Darkness Falls

By Scott Wojo

Draken hunts the heirs just as he hunted the Ancients. They must die. Every single one of them...

Keir spent his childhood escaping Trell’s lessons to explore the forests of Wizards' Vale—he was terrible at wizardry anyway. But a mysterious guest destroys his simple life. Now Keir is running, desperately trying to stay one step ahead of Draken’s assassins. He, Trell, a troublesome eldra girl named Aziza, and their companions must rescue the heir to the Almatian Throne.

But Keir soon discovers that saving the heir is not enough. He must also unlock the secrets of his past—secrets that hold the key to saving everything he knows and everyone he loves. But the secrets lead to a terrifying conclusion—he’s on a collision course with his most frightening nightmare.

Meanwhile, the Almatian Alliance struggles to survive Draken’s ever-increasing threats. Their last and final hope is to fulfill the HeartStone Prophecy—a prophecy given by a secret society of wizards called the Ancients. But no one understands the prophecy and no one has seen an Ancient in a hundred years. And Draken isn’t the only one threatening to topple the fragile Almatian Alliance.

Can Keir and his companions rescue the heir before it’s too late? Can they install the High King on the Almatian Throne? Can they figure out the prophecy’s meaning? Can they unlock the power of the HeartStone—the most powerful magical device the world has ever known?

Read Darkness Falls, the first book in the HeartStone Prophecy series, to discover how the struggle begins.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scott Wojo
• Release date: Dec 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9780997047707

Scott Wojo

Scott Wojo was born and raised in California except for a short time he lived in the midwest. He has an undergraduate degree in English and Comparative Literature from the University of California, Irvine and later returned for his MBA. He has worked in banking, education and research and written marketing pieces and training and educational materials in all three fields. He lives in the Los Angeles area with his beautiful wife and four imaginative and energetic children.Scott’s love of reading came from his great aunts and grandma. They bought all sorts of novels. Once they’d read a book, they’d throw it in a paper grocery bag. Once filled, the bags got passed from one aunt to the next and even made it to his own home. Scott spent many summer days and nights reading (fewer electronics then!) Of course, the downside was that the aunts read no fantasy or sci-fi novels (Scott’s favorites) and way too many romances.Scott discovered his love of writing at this time as well. He wrote his first stories for the girl next door. The main character was a worm. He and his bug-friends went on educational adventures while trying to escape snail bullies. The girl didn’t find the stories nearly as entertaining as Scott had hoped. Think it was the bugs? He hopes that his current works better fit his audience.

Book preview

The HeartStone Prophecy:

Darkness Falls

~

Scott Wojo

Copyright 2015, Scott Wojo

All rights reserved.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

First Edition, 2015

Los Angeles, California

Digital Edition ISBN: 978-0-9970477-0-7

Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-9970477-1-4

Library of Congress Control Number:  2016900079

Cover illustration and design by Arthur Numanov

I hope you enjoy reading the book as much as I enjoyed writing it! I’m an independent author hoping to make writing a full-time career. If you liked the book, I’d appreciate positive feedback at your favorite retailer!

If you leave a comment on a website or blog, send me an e-mail so I can thank you personally!

You can reach me at:

www.scottwojo.com

You’ll find me on Facebook and goodreads as well!

For the four most important heirs in my life:

Caleb, Megan, Micah and Eli

And to the glue who holds us all together:

Dawn

Table of Contents

Map

1: Trespassing

2: The Visitor

3: Eldramhome

4: Family

5: Escapes

6: Leaving Home

7: Secrets

8: Memories

9: The Spy

10: Arnak

11: Midnight Meetings

12: Wrong Turns

13: Eldraka Tricks

14: The Arnak Market

15: The Docks

16: Return to the Keep

17: A Most Dangerous Dinner

18: Rold

19: A Stealthy Departure

20: Swords and Sharp Edges

21: Friends or an Extra Pair of Eyes or Something

22: Naka’al

23: The Woman in Red

24: Rumann Jarom

25: Passages and Secrets

26: Interrogation

27: At Sea

28: All Clear

29: Elves Ho!

30: The Grove

31: The Woman in the Garden

32: Land’s End

33: The Isle

34: Maaken

35: An Ancient

36: Dragons, Death and Decisions

37: Leaving Alain

38: Almatia

Connect With Scott

Acknowledgements

Map

Map design by Arthur Numanov

To view this map on a webpage, please visit www.scottwojo.com

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Chapter 1

Trespassing

Keir leaped over the fern and landed on the springy moss. He spun and pressed his back against the gnarled oak. His breath came fast; his heart pounded. He adjusted his footing as he began to sink into the undergrowth. He twisted around the oak, peering into the clearing. It was there. He jerked his head back, not wanting to be seen. Quickly, he nocked an arrow. His fingers and thumb tightened against the smooth shaft and spiky feathers. He pulled the string. In one slow, fluid motion, he leaned around the tree, aiming into the clearing.

Sunlight pierced the forest canopy, striking the ferns and moss that grew between the fallen trees. The autumn leaves colored the light, giving the forest a warm glow. Keir focused on his target: a mound of yellowed grass near the clearing’s center. Any time now, he thought. The bowstring bit into his callused fingers; a dull ache spread across his shoulders and crept down his arm. You can’t hide forever.

Two elongated, pointed ears peaked above the mound. Keir’s breath caught in his throat. Instinctively, he pulled back on the string. He’d missed his shot earlier this morning. It was a rare miss and it didn’t sit well with him. He’d justified the miss: the cougar’s scream had distracted him. But the excuse was thin and he knew it. Keir shook his head to dismiss the thoughts. He focused on his target. This one would not get away.

The ears twitched nervously. They dropped behind the mound. Keir leaned forward, expecting his prey to try to escape, to dart into the surrounding brush. Long moments passed. Keir eased off the string a bit, but not much.

A chill ran down his spine. Eyes were on him. He knew it. He broke into a cold sweat, but he would not give up his prey. The watcher had been with him all morning—ever since he’d crossed the Kater, the river that marked the northern edge of Wizards’ Vale. Did a twig snap behind him? Heart pounding, he risked a quick glance. No one was there.

It had to be the cougar. The cat must be waiting for the right moment to pounce. It thought it could make Keir do all the work and it would steal the prize. It had better think again.

Over his heart’s thudding, Keir strained to catch any sound that might reveal the watcher’s location. He heard the distant rumble as the Kater River cascaded over one of its many cataracts. Birds cawed, their cries cutting through the low rumble. Leaves rustled as the wind pushed through the branches, but no sounds betrayed the watcher.

Keir had to focus. If he didn’t, he’d lose another rabbit. He exhaled, feeling the air slide out of his lungs. He ignored his now-throbbing arm. He pulled the string tighter, aiming at the yellowed grass.

Long ears poked above the grass as if the rabbit also sensed the watcher’s departure. It hopped onto the mound. Keir waited. Two years ago he would have taken the shot, but his hunting skills now told him he’d get a better shot if he was patient.

The rabbit’s nose twitched as it sniffed the air. It sat up, revealing its white belly. Then it turned its head. That’s what Keir had waited for. The bowstring twanged. The arrow zinged over the brush and lanced the rabbit’s eye. The impact knocked the rabbit back; it skittered into the brush.

Keir ducked under low-hanging branches and trotted toward the arrow’s fletching that stood like a flag above the yellowed grasses. Keir knelt. It was a clean kill. He yanked the arrow out, cleaned the tip quickly and jammed it into his quiver. He examined the rabbit, turning the limp, warm body back and forth. Other than the arrow wound, the rabbit’s brown hide and white underside showed no blemishes. It was smaller than the one he’d caught earlier, but Trell would still be proud. Keir jumped to his feet and slipped the rabbit into his canvas hunting bag.

Suddenly, the hair on his neck stood on end. Eyes bored into him. Keir dove to the ground, sinking into the cushion of leaves. His heart hammered. The watcher had him trapped in the clearing just as he had trapped the rabbit. Slowly, Keir lifted his head. Stretching and twisting as much as he dared, he searched the patches of light and dark. He saw no one, heard no one.

Frustrated, Keir dropped his head. Someone was out there. He knew it. Every instinct honed from years of hunting screamed it. And yet the watcher evaded every hunting skill he had. The thick, dusty smell of decaying leaves filled his nostrils. He had no choice. He had to try magic. Trell would be angry if he found out, but using magic was the least of Keir’s offenses this morning—and he’d only use wizard’s sight. At least it was one spell he did well.

Keir half-closed his eyes and willed his tight muscles to relax. Inhaling, he drew in power. Exhaling, he breathed life into the spell. He pushed his thoughts through the clearing and into the embracing limbs of the trees. His thoughts laced between the trunks and limbs like the gossamer strands of a spider’s web. The auras of the rocks, trees and grasses leapt into his mind’s eye. Birds, mice and even a few rabbits moved along the fringe of his consciousness; insects flashed like sparks in his mind. As the spell spread, the feeling of the watcher retreated. Could the watcher sense the magic?

Keir pushed his thoughts further, trying to catch the escaping watcher. He found the cougar. It crept through the forest, but it was too far away to be the watcher. Further out, he sensed the energy of water: a strong flow from the Kater to the south and, in front of him, the fainter pulse of a small waterfall dropping into pond and stream. He sensed something else, too. Something ancient. Magic? It emanated from the glade. It was curious, but it was not the watcher.

Keir pulled his thoughts back. The auras faded. Feeling his failure, Keir pounded his fist into the spongy ground. The forest was his domain; no one should be able to hide from him here—even without wizard’s sight.

The watcher gone, Keir pushed himself to his knees. Wet leaves stuck to his right hand. He tried to shake the leaves free, but a mixture of slime and rabbit blood glued the leaves to his palm. He grabbed a wad of dried leaves, hoping it would soak up the slime. It didn’t. Now crunched bits of leaves stuck to the slime. His day was quickly going downhill and now he needed to wash his hands.

Keir climbed to his feet. With a watcher trailing him, he knew he should return to Wizards’ Vale, but curiosity tugged at him. It was still early and he’d not explored this part of the forest. The watcher was annoying, but so far, harmless. Could he push his luck? He’d just explore the waterfall and pond and wash his hands. Maybe he’d discover the source of the magic he’d sensed, then he’d head home.

Keir jogged up the gentle slope, away from Wizards’ Vale. Who was the mysterious watcher? Wizards’ Vale was too remote for visitors and the few who did come followed the trails. Could it be a fellow apprentice? No. They were too afraid of getting lost. And none of them would break the wizards’ rule and cross the Kater. Could the watcher be a wizard? That didn’t make sense either. A wizard wouldn’t have let him get close to the Kater River. Anyway, they were too busy to bother with following a mediocre apprentice like Keir. An idea struck. Magil? Could it be? Had he returned early? Magil liked games, loved the forest and, though a wizard, he was still young enough to remember what it was like to be an apprentice breaking the rules. That had to be it! Keir laughed. I’ll get you!

Keir discovered the stream. A blackberry thicket protected it. He pushed through the thicket and clambered down the short bank. His boots and heavy trousers protected his legs, but the prickles tried to scratch his face and hands.

The long summer and warm fall had taken a toll on the stream. Keir squatted on a smooth stone next to an eddy. He plunged his hands into the icy water and splashed some on his face and neck. He combed his fingers through his tousled hair. It was late in the season, but he still found a few blackberries. He enjoyed the tang as the fruit burst open in his mouth.

Underbrush choked the slopes. It was a great place to hide, but he couldn’t see out. Magil would never follow him here. No, if he wanted to catch Magil, he’d have to find a better place. And there was still that magic he’d sensed by the pond.

Keir crossed the shallow stream on the smoothed rocks. He trudged up the embankment and pushed through a copse of silvery birches. Tiny gold leaves rained down on him. He emerged in a glade that was startlingly green, as if spring had just arrived. A massive boulder stood sentry in the middle, guarding the broad pond and the waterfall that cascaded from a short cliff beyond. Trees leaned over the glassy water as if trying to protect it. Keir headed toward the pond.

Stop! a voice commanded. How dare you enter my meadow?

Keir jumped. Whirling around, he searched for the speaker. He saw no one. Who’s there?

Why are you in my meadow? the voice demanded. It was definitely not Magil. It was feminine—maybe a girl’s—and it sounded angry.

Your meadow? Keir said, haltingly.

The voice ignored his question. "You have a hunting bag! Have you killed my animals?"

Show yourself! Keir shouted.

The voice ignored him. You have. You’ve killed my animals.

Keir twisted around. The speaker had to be standing between him and the boulder, but he saw no one. What was going on? Should he use magic? It was his only choice. Trying to keep calm, he drew power. He reached out with his thoughts, searching for the speaker. He needed buy some time. No one owns these rabbits, he said. The grasses, the pond, the guardian boulder and trees, all their auras appeared in his mind—but not the speaker.

Oh? Does the wizard-boy play games with me? the voice needled him.

Keir’s heart skipped a beat. How did she know he’d used wizard’s sight? Was she a witch? A pixie? Something worse? I don’t play games with people I can’t see.

The girl laughed. Overhead, the leaves rustled as if they laughed, too. Your magic won’t work on me!

Maybe not that spell, Keir said, but I know others.

Confident for someone who can’t even find me.

Keir’s frustration rose. He clenched his fists. What do you want?

Not much. The voice turned silky. The speaker seemed to move away from him, toward the boulder. Just a small payment for trespassing. And for killing my animals.

I’m not trespassing. I’m an apprentice. This is Wizards’ Vale.

The girl laughed again. Perhaps you should spend less time hunting and more time in your lessons. Wizards’ Vale ends at the Kater River, Keir.

Fear bolted through Keir’s body. Who are you? How do you know me?

I know lots of things, the voice said, for example, I know you’re not supposed to use magic outside the Vale.

This conversation was going the wrong direction. Keir was in trouble. He had to get away. Fast. You know a lot about me, but I know nothing about you. Show yourself.

So insistent, the voice teased. Very well. Two hands appeared, floating in front of him. The hands flipped back the folds of an invisibility cloak and then reached up and flipped back the hood. The woman was young—about Keir’s age. Her hair was golden with streaks of red the color of fall leaves. Her hair was tied in a braid, but unruly strands had broken free. Her clothes were definitely not girl-like. She wore brown trousers and a loose green shirt. Her cloak, now visible, was silvery-gray. She wasn’t quite as beautiful as Tani, but she was close. But there was something more. Keir couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. He feared that if he did, she’d disappear.

A slow, mischievous smile spread on her lips.

Keir’s eyes burned. His lungs ached. He wasn’t blinking or even breathing. A slight shake of her head broke the enchantment. He gasped in the mountain air. He had to regain his equilibrium. Finally, he found words. You’re—, he stammered. He caught himself before saying beautiful. Instead, he said, Your eyes.

Her eyebrow shot up, questioningly.

Your eyes, Keir said again, genuinely intrigued. Her eyes were startlingly green like the color of new growth in spring. They’re like mine. He’d never met anyone with eyes like his.

Silly, she said. Her tone was gentle, but chiding. All eldras have green eyes.

Eldras? Keir repeated the strange word.

The girl’s surprise turned to confusion and then the narrowed gaze of suspicion. Under her breath, she said, Trell’s not told you?

Trell? She knew Trell? How could she know so much about him and he knew nothing about her? Told me what?

Told you that you’re an eldra.

Keir shook his head.

Astonishment was clear on her face. How can he have not told you about your race?

My race? Eldra, you mean?

The girl gave him a look as if he were dim-witted. Keir knew he wasn’t human, but Trell never talked about race. Once, after first meeting an elf, Keir had thought he might have belonged to that race. Trell had dismissed the speculation. Wizards don’t care about race, he’d grumbled, effectively avoiding any answer. Keir never asked again, though he had secretly hoped that he was somehow related to that great race. Out loud, Keir admitted, I’ve never heard of eldras.

The girl shook her head, pursing her pale lips. She looked unhappy. What else has Trell not told you? Do you know who your parents were? Did he tell you about them?

Parents? In fact, Keir didn’t know about his parents. Apprentices left their families early and most had little or no contact with them during their training years. Trell was the only parent Keir had ever known. That was all that mattered. Trell is my family.

Unmoved, the girl stared at him.

Irrational anger bubbled up in Keir. It broke any enchantment she had woven over him. Trell is a great wizard. Keir’s voice sounded too loud. You have no right to question him. I’m leaving.

Keir tried to turn, but his feet were stuck. He lost balance and fell, hitting the ground hard. The wind whooshed from his lungs. He tried to gasp for air.

Long grasses twisted around Keir’s legs; they reached for his arms and chest. Keir tried to kick free, but he couldn’t move his legs. Fear rose in him. He tried to roll to his side, tried to reach his bow or knife. The bow was trapped under him and for some unknown reason he could not pull the knife from its scabbard. The girl approached like a hunter closing in on a wild beast. He had to get away. What could he do? Wizardry. It was his only hope. But what spell? He drew power.

Stop!

Did she know what he was doing?

The girl jumped on top of him. She sat on his stomach, her legs straddling him. Her hands pinned his shoulders to the ground.

Keir tried to break free. The girl couldn’t be that strong. He should be able to launch her into the air. It should be easy to roll her and pin her beneath him just as she now had him pinned. But he couldn’t do it. His torso and legs wouldn’t move. Panic set in. It tasted like bile in his mouth. He arched his back. He twisted his head, trying to find something that could help him.

Look at me! the girl commanded.

Keir clenched his jaw and shut his eyes hard. He kicked against the rope-like grass. He had to get free. He had to think of a spell. Any spell. Not one came to mind. What was happening? Why couldn’t he think?

Look at me. Now the command was soft.

Keir’s breath was ragged. Trell. I must go to Trell, he managed. In futile defiance, he kept his eyes shut.

The girl touched his bare chest where his loose shirt had fallen open. He felt her warm hand against his skin. The touch was gentle.

Look at me, the girl cajoled.

Keir couldn’t resist. His eyes fluttered open, meeting her gaze. Instantly, he was lost. His muscles went limp. The power he had drawn for his spell slipped away. Warmth filled his body like the warmth of bath water seeping into his muscles and bones.

The girl’s lips curled in a smug smile. She leaned into him. Her braid fell from her shoulder. The silver tie that held the braid danced between them. She smelled of flowers and springtime. How will you ever succeed? She shook her head. He’ll kill you before you get close.

The words sailed past Keir like puffy clouds skittering across the pale sky. But even as he lay there, something stirred in him. Something was wrong. Deep down, he knew it. He had to get away. He had to get back to...to wherever he was supposed to go.

You’ll need my help.

Keir tried to think of something to say. He tried to put words together. All that came out was a single word: Go.

The girl’s rosy lips traced a faint smile. Had his resistance pleased her? One thing, first, she said.

Keir tenses. She must have sensed it. She leaned into him, pressing her palm to his chest. Her breath was warm on his face. One little favor. So small, you’ll not even notice.

Keir fought the immediate, visceral impulse to say yes. He had to say no. Words would betray him. He knew that. All he could do was shake his head.

The girl smiled, sat up. Keir hadn’t shaken his head no, but had nodded yes!

The girl pulled a wooden ring from her index finger. A single, dark grain twisted through the paler flesh of the wood. No ornaments, inscriptions or designs marred the smooth surface.

Keir had to resist. This was wrong. He felt the wrongness in his gut, but something fogged his thinking. He felt disconnected from his body. His left hand, now held at the wrist by the girl, floated between them. She slid the ring onto his fourth finger. The wood warmed. The ring clung to his finger, expanding to slide over his knuckle and then narrowing to hug the flesh. Mesmerized, Keir stared at the ring.

The girl’s weight shifted. Keir tore his gaze away from the ring to look at her face. Overhead, the leaves rustled. Sweet autumn smells filled his nostrils.

The girl looked toward the clearing’s edge. You still follow? A frown troubled her lips. I didn’t think you’d need my help so soon.

With her attention divided, the fog cleared from Keir’s mind. Sunlight pierced the thick, wet clouds that suffocated his thoughts. He remembered Trell. He knew he should not have taken the ring. What if it was enchanted? Trell would be mad. But only Trell could help him now. Trell was the Head Wizard of the Wizard’s Council. He could fix anything. But Keir had to get to him. Home, he croaked.

Keir’s voice snapped the girl’s attention back to him. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. She leaned into him. Her weight pressed against his ribcage, compressing his lungs. Her brilliant green eyes locked on his. She whispered, Sleep and remember not, followed by words Keir couldn’t understand.

Warmth flooded Keir’s body. His eyelids, impossibly heavy, closed.

Chapter 2

The Visitor

Keir woke with a start. He blinked and looked around, getting his bearings. How could he have fallen asleep? He couldn’t believe it. What was he thinking? The sun was already sinking in the afternoon sky. Cursing himself, he jumped to his feet. He’d have to hurry to reach Trell’s tower by dusk. He grabbed his bow, quiver and the rabbits. At the meadow’s edge he stopped and looked back. Had he forgotten something? He felt like he had, but he didn’t know what. He ducked under the weeping branches of the birch and slipped into the forest.

~

As the last glimmers of sunlight disappeared behind the jagged western peaks, Keir waded through the yellowed grasses that covered Wizards’ Vale. The oval Vale was pinched on the west end where it rose toward those peaks and on the east where it fell into the ravines that dropped to the Almatian Gulf. On maps or from Dragon’s Ledge, the Vale had a distinctly eye-like shape. A grove of twenty-four trees marked the Vale’s center, their circle outlining the iris. The iris changed colors. It started as grey-brown in the leafless winter, turned vibrant green in spring and then faded through the summer until it turned yellow and gold in the fall.

A brisk breeze swept down from the mountains. It carried the smell of the forest, dried grasses and a hint of smoke from the few towers and cottages that dotted the grassy plain or hid in the surrounding forest. Keir pulled his oft-patched cloak tight against the chill.

Trell’s home guarded the east end of the Vale. It was a solitary tower. Keir had always wondered if some ancient, mysterious builders had started to build a great castle, but had later abandoned the effort after completing just the one tower. If so, any signs of the work on the larger structure had long vanished. Only the single tower remained as a reminder of the unfinished plans.

Built of rough-hewn stone, the tower rose four stories and was capped by a conical, though crooked, copper roof. The roof looked like a later addition—perhaps Trell had added it when he took up residence in the abandoned tower. A lightning-bolt shaped weathervane stuck out of the roof’s point. Countless rainy seasons had turned the copper green and streaked the gray stones.

This was the only home Keir had ever known. He came to the Vale when he was seven, but his memories of life before his arrival were fleeting at best. He thought he might recall the faces of his mother and father, but he wasn’t sure. He remembered tapestries and ornate furniture but he wasn’t sure if the memories were real or some fanciful imagining from a picture-book. In his first memory, he sat on a stool—his stool—in Trell’s tower. From that point on, for better or for worse, he had devoted the next decade to studying under Trell. Keir hadn’t worried much about his family—Trell kept him twice as busy when the other apprentices returned home to visit. And Trell had been enough for Keir. His father and his mother. That suited Keir just fine.

Keir circled to the south side of the tower. Running his hand along the rough stones, he found the triangular stone that jutted out a little further than the others and pressed his hand against the jagged rock. It’s Keir.

The illusion of the stone wall disappeared, revealing a wood door that had weathered gray. Keir pushed the door open. Glowglobes leapt to life in the narrow passage that led through the thick walls to the tower’s central chamber. Tubers and root vegetables overflowed ancient bins. Dried herbs hung from hooks in the ceiling. All the smells mixed together like a stew brewing over a fire. In the middle of the chamber, a metal staircase spiraled up to the more expansive living quarters above.

Voices floated down as Keir mounted the stairs. The first voice he recognized. It was Trell’s steady baritone. The second voice belonged to a woman. Keir slowed. He tried to catch the words. Guests were rare in Trell’s home—especially female guests.

Keir stopped. He’d stay out of sight for a moment and eavesdrop.

Keir, Trell called, spoiling any chance of Keir eavesdropping. It’s about time. I was getting worried.

Caught, Keir bounded up the last few steps. He hoped he didn’t look too guilty. Trell met him on the landing, catching him before he entered the main chamber. What took so long?

Lost track of time, Keir said. He wasn’t about to admit that he’d fallen asleep in a meadow.

Trell took the hunting bag, Good hunting, he said approvingly. Where you’d get them?

Keir couldn’t tell Trell he’d caught them both above the Kater. That would force him to admit he’d broken the second rule: Don’t leave the Vale. That rule and the first, No magic without a wizard, were repeated so often that no apprentice could forget them.

Every time Keir left the tower, Trell reminded him of the first rule—often right after he complained that Keir should be practicing magic instead of tromping through the forest. Keir wished that practicing would help his magic. He wished that just once Trell would warn him not to use magic instead of telling him not to leave the Vale. But Keir was no good at magic. Practice didn’t help. Spells just didn’t work for him. Everyone accepted this except Trell.

But Keir’s failure at magic had led him to what he truly loved: the forest. The first time he’d entered the forest he was running from bullies who teased him about a failed spell. He’d paused at the forest’s edge, caught between the fear of the bullies and the fear of disobeying the wizards. Then he saw Zaara. She wandered into the forest, looking for herbs for one of her potions. He slipped in after her, leaving the bullies behind. Later he followed her on purpose. He’d had so much fun tracking her that he hardly noticed the day he followed her across the Kater.

Those trips led to others. Each trip took him further away from the wizarding world and deeper into the forest. He explored or hunted or just read, soaking in the sights and smells and sounds of the forest. And so Trell’s rule had died a gradual death. But Keir couldn’t tell him that.

As he got older, the wizards and even apprentices grew to appreciate his skills in the forest…or at least the rabbits, deer, fish, nuts,