Page 59 of Witchcraft and Fury (Chronicles of the Divided Isle #1)

‘I’ve decided to return to my mother and brother,’ she said. ‘I’m no witch. Loveday didn’t choose me for any particular talent he saw in me. You heard him in the throne room. You raided his mind with me. I don’t belong here. ’

‘What?’ said Cal, not hiding his dismay. ‘Solar, you can’t leave! Not now!’

‘Why?’ asked Solar lifelessly. She felt as if a lead brick were in her stomach, weighing her down.

She had first noticed it when Storrbury had delivered his news, his face ashen and serious.

Now she realised that it had been there ever since Loveday’s betrayal, ever since she had learned that she was not special, but just an ordinary girl caught up in his plot for power.

‘Because Ashwood needs strong women such as yourself!’ Cal said fiercely, his eyes bright with passion and conviction.

‘It needs witches who are clever, brave and loyal. And my sister Lizbeth needs you! So do Bear, Pingot, Oswald, Wyman and I. Do you think we would have survived Gib Ralston or defeated the Twin Killer if it were not for you?’

‘But Loveday—’

‘Loveday may not have chosen you for honest reasons, but even a blind man can see that you are twice the magician he will ever be! And the king himself has chosen a new magic instructor for us, and will name him this week. Rumour has it that this wizard has vast power and wisdom.’

Solar smiled weakly, feeling the lead brick grow just a little lighter. ‘You mentioned your sister. Why does she need me?’

‘Because you are all she has talked about since she arrived at the capital. How you are the first witch to study at a royally sanctioned encampment in a century. How you bested Gib Ralston in combat. How you helped save the king’s life.

It’s all grown a little tedious, if I’m honest. But you are an inspiration to her, and she hopes to be like you one day.

You’ll break her heart if you stop practising magic. ’

‘That’s sad,’ said Solar, turning away to face the separated cities of Riverhawk and Khylfierum.

Under the falling snowflakes they had a tragic beauty that tugged at Solar’s heartstrings.

‘Lizbeth will never study magic as I have done, for no other rover will take on a female trainee. Loveday was the exception.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ said Cal, moving to her side and leaning against the battlements dusted with snow. ‘The king offered us rewards for thwarting Loveday. I asked him to grant my sister a place to study magic when she turns seventeen.’

‘And?’ asked Solar, feeling a flicker of hope. ‘What did he say?’

‘He asked the rovers of the realm to volunteer to teach her. He did not demand it, but mentioned you as an example of a model witch and student. Three came forward – three of Ashwood’s greatest wizards, in fact. Lizbeth can take her pick.’

Solar felt the flicker burst into a blaze of unbridled joy.

Her mouth broke into a wild grin, and she turned to Cal with elation dancing in her eyes.

She felt like hugging him again, only out of happiness this time.

But just then she heard more footsteps climbing the stairs at a run, and moments later Bear, Pingot, Oswald and Wyman appeared, panting for breath.

‘Isn’t anyone attending the banquet?’ asked Solar, still grinning, but then she saw the scroll that Bear was clutching. ‘What’s that?’ she asked sharply.

‘An urgent scroll for you, from Storrbury!’ declared Bear, gasping. ‘He collared us just as we were about to enter the feast hall. Said it was vital we find you immediately and show you it. Said it was of the utmost importance.’

Solar snatched it from his grasp, the smile wiped from her face. Her heart pounded in her chest. What could it be? Final confirmation that her father was lost forever? Or a reason to hope? She unrolled it with fumbling fingers and read out loud:

Solar,

I am aware that our conversation last night, and the scroll I left you with, caused you much distress.

Such news is hard to bear, even for those who have weathered many winters and are well versed in loss.

But you are so young. I worry that I was the wrong person to have delivered such terrible news, and that perhaps it should have been one of your friends.

Solar stopped reading. She felt sick. Storrbury had got one thing right: the old greybeard had been the wrong person to deliver the news.

And she couldn’t stomach another of his scrolls, especially if it were simply an apology.

Her father was gone forever, and now even letters from the head of the king’s Magic Circle were meaningless.

She suddenly had no desire whatsoever to carry on reading and was overcome with fury at Storrbury for having written such empty words.

‘What a waste of parchment,’ she said with disgust, and made to toss it over the battlements.

The others, horror-struck, all lunged for it, but for once Pingot was quickest. He snatched the scroll out of her hand, darted out of her reach and continued reading:

I have therefore chosen to entrust the delivery of further news to your classmates.

After the issuing of my orders to cease the search for your father, which were made in the belief that there was no longer any reason to hope for a successful outcome, one of my agents in the Arid Lands decided to pursue one final line of enquiry before ending his efforts.

Solar, I must ask that, before reading any further, you resolve not to set your hopes too high. I do not wish to raise them, only for them to be dashed again. For though this agent of mine has found your father alive, he is in captivity, having been taken as a prisoner of war and sold into slavery.

His master is a powerful local lord, with no love for the Kingdom of Ashwood.

My agent has of course asked for your father’s release, but his master refused even after having been offered vast sums. I cannot order my agent to try and break your father free, for fear of starting a war that could cost this kingdom, yet again, thousands of lives.

I know that this news will come as a shock to you. But it is an improvement on last night’s, and with time I hope that you will come to accept it as such. Do not torment yourself with thoughts of rescue.

Yours,

Kenric Storrbury

Solar gripped the battlements for support. ‘My father is alive …’ she whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

‘In a foreign land,’ said Wyman.

‘Held by a powerful local lord,’ added Oswald.

‘Just waiting to be rescued,’ said Cal.

‘But … but I’d need a staff … an ash staff. Venturing abroad and breaking him free will require serious, powerful magic. And,’ she added, feeling her spirits drop, ‘I still have two more pendants to gain before I can carve one.’

‘Just one more to gain, I think you mean,’ said Bear. ‘Storrbury said you might also like to know that there’s going to be another ceremony held in the coming days, where you’ll be awarded a pendant for your role in thwarting Loveday’s plot. I think he hoped that news would be some consolation.’

Solar looked at him, speechless, excitement rising within her. She only had to complete one more magical mission under a new instructor, and then she was going to rescue her father!

‘And don’t you think for one moment that you’ll be travelling to the Arid Lands alone,’ said Pingot. ‘I’m going with you, for one. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, we’re all going with you.’

**