Sevanouir: Rebirth (The Strange Tales of the Malefic Book 1)

by D'Artagnan Anderle

  At least not without him dealing out pain.

  Sylas’ mind began to calm and though he knew he would be awake for a while, he tried to rest. The rain began to die down outside, but he could still hear the wind howling. The sense of foreboding was almost palpable. He mentally vowed that come what may, he would take it on and probably leave it—and himself—bloody.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Roux sat underneath one of the redwood trees in Eventide Forest. He tapped his fingers impatiently as he waited for the others to arrive. Izzy was late, not so shocking for her, and Bobo was bringing Sylas with him. He mentally prepared himself for what was going to be another long day.

  He had wanted to be there when Sy came to, but Izzy convinced him to report to the collective and see what they thought of the situation. He always hated talking to the higher-ups; most of them were too damn serious for his liking.

  Granted, they had to deal with monsters on a daily basis, as well as other people with mystical abilities who committed a wide range of crimes including murder, domination, resurrecting the dead, causing famine, and the like, but at least they could do it with a sense of humor, right? They might not have been heroes in the traditional sense, but no one likes grumpy people. Even when the grumpy people saved their skins.

  They had anticipated Raines would pass on Sevanouir to his son if the situation called for it. For now, he and Izzy were to observe Sylas and see if he could handle both the blade and the new life he would have to adopt if he stayed the course. He didn’t want to think about what he would have to do if they found him unsuitable, mostly because that would mean having to confront his childhood friend personally.

  Honestly, he was more afraid for himself. Sylas had always had a dangerous edge to him, and now that saber would give him a literal edge; he’d rather not try taking it from him. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Sylas was strong, and he had dealt with that doppel far better than either he or Izzy could have expected. Now that he knew the stakes, he would rise to the challenge; Roux was sure of it.

  He heard the grass rustle and sticks snap behind him. He turned around and saw Bobo and Sylas emerge from the foliage. He smiled and waved them over, getting up to greet them. “Glad to see you’re better. Ether is a damn good anesthetic, right?” he asked as he walked over and shook their hands.

  “Either that or the scotch,” Sylas replied as he crossed his arms and looked at his two compatriots. “I can guess, but since I have both of you here, do you want to enlighten me as to why I was never told about your moonlighting gigs?”

  They answered in unison, “Your dad.”

  “Yeah, got it, great.” Sylas walked away from the pair and set down a pack he had been carrying, then turned to Roux and drew his saber, “All right, Roux, take out that glove of yours, and let’s dance for a bit.”

  Roux fell back and stammered, “Wait, excuse me?”

  “I felt that Sylas should get some more practice if he’s going to get used to that pointy stick of his and help us out.” Bo shrugged as he leaned back against a tree, “Figured you could put him through his paces.”

  “Why me? I do recon and subterfuge! You’re the combat guy!” Roux accused, as Sylas stretched and practiced swinging and thrusting his saber. “Besides, it’s not like my malefic would be a good fit for a duel. Step up, man-bear!”

  “Don’t get all weak in the knees just because someone is looking at you with bloodlust in his eyes,” Bo argued. “Besides, I did offer. He said he would rather train with you instead.”

  Roux turned to see Sylas staring at him, Sevanouir looking more menacing than enchanting in his hands. “Consider this payback for the show I put on with the doppel in the study.”

  “You punched me for that, remember?”

  “That wasn’t a punch, that was a forceful reminder,” Sylas stated as he took a fighting stance. “Now, then, take out your little glove and let me try this blade out.”

  Roux sighed as a red glow enveloped his hand; his glove twisted around his arm up to his elbow. Bo gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Come on, Roux, he’s still green! You may have to take it easy on him.”

  “You didn’t see him take out the doppel; he’s better with that saber than I ever thought he would be. Hey, Sylas, I won’t make this easy, but just in case you get a few lucky strikes, try not to leave me with too many holes, okay?” Roux requested, as he walked over to his training partner.

  “Ether is a damn good anesthetic, remember?” Sylas retorted, and with that he looked to Bobo to declare the start of the match. The barkeep looked back and forth between the two, then raised one hand into the air.

  “Have fun, kids. Loser cries ‘mercy.’” He let his hand drop, “Begin!”

  Roux shot out a group of strings which Sylas easily dodged, then dashed towards his crimson-haired target. Roux in turn leapt back, and the swordsman heard a slashing noise and a rumble behind him. He looked back to see that the strings had embedded themselves into a large stone, and with a strong tug, Roux flung it at Sylas. In response, Sylas leapt to the side to get around his opponent’s makeshift flail, then jumped on top of the stone as Roux brought it up again. Sylas severed the strings, then jumped off and kicked the stone at him. Roux seemed to try catching it with his strings, but it would not stop. With a shocked expression, he realized he had to move, and rolled away. As he recovered, his strings wrapped around his arm once more.

  Bo had a knowing smirk as he watched the display. Sylas and Sevanouir seemed to pair up naturally. He could see Sylas’ years of training in play, but he knew that the blade was guiding him just as much. This should prove interesting.

  Sylas went to attack again, running serpentine across the field to make himself a harder target. Roux jumped for a tall branch as Sylas swung and missed him. Several strings then shot out to cut some branches from nearby trees and more followed to slice the tips of the branches into points. They hovered in the air like wooden stalactites just about to fall.

  Sylas looked up and huffed, “Neat trick.”

  Roux smiled in response, and one by one the spears fell. Sylas ran, narrowly avoiding being skewered. Each time one missed, it returned to the air to try again. Sylas knew he had to cut the cords or they would just keep coming, but they moved so quickly he couldn’t attempt to cleave them while eluding the others. Then all the branches once again lifted into the sky.

  “Think I got you this time; no sense playing whack-a-mole when I’ve only got one target,” Roux joked as he hurled them all down at once in a circular pattern. They crashed around Sylas, kicking up an explosion of dust. Bo leaned forward, concerned; Roux wouldn’t kill Sylas, but if any of those hit they would certainly lacerate him. As the dust cleared, he could see Sylas standing, trapped. The branches enclosed him so tightly he couldn’t move. Roux cheered as he leapt from his position atop the tree and walked over to the captive, his strings releasing the stakes and retracting back to his arm.

  “Guess I won. You’re definitely good, Sy, but I’d like to think I’m a little better than a single-minded doppel,” Roux bragged, as he propped himself against a tree and crossed his arms with a grin.

  Sylas, however, just sighed and looked away from him. “I don’t think I ever said ‘mercy,’ Roux.”

  Roux gave him a puzzled look, “So, what, you going to bore me into giving up? I can start playing twenty questions with Bo, if you’re trying to wait this out.”

  “Not my plan, actually. But I do have a question. Where’s my sword?”

  Roux jolted up and saw that Sylas wasn’t holding Sevanouir. He looked around as Sylas cleared his throat. “Might want to duck.” He heard a rush of air behind him and turned to see the saber flying straight for him. He took Sylas’ advice and bent over as it flew past his head. He heard wood crashing to the forest floor.

  Before he could react, Sylas slammed him into the tree he had been loitering against. His glasses got knocked off and he stared at his friend with bare blue eyes. Sevanouir was against
his throat and Sylas was holding his gloved hand in a death-grip. Roux blinked in stunned silence for a second before chuckling.

  “All right, you win,” he admitted. Sylas responded by tightening his grip.

  “Say it,” he countered. Roux cocked his head slightly in confusion before a scowl formed across his face.

  “Oh, come on, Sy, really?” he asked, annoyed. Sylas simply huffed before knocking him across the head with Sevanouir’s handguard. “Ow, dammit, all right, mercy.” The swordsman smiled as he let go, picking up his defeated opponent’s glasses and handing them back to him.

  “Good match. I think I learned a lot,” he quipped, as Roux took his glasses and rubbed the side of his head.

  “Good for you. All I’ve got to show for it is a lump and my wounded pride. How did you make Sevanouir move like that?”

  “Played around with it last night. Bo said something about me and it being tied together in some way; I found out I could have it teleport to me or move on its own if I concentrate on it. I threw it into the forest before you tried to trap me. Didn’t want you to see it coming.”

  “Roux never was a fan of surprises,” Bo chortled as he approached them, slapping the redhead on the back as Sylas sheathed his blade.

  “That’s because they are never good for me,” Roux replied cheerlessly.

  “Good brawl, you two! Wish I’d brought snacks,” a new voice congratulated them. Izzy hopped down from her perch and threw a water bottle to Sylas, “Got you your water.”

  “Just sixteen hours late, great service,” Sylas said wryly as he drank from the bottle. “Also, is it just habit for you people to hide while someone else fights?” he asked, looking to Roux, who grinned sheepishly.

  “Eh, didn’t need either of you showing off for my sake,” she jibed as she folded her hands behind her head.

  “Wouldn’t have bothered. Barely know you,” Sy huffed.

  “You’re not exactly on the top of my happy list, so I agree with the angry one.” Roux grunted.

  “Well, aren’t the two of you so gentlemanly?” Izzy mumbled. She turned to Sylas, “Though you do have a point. Never really got to introduce myself with all the craziness going on. My name is Isidora Alcazar. I’m a specialist for an organization called the Twixt Collective. You can just call it Twixt or TC though.” She looked over at Roux, who was furiously shaking his head. “Cut it out. There’s no need to keep him in the dark anymore. Pretty sure he’s probably tired of that anyway.”

  Sylas couldn’t help but chuckle, “Yeah, pretty damn tired.” She offered her hand and he obliged. “Thanks for back in the forest; guess we would have probably been long past dead at this point if you hadn’t shown up.”

  “Well, I was there to deliver Sevanouir to you anyway. Figured I could lend a hand. Valen isn’t the best when it comes to the assorted beasties we find on the job,” she remarked.

  “We all got our strengths and weaknesses, Izzy. I just happen to be good at more things than not. Pity you can’t share my successes,” Roux bragged as he cleaned his shades.

  “You still owe me plenty of favors, Valen.”

  “I’ll get to them. Plus, we still have to talk about that number; I think you’re screwing me.”

  “Phrasing, and no, you’re just that forgetful or that inept,” she mused as Roux glared at her in response.

  “I do have a question. How did you get my father’s sword from him?” Sylas asked.

  Izzy froze for a second before her head fell, long hair obscuring her face.

  “From what Bo told me, he died so that he could pass it on to me. So that would mean…”

  “Yeah. I was there when he... We were attacked while scouting around the Spice Quarter. With all the unusual deaths happening recently, we were sure it was either a Cimmerian like the doppel or another Maleficus.”

  Her tone had changed from jubilant to melancholy, each word coming out quiet and shallow. “I’d been partners with your father for over five years. He was an incredible fighter, so I usually took our missions in stride. Nothing seemed to faze him and we always looked out for each other. I thought this was another easy hunt. Find the monster or murderer, take them down, and then celebrate by spending the bounty on booze and flirty women.”

  She gave a small smile, reminiscing slightly through her story.

  “I was the scout. I headed to the roof of a nearby building to look around while he went to the scene of the last crime. It seemed so quiet, but then I saw the house he went into burst into flames, and a black dome of Ether surround it. I tried to get to him, but I was stopped by some jackals blocking my way. It was a trap.”

  Sylas closed his eyes as he took in this information.

  Izzy continued, “I was able to get past the jackals and open a small entry into the dome. By the time I got to your father, he had…he was burnt and wounded. I tried to convince him to retreat, but he wouldn’t. He told me to sit tight, and began the ritual.”

  “Did you see who attacked?” Sylas asked.

  Izzy shook her head. “No, I was trying to stop him from doing the ritual, but he said that he couldn’t risk it. I didn’t know what ‘it’ was, but he told me to take Sevanouir and run; that he was passing it on to you.”

  Sylas held up his blade and then reached into his pocket. He removed the red crystal from his father’s medallion; these two items and the house were his father’s entire legacy.

  He struggled between the anger of being left in the dark and the sadness of knowing how his father had died, feeling that perhaps it wasn’t necessary it turned out that way. He rubbed the developing tears from his eyes and put the mementos away.

  He turned and walked away from his friends.

  Bo called out to him. “Where are you headed, Sy?” he asked, concerned.

  Sylas stopped and over his shoulder he stated, “Nowhere.”

  He took out his blade once again. “I’m going to avenge my father. My questions can wait until then.” He turned and pointed the saber at his friends, “One of you come at me. I need to get used to this.”

  Roux looked pleased. It seemed like his worry was for naught, for the moment at least. He laid down on the grass, hands behind his head. “Your turn, I had my fun,” he said nonchalantly.

  Bo shrugged and walked to face off with Sylas, cracking his knuckles.

  It looked like the day and the journey had truly begun.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Sylas, Roux, and Izzy sat at a table at Umbra, Bobo’s bar, which he closed early for their privacy. Sylas downed a shot of whiskey and flipped the glass, placing it next to three others as Izzy nursed a glass of red wine and Roux, a cup of cranberry juice.

  Sylas chuckled, “Teetotaler.”

  Roux took a sip and shrugged. “I prefer enjoying the taste of what I drink, alcoholic.”

  “I have finer tastes and a heartier constitution,” Sylas retorted, leaning back and shaking his head. “Thanks for the bouts, you two. Drinks are on me.”

  “Oh, good, you are paying,” Bobo acknowledged as he placed four other shots and a glass of water in front of Sylas. He took the empty seat next to them with a beer in his hand. “I was worried you would try to run a tab or something.”

  “You won’t let me have a tab, Bo,” Sylas said, downing a fresh shot and placing the empty glass with the rest, “Gotta say, that still hurts my feelings.”

  “It’s a favor. Hearty constitution, right?” He took a swig of his drink, “I know you would pay it off, and you’d be all the poorer if you were drinking blindly. I’ve still got a responsibility to look after you as your godfather.”

  “Like taking me to my first strip club and sending me scotch for my sixteenth birthday?” Sylas retorted, finishing his sixth shot.

  “Sounds like a cool godfather to me,” Izzy offered, draining her wine. “I had an aunt who would have probably locked me in a chastity belt if she could. Oodles of fun, that one.” She leaned her glass toward Roux, who jokingly sneered at her as he picked up a bottle of w
ine from the table and refilled her glass.

  “This counts as a favor,” he forewarned.

  Izzy snorted, “Keep trimming them away, you’ll get out of the hole eventually. You better top it off.” In response, he stopped just short.

  “Jerk.”

  “Please, lightweight. You’re suggestible enough sober. If you finished off half the bottle, you’d take a naked dive into the lake if I said to.” Roux mocked.

  “Where is the lake?” she asked

  “Point made,” Roux proclaimed, placing the bottle back on the table.

  “I need a rinse anyway, and it sounds like fun after such a long day. Anyone else?” Denials and mocking snickers came from the rest of the table. “You guys really need to work on letting loose om your lives.”

  “I own a bar, plenty of excuses to let loose,” Bo challenged, rapping his knuckles on the tabletop. “Usually with the hotheads that stumble in here and get tossed out…like you, last year.”

  “That was just an unfortunate incident. I thought she preferred aggressive come-ons,” she denied.

  “You barreled right through heavy flirting and into some mix of personal-space-trespassing and psychobabble,” Bo countered, finishing off one beer and opening another.

  “The spirit of the green fairy was possessing me,” Izzy confessed.

  “Point made twice,” Roux added. Izzy flipped him the bird and turned away.

  Sylas, who had finished all his shots and was now sipping on his water, watched the repartee, amused. All of them bantered like lifelong friends. Despite everything they were involved in they could still be human, a comforting revelation.

  “So, how’s the damage healing?” he asked cheekily, causing Bo and Roux to grunt, and Izzy to rock her hand side to side to indicate so-so.

  “Did you really need to stab through my foot?” Bo mumbled, as the memory made him down his beer in one attempt.

  “You kept charging at me. Couldn’t stand toe-to-toe, no pun intended.” Bo glared at him, “So rooting you in place seemed like a good solution.”