Avondale (13 page)

“My lady!” Rafe said as he dropped to his knees before her chair.

“Rafe? What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Shall I call the guard, my lady?” Hellen asked in a scandalous voice.

“No,” Olyva said, never taking her eyes off of Rafe.

“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I did it; I convinced Leonosis to see reason. He will let us marry. I love you so much.”

“Rafe, what are you talking about?”

“You heard what happened on the wall?” he asked.

“Of course, the whole city is talking about it. You fell and Leonosis saved you.”

Rafe ground his teeth as if her words caused him physical pain.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

“No,” he shook his head, looking away from her for a moment. “When I fell, I was hurt for a few moments. I didn’t know if I would live or die, but I knew one thing for certain. I knew I loved you. I knew that nothing else mattered to me. Not being the Earl’s champion, not my father’s approval, not even death. When I recovered, I vowed to do all I could to be with you, even if that meant that the Earl ordered my execution.”

“Oh, Rafe,” Olyva said in a frightened voice. “No.”

“So I went to Leonosis. I told him how I feel and begged for his permission to break your betrothal with Brutas. He took some convincing, but I did it. He’s going to let us marry.”

“What? Are you sure?” Olyva asked.

She was half in shock, afraid that she was dreaming and that she would suddenly wake up with her heart breaking. She glanced at Hellen, who looked dumbfounded across the room. Then she looked at Rafe, whose eyes were glistening with tears and full of hope.

“Yes, I’m sure. I just left him,” Rafe said. “You don’t have to marry Brutas. I can’t offer you the luxury and position in court that he could, but I swear I’ll spend every day of my life making you happy.”

“Oh, Rafe,” she said, putting both hands on his face.

She could feel the stubble on his cheeks, and she pulled him close as tears rolled down her face. Then they kissed. It was sweet and passionate. Olyva felt a sense of relief, not just because Rafe was safe, but because her future no longer seemed terrifying. She wouldn’t have to marry Brutas. The future Earl’s brother had never shown her even the slightest interest. She had even heard him flirting with some of the palace serving girls. He was a philanderer and didn’t even respect her enough to hide it from her. She knew that being married wouldn’t change him, not when most women would gladly bed him just to receive a small favor.

She finally pulled away from Rafe, who was kissing her softly, but with an urgency that revealed his passionate desire for her. She would have loved nothing more that to keep kissing her roguish suitor, but fear made her hesitate.

“You talked to Leonosis, not the Earl?” she said. “What if his father changes his mind?”

“He won’t,” Rafe said, rising back to his feet and pulling her up from the chair. “I can’t tell you everything,” he glanced at Hellen, who was standing in the corner, but hanging on every word, “but rest assured this is real. Leonosis and I have an agreement. He won’t dare break it.”

“You’re certain?” Olyva asked, desperate for Rafe’s assurance.

“I am. I know this is a shock. I know I hurt you. I was afraid, but I’m not anymore. And I promise nothing will ever hurt you again.”

She fell into his arms and he held her. For the first time since she was a little girl, she felt truly safe.

It didn’t take long for Tiberius to gather his things. He had a wardrobe full of clothes, but he only packed two pair of thick woolen pants and some shirts. He had the first part of the
Essence of Magic
memorized, but he carefully wrapped it up and tucked it neatly between the pants and the shirt so that it would be safe. Then he sat down at his table.

He was so angry at his father and brother he could hardly think of anything else. He had always known that he wasn’t important to his family, but he had never imagined being betrayed by them. But the most painful betrayal of all was Rafe’s. Tiberius simply couldn’t imagine what would motivate his best friend to go along with Leonosis’ heinous lie. It was physically painful to know that Rafe had discarded their friendship so easily. All his life, Tiberius had known true friendship from only one person, and now that was gone, swept away in a single treacherous act. Killing the Graypee and helping Rafe would have been Tiberius’ greatest achievement. He could have slipped away into obscurity after that, but his brother had stolen it from him. And what was worse, Tiberius’ best friend had helped.

He ran a finger down the yellowed page of stiffened parchment. He had packed the first half of the book of magic, but now he was looking at the second section. It was the last two chapters of the book. He felt a deep sense of foreboding as his eyes scanned down the faded parchment, but then his anger overwhelmed his caution. Why shouldn’t he learn magic, he thought to himself. Who was he trying to protect? No one cared for him, so why should he care for anyone else? He threw caution to the wind and started reading.

The pinnacle of all known magic is Nativus Magicus. It must only be practiced by the most dedicated of wizards. In some ways, Nativus Magicus is simple; as wielding the following spells are in many ways as easy as basic Sana Magus. The true power and inherent danger of Nativus Magicus comes when these simple spells break the laws of nature, unleashing the power of creation if the wizard is not careful. Many have been consumed by the power they are trying to wield; only the strongest minds have the focus and force of will to control the elements.

In the earliest times, when magic was thought to be a lost art, the following spells revealed the true nature and incredible power of our world. As the third principle of magic states, magic is available to all. The reason that magic is so readily available is because it is all around us. As you will know by now, a wizard can sense magic, feel it coming and going, discern its intent. Nativus Magicus takes what many have called common magic, and uses it to tap into the very elements all around us. Any novice wizard can conjure fire, but a Wizard of the Fourth Order can control fire, shape it, send it raging across the world, or halt it in its tracks. These spells should only be attempted after years of painstaking study and proven mastery of the first three Orders of Magic.

The Fourth Order is composed of sets of three, which reflects nature. For instance there are three natural states of matter: solid, liquid, and gas. Likewise, there are three states of raw power: fire, lightning, and magic. For our purposes, Nativus Magicus is divided into three sections, basic spells, intermediate spells, and advanced spells. Like each of the proceeding Orders, Nativus Magicus spells a progression in power and should be practiced in order with mastery of the first being achieved before practice of the second is begun.

Fire is universally known and used, from a cook using fire to roast meat, to a blacksmith manipulating fire in a forge. Yet, very few truly understand fire, and as the second principle of magic states, Magic begins with knowledge. Fire occurs when combustable matter loses its magical energy. For instance, wood when heated, will shed its inherent magical energy (the spark of life that causes it to grow) producing fire. Accendo summons that energy. The wizard should feel the pull of magic from the unseen, into the physical world as fire.

The focus of this spell must be control. A novice wizard may conjure Accendo. But depending on the wizard’s aptitude, they may summon a tiny flame, or send flame erupting all around them. The wizard must will only as much flame as needed through the veil that separates the physical from the mystical. And just as a wizard’s will can bend and control magic, likewise when that magical energy enters the world of men, it can be bent and controlled by the conjuring wizard.

It is best to practice this spell in a confined area where combustable materials are not present, such as a cave, or a small room made of stone. A wizard should be able to conjure both small and large flames, move them around in space, shape them, and extinguish them, before moving on to the next spell.

Tiberius considered trying the spell; the book had said it was a basic spell that every wizard should know. But he hesitated. He wanted to know the spells and use them, but he had barely been practicing magic for a week. Healing Rafe and healing himself had been difficult, almost more than he could handle. What if conjuring fire set the whole castle ablaze, or worse, the whole city? He was still so angry at his family that the thought of destroying them seemed almost desirable, but then he felt ashamed. He wasn’t a killer and his family, no matter how cruel to him, didn’t deserve to die.

He pushed his chair back from the table and rested his head in his hands. He was so tired. It was still early and he hadn’t eaten supper, but his whole body ached with minor muscle pains and bruises. He sat down on his bed and then fell back onto the soft mattress filled with goose down. He closed his eyes.

“Master Tiberius!” Robere announced as he came sweeping into the room. “Are you ill?”

“What?” Ti said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“You were missed at dinner,” the servant said. “Your mother worries about you.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s almost time for the weekly offering. I’ve barely enough time to see you dressed and fed. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, yes,” Tiberius said sitting on the edge of his bed and noticing the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

“Your mother will be displeased if you miss the offering,” Robere said, throwing open the wardrobe and pulling out clothes.

“I’m training to be a Paladin,” Tiberius said. “My whole life is an offering.”

“Don’t be trite, my lord. You know how the Marquess feels about her family attending the temple with her.”

“Yes, I know,” Tiberius said sourly.

Robere kept talking, but Tiberius was no longer listening. The second half of the book of magic lay open on his table, right next to the porcelain basin that Robere was about to pour water into. There was no time to hide the book and Tiberius mentally kicked himself for leaving it out. It was a stupid mistake and he wracked his brain to come up with an excuse.

Robere carried a large pitcher of water to the basin and began pouring it in, his eyes wandering over the contents lying on the table.

“What is that old book, my lord?” he asked. “I hope that’s not from your father’s library.”

“No!” Tiberius said, hurrying over and plucking it off the table. He quickly turned away from the aging servant.

“This is part of an ancient text from the temple. I’m studying it for one of the disciplines there,” he lied. “They don’t usually let texts like this leave the temple, but they made an exception for me.”

“As they should,” Robere said, seemingly convinced by Tiberius’ lie.

He set the book down on the bed and went back to the table. He washed quickly and then Robere dressed him and combed his hair while Tiberius stood in front of the long dressing mirror, examining his appearance.

“There,” Robere said. “Now you look presentable. You go ahead and I’ll tidy up here.”

“No,” Tiberius said. “You’ve done enough. I’ll clean my room this afternoon.”

“Are you sure?” Robere asked surprised. “It’s no trouble.”

“I insist,” Tiberius said. “Please, I can’t rely on you forever. Soon I’ll be cleaning up all my own messes and those of half the people in Avondale.”

Robere pursed his lips, and Tiberius couldn’t tell if the look was suspicion or sadness.

“I can’t believe you’ll be leaving the palace,” the elderly servant said. “You make us all proud.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Tiberius said. “I doubt I’ll even be remembered by my family unless they need something from me.”

Robere had a pained look, one that said he felt sorry for Tiberius while confirming his suspicions about the royal family. The aging servant smiled sadly.

“You will be missed,” he said in thick voice.

“Thank you, Robere. I’ll miss you too.”

Robere left the room and Tiberius sighed. He’d planned to leave without seeing his family again. He would miss his mother, despite the fact that she had rarely shown much interest in him. He had no desire to ever see his brothers or his father again, even though that fact made him sad. Still, he couldn’t go marching out of the palace with a travel sack on a holy day without arousing suspicion. He would go to the temple with his family one last time, then he would leave the palace forever.

He quickly stashed the second half of the book of magic in his pack, which he then stuffed under his bed just in case Robere came back to clean up his room. After one final look around his small quarters for any sign that he intended to leave, he walked down the hall toward the banquet room where the family gathered each week before traveling together to the temple for worship.

He felt good knowing that he had made the decision to leave. It was liberating to know he wasn’t stuck and perhaps part of it was that he wouldn’t be living according to his family’s expectations. It was really the first time in his life that he was being openly rebellious, and that made him smile. He tried not to think about how close he’d come to being caught with the book of magic when Robere had come in unexpectedly that morning. Tiberius hadn’t meant to fall asleep and the night had passed before he’d known it. He took a deep breath and decided that worrying about how close he’d come to being caught would only make him feel guilty around his family. The last thing he wanted was to be questioned about why he looked down, or to arouse suspicion before he made his escape.