Ti, fa, la, mi.
Drake’s deformed face appeared in the opening in the wall, a grotesque, theatre mask. The crusted silver blood around his wounds twinkled under the blue light of the potion. Drake wormed out of the hole and grinned, only a few steps away from Tiberius. His animalistic stench thickened the air.
Tiberius followed a sudden, desperate impulse and threw the sparkling bottle. It curved through the air like a shooting star, and crashed by the Drake’s feet. A blinding burst of light broke free from the potion. Drake shielded his eyes and hissed like a rattlesnake.
The flash of light stunned Tiberius, and blurry, red spots floated in front of his eyes. But the short flare had showed him a way out: not far from where he stood, there was another opening, half-hidden between two thick stalagmites.
Drake bellowed like a demented beast. Tiberius placed one hand on the wall and followed it until a crisp breeze blew on his cheeks. Tiberius squeezed between the stalagmites just before Drake’s claws swooshed a few inches from his back.
Then he fell.
Tiberius landed on a steep slope of harsh, cutting rock and rolled down. His bones cracked, but there was no pain. Tiberius made no effort to soften his crazy descent. If his neck snapped, he’d beat both Drake’s torture and Maxwell’s poison.
As he went round and round, the stagnant air freshened. Tiberius glimpsed a beam of gray light ahead, unsure if its source was up or down, left or right. Then he saw a tiny, sparkling jewel. It grew bigger and brighter as he rolled closer.
The slope ended. The mountain spat Tiberius into the night sky. He flew for a few seconds and stared at the full moon. more beautiful than ever as it hung over the treetops.
Tiberius landed in the snow below. His whole body should have be screaming with pain, but he felt nothing. He closed his eyes and breathed in. He wanted to take the essence of the woods with him before he died. The night air carried the fragrances of the firs and the fresh soil, and some unexpected but pleasant scents as well: wild roses, licorice, exotic spices.
Then there was only black.
XXV
Tiberius drifted in out of consciousness, delirious with fever and pain. Many faces appeared and disappeared, melted and blurred in front of his eyes. Many voices echoed in his ears, like the breathy murmurs of the dead.
“Oh, lord! What happened to him?”
“He’s been poisoned. You need to extract the bullet in his shoulder, Doctor. Quick! I won’t be able to help him until you do.”
Tiberius saw the shining blade of a knife. Pain, so much pain.
“Tiberius! Can you hear me? You need to stay still!”
Blackness returned.
Tiberius opened his eyes. He tried to move, and a violent shudder went through the whole of his being. Someone pulled a blanket over his naked body.
“He’s cold as ice.” Doc Tucker was sitting beside him.
Two sparkling eyes shone above Tiberius’ face and stared at him with concern.
“My tonics are not working. They only slowed the poison down.”
“We can’t let him die.”
“There’s only one more thing I can try.”
“No…” Tiberius whisper was unheard.
He breathed with slow and deep inhales, his chest stinging with each exhale.
Doc Tucker held his wrist. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
Iris stood against a curtain of falling water, shaking a small bottle. It shone brighter with every turn of her wrist.
“What are you making?” Doc Tucker asked.
“I altered Maxwell’s poison to create an antidote.”
“Will it work?”
“I don’t know.”
“No…” Tiberius’ reedy voice was lost within the sound of roaring water.
Iris took a long look at the vial in her hand. “I need you to hold his head, Doctor.”
She placed the potion on Tiberius’ lips and poured some of the liquid into his mouth. Tiberius spat and jerked. He shook Doc Tucker’s hands off. He fought like a rabbit in a trap and tried to slap the bottle out of Iris’ grasp.
“No!” he screamed. “Let me go! I’m dead! Let me go!”
“Goodness!” Doc Tucker tried to hold him down. “Tiberius! Stop!”
“I don’t want to come back!”
“Come back from where? Let us help you.”
“Let me go, please!”
Doc Tucker held him tighter. Tiberius roared like a cornered beast.
“Trust me,” Iris whispered in his ear. “If I’m not able to heal you, I’ll bury you myself. Not me or anyone else will bring you back.”
Iris held his hand and Tiberius calmed. He softly squeezed her palm, weakened by his outburst.
“What the devil was that about?” Doc Tucker said with a reedy voice.
Iris smiled back and caressed Tiberius’ cheeks.
“It’s alright now.” She brought the bottle back to his lips. “Drink.”
Tiberius drank. He fell into a comforting haze.
“What now?”
“We wait.”
Tiberius let himself go.
Tiberius awoke, but couldn’t move. He slowly regained his senses and looked around. He rested inside a small cavern warmed with the golden glow of a bonfire. Had he escaped the tunnels at all? Was he still alive or part of Maxwell’s undead army? His head spun and ached when he tried to remember.
His eyes paused on the furthest wall. It was crumbling. The tunnel was collapsing! He had to get out! He sat up. His body hurt in a hundred different places and he knew he would never make it in time.
Iris shushed him and pushed him back down. “Stay calm.”
Tiberius stared at the wall in front of him. It flowed down, yes, but it wasn’t collapsing: they were hiding behind the protective shield of a waterfall.
Tiberius was naked and covered in sweat. Iris touched his forehead, and he grasped her wrist before she moved away.
“Am I— like them?” Tiberius asked.
“Of course not. I have rules.”
“Your partner clearly doesn’t.” Tiberius coughed, his chest burning as if filled with boiling oil.
“I should never have trusted him.”
“Why did you come to Souls Well?”
“When Maxwell and I stayed in Silverton, I bought a small pouch of silver dust from an old merchant. As soon as I used it in one of my tonics, I realized its power was uncanny. When I asked the merchant where he got it from, he pointed to Obadiah Whitlock’s silver mine, up in the mountains.”
“But the mine was no more.” He coughed again.
Iris offered him a leather canteen. He looked at it with suspicion.
“It’s only water.”
Tiberius drank eagerly. He wiped off the stray drops on his stubble with his hand.
“Even though I knew the mine had collapsed months back, I had to find more of that silver,” Iris continued. “We’d already been in Souls Well for a couple of days before Maxwell started his theatrics in the street. Maxwell arranged a secret meeting with Obadiah Whitlock himself, and we tried to buy whatever silver he’d saved from the buried mine. But he sent us away, threatened us even.”
Tiberius took another long gulp from the fresh canteen. “Old Whitlock liked his threats alright, that’s for sure. But why did you stay, then?”
“That same night, Maxwell came to our wagon with a handful of silver. He told me he’d manage to cut a deal with the mine’s owner.”
“Then Whitlock reconsidered and Donahue sent Drake after him. Is that why you visited Whitlock in his cell?”
Iris nodded. “Maxwell had lost his mind. I had to warn Mister Whitlock. He told me about the secret tunnels when I went to see him. I’ve seen things you could never imagine, Tiberius. But I wasn’t ready for what I found inside that mine.”
Everything came back to Tiberius as an earsplitting cacophony: the rattling chains of the miners, Maxwell’s maniacal laughter, Drake’s piercing whistling. His own breath as
his life faded.
“The lost miners. Garret Drake. I saw all of them die,” Tiberius said.
“They’re just puppets, dead flesh animated by Maxwell’s potions.”
Tiberius shifted in his seat as soon as Iris voiced the horrifying impossibility he’d witnessed in the tunnels.
Iris sighed. “Maxwell has always been ambitious and a talented alchemist, but he got one thing wrong. He ignored the laws of balance. Alchemy is both taking and giving back. That’s why the effects of his life elixir only last a couple of days. He can reanimate the dead with his tonics again and again, but death will claim them back sooner or later. Death is the ultimate nothingness. There’s no possible exchange.”
Tiberius recalled John Hickok’s body, leaning on the pine tree. Mrs. Hickok had never been in danger. The secret Thomas had so jealously kept was seeing none other than his own dead father.
John Hickok had probably searched for answers around his old home after escaping the silver mine. He only managed to alarm his already shattered widow, but even so decided to stay close to his family, the only thing he could hold on to. Then Tiberius had showed up, and John had fled into the forest, confused and afraid, until the effects of Maxwell’s potion had abandoned him.
“Donahue got his paws all over that magical silver and Whitlock got a brand new, responsibility-free workforce from beyond the grave in return. And poor Lucy Mills got in the way somehow. It’s all so crazy I’m not sure I’m actually awake.” Tiberius scoffed. “I almost miss the days when catching The Tanager was my biggest worry.”
“I’m afraid that’s still an issue.”
“Your former partner’s not only deranged, but also a raging fool. Resurrecting and enslaving twelve miners who would never hurt a fly is already awful enough, but bringing back Drake and letting him roam free? He doesn’t know what he’s done.”
“Maxwell is blinded with greed. He’s obsessed with making his life elixir permanent, but the more he fights death, the more terrible the consequences will be.”
The sound of the waterfall muffled Iris’ voice. Tiberius pressed her hand.
“That’s why I have to stop him. I’m going back to the mine.”
“You’ll get yourself killed. For good this time.” Iris moved away from him and crossed her arms under her rainbow shawl. “I might not be able to heal you again. I’m still shocked Maxwell’s poison didn’t kill you in a matter of minutes.”
“I like being alive. I’m stubborn like that. Why did you help me find my way out of the tunnels if you thought me dead?”
Iris’ emerald eyes twinkled.
“That shining bottle. You left it there for me to find, didn’t you?” Tiberius asked.
“Yes. I’m not sure why, but I knew if I left you a trail, you’d find it.”
“But how—”
Iris placed a finger on Tiberius’ lips.
“Trapping light inside a bottle isn’t a big deal when you understand the constant flow of the elements. My grandmother taught me everything I know as her mother taught her. And I was foolish enough to teach Maxwell.”
“It’s ‘bout time your student got his ass whipped.”
Iris replied with luminous, honest laughter.
“I shared my knowledge with someone who didn’t deserve it.” She combed Tiberius’ brown, curly bangs from his forehead. “That’s not a mistake I’ll make twice.”
Bathed by the halo of the bonfire and the shadows of the falling water, Iris looked like a primeval goddess. She owned the roaring waters, the rocks, the fire. She was a chain of enigmas, tantalizing and unique. She awoke his desire for the exciting and frightening unknown. Iris brought him a new reality that grew more and more appealing when compared to the mundane world of Souls Well.
Tiberius moved closer. He was afraid of her inborn mystery, but couldn’t stay away. He moved closer still. Then froze.
He’d heard approaching steps within the crashing echo of the waterfall.
“He’s found us.”
Tiberius stood up, his legs shaking, and the blanket over his body slid to his feet. He forgot his nakedness and instinctively lowered his hand, trying to find his gun in a holster that wasn’t there. He looked around the cave for a knife, a rock, anything he could use to protect Iris and himself.
A red face peeked from the mouth of the small passage that crossed the roaring waterfall.
“Cover yourself, for heaven’s sake! There’s a lady in the room,” Doc Tucker said.
Doc Tucker handed Tiberius a pile of clean clothes: a thick plaid shirt, a pair of denim pants, and a pair of leather work boots. Then he clapped his shoulder.
“Welcome back.”
Tiberius winced. “Careful there.”
“Don’t whine. You should’ve seen how that shoulder looked before I took the bullet out.”
The shirt Doc Tucker brought only stopped short of Tiberius’ wrists, and the pants were too tight an left his ankles exposed, but Tiberius didn’t complain. Those clothes had probably belonged to Jonathan.
Doc Tucker grabbed Tiberius’ chin and examined his face. “Whatever she did to you, it worked like a charm. You were almost a goner when we found you in the woods. What happened?”
“Drake.”
Doc Tucker’s eyes widened . “Excuse me? Drake was hanged. I was there.”
“Seems the knot wasn’t tight enough.”
Tiberius sat by the fire and warmed his hands. Iris sat by his side. Doc Tucker cleared his throat, uncomfortable.
“Sarah!” Tiberius gasped to quiet his guilt. “I left her locked in my room. I have to—”
“Sarah Anne’s fine,” the doctor said. “She came to my practice last night and told me about her father. I advised her to catch the early morning stagecoach and stay with her family in Silverton until you contacted her.”
“Thank you.”
“Shortly after Sarah’s visit, this lady appears at my doorstep and tells me you’re in mortal danger. Quite an evening. You owe me an explanation, Tiberius.”
“Let’s talk later, Doc. I need to ask Iris some questions first.”
Doc Tucker raised an eyebrow. “As you like. It’s too damp inside this rock for me anyway. I’ll be outside if you need me.”
Doc Tucker left while Tiberius and Iris listened to the crackling fire.
“How much did you tell him?” Tiberius finally asked.
“Only that you were in danger. That’s all he needed to hear.”
“Donahue’s miners… One of them is his son.”
Iris looked away. Her cheeks lost their color. “Maxwell has crossed boundaries that are not to be crossed.”
Tiberius pushed himself up. His legs trembled and ached.
“Where do you think you’re going, Tiberius? You can barely walk. You need at least another day to fully heal.”
“That might be too late. Someone has to stop Donahue before he starts unearthing innocent people left and right. Plus, Garrett Drake is on the loose. He was a beast when he was alive. Who knows what he’s capable of as walking corpse? And I need to free the miners.”
“The miners won’t survive without Maxwell’s tonic. Death will claim them back.”
“I won’t let them die in chains inside a godforsaken tunnel. Their existence might break your mystical rules, but they didn’t ask to be dragged from their graves. I’ll make sure they rest close to their loved ones. That much I can do.”
Iris stared at the flames in silence.
Tiberius placed his hand on her shoulder. “I don’t blame you for Donahue’s madness, Iris. But you still owe this town. You brought this on all of us.”
“That’s an awful thing to say.”
“Either you help me or you’ll make your next potion behind bars. Is that what you’d rather hear?”
“The sheriff eclipses the man. I’ll do it one condition. I’m leaving right after you enter the tunnels. I want to be as far as possible from Souls Well in the event you don’t succeed.”
Tiberius
shrugged. “Works for me. This is what I need from you—”
“First things first.” Iris moved away from the fire and came back hiding something in her fist. “You forgot this on the snow.”
Iris opened her hand and revealed the silver star. She breathed on it, brushed it on her shawl, and pinned it on Tiberius’ chest.
XXVI
Tiberius marched through the white forest as the first light of dawn sneaked between the mountains. The snowstorm had passed, but the cold cut as sharp as a razor . Early birds chirped above their heads. Tiberius hope that’d be the only whistle they’d hear on their way through the tall trees.
Iris and Doc Tucker followed close behind. Their feet sank into the fresh snow and they picked their way around the treacherous, frozen puddles that shone under the rising sun. None of the them spoke. The star pinned on his vest was heavier than ever before.
Doc Tucker caught up to Tiberius. “Are you sure we can trust this woman? I know she saved your life, but even so. I’m not comfortable with dubious alliances, Tiberius.”
“The sooner we get this done, the sooner I’ll be on my way, Doctor.” Iris had shortened their distance, her steps as quiet as a creature of the forest.
Doc Tucker slowed down and let Tiberius and Iris step in front of him then left a polite distance between himself and the couple.
“The doc has a point,” Tiberius said.
“You could still put me in a cell if you think I’m dangerous.”
“You are, of that I have no doubt. But I said I wouldn’t. I’m a man of my word.”
“I wonder what’s more unswerving, your word or your sense of justice.”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
Iris’ ochre cape stood out in the whiteness of the landscape. Her steps were graceful but firm. Behind her, Doc Tucker struggled to keep pace, his breath leaving a trace of white smoke. He muttered curses and kept his hands under his armpits.
Silver & Bone (American Alchemy - Wild West Book 1) Page 12