What bothered her the most was putting all of her trust into Tiberius. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Ti—she did, and she loved him—but she had never placed herself entirely at someone else’s mercy before. Even when she worked for people in Avondale, there had always been a backup plan to ensure that she wasn’t betrayed or abandoned. But this time she would have to rely on Tiberius completely. If his magic failed, she would die. If he wasn’t strong enough, she would die. She was very aware of just how weak his back was from having the Balestone removed. Holding her out over the well would put incredible pressure on his back, and she felt her skin break out in gooseflesh at the thought of going headfirst into the swirling mass of oil.
“Can you get it?” Tiberius asked.
“If you can get me down there,” she replied.
She had tried to keep the accusation out of her voice, but she didn’t think she was very successful. Luckily, Tiberius didn’t seem to notice. She laid the rope out in a long, curving line around the perimeter of the building. The last thing she wanted was for the rope to get tangled. Then she helped Tiberius run the rope over his shoulder and secure it with his foot.
She wanted to say something to give him confidence, but her terror was beginning to get the best of her. She knew that if she didn’t hurry, she wouldn’t be able to go through with the crazy stunt.
“Here goes nothing,” she said, trying her best to look as if she were excited about the plan. “You better not drop me.”
“Never,” Tiberius said.
She ignored the fact that his face was already showing signs of the strain he was under. She crawled out over the spinning oil. She could feel the air moving around her; the sound of the swirling oil was like a swift river flowing over boulders. Her face was contorted with fear, and she was glad that Tiberius couldn’t see her.
Bracing her hands on the wall just inches above the rushing liquid, she kicked her feet up. For one terrifying instant, she felt her balance swaying out of control and she nearly screamed in panic, but Tiberius adjusted the rope and held her fast. She was dangling out over the dark well and she felt all her fears realized in that one instant. Tight, confining spaces had never bothered her, but she didn’t like being in a place without a clear exit. The first rule of living on her own had always been to avoid places she couldn’t easily get out of. Going down into the well headfirst triggered every red flag in her mind. She could feel the rope trembling in Tiberius’ grasp. The shadows, the swirling oil—it all seemed to feed her fears.
She was turning as he lowered her. Lexi kept her arms stretched out above her head, partly to make her profile as thin as possible, but also because she was afraid he might drop her. The last thing she wanted was to bash her head against the metal box if she fell. Tiberius’ little sphere of light followed her down, but Lexi preferred to keep her eyes closed. Her stomach was cramping, and the joints in her knees, hips, and ankles were aching from the strain of being suspended upside down. Blood was rushing to her head, making it pound and flush, while her feet quickly went numb.
It seemed to take forever to reach the box, but eventually her fingers touched the warm metal. It was slick from being covered with oil. The box was just large enough for Lexi to put her hands on the top, spreading her fingers and taking the majority of her weight onto her arms and shoulders.
Even over the sound of the swirling oil, Lexi could hear Tiberius panting. He was holding her erect, but she was bearing most of her body weight. She was just about to call for him to pull her back up, when suddenly the little sphere of light vanished.
Lexi instinctively held her breath, expecting the oil to crash down on her. She lurched, almost pulling her legs down so that she could kick up off the floor of the well once she was buried in oil, but Tiberius held her.
“Don’t thrash!” he called. “I’ve still got you.”
His voice was a harsh shriek, and the strain was obvious, but he didn’t let go of the rope. Lexi had a little trouble taking hold of the box. It was a smooth metal cube and slicked with oil, but not too heavy.
“I need some slack to get my fingers under the box,” she called.
Her voice echoed up the walls of the well and sounded strange. Her own fear was straining her voice, but she didn’t care. Tiberius lowered her down even further, and she quickly got her hands under the box.
“Pull me up!” she shouted.
The upward movement was slow. To Lexi it seemed like she lurched up a few inches at a time. She wanted him to hurry and had to hold back a blistering tirade of fear-laden remarks about Tiberius taking his sweet time while her life was on the line. In the total darkness, she couldn’t see how high she was. She wanted to bend and look up, but she didn’t dare make Tiberius’ job any harder than it already was—and besides, in the darkness she couldn’t see anything anyway.
Tiberius was grunting with each heave of the rope. Lexi held the metal box in a death grip, scarcely willing to breathe. Terror made her body stiff until finally Tiberius spoke to her again.
“When I say so, I need you to raise up,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m going to stop the cyclone spell.”
Lexi had no idea if she was high enough to avoid the spinning liquid, but she had no choice other than to obey. She tried to speak, but her throat was so dry no sound came out.
“Did you hear me?” he asked in an almost angry tone.
“Yes!” she managed to say, her voice a high-pitched squeak.
“Now!” he shouted.
Lexi threw her arms up, bringing the box from over her head around and to her stomach. She bent her knees and tried to hold herself up. The oil sloshed beneath her, and she felt like she was falling. Her scream was deafening for a split second, and then she crashed hard into the side of the well. She was still below the surface mostly, but Tiberius had taken hold of one leg just above her ankle. The wind was knocked out of her lungs from the sudden, unexpected crash, and she struggled to breathe as he clawed to drag her out of the well.
The side of the cistern was slick with oil, and she felt it soaking into her shirt. One hand held the box tight against her stomach, but the other thrashed against the wall until she found the lip of the well. Tiberius had pulled one of her legs over the edge, and Lexi did the rest. She rolled onto the smooth stone floor of the building, struggling to catch her breath.
Tiberius flopped beside her, moaning in pain. Part of her wanted to slap him; the other part wanted to kiss him. He hadn’t let her down. And she knew the physical strain must have been enormous. He had pulled her up and did his best to keep her safe. She had never felt more loved than she did in that moment.
“We did it,” she managed to say, once her chest had stopped aching and she had caught her breath.
“You … were … amazing,” he said.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“My back … is cramping,” he said. “It’s hard … to breathe.”
“Take your time,” she said, trying to soothe him with her voice. “I’ve got the box. There’s no hurry.”
She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was close so she reached out until she felt his arm. Then she scooted closer and lay beside him. She felt a strange sense of euphoria. She had faced death, overcome unbelievable odds, and survived. She wanted to scream, but she was afraid that might attract unwanted attention from some hideous monster. They had found the Emerystone, or at least something of great value. She only hoped they could get it and themselves safely back out of the twisted forest. And for Lexi, that couldn’t happen fast enough.
Chapter 21
Rafe
The city was in an uproar, and Rafe could only hope that the evacuation plan went smoothly. The time for worrying about his men and the people of the city was past. His whole concentration had to be on the earl now. He had stayed in Avondale to take his father’s place as protector of the earl. He was leaving Olyva to do a duty he felt strongly about and he was determined not to fail.
Rafe caught up with
the earl and a dozen of his guards at the entrance to the watchtower. They hurried through, and Rafe was amazed at the earl’s stamina. He took the stairs two at a time and didn’t seem winded, even when they reached the top. Tiberius’ healing spell had done more than heal his father—the earl seemed like a younger man.
The sky ship was being pulled into place by the guards on the tower. Rafe and the earl looked to the west. Already they could see the war ships better. At the front was the king’s ship, easily twice as big as the others. Rafe tried to count the fleet of ships, but it was no use. The ships around the king’s ship were clearly visible, but those farther back blurred together.
“How long until they reach the city?” the earl asked.
“An hour at most,” Rafe said. “Unless we can stall them.”
“Leonosis will have to speak to me. He can’t ignore his own father, even if he’s king.”
“Just remember, my lord—Leonosis might not be himself.” Rafe lowered his voice. “If some foul creature is controlling him, as Tiberius speculated, he might not hesitate to slay us all and destroy the city.”
“I’ll just have to find a way to get through to him,” the earl said. “Come, it looks like the ship is ready.”
More of the earl’s guards were joining the already crowded group of guards on the watchtower. The newcomers brought armor and weapons. The time for preparations was past; from this point on, Rafe knew, his men would always be armed and ready for combat.
The earl was the first to board his ship, and Rafe sent the earl’s guard up after him. As the soldiers hurried on board, Rafe’s three highest ranking officers came up the steps. They were all closer to Rafe’s father’s age than his own, but they showed him the same respect they had paid his father. Rafe was amused to find them all red-faced and panting after their climb up the tower.
“Commander,” Captain Rowan said, between breaths. “You’re leaving?”
“No,” Rafe said. “The earl and I are going to meet the king. Hopefully we can satisfy him, but at the least we hope to stall him long enough for the people to evacuate the city.”
“Not many plan to leave,” said the infantry commander named Saryns. He was a tall man with bristly gray hair on his head and cheeks. “They want to stay and see what happens.”
“Can’t blame them for that,” Rafe said. “Except all they’re likely to see are their friends and family being slaughtered. Remember our strategy. We have to present the largest target possible and make the king’s solders fight a drawn-out engagement. Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll lay siege to the city.”
Just then a rumble shook the mountaintop. On the watchtower Rafe could hear the thick stones grinding together as the tremor shook the massive structure. Everyone froze until the shaking stopped.
“There’s no sense keeping men up here,” Rafe said. “Rowan, keep your men on the walls. Gerick, help with the evacuation. If people don’t want to leave, don’t force them, but make sure that everyone who wants to flee the city is ready to go shortly after sundown. We can’t leave the gates open long. We’ll use the wagons for the elderly and children.”
“Who’ll lead them, sir?” asked Gerick, his voice a ragged whisper from a training accident that had nearly killed him and left a jagged scar across his neck.
“Olyva will be back for them—never doubt that. Once she’s gone, your men will take their positions on the gate houses. Saryns, I want all your men in the palace. No matter what else happens, your men stay in the palace. We must hold the palace at all costs.”
“Yes, commander,” the officer said.
They all three saluted, and Rafe hurried up the wooden steps that led into the earl’s sky ship. He felt the ship floating free almost as soon as he got onboard. By the time he made it up onto the main deck, the sailors had raised the long ropes used to moor the sky ship and had them stowed out of sight.
The crew worked quickly, adjusting the sails and heaving on the rigging. The sky ship was a majestic craft and under normal conditions Rafe would have felt a thrill. He had been on the sky ship once as a boy, and even though he had sailed on the Hamill Keep ship, the vessel from Avondale was different. It represented so much more than just a mode of transportation. Rafe had watched his father sailing away from the city on trips with the earl. To Rafe, the sky ship had always been the only way out of Avondale. And only the most important people were ever allowed to sail on the magnificent vessel. Rafe had promised himself that one day he would sail with the earl on the ship, and now he was doing exactly that. But he hadn’t planned on sailing to war.
In the distance he could see the king’s war ships. His heart was pounding at the prospect of Avondale’s lone sky ship sailing to meet an entire fleet. He unconsciously slid his sword up and down in its scabbard as he climbed the steps to the command deck. It was crowded with guardsmen, but Rafe quickly ordered most of them down to the main deck. Several were to wait in the earl’s cabin, out of sight, as a reserve force. The rest were spread around the deck as a show of force.
Rafe knew that, if they were attacked, the earl’s guard would fight valiantly, but one ship was no match for a fleet, and no group of warriors that only numbered twenty-five, including Rafe, could hope to stand against an entire army.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” the earl said.
He was leaning over the rail at the stern of the ship, staring out at Avondale below him. Rafe looked out and had to admit the city was impressive. The circular streets with their ornate stone architecture, the powerful walls rising like the arms of a mighty warrior to encircle and protect the city. Then there were the well groomed fields—some dark, some bright green with crops that had not yet ripened enough to be harvested. The open fields beyond, surrounding the dark forest, and then there was the lake at the very center, like a blue jewel at the heart of a royal pendant.
Rafe looked at the lake again, staring hard. Normally the lake was pristine, but unless Rafe’s eyesight was playing tricks on him, there was something floating on the surface. It looked scattered and dark against the brilliant blue of the water. It was almost like seeing a cracked mirror from a distance.
“My lord,” Rafe said, “is there something floating on the lake?”
The earl turned and looked, leaning hard against the rail and squinting into the distance.
“Captain, a spyglass please,” Earl Ageus said.
The ship’s captain offered the earl his own telescope. It was a heavy brass instrument, almost as long as the earl’s arm. He propped his elbow on the ship’s rail to hold the spyglass steady.
“It’s fish,” the earl said in a quiet voice.
“Fish, my lord?” Rafe asked.
“Dead fish, hundreds of them. What on earth could be causing the fish in the lake to die?”
Rafe had no answer. The world was a mystery. Rafe knew strategy and swordplay. He knew horsemanship and how to train an army, but he had no knowledge of fish other than how they tasted.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“So many things to deal with,” the earl said. “War, my son’s treachery, the future of the city. You know, I always thought having a third son was redundant. A second son ensured the dynasty, but a third was useless. Daughters you can always marry off, but Tiberius served no purpose. I couldn’t imagine that he would ever be needed as earl. I was blind to so many things.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Rafe said, trying to console the earl. He felt strange speaking about such intimate matters with the ruler of Avondale, a man he’d always been afraid of as a child. Earl Ageus had been gruff and harsh with Tiberius. He had never spoken more than a dozen words to Rafe before Tiberius healed him, yet now he was sharing his greatest regrets with Rafe as if they were the oldest friends.
“You remind me of your father,” the earl went on. “He could always be counted on to rationalize whatever crazy thing I was doing. I could see in his eyes that he didn’t believe what he was saying, but I didn’t want the truth, and he
knew that, too. He saw his duty to always be on my side, no matter what. But I don’t think that’s best. You’ll be Tiberius’ man, and if we live through this mess, he’ll be a man of great power and responsibility. He’ll need a friend who isn’t afraid to tell him when he is stepping over the line.”
“I’m just a soldier, my lord,” Rafe said.
“Nonsense. You’re like your father—a bright, capable man. Loyal, dependable, and strong—that’s exactly what every ruler needs by his side. I’m the one who made your father feel like he was only a soldier, because I was unhappy with my life.”
“You were unhappy?” Rafe asked in surprise.
“Yes, and I’m ashamed of that, but it’s true. I had everything I ever wanted, but I didn’t have to work for any of it. I could have been a great man, Rafe—your father knew that. But Avondale is so wealthy, ruling it takes no real skill. The ministers see to their responsibilities, and the earl settles a few squabbles. That’s all there is to it. I couldn’t have failed if I wanted to. My father was a brute, too, but my grandfather was a great man. He made changes, made Avondale a better place. I thought I would be like him, but in the end, I settled for doing the bare minimum. Just enough to get by, that’s all.
“I married who my father told me to marry. I never loved her,” Earl Ageus went on. “I did my duty but nothing more. I wasn’t faithful and I doubt she was, either. I ignored my children, treated my people like they were beneath me, and in the end I took to the cup to drown my sorrows.”
“You’re sober now, my lord,” Rafe said. “And you’re making a difference.”
“Yes, because my son—my throwaway as I used to call him—gave me a second chance. And because your father sacrificed himself to keep me safe, we shall never forget his greatness. Grentz, the sword master—did you know he hated that title? I came up with it. It was a stupid way for me to feel superior to the other earls. I forced him to fight because I wanted his reputation to impress my peers, and in the end he did it so well that I grew jealous of his fame. I was a fool, but the time for feeling sorry for myself is past. Now, I must do whatever I can to protect the city.”
Avondale V Page 13
