by Devri Walls
“Why would you steal a book you couldn’t read?”
Alistair took a deep breath. “We went after the book written in our language. Unfortunately, Rowan had already burned it. The wizards I sent into the palace took the only thing they could find—this one.” He shook his head. “Without being able to read the spells, I couldn’t alter the natural course of succession. That left half of Aja’s power transferring to you on your nineteenth birthday, and the rest when you turn twenty-one…unless Aja dies, at which point it would transfer to you immediately. If I would’ve had what I needed, I could’ve transferred his power to you long ago and trained you myself.
“Instead, I’ve been trying to piece together the meaning of these words by matching the images with spells I’d already learned. With your description, I can guess what this particular spell does. Look.” He tapped the page. The two interlocking circles were above two clasped hands. “Before the Fracture, several wizards were found wearing a pendant identical to this—”
Rain began pounding down in a torrential current. Water immediately breached the roof, sliding in through the cracks and dripping on the wooden floor.
The storm was increasing at a pace that only a wizard-made storm could. It’d been so long since he’d seen a storm at all—he could hardly remember what a natural storm looked like. The fear he’d felt at facing another Fracture diminished, soothed by the rain dripping on his shoulders and streaming down his face. He held out his hands, watching the water drip from his fingertips in wonder. He laughed. Rain.
Another bolt of lightning cracked so loudly that both Tybolt and Alistair grabbed their ears.
The fear returned, bringing his logic back with it. Lightning meant fire, and they were standing in a tinderbox. “We have to get out of these trees,” Tybolt said. “Move, now!”
Alistair grabbed the book, and Tybolt swung the door open. The wind pushed him back. He planted his feet firmly beneath him and leaned into the wind, shoving his way forward.
Outside, the bridges had already been shredded and now hung in useless chunks, banging against the trunks. The wizards were stranded. One tried to climb down before Tybolt could stop him. He didn’t make it halfway down before the weather ripped him from the branch and smashed him to the ground.
Tybolt turned on Alistair, shouting over the wind and rain. “Why don’t they help themselves? They’re wizards.”
“We all have our own abilities,” Alistair said, shielding his face with his arm. “And regardless of what Rowan would have everyone believe, most are not that powerful.” He started yelling commands. The broken ladder lifted in the air and began knotting together. But all around them, tree limbs snapped off like twigs and flew in every direction, creating a deadly game of chance.
A deep groan caught Tybolt’s attention, and he turned to see one of the largest trees in the area leaning heavily to the side. It wouldn’t be much longer before the roots relinquished. Nothing around them would survive the impact.
“There isn’t time,” Tybolt shouted. “Use the trees—we have to get down.”
Although the storm did not change, the branches stopped waving in the wind. They jerked and twisted in a most unnatural way, looking distinctly like arms.
“What did you do?” Alistair yelled.
Tybolt stared in confusion, blinking the rain out of his eyes. “Nothing!”
The branches all moved at once, grabbing wizards around their waists and jerking them into the air. There was a snap, and the tree careened toward them. Tybolt went to leap to the ground, but a limb wrapped around his waist and pulled him up moments before the falling tree smashed into the place where he’d just been standing. Tybolt hung there in mid-air, a branch coiled around his waist, watching the utter destruction below him.
Then the branches, acting as one, lowered all the wizards to the ground. The minute Tybolt’s feet touched the ground, the branch uncoiled and raised. It stretched back out as it had before, hardening—now just an average branch creaking in the wind.
Tybolt whirled to tell the group to run, but the frightened group was flinging spells in every direction. It was no good—the storm was too powerful and the impending danger too unpredictable.
“We have to get out of here,” he shouted. Tybolt ran past them, hoping they would follow. One glance over his shoulder confirmed his plan had worked. He leapt over branches and rocks, trying to be cognizant of the physical limitations of those behind him.
The world was coming down in pieces around them. There was nowhere to go. They were too far in to reach the edge of the woods before it was too late. Tybolt stopped.
“What?” Alistair huffed. “Where are we going?”
“There is nowhere to go. We need somewhere to hide.”
Alistair grabbed him by the shoulders. “Then ask for it.”
“What?”
“Tybolt, I’ve never seen anyone do what you did back there with the trees.”
“I didn’t do anything—”
Alistair shook him, his eyes a window to his fear. “Ask!”
Another tree groaned as its trunk snapped beneath the onslaught and veered towards them.
“Help,” Tybolt called desperately into the wind. “We need protection.”
Branches surged forward, twisting and knotting together to block the path of the falling tree. Then, in unnatural unison, the leafy beasts surrounding them bent, their tops swinging low to the ground. The trunks arched overhead, and the boughs slammed into the earth around the small group of wizards. Immediately the howling of the wind quieted in their green and brown haven.
Auriella stood just inches from Asher, aghast at what she’d just heard. At the seriousness in his eyes, her knees wobbled and she had the urge to vomit. If there had been anything left in her stomach, she would’ve. “It can’t be. I’ve been on hunts with him. He’s never done anything!”
“It’s true,” Asher said softly. “Tybolt’s a wizard. But that’s not the worst of it.”
Auriella stumbled backwards. “What could possibly be worse? I lo—” she bit her tongue.
“Rowan is a wizard too.”
There were several silent beats. Every pop of the torch seemed amplified, jarring through her ears. “What?”
“Listen to me,” Asher said. “I saw it with my own eyes. There’s a storm raging outside, and I have no doubt he’s called it in to flush Tybolt out of the forest.”
“No,” she shook her head. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening.”
“There’s more.”
“Asher! What more could there possibly be?”
Asher stepped back and held the torch up, checking the stairs. “Tybolt is heir to the throne.”
If she’d had even an ounce of energy, she would’ve laughed in his face. As it was, she could barely manage a chuckle. She plopped down in the corner. “I see. Terric didn’t have enough fun with me? He decided to send you down too? It wasn’t enough that he tried to rape me and that he cut off my father’s finger. Now he has to—”
“Cut off your father’s finger?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know. Terric brags if he takes a piss in the morning. I’m sure he locked me up down here and then left to boast of his heroic hunt of my elderly father.”
“No,” Asher said softly, “he didn’t.”
“My father’s finger is still over there if you’d like to take a look.”
“I came down here because I need your help.”
“I can’t even help myself.”
“You know I’m in charge of bringing back the supplies from Deasroc and making sure the thieves don’t raid it all before I get back to the castle.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now listen carefully. Deasroc sends in shipments loaded with supplies and fine silks, but they never ask for payment. In fact, I am not even supposed to bring up payment. The captain’s face turns beet red every time I do. Now put that together with the fact that the storms, both natural and wizard-made, move down the coa
st and on to Deasroc. Yet Deasroc doesn’t have any wizards. Even stranger, who benefits from Deasroc’s prosperity? Rowan. That makes no sense. Why would Deasroc pay the crown unless—”
“Unless Rowan is the one sending the storms.”
“Exactly. And you’ve seen Rowan. How else do you explain the fact that he was able to somehow subdue Aja on the night of the Fracture and cut his tongue out?”
That had always bothered Auriella, but she’d just locked it down with every other emotion and concern she refused to deal with. But every card Asher played fell perfectly in line. She couldn’t deny the facts. “What about Tybolt?”
“I spoke with Aja.”
“You what?”
“Have you ever noticed how Aja stares at Tybolt?”
“Yes,” Auriella said, thinking back on every visit to the Hold. “Aja’s eyes never left Tybolt, but his gaze was never cruel or hate filled, only intense.”
“That’s what got me thinking. What interest would he possibly have in Tybolt? I could only think of one. Tybolt has blue eyes, Auriella. Blue eyes. Aja’s eyes.”
“What are you saying?”
“Tybolt is Aja’s son, heir to the throne. Aja confirmed it.”
Aurelia sat silently, her mind running through the stories Tybolt had told her. He’d never met his father, and he lived with his Hunter mother. They never went into town, not even for supplies. It didn’t make sense then, but it did now. Aja was hiding them because his half-Hunter child would never be accepted. In fact, the wizards would’ve killed the entire family for it. She covered her mouth with her hands.
“Good.” Asher sighed. “You see it too. We have to get Tybolt on the throne. Will you help me?”
She narrowed her eyes and came back to the bars. “Why would you do that? You hate him.”
“No, I don’t.” He looked away nervously. “Look, I put on a good show for my own survival, just like you do. But at night my favorite thing to do is hang out on the rooftops. I’ve seen more than you know. Tybolt is the lifeblood of this village. The only light in their miserable lives. I used to hate the people, every single one of them, for what they did to us. But…that was a long time ago.”
Auriella couldn’t help but feel suspicious. “After everything they’ve done, you’re just going to forget it all and risk your life to save them?”
“They’ve paid for their sins.”
That struck truer than he could’ve possibly known it would. “The Hunters will never let you do this.”
“I have to do something!”
Auriella struggled to connect thoughts with her lack of food and water. She needed to think like a Hunter, not a prisoner. “You’ll need help—you need the villagers. They’ll support him, fight for him.”
“And they will lose. They’re starving, Auriella! The Hunters will crush them. ”
“Thieves,” she blurted, the answer suddenly so clear. “You need the thieves.”
“Auriella—”
“No, listen. They hate Rowan, maybe even more than I do. Almost all have some family left in the village, where they’re starving to death. Give the thieves something to fight for, and let them fight the Hunters so the people don’t have to.”
“We can’t even find a thief to arrest. How am I supposed to convince them to help me?”
“You can’t. If you hope to convince them, you’ll need Tybolt. But I might be able to help you find them.”
“You know where they are?”
“Not exactly. But I do have a suspicion about how they get around without being seen. Tunnels.”
“Tunnels?” Asher cocked his head, listening intently.
“I’ve heard voices when I was out alone, but I could never locate them.”
“So have I. We all have.”
“One day I finally figured out that the sound was coming from—beneath my feet. I put my ear to the ground, and sure enough, I could make out bits of conversation as someone grew closer and then farther away. I’m telling you, there are tunnels in the forest.”
“It would explain their ability to disappear into thin air. So all I have to find is Tybolt and secret underground tunnels.” He ground his palm into his temple. “I’m going to swing for this. Let me get you out of here.” He pulled a knife and started working the pins in the hinges.
“It’s about time—we could’ve started with this. I’m much chattier when not imprisoned.”
“I had to make sure we were on the same page.” He grunted, shoving upwards with the blade. “You’re a dangerous woman, Auriella Doshire.”
“I’m not feeling very dangerous at the moment.” She glanced up the stairs. “Hurry!”
The first pin dropped to the ground and the door sagged. “Quick, hold it up,” Asher said, “so I can get the other one out.”
Auriella grabbed the bars and hefted it back into position, taking the stress off the second hinge. “Where’s Tybolt?”
“I have no idea.”
“That’s wonderful, Asher. How helpful.”
“We’ll find him, don’t worry. And—” He grunted, putting all his weight into leverage. “Considering I’m in the middle of breaking you out, I would call myself extremely helpful.”
The second pin popped out and Auriella moved the door to the side, being careful to set it down as silently as possible. “We need horses.” She moved for the stairs.
“No, I need horses. You need to stay out of sight. Take the roofs and drop over the wall near the front of the city. I’ll meet you there.”
Asher leaned back with all his weight, forcing the stable door open just enough to slip through. But the moment he released the handle, the wind caught the heavy wood and smashed it into his back. Asher stumbled forward, tripped over a foot, and sprawled across the floor.
“I’m sorry, my lord! I didn’t mean . . . I was sleeping, I—”
Asher turned around. “Malachi?”
“Yes, I…you know my name?” The boy stood, shaking straw from his mop of curly hair.
“We all know who you are.” Asher shoved to his feet with a grunt.
“Really?”
He couldn’t bring himself to break it to the boy that it wasn’t a compliment. “What are you doing out here?”
“I got trapped in the stable when the storm rolled in. I tried to get out but…I wasn’t strong enough.”
Asher pulled the bridle from the wall and opened his horse’s stall door.
“Have you seen Tybolt?” Malachi asked, popping his head around the corner. “He’s been gone for a couple of days, and he didn’t tell me he was going on a hunt.”
“You really care about him, don’t you?” Asher heaved the saddle over the horse’s back.
“He means everything to me,” Malachi said softly.
Asher hesitated, tightening the cinch. They needed help, and what did he have to lose? “Listen, Tybolt’s in trouble. I’m trying to help him, but maybe you can help too.”
“I would do anything for Master Tybolt.”
“I need you to talk to the people, Malachi. Can you do that? I need you to tell them that Tybolt’s a…a…”
“A wizard.”
Asher stilled. Then he dropped the cinch and moved so quickly that Malachi couldn’t back away. He grabbed the boy by the front of his shirt. “How do you know that?”
“The gatekeeper,” Malachi stammered. “He’s telling everyone.”
“Cursed demon spawn!” Asher leaned close, nose-to-nose with the boy. “Yes, he’s a wizard, and he’s coming for the throne. You tell the people that if they want to get rid of Rowan, Tybolt will need all the help he can get.”
The storm continued to beat down, but it couldn’t penetrate the protection of the forest. Tybolt retreated from the shocked looks and stares of those around him into a small, secluded area behind a large branch. He sat down and rubbed his eyes—he was so tired. The ground rumbled beneath him, and young Tybolt’s fear rose up again and bit at his heart. He silently prayed that the earth wouldn’t
crumble beneath him.
Alistair was right. Rowan had caused the Fracture. And he’d done the man’s bidding. He’d brought in wizards, thrown them in the Hold, and the whole time…he shook his head. The whole time he’d been serving the murderer of his mother and sister.
Alistair came around the edge of the branch and stopped, looking down at him.
“Why?” Tybolt said. “Why would Rowan do this?”
“He’s searching for you. Trying to kill you by the looks of it.”
“No, not now. The first time. He killed so many, and for what?”
“I don’t know. Does it matter?”
Tybolt sighed. “No, I guess it doesn’t.” He looked up. “What are you smiling about?”
“All of this.” Alistair held out his hands. “I finally understand a piece of history I’ve wondered about for years.”
“What is that?”
“There’s an engraving hidden in some tunnels below the castle. Aja and I found it when we were just boys. There was a picture carved into the stone of a boat sailing from Deasroc, the first wizard. Beneath it were the words, “Behold, the very forces of nature begged him to stay.” I thought it was odd, the wording. But now—” He smiled. “The land needs you. The trees did your bidding because you asked.”
Before Tybolt could reply, the trees began to move, pulling themselves vertical again. He slowly got to his feet, speechless.
The forest around them had been destroyed. The trees that had managed to stay standing were missing so many branches they looked like a forest of poles, stripped and ready to be planed for building. Only the trees that had bowed to Tybolt’s will had retained the leaves and needles hidden inside the shelter.
The wind had dropped to a weak howl and was decreasing every second. This wasn’t a second Fracture, thankfully, but the damage was still immense.
“Truly, you are Aja’s son.” Tybolt looked towards the voice to see Carac lowering to his knees. The other wizards followed suit.
Alistair put one hand on his shoulder and smiled down at the kneeling wizards. “It is time,” he announced. “Time to take Rowan off the throne. We have our heir, and nature has spoken, just as it did for the first wizard.” He motioned to the trees that had sheltered them. “Nature itself has begged him to stay.”