It hadn’t taken Bev long to overcome her grief. Apparently life on the farm did not suit her. She had been afraid of the dragon at first, but once his purpose for her became clear, she relished the role. She would approach villages and towns, preaching that he was a god and she was his priestess. She claimed that he wanted their gold, nothing more, no silver, no children as tribute, just gold, all of their gold. The people scoffed at her and ran her out of their towns. They called her crazy, and laughed at her message, until he came roaring in the night. His scales were hardening, but the wound to his tail seemed to be slowing the process. He had needed more time in the mountains, where he could bask in the sun without fear of being seen. So he slept through the days and attacked at night to minimize the risk of retaliation. Men, it seemed, feared what they could not see, and the night held terrors for most of them. Of course, once he had begun burning their homes, the flames illuminated him in dancing, red light, but that only added to his mystique.
Soon he would be ready to move on to the bigger towns, and eventually the king would throw his crown at the dragon’s feet. He would leave them in ruins so that they had to scrape and fight just to survive while he moved on to the next kingdom. He would wage his war of terror and fire until the humans bowed to his every wish. Then perhaps he would search out a mate.
He felt the power of the wizards, and although it was tempting to seek them out, he didn’t. He would turn his attention to the magic blossoming through the land soon enough. The magic was like life to him, rejuvenating and strengthening. He needed that magic to wake up throughout the Five Kingdoms, and so, he needed the wizards to keep moving. He would have his revenge, but not until the balance of magic was more in his favor.
He took to the air again. The land here had rolling hills and fat rivers where tall trees grew, but no mountains. The trees could scarcely support his weight, and so he was forced to rest on the ground like an animal. He slept in the barn, which still smelled of dung, but soon it would be lined with gold. Oh, how he loved gold, the way it hummed with power. He would have it all and then turn the humans into a horde of slave laborers to find him more. He would build a tall lair, filled with gold, where he would live for a thousand years.
The thought made him happy as he flew through the night back to the little farm with its stinky barn. The woman would be there. She was enamored with him. It was common for lesser creatures to become infatuated with dragons, although their feelings were not love, but more of an entranced devotion. He did not care, as long as she worked tirelessly for him. The time for change was coming, he could taste it in the air with his forked tongue. He soared high into the air, relishing the freedom of flight and dreaming of golden dominion.
* * *
Zollin and Mansel traveled from dawn to dusk every day. They passed many small farms and one small village. Most of the people seemed withdrawn and suspicious. Zollin felt bad for them, since he knew the rumors were more than likely true. There was a dragon, he’d seen it, even battled it, and if Brianna hadn’t been in danger, he’d have felt compelled to help them somehow. But the dragon would have to wait. His heart ached for Brianna. He hoped that she was well, but it seemed impossible. How could she be okay in the clutches of the vile pig Branock, he thought.
Mansel seemed less concerned. He was an amiable traveling companion. He could talk when necessary and could ride for hours without uttering a word. He looked every inch an adventurer; in fact, he could have passed for a knight. He had a strong face and broad shoulders, and he rode with his head held high. Zollin knew that his attitude stemmed from his love of the open road and adventure, but others could easily mistake it for privilege. He kept his shield hanging from his saddle, just behind his leg on the left side, where he could easily reach it. He wore his sword over his shoulder so that it wouldn’t be constantly slapping his leg or the horse. He wore leather in place of chainmail on his chest, and he had no helmet or armor, but the weapons were enough to deter outlaws. At least Zollin didn’t see any, and they certainly didn’t come under attack.
They stopped at farms only long enough to barter for food. Most people were glad for the silver, it was easier to keep than possessions, if a dragon were to fly down and set their homes on fire. Zollin was generous, paying more than most things were worth. It was something he might have enjoyed, had his mind and heart not been constantly tormented with guilt and regret over losing Brianna and not going after her immediately. He argued with himself that he should have ridden after Branock directly instead of waiting and going through the mountain pass. But if he had, Kelvich would probably have died, and his father and Mansel would be prisoners, chained in the mud by the King’s army outside of Brighton’s Gate. Logic told him he’d made the right choice, but his heart argued that he’d betrayed the woman he loved.
They had not stayed at any of the places they’d seen, not even the village, even though it had an inn and they were welcomed there. They ate, re-provisioned, heard the news, then pushed on. The news was all the same, dragons, the people said. The descriptions were all different, some said one dragon, some said many. Some said the dragons were huge, the others said they were the size of horses. None of the people had actually seen the beast, and even though Zollin feared that there might be more than the one he’d fought at Brighton’s Gate, he knew better than to trust hearsay. The attacks came at night, so sightings were rare. There was also a woman, she called herself the Priestess, and rumors abounded about her, too. Some said she was dragon born, others that she had been seduced by the creature. She wore a simple dress and had long, brown hair, but both were singed in many places. Zollin couldn’t imagine anyone existing close to the dragon he’d battled. The rumors about the woman had two consistent elements: the first was that she warned of the dragon’s coming, and the second was that the beast was demanding gold. So far, no stories of tribute had been reported, but if the rumors persisted, it would only be a matter of time before someone did. There was a slight possibility that it was nothing more than rumors, that the dragon had not come south at all, but Zollin doubted that. It was also possible that a group of outlaws were behind the stories, sending in a woman with a story and then setting the fields, farmhouses, and villages on fire when they weren’t paid. Again, Zollin doubted this explanation, but he wasn’t sure if that was because he, like Mansel, wanted another adventure or because he was being logical.
Adventure, he thought and scoffed at the word. Fighting the dragon had been no adventure and losing Brianna had not been, either. He had power, and he had grown comfortable with it, but didn’t feel that flaunting it for fun was a good thing. It was sacred to him, as if it had been bestowed on him for a purpose, and he wanted to live up to that high calling, even though he had no idea what that meant. The dwarf, Jute, had talked of maintaining the balance, and Kelvich had hinted at waking up the magical world, but he really had no idea what either one of them meant. That was okay for now, all he really wanted was to find Brianna and make sure she was safe.
* * *
Branock must have discovered her fear of water. He never allowed her off the boat, but sent a message for a passenger ship to take them up the Tillamook River to Orrock. He had made sure that she was transferred safely and then had gone back to drinking more wine. The ship that took them up the river was a barge, used mostly for cargo, but it had two small cabins. This time he’d graciously given her one of the cabins for her own use. It was the first bit of privacy she’d had. There was no way to heat water on the barge, but she was able to bath in her cabin and sleep on a bed without someone coming in and rummaging about at all hours.
“We’ll be in Orrock before the end of the day tomorrow,” he told her when she stepped outside to watch the country pass by and soak up the bright, spring sunlight.
The temperature in the mountains had been bitterly cold, and on their voyage down the coast, the winds had been high and cold off the sea, but the days were warming nicely now, and the breeze was refreshing.
“Is t
hat a good thing? Will King Felix set me free?”
“Of course not. For all I know the old man is dead. His son, Prince Simmeron, will do as I tell him. We will wait for your young friend to join us, but we shall not have to suffer these deplorable conditions. We shall have an apartment in the castle, with servants to wait on us. At least, you will if you can remain civil.”
“A plush prison is still a prison. I won’t be impressed by your gilded cage, wizard,” she said bitterly.
“Ah, such spirit, that is a strength of being young and full of hope,” Branock said in a mocking tone. “But it comes with such innocence. Perhaps we shall tour the dungeons and see if you still feel the same way about that gilded cage.”
“You don’t need me, I have nothing to offer you,” she argued.
“It’s not what you offer me,” he said. “Young Zollin is the prize, and he will come for you.”
“How? He has no idea where we are.”
“He’s coming, I can feel him.”
She wasn’t sure if she believed him, the thought was almost too good to be true. She was afraid of getting her hopes up and being disappointed, but she couldn’t help it. The thought that Zollin could find her and free her was more intoxicating than any wine.
“Zollin’s going to kill you,” she said.
“Yes, you’ve told me that. Although, I don’t think he’ll risk losing you just to kill me. You should learn to see the possibilities here. Together, Zollin and I can rule Yelsia.”
“What about King Felix?”
“When you meet his son, you’ll not regret his loss. I can offer Zollin wisdom, control of his power, a future. What other option does he have?”
Branock watched her think. He knew that there was much more to his plans than he was pretending with the girl, but he wanted her on his side. He’d been giving her more freedom, which seemed to have a positive effect on her. Of course, if she knew the danger they were both in from his master, she might have flung herself into the river. She would most certainly be killed if she stayed too close to Zollin, but telling her that didn’t help his case.
“Perhaps I want my own life?” she said weakly.
“I doubt that,” Branock said. “Besides, what you do after Zollin comes to me is of little concern. Go marry a farmer, have a flock of squalling babies, for all I care. But, until he comes, you can stay with me.”
“I could kill you,” she threatened, but again, her words were fragile and held no threat.
“You could try, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”
He turned and strolled away from her, his cloak flapping in the breeze. She turned her attention back onto the landscape, but in her mind, she was plotting. She would take in the lay of her surroundings when they settled at Orrock. She might need help escaping, or if Zollin did find her, she wanted to be ready to help.
* * *
Three days had passed since Kelvich and Quinn had gotten free of the mountain pass. The road through Peddinggar had been much easier to travel. There were still hills, some of them quite large, but the road wound around them. At night they heard strange noises in the forest, once they even saw lights moving, but they had not come close to the two men. Kelvich had found wild flowers and strange weeds with medicinal properties, and he made steaming hot drinks that both helped Quinn sleep and seemed to speed the healing of his leg. It would be scarred the rest of his life, but he could walk. The wounds were stiff, and he had to exercise the leg each morning before they set out and stretch it at night, but the constant ache was gone.
They had finally come to a village the night before and took rooms at the small inn. It was a common stop for traders coming and going from the Great Valley. They ate fresh food for the first time since they had left Brighton’s Gate. They slept well on soft beds that were not entirely clean, but were a welcome change from sleeping outdoors.
The next morning they began inquiring about purchasing horses. There were several in the town, but the owners seemed reluctant to let go of them. Word of the dragon had spread through the town, and people were making plans either to flee into the forest or away south, toward one of the larger cities. People with horses would have sold most anything except the horses, which they hoped would carry them to their far away destination in safety. So, after several failed attempts, the two men set out on foot. They had turned southwest, even though the road continued due south. They followed a foot trail through the brambles and stiff weeds. They had been told that the next town was a full day’s ride, which meant at least a day and half of walking—probably two at the slow gait Quinn could manage.
“Damn lions,” he complained.
“Oh, don’t blame animals for doing what they’re created to do,” Kelvich said. “We’ve had a run of bad luck, that’s all.”
“We’ll never catch up with Zollin and Mansel at this pace.”
“What will they do once they reach the city?” Kelvich asked.
“I don’t know. I hope they’ll take their time and form a solid plan, but who can say. Zollin has a good head on his shoulders, and so does Mansel, although he’s a bit more impulsive and reckless.”
“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now, except get there as fast as we can.”
They walked on, all that day and even into the night for a while, until they found a stream to camp beside. There were plenty of fallen tree limbs near the stream, and Kelvich started a fire while Quinn nursed his leg. Then the sorcerer slept while Quinn kept watch. They switched positions halfway through the night, and the next morning they set out again. It was midday when they met a man leading a cart drawn by a mule. He had covered his belongs with a large quilt, but his wife and daughter rode in the cart.
“Well met,” said Kelvich, holding up a hand to show he meant no harm.
“Where do you think you’s is going?” the man asked in a husky voice.
“We’re headed to Orrock,” said Quinn. “We’re hoping to find some horses in Willsby, if we can get there today.”
“You can,” said the man in a snarky tone, “but you won’t find horses. Mostly empty houses and abandoned farms, I’d bet. The Priestess is there, calling for everyone to bring out their gold or her dragon’s going to burn the whole town. I’d rather be cooked than give up my gold, and I’m not fool enough to wait around and see everything I’ve worked for burned up. So we’re heading to the forest. You should turn back, if you know what’s good for you.”
“Who’s the Priestess?” said Kelvich.
“Some woman; she’s got burned clothes and half her hair’s burned off. She looks a fool, if you ask me, but rumors are flying. They say Quasil was burned to the ground day before yesterday. And Tranaugh Shire’s next, I imagine.”
“What is she doing?” Quinn asks.
“She claims that the dragon is a god, calls him Bartoom, or some such nonsense. Says he demands gold or he’ll burn the village. She told them to bring it out to her on the edge of town and pile it at her feet, and their sacrifice would assuage the god’s wrath and that he would spare the town. I call it what it is, lies and trickery, but there’s no sense in taking a fool’s chance. We’re going to Peddinggar to wait it out. Half the town’s gone by now, the other half’ll be gone by nightfall. They’ll probably go in and steal what’s left.”
“Who is ‘they’?” Kelvich asked.
“Don’t know if there is a they, but odds are it’s a group of thieves that concocted a story to make people give away their valuables. That’s my theory, but I’m not chancing it. If there is a dragon, I don’t know why the beast would want gold.”
“Well, thanks for the warning,” Kelvich said. “Have a safe journey.”
“And you,” said the man. He slapped the mule’s rump and started off again.
Quinn looked at Kelvich. The older man shook his head just a little, as if to say “not here,” and they started walking again. Both men pondered their thoughts for a while and finally Kelvich spoke up.
“The dragon has crossed the
mountains.”
“We knew that though,” Quinn said.
“Yes, but it seems the beast is intelligent and working on something.”
“You’re giving some crazy rumors a lot of credit. It’s more likely the villager was right. Some band of thieves heard about Brighton’s Gate, and now they’re working a con to steal from people. The simplest possibility is usually the correct one.”
“You could be right, but if it is the dragon, then we have a bigger problem on our hands.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure,” Kelvich said. “If it is thieves, they can be stopped. An intelligent dragon...” he let the phrase hang in the air. “If that is possible, who could stop him?”
Five Kingdoms: Books 01, 02 & 03 Page 56
