Sytravious: The Lost Warlock Of Moruz (The Oathbreaker Book 1) (12 page)

Chapter 10

Consequences

            
 
W
hen Chuggers pitched his far-fetched plans to him, they always sounded like a grandiose ideas.  Now here he was, sneaking through the alleys of the worst part in Havencrest, in the poorest part of town.  Of all the cities he visited, Jamison had learned they all had slums, and this one was no exception.  As he searched for the bar, a woman poured a sewage pail from her window and the disgusting liquid landed next to where he was walking.  He gagged. 

              Without a doubt, he had to find The Trapper House now.  There was no possible way he would be able to stay much longer.  Even though he had been lodging in a cheap inn, which was more like a shack, he could only afford it one more night.  All he had left was a few copper pieces in his pocket.  All of his belongings had been left in the woods, and he was sure that even if he had been brave enough to retrieve them, they were surely gone by now.  It had been weeks since his comrades were murdered, and believing Havencrest to be the last place the killers would think to look for him, it is where he chose to lay low until he could come up with his next move.

              During his stay, he overheard rumors about a black market merchant by the name of Barnabus who was known to pay for valuable information.  If he had learned anything from Chugger’s miscalculation, it was that the notorious Nyxseous VanDrake was alive and well.  He was sure that information was worth something, but he did not know who to go to with it, until now.  After questioning some locals about where he could find Barnabus, he found out the answer was always the same: sitting at the rearmost table in The Trapper House.

              Jamison had waited for the cloak of night to help him sneak over to the bar.  When he found the busy tavern, he stood outside for a moment to think through his plan once more.  This was going to be the big break he needed, the one with which he could make enough money to live in comfort.  No longer would he have to resort to the life of crime just to survive. 

              The idea of easy living motivated him as he entered and he scanned the customers in the back of the bar.  He caught sight of a fellow who sat alone amongst the groups of men who all conversed with each other.  “That must be him,” Jamison thought to himself.  He approached the man by taking a seat at his table.

              “Just what do you think you are doing, stranger?”  Barnabus puckered his brow.

              “Are you the black market merchant?”  He looked around, fearful someone might have heard him.

              “I am.  Why do you ask?  You got something for me?”

              “Maybe.  I have heard that you also are known to make use of valuable information.  If that is true, then I do have something for you, but it will cost you.”

              Barnabus grunted.  “Of course it will cost me, dimwit.  No one just gives me important information free.  Now what is it that you have?”

              “Right, um what if I told you I have found a person, right here in Havencrest, with a huge bounty on their head?”  His eyes widened with excitement.  “If you help me get the word to the right ears, we can be very rich.”

              The merchant dismissed Jamison’s proposal.  “Bah!  You must take me for a fool.  Everyone knows King Lucas does not approve of vigilante justice, there are no such things as bounties here anymore.”

              “That very well may be true, but this fugitive is not wanted by your king.  To collect the riches, we must cross the western sea.  There is a certain Lord of Moruz who would pay a great fortune to be rid of her.”

              “
Her
?”

              “Yes, the woman is Nyxseous VanDrake.  If we inform Lord Fheng of her whereabouts he will take care of the rest, and we could get paid without ever having to lay a finger on her.”

              “How do I know you are telling me the truth?”

              He rolled up one of his sleeves to reveal the mark of the First Legion branded into his skin.             

              “You are from Moruz then?”

              He nodded and covered his arm back up.

              “Why should I believe there is a VanDrake still alive?  We all know that family tree died long ago.  How do I know you are not setting me up?  Why is it that can you not accomplish this task on your own?  What do you need me for?”

              “You are awfully suspicious.  I will explain everything.  Do you remember the murders that occurred just a few weeks ago in the woods?”

              Barnabus nodded.

              “It just so happened that my soldiers and I ran into her while we were traveling.  Our leader was able to identify her.  I even saw her with my very own eyes.  She lives here in this city.  We tried to catch her, but two men that accompanied her came to her aid.  Together the three of them killed all of my men.  I was barely able to escape, and have been hiding out until I could find someone like you.  I need someone who knows the right people to contact so that she will be caught, and we can reap the benefits without endangering our lives.”

              Barnabus waved down one of the servers and ordered two mugs of the finest ale.  “Tell me more.  This Lord Fheng, how much do you think he is willing to pay to know where she is?”

              “Soldiers close to him know that our Lord despises her.  In the past, he tried to assassinate her, himself.  It was a failed attempt, but the intent was there.  Now we have the chance to help him finish what he started.  Trust me.  He will give us nearly anything we ask of him, just to be rid of her.  We may even get a little extra for her little friends.”

The server placed two drinks on the table. 

“You have convinced me that I will greatly benefit from a partnership with you.”  Barnabus passed a mug to Jamison before raising the other.  “To our future riches!” 

“To our future riches,” he repeated.  He began to chug down the smooth beer.  It had been a while since he had been able to afford a drink that did not taste like piss.

“Alright my friend, how shall our plan begin?”

Later that evening, Jamison stumbled out of the Trapper House with a smirk on his face.  Not only did he establish a strategy to catch the witch, but also he would no longer have to live in fear and poverty.  This day had turned out better than he planned.  He was intoxicated and began to hum a melody while he shuffled down an alley.  Not having seen anybody around, he stopped abruptly to relieve himself, and began to think about how he was going to be rich beyond his wildest dreams. 

As he visualized his future, he began to feel a euphoria overcome him and he chuckled to himself.  His soft snickers grew louder, until his bout of laughter ended with a sigh of relief when finished urinating.  Jamison turned to continue his trip back to the inn, when he tripped over his own feet and bumped into a stranger.

              “Oh, excuse me!”  He squinted his eyes, trying to make out the hooded figure.  “I uh, did not see you there.”

              The person pulled back their hood to expose their wicked expression.  Jamison screamed at the sight of her, and then spun around to flee in the opposite direction before smacking into someone else.

              The flaming halberd pierced through the runaway’s neck and his body crashed into the ground.  Sytravious jerked the weapon from the man’s throat and glanced at his mother.  Nyxseous nodded in approval, pulled her hood back over her head, and disappeared into the shadows. 

              He had been waiting for this moment, so when his mother alerted him to the presence of the legionnaire at the inn, he was prepared.  Sytravious did not know how the stranger had managed to evade him for this long, but he was relieved the issue was resolved.  He knelt down next to the corpse.  Tonight would be the perfect night to test out the improvements he made to the borrowed blade.  He pulled out the temple’s ceremonial dagger and watched as it glimmered in the moonlight.  With several quick slashes, he removed the legion brand from the man’s forearm and looked at the skull with wings that was burnt into the skin.

              Sytravious gripped the bleeding chunk in his hand and ignited his fist with a black flame.  In his palm was a small mound of ash, which he blew into the night air.  His gaze returned to the dagger.  He grinned, impressed with the perfection he had achieved.  The sleekness with which it cut was undeniable.  Before standing up, he contemplated the morality of having used the temple blade, but shrugged it off and used the corpse’s clothes to wipe the halberd and dagger clean. 

              From his pocket, he pulled out a small jar and proceeded to pour the contents onto the man’s face and wounds.  The honey would attract ants to massacre the body and distort any distinguishing features, making it impossible to know whom the victim was and what had happened to him.  It would be days before someone crossed paths with the corpse, and by that time, the cause of death would be indiscernible.  The casualty could be written off as just another death in the slums, added to the number of those who had been drunk and caught up in the wrong sorts of trouble. 

              While he walked away, Sytravious was overcome with a mixture of emotions.  He paused and peered back at the dead man.  Killing the stranger was his redemption, but he was still unsure if it was the right thing to do.  He shook his head, as if to shake the thoughts away.  It was what he had to do to keep their secrets.

Chapter 11

A Surprise Guest

            
 
I
n the late evening Raiven sat at the edge of the pond, dipping the tips of her fingers in as she sent enchanted flickering sparks through the water.  She giggled as the fish swam to the dazzling flashes of light.  She was in her personal garden that had been given to her in an attempt to grant her privacy within the temple walls. 

              An overlay of various flowers blanketed the ground and tall weeping trees, with low hanging branches, created a sense of isolation.  This was the place she would often seek refuge when she needed to escape her busy life.  Raiven loved this area in the evening because she could relax and enjoy the night sky. 

              “You know you are just teasing those poor fish with your magic.  At least give them some bread if you are going to lure them to the surface.  It is what I would do.”  Sytravious emerged from behind the draping trees.

              She jumped up in shock of his sudden appearance, and inspected their surrounding with a nervous glance.  Her heart began to beat fast when she saw him.

              “What are you doing here?”  Raiven demanded in a whisper.  “Have you lost your mind?  You are in the temple’s gardens!  How did you get past the guardians?”  She tried to hide her anxiety, but it was futile. 

              “Guardians?  I did not see anyone.”

              He did not give anything away in his expression, making it hard for Raiven to tell if he was being truthful with her.  She watched him take a seat next to the pond and pull out a small box from beneath his cloak.  He set it on the ground, and then motioned for her to join him.  This was preposterous.  She could never imagine that he would actually come here, to her garden. 

              “I told you to be patient.  I was going to send word to you in a few days, requesting the dagger be delivered.”  She sat down next to him and exhaled slowly as she tried to settle down.

              “Raiven, it has been nearly two weeks, which is too long without seeing you.  How can you expect me to just wait?”

              “I know.  I have been very busy.  My lessons have been consuming all my time and energy.  Master Vienken has been introducing some new types of studies to me, making it hard to get a moment away from the temple.”

              “Do not worry about it, my priestess.  That is why I have taken it upon myself to deliver it to you.”  He nudged the box nearer to her. 

              “You did not have to risk your freedom to bring me this.” 

              “I know.  Just look at it.”

              Upon opening the box, she saw the dagger shine in the moonlight.  It was in pristine condition, more beautiful than ever before.  She slid her finger over the knife-edge with care.  “You even sharpened the blade.”

              “Yes, I finished it the day after you left.  I hope it meets your standards.  I even tested it out myself,” he said with a smirk.

              She could not break her stare away from him.  His icy blue eyes made her stomach writhe with excitement.  Raiven bowed her head as a gesture of appreciation, and placed the box on the ground.  “It is perfect, thank you.”

              An awkward silence began to grow between them.  Unlike when she had seen him at the forge and spring, Sytravious now seemed a little uncomfortable.  He was in her territory now and she could feel his uncertainty, though he did his best to conceal it.

              “So…you have the dagger now.  I guess I will be leaving,” he said, then stood up.

              “Wait!”  She reached up and grabbed his hand to pull him back down.  “But, you went through the trouble to deliver it to me.  Why not stay a while longer?”

              “Are you sure you do not mind the intrusion?”  He raised an eyebrow. 

              She smiled and shook her head.  “I would love for you to stay and tell me more about yourself, seeing as all I know about you is your name and occupation.  That is, if you are okay with the possibility of being imprisoned for jumping the temple walls to see me.”

              “Raiven, men have been proudly hanged for less noble causes, and I will offer no apologies or bear any shame for coming here to see you.”

              She was elated to see him sit back down next to her again.  The possibility that she may be caught was in the back of her mind, but she was so enthralled with Sytravious, she disregarded her better judgement.  He made her feel alive and she felt her body bubbling with energy.

              He clasped her hand within both of his.  “I am not sure what
this
is between us, or where it may lead, but I am willing to jump the temple walls every night to see you if that is what it will take.”

              She inched closer to him.  “I too would like to explore the connection we are building, but I do not want any harm to come to you because of me.”

              “Raiven, I have spent my entire life feeling like something is missing, and thinking that there has to be more for me than what I was handed.  Growing up, I was instilled with strict instructions regarding how to conduct myself in society and keep my true self hidden, lest I offend the wrong person.”

              What he was saying resonated with her, and as she listened to this confession, she found herself nodding because she understood exactly how he felt.  As a priestess, all the same teachings had been given to her as well.

              Sytravious continued, “But then I saw you swimming, and I felt a fire begin to burn deep inside of me.  Seeing you made me feel radiant, it was as if you had shined brightness into my dark, empty, meaningless life.  Until I met you, I was barely living.  You have given me a reason to look forward to each day.”

              Raiven was caught off guard by his willingness to share his personal feelings with her.

Never had she met anyone who felt this way about her.  It was exhilarating and puzzling at the same time.  She noticed he leaned in and stares at her, awaiting a response, but she was speechless.  She turned toward the pond to dip her fingers into the water again.  What could she possibly say after everything he had just told her?  She wanted to be honest with him, but the thought of divulging her deepest emotions frightened her.  “I do not even know how to respond to that.” 

              His expression transformed from hopeful to crestfallen, which made her distraught. 

              “Do you know how difficult it is to admit how I feel about you?  I came all this way to see you, and you cannot even give me a glimpse into your heart.  It is just you and me here.  I know you are more than just what the temple has molded you to be.  Please tell me who you really are and how you feel.”  He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave her a small nod of encouragement. 

              It was the first time anyone had actually cared enough to ask her about what she felt about anything.  As nervous as she was to talk to him about herself, a strong desire to become more deeply connected with him urged her to speak.

              “I am glad you snuck into my garden to see me, however reckless it is for the both of us.”  She stared into the pond, trying to avoid eye contact with him.  “It is careless to keep meeting up with you, but I do it because I enjoy the way you make me feel and I wonder where this could lead.  Being trapped in the temple world is like a prison.  I was blessed with this gift, and though I am grateful for it, I never asked for the life that would come with it.  Being forced into the temple took away my freedom.  I am confined in every aspect of my life, but when I am with you, I feel set free.  Something as small as the way you look at me, makes me hopeful about the future.  I do not know of this is making sense to you.  How can I properly put it into words?”

              She stopped to think for a moment and faced him.  “It is as if you are the wings I need to escape all of this.”  Raiven gestured to the temple and its surroundings.  “You take me away from the life I have known, and open my eyes to the world around me.”

              Sytravious beamed at her, and she returned the smile before saying, “Now that I have opened up to you, I believe that entitles me to a little more information about the mysterious man that is ensnaring me with his charm.”

              He chortled before responding.  “Whatever makes you happy, my priestess.  What is it you would like to know?”

“Anything, besides the fact that you are a smith.”

“Alright…”  He hesitated and seemed to be trying to figure out what he wanted to tell her.  “Well, there is a lot more to me than just being a blacksmith.”

              “Like what?”

              “I have a few other talents.”

              “What sorts of talents?” 

              “I am actually quite gifted with a polearm.  In his youth, my stepfather practiced the art of combat arms as a hobby.  I have been told he was rather skilled in his day.  Thankfully, he has been passing his knowledge on to me since I was a child.”

              “You are also his apprentice at the shop, right?  It seems your stepfather cares a great deal for you, seeing as he has equipped you with a unique set of useful skills.  Only someone who cares about you would spend the time to teach you what they know.”

              “That is true.  He helped my mother raise me and has always treated me as if I were his own blood.  I never knew the man who brought me into this world, so as far as I am concerned, Onyx is my father.  My mother tells me not to worry about who the man was, but sometimes I still wonder.”  Sytravious fixed his gaze upon the moon and appeared to reflecting on what he had just said.

              She was interested in how deep she could probe into details about his life, before he shut her out.  “What is your mother like?” 

              “My mother?”  His face was expressionless when he sighed at the mention of her.  “She…is very strict and has always been hard on me.  She has high expectations for me that border on neurotic, but we can talk about her another day.  I do not really want to discuss her right now.”

              “Oh, I see.  That is alright, you have shared more than I thought you would.”  Raiven felt the need to touch him, and reached out to run her hand down his cheek.  It was rough and covered with stubble.  Her heart began to race when he placed his hand over hers and closed his eyes. 

              “You know, Sytravious, I never knew my parents.  They both died when I was very young.  I do not remember anything about them.  All I know is that they were not from here.  I came from a city by the name of Sorrento.  Have you ever heard of it?”

              Sytravious shook his head.  “Where is that?”

              “That is the same question I asked myself.  As I got older, I began to think more often about my origins, so I did some research.  I found out that it is an old city in the northeast region of the kingdom, where long ago, thousands of the kingdom’s priests and priestesses resided.  However, instead of everyone believing in Vesalys, they were free to practice different types of religions and magic.  One would think that this would be cause for chaos, but amazingly, everyone respected each other.  It was a holy city, dedicated to spreading the array of magic and faiths throughout the land.  Can you imagine a place full of people with a variety of beliefs who were all able to get along and appreciate one another?  Sounds wonderful, huh?”

              He gave her a kind smile and agreed. 

              She continued her story, “It is thought that those born in Sorrento are more magically inclined, and therefore blessed with gifts, like mine.  But when I delved into what happened in Sorrento, I discovered the other religions and beliefs had died out, and only those who worshipped Vesalys remained.”

              “So why is the temple of Vesalys here in Havencrest, rather than Sorrento?” he asked.

              “I do not know.  I cannot find anything written about what transpired, but it is an abandoned city now.  I imagine my family was one of the last ones there.  No longer do the people of Valcrest, or anyone for that matter, inhabit it because it is all ruins now.”

              “That is unfortunate, I wonder what happened.”

              “I know.  Maybe one day we can find out what took place there.”

              “Yes of course Priestess, if it will make you happy.” 

              Raiven felt her nerves melting away with each word she spoke.  The barrier she had felt between them was dissolving as they shared different parts of their lives with each other.  They laid down in the garden and carried on, talking about an assortment of topics.  She told him about the temple and its history, her training, and life as a priestess because it was all she knew.

              “I am sorry.  This all must be boring to you.  What could you care about the activities a priestess must participate in?”

              “No you are wrong.  I love to listen to you.  You are so passionate and knowledgeable about what you believe in, it is fascinating to me, even if you think it is mundane.”