“What happened?”
“You fell. I had to drive off the Graypee’s. They thought you were dessert.”
“Don’t joke.”
“No, it’s okay,” Tiberius said. “They’re gone. I even killed one. Can you believe it?”
“Ti, I can’t move.”
“Just give it a minute, you’ll be fine.”
“No, I can’t move,” Rafe said as tears rolled down his cheeks. “I can hardly breathe.”
“You fell from the wall,” Tiberius said. “It just knocked the breath out of you.”
“Listen to me,” Rafe wheezed. “I can’t feel any pain. I can’t move my arms or legs. I feel like there’s a huge stone on my chest. I’m dying.”
“No,” Tiberius said. “You can’t.”
“Tell Olyva…”
His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. It was taking all his strength just to breathe. Tiberius felt a sense of despair. Rafe’s back was broken, and even if they could somehow lift him back up on the wall without killing him, he would never be a warrior again. He would be a cripple, needing someone to wait on him hand and foot for the rest of his life. Tears filled Tiberius’ eyes. It wasn’t fair. Rafe, his best friend, the strongest, most adventuresome person Tiberius had ever known, was going to die.
Then an idea struck him. He had practiced the spell for mending bones. He was suddenly terrified. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t just let his friend die. But if he healed him, if he used magic, his friend would know—perhaps everyone would know—that Tiberius was a wizard. He might not even be able to save Rafe. He didn’t want to chance being caught, but he refused to let his friend die.
He wracked his brain to remember what the book said about the advanced healing spells.
This spell will heal broken bones if cast correctly, but unlike the previous spells which consisted of one focal point, Acies Intrinsecus and the spells that follow, all involve various stages of healing and focus.
Tiberius took a deep breath, then he began to chant the spell. It was the fourth spell in his book, and it was much longer than the others. He’d practiced it over and over alone in his room, but now with his heart racing and his friend gasping for breath, he felt a pressure and fear he’d never experienced before.
“Acies Intrinsecus Accipio Ceptum Sarcio Adiflictus Ossis,” he chanted.
Immediately he felt the magic around him swirling. The power of the spell was much greater than it had been in his room. He felt like he was in the middle of a terrific storm. The magic buffeted his body and his hands were already shaking with fear. He focused his mind on his friend, closing his eyes and chanting the spell out loud, over and over. He did his best to ignore Rafe’s eyes, open so wide he could see the whites of his eyes all around the irises.
As the magic grew in intensity, he began to feel his friend’s body. He could feel the magic billowing over and under Rafe’s inert form. Then the magic penetrated and even though Tiberius’ eyes were closed, he could see a bright flash of light as the magic he was conjuring united with the divine spark inside of Rafe. His friend couldn’t feel the injuries that had occurred in the fall, but Tiberius suddenly could. The pain in his back erupted so savagely that Tiberius’ body arched, and he almost screamed in pain, as the muscles in his back spasmed. He could feel the broken vertebrae and the bisected spinal column.
He was so shocked that he almost faltered in his chant of the spell. The feeling dimmed and the magic seemed to pull away from Rafe, but Tiberius redoubled his efforts and thrust his mind furiously into his friend. He directed the magic into the broken sections of Rafe’s back. It was hard to concentrate on such small fractures deep within the multitude of organs, blood vessels, muscles, and tissue, almost as if he were trying to read tiny writing. He wanted to back off, relax his efforts, but forced himself not to give up. He remembered what the book had said about the advanced spells.
There is of course danger in these spells, like in all magic. If the wizard is not mentally strong enough to control the magical power, it can wreak havoc in the subject’s body, causing more damage or healing in an abnormal way and thereby crippling the subject.
Tiberius was swiftly growing tired. He’d never had much stamina, but he could sense the bones fusing back together. Little sparks of light popped in his mind’s eye as the individual strands that made up Rafe’s spinal column joined back together. Tiberius didn’t understand all that was happening. He could feel Rafe’s body—all the muscles, bones, blood, and organs functioning in his body, like the cacophony of an angry mob all around him—but he made himself focus on directing the magic. It was his only task, move the magic, even though it was like trying to funnel a river into a thin hollow reed. Still, he didn’t give up, his head ached, and eyes felt as if they were going to pop out of his skull. It was getting harder to breathe, and the pain in his back was difficult to ignore. Then, suddenly, it all began to ease. The magic he’d been wrestling with so furiously, suddenly began to flow more easily. The bones were solid again, the spinal column intact.
Tiberius slowly sat back on his heels and opened his eyes. Rafe was staring at him, his eyes still opened wide, but his head turned toward him.
“Can you,” Tiberius said, between gasping breaths, “move?”
“What did you do?” Rafe said.
“Can you move?” Tiberius asked again.
“Yeah, I think so.”
Tiberius stood up on shaky legs. He’d just cast his first real spell, and it had been more difficult than he ever imagined. It reminded him of the first time he’d sat on a horse. The beast had been so big, so powerful, that he knew it could fling him off or run away and there would be nothing he could do to stop it. Instead, the horse had obeyed his commands and taken him around the field where Tiberius’ brothers were riding. It had been exhilarating and frightening, and just like that first horseback ride, Tiberius knew he wanted to do more magic. He had barely controlled the powerful magic, and somehow it had done what he wanted it to; it had obeyed him.
Tiberius pulled his friend up and they stood staring at each other.
“Are you okay?” Tiberius asked.
“Yes,” Rafe said. “Are you a wizard?”
Before Tiberius could answer, a howling scream erupted behind them, and Rafe shoved Tiberius to one side as he dove in the opposite direction. Tiberius landed hard on his left arm, felt it pop and a stabbing pain made him cry out. He also saw the flash of gray, scaly skin streak past, and then rolling to his knees stood up to see the pack of Graypee’s rushing toward him.
Chapter 11
Rafe
He was still unsure about what had happened to him. He remembered falling; it had been the scariest moment of his life. He had knocked the Graypee back from the wall, but then gravity seemed to take hold of him. For one long instant, he had struggled to regain his balance, but then he was falling and there was no way to stop it.
He hit the ground so hard he passed out. When he came to, his head ached terribly and he felt as there was a huge boulder on his chest. It took all his strength just to breathe. He tried to roll over, but couldn’t move. He wanted to lift his head up, but he couldn’t. He tried to raise his hand, but his arm refused to move. Nothing hurt but his head, and yet he knew he was badly injured. His senses came back to him slowly. At first his only thought had been to breathe, but then the reality of what had happened hit him. It was more painful than the fall. His back was broken. It was the only explanation for why he couldn’t move. He closed his eyes and did his best to stay alive, although he guessed that soon the Graypee’s would begin to feed on him. That thought was terrifying, but he hoped that he wouldn’t feel much of it. He considered briefly just giving up and dying. He could have just stopped struggling to breathe, but his time as a soldier had reinforced his own survival instincts until quitting wasn’t an option.
Then he’d heard the unmistakable cracks of Tiberius’ whip. His eyes had flooded with tears as he realized that his best f
riend was fighting for him, even though he knew it was too late for Tiberius to actually help him. He felt guilty that his friend would probably die for him. Tiberius was not a warrior. He was damn good with that whip, but a whip wouldn’t fend off the Graypees forever.
There was a bloodcurdling roar, and the sounds of one of the Graypees gurgling and dying, then Tiberius was looking down at him. Rafe wanted to ask questions, but he had to focus on breathing. He had to close his eyes when Tiberius started chanting. It was strange, the words foreign but familiar at the same time. Then he felt something happening inside him. His arms and legs began to tingle, as if they were asleep. Then a terrible ache pulsed to life, only to fade almost as quickly as it appeared. His breathing became much easier, and then he could move again. Relief flooded over him so strongly that tears once again stung his eyes.
When Tiberius had pulled Rafe to his feet, he felt a sense of strength that he’d never experienced before. It wasn’t physical strength, but resolution of will. He knew exactly what he wanted and he knew that he would do anything to get it.
Then the Graypees attacked again. The pack leader had been killed by Tiberius, but another was vying for the title and it launched itself straight at them. Without thinking Rafe pushed his friend away and fell to the ground. The Graypee was a streak of gray lightning, flashing over them. Rafe rolled to his feet and drew his rapier in one smooth motion. The sword was long and much thinner than the short swords carried by the Earl’s soldiers. Theirs was best for hacking at opponents, but the rapier was a much more sophisticated weapon. It was thin and double edged, with a fuller along the center portion of the blade from the hilt to the midway point of the weapon. The sword was strong, but flexible, allowing it to absorb the impact of heaver weapons without snapping. It was primarily a thrusting sword, and Rafe’s father had taught him to use the rapier from a very early age. Rafe used precise angles and the long sword’s greater leverage to dispatch opponents, rather than raw power or ferocity.
Unfortunately, Rafe wasn’t facing a human opponent. The Graypee had a long tail, thickly muscled legs, and a long maw of razor-sharp teeth. Rafe knew he needed to inflict as much damage as he could while keeping the beast at bay. He and Tiberius had pretended to hunt the fabled beasts their whole lives and he’d often fantasized slaying one, but never in all those dreams did he imagine fighting one with a sword.
From the city wall, the creatures had looked powerful and large, but up close they were terrifying. Rafe could see the thick muscles coiling and flexing under the glossy, gray scaled skin. The Graypee darted forward again, this time staying on its feet. Rafe stood his ground, holding his sword high, but parallel to the ground, keeping the sharpened tip pointed at the creature. He was afraid the rest of the pack would attack him from behind, but Tiberius moved behind him, the Earl’s son’s whip cracking like thunderbolts around them. Rafe felt the wind as the whip flew around him, but he didn’t take his concentration from the Graypee in front of him. He trusted his friend, and he knew that if he wasn’t careful, the creature would tear his throat out.
When the beast came at Rafe, it opened its mouth, the thick tongue sliding back so that all Rafe could see were the rows of teeth and the dark, slimy throat. He drove the rapier forward aiming for one of the small, black eyes. The sword thrust was off the mark and hit below the eye, along the Graypee’s snout. The blade split the skin easily, then dragged up the bony skull toward the beast’s eye. When the tip entered the Graypee’s eye, it howled in pain, its claws scrabbling on the rocky ground in an attempt to get away from the awful blade. The sword, which angled to a point, caught in the orbital socket, amd the pressure of the huge beast made the blade bow out until Rafe jerked it back.
The Graypee roared in fury. Rafe risked a quick glance back and saw that the rest of the pack was hissing and feinting, but none were attacking. Either they were frightened of Tiberius’ whip, or they were waiting to see what would happen to the creature that Rafe had just wounded. When Rafe turned back to the Graypee he’d just struck, he was surprised to see the beast readying for another attack. Its eye had been popped from its socket and hung from the beast’s skull by the thick optical nerve as blood flooded down the creature’s face. It pawed at them, swiping a claw in their direction despite the fact that it was too far away to actually reach them.
“You like that?” Rafe bellowed at the beast. “Come get some more!”
Tiberius was yelling too, but he was shouting for the Graypees to flee. Rafe jumped forward, raising his empty hand over his head and waving it furiously. The Graypee watched the empty hand, raising its head in anticipation of an attack. Rafe then flicked his sword out in a well-aimed jab. The blade sank into the Graypee’s throat and Rafe slashed hard, forcing the rapier to cut through muscle and flesh. Blood sprayed out and the Graypee staggered backward again, trying to roar, but only choking and gargling on its own blood. The creature was dying, but it was still bigger and stronger than Rafe. It charged forward, lowering its head to protect the wounded neck. Rafe jumped out of the way, shouting for Tiberius.
“Look out, Ti!” he shouted.
Tiberius didn’t hesitate, but jumped to the side, landing hard on his right arm and then rolling to his knees as the Graypee lumbered past. It was much slower than before and as it turned to face them again, its legs buckled. Rafe ran to Tiberius’ side, noticing how his friend’s arm was cradled against his chest.
“You hurt?” he cried.
“It’s nothing,” Tiberius said as he cracked his whip across the snout of the dying Graypee.
It fell to the ground.
“Killed another one,” Tiberius joked.
“That was my kill,” Rafe said.
“Well, I killed the first one.”
“What about the one on the wall?”
“It’s still alive,” Tiberius said. “I saw it run away.”
“It still counts.”
“Only if you go down into the mists and find it.”
The Graypees hissed and growled, but soon they turned away, leaving two of their dead behind. Tiberius seemed to sag, as if he was completely exhausted.
“You saved my life,” Rafe told him.
“It was nothing,” Tiberius said, trying to coil his whip with one hand.
“Your arm hurt bad?” Rafe asked.
“No, just sore.”
“Why the hell did you come down the wall?”
“I wasn’t going to let you die,” Tiberius said.
Rafe had trouble finding words. His eyes were stinging with tears again and his throat ached as he struggled not to lose his composure.
“What exactly did you do to me, Ti?”
“Nothing,” Tiberius lied.
“You’re a terrible liar. I’ve known you too long for that.”
“I helped you, is that a bad thing?”
“No,” Rafe said. “Of course it isn’t.”
“Then just pretend it never happened, okay.”
“What are you not telling me?” Rafe persisted.
“Nothing,” Tiberius said.
Rafe looked into his friend’s eyes and saw both relief and fear there. It wasn’t fear of the Graypees, nor of his friend’s heroic actions to save his life. It something else, something even greater than facing a pack of huge lizard creatures.
“Alright,” Rafe said. “I won’t ask again.”
They stood looking at each other.
“But you need to see a physician,” Rafe finally said.
“I just need some rest. Saving your butt is tiring work.”
“Well, I won’t forget what you did for me.”
“You would have done the same for me,” Tiberius said.
“Sir?” came a shout from above them. “Are you okay, sir?”
“We’re fine,” said Rafe.
Ropes were dropped. Rafe took them and looked around.
“I don’t guess you can climb a rope with a hurt arm,” he said.
Tiberius shook his head.
; “Well, I’m going to sling these two around my Graypee, then I’ll see to you.”
“Priorities, I get it,” Tiberius said, and they both laughed.
Chapter 12
Tiberius
Tiberius didn’t feel like laughing. His arm was hurting so bad he had to grit his teeth to keep from groaning in agony. He knew the bone was broken, and as the adrenaline of the Graypee attack wore off, he began to ache all over. His tailbone was badly bruised, making every step painful and each inch of his body seemed to hurt with a new ache. But none of it compared the mind-numbing pain of his broken arm.
“Tiberius needs a sling,” Rafe called up to the soldiers that were massing on top of the wall.
Ti started to object, but then realized Rafe wasn’t calling for a sling for Tiberius’ broken arm, but rather a sling to haul him back up the wall.
More ropes dropped and Rafe saw to his friend.
“That arm looks pretty bad,” Rafe said.
“It’s just bruised.”
“Or maybe you know a way to fix it,” Rafe said, staring into his friend’s eyes.
There was no sign of anger or judgement in Rafe’s stare, but Tiberius felt exposed and frightened just the same.
“Don’t worry, you’re secret is safe with me,” Rafe said. “I owe you my life, Ti. I won’t ever forget that.”
Tiberius didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded. The sling was wrapped around his chest, under his arms and then tightened. Then Tiberius was hauled up the wall, while Rafe got the second Graypee they had killed ready to be hauled up.
When Tiberus reached the edge of the city wall, strong hands took hold of him and helped him scramble over the parapet. The wall was crowded with soldiers now, even some of his father’s officers were there, including Grentz, Rafe’s father. The soldiers began to cheer. Tiberius was completely surprised. He was slapped on the back and congratulated.
Avondale Page 7
