“What about you?” she asked, the concern in her voice unmistakable.
“I have to try and stop them,” Zollin said.
“Not by yourself,” Brianna said.
“I don’t know what she’s doing,” Zollin explained. “But it’s magic like I’ve never felt before. It’s ancient and it’s evil.”
Before he could explain further, the castle rooftop burst into flame. The fire formed a perfect circle just outside of the circuit that Gwendolyn had been walking around her sister. The light from the fire made it possible for Zollin to see what was happening, and his magical senses felt the bubble of magic that had formed around the ring of fire.
“Zollin, please,” Brianna said. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”
“If I don’t do something, we may all be lost.”
“What do you mean?” Fear echoed in her voice.
“I don’t know,” Zollin said. “I can’t explain it, Brianna. I just know that whatever she is doing is so bad that it terrifies me. Get your pride out of here.”
“What about the soldiers?”
“Warn them if you can, but get away from the city. Go north and wait for me. I’ll find you.”
Brianna’s lips brushed Zollin’s check, then she ran for the far side of the gaping hole in the tower’s roof. She jumped into the air, falling for only a moment before she went soaring up on a gust of wind. Tig roared, then followed Brianna. Zollin glanced over and saw Ferno, Selix, and the black dragon Bartoom taking to the air as well.
Zollin watched Brianna moving through the air, gliding like an eagle until Selix flew just beneath her. Then she settled gracefully on the golden dragon’s back and they flew north. Zollin turned his gaze back to the roof of the castle and saw Gwendolyn healing her sister. The sight should have been reassuring, but there was dark intent that seemed to be pouring off the roof of the castle. Zollin shuddered in fear, then he levitated himself and went flying toward the witch.
Chapter 32
King Zorlan was exuberant. He had seen the tower of the Torr being ravaged from within, and the Ortisan soldiers were falling before his shield wall. Very few of the men had the fortitude to fight, and those that did were usually wild eyed with blood lust. In most circumstances a berserker type rage would have made them formidable opponents, but against a well-disciplined shield wall, their wild attacks broke like ocean waves against a cliff.
King Zorlan and his band of soldiers were nearly a quarter of the way around the massive outer wall of the Grand City when the sky began to grow dark. At first the king merely thought that time had passed more quickly than he realized. Then, one of his aides pointed to dark clouds spreading across the sky from directly over the royal castle.
“What is that?” wondered one of Zorlan’s officers out loud.
“Sorcery,” Zorlan barked. “What else could it be? I want this position held. Is that understood?”
“Aye, my liege,” said the officer.
“Hold this line until I return or send word. I’m going back to check on the progress along the other side of the gatehouse.”
It took King Zorlan only minutes to see what was happening at the gatehouse. Long before he could travel back along the wall to where his soldiers had been ordered to muster, he could see them flooding back out of the main gate. At first he suspected that a well disciplined counter attack had been mounted by the Ortisan soldiers holding the city, but the soldiers fleeing didn’t regroup outside the gate-they ran in terror from the city. Even as the light faded to the point that it was hard to see, King Zorlan recognized that his conquest was lost. Everyone was fleeing the city.
Panic rumbled up from the thick stone walls and began to invade King Zorlan’s resolve. The darkness carried with it a feeling of terror that reminded Zorlan of being a child. He couldn’t say what was frightening him, or why he suddenly felt the urge to flee the city. He tried to remain calm, but the feeling of panic grew. He guessed it was a natural reaction to seeing his forces flee the city, but no matter how hard he tried to rationalize his fear and put it away, the panic grew.
Then the king heard the flapping of great, leathery wings. He looked up and saw that even the dragons were fleeing the city.
“Sound the retreat!” he bellowed as he ran along the wall. The officers accompanying him were just as panicked and no one obeyed their orders. Some ran past the king, others stayed behind.
I’m going to die, King Zorlan thought. He had never felt such fear. Even in the days when the other kings bullied him and Offendorl had worked his sorcerous magic so close to Zorlan that the Falxisian king trembled with fright, he had not felt the fear of death that he felt now. He had watched Offendorl slay the Yelsian high counselor in a gruesome fashion that gave him nightmares for days. He had been caught up in the press of battle when the Yelsian heavy horse routed his army, which had been rendered defenseless by an overwhelming sense of panic on the battlefield. That fear had been different, though-it had been mental, like an idea that was hard to get out of one’s head. Now the king felt a certainty in the deepest part of his being that he was going to die.
Resentment rose up like bile in his throat. Why did he have to pursue such grandiose ideas of glory, he thought. Why go south with an army when he could be safe in his castle in Luxing City? The thoughts were like bees stinging his brain, which had been laid bare and exposed by fear. He no longer cared about an empire, or ruling the Five Kingdoms. He only wanted to get off the infernal wall and out of the Grand City forever.
* * *
Havina ran through the streets with long strides that stretched the muscles in her legs and back, but the effort felt good. She carried the circlet of gold in her hand, although she knew she needed to hide it soon. She was far from the tower, moving south, away from the elder wizard. Just the thought of Offendorl made her skin crawl now. The ancient wizard had seemed invincible, his power unlimited. It had lit a fire deep inside her that she had not known existed. She wanted that power, and just being near Offendorl had given her a thrill. But whatever she had felt for him died when she had seen his ancient body covered in dust and grime in the tower. He was just a weak old man and she had no use for him. But, he had revealed how he controlled the great black dragon, and so she had gone to him and taken the circlet. She wasn’t sure how she would use it, but she knew she needed to get out of the city if she was going to have a chance.
She ran and ran, grateful that she was wearing men’s clothing, including thick boots. As a child she had loved to run barefoot through the sandy hills around Castlebury, but the streets of the Grand City were paved with cobblestones and there was trash littering the streets. The heavy boots protected her feet; the men’s pants she wore didn’t flutter or tangle up between her legs.
She saw the livery stable where she had left the horse that had pulled Offendorl’s carriage and decided to duck inside. There were horses still in the stalls. She quickly saddled the nearest horse and climbed into the saddle. As she rode the horse out into the street, she was passed by several soldiers who ignored her, running past and making the horse sidestep nervously. She had noticed the waning light and now she saw the dark clouds spreading across the sky. She settled the circlet on her head and kicked the horse into action, racing for the southern gate as fast as the horse could carry her.
* * *
Zollin came down on the roof of the castle, his magic like a bonfire inside him. He knew the unnatural sense of fear that had come over him as he flew toward the castle was stirring his magic into a frenzy. His magical power responded to emotion much more than reason or even will. He could do anything he could envision in his mind, but it was emotion that gave his magic its might.
He moved slowly toward the ring of fire, which was dancing and whipping almost chest high. The first thing Zollin noticed about the fire was that it wasn’t hot. In fact, the closer he got to the strange, dancing flames, the colder he felt. In almost every instance that he had been near magic, his own internal power had strived to connect with the outside magic. When he had used the staff he’d found in the woods outside of Tranaugh Shire, his magic had naturally connected to that of the staff. When he had battled with Branock and Offendorl, he had felt drawn to the other wizards. But the strange ring of fire was different. Zollin could actually feel his magic striving to move away from the foreign, dark power.