Five Kingdoms: Books 01, 02 & 03

by Toby Neighbors

  “Where are all your people?” Zollin asked Toag as they crossed a steep hill.

  “I was the first High Chief to bring my people together in many winters. We were going to smash the southlanders and take their women and children as our slaves. Unfortunately, many saw the dragon as retribution from Quotar, the mountain God, for my pride and arrogance. My wound made me weak and many clans fled back into the mountains.”

  “How many are left?” Zollin asked.

  “Only the most loyal clans. Perhaps two hundred and fifty warriors. I promised them that we would finish what we started when my arm healed, but I only grew weaker. Bozar took command of the tribes. They will make him High Chief now that I am gone.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” Zollin said.

  “As am I.”

  “Can you never go back?”

  “I would be seen as a spy since I have aided you.”

  “You don’t have to take us to the Voxel Clan. You could deny that you ever helped us.”

  “But I cannot deny that my arm was healed by your magic power. You are a devil and I am tainted. I will never be accepted into the clans again.”

  “What will you do?” Brianna asked.

  “I do not know,” Toag said.

  “You could come with us.”

  Zollin looked at Brianna questioningly and she shrugged her shoulders.

  “You go to fight the dragon?”

  “Yes,” Zollin said.

  “Perhaps I will join you in this fight. The dragon is not from Quotar, the great God of the mountain did not turn against me. I will prove that to my people, even if they will not accept me back into the clans.”

  Zollin wasn’t sure that Toag’s decision would hold after he stopped influencing the Skellmarian’s mind, but for now, they had the help they needed to get their horses and gear back. That was what they needed to finish the task and stop the dragon.

  Chapter 33

  “Where are we going?” Prince Wilam asked Quinn.

  “Away from the port,” Quinn explained. “We need to get back to our horses and get out of this town.”

  “But why? We defeated the soldiers. We should book passage on one of the ships sailing north.”

  “Didn’t you hear what the soldier said?” Quinn asked in surprise. “About there being soldiers on every ship.”

  “That’s rubbish. They couldn’t possibly have soldiers on every ship between here and Yelsia.”

  “Perhaps, but did you notice the two jolly boats full of soldiers that were heading for the quay when we were fighting the soldiers?”

  “No,” Wilam said, a little surprised.

  “Well, there were two boats with at least a dozen men between the two of them, maybe more. All armored and ready for a fight. We got lucky because the soldiers weren’t expecting us to fight back. They thought they would be victorious with six men against two, so when we fought back, they were caught off guard. The soldiers in the boat would have been ready for us. And who knows if there aren’t more of them in the city.”

  They had planned to sell their horses, but they wanted to book passage on a ship first. Now Quinn was glad they still had their mounts and gear. They needed more food, but he wasn’t going to waste time in the village looking for it. They got back to their horses without incident and galloped out of the village. Quinn tried to keep a lookout for enemy troops, but he saw nothing but the shocked look from villagers as they galloped past. They rode hard for an hour, then dismounted and walked the horses. They avoided towns and villages as much as possible, but the next day, as they rode on a long, straight stretch of road, they noticed riders following them. There were two riders, and Quinn had a bad feeling about the men. Of course, they could have been travelers, as he and Prince Wilam were pretending to be, but after their run in with the solders in the small seaside town, he didn’t think so.

  They decided to cut across the country, heading northeast toward Lodenhime, where they could take a ship north on the Sea of Kings, skirting the Walheta Mountains, then cross Baskla to reach Ebbson Keep. They rode through the night, and early the next day they came to the north-south road that led to Miller’s Crossing.

  “We’ll make better time on the main road,” said Wilam. “And we’re almost out of supplies.”

  “We’ll also be spotted easier,” said Quinn.

  “We can’t avoid that now. Our best chance is to make distance between ourselves and the Oslian soldiers.”

  “What if the Falxis soldiers have been ordered to find us and detain us?”

  “I doubt they would have gotten that order already. King Zorlan is a timid man. He will not want to throw his lot in with Belphan and Oveer until he is sure they will win. Besides, we are just two travelers. There is no reason for anyone to suspect us.”

  Quinn didn’t agree, but he was all for getting Wilam back to Yelsia as quickly as possible. Besides, he wasn’t sure if he could argue with a Crown Prince. He liked Wilam, who was older than Mansel, but who shared a lot of the same character traits. Wilam was used to being in command, but he didn’t make Quinn feel like a servant. He was respectful and chivalrous, but too quick to rely on his sword to solve his problems, Quinn thought.

  They rode through the day and finally stopped at an inn to spend the night. Neither man had any energy left to keep watch. So they found a room with two beds, and after filling their bellies with hot food and cool ale, they locked their room and slept through the night.

  It took two more days of hard riding to reach Miller’s Crossing. It was a large town and an important city in Falxis, with a major road running south to the Grand City in Olsa. There were plenty of inns, and it wasn’t hard for Quinn and Wilam to blend into the crowds. They bought as much food as they could carry before setting out the next day. If they rode hard, they could expect to reach Lodenhime in a week, but they were only a few hours out of Miller’s Crossing when they noticed the two riders behind them again, only this time the pair was much closer.

  “How can you tell it’s the same two men?” Wilam asked.

  “The way they’re riding, for one thing,” Quinn replied, looking over his shoulder from the saddle. “They ride side by side.”

  “Well, that’s common enough,” Wilam said.

  “But the shorter one is always on the right. You and I ride side by side, but we’re constantly changing positions.”

  “It could be a coincidence,” Wilam said.

  “Yes, it could be, but I’m planning for what might happen, not what will probably happen. If it is the same two men who were following us a few days ago, then that means they tracked us across the country.”

  “So? We weren’t trying to cover our tracks.”

  “But how many soldiers do you know who are that knowledgeable and dedicated? I couldn’t have done it, and I doubt those two men are officers. It seems more likely that they might be Mezzlyn assassins.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Quinn. No one would take my brother seriously, not even if he were showering them with gold.”

  “Brianna said it was the wizard, Branock, who hired the assassins. If that’s true, then we could be in trouble.”

  “You’re a good man in a fight, Quinn. I’ll lay odds we can go toe-to-toe with any two men in the Five Kingdoms.”

  “This isn’t a tournament, sire. It’s life or death.”

  “You sound like Pavic or, worse yet, my mother. I fear no man with a blade, Quinn.”

  “But the Mezzlyn aren’t warriors. They don’t fight fair.”

  “There’s only two of them,” Wilam said. “We defeated six only a few days ago.”

  “My lord, I fought a pair of Mezzlyn assassins. They were fast and deadly. My son caught one who was trying to escape, and the man used some sort of poison to kill himself. I fought the other and nearly got myself killed. Don’t underestimate them.”

  “I won’t,” Wilam said. “But neither will I underestimate myself. I’m a trained warrior. I’m mounted and armored. I won’t cower in fe
ar of assassins.”

  Quinn wanted to argue, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. His best bet lay in keeping them moving at a fast pace. They needed to find a place where they stood the best chance of defeating the assassins, if that was who they really were. They rode through the day, opting not to walk the horses and give the riders behind them a chance to gain ground. It was early afternoon and the sun was beating down on them from a cloudless sky when the rider ahead of them appeared. The Prince’s face was bright red, but he refused to take Quinn’s straw hat. Quinn, on the other hand, was grateful for the hat; it kept his head cool and kept the sun off his face and neck. The countryside around them was flat, with brown grass that had died from lack of water. The horizon shimmered in the heat, and both Quinn and Wilam rode looking down rather than ahead, so the rider was close when they finally noticed him.

  “Oh, my God,” said Quinn when he saw the rider.

  “What is it?” Prince Wilam asked.

  “I can’t believe it.”

  “Believe what, man? Do you know the rider?”

  “I do, my lord. That is Mansel.”

  It only took a few minutes for the riders to meet on the road. Mansel didn’t recognize Quinn, the straw hat was completely out of character for the master carpenter, and he had never met Prince Wilam before.

  “Mansel,” Quinn called out.

  “Quinn? Is that you?”

  “Of course it is,” Quinn said. “Who else would it be?”

  “I didn’t recognize you in that hat.”

  “Oh, this is just a little fashion item I picked up in Osla. They’re all the rage in the Grand City.”

  “Is that a fact?” Mansel said.

  “No, of course it isn’t,” Prince Wilam said.

  “Oh, forgive me,” Quinn said. “Mansel, meet Prince Wilam.”

  “My lord,” Mansel said, bowing as best he could in the saddle.

  “You look well,” said Quinn.

  “I ran into trouble on the coast road,” Mansel said. “I got a nasty cut on my leg, but a young woman helped me.”

  “I’ll bet she did,” Quinn joked.

  “No, Quinn, it wasn’t like that at all,” Mansel said, unsure of how to impress upon his mentor how important Nycoll was to him. “She wasn’t a wench or a tavern maiden. She’s a widow. Her husband was lost at sea. She’s all alone.”

  Quinn frowned. He had never seen Mansel serious about a woman. The young warrior liked to keep his liaisons uncomplicated and the total opposite of serious. Quinn was surprised and a little concerned.

  “Well, I want to hear all about it, but we need to keep riding,” Quinn said.

  “You being followed by those two?” Mansel asked.

  “Oh, not you, too. They’re just travelers,” Wilam said.

  “They don’t look like travelers,” Mansel said as he turned his horse, and the three of them continued their journey. “There’s an old farm about a mile or so up the road. It’s got an old windmill. The structure seems pretty sound. It would be a good place to take cover and get some elevation so that we could see what they’re up to.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to rest these horses, either,” said Quinn.

  “What are you proposing?” Wilam asked.

  “I was just thinking we could take cover inside the windmill,” Mansel said. “There’s only one door, and there might be a way to climb up to the top. We can watch and see what those riders do. If they’re after us, they’ll try and attack, but we’ll have a defensive position and they’ll be forced to come through the door one at a time.”

  “And if they ride past?” Wilam said.

  “Then we follow them for a bit,” Quinn said. “We keep them in sight but don’t get too close. If they’re really travelers, they won’t even notice.”

  “But if they’re following us, they’ll want to do something to engage us,” Wilam said. “Alright, I agree.”

  They spurred their horses into a gallop for the last half mile and found the windmill just as Mansel had said. It was a large structure that was built of stone. It was round, like a castle tower, and at one time had been used to pump water up from a deep well below the windmill. Most of the interior of the building was empty, and there was ample room for the men and their horses. They tied their horses to a wooden beam that had been used to support the stone walls. Mansel stayed by the door with his sword and shield, while Quinn and Wilam climbed up a crumbling stone staircase to look out at the road. The windmill’s roof was gone, probably blown off in a storm, and the staircase led up to where a person would have been able to work on the windmill’s blades.

  They watched as the riders slowed and inspected the abandoned farm. The men rode slowly past, giving Quinn and Wilam a good look at them. They both wore nondescript clothing and first appeared to be nothing more than mere travelers, but then Quinn spotted two knives tucked into the back belt of one of the riders. The handles were wrapped in the same cloth as the man’s shirt, so they were hard to spot, but Quinn was sure he had seen them.

  They watched until the men were a good way past the windmill before they started talking. Mansel was waiting patiently as they went one at a time down the rickety stairs.

  “What did you see?” Mansel asked.

  “They rode past,” Wilam said.

  “But they’re not just travelers,” Quinn said. “I saw knives on one, tucked into the back of his belt.”

  “So what? You carried knives in your belt,” Wilam said.

  “And I’m not just a traveler, either,” said Quinn. “I don’t know if they’re Mezzlyn assassins or not, but they’re following us. I’d bet on it.”

  “They did seem unusually interested in the windmill,” admitted Wilam.

  “They know we’re in here,” said Quinn.

  “We better get back on the road and follow them,” Mansel said.

  They got their horses and were leading them outside. Wilam went first, and just as he stepped out of the doorway, he was hit by a knife. The blade would have slammed into his heart and killed him instantly, but the Prince was wearing the chainmail shirt that Quinn had bought in Brimington Bay.

  Wilam was knocked back and his horse reared. Mansel grabbed the Prince and pulled him back into the windmill. Quinn secured the horses while Mansel took up his defensive position once again. He peered carefully out of the door opening. The door had rotted away or been pulled out of the frame to be used for some other purpose. Now it was just a gaping hole in the wall.

  “We need something to cover this door with,” Mansel said.

  Quinn was inspecting Wilam’s chest. The chainmail had stopped the blade, although it had broken several links and torn the Prince’s undershirt and broken the skin on his chest. Quinn was afraid that the knife was poisoned, as the dart had been in Brighton’s Gate when the Mezzlyn tried to kill Zollin. But the Prince didn’t seem seriously hurt. He was angry, his chest bruised, but there was no lingering damage.

  “Can you see them?” Quinn asked Mansel.

  “No.”

  “What kind of bloody cowards are they?” Wilam said.

  “I told you they don’t fight with honor. I’m going back up top to see if I can spot them. Mansel, don’t let anyone come through that door,” Quinn said.

  “If they try, it’ll be the last thing they ever do.”

  Wilam retrieved his sword and followed Quinn up to the small stone platform that ringed the inside of the windmill. They had full view of the area. There was an old homestead, but it was in much worse shape than the windmill. Likewise, a barn was falling down on the far side of the little house. There were a few trees, but not enough to take cover in.

  “Where the hell are they?” Wilam said.

  “I don’t know. They have to be close to the old house. Although how they got from the road back over here so fast is a total mystery to me.”

  “What are our options?” Wilam asked.

  “I’m still trying to figure that out,” Quinn admitted.

  “We
can’t wait them out,” said Wilam. “We’ll run out of food eventually. And we can’t just run away from them. If they’re really the Mezzlyn, they’ll keep coming after us.”

  “But how do we get close enough to engage them?” Quinn said.

  “I don’t know,” Wilam admitted. “Do you think there is any chance we can hide and then ambush them when they try to sneak into the windmill?”

  “It’s risky, but no more so than walking back through that door. Whoever threw that knife won’t make the same mistake twice. He knows you’re wearing armor now. He’ll put the next blade through your eye.”