“We have to eat, Dad.”
“No one wants to eat raw fish.”
“I’ll cook it, trust me.”
“I know you think you’re helping, but our first priority is to put distance between us and those wizards. We got the best of them in Tranaugh Shire because they weren’t expecting us to resist. But they’ll be ready this time.”
“Look, Dad, I’m not asking you to do anything different than what you had planned. If you’re ready to go, let’s go.”
Quinn smiled, glad that Zollin had complied without a confrontation. He turned and called out to the others, “All right, everyone, grab your horse and let’s cross the stream. Then we’ll walk them for a while.”
“What about the trout?” Mansel asked.
“Just toss it back into the stream,” Quinn said.
“No, keep cleaning it,” Zollin interjected.
“Zollin, he can’t lead his horse and clean the fish at the same time.”
“I’ll lead his horse until he’s finished.”
Quinn sighed in exasperation. “He’ll freeze if he walks across the stream.”
“He won’t wade,” Zollin said. He concentrated on Mansel and lifted him several inches off the ground. The young apprentice froze, his face flushing with embarrassment as he floated smoothly to the other side of the stream. Zollin sagged as he set the boy down. Normally with his staff and willow belt he could have levitated Mansel across the stream a dozen times without getting tired. But after the shock of the morning’s events and his lack of food, he felt as if he had just run a long race. His heart was pounding in his ears and he was breathing heavily.
“What exactly do you have planned?” his father asked, clearly angry now.
“I can cook the fish, Dad, as we walk and without a fire. It may not be just right, but it’ll be edible and hot. It won’t slow us down and we’ll all feel better.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about all this,” Quinn said, his voice a little shaky. Zollin couldn’t tell if it was from anger or fear, but he didn’t know what to say.
“I think it’s okay,” Brianna said quietly from behind them.
“I’m just a little out of my element,” Quinn said softly.
“We all are,” she said, laying her hand gently on his shoulder. “But I don’t think Zollin’s power is bad.”
“I don’t…” Quinn hesitated. “I just wish you had shared your gift with me sooner, son.”
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t think you’d be okay with it.”
“I’m not sure I would have been, but everything is happening so fast. You’re growing up and I thought I had accepted that. You wanted to leave and I was planning on convincing you to stay in the village a few more years, but when those wizards arrived today, I just… well, I just couldn’t let you go.”
It was an awkward moment. Zollin wanted to say something, to reassure his father, but he didn’t know what he could say. He loved his dad, and he was really glad that Quinn had come with him, but he didn’t want to be coddled. He needed his father to trust him, to let him contribute. His whole life he had felt out of place, like someone who needed to be helped rather than a productive part of their little family. He had always thought his father tolerated him, but now he was able to bring more than an equal share to their group and he resented being held back and second-guessed.
“A lot has changed, but one thing is common among us all,” Brianna said. She was young, but she seemed older somehow, more mature. “We all knew that we had to go with Zollin. Maybe we all had our own reasons, but we all came.” She looked into Zollin’s eyes, and although he wanted to, he couldn’t look away. “We came because we wanted to, not because we had to.”
***
“I propose we split up,” Branock said.
“Why?” asked Wytlethane.
“We can cover more ground, of course. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of chasing this boy. I’m tired of tramping around in the wilderness and would like to return to the Torr.”
Branock smiled inwardly at his own suggestion. He knew Cassis didn’t have the patience to take his time finding the boy. It was a calculated risk, since there was a good chance that Cassis would find the boy and kill him. He didn’t worry about Wytlethane—the elderly wizard moved so slowly, the odds that he would find the boy were miniscule. Cassis, on the other hand, would blunder about and hopefully be easy to avoid. If Branock could find the boy and influence him, away from the others, he would have a much better chance of making him an ally.
“I don’t like the idea,” Wytlethane said.
“Oh, come now,” said Branock, “Cassis has split the soldiers among us. We’ll spread out, find the boy quickly, and be back in Osla before you know it.”
“Well, if you insist,” Wytlethane said wearily.
“Yes, well, I think it’s only prudent,” Branock said, sounding very high-handed.
Wytlethane frowned but didn’t object. Cassis had divided the soldiers into three small groups. Branock thought he would enjoy destroying Cassis when the time was right. He would make it last as long as possible… when the time was right. There were now six men-at-arms with each wizard. They knew the boy Zollin and his companions were heading northeast, toward the forest of Peddingar. There was little chance the boy would be able to change directions and slip past them. And there was only so far to go before they ran into the mountains or the sea.
“When you have the boy, send out a pulse, and we will come to you,” Branock said.
Cassis and his soldiers, the youngest of the mercenaries, had already set out at a brisk trot and were soon well away from the others. Branock now moved past Wytlethane quickly, anxious to carry out the second part of his plan. After an hour of steady travel, he reined his horse in and said he needed to rest. Then, he pretended to have an idea and suggested the soldiers ride ahead in search of the boy. He gave them strict orders not to engage the group if they found them, but he knew the mercenaries would ignore him. They didn’t know why the boy was valuable, although they had certainly seen his power. But they would undoubtedly decide they could make a better deal for the boy if they had him in their custody. He considered it a test. The boy should be able to defeat the soldiers, and if he couldn’t, then Branock would not waste his time mentoring Zollin. Plus, he would seem much less threatening alone than riding with armed guards. It was another risk, but he needed to be alone when he found Zollin, to gain the boy’s trust. It was essential that he have time alone—besides, to him the soldiers were little more than servants. He could protect himself better than they could. And so the soldiers rode away, and the aging wizard was alone. He waited a few moments before following after the soldiers. He had no intention of letting them get too far ahead. When the time came, he wanted to see how the boy handled himself.
Chapter 9
Zollin, Quinn, and Brianna joined Mansel on the other side of the stream and began walking, leading their weary horses to give them a break. Once Mansel had cleaned the trout, he took the horses and gave Zollin the fish. The young wizard was tired. All he wanted was to lie down and sleep, but he kept plodding along, putting one foot in front of the other. It was getting dark fast, and he knew they would have a long, cold night ahead of them. He knew he needed to eat if he was going to make it, but the thought of eating was difficult to bear. He lifted the fish into the air and concentrated on heating the meat. He imagined the fish cooking as if it were in a pan. Soon the fish was sizzling and Zollin’s head was swimming. He knew he would need to ride if he was going to make it much longer. They stopped and divided the trout. The food was good, if a bit bland, but they were all hungry and cold, so having something warm in their hands and in their stomachs was comforting.
The night grew cold, bitterly cold, so that they sat on their horses shivering in the ragged blankets they had gathered before fleeing Tranaugh Shire. The horses blew clouds of moist air from their nostrils, their heads hanging low. They traveled by moonlight until the moon set. Then
Quinn finally let them stop in a stand of cedar trees to rest for a few hours until the sun came up. They talked briefly about standing watch, but it was so dark they knew they wouldn’t be able to see if anyone approached. Their best chance was stay near the horses, whose keen ears would hear anyone who came near. So they tied the horses to some low-hanging branches and lay down on the cold ground together. Despite the frigid night, they fell asleep almost immediately, and it seemed to Zollin as if he had just closed his eyes when he was roused by the discomfort of his cold, aching body.
Quinn was already awake, rubbing his chest with his hands to increase the blood flow. The sun was rising, and Zollin knew they needed to press on. He rose slowly and gathered some more food from his pack. There would be enough for two more small meals, and then they would be completely out of rations. He bit off a chunk of dried beef and let the salty meat soften up in his mouth. He handed some of the meat to his father, who nodded gratefully.
“Been a long time since I camped cold,” Quinn said.
“You’ve done this before?”
“Sure, with the army. We spent lots of nights out in the open, drilling and scouting.”
“That’s where you learned to fight?”
“Yes.”
“How come you never taught me?” Zollin asked.
“I didn’t want you to fight,” Quinn said sadly. “I wanted you to become a carpenter. I wanted you to marry a nice girl like Brianna and settle down, have a family. Just like my father wanted, only I didn’t want that life. Or at least I thought I didn’t when I was your age.”
Zollin felt an eruption of pain when his father mentioned Brianna. He felt so guilty because he had been jealous of Todrek. He had wanted to be with Brianna, had daydreamed of her running away with him, and now here she was. Only he couldn’t be with her, he couldn’t even let himself imagine it.
“Why did you leave home?” he asked, hoping to get his mind off the girl who was sleeping not far away.
“Over a girl,” his father said, smirking. “I was young and infatuated, but her father wanted her to marry an older boy. I couldn’t stand by and watch her marry another, so I left. I joined the Royal Army and decided to live a life of adventure. Only being a soldier is a lot of hard work, constant discipline, and disappointment. I thought it would be exciting, even though my father warned me it wouldn’t. But we mostly drilled and marched and made inspections.”
“But you fought the Shirtac raiders?”
“Yes, but mostly we chased them back into their boats. It was a tedious life punctuated with brief moments of terror. Waging war is not exciting or glorious. It is pain and fear and luck and incredible sadness, as you now know.”
Zollin thought about what his father had said. He agreed with the description, but at least his one skirmish had been over so fast, he only really knew the terror of it and the loss of his best friend.
“So how did you end up in Tranaugh Shire?” Zollin asked.
“Your mother wanted to live in the valley. When we married, we set off to find a home, and Tranaugh Shire was in need of a carpenter. So we made our home there, and soon you were on the way. It was the happiest time of my life.”
Zollin wanted to hear more. His father rarely ever spoke of his mother. Zollin had no memory of her, only a deep wound in his soul, a missing piece that she should have filled. Still, he knew his father wouldn’t say more. His own pain over the loss of Zollin’s mother was too painful to linger over.
Quinn stood up. “Better wake the others,” he said. “We should be moving soon.”
Zollin thought the need for constant travel was a bit extreme, but by that afternoon he would realize how wrong he was.
***
Branock’s soldiers had stumbled across their quarry’s trail and had caught up with Zollin’s group not long after dawn. They took their time trailing along quietly, studying the group. Around midday, they broke off their pursuit and circled around the group, all of whom were riding their horses again but still moving at a very slow pace.
Branock watched them, guessing correctly that they planned to move ahead and ambush the young wizard and his companions. It was a good plan, Branock conceded. The small band of refugees was expecting an attack from the rear, pushing themselves and their mounts almost to exhaustion. But even though the strategy was sound, it was the implementation that really mattered. If the soldiers were not able to subdue Zollin very quickly—and Branock doubted that they could—there was little chance of success. Still, if they could manage to wound or kill some or all of the young wizard’s friends, that would make Branock’s job that much easier. He smiled as he rode along, wondering why the soldiers hadn’t noticed that their horses seemed so fresh. Branock had been close enough to rejuvenate their mounts. He carried zippleweed for that very purpose. The plant was poisonous if ingested, but had a strengthening magic that could be transferred rather easily to man or beast. It always boggled his mind how non-magical people could be affected so easily with magic and never know it.
He rode on, drawing as close to the small band as he could without risking detection. He was anxious to see what would happen. He could sense Zollin ahead of him, or perhaps it was knowing that the boy was ahead that made it seem as if he could feel the magic’s location. He could sense Cassis and Wytlethane as well, but he had no idea where the other wizards were. Soon enough, though, they would know where Zollin was. Wizards could sense magic in others and could feel a powerful wizard approaching, but if that wizard used his power, it would send out a pulse, much like a rock thrown into a quiet pond would make ripples. That pulse could be felt, its direction perceived. And if the wizard cast multiple spells, the exact location could be ascertained. Branock would have to deal with that, too. He needed to take advantage of Cassis being alone. This was his chance to cripple Wytlethane and create a controlling interest in the Torr. If he could dispose of Cassis and make it appear that the headstrong wizard had bitten off more than he could chew, this prolonged search would be very valuable. He smiled at the thought of being his own master, with Zollin carrying out his every whim. It was a very pleasant fantasy, one that he needed to bring to life.
***
The day passed slowly for Zollin. They walked the horses as much as they could, but the small band was extremely tired. Their short nap on the frozen ground hadn’t done much to refresh them. Mansel alone seemed energetic. Quinn was deep in his own thoughts, and Brianna was suffering from saddle soreness that the cold night had only made worse. She was moving slowly and limping when she walked. Zollin wished he could help her, but he had no idea how. He could still feel the wizards approaching, although they seemed closer and further away at the same time: closer, but not as strong. Still, he was sorely tempted to force his father to stop and let Brianna rest. He was bone-weary himself; his eyes felt full of sand, and his stomach was aching from too little food and too little sleep.
It was late afternoon when the attack came. The group was making their way into a clearing when they heard a shout, and suddenly horses were galloping toward them. There were three attackers on their left and three more riding in on their right. At first the group froze, watching as the mercenaries, those who had been sent ahead by Branock, raced toward them, waving their longswords in the air.
“Ride!” Quinn shouted, kicking his horse into motion. He spun his horse and began galloping back the way they had come. The others followed as the soldiers charged after them.
“What are we doing?” Zollin shouted.
“We’ve got to find a place to make a stand.”
Zollin looked at the terrain, but it was the same in every direction, gently rolling hills that were lightly wooded, with no place more defensible than another. His horse was heaving with foam flying from its mouth. He knew they couldn’t keep up their pace much longer without killing the horses. He looked at Brianna, who was wide-eyed with fear, and seeing her in that state steeled his resolve. He pulled back on the reins, and his horse slid to a stop. He jumped dow
n, his staff in his hand. The horse, still heaving with exertion, its sides slick with sweat, trotted several paces away. Zollin didn’t notice as he turned back to face the oncoming riders.
He wondered at what distance his magic would be effective. He could feel the power within him raging, worked into a frenzy by his emotions like storm winds churning the sea. He was afraid mostly of failing. He could see Todrek falling, his ruined throat covered in his life’s blood. He couldn’t let that happen to his father, or worse yet Brianna. Even Mansel, whom he had despised for so long, deserved better than to be cut down by these murderers.
***
Branock had almost been exposed as the group raced back to escape the soldiers. He moved silently among the trees, keeping his eyes on Zollin. When the young wizard reined in his horse and prepared to take a stand, the old wizard smiled. The boy had courage, but separating himself from his companions was a mistake. But perhaps he did not care for them, perhaps, as the master had said, Branock thought too much about mortal concerns and now he was projecting them onto Zollin. He held his breath and waited to see what the boy would do as the soldiers came within range of his attacks.
***
Zollin felt the magic coursing through him like a river, swollen by spring rains, threatening to overflow its banks. The soldiers were almost close enough. He had to hold himself in check as they drew closer. Just a little closer, he thought to himself, I have to make this count.
But before he could unleash the raging torrent of power building up within him, the riders split apart again. They circled him, staying out of longbow range. Zollin wasn’t an archer, but he didn’t think his magic would be very effective at this distance. He realized their tactic, avoiding him to pursue the others. His heart dropped into his stomach as he saw his father in the distance realizing that Zollin had stopped. The group was now turning back to help him.
“No!” shouted Zollin. He ran to his horse but the exhausted animal trotted just out of reach. He looked up and saw the soldiers flanking his father and friends. The soldiers, three on each side, were now turning in toward their prey. Zollin sprinted toward them.
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