Controlling Chaos (The Five Kingdoms Book 12)

by Toby Neighbors

  “But you felt him?”

  “Yes, I’m sure it’s him. The magic inside him is very different.”

  They walked in silence for a while. There were no people, at least none that Zollin could see. Most of the settlements they had seen were either abandoned or destroyed. Ortis seemed like a wasteland and he felt a sense of great sadness hanging over the kingdom.

  Chapter 11

  “You can expand the forest,” Lorik said to the gathering of chieftains and elders who governed the Drery Dru. “I propose that the forest grow from the ocean in the east, all the way to the Great Sea of Kings in the west. Your lands will encompass the whole of northern Ortis, forming a natural border between us and Baskla.”

  “We can make the forest grow,” said one of the elves. “But not to the west.”

  “Why not?” Lorik asked. “The land is fertile and you would have my help.”

  “It’s not that, King Lorik,” Hennick said. “There is danger in the west.”

  Lorik felt both irritation and fear. His plan had seemed like a stroke of genius which he had hoped the Drery Dru would leap upon. Instead, the cold he felt in Baskla grew, like a tumor that suddenly appears. And just like a tumor, Lorik was afraid that the growing evil was a portent of his doom. It was irrational, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he went to Baskla he would die. It was why he had hoped the Drery Dru would expand the forest, creating a buffer between what he felt in the northern kingdom and the new realm he was working to create.

  “There is always danger,” Lorik said.

  “Can you sense it?” Hennick asked. “Your magic has changed, but it is still potent.”

  “I feel something,” Lorik said, not wanting to admit to his fear.

  “It is an ancient magic,” the elf went on. “One we have known before. It spreads through misery and fear. It grows strong by stealing the strength of those in its power.”

  “It is called the Wasting,” said another elf.

  “And it will grow until someone stops it,” Hennick said.

  “How do I stop it?” Lorik asked.

  “You would take on this burden?”

  “I would if I must.”

  “The world was created with magic,” Hennick said. “It was formed and molded, from the smallest pebble to the largest mountain. The oceans were filled, rain fell, and the rivers flowed, watering the world so that every sprouting seed could take root and thrive. But not all of the magic was crafting power, some was also the magic of destruction. Trees toppled, fires raged, mountains crumbled. Always the two forces push against one another, sometimes giving birth to new life, sometimes stealing it away in death.

  “To each of the species a specific power was given. Ours is a nurturing gift, but some were given the power of death. The Night Walkers were once a holy order who protected their magic with secrecy and skill. Theirs was a study of the darkest magic, a quest to harness the power of death. Some believed they could end the suffering, others simply wanted an unrivaled power to bring the peoples of the world to their knees.

  “One by one the Night Walkers were slain. Magnarox became a powerful necromancer. His father was a human, his mother a Drery Dru far to the south. Magnarox felt no allegiance to man or elfin kind and became the great enemy of all. His search for the arcane secrets of deathly magic led him to uncover a way to steal magical power, to collect it, and bring it under his control. He became a great king in the north, his power and lands ever expanding. He was a dark plague on the Five Kingdoms, but too powerful to be defeated by any other realm, so the four kingdoms united to overthrow Magnarox. Death could not bind the black magic of the Night Walker, so instead he was stripped of power and imprisoned beneath his castle, which was destroyed by the combined strength of the wizards.

  “Then came the founding of the Torr, who consolidated the magical power of the Five Kingdoms, seeking knowledge and wisdom for the good of those they served. But in time their goodwill soured, their strength became stagnant, and the magic of the world began to recede. For centuries our power dwindled, the Drery Dru and their great forests, died. Magical creatures throughout the Five Kingdoms disappeared, and the world became a very different place. Yet through it all, the struggle between creative and destructive magic went on. Now we stand on a precipice, with doom on every side if we do not find a way forward.”

  “What is that way?” Lorik asked.

  “We do not know,” Hennick admitted. “But magic has awoken. The world is revived, yet so is the power of Magnarox. He is no longer elf or man, no longer flesh, but not spirit. He has become the very power he sought to wield, and if given the chance he will spread his dark shadow across the Five Kingdoms and beyond.”

  Lorik sat down, the burden he’d felt before coming to the Wilderlands had returned, only added to it was a terror he could not shake. Everything he had built, all that he had worked and fought for, would be destroyed or worse, taken over by some vile entity that would enslave the people he had freed. He couldn’t let that happen, but he had no idea how he could fight such a being. The Drery Dru didn’t even know what it was. All they knew for certain was the name of the creature that could steal magic.

  In his mind, Lorik relived the terrifying experience in Baskla. He remembered the ruins of the ancient castle, and the wretched man who had stolen his magical power. That man was not Magnarox, but he was certainly acting on the evil being’s behalf. Lorik had fought back, had even managed to regain some of the power that had been stripped away from him, but just the thought of going back to that place sent chills down his spine. Yet he knew if he didn’t, the cold, malevolent power he felt growing in Baskla would eventually grow and overtake everyone and everything he loved.

  “We have seen many visions,” Hennick went on after pausing for a while. “It is one of our gifts. We watch the world from our canopies, invisible to most of those who dwell upon the ground, but always interested in the events around our forests. That is how we knew that one day you would come. It is how we knew that you would discover a power that is all your own, and carve a path for yourself and your subjects that was new. The Wasting magic has returned, but you can stand against it, Lorik. You can hold back the tide of darkness that threatens to cast the world in shadows. And you will not do it alone. There are others who will fight this battle with you.”

  “Who?” Lorik asked.

  “That we do not know,” the elf went on. “But we have seen the fire breathers.”

  “Dragons?”

  Hennick nodded.

  “Gather your courage and your strength, the battle you were made for is just beginning,” the Drery Dru chieftain said in solemn tones.

  “I will do what I must.”

  “And when the Wasting is no more,” said one of the other elves, “we will spread the forest across the land, just as you have asked.”

  Lorik didn’t say that if the danger was past he wouldn’t need them to be his buffer anymore. Nor did he think he would live long enough to see the great forest expanding across Ortis. He had a date with death, and while he didn’t relish the thought of it, he was resolute in his determination not to shy away from it either.

  “Someone is coming to seek your aid, King Lorik,” Hennick said in a quiet voice. “You will not be found here.”

  “You’re right,” Lorik said. “I will go. Thank you for all your help.”

  “Remember, the King Tree will always be a home for you,” said one of the other forest elves.

  “Stand fast, mighty warrior,” cried another.

  Lorik let their encouragement fall on deaf ears. He made his way from the gathering and quickly descended back to the forest floor. He loved the Drery Dru, but he was also disappointed in them. They, like so many others before them, would simply wait to see what fate lay before them, making no effort to hold back evil. Lorik couldn’t do that anymore. He had hidden away with the forest elves and lived to regret it. Their lack of involvement both shocked and disgusted him. He felt a resentment rising up
for the forest elves. They had given him the power to take hold of his destiny, a gift he had thought was generous and noble. But perhaps all they wanted was a protector, someone to fight their battles for them.

  He broke into a run, sprinting through the cold, dark forest, anxious to be rid of everyone who wanted nothing but to use him for what he could provide. He didn’t know if he would ever feel truly free, but he vowed to himself that somehow, some way, he would be seen for who he really was.

  Almost as soon as he left the Wilderlands he felt a new sensation. It was like a bright spark in the darkness, a shining beacon that was so inviting he felt himself drawn to it, even though he knew instinctively it was far away. He ran west, where he would meet up with Spector, then turn toward the pure, warm light, never doubting that he would find it, even when the sensation suddenly disappeared. He knew that whatever had caused the bright spark was searching for him, and he wanted nothing more than to be found.

  Chapter 12

  For days Branock felt worthless, cowering in his cabin, poring over old books that talked about magic, but contained no real power. Branock knew his old master had scoured the Five Kingdoms for any book, manuscript, or text that revealed magic in some way. Most of those books had been discarded, while the tower of the Torr was filled with books of arcane knowledge that would take a dozen lifetimes to learn. But the tower was gone, as was much of the knowledge it contained. The books that Roleena had scavenged were of little value to anyone, but especially Branock, who needed a weapon to use against his adversary.

  A few rough days at sea had seen the pirates reunited. Roleena was still renovating her smallest ship, and Branock had been moved to the larger vessel called the Crest Dancer. The captain’s berth was considerably larger than the one he had shared with Roleena on the Sea Arrow and he was glad to have some privacy, but the ship seemed to wallow in the heavy seas compared to the smaller, lighter vessel he had previously traveled in. Still, Branock felt a little safer in the small armada. Other ships avoided the three pirate vessels at all costs. Branock saw several fleeing, some to the safety of the shore, others risking the waters farther out to sea.

  Branock spent his days drinking wine at a wide desk near the small, square window panes that lined the back wall of his cabin and overlooked the stern of the ship. There, he could read through the books, some of them ancient texts, without being disturbed. His meals, though far below Branock’s usual standards, were brought to him on a regular basis allowing him to focus completely on his own plans. There was a hint of an idea forming in the back of his mind. He couldn’t quite articulate exactly what it was, but he knew the key to unlocking the plan was somewhere in the books. He had read something that planted a seed and he needed to rediscover it to make the idea grow to fruition.

  The door opened without warning, an act that both angered and surprised the elder wizard. He had to hold his tongue to keep from insulting his host, who swept into the room without his permission. Branock knew he could kill Roleena, despite her budding power. He didn’t fear retribution from her crew, he could easily bring them to heel, but he was dangerously low on allies and at that moment the pirate was his best hope of defeating Zollin.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice almost an angry hiss.

  “We are closing in on Angel's Shelter,” Roleena said. “I need you to come out of this cabin and take command of my ships.”

  “Why?” Branock demanded. “I know nothing of sailing.”

  “Exactly, and I have no fear that you will try to steal my ships away from me.”

  “But your crew might.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “And then you would be abandoned?” Branock asked.

  “No, but it would force me to kill the mutineers and at the moment I can’t afford to lose more men. You may not be a sailor, but the crew fears you. That should be enough to keep them in line.”

  “Fine, and what will you be doing?”

  For the first time Branock took stock of the fact that Roleena was wet. She wore short pants that revealed one bare foot and her green-skinned tentacle, complete with tiny suckers. She should have been freezing cold, but she showed no signs that having been in the frigid ocean waters bothered her at all.

  “You wanted to know my plan, so here it is,” Roleena said. “I’m taking the Graygon into Angel’s Shelter. We will wreak havoc on the port.”

  “To what end?” Branock said.

  “In order to draw the wizard to us,” she said, sounding angry. “He cannot ignore the wanton destruction we shall bring.”

  “You think attacking one port city will draw him here?”

  “No,” Roleena admitted. “We shall continue south, attacking port after port until he comes. He won’t be able to ignore us for long. That much I can assure you.”

  Branock thought about the plan. It wasn’t all that bad, although the elder wizard’s greatest fear was that Zollin would attack the ships. If that happened, Branock needed a plan of escape. He refused to be trapped with Roleena’s crew if the worst happened. She was powerful under the right conditions and if she could draw the young wizard to the water, and lure him close enough, she might even be able to bring Zollin down. But on the other hand, as long as Zollin stayed on dry land Roleena was all but powerless. And if the young wizard took to the air, or simply sent his dragons to attack Roleena’s ships, Branock would be trapped. Roleena could survive in the cold waters, but he could not. He needed to discover a way to survive if her plan failed.

  He rose from his desk and followed the strange pirate up onto the deck. Branock was aware of the suspicious glances both of them were receiving from the crew, but he ignored them. The elder wizard trusted no one and had long ago learned to keep his defenses in place whenever he was around strangers, and sometimes when he was around people he knew.

  Roleena walked to the edge of the ship’s railing and paused. The Eagle’s Scream was Roleena’s third ship, a three-masted freighter. Both the Eagle and the Arrow were ahead of the Crest Dancer, but with only enough sail to maintain steerage.

  “What ship are you taking into the harbor?” Branock asked.

  “I don’t need a ship. If the crew tries anything you have my blessing to slay them without mercy.”

  Branock didn’t need Roleena’s blessing, but he understood that her message was for the crew, not for him. They were a motley band of outlaws and murderers, but they feared his magic. He could sense their fear – it was almost as strong as the odor of their unwashed bodies.

  “We shall await your return,” Branock said. He almost added, with baited breath, but he knew she would sense the sarcasm and his curiosity was piqued. She had convinced him that her plan would work without ever really giving him the details. At last he would see what she was capable of.

  Roleena stepped up onto the railing, her tentacle gripping the wood and holding her steady despite the rocking motion of the ship. Everyone was looking at her, staring at the woman they called captain who wasn’t really a woman at all. What she was, not even Branock could say for certain. She was certainly part monster and perhaps becoming a little less human every day. She jumped from the ship, spreading her arms and then angling down into the water in a perfect dive. It was impressive, but Branock already knew she had skills in the water. His question of whether she could put those skills to good use against Zollin had yet to be answered.

  Angel’s Shelter was a singularly unique port. A small island sheltered the natural harbor on the southwestern tip of Yelsia. The water on the landward side of the island was almost always calm and even in the worst storms the waves in the harbor were minimal. Ships bypassing the port sailed to the outside of the island, and that was where Branock and the three pirate vessels waited. Yet they had an unrestricted view of the ships sheltering in the harbor, along with some of the larger buildings in the town itself. The water around them was dark and choppy, but the water in the harbor was smooth, until Roleena’s monster struck.

  Branoc
k had seen many strange sights in his unnaturally long life, but the green-tentacled sea monster reaching up and crushing a large sailing ship was unique. He controlled magic that could take down a ship, or tear down a building, but the sea monster’s strength was unequalled. It smashed the smaller ships with single blows of the thick tentacles. Sailors were swept from the decks of their ships, along with masts that snapped like dry twigs. The sounds of the carnage carried across the water. Branock could hear the destruction the monster caused, smashing and crushing ship after ship.

  Normally the harbor was a shelter for ships, but with Roleena’s monster at work it became a death trap. Some of the ships tried to raise sail and escape, but the sea creature was too fast. A few brave sailors rowed out from the dock with harpoons, but their efforts were futile. The metal spears couldn’t penetrate the sea monster’s thick skin, and their small vessels were easy targets for the waving tentacles. One was caught in the giant squid’s pincer beak. The screams of the dying reached Branock’s ears.

  Once the ships were destroyed, the sea monster sank back into the dark waters and the attack ended. The shore was lined with spectators, helpless to do anything about the attack, but drawn to the sight of the carnage in their otherwise calm harbor. A few ships were still above water, but only because they were sinking more slowly.

  Branock turned his attention to the Sea Arrow and was rewarded when he saw Roleena lifted from the cold water by a long, thin tentacle. It set her gently on the deck of her new flagship, then slipped back into the ocean. Branock couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran down his back. He supposed he could escape using magic if the ship he was on was attacked by such a creature, but the thought of being dragged down into the cold water was terrifying.