Five Kingdoms: Books 01, 02 & 03

by Toby Neighbors

  “Can we make camp here for the night? There’s fresh water and plenty of wood for a fire.”

  “No, we need to press on,” Quinn said sadly. “If Zollin can feel the other Wizards it’s a safe bet they can feel him too. They can probably track us by it, so we need to put as much distance as we can between us. Go ahead and get out some food. We’ll eat, then move on.”

  Brianna nodded then shuffled away. Quinn stood looking at his son; Zollin looked down at the ground. He couldn’t imagine what his father was feeling, and even though he was sure it wasn’t good, at that moment he really didn’t care. He was numb, and his grief raged like a stormy ocean in his soul. He was overcome by it, unable to cope with it, much less control it.

  “I know it’s hard,” Quinn said softly.

  Zollin looked up, surprised at hearing his father speak. Quinn was only a little taller than his son, his hair going grey at the temples, his face lined with age and too much time spent in the sun, but his body was still solid. There wasn’t much excess fat on him, and his arms and shoulders were well rounded with muscle. He looked as comfortable in armor with a sword at his waist as he did with a tool bag over his shoulder and a sturdy piece of timber in his hands.

  “I lost my best friend, too, you know,” he said.

  Zollin looked up, surprised and hopeful, until he realized that his father was talking about his mother. It was almost more than he could stand. He knew his mother had died giving birth to him, and the guilt pushed his emotions over the edge.

  “I’m sorry,” Zollin said, his voice cracking as tears flowed down his checks. He sobbed, his knees buckling beneath him. His father caught him and they both ended up on the damp ground. “I didn’t mean to kill her,” Zollin managed to say between gasps for breath.

  “Her?” Quinn asked. “You mean your mother?”

  Zollin nodded.

  “Son, I don’t blame you for your mother’s death.”

  But Zollin couldn’t take any more. He didn’t want to hear anyone rationalize about how this wasn’t his fault, or that he wasn’t to blame. It was his fault. People were dead and it was because of him. If he stayed with his father and Brianna, they would probably be killed too. In fact, if his father was right and the Wizards from the Torr could track him, then his presence was putting them in danger.

  He pushed away from his father and rose to his feet on shaking legs. “I’m leaving. You’re better off without me.”

  “No son – ”

  But Zollin wouldn’t let him finish. “If they’re after me, then you should go as far from me as possible. Take Brianna with you and keep her safe.”

  “No, I’m not leaving you. Not now, not like this.”

  “Go back to Tranaugh Shire, tell everyone I’m sorry. Tell Todrek’s parents that I’m sorry.”

  He was crying uncontrollably. He started to turn away, but his father grabbed his arm. Before Zollin knew what was happening, his father had spun him back around and slapped his gloved hand across his son’s face. The impact was jarring and made Zollin gasp at the pain. After a moment of surprise, a white hot anger sprang up. His father hadn’t struck him in years and never like that. His face throbbed from the impact.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he shouted.

  “You mad?” his father shouted back.

  “You’re lucky I don’t…” he let the thought trail off.

  “You listen to me, boy,” Quinn said stepping close, his face mere inches from his son’s. “I know you’re hurting but we need you. I know you feel guilty and you blame yourself but you didn’t kill Todrek. A mercenary killed your friend. Do you know what that means? It means cold blooded killers are chasing us. It means that those Wizards who want to carry you away are still out there right now. You want to blame someone, blame them. We need you. If you run off on your own, you’ll be playing right into their hands.”

  “But I don’t know what to do!” Zollin said, his frustration making his voice harsh.

  “We’ll learn as we go,” his father assured him. “Right now we need to get to safety. The winter snows will be here soon, and then we’ll have time to plot our next move. But for now we need to keep moving, stay ahead of those mercenaries, keep Mansel and Brianna safe.”

  “Keep moving where?” Zollin asked.

  “We move north. Hopefully we can make it into the mountains before the snows hit. That way we’ll be safe for a while. We can find shelter and sit out the worst of the winter storms. And hopefully in that time we’ll come up with a plan.”

  “Have you ever been in the mountains?” Zollin asked, his anger and grief receding.

  “Yes, once, before you were born. I worked for a while in a small village called Brighton’s Gate. It’s on Telford’s Pass through the mountains, and if we can get there I’m sure some of the townsfolk will give us shelter.”

  “Can we make it? How far is it?”

  “It will be close, but I don’t want to go south. Too many people, and we won’t know who to trust.”

  “Can we trust the people at Brighton’s Gate?”

  “It won’t matter. We’ll all be snowed in for the season. The passes fill up with snow so there’s no way to leave. When the passes reopen, we’ll move on.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Zollin said.

  “Have you got any better ideas?” his father asked.

  At first Zollin thought that Quinn was simply asking a rhetorical question, but his father waited, obviously expecting an answer. There was a strange look of respect on Quinn’s face. Zollin had expected the question to simply end the argument, but it seemed as if his father genuinely wanted to know if he had any ideas.

  “No, sir, that sounds like a good plan.”

  “Alright then,” Quinn said, “we press on. Let’s get something to eat.”

  Zollin started to protest, but then his stomach growled. He couldn’t imagine enjoying a meal, but he could at least fill his stomach. They walked back to where Mansel and Brianna were sitting on a fallen log. Mansel was chatting amiably, seemingly oblivious to the danger that was pursuing them. Brianna, Zollin noticed, didn’t seem distraught. He had avoided her all day, expecting to see anger and grief over Todrek’s death, but she seemed fine. In fact, she had prepared food for him and motioned for him to sit beside her.

  It was physically painful to see how beautiful she was. Even though she had been riding all day long, her face and hands pale from the cold, her eyes drooping slightly from exhaustion, she was still captivating. Zollin remembered how thrilled Todrek had been to have won her hand in marriage. She had inspired his friend to greatness, to achieving all that he could, and Zollin could see why. But her beauty was like an open wound to him. He wouldn’t let himself feel the giddy sweetness of being close to her. He willed himself at that moment to never love her, no matter what. She was Todrek’s and he could not betray his friend’s memory.

  “So what’s the plan?” Mansel asked.

  “We head north,” Quinn said and then took a huge bite of bread.

  “Well, we won’t last long on these rations. We’ll have to find more food. I would have laid out some of the dried meat but there just isn’t much left.”

  “I can provide some more food,” Zollin said. He walked over to the stream, which was shallow but wide. The icy water was clear, and after a moment, he spotted a big trout resting behind a large stone from the swift current. Zollin took a firm grip on his staff and concentrated on the fish. He had done this at home, but now he had an audience. He closed his eyes and directed the flow of magic. The power from his staff mingled with the magic of the willow belt and flowed through him. He felt it move out into the water until he could feel the smooth skin of the fish through the connection. Then he lifted it up out of the water. It took all his concentration to hold onto the wiggling fish. In the small stream near the magic willow tree, Zollin had dropped more fish than he had caught, and none of them had been the size of this trout. But he had this one, and he was determined no
t to lose it. It wiggled madly, flipping back and forth, trying to escape and return to the safety of the stream. Zollin moved it over to the bank and laid it gently on the rocks. It jumped but was too far from the water to return on its own.

  “That’s a handy trick!” Mansel called out excitedly.

  “True, but I don’t think we can risk a fire,” Quinn said, his voice heavy with frustration. “We’re going to need to move on soon, and the smoke from a fire would lead them right to us.”

  “I can take care of that, too,” Zollin said. “Mansel, would you clean it?”

  The older boy, normally taunting Zollin and making life miserable, responded happily, as if he wasn’t running for his life from powerful Wizards but rather was on a family picnic. Quinn frowned and pulled Zollin aside again.

  “We really don’t have time for this.”

  “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, “Alright, 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 Peddinggar. 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 group of mercenaries, had alread 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. Suddenly, 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 much more adequately 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 alo
ng, 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 his cold, aching body.