“For the warden again?”
Nysight nodded. Every couple of months, they had the responsibility of producing new horseshoes for all the royal horses. It was their main source of income. Even though it did not pay that well, they were still thankful for the reliable business. For hours, he made one horseshoe after another, when a thought came to him. A set of them would be going on Raiven’s horse.
He envisioned her on the back of a splendid white horse, and the image brought a smile to his face. It had been weeks since Sytravious had last seen her at the spring that confusing day. He reminisced about her all the time and wondered why she had not returned to their meeting spot. His visits to the spring had become less frequent because he began to get the impression she would not be coming back. Had he done something wrong?
“I can make my way from here, thank you.” A familiar sweet voice of a young woman could be heard just outside. “The blacksmith is right inside, I will be just fine,” she protested.
“Raiven?” Sytravious fixed his stare on the entrance. In his mind, he rationalized it could not be her, not walking the streets of the city. It was simple to explain away, he had just been thinking about her and that is why he thought he was hearing her voice. Nonetheless, he still hoped the priestess would walk through the door.
The entry opened, revealing a large muscular guardian, his friend Bryce. At the sight of him, Sytravious exhaled, realizing he had been holding his breath in anticipation. Disappointed, he grumbled and returned to the job at hand.
“It will be fine, I know this guy,” Bryce assured someone outside.
His friend approached the workshop, and then nodded in acknowledgment to Nysight, who was working in the back. “Good morning Sytravious.”
“Good morning,” he replied without looking up. “What are you doing here? Is it not a little too early for a drink?”
Bryce snickered.
“Well, I just wanted to see if you could repair this dagger for me?” Raiven asked as she stepped out from behind the guardian.
Sytravious’ jaw dropped, before he remembered to bow to her. “Priestess, it is a pleasure to be graced with your presence. How may I be of service?”
She was smirking at him and had a mischievous spark in her eyes.
“Alright Priestess, looks like you can handle it from here. I will be at the bar if you need me.” Bryce clapped him on the shoulder. “And just so you know, it is never too early for a drink.”
He watched his friend sit at the bar, before he locked eyes with Raiven. “What are you doing here?”
“I just told you, I am here to get this dagger repaired.” She set a bundle of folded cloth on the table in front of him.
“Stop fooling around, you know what I mean. I know you did not come here to get a ‘dagger’ fixed.”
He lifted up what he thought to be an empty cloth, causing the blade to slip out and fall. They both gasped as it clanked on the stone floor. Sytravious reached down to pick it up.
“Are you crazy? That is a ceremonial dagger from the temple of Vesalys! That was forged long before you or I even existed!”
He held his index finger over his lips, signaling her to lower her voice. “I am sorry. I thought you were just making up an excuse to see me.”
“What did you think that I just brought an empty cloth? Of course I had to bring the dagger if I wanted the excuse to work.”
“So…it is an excuse to see me?”
“Sytravious, I just needed to make sure you were okay. You know after I left you at the spring, there were those killings; I was worried that something could have happened to you.”
He scoffed. “As I recall, your last words were ‘we cannot’. Then you never returned. Now all this time later you want me to believe you were worried.” As much as he wanted to see her again, he did not want to let on how thrilled he was to see her right now.
“I know and I apologize for how I ran off. All these feelings are new and confusing for me, I hope you can understand that. I wanted to come back and see you, but since that day, leaving the temple is an impossible feat.”
As annoyed as he had been every time he sat alone at the spring waiting for her, he could not resist her apologetic pout. Wanting to hide the fact that he had already forgiven her, he crossed his arms.
“Please, I have spent the past weeks asking around about the local blacksmiths so that I could find you.”
“Well…” He wanted to appear as if he was struggling to believe her, so he grimaced while pretending to ruminate over her explanation. In response, her eyes widened and eyebrows perked up, expressing her hopefulness.
“I suppose if you went through the trouble to track me down, we can put this little misunderstanding behind us, under one condition. You have to admit that you missed me.”
“I…I was worried about you.”
He shook his head and turned, as if to go back to his work.
“Okay fine. I did miss you,” she muttered.
Sytravious chuckled when he saw her bite lower lip, and he thought she looked bashful as ever. The moment became silent, neither one knowing how to proceed. Deciding to diffuse the awkwardness, he asked, “Now, what repairs is this dagger in need of?”
“I thought you might be able to fix the hilt, it seems a little loose.”
While examining the dagger, he narrowed his eyes at her. “Loose huh?” He stabbed the blade into the wooden desk in front of him.
“Be careful with that! I was told Onyx and his son were the best smiths in town, yet you treat this frail temple object with such carelessness. Perhaps I should have Onyx help me instead.”
He was amused with the game she was playing, and decided to call her bluff. Sytravious peered over his should at his stepfather, who was known in the forge as Onyx.
“Why Priestess, that is a great suggestion. We can bring him over here and he can tell us how loose the hilt is on this dagger that is in perfect condition or you can stop hiding behind your excuses and tell me when I can see you again.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Well?”
She gasped and snatched her hand back. “You will see me again when I come to pick up the temple’s dagger, and not a second earlier.”
“How about I come see you before that?” He gave her his best smoldering look.
She tried to disguise her smile with a poorly executed scowl. “I would discourage that.”
“I really do not care if you or anyone else discourages it. I know you said you missed me, and I would be lying if I said I did not miss you too. If I have to wait again, before getting to see your beautiful face, I am liable to lose my mind.”
Raiven was beaming while her cheeks blushed a rosy pink. “Sytravious, you are one of a kind. You are bold, frank, and candid, everything I am not.”
“Is there something wrong with that?”
“No, I just do not understand what you see in me.”
“It is simple. Not only are you attractive, but I get along better with you than I do with most people. I enjoy your company, and you must enjoy mine, or else why would you have went through the trouble of finding me?”
“To fix---”
“Do not dare say to fix that dagger. That is a lie and we both know it.”
The priestess hesitated as she tried to come up with another answer.
“It is alright, Raiven. You do not have to say anything. I know you wanted to see me because you want something different in your life and as you stated, I am one of a kind. Maybe I make you feel something beyond what the temple has taught you is right, and that intrigues you.”
She was about to respond just as Nysight walked up to them. He bowed to the priestess, and then turned to Sytravious. “I am going to go eat and check on your mother. I will not be long,” he said before leaving.
“I must also be on my way. I mean just look at my escort. If I stay here any longer he will be too drunk to remember the way back.”
�
�Who Bryce? It will take a lot more than a couple mugs of ale to get him drunk.”
“Have you known him long?”
“Yes, since we were children.” He was disappointed with the sudden topic change.
“Oh…” Raiven fiddled with the edge of her cloak.
Sytravious stared at her, wanting to appreciate her innocent beauty before she would ran off again.
“As I said, I must be on my way. It was nice to see you again. I suppose I shall return for the dagger within the next few days.”
“Return here? To this old place? Why would I have you do that when I can personally deliver it to you? I have heard the temple gardens are quite a sight to see this time of year. I imagine they are almost as lovely as the priestess who graces them. I think I would like to go find out for myself.”
“Really, please do not take such risks.”
“If I did not, then I would be like everybody else who lets the temple control every aspect of their lives, and that is just not who I am. I cannot let them tell me whom I can and cannot see. The only way I would not go is if you told me you do not want to see me anymore.”
“Sytravious, you know that is not the case.”
“Then it is settled, I shall see you there.”
“No, just be patient, I will come back. Promise me you will not do anything foolish.”
He answered with a wink.
She sighed, and then waved to him. “I have to go. Vesalys be with you.”
He bowed to her once again. “Until next time, Priestess.”
Sytravious watched her walk up to the bar and tap Bryce on the shoulder. She seemed to glide across the common room to the exit, and then she was gone. He looked down at the dagger, pulled it from the wood, and smiled because it reminded him of how she had used it as a way to get to him. The Priestess of Havencrest went out of her way to see him, a poor blacksmith’s apprentice.
He took the blade to the back of the shop for closer inspection. The only component of the hilt that concerned Sytravious was the several jewels with which it was encrusted. If he could manipulate the gems in just the right way, they would come loose. She would never notice if he replaced them with a cheap substitute. By selling them, he would be able to afford a superb gift for Raiven. It would be the perfect way to show how he felt about her.
Chapter 10
Consequences
When 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 be
gin?”
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.
Sytravious: The Lost Warlock Of Moruz (The Oathbreaker Book 1) Page 9