“Wait!” Zollin shouted, finally finding his voice.
But it was too late. The creature wasn’t waiting any longer. He lumbered forward, causing Mansel to retreat. Zollin held up his hand like the creature had done, but it paid him no heed; instead it stamped its foot on the fire, smothering it the way a man might snuff out a candle between his fingers.
“Heaven help us!” Mansel shouted in the dark.
Zollin could feel the creature, who was full of the strange feeling magic. His own magic seemed to recoil from it, unlike the way it behaved around other wizards and his staff. Zollin produced a ball of fire floating in the air just above his hand. The light the fire cast made the shadows around them dance and caused the creature to stumble back. It was the light it didn’t seem to like.
Zollin, all decorum forgotten, shouted, “Brighter!” and the orange ball of flame transformed into an orb of bright yellow fire.
“Noooo,” said the creature in a deep voice that Zollin and Mansel felt as much as heard.
“Be gone, vile creature!” Zollin shouted.
The beast stumbled off into the darkness, shielding its eyes from the light. Zollin dropped the fire ball onto their smoldering fire, and it sat there burning until the smoking wood reignited.
“What was that?” Mansel asked.
“I don’t know.”
“It wasn’t a man,” he exclaimed. “Much too big for that. And did you see the way it blocked my sword stroke? With its hand—and this sword is sharp, I’ve seen to that myself.”
“I don’t think it was a man, either,” Zollin agreed.
“But what then?”
“A troll maybe, or an ogre? I don’t know.”
“Now you’re talking about bedtime stories,” Mansel said.
“Yeah, I am, sort of like dragons.”
Mansel didn’t speak, he only stared at Zollin. It took them quite a while to settle back down near the fire, and neither wanted to sleep.
“Kelvich said you would wake up the magical creatures that hadn’t been seen in hundreds of years. I thought he was a little soft between the ears, but maybe he was right.”
“Jute said something similar. Something about wizards being the balance keepers. All I know is the magic in that creature was different than the magic I know. If I woke it up, I didn’t mean to.”
“Yeah, I don’t think anyone’s going to thank you for that big, nasty thing. I’ve never seen such ugliness.”
“I have, every time I look at you.”
The two young men laughed, the wizard and the warrior. Both too scared to sleep. They talked of light hearted matters through the long watch of the night. At first light, they set out again, both of them anxious to get out of the forest. They rode all day long, and just before sunset they finally stopped. They were both exhausted. Zollin built a fire while Mansel slept. It was hard for Zollin to stay awake, he’d slept so little. In fact, he’d dozed in the saddle, and he imagined that Mansel had, too. But now he was on watch, and, after their run in with the creature from the night before, he had no desire to be caught off guard.
The moon was bright and full that night, and Zollin kept the fire down to glowing, red coals so that he could see into the dark forest. After a while he heard singing. It was soft at first, and he thought he was imagining it, but it grew louder and louder. It sounded sweet, but it was in a strange and foreign tongue. Zollin couldn’t make out the words. He walked quietly around their little camp, trying to distinguish what direction the singing was coming from, but it seemed as if it were coming from all around him.
He closed his eyes and pushed his magic out into the forest. He could feel the beings; they were tall and thin, like saplings. They moved gracefully through the dark, their arms like branches, their feet like tree roots, their hair like willow boughs. They were women, he could tell that, and they seemed to beckon him to come out to them. The temptation was strong. He wanted to leave the camp and dance in the dark. He wanted to touch them, to run his hands over their smooth bodies and feel their embrace.
Then Brianna’s face swam up in his mind’s eye. She was lovely, her dark hair gleaming, her fair skin soft and inviting. Only, she wasn’t beckoning him to run into the darkness, she was crying for him to come to her aid. He felt anger rising up inside of him. Someone had her, he knew that, but he couldn’t remember who. The beings in the dark were still calling him, still coaxing him to leave his cares and troubles and join them in their dance through the forest.
“No!” he shouted.
“What?” Mansel said, waking up. “What is it?”
“Don’t go to them,” Zollin warned. “Don’t give in.”
“What are you talking about, Zollin?”
Then the attack came. As suddenly as when a candle is blown out, casting a room in darkness, the temptation abruptly ended. And Zollin felt the malice of the forest beings as they rushed forward toward the camp.
“To arms!” Zollin cried.
Mansel, to his credit, still bleary eyed from sleep, was on his feet with his sword in one hand and his shield in the other. Zollin sent a spell to the fire and it erupted with flaming light. The forest creatures faltered as the light blinded them.
“Blast” Zollin shouted, sending electrical energy shooting from his staff.
The creature in his path burst into flames, and the battle truly began. Two of the burning creature’s companions went to its aid, but there were almost a dozen more of the creatures. They looked like women carved from living trees. Their hair hung down over their shoulders and breasts, framing their hauntingly beautiful faces, but their arms reached out for Zollin. They didn’t seem as intent on Mansel, who swung his sword in arcs, back and forth, to loosen his stiff muscles.
“Who are you?” Zollin shouted. “What do you want?”
“We are the forest dryads,” came one haunting voice. It sounded like a throaty, musical instrument to Zollin. “We want you, wizard. Come and take your place with us.”
“No,” Zollin shouted.
“Then we will kill you.”
“Do your worst!” Mansel shouted.
They came at first in twos, from either side of Zollin, who sent energy crackling from his staff in one direction and pulled limbs down from the trees overhead onto the other dryads. The blast of energy sent the two dryads reeling, but the falling branches did little. They covered their heads with their thin arms and advanced.
Mansel leapt forward to intercept them. One tried to bat him aside, but he raised his shield to block the blow, which staggered him, but he managed to stay in the fight, slashing out with his sword in a long arc that severed the nearest creature’s thin arm. It wailed in pain, but no blood was drawn. Instead, a thick, sappy substance oozed out and the dryad scooped up its severed limb and held it to the stump. Mansel was surprised to see it not only reattached, but that the creature regained full use of the arm.
Zollin turned and pushed a magical wall out toward the oncoming dryad. It hit the creature and sent it sprawling back. Mansel ducked a second blow and thrust his sword at the dryad’s trunk-like midsection. The sword sank into the woody flesh, more dense than a human, but not so dense as a tree. The creature howled again, but Mansel was still moving. He pulled his sword free and spun low, swinging the sword in a level plane so that it cut through the creature’s leg. Then he sprinted back toward Zollin. Three more were coming at them, from the front. Zollin sent fireballs shooting out at the creatures, who swatted them away, but not without apprehension. Mansel and Zollin had their back to their campfire, even though the heat was almost unbearable. Two more of the creatures came to flank them.
Zollin swung his staff, hitting the dryad on his side, and it crackled with energy when the wood connected. There was a pop as sparks flew into the air, and the dryad was knocked back as it burst into flames.
Mansel wasn’t quite so lucky. The creature on his side feinted one way then lashed out toward the other. It hit Mansel square on the chest and sent him tumbling backward,
through the dancing flames of their fire. The blow had knocked the breath from his lungs, and the fire had singed his clothes, but he was uninjured. The dryad then swung a savage punch, with its stumpy hand, at Zollin, who tried to block the blow with his staff. He was only halfway successful, and the punch sent him reeling away from the fire. This was what the remaining dryads were waiting for. They rushed in on him.
Mansel dropped his shield and grabbed a long limb from their fire and rushed forward. He was shouting like mad and waving the firebrand, which caused the dryads to fall back in fear. He stood over Zollin, swinging the branch back and forth, the flame fluttering and sparking in the dark.
Zollin scrambled to his feet. He’d lost his staff, but he didn’t need it. He sent waves of fire at the creatures. The flames ignited the flowers on the forest floor and singed the new green leaves. The dryads screamed in fright and rage. One tried to attack them from behind, but Mansel saw it coming and thrust his torch into the creature’s face. She bellowed in pain and fled.
“I think fire is what they’re afraid of,” Mansel said as the dryads sank back into the forest.
“Yes,” was all Zollin could manage to say. He was panting; his efforts and lack of sleep seemed to be as heavy as thick iron chains around his arms and legs.
“You think they’ll come back?”
“Probably,” Zollin said. “I need something to eat.”
Mansel seemed to notice his friend for the first time. He grabbed Zollin’s arm and dragged him over to the fire. He rummaged in their bags of food and found a loaf of hard bread. He carried it over and tore it open for Zollin, who nodded thankfully.
The bread was dry and tasteless. It was difficult to swallow, but it filled his stomach. He drank some water from one of their canteens and then lay down on the ground.
“You can wake me in an hour or two,” he said weakly.
“Don’t worry about it,” Mansel said. “I may never sleep again. At least as long as we are in the forest.”
Zollin slept through the night and into the morning. Mansel had kept watch until the sun lightened the sky, and then he threw more wood on the fire and lay down beside Zollin. They weren’t sure what time it was when they woke up, but the fire was down to embers. The small clearing where they had camped was scorched, but there was no other sign of the attack. They had left the horses a few dozen paces away, where a small patch of grass was growing. If they hadn’t hobbled them, the horses would have fled, but they were there waiting when they went for them.
“I say we ride due south, out of this forest,” said Mansel. “I’ve had enough nightmarish creatures for a while.”
“That sounds good to me, too,” Zollin said.
The turned south and rode hard, coming out of the woods and into open plains late in the afternoon. The land was cultivated, but there was no homestead in sight. They turned southwest again, still angling away from the forest. As the daylight faded into twilight, they smelled wood smoke. They rode toward the smell and were rewarded by finding a small farm. There were animals in the yard around a small home. There was no barn, only a hen house and a milk cow that was tied to a post. They dismounted and walked to the small home. Zollin knocked on the door. They heard voices inside, but no one answered.
Zollin knocked again and said, “We’re travelers just looking for some supplies. We’ve silver to trade. We mean you no harm.”
“Who’s out there?” came a gruff voice.
“My name is Zollin and this is Mansel. We’re traveling to Orrock. Do you have any food that you can spare?”
“Perhaps,” came the voice. “Show me your silver. Slide it under the door.”
Zollin bent down to comply, but Mansel grabbed his arm.
“You aren’t going to give him your silver, are you?”
“Yes, why wouldn’t I?”
“What if he steals it?”
“Then we’ll feast on his chickens tonight,” Zollin smiled.
He slid the silver under the door and waited.
“Is that enough for a hot meal and a little news?”
“Perhaps. What do you seek?”
“What do you have?”
“We’ve got bread, cheese, buttermilk. No meat though.”
“What about your chickens? We’ll share them.”
“No, we need the hens.”
“Alright, we’ll take what you can spare. We don’t want to be a burden,” Zollin said.
They stepped back from the doorway and waited. It took several minutes, but finally the door opened. The man who stepped out was thin and balding. His skin was dark and leathery from too much sun. He wore short boots, wool breeches, and a shirt that was too big, the sleeves tied at his wrists with leather thongs. He had a bag and small pitcher in one hand. Two wooden cups in the other.
“Leave the pitcher and cups, if you don’t mind,” the man said. “I appreciate the silver, but I’ve no room for you to sleep.”
“That’s okay,” Zollin confided. “We’re on our way to Orrock. Can you tell us which way is the fastest?”
“If you head south, you’ll come to the Weaver’s Road that runs from Felson to Orrock. That’d be the fastest way, if you ask me.”
“Is there any news?” Mansel asked.
“You mean other than the dragon?”
“Dragon?” Mansel and Zollin both asked at the same time.
“Where’ve you two been, under a rock?” the man asked. “They say there’s a dragon burning people’s crops and eating their livestock. I’ve not seen it myself, but there’s enough people claiming it’s true to make a man believe it. Lots of folks headed to Orrock, too.”
“Well, that’s unexpected news, but we appreciate it. We’ll leave the cups and pitcher outside the door and push on at first light.”
“Good, there’s hardly enough for me and the family. If times were different, I’d offer more...” He was embarrassed.
“It’s fine, really,” Zollin said. “We don’t want to be a burden.”
The man nodded and hurried back inside. They heard him drop a heavy cross beam into the door slot.
“Not very hospitable,” Mansel said. “Who drinks buttermilk anyway?”
“I do,” Zollin said. “It’ll be a nice change from lukewarm water.”
“I suppose some toasted bread and cheese would be good, even if we can’t cook a chicken.”
“A few more days’ hard ride and we’ll be in Felson. We can stay at an inn and have a real meal. Until then, we make do.”
“Listen to you taking charge,” Mansel teased.
“Someone has to.”
“What about me?”
“I’ve got the pathfinder.”
“I’ve got a sword.”
“I’ve got the silver,” Zollin taunted. And they both laughed.
* * *
The cabin aboard the ship was nicer than the one on the fishing boat. There were two beds, and Brianna was allowed to sleep on one. The first two days she was sick, as the ship rocked over the waves churned up by strong, spring winds. But the ship traveled quickly, first west around the twin peninsulas of Skattle Point and Peddler’s Reach, then turning south and skirting Skayler’s Island. They were sailing past Isos City and heading for Tragoon Bay. She’d overheard their destination from some of the ship’s crew when she was retching over the side of the ship. She didn’t understand their words, but she had understood the name of the seaport and their gestures of what they planned to do when they arrived.
She had no real sense of time or distance. The ship was moving constantly, and the strong winds sped them along faster than any horse, but she had no way of knowing that for sure. She only knew the voyage was rough. After she had vomited all the contents of her stomach, in those first few dreadful hours on board, she’d been confined to her cabin with a bucket. But there was precious little left in her stomach, so the bucket was more of an object to hold on to while she dry heaved until her stomach felt as if it had been ripped open with a dull knife. The t
hird day, she managed to sip some water and nibble some dry bread. On the fourth day, she ventured back out into the sunlight. She saw Isos drifting by. The ships in her harbor like pins on a bobbing pin cushion.
Branock did not speak to her, and the sailors only made crude jests which she did not understand. Loneliness set in like a bad cold, making her miserable. She missed home, missed her father’s tender words and even the constant chattering of her sisters. Most of all she missed Zollin. She’d been lonely since their adventure had begun, but through the long winter months, she’d taken comfort in the fact that soon they would be together. That hope had been shattered when Branock kidnapped her, now it was fading. It seemed impossible that Zollin would ever find her, and the evil wizard’s promise that they could be together if Zollin joined him rang hollow in her ears. She was sure that Branock would stamp out any goodness in Zollin if he gave in to the wizard’s demands. She had thought of flinging herself overboard again, but the beauty of the sea and the sights of the shore as they sailed past gave her a will to live.
Five Kingdoms: Books 01, 02 & 03 Page 54
