Read Online Return of the Sorceress by Tim Waggoner - Free Book Online

in front of the cottage, peeling potatoes for stew. She looked up to see a horse-drawn wagon approaching across the grassy field, its wheels traveling along well-worn ruts. Sitting in the front and holding the reins was a black-haired man with a curly beard. Next to him sat a thin young girl with shoulder-length black hair.
    Though she had no memory of seeing either of them before, she still knew who they were: her father and younger sister, returned from delivering wood to Ravenscar. Her father was a tall, broad-shouldered man with thick arms and large hands that were perfect for chopping wood. Her sister was shorter than she, and slighter of build, and her hands were thin, with long delicate fingers. They were more the hands of a musician or an artist, Nearra thought.
    Her father gently pulled back on the reins and the piebald mare pulling the wagon—whose name was Grania, Nearra suddenly recalled—slowed to a stop.
    “Here, Jirah.” Father handed the reins to his daughter. “Takethe wagon around back and unhitch Grania. Rub her down and give her food and water.”
    He climbed down from the wagon and Jirah, grinning from ear to ear, gave the reins a flick and Grania began plodding forward.
    Father doesn’t usually allow Jirah to take the reins, Nearra thought. So this is something special for her.
    “You could’ve driven the wagon to Ravenscar and back if you’d gotten up in time,” Father said as he walked toward Nearra.
    Nearra dropped a peeled potato into the wooden bowl at her feet. She stood, laid the paring knife on the stool, then wiped her hands on the rag tucked beneath her belt.
    “That’s all right. I’d rather stay home and help Mother anyway.”
    Her father frowned. “I understand when you asked not to ride along to Cairngorn Keep anymore, but now you won’t even go to Ravenscar.”
    “Leave the girl alone, Eric.” Mother stepped out of the cottage, a stern expression on her face. “You can’t blame her for not wanting to go to either of those godsforsaken places.”
    Eric sighed. “I suppose you’re right, Lanni.” He stepped to his wife’s side, put an arm around her shoulders, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I just want Nearra and Jirah to learn the trade. We won’t always be around to provide for them, you know. And if Nearra won’t ride along—”
    Fear bordering on panic suddenly gripped Nearra. “Don’t say that!”
    Both Eric and Lanni turned to look at her, concerned.
    “Don’t say what?” Eric asked.
    “That you won’t be around someday!” Tears blurred her vision. “It’s an awful, horrible thing to say!” She knew she was overreacting, but she couldn’t help it.
    Eric came over and hugged Nearra. “Hush, child. Everything is all right. Your mother and I might not be youngsters anymore, but I’ll wager we still have quite a few good years left in us. If you don’t want to travel to Ravenscar, you don’t have to, and that’s that.”
    Her father’s voice was kind and soothing, but there was also a core of strength in it that always reassured her as nothing else could. When her father told her that everything would be all right, she believed it. Though she felt safe and protected in her father’s arms and would’ve liked nothing better than to remain standing like this for the rest of her life, she pulled free from Eric’s embrace and took a step back.
    “Father, Mother, I need to talk with you about something.”
    Her parents exchanged a quick glance.
    “You sound so serious,” her mother said. “Is something wrong? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
    Nearra couldn’t help laughing. “Sometimes it seems as if trouble is all I’ve ever known.” She took a deep breath. “Almost a year ago, Maddoc cast a spell on me. He—”
    An ear-splitting roar cut through the air, drowning out the rest of Nearra’s words. A shadow fell over the cottage, and Nearra and her parents looked skyward. Descending toward them, wings spread wide, sunlight