Path of the Magi (Tales of Tiberius)

by Stuart, Richard J

  Path of the Magi

  From the Tales of Tiberius

  By Richard J. Stuart

  Illustrated by Theresa Flaherty

  Copyright © 2013 Richard J. Stuart

  Illustrations copyright © 2013 Theresa Flaherty, excepting the Map of the Borderlands and the Magi logo which are the copyright of Richard J. Stuart

  All rights reserved.

  Dedication

  To my predecessors in magic:

  Winchester Stuart,

  J. Marberger Stuart, and

  Marjorie Stuart

  A Word of Warning

  This is a book about magic. As the saying goes, “I’m a professional. Please do not try this at home.”

  That may seem a bit silly when we are talking about ‘magic’ in the 21st century. I'm not worried that someone will read this book and then actually summon up a demon. That doesn’t mean there are no real dangers in the ‘occult.’ The Society of American Magicians has a psychic investigation committee largely because we don’t like seeing people use the art of slight of hand to injure or swindle other people. Sadly this occurs all too often, and it’s one of the many dangers you can encounter playing around in ‘occult’ circles. I don’t say it’s the only one. You don’t have to succeed in summoning up a demon to endanger your soul by trying. No one said Satan was an honest merchant and would give good value for your soul.

  Be safe. If you want to do more with “magic,” (and believe me, I understand that urge), I encourage you to begin your study of the supernatural the right way. Read the Bible. You may as well start with learning about who is really in charge of the spirit world. Study the apologetic writers such as G.K. Chesterton, C.S. Lewis, George McDonald, Malcolm Muggeridge, Norman Vincent Peale, and so on. This is the safe path. You’ll get better results this way too. After all, the Bible promises us that if we have faith as small as a grain of mustard seed we can move mountains. Develop your faith and you may just see it happen.

  -Richard J. Stuart

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to the New York City Chesterton Society for providing moral support and a top-notch illustrator.

  Thanks to the Old Sturbridge Village museum for providing invaluable technical information on life in a pre-industrial society.

  Map of the Borderlands was made with the aid of Campaign Cartographer 3 by ProFantasy Software Ltd.

  Thanks to the gang at www.strategypage.com and the related FYEO group for invaluable technical assistance on military matters.

  And a special thanks to Anne Cullen for the thankless task of editing this book.

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter I : The Witches of Sherwood City

  Chapter II : A New Teacher

  Chapter III : Omens

  Chapter IV : The Dragon

  Chapter V : The Basics of Magic and Romance

  Chapter VI : Lessons in Magic

  Chapter VII : University Life

  Chapter VIII : A New Beginning

  Chapter IX : Patrols in the Forests

  Chapter X : The Battle of Lychester

  Chapter XI : The Goblin Queen

  Chapter XII : Dealings With Elves

  Chapter XIII : Dallen and the Dragon

  Chapter XIV : The Lord of Vonair

  APPENDIX A

  APPENDIX B

  APPENDIX C

  Prologue

  At first he thought the dragon had gone mad. One second it was focused on gold and murder, not one care in the world. The next instant it spun about as if stung. It sent out a blast of fire and put its back against the wall of the bank. The only thing that had changed was that a young man had tripped and his brother had called out his name: Tiberius. The dragon heard.

  Tiberius Fuller felt the heat as the flames fired past him and knew he’d never felt anything hotter in his life. The heat and smoke choked his lungs as he tried, desperately, to grind his body deeper into the unyielding ground to escape the path of those terrible flames. His whole body quivered in fear. Yet he was still alive. Why? If the dragon cared about him, it couldn’t possibly miss him from this range. Then the dragon did something truly extraordinary. It took a step backwards and called out his name.

  “Where are you, Tiberius?” it asked, looking carefully about. “I sense that you are here, though you've cloaked yourself well! Has our hour come already? Come and fight if you dare!"

  Tiberius was too frightened to answer, too frightened to breathe. He could only gape and wonder. Was the dragon mad? He couldn’t be frightened, not of Tiberius, the teenage boy. Not five minutes ago, Tiberius had taken his best shot at the dragon with his trusty longbow. He hit the dragon square in the chest with his best arrow and the dragon hadn’t even noticed the attack. Now it was standing there taking a defensive posture? What on earth could frighten a dragon? Nothing in the stories had prepared Tiberius for the reality of a dragon. It was huge; the ground shook when it walked. It moved with lightning speed. Its hide was impervious to any normal weapon. Worse, this wasn’t an animal. This was an intelligent dragon steeped in the blackest arts of magic. Tiberius had just seen it rip the steel doors off of the bank with a mystic gesture. It spoke. It reasoned. It had planned this attack. Yet at the mention of his name, the dragon had stopped in its tracks. It forgot about the gold, and was casting what looked like defensive spells. As Tiberius watched the dragon, he slowly came to the inescapable conclusion that the dragon wasn’t mad. It was terrified. It was terrified of him.

  As the knowledge set in, Tiberius had to stifle a laugh. It wasn’t wise to laugh at a dragon. Yet a part of him wanted to leap up, wave his arms and shout, “Over here you daft, worm! I’m Tiberius! I’m the only Tiberius here!” Fortunately he was too terrified to move, much less stand up in front of the dragon. All he could do was sit and watch the dragon and think.

  Why was the dragon afraid, he wondered? The only things dragons feared were armies, wizards, or other dragons. It obviously had no reason to be afraid of Tiberius Fuller, the teenage boy. Yet it was afraid of his name. Maybe it had the wrong Tiberius, but … somehow he didn’t think so. The dragon was puzzled too. It slowly started to walk forward, looking about carefully. It shouted out that he could sense him. He thought Tiberius was invisible. Lord, how he wished that were true. But it did sense him. It was afraid of him, and dragons weren’t stupid.

  Then it hit him, and Tiberius realized the awful truth. Magical dragons could see into the past and the future, and sometimes they got them a bit confused. The dragon wasn’t afraid of a teenage boy, but he was afraid of Tiberius. Not who he was, but what he would become. He could sense the man was here but he was confused because he couldn’t sense the great wizard nearby. The dragon thought the wizard was hiding, preparing an ambush. The truth was that the wizard didn’t exist yet. Only the boy was here, not the man. The wizard was displaced in time. This wasn’t the hour of their battle, but he was destined to become a wizard, one that a dragon would fear.

  Destined? No, that wasn’t right; elves said the future was shaped by our choices. Until that moment, Tiberius had no intention of having anything to do with magic. But up to that moment he’d never been the only thing standing between everyone and everything he loved and utter destruction. Tiberius slowly looked around him. Here was his hometown, Sherwood City, already partially in flames. All the people and places he loved were in mortal danger, and they would be as long as this dragon lived. The dragon had already nearly eaten his fiancée. His family and friends were all nearby. Thousands were in danger because of that dragon. There was only one chance to save them in the end. Tiberius had to become something a dragon would fear. He would have to walk the path of the ma
gi.

  Tiberius had been offered the chance, but till now he had refused. From the day he was born the dangers of magic had been drilled into him. Witches and warlocks could do magic, yes, but the way they gained that power was to sell their soul to the Devil. Tiberius had no intention of doing that. Could there be another way? Tiberius knew of the magi, students of ancient mysteries who had followed Christ for centuries. They were good people who meant well; that he knew. But like his father, Tiberius had always doubted the wisdom of that path. Man was never meant to wield that kind of power. Even if he could protect the people he loved from dragons and other dark forces, who was to say that he could be trusted with that kind of power? Tiberius might destroy the dragon, but who would protect the people from him? Yet, as much as it terrified him, now that he had seen the face of the enemy, he knew that he had to take the chance. The dragon had made that perfectly clear.

  Tiberius looked into those eyes and saw no mercy, no compassion, and no love. Approaching the bank, the dragon had taken delight in causing destruction. It had sent a blast of fire towards the church for no reason but spite and hatred of all that was good. A flick of its claw sent men flying like broken dolls. No ordinary man could hope to stop it. It was a supernatural force. Only one who had walked the path of the magi and gained command of supernatural powers himself could hope to stop it. Tiberius knew, in that instant, that he had to try and gain hold of that power and turn it against the dragon. It didn’t matter what it cost him. It was the only way to protect the people he loved. Someday there would be a battle. The dragon was afraid of him.

  Maybe the dragon was right to be afraid.

  Chapter One

  The Witches of Sherwood City

  Until that moment there was nothing that suggested that young Master Tiberius Fuller was anything so far out of the ordinary that he would be terrifying dragons with his magical abilities. The only one in the Fuller family of any note was his father, Julian Fuller. Mr. Julian Fuller had been a general and witch hunter in the great northern war. Now he was retired, and ran a print shop with the help of his wife and two sons. He was a pillar of the church and the community. If anyone had suggested that one of the respectable Mr. Fuller’s children would grow up to have anything to do with magic, they would have been laughed out of town. That his son would take up study of the mystic arts and one day confront a dragon was unthinkable. So, of course, that’s exactly what happened.

  Just as an avalanche can start with the fall of a single pebble, Tiberius began his life quietly in the ordinary way, or at least ordinary for his part of the world. His home, Sherwood City, lay just beyond the Bermuda Triangle at the edge of the fairy countries. Living near the fairy lands, he saw a fairy creature now and then, but magic was certainly not part of his daily existence. He was born and raised in a small quiet city, just as any other young man. For the first fifteen years of his life he went to school and to church, learning to read and write and the wisdom of the prophets. His only battles were with his older brother, Marcus. He’d never seen any real magic until that one fateful day in late summer, when the militia bell rang.

  Tiberius was in his father’s print shop, seeing to his chores, when he heard the militia bell. His first reaction was to look up at his brother in surprise. The bell only rang twice a year, on militia days, and this wasn’t one of them.

  “Goblins, do you suppose?” he asked, looking across the floor of the print shop at his older brother.

  Marcus wiped the ink off of his hands on his apron. “Probably a fire and they rang the wrong bell,” Marcus answered. He wasn’t so fanciful as his younger brother. Still, a goblin attack wasn’t out of the question. It had always been feared, and everyone knew things weren’t going too well in the border country.

  They had their answer a moment later when the senior Fuller put his head in through the doorway.

  “Marcus, get your gear. There’s trouble. We’re going to arrest some witches.”

  “What about me?” Tiberius asked, pleadingly.

  “You’re only fifteen,” Julian said, with a stern glance.

  “Fifteen and a half, and you let the Jackson boys turn out for the fire. Why can’t I go? It might be my only chance to march with Marcus.”

  Julian glanced at his two boys for a moment. Marcus was the taller and broader built of the two. He was the older boy as well. Tiberius favored his mother a bit. He was leaner and quicker with sharper features that reminded one of a hawk, but he was no weakling or lightweight. He had his father’s eyes and he seemed to give as good as he got from his squabbles with Marcus. As commander of the local militia Julian had final authority as to who was allowed to go.

  “All right, get your gear, but mind you stay in the ranks and obey orders. First sign of trouble from you and I’m sending you back home. No charging out for glory. Understand?”

  “Sir, yes, sir!” Tiberius said, beaming. An instant later he was reaching for his own equipment: a bow, staff, and some third-hand battered armor.

  Both brothers wore shirts of steel bands in the style of the lorica segmentata used by the ancient Romans. It was a practical, cheap form of armor. Tiberius’ was rather battered, but he’d managed to strap it together well enough that it would serve. Marcus had a newer set. Neither of them had swords, but they had their trusty quarterstaves with them. They both had excellent long bows. Mr. Okubo, the fletcher, was a friend of the family. Captain Okubo, Tiberius had to remind himself. The two boys got their gear together and before long were following their father out to the city green.

  The city green of Sherwood City was a huge oval of green grass set in the city center. The Fuller’s print shop was not far away. Already the men of the town were assembling on the green, lining up in formation. The weather was cool for midsummer. It was a late afternoon and not too hot to be strapping on armor.

  On arriving in the oval, Tiberius was assigned to Captain Okubo’s company.

  “Keep an eye on those two rascals for me,” their father said. “If they give you the slightest bit of trouble you let me know and I’ll give them a thrashing they won’t forget.”

  Captain Okubo nodded, and then turned to wink at Tiberius and Marcus. He knew they were good lads that would obey his commands. The Okubos were old friends of the Fullers. While most of the families in town had lived in Sherwood City for generations, Michael Okubo was an exception. He was a “wash-up,” someone who had only come to live in the fairy lands recently. Wash-ups were those who had stumbled through the Bermuda Triangle somehow and been shipwrecked or deposited on the shores of the Stewardship, likely never to return home again.

  Most had a difficult time adjusting as things were different here. The Stewardship was near the borders of the fairy lands and magic tended to be far more common than it was back in the Old Country. Worse, the great fairy ban meant that many of the ways wash-ups were used to, like electric lights and dishwashers, were cursed and no longer available. Michael’s looks were against him too. He was of Asian descent and that was rare in these parts, though not unheard of. Most of the folk of the Stewardship were descended from wash-ups from Northern Europe, folks who’d got lost on the way to the New World and had settled here in a rather newer world than they’d bargained for.

  The Fullers had helped Michael make the difficult adjustment and they’d never regretted it. He’d become a fast friend and the best fletcher in town. He’d even found a pretty Asian wife and now had a beautiful little baby girl named Maci, not four months old. Aunt Min was standing around with Maci in her arms, here to see off Michael. Julian was the Maci’s god father, which made Maci Tiberius’ only sister. It was a fact that Tiberius thought was of little importance, save that he’d probably have to get her a Christmas present. But the really important facts in life sometimes slip in very quietly.

  The town had the air of a carnival. There was some nervousness, as no one seemed to know why the militia had been called out. Still, as no houses were seen burning and the officers were calm, it was general
ly acknowledged that the call up was a welcome change from the usual routine.

  Tiberius was fearful that he’d be banished to the back ranks as a rookie, but fortunately Captain Okubo seemed to want him where he could keep an eye on him. He and Marcus were in the very front rank of the company. Marcus and Tiberius smiled at one another, glad to have a front row seat for the action.

  A man approached their father. At first Tiberius thought it was someone from the government. Whoever it was, he was dressed as a gentleman. He wore a royal blue jacket and knickers over black boots and a white lace shirt. He had a matching blue cloak and he wore a tri-cornered hat. Everything was trimmed with gold lace and bright buttons. He carried a short black walking stick which was topped with a silver eagle. He wore round gold rimed spectacles. The man had a round face and what little chin he had was clean shaven. The hair he had left was silver and Tiberius guessed the man was in his mid-sixties.

  Tiberius would have paid him no mind on an occasion such as this, but for three things: First, the man was walking straight up to his father. Second, the short blue cloak was fastened with a curious sort of badge. It was round, made of polished silver, and it was set with three sapphires. The badge was engraved with curious markings, a triangle, and astronomical signs of some sort. It looked mystical, somehow, yet not evil. Tiberius thought it was, well, curious. Third, and finally, were the man’s eyes. There was something a little disturbing about them. They were deep, dark eyes with a piercing glance that seemed to miss nothing. The man glanced his way once, and Tiberius felt uncomfortably like the man had looked right though him.

  “Hello, Julian. It’s been a long time,” the man said.

  “Dallen,” Julian said, simply. It was an odd greeting, coming from his father, Tiberius thought. He knew his father was a man of few words, but this was fewer than most. It was almost as if his father was afraid of this man. But Tiberius had never known his father to be afraid of anyone.