Chapter 18
Tiberius
Tiberius sat down to think. The people who hid the Emerystone only intended for someone with magical power to find it. But Tiberius didn’t know a levitation spell, and he couldn’t think of how to get the box at the bottom of the well out.
“If not for the oil, I could climb down and get the box,” Lexi said. “It doesn’t look that heavy.”
“I can’t figure out how to get past the oil,” Tiberius said.
“Well, it couldn’t have been an easy test, could it? I mean, they didn’t want just anyone being able to retrieve the stone.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I guess I would focus on your most advanced spells,” Lexi explained. “There was too much at stake to risk having someone find the stone and retrieve it because they solved a riddle or knew enough magic to be dangerous. They would only want the most talented wizards to be able to find the stone.”
“That’s right!” Tiberius said excitedly. “The old wizards of the Four Orders insisted that a person master one Order before moving on to the next. And there are three types of spells in the fourth order—basic, intermediate, and advanced. My light spell is a basic spell of the Fourth Order. Maybe that is why this room is so dark.”
“And regular torch or candlelight would be deadly around the oil,” Lexi said encouragingly.
“The long curving hallway ensures that no outside light could reach this inner room. So we had to use the light spell.”
Tiberius’ mind was suddenly reeling with possibilities. If using the basic spell for light was the first test to finding the Emerystone, could the oil be a second, more difficult test? He thought about the intermediate spells of the Fourth Order. The basic fire spell grew into the lightning spell. But that wouldn’t help them inside the sturdy dome-shaped building. Even if he conjured lightning inside the dome, it would ignite the oil. The basic light spell graduated to focused light. It was a very powerful spell, one that Tiberius had used to cut through stone and metal when the wizard at Devonyr had captured him and shackled him to the wall. It might be possible to use the focused light spell to cut a hole in the side of the well and drain the oil out, but it would take a massive amount of work. It would also destroy the dome, and the heat from the spell could ignite the oil, just like lightning would.
The third basic spell was wind, which in the intermediate stage became a cyclone. At first Tiberius couldn’t imagine how the cyclone spell could help him with the oil, but then he realized that it might be possible to spin the oil. As a child he loved to swirl his drinks with a spoon until they resembled a whirlpool. He would imagine himself onboard a tiny ship trying to survive the swirling waters. Of course he could never swirl the water or juice fast enough to create a proper whirlpool, but with the strength of the cyclone, it might be possible.
“I have an idea,” Tiberius said. “It might work, but it’s risky.”
“Tell me,” Lexi said.
“I think it might be possible to use my cyclone spell to spin the oil, creating a tunnel down to the box.”
“A tunnel?” Lexi asked, not understanding.
“Yes. See when the liquid is spinning, the sides rise up, and the middle dips down. It’s like a whirlpool.”
“And you think you can do that with the oil?”
“Maybe,” Tiberius said. “None of the other spells have a chance of helping.”
“So then I could climb down and get the box,” Lexi said.
“No, the walls will be covered with the spinning oil.”
“So how do we get the box?”
“I’ll have to lower you down with a rope.”
“You’re going to lower me down into a whirlpool of oil, while casting the spell?”
“Two spells,” Tiberius said. “If you want to be able to see, that is.”
“Tiberius, I trust you. If you think you can do it, I’ll try. But you do know that if something happens, I’ll probably drown in the oil.”
“Yes, and I would never let that happen,” Tiberius said. “Let me just see if the spell will even work. If it does, then we’ll try and lower you down.”
Lexi nodded and stepped back. She retrieved the long coil of rope that Tiberius had brought and began inspecting it. Tiberius got on his knees and stared down into the well. He had never cast two spells of the Fourth Order at the same time. There was nothing in his book of magic that warned him against such a feat, but he knew the toll that casting the powerful intermediate spells took on him. The need for total concentration was so high that he wasn’t sure he could control both the cyclone and the light spell, not to mention holding up Lexi’s weight.
Still, he didn’t feel like he had a choice. They had to get the Emerystone, and he could see no other way to get past the oil well. He closed his mind and concentrated on the light spell. Over the past several hours, he’d gotten used to having the magical portal open. It was almost like having a ringing in his ears. He was always aware of it, but his mind had gotten used to blocking the distraction out of his conscious thoughts. He only hoped he could keep it up while he cast another spell, but there was only one way to find out.
“
Furibundus Nimbosus
,” he whispered softly. “
Furibundus Nimbosus
.”
He chanted the spell over and over, keeping the light portal at bay, while pushing the powerful magic of the cyclone winds down into the well. He opened his eyes once he heard the sounds of the thick liquid beginning to stir.
“
Furibundus Nimbosus
,” he chanted a little louder, as he watched the amber-colored oil beginning to spin around the sides of the well.
His heart was beating fast, and he was using only the slightest hold on the cyclone. The well was the perfect container for the powerful force, so he didn’t have to wrestle with controlling where the wind tunnel went. It was a static spell, and the oil was so thick he could let the spell erupt at almost full force. His mind felt as if it were pulling in opposite directions, but he felt strong enough to control the magic, which was exactly what he hoped to be able to do.
“It’s working,” he said loudly, then continued to chant the spell.
“Wow!” was all Lexi said.
Looking down in the well, the oil was spinning at an incredible speed, racing around the edges of the well and just below the lip. The center of the well was empty, although the rushing walls of liquid narrowed toward the bottom. He could see the box at the bottom, glistening from the oil but very plain.
“Can you get it?” Tiberius asked.
“If you can get me down there,” Lexi said.
Bracing himself on the edge of the well was the most difficult part of their plan. The well was too large in diameter for him to straddle, so he was forced to stand on one side and hold the rope out over the empty space so that Lexi, with her feet tied securely to the rope, could be lowered down into the well.
“Here goes nothing,” she said with a mischievous grin. “You better not drop me.”
“Never,” Tiberius said.
The truth was, he was already feeling the strain, but he knew he couldn’t let go of his control over the two spells he had cast. He chanted the incantation for the cyclone spell silently in his mind as he watched Lexi ease herself into the dark hole. There was just enough space at the top of the well that Lexi could center her body by holding onto the edges. The oil was spinning just below her hands, and Tiberius tensed as Lexi lifted her legs up into the air. He pulled the rope, which was wrapped over his shoulder, so that she could hang out over the empty portion of the vortex.
The strain on Tiberius’ back was excruciating, but he didn’t budge. The fate of the woman he loved hinged on his will and strength, so he focused his mind like iron and slowly let the rope slide down.
Lexi had spread the rope out along the floor so that it wouldn’t get tangled. Tiberius let the rope slide under one boot, using his weight to control the speed of her descent. Pulling her up would be even more difficult, but he tried not think about that. The rope ran up the inside of Tiberius’ leg, around his hip and across his back, then over his shoulder and out to the hands that suspended Lexi over the well. The rope burned like fire across his flesh, rubbing the skin raw beneath his thick tunic. Both of his hands cramped, but he needed to do things slowly. He was fortunate that the well wasn’t too deep and Lexi, lithe and short, didn’t weight too much.
Sweat broke out all over his body, and his breathing quickly turned into a ragged puffing. Every muscle was flexed with the effort of holding Lexi up. She hung upside down, slowly descending down into the dark well. The small sphere of light hovered just above her shoulder, but there was nothing to see except the swirling oil and the metal box at the bottom of the well. Tiberius could see Lexi’s body, spinning slightly on the end of the rope. His arms and shoulders were shaking, and he was afraid he might drop her, when suddenly the weight eased. The muscles in his back stung as they slowly relaxed, and sweat dripped from his forehead only to be lost in the swirling oil.
Looking down, he could see that Lexi had reached the bottom of the well. There wasn’t enough room for her to turn or stand up, but she was able to hold up most of her own body weight. Fear that had been crouching in the back of Tiberius’ mind suddenly sprang up. He wasn’t sure if he could lift her back out. His body was exhausted, and his mind was pinched with the strain of keeping both spells going.
A tremor passed through his body, making him groan in agony, but he couldn’t let go of the rope. If Lexi fell or even swayed into the oil, she would be slung around by the force of the cyclone spell, bashing her delicate body into the stone walls of the well. He couldn’t let anything go, couldn’t relax, and couldn’t give up. But suddenly, the mental strain was too much, and the light from Tiberius’s spell vanished, plunging the entire structure into darkness.
Chapter 19
Rafe
Rafe was nervous. He hated the fact that his own people made him nervous, but the last time the entire city had been gathered by the city’s main gate had been Rafe’s banishment. That crowd had been so ugly he couldn’t help but worry that the new crowd might turn that way, as well. The news Earl Ageus was about to give them wouldn’t be well received by most of the people. And if they decided to riot the way the people of Hamill Keep had, not even the earl’s war band would be able to stop them.
The problem, Rafe thought, was that he knew too much. Only a few months ago he felt like the world was a wonderful place, full of opportunity, but now he knew how fleeting life really was. Outside of Avondale, the world was a much different place. Even in the cities of Valana, life could be much more difficult. People were capable of doing good things, but evil seemed much easier and much more prevalent.
The earl’s personal guard escorted Ageus up onto the wide gatehouse, which, along with the surrounding buildings and the wide boulevard in front, formed a sort of amphitheater. Earl Ageus raised his hands, and the crowd quieted considerably, but he would still have to shout to be heard by everyone.
Olyva looked nervous, too. The earl was about to introduce her and officially put her in charge of the city’s evacuation. Not everyone who had seen the noble-born but Hosscum-touched lady approved. The earl’s daughters, surprisingly enough, had grown quite fond of her, but many of the other ladies of the city’s elite families had made their disapproval plain enough. The real question was whether or not the average citizen would follow her. And it wasn’t just about Olyva being different—it was about leaving Avondale to go down the mountain and into the blighted lands. Even if they were promised the evacuation was only temporary, Rafe feared that many would refuse.
“People of Avondale!” Earl Ageus cried in a loud voice. “Hear me. I am your earl, and while many of you know there have been difficulties in my family, I assure you that your safety and prosperity remain my highest priority. Through the years of my stewardship over our cherished and beautiful city, there have been many challenges, but the most difficult thing to face as an earl and as a man is simple change. We don’t like change, we don’t like things to get messy, but change is a part of life. And life is often messy. Now is such a time. You’ve all felt the tremors and quakes that have shaken up our grand city. My advisors are telling me that it is possible the volcano will erupt again.”
Earl Ageus had to pause while the crowd dealt with this revelation. Rafe doubted that many people would have considered the tremors to be so dangerous. The hubbub of the crowd quieted again as the earl raised his hands for silence.
“Now, as you know, my son Tiberius and the sword master’s son Rafe have been to the blighted lands. In fact, over the last several weeks, many people, including some of the soldiers in my war band, have gone below the mists. The blighted lands are not the place of ruin we thought they were. There is clean water and shelter in the blighted lands, so I am ordering a citywide evacuation.”
This time the crowd erupted. Everyone was surprised, but many were furious. The tension and rumors had caused many people in the city to be on edge, and news that the volcano might erupt was terrifying, but leaving the city and going into the blighted lands was more than most people could take. Some shouted angrily, others fought past the crowds and abandoned the earl’s speech, but Ageus pressed on.
“This is no time for outrage!” he bellowed from his spot on top of the gatehouse. “We are not craven people. If the blighted lands are truly ripe for colonization, the people of Avondale will lead that movement. We will find a way to make our city, our families, and the people we care about safe and more prosperous than ever before.”
A small portion of the crowd began to cheer. Rafe was in awe of the earl’s response. He could have accepted their outrage as inevitable. He could have given in to their demands. But instead, he was finding a way to make what many would have considered awful news into something they could cheer about.
“Our first priority must be to ensure that the people of our great city are safe. Therefore, Olyva, daughter of Earl Marcus of Hamill Keep, will lead as many of you as are physically able to make the journey down the mountain to form a base of operations. Gather food, clothing, and supplies for a few days, then meet her here at this gate one hour after dawn tomorrow.”
There was more grumbling, but the earl pressed on.
“One hundred and fifty of my best men—some soldiers, some paladins—will keep you safe. If you cannot make the journey or if you have young children, the sky ship from Hamill Keep will ferry you down late in the day tomorrow. I have prepared all our food and supplies to be carried down the mountain. I am using what was to be given to the king in Sparlan Citadel as our taxes, because your safety and well being is of greater importance. We shall endure. We shall overcome the dangers we face and carve out a new history for our city. We shall—”
The earl was interrupted by the ringing of the city’s warning bell. Usually the bell only rang in cases of danger, such as when one of the massive creatures that roamed the blighted lands wandered too close to the city walls. But Rafe had ordered his lookouts on the watchtower to ring the bell at the first sign of Leonosis’ fleet.
The crowd was clamoring to know what was happening, and Rafe looked up to the watchtower. One of the soldiers there was leaning out over the parapet and pointing west. From the gatehouse, which faced north, Rafe looked back over the earl’s palace to a line of tiny dots in the sky. Rafe knew that a normal sky ship would take at least two hours to cover that distance, but the king’s war ships were smaller, faster, and much more deadly.
Rafe moved to the earl’s side. He looked at the older man, who was busy scanning the sky, his face pinched with worry.
“What now?” Rafe asked.
“Start the evacuation,” the earl said. “Get the food and supplies onto the ship from Hamill Keep. Olyva must guide it to the place she selected. Then we have to lead the people out of the city.”
“Leonosis will see them leaving,” Rafe said.
“We can’t stop that now. We can only hope he’ll be focused here, on me and on the city.”
“I’ll see that the ship from Hamill Keep is prepared,” Rafe said, looking at Olyva and feeling a pang of regret knowing that he wouldn’t be able to stay with her and protect her.
“And prepare my ship, as well,” the earl ordered. “I’m going to meet him. Perhaps we can still avert a disaster.”
The earl turned back to the crowd, but Rafe and Olyva were hurrying away. They raced along the high wall and across the colonnade that led to the palace. The chief steward was summoned and ordered to have the supplies that were loaded into wagons now brought up to the palace rooftop. They would have to load as much as they could then let the huge vessel slip away before the city was surrounded by war ships.
Olyva was anxious, and Rafe did his best to reassure her. She would have to return and lead the city down the mountain in the dark. It would be difficult for her, tired as she was, but Rafe saw no alternative. If the earl could stall Leonosis until nightfall, then most of the city could flee without being seen. Of course it was doubtful just how many of the city’s citizens would actually evacuate, but Rafe couldn’t worry about that. His highest priority now was keeping the earl safe.
“Rest once you’re onboard,” Rafe told Olyva. “Let the servants and sailors see to the unloading. I’ll send a squad of troops to protect your supplies, but you should sleep if you can.”
“I won’t be able to, knowing that you’re in danger.”
“I’ll be fine, I promise.”
They were just about to head onto the roof when Countess Mauryn and her daughters Cassandra and Frezya came down the sweeping staircase. Olyva went rigid, and Rafe scowled. He didn’t have time to fool with Olyva’s mother, but he was determined to be polite just the same.
“Why was I not informed about some plan to use my sky ship?” the countess asked.
“Mother, it is for the good of the city.”
“My family and all of our possessions, including that sky ship, will be turned over to the king as soon as he arrives. I refuse to allow you to entangle us in your schemes.”
“Surrender now, traitor,” Cassandra said in a gloating tone. “Your rebellion is finished.”
“We’re not rebels and we’re not asking,” Rafe said. “Step aside and do not interfere with Earl Ageus’ plans.”
“Mother, we are guests here,” Olyva said.
“I am not a guest. I am a prisoner,” the countess said haughtily.
“Prisoners are kept in the dungeons, my lady,” Rafe said, his voice low. “If that is what you want, I will make it happen. Otherwise, step out of our way.”
“I protest,” the countess said, stepping to the side of the wide staircase.
Her daughters stepped back, as well, but Rafe made sure he was between Olyva and her family as they hurried up the stairs. The countess and her daughters were staring down as Rafe moved by them, and he was almost past them when he let his guard down. Frezya, the younger of the two daughters, swiped at him with a small knife. Rafe roared in pain, as the blade bit into his forearm. It was not a life-threatening wound, but deep enough that he would require several stitches. Without thinking, he lashed out, backhanding Frezya, who toppled back and flipped over the staircase’s railing.
The younger girl’s scream was matched by Olyva’s, who was being dragged backward by Cassandra, who had darted forward once Rafe was distracted and snatched a handful of Olyva’s long hair. Cassandra was pulling Olyva down the stairs backward. One look was all Rafe needed to know that she could fall at any moment. Countess Mauryn was staring defiantly at Rafe, but in a flash he drew his sword and leapt into action.
His left shoulder slammed into the countess, knocking her down the curving staircase. Then the sword flashed out and severed Cassandra’s arm at the elbow. Olyva, the pressure on her head suddenly relieved, fell forward onto her knees. Cassandra began to bellow as blood fountained from the stump of her arm. Rafe kicked the wounded girl hard with a powerful front kick that caught her squarely in the chest and sent her flying backwards off the stairs. She landed in a heap, knocked unconscious or dead—Rafe didn’t care which.
He stalked down the stairs like a hungry graypee, and the countess was his next meal. She scrambled back, ignoring her children and looking for a way to escape. Rafe’s blood was dripping off his sword, but he didn’t use it. Instead, he raised his boot and brought it down hard on the countess’ leg. There was an audible snap, and Olyva’s mother screamed in pain.
“Maybe that will slow you down a little, when you’re running for you life, you bitch!” he snarled.
When he turned around, Olyva was staring at him. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see fear, anger, or even shame in her face, but there was only a sadness. Rafe had to step over the bloody arm of her sister to escort Olyva back up the stairs to the palace roof, and they didn’t speak until they were back outside in the sunshine.
“Is your arm all right?” Olyva asked.
“It’s fine, just a scratch.”
“It’s more than that,” Olyva said, wiping the blood away with the hem of her tunic. “Here.” She drew Rafe’s dagger and used the point to stab into her arm. She cut into one of the patches where the soft brown stems grew. Instead of blood, a clear sticky sap leeched out. Olyva dabbed at the fluid and then used it to seal up Rafe’s wound. It took three applications, but the bleeding stopped, and the pain was replaced with a numbness.
“What would I do without you?” he said, smiling.
“Bleed all over the place,” she teased.
“I’m sorry about your family,” he said.
“Don’t be—they’re not my family anymore. You’re my family, Rafe.”
She pulled him close, and they kissed for a moment. Then Rafe stepped away from Olyva and called for the sailors, who stood waiting to be given orders, to pull the Hamill Keep sky ship down to the roof. Another order sent the earl’s ship rising up toward the watchtower.
“I have to go,” Rafe said. “We’ll buy you as much time as we can.”
“I love you, Rafe. Come back to me, okay? Promise me you’ll come back.”
“I’ll find you,” Rafe said. “I promise.”
They kissed once more, just as a large group of servants hurried past carrying supplies up onto the large ship. Everything was happening fast now; it would soon be a blur, but Rafe savored the feel of Olyva in his arms, her breath on his neck as he pulled her close. He breathed in the scent of her hair, kissed her forehead, then hurried away, blinking back his tears and fixing his mind on the duty ahead of him.