Time's Tragedies- The Books Of Beginning [2]

1. Many Years Ago

Robert Lloyd's nose ached. It was broken, he was certain, and leaking dark, sticky blood. His forehead was damp with thick perspiration, and he couldn't even wipe it away. Not that he didn't try. But he was pinned under the heavy weight of an invisible force created by magic, and he could barely wriggle around.

Robert hurt, and he felt the heat of the burning mansion as acutely as if he was on fire. But he would rather take his chances in the flames then be stuck here, waiting for soldiers of the magical council to haul him off to prison, where he would rot behind bars, powerless, for his entire life. The boy who had trapped him here had been right, Robert could not stand being powerless. Jail would be torture for him.

The spy shuddered at the thought of that boy, that specter brought back to life. At first, Robert hadn't thought much of him. He had been angry at being betrayed, of course, but he hadn't been a threat. How wrong Robert had been. The spy remembered the moment the boy's green eyes had turned violent, how horrifying the look in them had been. Robert remembered the danger in his voice, the anger and hatred. He had looked like a vision from the darkest nightmare. Robert was not a fearful person, but that boy had shaken him to his core. That boy was even more terrifying than the Dire Magnus.

Robert despised him. He hated that boy, that Rafe, for making him feel fear. He hated him for trapping him here. Robert would have killed him if he had magic of his own to do it with. But alas, he didn't.

He did have a strong will though, stronger than anyone else in the Dire Magnus's ranks. And it was this strong will that kept him from screaming in pain as he managed to rip his arms free of the weight on him.

It's not real, Robert told himself. It's merely an illusion. But that didn't help with the pain in his shoulders, and then in his legs as he ripped his legs free and rolled out from that weight. It felt like his muscles were ripping apart. It felt like dying, and for a brief moment, Robert wondered if this was what Kate Wibberly had felt like when they put her in that electric chair.

Finally free of the crushing weight, Robert took deep, shuddering breaths as the amount of pain in his limbs faded from total agony to an intense ache. He looked up at the smoke filled sky, all the stars blotted out. He was free.

But Robert was not safe yet. He needed to get out of here before the warriors came to take him away. He couldn't go to prison. He had to keep his freedom. So Robert forced himself to stand, on shaking legs that could barely hold him, hacking out coughs as he inhaled smoke from the flaming mansion.

Stumbling to the low wall separating the Dire Magnus's property from the property next door, he leaned against it, running a hand through his sweat soaked hair. Panting, he started to swing a leg over the wall, so he could begin making his escape. But then something caught his eye, a glint of brass that blinded him temporarily.

Rubbing at his eye, Robert unhooked his leg from the wall, and dropped to the dirt. On his hands and knees, he crawled towards the item as fast as he could, as though he was being drawn in by it. His hands scratched into the dirt, the earth caking his fingernails as he ripped the object from the ground.

It was a small, antiquated chest, the kind one would use to store a piece of expensive jewelry. Made of sturdy wood, with sharp brass corners, it's loveliness was marred by scratching and dirt, but it had stayed firmly intact and closed, even after many years buried in the Earth.

Why it had been buried there, Robert did not know, nor did he know how it had surfaced just now. All he knew was that it was calling to him, as though destiny had put it there for him to find.

Eagerly, he ripped it open like a little kid at a birthday party. He was hoping for jewels or money of some sort, something that could get him far away from here, somewhere the magical council could never catch him. After all, the Dire Magnus had abandoned him, his uncle was dead, and he had no assets. He could use the money.