The Wizard's Heir Read Free Page B

But whatever blocked them was. It was powerful magic, and the only wizard not already in the Hold known to possess that amount of power was Aja’s brother, Alistair. Although Hunters searched for all wizards, first and foremost they sought Alistair.
    Without rain to grow crops, the people were starving. A few select villagers had both the means and a boat sturdy enough to travel to the nearest island for trade, but the rest were at the mercy of the few—they charged for their goods, and steeply. Disheartened, Tybolt made his way back to his sleeping platform.
    Auriella’s voice came from the next tree over. “It didn’t make it through, did it?”
    “No.”
    “I don’t suppose your secret source knows where Alistair is?”
    “Not that he’s told me.” His “source” was an old drunk named Gamel who’d followed him around since he arrived at the castle eight years ago. Every once in a while he would tell Tybolt the location of a wizard or two. How he knew, Tybolt had no idea. But Gamel was never wrong.
    “Are you going to visit your family after festival?” Auriella asked. The words were rushed, as if she’d just found the courage to ask and had forced it out before changing her mind.
    Tybolt froze. Auriella never asked, or answered, anything personal—ever. He cleared his throat and vocalized what he’d kept to himself for the last eight years. “I don’t have any family. They were lost in the Fracture.” When she didn’t reply he gently prodded, trying to hold onto whatever moment they were having. “What?” he asked.
    “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
    “What about you?” he asked. “Do you have family to visit?”
    It was a risk, turning the question around like that. For a moment he thought he’d lost her. Then her voice came, quiet amongst the humming insect life of the forest. “My father lives outside the village.”
    He smiled in the dark. Auriella Doshire had just told him something personal.
     

 
     

     
     
    It was half a day’s ride to get back to Eriroc. Tybolt rode in front of the group on Widow Maker, a willful and spiteful horse that took joy in unseating his rider. Tybolt was the only person the horse seemed to like, and for that, Tybolt loved him.
    The wizard rode a pack pony with his arms cuffed behind him and a rope that ran from his waist to the saddle horn. Auriella brought up the rear on a dapple beauty named Fire Dancer, her horse of choice.
    Tybolt carefully traversed the downhill slope, watching for crooked pine. He’d aptly named the tree because its trunk bent nearly ninety degrees, growing straight to the side, before it turned and headed up. Crooked pine announced what they must avoid, Desolate Drop. As soon as Tybolt saw it, he pulled the reigns back and kept them taunt, forcing Widow Maker to mince his way through the thick growth of dry and dead undergrowth and once-mighty pines.
    The land before him vanished from view, and Tybolt pulled Widow Maker hard to the right. Behind him the pack pony and Auriella followed his lead. The first slide of dirt and rocks gave way beneath the horse’s hoofs and tumbled down the steep sides of the crevice in a chorus of pings and rattles.
    Desolate Drop was split so deep Tybolt couldn’t see the bottom through the shadows from the towering walls. It was shaped like a canoe, skinny at the ends with a yawning mouth in the middle. The trees and bushes were dense, thriving in the shade and leaving nothing else visible.
    Auriella leaned to the side and peered into the depths. “Why did you insist on going this way?”
    “Careful,” Tybolt warned. “The rim isn’t as stable as it looks.”
    Auriella steered her horse closer to the trees.
    “Nobody goes this way,” Tybolt answered.
    “For obvious reasons.”
    “Which means we won’t have to fight anyone to keep our catch.”
    “Worried about Terric?” Auriella said, a hint of a smile in her words.
    “Of course I am. He’s unstable on his best days.”
    She snorted