Toby Neighbors: Crying Havoc

He racked his brain for some glimmer of hope, but there was none. He could feel the cold seeping into his body from the snow all around him. He wanted to close his eyes and sleep. It was such a struggle to keep them open that he felt if he couldn’t sleep he would die.

“Don’t you dare go to sleep on me, Zollin,” Brianna said angrily. “You have to fight this. You have to help me.”

“I want to help you but I can’t think of any way to do anything for you. I can’t feel my magic. I’m crippled. There isn’t even a sliver of hope.”

Before the words were out of his mouth he realized he was wrong. There was something: it was a long shot, but it was possible.

“What?” Brianna said, noticing the look on Zollin’s face as he pondered the idea.

“I can’t feel my magic,” he explained. “But I might still be able to control the magic in my staff.”

“Oh, Zollin. I didn’t even think to look for it when I found our supplies.”

“It’s okay. It was near the packs. Can you look for it?”

“Of course. I’ll go right now,” she said as she struggled to her feet.

“Hurry, I don’t know how much longer I’ve got.”

“I will,” she promised.

Then she was leaning down to kiss him. His lips felt rough and dry, almost like empty husks, and he was already closing his eyes when she pulled back to look at him. Fear sank icy claws into her stomach and made her shiver as she realized just how little time she actually had.

Offendorl was on the road to Brimington Bay. He hated traveling, even though he was attended by his tongueless, eunuch servants and rode in a lavish wagon pulled by eight draft horses. His carriage was padded and had high windows that allowed air to flow through. The air was hot, of course, dry and sandy. Osla was the wealthiest of the Five Kingdoms, but it was miserably hot almost year-round. High in his tower, the air was much cleaner and cooler than at ground level, but traveling on the dusty road was irksome. Offendorl had to hold his anger in check to keep from destroying every living creature in the immediate vicinity.

He was being escorted by a squad of soldiers, even though their protection was completely unnecessary. Offendorl had crafted the plan to invade Yelsia. He wasn’t interested in conquest, at least not at the moment. What he wanted was Zollin. The young wizard was hiding in the north, and Offendorl planned on using the combined might of the other kingdoms to bring the boy under his control. He had left the logistics of mobilizing their armies to the individual kings. King Belphan should have his troops mustered at Brimington Bay and enough ships requisitioned to carry them all north. They would join forces with King Zorlan of Falxis at Lixon Bay, and together the two armies would then invade Yelsia from the west. It was a good plan, simple enough that the kings could understand it, even if they weren’t fully convinced that it was the right course of action. Zorlan had been easy enough to win over. Once he saw that King Belphan and King Oveer of Ortis were committed to Offendorl’s plan, he joined them. King Ricard of Baskla was a different matter entirely. He was a shrewd man who had no interest in war, but he couldn’t deny the rumors that a dragon was loose in Yelsia and that King Felix was harboring a wizard. This was a breech of a centuries-old treaty, and not even King Ricard could deny that. Offendorl doubted that Baskla would contribute many resources to the invasion, but the stubborn King’s time would come.

The master wizard gazed out the small window that was near his padded, bed-like seat in the carriage. Most of the people on the road were stopping to stare at his procession. He had no feelings for the people; they meant nothing to him. He no longer felt a desire for human companionship, or any need for other people. They were simply resources to him, no different than chickens. Women were no longer alluring, and friendship was mere sentimentality in his mind. Food brought him no pleasure, and though wine and food helped restore his physical and magical strength, he no longer had an appetite. After three hundred years, there was nothing new or exciting in the world. His only desires were to expand his power and to control everything around him.

In the tower he was the absolute master. In the Council of Kings the leaders of the Five Kingdoms feared him. They bowed under his influence, even if they didn’t literally bow before him. He ruled as surely as any king, yet he did not want to be bothered with details or mortal concerns. That was what the other wizards in the Torr had not understood, Branock in particular. They wanted to sit on thrones and be seen as rulers, but Offendorl had no need for the trappings of royalty. He preferred to keep his strength hidden until it was needed. That was how he had held his position as Master of the Torr for over two hundred years.

Zollin wasn’t a person to Offendorl. He didn’t want the young wizard to join his order; he merely wanted the boy’s power. Zollin was merely a vessel, a tool for Offendorl to use or perhaps a weapon to wield. He would have the boy, that was certain. He would use whatever means were necessary to bring the wizard under his control. The fact that Zollin had bested three of Offendorl’s best wizards did not concern the ancient Master of the Torr. Offendorl’s power was unmatchable and his knowledge so vast that he was certain no one could defeat him. His mentor had always tried to foster the gifts of the wizards around him, which was one reason why Offendorl had been able to rise up and usurp his place as Master of the Torr. Offendorl had taken a different approach than his mentor. He allowed the other wizards only so much growth. He alone controlled the vast library of ancient lore at the Torr. He had set out early in his rule of the Torr to find all the greatest books and scrolls from each of the Five Kingdoms. What he didn’t need he destroyed. No wizard could possibly learn as much as he had in three hundred years.

He opened the ancient book that he carried with him. It was the only book he had brought on the trip. It was so old that the writing inside was difficult to decipher even for him, but he dared not translate the text. He didn’t want to give anyone a chance to steal the knowledge that only he possessed. He struggled over the text, but he was patient and had nothing better to do on the long journey to the coast. The book was about dragon lore, and he continued to call out to the beast night and day. He didn’t know the dragon’s name, but he had learned to sense the dragon, even though it was far to the north. He closed his eyes and sent his magic out in search of the beast. It had taken weeks before he had been able to recognize the dragon. The creature’s magical powers were vastly different than that of wizards or sorcerers. Still, he found the dragon and could sense its mood. He knew from the book that the dragon could hear him and understand the thoughts he sent to the beast. He needed the dragon’s name to control it completely, but for now he needed it nearer. Then he would bend the beast to his will and everyone in the Five Kingdoms would know fear unlike anything they had ever dreamed in their worst nightmares. When he possessed the dragon and had brought Zollin into the Torr, he would have all the power he needed.

* * *

The dragon didn’t want to come out of its lair. The wounds in its shoulder and leg ached terribly. The arrows the human female had shot hadn’t touched any of the beast’s vital organs, but still the dragon felt miserable. The voice in his head was constant now.

Come south. Come to me. Join me.

The dragon wanted to hibernate, but it couldn’t sleep knowing that its gold was out in the canyon. It needed to go and retrieve its precious metal, then rebuild its lair, but going out in the open wasn’t something the dragon relished. The wizard had invaded the beast’s sanctuary and now it felt threats all around. No place seemed safe, and leaving the rocky confines of its lair scared the dragon. It had underestimated the humans. It had destroyed villages and scattered soldiers who had been hunting it, but the wizard seemed to get the upper hand at every turn. After the disastrous raid on the stone city, it had returned to its lair once again. It had been a place of solace and safety, but the wizard had followed. The magical human had entered its den and sent shards of iron flying into its open mouth. It was a devious trick that had hurt the dragon. It had come charging out of the caverns and caught the wizard in the tunnel, crushing the pathetic human with all its strength, even cracking the rock in the cave. Then, just when the beast thought it had the upper hand, the female had pierced its scales with her arrows.