Have 2 Sky Magic (Haven Series 2) by B. V. Larson Read Free Book Online Page A

Jak,” said Brand, feeling like a runaway, a deserter. Jak needed him to keep up Rabing Isle, now more than ever.
    Jak’s eyes opened. “Hello, brother. I feel useless today, of all days.”
    Brand knew no easy way, so he simply blurted out his words. “I’m leaving with the Battleaxe Folk to find Myrrdin.”
    Jak nodded. “Go then. I only wish I were well enough to go with you.”
    “But the Isle, Jak—what will you do?”  Brand asked.
    “It doesn’t matter. You must try to heal the rift, to mend the Pact. There is no more worthy quest.”
    Thus it was decided, and they worked the rest of the day to make their preparations. It seemed to Brand that all the world was soot and ashes and twists of blue smoke. He felt sad and guilty to be leaving his clansmen in such a time of dire need, but in his heart he knew he could better serve them on this mission. In the afternoon they set out on the road to Riverton. There were many hugs, handshakes and tears. Not an eye was dry, with the exception of Modi’s, who only appeared anxious to get moving.

Chapter Seven
    Twrog’s Tree

    After losing his club, Twrog was despondent. At the moment, it had seemed like a fine idea to throw it. He did not regret killing the farmer, nor the stinging arrows the River Folk had left in his hide—but he came to regret the loss of his lucky club.
    As always when he felt poorly, his thoughts turned to a special, secret spot in the Deepwood only he knew about. This spot was open to the sky, yet surrounded by overgrown thickets of thorny plants. Not even deer liked to enter the region for fear of being pierced by the stabbing needles that every twisted vine seemed to produce. It was a private place for Twrog, a spot where he could gather his thoughts and think at his own pace. Barely thinking about it, he set out for the secret glade. He had not been there in many seasons.
    As Twrog strode through the woods, he thought to hear the subtle sounds of pursuit. He glanced back over his shoulder. Something or someone followed him. Probably, the smell of pig’s blood had attracted a scavenger. He still carried three of the pigs he had stolen from the farmer’s pens. He increased his pace through the trees, no longer ambling, but now striding with purpose. His pursuer kept up with him.
    Twrog was not frightened. Rather, he was cunning. He wanted to know the nature of the thing that dared shadow him. By speeding up and discovering the pursuit continued, he knew the other was at the very least persistent.
    After night had fallen, Twrog found a spot strewn with stones and a fallen tree. He halted his march and decided to cook one of the pigs. The odor of seared pig often drove animals mad. With luck, if it was a bear or a dire wolf, the creature would attack and that would be the end of it.
    He labored for minutes with flint and tinder, finally managing to spark a cookfire. This being a large pig, he required a spit of hardwood. He chopped loose a branch of beech with a knife the size of a short sword and whittled the point until it was as sharp as a lance. Poking the pig through end-to-end, he hung it over the fire and turned it now and then. He built the fire up higher, then went to gather wood from the region. Frequently, he flicked his eyes back to the sizzling pig. The smoke and fine smells filled the forest with aromatic clouds. The unguarded pig still remained upon its spit however, unmolested.
    Twrog returned to his camp with an armload of wood and stoked the fire into a fine blaze. He nodded and muttered to himself. Whatever his stalker was—it was a patient creature. Most likely, it was not a beast. Few could have suffered this long in the presence of fresh meat without having revealed themselves.
    After an hour or so of cooking, Twrog ripped loose a meaty haunch. Juices flowed from the rest of the beast into the fire. The fat made the flames sizzle, flare and pop. He opened his mouth, but paused, not placing the meat within. Instead, he