by Devri Walls
“Tybolt,” Auriella said. “What is going on?”
The delicate root system brushed over Tybolt’s face and arms, almost caressing in their touch.
Carac watched in awe and stepped back, his eyes lowering. “It will be as you say, Your Majesty. I am by your side and yours alone.”
“Your Majesty,” Asher repeated. “That’ll take some getting used too. But aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves? We have to get you on the throne first.”
Tybolt sheathed his sword and waved at the roots. “Enough.” They slid backwards and returned to their motionless state as if nothing had happened. Tybolt handed Asher’s sword back. Asher grabbed the hilt, but Tybolt hung on for a moment. “If I have to take this away from you again, it’s not the only thing I’ll take.”
Asher met his eyes and gave a short not. “Understood.” He sheathed the sword and then pointed behind them. “These tunnels. Where do they lead?”
“Even I don’t know the extent of them,” Alistair answered. “They run under the castle and into the forest. It’s a maze, a dangerous place to go exploring.”
“I’ll venture a guess that the reason they’re dangerous is because the thieves are using them?” Auriella said.
“How did you know that?” Alistair demanded.
“I’ve heard them on occasion. I could tell they were underground, but I never could find a door.” She looked down the black tunnel. “It’s fortuitous, actually. The thieves are most likely our only hope.”
Tybolt’s eyebrows pulled together. “What do you mean?”
“Look—” She turned to address the whole room with that confidence he loved so much. “We need a lot of help if we hope to defeat Rowan. The people are half-starved, the Hunters are with Rowan, and your band of magical refugees is even smaller than I thought it might be. The thieves are the only option we’ve got.”
“I’ve heard the people favor Tybolt,” Carac said. “Surely—”
“No,” Tybolt said. “I don’t want to involve them. Auriella is right—they’re starved. They won’t make it halfway through a battle before they collapse.”
Asher cleared his throat. “They’re involved whether you like it or not. Although I don’t think they can do much, I’ve sent Malachi to gather support.”
“What?” Tybolt yelled. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the panic that rocked through him at the thought of Malachi trying to raise a rebellion against Rowan. “He can’t even walk down the hall without tripping over his own feet. What were you thinking?”
Asher leveled his gaze with Tybolt’s. “I was thinking you needed someone loyal to you. That idiot servant would take a sword for you. I can’t think of anyone more loyal than that. Although I’m sure he’ll drop everything he carries, he’ll do what needs to be done and won’t stop until it’s finished.”
Tybolt gripped his head and let loose a string of profanities. When he couldn’t think of any more, he sagged.
“Asher’s right,” Auriella said.
“I’ve protected Malachi from himself for years. I just…I didn’t want him involved.”
“Everyone will be involved,” Alistair said gently. “This is a coup. People will die, and homes will be destroyed. It’s the price of freedom.”
Tybolt rubbed at his temples. “It’s too high a price.” He wanted to go back and sweep every person he cared about out of the city under the cover of night. But what then? Hide them in the forest where they would certainly starve to death? There was no running from this. He looked up and around at his sad band of rebels. “You’re right, all of you. I can’t watch another parent bury a child in the middle of the night. I won’t. This has to stop.”
“So,” Auriella said, “how do we find the thieves?”
“This is madness,” Alistair muttered. “The thieves don’t like wizards anymore than they like Hunters.”
“I hear Tybolt is very persuasive,” Asher said.
Alistair stared at Tybolt for a long time. “Just like your father—not an ounce of sense.” When Tybolt didn’t respond, he shook his head. “Fine, follow me.”
Alistair led, lighting the way. Tybolt, Auriella, and Asher walked side by side while the rest of the wizards followed behind at a far enough distance to make it abundantly clear that their discomfort had not been diminished by Tybolt’s lecture.
“Do they think I’ll bite?” Asher asked under his breath.
Tybolt smirked. “Worse, I’m sure.”
Something Asher had said earlier gnawed at him, and he finally leaned over. “Did you really talk to Aja?”
“I did.” Asher grinned. “I even surprised myself with that one. Might I point out, it was easier to convince Aja of my intentions than it was you.”
“Tybolt’s hard-headed,” Auriella said, spinning a dagger around her fingers. “A bit like a mule.”
“A mule, she says,” Tybolt muttered. “You stole that line from me.”
“The hard-headed part or the mule part?” Asher asked.
“All of it!”
“He may have called me a mule several times,” Auriella said.
Asher whistled softly. “You called her a mule?”
“A hard-headed one, yes. And it’s true.”
“And yet you live.” Asher grinned. “My respect for you just grew several notches.”
Alistair stopped and held up his hands, illuminating a dead end. “I closed this off years ago to keep the thieves from discovering the tunnels I used to get from the forest to the village.
“Wait a minute, you were in the village?” Asher said.
Alistair turned and waved a hand over his face, and his features contorted into Gamel’s.
“The town drunk. All right, I’m impressed.”
“My life is now complete,” Alistair said dryly as he restored his face to normal. “If you follow this tunnel until you come to the first ladder, it will lead up to a section of forest I happen to know the thieves guard closely. The question is—who goes in?”
“Me,” Tybolt said.
“We can’t risk that!” Carac objected. “One of us should go.”
The wizards murmured their agreement.
“The thieves aren’t fond of wizards,” Auriella reminded them. “You won’t get three words out before they put an arrow through your heart.”
“They aren’t fond of Hunters either,” Alistair said. “You represent Rowan and all the pain he’s caused.”
“Look, some of the villagers still communicate with the thieves,” Tybolt said. “I’ve had to chasten more than one boy for saying that I took better care of them than Rowan. There’s a chance they’ve heard of me, which makes me the best option we’ve got.”
“And if you’re wrong and they kill you?” Alistair asked.
“He’ll get out safely,” Asher said. “Auriella and I will guarantee it.”
“Oh yes, three Hunters is much better than one.” Alistair’s sarcasm was so thick it was condescending.
Asher stepped closer to Alistair, looking down his nose at the wizard. “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I’ve just volunteered my head for the chopping block. The fact that I’m helping you at all sentences me to death…unless we win. I don’t care what I have to do—we are coming out alive.”
“And we are coming out with help,” Auriella added.
Tybolt put his hand on Asher’s shoulder and gently pulled him back. “He’s right.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Alistair turned and held his hands out, shouting.
The wall of dirt exploded.
Tybolt ducked, covering his head from the rain of rock and debris.
They followed the tunnel. The sound of their feet against the dirt and pebble floor sounded much louder than Tybolt would’ve expected. The shape of the passageways seemed to act like an amplifier. It explained how Auriella had heard the thieves from above ground.
“There it is.” Auriella’s voice had gone hard, the way it always did when she was in the mi
ddle of a hunt.
They climbed the ladder and emerged into a section of forest Tybolt hadn’t seen before. Trees and foliage stretched so high above them he couldn’t tell where they ended.
“Where are we?” Asher said.
“I don’t—” Tybolt spied the edge of crooked pine trunks above them and realized exactly where they were. “Desolate Drop.”
“Sneaky bastards.” Auriella craned her neck to try to see the rim. “No fool in his right mind would try his luck against the drop.”
“And they didn’t have to,” Asher said with grudging respect. “They came via the tunnels and picked the one place they knew we’d never look for them.”
The branch of a nearby fern bush leaned over and gently caressed Tybolt’s shoulder. He swatted at it.
Asher eyed the bush warily. “Why does that keep happening?”
“Alistair said something about nature wanting me to stay. I’m not sure I fully understand it.” He extended his hand to the offending fern. “Come here.” The bush responded enthusiastically. Multiple branches waved and wiggled like a puppy dog who’d just been forgiven by its reprimanding master. Then the branches zipped back to him, running over his hands and fingers with as much delight as a plant can muster.
Asher cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “I’ve aligned myself with the lord of the fern bush. I’m feeling extremely optimistic about our chances.”
Auriella snickered and Tybolt burst out laughing. It felt so good. In the midst of everything that had happened, he’d lost hold of the one thing he’d leaned on all these years—his sense of humor. “Asher, you should’ve spent more time with me and Auriella. We would’ve had fun.”
“Speak for yourself,” Auriella said, grinning.
“It would’ve been nice not to get punched in the mouth for sarcasm. Terric appreciated it less than you.”
“Well, I can’t promise I won’t punch you in the mouth,” Tybolt said.
“Was that your attempt to scare me off? If so, it was terrible.”
“Does that mean you’re still in—lord of the fern and all? There’s time to turn back. Nobody would have to know you came after me.”
“Still in.”
“And how about you, Lady Doshire?” His heart pounded with the question, and his mouth went dry. She met his gaze with an intensity that he’d only recently seen—strong, intimate. The moment seemed to hang on a breath he wasn’t taking.
“Still in.”
Tybolt’s relief rushed down to his toes. “Good. Now let’s go find us some thieves.”
They headed into the canyon. The canopy overhead had been shielded by the canyon walls and was thus unaffected by the storm that had moved though. In fact, the deeper into the canyon they ventured the thicker the foliage became, blocking out a good portion of the sunlight and yielding the lushest foliage Tybolt had seen since the rains had stopped. Unfortunately, that was the last thing he needed right now.
“I don’t like this,” Tybolt murmured. His head swiveled this way and that, looking for any sign of movement. “They could be hiding anywhere.”
“Don’t move,” a voice commanded from above. “Twitch, and I’ll put this arrow though your heart.”
The three of them froze, then slowly raised their hands.
“You can only hit one of us,” Tybolt said loudly. “That could be dangerous.” A moment later he felt the tip of an arrow between his shoulder blades. He glanced over to see Asher and Auriella caught in the same position. Auriella’s nostrils flared in pure annoyance.
“Trust me when I say that you’ll all have multiple arrows though your hearts if you test me,” the voice in the trees came again.
“Clever boys,” Asher said, a mild lining of respect in his voice.
Auriella snorted. “Lucky boys.”
Tybolt sided with Asher—luck had nothing to do with this ambush.
A fourth archer stepped from the bushes. He was large but young, maybe twenty. The clothes said he’d had a growth spurt recently, as his pants were a few inches above the ankles, and his shirtsleeves hit halfway down his forearms. He moved to stand in front of Tybolt and pulled back the string of his bow, aiming the arrow between Tybolt’s eyes. “Mind telling us how exactly you found your way in here, Hunter?”
“I don’t really like talking with an arrow pointed at my face.” Tybolt tried to stall while he ran mental scenarios on how to escape without getting himself or his friends shot. He had no idea how many archers were in the trees.
“Funny. Hey, Joseph,” he shouted to the unknown man above. “We found ourselves a Hunter with a sense of humor.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. Just what I’d hoped we’d find today.”
“What should we do with him? No one’s ever got in before.”
“Never?” Auriella asked.
“Shut your mouth, Jamison,” Joseph snapped.
“Let’s take him to Griff,” the thief behind Tybolt said, pushing the arrow into his shoulder just enough to be uncomfortable.
Jamison frowned. “I don’t know—”
“Come on!”
“Fine, Mainse,” Jamison snapped. “But if Griffs mad, I’m telling him it was your idea.”
“Ow!” Asher growled as his captor shoved the tip of the arrow into Asher’s back with more than a gentle pressure. “I’m going.”
Auriella’s archer leaned just a little too far forward, trying to get a good luck at exactly what he had on the other end of his weapon. “Back up,” she said through tightly clenched teeth. “Or I will shove that arrow through your wandering eye before your friends can save you.”
He backed up.
Tybolt grinned. He loved that woman.
They walked deeper into the canyon. The thieves moved across the uneven ground as well as any Hunter, obviously well acquainted with the terrain. Eventually the strains of music and the beating of drums reached him, rapidly increasing in volume. The light of a fire danced up ahead, and the sounds of voices and laughter floated above the notes.
It was odd that they were playing so loudly, without the least bit of fear of being discovered.
Tybolt realized they must have scouts all around the canyon to alert the camp of any activity. He wondered how many times he’d been watched from over the shaft of an arrow as he’d passed through the area.
When they came around the last bend, Tybolt saw a large group of people gathered together around a fire: men, women, and children. A small group played their handmade instruments while the rest laughed and drank. Some of the faces were familiar, others not so much. One by one, heads turned to stare at the three Hunters. The talking slowed to a stop. The musicians looked up, and the sounds of instruments dropped off until one lone drum remained. The drummer finally realized he was playing alone and met Tybolt’s eyes. His beats silenced.
A woman in the group slowly stood, her eyes narrowing as she evaluated the three of them. She was strikingly familiar.
“You’re a Hunter,” Tybolt blurted.
She glared. “And what are you, Blue Eyes?”
Tybolt looked away and their captors shoved them ahead, pushing them through the camp until they reached the largest tent.
Jamison took the moment to jab the arrow closer to Tybolt’s face. “Don’t try anything funny, Hunter. We have eyes everywhere.”
Tybolt knew the show of force was supposed to be menacing, but it looked forced and awkward. It reminded him a little bit of Malachi. He bit back a smile. “Not going anywhere.”
Jamison disappeared into the tent. Auriella’s archer kept a fair distance, but the one they called Mainse moved around to poke Asher between the shoulders again.
“Mainse, I know you're there. You don’t need to keep reminding me.”
“I don’t want you to forget.”
Asher turned his head to the side and glared at his captor. “You do know I could have that arrow out of your hand and through your throat before you knew what was happening.”
“Maybe, but the
n you’ll be dead.” He leaned in. His eyebrows were raised as he whispered loudly, “We have archers everywhere.”
“Can I tell you a secret?” Asher whispered back, matching Mainse’s ridiculous volume. “It doesn’t matter how many archers you have, because you’ll already be dead.”
Mainse jerked back, fumbling with his bow.
“Asher,” Tybolt warned.
“I’m sorry, but he’s aggravating me.”
“Jamison!” Mainse hollered. “Jamison!”
Jamison burst from the tent, his arrow swinging back and forth in search of a target.
“Whoa!” Tybolt shouted putting his hands up. “Relax.”
“What the…Mainse!” Jamison lowered his bow. “Griff wants to see the Hunters. But I’m warning you—we’ll be right outside. If you even think about hurting him I’ll—”
“Yes, yes, we know,” Auriella said. “Put an arrow through our hearts. We got it.”
The three headed for the tent. Auriella whispered, “These guys are a joke. They’ll shoot each other before they get one of us.”
“I know. But they caught us unaware—they get some credit for that.” He pushed open the tent flap and ducked inside to find a simple cot, a small table, and a few chairs. In one of the chairs sat a man he knew well.
“Griffon?” Tybolt stared in shock. “What are you doing here?”
The bartender laughed. “The better question would be—what are you three doing here? I am most interested in how you found us.” He motioned to the chairs. “Sit.”
Asher and Auriella sat, both their brows furrowed in confusion. Tybolt could see the wheels turning in both their minds, as they were in his. “Griffon, you have no idea how glad I am to see you, but what are you doing here?”
“Nice evasion. Think I wouldn’t notice?” He waggled his finger at Tybolt. “I had to find a place to brew where the king couldn’t find me. Then I started taking in strays and convicts. It grew from there.”
“You’re the leader of the thieves?”
“You could say that.”