Victor Deus (Heritage of the Blood Book 1)

by Brent Lee Markee

  Shawnrik grinned at that. “Yeah them nobles don't know nothin' 'bout what it's like livin' down 'ere in these streets.”

  “Your right, Shaylyn always told me that there are three kinds of smarts in the world, street smarts, book smarts, and dumb smarts. Street smarts are what you've been teaching me, it's the smarts of life. Book smarts are what I'm teaching you, it's the knowledge that will set you above most folks. Dumb smarts are those people that are either book smart, or street smart, but still consider themselves superior. She said that some of the dumbest people she had ever met, were scholars that stayed in their libraries, and Street thugs who never made an attempt to learn about the world at large. You have street smarts, and you are working on gaining book smarts. Just doing that shows that you have an intellect far greater than most of the people around here. Now, the thing that both of us need to work on is wisdom. Shaylyn said that wisdom is the application of the knowledge that you have gained, and the best way to gain that knowledge is through experience. She said that to be truly great, one would have to have the intelligence, the wisdom, and the strength to do great things. So, we will work on all three of them together.”

  Shawnrik simply stared at Victor for a while. “You know you're a little over four years younger than me. I should be the big brother in this situation sharin' my vast knowledge, and protectin' you from the big bad world. Instead, I'm always looking to you for support. If I ever get to be too much of a burden you just tell me and I'll go.”

  Victor leaned over and placed his hand on Shawnrik's head. “My friend, I have a feeling my life is going to be hectic. Shaylyn was always hinting that I was going to do great things. If I am to do great things, I am going to need a lot of support. This means I am going to need a strong right hand to tell me when I'm doing something foolish, or stupid. If I ever ask too much of you just tell me. You are always talking about growing up to be a knight. I will try my best to make that happen. If you will watch my back I will watch yours. Brothers till the end!”

  Victor held up his hand, and Shawnrik grabbed it.

  “Brothers till the end!”

  The door slammed open “What's all this yellin' about? I'll give ya an endin' if you don't get dressed and get goin, if you catch my meanin.” Ol' man Walkins stood in the doorway waving his dirk around in the air as if he was cutting something.

  Both boys looked at the blade and then there was a swirl of motion as both boys raced to get dressed. They did get the old man's meaning, and wanted none of it. So in minutes they had their gear on and were moving down the street towards the Noble District. Shawnrik was ready first.

  “You don't think he'd really cut us do you?” Shawnrik inquired as they walked through the streets of the Civilian Sector on their way to the Noble District.

  “Well, he did it to Roland, and he hasn't been able to hear very well out of his left ear since… I don't think he'd do it to us though, we're his two best boys. He'd have to work all the other kids double just to make what we bring in.”

  “Your probably right Vic.”

  Victor started laughing.

  “What are you laughin' about?” Shawnrik asked while nudging Victor with his elbow.

  “You” Victor stated.

  “Me?!” Shawnrik said defensively.

  “Yeah you, last year I couldn't get you to shut up, but ever since I've been teaching you to read I can barely get more of a couple of sentence out of you.”

  Not seeing the joke Shawnrik got a little defensive. “Sorry Vic, it's not like I don't wanna' talk or nothin' I just got nothin' to say anymore.”

  “Don't get me wrong my friend; it's not a bad thing. In fact I think it shows that you're understanding things a lot better now. You don't feel the need to ramble on about things that don't really matter. That my friend I believe is a bit of Wisdom.”

  Shawnrik couldn't help but give a chuckle of his own. “Vic, even when your laughin' at me you always seem to make me feel better.”

  “Quiet time,” Victor held up his hand as they started seeing larger homes in the distance.

  Victor moved into an alley, and the held to the shadows as tightly as their cloaks clung to their bodies. Anyone able to see the two boys was probably up the same type of business, and the best way to stay alive on the streets was to mind your own business. Had anyone else seen the boys they would have passed them off as a wild dog, or a trick of the light and shadows. This was their element, the element of the thief. A good thief learns to wrap the shadows around himself like a warm blanket, and Victor possessed training that allowed him to manipulate the shadows to his own gain.

  Halfway there, Victor stopped behind a large waste bin and motioned Shawnrik closer. Focusing his will, he strengthened the bonds in their cloaks, making it harder for a weapon or an arrow to penetrate. He didn't have the willpower yet to make the fabric stay that way for longer than a few hours, but until his will was overridden by the nature of the cloth it would stay as strong as most armors. Without a word the boys continued on.

  Victor stopped in front of one of the wealthier estates in the Noble District. The Noble District was home to mostly nobles, as the name implicates, however, there were also a few extremely wealthy merchants that lived here. It was more than likely that he was going to be robbing some Lord. For all Victor knew, it could be worse, and he was about to burgle from a member of the Royal Family. He didn't like that line of thought, but he had a job to do, and he was going to do it.

  Shawnrik was waiting across the street in an alley that faced the window he planned on using. Victor liked the Nobility District, with its beautiful statues, and wide cobbled streets. The only time he could come here, without being yelled at by a guard, was when he came in the guise of a Gnome Mage. He really liked pretending to be a Gnome, they were just as short as he was, and they got to be rude to people without having them getting angry… much. The first barrier he came across was an easy one to surmount, the large fence that surrounded the perimeter of the house. Climbing it would have been simple, but since he fit through the gaps in the bars he wouldn't need to. He wished that he could come down here during the day without making himself look like someone else, but they didn't like “dirty little urchins” fouling the beauty of their District. That part had always made him mad, these people could live in their idealized neighborhoods, but as soon as they saw someone that reminded them of the real world they would get angry, and for all the wrong reasons.

  Victor realized that he was letting his mind wander and scolded himself for his stupidity. I bet an experienced thief never lets his mind wander when he's doing something dangerous. He tip-toed through the landscaped gardens(which had to have been recently visited by a Mage or a Priest because the plants were in full bloom with several months left of Winter), past towering statues that he assumed had once been heroes or lords in their own right. He felt like they were looking down on him in disgust for what he was doing, but Victor just let those emotions slide off the mental barrier he had erected. Whether those thoughts came from himself, or were the first line of defense for the house, it didn't matter, they would not stop him. Victor moved against the manor's wall, the rustle of grass the only indication anyone would have that he was there. Quickly looking around he made sure that he hadn't been seen by any of the guards, and there were none heading his way on patrol. None in sight, he put his mind towards climbing the wall.

  Probing the wall with his mind he found that it had no assistance from a Shaper in it's construction. He would have to be careful here, for the bricks were only held together by the will of the mold used to make them, and the fire used to strengthen them. Rocks were much like water in that they would assume whatever shape was needed at the time. Stone like granite, or diamonds were harder to manipulate, but even they would take to a new shape as if it was natural once changed. Many believed that the strength of a wall came only from the materials used to create it, and that is a large portion of it's durability. The real bond that holds it together however is the wil
l of it's builder. If the builder cared for his work, and wanted the wall to be a barrier it would become much stronger than if the builder was just working for money and daydreamed about what he would be doing later that day. In this way, everyone has a little power as a Shaper. The thing that separates a true Shaper from a builder however, is the ability to read and understand these bonds. The bricks themselves were well made, but they lacked passion, or pride. The mortar while nothing impressive was made by a man who loved his job, so even though it wasn't the best mixture, it still held strong. The men who put the wall together daydreamed about doing other things however, so the whole was not as strong as its parts. If he wanted to break down the wall, this would be a good thing, but he just needed to climb it. This meant that if he used his will to make handholds it would more than likely retain that shape, and it would be obvious that there was an intruder, how they got in, potentially how big they were, and should a Shaper examine it, how strong of a will he had, and what he was feeling at the time. Once Victor was experienced enough he would be able to mask some of the information that could be gained from such an examination, but he was many years away from that kind of mastery.

  Instead he would have to exert as little of his will on the wall as he could. It would require a lot more of his attention, but would also leave little trace. To do so he would have to climb the wall as well as he could naturally, while providing as little adhesion to the wall with his hands and boots as possible. This had been one of his favorite things Shaylyn had taught him, and also one of the hardest. It was difficult because he had to exert just enough control over the molecules to allow them to bond for a short period, and then release with as little change as possible. Small bits of brick dust fell from his hands and feet, telling him his skill was not as good as it could be. It had only taken Victor about fifteen seconds from the moment he reached the wall to reach the second floor window, but those fifteen seconds might as well have been an hour for the effort he expended. Ever so slowly he lifted his head over the base of the window, looking for any movement within.

  There had been a time when he didn't look inside before opening a window. That had all changed one night when he crept into the bedroom of a rich merchant. Victor still wasn't sure if he had made a noise, or if it was just the draft that had awoken the man. Either way the man's first instinct was to look directly towards the window that Victor had been climbing through. He had barely made it off of the merchant's property intact that night.

  The room he now looked into was not anyone's bedroom thankfully, but it was a display room, the kind where a collector might keep something like a special pair of manacles. Even better however was the fact that the room was currently empty. Victor checked the window, and of course it was locked. Luckily it wasn't a complex lock, just a latch, and he felt nothing odd about the window so he didn't believe it to have been manipulated by a Mage. He didn't think that he had enough experience to hold himself up and manipulate the latch with his will at the same time, so he would do it the old fashioned way. Victor concentrated on the connection between his boots and the wall, and grabbed hold of the window sill with his left hand so his right hand would be free to do it's work. Fumbling around in the pack at his waist, he pulled out several thin pieces of metal. Carefully he began to manipulate the latch, trying to do it quickly, but without any noise. It took him almost as long as it had to open the window as it had to climb the wall, and each one of those thirty seconds he had been vulnerable to being found out. He promised himself he would do better in the future. Getting in however, would prove to be the easy part.

  Meanwhile

  Shawnrik watched as Victor scaled the wall of the manor. It didn't matter how many times he had seen Victor do it, or done it himself with the aid of Victor's magic. Victor had tried to tell him that it wasn't magic, but Shawnrik, like so many others, couldn't seem to get his mind around the concept. To anyone who had ever seen anything like that being done, it was magic, and Shawnrik had always wished that he had that kind of power. It's amazing the things you can do Victor. It's so hard to keep up with you. I may be over four years older than you, but I'll be damned if your size isn't the only thing that would make anyone think that. You're quicker than me, smarter than me, and you can do things that I don't understand. That doesn't mean I'm going to give up though. You said you would need someone by your side throughout your life, and I plan on being there. You are the magic and the brains and I'll be the muscle. That Shaylyn lady you're always talking about was right Vic. You are bound for great things, even a city rat like me can see that. I plan on being there to make sure you're alive to do 'em. Wrapped in his own thoughts, he almost didn't see Victor slip into the now open window.

  Realizing that his job was done unless an alarm was raised, Shawnrik leaned back into the shadows of the alley he occupied, and let his thoughts consume him. Great, this is where it gets boring. Are you always going to leave me outside Victor? What will it take for me to be your equal? I wonder if you really meant that I was smart, or if you were just saying it to make me happy. Sure, I taught you how to move through the shadows so that you blend in, or what people make good marks, or how to gauge how much is in a purse by just looking at it. I taught ya' all about how to survive out here, but that will never compare to all the things you have taught me.

  Learning how to read. I wish my ma' could see that, she'd be so proud of me. Sure, most of the people in the Protectorate are literate, but not down on these streets, and especially not the son of a barbarian. That one thing will open so many more doors for me when I'm older. Of course, unless I miss my guess, just being around Victor will probably show me more of the world than I could ever imagine. Shawnrik attempted to find a more comfortable position with which to wait, once that was achieved, he began to survey the area, looking for guards or any other people who might cause trouble for the boys.

  He noticed something moving through the yard of the estate, and soon recognized the shape of a guard dog. 'ello doggy, out for an evening stroll? Do you smell a human, well, half a human anyway? I wonder if it's the elven half of Victor that makes him so special... No, that can't be it. I've met a few half-elves who I wouldn't lend a hand to if they were drowning. What's so important about these manacles anyway? Why would a rich noble steal them, or have them stolen at least. Ol' Man Walkins wouldn't tell me anything about them. They must be magical, or the real owner would have just made a new pair. Since they are magical manacles I'd bet they are for holding slaves; Special slaves.

  Shawnrik had seen the man who hired Walkins to do the job, and he knew the man was Syndicate. If the Syndicate wanted the manacles than they were dangerous to someone. Who would the Syndicate try to hold prisoner though? Whoever, or whatever it was, it would be powerful, like a Protectorate Mage, or an Ogre Mage. That line of thinking made Shawnrik cringe, he didn't like anyone who would need to hold a Mage prisoner, and he really didn't like anyone brave enough to try to hold an Ogre mage.

  Maybe they are just for Orcs, and they just make you weaker and more manageable. If they are for Orcs or an Ogre they will probably be pretty big and heavy. I hope Vic can get 'em himself…

  “Uh, cough”

  Shawnrik's head whipped around towards the depths of the alley. He didn't have to look very hard to see who had spoken. There was a man propped up against the opposite wall further down the alley, in much the same manner Shawnrik had been leaning only moments before. He said the first thing that came to mind, “Did you just say cough?”

  The man behind him behind him let out a quiet, yet warm sounding chuckle. “I like that, most people would say something like... How did you get there? Or, who are you?” The man smiled before continuing in a quiet tone that reminded Shawnrik where they were as he moved across the alley. “But yes, I did say cough. I have a sore throat, and I didn't feel like clearing it to get your attention, so I said cough.”

  If it wasn't for the fact that the man had snuck up on him in an alley, Shawnrik immediately got the feeling
that he would probably like the guy. “Ok then, who are you, and how did you get there?”

  “Ah, now we are getting to the heart of the matter. Well, when I'm on guard duty I try not to let my thoughts wander too much, it allows room for mistakes. It makes it easy for people to wander up on ya without hearing 'em. Also when I think too much it makes my head hurt, and it's not good to have a headache when you're on watch either.”

  Shawnrik stared up at the man, not quite sure what to make of him. The man was of an average height for the men of the city, if not a little shorter. Shawnrik could see the man's arms, and he got the feeling that the rest of the man was made up of the same corded muscles. His hair was dark, either a brown or a black, and his eyes seemed to be a match for his hair. Shawnrik had the feeling that the man wasn't from the Dock's District. His clothes were of a fine quality, but tailored so that he could be easily lost in a crowd. The man's whole demeanor yelled guard, or soldier.

  “Nothin' to say eh? You're a bit young to be on watch, what are you twelve?”

  “I'm almost fourteen thank you.” Shawnrik said it without thinking, and cringed inwardly when he realized he had answered the man.

  “Oh, you're almost fourteen eh? That makes you almost a man I suppose. Well young man, what's your name.”

  “I asked you first.” Shawnrik was expecting was used to getting hit for being mouthy, but instead of getting angry the stranger let out another quiet chuckle with that deep voice of his.

  “Well, I suppose you did at that, most people call me Ashur.” He held out his hand in a friendly manner, clearly expecting to shake hands. “My friends call me Ash.”