The Wizard's Heir (17 page)

An image flashed in Tybolt’s mind, a memory. He could almost feel the chill of the ocean air on his skin and he was a boy again, standing on the cold sand.  “I saw him that night,” Tybolt said. “There was a man in the lighthouse with my mother. She admitted it was my father, but she refused to tell me anything more.”

“You’re a lot like him, Tybolt.”

That statement ripped Tybolt back to reality. “Do
not
compare me to the man that killed my mother.”

“The only thing my brother was guilty of was not being able to stop the Fracture.” Alistair looked weary, and he scrubbed his hands over his face. “Aja had known something was happening within the wizard ranks for months, but we’d been unable to discover what it was. We had an informant who said he’d been invited to a secret meeting. He suspected the topic would be about removing Aja from the throne. We sent him as a spy but he never returned. Aja feared for his life, but mostly he worried for his family, for his son. While I tried to track down the traitors, he made plans to keep you safe. If anything were to happen to him, I was to come get all three of you and take you to a hidden cabin in the forest.”

“The cabin you took me to.”

Alistair nodded. “The night of the Fracture, the weather began rolling in, wizard weather, but Aja was not controlling it. We were on the balcony of the throne room, watching the purple storm brewing on the horizon, when Rowan came through the doors, throwing down lightning bolts in the distance with incantations I’d never heard before. Aja shoved me out of the room, putting himself between Rowan and me. I heard the magical battle raging behind me as I ran down the hall. I knew what he wanted me to do.

“The horse was slowed by the earthquakes that started even before I was out of the city. I got to you as fast as I could, but I was too late. The lighthouse had already gone down.” Alistair looked away. “I failed my brother in the one thing he’d asked of me. Everything was lost.” He took a deep breath and met Tybolt’s eyes. “Then I saw you.”

Tybolt put a thumb and forefinger into the corners of his eyes, pressing hard. “If Aja’s my father, then why am I just now presenting magic? Wizards come into power when they’re children.”

“I put a spell on you. Rowan started sending Hunters out to collect wizards immediately after he took power. I couldn’t risk you being found. Nowhere was safe. I took a risk and decided to hide you in the one place Rowan would never look—right beneath his nose.

“I had to make you a Hunter. I couldn’t do anything about your eyes, but I could make your Hunter side dominant and lock down your magic…at least until you turned nineteen.”

“What’s so special about nineteen?”

“At nineteen, a wizard’s power increases exponentially, but I knew your powers would increase even more. The moment you turned nineteen, part of Aja’s power transferred to you, as was your birthright. I knew my spell wouldn’t hold against that much magic, and I asked you to meet me in the forest so I could remove it, but you left before I got the chance. The flames were the result of your powers trying to escape the shell I’d encased them in.”

“You knew that would happen?”

“Well, I knew
something
would happen. I wasn’t expecting fire.”

“But you removed the spell, so there is no chance of me bursting into flames again?”

“Correct.”

“So you lied to get me here.”

Alistair shrugged. “Desperate times.”

Tybolt took a deep breath in through his nose. “You still haven’t explained how Rowan controlled the weather. Only royal blood has that ability.”

“He’s using the magic of other wizards, harnessing them. It has something to do with the Hold, I’m sure. Beyond that, the truth is…I don’t know how he did it.”

“The Hold?”

“Yes. I suspected it from the beginning. His magic was completely out of control when he attacked Aja, and it resulted in the Fracture. There was too much power, and none of it was the natural ability for weather—thus the incantations he used. But once Aja was placed in the Hold, the storms were sure, focused. The way they should’ve been. After more wizards were added to the Hold, the wall went up to prevent the rest of the natural storms from coming in. With each wizard you bring him, he grows more powerful.”

“But how?”

“I haven’t figured it out yet, but Rowan proves my theory every time he executes a non-wizard.”

“Why?” Tybolt asked. “What possible motive could he have for all of this? He destroys half the land he means to rule, and he keeps the storms from coming in so people starve to death? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I know, we’re missing something. After the Fracture, we tried to find the wizards who’d been known to associate with him. Oddly enough, they were all locked up in the Hold with Aja. Don’t you find that strange? How do you think an average man manages to take down Aja and then single-handedly imprisons fifteen wizards?” Alistair raised an eyebrow. “He covered his tracks well—none of us know anything about him. He arrived by boat five years before the Fracture, a refugee from Deasroc, and that’s the extent of our knowledge.”

“There are no wizards on Deasroc.”

“I know. Even stranger.”

Tybolt stood and began to pace. He was a wizard, Rowan was a wizard…Auriella was with Rowan. He froze in his tracks. “I have to go. I have to get Auriella.”

Alistair surged to his feet. “No!”

“You heard the bells—the queen is dead. I have to get Auriella out of there. Once she’s safe, then I will deal with this.”

“We can’t risk it. We have no idea how powerful you are. If Rowan discovers what you really are, this is all over.”

“I won’t leave her there.”

Alistair shoved back his chair and came around the table. “What about the people?”

“The people are not my responsibility.”

“Yes, they are. You were born heir to the throne. It is your only responsibility.”

“I don’t care whose son I am—that does not make me worthy of the throne.”

“You’re right! It doesn’t.
You
made yourself worthy. You’re the only one who takes care of those villagers. You feed them, worry about them, watch over them. Dropping you off with the king to hide you amongst the Hunters was the scariest thing I’ve ever had to do. I was worried we would lose you, that the heir to the throne would become a Hunter in his heart. But you didn’t. You were kind and brave and loyal and every bit the king you would’ve been had you been raised in the castle—probably more. These people are your responsibility, and you accepted it long ago.”

Tybolt took a deep breath. “Just let me get her out of there. Then I’ll come back, and we will talk more and come up with a plan.”

“You can’t go back. We have at least a week before Rowan marries Auriella. Stay here, plan now.”

“You don’t understand. When the King chooses a bride, she disappears. Rowan says it’s to prepare her for the wedding, but when the bride walks down the aisle, she is different….she’s broken.” Tybolt looked up. “I don’t know how else to explain it. He does something to them, and I won’t let him hurt Auriella.” He swallowed. “I love her. I have to go back.”

Alistair stood abruptly and slammed his hands on the desk. “Tybolt, listen to me, and listen very carefully. You have no idea what powers you’re dealing with, and you’ve forgotten a key factor. Rowan is getting power from the wizards in the Hold, and a major source of that power is from Aja. Part of Aja’s power just transferred to you. Rowan will feel it, and there is only one explanation. Rowan will stop looking for me and start looking for the heir. The heir he didn’t know existed…until now.”

Rowan looked out his window and smiled to himself. Everything was coming together. Auriella waited in the dungeon, Aja rotted in the Hold, and the people bowed to him. The stage was set for the final act, when he would truly ascend to the throne as rightful master of the royal power.

All he needed was Alistair. Part of the royal family’s power lay within him—and Rowan wanted it all. The transference spell was not only brutal, taking pain and blood as payment for power, but it could only be performed once in a lifetime. Any attempt to take more would result in death.

Rowan would wait. He was very patient.

And then, once he transferred the royal birthright to himself, he would destroy the Hunters and any wizards who would not pledge loyalty to him. Only then would the rain clouds roll in, and he would show the people who had saved them from starvation. The rain falling on their parched lands would mitigate their hatred and return wizards to their rightful place as lords amongst peasants.

He smiled. Once he was truly ruler over Eriroc, he would turn his sights toward Deasroc.

He pulled out the pendant and rubbed his thumb over it, repeating the incantation that gave him access to the magic in the Hold. He called out for the clouds, preparing to send more rain to their island neighbors as payment for the barge that arrived this morning with food and silks. The weather did not respond. Frowning, he tried again. He could feel the pull, but it wasn’t enough—at least not enough to perform the act with the ease he was used to. And certainly not without the aid of an incantation. Something was wrong, very wrong.

The King of Deasroc would be furious. They had an agreement that extended beyond rain and food exchanges. Deasroc wanted to rule Eriroc once the wizards had been eliminated. Without Alistair’s powers, Rowan was not strong enough to fend off Deasroc’s army.

He tossed his robe over his shoulders and fastened the diamond and emerald broach. He strode though the castle, rubbing at his pendant as he tried to quiet the roar between his ears. His plan had almost unraveled so many times that he’d learned how to bury his panic.

Rowan crossed the courtyard towards the Hold. He’d never visited during the day, and the servants tried to hide their shocked expressions with very little success. He grimaced as the first door was opened and the imminent odor hinted to its presence. He stepped in and gagged as the second door was opened.

He stormed past the caged wizards, ignoring the looks of rage as they struggled to their feet and came to the bars. When he got to the end of the hall, he slammed his hand against the bars to Aja’s cell. Aja pushed to his feet and strolled forward with a satisfied smirk.

Rowan reached through the bars and grabbed Aja’s filthy shift, yanking him forward. “What did you do? How did you send your magic to Alistair?” He knew there was no answer coming, and he shook the old man in his frustration.

A deep chuckling rattled Aja’s chest. He pointed to his mouth and shrugged.

Rowan shoved him away. He used his magic to slam the former king against the back of the cell. It didn’t stop the laughter. Rowan whirled, looking into the cells of all the wizards behind him. Some he’d personally betrayed, others he’d just imprisoned. They all looked angry, but all appeared confused at the exchange with Aja. Whatever Aja knew, he knew it alone.

Rowan’s mind raced. It couldn’t be Alistair. If Aja had by some miracle performed a transfer spell, Aja would’ve been completely stripped of power. As it was, Aja still held some, just not enough to power the weather without help. What would’ve caused his magic to diminish like this? There was nothing. Nothing!

Royal magic was given only to heirs unless the transfer was forced. It was how it had always been done, unless…Rowan turned slowly, his fists clenched at his sides.

Aja returned to the bars, and his blue eyes brimmed with triumph.

That look was all the confirmation he needed. Rowan took a step back. “You have an heir,” he whispered. An heir that was not in the Hold. An heir he didn’t know about. An heir that was not Alistair.

His mind raced, going over every step, every action. It wasn’t possible. Aja had never married, never even shown interest in a woman. The city had been abuzz for years over his lack of interest. But what if… “That night, you didn’t send Alistair away to save him from me. You sent him after your son.”

The laughter started again, a deep chuckle. Then more laughter began to trickle from the cells around him as the others realized what had happened.

“Shut up!” Rowan yelled. “Shut up!” He pulled the power from all around him, their power, and sent it through the floor, jolting them with a violent burst of magic that silenced them all. All except one.

Rowan left the Hold taunted by Aja’s ragged laughter. He stormed back towards the castle, his cloak billowing behind him. An heir. He could be anyone, be anywhere. This could not happen, not now when he was so close!

It had already happened.

“Get the stonecutter,” Rowan yelled to one of the guards at the main entrance. “Tell him the symbol needs to be carved on the wall. Start with the entrance and move around the city.”

“The symbol, Your Majesty?”

The tiny intertwined circles that lined the cells in the Hold, the same intertwined circles he wore around his neck. “He’ll know. Go.”

The stonecutter was the only wizard Rowan had allowed to stay within the city. He blended in nicely, as he did his work behind closed doors, and no one saw the speed at which he worked. It was a risk that he would be discovered working in the open, but sacrifices were sometimes necessary.