Crying Havoc fk-4 Page 6

  * * *

  Gwendolyn rolled over on the bed she had been lounging on. She sat up and scowled in frustration.

  “He’s gone again, Mina.”

  The witch’s sister did not respond. She sat in a chair in the corner, neither moving or speaking. Her eyes stared blankly ahead.

  “Why does he keep doing that?” Gwendolyn asked. “I want him to come here and join us.”

  Gwendolyn stretched luxuriously before standing up and walking to the large windows that looked out over the sea. The breeze from the water was cool, and it made the silky gown she was wearing flutter against her body. Her hair was a tangled mess, but still it waved softly in the breeze.

  “Another glorious day of freedom, Mina,” Gwendolyn said. “I like this place much better than the tower. It was so dark and tedious. We mustn’t let the master come and take us away again.”

  She moved to an elegantly carved chair that sat before a small table with a large mirror propped against the wall on top of it. She looked at her reflection and sighed. Then she picked up a brush and began running it through her long hair.

  “The wizard in the north might be a perfect match for you,” Gwendolyn told her sister. “He’s grown more powerful, but he isn’t unsusceptible to our charms. I can sense that, even at this distance. If the men we sent north can bring him to us, I think we’ll be able to defeat even Offendorl. We’ll have all five kingdoms at our feet. Won’t that be something?”

  She spoke in a sweet, conversational voice, but it was as if her words were falling on deaf ears. Andomina was a powerful warlock but had no control over her own power. Gwendolyn controlled it for her, and in fact controlled Mina’s entire life. It had been that way since they were little girls and Offendorl had taken them to the Torr as children. They had lived in the massive tower for over a hundred years, with Gwendolyn under careful guard. Offendorl knew the power of a sorceress over men. Few could resist her charms, and even the Master of the Torr restricted his contact with them. He had eventually sent Gwendolyn and her sister to capture Zollin and bring him back to the Torr, but when the young wizard had learned to shield himself from her, Gwendolyn had brought her sister to Lodenhime instead of returning to their master.

  Offendorl was afraid of Zollin, a fact which had not been lost on Gwendolyn. She had sent Zollin’s father and friend to bring him back to her. If she couldn’t use her magic, she would use the men under her spell. It was, after all, the only thing she wanted them for. Men were weak-willed, pathetic creatures to Gwendolyn. She had always seen them give in to their most basic urges. They would surround her, throw themselves into any task to earn her favor. Eventually they would fight and kill each other, and the process would begin all over. It was wearisome to Gwendolyn, but she would use them as long as they served a purpose.

  A knock on the door broke her concentration. She had been brushing her hair, mindlessly combing through the glistening strands as she thought about Zollin. He was the key to her freedom after all. The army Wilam was building was little more than a war band. She knew that a strong noble could easily defeat her rabble of farmers and tradesmen, but leaving her adoring horde idle would only hasten the day when they fell to killing each other. And she had to admit she liked order. Wilam was a natural leader and he did, in fact, know about soldiering. It only made sense to put his skills to good use.

  The knock sounded again, this time louder and more urgent.

  “Oh, all right, just a minute,” she said loudly. “The demands of men never cease, Mina,” she said as pulled on a more modest robe. The weather was warm, but she preferred to remain fully dressed.

  She pushed the large metal bolt that was used to secure the door and then pulled the heavy slab of oak open. Wilam was waiting, a look of worry in his eyes that quickly passed once he saw her.

  “I thought you might be ill, my lady,” he said, wringing his hands nervously. “I searched for you at the library.”

  “There’s nothing there but genealogies and herb lore. Someone,” she said, knowing full well it was the Torr, “has removed all the useful books. The library was not what I hoped it might be.”

  “I am sorry, my Queen. But I have news, or at least an idea that I thought you might approve of.”

  “Go ahead, I’m listening,” she said as she fell into an overstuffed chair near her sister.

  “Well, I had the idea that perhaps we should send out riders. They could conscript more men for our army and perhaps bring us news of the Five Kingdoms.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Gwendolyn said, doing nothing to hide the boredom in her voice. “Go ahead.”

  “Thank you, my lady,” Prince Wilam said. “Work is going well on the Castle. Would you care to see it?”

  “No, it’s too hot outside. I think I’ll take a bath.”

  She watched as Wilam struggled to speak. She knew his imagination was running wild. She of course had no intention of inviting him into her bed, much less her bath, but it wouldn’t do to let him know that. Toying with the men under her power was one of her favorite things, whether it was a crown prince or a pauper.

  “Well, go,” she said. “Send in Keevy with fresh water and towels.”

  “As you wish, my Queen,” Wilam said, bowing low.

  He had never bowed to anyone, but he was completely under the witch’s spell. Each teasing suggestion bound him more closely to her. He left her rooms and hurried to find the steward of the Castle. Keevy had served at the Castle for years. He was fat and his hair was falling out, yet he oversaw every aspect of life at the Castle with the energy of a much younger man. Though he was as sly as a fox, Keevy was just as infatuated with Gwendolyn as the Prince.

  “She wants fresh water sent up for a bath,” he told the man, almost choking with jealousy as he said it. “And fresh towels. Be sure they’re clean and neatly folded. And don’t let any of your vile staff near her. They’ll be eunuchs if they step out of line. I’ll see to the gelding myself.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Keevy said in a nasally voice.

  Prince Wilam stormed out of the Castle. He was so angry he hit the first man who approached him. Then he gave the new assignments to the riders he had selected and took a position on the wall to watch them ride away. The town of Lodenhime had once been a busy place. Now it seemed almost haunted with emptiness. There were still women and small children in the city, but they stayed away from the Castle.

  Wilam considered his options. He wasn’t sure how long he could hold himself in check. He had never dishonored himself by forcing his affections onto a woman, but every time he was near Gwendolyn his desire raged like a fire out of control. He made up his mind to try harder to win her affection. It was all he could think of to do.

  Chapter 6

  Quinn spent three days in the water. His body ached from cold and lack of sleep. The Great Sea of Kings was a freshwater lake that was as large as an entire kingdom. Savage storms were common, and waves could tower as high as twenty feet. Fortunately for Quinn, the weather did not turn bad. Instead he baked under hours of direct sunlight and shivered through cold, wet nights. Time became a blur. The bucket he was clinging to had a rough, rope handle and Quinn snaked his arm through it. He couldn’t sleep, too afraid of losing the bucket. Whenever he dozed off he would jerk awake in terror.

  Eventually he grew delirious. He saw Zollin walking toward him across the water, heard voices, and carried on conversations with people he knew were dead. When he heard the sailors on a small fishing boat calling out to him, he didn’t think they were real. He ignored the voices, his mind lost in a mental fog where delusion and reality were one and the same. He felt himself grabbed by rough hands and heaved up out of the water. He felt his sodden clothes cut away and felt warm blankets cover him. Then, at long last, he slept. When he woke up he was warm and dry. He looked around and realized he was on a boat. It wasn’t a great vessel, just a small boat with a canvas awning and a small sail. He could smell raw fish and heard voices. He struggled to sit up, his h
ead spinning a little from the effort.

  “Hey look, he’s waking up,” said a young man about Zollin’s age.

  There were three of them, obviously a father and his two sons. The father was guiding the ship, the boys were mending nets. Quinn saw a pile of fish between himself and the fishermen.

  “He’ll need water,” said the father, “and food.”

  The boys both dipped their hands into the water by leaning over the edge of the boat. Then they each held a bucket, much like the one he had been clinging to, back toward Quinn.

  “I’m Niils,” said the first and clearly the youngest.

  Quinn thought the boy was probably fourteen or fifteen years old. He had shaggy hair that was bleached blonde by long hours exposed to sunlight. He had a bright, cheerful face and offered Quinn a tin cup from his bucket.

  “It’s just water,” Niils said.

  “I’ve got food,” said the older boy. “Some hard bread, and apples.”

  “Thank you,” Quinn said, with a froggy voice.

  “I’m Azel, and our father is Olton.”

  “Thank you for rescuing me,” Quinn said after sipping the water.

  “What were you doing in the water?” Niils asked. “Did your boat sink?”

  “No, I was attacked and thrown overboard,” Quinn said.

  “By who?” asked the boy in awed surprise.

  “By a friend,” Quinn said. “He wasn’t thinking clearly. I need to get to Yelsia. Where are we going?”

  “Not to Yelsia,” said Azel. “The Great Sea isn’t anywhere near Yelsia.”

  “We can take you as far north as the Walheta Mountains,” said Olton, speaking to Quinn for the first time. “We’ve got to get these fish to market first, though.”

  “Not in Lodenhime, I hope,” Quinn said.

  “No, we live in a small village south of the Walheta.”

  “Okay, thank you. Thank you for saving my life.”

  “No decent seaman would have left you for dead. How long were you in the water?”

  “I’m not sure,” Quinn said bitterly. “Too long. I’ve got to return to Yelsia as quickly as possible. It’s a matter of life or death.”

  “Really?” said Niils in astonishment.

  “I suppose you’ve heard rumors of a dragon in Yelsia,” Quinn asked the boy.

  “Of course. They say it’s destroying whole villages and demanding gold.”

  “That’s true,” Quinn said. “My son is a wizard. He was sent to slay the beast.”

  “Wizards and witches and dragons,” Olton scoffed. “We’ll be hearing tales of sea creatures and mermaids next.”

  “They aren’t just stories,” Quinn said. “I was sent on a mission by King Felix. I was returning with my companions when we came to Lodenhime. There is a woman there who bewitched us. I can’t remember much about her, but I do remember feeling like being with her was more important than anything else in the world. I was under some kind of spell, until my friend cast me overboard. The cold water must have shocked me back to my senses.”

  “It sounds more like they robbed you of them,” Olton said.

  “It’s the truth. The witch sent us to bring back my son. I have to get to him before Mansel does. He can’t fall under the witch’s spell.”

  “You tell a good story, stranger,” said Olton. “But I’d prefer for you not to fill my children’s heads with such nonsense.”

  “I swear on my life it’s true. Tell me, have you seen any of the merchant trading ships on the sea?”

  Olton looked hard at Quinn before speaking.

  “No,” he said at last.

  “That’s because they are all at anchor in Lodenhime. The crews are bewitched by a woman with strange powers.”

  “Well, if that’s true, it’s no concern of ours.”

  “No, I guess not,” Quinn said.

  “Let our guest rest, boys. Back to the nets.”

  The boys left the buckets of food and water and returned to their places in the boat near their father. They worked with quiet efficiency. Quinn watched them as he ate. They seemed content, and he envied them. He wished more than anything that he could ignore the larger world and live in peace. His whole life he had tried to do the right thing, but it only seemed to bring him heartache and pain. He had lived for a long time in Tranaugh Shire, but that time was forever marred by the death of his wife and the difficulties of raising Zollin on his own. Now, after battles and travels across the five kingdoms, he wanted only to rest. To be done with strife. He thought of Miriam, the animal healer in Felson. They had met only once, but she still captivated his thoughts like no other woman ever had.

  He ate only a little of the food and soon grew tired again. He lay back on the deck, thankful for the canvas that kept the afternoon sunlight off his burned and peeling skin. His head was sore and hot. It also itched, but even touching his scalp was painful. He laid his head down gingerly, using his arms as pillows, and dozed.

  He heard the town before he saw it. Then he could smell cooking fires, and he decided to sit up. Olton and Azel had lowered the sail and were now working long oars to guide the boat into harbor. Niils steered the ship. He looked like a younger version of his father, standing at the steering oar. Quinn turned and saw the village they were approaching. The sun was in his eyes, but he could see the busy quay and the other fishing boats. Quinn was still naked. He had no clothes, and no coin to buy new ones.

  “Olton,” he said tentatively. “I don’t suppose you have some clothes for me to put on?”

  “The boys have mended your clothes,” the fisherman said. “It’s not pretty, but it’ll do.”

  He tossed the shirt and pants to Quinn. His boots had filled with water when he was thrown overboard, and Quinn had kicked them off rather than be weighed down with them. His purse too, had been discarded, along with his sword belt. All he had was his tattered pants and shirt. The reality of his dire predicament hit him hard. He needed to do more than catch up with Mansel; he had to somehow get to Zollin first and warn him. But he was days behind the young warrior, with no money and no resources. He was in trouble and he knew it.

  The ship glided into a spot along the quay where they could quickly and easily unload their catch. The boys loaded the fish into wooden boxes, which they carried to a stall in the market to lay out their catch. Most of the fish was taken to a smokehouse where they were cleaned and hung, so that they could smoke overnight; the rest was sold to the villagers who flocked to the stall to get the best of the early catch. While the boys were busy in the market, Olton scrubbed the small deck where the fish had lain and then made preparations to set sail again. He left Quinn on the boat while he checked on his sons and soon was back, this time with a bottle of wine and more food.

  He handed a small sack to Quinn that was filled with fresh baked bread and smoked fish. There was also a bit of cheese. Quinn’s appetite returned, but he decided to see if he could help Olton with the boat, since the man was graciously taking him farther north.

  “You’ve been very generous,” Quinn said. “How can I help?”

  “Have you ever manned an oar?” Olton asked.

  “No, I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll teach you. We only need to row out of the harbor, then we can raise the sail and head north. We should make it north of the Walheta mountains by sunrise.”

  “What about your sons?” Quinn asked.

  “They’ll take care of themselves.”

  “I feel like I’m asking too much of you.”

  “Nonsense, I’ll fish on the way south. I haven’t been in the northern waters for some time. I’ll probably have a good catch and get you a little closer to home. Kill two birds with one stone so to speak.”

  “Thank you,” Quinn said.

  “Don’t thank me yet. Wait till you’ve worked the oars and helped with the fishing nets. You may decide I’m not that kind.”

  Quinn smiled. He wasn’t afraid of hard work. They cast off from the harbor and Quinn to
ok his place at one of the long, heavy oars. It took a little time for Quinn to find his rhythm. He braced his feet and used his entire body to pull the oar through the water. At first it felt good to stretch and use his muscles again, but soon those muscles were burning with fatigue. He was still exhausted after spending three days floating in the open water of the Great Sea. Quinn didn’t complain though, and soon they were far enough from the harbor that Olton ordered the oars struck and set the sail. Quinn sat near the rear of the ship and ate his supper. The food was good and there was a breeze. For the first time in his life Quinn thought that perhaps being on a ship wasn’t a bad thing. He could see the stars above him, so vast in number and so far away. The moon gave them enough light to see the dark shore to their left as they sailed north.

  Quinn was soon sleeping again. He rested well for several hours until Olton woke him.

  “It’s time to cast the nets,” he said, as Quinn stood up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “You take the rudder. Just hold it steady. Keep us pointed at that bright star near the horizon. See it?”

  “The reddish one?” Quinn asked.

  “Yes, that’s it. You shouldn’t have any problems. It’s a calm night.”

  The calm night didn’t last long. To Quinn, it seemed like one moment all was well, but in the next moment the sky poured fury down on them. It wasn’t unusual for violent storms to strike near the Walheta Mountains. Cold air poured down off the mountains and mixed with the warm, humid air above the Great Sea and caused vicious storms that no one could predict. There was no light around them, only the stars that were mere pin pricks in the sky. Quinn felt a cool breeze waft across his skin, and he thought it was refreshing. Then suddenly the small fishing boat dipped into the trough of a wave; it was as if the water had disappeared beneath the boat. Olton was leaning over the bow of the ship where his net had snagged. The bow was driven into the bottom of the next wave like an arrow into a target.