His whole body ached. His stomach felt like it was tied in a knot, but his bowels felt loose, almost watery. His joints hurt and his head was a dizzy. His eyes felt like they had sand in them, and his mouth seemed to be producing a sticky, pasty muck instead of saliva. He snatched up the handful of weeds and climbed back into the saddle, ignoring the pain and his body’s desperate cry for sleep. He let his horse follow Mansel’s while he studied the weeds. He sensed both strength and danger in the plants. He knew he couldn’t consume them, that was the first rule of woodsmanship-never eat anything you aren’t sure won’t kill you.
Still, he could feel a vibrant power in the small plants. It was like a spark, easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it, but with the power to create something significant under the right circumstances. He let his magic flow into the weed and discovered what felt like a bubble. It was like a ripe piece of fruit, almost flowing with sweet, succulent juices. He squeezed the bubble with his magic and it burst almost instantly, filling his physical body with a sense of strength and energy he didn’t think he’d ever felt before. It was like waking up from a long sleep, totally refreshed and energized. His stomach no longer felt sick, his joints didn’t hurt. He looked up and realized he wasn’t fighting his eyelids to keep them open.
“Mansel,” he said, urging his horse forward. “This is amazing. Here, hold this,” he said, handing one of the little weeds to his friend.”
“Why?” Mansel asked, his body drooping and even his voice sounding weak.
“Just trust me.”
Zollin let his magic flow into Mansel first, and then into the weed. He popped the magic bubble and watched his friend’s shoulders suddenly straighten.
“What the hell did you do to me?” he asked.
“How do you feel?” Zollin said.
“Amazing. I feel like I could run all day long.”
“Awesome,” Zollin said. “Let me try it with the horses.”
In a matter of moments the horses were galloping again, this time with a wild sense of abandon. They were like children racing through a field to see who was the fastest.
It took them almost twenty minutes to slow their pace, and then it was only because they saw smoke in the distance. They hadn’t seen the army yet, which meant the group they had run into the night before were stragglers, probably falling back so that they could pillage at will. Still, the smoke in the distance was not a good sign. The continued forward at a fast pace, but were more careful.
It took several minutes to reach the source of the smoke, but when Mansel saw it he shouted a gut-wrenching cry that made Zollin’s heart ache. He recognized the note of grief in his friend’s voice.
“No!” Mansel shouted. “The bloody bastards,” he said, his voice cracking under the strain. “Oh, no, no, no.”
He slid down from the saddle and staggered forward toward the smoking ruin of Nycoll’s cottage. The stone-lined well was caved in, the yard trampled. Only the great oak tree in the yard stood untouched.
“No!” Mansel cried as tears streamed down his face.
Zollin dismounted and tied their horses to the tree, and then went to his friend, who was shaking with silent sobs. He put his hand on Mansel’s shoulder, unsure of what to say. The cottage had collapsed inward and the fire had been burning a long time. Very little was left but ash and charred foundation stones.
Zollin let his magic flow over the ruined house. He took his time searching for any sign of Nycoll, but there was no indication that she had died in the fire. So he let his magic flow out in a greater circle, into the tall weeds and down the hard-packed dirt path that led to the ocean. There was a wooden dock on the rocky shore, but no boat. Zollin was just about to turn his attention elsewhere when he noticed something hidden in the water. He probed further, reaching with his magic into the water, even though he was afraid of what might happen. There was a person in the water, hiding under the wooden dock.
“Mansel,” Zollin said. “There’s someone in the water.”
He helped his friend to stand up, then they ran around the ruined cottage and down the path. Zollin could feel the hope pouring off Mansel in waves, like heat radiating from a fire.
“Is it Nycoll?” Mansel asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Nycoll!” he shouted. “Are you there? Nycoll?”
They reached the wooden dock and Mansel jumped into the water. There was splashing and then Zollin heard his friend crying.
“Is she okay?” Zollin called out.
“Help me, Zollin. She’s tied to the piling. I can’t get her loose.”
Zollin let his magic flow into the dock and water. He found the rope and it burst apart. “Okay, I’ve got her. I’ve got you, Nycoll. You’re going to be okay.”
The water just steps from the shore was deep and Mansel struggled to pull the unconscious woman from under the deck. Zollin levitated them both up onto the dock, then let his magic pour into the woman. Her body was in shock. Even through the magic Zollin could feel that she was near freezing. She had been in the water too long. Her tongue was swollen and she was dehydrated. The rope had rubbed her skin raw where it had held her out of the water through the night.
“Is she alive, Zollin?” Mansel asked.
“Yes, I can help her. I just need a little time.”
Zollin knelt on the dock beside Nycoll, letting his magic flow into her. He began to warm her body, healing the effects of hours spent in the seawater. “She needs fresh water, Mansel. Go get the canteens.”
Mansel dashed away as Zollin continued to inspect every facet of Nycoll’s health. She was well-she only needed time and nourishment. Mansel returned and they lifted her head and dribbled water into her mouth. After a few moments she began to come around. Her eyes fluttered open and she worked her mouth, trying to speak.
“It’s okay,” Mansel said, tears streaking down his face. “You’re okay now.”
“Mansel?” she asked, uncertain.
“Yes, it’s me. You’re safe now.”
“They burned the cottage,” she said. “They burned everything.”
“I know,” he said gently.
She was remembering the events slowly. Her eyes opened wider. “I hid under the dock but I couldn’t untie the ropes. I couldn’t get free.”
“I know,” Mansel said soothingly. “I know it. But you’re safe now.”
“How did you find me?”
“Zollin found you,” he said.
She glanced over at Zollin. “Your friend?” she said. “The wizard you told me about?”
“Yes,” Mansel said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“You saved me. You came back for me.”
“I promised you I would.”
“Give her more water,” Zollin told Mansel. “Then we should move her someplace more comfortable.”
Mansel dribbled more water into her mouth. She drank it eagerly, then closed her eyes.
“Is she okay?” Mansel asked.
“She will be,” Zollin said. “She’s been through a lot.”
“Can’t you heal her?”
“I have,” Zollin said. “I’ve taken care of the physical things. She just needs rest.”
“What about the weeds, the ones you found on the road? Couldn’t those help her?”
“I think it’s best if she sleeps,” Zollin said. “We aren’t in a hurry anymore. She’ll be fine after she rests. We could all use a rest.”
“Okay,” Mansel said.
He was just getting up to his feet when the trident struck. It was a heavy, brass spear with three separate points. It flew and landed solidly in Mansel’s thigh, driving him to the ground, the shock and pain knocking the big warrior unconscious.
Zollin immediately raised a magical shield around himself, Nycoll, and Mansel. He scrambled back, looking for the threat, and saw almost a dozen heavily bearded men rising out of the water. They all had tridents and were staring at him balefully.
Anger erupted in Zollin and he lashed out, sending a stream of molten magical energy at the mermen, who disappeared below the surface of the water. Then one by one they popped up, throwing their tridents with a strength and accuracy that was hard for Zollin to believe. His magical shield held, but each blow came with such force that he was pushed backward.