Path of the Magi (Tales of Tiberius) (2 page)

Chapter One

The Witches of Sherwood City

Until that moment there was nothing that suggested that young Master Tiberius Fuller was anything so far out of the ordinary that he would be terrifying dragons with his magical abilities.  The only one in the Fuller family of any note was his father, Julian Fuller.  Mr. Julian Fuller had been a general and witch hunter in the great northern war.  Now he was retired, and ran a print shop with the help of his wife and two sons.  He was a pillar of the church and the community.  If anyone had suggested that one of the respectable Mr. Fuller’s children would grow up to have anything to do with magic, they would have been laughed out of town.  That his son would take up study of the mystic arts and one day confront a dragon was unthinkable.  So, of course, that’s exactly what happened.

Just as an avalanche can start with the fall of a single pebble, Tiberius began his life quietly in the ordinary way, or at least ordinary for his part of the world.  His home, Sherwood City, lay just beyond the Bermuda Triangle at the edge of the fairy countries.  Living near the fairy lands, he saw a fairy creature now and then, but magic was certainly not part of his daily existence.  He was born and raised in a small quiet city, just as any other young man.  For the first fifteen years of his life he went to school and to church, learning to read and write and the wisdom of the prophets.  His only battles were with his older brother, Marcus.  He’d never seen any real magic until that one fateful day in late summer, when the militia bell rang. 

Tiberius was in his father’s print shop, seeing to his chores, when he heard the militia bell.  His first reaction was to look up at his brother in surprise.  The bell only rang twice a year, on militia days, and this wasn’t one of them.   

“Goblins, do you suppose?” he asked, looking across the floor of the print shop at his older brother. 

Marcus wiped the ink off of his hands on his apron.  “Probably a fire and they rang the wrong bell,” Marcus answered.  He wasn’t so fanciful as his younger brother.  Still, a goblin attack wasn’t out of the question.  It had always been feared, and everyone knew things weren’t going too well in the border country. 

They had their answer a moment later when the senior Fuller put his head in through the doorway. 

“Marcus, get your gear.  There’s trouble.  We’re going to arrest some witches.”

“What about me?” Tiberius asked, pleadingly. 

“You’re only fifteen,” Julian said, with a stern glance.

“Fifteen and a half, and you let the Jackson boys turn out for the fire.  Why can’t I go?  It might be my only chance to march with Marcus.” 

Julian glanced at his two boys for a moment.  Marcus was the taller and broader built of the two.  He was the older boy as well.  Tiberius favored his mother a bit.  He was leaner and quicker with sharper features that reminded one of a hawk, but he was no weakling or lightweight.  He had his father’s eyes and he seemed to give as good as he got from his squabbles with Marcus.  As commander of the local militia Julian had final authority as to who was allowed to go.

“All right, get your gear, but mind you stay in the ranks and obey orders.  First sign of trouble from you and I’m sending you back home.  No charging out for glory. Understand?”

“Sir, yes, sir!”  Tiberius said, beaming.  An instant later he was reaching for his own equipment: a bow, staff, and some third-hand battered armor. 

Both brothers wore shirts of steel bands in the style of the   lorica segmentata used by the ancient Romans.  It was a practical, cheap form of armor.  Tiberius’ was rather battered, but he’d managed to strap it together well enough that it would serve.  Marcus had a newer set.  Neither of them had swords, but they had their trusty quarterstaves with them.  They both had excellent long bows.  Mr. Okubo, the fletcher, was a friend of the family.  Captain Okubo, Tiberius had to remind himself.   The two boys got their gear together and before long were following their father out to the city green. 

The city green of Sherwood City was a huge oval of green grass set in the city center.  The Fuller’s print shop was not far away.  Already the men of the town were assembling on the green, lining up in formation.  The weather was cool for midsummer.  It was a late afternoon and not too hot to be strapping on armor. 

On arriving in the oval, Tiberius was assigned to Captain Okubo’s company.

“Keep an eye on those two rascals for me,”  their father said.  “If they give you the slightest bit of trouble you let me know and I’ll give them a thrashing they won’t forget.”

Captain Okubo nodded, and then turned to wink at Tiberius and Marcus.  He knew they were good lads that would obey his commands.  The Okubos were old friends of the Fullers.  While most of the families in town had lived in Sherwood City for generations, Michael Okubo was an exception.  He was a “wash-up,” someone who had only come to live in the fairy lands recently.  Wash-ups were those who had stumbled through the Bermuda Triangle somehow and been shipwrecked or deposited on the shores of the Stewardship, likely never to return home again. 

Most had a difficult time adjusting as things were different here.  The Stewardship was near the borders of the fairy lands and magic tended to be far more common than it was back in the Old Country.  Worse, the great fairy ban meant that many of the ways wash-ups were used to, like electric lights and dishwashers, were cursed and no longer available.  Michael’s looks were against him too.  He was of Asian descent and that was rare in these parts, though not unheard of.  Most of the folk of the Stewardship were descended from wash-ups from Northern Europe, folks who’d got lost on the way to the New World and had settled here in a rather newer world than they’d bargained for. 

The Fullers had helped Michael make the difficult adjustment and they’d never regretted it.  He’d become a fast friend and the best fletcher in town.   He’d even found a pretty Asian wife and now had a beautiful little baby girl named Maci, not four months old.  Aunt Min was standing around with Maci in her arms, here to see off Michael.   Julian was the Maci’s god father, which made Maci Tiberius’ only sister.  It was a fact that Tiberius thought was of little importance, save that he’d probably have to get her a Christmas present.  But the really important facts in life sometimes slip in very quietly. 

The town had the air of a carnival.  There was some nervousness, as no one seemed to know why the militia had been called out.  Still, as no houses were seen burning and the officers were calm, it was generally acknowledged that the call up was a welcome change from the usual routine. 

Tiberius was fearful that he’d be banished to the back ranks as a rookie, but fortunately Captain Okubo seemed to want him where he could keep an eye on him.  He and Marcus were in the very front rank of the company.  Marcus and Tiberius smiled at one another, glad to have a front row seat for the action. 

A man approached their father.  At first Tiberius thought it was someone from the government.  Whoever it was, he was dressed as a gentleman.  He wore a royal blue jacket and knickers over black boots and a white lace shirt.  He had a matching blue cloak and he wore a tri-cornered hat.  Everything was trimmed with gold lace and bright buttons.  He carried a short black walking stick which was topped with a silver eagle.  He wore round gold rimed spectacles.  The man had a round face and what little chin he had was clean shaven.  The hair he had left was silver and Tiberius guessed the man was in his mid-sixties. 

Tiberius would have paid him no mind on an occasion such as this, but for three things:  First, the man was walking straight up to his father.  Second, the short blue cloak was fastened with a curious sort of badge.  It was round, made of polished silver, and it was set with three sapphires.  The badge was engraved with curious markings, a triangle, and astronomical signs of some sort.  It looked mystical, somehow, yet not evil.  Tiberius thought it was, well, curious.  Third, and finally, were the man’s eyes.  There was something a little disturbing about them.  They were deep, dark eyes with a piercing glance that seemed to miss nothing.  The man glanced his way once, and Tiberius felt uncomfortably like the man had looked right though him. 

“Hello, Julian.  It’s been a long time,” the man said.

“Dallen,” Julian said, simply.  It was an odd greeting, coming from his father, Tiberius thought.  He knew his father was a man of few words, but this was fewer than most.  It was almost as if his father was afraid of this man.  But Tiberius had never known his father to be afraid of anyone. 

“You know Michael Okubo.  Those are my two boys, Marcus and Tiberius.  This is Dallen of the magi,” he said, presenting the old man to his sons.

“A magi?” Tiberius blurted out in surprise.  It came out rather louder than he meant, but the old man seemed to take no offense.  He just smiled.

“That’s right, just like in the Bible,”  Dallen said, facing him.

“Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to be rude; I just didn’t know there still were any magi about,” Tiberius replied. 

Dallen gave him a smile and a nod of the head.  “Magus is the singular, but yes, members of my order still exist.  We still follow Christ and give such wisdom and gifts as we can,” he replied.

“A bit flashier than they used to be,” Julian noted grimly.

“It’s been nearly two thousand years since the birth of Christ,” Dallen answered.  “I’d like to think we’ve made some progress in our art in that time.”

“Hopefully your advice has improved,” Julian said.  “I seem to recall that conference with Herod got a bunch of innocents killed.”

“We gave him accurate and important information about the birth of a great man.  What Herod did with that information is on his own conscience,” Dallen answered, unperturbed. 

Julian just grunted, then turned and hopped up on a small box so he could address the assembled troop.

“We’re going to arrest some witches.  I’m hoping this won’t be difficult, but I’m not taking any chances.  The constable has looked into it and they’ve already got a proper coven assembled.  They could be calling a demon on our heads at any time.  It’s a matter for the army then.  Dallen here is a magi and he’ll be helping us out, especially if they do manage to summon up any sort of a demon. 

“I will assist as I can,” Dallen said to the crowd.  Lowering his voice, he faced the senior Fuller.  “If you really want my advice though, I’d say to send the troop home.  A few picked men could handle this quietly.”

Julian shook his head.  “If we embarrass the witches, so much the better.  I know it’s probably just a bunch of stupid girls with too much time on their hands.  But we live too near the fairy country to tolerate this sort of fooling around.  They are playing with things they don’t understand, and I’ve seen firsthand the result of such mischief.  Cities burned, people cursed.  No, I’m not for making things easy on them.

“Besides,” he continued, “it’s good for the troop to have a real call up.  We’ve all heard the rumors about goblins, or worse, threatening the town.  The troop might even be needed tonight.  Folks can get in pretty deep pretty quick sometimes.”  He turned then to the troop.  “We’ve a ways to travel and we want to arrest them in the act at midnight, so let’s get going.”

Julian went ahead with Dallen and some of the older companies.  Tiberius fell in line behind Captain Michael Okubo.   After a couple of hours of marching, they came to a crossroads and were told to rest a minute.  His father appeared again to give instructions to their captain.

“Michael, I want you take the south road just past the Witherspoon’s farm, then cut north cross country.  Spread out your men.  I’m going to approach from the north.  If they come to you they’ll come running from us, so be ready to catch them.”

Captain Okubo just nodded.  Tiberius sat admiring his father’s planning.  Back in the war, he knew his father hadn’t been known for personal fighting, but for the clever movement of troops.  He’d out-maneuvered troops of the northern rebels and thus taken the witch queen unaware and killed her.  Ti’s father told them little of fencing or archery, but he had always talked to them about what really made great captains of war: the need for strategy, planning, logistics. He’d made them read copies of Sun Tsu and histories.  Many nights he’d faced his sons on the chess board.  Only by learning the ability to think seven moves in advance could they hold their own against him.  He had little fear of tonight’s outcome, no matter what unholy powers these witches had managed to gather.