The big warrior spun to the side just as Slice tried to stab him. Mansel grabbed the sailor’s arm and twisted. The knife flew to the deck and Slice was flipped over. He landed hard on his back. Mansel was on top of him in an instant, dropping hard punches that found their way through the sailor’s arms, which he was holding over his head in a feeble defense. Blood spurted from a cut under Slice’s right eye. His lips split and a tooth was knocked out before finally Slice’s eyes rolled back and his body stiffened as he lost consciousness.
Mansel could have kept up the beating-he was certainly angry enough, and no one was willing to even try to stop him. But instead he stood up and looked down at Slice, spitting on the wretched sailor and then looking up at Zollin.
“Does anyone else have an issue with this man?” Zollin shouted, pointing at Mansel.
Most of the sailors looked down at their feet. Zollin looked up at the captain, who was so angry he was red in the face.
“You have a good crew here, Captain,” Zollin continued. “Treat them the way they deserve or next time it may be you who gets what he has coming.”
Zollin turned and started back toward the passenger deck.
“And just where do you think you’re going?” hissed the captain.
Zollin turned but the sailing master wasn’t talking to him. Instead, he was glaring hatefully at Mansel.
“Get below deck and back to work, all of you!” shouted the captain.
Zollin was about to complain, but Mansel stopped him.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I signed on to work this voyage. I can do my part.”
“You sure?” Zollin asked.
“Of course,” Mansel said smiling. “These guys are nothing compared to your father.”
Chapter 8
Gwendolyn could not remember ever being so happy. She had expected a vicious fight when she returned to the Torr. She had thought that perhaps the army she had led could somehow best her old master. Offendorl had brought her to the Torr as a young girl and had learned to control Gwendolyn’s power. For over a century she had lived in isolation, trained by Offendorl alone. No other man had been allowed to enter her chambers in the tower, not even the eunuch servants. She lived with Andomina as her only companion, but from an early age Gwendolyn’s sorcery robbed her sister of the ability to communicate. So Gwendolyn had grown old and then learned the spells that could make her body young again. Her mind, however, was stunted and twisted. In some ways she was like a spoiled child, and in others she was like an ancient crone.
What Gwendolyn hadn’t expected was to find the tower of Torr undefended. It wasn’t deserted, alchemists still labored on the lower levels, but they were of no concern to Gwendolyn. Only the wretched souls in the labyrinth of corridors and chambers under the tower were of value to the sorceress. Gwendolyn could feel them. Offendorl had hidden the warlocks from her before. Most were insane, or catatonic like Andomina, and none of them able to wield or even control their magical power. As a sorcerer, Gwendolyn could control and manipulate other magic users, especially warlocks, and she understood why Offendorl had shielded them from her. She could feel her power growing as they drew near the city.
Prince Wilam had seen to the deployment of their troops, but aside from a small battalion of reserve guards, there was no army to keep them from marching in and taking over the city.
The Grand City of Osla was by far the largest city in the Five Kingdoms. The city was old and patched together like a quilt as new developments were built and then walls extended to protect and include the growth. Gwendolyn’s army was actually the military forces from Ortis and a band of merchants, sailors, and skilled workers from the city of Lodenhime in Falxis. Every man that came within sight of Gwendolyn was soon captured under her spell. They gave up all other interests and pursuits, choosing instead to give everything in a vain hope of winning her heart.
Prince Wilam was the crown prince of Yelsia who had fallen under her power when he came to Lodenhime on his way back to his own country. Since then, he’d worked tirelessly to build and develop Gwendolyn’s army. When King Oveer had fallen under Gwendolyn’s power, he had ordered his army, even the reserve troops used to maintain peace and guard the Wilderlands from the Norsik, to follow Gwendolyn. He had no desire to lead the army, and so Prince Wilam had taken up the roll of High General, with only Gwendolyn-Queen of the Sea, as many described her-over him in command.
They had sacked the city when they found it unguarded. The reserve troop surrendered and was brought under Gwendolyn’s spell. The people of the city were slaughtered. Many fled, while others were enslaved by Gwendolyn’s power and set about serving her every need, including feeding her army. The women of the city were driven out or killed. Soldiers now patrolled the walls to the city and Gwendolyn was given free reign of the tower of the Torr.
She had expected the remaining servants and apprentice wizards to resist her, but they had not. Instead, they welcomed her, perhaps because of her power, but she thought it was because they were relived to have a new master. She had seized control of the tower and moved immediately to the upper floors. Her old chamber had been one of many on the third floor of the tower, but the upper floors were wide open rooms that took up the entire space of the tower. There was no staircase in Offendorl’s audience chamber, merely a hole in the ceiling above the throne-like chair that her old master had occupied when greeting visitors, be they kings or servants. No one was allowed in the upper two floors and Gwendolyn was anxious to find out why.
She had explored the lower floors, finding small libraries and ornate shrines, most of which were worth more gold than a mortal could spend in a lifetime. When the Torr had purged the Five Kingdoms of magic users they had consolidated all known magical books, along with anything else they wanted in the tower. It had given them unsurpassed power and sent the Five Kingdoms into an era of waning magic. All that had changed when Zollin defied the Torr. In less than a year everything had changed, and Gwendolyn was determined that she would never submit to anyone ever again.
She levitated herself up through the hole into Offendorl’s personal chambers. Then she raised up her sister. Andomina was tucked quietly into a richly upholstered chair while Gwendolyn explored her old master’s domicile. There was a richness to the furnishings the likes of which Gwendolyn had never imagined. The floor was covered with thick rugs that depicted epic battles from long ago. There were large mirrors on one section of the wall. A large tub near a window. A huge poster bed with a thick canopy and heavy drapes. There was a row of wardrobes along another section of the curving walls. The wardrobes were custom made to fit against the walls, with large drawers at the bottom and even bigger storage spaces above the racks of clothes. There was another part of the wall was taken up by a huge wine rack. The bottles were old and dusty. Beside the wine rack was a small table with golden goblets covered in bright jewels. There were also large windows, almost floor to ceiling. Osla was a hot country with rarely any respite from the high temperatures, but the tower was tall enough that a breeze was almost constantly blowing through the open windows, keeping Offendorl’s chambers pleasantly cool.
There was another hole in the ceiling leading up to the top floor. She rose slowly into the final room. It was just as she had hoped it would be-a simple yet magnificent library. There was a large desk near one of the two windows. The room was warmer, but it wouldn’t do to have papers flapping in the wind, not when many of the books in that room were older than remembering. There was also a large table where charts or maps could be unrolled and studied. As Gwendolyn had suspected, the room was spotless, although she doubted that anyone had been allowed in this room other than Offendorl since he’d become the master of the Torr.