Chaos Raging (The Five Kingdoms Book 11)

by Toby Neighbors

The barge was a slow-moving craft, but it never stopped. There was no need to rest a boat, or feed it for that matter. The men working the ship were a different matter. Open fires were strictly controlled on most boats, but the barges didn’t ply the wave-ridden sea. They were river craft, and used to a steadier voyage. They had a clay oven built on top of a metal plate that protected the wooden deck of the ship from getting too hot. The sailors had crusty biscuits and smoked fish, but they cooked eggs in their small oven.

  Mansel was given three eggs, three biscuits, and a jar of smoked fish. He carried the food down into the cabin he shared with Danella and Vyctor. The young warrior wasn’t ready to eat, so he gave his share of the food to Vyctor, then went back up to the deck. The ship’s water was kept in a large barrel. Mansel had to ladle the water into cups and carry them back down. By the time he settled on the rail of the ship and sipped his own water, he was exhausted. Still, he preferred the view from the deck to the dank cabin below, despite the cold.

  The sailors were happy as they went about their chores on the ship. One man steered the long vessel, another helped him keep watch on the tall pilot house, while a third knelt at the bow of the ship to watch for any unexpected obstacle that might damage the hull. The rest of the crew made repairs or cleaned or found something useful to do. The captain strolled over to Mansel and engaged the warrior in conversation.

  “You are better today?” the captain asked.

  “Yes, much better,” Mansel said. “Sailing doesn’t really agree with me.”

  “I’ve often wondered how some men can take a life without blinking an eye, but can’t ride down the river without getting sick.”

  “I don’t know,” Mansel said, wondering just where the captain was going with the conversation.

  “Before I pushed off last night, I heard a rumor.”

  “You did,” Mansel said, not really wanting to hear what the captain had to say.

  “Someone in Orrock killed three of the King’s Royal Guard?”

  “Was the new king at risk?”

  “No, they were protecting his betrothed.”

  “If they were killed, it sounds like they failed at their task.”

  “Perhaps,” the captain said. “The rumors said a warrior with a big sword killed the guards and made off with the future queen.”

  “I don’t know anything about that. I’m not a political person.”

  “That’s a big sword you’ve got there.”

  “Bigger than some, smaller than others,” Mansel said in a menacing tone. “I could show it to you if you like.”

  “I don’t like carrying fugitives on my ship.”

  “You can let us off at any point,” Mansel said.

  He was bluffing. They could journey overland to the coast, but it would take much longer. The barge would reach Tragoon Bay early the next morning. On horseback Mansel could almost keep up with the ship, but he would have to rest the horses along the way, and he couldn’t travel through the night. And all of that was based on Mansel being able to find decent horses that someone was willing to part with in the middle of a very harsh winter. And Mansel wasn’t even sure if Vyctor could ride a horse. He was very big, his body thick with muscle and fat. Mansel guessed that the hulking figure would strain the back of most horses in a very short amount of time. Getting off the ship before they reached the coast was the last thing Mansel wanted to do, but he couldn’t let the captain know that.

  “We could turn the ship around,” the captain threatened.

  “You won’t, you can’t risk your cargo being late.”

  “I’m wondering if the reward for returning a princess isn’t worth more than all the cargo on this ship.”

  “If you tried that, I’d have something to say about the matter.”

  “I have a crew of twenty. We could take care of you. If you cause trouble you might accidentally fall overboard.”

  “That’s one hell of a weak threat,” Mansel said, trying to stay calm. “If your crew were to threaten me or my friends, I would have to kill them—all of them, and then you.”

  “You can’t kill twenty men,” the captain said, but there was a tremor in his voice.

  “Perhaps not, but I can promise you I’ll kill a lot. I’m very good at that, and then where will you be? You wouldn’t have enough men to sail your barge back up the river. And you’ve forgotten about my friend. Vyctor is easily worth half your crew. Together I feel very good about our chances against your scurvy lot.”

  “You could just bribe me to keep my mouth shut,” the captain said. “I also heard rumors that the queen made off with a large sum of money.”

  “You’ve been well paid,” Mansel said. “You will deliver us to the bay unharmed and you will keep your mouth shut about us. If you don’t, you’ll be taken and tortured for information about us. At the very least you’ll lose your ship—this new king is a cruel man. I wouldn’t put it past him to torture you to death just for fun.”

  “You’ve put me in a hell of a position,” the captain growled. “My men want your blood.”

  “Then you had better get your men in line or a lot of them will die. Nine gold crowns is more than you’ll make in half a dozen voyages. If you need coin to calm your crew, I suggest you produce it from your own purse.”

  The captain frowned, but didn’t say more. He went back to his own cabin and Mansel didn’t see him the rest of the voyage. A few of the sailors gave the young warrior menacing looks, but none tried to harm him. The rest gave him a wide berth, and none went into the cabin where Vyctor and Danella passed the time.

  The day faded to night, and just before dawn they came to the massive port of Tragoon Bay. There were rows of barges along one side of the pier, and large sailing ships lay at anchor in the harbor. The city was low, with only a few buildings rising to a second story. Tragoon was a working town. There were fishermen, dock workers, and the requisite tradesmen. And of course there were taverns, inns, brothels, and gambling dens. But the buildings, from homes and workshops, to taverns and inns, were built with thick timber and stone to battle the briny wind and blowing storms that came raging in from the sea.

  As the sun rose the barge docked, and Mansel had his companions up and ready. He had slept for a few hours, while Vyctor stood watch, but he didn’t feel safe enough on the barge to get much rest. As soon as the ship was tied to the pier Mansel led Danella and Vyctor off the ship and through the city to an inn. Danella was taken to a room where she could bathe while Mansel looked to book passage for the couple on a ship going south. He soon found himself frustrated. Finding sailors wasn’t difficult but the waters to the south were thick with pirates and while the rewards of taking goods south were better than ever, there were few ships willing to take the risk.

  After hours of speaking with ship captains and first mates, Mansel was finally pointed to a man named Chiss who was captain of the Sea Arrow. Chiss was a small man, but he had the bearing of a warrior. A ragged scar gave his short hair an unnatural part along one side, and he carried a long cutlass from his belt. He was at an inn called the Maiden’s Tears. It was a rough and tumble establishment for sailors who were less selective than most about the ale or the wenches. He sat at a table with sheaf of papers, a quill, ink, and a stack of coins. A group of sailors were huddled on the other side of the room talking in low voices.

  Mansel went straight to the captain and made his request. The sailors all watched, but Mansel spoke quietly, sitting in a chair across from the stout looking captain.

  “I need passage south for two people,” Mansel said.

  “We all need things,” Chiss said. “I need coin.”

  “I can pay.”

  “Passage won’t be cheap and it won’t be without risk.”

  “So I’ve heard. I’ve also heard yours is a fast ship.”

  “The Arrow is fast, but I’m still looking to crew her with fighters. We’ll run from danger, but we can’t avoid every ship. We could get caught heading into the wind with pirates runnin
g down on us. A sail could tear or a spar could break and that would slow us down. There’s any number of reasons why we could face trouble, that’s why I’m looking for men with experience using a sword.”

  Mansel recognized the look the captain gave him. He wasn’t a sailor and had responsibilities to see about, but he needed to get Danella on a ship headed south. And if the seas were as dangerous as he had heard, he didn’t want Danella to be without protection.

  “You want me?” Mansel said.

  “Assuming you can use that sword,” Captain Chiss said.

  “I can use the sword, but I’m not much of a sailor. I’m a carpenter by trade.”

  “I need a carpenter’s mate.”

  “There are dozens of sailors in this very room who seem anxious to go with you.”

  “They’re good sailors, but they aren’t fighters. I don’t want to lose my ship, and most sailors will surrender at the first sign of trouble. I’ve seen men freeze in the braces when danger is upon them. I need men who, if all else fails, will stand and fight.”

  “If I agree, you’ll take the passengers?”

  “Ten silver marks each,” said Chiss, “and you join the crew.”

  “Seven,” Mansel countered, “and you provide food.”

  “I run a simple ship. The steward cooks for everyone. Eight marks and they’ll get two meals a day plus a ration of grog, just like the rest of us.”

  “My name is Mansel,” he said, nodding in agreement with the captain.

  Mansel had left most of his coin with Danella. He had a small pouch of coins with twenty silver marks and a dozen copper coins. He counted out the coins, wondering what he had gotten himself into as the captain wrote his name down on the Sea Arrow’s crew list.

  Chapter 7

  Lorik stood on the staircase that wound up into the tall tower that overlooked Center Point. The outcast builders had outdone themselves, creating a multistory tower with dozens of rooms. Near the top floor was one large space with huge windows where soldiers could stand watch night and day over the city. But it was the space above the lookout that drew Lorik upward. The tower was crowned with a special space, designed and built for a single occupant. For miles around the gold that encircled the four pillars could be seen glowing in the bright sunlight. The roof of the crown was made of clay tiles over thick timber beams, and inside, the space was covered in soft, yellow gold. It was Bartoom’s lair, home of the great black dragon who had become the talk of the city.

  When the beast first arrived many of the outcasts were terrified, but it didn’t take long for a sense of pride to set in. The outcasts had lost so much in the Witch’s War—their homes, their families, and for many their very sense of identity. But Center Point had become a thriving city, a place where the outcasts not only felt at home, but somewhere they felt a strong connection to, and Bartoom had become the beacon of strength and security that the outcasts felt in their home. Lorik felt pride at what was being built. He couldn’t take credit for anything more than choosing the location, his people had done all the rest, but Center Point had been his vision, his destiny, and the fact that so many outcasts and now a living, breathing dragon, had made it their home gave him a sense of fulfillment he had never experienced before.

  For years Lorik had struggled. Trained to be a teamster like his father and grandfather, Lorik had spent years navigating the swamps of the Marshlands in southern Ortis. His career had kept him busy, especially after his parents died, but he was never happy. He had fought, loved, and made strong friendships during those years, but it wasn’t until the Norsik invaded Ortis that Lorik recognized his dissatisfaction with life. He had known something was missing, but he had never been able to define exactly what it was. Finally he discovered that building an empire was his destiny. Born out of pain and betrayal, Lorik had come to understand that he was meant to rule, but not simply to lord over those who served him. He would build a great kingdom where anyone could find peace, safety, and a sense of belonging.

  He hesitated at the bottom of the narrow stairway that led up to the dragon’s lair. Lorik had convinced Bartoom to make Center Point its home, but he couldn’t say with certainty that the dragon was safe to be around. The huge beast might try to eat him and while Lorik felt confident he could survive, he didn’t want to fight the dragon. He wanted an ally and the dragon would be a powerful one, but Lorik wouldn’t force the beast to do anything. Instead, he wanted to be able to reason with it. He wanted Bartoom to understand the vision that was driving Lorik not just to build Center Point and lay claim to three kingdoms, but to protect everything that Lorik and the outcasts were working for. And that meant facing the armies of Baskla and Yelsia. Already the soldiers from Baskla were marching south through Ortis. It would not be long before Lorik would be forced to face them on the field of battle. It was a war he would fight eagerly, but he wanted Bartoom’s help. Lorik knew he could defeat an army of men with his own forces of trained outcast warriors, but with a dragon, routing their enemy would be a certainty and would minimize Lorik's casualties.

  The sun was relentless in Osla, and Center Point was built right on the border of Osla and Falxis in a green valley that was warm most days despite the fact that it was midwinter, but up on the tower the wind was much cooler. Lorik could hear the deep breathing of the huge dragon. Even though Lorik was stronger than any man in the Five Kingdoms and filled with a dark magic that gave him extraordinary powers, he still felt a tingle of fear as he climbed the last few steps.

  The gold was dazzling. Bartoom’s lair had no walls, just the four pillars that held the roof up and kept the rain out. The floor of the lair was a concave pit, lined with a thick layer of solid gold. The sunlight reflected off of the gilded pillars and golden floor. Lorik had to shade his eyes for a moment, but despite the blinding light he could see the dragon. Bartoom lay curled in the center of the lair, its black scales drinking in the light, absorbing it, until the dragon seemed to be a void in the center of the dazzling tower.

  “How do you like your new home?” Lorik asked.

  The dragon didn’t move, but its tongue flickered out, and there was a deep-throated growl. It wasn’t menacing, in fact Lorik got the sense that it was almost a sigh of contentment. He had promised the dragon gold and his outcasts had delivered on that promise. They had collected the precious metal from the ruined settlements all around Center Point until it filled Lorik’s treasury. Silver and copper coins were being traded by the citizens, but all gold was given to their king.

  “Good, I’m glad. I wanted to let you know that we can have food provided, if that is something you want.”

  “Hunt,” growled the dragon.

  Lorik smiled. He was pleased that the dragon didn’t simply want to grow fat on the city’s largess. He was also happy that the dragon would speak to him. The grating voice of the huge beast was difficult to understand, but it kept its answers simple and easy enough to comprehend.

  “Alright, that’s good too. I want you to feel at home here. You will be safe here. No one will ever try to control you or force you to do anything. You may come and go freely, of course. And do what you like to this space. No one but me will ever come here unless there is some type of emergency. Is there anything else that you need?”

  The dragon opened its eyes and looked at Lorik for a moment, then shook its huge head.

  “I am the king of these people. I rule all the land south of here and north to the Walheta Mountains. Men from Baskla are coming to fight me. I welcome that. I will crush them and reassert my control over the kingdom of Ortis. You should know that eventually I will invade Baskla and Yelsia. The rulers there are greedy, wicked men, who care nothing for the lives of others. The people in those kingdoms are callous, judgmental fools who will follow their leaders like sheep to the slaughter. They have hurt the outcasts here who were once their brethren. I’m not sure how much you know about the Witch’s War, but the sorceress Gwendolyn mutated people with her magic. It was not something they chose. I hav
e vowed to protect them. The people in the north will serve us, eventually, but first I will slay their kings and destroy their armies.”

  Lorik paused, not sure how well the dragon even understood him. His only experience with dragons had been when Zollin the wizard had come to his aid outside of the Wilderlands, to help him defeat the Norsik invaders. The wizard had communed with his dragon, a great green brute. So Lorik had assumed that Bartoom could understand what he was telling it.

  “And I would like your help,” Lorik said. “Together, we can create a vast realm ruled from Center Point with one lord, one purpose. Is that something you might do?”

  Smoke erupted from Bartoom’s mouth, billowing up and getting trapped in the rafters above. Lorik tensed, unsure what the dragon’s response meant. The scales on the beast rippled as it rose to its feet. Then the dragon turned around, its huge talons moving silently on the golden floor of its lair, before it settled with its back to Lorik.

  “You don’t care about my ambition, I understand that. But this isn’t just about building an empire. It’s about setting people—and dragons—free. I will never force you to help me, but I could use your help. Please consider it.”

  Another puff of dark smoke rose, then the dragon closed its eyes. Lorik was disappointed, but he refused to give up on the magnificent beast. He knew that King Ricard’s forces were moving south into Ortis. It was almost as if he could feel the army from Baskla marching into the land Lorik had laid claim to. Ortis would always be his home and he felt not just a connection to that kingdom, but a responsibility to see that it was safe and cared for. And the righteousness of his motives gave him strength.

  As he walked down the long staircase he considered every action he had taken. He had destroyed Ort City, but only after the inhabitants had fled. Destruction was not what he wanted, but Ort City could no longer be considered the capital of Ortis. He had to send a message to the people of Ortis, as well as every other kingdom in the realm, that they couldn’t simply take residence in the castle and call themselves king. If they wanted Ortis, they would have to pay for it with blood.