“Your worthless generals are dead, oh King,” Wilam said. “And your pathetic reign has come to an end.”
“You dare not lay a hand on me. I’m the sovereign ruler of Ortis. I command armies who will avenge me to the fourth generation of your villainous family.”
“Do not speak of the royal family of Yelsia,” Wilam said in a mocking tone. “We did not plot against your kingdom and murder defenseless members of your royal court. Did you think I would not hear how you baited my high counselor and then murdered him in cold blood?”
“Because he was spying,” King Oveer whined.
“And his spying was greater than your plotting against my family and my kingdom?”
“You have a wizard.”
“And you had a whole tower full,” Prince Wilam said as he shoved the king.
“You dare touch me?” King Oveer shrieked.
“I’ll do more than touch you,” Prince Wilam said. Then he stabbed at Oveer with the point of his sword, drawing blood from the king’s shoulder.
“Guards!” King Oveer shouted. “Guards, to me.”
“Your guards are not allowed in the tower, remember?” Wilam said, stabbing at Oveer again, this time drawing blood from the King’s thigh.
“Gwendolyn!” Oveer screamed like a child calling for his mother. “Gwendolyn, help me.”
Prince Wilam backhanded Oveer, sending him reeling and spitting blood. Piss stained his pants and he began to beg.
“Please don’t kill me,” he cried. “I’ll do anything.”
Wilam again shoved the king, who stumbled back almost to the open window. The tower of the Torr had large windows that opened like shutters. They ran from the ceiling almost down to the floor. Wilam could only think of how the spoiled king spent day and night fawning for Gwendolyn. He was jealous of any man who might lay claim to the Queen of the Sea, but only King Oveer stood above Prince Wilam in rank. One day Wilam would be a king and Oveer’s equal, but for now he was just another suitor to the woman both men were infatuated with. He kicked out hard, slamming his foot into the king’s chest. Oveer stumbled back, gasping for breath until his legs hit the windowsill. Then time seemed to slow down as King Oveer of Ortis struggled to regain his balance. It was a lost cause-he simply had too much momentum moving him backward, not to mention his inebriated state. His arms wind milled and his face became a mask of terror. Then he fell, screaming until he landed, his head smashing against the polished flagstones and split open like an overripe melon.
“Good riddance,” Prince Wilam said, spitting from the window.
“What have you done?” shrieked Gwendolyn.
She was levitating down from the floor above. Her face was sternly disapproving, but all Prince Wilam could see was the woman he loved. He felt weak in the knees whenever he saw her and his heart seemed to leap whenever she spoke to him.
“I am here to bid you farewell,” he said, ignoring her question in his excitement. “I will destroy King Zorlan’s army and bring glory to your empire.”
“Do not speak to me of glory,” she said angrily. She rarely feigned interest in the men who longed for attention anymore. She had grown in power, not just from drawing on the other magic-users of the Torr, but from the knowledge she had poured herself into from Offendorl’s library. She no longer cared about bringing men under her power and she despised the way they fought one another for her affection.
“Go!” she ordered. “Go play war before news spreads that you killed the king of the men you lead.”
“They will not care,” Prince Wilam argued, taking a step closer to Gwendolyn. He was within an arm’s reach of her and her proximity made him tremble. “They serve you now, not that fat slug. Once I destroy Zorlan’s army, there will be nothing keeping us from uniting the Five Kingdoms under your rule, my love.”
“Do not speak to me of love,” she said. “Not as you march to slaughter other men.”
“I will win you an empire.”
“You win me nothing. You only hasten the inevitable.”
“I shall lay his crown at your feet, then nothing will stop us from being together.”
“You overstep your bounds,” she hissed in warning, but Prince Wilam was undeterred.
“I shall make you love me,” he said. “No one can stop me now.”
Anger radiated off of Gwendolyn, although she controlled her urge to bring the love-struck young prince to his knees in front of her. She had agreed to Wilam’s plans if for no other reason that it would occupy her hotheaded suitor.
“Go then,” she said, her magic filling the air between them until she wavered from the barely contained heat of it. “Slay them all.”
“As you wish,” he said, bowing and hurrying away.
Gwendolyn walked slowly over to the window where King Oveer had fallen and looked down. The sight both sickened and thrilled her. Her heart was growing dark, and violence, which she had always abhorred but tolerated as necessary, was beginning to appeal to her in a whole new way. She stepped back from the window and smiled, savoring the gristly memory and letting it push her toward her goal. She had to embrace the darkness of death completely if she was to succeed, and she couldn’t allow anything to stop her-least of all her useless human emotions.
* * *
Brianna was flying with Ferno when the image of the burning tree and the two men came to her. At first she wasn’t sure why she was seeing it. A tree consumed by fire was unusual, but it wasn’t an obvious indication of danger. Then she looked more closely at the mental image, almost like examining a memory. She saw the carcasses of the two horses and the burned track of grass that she realized came from a dragon.
Bartoom, she thought. The mighty black dragon they had been following for days had attacked…a tree? That made no sense, she thought. Then she looked at the two men. They seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t see them clearly enough.
She sent the hazy mental image of the two men back to Tig, who had spoken to her in the dragon way. She waited impatiently for a reply, partly because she felt that she somehow knew the two men, and partly because it was a departure from the tedium of following Bartoom. The big black dragon had seemed tireless at first, and her pride had grown weary in pursuit. Finally the bigger dragon had gone to ground, taking refuge in a large thicket of wiry bushes. They were surrounded by miles of plains and there were no other places where her own pride could rest. Brianna had stood watch while her dragons slept. Then she had gotten rest on the back of Selix.
The pride flew together unless it became necessary for one or two to hunt. Wild horses were common on the plains of Falxis. Horseflesh wasn’t the first choice for dragons, but being on the move made it difficult to hunt at all and they took whatever they could find.
When the image came back to her, Brianna had to hold onto Selix to keep from falling off. Her heart beat madly and she felt like shouting. She had found Zollin at last. She couldn’t wait to see him, and at the same time she felt afraid. What if his feelings for her had changed? She wasn’t sure exactly how long they’d been apart, but she knew a lot had happened in that time. She wasn’t the same girl. She knew exactly who she was and what she wanted now, but her heart was divided between her love for her pride and her love for Zollin. She wondered what she would do if they weren’t compatible.
There wasn’t much time for consideration, however, as images came back to her of Zollin and Mansel preparing for battle. She understood their need to defend themselves against unknown creatures, but it frightened her as well. She knew Zollin’s power was great-she had seen him do things she never thought possible-and she was more than a little worried that he might use his power against her pride.