With a thought he summoned his power and cast a levitating spell that lifted him high into the air and over the castle walls. He could hear the people gathered at the gate shouting and pointing at him. Flying over a locked battlement was always a risky endeavor, so he kept his magical shields up around himself and stayed alert for danger. He was surprised to find the courtyard completely empty. There were no soldiers on duty at the gate or manning the big doors of the castle itself. And no servants hurried through the courtyard as they carried out their daily work.
Zollin went to the large wooden doors that were banded in thick iron. He let his magic flow through the doors and after sensing that no one was waiting on the other side, levitated the heavy wooden beam used to the lock the door at night. He propped the beam against the wall and stepped into the large entryway feeling a little giddy by the strength of his magical prowess. Over the past year using magic always taxed him in some way, even if it was just mentally. Yet he had worked several spells and felt not even the slightest drain on his magical reservoir or his physical strength.
His first impulse was to hurry upstairs to discover what was going on, but instead he went downstairs, to the kitchens and workrooms used by the servants. Zollin knew that Branock was entrenched upstairs and would likely have everyone in that part of the castle on his side. But Branock was an arrogant man who saw the servants as little more than chattel to be used when he needed them and ignored otherwise. The first servant Zollin saw was a plump woman leaning against a wall. Her face was puffy and her eyes red from crying.
“What is going on here?” Zollin asked, trying to sound concerned rather than demanding.
“The king,” she said, wiping her nose with a corner of her apron. “He’s dead.”
“What? How?”
“They say he died peacefully in his sleep,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “He was a kind man. He made sure we had everything we needed here. It’s been a good year since he took the throne.”
“Are they certain he died of natural causes?” Zollin asked.
“The healers are there now, but he’s been ill for a while now. He was always cold and losing weight. But I didn’t expect this, not so suddenly.”
“I’m sorry,” Zollin said, his magic roaring like a furnace as he thought of Branock’s scheming. “I’ll find out what has happened. I promise you that.”
He turned and hurried back up the way he’d come. There was no doubt in Zollin’s mind that Branock was behind the king’s death, but he wasn’t sure how. Worse yet, Zollin had no idea how he would prove it. King Hausey had no children, which meant there would almost certainly be a power play for the throne. But Zollin had no doubt who would win that fight. Branock had been waiting for this moment. The wily old wizard would have all the support he needed to make his claim for the throne and then Yelsia would be led into chaos of a magnitude that Zollin couldn’t imagine.
Zollin hurried up the stairs, eventually forced to use his magic to gently nudge people out of the way. The wide corridor that led to the king’s chambers was crowded with people and a large group of soldiers blocked the hallway halfway to the room where Zollin had met with King Hausey the night before. Most looked shocked and some frightened. King Hausey had not only been a good man, but a lifelong soldier. The men in the King’s Army related to him more than most kings, and Zollin wasn’t surprised to see them in the corridor.
“Let me pass,” Zollin said. “I may be able to help.”
“Who are you?” the nearest soldier asked.
“I’m Zollin.”
“The wizard?”
“That’s right.”
“Here he is!” the soldier shouted. “It’s the wizard!”
The soldiers turned on Zollin in a massive wave. He was shocked to find them lowering their weapons and he was forced to retreat back into the stairwell. The people who had been gathered there, waiting for news of the king’s death, fell back with shouts and screams, but Zollin turned upward. He moved carefully staying out of reach of the soldiers’ weapons as he retreated, but trying to learn why they were attacking at the same time.
“What are you doing?” he shouted. “I only want to help.”
“You’ve helped plenty!” one of the soldiers shouted back.
“We know what you’ve been up to,” said another as they moved carefully up the stairs toward him.
“Please, I don’t want to hurt anyone. I only want to find out what happened to King Hausey.”
“You know well enough. You killed him!” shouted the nearest soldier.
“What?”
“He’s been ill ever since you came here,” said another of the king’s royal guard. “That’s no coincidence.”
“And now you come back and he’s dead!” said another soldier angrily.
“I had nothing to do with this,” Zollin said.
“You think we’re going to trust you,” snarled the first soldier. “You dragon-loving demon worshiper.”
“You’ve got this all wrong,” Zollin said. “I knew King Hausey. I crowned him, don’t you remember?”
“We remember that you thought you were above us,” said a soldier. “And now you’re going to pay for your crimes.”
One of the guards whistled and suddenly the entire group broke into a run, forcing Zollin to turn and flee up the stairs. He knew he could stop them with his magic, in fact it was swirling inside him like a raging desert wind, straining against his resolve not to hurt the soldiers if he could help it. He sprinted up the stairs and out onto the main section of the castle’s roof. It was a long rectangle with crenelated battlements on one side that looked out over the castle courtyard. The other side was filled with the massive stone foundations of the tall watchtowers.
On the far end of the roof were two men. Zollin couldn’t help but run toward them, chased by the guards. But Zollin quickly slid to a stop when he recognized them. One was Branock; the haughty wizard was wearing a long black cloak to ward off the cold wind. The other was Zollin’s father.
Chapter 20
The Crest Dancer and Eagle’s Cry had nearly a full day’s head start on Roleena and the massive squid monster the merpeople had called the Graygon. Still, they were able to catch up to the two ships in less than an hour. The Graygon swam under both ships and then waited just ahead of the Crest Dancer.
Roleena came to the surface where she could watch the massive creature. She had directed it to only snatch a few of the sailors from the deck and sling them out into the ocean. She didn’t want the ship damaged and she couldn’t sail the ship on her own. The Graygon was eager to help, but not naturally violent, so her orders were well received.
The Crest Dancer came charging forward and the giant squid rose up before it, waving its tentacles menacingly. Roleena could hear the cries of terror and felt a thrill. She couldn’t wait to see the faces of the sailors when the Graygon lifted her from the water.
The ship couldn’t stop and sailed right into the squid, who wrapped its tentacles around the wooden hull, pulling several terrified sailors from the deck and rigging. It flung the men away, sending them splashing into the ocean on either side of the ship. Then Roleena dove down and raced toward the squid who caught her with a long, thin limb. The tentacle wrapped around Roleena’s waist and lifted her high. She felt the water streaming away from her hair and clothes as she was raised up over the deck of the ship.
There were even more cries of panic, but this time Roleena could see the terror on the faces of her men. They recognized her and she couldn’t help but smile wickedly. Slice and his motley band of officers were on the command deck, but the Graygon lowered Roleena onto the bow. She walked forward, her own newly grown leg curling at the end into a makeshift foot.
The squid’s tentacles were flailing on either side of the ship. The Graygon’s roar was a watery rumble that sounded like distant thunder, but made the wooden ship shiver as if it were aware of the danger and terrified. The sailors were begging for mercy, but Roleena ignore
d them as she made her way toward the command deck. She had no weapons, but she didn’t need any. When one of the sailors ran toward her a tentacle from the Graygon snatched him off the deck and tossed him into the sea. After that no one tried to stop Roleena and when she climbed the stairs up to the command deck Slice looked wide-eyed with terror.
“You should not have betrayed me,” Roleena said.
“You’re an evil, sorcerous bitch!” Slice screamed.
The Graygon moved to the stern and brought its tentacles up over the rear of the ship. It was in full sight of the sailors from both ships. Roleena could see the men on the Eagle’s Cry. Those that weren’t scrambling to adjust their sails were standing along the railing watching as the giant squid attacked the Crest Dancer.
“On your knees!” Roleena ordered.
“You’re not captain here any longer,” Slice said, trying to regain control of his men. Several had already dropped to their knees and were begging for their lives.
Roleena couldn’t talk to the Graygon in the traditional sense. The huge sea creature’s mind wasn’t suited for communication. It was a creature driven by instinct and suggestion. Roleena had only to imagine the gray tentacles snatching Slice up and they did. One wrapped around the mutineer’s throat and one captured both legs. Two more tentacles grasped his arms and pulled them out away from his body, lifting him off the deck and holding his body several feet above the others.
What happened next was completely unexpected. Urine erupted from Slice’s groin, darkening his wool pants and splattering down on his accomplices who shouted in anger and disgust.
“See your pathetic, mutinous captain now!” Roleena shouted to the crew who were riveted by the events taking place on the command deck. “He claims that a woman is not fit to lead men, but expects that you will follow a sniveling coward who pisses himself.”
“What are going to do? Kill us all?” Bynes asked. He was one of the few that hadn’t yet dropped to their knees.
“Only those who disobey me,” Roleena said in an icy tone. “Now get on your knees.”
The big man glared hatefully at Roleena, but he lowered himself to the deck, as did the entire crew.
“I am Roleena, your captain. These are my ships. You are my crew. Any man who defies me will be taken by the Graygon.”
She waved her hand at Slice, whose eyes bulged as his arms were ripped from his body. Blood fountained through the air before the body was devoured by the giant squid.
“Mutiny is a crime that cannot be tolerated,” Roleena shouted to her crew. “Any man who does not swear lifelong loyalty to me will be removed from this ship.” She turned back to Bynes. “I want them all on the main deck, ready to swear their oaths when I return.”
“Where are you going?” he asked from his knees.
“To bring back my other ship.”
She jumped to the railing, the same railing she had toppled off of early that morning. Then she dove into the dark blue waters below. The Graygon was waiting and it took her to the Eagle’s Cry, lifting her high before setting her on the main deck. The men she’d put in charge of the Eagle’s Cry had been attempting to turn the ship around, but the terror of seeing the giant squid attacking the Crest Dancer had made them all so shaky they were making a mess of the maneuver.
“You all laughed as I was tossed overboard this morning,” Roleena said in a loud voice. “Why aren’t you laughing now?”
The men looked down nervously, none willing to meet her eye.
“This is my ship and you are my crew. Everyone here will swear lifelong loyalty to me or you will be cast overboard. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Captain!” several of the men shouted.
“Now swing this ship around and pick up those that were cast overboard from the Crest Dancer. I’ll be back for them soon enough.”
She heard orders shouted for the crew to lower the sails and launch the ship’s boats to pick up the men in the water. She didn’t wait to see that those orders were carried out. She dove back into the water, reveling in her triumph and the freedom she felt in the sea. Sharks were starting to make their way toward the sailors in the water but Roleena sent the Graygon to scare them away. She circled the bottoms of both her ships, noting any damage and the buildup of barnacles along each hull. She would have the hulls scraped and the ships lightened. The only treasure they needed was the collection of magical books and Roleena wanted them delivered as quickly as possible. She had a wizard to kill and nothing else was important.
Chapter 21
Spector hovered in the sky. From the ground he looked like nothing more than a tiny, grey cloud. The sun burned through his ethereal body like fire, and the wraith felt only pain. He could soar up into the sky unconstrained by the natural laws of the world, yet there was no joy in the action. He felt nothing from his flight, not the speed of movement, not the wind whipping past him, not even the thrill of leaving the ground and flying among the clouds.
Below him a small army marched. Three hundred soldiers walked in an orderly formation. They were dressed all in sand-colored uniforms that were loose fitting and billowy around their arms and legs, but cinched at the wrists, ankles, and waist. They carried swords of various sizes, and round shields which were slung across their backs. Their heads were covered with wide-brimmed hats.
In front of the soldiers rode six men on horses, dressed in lightweight armor, either leather or light mail. At the rear of the column, far enough from the soldiers that the dust kicked up by six hundred boots didn’t taint the air around it, was a large wagon with a wooden canopy and sheer curtains all around. It wasn’t hard to guess that the woman who claimed to be the Queen of the South was in the wagon. Behind her came a dozen more wagons carrying the supplies for the army. They moved slowly, but were steadily making progress north.
Spector had been surprised to find his prey so quickly and easily, but it only made sense that if rumors of the queen had reached Lorik, that rumors about him would have reached the queen as well. Spector waited patiently for nightfall. He could move about unseen in the darkness, and he guessed that once the army made camp he had a much better chance of learning the queen’s secrets than while they traveled along the dusty roads.
There was no sign of the dragon and despite Spector’s discomfort, the wraith was glad to avoid the beast. He had no desire to slay dragons; his need for revenge was directed at humans, specifically those that had played a part, however small, in his wife’s murder. He still felt her dead body in his arms as he held her, an arrow stabbing deep into his body but the pain of his broken heart so terrible that he hardly noticed the mortal wound.
He wanted to kill, to shed blood and revel in the agony of his enemies, but he would have to wait. The darkness inside him, the same mysterious magic that had given him life as his physical body died in the dungeons below the castle in Ort City, called for blood. Unlike Spector, the dark magic didn’t care who died. It wanted chaos and pain—the darkness feasted on suffering and grew strong on the misery of others. Yet Spector was in full control of his actions and Lorik had been clear. He wasn’t there to kill, just to learn and observe.
The marching dragged on for what seemed like an eternity to the vengeful spirit. The harsh sunlight was painful to the dark, ghostly body, and in the barren plains of Osla there was no place to escape the penetrating light. It made Spector feel weak, but when the sun finally began to set his strength returned and the army stopped their long march and slowly set up an organized camp for the night. Sentries were posted around the perimeter and small tents were erected to give the soldiers shelter through the night. Fires were built, and food from the wagons was cooked.
The queen had a large tent, and a slightly raised platform with an ornate throne was set up. The soldiers, once their chores were completed, lined up before their queen. As the sky grew dark Spector drifted closer to the camp, where he could hear what was happening. Queen Havina came from her tent and was instantly recognizable. Spector was surprised to see
that she wore a gold circlet crown that slipped into her long braided hair at the back of her head. She wore a silky gown that clung to her body, which was tall and thin. Her face was angular, which hinted at the iron will behind her fierce eyes.
She walked down the line of assembled soldiers. When she found one she was interested in she waved a hand at him and the man fell out of line and followed her. By the time she reached the end of the assembled soldiers she had selected eight men. Spector was curious about the exercise, unsure if she was selecting lovers, or personal guardians to stand watch around her massive tent. Instead she paired the men up, and gave some of them weapons from a large chest which her servants carried to her. Then she climbed onto her platform and settled onto her throne. As night fell the camp carried on like any other, with the exception of the eight men she had selected.
Spector drifted down, the wraith’s body completely invisible in the shadows, and began to watch the queen from just behind her throne. She sat rigid, despite the cushions of her chair, and only nibbled at the food which was prepared for her. Tall torches were thrust into the ground forming a semi-circle with the queen’s platform on one side. The soldiers collected plates of food and sat on the ground to watch the queen’s spectacle. One by one the eight men she had selected entered the ring. They bowed before the Queen, then took places on the far side of what Spector guessed was a makeshift arena. Then the first two men who had been paired squared off. They had no weapons, and they seemed tentative at first, each waiting to get a measure of the other. A few punches were thrown, but none came close to landing. The soldiers around the semi-circle of torches shouted and jeered at the fighters. Finally, one of the men dove forward, tackling his opponent. He quickly took the superior position, trying to rise up and hammer down fists and elbows, but the man on bottom held on tight to the other man’s head, pulling him close and robbing his opponent of the leverage he needed to put power into his attack. They struggled for several minutes, each trying to land a decisive blow or catch the other in a compromising position.
Chaos Reigning: The Five Kingdoms Book 10 Page 15
