Avondale (10 page)

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.

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.

“I hear my son owes you his life,” said Grentz.

“I didn’t do much, really,” Tiberius said.

“I always thought that whip of yours was a little silly,” the Sword Master said. “Today you proved me wrong and I’m not too proud to say it. Thank you.”

“It was nothing,” Tiberius said. “Rafe would have done the same for me.”

“As he should, that’s his job,” Grentz said. “You showed true courage and nobility, rushing to his aid. You put your life in danger to save his. I won’t soon forget that.”

“Thank you, sir,” Tiberius said.

The crowd was raucous and excited. No one had ever slain two Graypees from the same pack before. It was rare to see them at all, much less find them close enough to hunt from the city walls. No one had ever fought them on the ground and the soldiers were so excited by the entire ordeal that it took Tiberius nearly an hour to break away. All that time he held his arm close to his body, feeling it swell. By the time he got back to his room, he was covered in sweat from the pain. He had to be careful getting his shirt off and then he pulled the book of magic from under his bed.

Every little chore seemed like agony. When he finally got the book of magic from the hidden chest under his bed, and laid the ancient fragment on his little table, he had to sit down and catch his breath. The pain in his arm was getting worse, and all he could think about was stopping the pain. Yet, he didn’t want to do something foolish and he knew the healing magic that he’d conjured to help Rafe had been a raging torrent of power that had almost swept him away. He didn’t care if he died, but he couldn’t fathom the thought of doing something that would hurt his family or the people of Avondale.

He reread the entire chapter on Sana Magus, desperately looking for something about self-healing, but there was nothing to be found. The book talked about practicing on fruit, and even on butchered animals, then eventually working with sick, but there was nothing about a wizard casting a spell on himself. Tiberius didn’t even know if it would work, but eventually he cleared his mind. The pain made it difficult to concentrate. He felt nauseous, his head was pounding, and his body was soaked in sweat. His arm was on fire and it was excruciating to move or touch. It had swollen to almost twice its normal size, and the skin was a sickly shade of red.

He did his best to focus on the magic before he ever uttered a word. He could feel the elusive power starting to stir and he knew he needed to hone it with his mind the way a swordsman sharpened his blades before battle. The words of the spell stood out in his mind, and finally, when he had pushed the pain down and calmed his breathing, he began to chant.

“Acies Intrinsecus Accipio Ceptum Sarcio Adiflictus Ossis,” he said.

Immediately the magical power erupted around him. It was like being in the center of a terrible storm. Tiberius could feel that the magic was good, it pulsed with life-affirming energy, but it was a tempest and he had to control it. He focused on the movement of the magical power. He knew he was too weak to force it to his will; instead he needed to put himself in the path of the magic’s flow, so that directing it to heal his arm would be natural and he hoped easier.

He took his time, fighting the urge to do anything that would make the pain stop. As his mind focused on his broken arm, the pain he felt doubled, and for one long moment he almost passed out. Then, with a mighty force of will, he pushed his mind further than he thought possible. The magic was like an inferno, his pain roared like a blacksmith’s forge, but somehow he rose above it all. Slowly the pain in his arm took shape. The bone in his upper arm, between the elbow and the shoulder, was broken. Both ends of the break were splintered. There were bone fragments stabbing into the muscle, like awful splinters digging into his flesh. Blood and other bodily fluids had filled the area around the break causing it to swell; the blood was infusing the tissue causing it to bruise.

Slowly, Tiberius channeled the magic into his arm. It was difficult work, like trying to hold a massive serpent that was writhing angrily, but he managed it. Slowly the pain began to ebb away. He sensed the bone coming back together, every tiny shard fit neatly into place and at last the thick bone fused together seamlessly.