The Heir (Heirs Trilogy 1) (On Hold)

Chapter 8. The Warlock

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The horses neigh weakly.

'They are tired' Fraskeir commented, to which Tyrill replied 'I do know that but we don't know anyone around here to make a quick stop'.

'You walked on because you didn't know any parts of this village? Elf I was born here. You could have asked me' Fraskeir spat. 'I had better things in my mind than ask a bard direction' Tyrill laughed.

Both of them stared daggers at each other.

'I could hit you with my lute. But my manners say otherwise' growled Fraskier and Tyrill held his sword and growled back 'I invite you to a bet then-'.

Their insolent bickering was suddenly put to a stop by the sound of calm snores.

Fraskier bit the inside of his cheek to suppress the booming laughter inside him. Tyrill coughed in an attempt to wake Aerona up, but to avail. Tyrill got off his horse and held the reins of Aerona's horse and led it along with his.

'We will make a stop to a local stable and walk to the grand library from there' Tyrill put forward and Fraskier agreed with a solemn nod.

The villagers were staring rudely at Aerona as she slept on top her horse. Her face on its long glossy neck. The horse obviously tired and feeling her weight heavily.

Fraskier looked at Tyrill and opened his mouth to say something, when he decided aganist it as he thought Tyrill might rebuke it.

But Tyrill made eye contact with him and said 'I have to wake her up, shouldn't I?'. Fraskier nodded and said 'My thoughts exactly'. But none of them seem to want to wake the peaceful Almeris.

Tyrill heaved a sigh and tapped on her shoulder.

Aerona groaned and popped her eyes open. 'Why did you wake me up?' she asked, 'Because it's time you awoke from your slumber' Tyrill shot.

'It seems you have a death wish' mumbled Aerona as silently as possible and it came out as an annoying whish of breath.

****

A few paces had done it. The horses would walk no more.

Tyrill didn't want to force them, nor did Fraskier. Aerona was silently twirling a lock of her horse's black hair.

Fraskier said 'There's a stable a few blocks away. We could take our herd there but they refuse to take another step'. He went towards the horses, patted their hair, neck, placed his forehead on theirs, whispered neighs and low rumble.

'Beast Lore...' Tyrill mumbled to Aerona.

She looked at him confused.

'I wanted to learn Beast and Wood Lore when I was young. But they said I was not capable enough to try it, my magic was not sound enough to attempt the devine art of nature' he said as he watched Fraskier murmur and argue with the horses as they neigh angrily.

'It does not seem as it's working Lord Tyrill' Aerona sighed. Tyrill remarked 'They truly are tired and Fraskier is arguing them to move on. They won't listen to kindness unless they see benefits'.

Aerona looked at Fraskier then to Tyrill. She was contemplating the situation and understood Fraskier truly wasn't being nice to horses.

She slowly touched Tyrill's hand and he looked at her with his piercing white eyes.

Those eyes held her staring for a moment but she pulled herself to reality and said 'Back at Dorkfume, you appeased the horses with a song...an Elvish song, did you not?'.