Toby Neighbors: Fierce Loyalty

Zollin lifted the two men behind him into the air with a simple levitation spell, and send them flying toward two of their comrades that were in front of him. It was growing harder and harder not to simply kill the men. Zollin couldn’t remember feeling the urge to destroy so strongly since he’d learned to insulate his magic, but now his anger and grief were flooding into his power, churning it like river rapids and pulling him toward a place of darkness he knew he didn’t want to go.

He clamped down on the magic, forcing his mind to concentrate on his own hands, which were balled into fists and crackling with so much magical energy that his reins had crumbled into ashes where he’d been holding them.

Fortunately, the soldiers were now scrambling away, pulling their comrades off the road as quickly as possible. As soon as Zollin regained control of himself he leaned down and snatched the shortened reins, then urged his horse into a gallop. His magic was still churning, but the wind whipping through his hair and the need to use the muscles in his legs, stomach, and back to stay on his horse as it ran helped sooth his emotions. He could hear Eustice right behind him. Although the mute servant was no horseman, his mount followed Zollin’s and Eustice managed to hang on to the saddle horn.

Mansel was further back, riding easily while ensuring that no one else came at them from the rear. Once the horses had run for a while, Zollin reined his mount in and then climbed down out of the saddle. He stretched his tired muscles as he waited for Mansel to catch up.

“I want to walk for a while,” he said.

Zollin didn’t wait for a reply, but turned and started leading his horse down the muddy path. Thunder rumbled across the sky and soon rain was falling in fat drops that pelted Zollin and his companions. Mansel and Eustice gave Zollin space, leading their own horses through the mud several paces behind him.

Zollin didn’t like the fact that he had almost lost control, but he knew that he had every reason to struggle. He felt more alone than ever before in his life. Brianna was gone and it wasn’t likely that he would ever find out what happened to her. She had changed before his very eyes, from a young woman to a powerful, magical being that he didn’t fully understand. She had been given a gemstone by dwarves that had somehow unlocked a part of Brianna no one knew existed. She looked the same, but her ability to control fire was dumbfounding, even to Zollin. And then, when the dragon was finally at their mercy, she had healed the beast. There was nothing Zollin could do to stop her, and when the dragon was well enough, it had taken her and fled.

Zollin had given chase, but as had happened so often in the last year, events around him drew him away from his purpose. The armies from Osla and Felxis, led by the master of the Torr, had invaded Yelsia. As much as he had wanted to track down the dragon and find Brianna, he couldn’t turn his back on an invasion. And then, the dragon had appeared-alone-spewing fire onto the walls of Orrock. Zollin had managed to drive the beast away, but his hopes of finding Brianna were shattered. He couldn’t imagine that she had survived, even though he wanted desperately to believe it. Still, it was obvious that Brianna had a connection to the dragon, and he had hoped that she might somehow manage to survive. But seeing the dragon doing Offendorl’s bidding in the war crushed that hope. If the dragon was now serving the master of the Torr, Zollin was certain that his love was dead.

Added to his personal grief for Brianna was the fact that Kelvich was gone too. Mansel had killed Zollin’s mentor while under the spell of the witch in Lodenhime. It was almost too much to think about-in fact, his mind kept rejecting the facts. He hadn’t seen Kelvich’s body, and while Mansel had confessed to the murder, it still didn’t seem possible. Zollin didn’t blame Mansel for the crime, but he had to admit that he saw the young warrior differently. So much had changed about Mansel-he was quieter, less volatile somehow-but Zollin missed the days when they had laughed and talked together, when the future seemed bright and hopeful despite the fact that they were being chased by wizards and armies.

Their friendship had not been easy at the start. Mansel had been his father’s second apprentice, and the young warrior’s obvious talent with his hands made Zollin’s ineptitude at his father’s trade all the more obvious. Zollin had spent years jealously despising Mansel, but when they had been forced to flee their small village, Mansel had refused to be left behind. He had proven himself a faithful friend and talented fighter, but that didn’t mean that Mansel didn’t have his own problems. His drinking had landed him in trouble more than once, and his friendship with Brianna had sparked new fires of jealously in Zollin’s heart. Now, his friend and fellow adventurer seemed just as dark and moody as Zollin, and although he was glad that Mansel didn’t try to cheer him up, there were times when he longed for happier times.

They walked until dark and by chance came upon a small village with an inn. They took rooms and enjoyed a hot meal. They were soaked and cold, so the innkeeper prepared mulled wine. Eustice had trouble being served, so Zollin allowed him to see to their clothes and turned in early for the night.

Mansel drank by the fire long after Zollin had gone to bed. His dreams were often haunted by images of things he’d done under the spell of Gwendolyn, the witch. His guilt for those murderous actions plagued him, and not even strong wine could dull the pain. He longed to be back in the small cottage by the sea. He felt that if anyone could ease his pain, it would be Nycoll, the widow who had nursed him back to health. She was a quiet woman, one who had dealt with her own share of pain and loss. Mansel knew he couldn’t turn his back on Zollin, not when he had so much to make up for, but his heart was with Nycoll, far away. He knew that he would not be happy until he was with her again.

The next morning dawned brighter than the days before. The sky was still cloudy, but the sun was making a valiant effort to break through. Zollin found his clothes dried and laid out for him when he woke up. He dressed and went downstairs, where Eustice was waiting. The mute servant had already eaten and, after seeing that Zollin was being cared for, went to ready their horses.

Mansel came into the common room halfway through Zollin’s breakfast. “You hungry?” Zollin asked.

“No,” Mansel said darkly. His eyes were bloodshot and skin seemed pale.

“You sick?” Zollin asked.

Mansel nodded but didn’t elaborate. He refused breakfast, but drank a little ale and took a sack of provisions from the innkeeper’s wife. They set out soon after and rode hard all through the day, even opting to walk their horses late into the night.

Even traveling at a brutal pace, it took them a week to reach the coastal town of Lorye. They had no more trouble on the road, but they were exhausted just the same. It was evening when they arrived, and Eustice saw to their horses while Mansel and Zollin booked passage on a ship traveling south.

They bought supplies in the market and then settled onto the ship for the night. It was a big vessel, with three masts and more sailors than the population of many of the small towns they had passed through. They had to settle for one cabin for the three of them. The cabin had two bunks and one hammock, along with a small table and three stools. Even in port, the ship, which lay at anchor a short boat ride from the shore, rocked and swayed so that Mansel was soon seasick. Zollin used his magic to isolate the cause of his own queasiness and was surprised to find that there was fluid in tiny canals deep inside his ears that seemed to be causing his distress. He used magic to calm down the movement of fluid and immediately felt better.