Read Wizard's Heir (A Bard Without a Star, Book 1) for Free Online

started with the most
interesting thing he could find, a thick book about the second and third Bardic
Wars. It started with Cathbar becoming the Pen Bardd, some three hundred years
after Taliesin founded the bardic order, describing him as a man of great
charisma and influence. The picture on the facing page was gilded all about,
except for the black of Cathbar’s eyes. Gwydion stared at them for a long
time, wondering if they were a part of the truth or not. He felt like he
should know, that the answer was somewhere within hearing...
    He shook himself and turned the
page, concentrating on the words. It took him the next three days to get
through the first half of the volume, reading about how Cathbar had seized the
throne and almost destroyed the bards that opposed him in the second Bardic
war. Then there was a hundred years of peace, during which time it seemed that
Cathbar never grew any older. The bards, reduced to a few men who passed along
the laws and teachings with great fear, did not dare to oppose him until Amergin
came of age, the most powerful bard ever to have lived. That began the Third
Bardic war, and Gwydion spent another week learning how Amergin and the other
bards defeated Cathbar and restored a king to the throne.
    When he finished, he picked up
the book that Bethyl had written. The first two chapters were a history of the
great sword and some of its masters, and he found the short descriptions
intriguing enough to cross reference them in other books. Soon he was absorbed
in his research, studying not just the claymore but all blades, and he began to
see his daily training from a new perspective.
    He started by watching the
practice when he had his rest periods. The books spoke of the different styles
of fighting, and Gwydion soon determined which they were being taught. Falgar
favored strict Cairnecht, but Dylan had obviously been influenced by a
Duvnechtman somewhere along the line. It helped explain why Dylan was master
over all the arms, but Falgar was only master of the sword.
    And then there was Bran, the
claymore master. The more Gwydion watched him, the less he understood. The
man was obviously a master of his craft, but his style was enigmatic,
constantly changing during a melee. Even when training Gilventhy, it looked to
Gwydion like Bran was still holding something back, no matter how hard Gil
pressed him. Gwydion tucked the mystery away in the back of his mind, and
concentrated on applying the book learning to the training ring.

    “Stop! Hold, Ian!”
    Falgar, the sword master,
approached the two boys who had broken off at his command. Gwydion, feeling
better physically since the weather had changed, sat on his haunches while the
old kern showed Ian what he was doing wrong.
    Across the yard, Dylan, the
weapons master, watched it all with a slight frown. Gwydion stared at him with
curiosity and a vague resentfulness until Dylan turned away.
    Falgar finished with Ian and
turned to him. “Nice job,” the sword master said. “You’re improving quickly.”
    Gwydion said nothing, although
his lips tightened into a thin line. He knew that defeating a boy who had been
studying the sword years instead of months deserved more than a pat on the
head, but he also knew his recent successes had earned him more contempt from
the warriors instead of less. Even Gilventhy said he was just lucky. Bran
watched it all with his typical slight smile, saying nothing in either
disparagement or praise.
    That afternoon, he asked Math
about it as the winds whistled around them in playfulness.
    “You are suffering from a case
of exclusion, nephew,” the old man said.
    “But it makes no sense,” said
Gwydion. “I am the heir apparent, and I am learning all that they teach me,
and more. Why do they hate me for fulfilling my responsibilities?”
    Math sighed, and shifted his
feet on Goewin’s lap. “You are discovering the consequences of your former
attitude, for one. You made it clear to everyone that you were