Five Kingdoms: Books 01, 02 & 03

by Toby Neighbors

  “It seems solid enough,” Quinn said. “Look, I know I was hard on you at the village, and I apologize for that. I was angry, I admit it. You’re welcome to come along with me, if you like, but we need to make good time. I plan to ride through the night, and you’ll need to keep up. I want to catch the boys before they get through the pass.

  “I’d be happy to join you,” Kelvich said. “But it’s folly to ride through the night. You won’t even be able to see!”

  “The moon and stars will be out, that should be enough to stay on the trail.”

  “But the trail may not hold up, do you understand that? If any part of it has been exposed to more sunlight, it could have melted through. Your horse could break its leg or stumble and throw you. It isn’t worth the risk.”

  “I understand how you feel, but I’m pushing on anyway. We’ll be headed for Orrock. I have a feeling that is where the wizard is taking Brianna. Again, I apologize for blaming you. I was angry, that’s all. It’s no excuse, I know, but it is the truth. I was wrong to hold you accountable.”

  “I accept your apology,” Kelvich said, feeling relieved to have heard it. He hadn’t been offended as much as frightened that Quinn’s rage would end in violence. “I still think it’s a bad idea to ride through the night. In fact, if you value that animal, you won’t ride it at all.”

  “I understand, but there’s nothing to be done about it. I’ll see you down the trail.”

  Kelvich swallowed the rebuke that was on his lips. Quinn was normally a rational man, but lately he’d seemed burdened by something that was clouding his judgment. Kelvich led his horse to the side of the icy trail and allowed Quinn to ride past.

  “Be careful,” he called after him.

  “And you as well,” Quinn replied, not looking back.

  Kelvich watched him go. The shadows were already growing long. There wasn’t much vegetation in the mountains to use as fuel for a fire. Kelvich began collecting whatever he could find. It was going to be a cold night and a long one, too, he was afraid.

  Chapter 21

  Quinn had been forced to slow his pace somewhat as the night wore on. At first the moon shown through the high mountain peaks, but after a few hours, it dropped behind the mountains, and the stars simply didn’t provide enough light. It was very cold, and Quinn felt half frozen in the saddle, but the horse’s movement kept it warm and it’s body heat was a small relief to Quinn.

  He was just coming around a bend in the trail, a few hours before sun-up, when suddenly the ground dropped away beneath him. The horse neighed in terror, but there was nothing it could do to stop the fall. Their combined weight had broken the ice over a small crevice. It wasn’t a big drop, nor a large area, but it was enough to snap the horse’s right foreleg. Quinn heard it break with a sickening pop as the horse fell. There was a long moment of fear as the world seem to lurch out of his control, and then he was slammed into the solid rock that rose up on one side of the trail.

  He was knocked unconscious for a moment, and when he woke up, he found himself pinned at an awkward angle between his horse and the vertical side of the mountain. The horse was writhing in agony over its broken leg. Unfortunately, Quinn’s leg was pinned under the animal and was slowly being raked over the rough ice. It felt like his leg was being simultaneously crushed and sliced to ribbons. At that moment, though, his leg was the least of his problems. The horse was battering him in its death throes, and if it didn’t stop soon, he would be beaten senseless, perhaps even killed between the animal and the side of the mountain.

  He could not reach his sword and was forced to settle for one of the throwing knives Zollin had fashioned for him. He stabbed it into the animal’s neck, expecting an even worse reaction from the beast, but the horse seemed almost relieved. The bucking and thrashing eased slowly, but it finally lay still.

  Quinn lay back and took several deep breaths, but the cold was starting to penetrate his clothes. He was lying on ice and pressed into the side of a cold, stone cliff face. He lifted his free leg, bending it at the knee in order to push himself out from the under the horse. He knew that it would be agonizing, but he also knew he needed to get off the ice. Then, to his dread, he realized that the rock behind him made it impossible to push himself free of the horse.

  Alright, think! He told himself. He was convinced that there had to be a way out of the awful predicament, but he couldn’t see how. In fact, he couldn’t see anything at all. The stars did little more than cast deeper shadows into the gloom around him. He was stuck, and there was no way to get free. Instead, he moved as close to the horse as he could. The blood was steaming in the cold, night air, although Quinn couldn’t see it. He could feel it, running underneath the horse, whose lingering body heat was softening the ice.

  Quinn pushed the horse with his arms, which put a painful pressure on his leg, but did nothing to move the animal. He tried levering his leg free, but there simply wasn’t enough room to maneuver. His leg didn’t feel broken, but he couldn’t be sure. He knew it was cut and smashed by the weight of the horse, which, along with the ice below it, was making it numb.

  He decided that he could shout for help. There wasn’t much snow above him, so he didn’t fear an avalanche, and it was possible that Zollin and Mansel might not be too far away.

  “Help,” he bellowed. “Can anyone hear me?” He waited for an answer, but the only sound was his echoing voice. “Please, I need help!”

  After a while, desperation and pain mingled with lack of sleep, and he grew drowsy. The cold was seeping into his body and making him shiver and shake. He dozed off, only to be woken up by shuttering cold. His muscles were beginning to cramp, but he had no way to relieve the spasms. Just before the sun came up, he passed out. The sun didn’t add much warmth, but it was enough to keep him from freezing to death. The smell of blood and decaying flesh did, however, attract other wildlife. The sky was soon full of circling vultures just waiting to glide down and feast on the horse’s flesh.

  Kelvich had gotten an early start. He hadn’t been able to rest well at all, his small fire simply wasn’t able to do more than ward off the worst of the cold. He was on the trail by dawn, and as noon approached he could see the carrion eaters circling lower and lower. He was afraid of what he might find on the trail, but conjecture wasn’t going to help him. He decided that he could afford to ride as quickly as he could along the slushy trail to see if there was any way of helping whatever was drawing the vultures. He climbed into the saddle and spurred his horse forward.

  When Quinn woke up, his clothes were wet. He could move his leg just a little; the snow and ice were melting and had soaked into his clothes. His leg was numb, which turned out to be a good thing since the pain he would have felt while trying to pull his leg free would have been overwhelming. The carrion birds circling overhead were not a good sign, he thought. They were actually quite close, and he was afraid that they might swoop down on him at any minute.

  He had been working to free his leg for half an hour or so when he heard the deep throated growl above him. He froze, scarcely daring to breathe. He had heard that sound before, and his mind flashed back to the last time they had come through Telford’s Pass. A band of mercenaries had been waiting for them, but they were attacked by the big lions that roamed the mountains. They were large, powerful animals, with huge teeth that curved up from their lower jaws. They were almost as big as horses, and it would take more than his throwing knives to fend one off. His only hope was to get his leg free from the horse and hope that the animal was distracted enough by the ample meat of the dead mount to ignore him while he made his escape.

  He turned his attention back to pulling his leg free of the horse. It was maddening to feel the movement, but to not be able to break free. The ice had melted beneath his leg, but it had also melted beneath the horse, allowing the bulk to settle further down on the wounded leg. Quinn pushed on the horse and pulled with his leg as hard as he could. It was difficult, but he felt he was making progress. Then th
e lion sprang down on the far side of the horse.

  Quinn started to scream but clamped his jaw shut so tightly that he tasted blood. He didn’t dare move, but he knew it was only a matter of time before the lion pounced on him and ripped into his flesh. He saw the beast’s head jerk, and the big fang ripped a long gash in the horse’s stomach. The intestines spilled out, filling the air with a sickening smell, which the lion seemed to relish. Then the beast took the horse’s hind leg in its mouth and tugged. The bones snapped, as muscles and tendons tore.

  The horse had been moved, too, not completely freeing Quinn’s leg, but shifting it enough that he was able to squirm out from beneath his fallen mount. He chanced a look down at his leg. His woolen pants were soaked with blood, although how much was his own he couldn’t tell. He wanted to roll over and inspect the wounds, but he had to create distance between himself and the lion. He tried desperately to flex the muscles of his leg to speed up the circulation that was just beginning to return to the muscles in his thigh and calf. It was agonizing, both fiery and sharp, stabbing at him and shooting pains all the way up his back and into his neck. He had managed to crawl a few feet when he saw the huge head of the lion rise up above the carcass of the horse and look at him with menacing, yellow eyes. He saw the intelligence of the lion, knew that it recognized him and was thinking about him, trying to decide if he were easy prey or a legitimate threat. The desire to eat him was a given, but Quinn had weapons, and he wasn’t going down without a fight.

  He had one throwing knife in his hand, and another one at his belt. He drew it slowly and then waved his arm at the animal, but didn’t throw his knife. The lion flinched and growled deep in its throat. He pretended to throw the knife again, this time the lion simply roared. The sound was deafening and made Quinn’s ears ring. He felt the hot breath that smelled like death roll over him. Then he threw his first knife. It slammed into the side of the lion’s head, cutting into the thick jaw muscle, wedging into the bone. The lion screamed in pain, and Quinn didn’t hesitate. He threw the other knife, which found the inside jaw of the lion. The beast fell back as blood sprayed from its mouth in a red cloud.

  Quinn was scrambling to get away, but his right leg simply wouldn’t cooperate. He struggled to his feet and hopped a few paces before stumbling back onto the icy trail. The lion behind him was shaking its head to dislodge the knife. Its tongue, the roof of its mouth, and its cheeks were all cut. Blood was dripping out of its open mouth, and its eyes were now full of rage. It began forward slowly as Quinn struggled back to his feet. He drew his sword, although it felt puny against such a large creature.

  Kelvich had heard the roars and had thrown caution to the wind. He had spurred the horse into a gallop. When they came around the bend and the horse saw the lion, it dug its hooves into the slushy icy and came skidding to a halt.

  “Hey!” Kelvich screamed, not sure what else to do. “Over here!”

  The lion spun around and roared, as if warning them not to interfere. Quinn fought the urge to run away. Even if his leg had been fine, he wouldn’t have been able to outrun the lion. And the beast would have pounced immediately. Instead, he braced himself, waving the sword in front of him to ward the beast off.

  “Quinn!” Kelvich shouted. “What should I do?”

  “What can you do?” Quinn shouted back.

  The lion roared, pawing the air between them with a massive, shaggy foreleg.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Just keep shouting,” Quinn said, trying desperately to come up with an idea.

  He leaned over and picked up a loose rock that was resting on the dirty snow at his feet. It wasn’t very large, but it might work. The lion was wounded and trapped between them. If they could give it an avenue of escape, it might take it. Quinn had to use the sword like a cane to keep from toppling over, but he managed to hobble back toward the cliff face he’d been pinned against. The trail was open, the lion could run away, if they were lucky. It was swinging its head between the prey it wanted and the noise behind it. Quinn waited until the animal was looking back at Kelvich and then threw the rock, not at the lion’s head, but at its rump. The rock found its mark and caused the lion to leap forward, down the trail.

  For a moment, Quinn’s heart leapt. He thought the clever plan had worked, but just as quickly as the lion had bolted, stung by the rock, it spun around and growled. Now it could keep an eye on both of its antagonists without turning. Quinn started back peddling, using the cliff face to keep his balance and holding the sword in front of him. The lion followed step for step. When Quinn got to the horse, his heart was thundering in his chest. The lion was moving closer and closer. He was convinced it was only moments away from pouncing on him and slashing his throat with its massive fangs.

  “Quinn, cut the horse!” Kelvich shouted.

  The lion growled louder, making it hard for Quinn to hear the sorcerer.

  “Cut the horse, make it bleed.”

  The logic finally broke through Quinn’s terrified mind. He stabbed his horse with his sword several times. Most of the blood had settled, but the open flesh trickled red. He continued the grisly work as he moved back. The lion hesitated over the fallen horse. It was angry and wanted desperately to attack Quinn, but it wanted to protect the feast it had found, as well. The blood welling up on the cuts Quinn had made triggered the lion’s instincts to eat. Meals were few and far between in the mountains, requiring a lot of work. Finding an animal as large as a horse, ripe and waiting, was not something to be passed up.

  The distance between Quinn and the lion increased. It was hesitant to leave the carcass, and Quinn was beginning to hope that the plan would work. Kelvich had stopped shouting and had climbed down off the horse. Seeing the lion so close to devouring Quinn had frightened him terribly, but he knew that Quinn needed the animal more than he did.

  “Get on the horse,” he said as Quinn approached.

  Kelvich was holding the horse’s bridal with one hand and saddle with his other. He never took his eyes off the lion, whose mouth was still dripping blood onto the snow and ice, turning it a dirty, reddish-brown color. Quinn took hold of the saddle and jumped with his one good leg, pulling himself up onto his stomach, then scrambling to get his good leg over the horse’s haunches and onto the far side of the saddle.

  Kelvich let the horse go, and it turned and immediately trotted back down the trail. Kelvich walked backwards, not wanting to take his eyes off the lion. The beast growled and pawed at the air, but turned its attention to the horse, tearing off a chunk of meat before Kelvich disappeared around the bend.

  He turned and ran, huffing and puffing as the cold air burned his lungs. He had been in good shape for a man his age before the attack on Brighton’s Gate had injured him. Quinn was working to slow the horse down, but it didn’t want to be anywhere near the lion or the smell of Quinn’s dead mount. Once he finally got control of the horse, he brought it to a halt and waited on Kelvich.

  “How far do you think we should go?” Quinn asked.

  “I don’t know,” Kelvich panted. “But we need to find a place to secure the horse and take a look at that leg of yours.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “I saw a level place not far from here,” he panted. “It’s about thirty of forty paces up the slope, and I think the horse can probably get you up there.”

  “That sounds good to me,” Quinn said.

  His leg was throbbing now that he had time to think about it. When he had been facing the lion, it had been numb, but his mind seemed to block the pain. Now it was on fire, from his thigh to his ankle. Every jolt of the horse sent lancing pain through his leg and up his back. Kelvich used a large rock to stand on, then climbed onto the horse, behind Quinn.

  They walked the horse down the trail until they saw the small area Kelvich had mentioned. He slid back off the horse and led it up the incline. Quinn leaned forward and put his arms around the horse’s neck. They made it to the little camp area easily enough. There wasn’t much
scrub brush in the area, and Kelvich knew he would need to find fuel for a fire. They needed fire both to keep them warm and to ward off any wild animals that might smell the blood from Quinn’s leg and come investigating.

  Kelvich pulled a small knife from his belt after he had lowered Quinn to the ground and hobbled the horse where it couldn’t wander off. He used it to cut away the pants leg and then pulled his water skin out to wash off the wounds. The entire right side of Quinn’s leg, from mid thigh to his ankle, was cut to ribbons. There were large patches where the skin was completely gone, all the way down to the muscle. It was a ghastly wound, but the bones seemed to be intact, which was good. Kelvich had some medicinal herbs in his saddle bag, but he would have to use one of the blankets to bandage the leg. He used the last of his water to make mud, which he would use to cover the wound before wrapping it with the blanket. The mud wasn’t ideal, but it would be better than letting the blanket stick to the wound and reopen it when they removed it.

  He pulled out a small mortar and pestle to pulverize the dried herbs. Then he sprinkled them all along the open wounds. Quinn was on his back, his head swimming from fatigue, blood loss, and coming down from the adrenaline rush the lion attack had caused.