Balestone

by Toby Neighbors

  The wolf cat roared, and Tiberius raised both his hands, sending the flames higher. The beast roared in terror, and Tiberius ran around the blazing ring of fire. Then the wolf cat sprang out, and the acrid stench of burning fur filled the air. Tiberius saw the creature bound out of the fire trap he’d laid and took the spear head in his right hand. As the wolf cat came to the ground, Tiberius was right beside it. He stabbed the metal spear head deep into the creature’s flank, just past the ribcage. The sharpened metal met only soft flesh, and the blade sank deep into the creature’s gut.

  The beast roared and swatted at Tiberius, who was too close to escape. The paw hit him hard in the back, and then the claws scratched bloody furrows across his back and side. Tiberius flew forward, toward the flames, but his mind sent the wall of fire up into the shadows of the pyramid-shaped roof. Tiberius was on his stomach and quickly got to his knees, turning to see the beast behind him. He had expected another attack, but the wolf cat’s hind legs were dragging across the marble floor, and the beast looked bewildered as blood and offal poured out of the wound in its side.

  Gunderlyn meanwhile had snatched up the spear shaft and ran forward with the weapon held high over his head. For a moment time seemed to stand still for Tiberius. He could see the shrine illuminated by the fire above in a reddish-yellow light. He could see the marble was a slate gray color and the wolf cat’s blood was a dark red smear across the smooth surface. The pedestal where the golden horse had stood was a squat pillar of white stone, and the blood-stained altar was shimmering as if Tiberius were gazing at it across a field of fire. He realized then that there was something there, something hidden in the shrine that Gunderlyn was trying to protect.

  Tiberius found his dagger and flung it at the old wizard. Gunderlyn was barefoot; his arms held the spear shaft raised above his head, his wretched robe fluttering around him. If he saw the dagger spinning toward him, he made no sign of recognition and did nothing to dodge away from the weapon. As the wolf cat howled in agony, Tiberius’ dagger stabbed into Gunderlyn’s side. It wasn’t a good throw, and the dagger was really made for throwing. Tiberius had never been good at throwing knives, but his own survival instincts had kicked in and given him the strength to make the throw.

  The knife has struck the old wizard on the left side of his stomach. It sank in about three inches as Gunderlyn’s momentum carried him forward several steps. The movement caused the dagger with its heavy handle to slide out of the wizard’s body and drop onto the marble floor with a clatter. The old man brought the spear down, but not to strike Tiberius. Instead he leaned on the shaft like a crutch as blood poured down his leg. He lost his balance and staggered sideways, the spear shaft splashing in his blood.

  Tiberius got to his feet, his back burning from the cuts the wolf cat had inflicted. He turned to the wounded animal, who was trying to slink away, but its shuddering body was failing. It howled, a sound oddly between a wolf’s cry and a cat’s mewling. Tiberius mentally clamped down on the fire, snuffing out the flames almost like pinching a candle between wet fingers. The shrine grew dark, unnaturally so. Tiberius thought the old wizard was casting another spell, but when he turned around the old man was gone.

  Gunderlyn had slunk out of the shrine and was slowly walking backward toward the stairs. Tiberius didn’t move; he could see what was about to happen and did nothing to stop it. He stood as still as the statues that Gunderlyn could so easily animate and watched the old wizard stagger toward his own doom.

  Gunderlyn cast aside the spear shaft and lumbered down the stairs, still clutching his bleeding side. He looked around him as if the deserted city ruins were full of demons. Tiberius didn’t move forward to see what would happen, but he heard the scream. The old man had fallen in his haste to escape. The scream that accompanied his fall was bloodcurdling, but it was cut silent after only a second. Tiberius waited several moments and then felt a tremendous release of pent-up nervousness. His legs felt shaky, and he leaned back onto the altar.

  As soon as his hand touched the pitted stone surface, there was a crack that made Tiberius jump backward. He thought he had somehow set off a trap, but the altar merely broke in half. The support stones crumbled, and the massive flat stone on top broke in two, then crashed to the marble floor. Dust puffed up around the debris, and Tiberius coughed as he waved his hand to clear the air. Under the altar was a small wooden chest. The metal hinges were rusted, and the wood was dark and brittle.

  Tiberius stepped forward and lifted the small chest from its hiding place. He couldn’t help but wonder how long the chest had been hidden under the altar. He tried to open the lid, but the chest was locked and the hinges rusted so badly they couldn’t turn. Frowning at the obstinate little chest, he slid his fingers under the lip of the lid and pulled. The wood broke apart easily, and to Tiberius’ surprise he found what looked like a stone crystal. He had seen similar stones in Avondale, but those stones had been almost clear like glass, or a smoky white. This stone was jet black with gray stone edges. It was almost as if someone had broken open a rock to discover the black crystal inside, and as Tiberius leaned down over the chest, he thought he could see something moving inside the stone.

  He rubbed his eyes and picked up the chest, carrying it out of the pavilion and into the gray light that filtered through the mists high above. The dark stone flickered again, almost as if there were flames trapped inside. Tiberius guessed it was just a trick of the light reflecting off the crystal’s many planes. He sat the chest down and felt magical power suddenly swirling around him. Then it hit him — this was the Balestone, not the stone altar. And he guessed that the stone was the source of the temple’s power, not a god.

  He was exhausted and he dropped to his knees on the pyramid’s balcony. His head felt light, and the lacerations across his back and side burned painfully. He knew he needed to cast a healing spell and then go in search of his friends, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the strange stone in the little casket.

  He reached down and touched the stone and marveled at the warmth of the small object. It was sightly smaller than his fist, with a small base where crystals sprang out at odd angles and were surrounded by the gray exterior that looked so common. He picked the stone up and felt a surge of power rush through him. His fatigue vanished, and the pain in his back dimmed. He wasn’t sure what the crystal was or what it could do, but he knew it was a powerful magical object.

  The spear shaft was close, and Tiberius picked it up and used it like a staff as he got to his feet. He held the wood shaft in one hand and the crystal in the other. The end of the spear shaft where the metal blade had been broken off was a mass of splinters. For a reason Tiberius couldn’t really articulate, he lifted up the staff and cast a spell. The words were familiar, but he used them in a different order than normal.

  “Acies Intrinsecus Accipio Acies Penetralis Deprimo Sano.”

  He knew he was merging two spells, although he wasn’t certain why or if he would accomplish anything. But to his delight the wood began to transform near the broken end. The black crystal pulsed in his hand as he chanted the spell.

  “Acies Intrinsecus Accipio Acies Penetralis Deprimo Sano,” he said again. “Acies Intrinsecus Accipio Acies Penetralis Deprimo Sano.”

  The splinters began to grow, forming a solid, thick knob where the spear blade had been. Then, once the wood stopped growing, a pulse of power rushed down the staff and mingled with Tiberius’ own budding magical senses. It was a giddy sensation, and he knew that the staff was now magically bonded to him.

  He slipped the Balestone into a pouch and held the staff in both hands as he quoted the familiar spell to heal cuts.

  “Sano Grasilis Abscido.”

  He had never healed more than one cut at a time. Normally his mind had to visualize the wound and will it to close, binding the flesh back together. But this time he simply thought of his back healing, and all four deep lacerations mended perfectly in seconds.

  He couldn’t help but smile as he w
alked down the stone steps. He was excited by his newfound power, but it wasn’t just the staff or even the magical stone that made him feel different. Tiberius had worked powerful magic. He had been tried, tested, and found equal to the task. It was the first time in his life that he felt he had truly accomplished something. Everything he had done before had been good and had led him to this moment, but those spells had all been the nervous fumbling of a novice. Now, he felt the satisfying accomplishment of a master.

  The sight of Gunderlyn’s broken and bloody body soured Tiberius’ mood. He tried not to look at the old man, but as he drew close he felt the stone pulsing once more. It wanted to strike the dead wizard, to tear apart the gruesome corpse. The Balestone acted almost like the powerful magic he had struggled to control as he cast the more advanced spells of the Fourth Order. But Tiberius held his hand over the pouch at his belt as he passed Gunderlyn’s body and hurried down to the base of the pyramid.

  He found his horse right were he had left the animal. The reins were tied to a post, and the knot had been pulled tight. Tiberius guessed the sound of the wolf cat roaring had probably spooked the horse.

  “It’s okay,” Tiberius said, softly stroking the horse’s neck. “We’re getting out of this dreadful place.”

  Tiberius had to grab a handful of the horse’s mane while he jumped onto the horse’s back and levered himself into position. He felt vulnerable riding bareback but he didn’t have much choice. He felt better and stronger with his new staff, but he still didn’t want to walk the entire length of the city.

  The horse moved quickly through the empty streets. Tiberius feared they might run into more of the horrid creatures that had made the city ruins their home, but he saw nothing until Rafe came riding into view.

  They waved as the horses hurried toward each other. Tiberius knew he could never fully describe the battle he’d just fought, and the truth was he didn’t really want to. He was glad it was over and glad he’d been victorious, but he was ready to leave the city and never look back.

  “You’re all right,” Rafe said, relief evident in his voice.

  “Yes, did you get Lexi out of the city?”

  “She’s with Olyva. They’re both shaken up, but okay.”

  “Where’s my saddle?” Tiberius asked.

  “I was coming to help you. I didn’t stop to pick up your saddle,” Rafe said with a frown. “What happened up there anyway?”

  “About what I expected,” Tiberius lied. “Gunderlyn was waiting for me.”

  Tiberius pointed back toward the temple, which seemed smaller somehow from a distance, less menacing and more like a crumbling ruin than a place of ancient power.

  “And now?” Rafe asked.

  “Now, he’s dead,” Tiberius said, but there was no joy in his voice. He didn’t relish the fact that he had defeated the old wizard or that his enemy was dead. It felt more like a loathsome task that had to be completed. He was just relieved that it was over and done with.

  “Take a look at this,” Tiberius said as he held the staff out for Rafe to examine.

  “It looks like our spear shaft,” Rafe said.

  “It is. The spear head broke off, and I was able to grow the wood into that knob on the end.”

  “It looks like you could really bust some heads with that. I’m glad my father didn’t have a club like that when we were kids.”

  Tiberius laughed at the memory. Grentz the Swordmaster had always been kind to Tiberius, taking his time whenever he taught the earl’s sons swordcraft. He had not been as patient or kind with Rafe, Tiberius knew. But Rafe’s father had molded him into a warrior to be reckoned with and a virtual master of the blade, as well. Tiberius considered telling Rafe about the Balestone, but for some reason he couldn’t really articulate, he didn’t think it was a good idea. He decided to keep the stone’s presence a secret, but he desperately wanted to know more about it, and he had a good idea where he could find that information.

  “Before we leave the city, I want to gather some books from Gunderlyn’s library,” Tiberius explained.

  Rafe looked downcast.

  “What is it?” Tiberius asked.

  “The tower,” Rafe said. “It collapsed. I’m sorry.”

  Tiberius felt a huge sense of disappointment. His one hope had been retrieving some of the old wizard’s books on magic.

  “No wonder I couldn’t find it,” he said.

  “The heat must have weakened it,” Rafe said. “I heard it fall when we were leaving the city. I followed the plume of dust and saw the rubble. It would take days to uncover the trap door again.”

  “It might have been smashed in,” Tiberius agreed ruefully. “If the stone filled the stairwell, we might never get them out.”

  “I’ll help you if you want, but the girls both want to leave. If I’m being honest, so do I.”

  “No,” Tiberius said, trying to hide the bitterness he felt. “We should go. Those books are lost. And we still have to find Hamill Keep.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes,” Tiberius said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter 24

  Lexi

  The night was dark. Only a small fire gave the camp any illumination, but the inky blackness seemed to encroach on the tiny flames. Lexi couldn’t sleep. She lay beside Tiberius on a blanket, her back propped against her saddle. She knew it was guilt that kept her awake. When the monster had swallowed Lexi, she had fought hard to survive. The foul smell and terrible ooze had nearly choked her, and although she had no concept of how long the creature held her in its fleshy jowls, she knew she had come within a hair’s breadth of dying.

  She had felt a surge of joy when she fought her way out of the stinking jowl, and although it took her a few moments to regain her senses, she had been relieved to find that Tiberius and Rafe had fought to rescue her. And Dancer, the faithful little wind glider, had sent her reassuring emotions all during her ordeal. Lexi knew she owed them all so much. Yet as Rafe had escorted her out of the city, they had come within sight of the round tower that had been Gunderlyn’s home. It had been Lexi’s idea to tear the structure down. She kept reliving the conversation she had with Rafe over and over again in her mind. It was what kept her awake and slowly gnawed at her conscience.

  “That’s the tower,” Lexi said, pointing.

  She had been busy trying to wipe as much of the monster’s slimy saliva from her body as possible, but when she saw the tower, she knew she had to do something.

  “Yes, you should have seen Tiberius destroying the statues. It was amazing,” Rafe said.

  “I want to see it,” Lexi said, although in truth she didn’t care about the statues.

  “Okay,” Rafe said.

  He led the way through the winding streets. When they reached the tower, the strange array of melted bronze statues surrounded it. The cobblestones were still bare of the powdery dirt, and the molten metal was still extremely hot in places, but the entire scene was cooling down.

  “Rafe, I need to tell you something,” Lexi said.

  “Are you okay?” Rafe asked.

  “Yes, I’ll be fine. But I’m worried about Tiberius.”

  “Ti? What’s wrong with him?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with him, but I’m afraid of what might happen if he gets the books the old man was hoarding down there.”

  “Why would Ti want some old books?”

  “Because they’re from before the purge,” Lexi said with emphasis. “You know he’s obsessed with learning more about magic.”

  “And you think that’s a bad thing?” Rafe asked, stopping his horse beside Lexi’s as they both stared at the tower.

  “I want Tiberius to have everything he wants,” Lexi said, as tears filled her eyes. “But Gunderlyn was insane. He was evil. He took control of my body, and I couldn’t stop him.”

  “That bastard,” Rafe said angrily.

  “He didn’t rape me, but he would have. I just don’t think there is anything good down in t
hat dungeon.”

  “Did you see the torture rack?” Rafe asked.

  “No, not really,” Lexi said. “But he said things … horrible things. Ti is so innocent, so good. I can’t stand the thought of that foulness changing him.”

  “Maybe it won’t,” Rafe said.

  “Do you really believe that?” Lexi asked.

  Rafe thought for a moment, then shook his head.

  “He’s going to kill the old wizard,” Lexi went on. “And when he’s through, he’ll come back here for the books. Unless we stop him.”

  “How?”

  “We could knock the tower over,” Lexi said. “If the only way into the tower is by spending hours moving the blocks, perhaps even days, he won’t do it. He won’t make us stay here. But if making a quick stop could get him the books, he will.”

  “You think we could knock that building down?”

  “I think we should try,” Lexi said. “Its for his own good, I know it.”

  “Well, I guess,” Rafe said, shrugging his shoulders.

  They had ridden around the tower, which looked sturdy, but the tall building just to the north of the tower wasn’t. Dancer showed them the tall wall of smooth material that seemed like stone but wasn’t. There was a thick timber beam in the ruins of the structure, and all it took were a few blows of the beam and the wall collapsed. The strange building had cracked, exposing aged wood beneath the stone-like veneer. And when the wall fell against the tower, the round structure fell in on itself, burying the trap door under a heaping pile of rubble.

  Rafe was thrilled with the result. To him it was just another job completed, but Lexi knew the truth. She knew she had dashed Ti’s hopes. They saw the brilliant, almost blinding light from the top of the temple and knew Tiberius was fighting for their lives.