“Wait,” Zollin said. “Do you have coin?”
“I do,” Brianna said, winking at Zollin. “I’ll be back soon.”
Zollin watched them go and then turned to Kelvich.
“What did Jax do?”
“Some men attacked Brianna,” Miriam explained. “It’s been happening more and more in the city. There just aren’t enough city guards to handle all the refugees.”
“What men?” Zollin said angrily.
“It doesn’t matter,” Kelvich said. “Brianna injured one and Jax came along and took care of another. The third chased him away. You can get the whole story from the two of them when they get back. Let’s focus on the problem at hand. You told the King that you would take care of the dragon?”
“He asked me to, but I would have done it regardless. When I fought it at Brighton’s Gate it injured its tail, but Jute said their scales harden in the sunlight. If that’s the case, I’m not sure what we can do to it.”
“There must be something,” Miriam said. “I mean, the dragons of old were defeated, weren’t they?”
“Yes, but much of the knowledge of dragon lore has been lost or hoarded by a few.”
“What few?” she asked.
“The Torr. They have sought to control magic for hundreds of years. What they could not control, they destroyed. The castle at Ebbson Keep is one of the oldest in Yelsia. It’s possible that we could find some answers there.”
“But we don’t have time to search there and stop the dragon,” Zollin said. “You’ve seen the way people are fleeing the northern villages. If we don’t do something soon, the dragon will come further south.”
“But if we act without knowledge, then we risk defeat,” Kelvich argued.
“That is a risk we take every day. I fought Branock and the other wizards of the Torr with very little knowledge. I defeated the dragon before, and it was with only a moment’s notice that I would be fighting the beast. We have to put together a plan that will draw the beast in and allow us to strike at it.”
“How?” Miriam asked.
“I think if we could find the right place,” Zollin said, “I could keep the dragon busy fighting me while the soldiers attacked the dragon.”
“What type of place?” Kelvich asked.
“Some place elevated, on a hill, I think. A place with plenty of stone buildings or walls where the soldiers could take cover from the dragon’s flames.”
“Sounds like a castle,” Miriam said.
“No, it doesn’t need to be a castle. Just a small village or perhaps even something we build, like a monastery.”
“The ruins at Ornak might work,” Kelvich said. “It’s on a hill, I believe, and there is still plenty of native stone there that could be used to set up defenses.”
“Is there water there?” Zollin asked.
“Wells, I think,” Kelvich replied. “They may have to be reopened, but at one time there was a thriving community there. I don’t remember what religion they adhered to, but no one has ever built anything else there.”
“Okay, let’s meet with Sir Hausey and see if any of his men have experience as masons.”
“We need archers and men skilled with spears.”
“And we need gold,” Zollin said. “It would help to have a supply of lead that I could transmute.”
“Well, then,” Kelvich said. “We better get busy, the day is almost through.”
“I’d like a word with Miriam, if I might,” Zollin said.
Kelvich left and Miriam, who had been standing near the door, sat down. She still looked sheepish, or even frightened, Zollin thought.
“Can you tell me what happened with you and my father?” Zollin asked.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Well, you met him, he told me that much. But he seemed happier than normal to have met a woman.”
“I’m not sure what to say. He was looking for you and I told him we’d been with you a few days before. He was in a hurry and left shortly after that.”
Zollin knew the story, but he wanted to see how Miriam responded to the question. He wanted nothing more than for his father to fall in love and settle down. Quinn had been smitten by Miriam, and Zollin wanted to see if perhaps Miriam felt the same way. She looked frazzled by his questions, and Zollin took that as a good sign.
“Okay, I was just wondering. I know he’s planning on coming back here, when he’s able. I just thought you should know.”
“What did he say?” Miriam asked.
“Just that he met you on the road. But I suggested that we return and he didn’t disagree.”
“Well, that’s different than if he had planned to come on his own.”
“True, but you have to know my father. He wouldn’t have agreed so readily if he weren’t already thinking along those lines.”
“I should go,” she said, trying to hide her smile. “I’ll need to see to your horses before you set off in the morning.”
“Don’t you mean our horses?”
“No, I’m not going. I need to stay here. There are things that need to be seen to.”
Zollin smiled as he watched her go. She was just as smitten as his father and that made the young wizard very happy indeed.
Chapter 15
Once Mansel had washed the mud and filth from his body, he put on his clothes from the day before. They were damp, but clean. He didn’t feel like eating, in fact his stomach felt as though it was twisted into knots. Still, Quinn was waiting for him in the inn’s common room and he didn’t want to disappoint his mentor further than he already had.
He walked through the muddy yard and saw that their horses were tied to a post by the front of the inn. The sky looked cloudy and full of more rain, but Mansel didn’t mind. The weather matched his mood. He went inside and found Quinn paying the inn keeper. He had a large cloth sack that Mansel guessed was full of food. And a small keg of ale was sitting beside him.
“Ah, Mansel,” Quinn said, “would you mind carrying this keg of ale out and seeing if it will fit behind my saddle?”
“Yes, sir,” Mansel said.
He bent over to lift the keg and his head felt as if it would explode from the pressure inside his skull. When he lifted the keg, he saw spots of light dancing around the edges of his vision, but he was determined not to stagger, fall, or drop the ale. He went back outside. The storm hadn’t done much to cool the temperature; it was thick with moisture and muggy. He lifted the keg up and sat it on top of Quinn’s bedroll, which was just behind his saddle. The blanket padded the keg, which wasn’t too heavy, and protected the horse’s back. Mansel secured the keg to the saddle with a rope and then returned to the inn.
Quinn was still talking to the inn keeper and Mansel sat, nursing his head, which seemed to want to kill him. His eyes hurt and his teeth, the pain seemed to pulse with every beat of his heart and loud sounds sent stabbing pains shooting into his brain. He wanted to find a soft place to lie down and sleep, but that wasn’t an option. He knew that Quinn was giving him time to recover before hitting the road. He’d expected a rebuke, but got mercy instead. Quinn was so different from his own father, Mansel thought.
Quinn worked tirelessly but was patient with Mansel and Zollin, taking his time to carefully teach them the proper way to do things. When they shirked a task, he let them know, in no uncertain terms, that laziness was not permitted. His tongue was as sharp as a viper’s when his temper was up, Mansel thought. But the things that angered Quinn were a mystery to the young swordsman. He would have thought that after his own sour attitude on the road, Quinn would have welcomed the excuse to put Mansel in his place. Instead, he was doing everything in his power to make Mansel feel better, which only made the warrior’s guilt over his drinking worse.
“Here, try this,” said the inn keeper’s wife. She was young and still had some beauty left in her features, although the constant work of the inn was stealing her youth away. “It helps a hangover, and I should know.”
; “What is it?” Mansel asked as he sniffed at the mug she had set on the table before him.
“A little of this and a little of that,” she replied in a merry tone. “A girl can’t give away all her secrets, not even to a handsome traveler like yourself.”
Mansel smiled and lifted the mug. It smelled of vegetables, but it was thick and there were hints of spices in the drink. He took a sip and was surprised to find it both refreshing and biting at the same time. He drank some more of the thick drink. There were some odd ingredients that seemed even thicker than the drink itself. And there was alcohol in it, something strong that tied all the various ingredients together.
“Turn it up, dear, it isn’t meant to be enjoyed.”
Mansel did as the inn keeper’s wife instructed. He drank the concoction without stopping. At first his stomach protested, but then the drink seemed to soothe him. Next she brought out a loaf of hot bread.
“Eat this and you should be right as rain,” the woman said, smiling and giving Mansel a wink.
“Well, we better get moving,” Quinn said loud enough for Mansel to hear. “Thank you again for your hospitality.”
“And for your generosity,” the inn keeper said.
Mansel stood up and followed Quinn out of the low building. He had to duck a little to keep from hitting his head on the doorpost.
“Whoever built that inn must have been short,” Quinn said.
He swung up into his saddle in one fluid motion. Mansel, whose head felt a little better, was not as graceful. The bread was soft and he cradled it as he climbed up into the saddle. They set out through the soggy countryside and Mansel nibbled at the bread.
They rode in silence for over an hour. The hangover remedy, along with the fresh air, seemed to work and Mansel felt better, although he was extremely grateful for the thick clouds that filtered the otherwise bright sunlight. The rain started again soon after that and fell softly in fat, warm drops.
“Why did you buy a keg of ale?” Mansel asked.
“I like ale,” Quinn replied.
They rode on for a bit while Mansel thought about things. He didn’t know what Quinn was trying to do. Quinn had warned him not to drink too much at the inn. He had done it anyway, then Quinn had been nice to him and even bought a keg of ale to take with them.
They rode until the afternoon and then they stopped to rest the horses. It was still raining, but there was a large oak tree which kept most of the rain off. Quinn got bread, cheese, and some cold mutton from the sack that the inn keeper had given him. He also got a cup and filled it with ale. The keg had a small tap in it, so Quinn didn’t need to do much work to get his drink. Mansel sipped warm water from his canteen and watched Quinn, who didn’t speak. He just ate his meal and then packed everything back up.
Mansel didn’t mind not being offered anything to eat or drink. He felt better, but he wasn’t ready for a full meal yet. They walked for a few hours, leading the horses over the muddy track that served as a road. The sun started sinking back toward the horizon and they decided to mount back up and ride as long as they could. The rain had fallen off and on throughout the day, and so just before dark they made camp. Without the moon and stars, it would be difficult to stay on the road, so they took shelter in an abandoned barn. Most of the roof was gone, but one corner was still relatively dry.
Quinn used some of the old wood from the stalls to make a fire and they did their best to dry their clothes. Once again, Quinn drank ale with his dinner and then volunteered for the first watch. Mansel lay down and tried to sleep, but his mind wouldn’t stop working on the issue of Quinn’s sudden kindness. He knew he was missing something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
He dozed fitfully until Quinn woke him up.
“Your watch,” he said cheerfully.
Then the older man rolled himself up in his cloak, lay down by the embers of their fire, and went to sleep. It was only an hour or so before dawn when Mansel built the fire back up. They weren’t really worried about being found or bothered, but they kept watch just the same. The damp night had grown chilly, and Mansel sat with his back to the flames to preserve his night vision. The heat felt good on his back and although he was tired, he was comfortable enough. He realized that he could have drunk some of the ale. It was constantly on his mind. Quinn had untied the keg and brought it with them into the stable. Quinn was sleeping and Mansel knew the older man wouldn’t miss a little ale, but he also knew that if he started, he probably wouldn’t stop. He tried his best to simply shake it off, but the nagging desire stayed with him through the night.
When dawn broke, Mansel was glad for it. He used water from one of the canteens to make a porridge of oats, with some walnuts from his own supplies and honey to sweeten it. Quinn got up when he smelled the food and they ate their breakfast.
“Why haven’t you offered me any ale?” Mansel asked.
“It’s mine,” Quinn said. “I bought that ale with my own money.”
“Still, it’s rude to drink in front of someone and not offer them any.”
“I thought it would be rude to offer you some.”
“Why? Because I got drunk when you told me not to?”
“No, I didn’t judge you for that. I didn’t say a word about it.”
“I know,” Mansel said. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
“I thought I was being kind.”
“Don’t do me any favors, Quinn. I know you’re up to something.”
“I’m not up to anything,” he said. “I just wanted some ale. I thought that inn had a good brew, not too sweet and not too bitter. So I bought some. Where’s the harm in it?”
“You’re taunting me, that’s what it is. You want to rub my nose in the fact that I made a mistake.”
“Oh rubbish,” Quinn said angrily. “I do not. It’s not my fault you drink too much. I warned you, but you didn’t listen. It’s like everything I say these days, you have to take the opposite opinion.”
“That’s because you treat me like a child,” Mansel replied, his temper flaring. “I can take care of myself, Quinn. You need to get that through your thick skull.”
“I know you can, I’ve no doubt about it. You’re a gifted swordsman and a fearless fighter, but there’s a lot more to life than fighting.”
“Like what? Building barns? I appreciate all you’ve taught me, but I’m choosing a new path for my life. I enjoy the freedom of being out on the road, of living by the sword, and I don’t need you to make all my decisions for me.”
“I’m not making anyone’s decisions but my own,” Quinn said. “I’m going to do the King’s bidding, and I don’t give a damn what you choose to do.”
“The King asked me to save the Prince,” Mansel said. “Not you.”
“And I’m sure you could do it, just as soon as you’ve drunk your way through every saloon between Orrock and Osla.”
Mansel was so angry he kicked the logs in the fire, which flew up and hit the wood of the old barn in a flash of sparks and glowing embers. He turned and stomped out of the barn. The rain had stopped, but the sky was full of clouds and a fresh breeze was blowing. He checked his mount’s hooves and then went back for his gear.
“Heading off in a hurry?” Quinn said.
“I’ve a job to do.”
“Good luck, boy.”
The word boy was like a slap in the face. Mansel whirled around, swinging his fist in a powerful punch that would have hit Quinn square on the jaw. But the older man had expected it. He wasn’t as strong as Mansel, and although Quinn was good with a sword, he didn’t have Mansel’s natural ability. But Quinn was fast and he had a lifetime of experience that Mansel lacked. He ducked under the punch, hooked his boot behind Mansel’s, and pushed his younger companion backward. Mansel tripped and fell hard on his back, and Quinn was on top of him in an instant. Mansel felt the cold edge of Quinn’s knife at his throat and for the first time he feared for his life at the hands of his mentor.
“I haven’t taug
ht you everything, lad,” Quinn said. “But I did teach you to control your temper. It doesn’t help you drive a nail and it doesn’t help you in a fight, remember?”
Mansel nodded. He was angry, but the fear was overcoming his rage.
“Good. Now listen to me. I don’t mean any offense when I make a decision. I’m used to making decisions; I’ve been doing it for a long time now. If you think you have a better idea, by all means speak up, but stop acting like a spoiled little girl because I don’t agree with you at every turn. You want to know why I bought the ale? It’s because I can. I can drink ale, or wine, or even hard spirits, because I know when to quit. You, on the other hand, can’t. Am I getting through to you?”
Five Kingdoms: Books 01, 02 & 03 Page 90
