Five Kingdoms: Book 05 - Fierce Loyalty Read online

  Fierce Loyalty

  © 2013 Toby Neighbors

  Published by Mythic Adventure Publishing

  Post Falls, Idaho

  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 Designed by Camille Denae

  Books by Toby Neighbors:

  Wizard Rising - 5K Book 1

  Magic Awakening - 5K Book 2

  Hidden Fire - 5K Book 3

  Crying Havoc - 5K Book 4

  Lorik (The Lorik Trilogy Book 1)

  Third Prince

  Royal Destiny

  The New World

  The Other Side

  You may join the mailing list to get emails whenever a new novel is published at http://www.tobyneighbors.com/contact-me.html

  And don’t forget to like the Toby Neighbors Author page on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/pages/Toby-Neighbors-Author/210621225652500

  Dedication

  This book is for the people who have shown unwavering support of my dreams:

  To all my Facebook fans,

  I love interacting with you online, thanks for all the encouragement,

  To my sisters, Lorie Mortenson & Linda Bradley,

  for reading my books and always being there for me,

  And most importantly, to Camille, the love of my life and my best friend,

  You always knew I could do it, but I couldn’t do it without you.

  “I saw a star fallen from heaven to the earth. To him was given the key to the bottomless pit. And he opened the bottomless pit, and smoke arose out of the pit like the smoke of a great furnace. So the sun and the air were darkened because of the smoke of the pit. Then out of the smoke locusts came upon the earth. And to them was given power... The shape of the locusts was like horses prepared for battle. On their heads were crowns of something like gold, and their faces were like the faces of men. They had hair like women’s hair, and their teeth were like lions’ teeth. And they had breastplates like breastplates of iron, and the sound of their wings was like the sound of chariots with many horses running into battle. They had tails like scorpions, and there were stings in their tails... And they had as king over them the angel of the bottomless pit, whose name in Hebrew is Abaddon [destruction], but in Greek he has the name Apollyon [destroyer].”

  Apokalupsis

  Chapter 9

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  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

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 1

  The sky was growing dark. Thick clouds rolled angrily up from the south, and Zollin slumped in his saddle as sheets of cold rain fell. He was tired—both physically and emotionally—from the long ride. It seemed like he couldn’t remember when life had been leisurely. He thought back to when he was a boy growing up in Tranaugh Shire. He’d hated going to essentials school, hated being an apprentice with his father, and hated the daily chores that he was forced to do, but looking back he saw that life had been relatively easy.

  “What’s on your mind?” Mansel asked, having to raise his voice over the noise of the falling rain.

  “Just thinking of home,” Zollin said.

  “Seems like a lifetime ago to me,” Mansel said. “It’s hard to believe we haven’t even been gone a year.”

  “I know,” Zollin said. “It’s hard to remember a time when we weren’t constantly on the move and constantly in danger.”

  “We’re not in danger now,” Mansel said. “For the first time, it’s our enemies who are on the run.”

  “I know what you’re saying is true, but it feels wrong somehow,” Zollin replied. “It feels like something terrible is about to happen.”

  “Ah, that’s just because of the weather. The days are getting shorter.”

  “It’s not the weather,” Zollin said. “Even though I don’t think those clouds are normal.”

  “You think the Torr is behind it?”

  “I can’t say,” Zollin said. “But something is changing, and it doesn’t feel like it’s a change for the better.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mansel said, his face bowed low in shame. “I killed Kelvich. I almost killed Quinn. You have every right to feel bad.”

  “I miss Kelvich,” Zollin said. “What happened was tragic, but I’m as much to blame as you are. He told me something was wrong, but I was too self-absorbed to see it. If I had listened, perhaps things would have turned out differently.”

  “Well, I’m the one who killed him.”

  “You were bewitched,” Zollin argued.

  “That may be true, but it doesn’t help me sleep at night.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Zollin said. “You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

  “Can’t help it,” Mansel said. “I was in love with the idea of being a great warrior, but in the end I was just a killer. This isn’t the life for me, Zollin. I’m going to help you as long as you need me, but then I’m going to disappear.”

  “Disappear where?” Zollin asked.

  “To a quiet life on the coast. I met someone,” Mansel explained. “I promised her I’d come back. Even when I was under the witch’s spell I could see her in my mind.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Nycoll,” Mansel said. “She has a little cottage on the coast in Falxis. Her husband was a fisherman, but he was lost at sea. When I ran into trouble on my way to Osla, she nursed me back to health. There’s just something about her—I can’t really describe it. All I know is that’s home, not Tranaugh Shire. Not flitting about from town to town looking for adventure. When this is all over, that’s where I’m going.”

  “You really think Quinn is happy in Felson?” Zollin asked.

  “I guess,” Mansel said. “He’s your father, you should know better than anyone.”

  “There’s a lot about him I don’t know,” Zollin admitted. “I’m glad he’s found someone who makes him happy, but it seems odd to be on the road without him.”

  “And what about Brianna?” Mansel said. “How are you doing with that?”

  “I don’t know,” Zollin said. “And that’s the hardest part. I don’t know what happened to her. I don’t know if she’s alive or dead. I don’t know if I’ll ever know, and it’s like a wound that won’t heal. If I knew she was dead, perhaps I could move on emotionally, but it’s so hard to even think that she might be dead. When I settle things with the Torr and deal with the witch at Lodenhime, I’m going to search for her. I can’t rest until I know for sure.”

/>   They rode in silence after that. The rain soaked through their clothes and made them miserable. Zollin felt especially bad for Eustice. The tongue-less servant who had been cast aside by Offendorl, the Master of the Torr, couldn’t even complain about how cold and miserable he felt.

  “We need to find some shelter,” Zollin said to Mansel. “We’ll all be sick if we stay out in this weather.”

  “There should be a settlement or farm close by,” Mansel said. “I can’t believe how cold this rain is. I mean, I know autumn is upon us, but this feels more like winter weather.”

  “I know,” Zollin agreed. “Like I said, it’s unnatural.”

  They rode another half hour, their mounts plodding through mud, the wind finding every gap in their sodden clothing. Finally, they came to an abandoned farmhouse. The farmhouse had no roof, but there was a small barn that still had half a roof. They led their horses into the barn, but were surprised to find that they weren’t alone.

  “This is our place,” said a surly looking man huddled in the corner. “Go find someplace else.”

  “There’s room for all of us,” Zollin said cheerfully, even though he felt anything but cheerful. “I can start a fire and we have food.”

  “There’s no dry wood to burn,” the man said, standing up and drawing a rusty knife from behind his back. “If you want to keep breathing, I suggest you find another place.”

  The man had three companions, and they were all soaked from being out in the rain and looked menacing. They had weapons too, although they were crude instruments. One had a club, and the other two had ancient looking knives. Zollin had a knife in his belt, but no other weapons. Mansel, on the other hand, was fully armed. He had a long sword, a dagger, a round shield, and armor—although he wasn’t wearing the armor at the moment.

  “We don’t want trouble,” Zollin said. “We won’t bother you, but we’re not leaving.”

  “It’s your funeral,” the surly man said.

  Zollin concentrated for moment, sending his magic out silently. It heated the handle of the man’s weapon. In the past, using his magic would have sent a warm, wind-like sensation blowing through Zollin. But he had constructed a magical barrier around the reservoir of power that existed inside him. Now he could sense his magic, but it did not effect him physically—at least not to the extent that it had in the past when working magic would leave him drained as if he’d been exerting all his physical strength.

  “Ahhhh!” shouted the surly man, dropping his knife. His companions looked over at their friend in surprise. “What the devil?”

  “Not the devil,” Zollin said. “A wizard. Now, if you’d be kind enough to put your weapons away, I promise you’ll not be harmed or molested in any way. We just want a dry spot to ride out the storm.”

  Then Zollin let his power kindle a fire in front of the men. It was nothing more than a dancing flame on the ground, which was hard-packed dirt. There was no wood, not even old straw, but the flame was bright and hot.

  “Well?” Zollin said impatiently. “We’re waiting?”

  “Put ’em away, lads,” said the surly man.

  “Thank you,” Zollin said as he swung down off of his horse. “My name is Zollin. This is Mansel and Eustice.”

  Eustice took the horses to what used to be a stall. He unsaddled the mounts and cleaned their hooves. Mansel used his sword to break up some of the wood from the far end of the barn and made two piles—one for the group of men already occupying the old barn, and one for himself and his friends.

  Zollin gave the other men some of their food. It was mostly dry rations, but there was some fruit, bread, and cheese in their saddlebags too. Then he used his magic to pull the water out of the rotting wood. He could have set it ablaze wet, but he didn’t want to fill their small shelter with smoke. Once the wood was dry it kindled quickly and crackled merrily. The men all stripped down and hung their clothes by the fire to dry. Zollin and Mansel had dry clothes in their saddlebags, but Eustice and the other men were forced to huddle near the flames until their clothes were dry.

  They drank water and ate their food, mostly in silence. The rain pounded on the ancient wooden shingles, but while there were a few leaks, the old roof kept them dry through the night. Zollin tried to sleep, but his mind was filled with the horrors of what he’d seen—men slain on the battlefield, the horrifying black dragon spewing flames, and worst of all, Brianna being carried away by that same dragon.

  The next day was dim, with thick clouds filling the sky and the threat of more rain, but Zollin and his companions pressed on. They rode through short-lived rain showers, pushing their horses to carry them as far and as fast as the animals could. Everywhere around them they saw signs of the invading army. Farms were burned, villages abandoned, and crops trampled. The path was churned to mud by hundreds of feet, trudging south. The armies from Osla and Falxis had been defeated at Orrock, and now they traveled home. King Felix had accepted their surrender and allowed them to return to their kingdoms. Only Zollin, Mansel, and Eustice followed them.

  “How far ahead is the old wizard?” Mansel asked when the rain finally let up a little.

  “Too far to catch him on the road,” Zollin said. “I don’t expect to find him until we reach the tower of the Torr in the Grand City.”

  “And when we get there, what do you plan to do?”

  “I’m not sure,” Zollin said. “But he can’t be allowed to lead armies to invade Yelsia. And I don’t want him hunting me down anymore either.”

  “So you’ll offer him terms of surrender?”

  “I suppose,” Zollin said.

  “And if he refuses?”

  “I’ll let you kill him,” Zollin said.

  “No thank you,” Mansel replied. “I’ve seen what you wizards can do. I’ll guard your back though.”

  Eustice waved his hands to get their attention. He’d become rather skilled in communicating by gesture. He pointed ahead at the trail where a group of four men were sitting under a tree. They all had armor and weapons, which was a dead give away that they were soldiers. What wasn’t plainly obvious was why they weren’t marching ahead with the armies from Falxis or Osla.

  “What are they doing?” Mansel asked quietly.

  “I don’t know,” Zollin said. “Eustice, fall back behind us.”

  “You think it’s a trap?” Mansel asked.

  “Possibly. I’d rather err on the side of caution at this point. I can handle these four—you keep an eye out in case there’s more of them.”

  They rode forward, staying on the trail and not slowing as they approached the soldiers.

  The men had gotten to their feet, and when they realized that Zollin didn’t plan to stop they spread out across the narrow road.

  “Hold there,” said one of the soldiers, a big man with a long sword. “We need to commandeer those horses.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Zollin.

  “Under the king’s law, we have the right to commandeer your mounts,” the big soldier continued. “We’ll leave them at the coast.”

  “I understand,” Zollin said with a smirk. His grief over Brianna left him with a short temper, and the truth was, he was spoiling for a fight. “Unfortunately, your king is running back to the coast with his tail between his legs.”

  The soldier’s eyes narrowed.

  “You think because some crackpot wizard got lucky enough to scare the king into surrender that it will somehow save you from our blades?” the soldier threatened. “Get off the horses now, and we’ll spare your lives.”

  “Crackpot wizard, eh?” Zollin said with a smirk. “And what would you say if I told you I was that wizard?”

  “Get off your horses now!” shouted the soldier. “I’ve had enough of your lip, boy. One more word from you and I’ll cut your tongue out and feed it to you.”

  “Oh, really,” Zollin said, smiling. “That I would truly like to see.”

  “Now!” ordered the soldier.

  The four men moved forw
ard instantly. They had almost drawn their weapons when they ran headlong into the invisible wall that Zollin had magically erected in front of them. The impact knocked them back, but Zollin wasn’t finished.

  “You were warned,” he said quietly.

  Then he raised a hand and sent crackling, blue energy at the big soldier who had threatened him. His magic was churning like a blacksmith’s billows, but Zollin managed to keep his anger from killing the soldier. Holding back the power of his spell was difficult, but he knew it was imperative that he control the magic or the magic would take control of him. The energy hit the soldier squarely in the chest, as if Zollin had tossed a lightning bolt. The power knocked the soldier backward, sending him flying through the air to land in a crumpled heap, his armor blackened from the attack.

  “Now,” Zollin said, leaning forward and crossing his arms on the saddle horn as he looked at the other soldiers, who suddenly seemed very frightened. “You’re not wanted here. You have no authority in Yelsia. And if you do anything other than make for the coast as fast as you can, I’ll see to it that you’re all hanged.”

  Just then a shout sounded from behind them. Zollin turned in his saddle and saw three more soldiers rushing forward, but Mansel was already in motion. He kicked his horse into a tight spin and charged at the rushing men. The soldiers spread in opposite directions to avoid Mansel, two men turning to the left and one to the right. He focused on the two men who were now on the left side of the road, guiding his horse toward the nearest of the two. Mansel’s sword wasn’t a true cavalry sword. Most warriors fighting from horseback either used a curved saber or a long sword, but Mansel’s weapon was more of a bastard sword, longer than a short sword but shorter than a broadsword. It could easily be wielded with one hand, and Mansel had no trouble knocking the soldier’s own weapon aside and landing a glancing blow on the soldier’s skullcap. A longer sword might have reached the soldier’s neck, but Mansel’s strike knocked the man unconscious.

  Zollin immediately let his magic flow out all around him. It felt like he was unblocking a dam as the magic rushed out. It was hot and powerful as it charged through his self-constructed containment field. He could feel the soldiers around him as they struggled to regroup. The two men attacking from the rear were still rushing toward Zollin and Eustice, while the three soldiers in front of them scrambled back to their feet.