Toby Neighbors - Crying Havoc

Quinn stepped forward and threw a kick at the side of Mansel’s good leg. Perhaps Quinn was weakened from the nasty wound to his shoulder, or perhaps he just underestimated Mansel’s strength, but the kick landed solidly without doing any damage at all. Quinn thought it was like kicking a tree, and then Mansel’s hand lashed out, the blade flashing in the light of the lantern that Quinn had hung over his horse’s stall. He dodged backward but wasn’t fast enough. Mansel’s dagger caught him in the cheek. He felt the blade puncture flesh and rattle off his teeth. Quinn fell back, dropping his blade and clutching at his wounded face. Then he felt Mansel’s weight land on him, and the muscles in Quinn’s back spasmed so hard they forced the air out of his lungs. He tried to turn as Mansel grabbed his hair and yanked his head up so that his neck was exposed. Quinn knew what was coming and threw his right hand across his throat. He felt the blade sawing through the muscles and tendons of his hand. He screamed again as Mansel released his hair.

“Fine, have it your way,” Mansel said.

Then he slammed the dagger into Quinn’s back.

Zollin was in the small library of the castle. He was reading books about weather when the King came in, followed by his entourage. Zollin looked up and took in the grim look on the King’s face.

“They’ve arrived,” King Felix said. “We’re going up to the watchtower to see what we can see. Come with us.”

Zollin stood up. He would have liked to continue his study, but he had enough information for now. He followed the group of soldiers. Most were noblemen, although a life of military service was the best they could hope for. The noble families still oversaw the larger cities in Yelsia, but for the children who did not rule, the military was seen as an honorable place to earn a reputation and bring glory to the family name.

Zollin felt out of place with the men. He followed silently as they made their way up the winding staircase to the tallest tower of the castle. The youngest of the men, a commander not much older than Zollin himself, swung open the trap door that led onto the roof of the tower. The roof had a crenellated railing of stone and was large enough that all the men could stand easily on the tower’s surface. There was a cool breeze, almost chilly. They could see the dark shadows of the enemy army spreading around the city. The dark ribbon of the Tillamook ran across the south side of the city, though the city walls didn’t reach out that far.

“They’ll have us completely cut off by morning,” said General Yinnis. He was a large man, with long, dark hair that was turning gray. He still wore a sword, but he carried plans of the city under his other arm. On the front of his tunic was the image of a running boar.

“That’s what we expected,” said King Felix.

“We’ve men all along the city walls and more guarding the castle,” said General Griggs. “The remainder of the Boar Legion and Fox Legion will bolster that force on the walls. Sir Tolis’s Eagle Legion will remain in reserve. The Light Horse Legion from Felson is still under Commander Hausey’s direction and is serving in the infirmary.”

“And your Wolf Legion?” Felix asked.

“We are divided, half on the city walls, half guarding the castle,” General Griggs said.

He was a middle-aged man who looked too small for his brightly-polished armor. He had a pinched face and small eyes that gave him the appearance of a rodent. His breastplate bore the emblem of a growling wolf’s head.

“Zollin, tell me what you think,” Felix said.

Zollin let his magic flow out. He could feel the people and animals inside the city, sensed their fear and anxiety about what was happening, but he pushed his perception farther. He could sense the men in the field. They were busy, but excited to finally be at their destination. Then he felt something odd. A lone person, edging closer to the river. There were no more Yelsians around the city, they had all either fled or taken refuge inside the city walls. The soldiers were moving in groups, and the woman all alone stood out to Zollin. He concentrated on her and recognized the spark of magic in her. It was familiar to him, an animal healer’s power, stronger than when he’d last seen her, but he was sure it was Miriam.

“I don’t know,” he said to King Felix. “I don’t sense anything strange. I can’t feel the Master of the Torr or the dragon. The beast isn’t close by.”

“Odds are good it will attack us by night again,” said General Tolis. He was the leader of the Eagle Legion, a short man with heavy features but bright eyes. His hair was cut close to his scalp and his emblem was a spread-winged eagle.

“I’m working on that,” Zollin said, looking up at the night sky.

“Well, there’s little more we can do here now,” said King Felix. “I want men posted here with runners who can inform us of anything they see.”

“I will see to it personally,” said General Griggs.

They started filing down back down through the trap door, but Zollin focused on the lone woman again. She was terrified, both of being caught in the open and of the water. She was sitting on her horse facing the river and Zollin realized she needed to cross the river but was afraid to. He felt his magic blowing hot through him, like the billows of a blacksmith’s forge. He lifted her, the horse and rider both panicking as they left the ground. He levitated them over the river and sat them down safely on the far side, sending them both reassuring waves of peace and safety as he did so.

He saw the horse turn, and the rider was now facing the city from across the river. He couldn’t see her in the dark, but he could feel her sense of relief. Then she turned and rode east toward Felson.

“What were you doing?” the young commander asked him.

Zollin realized that they were alone on the tower. The other men had gone on without them, but the young commander had waited.

“I was helping a friend across the river,” Zollin said.

“No really, you looked like you were in pain.”

“I was helping a friend. She was caught between the city and the river. I levitated her across.”

“I’ve heard of you,” the commander said. “I’m Corlis, Commander of the King’s Heavy Horse and third son of Duke Shupor.”

“Zollin Quinnson,” he said, holding out his hand.

The commander took it and smiled.

“Zollin Quinnson, not the Wizard of Yelsia ?” he said, emphasizing the title.

“No, I’m a wizard from Yelsia, but I don’t serve an official position here.”

“You’re an interesting person, Zollin Quinnson.”

“Thank you,” Zollin said, not certain if the young commander meant what he said as a compliment or an insult.

“Shall we?” Corlis said.

“Sure,” Zollin agreed, walking first through the trap door.

Zollin wasn’t sure if the young commander liked him or distrusted him. They descended back into the King’s chambers. He was pacing in front of the dark fireplace. The room was warm even without a fire, and lamps had been lit and placed around the room. Commander Hausey was giving the King his report. The healers were ready and well equipped for whatever they might face. His troops stood ready to assist the healers and help move the wounded to the infirmary when they were needed.

Once he finished giving his report, the other generals started talking, and Hausey moved over to where Zollin was standing next to Commander Corlis. Hausey reached into his belt and removed the message.

“This came for you today,” he whispered.

Zollin took the note. It wasn’t sealed, and there was no name on the outside. He unfolded the paper and took in the contents in just a few seconds. He felt the blood drain from his face and his hands began to shake from fear and rage.