Crying Havoc fk-4 Page 2
“Of course I can,” he said. But then he realized he couldn’t.
He was hurting everywhere from his chest up, but below that, he felt nothing at all. No pain, not the cold snow, not Brianna’s tears, not even his magic.
* * *
The boat was rocking, and Quinn was leaning against the ship’s railing. His stomach seemed to clench and lurch with every movement the ship made. His lips were chapped and every muscle ached. He knew he was dehydrated, but even the thought of water made him nauseous. Still, his mind focused on his duty. He had been sent to get Zollin and bring him back to Gwendolyn. His heart seemed to soar whenever he thought of her. She was stunningly beautiful, although he couldn’t remember exactly what she looked like, and his desire for her was like a wild fire. Being with her, pleasing her, doing whatever she wanted him to do: that was his life’s ambition. There were other things in the back of his mind, important things, but he resolutely ignored them.
The ship he and Mansel had been ordered to take north was sailing smoothly. The wind was propelling them along, and the Great Sea of Kings was not like sailing across the ocean. The waves were smaller, and the Great Sea was not saltwater so there was no briny smell to further sicken his stomach. Still, it always took Quinn several days to overcome seasickness. He couldn’t do anything until the nausea passed except huddle down against the railing and wait.
Mansel had been sick too, but his own sea legs had returned much more quickly than during his first time at sea. Quinn and Mansel had been sent to Osla to protect Prince Wilam, who was serving in the Grand City as Yelsia’s ambassador. They had sailed south, and Mansel had been sick for two whole days before the debilitating nausea had finally passed. They had survived an attack by pirates, but then Quinn had left Mansel behind in Cape Sumar. It was merely a stroke of good fortune that their paths had crossed again as Quinn led the Prince north through Falxis, and although Mansel had not brought up the incident, he had not forgotten it. Now, he let his anger against his mentor burn, and he used that anger to strengthen his resolve. He couldn’t let Quinn steal the credit for bringing Zollin back to Gwendolyn. Just one look at the Lady of the Sea, as he had come to think of her, was all it took for him to know that he would do anything to be near her. Quinn was in Mansel’s way, and although he owed Quinn everything he knew about swordsmanship and fighting, he couldn’t let the older man steal Gwendolyn’s affections.
He unbuckled his sword belt and left all his weapons in a neat pile on the deck. The ship was small and they didn’t have private quarters, but he doubted that any of the seamen would bother his things. He walked toward Quinn, hardening his resolve.
“Still sick?” he asked.
“Aye,” Quinn said through gritted teeth.
“Here, let me help you up. I think you’ll fare better near the rear of the ship.”
“What?” Quinn asked.
Mansel didn’t try to explain. He just took hold of Quinn’s arm and hoisted the man up. Quinn was too weak to resist. His legs were too shaky to support his own weight, and he leaned into Mansel.
“Sorry,” Mansel said, and then he shoved Quinn hard.
Quinn felt the hard railing of the deck dig into his lower back, and then his feet flew up into the air. That terrifying moment seemed to last ages. He could feel his center of gravity shifting out over the water. His legs kicked but they touched nothing. His hands scratched at the railing, trying desperately to find something to hold onto, something that would stop his plunge into the water below. Even though his muscles were galvanized with adrenaline, he couldn’t hold himself up. He saw the ship’s rail and Mansel’s face as he fell. Then the water covered him in cold darkness.
Mansel saw Quinn splash into the water, but the ship was moving swiftly along, and his mentor was soon swept away. Some of the sailors witnessed Mansel’s treachery, but the warrior merely turned and glared at the sailors. None of the seamen wanted to follow Quinn overboard, so they went on with their work without saying a word. One of the sailors in the rear of the ship tossed a wooden bucket overboard, but no one took notice. Mansel strapped on his weapons and settled down on the deck with his back to the mast.
Quinn was not a strong swimmer, but he was able to get his head above water in time to see the ship sailing away. Around him he could see nothing but dark, cold water. The water wasn’t cold enough to be life-threatening, but it was a shock to Quinn’s body, which was still weak from sea sickness. Then he saw the bucket. It came flying over the rear of the ship and splashed into the water not far from Quinn. He swam to it and found it bobbing in the water. He wrapped his arms around the bucket and felt the tiny vessel’s buoyancy hold him up in the water. His shivering body relaxed and let the bucket take his weight.
He couldn’t believe what was happening. He had been shoved overboard by Mansel. He couldn’t imagine why, and in fact his mind was struggling just to comprehend the situation. All he knew for certain was that he had to hang onto the bucket. His stomach churned, but there was nothing left to vomit. He dry-heaved, his body shivering from cold, his mind struggling to understand.
Then he remembered. . everything. He and Mansel had been sent on a mission to bring Prince Wilam safely back to Yelsia. Then they had met the witch in Lodenhime. When Quinn thought of Gwendolyn he felt an emotional tug, but he was no longer bewitched by her. He felt anger rise up inside him, stronger than the seasickness that had plagued him. He couldn’t believe that a woman had somehow pulled him away from his duty. He had never experienced anything like the witch’s power before. He could remember what he did and even why he did it, but he couldn’t isolate why he was so enthralled with the woman. She was beautiful, he knew that, even though he couldn’t remember exactly what she looked like. Still, he didn’t feel affection for her, it was more like animal passion.
He knew two things for certain as he clung to the bucket. First, Prince Wilam was being used by the witch. It didn’t take a master strategist to understand the benefit of having the Crown Prince of Yelsia in the witch’s service. He knew that somehow he needed to get to the Prince and rescue him from the witch’s power, but he had no idea how he could do that without falling under her spell again. Secondly, Quinn knew that Mansel was going to Yelsia to fetch Zollin back to the witch. He couldn’t believe how stupid he had been. He remembered that he had planned to leave Mansel behind as well. He remembered how he had felt in his zeal to please Gwendolyn. He shook his head angrily. He should have been on his guard, but he had been consumed with his seasickness since the ship had set sail. Now, he was in trouble. He couldn’t see land in any direction. He knew the ship had been sailing north, but he had no idea how far they had come or even how long they had been at sea.
He kicked his feet and tried to look for any signs of land, but all he could see was water in every direction. He was lost at sea, and that prospect filled him with dread. His son needed him, but he was completely helpless and dependent on a wooden bucket just to stay alive.
Chapter 2
“Oh, no,” Zollin said softly.
He was trying to move his legs but nothing was happening. He tried to delve into his magic but he couldn’t. He felt completely helpless.
“I’m hurt,” he said, his voice shaking slightly.
“Okay,” Brianna said. “It’s going to be okay.”
“No, I think my back is broken.”
“Okay,” Brianna said again, her face a mask of restrained panic. “You just need to heal yourself, that’s all.”
“I can’t,” Zollin said, fighting the tears that were stinging his eyes. “I can’t feel my magic.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s not there. I’m helpless.”
The tears couldn’t be contained. He was in pain and he was afraid that he was going to die, but what shook him the most was the realization that he couldn’t feel his magic. He was a wizard with no powers.
“You mean you lost your magical powers? How?”
“I don’t know,” h
e said, his breath coming in ragged sobs. “I don’t know if I lost it or used it all up or if I just can’t feel it.”
“Okay,” Brianna said, as she stroked his face and wiped the tears away. “It’s going to be okay. I promise it will. We just need to figure out what to do next.”
She looked around. There wasn’t much to see. They were at least ten feet below the surface of the snow in what amounted to a small crater formed by the impact of their falling bodies.
“We need food and a way to stay warm,” she said. “Maybe if you have some wine and some rest you could get your power back.”
“Maybe,” Zollin said, but he didn’t really believe it.
He had been exhausted by his magical powers before. Once, when Kelvich, the old sorcerer who had taken Zollin under his tutelage, had first started helping Zollin discover and control his power, he had been tied to a post for hours in the freezing cold. He had been exhausted and unable to free himself, but he could still feel his magic then. Now, however, he felt nothing. It was as if the lower half of his body was gone.
“Okay, so we’ve got to get out of this hole,” Brianna said, trying to remain positive and productive. “I can climb out. Then I’ll find our supplies and get you some food. Are you okay to stay here?”
“I don’t really have a choice,” Zollin said bitterly.
“All right,” Brianna said. Then she leaned over him again and stared fiercely into his eyes. “We’re together,” she said. “We’re both alive and we can make it through this. Don’t you dare give up on me, Zollin.”
“I won’t,” he said, though his voice, quivering and cracking, was unconvincing.
“You stick with me. It won’t be easy, but one way or another we’re getting out of this mess. I love you, and you promised you’d never give up on me, remember?”
Zollin nodded. He did remember. He remembered being on the road with Brianna, happy and carefree, when she suddenly withdrew her affections. She had been afraid that Zollin was using his magic to influence her feelings. Zollin had been afraid that she would never trust him again, but after weeks of struggling as they pursued and fought the dragon, she finally came back to him. He had her heart now, and even though he was hurting and scared, he resolutely fixed his mind on doing whatever it took to get Brianna out of the Northern Highland Mountains.
“Okay, try to stay awake,” she told him.
Then she stood up. It was difficult at first because there was so little room around his legs. She was afraid she might step on him and hurt him without realizing it. But once she got her feet set, she was able to stand up. The top of the snow was much higher than she was, but she had her dagger, and she went to work chiseling out a place right at knee height that she could use as a place to put her feet. She stepped up and braced herself with her arms on either side of the snow cave. She repeated the process again, but this time she was almost tall enough to reach the top of the snow, and when she tried to brace herself her arms sank into the snow where it was not as compacted. After a moment’s struggle to get her balance and make sure she wasn’t going to fall onto Zollin, she made another small hole and then put her dagger back in its sheath on her belt.
When she stepped up to the third hole she was more careful. She could see above the snow now. It was a weird feeling to see what looked like the ground right at eye level. She began digging in the snow with her hands, careful to toss the snow so that it didn’t fall back down into the hole. It was hard work. Soon her back and legs were aching with fatigue and her hands were burning from the cold, but she was able to crawl from the larger hole into the smaller one she had created. From there she was able to get on top of the snow.
Her feet sank down in the loose snow, so that her leg was buried almost up to her knee. She took a few clumsy steps and then looked back. The hole seemed dark and foreboding, like and open grave. She looked up and saw that the sun was sinking behind the mountains. What little warmth the sun gave to the northern range of mountains would soon be gone, and Zollin would freeze to death if she didn’t do something to save him.
“I made it,” she shouted. “I made it to the top, Zollin. Can you hear me?”
“Yes, good job,” he replied, but his voice was frail and weak.
“I’m going to find our supplies and come right back. Do you hear?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Good. You stay awake.”
She didn’t wait for a response. She knew it would take all of her strength just to get across the snow field. But just after she had begun moving, she suddenly stopped to think. She knew right where they had left their supplies, but she had no idea how much snow now covered them. What if she struggled to get to the supplies only to realize that she couldn’t dig them out? Fear felt like it was dragging her down deeper into the snow. She had no bow, no food, and no other way to get food. Their supplies were all they had to survive on. They were the only hope.
She struggled through the snow for almost an hour before finding what she was looking for. They had left their supplies near the foot of a cliff that had a twisted tree growing from it. The tree was unmistakable, but she had trouble spotting it again. She could tell the snow was angling down when she finally spotted the gnarled trunk. It had been hit by the snow and ice, and the limbs had been broken off. She hurried as fast as she could to the tree and began digging. At first the snow was easy to move. She shoveled it aside with her hands. But then the snow became packed and frozen. She had to use her dagger to break up the packed snow and then shovel out the chunks she had broken free. It was exhausting work, but she knew she needed to find their supplies or Zollin might die.
It took over an hour, and the shadows were so deep that she could hardly see when her hand finally felt something other than snow. She renewed her furious digging and uncovered one of their packs. It had food inside, but no wine. She was thirsty and tired, but she kept digging. It took only a few more minutes to locate the other pack. Then she had to find their canteens and the bottle of wine. It was completely dark by the time she had all their supplies. The stars twinkled in the night sky but cast almost no light in the dark canyon. She had to make her way back slowly, following the trail of broken snow she had made earlier mostly by feel. She only hoped that she wasn’t too late to help Zollin.
* * *
Zollin lay on the snow and tried not to think about the pain in his upper body or the absence of pain in his legs. He was frightened and felt absolutely helpless. Even raising his head brought a searing pain to his neck and shoulders that made his vision go dim. He knew that if he could work his magic he could heal his body, but he felt so weak and tired that all he wanted to do was sleep. The fact that he couldn’t feel his magic scared him more than anything. He knew that without it he would die. There was simply no way that Brianna could carry him back over the mountains. A healthy man would spend a month, perhaps even longer, traversing the jagged cliffs and treacherous canyons that Zollin had levitated them over using his power. If that power was gone, he would die.
He had faced death before, but never in such a helpless state. In most cases, he hadn’t had time to think about what he was doing or how close to death he really was. Even when he had gone down into the cave, which had been frightening, he was at least armed with his magic. Now he was completely helpless, and with every minute the snow towering over him looked more like the walls of a grave.
He fought sleep, knowing that if Brianna returned and he was unconscious, there was nothing she could do to save him. She had to get back with food, and he had to be awake when she got there. As darkness began to fall a new fear gripped him. What if Brianna didn’t return? What if she had abandoned him or gotten hurt herself? The dragon may have returned and devoured her. If so, he would die all alone.
He was shivering uncontrollably as the stars came out. One by one they lit the night sky, twinkling far above him. He focused on the stars as he struggled to keep his eyes open. He tried to see patterns in the stars but it was too difficult. His mi
nd seemed to be in a fog, and just forming coherent thoughts was difficult. He wanted to sleep so badly he was on the verge giving in when he heard Brianna calling his name.
“Zollin?” she said. “I’m coming! Can you hear me?”
She had been calling for a while, hoping that he might answer and help her find him in the dark.
“I hear you,” he said, but his voice was soft and slurred. She didn’t hear him.
“Zollin!” she called out again.
“I’m here,” he said as loudly as he could.
* * *
Brianna finally reached the hole and was at least relieved that it seemed darker than the landscape around her. She had been afraid that she would fall into the hole and make their predicament worse.
“Oh, Zollin, I can’t believe I found you,” she said. “It’s so dark I could hardly see anything.”
“You did good,” he said, but his voice was so weak she could hardly make out the words.
She had the strap from the wine bottle around her neck, and she made sure she had one canteen and as much food as she could get in one of the packs. The extra weight made the harrowing decent into the dark hole even more frightening, but she was careful, and even though it took several more minutes, she climbed safely down to Zollin.
“You stay with me!” she told him. “I’ve got food and wine.”
There was no room in the hole to stand or sit so that she wasn’t on top of Zollin, but she couldn’t help that now. She uncorked the wine and raised his head slightly. Zollin grimaced in pain. She let the wine, cold and sharply flavored, run slowly into his mouth. He swallowed like a baby bird and then opened his mouth for more.
She spent the next half hour feeding him. He grew stronger, the pain less severe, but his magic didn’t return.
“I still don’t feel anything,” Zollin said. “I can’t even feel your weight.”
“What about your magic? Can you do anything?”
He concentrated on kindling a flame. It was one of the most simple spells he knew, a trick he had done since he had first discovered his magical abilities, but nothing happened. It was like trying to raise his leg. The effort seemed familiar, but there was absolutely no movement.