwards.

  Zollin had been watching and waiting for an opening in Whytlethane’s attack. It didn’t come; the elder wizard was focused and ready for anything. Zollin got the impression he’d been expecting Branock to attack him, and that’s why Kelvich hadn’t caught the wizard off guard. Whytlethane returned all his attention to Zollin, funneling more power into the plasma blast and driving Zollin back.

  “You may be strong,” Whytlethane said. “But you are no match for me, boy. I’ve trained for over a century. I’ll find your weaknesses and exploit them.”

  “Fair enough,” said Zollin. “But I still won’t go with you.”

  He said the last words as he pushed back against the blast. His defensive spell was strong, but Whytlethane’s offensive spell was made to drive his opponent back. It was unrelenting, and Zollin knew he couldn’t overcome it straight on. He needed leverage, or an angle, to make it a fair fight. He moved toward the corner of the nearest house, but Whytlethane was ready for that move, too. He used his other hand and sent a blast of energy at the house, which burst like a clay pot dropped on a stone floor. The house shattered, and the force knocked Zollin back into the street. His defensive spell faltered for a second, but it was enough for Whytlethane to break through the magical barrier. Fortunately, the plasma wasn’t quite on target, and Zollin did the last thing Whythlethane expected. He rolled forward, under the pillar of plasma energy, and began deflecting it at an angle, so that the beam ricocheted up into the air.

  The force of deflecting the magic took much less energy, and Zollin was able to spook the elder wizard’s horse. The animal reared, causing Whytlethane to break off his attack and grab desperately at the saddle horn and the horse’s mane to keep from being thrown off. The horse kicked out, then hopped to the side, before wheeling around and running back out of town. Zollin saw Whytlethane lifting himself, magically, from the saddle, but then Branock was casting a spell at Zollin. It was wave of drowsiness, but Zollin shook it off quickly and sent a water pot flying at the wizard’s head.

  Whytlethane was stalking back down the street, and Zollin could no longer feel Kelvich. The older sorcerer hadn’t winked out of existence, he had simply gone away. Zollin felt abandoned, it was as if his mentor had run away from the fight and left him all alone. He sent a blast of energy first at Whytlethane and then at Branock. Both blocked the spell, but it bought him some time. Branock was the stronger of the two wizards, but Zollin could feel the dull ache of pain radiating from him.

  Whytlethane attacked again, but Zollin was ready this time, angling his defensive shield so that the green plasma bounced away from Zollin and toward Branock. The energy caught the wizard off guard; he was barely able to raise his own shield, and the shock of the blast knocked him off his feet. Unfortunately, it also set the house that Kelvich was unconscious in ablaze. Branock scrambled back to his feet as Zollin tried to sweep Whytlethane’s feet out from under him, but the elder wizard was too canny. He deflected the clumsy attack easily enough.

  “Branock, get in the fight!” Whytlethane shouted.

  Branock was shaking his bald head to clear the cobwebs. He had been caught totally unaware, first by Kelvich and then by the horse who had trampled his arm. His body was going into shock, and he felt weak. He stumbled back, bracing himself against another house.

  Whytlethane snarled and sent an invisible shove straight at Branock, who was just then stepping away from the stone wall of the home. The shove slammed Branock into the unyielding stone wall and knocked him unconscious. Zollin was startled by this turn of events, but Kelvich had told him that the other wizards were not to be trusted.

  Whytlethane renewed his attack on Zollin, alternating blasts of energy with flying objects, levitating spells, and mental suggestions. Zollin batted each one aside, but he knew he needed to shift the momentum. Suddenly he caught a movement inside the burning house. Kelvich was coming to, but he was trapped by the fire. Zollin knew if he didn’t act soon, his mentor would be killed.

  Digging deep into his well of power, Zollin kicked up a layer of mud from the street. The mud and clay absorbed Whytlethane’s blast and blocked Zollin from his sight for just a moment. It was the distraction Zollin needed. He dropped to his stomach and reached out with his magic. Whytlethane felt the surge of power from his foe speeding toward him and raised a powerful defensive shield in front of himself. But Zollin was reaching past the elder wizard. There were loose rocks and debris nearby, Zollin grabbed them and sent them hurtling into Whytlethane’s unprotected back. One of the rocks slammed into the wizard’s head and knocked him down. He was still awake, but the rock had cracked the wizard’s skull.

  Zollin rushed to the burning house and kicked in the door. It burst into smoking shards. The heat wave beat against Zollin and threatened to drive him backward, but he pushed against the heat with his magic. It was difficult, since the heat wasn’t a solid object, it was like pushing water with his hands; it kept trickling through his defense and singeing him. Still, he pressed into the house. The roof was blazing and dropping flaming shards down all around the room. Zollin saw Kelvich on the floor and, using magic, pulled his friend out of the burning house. Kelvich was coughing from the smoke, his head, hands, back, and legs burned from the falling bits of timber raining down inside the house. But he was alive, and he looked up at Zollin though watery eyes, still coughing, but nodding that he was okay.

  When Zollin looked up, he saw that Branock was nowhere to be seen, while Whytlethane was using all of his remaining strength to heal from the attack. His skull was already mending, and soon he would be back on his feet, perhaps even able to attack again. Zollin knew instinctively that he needed to stop Whytlethane, but he didn’t relish the idea of killing a man who was at that moment incapacitated.

  “Do it!” sputtered Kelvich. “If you don’t, he’ll try again.”

  Zollin walked over to the elderly wizard. There was blood matted in the long, grey hair. Several shards of wood had lodged in the wizard’s back. It was actually a miracle that he was alive at all. Zollin touched Whytlethane with his staff and sent electrical energy shooting through the wizard’s body until he felt the magic wink out. It made him sick, even more than seeing the body twitch and jerk and smoke from the attack. It was over, and for that Zollin was thankful. Then he felt a magical movement behind him, and he twirled, with his shields raised. The blast wasn’t aimed at him, though; instead it hit his mentor and sent Kelvich sprawling in the mud.

  Branock was back, Zollin saw. Only he wasn’t alone.

  * * *

  The Skellmarians had waited patiently, ranged along the river, just out of bow range. Toag had sent two parties to circle around the line of defenders and attack from the rear. He could have pressed the attack and trusted in his numbers to defeat the townspeople, but they were armed with bows, and he knew that a frontal assault would cost him many warriors. He was as blood thirsty as any of his clansmen, but he was also smart. He wanted as many warriors to raid down the valley and through the pass into the rich southern lands as possible. If he could hold the town through until the next winter, it might be possible to entrench here and create a permanent stronghold to ra
id from year after year.

  When his flanking clans failed to attack the town’s defenders, he realized he was facing a larger force than he had expected. Still, he did not want to rush into a fight that he did not understand. His warriors were growing restless, but still he hesitated, not out of fear, but hoping for an advantage. Suddenly, the town’s defenders fell back. The town seemed ripe for the taking, but to Toag it felt like a trick.

  “They’ve fallen back to fight our clansmen,” one of the warriors near Toag shouted, but there was no sign of fighting.

  “We must attack!” screamed another.

  “No!” shouted Toag. “It is a trap. There must be more horse soldiers in the town.”

  “We do not fear the horse!” shouted another warrior, and there were echoes and battle yells up and down the line of shaggy warriors.

  Toag knew he was losing them. His only option now was to give his people what they wanted.

  “Attack!” he bellowed.

  The full Skellmarian force screamed and then charged forward.

  Quinn saw them coming. He had moved back, past the King’s army that was now shuffling through the buildings of the little town and taking up positions along the street. Their commander should have positioned them between the buildings, to nullify the Skellmarians’ superior numbers, but there was nothing he could do. He needed to find Zollin and use the battle as a distraction to get his family out of Brighton’s Gate.

  The townspeople were afraid and confused. It was sad to see them so disorganized. They had held up well at the beginning, but as soon as the first of the soldiers arrived, they had retreated. Now he watched as the Skellmarian army ran across the empty ground. Arrows suddenly rained down from their right flank. Many were hit and fell screaming in the mud, but their companions kept running. The King’s archers, positioned on the flank, had time for one more volley before the Skellmarians reached the town buildings and threw themselves against the army’s shield wall.

  Quinn moved quickly now, he had neither the time nor the authority to help stop the invasion. He searched desperately for anyone he recognized. Mansel had not returned from his errand, and Brianna was nowhere to be seen. Zollin and Kelvich had gone to confront the wizards, and Quinn guessed that Brianna had gone seeking his son. If he could find Zollin, he was sure to find the others as well.

  He ran past several small homes, keeping his sword down so that he didn’t accidentally hurt anyone. The noise from the battle, mixed with the panic of the townsfolk, made it impossible to hear anything. Quinn shouted for his son and for Brianna, but he could barely hear his own voice. He knew it was useless to keep shouting, but giving up simply wasn’t in his nature. He had sent a young boy with his horse to the stable at the Valley Inn. If he could get there and get mounted, he’d be able to see, and be seen, better.

  He hurried through the muddy streets. Brighton’s Gate had two main streets. One ran north and south, from the bridge back to Telford’s Pass and through the mountains. Crossing the first road was a major street that ran east and west through the heart of the Great Valley. Both inns were on this street, as well as several shops and a few homes. Scattered all around these buildings were homes, shops, storage sheds, animal pens, gardens, and wells. Quinn hurried through the maze of buildings and came to the inn from the rear. He made his way to the stable, which was shielded from the main street by the building of the inn.

  Quinn ducked inside and found his horse, the mare that Brianna had been riding, and Kelvich’s horse. They were still saddled, their reins tied to a support beam. The horses were nervous, shuffling around in the dark building. It occurred to Quinn that he should be nervous, too, a queer sense of dread had come over him, but he assumed it was just fear for Zollin and the others. Had he taken the time, he might have realized it was something more, but he was too intent on his task. He untied the reins of all three horses and led them outside. He climbed up into the saddle of his horse and led the other two. If Mansel had managed to stay with his horse, they could double up and get out of town. But even as Quinn was thinking through his options, there was a terrifying roar that rang out louder than the sounds of fighting, louder than the cries of panic. It echoed off the mountains and made the horses almost impossible to control. They bucked and pulled as the reins, almost unseating Quinn, but he quickly wrapped the reins around his saddle horn and turned his mount to face the mountains across the river. What he saw there stopped his blood cold.

  Chapter 14

  The dragon had watched the battle with interest from a high mountain peak. The cavalry sent to stop the flank attack had succeeded, but being caught between the buildings had reduced their advantage considerably. All but two dozen had been killed or dismounted. Horse flesh would be a nice contrast to the humans the dragon would consume. He would soon feast, but first he watched to see how the scene would play out. He had watched the magical battle with some interest, letting the waves of magical power wash over him and strengthen him. Wizards were powerful creatures, but working their magic only made the dragon stronger and very few of their spells had any effect on him. He had stretched his wings in anticipation of taking flight and raining down terror on the unsuspecting armies.

  The shield wall of the southerners was breaking and being overcome by sheer numbers. The archers had fallen back, and the soldiers on the flank were now battling for their lives, as well. Gone unchecked, the dragon was sure that the shaggy men from the north would have won the day, but he had other plans. He wanted them all!

  He roared out his intentions, it was a battle cry of sorts. It had an amazing effect on everyone, causing them to stop and stare. The dragon jumped high into the air and then rose higher as it flapped its leathery wings. Then it dove forward, racing down toward the valley, its mouth open wide, flames licking the sides of its scaly head. There were screams of panic and people began to run. Weapons were forgotten, enemies ignored, plunder left untouched in their need to escape the beast. The dragon’s heart was filled to bursting with the panic he’d caused, and it was only the beginning. His reign of terror would stretch far and wide, across the desert and the ocean, filling everyone who saw him with fear. Fire shot from the dragon’s gaping maw and set several buildings ablaze. Black smoke billowed into the air as the dragon made a long, looping turn.

  The smell of burning flesh filled the dragon’s nostrils and made his mouth water. His turn complete, he made a second dive toward the village. This time dropping low enough to snatch a fat man from the street. He felt the blood flood his mouth as his razor sharp teeth cut the man to ribbons. He sucked the juices before chewing the flesh and bones and then swallowing him down. It was succulent, but he didn’t savor the man flesh. He didn’t have to. They were spread out before him now, like food on a platter, waiting to be snatched up. He didn’t hesitate, but dove again, this time snatching one with each talon while roasting several more with his fiery breath. As he rose in the air, he tossed up one screaming Skellmarian and then the other, snatching them out of the air with a striking motion, like a viper attacking its prey. He swallowed the people after only a few bites and then turned back for more.

  * * *

  Zollin couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Branock had seemed so weak, so afraid and fragile, but now he stood straight and tall. His eyes were clear, and in front of him stood Brianna. She looked frightened and angry; Branock had his hand around her throat. His other hand was held out in front of him, palm facing Zollin. It was both a gesture of peace and a threat, since Zollin had seen Branock blast plumes of fire from his hands. His short staff was under his arm, and he was smiling, as if he knew something Zollin didn’t.

  “Now, you’ve done me a great service, and I’d like to repay the favor,” Branock said. “You killed Whytlethane, which I had been planning to do for some time. So, why don’t you come with me and learn real magic. That broken old man at your feet doesn’t know anything, except how to manipulate and steal your power.”

  “He was strong enough to control
you,” Zollin said, his voice tight.

  “Yes, and look at him now.”

  “Brianna, are you okay?”

  She nodded, short, little bobs of her head, but it was enough. Zollin could see that Branock’s knuckles were white, his long fingers digging unmercifully into her neck.

  “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you would like that. I imagine your power pushes you in that direction. Don’t let it rule you, Zollin. I can teach you to control it.”

  “Let her go, and you can leave the valley,” Zollin said.

  “You’re in no position to make demands. I have what you want, not the other way around.”

  Zollin was stuck. He couldn’t attack for risk of hurting Brianna. She still wore the white azure ring he’d given her, which should protect her from magic. Anything he tried to do to Branock would probably rebound onto himself, just as the Torr wizard’s fire spell had done in Peddinggar forest. But there was a chance that the ring also rendered Branock powerless while he held onto Brianna. It was obvious that Branock had done some healing work on his arm, otherwise he couldn’t have held it outstretched. But how good a job could he have done in such a short time. Zollin was betting that, at the very least, it was sore. If he could get Brianna to hit the arm, Branock would probably release her and she could escape.

  “How’s the arm, Branock?”

  The wizard only glared at him.

  “His left arm is broken, Brianna,” Zollin said.