Five Kingdoms: Books 01, 02 & 03

by Toby Neighbors

  “Don’t take this task lightly,” Brianna said.

  “What do you mean?” Zollin asked.

  “I mean the dragon is dangerous. Your father said it wiped out an entire legion of mounted troops who were hunting it, remember?”

  “Yes, of course I remember. I know it’s dangerous, but so am I.”

  “Don’t joke,” she chided.

  “Who’s joking?”

  “Zollin, please.”

  “Come on, you’ll be right there with me. Besides, I have another present for you,” he smiled as a larger package came floating up from where it was hidden behind the thick wooden desk in their sitting room.

  “What?” she said, surprised. “You didn’t have to do this.”

  “I know,” he said. “I wanted to.”

  She tore open the plain brown paper and found a recurve bow. The riser was inlaid with ivory, the limbs delicate, yet strong. The wood was stained dark and the string a tawny color.

  “Test the draw weight,” he told her.

  She hadn’t yet looked up from the bow and he wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. He remembered the way she had responded when Mansel had crafted her a bow and even though he trusted the older boy with his life, he still hoped she would love his gift more than his friend’s.

  She stood up and pushed the bow forward, then drew the string to her cheek. The limbs flexed, and when she released the string it hummed with deadly efficiency. Finally, she looked at Zollin.

  “This is amazing,” she said. “How did you make it?”

  “I didn’t,” he admitted. “I got it from a merchant. It’s from Baskla. It’s yew wood, made by a master bowsmith. Do you like it?”

  “I love it.”

  “Here,” he said, pulling a large leather sheath from the packaging Brianna had dropped when she discovered the bow. “I did make this. You can keep it strung in this case, and I made you some arrows, too.” He waved his hand and a third package soared up and across the room. She tore off the wrapping to reveal a matching quiver full of arrows with bright feathers. Some of the fletchings were small and sleek, others large.

  “Do you know what this is worth?” Brianna asked.

  “No,” he said, “it doesn’t matter. All that I care about is that you are happy.”

  “I don’t need fancy gifts to be happy,” she said. “I just need you.”

  They stood, staring at each other, and Zollin felt his heart pounding. He leaned forward to kiss her, but before he could, there was a sharp knock on the door.

  “Perfect timing,” Zollin said. “I’ll bet I know who it is.”

  He walked over and opened the door. Mansel stood leaning against the doorframe. He was taller than Zollin, with broad shoulders and a thick chest. He wore traveling clothes and riding boots and had the sword that Zollin had fashioned for him from links of chain strapped to his hip. Quinn, Zollin’s father, was behind Mansel, also dressed in fine new clothes.

  “We aren’t interrupting anything, are we?” Mansel asked in mock seriousness.

  “Shut up, you oaf. What are you still doing here?”

  “You didn’t think we’d leave without saying good bye...to Brianna.”

  Mansel lightly brushed Zollin aside and gave Brianna a hug.

  “Are you sure you can get used to all his prattling and boasting?” Zollin asked Quinn.

  “It will be a test of my patience, I’m sure. Happy birthday, Brianna.”

  “Thank you, Quinn, look what Zollin got for me,” she said exuberantly, holding out the bow for his inspection.

  “You look ready for battle,” Mansel said.

  “This is a work of art,” Quinn said, his carpenter’s eye inspecting the bow. “Is it from Baskla?”

  “Yes, from a master bowsmith,” Zollin said.

  “I thought so. It takes years of training to layer yew this way and not ruin it. It’s flawless.”

  “And see my armor? It’s from a dwarf,” she said proudly.

  “The steel is from a dwarf,” Zollin corrected her. “I fashioned the helmet.”

  “You look like a warrior queen,” Quinn said. “I’m afraid my gift isn’t as extravagant.” He held out a small brush and mirror. They were simple, the brush made of wood, the mirror small with no embellishments.

  “They’re lovely,” she said. She hugged him fiercely and felt a tinge of sadness. She had always been close to her father and when she had fled Tranaugh Shire with Zollin, Quinn had filled that role for her. And even when she had been kidnapped, she knew Quinn was coming for her. Now Quinn and Mansel were about to leave on a mission to save Prince Wilam and she felt truly on her own.

  “They only serve to reflect the beauty you have naturally,” Quinn said casually. “I’ll miss you. Look after yourself and that bullheaded son of mine.”

  “Hey, I’m not bullheaded,” Zollin said.

  “I think he was referring to your looks,” Mansel joked. He dodged back from Zollin’s punch, which had been thrown playfully.

  “Don’t underestimate this dragon’s power,” Quinn said. “It’s not just an animal, it’s intelligent. And it has at least one person serving it, so there might be more. Be careful who you trust and make sure you connect with Kelvich. He might be able to help you. He’s staying with Miriam, in Felson.” He turned back to Brianna. “Would you give her this, please?”

  “Sure,” she said, taking the roll of parchment and noticing that he had sealed it with wax.

  Just then Homan, the King’s steward, stuck his head in the doorway.

  “Zollin, the King would like to see you before you leave,” he said, then disappeared back down the castle corridor.

  “Alright,” Quinn said. “We’re off then. We’ll be looking for you when we return.”

  “As will we,” Zollin said. “Take care, Dad.”

  “You, too, son.”

  “Ah, enough of this,” Mansel said. “Let’s go before someone starts crying.”

  Everyone laughed, but they also recognized that the remark was close to the truth. When Zollin had left his father in Brighton’s Gate to rescue Brianna, they had quarreled. That fight had made Zollin realize how much he loved and appreciated his father, which only made their parting now more difficult. Zollin felt melancholy fall over him as he watched his father and Mansel stride away.

  “We should be going soon, too,” Brianna said.

  “Yes, I’ll see to the horses as soon as I’m done with the King.”

  “What does he want?”

  “I have no idea.”

  * * *

  The King’s private audience room was large. The doors were thick oak, with war horses artfully carved into the surface. There was a large fireplace on one end of the room and a massive desk littered with parchments and books on the other. The King was standing near the fire. His body was thin and frail looking, his hair a dirty gray color. There were still dark circles around his eyes. His illness and mistreatment by his younger son had taken their toll on the King and Zollin couldn’t imagine the pressures of managing a kingdom helped.

  He turned from the fire as Zollin knocked lightly on the doors, which were propped open. The King turned and smiled, although his eyes still seemed dull and worried.

  “Zollin, it’s good to see you. I trust you have everything you need for your quest?”

  “I think so; I’ve never been dragon hunting before.”

  “You make it sound so simple. I have reports coming in almost daily of the destruction this beast is wreaking on our kingdom. You must be very careful.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “I want you to do all that you can to rid us of this beast, but do not endanger your life needlessly. There is other news, bothersome news, from the south.”

  Zollin wanted to scream. He didn’t think he could take much more bad news.

  “The Torr has called a Council of Kings. Do you know what that means?”

  “Well, I know that the Council of Kings meets to deal only with matters that concern
all Five Kingdoms.”

  “That is true,” said King Felix as he took a seat in one of the chairs near the fire. “I am not going, of course. I’m not quite well enough for a trip of that distance. And I doubt I could arrive in time anyway. I’m sure the rumors of the dragon are the cause for this council, but I’m afraid the real reason is you.”

  “Me? Why would anyone be concerned about me? Much less the Kings of the Council.”

  “Remember, it is the Master of the Torr who has called this council. He has wanted you from the start, if I understand the circumstances correctly.”

  Zollin nodded. He had been surprised when Branock and the other two wizards had arrived at his village. They had come for him, but he had refused to go and the result was his best friend’s death and the need to flee into the mountains. In time, Zollin had managed to defeat and kill two of the wizards, but Branock had survived. The wizards of the Torr were both a threat and a curiosity. Kelvich said their monopoly of magical power had weakened the magical world, but why they wanted Zollin, either to control him or manipulate him, no one could say for sure.

  “You are the Wizard of Yelsia, the first in centuries that has not bowed to the will of the Torr. I can’t tell you how proud I am of you for that.”

  “Thank you,” Zollin said, not sure exactly how to feel about the way the King was looking at him.

  “I have a feeling that the Torr is going to turn the other kingdoms against us,” Felix said gravely. “As you know, the kings of old agreed not to keep wizards in their armies and instead allowed the Torr to consolidate all magic users in one place to serve all of the Five Kingdoms. But, over time, it seems the vacuum of power has shifted to the Torr, as their power grew and our power waned. Now we have a chance to change that. To right the ship, so to speak.”

  “We do?” Zollin asked.

  “Yes, of course we do. Your defiance of the Torr has allowed us to regain some of our lost might. I want you to know that this castle will always be a safe haven for you, Zollin. I’d like you to think of it as your home.”

  “That’s very generous of you.”

  “Nonsense, this kingdom, myself especially, owes you a debt of gratitude, my boy. One that I will repay. You continue to serve our land by dealing with the dragon. I want you to know that I do not take your service lightly.”

  Zollin wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t sure that the King was actually complimenting him. He felt the way he had in essentials school, when his teacher would ask him questions about a subject he didn’t understand.

  “If I am right and the other kingdoms band against us, I will need your support. If we stand together, we can not only serve Yelsia, but protect one another.”

  “I’m not sure I understand what you are saying,” Zollin admitted.

  “It’s probably nothing,” said King Felix. “Probably just an old man’s fears, but...”

  He let the thought hang in the air. Zollin recognized it for what it was, bait that would lure the young wizard into an emotional trap, but he saw no other choice but to encourage his King to continue.

  “Yes?”

  “Well, it is possible that the other kings will form armies intent on taking you by force. I have met the Master of the Torr only a few times, but he is a man who knows how to get his way. I’m afraid it is possible that he will persuade the other Kings to turn against us and break the peace that has lasted these last three centuries.”

  “Send word to the council that I do not serve you,” Zollin said simply. “I can leave Yelsia and they would have no need to take up arms against you.”

  “But where would you go?” Felix asked. “Do not think that you will find safety in the other kingdoms. This is your home, Zollin, this is where you belong. You risked your life to save me and save our land from Branock’s treachery. Now we will stand with you. No one will harm you or force you to do anything, as far as it is in my power to stop it.”

  The King’s voice had risen, full of passion for his subject, but it left Zollin wondering why the King would risk so much for him. King Felix did not seem to Zollin like a generous man, and Zollin noticed that he had not mentioned his son Simmeron’s treachery in trying to kill his father and usurp the throne from his older brother, Prince Wilam.

  “In this castle you will be safe,” the King continued. “Our soldiers will fight to protect you. My family will stand with you no matter the cost. You are the Wizard of Yelsia, and I pray nothing ever changes that.”

  “My King, I am honored. I hope I can earn the support you have given me.”

  “You already have,” Felix said, rising. “Now, if you have any problems in your search for the dragon, please send me word. This letter,” he said, handing Zollin a small roll of parchment with the royal seal pressed into gold wax, “should get you anything you need from the royal army. I’m assuming you’ll need support from our troops. And here is some coin to help you on your journey. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “No, my lord, you have been more than generous.”

  “Please, call me Felix. And promise to return here as soon as your task is complete. I will not rest until I know that you and our kingdom are safe from this dragon.”

  “Alright,” Zollin said, again feeling as if there was more to the King’s request than just concern for his safety.

  “Good, now go and make us all proud.”

  Zollin bowed and then hurried from the room. He wasn’t sure if he had followed the proper protocol, but no one seemed bothered by his behavior. He left the room feeling as if he needed a bath. It was an odd sensation, but the King’s duplicitous behavior left him feeling soiled somehow.

  “What did he want?” Brianna asked when he arrived back in their rooms.

  “I’ll tell you on the road. I’m ready to get out of this castle.”

  Brianna looked concerned, but she didn’t ask questions. Instead, she took up her belongings, including her new weapons, and followed Zollin.

  Chapter 3

  “It feels good to be on horseback again,” Mansel said. “Living in a city was making me soft.”

  “You don’t look any worse for the wear,” Quinn said. “Perhaps a little hungover.”

  Mansel scoffed, “This is nothing. Just shaking out the cobwebs.”

  Quinn didn’t look convinced, but he said nothing. His mind was spinning as he considered their plan. They were riding south, toward the port city of Lorye, where they would board a ship to sale down the coast of Falxis and Osla to Brimington Bay. It was the fastest way to the Grand City and Prince Wilam, but the trip wasn’t what bothered Quinn. Prince Simmeron had sent the Mezzlyn to kill his brother, the same group of assassins that had almost killed Zollin only months earlier. Only his son’s magical power had saved him, and even though Quinn considered himself a more than capable fighter, it had taken all of his ability just to survive the one on one confrontation he’d had with the assassin. It wasn’t that Quinn was afraid of fighting the Mezzlyn, but he feared that he and Mansel would arrive too late. They needed to move south as quickly as possible, but even at their best speed, they might not arrive in time.

  Killing a Prince was no simple matter. Wilam would have a royal guard at all times and be surrounded by servants and counselors. The Grand City itself would be a difficult place to navigate, but that would be a bigger problem for Quinn and Mansel than for the Mezzlyn. Chances were good that the assassins had agents in the city, people who would know every back alley and secret entrance, not to mention the daily schedules of all the ambassadors. In fact, they might even have someone inside the court. The assassination didn’t have to be dramatic either. A little poison in Prince Wilam’s cup or a small knife between his ribs while he slept would both be effective and give the assassin plenty of time to disappear.

  “Why are you brooding?” Mansel asked. “Zollin will be fine.”

  “It’s not Zollin I’m worried about,” Quinn said. “Well, of course I’m worried about him—and Brianna, too, for that matter
. I don’t even want to think about them trying to fight that dragon. But I’m equally as worried about our task.”

  “What’s to worry about? We ride down to Osla, find the Prince, and bring him home.”

  “You do remember that we’re up against the Mezzlyn, right?”

  “I’m not afraid of a fight,” Mansel said confidently.

  Quinn laughed, “Do you really think they’ll fight you? Remember how they operated in Brighton’s Gate? They stayed in the shadows and shot poison darts before running away. We’ll be lucky if we even see them.”

  “So they’re cowards,” Mansel said. “I’m still not worried.”

  “Look, I don’t want to cloud up and rain all over you, but you aren’t thinking things through. Our biggest challenge will be getting to Osla before the assassins. Then we’ve got to convince the Prince he’s in danger and safely bring him home. The odds are against us and if we fail, who do you think people will blame? Not to mention that Prince Simmeron, the one who hired the assassins in the first place, will be our next King. Is that what you want?”