“The simpleton?”
Mansel nodded again.
“They paid me to sneak them out of the city and get them safely to Selphon City.”
“Which means the new king will pay handsomely to get them back under his control in Orrock.”
“I think so. He might not be too happy to see me.”
“Don’t worry,” Roleena said. “You can stay in Tragoon Bay. You’ve proven your worth. Is there other news I should know?”
“There are rumors that the new king is mobilizing his army to march on Baskla. Can’t say if that’s true or not.”
“Baskla…” Roleena said. “That is interesting. We shall take this ship north. It is fast and I like that.”
“Your ships were just as fast, maybe even faster,” Mansel said.
“No, that was the Graygon. It pulled us so that we could catch you. This ship will speed us north. I have a delivery to make there. If you prove useful I will ensure that you are rewarded.”
Mansel looked at the woman’s body, letting his gaze linger although he felt shame burning in his heart. Nycol’s face floated into his mind and he forced himself to push it away. He knew his only chance for survival at that point was to keep up the act of being a money-hungry mercenary.
“I’m sure you will,” Mansel said.
Roleena slapped his face, her hand leaving a stinging outline, but Mansel welcomed the physical pain. It somehow eased his emotional anguish. He smiled.
“Don’t get any bright ideas,” Roleena said. “I am the captain of these vessels. I have hundreds of men at my command. You will serve me faithfully, or you will die.”
“As long as you have coin to pay, I’ll be as loyal as a family pet,” Mansel said. “Just try me and see.”
“Oh, I will, never fear, mercenary. I certainly will.”
Chapter 18
They had eaten a hastily prepared dinner, foregoing wine or ale as they made preparations. Brianna had already tasked Sorva with finding Duke Ebbson, and Ferno was perched on the roof of the keep, the dragon’s keen eyes searching the landscape for any sign of danger.
“What do you think is happening?” the countess asked.
She was surrounded by her children near the fireplace where Brianna had kindled a bright fire. The younger girls looked at Brianna with awe. Despite the near starvation she had so recently survived, Brianna was still beautiful. And her power over fire made her seem like the heroine from a legendary story.
“With your husband?” Zollin asked.
“No, with the army?”
“Unless I am greatly mistaken they will face an army of gargoyles,” Zollin said. “They will be defeated if not massacred. And then the very thing that Branock hoped to accomplish by invading Baskla will happen to Yelsia.”
“You think the gargoyles will come here?” Brianna said.
“I do, and unfortunately they are unfazed by fire.”
“What will we do?” the countess asked.
“Find another way to defeat them,” Zollin said.
The night passed quickly. The morning dawned bright and cold. Zollin stood looking out the window, shivering in the cold wind, his eyes watering and his body aching. He wanted a soft bed and warm fire. He wanted to take Brianna in his arms and kiss her. In that moment what he wanted more than anything was to be back in their cottage in the highlands with all the danger and needs of the world far away. But he wasn’t in the highlands, he was in Ebbson Keep. Brianna was wrapped in her thick, fur-lined cloak near the fire, sleeping with the countess’ daughters. The countess paced nearby, her face pinched with concern and Zollin knew what she must be thinking. It seemed unbelievable that after decades of her husband’s family faithfully serving as the protectors of the realm in Ebbson Keep that her husband would be gone when war finally descended upon them. She was probably blaming her daughter for running away and thinking that her husband would have been unswayed by Quinn’s bullying.
Whenever Zollin thought of Quinn he felt a deep pang of guilt. He hadn’t been there for his father. Quinn had given up everything he had worked for to protect Zollin, and yet when his father needed him the most, when only Zollin’s magical power could help him, he had been absent. He couldn’t understand why he had been given so much power, the ability to do practically anything he could imagine, and yet he seemed to constantly disappoint the people he cared about the most.
“Is there any sign of them?” the countess asked.
“No,” Zollin said with a sigh. “I think it is best if I go east and look for them.”
“You are leaving us?”
“Brianna will stay,” Zollin said. “She can protect you just as well as I can. She can commune with Sorva who is searching for the duke. I’ll return as soon as I can, hopefully with the king’s army.”
“I’m afraid,” she admitted. “Ebbson Keep has never been undefended.”
“It isn’t undefended now. Brianna can rain fire down on any enemy that comes this way.”
“You said the gargoyles aren’t harmed by fire.”
“They aren’t harmed by the fire I can conjure, but Brianna can produce heat that melts stone. Not even the gargoyles can withstand that.”
Zollin nodded encouragement to the countess. She was just a woman after all, one whose husband wasn’t there to make her feel safe. He guessed that she had never imagined a time when she would be left all alone, but Zollin meant what he had said. Brianna was still weak, but she was powerful as well. She might be angry that he was leaving without her, but he didn’t plan to be gone long. If the army had come through four days earlier, Zollin and Ferno should be able to catch up with them quickly. Then he could turn them back and hopefully salvage the peace between Yelsia and Baskla.
He walked over to where Brianna was sleeping. She was totally at peace and he wished he could give her that peace permanently, but then he realized that peace wasn’t what she wanted. She was a fire spirit, and adventure was what she longed for.
He started to wake her, to tell her his plan, but then he changed his mind and decided to let her rest. She might not approve of his plan to go without her, but she was needed at the Keep and he didn’t like the idea of her leaving until Sorva returned. If he didn’t find the King’s Army by nightfall he would turn back. She would be alright without him for one day.
He climbed up onto the roof and found Ferno waiting. The big green dragon had stood watch faithfully all night. Zollin walked up to the dragon’s shoulder and put his hand on the beast’s neck.
“We need to go east and find the king’s army,” Zollin said. “I expect we’ll find more gargoyles as well.”
The dragon growled menacingly.
“You don’t have to go. I wouldn’t blame you for staying here. Brianna is staying.”
Ferno swiveled its fearsome head and looked at the wizard as if to ask if he was crazy. An image flashed into Zollin’s mind of the two of them flying together. He smiled.
“I hoped you would feel that way.”
He levitated up onto Ferno’s back. He’d only snatched a few hours of sleep in the night, but he felt strong, his magic seemed to vibrate in a powerful way inside him. The purple amulet made his recovery time so much faster than before and he was confident that he could handle whatever lay ahead.
“Let’s go!” he shouted.
Ferno jumped off the top of the fortress, diving straight down as the huge leathery wings unfolded and caught the air. Then they arced upward, slowing as their momentum faded and then Ferno was flying. The cold wind streamed past Zollin as he bent low over the dragon’s back.
They had flown for an hour, racing past Fort Jellar, which seemed to be as abandoned as Ebbson Keep. There were farms and homesteads, but no sign of people. Occasionally Ferno flashed an image into Zollin’s head so that the young wizard could see what the dragon was seeing. Like an eagle, Ferno’s eyesight was very keen, able to zoom in on tiny objects that were on the ground while the dragon was high in the sky. They saw bodies occasional
ly, usually of men who had been slain by their homes. Branock’s army was swarming through Baskla and wreaking havoc wherever they went.
Two hours into their flight Ferno caught sight of the army. There were nearly two thousand men, half on horses, half on foot. There were wagons filled with food and weapons, but what was most surprising was the fact that the army seemed to be rushing west, not east. Then, in the dragon’s keen eyesight, Zollin realized why. There were gargoyles, dozens of them, swooping and attacking the troops. As the dragon flew closer Zollin could see that the army was fighting a tactical retreat. The gargoyles were simply toying with the soldiers, picking off a few at a time and avoiding the spears and arrows that occasionally shot up toward them.
“We have to fend them off,” Zollin said. “They’re not prepared to fight the gargoyles.”
Ferno roared. The sound rolled across the hilltops. Baskla was a land of rough terrain, especially to the east of the Black River. On the western side that connected with Yelsia, the landscape was dominated by tall, steep hills. Snow covered the ground except for the road that ran east and west, which was a muddy track like a scar across the winter landscape. The wagons were in a single file line, and most of the mounted troops were spread out around them protecting the supply train. Behind them the foot soldiers were attempting to hold off the gargoyles with spears and shields. The tactic wasn’t ill conceived. Wherever the soldiers were disciplined enough to stay in formation, the gargoyles couldn’t pick them off. But if the soldiers broke ranks, or scattered too much, they opened themselves to the gargoyles who swooped in like birds of prey, snatching up the soldiers and lifting them high in the air before dropping them back down on their companions.
“Remember,” Zollin shouted to Ferno. “Fire doesn’t hurt them, but they can’t see through the smoke. Let’s give those soldiers some relief.”
Ferno raced straight at the gargoyles, who had taken to the sky, their fat bodies hanging from their short, leathery wings as they waited for Ferno’s attack. The dragon banked as he approached the ugly creatures, billowing fire that erupted in a cloud of black smoke. Zollin meanwhile sent thick bolts of magical energy shooting at the creatures. The magic wasn’t strong enough to kill the gargoyles or even knock them from the sky if it hit them in the body or the head, but a shot charred and blackened the gargoyles’ wings and sent them spiraling down to the ground. Most transformed into stone before crashing to the earth, some even tried to angle down toward the soldiers. But the army realized their chance to retreat had come and once Ferno attacked, their tactical retreat became a full blown rout. The soldiers rejected their formations and began running away from the battle.
The gargoyles screeched and roared, but they couldn’t keep pace with Ferno, who was constantly flying back and forth between the evil creatures and the king’s army. The gargoyles tried to fly up and over Ferno, but the dragon was moving too fast. Had there been more of the creatures they might have been able to overwhelm the dragon, but any that came too close were either swatted by the beast’s tail or snatched out of the air by the spinning dragon.
Zollin jumped off Ferno after the first pass, levitating down to the ground where he blasted any gargoyle that came within range. His magical energy could only do so much damage, but a well levitated spear that was sent hurdling through the air was deadly to the gargoyles. Once they died they reverted to stone and fell from the sky. Some even broke apart on the ground, giving Zollin pumpkin sized chunks of stone that he could hurl upward with his magic.
Many of the creatures died, but some remained, falling back but never out of sight. When the threat to the army was over, Ferno dove down and slowed long enough for Zollin to levitate back up onto the dragon’s back. He held on tight as Ferno circled just behind the army.
“We got lucky,” Zollin said. “There weren’t too many of them.”
A mental image of the dozen or so that remained in the air, watching the dragon and the wizard, flashed into Zollin’s mind.
“Calling for reinforcements I suppose,” Zollin said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if more aren’t headed this way. Hopefully we can get back to the Keep. We could defeat them there much easier than in the open field.”
It took the army the rest of the day to flee back to Ebbson Keep. When the fortress came in view Zollin and Ferno raced ahead and landed on top of the huge tower. Brianna was waiting for him.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Gargoyles,” Zollin said, sliding off of Ferno’s back and moving to her side. “The army got caught in the open, but luckily there weren’t too many of the heinous creatures. We held them off while the army escaped.”
“Who’s leading them?”
“I don’t know. One of the generals, I suppose.”
“Won’t they try to arrest you for the king’s murder?” Brianna asked.
“They might try,” Zollin said. “But hopefully they’ll see reason. They need to stay here and man the fort. More of the gargoyles are coming. They’ve been watching us.”
Brianna shook her head, still looking out across the field where the army was streaming toward the fortress. She looked tense, the skin around her mouth and eyes seemed thin and fragile.
“I don’t know how much help I can be,” she said in a low voice. “I haven’t gotten my strength back and Sorva hasn’t returned.”
“I don’t need you to fight, Brianna, I need you to help me,” his voice grew quiet. “I need you to love me.”
“I do love you, Zollin, and I’m sorry I left. I thought we wanted two very different things.”
“All that matters right now is that you are with me.”
He moved closer, putting his hands on her waist, but hesitating to do more. She leaned forward, tears in her eyes.
“You came for me,” she whispered. “I thought all hope was lost, but you came.”
“I’ll always come for you,” he said. “I’ll always fight for you. You’ll never be alone as long as I live.”
She stepped close and Zollin could feel his desire for her rising. She leaned against him and he slid his arms around her shoulders and held for a long time. Finally, as the first of the soldiers were arriving at the fort, he stepped back.
“Stay here with Ferno,” Zollin said. “I’ll make sure the soldiers man the Keep. Then we’re going to Orrock to take back the crown.”
Chapter 19
They saw scouts from Baskla after a few days. Riders, usually in groups of two or three, appeared on the horizon to the east and west. Lorik let the scouts do their job, although he knew he could have raced them down and slaughtered the spies. His own scouts spread out to the east and west to ensure that King Ricard didn’t flank them, or worse try to sneak around Lorik’s army altogether. Lorik assumed that he was the target of the king’s invasion, but he also knew that the possession of the land was just as important to Baskla. King Ricard wanted Lorik dead, but he also want to expand the borders of his kingdom.
Spector waited impatiently, but the outcasts didn’t seem to mind waiting. They had constructed tents and sent foraging parties out for more fuel to keep their fires burning. Lorik was cold, but the weather didn’t bother him. He spent his days on the top of the ridge, watching the road to the north, waiting for his enemy to appear.
Gunthur had proven himself to be a very capable leader of men. Lorik had turned over the responsibilities of the army to the outcast, letting Gunthur assign watch to the men and oversee the foraging parties. He also ensured that their supplies were rationed, so that the food they had collected from Yorick Shire didn’t run out before the army from Baskla arrived.
After almost a week of waiting on the hilltop, scouts returned with the news that King Ricard’s army was only a day’s walk to the north. The scouts had taken their time, making counts of everything they saw. King Ricard had over a thousand foot soldiers, and nearly half that number of mounted warriors in full armor. There were also archers and a significant number of wagons following behind the army, but what
was most troublesome were six trebuchets, pulled by oxen on rolling carts. The siege engines were tall, and able to hurl boulders hundreds of yards across a battlefield. A single successful shot from just one of the trebuchets would likely kill dozens of outcasts and wound many more. With only one hundred and fifty warriors, Lorik couldn’t risk sending his troops into battle while the trebuchets functioned.
Lorik spent the night pacing, and planning. He was vastly outnumbered and the small advantage he had on the hill was easily overcome by the trebuchets. He needed to get the siege engines out of commission and he needed a way to distract the archers.
“What is your plan?” Spector hissed. “We could attack them in the darkness, slaughter them where they sleep.”
“No,” Lorik said. “They’ll be expecting that. They’ve heard of you by now.”
“You would rather fight an entire army in the open?”
“I need to rout them,” Lorik said. “I need to send a strong message to anyone who might oppose us. And I need King Ricard’s head.”
“Yes.”
“But we need a distraction. A big one.”
“A dragon-sized distraction?”
“Yes,” Lorik admitted. “I was hoping Bartoom would come.”
“You shouldn’t have destroyed the crown.”
“I won’t force anyone to do my bidding, not if they haven’t raised arms against me or those I love.”
“Sentimentality does you no good,” Spector warned. “You must use all your power to destroy your foes and let nothing stop you.”
Lorik knew the wraith was right about one thing. He needed to use all his powers. The dark magic had given him very useful abilities when it came to battle, but perhaps there was more to the magic than just chaos and destruction. He closed his eyes and focused his attention on the dark magic inside him. It seemed alive with power and began to churn inside him like a small tempest as he probed the magic. Then he mentally called for Bartoom, using the dragon’s name, connecting to the magic and letting it flow through his mental distress call.
Chaos Raging (The Five Kingdoms Book 11) Page 15
