Arcanius Page 20

  “Here,” Olyva said. “This place will do.”

  They were standing across the street from a shop that said Tyrrance Custom Tailory. The shop had large windows up front, but the rear had no windows.

  “The front will be where the tailor conducts business,” Olyva explained. “In the back he’ll have a few seamstresses working. He should also have racks of finished gowns. Get me something long.”

  “How many seamstresses?” Lexi asked.

  “Half a dozen, maybe more.”

  “What am I supposed to do—wave a magic wand and become invisible?” Lexi asked.

  “No, just get what we need. I’ll distract them.”

  Olyva left Lexi standing across the street and went directly into the tailor’s shop. Tyrrance was a short man, with a round stomach and very little hair on his head. He grew a wispy mustache and had a several pins in his mouth. He straightened when Olyva came in, looking at her from head to toe. Olyva knew she looked disheveled. Before being banished she would never have dreamed of being seen in public without making sure she looked well made up. Helen, her old dressing maid, had always seen to it that Olyva had beautiful dresses and then would see to her hair and makeup, sometimes spending hours preparing her to go out for just a little while. Now she was in a wrinkled dress that was too short for her, with no shoes, strange feet, windblown hair, and no makeup.

  For an instant she felt embarrassed. Her old sense of pride reared its ugly head, and she wondered what the tailor must think of her, but then she smiled. It would be easier to cause a scene if she looked strange, and Rafe didn’t care if she wore makeup or had a fine dress. He was hanging upside down from the palace wall, and she was his only hope of rescue.

  “May I help you?” the tailor said skeptically, after taking the pins from his mouth.

  “I need a dress,” Olyva said. “Something that will cover my horrid feet.”

  The tailor looked down again. By mentioning her own feet, Olyva had given the short man a reason to stare and he did so. When he finally looked up at her he was frowning.

  “My lady,” he said, his voice sounding shaky. “Is there something wrong—“

  “No!” screamed Olyva. “I can’t help it. My feet are hideous, but it isn’t my fault.”

  She burst into tears, and the tailor looked stunned for a minute, completely unsure what to do. He found an scrap of linen and gave it to her to wipe the tears from her face.

  “There, there,” he said uncertainly.

  Olyva looked up and saw faces peeking around the large door that led to the tailor’s back room.

  “Please,” Olyva said. “You have to help me. I can’t go on like this. My feet are so hideous.”

  The seamstresses were straining to catch a glimpse of Olyva’s feet now. And the tailor was searching for a way to calm her down.

  “If you don’t help me, I’ll kill myself,” Olyva said. “My life isn’t worth living anyway. No man will every marry a freak like me. I’ll throw myself from the city walls.”

  “Now, don’t be hasty,” the tailor said, trying to reassure her. “I’m certain we can do something to help.”

  “Really?” Olyva asked.

  “We could create a gown that billows around your feet,” he said skeptically. It was almost as if he were asking a question, and he paused, waiting for Olyva to encourage him or maybe afraid that she would start shouting again.

  “Go on,” she said calmly.

  “The billows would hide your feet, even when you walk,” he said. “You might have to take small steps, but I’m sure we can do it.”

  “No,” Olyva said loudly. “I’ll just trip and fall. Can’t you see my toes?”

  She raised one foot in front of the tailor, letting her rootish toes rest on his round belly. The tailor lurched backward, tripping over a stool and crashing into the dressing mannequin he had been pinning fabric to when Olyva came in. The seamstresses couldn’t contain their laughter, and Olyva did her best to maximize the chaos.

  “What is wrong with you!?” she shouted. “Are you afraid of me? You think I’m some kind of monster?”

  She stalked forward, and the tailor was scurrying backward, still on his hands and knees.

  “No, no, no, my lady.”

  “You’re afraid that I have some awful disease. You’re thinking I’m going to spread it all around your shop,” Olyva screeched. “Well I hope it’s true. I hope your feet become so ugly you can’t stand the sight of them. I hope everyone that comes in this place gets horrid, ugly feet and can never wear shoes again.”

  “Shoes!” the tailor said, finally finding something he thought might help him get rid of Olyva. “I have a friend, the best cobbler in Avondale. I know he can fashion shoes that will cover your feet, my dear.”

  “Shoes?” Olyva said, as if she had never thought of getting shoes before.

  “Yes,” the tailor said, getting back to his feet. “I can assure you he will help.”

  “Can you take me to him?” Olyva whined.

  “I’m very busy, my lady. This is not a good time for me to leave my shop.”

  “Please?” Olyva said.

  “Alas, no, but Horrace will help you. His shop is just down the street. He’s the best shoemaker in the city, perhaps even in all of Valana.”

  “You’ve been very helpful,” Olyva said.

  “It has been my pleasure,” the tailor said, escorting Olyva to the door.

  “I’ll be back,” Olyva said. “I’ll need a dress to match my beautiful new shoes.”

  “Of course,” the tailor said, almost shoving her toward the door.

  “You have been so helpful,” Olyva said. “How can I thank you?”

  “There is no need,” the tailors said.

  When the door closed, Olyva waited for a moment just outside until she heard the laughter she had been expecting. The seamstresses were in an uproar, and it would take the tailor several minutes to calm them down and get them back to work.

  As Olyva walked toward the spot where she had left Lexi, she saw a flash of color out of the corner of her eye. There was a narrow alleyway, just beyond the tailor’s shop. Olyva hurried down the shadowy corridor.

  “I got the dresses,” Lexi whispered.

  “And a wig,” Olyva said, trying not to laugh.

  Lexi had long, flowing tresses of dark hair hanging around her shoulders.

  “You like it?”

  “You look like a different person,” Olyva said with a smile.

  “Let’s just hope your plan works,” Lexi said.

  “It will,” Olyva replied. “Trust me.”

  Chapter 31

  Tiberius

  When he woke up, he was alone. The floor was stone, and his face was pressed hard against it. He tried to move, but the pain was so intense, he couldn’t. His sight dimmed for a moment, and his stomach rolled, emptying its contents in a weak spew that left bile in his throat and mouth.

  He wasn’t sure at first what was wrong—his mind seemed sluggish, but then he remembered. Rafe had stabbed him. Tiberius couldn’t comprehend why. Rafe had said he was staying in Avondale to take his father’s place, but he was fighting to see Earl Ageus returned to power, not Brutas.

  “Acies Penetralis Deprimo Sano Crudus Viscus,” Tiberius said weakly.

  The flow of magic was encouraging at first. He felt the power swirling around him and directed it into his body. He felt the wound ruining his kidney and causing a massive hemorrhaging in his abdomen. The spell would heal it, but then the Corporeus Adfectus doubled his pain, and he passed out again.

  Water splashed into his face and woke Tiberius with a painful shock. His back muscles spasmed with pain, and he struggled to remain conscious.

  “Wake up, little brother,” Brutas said. “To be honest, I’m a little disappointed. Leo thinks you are some great wizard. Yet I defeated you almost singlehandedly with hardly a fight at all. I admit your fire trick was impressive but hardly formidable.”

  “Acies Penetral
is Deprimo Sano Crudus Viscus.”

  “Are you casting a spell right now?” Brutas said in mock terror. “Oh no, are you attempting to turn me into a toad?”

  Tiberius ignored his brother’s taunts. He knew that if he didn’t heal himself, he would die soon. He was so weak he could barely focus on the spell, and when the shock of pain from his magical empathy kicked in, it took all his strength to keep from blacking out again.

  “Acies Penetralis Deprimo Sano Crudus Viscus,” Tiberius repeated quietly.

  He chanted the spell over and over while Brutas studied him.

  “I can’t quite put my finger on what it is you are trying to do,” Brutas said. He held up the Balestone. “You know I never thought much about magic before. Even recently in Sparlan Citadel, when I saw what Leo had accomplished, I still didn’t think of how I might help myself with a little boost of magical power. But then I found this rock in your belongings. It’s quite remarkable. It speaks to me, brother. It whispers things in my ear that I have never considered before. I find that I feel stronger with it.”

  “Acies Penetralis Deprimo Sano Crudus Viscus,” Tiberius continued, feeling the healing spell working.

  His head was beginning to clear, and the pain was in a steady decline. He hoped Brutas would go on babbling until Tiberius could regain his full strength and continue the fight.

  “And even now I hear a voice in my mind. It’s really quite seductive, isn’t it? Who knew that the blighted lands hid such treasures? Perhaps I shall have to go and find more of these powerful stones. Maybe I could become king, just like Leo. I’d have to kill him, of course, but that wouldn’t be unreasonable. He’s become very nasty with his new sense of power. I’m not sure where his comes from, but this little rock is just brimming with power.

  “Wait, what are you doing?” Brutas said in surprise. “You are healing your own wound, aren’t you? That is fascinating. What happens if I do this?”

  He ripped open Tiberius’ cloak and then thrust the stone into Ti’s wound. The healing spell had dealt with Tiberius’ ruined kidney and stopped the internal bleeding. He was just about to switch to the laceration spell that would mend the severed muscles and seal up the wound, but instead a searing new fire made Tiberius scream.

  He could feel the foul effects of the Balestone as the magic seeped into him. His mind was flooded with thoughts that were not his own. He could hear the screams of beings gone mad, feel the anger and fury from the stone.

  “Oooohhhh,” Brutas said cruelly. “Does it hurt, brother?”

  Brutas shoved the stone deeper, trying to hurt Tiberius, but suddenly a wave of power knocked Brutas backward. He fell with a cry, and several of the king’s soldiers came rushing in. Tiberius felt his wound healing on its own, felt the stone burrowing deeper into his back, like a mouse hiding in a haystack. He felt the power of the Balestone surging through him as it became part of him. His mind was suddenly very clear, and his own anger was like a raging furnace.

  He rose quickly to his feet, only to find four spearmen leveling their weapons at him. Brutas was scurrying out the door, frightened and hurt. He’d arrived at Avondale with one hand bandaged and unusable, and now his other hand was black and shriveled.

  “Kill him!” Brutas shouted.

  “Scuti Incantatio,” Tiberius said, raising one hand toward the soldiers, palm up.

  The soldiers lunged forward, thrusting their spears toward Tiberius. They should have impaled him, but the magical shield was too strong. Tiberius had used the shielding spell on multiple occasions. Each time the spell felt almost like holding a real shield between himself an his attackers. Their blows were felt kinetically through the invisible, magical barrier, and Tiberius fully expected to be rocked back by the powerful thrusts of the spearmen. Instead, it was the soldiers who were rocked back. Ti extended his hand, pushing the shielding spell forward, and the four soldiers were knocked senseless.

  Tiberius knew that something had happened. The Balestone had somehow infused its magical strength into him. He could still feel the powerful stone lodged in his back. It hurt, yet he felt stronger and more capable than ever. He could still hear the voices—they were whispering to him now. He had felt the stone urging him to action before, but he had never heard the voices. He had to push them back before they overwhelmed his mind.

  He knew he had to do something about the Balestone, but he needed to deal with his brother’s treachery first. He stepped out into the hallway. Brutas had sent Tiberius to a small room that was used by people waiting to see the earl. In the corridor, Brutas was running, his hands ruined, his troops looking unsure as he bellowed at them to kill Tiberius. Ti felt a sudden urge to summon lightning and strike his brother down. He could imagine himself channeling the awesome power of the lightning and hurling it at his brother, as if he were some sort of god, but he resisted the urge. He didn’t want to kill Brutas and he wouldn’t risk destroying the palace in his quest for revenge.

  “Somni Incantatio,” he whispered.

  The sleep spell was effective on crowds, but Tiberius had never seen it so effective. He could feel the power radiating out from around his physical body like a wave, and as it touched the soldiers, many of whom were from the earl’s war band, they fell to the floor instantly. Tiberius watched the wave race toward his brother. The sounds of bodies, armor, and weapons clashing onto the stone floor was loud, but not as loud as Brutas’ scream of terror. When the wave caught him, Brutas fell, his face smashed hard into the floor, and his body slid several feet before stopping.

  Tiberius let the wave continue until the long hallway was full of unconscious men. Some at the far end of the corridor, which led into the huge feasting hall, had escaped, but Tiberius wasn’t worried about them. He had stopped Brutas and he knew that was enough to quell his brother’s rebellion. He walked down the hallway, stepping over the bodies of the unconscious men until he reached Brutas. His brother had always been a bigger person than Tiberius. Leonosis was thin and wiry, like their father. Tiberius was average in size, but he didn’t have a warrior’s physique the way Rafe did. Brutas, on the other hand, was taller and thicker than both of his brothers. He had large, rounded shoulders and thick legs. His chest was broad and barrel-shaped. He had a thick layer of fat over the large muscles, but he wasn’t flabby by any means. There was no way that Tiberius could lift his brother, so he left him where he lay and went in search of their father.

  Tiberius had no idea how long he’d been unconscious, but he guessed it couldn’t have been more than a few hours. If he’d been unconscious through the night, he would have bled to death. In the palace’s great hall, Tiberius found more soldiers, but the men threw down their weapons.

  “We surrender, my lord,” said one of the officers.

  “You were supposed to be helping my father,” Tiberius said, recognizing the man.

  “We surrendered to your brother… I can’t say why. He came out of the palace and told us to surrender, and we did.”

  Tiberius nodded, understanding that Brutas’ possession of the Balestone had given him a magical influence over the earl’s war band. That was why Rafe had attacked Tiberius. He hadn’t willingly betrayed Ti.

  “And where is my father?” Tiberius asked.

  “Brutas had him put in stocks for the entire city to see. I’m sorry.”

  “It isn’t your fault,” Tiberius said, fighting back the urge to take his anger out on the soldier by beating him to death.

  Ti had to force the dark thoughts out of his mind. The voices were whispering, urging Tiberius to kill the soldier, to make all those who had betrayed him suffer. He knew that he could take the Earldom of Avondale now. He was strong enough, and not even his father would dare oppose him, although he had a strong desire to kill his father and his brother. Then he could raise his war band against Leonosis. He could fight the newly crowned king not only with magic, but with the entire might of Avondale. He could even travel to the other cities and slay their earls. He could bring them all under
his control…

  He shook his head, trying to stop the voices. He felt as if he were going insane. The ambition and lust for power was almost overwhelming, and he knew it all originated from the Balestone. He wanted to stop and cut the evil thing out of himself, but he couldn’t reach it. He needed help, and he had to find Rafe, his father, and the girls.

  “I want you to stand guard over Brutas,” Tiberius instructed the man. “He’s unconscious, and I don’t think he’ll come to anytime soon, but stay with him if he does. I don’t want him moved. Meanwhile, have these other men get water and wake the soldiers that fell under my spell. I want that hallway cleared when I get back. Everyone stays in the Great Hall, do you understand?”

  “Yes, my lord,” the soldier said.

  “Good,” Tiberius said, turning away and moving toward the large double doors that led out of the palace.

  The lump in his back was throbbing, but not with pain. He could feel the Balestone’s magic pulsing into him. He had to grit his teeth to keep the voices at bay. He stayed focused on finding his father. Avondale had stocks near the servants’ quarters. At one time, locking a person in stocks was popular punishment, but the stocks had never been used in Tiberius’ lifetime. Ti’s great-grandfather, the same earl who had closed the palace’s dungeons, had removed the public stocks and hanging cages. He couldn’t help but admire the bravery his great-grandfather had to make such changes.

  Tiberius had to search for several minutes, but he finally found his father on a ledge that leaned out over the street below. Ti saw Earl Ageus from behind, where his father’s stooped form was leaning into the thick wooden stocks. Two of the king’s soldiers stood guard. They saw Tiberius approaching and lowered their spears.

  “Ingesco Exsuscito,” Tiberius said.

  He felt the magic spring out of the wooden spear shafts as the weapons burst into flames. The conjure fire spell was in many ways much simpler than the fire spell of the Fourth Order. Tiberius could use the conjure fire spell that Ariel had given him to make a flammable object catch fire. He couldn’t control the fire as he could with the more powerful Accendo spell, but conjuring fire still had its place.