Five Kingdoms: Books 01, 02 & 03

by Toby Neighbors

  Waiting was hard. He had missed seeing Brianna through the winter, but at least then he’d known she was safe. Now, sitting idle, waiting for his father and Kelvich to catch up to them was more than just difficult, it was painful. He couldn’t imagine what she was going though, and the more he thought about it, the firmer his resolve grew to destroy Branock. There would be no escape for the wily wizard this time.

  As night fell, and the soup’s aroma filled the little glade where they were waiting, Mansel stirred. He moaned and asked for water.

  “Why do you always drink so much if it makes you sick?” Zollin asked. “I don’t understand the appeal.”

  “Me, either, it’s like I can’t help myself. I take a drink and then I can’t stop. Maybe it’s because my father always drank himself into a stupor every night, but our mother strictly forbid us from drinking anything stronger than cider.”

  “Do you miss her, your mother, I mean?”

  Zollin hoped the pain in his voice wasn’t too evident. He’d always been jealous of Mansel, who was bigger and stronger and better with his hands than Zollin was. Quinn had always been fond of Mansel, too, and that didn’t help matters. But more than anything, Zollin was jealous that Mansel had a mother. Quinn had taken good care of Zollin growing up, but there were times when he missed his mother so much he felt like he could die.

  “Sure, I miss them all, but I will never return for good,” Mansel said. “I can never go back to the tannery, and I doubt any of them would understand.”

  “I suppose,” Zollin said.

  “You never knew your mother, did you?”

  “No, she died giving birth to me.”

  “That’s too bad. At least you had Quinn. He never hit you or treated you like the hired help.”

  “No, but we had our differences, and it was hard knowing he didn’t understand me.” Zollin chuckled, “I didn’t even understand me. I just knew that I was different, and for a long time that was terrible. Todrek was my only friend, the only one who really understood how I felt.”

  “I’m sorry that he was killed. I wish that had happened differently.”

  “Me, too, he didn’t deserve that,” Zollin said sullenly.

  They ate their supper in relative silence, Mansel volunteering to take the first watch. Zollin wasn’t tired, but he tried to sleep anyway. He knew he would be exhausted when Mansel woke him halfway through the night, but sleep didn’t come for a long time. He tried not to think about Brianna, but it was impossible. He was afraid, he realized, and he hated that as much as he hated Branock. He’d killed Branock’s companions, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that killing them was exactly what the wizard of the Torr had wanted. Although why Branock had wanted them dead, and why he hadn’t done it himself, was another mystery that seemed to gnaw on Zollin’s mind whenever he gave it much thought.

  The fire was burning low, just dark red embers now, and still Zollin couldn’t sleep. The ground was more comfortable than anything he’d slept on since leaving Kelvich’s cottage, but still he felt as if it were nothing but rocks and roots digging into his flesh however he lay. The moon was setting when Mansel roused him, but Zollin had only dozed a little. He was tired, but sleep wouldn’t come, so getting up was actually a welcome change. He put more wood on the fire for Mansel and then walked away from the little clearing so that the light from the fire wouldn’t affect his night vision.

  His hand continued to stray to the pocket where he kept the ribbon Brianna had given him. It may have only been an ornament to her, but it was everything to Zollin. It reminded him of his mother’s kerchief, and how his father would sit for hours, staring into the fire and pulling the small, delicate fabric his mother had left behind through his fingers. Zollin had not understood so much about his father. Now, with Brianna gone and a deep ache in his heart to get her back, he wondered how his father could have dealt with his wife’s death. Zollin kindled the small hope that he could get Brianna back, but death was permanent. Perhaps time dulled the pain, but it would always be there. He realized that he missed his father, and he wished that he could say that he was sorry for the harsh, judgmental words he had said to Quinn before he left Brighton’s Gate.

  He let his magic roll out of him, and the hot wind inside him felt good. It seemed to strengthen him in some ways, although using it always left him hungry and tired afterward. He could sense the trees and the night creatures as they searched for food. Magic seemed to well up from the cave where Jute had disappeared, but there were no men, no threats that he could see, hear, or feel.

  As the night wore on, he decided that waiting for his father was not a good idea. He had done as he’d been told, but with the light, he would push on. He could leave a message, perhaps, but the odds were that Quinn had decided to stay at Brighton’s Gate, and perhaps Kelvich with him. He would miss his father, but he felt ready to move on. Even if Mansel decided to stay and wait, Zollin would go. Activity was the only thing that was keeping him from going crazy, and he vowed that he would wait no longer. He would go to Orrock and free Brianna, not matter what the cost.

  * * *

  The next morning, Kelvich and Quinn pushed on. Quinn’s leg was swollen and throbbing now. He couldn’t bend it, and every little bump was painful. He had trouble getting up on the horse. He was weak and a little feverish. He longed for a soft bed and a warm fire and some strong wine to dull the pain. Instead, they had settled for a cold camp on a rocky outcropping that had left him just as weary as when he’d lain down.

  The trail was even worse than the day before. The temperature was rising, which was a good thing for the most part, but since they were traversing the ice and snow that had built up in the pass, the warmer temperature was causing too much damage. Kelvich considered finding a place to wait out the thaw, but there simply wasn’t a good place, nor was there anything to burn to keep them warm. In the spring and summer, the mountains would sprout short, tough, little scrub brush, but it was as if the winter snows had picked the mountains clean.

  They moved forward cautiously through the early morning. They had been on the trail a couple of hours, with Kelvich leading the horse and Quinn riding, when they heard the first sound of their pursuer. It sounded at first like a distant roar, but with the way the mountains echoed the sound, it was difficult to tell just how close the lion was. They knew right away that it was a lion, and odds were it was the same lion. They were in its territory, but there was nothing they could do about it. Unlike the mountain rams or the elk that made their homes on the steep slopes, Quinn and Kelvich were forced to use the pass to make their way through the mountains. The horse became more and more agitated, a sure sign that the lion, or lions, was getting close.

  “We saw several when we came through last year,” said Quinn.

  “Mountain lions don’t always hunt in packs,” Kelvich said hopefully. “The one that attacked you was alone.”

  “Was it? We didn’t see another lion, but I don’t think that one lion ate the horse all by itself.”

  “What should we do?” Kelvich asked.

  “What can we do? We’re like fish in a barrel. Hiding won’t help. We’ve got to keep moving. Can we go any faster?”

  “I wouldn’t risk it,” the sorcerer said. “We might lose the horse or worse.”

  “What’s worse than being eaten by mountain lions?”

  “You have a point.”

  They increased their pace, but it wasn’t easy. Kelvich had trouble traversing the melting snow and ice, the horse did even worse. By noon the roars had stopped, but the horse was as panicky as ever.

  “I have an idea,” Quinn said. “Let’s leave the horse. We’ll tie it to the rocks and then push on.”

  “Do you think you can walk?”

  “I’ll have to.”

  “But without the horse, how will we catch up with Zollin and Mansel?”

  “We can’t worry about that right now,” Quinn said. “We’ll never catch them if we’re eaten by lions.”

  �
�Look, I know you’re right, but what good will leaving the horse do?”

  “It’ll buy us some time. The lions aren’t out for revenge, they just want to eat. We’ll leave them a big meal and hope they leave us alone. At the very least, we’ll be able to put some distance between us and them.”

  “Alright, I don’t like it, but I see the wisdom in it. You’re hard on your horses,” Kelvich said.

  “I haven’t owned a horse in years,” Quinn said. “Everyone I’ve sat on since this craziness started has been stolen. Now, I’m being forced to walk on a bad leg over a bad road. I suppose it serves me right.”

  They tied the horse to a rocky outcropping and moved all their necessary gear into a saddle bag which Kelvich laid over one of his stooped shoulders. They tied the remaining blankets to Quinn’s back.

  “There,” Kelvich said. “That’s not too heavy, I expect. And if you fall down, it might even offer you some protection.”

  They walked side by side, with Kelvich taking some of Quinn’s weight on his own shoulders. The horse looked at them with wide eyes as they walked away, but the two men didn’t look back, even when they heard the horse neighing hysterically. Behind them, the growls continued for a short while, then they abruptly stopped.

  “You think it worked?” Kelvich said to Quinn.

  He was sweating and grimacing from pain. He had known that walking would be painful, but he hadn’t expected it to be this painful. The uneven ice and snow made it even more difficult, his boots slipping on the slick surface as often as not. They were three quarters of the way through the mountains, a half a day’s ride to the end of the snow and ice, but they had no way of knowing that. They walked the rest of the day, stopping for short breaks. Kelvich snatched up anything that would burn as they went along. He had a few strips left of the blanket he’d sliced up. He tied these on the ends of the little scrub branches he’d found. The plan was to use them as torches so that they could keep walking. If the lion behind them had been alone, they could be reasonably sure that the horse would easily keep it occupied for a day, and perhaps it would be several more before the beast felt like hunting again after gorging itself on horse flesh. If, on the other hand, the lion was part of a pride, then they could be in danger again very soon.

  Just before nightfall they stopped. Kelvich refilled their water skins with snow. It wasn’t clean, but it was the only source of water they had, and their exertions through the afternoon had caused them to drink more than normal. Then, with the last of the fading light, Kelvich managed to kindle a small fire. He lit one of the torches, which sputtered and smoked, but it burned just the same. The light it cast was weak, but it allowed them to keep moving, which was good. Just after dark, the roaring started again.

  * * *

  “I’m setting out,” Zollin said as he shook Mansel awake.

  “What?” he said, rubbing his eyes and stretching.

  “They didn’t show, and I’m not waiting.”

  “Are you sure?” Mansel said.

  “Yes, I can’t wait anymore. Brianna’s out there, and I mean to find her as quickly as I can.”

  “Okay, I get it. But your dad said to wait for him.”

  “One day,” Zollin said adamantly. “He said to wait one day. He knows where we’re going. He’ll catch up. You can wait on him if you like. I’m heading southwest, through the forest. It’s the quickest route.”

  Zollin turned to go, he already had his horse packed and ready, along with Lilly, Brianna’s mount, who he’d been leading since they left Brighton’s Gate.

  “Wait,” Mansel said, grabbing his arm. “I’m not letting you go off alone.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Zollin said.

  “I know you can, but I’m still going with you. It’s better that we stay together. Give me just a minute, okay?”

  It only took Mansel a few moments to get himself ready to leave. Soon they were winding their way through the Peddinggar Forest. Zollin was using the pathfinder Quinn had given him to keep them on course. The trees loomed up, tall and close, their branches weaving a virtual ceiling above their heads. When they’d ridden through the forest last year, the ground had been covered with old, sodden leaves. Now, as the branches above sprouted new, green leaves, the forest floor seemed to be coming alive with flowers.

  “This is odd, isn’t it?” Mansel said. “How do the flowers grow without sunlight?”

  “I don’t know,” Zollin said. His magic was tingling. It was a new sensation. He felt magic all around him, but it was somehow foreign and strange.

  They rode through the morning and late into the afternoon without seeing a soul. There were animals aplenty, though, many of them seemed strangely unafraid. Mansel shot a fat rabbit with his bow, and as the sun faded, they stopped to make camp in a small glade where the sky was at least a little visible through gaps in the branches overhead.

  Mansel cleaned the rabbit while Zollin gathered wood for a fire. They cooked the rabbit on a spit and divided the meat. It wasn’t much, but it was hot, and they let the fat drip onto their bread to soften it up a little. Zollin was tired, but despite the peaceful surroundings, he had a feeling of dread that he simply couldn’t shake. Something about the forest wasn’t right. He rolled up in his cloak and fell asleep near the fire, but Mansel woke him not much later.

  “Zollin, wake up!” he whispered. There was a note of urgency in his voice.

  “What is it?”

  “Look,” Mansel said, pointing into the darkness.

  He had let the fire burn low, and the small glade was shrouded in darkness. In the forest beyond were a set of glowing eyes, watching them.

  “What is it?” Zollin asked.

  “I’m not sure, but I think it’s eyes. I saw them blink.”

  Zollin noticed that Mansel had his sword out. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his surroundings, letting his magic flow out into the forest.

  “It’s leaving,” said Mansel.

  Zollin opened his eyes. The glowing dots were moving further and further away.

  “That’s strange,” said Zollin.

  “What is?”

  “It’s moving backwards.”

  They watched the eyes until they disappeared. It was an unsettling event, and one that left them both a little shaken. Zollin gripped his staff, more for the familiar feeling it gave him than anything else.

  “I don’t like this,” Mansel said.

  “Me either, but what choice do we have?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m putting more wood on the fire.”

  “Why? If the fire is bright, we won’t be able to see if they come back.”

  “I don’t think I want to see,” Mansel said.

  “Are you scared?” Zollin teased.

  “Not of a man, or even most animals,” Mansel admitted. “But there was something about those eyes that didn’t look human. My sword isn’t much good against your magic. If there’s something in these woods that is more magic than man, I don’t want to meet in the dark.”

  Zollin didn’t argue, instead he sent a silent spell to stoke the fire, making it dance up and brighten the glade. That’s when they noticed the little, winged creatures, hovering all around them.

  “What the hell?” Mansel said in a loud voice.

  “I don’t know, I’ve never seen them before,” Zollin replied. He reached out, and one landed on his open palm.

  “Are they bugs?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  The creature had a thick, chubby, little body, with brown hair and short, little arms and legs. The head looked almost human, but the eyes were tiny, and there were six of them. The one on Zollin’s palm seemed to smile, then it gracefully lifted off and flew up into the dark.

  “They’re leaving,” Mansel said, the relief evident in his voice.

  Then the prickly feeling of magic that Zollin had felt all day came back, this time stronger than ever. He spun around and saw the strange creature with glowing eyes step into the fireli
ght.

  Chapter 24

  The creature was big, easily as tall as a man on a war horse. It had a hump on its back and rounded shoulders. The arms were long and thick with muscle. Its belly matched its hump and sagged over the creature’s furry legs, which were as big around as tree trunks. It had no clothes, but most of its body was covered with thick hair; only its arms, feet, and face were smooth. There was no hair on the creature’s scalp, the bald head was lined with bright blood vessels and reminded Zollin of the way Branock had looked. It had big eyes that glowed in the firelight.

  Mansel didn’t wait to find out if the creature had good or evil intentions. He charged forward with his sword held high. The creature held out a hand to fend off its attacker, and Mansel slashed with his sword, which he was holding in a two handed grip. The blade hit the calloused palm and left a small scratch. The creature howled and swatted at Mansel, who dashed back.