Confusion clouded Zollin’s mind. He couldn’t think straight. He sensed the magic being used but didn’t know how to stop it. Quinn and Mansel suddenly felt as though they couldn’t think for themselves. Quinn tried to resist but an explosion of pain was the only result.
Brianna laughed, “Are you crazy or something?”
“It is for the best,” Branock said, pushing a little harder at her mind.
“No, it isn’t,” she said. She stepped up to Zollin and laid her hand on his forearm. “Don’t listen to him, Zollin.”
The moment Brianna touched Zollin, his mind cleared. Without thinking, the magic in him rebelled, shoving the suggestion that Branock was making back toward the wizard. Branock snarled as Quinn and Mansel shook their heads to clear the cobwebs.
“Get to the horses!” Zollin said, raising his staff.
Branock attacked quickly, aiming his blast at Quinn, but Zollin was ready. He pushed his father from the horse with his own power and cushioned the fall. Branock’s attack was a pillar of fire, erupting from the elder wizard’s hand and shooting toward where Quinn had had been sitting on the horse. The fire arced through the air over the horse’s head and sent the beast galloping away in panic. The other horses began stomping around as a tree that had taken the brunt of the attack burst into flames.
Branock turned his next attack at Zollin, who ducked to the ground and swung his staff at the wizard’s legs. Branock was about to level his flaming attack against Zollin when his legs were swept out from under him, causing his aim to fly harmlessly into the sky.
The horses were bolting away now, running away from the battle. Zollin shouted at the others to run for the horses. Then he sent a blast of crackling energy at the elder wizard, who was just getting back to his feet. Branock blocked the blast, although the force of it caused him to step back a few steps.
“Do you really think you can best me?” he screamed.
“Rise!” Zollin cried, hoping to throw the wizard into the air as he had done the mercenaries.
Branock merely laughed. Zollin shouted his command again, this time concentrating with all his strength. He pointed his staff at Branock, who in turned raised his hand, palm out, toward Zollin. There was what appeared to be a ripple in the air as two invisible blasts collided. Throughout the clearing, rocks, twigs, and leaves rose up into the air. Many burst into flames, casting an eerie glow in the fading sunlight.
Zollin was tired, although he had forgotten just how tired he was up until that moment. He felt like he was hanging from a cliff, holding on for dear life. His arms and legs were shaking and he could feel the heat from his power, added with that of the willow belt and staff, racing through him. His heart was pounding and his breathing was coming in gasps.
Mansel had caught up with one of the horses and was now racing toward the elder wizard, his sword held high over his head. He roared out his battle cry as he rode. But Branock merely raised his other hand and sent the young apprentice flying backward from his horse. In that moment, though, Zollin felt Branock’s resistance lessen, and he pushed forward, gaining some momentum in the fight.
“Give up now, Zollin,” Branock shouted, “or I’ll kill them all.”
“Never!” Zollin screamed.
Quinn had recovered three of the horses.
“Son, this way,” the master carpenter shouted.
Zollin knew he couldn’t break off his attack now without being caught in Branock’s counterattack. From the corner of his eye, Zollin saw Mansel, holding his chest and making his way toward Quinn. He was worried about Brianna, but he couldn’t risk taking his eyes off Branock for fear that his concentration would falter. But suddenly she appeared, riding Lilly and charging straight at Branock.
“No!” Zollin screamed. He saw Branock’s face light up with wicked pleasure as he raised his hand toward the girl. Flames erupted from the wizard’s palm and shot toward her like an arrow from a bow. There was no time for Brianna to dodge, and Zollin was helpless to save her. His heart leapt into his throat, but as the flames reached her something odd happened. The gout of flame suddenly rebounded, just as it should have been ruining Brianna’s delicate skin. The flames shot back from the girl and blasted the wizard. Suddenly the resistance to Zollin’s spell was gone, and he sent the wizard, now ablaze, flying backward through the trees. Lilly had slid to a stop as the flames shot toward her, and she was now moving quickly toward Quinn and the others.
“Time to go!” Quinn shouted at Zollin.
The young wizard felt as though he were in a dream, and he could hardly force his legs to move. Quinn and Mansel were waiting as he stumbled toward them. He wasn’t sure if he could pull himself into the saddle, but Mansel reached out and took hold of Zollin’s cloak to help haul him up. Then they were off, moving quickly through the shadowy forest, pushing their horses hard. Only Lilly seemed tired, while the mounts taken from the defeated mercenaries seemed fresh.
They rode swiftly through the night, their only thought to gain as much distance as possible between themselves and the wizards behind them.
Chapter 11
They rode for as long as they could see. It was a clear night, and the moon shone through the branches of the barren winter trees. At some point, the forest grew thicker, the hardwood trees turning to pine and cedar with needles that poked and roused Zollin as he tried to doze in the saddle. He didn’t know if the others were as exhausted as he was, but he was too tired to care. All he wanted to do was sleep, to get off the smelly horse and lie down. His body was aching and his head was spinning. He was hungry, too, his stomach acid churning. But he ignored all that, focusing only on holding onto the saddle and staying close to his companions.
As the moon began its descent, the hills rose sharply. They were no longer among the rolling hills they had been traveling through the last two days. And as the night wore on, clouds began drifting in. The air was turning colder, and a strong wind was blowing in their faces from the north.
“Storm’s coming,” Quinn said, as he reined his horse to a stop. “Zollin, do you think the wizards can track us once the snow hits?”
“I don’t know,” Zollin said. “I don’t see how.”
“Can’t you feel them or something? Can they use that?”
“I can still sense them, but I don’t know where they are. I guess it’s possible that they could find us that way.”
“Well, we need to rest,” Quinn said after a moment. “We’ll just have to take that chance.”
“What about food?” Mansel said.
“There’s a week’s ration in our saddle bags,” Quinn said. “I found it when I first rounded up the horses. We’ll divide it up, and hopefully it’ll get us through the worst of the storm.”
“How bad a storm, do you think?” Brianna asked. She was so cold her teeth were chattering.
“Impossible to tell. We’ll just have to do our best to survive. Right now, we need to find a place we can shelter out of this wind.”
“Speaking of survival,” Mansel said, riding his horse closely beside Zollin’s. “I’m not sure how you did it, but thank you for saving Brianna. When I saw that fire coming at her, my heart almost stopped.”
Zollin nodded but didn’t say anything. He was as amazed as anyone at the turn of events. Brianna should have been burned to death, but she wasn’t. He wondered if it was the ring he had given her, but he was too tired to really think about it.
They pushed on for another half hour or so before they found a suitable place. It was a small clearing about halfway up one of the steep hills. The soil was thin, and the rugged hillside rose sharply from the fairly level ground of the clearing. There were large boulders on one side and a thick stand of cedar trees on the other. The valley below them was open, but after tying the horses inside the grove of cedars, Mansel and Quinn found some brush to arrange at the edge of the clearing, giving the space boundaries and at least a little cover from prying eyes. Brianna and Zollin gathered firewood as the first of the snow starte
d falling. The mercenaries’ horses saddle bags contained much better supplies than the meager provisions Zollin had stashed away, and after piling all their gear near the cliff, Quinn removed a blanket that was waxed on one side. He managed to tie it to the boulders and hillside. Using Zollin’s staff, the blanket gave them shelter from the falling snow. They wrapped themselves up in blankets, ate a small bite of hard, dry bread, and then fell asleep.
***
Branock tried to open his eyes. The whole left side of his body felt stiff, almost like it was covered with mud that had dried. There was pain that ached deeply in his neck and chest. His vision was clear, but limited. He realized his left eye must not be open. Instinctively, he tried to raise his left hand to touch his face, but his limb didn’t move. For a moment, he thought perhaps something was pinning his body to the ground. He lifted his right hand and touched his left shoulder. The fabric of his robe was gone, and the skin was stiff and rubbery. There was no sensation in his shoulder. It was like touching a piece of meat. He tried to remember what had happened. He remembered battling Zollin—the boy’s power was surprisingly strong but unfocused. He had been confident he could beat the boy, but then something had happened.
Fire. He remembered now—the girl, riding toward him. He had meant to blast her with fire, but something had happened. His spell had rebounded back on him. His heart was beating fast now. His own spell had roasted him alive. Half of his body was burned, and his staff was out of reach.
He turned his head, searching for his staff in the dim twilight. The long, dark staff was several feet away, but luckily it was on his right side. He tried to raise his legs, but pain exploded in his left thigh. The pain was searing, the ache so intense it paralyzed him. He ground his teeth and waited for the pain to subside, but it didn’t. It only radiated out through his entire body. The world grew dark as he lay, shuddering now in pain. Finally, the rational part of his brain recognized that the pain wasn’t going to stop. His only hope was to get to his staff. He was weak, his breath starting to rattle in his chest.
He lifted his right leg and pushed against the earth. He moved only a few inches before the pain made bursts of light pulse in the vision of his good eye. The ground felt like a torture device. His stomach was heaving, so he forced himself to take deep breaths. A racking cough crippled him again. He had to lie still for several moments. He could feel his lungs slowly filling with liquid. He knew time was short, so he held his breath, raised his right leg again, and pushed. This time he moved further before the silhouettes of trees above him began to sway and spin. He rested, and a powerful urge to close his eyes came over him. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to let go of the pain and the struggle for survival and just slip away into the darkness. But he shoved the craving away, raised his right leg, and pushed again. Then, reaching out with his right hand, he tried to grab his staff. He could barely touch the ancient piece of wood. It was once an ash sapling, but many years ago he had made it his slave. Now he needed it once again.
He felt the magic swirl into his ravaged body. It spread through the healthy parts of him, and he realized just how near death he was. He closed his eyes and made one more small push. His hand closed over the smooth wood and he immediately concentrated on his lungs. In his weakened state, he was forced to work slowly. But as the moon rose, he was able to breathe easy once more. He lifted the staff and began to force life back into his ruined left side. It was another hour before he stopped to rest. He was so tired, but he could once again move his arm and leg. Both were stiff, the skin pulling when he moved as if it had somehow shrunk. He opened his eyes and he could see again. Snow was falling, drifting in large, soft flakes that fell silently all around him. Once again, the rational part of his mind told him that if he stayed where he was, if he closed his eyes and slept as his body wanted, he would freeze to death.
He forced himself to stand. His body was shivering from the cold and the pain. He had healed as much of his body as he could for now, but it would still take hours of work before he could walk normally or use his left hand with any strength. He needed to find his horse and find shelter before it was too late. Leaning heavily on his staff, he shuffled off through the dark forest.
***
The morning was dim, the sky thick with clouds, the air filled with falling snow. The shelter grew cold despite their body heat, and so Quinn and Zollin got up to find almost a foot of snow on the ground around them. Their makeshift tent was sagging, threatening to collapse.
“Can you move that snow off the blanket?” Quinn asked.
“Sure,” Zollin said. He visualized the snow being brushed off, and it fell with wet thunk into the snow on the two open sides of their shelter.
“Good,” Quinn said. “Let’s pack this snow into walls and then we can build a fire.”
“You think that’s safe?” Zollin asked.
“I doubt anyone would see smoke in this weather,” Quinn said.
So they packed down the snow, which reminded Zollin of making snow forts with Todrek. His hands ached from the cold, but the task was quickly done, and the snow wall helped to keep stray winds from whipping around the boulders to chill their camp. Quinn had covered the firewood with another of the blankets, and soon Zollin had a bright fire burning just beyond the edge of their shelter. The heat was contained by the snowbank in front and the hillside behind them, warming their camp up so well that Zollin was soon asleep again. When he woke later that day, the snow was still falling heavily, the flakes hissing as the fire melted and vaporized those that fell too. Quinn had Zollin push the snow off their shelter again with his magic. He was careful not to let the snow fall into the fire.
They set to work again, this time with Mansel’s help, packing the snow into walls that rose up as high as the shelter’s blanket roof. They were all hungry and divided up the salted beef, cheese, and bread to make a good meal. They packed snow into their water skins and set them by the fire to melt. There was a bottle of wine in one of the saddle bags, which they were happy to drink, and then with the light of the day fading and their stomachs full, they were soon asleep again. At some point in the night, Zollin opened his eyes to a sagging blanket, and without even sitting up, he used his magic to levitate the snow to the ground beyond the snow walls of their camp. Then he promptly fell back asleep.
The sun was just rising when he woke up again. The fire had died, and Brianna was struggling to uncover their firewood beyond the small shelter. Zollin stepped beyond the shelter and looked at a clear sky that was just turning pink in the east. The snow was up almost to his mid-thigh but had stopped falling. He moved to help Brianna uncover the firewood.
“Thanks,” she said, her smile bright in the predawn light.
Zollin couldn’t think of anything to say and so he shrugged his shoulders. It was extremely cold, and he was soon shivering as they carried the wood back toward the shelter.
“Do you think we should risk a fire?” she asked.
“Probably not,” Zollin said. “But I can handle that.” He laid the wood in their fire pit and concentrated. The wood suddenly shone with a brilliant light and then softened to a red glow. It had become embers, radiating a good deal of warmth without any smoke. They sat on blankets and warmed their hands. Brianna broke out more dried rations. They had a bit of cheese left, which they softened over the embers, and they drank the ice-cold melted snow.
“I’ll bet you miss home,” Zollin said, trying to be polite but feeling extremely awkward. He wished his father or Mansel would wake up and join them so he wouldn’t have to be the focus of Brianna’s attention. He had never seen her so disheveled. Her hair, which she had tied back into a ponytail the first day they had left Tranaugh Shire, had begun to frizz and escape the leather thong she used to tie it back. Her clothes were rumpled and stained, but her smile was dazzling. Somehow, even as a fugitive far from home, with no decent place to rest, she was stunningly beautiful. Zollin felt his resolve to withhold his feelings wavering. It was like trying to
move upstream against a strong current. He was getting tired of trying not to like her. And yet, Todrek’s face was always in the back of Zollin’s mind.
“Not really. I feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be.” Brianna’s tone was matter-of-fact, as if running from wizards and mercenaries were as normal as gathering eggs in the morning.
“You should be enjoying your life with Todrek,” Zollin said, his mood turning dark.
“Should I?” She raised an eyebrow. “Zollin, do you think that Todrek was my choice?”
“Wasn’t he?”
“No, I had no desire for him.”
“Then why did you marry him?”
“I had no choice. Marriage is expected, and if I hadn’t married Todrek I would have had to marry someone else. Todrek made the best offer and promised the best life in Tranaugh Shire, but my father made that decision. Was I happy to be out of my mother’s house? Of course, but what I really wanted was to get out of the village and see the world. I’m doing that with you.”
“But we’re being chased by mercenaries and wizards, sleeping out in the freezing cold. This can’t be how you imagined you’d see the world.”
“It’s not,” she said slowly, as if trying to decide what she would say next. “When you revealed your power to me, I knew that my future was with you. I can’t say how I knew, just that it seemed inevitable. You want to know a secret?” she asked, giggling from embarrassment.
“Sure,” Zollin said without a second’s hesitation. He was enjoying himself despite his resolve to keep Brianna at a distance.
“I’d been having dreams that you were leaving Tranaugh Shire without me.” She blushed a little and looked down at her hands. “I would wake up calling out, and my mother thought I was nervous about marrying Todrek. I never told anyone what I was really afraid of.”
Zollin’s face flushed from shame. Just hearing Brianna say his friend’s name was like a slap in the face. He couldn’t believe that he had just been chatting casually with his best friend’s widow.
Wizard Rising Page 10
