Into Chaos Read online

  Into Chaos

  The Five Kingdoms Book IX

  by

  Toby Neighbors

  Into Chaos

  © 2015, Toby Neighbors

  Published by Mythic Adventure Publishing, LLC

  Idaho, USA

  All Rights Reserved No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any print or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Cover art by Michael Clarke

  Copy Editing by Allison Hagan

  Books By Toby Neighbors

  Avondale Series

  Avondale

  Draggah

  Balestone

  Arcanius

  Avondale V

  Five Kingdoms Series

  Wizard Rising

  Magic Awakening

  Hidden Fire

  Fierce Loyalty

  Crying Havoc

  Evil Tide

  Wizard Falling

  Chaos Descending

  Into Chaos

  Lorik Trilogy

  Lorik

  Lorik the Defender

  Lorik the Protector

  Other Novels

  Third Prince

  Royal Destiny

  The Other Side

  The New World

  Zompocalypse Omnibus

  Short Stories

  Dark Origin

  Dedication

  to you, dear reader,

  for making these stories possible.

  And to Camille,

  for once again surprising me with your incredible talent,

  and for always taking my breath away.

  Books By Toby Neighbors

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  The darkness didn’t just take hold of Lorik and pull him into the secret chamber, it flooded into his broken body like water into desert sand. There was strength and power in the dark magic, but also pain. Lorik felt his body growing, transforming. The pain in his dislocated shoulders was so excruciating that he bellowed, his voice echoing in the cave-like interior of the secret room, but contained there by the darkness. It was a large space, big enough to absorb his pain, so that no one in the castle heard Lorik’s cries.

  His shoulders and arms grew heavy with muscle, the skin stretching tight so that every detail became visible. It took several moments of agonizing, torturous pain, but at last his shoulders popped back into their sockets. The severed muscle in his left arm knit itself back together, leaving a horrible scar but becoming fully functional and stronger than before. The wound on his leg healed as well, but his hands were too broken to repair. The dark magic absorbed his ruined hands. Lorik felt as though he were being eaten alive. Stone was barely breathing as he lay at Lorik’s feet. Then he too was screaming.

  Lorik had no idea how much time passed, but eventually the pain faded. The magic was alive, with a mind of its own, but it did not force its will onto Lorik. Instead, it was like a friend, whispering in his ear, reveling in the power they shared together. His self-torment fed the dark magic, made it thrum with power, which it gave to Lorik to use however he chose. In his tortured mind, he remembered what the Drery Dru had told him about magic. That he was destined to rule and that magic was the sign of his royal right to take the throne. He wondered why he had resisted the dark magic in the secret dungeon for so long. His body felt strong again, and he could feel the magical power coursing through him from head to toe.

  When Lorik looked down, he had hands again, not flesh and blood, but hands just the same. Hands that didn’t ache from having every bone smashed by a torturer’s hammer. Hands that could move and flex, open and clench. Gloves covered his new hands and forearms, and armor now covered his body. It was black, wrapping around his massive shoulders but leaving his arms bare. Tall boots now covered his feet, and a thick leather belt was wrapped around his waist. A snug helmet covered his head and protected his face. The armor was made from the dark magic, just as his hands were. The darkness had become tangible, physical objects of great power, and all that was lacking were his swords.

  The darkness had muted Lorik’s physical pain, but there was still a raging fury in his heart. Vera was dead, killed by a murderous king and aided by Queen Issalyn. Lorik’s lover had not only betrayed him, she had betrayed the best friends Lorik had ever known. Vera was innocent, her only crime was speaking up for Lorik, and his guilt over her death fed the darkness inside him, which in turn fed his own anger until it was red hot and out of control. His fury was unleashed in another blood-chilling bellow, but this time the secret chamber and the dark magic it concealed did nothing to hinder the sound. Lorik’s rage-filled scream echoed up from the dungeon and into the castle, but it wasn’t time for vengeance, not yet.

  No sound from outside the secret chamber reached Lorik, but he could sense the soldiers in the dungeon as they came to investigate the strange cry that had echoed through the castle. He could sense them with the dark magic that felt more a part of him every moment. It was almost as if he could smell their fear. He was drawn to it, the darkness inside him reveling in the fact that he had caused it. They were searching for him now that they had found his prison cell empty. There was a frantic nature to the search; their need to find him was almost as strong as their need to survive. He couldn’t help but chuckle at their consternation. He had slipped through their fingers, and they had no illusions about what he would do. It was only a matter of time before Lorik took his revenge.

  The entire city had turned against him, mocking him, calling for his death. They had been like wild animals, worked into a frenzy by the idea of an entertaining spectacle of violence. It made no difference that he was innocent, that he had in fact saved the kingdom, or that the man sitting on the throne wasn’t even from their own country. The fat King Yettlebor had given away the kingdom to mercenaries who were loyal only to the money that Yettlebor took from a treasury he had no right to. He bought loyalty and secured his reign with blood, but nothing could protect him from Lorik.

  Stone was too far gone to save, Lorik knew that. His friend had been mortally wounded; the arrow shot at him by the mercenary named Ulber had pierced his spine. He had been bleeding internally, and his grip on Lorik’s arm had grown weaker and weaker as Lorik dragged him to the secret room. Stone had fallen unconscious at Lorik’s feet when the darkness had taken the young warrior, consuming him and empowering him at the same time. Stone was gone, and in his place was Spector, a wraith. His body was nothing more than black smoke. Only his shoulders and head remained, and they were shrouded in the same black smoke like a beggar’s cowl. In his hands were his trademark weapons, the matched pair of deadly knives, and there was nothing incorporeal about them. They were honed steel, razor sharp, and hungry for blood.

  Lorik felt the fury pouring off his friend
as he rose up into their air, snaking around Lorik’s huge body, as they prepared to take their revenge. Spector’s voice was much deeper than before, and menacing in a way that sent a chill through Lorik. His friend hadn’t just taken the shape of a vengeful spirit; his anger was real.

  “It’s your fault she’s dead,” Spector accused.

  “I know,” Lorik said.

  “You failed.”

  “I failed you both.”

  “I want the cowardly king’s blood.”

  “It is yours to take,” Lorik said.

  “I shall never forgive you.”

  “I don’t expect you to.”

  The door to the secret room burst open, the rock shattering into a thousand shards. Lorik discovered that he could see in the dark, even though the dungeon was deep underground. He heard the terrified whines of the half-crazed prisoners. The dark magic fed off the fear around him, making Lorik feel invincible.

  He turned toward the spiral staircase that led up into the castle. He could sense the desperation of the people searching the royal fortress for him. There was a maelstrom of activity that bordered on panic. It was exactly the right atmosphere for Lorik’s revelation. He would ascend the stairs, but in reality he was ascending to the throne. Taking his rightful place as King of Ortis. He only needed to kill a few people first. Then he could rest. Perhaps revenge would quiet his tortured soul.

  Chapter 1

  Zollin couldn’t stop looking at the sky. It was so blue it made his heart ache a little after being in the dark caverns of the dwarves for so long. It was bitterly cold as they flew toward Orrock, but as long as Zollin stayed low, hunched down close to Ferno’s back, he could feel the heat radiating off the muscular green dragon. It was Zollin’s favorite time of the year. The ground far below them was littered with multicolored leaves, and the air seemed to whisper that snow would soon be on the way.

  Yet even with so many things to be happy about, Zollin felt a desperation that he had never experienced before. He had been heartbroken in the past, and he had faced almost certain death, but Brianna’s absence left him with a sense that something was desperately wrong. And although he knew what he needed to fix his problem, he had no idea how to find Brianna. He knew that helping the dwarves had been the right thing to do; in fact they needed even more help. He planned to do all he could for them, but he also regretted that he’d let Brianna leave. He should have said more, should have told her how much she meant to him, but he'd been too prideful. Her need to be on her own dredged up painful memories for Zollin and made him feel insecure.

  His first priority was to find her, and although he wasn’t sure how long he’d been down in the caverns, he hoped he might find her in Orrock. They had been been planning to go to the capital to tell Brianna’s parents about her pregnancy. He hoped she might still be there, or at least have left word of where she was going next.

  It took Zollin two days to reach Orrock. He had left the caverns around midday, and Zollin had insisted they stop at nightfall. Even flying on Ferno’s back, the trip from the edge of the highlands to Orrock took nearly fourteen hours, and with winter coming on, there simply wasn’t enough time in the day to make the trip before sundown. Ferno had no trouble flying at night, but Zollin needed the warmth of the sun to make the freezing temperatures tolerable.

  Orrock was a large city, built near the Tillamook River. It had been a fortress, then a trade center, before eventually becoming the capital of Yelsia, the largest of the Five Kingdoms. Zollin couldn’t help but wonder what was happening in the other kingdoms to the south, especially Osla and Falxis, since most of the populations of those countries had been mutated by the witch’s scorpion-tailed monsters. Exploring those lands had been the purpose of the trip, but with Brianna striking out on her own, Zollin’s priorities had changed. He and Ferno circled the city, taking note of the newly rebuilt battlements on the main city walls, but seeing no sign of Sorva, which probably meant that Brianna was not in Orrock either. Zollin had to remind himself that the black dragon might be out hunting or simply waiting for Brianna outside of the city.

  “Take us down,” Zollin called to Ferno. “Land on the watchtower.”

  Ferno sent back a mental image of soldiers on the tower, pointing up at them. The dragon’s eyesight was so sharp that it could make out small animals on the ground when it was flying high in the air. Zollin could see the buildings and even some movement on the city streets, but nothing was clear.

  “They’ll make way for us,” Zollin said.

  Ferno growled. Other than Brianna and Zollin, the dragons didn’t trust humans very much. In many ways humans were strange to dragons, who were genderless and didn’t mate or procreate like other animals. They were highly intelligent creatures, and Ferno had saved Zollin’s life more than once, but he still had to remind himself that Brianna’s pride of dragons were barely more than a year old. Most of what the dragons knew of humans came from helping Zollin and Brianna in the Witch’s War. The dragons had lost members of their pride in that war, but Ferno was fiercely loyal to Zollin, and the dragon was like a close friend to the wizard.

  Ferno circled slowly as he descended. The soldiers on the tall watchtower slowly came into focus for Zollin. They weren’t armed, and when it became clear that Ferno intended to land on the tower, they went back down the steps that led into the castle. Ferno’s massive wings caught the wind like the sails of a ship, and they glided to a gentle landing. Zollin could see people in the streets pointing up in wonder at the huge green beast.

  “You’re famous,” Zollin said.

  Ferno roared loudly, stretching the long green neck and spreading the massive wings.

  “You should go hunting,” Zollin said. “I’ll be here for the rest of the day at least. You can meet me back here tomorrow morning. And try not to steal anyone’s livestock.”

  Ferno shook its horned head almost like a horse and growled deep in its thick chest. Zollin patted Ferno on the neck, then slipped down onto the watchtower. He had to stretch his own back and flex his knees; then he went down the stone steps that led into the castle. One of the soldiers was waiting for him.

  “Master Zollin?” the man said.

  “Yes, I was hoping that Brianna might have come here. She would have been on a black dragon.”

  “No, my lord. You’re the only dragon rider we’ve seen.”

  “That’s too bad,” Zollin said, hoping that perhaps Brianna left Sorva where the dragon wouldn’t be seen in the city and made the rest of the trip on foot so as not to draw attention to herself.

  “Well, I have business in town,” Zollin said. “Ferno will be hunting, so the watchtower is all yours.”

  “Yes, my lord. But we’ve orders from King Hausey. He wants to see you.”

  “Oh, all right. Lead the way then.”

  The soldier nodded and then started off down the long winding staircase that was built into the inside wall of the circular watchtower. The castle in Orrock was a simple structure, built for utility, not grandeur. Yelsia was the largest of the Five Kingdoms, but not the most populated and certainly not the wealthiest. The people who had built the city of Orrock centuries in the past had favored function over form, even in the king’s own residence.

  When they reached the third floor of the castle, the circular stairs ended, and the tower opened up into a large hallway. The third floor was the royal residence and the place where the king did most of his work overseeing the kingdom. Zollin was led to a room with two strong wooden doors. Horses were carved into the wood in a beautiful relief that Zollin remembered from his previous visits to the castle. The doors were propped open, and Zollin could see King Hausey at his desk near the fireplace. The grizzled commander had lost most of his hair over the last year and what was left was a dirty-looking gray. There were deep lines around his eyes, and his desk was covered in parchments. The king was looking at one of the scrolls through a magnifying glass.

  “I’ll go blind trying to read all these reports,”
King Hausey growled. “If I’d known how much reading was involved in ruling a kingdom, I would have turned you down last year.”

  “You look up to the challenge,” Zollin said. “It’s good to see you again, my liege.”

  “We can dispense with all that,” Hausey said, getting up from his desk and stretching. “Being king has made me soft. I hardly have the time to ride anymore and I’ve grown accustomed to being near a warm fire.”

  “Well, don’t take up riding dragons,” Zollin said. “You’ll freeze to death if they don’t forget you’re there and roast you with their fiery breath.”

  “I’ll leave the dragons to you.”

  The two men shook hands. Zollin was glad he hadn’t accepted the crown when it was his for the taking. He preferred a simple life. He was happiest when he was tinkering in his workshop, but that life seemed to be slipping from his grasp. He enjoyed being out in the open, traveling through the Five Kingdoms, but he had hoped their excursion would be a leisurely one, and it was turning out to be much more frantic than he had expected.

  “What brings you to Orrock?” the king asked.

  “Brianna and I are traveling through the kingdoms,” Zollin explained. “We had hoped to learn what was taking place in Falxis and Osla — perhaps even in Ortis. But there was trouble with the dwarves, and I had to help them. Brianna has gone on ahead of me.”

  “I see. What kind of trouble are the dwarves experiencing?”

  “For one, their warriors never returned after the war. You don’t know what happened to them, by any chance?”

  “No,” the king said. “I was focused on our own troops and maintaining order with Prince Willam gone. They may have been overrun.”

  “That is possible, and I intend to find out for certain if I can, but in the meantime, the dwarves that stayed behind have been struggling. It seems strange creatures are roaming through the mountains and even Peddingar Forest.”