“You mean leaving the King’s Army and going to live as a carpenter in Tranaugh Shire?”
“Yeah, you knew he was in the King’s Guard, right? Can you imagine walking away from that? I hear even the knights give the King’s Guard a wide berth.”
“Love makes you do crazy things,” Zollin said, thinking of Brianna.
“It must,” Mansel said, staring into his cup.
Zollin found only one text that said anything about fluid buildup in the body. He saw that he could filter it through an organ called the Liver, and the body would dispose of it naturally. He pulled a stool up next to Kelvich and closed his eyes. He reached out with his magic and could feel every part of the sorcerer. He could feel the mucus building back up in the old man’s lungs. He could feel the blood pooling around the wound on the back of his head where he’d been hit when Brianna was kidnapped. He could feel the fever, as his body worked frantically to discover what was making him so sick. It all led back to the heart, which was having trouble pumping blood through his veins. As Zollin delved into the sorcerer’s heart, it became obvious that the organ was old and growing weaker. The fluid building up around the heart only made it work harder. Zollin gently moved the fluid into the chest cavity and away from the heart. The liver was like a big sponge, soaking up the fluid and moving it into his intestinal track. It took over an hour to get the fluid moved out from around the heart. There was a need for some of the fluid to remain and cushion the pumping organ, but Zollin could tell the heart was working more efficiently and with less effort. He then turned his attention back to the lungs.
He was sweating and tired by the time he finished. His knees were shaky, but Kelvich’s lungs were clear. He was breathing much easier, and his fever had gone down considerably. It was only a few hours until dawn, but Zollin needed some food now. He found a block of hard cheese and sliced himself a few pieces. Mansel had almost finished one whole bottle of wine. There was barely a cupful left, but it was enough. Zollin drank it, then draped a blanket over Mansel’s shoulders. He had fallen asleep with his head on the table. Zollin went into the small bedroom, which was much cooler than the main room of the cottage where the fireplace was, but he didn’t mind. He was hot and tired and ready to fall over. He dropped onto the bed and pulled a quilt over his legs. Inside a small pocket of his shirt, he kept the ribbon Brianna had wrapped his birthday present with. It was thin and made from delicate material that he’d never seen before. Kelvich had told him it was silk from a country across the sea. It must have been the only thing she had brought with her from Tranaugh Shire. Now it reminded him of her as he pulled the delicate ribbon through his fingers over and over. His mind flashed images of Brianna like lightning across a dark sky. He felt tears welling up in his eyes. Now that the danger was over, at least for the moment, he could let his guard down.
He felt like a failure. He had let Brianna go, not forever, but for now. The realization hurt physically, and he squirmed on the bed, begging for sleep to free him from the crushing guilt. He couldn’t imagine what she must be thinking. Was she expecting to see him at any minute, riding to her rescue? He had been a fool not to leave everyone else behind and chase the cowardly Branock down. The conniving wizard of the Torr had no honor, and there was no telling what he was subjecting Brianna to. Quinn’s argument had been sound, but it still didn’t feel right to be safe in bed while Brianna was in harm’s way.
Then Todrek’s face loomed up, like a ghost. He pointed his finger at Zollin and cursed him. You see, the ghost said, I told you nothing good would come of this. Now Brianna is gone and it’s all your fault.
Zollin could hold the tears back no longer, they spilled down his cheeks as his sobs rocked him to sleep.
Part III
Chapter 18
Pain! It had been so long since the dragon had felt pain. Its soft scales had been pierced with wooden shards, and its tail smashed with heavy, timber beams and stone from the falling building. He had not been expecting it, and the pain was a shock to his entire system. His brain had seemed to freeze and revert to some ancient instinct, and he had fled. He’d flown high into the mountains, his tail dripping his precious blood. He had flown until his wings were on the verge of paralysis. Then he had blown his deadly breath on the rocky ridge beneath him until the rock made the cold air shimmer with heat. He had landed and begun the painful process of pulling the shards from his wounded tail, one by one, with his mouth. The wood grated against his teeth and sent chills up and down his body.
The dragon hated weakness and despised himself for allowing the wizard to best him in combat. True, the human had gotten lucky. Had his scales been truly hardened, he wouldn’t have been wounded at all, but in this instance, he had been defeated and forced to flee. He had fed, although it was not a true gorging, as he had expected. But he was strong enough to return to his cave, where the gold would have its healing effect on his body and he could sleep for several days before needing to venture out and find food again. And he needed to get more gold; there was no telling how much had been discovered, mined, and turned into coin or jewelry. Gold was the one thing that could be used to control a dragon. A golden headpiece with a dragon’s name inscribed on it gave the wearer complete control over a dragon.
Long ago, men had forgotten this fact. It was after the War of Fire, when the dragons had battled in the heavens for men’s domination of the earth. Many had died, and the rest had fallen into hibernation to heal from their wounds. In the years that followed, men forgot the dragons and dragon lore. The headpieces were refashioned, and kings began to wear golden crowns on their heads, oblivious to the history that made gold and crowns so valuable. It wasn’t the scarcity of the metal, and certainly not the usefulness of it, but the power it contained. Gold, pure gold, that was mined from the earth where it was hidden in creation, held power over the most formable creatures in the world. Since then, the dragons, upon waking from their long sleep, had been hunted by men as monsters, their mutual alliances forgotten. Most had perished until only a few remained, perhaps only one.
The dragon roared as it swung its wounded tail, the pain reminding it of the hatred in its heart for men. They were weak, pathetic creatures, with short lives. But they were deadly, too. No matter how hard his scales became, there was always one soft spot on a dragon’s stomach that was vulnerable to their steel. He would need to find a familiar, someone whom the dragon could dominate and force to do his bidding. Then he would begin a reign of destruction that would force the Five Kingdoms to their knees. They would bring their gold to him, and he would let them live...mostly. The thought made the dragon smile, an expression that revealed rows of fangs and short, pointy teeth. It was horrific, and he knew it. Then a troubling thought crossed his mind and a baleful expression returned to his reptilian face. He would have to do something about the wizards. They were no longer satisfied serving kings and maintaining the balance. Their thirst for power had turned their attention to ancient lore, and, if left to their own devices, they might discover how to control him. The dragon vowed to never let that happen. He would crush the dreams of man, one way or another, and no wizard could stop him.
* * *
Zollin woke suddenly. He’d been dreaming that Branock was torturing Brianna. Sunlight was filtering in through the small window. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep, but it wasn’t long enough. His body was crying for more rest, but he shook it off. The last thing he would do was sleep while Brianna was being carried further and further away. He sat up on the small bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. They were swollen and puffy, partly from sleep and partially from the tears he’d cried the night before.
He stood up and stretched, his muscles ached and his stomach growled. He ignored both and went into the main room of the little cottage. Mansel was still asleep at the table, and Quinn was snoring softly on the floor. Both would be very stiff when they woke up, Zollin thought, but he didn’t wake them up yet. Instead he checked on Kelvich. The sorcerer’s hair was d
amp from sweat, his fever had broken and his breathing was much easier. Zollin added more wood to the fire, which was now little more than a few coals among the pile of ashes. He sent a little command of magic, and flames licked up over the wood and began popping and crackling merrily.
Not long ago, Brianna had been here, he thought. He had stood with her near the fireplace, and he could still remember the way her hair smelled, clean and fresh. He was tempted to saddle his horse and head out on his own. He could move faster that way, and he didn’t need the others to defeat Branock, but his father’s idea about running into a trap lingered in his mind. He found some bread and eggs that Kelvich had in the little kitchen area of the cabin. He was about to prepare breakfast when he heard voices outside. He went to the door and flung it open. A cold gust of wind swept past him into the little cottage.
There was a group of villagers approaching, some with swords and others with bows. A few even had lit torches, which Zollin found odd since the sun was up and there was plenty of light. Then it dawned on him what the villagers meant to do.
“What do you want?” he called out.
“This is your fault,” cried one of the men in front. “It’s him and the others brought disaster on the Gate.”
“Face us like a man,” shouted someone else.
“He doesn’t have his staff,” said another. “What are you waiting for?”
An arrow came flying in his direction. It would have missed him had he done nothing, but he didn’t want them to think he was powerless. He reached out with his magic and caught the arrow, arresting its flight but holding it up in the air. He turned it so that it was facing the crowd.
“He’s a devil,” someone shouted.
“He’ll be the death of us all,” cried another.
“Burn him,” came another voice. “Burn them all.”
Zollin heard his father come to the door. Quinn was still wiping the sleep from his eyes, but he’d heard the threats and had come to see what was happening.
“We saved your village,” Zollin said loudly. “We saved you from the Skellmarians and the miners and then from the dragon.
“The dragon burned down the village,” shouted the man in front again. He’d been frightened by the arrow, but he had found his courage again. “We’ve no homes to live in. No way to make a living.”
“Most of your homes were made of stone,” Zollin said spitefully. “I doubt they burned completely.”
“We’ve lost everything,” came a woman’s voice.
“So you rebuild it,” said Zollin. “You aren’t the first village to have to do so.”
“We will rebuild,” said the man in front, “but first we’re going to deal with you and your ilk.”
“Wait a minute,” said Quinn. “Hasn’t there been enough blood?”
“You brought the blood with you,” someone shouted.
“Don’t be fools,” Quinn said angrily. “We didn’t bring the Skellmarians down from the mountains. If those soldiers hadn’t been here to capture Zollin, you’d all be dead or enslaved.”
“We think if the soldiers came for Zollin, then we should turn him over to them,” said another man. “We don’t harbor outlaws.”
There was smattering of approval, but not everyone was convinced.
“The army doesn’t care about us anymore, they’ve been tasked with stopping the Skellmarians from getting any further into the Great Valley. You need to set up a camp where you can be safe when the Skellmarians return and work to rebuild your homes.”
“And where you propose we do that?” someone shouted. “There’s not a building anywhere in the Gate that didn’t get damaged in some form or fashion.”
“Why not here?” Quinn said, stepping down from the porch. “Zollin, drop that arrow.”
Zollin let the arrow fall to the ground but didn’t drop his guard.
“We’re here to burn this place,” shouted the man in front. “And all them in it.”
“Don’t be hasty, Olihon,” said someone else. “We need to build, not tear down.”
“But it’s them that brought the dragon.”
“Zollin was the only one able to fend off that dragon,” Quinn said in a steady voice. “We’re leaving the valley soon to go after Brianna, who was taken against her will. But we can stay and help you establish a base camp and begin rebuilding your town.”
Zollin was dumbstruck. He had no intention of staying in the valley any longer than necessary to ensure that Kelvich was going to be okay. Then he was leaving to find Brianna. He didn’t care what his father or anyone else thought.
“What’ll we eat?” someone shouted. “We lost almost all our food in the fires.”
“The soldiers can help with that,” Quinn said. “And we will, too. We’ll send help back from the villages south of here. The other towns in the Great Valley will help, too. It won’t be easy, but no one has lost their lives from Brighton’s Gate. Your sons are alive, your daughters still with you. You can rebuild what you’ve lost, and we will help.”
The crowd was murmuring now, considering what Quinn had said. Zollin stepped off the porch and looked at his father. Quinn was smiling, but he wasn’t happy. There was a deep pain behind his eyes, grief over Brianna and fear for their lives. Zollin saw it and softened his tone, but he kept his voice as firm as his decision.
“I’m not staying,” he said. “If you want stay that’s fine, but I’m going to find Brianna.”
“I’m going with you, but we can help these people while we’re here.”
“I’m leaving today, Dad, there’s no reason to wait.”
“What about Kelvich?”
“He’ll be fine. His fever broke in the night. I cleared his lungs and the fluid buildup around his heart. He just needs a few days rest, and he’ll be fine.”
“Okay, well, then just give us those few days. In the meantime, we can do a lot for these people.”
“These people who were ready to burn us alive?” Zollin asked, his voice as potent as any acid. “I’m done with them. They won’t seem to do anything for themselves, so why should I?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do.”
“I wasn’t really asking,” Zollin said under his breath as he returned to the porch.
The group of people from Brighton’s Gate were now ready to talk some more. Zollin felt for them, but he couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t stand up for themselves. They were always angry with Zollin, when he and his family had been the only ones willing to do anything to save them.
“There’s no shelter here,” said one man.
“The cabin is in good shape and the shed out back, too,” Quinn told them. “We can use some of the tents from the army for extra shelters, and we can build more. Up here, you’re away from the town and not on the direct path of Telford’s Pass. If the Skellmarians come back, they may not bother you up here.”
“But why is it better here than out by the army?” someone else asked.
“Higher ground, for one thing. The plain where the army is camped will be a bog soon. The only source of water is the river, and you’ll have to walk much further to get back and forth from the village. Here you have fresh water and some shelter for the sick. The trees will give you protection from the worst of the weather, hide you from prying eyes, and there are plenty of resources for staying warm.”
“What kind of help will you give us?” someone asked.
“As much as we can before we leave.”
“Where are you going? You said south, but the pass is still snowed in.”
“That’s not an issue,” said Zollin.
“And what do you want in return?” asked someone else from the crowd of people.
“Nothing,” said Quinn immediately. “We aren’t here to take advantage of you. You’re good people, and we want to see you safe, that’s all.”
“Not everyone trusts your boy there,” said a woman at the front of the crowd. She was still holding a lit torch.
“Don’t w
orry, I’m leaving today,” said Zollin. “Just as soon as I can gather some supplies.”
The townspeople looked at each other and nodded.
“Go get everyone else,” Quinn said. “And we’ll get started.”
The crowd turned and headed back down toward the village. Quinn turned and looked at Zollin, smiling. His son did not smile back.
“I meant what I said,” Zollin informed him.
“I’m not stopping you,” Quinn said. “But I can’t help you clear the pass, now can I? I don’t know how long it will take you, but I’ll stay here with Kelvich until he’s rested up and ready to ride. You and Mansel go ahead. If you get out of the pass before we catch up with you, take one day to rest and wait for us. After that, use your pathfinder and head southwest. That will take you to Orrock, but be careful. If we still haven’t caught up with you by the time you reach the city, give us two days before you do anything. And Zollin, be smart. You can guarantee that wizard will be ready for you.”
Zollin nodded, then went to check on the horses. He was still hungry, but he was more anxious than ever to leave. He brought out two of the horses and then went into the cottage to gather supplies. Mansel was stirring slowly, Kelvich dozing by the fire.
“What are you doing?” Mansel asked as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
“Packing a few things. You can stay here and help Dad rebuild the town or come with me.”
Five Kingdoms: Books 01, 02 & 03 Page 46