The Tillamook was wide and deep, the current sluggish, the water muddy, but it was a perfect channel for hauling goods from the capital to the coast. The river was filled with barges that were stacked high with cargo, leaving very little room for passengers, but a few of the ships had rooms available for the right price. Mansel needed to find just such a ship, one that would carry him, Danella, and her beau, Vyctor, away from Orrock.
The big sword that Mansel carried was unusual among the patrons in the tavern. Most were sailors and the only weapons they carried were thin-bladed knives. Mansel’s weapon, which he called Death’s Eye because of the large, dark gemstone that Zollin had set into the handle, was enough to give most of the sailors pause, but it also drew the attention of some. Mansel wasn’t a wanted man necessarily, but he had helped Zollin escape and if the wrong people knew he was back in the city they might want to ask him some uncomfortable questions. Worse yet, if they didn’t like his answers, which was certain to be the case, they wouldn’t hesitate to ensure that Mansel was far more than just uncomfortable.
Mansel saw the looks a few of the unscrupulous patrons were giving him. They knew something was off for a warrior to be lurking in a sailor’s tavern. Once they realized who he was they would rush off to report him. His time in the unsavory establishment was running out and the captain of the Ox Back, a cargo barge that sometimes took passengers, had yet to arrive. Mansel was just about to leave when he saw the sailor he had been waiting for come in.
Yoryn, captain of the Ox Back, had a thick beard that was so long it tucked into his belt, but the top of his head was bald, the skin dark and leathery from years out in the sun as he sailed his barge up and down the Tillamook. The captain saw Mansel, ordered a pint of ale, and then made his way to the shadows to join the young warrior.
“You looking for me?” the sailor asked.
“I am, if you have room on your ship?”
“Room for you?”
“Me and two others.”
The sailor looked unhappy. He looked over both shoulders before continuing.
“Three gold crowns each,” he said. “Be on board by midnight or you’ll get left behind.”
“Alright,” Mansel said, sliding the coins across the table. “We’ll be there.”
“Don’t bring trouble with you, or I’ll slit your gullet and feed you to the channel cats in the river.”
Mansel smiled. “Just me and two friends, no trouble,” he said.
Yoryn stood up, drinking the last of his ale in one long gulp. Then he turned and left the tavern without speaking to anyone. Mansel got up from the table and made sure that his long winter cloak covered his sword. He pulled up the hood to hide his face, then left the tavern quickly, leaving a silver coin on the table to pay for their drinks. He hoped the coin would be remembered, not him.
Outside, the streets were muddy and the air was cold. It was late afternoon and the sky was gray. People hurried through the streets, spending as little time out in the cold, wintry air as possible. Mansel moved toward the city proper. Finding a way out of the city, despite the high cost, was easy compared to finding a way into the castle without attracting attention. Luckily the cold weather meant that most people would be bundled up to some degree and Mansel’s hooded cloak wouldn’t attract attention. And he had plenty of coin, thanks to Zollin’s generosity.
Luckily, Mansel knew one of the men who worked in the king’s stables. He had bought the man more than a few drinks for just this sort of occasion. After an hour of waiting outside the gates that led into the castle courtyard, Mansel finally saw the man leaving. He hurried over and fell into step beside him.
“How are things, Persy?” Mansel asked.
The stableman eyed Mansel suspiciously.
“I shouldn’t be talking to you,” he said. “I could get into trouble.”
“Nonsense, no one is looking for me.”
“There’s talk. Plenty of people noticed you helped the murderer escape the castle.”
“No, that wasn’t me.”
“It wasn’t you that jumped off the roof and scattered my pile of hay all across the courtyard?”
“Couldn’t have been me,” Mansel said. “I’m afraid of heights. And dragons for that matter.”
“What do you want?” the castle worker asked.
“I need you to get a message to Vyctor for me.”
“Vyctor doesn’t work in the yard. He’s an inside man. Besides, he’s a half-wit. What do you need with him?”
“That would be my business. Can you run and fetch him?”
“What do I look like, your dog? I don’t fetch people or anything else.”
“You look like a man who knows an opportunity when you see one,” Mansel said, opening his hand to reveal a gold crown. The coin sparkled even in the fading daylight.
“What is this?” Persy asked. “What are you up to?”
“Helping a friend,” Mansel said. “That’s all you need to know. Go find Vyctor, tell him to meet me at The Copper Pot tavern.”
“And I get the coin when he shows up?”
“You get this coin now,” Mansel handed him the gold. “And another if you bring him to the tavern…alone.”
“I don’t like this,” Persy said.
“Consider this my going away gift. After tonight you’re not likely to see me around here again.”
The stableman frowned, but took the gold, biting the coin to ensure it was real. Then he turned and trudged back toward the castle. Mansel hurried to The Copper Pot, which was a dark building that had originally been a healer’s sanitarium. The walls were stone and reinforced with thick timber beams. The tavern keeper brewed his own ale and had several copper stills in the large main room for distilling various types of spirits. The stills all had individual fires burning beneath them, so there was no need for a regular fireplace. Smoke collected in the rafters of the tall building and the tables were arranged in shadowy corners and nooks. A thick wooden bar ran along one wall where drinks could be ordered. There were no wenches, no gaming tables, not even barmaids. It was the type of place perfectly suited for meeting someone in private.
Mansel purchased a flagon of ale and went to an empty table with a view of the door. He wasn’t expecting trouble, but he eased Death’s Eye in and out of its scabbard just in case. An hour passed before Persy arrived with the hulking figure of Vyctor following him. Mansel slid a golden crown toward his friend along with a silver mark.
“Thank you,” Mansel said. “Take that silver and get drunk on me. I don’t want you to remember a thing about this evening.”
“That’s the first good idea you’ve had today,” Persy said, snatching up the coins and hurrying out of the tavern.
Vyctor stood looking at Mansel. He was a big man, with a square jaw and wide shoulders, but his face was as innocent as a child’s. Mansel knew the big servant wasn’t a half-wit, but he rarely spoke and many people that met him considered him to be stunted mentally.
“Tonight’s the night,” Mansel said. “Are you both ready to leave?”
Vyctor nodded.
“Good. Gather your things and meet me here as soon as you can. We’re taking a barge down the Tillamook and we have to be on board before midnight. Is that possible?”
Vyctor nodded again.
“I’ve got everything arranged. Don’t dawdle.”
“I’ll get Danella,” Vyctor said, his voice seemed thick. He had a deep voice and his face was usually impassive. Mansel wasn’t sure what Danella saw in the man, but he was strong as an ox and he was protective of the girl.
Vyctor turned and walked away. Mansel watched the big man leave and did his best to ignore the feeling that something or someone would ruin his plan. Technically he wasn’t breaking any laws. There was no reason that Danella and Vyctor couldn’t leave the castle. They weren’t prisoners or slaves, but Mansel knew that none of that mattered to Branock. The evil wizard had taken the crown without any protest. The Royal Guard obeyed him without hesit
ation, and several of the kingdom’s minsters insisted that he rule. Those that didn’t support the wizard outright knew better than to speak their doubts out loud. Branock was for all intents and purposes the new king of Yelsia, even the army had marched out of Orrock under his orders. All that remained was an official coronation and rumor had it that the wizard wanted to combine the ceremony with his marriage to the woman who had previously been betrothed to King Hausey. Mansel knew the reason for the marriage. Its sole purpose was to legitimize Branock’s claim to the throne and already the plans for an ornate ceremony were being made.
Mansel also knew if he didn’t get Danella out of the city soon, she would be forced into the marriage. Crossing Branock wasn’t what Mansel wanted to do, especially not without Zollin to back his play, but Danella had saved Mansel’s life and that wasn’t something he took lightly. He couldn’t just ignore her plea to help her escape and he also knew the distraught young girl couldn’t return to her parents’ home. Even if her mother wasn’t a conniving, self-obsessed, puppet master who willingly traded her children for her own advantage, Branock wouldn’t let her run away. He would see the rejection as a slight on his claim to the throne, and others would too. On the other hand if Danella married him, those same people that might otherwise doubt Branock’s intentions would be mollified.
That was why Mansel had to get Danella out of Orrock. And hiding in the countryside wasn’t a good idea either. As long as Branock was considered the king, Danella would be in danger. She needed a place where she could make a new start. He wasn’t exactly sure where that might be, since Branock effectively ruled all of Yelsia, but he guessed that one of the villages near the Walheta Mountains might be a good start. Eventually they might have to leave Yelsia, and if so, going south would be the easiest place.
The night wore on and Mansel paced himself with the ale. It was cool and frothy, but he knew that if he wasn’t careful he would drink too much and fail in his task. So he sipped the brew and watched the room. Most of the patrons sat in the shadows and drank the more potent spirits that The Copper Pot specialized in. Mansel didn’t mind strong spirits, but he loved ale. Wine was fine when nothing else was available, but he preferred almost anything else, even cider.
There were dark dealings going on in the tavern, which Mansel guessed was the norm. He had chosen the tavern for its privacy, but he couldn’t help but feel as if the darkness in the establishment was slowly spreading across the Five Kingdoms. With Branock as king, Yelsia would soon be a place where lawless men thrived and peaceful men suffered. Mansel didn’t know what his own future held, but he knew one thing. He wouldn’t rest while Branock ruled. The evil wizard had harassed Zollin, kidnapped Brianna, and urged Quinn against him. Not to mention that Mansel was convinced the vile wizard had murdered King Hausey. One way or another, Mansel planned to oppose the new king in whatever way he could. The first step was to get Danella as far away from him as possible.
At last the door opened and Vyctor stepped into the tavern. His normally happy face looked hard, as if it had frozen in the wintry night air. Danella was right behind him, her small body looking almost childlike beside the hulking form of Vyctor. Mansel felt a stab of suspicion when he saw Vyctor’s face, but he was about to stand up and wave them to his table when a member of the King’s Royal Guard stepped in behind Danella. The first guard was followed by two more and Mansel’s hope sank.
Luckily, Vyctor went straight to the bar, ordering drinks for himself and Danella, who found an empty table across the room from Mansel. The guards all took up positions around her, with no pretense as to what they were there for. Vyctor brought drinks to the table and sat with his back to Mansel. Danella could just see over the shoulder of the big man, and while Mansel knew he was hidden in shadow, she stared at him. There was a look of panic in her eyes and Mansel knew she feared that he had waited too long. Branock hadn’t sent the guards because he feared for her safety, they were there to make sure she didn’t escape the evil wizard’s plans.
Mansel stood up, swaying as if he were drunk. He staggered across the room, making his way toward Danella’s table.
“I know you,” he slurred in a loud voice. “It’s the new queen.”
One of the guards stepped forward, coming between Mansel and Danella. The young warrior stopped his approach, standing up straight but swaying.
“What’s this?” he said. “Do I know you?”
“Go back to your table, drunkard,” the guard said.
“I’m not drunk,” Mansel said.
The guard stepped forward and gave Mansel a little shove. He staggered backward, pretending to almost lose his balance, then over corrected and came stumbling back toward the guard. When the man grabbed Mansel’s arm, the young warrior shoved the unsuspecting guard into his closest companion. The third guard started to move forward but Mansel drew Death’s Eye and the man hesitated. Vyctor stood up. He was so big he blocked the guard’s way and Mansel turned back to the first two.
For a moment nothing happened, and Mansel knew he could have fled into the night. The temptation crossed his mind to slip away and leave Danella behind. There were worse fates than becoming queen, even if it meant marriage to a wicked man. But Mansel didn’t long for a life of safety. In the quiet moments that most people longed for, Mansel felt nothing but pain and guilt. He had failed to save the people he cared most about in the world, and he was determined not to fail Danella.
His sword came up and flicked the closest guard’s chin, opening a gash and sending the man falling backward. The second guard was more prepared. He had his own sword out and he slashed at Mansel, but he was too far away to be a threat with his standard-issue short sword. The young warrior didn’t move. He stood resolute, unfazed by the guards. The man with a cut chin drew a throwing knife from his belt. The King’s Royal Guards were skilled with the sword, but they were experts with throwing knives. Quinn, who had trained Mansel in swordcraft, had been a master with the thin throwing knives. Mansel didn’t wait to see how skilled the guard was. Instead he jumped at the man, running him through with Death’s Eye. The sword stabbed into the guard’s stomach and punched out of his back.
Mansel let the guard’s weight pull him off the sword, while at the same time kicking the second guard in the knee, just the way Quinn had shown him. The guard dropped with a shout and the third guard, finally getting around Vyctor, charged into the fray. Mansel parried the third guard’s slashing attack, and countered with a quick stab. The guard dodged to the side and then spun back toward the young warrior. Mansel was impressed with the man’s speed, but he slid to the side, easily avoiding the spinning attack. Death’s Eye was longer than the guard's sword, the blade sharp on one side and curving up slightly to form the point. It was a heavy weapon, but the magical stone Zollin had built into it gave Mansel an indefatigable strength.
A quick slash opened a bloody gash across the guard’s shoulder. The man roared in pain, but didn’t fall back. Instead he closed the distance between himself and Mansel. The young warrior was forced to catch the guard’s chopping slash on Death’s Eye, the blades clanging loudly and causing sparks to fly. Mansel twisted his sword, driving the guard’s blade down and bringing Mansel’s handle up. Then he slammed the hilt of his weapon into the guard’s face. Blood erupted from the guard’s mouth as his lips were split and teeth were knocked loose. The guard sputtered, finally stepping back, his free hand coming up to his ruined mouth. Mansel didn’t let up. He knew he couldn’t let the guards live to raise an alarm. He swung his heavy blade and let it slice into the guard’s neck just above the collar bone.
The guard fell, silent but twitching as blood gushed across the tavern floor. Danella had her face buried in Vyctor’s chest and the big man looked pale but otherwise unfazed by the carnage around him. Only one guard was still alive. He writhed on the floor, crying as he held his ruined knee. Mansel stepped over the man, and drove down with his sword. It was a quick death, the blade stabbing down into the back of the guard’s ne
ck and killing him instantly.
When Mansel looked up the tavern was silent. He took three gold coins from his pouch and set them on the table. The man who owned the tavern looked at Mansel and nodded. The gold would buy the man’s silence, but nothing could keep the bodies from being discovered and the alarm raised. Mansel’s only hope was that they might be long gone before Branock sent his entire regimen of guards scouring the city for him.
“Let's go,” he said to Vyctor.
Mansel had to step over one of the bodies, then he moved quickly to the door. The cold, wintry air blasted them as they stepped outside, sending a shiver through the young warrior. Then he hurried off, leading Danella and Vyctor toward the river and their only hope of escape.
Chapter 5
“There is news, my Lord,” Loman said, his head bowed so low it revealed a shiny patch of bare scalp among his thinning hair.
“I am your king!” Branock barked. “Do not forget again or I will remove your head from your shoulders and decorate the castle walls with it.”
“Yes, my King. Please forgive me.”
“What is this news?”
Branock was sitting at a long table. There was food and wine set before him on platters of silver and plates of gold, but he merely nibbled at the rich fare. Dancers swayed in the open space beyond the king’s table, and Branock’s supporters feasted to either side of the self-appointed sovereign.
“It is the girl,” Loman said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Branock’s eyes twitched from the dancers to his newly appointed chief steward for only a second, but it was enough for the servant to continue with his report.
Chaos Raging (The Five Kingdoms Book 11) Page 3
