Sytravious: The Lost Warlock Of Moruz (The Oathbreaker Book 1) (5 page)

              “Master Vienken, are you familiar with the smith shops in the city?”  She could tell her instructor was pleased with the change in the conversation topic. 

“Smiths you say?  Why yes, I suppose I am, although they are not much use, besides the occasional shoeing of a horse from our stables.  I wonder how they can even make a living with such minimal business.  Why do you ask?”

Raiven felt ashamed that she was able to devise a lie with such ease, and to Vienken of all people, but she had to do it if she ever wanted a chance to see the mysterious stranger from the spring again.  “Well, um…the other day during my morning prayers, I noticed one of our ceremonial daggers was damaged.  So of course I thought, something so precious should not be so neglected and I would like to see to it that it is repaired.”

“My dear, those daggers have been falling apart long before you arrived here.”

They both stopped at the entrance of the temple.  Raiven turned to her instructor, with a pout on her face. 

“But for you young Priestess, I will make certain that they are looked at.  Now let us go inside and begin your lessons for today.”

He began to walk through the entrance gates when Raiven groaned in order to get his attention.  When he faced her, she mustered the unhappiest expression she could. 

              “Now what is it that I have said wrong?  You asked for the blade to be repaired, and I promised to do just that!  Adolescent girls are impossible to please, I tell you.”

              “I am sorry, Master.  It is just that you promised me more freedom and space only a few minutes ago.  I thought it would be terrific to be able to see the city with my own eyes.  I would be so grateful if you would allow me to take the dagger myself.  Please!”

              She could see Vienken struggling with his decision.  Though he was firm when it came to her studies, he always seemed to have a hard time denying her happiness. 

              “I suppose there is no harm in a simple visit into the cit---”

Before he could finish, Raiven was squeezing him in a tight embrace.  “Thank you so very much!”

              He peeled her off, and grasped her shoulders, holding her out at arm’s length.  “When you go, you must promise me you will stay with your guardians.  No more adventures into who knows where!  Do you understand?” he asked with a stern tone in his voice.

              “Yes, of course!  I promise.”  She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on his forehead, then stood up.  With her giddiness seizing her, she squealed with excitement.

“Alright already, do not give yourself a fainting spell over a dagger.”

“Sorry Master Vienken, I am just so thrilled to be able to see the city!”             

Vienken nodded his head and waved her off, allowing her to run ahead into the temple compound.  Behind her, Raiven could hear the guardians straining to keep up.  She sprinted through the temple until she reached her favorite garden, where she collapsed into a bed of soft, fragrant flowers and stared up into the afternoon sky.  Up until this point, her life had been monotonous and constraining, but with the promise of meeting her new friend, Sytravious, she had something to look forward to.  Raiven watched the cottony clouds float by, while she thought of what the future had in store for her.

Chapter 3

Hello Mother

            
 
S
opping wet from the springs, Sytravious took his time on his way back into Havencrest.  His mind was still inhabited by the beautiful Priestess.  As he approached the city limits, he considered the fact that he had seen many young girls during his life in Havencrest, but none as intriguing as Raiven.

              He found himself instinctively walking to The Trapper House, where he expected his mother, Nyxseous, would be working as a barmaid. She used an alias in Havencrest, going by the name Ruby Harcourt, only using her real name in the privacy of their home. His stepfather, Nysight, was working as a blacksmith in the forge at The Dew Drop Inn, which was in the neighboring district.  He knew his parents were capable of so much more than their current occupations, but because they were fugitives of Moruz, they had to do their best to remain undetected in the slums of Havencrest.  All he knew about their past was that following his birth, his parents fled the western country in hopes of a better life. 

              Even though they had escaped Moruz, his mother was still adamant about Sytravious’ education about the western family magic.  Since a young age, Nyxseous persistently taught him what had been passed down to her from her father.  Unfortunately, their magic was an art that was considered unholy in Havencrest and his mother had explained time and time again, that while it was important for him to learn the arts, he could never be caught using it.  That fact was disappointing to Sytravious because it meant that despite his magical talents, he could never expect to be anything more than a blacksmith, like his stepfather. 

              Sytravious approached the entrance to The Trapper House, and the gloomy reminder of his ordinary life pushed all thoughts of Raiven to the back of his mind.  While passing a stranger on the way in, he acquired a few coins from the man’s pocket.  He could not help himself.  The wages for a blacksmith and barmaid were not exactly bringing in the riches. 

              With no sign of his mother, Sytravious walked past the bar and into the kitchen, which smelt of old pork fat and boiled potatoes, a scent that he had grown accustomed to.  As he approached the fat cook, he opened his hand to reveal the copper pieces he had stolen.  He looked at the overweight, sweaty man, wondering how much food the cook stole for himself every day, before handing him the copper. 

              “Do I even want to know where you got this from?” the cook asked with a snort.

              “Probably not, but you can keep the change if you shut your mouth and just send our meal down to the room.”

              He left the kitchen in search of his mother, and was sure he would find her in the basement of the bar, which they called their home.  The underground room was never meant to be living quarters, but since Nyxseous had been a barmaid there for so many years, the owner did not mind letting the family stay.

              After walking down the dark stairs to the basement, Sytravious paused to make certain his clothes were dry before opening the door.  The room was tiny, certainly never meant to house a person, let alone three.  He found his mother sitting at her vanity mirror, brushing through her long dark hair, and staring at her reflection.  In addition to the vanity, the dark, dank room housed a torch on the wall, two small beds, and a small cabinet they used for a closet. 

              She smiled as he walked up behind her.  Even though time had passed, age had not had an effect on her beauty.  Her good looks are what made her the most popular barmaid in the area, turning new patrons into regulars.

              “Son, where have you been this fine morning?  No doubt being an outstanding citizen.”

              “As always, mother.” 

              In spite of her joking tone, Sytravious thought it would be best to keep his run in with Raiven to himself.  Nyxseous’ had a controlling approach when it came to parenting, and he knew it was always better to keep unnecessary information to himself. 

              He kissed the top of her head, and then sat down on his bed.  She turned to face him, concern written all over her face. 

              Sytravious stared at her.  “What is it?  Why are you looking at me like that?”

              “You know you really should join Nysight in the forge.  I know these jobs do not reflect who we really are, but we have to maintain our disguises in order to stay concealed.”

              He knew he was supposed to be his stepfather’s apprentice, but he never was fond of swinging a hammer all day long.  It was tedious and any dimwit could do it.  He already had gone through the trouble of showing Nysight what he had learned, the basics of the trade.  Sytravious wished that he could one day pursue his true passion, which he had also learned from his stepfather, the art of fighting.  Through private lessons, Sytravious had learned to spar with a sword, spear, and various other blades.  Being in the forge was a dismal reminder that he would spend his life wasting his talents so he could slave away as a smith. 

              Deciding to distract his mother from the topic at hand, he said, “Mother, you should worry less about me, and more about yourself.  I bet you have not even taken the time to eat anything today, have you?”

              “Of course I have, I ate breakfast this morning.  I can take care of myself Sytravious, but can you say the same?”

              Sytravious had failed to distract his mother from her infatuation with his well-being.  Every time this subject came up, an argument ensued without fail.  He never understood why his mother was infatuated with his life.

“Maybe if you spent less time going around town, acting like a common thief, and focused that energy on your studies me and your father teach you, we would not have to be living in this situation much longer!”

              “We have been over this many times, mother.  If I spent less time acting like a common thief, we would be worse off than we are now!  Now, I have already paid the cook to send down a meal for you.  Whatever you do not finish, I will share with Nysight later.”

              Sytravious got up and headed for the door, but the distinct sound of crackling fire sent his mind into high alert.  He spun around to see a black flame, no bigger than an apple, floating in his mother’s palm. 

              “Are we really going to do this
now
,
mother
?  You are absurd!”

              When she did not respond, he prepared for the lesson in the form of an attack.  It had been a long time since she decided to test him, but that did not stop Nyxseous from swinging the fire from her hand, directly at her son.  The flame traveled with the swiftness of a well-shot arrow.  Sytravious was well acquainted with his mother’s repertoire of moves and bounced it off his own palm, reflecting it right back at her.  Nyxseous caught the flame and she stood up from her seat, using both of her hands to force energy and magic into the growing fireball.  The now improved, powerful lustrous black flame shot back at Sytravious once again.  He grasped the enchanted flame with both hands, and then split it into two before firing them back in his mother’s direction. 

              The back-and-forth display of magical attacks continued for many more rounds before Nyxseous was satisfied with his demonstration of defensive and offensive skills.  At that time, she stopped and collected the multiple black flames into her palm and fired it across the basement at her target, a small wick of a candle sitting on the cabinet.  The candle sparked and lit up the dark room, creating a golden shading that flickered off the stone walls.

              She returned to her seat at the vanity.  “I did not expect much of you, since you never train with me anymore.  I am delighted to see your reflexes and skills have proven to withstand the test of time.”

              “Of course, my dear mother, the scars you have left me with are constant remembrances of the numerous hard lessons you put me through.”

              When it came to teaching Sytravious the family magic, his mother had put him through arduous training over the span of several years.  As a result, his body gained as many scars as it had muscle and strength.  Her obsessive desire to make him perfect in all aspects of his life was something he would never understand.  Thus, as a young adult, he chose to keep as much a distance between them as possible in an attempt to avoid her manic behavior.

She nodded.  “And I hope you remember it long after I am gone.  Never discount the things I have taught you, for they will serve you better than 1,000 gold pieces ever could.”

              That comment was something he had heard from his mother again and again, allowing him to be able to recite her next sentence from memory.  As she opened her mouth to speak, he joined her in reciting the well-known warning, “But be careful with the black flame because the temple will destroy us if they find out.”

              “I know, mother.  I am well aware of the prejudiced society we live in.  Reminding me of it over and over is unnecessary.”

              Nyxseous pursed her lips.  “Well, it is true.”

              There was a sharp knock on the door.  Sytravious blew out the enchanted flame before opening the door.  It was a young boy, there to deliver the meal Sytravious had ordered.  He took the platter from the child’s hands and promised he would tip him later.  He closed the door behind him, and then set the platter of food on the vanity in front of his mother.  He stared down at the broiled chunks of meat and potatoes.  It was not quality food, but before Sytravious began pickpocketing, the most they could look forward to was stale bread and leftover meat from the kitchen.

              When he set down the food, he noticed her hand was in her apron pocket, probably clasping an amulet she always carried with her.  Like Sytravious’ welfare, she was fixated with it, but he knew better than to question her about the strange habit.

              “Well enjoy, mother.  I am going to the forge now.” 

              Out of curiosity, he hesitated in the doorway for a moment, looking at her reflection.  Her eyes were closed and she was whispering a foreign incantation as she held the now glowing amulet to her mouth.  Not wanting to interfere with whatever magic she was commencing, he shut the door behind him. 

              Sytravious needed to get away from his irrational mother.  One moment she was cautioning him against using magic where they could be caught.  Next, she was screaming, telling him that if he was a better fighter and sorcerer, they could live a luxurious life that he was somehow depriving them of.  Then he saw her practicing the exact type of magic that the claimed would get them all in trouble, in the open, where anyone could see her.  She was a walking, talking contradiction. 

              How careless could she be?  She was always worrying about him instead of herself.  Sytravious stewed in his hidden rage as he headed to The Dew Drop Inn to join his stepfather.