Five Kingdoms: Books 01, 02 & 03

by Toby Neighbors

  “I told you,” she said, peeling vegetables for her supper. “My husband was lost at sea.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Two years,” Nycoll said. “He was taken in a summer storm.”

  “So, why haven’t you remarried?”

  He saw Nycoll stiffen and wished he could take his words back, but it was too late.

  “I still love him,” she said as she chopped an onion.

  Mansel wanted to say more, but he held his tongue. He felt guilty, lying on the bed, the only bed in the little house, he noticed, while she worked. Of course, he knew very little about cooking and wouldn’t be much help making supper, but he felt like he should do something.

  “I can pay you for nursing me. I’ve coin in my saddlebag.”

  “There’s no need,” she responded.

  “Of course there is. Surely you need money. Let me help you.”

  She stopped chopping and looked up at him fiercely.

  “I don’t need to be helped, there is nothing wrong with me.”

  “I didn’t mean any offense.”

  “But you were offensive. You imply that I should forget my husband and remarry. You offer to help me because you pity my sad and lonely existence. My life isn’t easy, sir, but it is my life. I don’t need someone else to come along and make all my problems go away. This is my home, I like living here...alone.”

  “Mansel,” he said. “My name is Mansel.”

  She nodded and went back to her chopping. Mansel slumped back on the bed. He was confused, but women who weren’t wenches or tavern maidens often confused him. Why Brianna had wanted to be with Zollin when she could have been with him made no sense at all. Of course, he had come to love her as a sister and wished her only the best, but Zollin was all knees and elbows. It didn’t make sense; neither did a woman wanting to live alone. He was still pondering the ways of women when he fell fast asleep.

  * * *

  It took several days for Mansel to be able to get around easily. He could eat solid foods again, but Nycoll had very little meat. She lived mostly on vegetables which she grew herself and the occasional fish which she caught with a small casting net in a small inlet where her husband once kept his fishing boat. She had no ale or wine, either, so Mansel contented himself with water and exercised his leg regularly. His hand was stiff, but healing quickly. He wondered how Quinn’s shoulder was healing; his anger at having been left behind seemed to have waned after his own injury.

  Nycoll was kind and compassionate, but strong as well. She never let Mansel off the hook for saying something rude or questioning her decisions. For Mansel’s part, he found himself strangely attracted to Nycoll. At first he thought it was just a crush because the woman had taken care of him. She certainly wasn’t the type of girl he was normally attracted to. He liked girls with full figures, curvy and soft, with bright smiles and playful attitudes. Nycoll was thin, not willowy like Brianna, but compact. She was strong and serious, her face angular, and she kept her hair constantly pulled back into a ponytail and tied with a plain leather thong. She did nothing to make herself beautiful or alluring, yet Mansel felt something for her that was deep inside him. At first he thought it was just lust or desire born from a lack of options, but as the days passed, he realized that he wanted to take care of this woman. Not that she would let him, he realized, but he respected her and felt a compassion for her that he’d never felt with anyone else.

  Over the last year he’d grown used to women flirting with him, and he didn’t know how to show Nycoll, who was kind but never flirtatious, how he felt. He also knew he needed to leave, to continue on his mission. There was still a chance that he could help Quinn somehow, even though chances were good that Quinn would get to the Prince long before Mansel could and would see him safely out of Osla. The thought of leaving Nycoll was difficult. He was feeling better, and should by all accounts have already left, but he didn’t want to go without sharing how he felt.

  “I need to leave in the morning,” he finally told her.

  “Are you sure your leg is well enough?” she asked.

  He wasn’t sure if she was asking out of a desire for him to stay or if she was just being practical. He had been studying her in hopes of discovering some shred of affection for him, but she was too difficult for him to read. She was a mystery and that only made her more attractive to him.

  “Yes, you’ve done more than enough for me. I need to get out of here and let you get back to your life.”

  “It’s been nice to have a man in the house again,” she said.

  He waited, hoping she would say more, but she didn’t. She was mending a pair of flat-bottomed sandals that she often wore. The only light in the small house came from a few weak candles made from beeswax. The scent of the candles and the herbs she’d chopped up for their supper gave the small home a warm and welcome atmosphere. Mansel imagined living there. He wasn’t a fisherman, which was how most of the people who lived along the coast made their living. He could be a carpenter, though, and earn a living, he imagined. He could also expand her small home to make rooms for their children. It was a happy fantasy in his mind until she spoke again.

  “Do you really think you’ll be able to reach Osla in time?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ll try, but that’s all I can do now. I can’t make my horse go any faster. I’ll leave the crippled mare with you. She could pull a cart for you, or you might sell her for a little money.”

  “That’s kind, but you don’t have to do that.”

  “She would just slow me down,” he said.

  She put down the sandals she was working on and went over to the open front door. There was a cool breeze blowing through the house and she stood looking at the tall grass across the road bowing and waving in the wind. The air smelled briny, the way it often did near the sea. Mansel wondered if she even noticed it anymore. He stood up and moved quietly up behind her. His hands were shaking slightly, and he felt a desperation that made him uneasy. He wanted to take her in his arms and carry her back to the little bed, but he knew that was no way to treat her. If she were to return his feelings, it would be slow, and he would need to offer her every courtesy. She wasn’t a wench in an inn, she was a solitary and independent woman.

  “Do you think you could ever love anyone again?” he asked in a quiet voice.

  He noticed that her body tensed when he spoke. She wasn’t used to having people around and he had startled her. She hadn’t heard him come up behind her, and she certainly wasn’t accustomed to anyone standing so close. She felt vulnerable and uneasy, but for some reason she did not move.

  “I never thought I could,” she said honestly. “I know I’ll never leave this place. The land here is part of me. This house,” she said as she rubbed her hand along the doorframe, “it’s part of me, too. It’s not just memories, I’m too attached. I could never leave.”

  “Could you share it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve shared it with me.”

  “I was just doing what anyone else would—”

  “No,” he said, cutting her off. “Most people wouldn’t do it. They wouldn’t turn their lives upside down for a total stranger. You have. Nycoll,” he said her name as he took her arms and turned her to face him. She looked up at him and there was tenderness in her eyes. “I have to leave in the morning.”

  He thought for a moment that she would kiss him, but instead she turned and ran out of the house. He started to follow her, but she was too fast and it was dark. She, of course, knew the land around her home so well she didn’t need to see it, but Mansel couldn’t risk banging his leg into something or falling down and reinjuring his hand. He stood in the doorway, calling her name, but she did not reappear.

  Finally he went back into the small, one room house and sat down. He watched the candles burning and realized that she probably wouldn’t let them burn out. The wax was too valuable for her. He blew them all out and then sat in the dark, waitin
g and listening.

  When Nycoll finally returned, she was as silent as a shadow. The only sound she made was a quiet sniffle. She had been crying, and she sat back down in the same chair she had slept in since taking Mansel in. He was sitting up on the bed, looking at her, although all he could see was a darker shadow. She was still emotional and so he didn’t push her, despite the fact that his desire for her was like a fire making his blood run hot through his veins.

  He didn’t know how long he sat watching her, but at some point he woke up and realized that he’d fallen asleep. The sun was just beginning to rise. She was asleep in her chair, and he moved quietly out the backdoor and sat on the threshold to pull his boots on. The early morning air was a little chilly, but Mansel knew that once the sun was up, the heat would rise higher and higher, so he let the cold seep into him. He saddled the good horse and checked his bags again. He buckled his sword around his waist and led the horse out of the small stable and around to the front of the house. He took out the purse of coins that the King’s steward had given them before leaving Orrock. Inside he still had a dozen silver marks, the coppers he had taken from the outlaws, and three gold crowns. He took the gold coins and tiptoed into the house, laying them on the bed. Then he turned, and in the gray morning light he could see her watching him.

  “You’re awake,” he said.

  “Yes,” she nodded. “I suppose you’re leaving?”

  “I have to,” he said.

  “I understand,” she said in a compassionate voice.

  “I’ll come back, though,” he added. “If you want.”

  She nodded and he could see tears welling up in her eyes.

  “Don’t cry,” he said, stepping to her chair and kneeling down in front of it.

  “I didn’t want to feel this way again,” she said, her voice hard as she willed herself not to give in to the tears again.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong. I do want you to come back.”

  “I will then, I promise.”

  “I’ll wait,” she said. “I’ll look for you every day.”

  “I’ll hurry,” he said.

  Then he leaned forward, his hands on the arms of her chair, his stomach touching her knees. He felt as if every nerve ending was alive, and he brought his face close to hers. He couldn’t breathe as he looked into her eyes, and then she kissed him. It was a small kiss, soft and fast, but it was like Mansel was being kissed for the first time.

  “Go,” she whispered. “Go and hurry back to me.”

  “I will,” he said.

  Then he stood up, striding from the room and feeling a strength he had never experienced before. His leg hurt with each step, but he ignored the pain. He walked out into the yard, pulled himself up into the saddle, and spurred the horse into a gallop.

  Chapter 27

  Zollin unhitched the horses from the wagon and saddled them both. Brianna packed the rest of their supplies into saddlebags and tied up bedrolls for each of them. They would need warmer clothing if they were going into the Northern Range of mountains, but they hoped to be able to get supplies at Brighton’s Gate. They rode through Telford’s Pass, both remembering their last time there. Brianna remembered fleeing into the mountains with Zollin, Quinn, and Mansel. For her, it had been a huge relief that they had made it to the mountains, which felt like giant guardians around her. Zollin had defeated the wizard Cassis in the pass and then they had ridden on, into the snow and into safety.

  Zollin’s last trip through the pass had been very different. He and Mansel had traversed the ice and snow that normally clogged the pass for five to six months out of the year, in a desperate journey to save Brianna from Branock. Zollin had been successful in defeating the wizard, but he had failed to kill him. Branock was somewhere in the Northern Highlands, he knew that, although where the wizard might be, he had no idea. He wasn’t sure what they would find in Brighton’s Gate, either. Quinn had helped the village get back on its feet, but there were soldiers in the area and the Skellmarians had attacked once already. It was very likely that they would again, although Mansel had cut off the High Chieftain’s arm. And if the dragon passed this way, who’s to say it didn’t torch the small village in retaliation for their attack on it. Only time would tell what kind of reception they would get in the small village.

  The cooler temperatures were a relief. The days were still warm in the direct sunlight, but that only occurred for a couple of hours each day as the high mountain peaks around them cast long shadows over the pass. The nights were chilly, and Zollin built them a fire each night using whatever scrub brush they could find growing on the mountainsides.

  Zollin spent time every night transmuting the dwarvish steel they had traded for. He found it to be an amazing alloy. Most blacksmiths mixed small amounts of carbon with iron ore to produce steel, but the dwarves were using something else. It was a strange element, but it gave their steel a much greater strength and penetrating ability. Zollin removed the arrow heads from Brianna’s arrows and crafted large, serrated broadhead points for the arrows using the dwarvish steel. They were extremely sharp and Zollin had high hopes that the arrows would penetrate the dragon’s hardened skin.

  The terrain in Telford’s Pass was rocky, and neither of them slept well. They took turns standing watch, on the lookout more for wild animals than for other people. Zollin’s father and Kelvich had been hunted and attacked by a pride of big mountain lions when they had passed through the mountains. But Brianna and Zollin were never bothered and made the entire trip in just three days.

  They came out of the pass and into the valley, where they were met immediately by soldiers who were guarding the pass. Zollin told them of his mission and the soldiers scoffed but allowed them to pass. Their orders were to keep people, primarily Skellmarians, from leaving the valley. It didn’t take long to find the makeshift camp used by the citizens of Brighton’s Gate. They were still camped in the woods around Kelvich’s small cabin. Zollin and Brianna went to the village elders to see about getting supplies.

  “So, the wizard returns,” said Henrik. He was an older man, slump-shouldered and proud of his position as an elder in the village. He also disliked Zollin, blaming him for all their woes. “You just can’t seem to leave well enough alone, can you?”

  “That’s enough, Henrik,” Ollasam said. She was married to Buck, the owner of the Valley Inn, where Quinn, Mansel, and Brianna had spent the winter. She was a practical woman, hard working and fair. She had taken a leadership role in the rebuilding of the town and was now an official elder. Everyone called her Ollie.

  “We’re just passing through,” Zollin said. “We fought the dragon at the ruins of Ornak and wounded the beast. Now we’re hoping to finish the job, but we need supplies.”

  “We’re woefully short of food here,” Ollie said. “The soldiers eat more than we do, and the damn dragon burned all our crops. We managed to replant a few of the fields, but there’s nothing ready to harvest.”

  “And there won’t be until the fall,” Henrik said. “We’ll be lucky if we don’t lose those crops to the autumn freezes.”

  “I thought Quinn was going to send food from the other villages,” Ollie said.

  “The other villages are all empty. Some were burned by the dragon, others simply abandoned. You could probably send some people south to scavenge for food.”

  “I’m not sure we can spare anyone at the moment,” Ollie said, the bitterness in her voice finally escaping despite her best efforts to control it. “The army has conscripted almost all of the men that are of fighting age to patrol the river. We’re left to rebuild with the elderly and the children. It’s slow work.”

  “Can we help somehow?” Brianna asked.

  “Not unless you have food enough to see us through the winter,” Henrik said in a nasty tone.

  “We have sick and a few injured. None of us really know how to use the sawmill correctly and
a few people have been seriously wounded. Do you think you might help them?” Ollie asked.

  “I can,” Zollin said. “Please, take me to them.”

  “I’ll see about the supplies we need,” Brianna said.

  She watched Zollin and Ollie move off toward Kelvich’s small cabin, where the injured and sick were being kept as comfortably as possible.

  “What other supplies do you need?” Henrik asked.

  “Mainly cold weather gear. We have coin to pay, and we could probably use some climbing equipment, too.”

  “What is your plan? Are you really going to try to find a dragon in the highlands? It’s impossible.”

  “No, it isn’t. Zollin can find the dragon, we just need some gear.”

  “What about the Skellmarians?” Henrick asked. “I suppose they’ll just give you a pass since you’re hunting dragons?”

  “We’ll deal with them if we have to,” she said.

  “You’ll be killed and your heads will be tossed across the river. The army patrols have seen the filthy barbarians every day.”

  “Zollin will protect us.”

  “If you say so. I’d suggest that you find someone else to spend your time with. He’s apt to get you killed.”