“No,” Zollin said. “This is getting out of hand. If King Zorlan marches south, we’re looking at three armies in Osla. It’ll be a bloodbath.”
“Not to mention leaving Ortis and Falxis vulnerable to attack.”
“If King Felix finds out, he’s liable to send troops south as well.”
“The big question now,” Mansel said, “is what we plan to do. I mean, it might be better for us to just lag behind and let them fight it out. Then we can come in and make sure the Torr isn’t a threat to you anymore.”
“I don’t know,” Zollin said. “There’s so much at stake. If Gwendolyn is as powerful as you say, what’s to keep her from combining all three armies and marching north again? She may be set on ruling all Five Kingdoms.”
“True,” agreed Mansel, “but I don’t want to get caught in the middle of a war, especially one we have no stake in.”
“I’ve got to make sure Offendorl isn’t a threat to me anymore. If he killed King Belphan, then he probably means to take over Osla.”
“But how can he do that without the army?”
“He would have the reserve troops, and we don’t know that the returning soldiers won’t join him.”
“I wish we knew more,” Mansel said. “I hate walking into a fight when I don’t even know what side we’re on.”
“Me either, but it can’t be helped. Luxing City is on the road to Osla-perhaps we can find out what’s really going on.”
“I hope you’re right,” Mansel said, his hand unconsciously griping the hilt of his sword.
* * *
Offendorl was angry. Bartoom had failed once again. He’d seen the fight through the dragon’s eyes. The effort had taxed the elder wizard greatly, but he knew that Zollin wouldn’t give up without a fight and he was hoping the boy would be killed. It would set back Offendorl’s plans, but at least it would put an end to the fighting.
The elder wizard had seen the dragon’s tactics and had been sure that victory was at hand, when the kraken had risen up and attacked Bartoom. Offendorl had read stories of the infamous sea monster. He knew that the kraken was drawn to magic, but he had no idea the monster was active again. In his youth, centuries ago, wizards avoided the seas as much as possible. It was almost as if the oceans created a magical barrier few dared cross. But Zollin had managed to use the kraken to save himself from Bartoom. The boy had skills and brought a creativity to his magic that Offendorl found both frightening and exhilarating.
But now he had no choice. He’d spent a day resting, but now he had to return to his tower in the Grand City. He would have to prepare to battle Zollin again. He needed to find new strength and a way to tilt the odds in his favor. He couldn’t underestimate Zollin any further-the young wizard was too strong and too determined.
He was now in a carriage that was taking him to the Grand City. It was not as comfortable as his wagon had been, but he’d lost the wagon in Yelsia when the invasion failed. Now, he was forced to use a rented carriage. It had a long padded bench and a cover to keep the infernal sun from beating down on him, but there was no stopping the dust, which was everywhere. It stuck to his skin, which was dampened by the heat. It clung to his nostrils and lips so that everything seemed too small and taste like dirt. Offendorl was not so weak that he couldn’t endure the journey, but he disliked the notion of arriving at the Torr exhausted. He despised weakness, and the thought of revealing his own to the servants and other magic-users in the tower was repugnant to him.
They had traveled from sunup until dark, then stopped at one of the many roadside inns that lined the wide road from Brimington Bay to the Grand City. Offendorl had known something was wrong by the lack of soldiers along the road. King Belphan had always kept troops on the road to deter bandits, but now they were strangely absent. He was sure the news of Belphan’s death hadn’t reached the Grand City before him, but he couldn’t imagine what would cause the troops to be pulled from their duty on the road.
“I want wine,” Offendorl told the innkeeper. “And not that watered down piss you give everyone else. I want the best you have. And food, a double portion.”
“Yes, of course,” the man said.
“Bring it up to me yourself. I want the latest news.”
“Certainly,” the innkeeper said, his hand still holding the gold coin Offendorl had given him. “My wife will show you to your rooms.”
Offendorl followed the portly woman up the stairs to a stuffy suit of rooms. There was a sitting area and a large desk in the first room, and a large bed in the second. The windows were thrown open by the innkeeper’s wife.
“It’s a bit stuffy,” she said, “but it will cool down shortly. I can have one of the maids bring up some cool water to wash with,” she said with a wink and a knowing smile.
“No,” Offendorl said. “The room shall suffice, now be gone, woman.”
The innkeeper’s wife was shocked by Offendorl’s tone, but she left and Offendorl settled into a chair by the window. He would have enjoyed a bath under normal circumstances. In the tower he bathed regularly, but all he wanted at the moment was food, sleep, and to get on the road again. He despised traveling and didn’t trust anyone, especially not young wenches who would almost certainly do anything for money, including slicing his throat when they were supposed to be washing him. He pushed the thoughts away and waited for the innkeeper to return.
The man was thin, with a thick mustache that seemed too large for his face. He entered the rooms carrying a large tray. There were two racks of grilled short ribs, a large bowl of fruit, and cheese. Freshly baked loaves sat cooling on the tray and there was a bottle of wine and two goblets. Offendorl knew at a glance that the innkeeper hoped to share the expensive wine with his guest, but the elder wizard had no such desires.
“Here we are, a feast fit for a king,” the innkeeper said as he set about opening the bottle of wine.
“Tell me why there aren’t any soldiers guarding the road,” Offendorl said, tearing a rib from the rack and then biting into the tender meat.
“The queen’s recalled all soldiers,” the innkeeper said as he settled into a chair nearby. “Do you mind if I-”
Offendorl cut him off. “The queen? Why is she giving orders to the King’s Army?”
“She’s taken over,” the innkeeper said. “There were a lot of people fleeing the city, but it’s all settled down now.”
“Why would anyone flee the Grand City?” Offendorl said.
“The queen is said to hate all women, if you believe the rumors. I don’t, of course, but some do. She marched in with a big army though. They’re all camped out there north of the city, and all the regular troops were recalled. I guess she’s expecting King Belphan to go to war with her when he returns.”
“Go to war with his own wife?” Offendorl said incredulously. He was starting to think the innkeeper was making up the outlandish tale.
“No, not King Belphan’s wife-the Queen of the Sea, from Lodenhime,” the innkeeper said. “They say no man can resist her. She’s even moved into the tower of the Torr, if the rumors are true.”
A wave of invisible magic hit the innkeeper so hard it knocked his chair over backwards. Offendorl cursed and the entire inn shuttered as his magic erupted. The innkeeper looked up from the fallen chair, terrified, only to find Offendorl’s eyes glowing.
“The Queen?” he bellowed. “She is no queen.” He was snarling now. “She is a sorcerer, a witch. And she dares to invade my tower? Never!”
Offendorl’s anger was channeled into his magic, fixing on the closest target he could find, and the innkeeper’s spine started to arch against his control. The pressure was intense and soon the man was screaming.
“I will make her pay,” he said. His voice was enhanced by his magic and could be heard throughout the inn.
The people who had gone running up to see what was happening suddenly stopped in their tracks. They waited down the hall, too frightened to move.