He was now in a carriage that was taking him to the Grand City. It was not as comfortable as his wagon had been, but he’d lost the wagon in Yelsia when the invasion failed. Now, he was forced to use a rented carriage. It had a long padded bench and a cover to keep the infernal sun from beating down on him, but there was no stopping the dust, which was everywhere. It stuck to his skin, which was dampened by the heat. It clung to his nostrils and lips so that everything seemed too small and taste like dirt. Offendorl was not so weak that he couldn’t endure the journey, but he disliked the notion of arriving at the Torr exhausted. He despised weakness, and the thought of revealing his own to the servants and other magic-users in the tower was repugnant to him.
They had traveled from sunup until dark, then stopped at one of the many roadside inns that lined the wide road from Brimington Bay to the Grand City. Offendorl had known something was wrong by the lack of soldiers along the road. King Belphan had always kept troops on the road to deter bandits, but now they were strangely absent. He was sure the news of Belphan’s death hadn’t reached the Grand City before him, but he couldn’t imagine what would cause the troops to be pulled from their duty on the road.
“I want wine,” Offendorl told the innkeeper. “And not that watered down piss you give everyone else. I want the best you have. And food, a double portion.”
“Yes, of course,” the man said.
“Bring it up to me yourself. I want the latest news.”
“Certainly,” the innkeeper said, his hand still holding the gold coin Offendorl had given him. “My wife will show you to your rooms.”
Offendorl followed the portly woman up the stairs to a stuffy suit of rooms. There was a sitting area and a large desk in the first room, and a large bed in the second. The windows were thrown open by the innkeeper’s wife.
“It’s a bit stuffy,” she said, “but it will cool down shortly. I can have one of the maids bring up some cool water to wash with,” she said with a wink and a knowing smile.
“No,” Offendorl said. “The room shall suffice, now be gone, woman.”
The innkeeper’s wife was shocked by Offendorl’s tone, but she left and Offendorl settled into a chair by the window. He would have enjoyed a bath under normal circumstances. In the tower he bathed regularly, but all he wanted at the moment was food, sleep, and to get on the road again. He despised traveling and didn’t trust anyone, especially not young wenches who would almost certainly do anything for money, including slicing his throat when they were supposed to be washing him. He pushed the thoughts away and waited for the innkeeper to return.
The man was thin, with a thick mustache that seemed too large for his face. He entered the rooms carrying a large tray. There were two racks of grilled short ribs, a large bowl of fruit, and cheese. Freshly baked loaves sat cooling on the tray and there was a bottle of wine and two goblets. Offendorl knew at a glance that the innkeeper hoped to share the expensive wine with his guest, but the elder wizard had no such desires.
“Here we are, a feast fit for a king,” the innkeeper said as he set about opening the bottle of wine.
“Tell me why there aren’t any soldiers guarding the road,” Offendorl said, tearing a rib from the rack and then biting into the tender meat.
“The queen’s recalled all soldiers,” the innkeeper said as he settled into a chair nearby. “Do you mind if I—”
Offendorl cut him off. “The queen? Why is she giving orders to the King’s Army?”
“She’s taken over,” the innkeeper said. “There were a lot of people fleeing the city, but it’s all settled down now.”
“Why would anyone flee the Grand City?” Offendorl said.
“The queen is said to hate all women, if you believe the rumors. I don’t, of course, but some do. She marched in with a big army though. They’re all camped out there north of the city, and all the regular troops were recalled. I guess she’s expecting King Belphan to go to war with her when he returns.”
“Go to war with his own wife?” Offendorl said incredulously. He was starting to think the innkeeper was making up the outlandish tale.
“No, not King Belphan’s wife—the Queen of the Sea, from Lodenhime,” the innkeeper said. “They say no man can resist her. She’s even moved into the tower of the Torr, if the rumors are true.”
A wave of invisible magic hit the innkeeper so hard it knocked his chair over backwards. Offendorl cursed and the entire inn shuttered as his magic erupted. The innkeeper looked up from the fallen chair, terrified, only to find Offendorl’s eyes glowing.
“The Queen?” he bellowed. “She is no queen.” He was snarling now. “She is a sorcerer, a witch. And she dares to invade my tower? Never!”
Offendorl’s anger was channeled into his magic, fixing on the closest target he could find, and the innkeeper’s spine started to arch against his control. The pressure was intense and soon the man was screaming.
“I will make her pay,” he said. His voice was enhanced by his magic and could be heard throughout the inn.
The people who had gone running up to see what was happening suddenly stopped in their tracks. They waited down the hall, too frightened to move.
“I will make them all pay,” he was shouting now.
“Please!” the innkeeper screamed. “Stop, please. You’re killing me.”
“I will kill everyone who bows a knee to that witch,” Offendorl shouted.
There was a loud crack and the innkeeper died instantly, his back broken. His bowels released, soiling the rug the poor man had been writhing on. Offendorl slumped back into his chair, his anger spent and a wave of weakness washing over him. Then fear breathed a whisper into his ear. Was he strong enough? He was sure he could best Gwendolyn, but by now she would be linked to the other magic-users. There were other warlocks in the Torr, and Gwendolyn could tap into the power of almost any magic-user. Offendorl alone knew how to control and resist her, but he wasn’t sure if he could in his weakened state. Plus, she had an entire army.
Fear began to gnaw at his resolve. He realized that word would soon reach Gwendolyn that he was here, less than a day’s ride from the Torr. He was alone, weakened by his ordeal in Yelsia and the subsequent trek across the sea. If he was to defeat Gwendolyn and regain his home, he would need help and a safe place to wait until the moment was right. He didn’t want to spring into action at the wrong time.
He ate his meal, ignoring the dead innkeeper, whose body was growing fouler by the minute. Once he’d eaten his fill, he cast a spell of darkness around himself and became like a living shadow. He moved slowly out into the hallway outside of the rooms he’d rented. There was no light in the hallway, and he was certain no one could see him. He slipped into a room at the far end of the hallway and secured the door. Then he slept, his plan for the days ahead simmering in his mind and slowly taking shape.
Chapter 13
Brianna continued her journey, traveling only at night even though she had to fight her impulse to rush to Zollin. Quinn had said he expected his son to travel by sea from the southern coast of Yelsia all the way down to Osla. Brianna’s only experience traveling by sea was with the Torr wizard Branock, who had kidnapped her and sailed from the Great Valley to Orrock. It had not been a pleasurable trip and gave Brianna no real indication of just how far ahead of her Zollin really was.
Still, there was no sense in looking for Zollin at sea. Even if they found him, they couldn’t land to make contact as long as he was on board a ship. She decided instead to fly down the long Western coast. It would be easy to miss Zollin, she knew that, but if he was going south she wanted to be nearby. She would keep looking until she found him.
Her pride was growing stronger. They took turns hunting. The twin dragons Tig and Torc often scouted ahead, finding good places to hunt and isolated areas where they could take shelter and rest during the day. The dragons liked to lie out in the sunshine whenever possible, their scales growing darker and harder from the sunlight.
They made
good time, flying over the Rejee desert and then turning west to find the coast. They reached the Walheta Mountains in just three days. The dragons preferred the high mountain peaks of the Northern Highlands, but they all felt safer in the mountains than on the rolling hills of Yelsia. The Walheta Mountains were covered in thick evergreen forests and rugged bluffs, and jagged peaks were softened by thick carpets of bright green moss. From there they could see the coast, which was much more densely populated than the open countryside they had been passing through, which was mainly farmland and large tracks of forest.
“We should rest here,” Brianna said. “I feel like there is something here, something familiar.”
The image of the cave where she had created the dragons flashed into her mind.
“No, Selix, not just a lair. I think there is someone here,” she said, trying to place the sense of familiarity. “I know it will come to me. Go and hunt. You will be safe among the mountains.”
Brianna knew that the Walheta were too rugged to be populated. Even as the sun began to rise, she didn’t worry about her pride the way she would have before. If they were spotted, so be it. They didn’t need to hide in forest groves or abandoned farms. No one could reach them among the high peaks of the mountains—certainly not enough people to threaten her pride. She sat alone on a high bluff, looking out to the sea. The ocean was beautiful in the dawn light, reflecting the pink and orange hues of the morning sky.
Brianna was tired, as was Selix, who had carried her most of the night and was now staying with her while the rest of the pride hunted. She sat, gazing far out to sea, letting her thoughts wander in hopes that the nagging sense of familiarity would rise to the surface. She thought of Zollin. He was never far from her mind. She wondered what he was doing? Did he miss her? Had he moved on? The questions had frightened Brianna ever since Quinn had told her that Zollin believed she had died. She honestly didn’t know why Zollin would think that. If Bartoom had wanted her dead it could have killed her in the mountains. Instead, the ancient black dragon had taken her to a new lair, where it could find out more about her. She had healed the dragon’s wounds and done her best to convince the dragon to stay with her, but in the end Bartoom was pulled away by someone else, someone whose voice was too alluring for the dragon to resist. Brianna guessed it was the wizard from the Torr, the same wizard Zollin had fought. She wondered how many magic-users would come for him before they could find peace.
Suddenly, she realized what was familiar. It was the sense that Bartoom was near. She had felt the same way in the mountains as the wounded black dragon had approached. She rose quickly to her feet. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she knew that sooner or later Bartoom would appear.
“Don’t be afraid,” she told Selix. “Another of our kind is coming. An old dragon. But he will not harm us.”
The image of Brianna and Selix flying away from the mountains appeared in Brianna’s mind, but she shook her head.
“No, we can’t flee,” Brianna said. “It is better if we stay. I need to know what has happened to Bartoom.”
Brianna pictured the dragon in her mind and willed it to connect to Selix. Fire erupted from the dragon’s partially opened mouth. Brianna moved back, not because she feared the fire, but because she did not want her clothes to be singed or burned. She had other clothes for warmer weather in her pack, but it was chilly high up on the mountaintop.
“We will wait,” she said patiently. “We must learn from our brother. He will not harm us.”
Brianna suddenly felt uncertain, and she put her hand on the side of Selix’s large head.
“Do not fear,” she said. “Bartoom is enslaved, but still one of us. We must help and learn, so that we can find and help Zollin.”
Brianna settled in beside Selix, the dragon curling its body so that Brianna was surrounded. They watched the sea for nearly an hour before the pride returned. They brought back a small deer. Brianna cut a small section of meat out of the deer’s hind leg, then Selix ate the rest. Brianna roasted the meat in her hands, relishing the heat. Then she ate the venison along with some bread and cheese from her pack, washing it down with water from her canteen while Selix went to drink from a stream the other dragons had found on their hunt.
She was inundated with images and emotions of happiness and wonder. The dragons were beginning to like the Walheta Mountains. There was game aplenty, although most of it was smaller animals rather than the large rams and elk of the Northern Highlands. And the Walheta were warmer than the mountains in the north, more alive with foliage. She knew they could stay there, make the mountains their home if she didn’t have to go in search of Zollin. But she couldn’t rest until she found him. She had no idea what they would do—perhaps make a home together near her pride. Or perhaps the pride would go on without her, she didn’t know. It made her sad to think of the dragons leaving, but she knew they needed a life of their own, like children who have come of age. Soon, she thought, they will move on. Still, she was glad they were with her now.
She ate slowly, still watching the sea. She was just finishing her meal and fighting the urge to sleep (which all her pride but Selix had given in to), when she saw Bartoom. At first the dragon was just a speck far out to sea, even farther than her dragon eyes could see. But as she watched the shape grow, the feeling of familiarity grew as well. She knew it was the great black dragon, returning to the mountains. As it got closer, she sensed that it was injured. It flew slowly, almost favoring one side. She could sense that the dragon was exhausted, and she guessed it was so focused on rest that it had not noticed them. Her pride was stretched out on the ridge, basking in the sunlight. Only Selix was watching the big, black skinned dragon.
“We’ll wait,” she said reassuringly. “Bartoom is hurt. We’ll let it rest and then approach. I can heal it, and Bartoom knows that. Let’s get some sleep while we can.”
Brianna wrapped herself in a blanket and lay down on the soft bed of moss beside Selix. The big, golden dragon stretched a wide wing over her and they slept. Brianna dreamed of Zollin. He was flying beside her on Ferno, looking happy and free. It was a good dream and she woke with a sense of yearning that made her almost weep.
She rose and stretched, taking a drink from her canteen. The sun was beginning to set and she marveled that the day had seemed to pass in an instant. She turned, looking at the other mountains until she settled on a direction to search for Bartoom. Then she roused her pride. They set off just before twilight, gliding on the air currents and circling the mountain peaks. It was fully dark before she found Bartoom. The big black dragon was hidden in a cave, still sleeping, she sensed.
Brianna guided her pack down onto the mountainside, which was steep and covered with trees, but the dragons settled between the thick, prickly boughs and waited. They were well back from the entrance to the cave and Brianna approached alone, although it made the other dragons in her pride nervous.
“Bartoom,” she called out in a gentle voice. “Where are you, old friend? Wake up and come meet my pride.”
There was a low, menacing growl from the cave, like a dog warning its owner of danger.
“It is me, Brianna,” she said, hesitating near the entrance to the cave. “I know you’re hurt. I want to help.”
“Enter,” hissed a deep voice.
Brianna walked boldly into the cave. It was dark outside, but the sky was full of stars and the moon was near full. But inside the cave there was no light. Even with her enhanced vision, Brianna could not see into the recesses of Bartoom’s lair. She kindled a small flame and let if float up above her head. The light was reflected by Bartoom’s eyes.
“How did you come to be here?” it hissed, the dragon’s forked tongue flickering as it spoke.
“I flew, with my pride,” she said. “They are anxious to meet you.”
“You have created more dragons,” Bartoom said. He spoke slowly, his mouth and tongue working hard to form the words.
“Of course I have,” she said simply. “
It is what I was created to be. I am dragon-kind and humankind. You know that.”
“I do, but you are not safe here. I am no longer in control.”
“So the wizard has enslaved you?”
“Yesss,” Bartoom said, drawing out the word as anger took hold. “I was foolish, but you are not. Why have you come?”
“To help you, and to help Zollin.”
“Your wizard friend,” Bartoom said, looking away. “What do you know of him?” Brianna said.
“I cannot say.”
“Yes you can. Have you seen him? Is he well?”
“I have seen him. He plies the seas.”
“He goes to confront your master,” Brianna said. “The wizard of the Torr enslaves his own kind as well, but Zollin will stop him.”
“He may,” Bartoom said.
“May I help you?”
“There is no need,” the dragon hissed.
“But you are hurt. I can sense it. Let me help.”
Bartoom lowered his head. Brianna stepped forward, the heat in her hands growing and then slowly seeping into the black dragon. Its fractured ribs healed, and then the burns on its back.
“What happened to you?” Brianna asked, trembling now.
She had known that Bartoom was hurt, but she had not expected the dragon to be burned. Fire would not damage the great beast’s scales, but something had. She wondered briefly if Bartoom had flown into a storm and been struck by lightning, but that seemed absurd. She couldn’t imagine why a dragon would willingly fly into a storm. Then the thought struck her that Zollin had wounded Bartoom. She felt almost sick at the thought of it and couldn’t help but push a mental image of Zollin toward Bartoom.
“Yes,” the dragon hissed. “The wizard is powerful. A dragon slayer in the making.”
“No,” she said. “He wouldn’t kill if he could help it. Why did he attack you?”
Five Kingdoms: Book 05 - Fierce Loyalty Page 14
