Path of the Magi (Tales of Tiberius) (24 page)

Chapter VIII

A New Beginning

The first day out gave Tiberius no quick start to his adventures. The road out from Sherwood City wasn’t particularly interesting.  Tiberius had been this way many times before on hunting trips or the occasional printing delivery.  At the end of the day he spent the night in a respectable and familiar inn. 

The next morning, though, things began to get more interesting.  He was off before dawn and by midday he’d reached Fort Marion, a great fort that marked the edge of the border territories.  An entire legion of the Queen’s soldiers were stationed here, the Fifth Infantry.  This was the end of the civilized lands of the Stewardship.  Technically, the Stewardship extended westward out to the Fairy Drink River and the elven lands didn’t start till then.   But the official border had been set more with a mind to the future by the elves than to reflect reality.  The practical limit of human influence was “The Wall.”  This was a fifty-mile long wooden wall that ran between Fort Marion and the great city of Walsingham.  A western corner of the Stewardship lay between the river and the wall.  This was the border country. 

There were towns here, but they were walled and wary.  It was a rich land, but it was dangerous country.  These were fairy woods, and all sorts of odd and magical creatures were known to dwell here.  The Black Hills were known to be infested with goblins, bogies, and all sorts of other creatures of the night.  It was rumored that a great goblin queen ruled over them all somewhere in the heart of the Black Hills.  Others said something even more sinister lurked behind her.  Enormous spiders the size of dogs were known to live on the west side of the Robinsford.   The outposts at the wall were on constant vigilance.  Even Sherwood City was not fully safe from raids.  Beyond this point you traveled at your own risk.

A sergeant hailed him at the gates to the forest road.

“Aren’t you one of old General Fuller’s sons?” asked the sergeant.  Tiberius had been here before on his father’s business.  The fort here had training manuals printed on occasion.  “Where do you think you’re going?  The road ahead isn’t safe for a single rider.”

“I’m on my way to Vonair,” he replied. 

“You’d do better to take the road to Walsingham and catch a boat.  If you must take the road, wait a couple of days and there will be a small caravan,” the sergeant said sensibly.

Tiberius handed him a letter of introduction that Dallen had written.

The sergeant glanced at it then looked back up at Tiberius with wide eyes, handing him back the letter.  “Dallen sent you?  And you’re General Fuller’s son?  I guess you know what you’re doing.  I’d still take the ferry, if I were you.  There’s sure to be trouble ahead.”

“I expect so, Sergeant,” Tiberius said.  “That’s part of my job from now on.”

The sergeant motioned for him to be let past and Tiberius rode his horse beyond the wall.  Tiberius saw no immediate change, but the change was there nonetheless.  As he rode along, the farms and small villages became more distant and more fortified, and this was only the first day.  The road here was still close to the wall.    He spent the first night in an inn in the village of Stapleshire.  The wooden stockade around the town was quite functional and well maintained.  The next day, riding towards Lychester, the road became downright lonely.   

So far he hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary, but he did sense fear in the countryside.  They weren’t fond of strangers here.  He passed almost no one on the road.  The farmers he passed did not wave greetings, but either looked away or gathered their children quickly away from the stranger.  The shutters in this country were well kept and slammed shut at the sight of strangers. 

Finally he did see a small group of men.  One of them was blocking the road.  Tiberius rode up to the man. 

“What do you want?” he asked.

“A simple toll for passage, governor.  You’d not deny that to a bunch of hard working men, keeping the road safe for humble travelers like yourself.”

Tiberius nudged his horse a bit closer to the leader.  “You don’t have the look of a Queen’s man.  Are you telling me you’re a Ranger?”

“Ah, well, not as such.  You see, the Rangers, well, they don’t get down this way much.  They mostly keep to the coast roads.  Inland protection, that’s our lot.” 

“I see.  How much?”

“Well, seeing as you’re a gentleman, sir, I’d say a hundred shillings would be about right.  Course, if you can’t pay, well we’d be happy to share things out so to speak.  If you want to empty your pockets, we’ll divide things up fair and square.”

Tiberius frowned.  These were highwaymen, little better than thieves.  He’d faced worse in training, but he had been told to check in with the Rangers first before he started any trouble.  “I’m not the Queen’s man.  Not yet.  For that reason, I’ll pay you this time.  But I warn you, I’ll be back before long.  Before then, I’d suggest you find another profession.  You may find the Queen’s Rangers closer than you think.”  Tiberius ended his speech by reaching into his purse and throwing two gold coins towards the bandit leader. 

The highwayman leader took the coins.  “Gold, eh?  Maybe I undercharged you,” he said.  A glance up at the curious stranger showed he had given all he would without a fight, however. 

“I’m a man of my word, though.  One hundred shillings I said.  One hundred shillings it is.  On your way, governor,” he said, stepping aside. 

“Till we meet again,” said the stranger.  The bandit leader watched him ride swiftly down the road. 

“Reckon we ought to go after him, Welby?  More gold where that came from, I bet,” Slim said to his chief.

“No.  Let him go,”  the chief answered sharply.

“You don’t believe that carp about the Rangers coming, do you?” Slim said.  “Didn’t figure you to go soft.”

“Don’t you ever play cards?” the chief answered.  “That man’s got an ace up his sleeve, all right; we’re lucky we didn’t have a fight right here.  Chuck, Joe, you tell the boys to look sharp down the road for the Rangers.  That man that went by stinks of the Queen.  Something’s up; I don’t want to find out what by pulling a Ranger’s arrow out of my arse.” 

The highwaymen's chief took a last look at the departing rider.  “I don’t like this at all,” he mumbled.  “There is big trouble brewing.”   

By late night Tiberius came to the large inn he’d been told about: a series of buildings arranged in a box with walls connecting them into a small fortress here at a crossroads.   A sign above the door had a drawing of a mug of ale and letters that said “Henry’s.”  Tiberius met the stable boy and handed over his horse, giving the lad a tip for his troubles. 

Stepping inside, he saw a comfortable if inelegant inn.  The crowd was a mixed lot.  There were some traders and local farmers, but also a few unpleasant looking types.  The barmaids were cute, though.  One of them told him to take any seat that he liked and she’d be with him in a minute.  Tiberius took an unoccupied seat near the bar, off to the side.  Henry was a large stout man with broad shoulders.  He had the look of an old campaigner who had settled down to a quieter life.  He was chatting with some farmers behind the bar when suddenly one of the barmaids screamed and slapped a rough looking man at a nearby table.

“That’s enough of that!”  Henry said sharply. 

The man growled back.  “Just having a bit of fun.”

“I think you’ve had enough.  You’ve run up enough of a tab, too.  Why don’t you settle your bill and clear off,”  Henry said. 

“That’s no way to treat paying customers, is it now, Bill,” said the man, turning back to his companion for support.  Bill rose and stood beside him.  Henry answered by taking a stout looking club from under the bar.  He cracked it loudly against the counter.

“That’s enough from you lot.  You pay your bill and be off.”

“He ain’t respectful, now, is he Bill?  We ought to teach him a lesson.”

It looked like the start of an ugly scene.  Tiberius cast a light spell on Henry’s club, and it started glowing an ominous red.  Henry, with his eyes on the two ruffians, didn’t notice, but the two ruffs did.  The first froze in his tracks. 

“No point causing trouble now, Jake.  Let’s just pay and be off like the man said.”

Jake took a step back, fumbled for his purse, and threw some coins on the table.  Then the two of them practically ran out the door.  Henry watched them go. Then he glanced down at his club, saw it was glowing, dropped it, and leapt back away from it.

“Criminy! No wonder they ran,” he said.

“It’s just a harmless light,”  Tiberius said.  Gesturing again he put the light out.  Henry picked up the club again gingerly. 

“Well that’s a useful little trick, no mistake,” Henry said.  “I’m much obliged Mr. ...?”

“Just call me Tiberius,” he answered.

“Well, Mr. Tiberius, sir, you’re right welcome here.  Let me get you a drink on the house.”

“It will have to be tea, I’m afraid.  I’ve given up alcohol,” he answered.

“Betsy, fetch the gentleman some tea.  Not that it has to be tea, sir.  We’ve a selection for them what don’t take to strong spirits.  The missus likes to keep a good selection on hand.  We get occasional kids and ladyfolk come this way on the way to the fort with the caravans.  Got some soft cider on tap, finest well water, and plenty of cold tea and lemonade.  We’ve got blackcurrant concentrate and a few bottles of that new sarsaparilla stuff, too, if you fancy something a bit different.”

“Tea will be fine for now; I’ll keep the rest in mind.  I expect I’ll be around here often from now on.  I was hoping for some dinner and a room for the night as well.  A private room, if you’ve got one.”

“It’s a bit extra for that, sir, but we’ve got some fine rooms available, thirty shillings for a private room.  If that’s too much, I can...”

“That will be fine; what do you recommend for dinner?”

“I think the stew tonight, sir.  Had a bit myself and the missus has done a fine job.  Comes with bread straight from our own oven, too.”

“Sounds good,”  Tiberius replied.

“I’ll have Betsy fetch you some straight away.” 

Henry was as good as his word.  There was a fine beef barley stew brought forth with some excellent thick slices of wholegrain bread still hot from the oven.  Tiberius washed it down with a Darjeeling tea and some well water. 

Tiberius watched as Henry made preparations for the night, carefully checking every window was securely barred.  Afterwards, he came and sat down behind the bar. 

“That’s better.”

“Expecting trouble?”

“Round these parts you’d best be prepared for it.  I take pride in giving my guests a good night’s safe sleep.”  Henry said. 

“It’s the Ranger’s job to keep people safe around here,” Tiberius said, wondering.

“Well, I’ve done some time in the army myself, you know.  Rangers can’t be everywhere,”  Henry replied.

“They shouldn’t have to be.  The thought that a Ranger might be by should give folks pause,”  Tiberius said.

“Might, if there were more of them,”  Henry countered.  “They are good lads, the Rangers.  They’re in here now and then.  I’ve seen Walker the Hammer himself, sitting in that very chair.  They’re just a bit overwhelmed.  Too many will-o’-the-wisps to chase.  Too close to the deep forest here.”

“I’m hoping to help with that,”  Tiberius said.

“You joining up then?”

“Not exactly.  I’m a consultant.”

“Hmm.  Well if you can do something to tone things down a bit in this area it will be much appreciated, sir.  You know a few more tricks like that bit of light you did?”   

“A few more.  I’m a magus.”

“That some sort of elf magic?  You don’t have the look of one of them sorcerers or witches.  None of that lot would lift a finger to help a poor barman anyway,”  Henry said.

“I’m one of the magi.”

“Magi?  Like in the Bible?  Christ isn’t returning is he?”  Henry said, alarmed.

“Not today,” Tiberius said, laughing.  “Not that I know of.  I’m just on my way to the castle to help out with a few of those will-o’-the-wisps.” 

“Well good luck too you, sir.  Just remember, you’ll always find a bit of rest and company down at Henry’s.  When you’re done with your supper, I’ll show you to your room.”

Tiberius found his room to be clean and comfortable.  He had a good breakfast the next day, too.  He got off to an early start and by late morning he had come to the town of Vonair. 

Tiberius stopped his horse for a moment and admired the view, seeing the castle at Vonair for the first time.  Coming by the inland road did at least give you a good view of the castle.  It was a structure on a low hill with one very tall tower on the left side overlooking the rivers.  Another round tower, bigger but not as tall, contained the great hall.  Tiberius headed up there first.  Showing his letters of introduction there, they told him to leave his horse and go down to the fort.  This proved to be a large collection of wooden buildings, surrounded by a wooden wall and a trench.  At first he thought it was daft, building a fort next to a castle, but looking it over he got the layout of the place.  The castle had the administrative buildings and the officer's quarters.  The fort below was a barracks for enlisted men.  It also had the stables. 

Walking down to the fort entrance, a guard again looked at his papers and almost sent him back up to the castle, but after consulting with another guard, they sent him towards a large tent erected in the center of the fort.

At the entrance to the great tent, Tiberius again showed his letters.  He was told that Lord Brandon was here, but Tiberius would have to wait, as he was busy.  Tiberius could believe that, as he could hear a loud, animated discussion emanating from within.  The guard motioned him inside and towards an uncomfortable looking bench, already crowded with some townsfolk.

At least he could see Lord Brandon, now.  Sort of.  He was seated behind a desk, surrounded by three townsfolk, one of whom kept waving a couple of chickens at him for no discernible reason.  Lord Brandon at least looked his part.  He was a short man with broad shoulders and a dark graying beard.  He had the look of a harassed commander. 

The room was crowded, and there were other Rangers about, some with gold trim to their armor.  Tiberius recognized a tall blonde soldier as the famous Darras Walker.  Another man who was seated with his feet on a barrel Ti thought was the other commander, El Gato.  Looks like he had joined the Rangers after all.  Probably trouble with a woman had got him transferred out to the front at last.     

It didn’t look like the argument was going to end any time soon, so Tiberius pulled out a book and started to read.  He was there for about a half hour before there was an interruption.  The room suddenly filled with a puff of smoke.  Looking up from his book, Tiberius saw a man in brightly colored green and yellow robes.  They were heavily covered in gold embroidered runes and mystic symbols.  They were rather too heavy on the magic squares to be esthetically pleasing, but somewhat functional.  He was instantly on the alert, but the man hadn’t teleported in; he’d merely made a small puff of smoke in the room.  This was probably a dabbler in the arts.  The robes had symbols better left unused, but nothing too dark.   There was chaos around the room.  The farmer who had been leaning across the table while arguing with the captain had stepped back to the side of the table.  The soldiers, including Lord Brandon, had all drawn their weapons.  The doorway was cluttered with men: soldiers trying to get in, and farmers trying to get out.  Tiberius was the only person who hadn’t moved.  He calmly put his book away and looked up, studying the new arrival.  Then Tiberius unobtrusively shifted his staff, moving it closer.  

The wizard was a short man with a thick red beard and long red hair.  He stepped up to the desk and gave a short nod of his head. 

"Lord Brandon, allow me to introduce myself.  I am Berthold the Red, a wizard.  I have come for our mutual benefit.  There are strange forces at work about here."  He glanced furtively about for effect, then turned back to Lord Brandon.  "I believe I have come in the nick of time.  If you place yourselves at my disposal all should be well.  Indeed, I think I may promise you a rich reward once we achieve our goal."

At this point the Lord Brandon interrupted. 

"Who the hell are you?"

"Berthold the Red, M’lord.  A great and powerful wizard who has come to assist you in facing a threat of which you may yet be ignorant.  But it is real, nevertheless, I assure you.  My services are . . ."

"Are you the magician from Sherwood we were told to expect?"

"No doubt my coming was foretold.  Forgive me for my brusque entrance, but I think there should be no question of ..."

"Excuse me, I think you might mean me, Lord," Tiberius interrupted. 

All eyes turned to him as he stood up and approached the desk.  The emotion behind their eyes varied from the open hostility of Berthold, to the puzzled “now what” look of the lord.  Between the two of them, Berthold was far more obviously a magician.  He was the one with mystic runes gaudily inscribed on his robe, and he was the one who had appeared in a puff of smoke.  The other fellow was a quiet, scholarly looking chap.  He did have his own staff, but it was nothing but a thin walking stick compared with the elaborate staff that Berthold carried. 

The young man stepped up and started to speak in a very educated voice.  "You will excuse me for interrupting, but you mentioned a magician from Sherwood City, and I’m pretty sure you’re talking about me.  I shouldn’t wish there to be any confusion.  I have a letter of introduction ..."

Berthold stepped forward angrily.  "You dare to call yourself a magician, you wet-eared boy.  How dare you interfere in this quest!  Be gone!  There will be no part of the treasure for you!"  he said.

"I really do beg your pardon, sir,” Tiberius said with a polite bow.  “I didn’t mean to interrupt your tale.  I just wanted to avoid any confusion.  I really have no idea of what you are talking about.  I'm not interested in any treasure.  Dallen just thought I could use a bit of practical experience, and that I might make myself useful."

At the mention of Dallen, Berthold took a step back.  His eyes darted to the emblem of the magi that Tiberius wore. 

"Dallen sent you?  Are you a magi?"  Berthold asked with alarm.

“A magus, yes.  Well an apprentice, really.  At your service, sir,"  Tiberius added. 

Berthold nodded too and stepped back.  He looked a bit shaken.  Tiberius put his letter down on the desk and then stepped back to sit down.     

"Pray go on, sir; I didn't wish to interrupt," he said.

Berthold stood nervously in the room; his eyes didn't leave Tiberius.  Lord Brandon at last interrupted.

"You were saying, Mr. Berthold?"

Berthold continued to stand.  He scratched his beard for a moment.  "Well, I've just been thinking, Lord, it’s really not as important as all that."

"If you know of some threat to the realm, we would of course be interested in investigating,” the Lord said.  “I might also mention that I am authorized to pay a small percentage of recovered plunder as a salvage fee."

Berthold stammered.  "Well, that is very generous of you Colonel, very generous indeed, but no.  No, it’s nothing, nothing at all,”  Bethold said with another nervous glance at Tiberius, now quietly sitting on the bench.  “Sorry to have bothered you."  With that, the little wizard scampered towards the door.  Men cleared out of his way, but the soldiers watched him closely as he scurried away. 

Lord Brandon watched him go, stepping around the desk to the tent entrance to make sure of Berthold’s departure.  Only when he had waddled beyond the gates of the fort did the colonel return to his desk and his seat.  His eyes then locked on Tiberius and every eye in the room followed.   

"Now let’s see about you,"  Brandon said, gesturing for Tiberius to come before the table. 

Tiberius rose and gave a small bow.  "There is no need to hurry on my account, Colonel; these gentlemen were here before me."

"Never mind about that lot; they'll keep. Step up here while I take a look at this letter."

Tiberius rose and stood before the desk.   

He nodded as he read the letters.  "Very impressive.  I knew your father, Tiberius.  He was a good man, one of our best.  Pity he chose to retire to private life after the war.  Is he well?"

"Quite well, sir.  As is the rest of my family.  He runs a print shop now with my brother, the best in Sherwood.  He still runs the militia out of Sherwood City at need."

"I never figured his boy to be mixed up in magic," Lord Brandon pondered.

"It wasn't really something we planned on, sir.  It just seems to have worked out this way."

“Says here they want me to take you on as a civilian scout.  I think we can give you a try,”  the lord said, studying the papers.

“With respect, sir, I don’t really think we need any sort of magician hanging about,” said the large, blonde man Tiberius recognized as Captain Walker.

Lord Brandon glanced back at him.  “He’s a magi, Darras.  I know his teacher, Dallen.  They did some good work back in the great war.  If he’s anything like his teacher or his father, he’ll make himself useful.”

“All the same, sir, I’d rather not trust any sort of magician.  Not in my company.”  

The lord shifted his glance to El Gato.  “I’ll give him a try,”  El Gato said without moving a boot.  “I’ll try anything once,” he said.

“We know that, Gato, that’s why you’re here,”  Darras replied, causing a round of laughter around the room. 

El Gato ignored the laughter at his expense and stepped up to the young man.  “Show me your boots,” he said.

“My boots?”  Tiberius asked.  He was puzzled by the request, but he lifted his cloak so El Gato could get a good look at them. 

El Gato nodded with approval.  “Practical.  Can you ride?”

“I rode here from Sherwood City.  There are some highwaymen on that road by the way.”

“Yes, we know.  We have more pressing business, however.  I’m leading a couple of troops on the Farmer’s Way tomorrow at dawn.  Come along if you like.  Mind you, if you fall behind you’re on your own.”

“I’ll keep up.” 

“We’ll see,”  El Gato said. 

Just then there was another interruption as a short man of the cloth suddenly burst into the room.  Reverend McNair was a short, lean, but energetic man with greying hair and a goatee.  He wore a set of worn grey friar’s robes over a mail shirt.  He was a bit out of breath.

“Mr. Tiberius, I’m ever so sorry; I just heard that you arrived.  Have you met Lord Brandon yet?”

“We’ve just assigned Mr. Tiberius here to work with Gato’s company,”  the lord stated.

“Ah, excellent,” Reverend McNair replied. 

“Maybe you could find some quarters for him?” Lord Brandon asked.

“Yes, yes,” the padre said, catching his breath.   

“You know this man, Padre?”  Darras asked, puzzled.

“Yes, well, I know of him; he’s one of the magi.  Dallen’s pupil.  Come along, I’ll get you settled.  We’ve put aside a room in the castle for you.  This way, this way.”

Tiberius was grateful that at least someone had apparently heard of his coming.  He followed the reverend back up the hill towards the castle.

“Did you have a safe journey?” McNair asked.

“Not too bad.  One group of highwaymen charged me a rather exorbitant toll.  I thought I should check in before I did anything about them though.  Sort of a gambit on my part.  I don’t want to tip my hand too soon.”

“You’ll find worse than that around here, I’m afraid.  You really should have come up the coast road, or better yet traveled by boat.”

“I was glad to get a taste of the country.  Of course, simple highwaymen aren’t really my job.”

“We all wear many hats out here, Mr. Tiberius.  I had them put you in the tower room.  It has a nice view and it’s fairly spacious.  Not popular though.  It’s a bit isolated and it’s under the water storage.  That makes some people nervous.  I didn’t think you would mind, though.”

“No that should be fine.  A little isolated is good for me.”

“Splendid.  Castle’s in need of repairs, but the sanitary facilities still work.  Not much hot water.  I don’t expect that will bother you.  Your trunk arrived this morning.” 

He was led up to a large circular room in the great tower.  It was sparsely furnished: a simple cot, his trunk, and a wash basin.   It did have a nice view through a few narrow windows.    

The padre seated himself on the trunk.  “Not much, but you can settle in later.  I’m just hoping now that you’re here I’ll have a bit more time to catch up on things.”  He suddenly pulled out a pocket watch.  “Oh my!  You’ll excuse me!”  He then ran off.  Tiberius was left to fend for himself.