“Quinn’s staying? For how long?”
“I don’t know for sure. He says he’ll follow after Kelvich is well, but he’ll probably be happier staying indefinitely.”
“Well I’m not staying,” Mansel said as he stood up.
“Good, the horses are ready. Help me pack something to eat.”
There wasn’t much food, but they divided it all in two, packing Zollin and Mansel’s share into bags. He left some silver and gold that he had transmuted from other materials.
Then he went to find his father. He was very conflicted. He had wanted his father to stay and find happiness, but he resented the townspeople of Brighton’s Gate, too. It irked him to think that they might get to be with his father, they didn’t deserve him. And if he was being honest, he felt as if Quinn were giving up on Brianna.
“You ready to go?” Quinn said when he saw Zollin coming.
“Yes.”
“Well, be careful. I will be along in a few days.”
“You don’t have to, you know.”
“What do you mean?” Quinn asked, the surprise on his face was genuine.
“I mean, if you like it here, you can stay. I ruined your life in Tranaugh Shire, but you can have a home here. The people will come to respect you, once I’m gone.”
“Zollin, I’m coming with you.”
“Why? There’s really no telling what is going to happen. There’s no sense in you risking your life for me and Brianna.”
“You’re my son,” Quinn said fiercely. “And believe it or not, I love Brianna, too. She’s become like a daughter to me. I’ll be damned if I’ll let anyone take my family away from me.”
“I don’t get it then,” Zollin said. “If it is that important to you, why are staying here to help these people? They don’t care about us. In fact, they blame us for everything that happened here, and none of it was our fault.”
“You’re right son, but I hate to leave them without hope. Building things is what I do, it’s my magic. Helping them is the right thing for me.”
Zollin shook his head in frustration. He couldn’t say why he was so angry, perhaps it had nothing to do with his father at all, but deep down he had always resented Quinn’s choice to work rather than spend time helping Zollin discover what he was great at. Quinn had spent years trying to help Zollin learn a trade that he would never be good at. Now that he knew his destiny, seeing his father choose to stay and build, rather than leave with his son, was like rubbing salt in an old wound.
“You always help others, but what about helping yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it seems like you always choose to help others, and the people who love you pay the price.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know what I mean, Dad. You’ve always cared more about your work than about me.”
“That’s not true,” Quinn said in shock.
“It is true. My whole life I’ve tried to make you proud and do things your way, but I’m not staying here. I’m not helping these people. I’m going after Brianna, and you might as well just stay here.”
Quinn was dumbfounded. He simply didn’t know what to say. He was still standing rooted to the spot, watching, as Zollin and Mansel rode swiftly away.
* * *
Brianna hurt all over. Her head was throbbing again, the skin itched where the blood had dried on the back of her head and down her neck. The wound from being hit over the head was sharp, especially in the freezing cold, night air. Her back and legs were aching from being on the horse all day and then all through the night. They didn’t stop to eat or rest. Branock was using some type of spell to keep the horse going, but he did nothing to help Brianna. She tried to sleep, her head drooping forward until her chin bounced against her chest, but she could never do more than doze lightly, and her neck was now in a major kink that hurt whenever she turned her head. As the sun rose, they could see a small homestead in the distance.
All she could think about was stopping and getting off the horse, which she had come to hate. Hunger and lack of sleep made her thoughts murky. She was shivering from cold and exposure through the night, but most of all she was heart sick. The only thing she could imagine that would keep Zollin from riding to her rescue was that he’d been hurt. He’d been battling the dragon, which was absolutely horrifying and at the same time seemed impossible. She’d heard stories of dragons, but she’d never believed they were anything more than stories. Now she had seen one, seen it diving down and devouring people, destroying buildings and fighting Zollin, but it was hard to accept as reality. Everything seemed like a bad dream to her exhausted mind.
“Mind your manners, and we’ll be off this dreadful beast soon,” Branock said conversationally.
Brianna hated the wizard so intensely, but she felt powerless at the moment to do anything more than grunt. She had to admit, getting off the horse sounded divine, but she didn’t want to give Branock the satisfaction of her affirmation.
They approached the small home. Unlike the village at Brighton’s Gate, which was built well back from the river’s edge, this building was constructed right on the bank. It had a set of wooden stairs that led down to a pier. There was a good size fishing boat moored to the stairs, since the river had risen so high. Unlike most of the small boats Brianna had seen on the river, this boat had a wide deck and a small enclosed cabin.
People from the home came out to greet them, but Brianna could see the nervous look in their eyes. The sight of the bald wizard, with his scarred face and milky eye, was not welcome. Still, the people tried their best to be courteous. Branock didn’t try to bargain, he simply threw the man who greeted him a small pouch of gold coins.
“What’s this?” the man asked.
“We need passage downriver to the bay,” Branock said.
“Oh, well, I suppose we might help with that,” the man said.
“Of course you can.”
“I’m Drogan, and these are my sons. We’ll need a little time to gather supplies for a voyage that long. Would you like to come in and warm yourselves by the fire?”
“Yes,” Branock said. “We need wine and food, too. You can keep the horse.”
“Yes, sir,” Drogan said, and then ordered one his sons, he had four of them, to take the horse.
Branock swung down from the horse, and Brianna was left swaying in the saddle. He stretched his back; the scar tissue was stiff from disuse, but he had been successful in using the Zipple Weed to keep his strength up. To Branock, Brianna was like a black hole of magic, sucking all his powers away. If he so much as touched her, he was powerless. It had been a difficult chore to use the Zipple Weed while on the horse, but he had managed it. He reached up and pulled the girl down. He didn’t bother trying to catch her. Years of using his magic to do the simplest chores hadn’t left him with much physical strength, and he saw no need to strain himself. The ground was muddy, and he let her fall.
Brianna felt his arm and the slight tug that sent her toppling to the ground. She tried to brace her fall, but her arms simply didn’t have the strength. She landed on one shoulder, and the air was knocked out of her lungs. She lay gasping as the horse shied away from her. She rolled onto her back in the mud, which was covering her clothes and clinging to her hair.
“Bring her inside,” Branock ordered.
The women from the homestead were watching the scene in horror. They simply couldn’t believe anyone would treat a woman that way. Branock seemed oblivious to their disapproval. He walked into the home without waiting.
Drogan began giving orders to everyone. Two of the boys lifted Brianna gently to her feet and helped her inside, where one of the women took her into a side room. The room was warmer than the temperature outside, but not by much. She peeled Brianna’s dress off and scrubbed her face and hands clean of the mud. She also washed the mud out of her hair and then braided it while Brianna drank a cup of mulled wine. She was finally getting some feeling in her hands and feet again. T
hey dressed her in thick, wool leggings. Then they pulled on a short dress with long sleeves and high collar. They helped her into the kitchen, which had a roaring fire going. Branock was dozing by the fire, and Brianna was given a plate of food and a stool to sit on. She had trouble staying awake long enough to finish the rich fair. It was smoked fish, eggs and cheese, thick slices of toasted bread with butter. There was more wine, and by the time she was finished, she could hardly hold her head up.
She curled up by the fire and slept on the floor. It was close to midday when the same girl who had bathed her shook her gently. She looked fearful but didn’t speak. Only motioned for Brianna to get up and follow her. Branock was waiting by the door.
“Let’s go,” he said impatiently.
He took her arm roughly and led her outside. The sun was high overhead, and the day had warmed slightly. He pushed her forward, down the wooden staircase that led to the boat. She had to step over the railing of the boat, which was high, but the wool pants she had on protected her modesty. Branock pushed her roughly into the little cabin. He had no desire to see the scenery. He locked the door and looked at Brianna coldly.
“I need you alive,” he said coldly. “But I have no qualms about keeping you trussed up like a wild animal, if that is how you choose to behave. Try to escape, and I will make your life miserable. Play along, and we’ll have a pleasant voyage down the coast and then set up in the castle at Orrock. You can have servants waiting on you, hand and foot. You might even find a wealthy noble willing to make you his latest wife. No need to thank me, just don’t annoy me and we’ll get along just fine.”
Brianna was on the floor of the cabin, which was crowded with a tiny bed, a stool, and a low table. Her first impulse was to spew threatening curses, but she knew it would just be hollow bravado. She was exhausted, almost too sore to move, and she couldn’t swim. If she tried to escape, she would drown, but her captor didn’t need to know that. He couldn’t have picked a more effective way to ensure that she wouldn’t try to escape. She decided to pretend to be docile. Maybe, she thought, she could even lull him into a sense of complacency so that she could escape or at least exact revenge, if the opportunity presented itself down the road.
She lay down on the floor, trying to get comfortable on the rough surface. The rocking motion of the boat lulled her to sleep.
“Good,” Branock said, dropping wearily onto the bed.
He took a moment and created a magical seal on the door. It was nothing more than transmuting part of the wood to terracotta, but if she tried to open the door, the pottery would break and fall to the floor, making a clattering racket that would wake him up. Then he stretched out on the bed, hoping that it wasn’t too infested with vermin, but too tired to really care.
Brianna couldn’t help but think of Zollin and then Quinn and Mansel, and even Kelvich. She worried that they weren’t well. Perhaps they had been wounded, or even killed by the dragon or the Skellmarians. She felt tears leaking from her eyes, but she didn’t care. She was too tired to even wipe her cheeks as the teardrops rolled down her face.
Chapter 19
Zollin rode up high into the woods, preferring to pick his way forward rather than ride straight up the road. The tall pines and stately cedars seemed like familiar friends, and he liked the feeling of seclusion they gave him. It matched his dark mood. He didn’t like leaving Quinn and Kelvich behind, although he had contemplated leaving them all behind to set out in pursuit of Brianna. Still, now that he had actually done it, he felt uneasy. They needed to stay together, where he could protect them, he thought to himself, so why had he gotten so angry and told his father to stay behind? Keeping them all safe was all he really wanted from life anymore.
Mansel rode silently behind Zollin. He was glad that he hadn’t been asked to stay and help the people of Brighton’s Gate rebuild their town. He liked carpentry well enough and enjoyed the sense of satisfaction the work brought when he could look at a completed project, but his heart wasn’t in the work, not anymore. He longed for a good horse, an open road, and the promise of adventure. And he was growing fond of Zollin, too. They weren’t good friends, not yet, at any rate. He had always seemed too timid to Mansel, not to mention clumsy. And Mansel had not always treated his younger companion with respect, but he had never meant it as personal dislike. They were just different, that was all. Now he had a great respect for Zollin and the magic the boy could wield. He wanted nothing more that to help Zollin free Brianna, whom he’d come to love just like a sister.
Neither of the young men talked as they rode. Mansel was nursing a headache, and Zollin was too deep in his brooding thoughts. When they were finally forced onto the road that led into Telford’s Pass, they rode side by side. Mansel looked every inch the warrior that he was becoming. He had thick shoulders and a squarish jaw that bristled with stubble. Zollin was the opposite; he was slender, the muscle stretching across his frame like it did his father’s. Using magic seemed to burn through calories, and he was on the verge of being too thin, although he had kept himself and Kelvich well fed through the long winter.
Neither of them were surprised when they came around a bend in the pass and found a squad of soldiers blocking their path. The area was V shaped, with the mountains rising steeply on either side of the trail. There was enough room for four men riding side by side on the trail, or for five men with shields to form an effective wall. There were probably twenty men on the path, all foot soldiers with shields and short swords. And another ten archers were scattered up the sides of the mountains so that they could rain arrows down on attackers trying to break through the blockade.
Zollin and Mansel halted their horses and looked at the squad in front of them.
“This is awkward,” Mansel joked.
Zollin knew the soldiers couldn’t stop him, but the last thing he wanted was to hurt anyone. They were only following orders, and if Quinn was right, they might end up being the only thing that stood between Yelsia and the Skellmarians if the barbarians invaded again.
“You think they’ll try to detain us?” Zollin asked.
“Not if they’re smart,” Mansel scoffed. “Besides, what would they do with us? It would take four or five of them to haul us back to where the army is camped.”
“They may want payback for stealing their horses,” Zollin said.
“Let them try,” Mansel said.
Zollin recognized the bravado. He knew there were more than enough soldiers to take Mansel out if they wanted to. He had been more than brave against the Skellmarians. He’d shown true skill with his sword, especially from horseback, but there was no way to maneuver in the pass, the foot soldiers had the advantage.
“Well, let’s go. If they want to pick a fight, I guess we’ll just have to deal with that,” Zollin said grimly.
They rode forward and one of the soldiers raised a hand to stop them.
“That’s far enough,” the soldier said in a loud voice. “No one is allowed through the pass. You’ll have to turn back.”
“We must be allowed through,” said Zollin. “Our friend has been kidnapped, and we are going to get her back.”
“Yes, I was told you might try. You’re the wizard, right?”
“My name is Zollin, and yes, I’m a wizard.”
“Can’t let you through, we’ve got our orders.”
“You better think that through again, meathead,” Mansel said loud enough for everyone to hear. “He’ll turn your men into a bunch of toads, and we’ll feast on frog legs for dinner.”
“Mansel, shut up,” Zollin snapped.
The young warrior raised his hands in a playful gesture of surrender.
“We don’t want to fight,” said the soldier.
“Neither do we, but we are going past, with or without your help.”
The soldiers looked at one another, whispering under their breath. They weren’t knights or even cavalry soldiers. Most had joined the King’s army because they had no other way to make a living. None of the
m had seen actual combat before the previous day, when the Skellmarians invaded the Gate. They didn’t seem anxious to repeat the experience. But one of the archers decided he could deal with Zollin on his own. He was a young man, barely older than Zollin himself. He hadn’t seen Zollin battle the dragon, and he acted completely on his own. He loosed an arrow that would have punched through the wizard’s chest, stopping his heart instantly. But Zollin felt the projectile coming, and, without a conscious thought on his part, his magic leapt out and caught the arrow in midair. He spun it around and sent it flying back at the archer, missing the boy by mere inches.
“Hold your fire!” shouted the soldier who seemed to be in charge. “Damn it, Garrit! They aren’t Skellmarians. You were ordered not to fire on anyone but Skellmarians. How many times do you have to be told?”
“Sorry,” came a shaky voice.
“We’ll let you pass,” the soldier said to Zollin.
“Thank you,” he replied, his anger at having been shot at still kindling leaping flames of magic inside his chest.
The soldiers spread out so that Zollin and Mansel could pass riding single file. The soldiers asked if they had seen or heard anything from the village or from across the river. Mansel explained that the townspeople were moving into the forest not far away, and that they would need food. Zollin and Mansel had instructions to inform anyone in the villages they passed to send aid. They explained all of this and then pushed on. They rode upward at a steady pace for another hour before the snow blocked their way. They had seen plenty of snow in the shadowy parts of the mountains, but finally they had reached the point where it was piled up in the pass, where it had obviously fallen from higher up on the slopes. Parts of it had melted and refrozen until it was thick and solid, almost like a block of ice.
Five Kingdoms: Books 01, 02 & 03 Page 47
