[Flashback]The Mistake

[Tiberius Bayle]

57 Spring Four 489 A.V., Early Evening A few miles outside of Zeltiva Tiberius scribbled furiously, trying to finish his calculations. They were basic at best, simplified equations given to him by his father, Marcus. Once he had glanced at his father's notes, and it had seemed like something above and beyond math. Something about astral coordinates, and with numerous geometrical shapes. His father was an astronomer, and was teaching him the trade, which involved math. ALOT of math. Because his father wasn't simply content with knowing the names of all the stars. He wanted to know where each one was at each precise moment of the night, on each specific day of the year. He wanted to know everything, like how far away they were, and how hot they might burn. But for Tiberius, only fifteen and still an student, it seemed like a bit much. Still, his father had assigned him to figure out the precise direction and angle of the moon at the twenty-first hour of the day. More, instead of just going outside and measuring it, he was expected to prove it mathematically. It was frustrating. Tiberius took a look at the calculations he had etched into the clay tablet, groaned, and took the smoothing tool to the tablet, wiping all of his work away. He sighed, and decided to take a break. The young man got up from the desk he was working at, and made his way outside. His mother Julia was tending their tiny garden with diligence. It wasn't great land for growing crops, but his mother was a botanist, and what she grew was often practically weeds, able to grow out of a rock in the desert. "Mother, need a hand?" asked Tiberius, moving towards the garden. She looked up, wiped her forehead with her wrist, and smiled. "Sure, honey. You finish your work?" Tiberius' lips tightened and he shook his head. "Dead end. I just can't grasp some of the equations necessary for cosmic determination. It's a bit advanced." "Don't worry, with study and practice, you'll get it. Why don't you-" she stopped abruptly, and looked up. It was almost dark outside, and Tiberius could here voices down the path leading to the village. "Father shouldn't be coming home yet," said Tiberius. "He had a noon lecture to give on the gravitational effect of the sun on Mizahar." His mother nodded in acknowledgement, standing up from her workplace in the garden. Flickering light betrayed the closeness of the people as their voices echoed out of the trees. A few moments later, they could be seen. It was at least a dozen people, carrying torches and various other implements. They gave off an incredibly angry vibe. "Mother, I think we should go inside," Tiberius said, moving for the door. His mother said nothing, but followed, and they entered the small house and barred the door. Tiberius ran and grabbed one of the knives from the kitchen. "Tiberius, no!" "Yes, mother. Why would they be here, if not to hurt us? I must try to defend us." The voices had grown louder and louder, and they could be heard right outside the door. The sound of things breaking was drowned out for a moment when someone pounded on the door. "WE KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! WE'LL BREAK IN IF WE HAVE TO! OR BURN THE PLACE DOWN!" shouted a deep male voice from the other side of the door. "Go away!" screamed Tiberius. "We've done nothing wrong!" "WE'VE COME FOR THE WITCH! AND WE'RE NOT LEAVING WITHOUT HER!" Tiberius looked to his mother questioningly. She was no witch, and he could see it in her eyes. "There's no witch here! Go home!" he yelled. The voice didn't answer, but a few moments later something starting hitting the door. Hard. After a few bangs the door began to splinter in one spot. Then another. Then the better part of an axe head broke through. "Mother, go hide. I'll try to stop them," commanded Tiberius. "No, Tiberius. They'll kill you!" she protested. But he would hear none of it. Tiberius pushed her towards the back of the house, and she complied with a mute resignation. The door all but shattered, and a large man kicked the rest of it to pieces, and stepped through, flanked by several other men. Tiberius recognized them, they were all woodcutters from the village just a half mile from their house. The leader, Paul Baxter, looked at Tiberius, murder in his eyes. "Where is she, boy?" "I'm not telling you! You're wrong, she's not a witch!" Baxter looked at him, furious. "She is a witch! My baby girl is dead because she gave her some sort of poison! And she's always cutting up animals and the dead, and poking around inside! What else could she be but a WITCH?!" He nodded to the other men. "Find her." "She does that because she studies anatomy!" cried Tiberius, desperately. "She's a scholar!" He yelled in outrage and rushed one of the other men as the tried to get past. His clumsy dagger thrust was easily brushed aside by the large man, who backhanded him as well. Tiberius slumped to the ground, ears ringing. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. A scream. His mother was screaming. His head was still swirling, but Tiberius could see the men dragging his mother out of the house. He followed weakly, leaning on furniture, then the wall, then the doorway. His sight was clearing, but his head hurt, and his lip throbbed, leaking blood into his mouth. His mother was screaming. Paul Baxter grabbed her face in one hand and stared her in the eyes. "For the crime of witchcraft, we will take your head and burn your body, that you may not plague out village any more." He kneed her in the abdomen, and she crumbled, sobbing. "Stop!" Tiberius looked past the dozen villagers. There stood his father, a look of terrified surprise on his face. "Stop!" yelled Marcus Bayle. "What are you doing? What is going on?" Paul Baxter grabbed Julia by the hair, and hoisted her up onto her knees. "Your wife is a witch, Marcus! And we're here to put an end to her black arts!" Marcus shook his head, taking a few steps closer to the crowd. "No! You're making a mistake! She's no witch! Please! I beg you, just let us go. We'll pack up our things and be gone by tomorrow." He was half crying, his voice filled with terror and desperation. "You're making a mistake!" Paul shook his head. "There's no mistake. She's a witch, and there's no mercy for witches!" He held out a hand and someone placed an axe in it. Not the woodcutters axe most of them had, but a bearded axe, with a long cutting edge. "NO!" yelled Tiberius and Marcus, both reaching out with futility. Julia's head rolled. Tiberius looked on in anguish. It wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. He clung to the door as if it was keeping him afloat in an ocean of darkness. His father had sunk to his knees, and was sobbing emphatically. "THE WITCH IS DEAD!" yelled Paul, and the other villagers began to cheer!" Somehow, through the noise of the joyous villagers, Tiberius heard his father's voice. "You made a mistake..." he heard, just barely. "You made a mistake." Again, this time it was clear. "You made a mistake!" This time it was loud enough to stop the cheering of the villagers, who looked to Marcus. Marcus was standing, looking at them with a rage Tiberius had never seen before. "I told you it was a mistake," his father said, voice cold and sharp. He stepped closer. "My wife was no witch, she did not practice magic." His eyes gleaned sparkled with imminent killing. "You made a mistake," this time barely a whisper, but everyone heard it. "Because I do!" he said. Marcus' hands raised towards the villagers, fire leaped from his finger tips, and the world burned.

[Tiberius Bayle]

It was over in moments. Tiberius watched as several men were burned to charred flesh in a matter of moments. Several fled, and others fought. All died. The woodcutting implements the villagers had seemed not to affect Marcus. Something flashed green along his skin when the tools nearly touched him, and they bounced away. Lightning crackled and men fell dead. Soon only Paul remained. He was on his knees, crying and begging. Around him his friends lay dead, and he pleaded for mercy. Tiberius watched as Marcus approached the begging woodcutter. He watched as his father lifted a hand towards the man, finger's outstretched. "Mercy, please. I beg you!" sobbed Paul, the well muscled man's shoulders heaving with his cries. "Mercy?" said Marcus. His face looked pensive for just a moment, and then it hardened again. "No." Marcus closed his hand into a fist, and fire from torches and the burning remains of the other villagers seemed to leap towards Paul. In an instant his entire body was covered in flames. Tiberius would never forget that scream. After it was over, Marcus finally acknowledged his son's presence. "We will talk later, Tiberius. Gather your pack, take only what you absolutely cannot part with. We leave tonight." He left no room for dispute, so Marcus went to his room and packed a bag. A prized book, some writing equipment, clothes, and his traveling kit made the cut. Everything else was left. When Tiberius left out of his room, his father was waiting. "I buried your mother in her garden. Pay your respects." Tiberius nodded meekly. Everything was happening so fast. The reality of the situation was finally hitting him, and grief was beginning to set in. He moved out to the garden, and knelt next to the fresh mound of turned dirt. For minutes he knelt, silent. "I love you, mother." Nothing else needed to be said. Tiberius knelt for several more minutes before his father came out of the house. "We must go, son. It is no longer safe for us here." Tiberius nodded and stood, his faced covered in tears shed silently. His mother had always been there for him. They had been so close. And now she was gone. His father was more like a teacher than a parent. Tiberius walked to his father, and they left, side by side, heading to an unknown future, leaving a terrible past. Marcus reached out and put his arm around his son.

[Tiberius Bayle]

63 Spring 489 AV, Late Morning On a Ship, sailing for Sunberth The past few days had been a blur to Tiberius. After his mother's death, he had silently walked alongside his father through the entire night. He had had no idea where they were going, until they made it to Mirahil Pass, and headed for Zeltiva. Only then had Tiberius spoken, asking why they were headed into the city. His father had replied that they would find a ship to take them elsewhere, probably Sunberth. The next day they were on a ship, headed out of Matthews Bay. They had been on that ship for several days now. His father had arranged for them to share a small cabin on the merchant vessel. No doubt it had cost a pretty Miza, but the privacy was well warranted, and well appreciated. Tiberius spent most of the time laying in bed, thinking about his mother. His father just sat there, staring at nothing. Tiberius hadn't seen his eyes closed for more than just a blink the entire trip. Mostly he tried not to look at his father at all. Just a few days prior he had killed a dozen men in just as many breaths. It wasn't that Tiberius thought his father was a bad person, or a murderer. He was just having trouble wrapping his mind around what he had learned. His father was a wizard.