by Devri Walls
“For forty pieces of gold, I can get us both off the island, and your father.”
She hesitated. “You…you would do that for me?”
“Auriella.” He ran his fingers down her cheek and she didn’t flinch away. That alone was worth more than anything he’d ever possessed. “I meant what I said. I would do anything for you.”
“Tybolt.” She closed her eyes, leaning into his palm.
He thought his heart would explode with happiness. “What? What else do you need?”
“It’s not me, it’s the villagers. If you leave, what will happen to them?” She bit her lip, and tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. “They need you.”
He smiled. “You care about the people now?”
“You dragged me down there to see them, and I did.”
Tybolt sighed. “The first thing I need to do is get you off this island before the king makes you his bride. I’ll have to figure out the rest later.” He grabbed her hand, running his thumb over the back. “I have to go meet my contact about Alistair. I would take you with me, but you know how skittish he is around anyone but me.”
“I can wait. Just give me the whistle and I’ll find you.”
He grinned and gave a three bar whistle. “That one?”
“That’s the one.”
Tybolt could still smell Auriella on his cloak, and his determination deepened. He had to get her away from here. Widow Maker plodded into the small clearing where he and Auriella usually camped on their way back to Eriroc. He dismounted and tied Widow Maker to a trunk—the horse did not like Gamel, more so than he disliked most. If he left him free to graze, he’d probably trample the old man.
Tybolt settled on the ground to wait and leaned against a tree. He pulled the knife from his belt, grabbed a broken branch, and began to carve. He was barely aware of what he was carving as his mind wandered, reliving every detail of last night. Auriella’s face began to emerge from the wood. Widow Maker snorted and pawed the ground, alerting him to Gamel’s arrival.
“I hope you brought me something to drink, boy,” Gamel said as he trudged from the trees.
Tybolt stood and grabbed his skin from the saddle, tossing it to the old man.
Gamel took a swig and sputtered. “Water! You give me water?”
“You shouldn’t drink so much, you know. It’ll kill you.”
“Of all the things that could kill me, that is the least of my worries.” Gamel capped the skin and tossed it back to Tybolt. He hobbled over to a tree and leaned against it.
“Where is Alistair?” Tybolt said.
“Ah.” Gamel made a tsking noise and shook his finger. “So anxious. I believe we had an agreement. Your time for my information.”
“Are you going to tell me more stories about how Aja didn’t cause the Fracture? I don’t have time for this today.”
“Then you don’t have time for my information.”
Auriella stared out at the waves, enjoying the peace as the sun inched higher in the sky. Her eyes settled repeatedly on the tip of the lighthouse. It saddened her that Tybolt’s family had been lost, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what his life must’ve been like. To be surrounded with such beauty so far from the hatred that had pawed her, she could hardly fathom how different things would’ve been.
The sun warmed her skin, and it was with reluctance that she decided sitting on the edge of a cliff was too conspicuous. Surely Rowan had sent someone after her. She left Fire Dancer to graze—Tybolt had tracked the horse too easily.
She tied the dress around herself the best she could and sliced off the skirt until it was just above her knees. She couldn’t jump from branch to branch in a ball gown. She crossed through the dry grass and climbed the first tree she came to, working her way high into the branches where she could see anyone who came her direction long before they saw her. She leapt to the closest tree, and then the next. Moving through the canopy left no trail to follow.
She wasn’t far into the forest when she heard muffled voices. She scanned the area but saw nothing. There was never anything. She knew it was the thieves, and she had a suspicion as to why they always sounded so muffled and why no one could find them, but it sounded insane.
Then she heard a scream. This was different, farther away and faint. It was male, and her first thought was of Tybolt. She turned her head to the side to listen. Nothing. She got ready to take the next jump when it came again, muffled through the trees. It was too low for Tybolt, but it was familiar. A panic stirred in her stomach and she dropped to the ground, taking off at a full run.
She neared the same clearing she’d left last night and an acrid smell tickled her nostrils. Just over the tips of the trees she saw a smoke trail winding into the sky—black and thick.
She pushed harder, ignoring the branches as they tore at her. She burst into the clearing and found her greatest fear realized. Smoke poured from the windows of her father’s home. A shadow moved inside. She burst into a run then stopped—the shape was too large, too tall. A moment later the outline of a man she never wanted to see again filled the frame of the door and then emerged, shutting the door behind him. Terric saw her immediately and grinned, waving a twisted hello.
She would kill him for this. Auriella took off at full speed, tearing over the meadow grass so fast her feet nearly flew.
“You can kill me or save your father,” Terric called out before she reached him. “The choice is yours.” He stepped to the side of the door, motioning towards it as if he were escorting her into a dance.
The hesitation was only momentary. She ran past Terric, shouldering the door open. A burst of heat and smoke smashed into her. Her arm came up automatically, trying fruitlessly to shield herself from the inferno.
“Father!” she called. The air seared the inside of her lungs and she bent over, coughing. The air was cooler down here. She dropped to her hands and knees and peered around the tiny cottage. “Father, where are you?”
The bed danced with flames. They spread up the wall and skipped across the ceiling.
She crawled over to the chair and washbasin, desperately looking for any form that could be a human body. She grabbed what could’ve been a leg but it collapsed under her grasp—a spare blanket.
The room was filling with smoke so thick it was incapacitating. It sank to the floor, suffocating her. She needed air.
Auriella moved back towards the door—she would just take a few good breaths and go back in. She stumbled out, coughing.
The sound of Terric’s laughter puller her head up. He was on the back of his horse. Behind him, thrown over the saddle, was her father. “I wondered how long you’d look for him in there. For a minute there I thought I’d have to come in after you, can’t have you dead. Rowan would be very angry.”
“What are you doing with him?” Her throat was raw and it burned to speak.
“Retrieving King Rowan’s insurance.”
Auriella’s fingers wrapped around the hilt of her dagger.
Terric moved before she could leap, pulling his own sword and turning it behind him. The tip of the blade pressed against her father’s side. “One move and I will put this through him without the slightest hesitation. In fact, I’d enjoy it. So go ahead, Auriella, try to attack me again.”
Auriella looked carefully at her father’s body, worried he was already dead. But his back rose and fell gently.
“What do you want?”
Terric eyed the blade for a moment, spinning it a quarter of a turn with a look of regret. He wanted to kill them both, that much was clear. “If you want your father back, you’ll have to go to the castle.” He turned his horse and galloped away.
Why hadn’t she brought her damn horse? She turned and ran towards the cliffs in search of Fire Dancer. As she ran, the sound of bells from the castle floated across the island. They tolled—once, twice, three times. There was a pause, and then the bells tolled again, three more times.
The queen was dead.
Tybo
lt’s head jerked up at the sound of the bells. “Fine, Gamel,” he said hastily. “What did you want to tell me?”
Gamel gathered his feet beneath him and stood, painfully slow. “Do you promise to hear me out until the end?”
“I promise.”
“Tybolt, I am asking for your word.”
Tybolt looked at the old man. Gamel stood straight, his hands folded in front of him, his eyes dead serious and ringed with fear.
“What are you so scared of?”
“The gallows.”
“You think I’ll tell the king whatever ridiculous accusations you’re about to throw?” He leaned forward, mocking. “Now why would I turn in my favorite informant?”
“Because I’m not who you think I am.” The man he knew as Gamel waved a hand over his face and whispered. His form shimmered, and his shape began to change.
“Wizard,” Tybolt whispered. His hand went for his sword but only had it halfway out of its scabbard when he stopped. Gamel looked nothing like himself, but he now wore a face that Tybolt hadn’t seen in years. He staggered back. “Hess?”
“That was the name I gave you, yes.”
Tybolt shook his head, trying to clear it. “No, that’s not possible. You’re not…you can’t be.” He didn’t want to believe it, but the face, the voice…it had always been the same voice, even as Gamel. He could hear it now. “Where have you been?”
“Tybolt—”
“No! You appear in my life, only to vanish, and now you stand here…” He sputtered, not able to organize the chaos of thoughts. “You know what I do to Wizards, Hess…or Gamel, or whoever you are. The Hold is worse than the gallows.”
“You promised you would listen.”
“Oh no, I promised I would listen to the town drunk, not you.” Tybolt waved him off and unhooked Widow Maker from the tree. “Get out of here before I change my mind and haul you back in irons.”
“You have to listen to me.”
“Oh really? Then who are you?”
Before Gamel answered, the smell of smoke drifted into the clearing. Tybolt turned his head, sniffing. Widow Maker snorted and tossed his head, pawing at the ground. “Hold on.” Tybolt leaped up and swung around the tree branch, landing on the branch above. He quickly scrambled up.
A black pillar of smoke rose from the thieves’ forest. It was too isolated and too thick to be a forest fire—something small was burning. It had to be a house or a barn. But he only knew of one such structure in that direction.
He dropped from the branches as fast as he could. “I have to go. Auriella’s in trouble.”
“Tybolt, no. You have to listen, there isn’t time—”
“Let me be very clear. The only reason I’m walking away is because you saved my life that night, a debt I will repay now. But if I see you again, I will bring you in.” Tybolt pulled himself up on his horse and spurred forward without looking back. The tree branches threatened to knock him off Widow Maker’s back, and he hunkered low.
Tybolt didn’t know how far he’d gone when pain began burning in his stomach. He rubbed it absently, but the pain increased dramatically with each second. He leaned over and wrapped his arms across his middle. Sweat dripped down his forehead as his temperature soared. It felt like a flaming inferno burned deep inside.
Tybolt cried out, falling off Widow Maker. He thrashed from side to side and curled into a ball, screaming. His skin snapped and crackled, and his balled fist erupted in flames. Tybolt yelled and scrambled away, but more bursts of fire ignited. Orange heat scampered up to his shoulders. He rolled back and forth, trying to put out the flames, but they only grew larger. He stumbled to his feet, horrified as rivulets of fire ran down his arms and dripped from his fingertips.
A small stream trickled nearby and he lurched towards it, throwing himself in. It was barely deep enough to submerge his arms. Although the water finally extinguished the physical flames, it did nothing to diminish his temperature. He was burning from the inside out.
Hess ran towards him. “Hold still,” he called. “Let me help you.”
Tybolt tried to struggle to his feet, but the rocks were slick and his legs flew out from beneath him. Arms slid under him and yanked him to the bank.
“Why don’t you ever listen, boy? I told you not to go.”
Tybolt rolled over, barely coherent. Blurry faces he didn’t recognize looked down at him.
“You better hurry,” one said. “We have to get him back.”
“Just speak the blasted spell,” the other said. “He’s going to burn to death.”
Tybolt tried to twist away but the flames were back, running down his arm and fingers. He heard words, flowing words, words of magic. Then everything went black.
Auriella found an extra cloak in the stables and clasped it around her neck, wrapping the sides tightly around her ruined clothes. She stormed towards the throne room, allowing her fury to override her fear. The guards must’ve been told she was coming, because they stayed to the side. She shoved the doors open. King Rowan sat on his throne with Terric standing next to him.
“Ah, Auriella. I’ve been waiting for you,” Rowan said.
She glowered, focusing on the king. “I’m sure you have.”
He laughed. “You have so much fire. I’ve known that about you from the beginning. You did quite a number on Terric here.”
That she had. His face was destroyed. Gone were the days when girls would follow him through the streets. She ignored Terric entirely. “You have my father.”
Rowan smirked. “I do.”
Terric pulled out a simple gold band and tossed it. She barely had time to react, snatching it from the air before it clattered to the floor. “What is this?” she asked.
“Look inside,” Terric said. “I almost had to take his finger to get to it. I can see now where you get your stubbornness.”
Auriella’s mouth went dry. She held the ring between two fingers and examined it. She knew what she was looking for—on the inside of the band were engraved the words she didn’t want to see. Until Forever. She didn’t know he’d kept it. He’d been careful not to wear it when she was around. Too many dark memories.
Auriella closed her fist over the ring. “My father has nothing to do with this. You can’t keep him.”
King Rowan, face hard and eyes feral, leapt from his chair. “He is my guarantee that you will do as I say. You defied me last night, tearing through the streets like a madwoman. You left the city during Festival—”
Auriella pointed to Terric. “He tried to rape me!”
“—with no intention of ever coming back.”
“I came back!” She looked down at her fist, the cold metal of her father’s ring chilling her skin. “How—”
“How did I know?” Rowan stepped down and put his face within inches of hers. “I have kept tabs on your father for a long time now, ever since he showed up and tried to take you away from me. I kept the information here.” He tapped his temple. “In case I needed help rendering you more malleable. I was not blind to your efforts to avoid me during the celebration. The fact that you left the city only speaks to your refusal to conform. You will be my wife, or I will kill your father in front of you so you can watch him bleed out, knowing it’s your fault he’s dead.” He leaned even closer, whispering in her ear. “Then you can have two dead parents on your conscience, Lady Auriella.”
She gasped. How could he possibly know that? “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t hurt him.”
“The wedding is in a week, and I will have a smiling bride.” He stepped back. “Terric, take her to her new quarters.”
“Wait! Where is he? I want to see him.”
They both ignored her and Terric smiled, the wound across his cheek crinkling. The stitches were separating in the middle and a drop of blood appeared. “With pleasure.”
“Terric, do keep yourself in check. I don’t want any bruises on my new bride.”
Tybolt woke to someone shaking him. The movement was a
gony—his body hurt from the inside out. He jerked straight up with a yell, brushing at the flames he remembered, but there were none. He was soaking wet and sitting in the small stream he’d thrown himself in.
Hess knelt before him. “Tybolt, we have to go before we’re found.”
Tybolt looked over Gamel’s shoulder to see three other men behind him. Blue-eyed wizards, all of them. “What is going on?”
“I’ll explain everything, but you need to come with us.”
Tybolt shook his wet hair and went to stand. The pain was enough that he stumbled forward. He straightened. “No.”
“I told you this would not end well.”
Gamel looked over his shoulder at the wizard who’d spoken. “Not now, Carac.”
What was going on? Tybolt pulled his sword. “We can do this any number of ways, but I’m not staying here.”
Gamel sighed. “Don’t you have any questions for me? You did just burst into flame.”
Yes, he had questions. But he wouldn’t take time to think about them while Auriella was in trouble. “Get out of my way.”
“Fine.” Gamel held up his hands and moved to the side. “Let him pass.”
The other wizards looked confused and angry, but they moved as they were told.
Tybolt watched them warily, waiting to see any sign of spell work. He kept his sword at the ready. “I told you if I ever saw you again, I would take you to the Hold.”
“What makes you a Hunter?” Gamel asked.
“Where is my horse?”
“What makes you a Hunter?” Gamel repeated.
“Where is my horse?”
“What makes you a Hunter is your immunity to our magic.” Gamel held up his hand and whispered the words of a spell.
Tybolt’s sword jerked free of his hand and dropped. Before he could grab it, he felt himself being lifted in the air and slammed into the trunk of a tree. He crashed to the ground. The impact jarred so badly his teeth hummed.
“Although I could make you come with us,” Gamel said, “I would prefer you came on your own.”