Avondale (23 page)

He felt the blood rushing through the fat veins in his thigh, then the bone, snapped as cleanly as a carrot, just two flat spaces in the thick femur bone that shouldn’t be there. He realized he was going to have to move his leg to heal it. The broken ends were pointing in different directions and he needed to put them as close to one another as he could.

He kept chanting the spell, forcing himself not to lose concentration. He sat up on the bed, waiting as a wave of intense pain made the room spin for a minute. His jaw ached from clenching his teeth so tight against the pain, but his lips kept moving, chanting the strange words of the spell over and over again. He reached out and took hold of the top of his boot, just above the knee. A throb of pain jolted him.

“Don’t lose your concentration,” Princess Ariel snapped.

Tiberius wanted to scream at her, but he dared not stop chanting the spell. The rhythm of the words and the connection to the whirling storm of raging magic helped him deal with the pain. It moved his mind away from intense agony of the situation and allowed him to focus in on the break.

He lifted his lower leg and felt his whole body begin to tremble with the overwhelming pain. His voice grew louder and the tremble turned into hard muscle spasms. His back was cramping and he felt as if a huge hand was squeezing his chest, but he didn’t stop until his leg was straight. Then he fell back onto the bed, concentrating on the spell as the pain washed over him again and again. It was like the reverberation of a giant gong being rang, each hit of the gong was another throbbing spasm of pain that shook his whole body.

Then Tiberius willed the raging wind of magic into his leg. It was like giving a horse free rein at last. The blast of magical power into his body was intense and he felt every muscle tense while the bone fused back together. Then suddenly the pain slipped away and there was only the memory of the devastating ache. He held onto the spell just long enough to ensure that everything was okay, then he stopped chanting.

The whirl of magic slipped away from him like a warm summer breeze and he tried to catch his breath.

“Impressive,” Princess Ariel said. “Perhaps you’ll make it through the blighted lands.”

“Why?” he asked. “Why would you do that?”

“To see if you really were a wizard,” she said with a smile as she leaned over him.

Her lips were soft and surprisingly cold on Tiberius’. He guessed that he was just hot from the pain of the broken leg. He wanted to kill the Princess, but he also wanted to feel his leg. He knew it was healed, and yet his brain didn’t seem to grasp that it could actually be okay. He kept expecting the pain to spring back up.

Princess Ariel lay down on the bed beside Tiberius and whispered in his ear.

“Come to me in the Citadel and I will show you wonders the world hasn’t seen in centuries,” she said.

Her breath on his ear was ticklish, but it also excited him. He felt his passion stirring and fought it down. He wasn’t sure why exactly. The Princess was beautiful and she had kissed him. Yet, there was something about her that made him feel she was dangerous and that making love to her wouldn’t be a good idea. Lexi came to mind too, and he felt guilty for being excited by someone else.

“My brother is ill. Soon he will succumb to the inevitable. You and I could rule Valana, perhaps even peel back the mists and restore the land below.”

Tiberius swallowed hard. Everything Princess Ariel was saying were things he’d dreamed of. And yet, despite the Princess’ beauty, despite the temptation to rise up over his brothers and father to become King, he knew instinctively that there was something wrong with the Princess. She had cruelly broken his leg using a spell he’d never heard of. It was certainly not something she learned from the Four Orders of Magic he’d read about.

He rolled away from her and stood up. She looked puzzled for a moment, but he didn’t want her to know how he felt. There was still a spark of hope inside him. If he could lead Rafe and Olyva to the Citadel, they could live in safety for the rest of their lives.

“I’m ready to start my journey,” he said.

The Princess looked disappointed, but rose slowly to her feet. She moved toward him seductively and he fought to stay in control. His base impulses wanted to throw caution to the wind, to take the Princess and make her his, but he refused to give in.

“Then hurry back to me, wizard,” she said, emphasizing the last word.

Tiberius nodded.

She folded her arms around his neck and kissed him again. He didn’t resist, yet once again her lips felt cold and a shiver ran down his back. When she pulled away, he headed for the door. All he could think about was getting out of that room and as far away from Princess Ariel as possible.

The blow came from behind and landed on the base of Rafe’s skull. Ten minutes passed before he came to. The guards were gone, along with Tiberius. Rafe felt the hot salty tears falling onto his face. His eyes fluttered open and he saw Olyva staring down at him. His head was in her lap and she was weeping with despair.

He groaned and reached for the lump that had formed on the back of his head. It was tender and hot under his fingers. Olyva wiped the tears from her face, and tried to regain control.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

“I couldn’t wake you,” she said, trying to get her breathing back under control.

“Bastard hit me from behind. I’ll bet it was Soryn, he never liked me.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Positive,” he said. “Help me up.”

Rafe was dizzy for a few moments once he got to his feet, but eventually his head cleared and he was able to move around on his own again. He sat holding Olyva, who was trembling with fear. He guessed that she was even more afraid of losing him, of being all alone in the blighted lands, than even of dying. He couldn’t blame her. She would have to learn to do things for herself, but she’d been pampered her entire life. Her maid servant had even been responsible for helping her get dressed. Rafe had not had an easy life. His father was not a noble, and even though Rafe had grown up in the Earl’s palace, he’d been reminded daily that he would have to work hard to get ahead. He guessed the hours spent almost every day since he was a child training with a sword might not be as useful in the wilderness against wild animals, but at least he was confident with his weapons. He was grateful that no one seemed concerned with taking his rapier or dagger away from him.

He looked down at Olyva’s gown. It was silk and lace, not the type of garment that would do her much good outside of the city, but there was nothing he could do about that at the moment. They would have to make do with what they had. Rafe regretted terribly that Tiberius had been taken away. On the one hand, he wasn’t surprised; the Earl had every right to insist his son stay in Avondale, but on the other hand, Rafe had felt so much more confident with his old friend by his side. As children, Rafe and Ti had shared many adventures, most of them imaginary, but it was hard to imagine going into the blighted lands without Tiberius. Not to mention his friend’s new secret ability to heal people. Rafe couldn’t imagine that having healing power, even if it was magic, wouldn’t be incredibly valuable in the days to come.

They sat waiting for an hour, then they heard the sounds of people approaching again. Rafe didn’t say a word, but he felt Olyva’s body tense as the sounds grew louder. There were voices outside, then a guard stepped into the holding cell and waved Rafe over.

“It’s time,” the soldier grunted. “Get moving.”

Rafe helped Olyva up off the bench and they stepped out into the corridor. Tiberius was there, and at first Rafe thought his friend was there just to see him off. Then one of the guards shoved Ti forward roughly, and Rafe felt a huge sense of relief.

“I thought your father had intervened,” Rafe whispered to Tiberius.

“No, the Princess wanted to see me.”

“The Princess?”

“Yes, I’ll tell you all about it later.”

They were led through the palace and out to the courtyard. They could see the huge crowds of people through the open palace gatehouse. Rafe looked up as a shadow passed overhead and saw the King’s airship moving slowly toward the massive main gate that led out of Avondale.

Once the airship stopped moving, the guards shoved Rafe forward again. The crowd outside parted just enough for the group to move through. There was a soldier on either side of Rafe, Olyva, and Tiberius, who were walking single file. The crowd shouted and called them horrible names as they marched toward the gate. Rafe had always been treated well, at least once people knew who he was, or more likely who his father was. He had never expected to be treated so hatefully by the mob. Some began to spit at them, or throw objects such as rotten fruit, or even stones. Luckily, the guards on either side of them made the three outcasts a difficult target.

The soldiers escorting Rafe and the others snarled at anyone who came too close. They had round shields held high, and their swords drawn. Rafe saw at least half a dozen opportunities to catch his captors off guard, but even if he could escape without Olyva or Tiberius getting hurt, they had no where to go. The crowd obviously wasn’t on their side and they would just be hunted down. There was no place in Avondale that would be safe for them, so Rafe saved his strength. His father had taught him many times to pick his battles, and trying to escape wasn’t a battle he was willing to fight.

They were marched up to the massive gate and led to the center of an open space directly in front of the huge wooden doors. From the top of the wall, a voice rang out.

“Lady Olyva of Hamill Keep, and Rafe Grentzson, you have been found guilty of crimes against the Earl and his family. Your sentence is banishment from Avondale for life.”

The crowd roared out its approval. Rafe put his arm around Olyva, who was crying again. He looked at Tiberius, but the Earl’s son didn’t look afraid. Rafe had always been the warrior, the bigger of the two boys, and by far the most adventurous, but now it was Tiberius who seemed courageous. Rafe wondered if that was because Ti didn’t have to worry about taking care of someone he loved outside the city.

“Tiberius Aeguson, third-born of Earl Aegus of Avondale, you have aligned yourself with Rafe Grentzson. Your punishment is banishment from Avondale for life.”

The crowd roared again and then the huge hinges of the massive gate squealed. Normally, only the small door to the city was opened, but Leonosis wanted a show for the King and so they were giving him a spectacle. Twenty guards hauled on ropes to pull open the massive door, and the guard behind Rafe shouted for them to get moving. Rafe had seen a few people banished from Avondale in the past. Usually they cried and screamed for mercy, before being dragged out of the gate by soldiers. Rafe squared his shoulders and leaned over to Olyva.

“Just lean on me and keep walking,” he told her.

They walked toward the gate, and once again the screams and insults were shouted at them. This time there was no one to shield them from the garbage that was flung their way. Luckily, most of it missed them easily. When they reached the gate, Rafe couldn’t help but look up at the massive wooden door. He’d never seen it open before. Then they continued through and the squeal of the hinges started again. There was a crash as the door was swung into place, and the shouts didn’t seem nearly as loud as before.

Rafe looked around. Inside the city, the streets were paved with smooth cobblestones expertly laid, and then the fields below were dark with rich earth. Beyond that was the browns and greens of the forest, which was mostly towering evergreen trees, so that even in the snowy winter, signs of life could be seen on the strong boughs. Outside the city, the sight that greeted them was barren, rocky earth, sloping down toward the thick layer of gray mist that lay over the blighted lands.

Rafe took a deep breath, his heart was pounding and he felt a little weak.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Tiberius said.

He took the whip Robere had given him out of the fold of his billowy shirt.

“Where’d you get that?” Rafe asked.

“Robere slipped it to me when he brought our food last night.”

“Well, I’m glad to see you have it. I was afraid that little dagger was your only weapon.”

They heard a slight whistle, and then a stout looking spear slammed into the ground a few feet in front of them. Then two more dropped, the wooden butts of the weapons vibrated from the impact as the metal heads punched into the rocky soil. Rafe looked up and saw his father on top of the wall, looking down on him. There were a few other officers too. One dropped a pack and Rafe caught it in his arms.

“Isn’t that your father?” Tiberius said.

Rafe looked up again and his father was waving for them to move away from the gate.

“We better get moving,” he said, pulling a spear free. “Olyva, take this spear.”

“I don’t know what to do with it,” she said in shaky voice.

“That’s okay, just carry it for me. Keep the metal end pointed up.”

She nodded and he pulled another spear from the ground. It took a minute to loosen the weapon from where it had lodged into the soil. Tiberius pulled up last spear and after Rafe adjusted the pack on his shoulder, they started walking.