The Wizard's Heir (30 page)

The other two ignored him, pumping their arms and running with everything they had. But even with their speed they couldn’t outrun a landslide—especially not while heading into the wind of a Fracture.

Ahead of him, a handful of trees bowed high over the path like a half arch. Under normal circumstances they all could’ve leapt into the safety of the branches, but now the ground shook beneath them and the wind pushed them backwards. They would need some help.

“Get ready to jump.” Tybolt called for the tree—it didn’t budge. Had nature grown tired of him already? He shouted again, less of a request and more of a demand. The branches acquiesced and bent.

Tybolt reached up and grabbed the branch, nearly jerking his arms out of his sockets when he was wrenched to a stop. He looked to both sides to make sure the others were safe.

Auriella’s arms were wrapped tightly around the tree. “Tybolt!”

The landslide bore down on them. Tybolt yelped and released his hold on nature. Asher nearly lost his grip and scrambled to hook his leg over the branch as they flew up.

Below them the earth rushed by, a churning mass of mud, sticks, and rocks. Above, purple banks of clouds rolled over them, dark in purpose but glowing with an unearthly beauty. A solid sheet of rain dropped, drenching them instantly.

Behind them the forest groaned and creaked. Tybolt stood on top of their saving grace and pushed the leaves aside. On the top of the hill, the trees were vanishing as if some giant mole was pulling them down into the earth.

He offered a silent prayer that everyone had made it through the tunnels.

The main force of the storm reached them, and the rain that pelted his face felt more like stones than water. Water dripped down his back and filled his boots.

Finally, the landslide slowed to a stop.

“We have to hurry,” Tybolt shouted. “Before the island splits in half!”

The rain poured in torrents so thick Tybolt could barely see, but even through the blur the walls of the city quivered and rolled with the earth—just the way they were designed. But the force of the earthquake still increased, and the sudden jolts were too violent to expect any structure made of stone to withstand, no matter how well designed.

The front gates banged open and shut with violent tenacity. Asher threw himself between the two wooden jaws and forced them open. Auriella turned to the side and wiggled into the city. Tybolt was about to squeeze through when he hesitated. What if the thieves hadn’t been able to destroy the markings? In order to check he’d have to actually step in and look around the corner. The last thing Rowan needed right now was more power.

“Tybolt!” Asher shouted, his face a mask of pain as he strained under the weight of the wood and the strength of the wind. “What are you waiting for?”

“The markings, I need to make sure they’re gone,” he called as loudly as he could. Auriella moved to the side to check, then motioned for him to enter. The thieves had succeeded!

He hadn’t taken a step before a figure from inside the city slipped around Auriella and through the door.

Tybolt grabbed him by the shoulders. “Malachi! What are doing out here? Get somewhere safe!”

“I’m here to take you to the entrance to the tunnels. The city is divided—some fight for you, others against. We have a path set to get you across, but we must hurry!”

“And they sent you?” Malachi’s shoulders slumped at the insult, and Tybolt was afraid the wind might carry him away.

“Tybolt!” Asher roared.

“Never mind, move. Quickly.”

The city was in chaos. Men fought in the streets with whatever weapons they could find: swords, pitchforks, wooden slats. A scrawny villager flew out of an open doorway into the street, no doubt sent by a wizard. Tybolt shoved Malachi through the gates and followed right behind.

Asher let the door slam shut, but then he cried out as an arrow went through his shoulder.

“Get behind the house!” Tybolt shouted to Malachi. He grabbed Asher and pulled him with them. Auriella whirled and grabbed her bow, getting off a shot before they’d reached shelter.

Asher leaned against the side of the house. “Where’d that come from?” He gripped the shaft and grunted as he snapped it off, leaving the tip inside.

“There are archers on the roofs,” Auriella said, sliding back behind the house. She shoved her wet hair out of her face. “With this wind, every shot is counting on dumb luck.”

“Lucky me.” Asher threw the broken arrow to the ground.

A burst of bright magic arched overhead and smashed into the offending villager. The man fell from the roof, bow still in hand.

“We have to hurry, Master Tybolt.” Malachi peeked around the house. “I don’t know how long the wizards can hold the path. The villagers are angry. They’re blaming this weather on them.”

One of the gates to the city succumbed to the weather and was ripped off. The door took flight and smashed into the first building it encountered, shattering into a thousand pieces of shrapnel.

Terric stormed through the opening. Tybolt had no idea how he’d avoided the landslide, but here he was. In the cold, the wound on his face nearly glowed red—he panted with a crooked smile on his lips.

“I don’t have time for this,” Tybolt said.

“I’ll deal with Terric,” Auriella said.

“No.”

“I have an issue to settle with him, and you have to stop Rowan.” Auriella set her jaw and raised her chin. “If you don’t, we’ll lose everything.

“She’s right.” Asher held out his hand. “Auriella, give me your bow. I’ll cover Tybolt from the roofs.”

“Asher,” Tybolt said. “It’s no good in this wind—”

His eyes twinkled as he took the bow and quiver. “Don’t worry about me. You have your skills, I have mine.”

Malachi tugged anxiously on Tybolt’s sleeve. “Master Tybolt, let’s go!”

“Auriella, we can deal with Terric later. After—”

“He has my father.” Auriella stepped out into the storm and headed straight for Terric.

Terric saw the incoming threat and his lips twisted. Tybolt had seen that particular smile many a time. It was the one Terric wore whenever he was about to inflict pain.

Asher bolted next, moving to the roof in a single leap while Terric was distracted.

Auriella could handle herself against Terric, this much he knew. That didn’t mean he wanted to let her. But this time he had to. Too much was at stake. Tybolt growled under his breath and turned, following Malachi in the opposite direction.

It was a strange sensation. He could see men fighting each other in the streets and the telltale red of arrow fletching cutting through the air, but the wind howled so fiercely over the pounding of the rain that he couldn’t hear the shouts or the clang of swords. An arrow thudded into the wall of the home ahead of him, but he didn’t hear the thwack as it bit into wood.

They slipped through an alleyway and found Alistair waiting at the end. “Ready?” he asked.

Before Tybolt could answer, Tilly came pounding around the corner on her horse with two more Hunters behind. Both they and their horses were filthy and bloodied. How they’d survived the Fracture, he had no idea.

Alistair grabbed Tybolt and pulled him close enough to make sure he was heard. “You can’t fight three Hunters and Rowan! Go! I’ll keep them away from the palace. Once you get in the tunnels, keep going until you can’t go any further. There’s a ladder at the end that will bring you up to a secret passageway that runs through the walls of the castle. Go to the right. Push the smallest brick and a door will open. This will bring you out between the throne room and the royal bedroom.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but instead he gave a firm nod and spun out into the open, firing off spells that brought a house crumbling down in the Hunters’ path.

Tybolt bolted behind him, heading for the little house he’d always known as Gamel’s. He was nearly at the front door when a load of stones broke free from the top of the wall and smashed through the roof. Tybolt jumped back, running into Malachi. He turned and covered the boy until the stones stopped falling.

“Demon spawn,” Tybolt swore. “Where’s the entrance?”

“The back room—the door’s beneath the bed.”

Tybolt jerked the front door open with some effort. It was leaning just far enough to the side that the bottom was jammed into the floor. He ran through the hall, leaping over several blocks, and skidded to a stop at the bedroom.

The bed itself had been crushed by several large stones. He heaved the stones to the side and kicked the shattered frame out of the way. The ring was under the rug, and he jerked the top open. Above him, Tybolt heard the grinding of stone on stone just over the howl of the wind. He looked up through the hole in the roof to see the city wall leaning in.

“Down! Now!” Tybolt grabbed Malachi and threw him down the shaft, leaping in behind him. The door slammed shut moments before getting hammered with falling bricks. “Malachi,” he called. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” He groaned. “I think.”

The tunnel was pitch black. “Light.” Tybolt’s fingers glowed and their surroundings came into view. Down here the wind and the chaos was muted.

“Wow.” Malachi stared at Tybolt’s fingers in wonder. “Can you do that anytime you want?”

Tybolt almost laughed at the expression on his face, but all too familiar cracks were running up and down the walls. A clod of dirt dislodged from the ceiling and smashed just behind Malachi. “Run!”

They hadn’t made it more than a few feet before Malachi stumbled and fell. The tunnel behind them couldn’t take any more weight and it gave way, dumping earth and bricks. Tybolt jerked Malachi to his feet and pushed him forward at a dead run.

The tunnel continued to collapse, racing at them, reaching with filthy fingers while sending a thick dust cloud billowing up. The debris blinded and choked them.

Malachi fell again and Tybolt groped for him, losing valuable seconds. There wasn’t time for this—one more fall and they were both done. He threw the boy on his back and ran as fast as he could.

Rocks and dirt bit at his heels, letting him know exactly how close they were to death. Finally the surface beneath his feet changed and the rumbling ceased. Tybolt slowed to a stop, coughing out dirt as he dropped Malachi to the ground.

He held up his hands again. “Light.”

From what he could tell through the haze, they were in a stone tube now, bricked from top to bottom. He shone the light behind them—they were completely sealed in by a wall of collapsed earth.

“I say we go that way,” Malachi said, pointing away from the blocked exit.

“Yes, excellent idea,” Tybolt huffed. “That way.”

A fire burned in Auriella’s chest that warmed her from the inside, despite the freezing rains. She raised her sword, gripping harder to account for the slickness of the hilt. She wished she had some gloves.

Terric pulled his sword and strode forward to meet her. “Where’s Tybolt?” he yelled over the storm.

“Where’s my father?”

“Tybolt first.”

“If you want Tybolt, you’ll have to go through me.” Auriella inclined her chin.

“I would’ve gone through you anyway, you demonic little wench. Just for the fun of it.”

She took her stance. “I’ve already shredded your face. Are you sure you want more?”

His humor fled and he leapt, sword overhead.