Tiberius didn’t have time to think about how lucky he’d been. He saw heads peering down from the roof where’d just fallen from and legs starting to dangle. The people chasing him were crazed with anger or just caught up in the chase. Tiberius shuffled to the edge of the roof and found a small pen below him with goats wandering around in the thick muck. Once again Tiberius rolled onto his stomach and pushed his legs out over the edge of the roof.
The first pursuer dropped onto the shed not far from Tiberius. It was an older and heavier man, and the roof broke under his weight. The man crashed through, and Tiberius was tossed backward. Luckily, the shed roof was only slightly higher than Tiberius when he stood with his hands extended over his head. He had meant to drop the foot or so to the ground and race away, but instead he fell unexpectedly, landing on his back in the thick sludge that was mostly goat excrement. The smell was horrible, but the sludge had saved Tiberius from getting hurt. He scrambled to his feet just as another person dropped onto a sturdier part of the shed roof.
“He’s getting away!” the man shouted up. “He’s going to the east market.”
Tiberius knew he should try to hide, but he needed to get back up to the roof. He tried to circle the large structure that served as the earl’s palace but also housed the city’s officials and guests. Ti raced around the corner, hoping that he could cast his cloaking spell and sneak away, but he found himself suddenly in the market. Space in Hamill Keep was hard to come by, and most people lived in small alcoves carved out of the mountain by miners. Animals had to be kept on the mountaintop proper, so between the animals’ sheds and the earl’s palace, the remaining free space was packed with vendors. Some sold reworked tools, others hawked clothes patched together with old scraps of garments long since worn threadbare. It was a maze of tents and lean-to sheds with people everywhere.
The riot had reached the market, and people were either running in fear or wreaking havoc. Some were even searching for the wizards and witches who had killed the earl. Tiberius ducked into a small stall and found an elderly man cowering with a small girl. They looked at Ti with large, terrified eyes. He nodded as if to say he meant them no harm. Then he cast his spell.
“Scuti Incantatio,” he murmured.
He felt the magic fall on him softly and saw, by the looks of the old man and young girl, that his spell was working. They looked even more frightened than before.
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” he said, then dashed back out into the marketplace.
In theory, being invisible should have allowed him to easily return to the palace without being seen, where he could join his friends and escape on the sky ship. In reality, the throng of people in Hamill Keep made it almost impossible for Tiberius to do anything. The narrow alleys between the market stalls were packed with people, many of whom had crude weapons that they swung at anything that came close to them. Tiberius bumped one desperate-looking man who had a small hammer. The man lashed out without even looking, nearly hitting Tiberius before Ti jumped away to avoid the blow, only to smash into another man. There was chaos everywhere, and Tiberius soon realized that circling around the palace would not be quickly achieved.
He wanted to look up and see what was happening on the rooftop, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from the crowds of people around him. The soldiers were herding people like cattle, using their spears and shields to push the crowds away from the palace. Tiberius decided to try and scale the wall. If he could get to the wall, he might find a way onto the palace roof, but more likely, he could escape down the other side and make his way back down to Lexi. It would take much longer than riding down in the sky ship, but it would be safer than staying in the city.
He had to avoid a man with a sword. The weapon was ancient, covered in rust, and probably as dull as a spoon, but the man was swinging the weapon in a rage. Tiberius had just dodged around the man and was heading for the wall when he heard a high-pitched scream. He looked back and saw a young girl, kneeling beside her father, whose head was bleeding. The father had been knocked unconscious, and the ruffian with the rusty sword was closing in on him. Tiberius didn’t know if the man intended to strike at the child or her father, but he didn’t wait to find out. Instead he rushed at the man, lowering his shoulder and slamming into the ruffian’s side just as he raised the old weapon above his head.
Tiberius let his cloaking spell go and knelt beside the injured father. The girl looked up with tearful eyes, and Tiberius knew he had to help.
“Sano Sarcio Acies Deprimo Abscido,” he chanted, letting his magic flow into the man’s wound.
The father’s skull wasn’t damaged, but the cut ran from his forehead down to his ear, which was hanging at an unnatural angle. Tiberius felt a searing pain in his own head as he healed the man’s wound. He could sense the chaos around him and the fact that a crowd was forming, watching Tiberius, who continued to chant his spell.
The ruffian that had been knocked off his feet recovered his sword and turned back to Tiberius. There were whispers as the people watched Tiberius chanting and saw the wound on the father’s head slowly healing before their eyes. There was amazement, but also fear. The ruffian watched for a moment, and then his anger flared back up into a rage. He rushed forward again, raising the sword above his head.
“Scuti Incantatio,” Tibeirus said, raising a hand.
The shielding spell sprang up around himself, the father who was struggling to sit up, and the little girl. The ruffian brought the sword down, and even as old and dull as it was, it should have smashed through the futile defense Tiberius seemed to have with his upraised hand. But the sword hit the magical shield and bounced off. To Tiberius, the blow felt like a sword on a wooden shield, just the way he’d practiced it so many time in Avondale. The ruffian staggered back, his eyes wide with shock as Tiberius stood up unharmed.
“He’s the wizard!” someone shouted.
“Sorcery!” screamed another.
“He healed that man,” said a calm voice, but then another maniacal scream sounded, and someone cried, “Get him!” The crowd rushed forward.
Tiberius turned to run, but was met by a crowd from the other direction. A large group had gathered while he healed the little girl’s father and now, worked into a frenzy by fear and the destruction of the riot, they turned all their anger and frustration on him. Before Tiberius knew what was happening, someone grabbed his arm. Someone else punched him; the blow knocked his head back, and then a punch to his stomach doubled him over. Fists began to rain down on Tiberius, and when he fell to the ground, the crowd began to kick.
Scuti Incantatio, Tiberius thought. Even though his bloody lips didn’t pronounce the words, a barrier still formed around Ti, saving his life as the crowd punched and kicked and even began pounding him with clubs. The mob was in a fury, and although Tiberius didn’t feel the force of every blow, he felt the concussive force through his shield, and it took all the concentration his foggy brain could muster to hold the spell in place.
He would have been beaten to death many times over if not for the shielding spell. Eventually the soldiers arrived and broke through the crowd.
“He’s the wizard!” someone shouted at the soldiers.
“He started this.”
“He killed the earl.”
“His friends are all devils.”
“He’s a sorcerer.”
The accusations continued, but Tiberius didn’t bother listening. The soldiers didn’t, either, but only pushed the crowd back and threatened deadly force to those who resisted them. The officer in charge must have realized that Tiberius was his chance to reestablish control of the city.
“Pick up the wizard,” he said, spitting the last word as if it were the worst insult he knew.
Tiberius rolled onto his back and let the spell fade. He was focused only on breathing now. There was a blinding pain in his stomach, and every breath sent fiery barbs of agony shooting through his chest. One eye was already swollen shut, and his lips were b
leeding. His nose was broken, and several of his teeth had been knocked loose, and that was all before he managed to cast his magical shield spell.
Two soldiers, one on either side of Tiberius, yanked him upright. The sudden change made Tiberius so dizzy that he retched. The soldiers jumped back, and Tiberius fell forward to land in his own vomit. His head smacked hard against the stone of the pathway, opening a nasty gash along his forehead.
“I said pick him up!” the officer shouted.
The soldiers jerked Tiberius upright again. He was only semi-conscious and barely even registered the angry mob as the soldiers dragged him back toward the palace. Some shouted curses, while others threw mud or dung from the animal pens. Occasionally someone rushed forward to hit or kick at Tiberius, but the soldiers dragged them away. News of the wizard’s capture settled the crowd and drew everyone to the open space at the front of the earl’s palace. Tiberius was dropped on the wide steps, and the crowd waited, murmuring.
The soldiers regrouped, and then the ranking officer stepped forward. He was a big man with a thick brow above his wide-set eyes. He bellowed to the crowd.
“Did anyone witness this man working magic?” he shouted.
Several people shouted that they had seen him. They didn’t bother to say that they saw him healing a wounded man or saving the little girl. Tiberius was slowly coming around as the officer turned back to his men.
“Stand him up!” he ordered.
“He can’t stand, sir.”
“Then tie him to something,” the officer continued. “And get me the earl’s guard. I want to know exactly what happened.”
Tiberius almost passed out from the pain as the soldiers roughly snatched him up. There was a wooden railing along a portion of the steps leading into the palace, and Tiberius was leaned against the railing and tied fast with rough rope. They stretched out his arms and tied them down, then ran a loop of the rope around his chest and tied it to the railing. His head drooped forward, and Tiberius saw through his good eye the blood dripping off his face.
Acies Penetralis Deprimo Sano Crudus Viscus, he thought. His focus went inward, and he felt his body rushing to heal the damage caused by his beating. Healing spells required the wizard to feel their patient’s pain; it was a magical condition called Corporeus Adfectus. When Tiberius healed the father in the street, he’d felt the pain of the man’s head wound. The shared pain allowed Tiberius to ensure that his spell was working and that the healing wasn’t just superficial but that the wound or sickness was being completely dealt with. When Tiberius tried to heal himself, the pain was suddenly doubled, causing him to moan in agony.
He kept repeating the spell over and over, feeding the healing magic into his stomach, where the pain was so intense he thought he might die. But slowly the pain began to ease and then finally it ended.
Acies Intrinsecus Accipio Ceptum Sarcio Adiflictus Ossis, Tiberius thought, focusing on his ribs. The fiery pain intensified and then ebbed. He had just finished when four of the earl’s guards were pushed into the clearing where the ranking officer waited.
“It’s about time,” the officer said. “I take it you four were with the earl this morning?”
The men looked sheepish as Tiberius raised his head a little. He felt much better, but he didn’t want it to show. He recognized two of the guards. One was the young man so eager to know about the blighted lands, and the other was the angry soldier that Olyva had called Orryn.
“Tell us exactly what happened,” the officer said.
The men told their story, and Tiberius knew it sounded bad. The earl had not been alive, he had not responded to pain, and his body did not bleed or break, but all of that would be blamed on Tiberius. He was a wizard. There were witnesses to his magic, and the law forbade magic of any kind. No one could explain what happened to the earl or why he’d seemed so different since his return from Sparlan Citadel, but Tiberius was the scapegoat. His crime would be the way people rationalized what happened to their leader and why they had rioted. Once he was punished, their fury would be satisfied, for a while at least.
“I want witnesses to this man’s crimes!” the officer shouted.
Several people came forward and told how Tiberius had healed the man in the street. They told about his chanting and of the fight with the ruffian. Then the old man who’d seen Tiberius cast his cloaking spell stepped forward and told his story. The crowd grew more vocal with each testimony. By the time the old man finished, they were howling for blood.
“There is no doubt that this man is a wizard and that he played some role in the death of Earl Marcus. His punishment is death.”
The crowd roared their approval, and Tiberius felt a little bit of hope fade. He wasn’t defeated, but he had hoped that the earl’s guards would have argued for his release or at least a lesser punishment.
“Can I not speak in my own defense?” Tiberius asked.
The crowd hooted and screamed for the soldiers to silence him. The officer in charge had to move his troops in front of the crowd.
“We will have order,” he bellowed. “We will have order.”
Tiberius didn’t know if his calm minds spell would work on so many people, and he didn’t want to risk wasting time with the sleep spell. He needed to do something dramatic, something that would cow the crowd and allow him to escape. But first he needed to be freed from the ropes that held him tied down.
“We shall behead him,” the officer in charge said. “Bring the chopping block and fetch an axe.”
Tiberius focused on breathing. His face hurt, and he couldn’t breath out of his nose. He decided to focus on repairing as much of the damage to his face as possible. He would leave his lips bloody and the cut on his forehead open. He would need to leave his eye swollen, too, but he could repair his teeth and heal his nose.
Acies Intrinsecus Accipio Ceptum Sarcio Adiflictus Ossis, he thought, directing the magic into his ruined face. He was wondering if Lexi would still be attracted to him with his face so mangled when the pain of the Corporeus Adfectus flared to life and he had to shut his eye to keep the tears at bay. He felt a hot tear squeezing out of the swollen eye, but his teeth began to hurt less, and he felt his nose mending.
The soldiers untied the rope and began to drag Tiberius to the chopping block. The crowd was murmuring with excitement. Tiberius was forced to his knees by the large square block of wood. His arms were wrenched behind his back by a very strong man, who then put his knee on Ti’s spine, just between the shoulder blades, forcing Tiberius to bend at the waist until his face was pressed hard onto the wood.
“This man has been found guilty of sorcery, treason, and murder,” the commanding officer bellowed. “He has been sentenced to die. You may carry out the verdict.”
Tiberius couldn’t see the soldier with the axe, but he guessed that man was raising his weapon to carry out the execution. Scuti Incantatio, Tiberius thought, feeling the reassuring touch of his shield spell. The axe fell hard, and the blow knocked the breath out of Tiberius’ lungs and jarred him so hard that his face ground against the rough surface of the chopping block. The solder holding Ti down suddenly let go, and there were screams of panic as Tiberius sat up, his head still intact and without so much as a scratch where the axe had fallen.
“Restrain the prisoner!” bellowed the commanding officer.
But this time Tiberius was ready for them.
“Accendo,” he whispered and fire swirled around him.
The crowd roared in panic, and Tiberius got to his feet. Through the swirling flames he could see the soldiers hurrying down the steps of the palace and toward the crowd. The heat around the flames was high, and inside the ring of fire, Tiberius could barely stay on his feet.
“Abdidi Incantatio,” he said and simultaneously clamped down hard on the fire spell. The flames fluttered and then disappeared in a puff of black smoke. When the smoke cleared, Tiberius was gone.
Chapter 32
Lexi
The first day alone
had been a welcome respite from the long journey north. Lexi had lounged, wondering what Tiberius was doing, and played with Dancer. Late that night she heard the sounds of animals in the distance. Dancer sat still, the little glider’s body rigid as it listened. The horses looked up, too, their ears turning toward the sounds.
Eventually, Lexi sent Dancer up for a look, but the animals were on the plains below the mountains, and Lexi felt safe enough in her small valley. The next morning, however, she searched her surroundings for a more defensible location, just in case something decided Lexi or the horses smelled like a good meal.
She found a small cleft in a nearby hill. The path leading up to the cleft was just wide enough for the horses to walk up single-file. Lexi didn’t want to make camp in the cleft in case Tiberius came back to look for her. The little valley had fresh water and grass for the horses to graze on, but the cleft was barren and rocky. So Lexi spend the day gathering firewood. She stacked the wood in the cleft and made sure she had torches ready if the need to flee came.
It came that very night. Dancer was the first to hear the sounds of the animals moving their way. She jumped up and down, chattering wildly and sending thoughts of danger straight into Lexi’s mind. When Dancer flew up to see, the wind glider caught sight of a pack of graypees approaching the valley from the wide plain. There were six of the deadly creatures; each had a triangular head that was nothing more than a small skull and thickly muscled jaws. Their snouts were long and pointed, with pointed teeth all along the edges of their long mouths. Their skins were scaly and their bodies wide. They had long, thick tails that tapered to a point, with ridges of tough, hide-covered bone running the entire length. They moved quickly and easily, first across the flat, dusty prairie and then up into the rocky terrain of the foothills.
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