Crying Havoc
( Five Kingdoms - 4 )
Toby Neighbors
Toby Neighbors
Crying Havoc
Cry ‘havoc!’ kings; back to the stained field,
You equal-potents, fiery-kindled spirits!
Then let confusion of one part confirm
The other’s peace; till then, blows, blood, and death!
— The Life and Death of King John, Act II, Scene I, William Shakespeare
Prologue
Brianna shook Zollin, but he didn’t stir. He was breathing, but just barely. She looked up at the dragon, which was roaring in pain on the mountaintop. It was using its tail to try to pull her arrow from its chest. The thought that she had wounded the beast gave her a sense of satisfaction she had never known before. She only wished she still had her bow and could finish the job, but at that moment she knew she had to find a way to get Zollin off the mountain or he would die. The air was too thin, and he needed food, wine, and rest.
She had a length of rope that she kept slung over one shoulder. It wasn’t enough to lower Zollin down the mountain, but it would come in handy. She still had her quiver of arrows attached to her belt. And she had a few odds and ends in her pockets. She looked around and realized that they were on a part of the mountain that would be impossible to descend, and going back into the cave was not an option. Their only chance would be to climb over the mountain and hopefully find a way down.
“Zollin,” she said loudly, slapping him in the face. “You have to wake up!”
His eyes fluttered and then closed again. She tried to lift him, but she couldn’t. Tears stung her eyes. She had to save him, but she didn’t know how. Then she heard the sound she had been dreading, the whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of the dragon’s wings.
She looked up and saw the beast taking flight. She knew she had to do something. There was still snow on the sides of the mountain, and she grabbed a handful and dropped it on Zollin’s face. He sputtered, and she rubbed his cheeks with the snow. His skin turned bright red and he opened his eyes.
“What are you doing?” he said in a weak voice.
“We have to get off this mountain, or we’re going to die,” she told him.
“Can’t,” he whispered. “Leave me here.”
“I will not,” she said. “I’m jumping off the ledge, Zollin. I’m going to pull you to the edge, and we’re falling off together. Are you listening to me?” she said, slapping him hard in the face when his eyes started to close. They snapped back open and she told him her plan.
“There was an avalanche,” she said. “The valley is full of snow. All you have to do is slow us down enough that we aren’t killed. Can you do it?”
“No,” he said. “I’m too weak.”
“Then we’ll die together,” she said. She pushed him to the edge of the ledge. Looking down at the drop was terrifying, but she could see the snow far below. Her hope was that the snow would soften their landing.
“Stay with me, Zollin!” she shouted.
She glanced up and saw the dragon wheel toward them. She lifted Zollin’s head and shoulders so she could wrap the rope around him. Then she lay on top of him and wrapped the rope around her back as well. The sounds of the dragon were growing louder. She could hear the deep growl in its voice and the flapping of its wings as the beast swooped down toward them.
“We’re going to die if you don’t help me, Zollin!” she screamed as she tightened the rope.
“I love you,” she whispered. And then she rolled them both off the ledge.
* * *
A power too great for the eyes and minds of mortal men erupted in the far north. It sent a shock wave roaring through the Five Kingdoms. It was like thunder that shakes a house and cows all inside. Offendorl, Master of the Torr, was knocked off his feet. His brittle bones, centuries old, snapped as he fell, but even though the pain was agony, his mind was consumed by the shock of power.
Zollin, the wizard in the north, the bright flame of power that Offendorl had felt blossom years ago, was back and brighter than ever before. For months now, the young wizard had been able to hide his power. Now suddenly, it was back, and it had grown, more than even Offendorl had thought possible. It was as if the boy were a roaring fountain of raw power. It took a huge effort for Offendorl to pull his mind away from the radiance that he felt from the boy. They were separated by hundreds of miles, and yet the ancient wizard felt like he was standing in the sunlight after a long, cold winter.
He was in the tower of the Torr, a massive, round structure that stood like a silent sentinel over the Grand City of Osla. Armies were massing along the coast, marching toward Brimington Bay, from which they would sail north under Offendorl’s command. The Master of the Torr was over three centuries old. His mind was sharp and his magic strong, but his body was like an antique, still functional, but brittle. The floor of his chamber was polished stone, worn smooth by the master’s constant pacing, and his body had broken against it. He closed his eyes and focused on healing himself. It was difficult with the distraction of Zollin’s power. It was like trying to sleep in bright sunlight that floods through closed eyelids. The shine of power seemed to invade his mind and draw his attention away from the matters at hand.
The pain didn’t help. He was used to pain: it was always with him, and although his magic allowed his mind to bypass the pain, his body was in shock. It took a long time to heal the many fractures and bruises. Only then did he rise up off the floor. He moved slowly, careful not to hurry; he didn’t want to have another accident. He sank into a thickly padded chair and rested his hands on the smooth finish of the massive desktop in front of him. Without moving he levitated a crystal decanter that was filled with a mixture of spirits, many of which were decades old. The decanter rose up and floated across the space between the bar and the desk. It was followed by a goblet with jewels and gold decorating the outside. The drink seemed to pour itself.
Offendorl drank and then settled further into his chair. He loathed the thought of the journey before him. He didn’t like to leave the Torr. It was too inconvenient. He had spent centuries gathering everything he might need around him, but now he needed the boy in the north-the young wizard named Zollin. Offendorl had sent three of his most capable wizards to bring the boy into their fold, but Zollin had defeated all of them. Then he had sent the twins, but with so many wizards spread far across the Five Kingdoms, his strength had waned, and he had lost control of the witch. It was just one more problem he would have to deal with, but first he needed Zollin to shift the balance of power back to him alone.
So now Offendorl would go with the armies of Osla and Felxis, sailing up the coast to attack Yelsia from the west, while the armies of Ortis and Baskla invaded Yelsia from the east. The two-prong attack would crush the Yelsian army and force Zollin to join the Torr. The young wizard had defied Offendorl, an act no one had even attempted before. Even Offendorl’s master had died without a fight when Offendorl had usurped his mentor’s place as head of the Torr. Zollin was like a dream, alluring but untouchable and totally out of his control, but that would change, the ancient wizard thought.
He smiled, a rare sight, for the Master of the Torr rarely felt amused or excited. Most things in life held no more pleasure for the wizard, but power still made him giddy, and once he controlled Zollin his own powers would increase exponentially. Offendorl strengthened his resolve to capture the boy and add Zollin’s bright, billowing power to his own.
Chapter 1
It felt like a dream. He was falling and he couldn’t stop it. Icy wind was whipping around him, and his arms wrapped around Brianna instinctively. He opened his eyes and saw the blur of gray granite, white snow, and blue ice as they hurtled toward the canyon
floor. He knew the only way they would survive was if he used his magic, but he was afraid. Saving himself from the dragon had taken all his magical strength, and it felt as if his power was merely a white-hot spark deep inside him. His skin and face were stinging with cold, but inside he was roasting, as if the tiny spark were radiating such intense heat he could hardly stand it. He was afraid that tapping into his magic would kill him, but then he realized that if he didn’t do something he would die anyway, and Brianna with him.
Brianna was in his arms, and if he had to choose how to die, this would be the way. They were tied together with rope that Brianna had carried since they had left Brighton’s Gate. They hadn’t needed it to scale the steep mountains because Zollin had levitated them with his magic, but after the dragon had almost crushed Zollin in its cave, Brianna had used the rope to tie them together, and then she had pushed them off the ledge. Brianna had been so brave, Zollin thought. She had saved him, if only for a moment longer. He knew that no matter what it cost or how badly he was hurt, he had to save Brianna. His love for her fed the flame of his power, and although it was like reaching his bare hands into a blacksmith’s forge, he took hold of his magic and slowed their descent.
He had wanted them to land softly on the ice and snow below, but there wasn’t enough time. He managed to slow their descent only marginally and rotated himself so that he landed on the bottom. The impact with the snow, which had filled the canyon after an avalanche caused by the battle Zollin had fought with the dragon in the beast’s lair deep inside the mountain, was much softer than the boulder-strewn canyon floor, but to Zollin it felt as if he had slammed into solid bedrock. He felt a terrible, rending snap, and then everything went black.
* * *
Brianna remembered rolling off the ledge with Zollin in her arms. After that she had shut her eyes and held her breath. The fall took less than three seconds, but it felt much longer. She had felt Zollin holding her tight, then suddenly they hit the snow and the jarring impact was terrible. Brianna felt as if she had been kicked by a giant horse, but she was alive.
She raised her head and opened her eyes. They were surrounded by snow. The force of their fall had plunged them deep into the snow, ice, and debris from the avalanche. The light was dim, but she could make out Zollin’s face. He looked peaceful, like he was sleeping. Brianna pushed her aching body off Zollin, causing snow to fall on top of them. She took a deep breath and looked at Zollin again. Something was wrong with him somehow. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she knew she needed to get him up and out of the snow.
“Zollin,” she said out loud, her voice sounding strange in their snowy hole. “Zollin, wake up.”
She patted his face, but there was no response. She leaned close, placing her ear next to his nose and listened. He wasn’t breathing. Terror of a magnitude Brianna had never experienced struck like lightning. Zollin wasn’t breathing. He was dead or dying and she didn’t know what to do.
“No, Zollin!” she screamed. “Don’t you die! Don’t you leave me! Zollin?”
She slapped him hard in the face. She knew that if he died she would die, but fear of her own mortality wasn’t what scared her the most. She loved him, and more than anything in the world, she wanted to spend her life with Zollin. She had no more doubts, no second thoughts or contingency plans. He was her life, and without him she was lost.
“Wake up!” she screamed again, this time slamming her fist down on his chest like a hammer blow. “You wake up and talk to me Zollin! You aren’t allowed to die!”
She hit him again and then again. For some reason it felt good to hammer away at Zollin, to fully embrace the fear and terror she was feeling and act it out, even if it meant hurting him. She hit him again and screamed at the top of her lungs. This time there was an answering cry, but not from Zollin. The dragon roared in reply, its terrible scream echoing off the mountains and sending more snow toppling down on Zollin and Brianna.
She grabbed snow and rubbed it over Zollin’s face until his skin was bright red, then she leaned forward, her hands on his stomach, and kissed him. Then she lifted herself back up, hoping for some subtle sign of life. She hit him again, and tears rolled down her checks.
“No, Zollin!” she cried. “Don’t leave me! I love you, Zollin. Please, don’t leave me.”
She leaned forward again, and this time she saw his lips move. It was a tiny movement, but she saw it. More importantly, she felt his breath as it gushed out from between his lips. She sat up again, and then she understood. She had pushed the air out of his lungs when she lay down on him.
“Breathe, Zollin!” she ordered him sternly. “Breathe!”
She leaned forward again, this time blowing air into his face. She sat up and watched his chest. It wasn’t inflating the way it should if he were breathing, she realized. She needed to get air into his lungs. She leaned forward again, this time pulling his chin down to open his mouth and placing her lips over his and blowing air into his mouth. She felt the air rush in and then come back out of his nose. She pinched his nose and tried again. This time she could feel his chest inflate with air. She let go and sat up again, pressing on his stomach as she did. Again the air whooshed out of his mouth. She leaned forward and repeated the process. Over and over she breathed for Zollin, telling him not to give up and letting hot tears drip onto his face.
* * *
Zollin saw light. It was bright and warm, and he felt himself moving toward it. He wasn’t walking; he felt weightless and still, but he could sense that he was moving, that he was in control of the movement. The light felt good. It was more than simple warmth, it was as if the light were love. He felt loved and accepted and welcomed. He wanted to go to the light and stay there forever. He could feel every inch of his body and every part of him felt good. It was an ecstasy like nothing he had ever felt or even imagined that he could feel. He was so happy that he felt like laughing for joy.
Then he heard a voice. It wasn’t coming from the light, but from somewhere else, a dark place that was cold and hard and frightening.
Don’t leave me, the voice said. Don’t you dare leave me.
Zollin was conflicted. He wanted to drift away, into the light, but for some reason the voice made him hesitate. He knew he didn’t want to move back into the dark, but there was a note of desperation in the voice that made him pause. He couldn’t remember what had happened or how he had gotten to the this place, where the light was calling to him. He didn’t associate the voice with anyone or anything. He knew that he had lived a different life, but it was so dim and distant from the light that he didn’t want to remember it.
Wake up! the voice said. But Zollin didn’t think he was dreaming. In fact he had never felt so alive before in his life. He decided to ignore the voice and go into the light, but then pain racked his body. It was a sharp pain that started in his chest and drove out the ecstasy. Over and over the pain shot through him.
I love you, Zollin, he heard, even though his ears were ringing so loudly now that it was hard to make out the words. Please don’t leave me.
Then he remembered Brianna. She was calling to him from the dark place of pain. She was desperate for him. He could see her in his mind, jet black hair surrounding her beautiful face. Her high, proud check bones and fierce, intelligent eyes were as tangible in his mind as the light. He didn’t notice that he was moving away from the light now. He was simply thinking of Brianna, remembering her long, shapely fingers, the graceful way she moved, the beautiful sound of her laugh.
Then the pain came again, and this time it was hot like fire. His magic seemed to be cooking him from the inside out. He knew he had to embrace the pain to see Brianna again. He had to give himself to the pain and let it take him wherever it wanted. He was afraid and not sure what to do, but then he heard the voice again.
Breathe, she told him.
Yes, he realized. He needed to breathe. He focused on breathing, on pulling the air into his lungs and blowing it back out. It was difficult. In fact i
t was the hardest thing he had ever tried to do. His body ached with the effort, but he didn’t give up, and the more he breathed the easier it became. Then, there was a snap. It felt almost like popping his fingers, but with the snap came a deeper awareness. He could remember everything. The dragon, the mountains, falling with Brianna in his arms and the dreadful crash at the bottom of the canyon. His arms, neck, and shoulders were stiff, and his head ached dreadfully. He could hear Brianna crying, but opening his eyes was difficult.
“Oh, Zollin,” she said, bowing down so that he couldn’t see her anymore.
Her cries were muffled, and Zollin felt confused. He could see the gray walls of snow above him and a bright patch of blue sky high above. But he couldn’t see Brianna. He tried lifting his head, but the pain was too intense. It shot sharp stabs down his neck and into his arms and chest.
“Brianna,” he said weakly.
“Zollin,” she said, and he felt his body shift. It was like being nudged by an invisible hand.
“I can’t see you,” he said.
She raised herself up and looked at him with a worried expression.
“You can’t see?”
“No, I can see you now. I just couldn’t see you when you were bent over.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping at something. “I’ve gotten your shirt all wet.”
“No, it’s okay. I can’t even feel it,” he said.
“You can’t feel that?” she said.
“No,” he said.
“What about this?”
“I don’t feel anything,” he said.
Brianna looked at him and there was something in her face that Zollin knew he should recognize, but he didn’t know what it was. Why did she look so afraid? They were alive, they were together, what could possibly be wrong?
“Zollin,” she said in a trembling voice. “You can’t feel your legs?”
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