Finally, the thick wooden door opened. Tiberius struggled to his feet. Light from around the door had allowed him to see in the small room, but now he covered his eyes and strained to see who was standing in the doorway. He recognized his jailer by smell before he could see.
“Gunderlyn,” he said bitterly.
“You fool,” the man said. “You were so trusting, so naive.”
“Let me go,” Tiberius said. “What have you done with Lexi?”
“She is fine … for now. I cannot promise that she will remain so. You travel in interesting company.”
“What are you doing this for?”
“Oh, there are many reasons.”
Tiberius was angry, but he forced himself to calm down and think. Gunderlyn’s voice was no longer the high-pitched, hysterical cackle of a madman. Instead, he sounded calm and in full control.
“The first of which,” he said, “is to find out why the princess sent you to kill me.”
“What?” Tiberius asked. “No one sent us to kill you.”
“Another wizard just happens to stumble into Devonyr — I don’t think so.”
“Please,” Tiberius begged. “No one sent us. We are exiled from Avondale and traveling to Hamill Keep.”
“I will not listen to lies,” the man hissed. “The princess is a fool. She does not know the dark powers she is dabbling with.”
“Princess Ariel?” Tiberius asked, desperately trying to find a way to connect with his captor and perhaps win his freedom.
“So you do know her?” Gunderlyn spat.
“Of course I do,” Tiberius said. “She is the Princess of Valana.”
“She is a foolish child. Tell me, how long were you her apprentice?”
“I … I wasn’t. I met her, though. I was struggling to learn magic, and she visited Avondale with her father.”
“And she taught you what?”
“She didn’t teach me anything,” Tiberius said. “She broke my leg and made me heal myself. She’s wickedly cruel.”
“And you learned magic all on your own?” Gunderlyn asked.
“No, I found a book.”
“There are no more magical books in the nine cities.”
“I found one,” Tiberius said. “It was just a fragment, really. The Essence of Magic.”
Gunderlyn laughed. Then he pointed at Tiberius with a bony finger.
“How many Orders of Magic have you mastered?” he said in a mocking voice.
“Just one,” Tiberius said. “Just Sana Magus.”
“Sana Magus indeed,” Gunderlyn sneered. “You are an assassin, although a poor one. The princess would do well to choose her minions with better care.”
“I’m not her minion, and I swear we did not come here looking for you. We’re just trying to get to Hamill Keep.”
“Nothing happens by chance, boy.”
Gunderlyn’s eyes closed, but his lips continued moving. Tiberius didn’t know what the old wizard was saying or what spell he was casting, but he recognized the look of concentration and the melodic chant of a spell.
“Scuti Incantatio,” Tiberius shouted.
He felt the magic springing up in front of him just as an invisible force slammed into his shielding spell. The force of the blow knocked Tiberius back against the wall, but he was unharmed.
Gunderlyn’s eyes opened wide, and even in the dim light of his prison cell, Tiberius could see the fear on the elder wizard’s face. He scrambled backward and slammed the thick wooden door with a resounding bang.
Chapter 14
Rafe
Rafe and Olyva had spread a blanket on the stone floor of the tower. There was no light and no fire to keep them warm. Normally Olyva preferred sleeping on the ground, but she shivered against the stone, and Rafe wished they had brought more of their supplies from the building they had taken shelter in. Following the crazy man was not wise, but they had very little choice in the matter. If they had refused, the man might have sent his dogs back to attack them. Rafe wasn’t afraid of dogs, but he didn’t like the idea of being in the dark or trying to sleep and having dogs turned loose on him.
Olyva didn’t speak, and as they lay together in the darkness, both struggling to find some comfort on the stone floor that made the soft turf of the prairie seem like a feather mattress, Rafe slowly grew sleepy. He had expected Tiberius to return with food of some sort, but his friend didn’t reappear. Rafe was anxious for the light of day, so he didn’t fight the urge to sleep.
When he woke up, he was in chains. A quick glance showed that Olyva and Lexi were with him, but not Tiberius. He pulled on the chains, but they held fast.
“Olyva,” Rafe whispered. “Olyva, are you okay?”
Lexi stirred, but Olyva didn’t move.
“Olyva,” Rafe said as he nudged her with his foot.
She was too far away for him to reach her with his hands, but if he stretched he could reach her bare foot with his own. He felt panic when she didn’t wake up. Lexi slowly sat up and rubbed her eyes. There was very little light in the room they were being held captive in. There were no windows, and Rafe guessed they were now down below ground. The only light came in around the wooden door to the chamber where they were being held.
“What’s happening?” Lexi asked.
“You tell me,” Rafe hissed. “What happened to you and Tiberius?”
“I don’t know,” Lexi said. “We went down the stairs. There was treasure everywhere and books. The old man went to get us food, then I woke up here.”
“Nothing else?” Rafe asked.
“No,” Lexi said. “Tiberius was looking at books.”
“Books?”
“And then I sat down,” she said. “I was so sleepy.”
“It wasn’t natural,” Rafe said. “There’s no way that old man could carry me anywhere without me waking up. Much less lock me in irons.”
“What are you saying?”
“We were bewitched,” Rafe said. “I’ve seen Ti do it.”
“But why?” Lexi asked. “And what has happened to Tiberius?”
“Both good questions, and I have no answers. Looks like we trusted the wrong people. See if you can help me wake up Olyva.”
They called her name, and Rafe continued nudging her, but Olyva never moved or made a sound. Rafe could see that she was breathing, but she wouldn’t wake up. After a while they gave up and sat slumped again the stone wall. Rafe’s body ached. He felt as though he’d been in a fistfight and lost. His head was pounding, and his mouth was as dry as the dust on the floor of their prison.
Finally, the door opened, and their captor came in. He set a lamp on a small table on the far side of the room. Rafe wanted to find out where Tiberius was, but he knew better than to question his captor.
“Where’s Tiberius?” Lexi asked.
“He has special accommodations,” the smelly wizard said. “I’m glad you’re awake. Tell me about your friend.”
He was standing over Olyva, looking down at her.
“Don’t tell him anything,” Rafe said through clenched teeth.
“Tsk tsk, my good man. I can make life comfortable for you or very, very uncomfortable. I hold no grudges. Just answer my questions and I’ll have food and water brought in.”
Rafe’s stomach growled, but he didn’t say a word.
“She is very unique,” the wizard said, squatting down and lifting one of Olyva’s feet. “These toes would never do in court, would they?”
“Don’t touch her,” Lexi hissed.
“I’ll do more than touch her,” the wizard said. “I’ve been researching all day but haven’t found anything about tree people. I’m tempted to dissect her and really have a good look around.”
“Over my dead body,” Rafe growled.
“Oh yes, I’m sure that would be necessary, but not difficult. I’m afraid my dogs would make a quick meal out of you.”
“What do you want from us?”
“From the three of you, very little,” the
wizard said. “Your wizard friend is a different story. Tell me why you came here.”
Lexi looked at Rafe, but the young warrior gave a little shake of his head to warn her not to speak. The wizard looked from Lexi to Rafe and then back again.
“Fine,” he said, pulling a key from his filthy robes. “You come with me.”
He stepped toward Lexi, who slid backward, trying to escape. He grabbed her arm with surprising speed, but Lexi didn’t pull away. Instead, she launched herself at the man. She threw her knee toward his groin but missed, so she tried to rake her fingernails down his face instead.
“Docilis Commodum,” he roared, and Lexi’s body went still.
“Don’t you touch her,” Rafe shouted.
He pulled on his chains, shouting and kicking, but the wizard was too far away. He unlocked Lexi’s shackles and led her out of the room. Nothing Rafe could do or say stopped him. And as the door closed, so did Rafe’s hopes.
He knew only two things: first, that if they didn’t escape, they would die. The wizard had plans for them, no matter what he said. The old man wouldn’t let them live very long, not if they posed a threat to him. And secondly, Olyva was Rafe’s first priority. He had to get her to safety.
The room was dark, and it took a while for Rafe’s night vision to return. He cast around for anything in the room that might help him escape his shackles. The floor was covered with dirt, the same dry, powdery dirt that covered the entire town. Rafe had to use his hands to brush the dirt aside, and at first there was nothing to find. The room he was in was made of smooth stone blocks. The floor, under its layer of dirt, was simply more stone. At first Rafe wanted to give up, but then Olyva stirred. She groaned as if she were in pain.
“Olyva,” he said, turning toward her. “Olyva, are you all right?”
She groaned again but didn’t wake up. Rafe could see her trembling. He didn’t know if she was hurt or if the sleeping spell had affected her differently than it had him. Maybe, since she was changing already from their encounter with the killer trees, the spell had made her sick or hurt her somehow. Her obvious discomfort only made Rafe realize he had to get her out of the underground prison as soon as possible.
He turned his attention back to the dirt. He scraped and brushed, looking for something that might help him in his quest for freedom. He had scoured nearly the entire area that was within his reach when he finally found a piece of bone. It was as long as his finger and almost as wide. He snatched it up and tried not think about what a bone was doing in a room that was obviously made to hold prisoners. Still, he had an idea.
The shackles around his wrists had a narrow edge. Rafe placed the bone onto the shackle and then hit it with his hand. The bone was hard but brittle and it broke into two long pieces. One was still fat, the other narrow. Rafe rubbed the bone against the edge of the shackle until it had a thick groove near one end. Then he inserted the bone into the shackle. It took nearly half an hour of concentrated work, but eventually Rafe got the shackle unlocked.
“Yes,” he said excitedly.
The second shackle didn’t take nearly as long. Then he set to work on Olyva’s chains. Once he got her unlocked, he lifted her up. She was light in his arms, lighter than he thought she should have been, which only made him worry about her more. He went to the door and pulled it open just a little. There was light in the next room, but it wasn’t bright, and Rafe didn’t see the old man or anyone else. He opened the door and carried Olyva through it. In the outer room, there was a table with ancient-looking leather straps. Blood stains covered the wooden table, and on a far wall was a large brass shield that was reflecting light from another room. There were two doors; one was open, letting in light, and the other closed.
Rafe looked out the first door, but there was nothing to see except more rooms. He could see a sleeping chamber with a disheveled bed and a room that was filled with junk. Rafe could see old pieces of furniture, rusty weapons, thick carpets rolled up and leaning against cobweb-covered paintings.
Rafe desperately wanted his sword back, but he couldn’t risk going to search for it. His first priority had to be getting Olyva to safety. He opened the second door and peered through. The rooms beyond were dark, but Rafe thought he could could see a bit of sunlight. He decided the second doorway was more promising than the first.
He hurried through, closing the door quietly behind him and waiting to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. He was in a large room, and there was a throne beside where he stood. Under his boots he could feel a thick carpet. The walls of the room were lined with books, and Rafe guessed this was the library that had occupied Tiberius’ mind when the old wizard cast his spell. Rafe hurried through the room and into another room.
He could hear the flies buzzing and smell the rotten meat. It was a horrible stench that made Rafe want to gag, but instead he hurried through into yet another room. The third room was filled with light from a small beam of sunlight that was reflecting off piles of golden coins. The treasure didn’t interest Rafe nearly as much as the sunlight.
Just beyond the treasure room was a spiral staircase, and there were traces of sunlight filtering through the swirls of dust from above. Rafe was just hurrying up the stairs when he heard a scream. It was high-pitched and agonizing, sending chills up Rafe’s back. He knew without a doubt that it was Lexi who was screaming. The wretched old wizard was hurting her, probably in front of Tiberius. Rafe wanted nothing more than to find the wizard and cut him to pieces, but he had to get Olyva to safety first.
It took every bit of strength Rafe had to turn his back on his friend, but he charged up the stairs and threw open the trap door. The horses were still in the tower, and gray sunlight illuminated the scene. Rafe had guessed that he had slept through the night, and he was glad to be right. If anything could make Olyva feel better, it was sunlight.
He took Olyva to one of the horses and draped her across the animal’s back. Then he threw off the heavy beam that locked the large door to the tower. When he went back to the horses, he heard another scream echo up from below. Tears filled his eyes, but he couldn’t go back yet. He had to get Olyva out of the city. He pulled himself up onto the back of his horse and took hold of Olyva’s reins. He hated leaving her draped across the horse like a slain enemy, but there was nothing more he could do for her. He turned his horse and led them both out of the tower, pretending he didn’t hear more screams from the dungeons below the tower.
Chapter 15
Leonosis
The funeral was held once the earls arrived. Everyone was present except for Leonosis’ own father, who was too ill to attend. Everyone looked uncomfortable as the child’s corpse was carried out. Leonosis could not read the mind of the terrible demon that possessed his body, but he did sometimes catch glimpses of what the horrible creature thought or observed. The other earls resented him — that was much was clear without supernatural divination — but Leonosis could also sense that the earls were unhappy with their king. They thought him weak as he weeped for his lost child, unable or unwilling to produce another. They had no idea that Princess Ariel, under Draggah’s direction, had cast a spell on her father to rob him of any further heirs.
Gifts of wine and food had been brought by each of the earls, enough to feast the death of the little prince many times over. The earls were expected to stay in mourning with the king for an entire week, and none of them relished the task.
Leonosis considered who would support him. Earl Ireoss of Rossylton and Earl Poag of Duringer were not well known. Their cities were smaller than the others, and the earls could possibly be swayed with a well timed bribe. Although Leonosis doubted that Draggah planned to use any methods so tame as a simple bribe. Earls Tunach and Flossert, lords of the twin cities Easton and Weston, would not support anyone but themselves being named king. They were unreasonable men, who thought too much of themselves and their cities. Earl Ossbert of Carver Peak would be staunchly in King Aethel’s camp, but once the king was out of the way, he might
be swayed to support Leonosis simply because of his marriage to Princess Ariel. Earl Marcus of Hamill Keep was already in Leonosis’ pocket. A ship loaded with food had been sent to the earl along with news of his daughter’s betrayal and subsequent exile. The poor man would sell his soul for a shipload of bread, and Leonosis doubted that anyone would bother trying to sway him from supporting Leonosis.
That left only Earl Chasar of Wangoria. Leonosis looked at the earl, who was old enough to have gray streaks in his hair and beard but otherwise looked more kingly than any of the other earls. Chasar was no fool and doubtless he could have been a dangerous adversary if he wanted to be king, but Wangoria could become the richest of the nine cities simply by staying neutral and selling their fabled blades to both sides. He would instigate strife wherever he could, hoping that the fighting amongst the nobles would lead to war.
As the priest droned on about the greatness of a child who never left his nursery, Leonosis daydreamed about the future. Normally he would have enjoyed the political backchannel dealing and working to build secret alliances. There was nothing Leonosis loved more than blindsiding an enemy, but Draggah’s ways were different. He would brook no opposition, and if the other earls resisted him, Leonosis feared for their souls.
Under normal circumstances he would see the other earls as his competition, but Leonosis now lived in constant fear and pain. And as much as he despised the other earls, he wouldn’t wish his cursed life on any of them. If he were ever truly free of Draggah’s hold on him, he might try and foil the powerful creature’s plans, but that was not possible, and Draggah laughed at his pitiful complaining.
“Why do you complain so?” Draggah teased.
No one could hear the foul spirit, but Draggah’s words reverberated inside Leonosis’ head like the pealing of a bell.
“You will be king — is that not what you wanted? These earls will be our puppets, the nine cities an extension of our will. You have been chosen, boy — is that not what you wanted?”
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