Chaos Raging
The Five Kingdoms Book XI
by
Toby Neighbors
Chaos Raging
© 2016, Toby Neighbors
Published by Mythic Adventure Publishing, LLC
Idaho, USA
All Rights Reserved No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any print or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Cover art by Michael Clarke
Copy Editing by Alexandra Mandzak
Books By Toby Neighbors
Avondale
Draggah
Balestone
Arcanius
Avondale V
Wizard Rising
Magic Awakening
Hidden Fire
Fierce Loyalty
Crying Havoc
Evil Tide
Wizard Falling
Chaos Descending
Into Chaos
Chaos Reigning
Chaos Raging
Lorik
Lorik the Defender
Lorik the Protector
The Vault Of Mysteries
Third Prince
Royal Destiny
The Other Side
The New World
Zompocalypse Omnibus
Dedication
to Eric Gabianelli and Amanda Maiorca
May your life together be full of happiness and adventure
And to Camille,
my muse for twenty years and counting,
I love you more than ever.
Chapter 1
Branock didn’t like sitting on a throne. It felt too passive to the wizard. He preferred action. Offendorl, his master at the Torr, had been the type to spend hours sitting and planning. That type of inaction infuriated Branock. He wanted results, which was why he was so angry. Quinn stood like a statue in front of the wizard, who paced angrily, trying not to strike down his creation.
“You failed,” Branock said.
“Yes,” the aging warrior said.
“How could a mortally wounded man escape you? I gave you everything you needed to succeed. The treasury is empty, you had more than enough soldiers. Yet here you are, alive, unharmed, and bearing the worst possible news.”
“The wizard was hale. He showed no signs of his wounds.”
“I saw you run him through with your sword. He should be dead.”
Quinn didn’t answer. His face was completely impassive. When Mansel had brought Quinn to the castle Branock had seen a perfect opportunity. The animal bite was driving the carpenter mad and Branock could have healed him. Instead, he used the foreign entity in Quinn’s blood to rob the man of his senses, then Branock enslaved him with a domination charm.
It was an ancient form of magic, and it took Branock nearly a week to concoct the potion. He had set up a small alchemy room in the castle and sent agents to collect the things he needed. The potion simmered for three days. The liquid inside the thick, cast iron cauldron had finally turned black and then Branock poured the concoction onto a large sheet of flat, smoky crystal. He only needed a small portion of the final product, especially since Quinn’s mind was damaged and his sense of self was slipping away. The thin layer of the glossy, black substance hardened much like a sheet of glass. It broke into shards when Branock tapped the surface with a small hammer. Then using his magic he forged three of the pieces into an oblong disk, trapping a portion of his essence in the object, which was called a Will Bender or Dominix in the ancient texts he learned the potion from.
Adding a thin chain was simple, and giving it to Quinn set the actual spell in action. Once Branock fastened the chain around Quinn’s neck and settled the Dominix onto the skin of his chest, the slow process of absorption began. The glossy object gave Branock the ability to command the wearer, but that was just the beginning of the spell. Over time the bearer actually took on the thoughts and attitudes of the spell caster. Quinn wouldn’t become Branock, but he would think like the wizard and act in much the same manner. Causing someone to do one’s bidding was relatively simple magic, but you could never trust the victim to carry out one’s commands the way the wizard would like. With a Dominix charm the person became almost like a shadowy reflection of the wizard.
In time Quinn’s body would absorb the Dominix completely and the spell would be irreversible, but until then Quinn was vulnerable. Branock had feared that some fraternal instinct would interfere with his command for Quinn to murder Zollin, but the carpenter had carried out the command exactly how Branock would have done it. Stabbing Zollin in the back was perfection and the upstart wizard should have died. Something had kept him alive long enough for his friends to come to his aid. And even though Quinn was given over a hundred mounted troops to track the wizard and his pet dragon down, they too had failed to finish the young wizard off.
“So he is alive?”
“Yes,” Quinn said in a flat, emotionless tone. The animal bite seemed to have banished the aging warrior’s personality completely.
“And the dragon?”
“It lives. The wizard saved it.”
Branock cursed loudly, then turned back to Quinn. “Did you hold back?”
“No,” Quinn said coldly. “He was powerful and while we brought his pet down initially, he used his power against us. There was nothing we could do.”
“Did the gold distract the dragon?”
“It did, but we weren’t able to slay the beast before the wizard drove us back.”
“You're a fool. You can’t even complete the simplest task!” Branock shouted, but his insult was lost on Quinn. He was like a hollow shell of a man, with no pride, no independent thought whatsoever. Still, Branock had plans for the man who he now controlled completely.
With the Dominix Branock could feel what Quinn felt, and using his magic the wizard could know what the carpenter knew, even from great distances. It made him the perfect conduit for Branock’s plans to invade Baskla. Quinn could lead the army, giving Branock total control with none of the risk. It was exactly why he’d forced himself to memorize the spell and instructions for creating a Dominix so long ago when he had discovered it during his studies in the Torr.
“Go east,” the wizard ordered. “The officers of my army have been given instructions to follow your orders. I’ve sent over a thousand soldiers ahead of you. They are moving east on the Weaver’s Road. At Felson you will also take command of the light horse cavalry stationed there. That will give you over two thousand men. March to Baskla and wage war. They will be weak. Their army is marching south into Ortis. It is the perfect opportunity. Do you understand?”
Quinn nodded.
“Do not fail me again,” Branock said, starting to threaten the aging warrior but then realizing it was a useless gesture. “If you come across your son, arrest him and bring him to me. If he resists, kill him.”
“Of course,” Quinn said, as a shadow of wicked glee passed over his face at the thought of murdering an innocent man.
Branock felt a shiver of excitement at the realization that his magic had robbed the man before him of any qualms about killing his only child. His magic and the bite of some wild animal in the Great Valley, Branock corrected himself. The existence of such beasts was strange, but it was a mystery that would have to wait until Branock ruled the Five Kingdoms. Then he could discover the cause of the strange beasts. At the moment they were no threat to him and he had a kingdom to conquer.
“Go then, and travel swiftly.”
Quinn bowed and then left the royal audience chamber. Branoc
k knew that several ministers were waiting for him outside the ornate hall. The room had been constructed and decorated to intimidate anyone wanting to petition the king of Yelsia, but Branock still felt like an outsider. The ministers who had supported his claim to the throne were much more comfortable in the chamber than Branock was. It reminded the wizard too much of his master’s abode in the tower of the Torr. He was glad the tower had been destroyed but that the priceless treasures inside hadn’t been. To the rest of the world the tower may have been nothing more than a tall structure filled with books, scrolls, and ancient writings, but to Branock who knew better, it was the repository for magical knowledge in the Five Kingdoms.
Branock’s master had sought out every reference to magic he could find and hoarded the knowledge in the tower. For years Branock had thought the tower to be unassailable, and his master invincible, but his search for Zollin had changed everything. Branock had hoped the young wizard might join him, giving Branock enough power within the Torr to accelerate their plans to bring the Five Kingdoms under their control. That was what Branock wanted more than anything, to have the realm acknowledge his power and bow before him as a superior being. But Offendorl had waited, plotting and planning, but essentially doing nothing. And when he finally left the tower thinking to destroy the young wizard who had defeated Branock, the weaknesses of the ancient master of the Torr had been made plain.
In the end it was one of Offendorl’s pets, the vile sorceress Gwendolyn, who had destroyed the Torr, along with three of the Five Kingdoms. All that was left for Branock were the remnants of his master’s folly, but the newly proclaimed king of Yelsia wasn’t the type of person to give up. He had found his way to power in Yelsia, and soon he would control Baskla too. The other kingdoms may have been in ruins, but Branock would rebuild Ortis, Falxis, and Osla, perhaps even the tower of the Torr. It would be a new age, but not one of carefully controlled magical power. It would be an age of magical might that ruled the Five Kingdoms for a thousand years.
Branock settled onto his throne, thinking about the events that lay ahead. He had a coronation to plan and he would wed the young maiden that had been betrothed to King Hausey. The marriage and official ceremony would legitimize his rule. He had control of the army and most of the ministers that saw to the day-to-day affairs of the kingdom, but with the crown and King Hausey’s bride, he would be accepted by the people far and near. He didn’t really care about the girl. She was beautiful and that was fortunate. She could be a distraction under the right circumstances, but his true love was power and he meant to have it all.
Chapter 2
Magic was a mysterious thing. Zollin could feel it flowing out of him, a hot wind that rose from a place deep inside him. It was as inseparable from him as his own thoughts, and it obeyed his will. Anything he could imagine, he could do. Not that it was easy. Controlling his power took extreme concentration that left him mentally exhausted and if he didn’t keep a strong wall of containment around the reservoir of power inside him it would tax him physically as well. Zollin thought of it in the same way as doing a task while trying not to look at a beautiful woman who was watching him. He had to keep his guard up and focus on the task. His magic wasn’t alive, it didn’t control him or even influence him, but the sheer power was so strong that if he wasn’t careful it would quickly overwhelm his control and wreak havoc on everything around him.
Zollin could feel his magic as it explored Jute’s body. The diminutive warrior had suffered over the past year. His body had been forced to burn muscle as he slaved away in the underworld, malnourished and abused. There were bruises, cuts, and burns all over Jute’s body, and then there was his broken arm. The bone had begun to mend thanks to Brianna’s help. She had set the bone and covered it in a stiff, clay cast that kept Jute from moving and injuring his arm again. It only took moments for Zollin to magically speed the healing of the broken arm and repair the burns on Jute’s body.
The dwarf was sitting very still. High in the Walheta Mountains, surrounded by towering evergreen trees, the pair were taking advantage of the time it was taking Ferno, the massive green dragon, to hunt. Jute’s missing hand ended in a ragged stump, the stitches still oozed blood, and the wound was still very tender although Jute never complained about it. Zollin could feel the blood pumping through the dwarf’s strong heart. The muscle in Jute’s arm was dense, much more so than any human Zollin had ever healed. The bones were thicker than he expected as well, but the dwarf’s anatomy was basically the same as a human’s.
Jute’s hand had been severed by the beak of a monster. Zollin didn’t know if the creature had eaten the dwarf’s hand, but there was no way to heal it. It might have been possible for Zollin to magically create a new hand for the dwarf, but the process would be long and extremely difficult. The wizard could create anything he could mentally visualize, but there were so many separate bones, veins, and nerves in a hand that to conjure one would take days and an extensive knowledge of anatomy. Zollin knew enough about the human body to heal a wound or drive out sickness, but he didn’t have the time or the knowledge to create a new hand for the dwarf. Instead, he was going to try something new.
Jute, like all the dwarves Zollin had ever met, was a miner and metallurgist. He needed a strong hand to grasp and hold things, so Zollin was attempting to attach a small vice to the end of Jute’s wounded arm. The vice itself was a simple device, basically a metal clamp that was opened and closed by twisting a small lever. Jute wouldn’t be able to open and close the vice like a normal hand, but once he got something in the vice and wrenched it tight, he would have a nearly unbreakable grip. The difficulty would be fusing the metal to Jute’s bones.
The vice had a long metal handle that was usually attached to a sturdy table, but Zollin had modified the metal using his magic. He created two small rings on either side of the central shaft. He had to magically coax Jute into a deep sleep before trying to attach the vice. Once Jute was sleeping, Zollin blocked the nerve signals to the dwarf’s arm. He was going to have to reopen the wound and the last thing the wizard wanted was to hurt his friend. His magic flowed through the dwarf’s body, finding all the tiny nerve pathways that wrapped through the dense muscle and bone. Once Zollin was confident that he wouldn’t hurt Jute, he used his magic to disintegrate the stitches and reopen the dwarf’s wound.
The muscle and bone were visible as the puckered skin opened like a grisly flower. Just like humans, dwarves had two bones in their forearms forming an arc between the two from elbow to wrist. Jute’s wrist was gone, and the bones stuck out of the ruined muscle like the stalks from a bloody potato. Zollin’s magic flowed through and around the dwarf’s arm almost as if he had plunged his hand into a flowing stream. It began to slowly separate the bones and gently move the muscle and tissue between them. He worked carefully, not wanting to cause any more damage than had already been done. His plan was not only to attach the vice, but to repair the ruined arm and Zollin didn’t want to make the task any more difficult than it already was.
Once the dwarf’s arm was opened up, Zollin levitated the vice into place. He could have picked it up and placed the vice where he wanted it, but using his magic he could feel the heavy metal down to the tiniest bits of matter that made up the wrought iron. He moved the vice shaft into Jute’s forearm until the small rings on either side slid onto the bone. Zollin softened the metal and conformed the rings to fit snuggly on the ends of the bones that he remembered were called the radius and the ulna. There were two rings on each side, one securing the vice to the bone, and the other capping the end of each bone and strengthening Jute’s arm.
Once the vice was in place, Zollin slowly wrapped the shaft with blood vessels, muscle, and tissue. He didn’t just secure the vice in place, but actually made it part of the dwarf’s forearm. The tissue and muscle helped to hold the vice in place, while the wrought iron shaft gave the dwarf’s arm rigidity and strength that was far beyond what muscle and bone alone were capable of.
Afte
r the delicate work of securing the vice was finished, Zollin repaired the skin around the open wound. When he finished the skin was smooth and seemed to tuck in around the vice shaft. There were no stitches, no wrinkles or folds. The end of Jute’s arm looked almost natural. Zollin cleared the nerve pathways and made sure the blood was flowing the way it should. He’d had to do some repair work to the muscles in Jute’s forearm, but repairing muscle was relatively easy compared with nerves or blood vessels. The fibers of the muscle linked together eagerly and formed a flawless band of strength to the newly repaired arm.
Zollin sat back, drinking a very potent wine and eating salted pork which he had fried in a pan over the coals of their small campfire when Jute woke up. He stared at Zollin for a long moment before moving or saying anything. The young wizard noticed his friend, but didn’t press him, instead he let the dwarf come around on his own time.
“What did you do to me,” Jute said.
“I fixed your arm.”
“It feels better, but different. It’s cold.”
“Can you lift it?” Zollin asked.
“Of course I can lift it,” Jute said, holding up the arm and looking at the vice with a look that was borderline wonder, but an equal part disgust. “What am I supposed to do with it?”
“Use it,” Zollin said.
“Not likely,” Jute said. “This thing is just dead weight.”
“You won’t say that when we’re back down in the caverns. With that vice you can hold a weapon. You could use it when you’re working metal too.”
“No dwarf in his right mind would use a vice when working a forge,” Jute said.
“Well, I’m sorry, it was the best I could do.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Jute said.
Zollin rarely knew when Jute was being serious. He was a jovial person in most circumstances, but his bravado had turned to grumbling since heading back into the mountains with Zollin.
Chaos Raging (The Five Kingdoms Book 11) Page 1
