* * *
The feast in Orrock had been grand. It seemed that everyone knew of the pending proposal and had shown up in droves to the feast. There was food of every kind: wine, ale, cider, and even hot beverages. The mood was festive, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, except for Prince Willam and Brianna.
Willam was nervous. He still wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing. He didn’t like the fact that his father was manipulating him. If not for his personal feelings for Brianna, he wouldn’t have gone along with it. But the truth was he had been smitten with Brianna from the first time they met. She was beautiful, smart, passionate, and strong. There was no pretentiousness to her, and she had no sense of entitlement, unlike most of the women in the royal court. He wanted Brianna to be his wife, to love him and share his throne, but he wasn’t entirely sure that she wanted him. He knew that she had feelings for him, but he didn’t know if they were stronger than the feelings she still had for Zollin.
Brianna, on the other hand, was sure that she didn’t want to marry Prince Willam. The temptation to become Queen of Yelsia had been a fantasy, but now that it was being forced upon her, she realized that it wasn’t the future she wanted. She wanted to be with Zollin. The Prince was handsome and charming, and the future he offered was enticing but safe. She wanted to fly with dragons and experience new things. She wanted to live life out in the open, where things were different each day. And she wanted to be with Zollin. He wasn’t as handsome or charming as the prince, but he was powerful and compassionate, quick to laugh even at himself. And most of all, he made her feel like an equal, not just a mate. She missed that. She had been so focused on her mission and then dealing with new feelings, that she had forgotten how Zollin made her feel. She wanted to see him again more than anything. She silently hoped he would arrive suddenly, burst into the grand hall, and put an end to the madness she found herself in. But he didn’t come, and before she knew it, Prince Willam was calling for silence.
“Please, pardon my interruption of the night’s festivities,” he said. “As most of you know, these are tumultuous times in the Five Kingdoms. I, for one, know personally how quickly life can change, and not always for the better. But tonight I am hoping to usher in a new era of good tidings here in Yelsia.”
He turned to Brianna who was trying her best not to let the horror she felt show on her face.
“Brianna, you have helped me see what kind of man I want to be. You have brought hope to me when none else could. And your dragons have revealed the future of our kingdom. I can’t imagine even one day without you by my side. I love you. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife and Princess of Yelsia?”
The room was as silent as a tomb, and Brianna felt as if her future were just as bleak. Internally she was screaming no, no, no. But outwardly, she did her best to look happy. She had considered every possibility, but King Felix had ensured that she had no other options. She had to agree.
“Yes,” she said quietly.
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Trumpets sounded and drums beat out the cadence of the King’s Army. Prince Willam pulled Brianna close and for the first time kissed her lips. Brianna kissed him back not wanting anyone to see her hesitation, but Prince Willam felt it and when he pulled away, looking deep into her eyes, he knew the truth. She had said yes, but her heart wasn’t in it.
He kept up the appearance of a happy groom to be, but Brianna could feel the tension in him. Entertainers appeared: singers, acrobats, and jesters. More food was brought out and spirits consumed. Brianna drank her wine slowly; she was afraid of what she might say or do if she let the strong drink go to her head. Prince Willam didn’t touch anything, not food, not wine, only Brianna’s hand. He smiled and acted happy, but Brianna knew he wasn’t.
When the night finally wound down, her father escorted them back to their suite of rooms. Her mother and sisters were on cloud nine, but her father knew that Brianna wasn’t happy. He held her back when the others went in to bed. There was fire in the fireplace and a decanter of wine on the table across the room. Estry poured them both a goblet of wine, and then joined his eldest daughter near the fire.
“You aren’t happy,” he said.
“No,” Brianna admitted.
“So, why did you say yes? Not because I wanted it, I hope.”
“No Father, I didn’t do it for you, or for Mother, or even for all of Yelsia.”
“So?” he asked.
“It isn’t important,” Brianna said. “All that matters now is that I keep my commitment.”
“Sweetheart, is marrying the Crown Prince of Yelsia really so bad?”
“It is when you love another,” Brianna said.
“But you love Prince Willam, too.”
“No,” Brianna said. “I care for Willam; he is a good man and I believe he will be a great king, but I am not in love with him.”
“Love is like a flower. It starts off as a seed, small and simple, but in time it grows and becomes a beautiful flower. You have the seed of love for Prince Willam. He will make you happy. The more you get to know him, the greater that love will grow.”
“Father, I love Zollin. He is the man I was meant to be with. I cannot deny it. And yet, fate has seen fit to rob me of him. I shall never be happy. If I am lucky, perhaps I will one day be able to deny the resentment that has risen up in me. All I want is to be free of this place… to fly with the dragons of my pride… to feel that the whole world is before me again.”
“Surely if the world is before anyone, it would be a queen.”
“But it isn’t,” Brianna said. “Don’t you see that? If I marry Prince Willam my whole life will be dictated to me. Where I shall live, what I shall do, who I shall see and not see. That isn’t what I want.”
“What about helping people,” he said, grasping for anything that might make her feel better about the match with Prince Willam. “You said yourself that a queen can make a difference in many lives. Think of all the good you can do.”
“Yes,” Brianna said. “I can make everyone happy but myself.”
She cried quietly, and Estry held her close. He didn’t know what else to do or how else to help her. He loved his daughter, but she was beyond his influence now. So he held her, crying with her, and telling her he would always love her.
Chapter 20
It took a full day’s work to make it to the village of Green Glen. Mansel and Quinn pushed and pulled the wagon they had cobbled together. It was loaded with supplies, but mostly the herbs and powders that Nycoll had discovered. They passed the small village that guarded the western pass into the mountains, but it was deserted, so they traveled on. The hills that led into the mountains were not steep but the long, gentle slopes exhausted both men as they pushed the wagon up and then did their best to control it as they went back down.
In the village of Green Glen, they found the survivors of the settlement attack. The people there were in shock, many were wounded and the people of the village were completely overwhelmed. They were met at the edge of the village by the same teamster that Quinn had gotten information from on his way through the mountains. But this time the burly man named Jorgyn wasn’t alone. There were four other men with him, all armed, and although they didn’t look confident with their weapons, they did seem intent on their task.
“We’ll be asking you to move along,” the teamster said. “We can’t take in any more refugees.”
“We’re not refugees,” Mansel said.
“Surely you remember me,” Quinn said. “We spoke just days ago.”
“I remember,” the big man said, “but the town’s full. There are no more rooms to be had. We’ll be lucky to make it through the winter without half the town starving.”
“We aren’t looking for a room or for food. We can take care of ourselves,” Quinn said. “But we’d like to wait here for King Zorlan and the armies from the north.”
“What are you on about?” Jorgyn asked.
“You’v
e heard of the monsters no doubt,” Quinn said. “They’re just the beginning. King Zorlan’s army was defeated by these monsters, but there is an army coming north now, and the kings have given their word to make a stand at the Walheta together.”
“King Zorlan is coming here?”
“He’s coming to the mountains,” Quinn said. “I can’t be sure where he’ll make camp. Let us stay and help. We’ve got supplies.”
“Medicines,” Nycoll said.
“We can hunt,” Quinn continued.
“And help keep the peace,” Mansel said.
“We’ll even help patrol for the King’s forces,” Quinn said. “And if the monsters make it this far, you’ll want every able bodied man you can get.”
“Well,” the teamster said, thinking things through. “I guess you could make camp at my place; that’s if you don’t mind sharing a barn with my horses.”
“That’s very generous,” Quinn said. “We won’t get in your way.”
“The town’s in need of a healer,” the Teamster said, introducing himself to Nycoll. “I’m Jorgyn.”
“I’m not a healer,” Nycoll said. “But I can help.”
“My name is Quinn, and this is Mansel.”
They all shook hands.
“That’s quite a sword you’re wearing,” Jorgyn said to Mansel. “And from the looks of things, you know how to use it.”
Mansel nodded, but didn’t speak.
“The healer is your woman?” Jorgyn asked.
“We’re together, yes,” Mansel said.
“I’m not trained,” Nycoll said. “But I’ve some knowledge and we’ve got supplies in the wagon.”
“You pulled that rickety thing up the mountain path?” Jorgyn asked.
“It’s from the settlement you told me about,” Quinn said. “We had to cobble it together from various pieces and without tools.”
“You are industrious, aren’t you?”
“We aren’t shirkers,” Quinn said.
“Well, there’s a community meal in the village. Let’s go down and see what you can do to help.”
The men with Jorgyn continued to patrol the edge of the village. Green Glen was little more than a few shops and a dozen or so homes. There was an inn and a common area in the middle of town.
“The sick are laid up in the Cloverleaf Inn,” Jorgyn explained. That’s where the community meal is being prepared as well. Everyone has donated whatever they can to the cause.”
“That’s generous,” Quinn said. “We’ve got extra supplies we salvaged from the settlement. We’ll be glad to contribute.”
They spent the next four hours helping with the wounded. Mansel kept several pots of water boiling, and Quinn helped Nycoll clean wounds and prepare poultices. The locals had supplied cloth for clean bandages, but there was no healer in the village. Nycoll had a rudimentary understanding of what was needed and gave precise instructions on how the sick were to be treated.
They ate a supper of stew and hard crusted bread. There was ale, but it was rationed. It was well past dark when the three of them returned with Jorgyn to set up their own little shelter in the teamster’s barn. There was one unused horse stall; it was swept clean and Mansel helped situate it for Nycoll, so that she could have a little privacy. There was plenty of room and even an old wood stove in one corner, which they used to heat the barn at night.
The next day, Mansel took a bow and went hunting. Quinn spent the morning helping Nycoll in the village, then spent several hours chopping wood. By the time Mansel returned, carrying a young stag over his broad shoulder, everyone was tired. Mansel handed his trophy over to the Inn Keeper who immediately began to butcher the meat. Some was used in that night’s meal, the rest hung to be used in the days ahead.
The nights in the mountain village were cold. The stars were bright in the sky, but most of the village kept indoors. Quinn had arranged straw for their beds, and blankets from the inn had been borrowed. They built up a warm fire in the stove and rested well in the barn.
The days went on in a similar fashion for a week. Quinn helped the locals plan and implement a strategy to keep watch over the village. He also trained the villagers in how to use their weapons in combat. The villagers had a wide array of weapons, some clubs, a few rusty swords and spears.
More people drifted into the village and while there was no more shelter to be had, Quinn and Mansel built frames that the locals could cover with canvass, creating pavilions that kept the worst of the weather off of those forced to take shelter out of doors.
On the seventh day, a rider came galloping into the village. He wore the uniform of the Falxis Royal Army, but it was covered with dirt and grime. He looked weary, but excited.
“The King is coming,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Make room for the King.”
The news sent the village into a tizzy of excitement and work. Most of the sick and injured were recovered enough to be moved. Jorgyn moved his horses out into his corral, and the barn was cleaned out so that those who still needed care could be sheltered in the barn with Nycoll. The next day, the army of Falxis arrived.
To everyone in the village’s dismay, the army consisted of around two hundred soldiers and nearly a thousand refugees. The broad valley was soon filled with people, tents, and animals. The valley, once beautiful and idyllic, was soon rendered into a crowded, smelling ghetto.
Quinn and Mansel did their best to stay busy without drawing undue attention to themselves. It didn’t take long before tensions arose as homes were broken into and fights erupted between locals and refugees, civilians and soldiers. King Zorlan, looking gaunt and exhausted, took over the Cloverleaf Inn and wasn’t seen again outside the small establishment. Food, which had been a concern before, now became the number one priority. Quinn and Mansel took turns hunting, but the game was soon scared away by the numbers of people roaming through the mountains searching for any wild creature they might kill and eat. And neither man trusted that Nycoll would be safe unguarded. She stayed in Jorgyn’s barn, which was now a makeshift hospital. The King brought two healers in his refugee army, but one was a drunk who always managed to find enough spirits to stay inebriated.
The king’s soldiers made a halfhearted attempt to train the men that had fled into the mountains, but the refugees were either surly or scared, and the soldiers were too tired to give the effort much time or energy. Scouts were sent south and many reported on a daily basis, but while the flying, centaur monsters still roamed the now deserted countryside, there was no sign of the Yelsian forces.
Occasionally, small bands of the flying monsters appeared in the mountains and tried unsuccessfully to attack the village. The bands were always small, never more than five of the wretched creatures, and the soldiers beat them back easily.
The valley had been occupied for over a week before Quinn was summoned to the Cloverleaf Inn. Two soldiers appeared at Jorgyn’s barn calling for Quinn to accompany them back to the inn to meet with King Zorlan.
“What the hell does he want?” Mansel asked sourly. His mood had not improved with the arrival of the King. What had once been a source of hope, had become a bitter disappointment.
“I don’t know,” Quinn said. “You better stay here until I get back.”
Mansel had been preparing to go hunting. He had always been a fairly good archer and could move through the forest quietly, although his tracking skills were below average. He could usually find game if he stuck to it long enough, and of late, if he ventured far enough from the camp.
“I’ll be here,” Mansel said, testing the draw of his bow.
Quinn followed the soldiers through the crowded, muddy streets of the village to the Cloverleaf Inn. He went inside and found that the common room was now a war room. The long tables were covered with maps, and the king’s officers were busy trying to plan a strategy to protect the village if a larger attack was launched against them.
King Zorlan was seated in a small chair near the fireplace. He looked sick, his skin p
ale and sagging, and his hair limp and greasy. His eyes were half closed, but they opened up when Quinn was announced.
“The man from Yelsia,” one of the soldiers said. “His name is Quinn.”
The King gazed at Quinn for a few seconds before speaking.
“You were in Yelsia recently?” he asked.
“It’s been a few weeks now,” Quinn said.
“And is Felix mobilizing his forces to join us here?”
“I know that Brianna and my son Zollin are trying to arrange that,” Quinn said.
“Zollin the Wizard is your son?” King Felix asked.
“He is.”
“And will he bring an army to make a stand with us here?”
“If he said that he would, he will,” Quinn said. “Unless he’s dead.”
“Do you think he might be dead?”
“No, I have no reason to think that he might be dead. I’m just saying that death is the only thing that would keep him from fulfilling his word.”
“Good. I hope that King Felix comes soon. We have to set up some sort of supply chain. I don’t suppose there is much in the way of food and supplies north of the mountains?”
“Not really, Sire, the area between the Rejee desert and the coast is sparsely populated. The best hope would be to sail supplies from western Yelsia down here.”
“That was my guess as well,” Zorlan said, “which is why I chose the western pass through the mountains to make my base of operations. I have soldiers to the east, but not many, Scouts mainly. The rumors around the village are that you served in Felix’s royal guard.”
“I did, Sire, but that was long ago.”
“You look like you’re in good shape to me.”
“I can hold my own, Sire, but the problem isn’t so much physical as it is logistical. I don’t have good weapons anymore. I lost my short sword and throwing knives fighting the monsters.”
Five Kingdoms: Book 06 - Evil Tide Page 19
