Quinn, Mansel, and Brianna had ridden their horses up to Kelvich’s cabin to “bury” Zollin, but in reality, they had come to talk about what to do now that the snows were melting.
“I’m sure I could escape through the mountains,” Zollin argued. “I know the snows haven’t melted, but it’s not like I can’t burrow through the snow.”
“You would need to use your magic,” Kelvich argued.
“I’ve been using magic all winter long.”
“Yes, but they knew you were here. There was no reason to hide the fact. But if you go on the run, every time you use magic, they’ll know it. It will lead them right to you.”
“What options do we have?” Zollin asked.
“We can fight,” Mansel said. “It’s only two wizards, right?”
“Two that we know of,” Quinn said.
“He’s right,” Kelvich agreed. “We can sense the two wizards approaching, but not the people they have traveling with them.”
“And they didn’t come alone last time,” Brianna reminded them.
“What if we try and sneak past them?” Quinn asked. “Is it possible that we could, perhaps, skirt the valley without them knowing it? I mean, if Zollin doesn’t use his magic?”
“No, I’m afraid not. They can feel Zollin, just as we can feel them.”
“But they may not know about you,” Zollin chimed in. “You’ve been hiding here for years, unnoticed.”
“Yes, your power is probably masking mine,” Kelvich agreed. “That would certainly give us an advantage if we decide that fighting is the best option. I could take control of one of them, as long as I can get close enough and maintain concentration.”
“With one out of the way, I can battle the other,” Zollin said.
“But isn’t that dangerous?” Brianna asked. “I mean, these are experienced wizards, right? They’ll be looking to take you out this time and...” her voice trailed off.
“But it won’t just be me,” Zollin said. “Kelvich can take control of one of the wizards so that it will be two against one.”
“That’s a sound plan, but we can’t commit to it until we know what we’re up against,” Quinn said.
“So how do we find out?” Mansel asked.
“I suppose we need to do some reconnaissance,” said Quinn. “Mansel and I could go, see what there is to see, and report back.”
“I think that would be wise,” Kelvich said. “Brianna and I can get everything ready for us to leave, in case we need to make a hasty exit from Brighton’s Gate.”
“Why would we need to do that?” Mansel asked.
“Because if the townspeople get ugly, we want to leave rather than fight them,” Zollin said. “Once they find out I’m alive, you may not be welcome there anymore.”
“Oh, yeah, I didn’t think about that,” Mansel said, grinning. “You might scare half of them to death, as skittish as they are about you.”
“So we all have something to do,” Quinn said.
“Not me,” Zollin interjected.
“Oh, you’ll be busy,” Kelvich said. “We’ll need coin if we’re going to charter a ship to take us out of the valley. I want you focused on turning these mineral samples into silver coins.”
“Silver?” Zollin asked. “Why not gold?”
“Because silver is more common and easier to spend,” Kelvich said. “Besides, gold would only attract more attention to us, and we want to avoid that.”
“Are you saying Zollin can make money appear out of thin air?” Mansel asked.
“No,” Kelvich snapped. “But he can turn other metals into gold. Not that it’s any of your concern.”
Zollin noticed that Quinn, Mansel, and Brianna were all looking at him with excited expressions. He had forgotten that there was so much they didn’t know. He wasn’t used to being the person who knew things that others didn’t. His whole life his father had been showing him how to do things. Now he was coming into his own, and, in fact, he had spent a good part of the winter reading and learning. His mind had become a sponge. He had never enjoyed learning before; it was all just random information that got jumbled in his head. Now, however, what he was learning was important, practical stuff that he could use every day. And although he learned a lot by reading, everything he learned in a book he also practiced in real life, using amazing magical skills that he had never dreamed of before.
“Alright, we better get to it. I don’t know how much longer folks in Brighton’s Gate are going to welcome us,” Quinn said.
“The other wizards aren’t far. Perhaps two days out, I’m guessing,” Zollin said.
“It looks like the adventure continues,” Mansel said, smiling with excitement.
“Yes, well, let’s just hope we all live to enjoy it,” Kelvich said sourly.
Chapter 9
The cold was insufferable, Branock thought. It wasn’t that he couldn’t tolerate the cold, like an infirm, old man, but rather that he was tired of it. He was tired of snow and mud and being outside, but most of all he was tired of being cold. He and the small army Prince Simmeron had sent to him had taken four ships from Isos. He was now leading an entire legion of troops. They were spread out across the valley about half a day’s walk behind Branock and Whytlethane. There were two hundred archers, all longbow men with fat quivers and stout bows which could rain down death on an enemy from over 200 yards away. There were 650 foot soldiers, each carrying a large, round shield made of yellow birch and banded with iron. For a soldier fighting hand to hand, the shield was his most valuable weapon. Without it, he was dead; armor and chain mail, which very few soldiers possessed, didn’t count for much without a shield. Great swordsmen could defend themselves with a sword, but in a mass of men struggling and fighting, there was simply no room for defensive work. So the shield was the only thing that stood between the foot soldiers and death. They carried the shields everywhere they went, no matter what task they had been set or how tired of the shield’s weight they became. They also carried short, double edged thrusting swords and curved daggers.
There were 100 mounted cavalry, all with heavy armor, lances, short recurve bows, and battle axes or maces. They also carried longswords and small shields. There were a dozen or so knights, with their pages and squires, servants and military staffs. The knights were all sons and nephews of high ranking nobles. They served as officers, each commanding sections of the army, and a few of the most experienced knights led as generals. It was an impressive army, but it reminded Branock of a swarm of ants. They crawled over the land, consuming everything. The small towns in the Great Valley struggled to find enough resources to feed a thousand hungry men. The winter was over, but it would be a long time until harvest and, although news of the Skellmarian attack had trickled down the valley, most of the inhabitants felt no credible threat from the north men. Certainly not enough to warrant the impoverishment that the soldiers created as they passed through.
Officially, a knight named Orbruk, from Eddson Keep, was in charge of the legion, but Branock was in control. Prince Simmeron had spoken to Orbruk personally. Although their official purpose was to oppose the Skellmarian threat, Branock was going to leverage the army to ensure that he brought Zollin under his control. It was a brilliant plan, with only one vexing caveat: he needed to somehow find a way to destroy Whytlethane. The elderly wizard had been on his guard since the Mezzlyn had pulled out of Isos. He’d seen the opportunity they had to redeem themselves, but when Branock had mentioned the army, he had actually seen Whytlethane’s guard go up. The animosity between the two rivals was no secret and, while the elder wizard didn’t know Branock’s plan, he was aware that one was in motion.
“The wind has finally turned,” said Branock. “At least we don’t have to smell their filth now.”
“No,” said Whytlethane, who was even tighter lipped than usual.
They were riding horses and were closely followed by a small group of men who had been employed to serve the two wizards as they traveled. They brou
ght tents from Isos, complete with furs and braziers to keep the small shelters warm. They were in charge of packing and setting up the camp, as well as preparing meals and seeing to the horses. It was a much more comfortable way to travel. They would stop each day at sundown and send someone back for news of the army.
“Let’s make camp,” Branock said. “We are getting close, and I want the army with us when we approach the town.”
Whytlethane looked at Branock suspiciously and nodded.
They were on a small hill, and Branock stepped off of his horse, the scar tissue that ran just under the skin all along his left side was stiff. It was like wearing clothes that were too small, but he managed to get off the horse on his own. The elder wizard merely sat and waited. One of the servants ran up with a large, wooden box that was tiered like steps. He sat the box on the ground beside Whytlethane’s horse and then held the reins. Another servant hurriedly set up two canvas camp chairs with cushions. Another set a brazier between them. The servant had carefully tended to a small number of coals all day as they traveled. The brazier didn’t do much to heat the two wizards in the open air, but it was something to warm their hands by.
“Get a fire going,” Branock said in haughty tone.
The truth was he enjoyed having people to wait on him hand and foot. It was the least he deserved as a powerful wizard, or so he told himself. Their master disagreed and preferred to keep only a handful of mute eunuchs to serve their basic needs. He was old, even for a wizard, and paranoid, seeing spies and traitors everywhere. Whytlethane didn’t seem to mind the servants, which gave Branock a strange sense of peace about the murder he was planning to commit. At least the elder wizard’s last days would be as comfortable as possible.
The servants were bustling about. Branock felt that gold was the ultimate motivator, not pain or fear. Greed drove these men to see to his every need and to do so with a smile. He was now their master, not because they had no other choice, but because they loved his money. The fact that he alone was able to produce the gold ensured his safety. If he were merely a wealthy merchant with a hidden trove of wealth, they might betray him in hopes of getting the treasure for themselves. But Branock had no treasure; he had shown the men the truth of it once they agreed to his terms. He had spent himself to the point of total exhaustion transmuting a small portion of lead into gold. He had given it to the men, allowed them to test it and to spend it. Now he was their god, and they would guard him with their very lives to ensure that nothing came between them and the one person who could make them rich.
“Do you prefer to return to Osla overland or by sea?” Branock asked. He had no intention of returning until he had conquered the other four kingdoms and was leading the largest war host ever seen in the Five Kingdoms, but he wanted to engage his fellow wizard in conversation.
“I prefer the sea,” Whytlethane said.
“It will be colder on the water,” Branock argued.
“Not colder than sleeping on the ground or in some flee infested inn.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re right. I’ll be glad to be out of the saddle for a while. I feel the winter spent in Isos has made me soft.”
Whytlethane merely grunted. He was disgruntled, but that was to be expected. His time was short, Branock reminded himself. He could endure for a while longer.
The tents went up next, as a servant gathered wood for a fire. Then Branock set the wood ablaze with his short staff. It was a finely carved staff of desert ironwood that looked more like a cane than a wizard’s staff. Soon they had steaming cups of mulled wine in their hands and their boots were warming nicely by the fire. It was not what Branock considered comfortable, but it was less uncomfortable than before.
“What is your plan?” Whytlethane asked suddenly, shaking Branock out of his daydream of life in Orrock City as supreme potentate of the Five Kingdoms.
“Plan for what?” Branock said a little defensively.
“For bringing in the boy, of course,” Whytlethane said, without trying to hide his agitation.
“It has not changed; we threaten his family and the city if he does not come along. We leave the army behind so that he knows what will happen if does not cooperate. It is just the stroke of good fortune that we needed.”
“Yes, a little too good, in my experience.”
“Don’t worry,” Branock said. “You worry too much.”
“And you not enough. I should think you would be much more cautious, since your last encounter with the boy almost lost you your life.”
“It was a fluke. A mystery that I plan to solve, but nothing to be worried about.”
“I’ll be watching you,” Whytlethane said.
“And what does that mean?” Branock said angrily.
“It means I don’t trust you.”
“You are a jaded, old man,” Branock said. “You should use a rejuvenating spell.”
“I don’t need you to tell me what to do.”
“Perhaps...” Branock let the thought trail off as they watched a horse come into view.
It was a single man on horseback, cantering through the mud apparently without a care in the world. He rode close to the river and seemed oblivious to the camp being set up on the hill. When at last he appeared to notice them, he changed directions and rode toward them.
“This could be useful,” Branock said.
Whytlethane merely nodded. They waited patiently for the man to arrive. He shouted his greeting as he approached, still on horseback.
“Halloo, my lords, is everything aright?”
“Yes,” Branock replied coolly.
“You may take shelter in Brighton’s Gate. A hard ride will see you there by nightfall,” the man claimed. “The Gateway Inn’s been reopened, and the wine is the finest in the Great Valley.”
“I see, but we are not interested in wine,” Branock countered. “We come in search of our kin. A man and three young people, one a handsome young maid.”
“Ah,” said the rider, his face darkening. “Well, there’s no good news there. They remain, but only just. One was slain by an assassin. They’ll be pushing on soon.”
“Well that’s good to know.”
“News in the Valley is rare,” said the man. “Any little bit’s a treasure,” he said, hinting for payment.
Branock felt the magic in his companion churning angrily.
“Right you are,” said Branock before Whytlethane could act. “Here’s a coin to ensure your successful journey,” he said as he flipped a gold coin high in the air. The man looked up, watching the glinting metal as it flashed in the cold sunlight.
He didn’t see Branock wave his hand, but he heard the horse’s legs on its right side snap and the horse’s wailing neigh. It toppled over and landed hard on the rider’s leg, pinning it under the weight. Branock raised his staff and the cold coin flew back into his hand.
“Slay him,” Whytlethane said stiffly.
“Not until I hear everything about our young wizard.”
“He obviously knows nothing. He thinks the boy is dead.”
“Yes, well, I would like to know about the others, at least. I doubt that Zollin would willingly leave them. They are the key to this entire plan. For all we know, the boy could care less about the village, which would render the army useless to us.”
“We don’t need an army,” Whytlethane insisted.
“Don’t be so hasty,” Branock mocked. His fellow wizard of the Torr was anything but hasty.
“Ow, sirs,” cried the rider. “I’m pinned, and the beast is wallowing my leg something fierce. Can you help?”
“Indeed,” Branock said, using his magic to enhance his voice.
He raised his staff and the horse rose in the air. The rider was so surprised that he failed to move. Branock let the beast fall back onto the man, who now had both legs pinned under the horse and was crying out in pain.
“Tell me about the wizard’s companions.”
“I’ve told you,” he cried, even though he wa
s panting and there was sweat popping out on his forehead. “They’ve rebuilt the Gateway Inn. Stayed busy all winter, but they aren’t welcome to stay.”
“And you’re sure the boy’s dead?”
“They went up to bury him today,” the man said.
“Up where?”
“To the hermit’s cabin. Not far from the pass.”
“Telford’s pass?”
“That’s...right...” the man said, gasping.
Five Kingdoms: Books 01, 02 & 03 Page 37
