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

by Acevedo, E. B.

  “I was trying to keep my distance. With your two new chaperones, I was not sure if it would be safe to try to talk to you, since they are not likely as lenient as Bryce. However, when I saw your slick getaway, I figured I could catch up with you.”

  She checked her surroundings to verify that the guardians were not around. “Yes, Bryce went to fight in the tournament. Maybe he will win.” She flashed a smile at him. “Anyway, how have you been?”

  He chuckled. “I guess I have been well, but I have been missing your company and our late night conversations. How about you?”

  “They have me locked away in my room, but that was to be expected after what happened. I was worried that Master Vienken would go report the incident to the High Priestess, then track you down, have you arrested, and then publicly shame the both of us.”

  “But?” He raised an eyebrow as he questioned her.

  She tittered. “But, he did not do any of those things. Instead, he said he understands how I feel about you and told me that if I simply refrain from seeing you again until after the High Priestess leaves, then he will support you courting me. Master Vienken even promised he would put in a good word for you when the request is submitted!”

  He gave her a weak smile.

  Her eyes widened with shock. “What is wrong? Is that not wonderful news?”

  “Raiven, can you not see, he is just telling you what you want to hear so you will comply with whatever the temple wants? Even if he did advocate the courtship when he consults with the capital, do you really think it would even matter? The High Priestess will never approve of someone like me. Have you even stopped to consider explaining how we met?”

  She furrowed her brow, ruminating on everything he had just brought up. “Master Vienken would never lie to me. I know he will follow through with his promise and the High Priestess could never ignore such a recommendation. In addition, it is not solely up to Jezra, she must seek Vesalys’ guidance on the matter as well. As for how we met, I will come up with something. It will work. I know it will.”

  He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and sighed. “If you say so, my priestess, but we will have to continue this conversation another time. Your guardians are closing in and we would not want them to see you have already violated the old dwarf’s request.”

  Crestfallen, she pouted and asked, “When will I see you again? Will you be at the tournament? Maybe I can look for you in the crowd.”

  “Sure, I will be there. I am getting one of the best seats in the place, you will see me.” He winked at her when he stood up, and before she knew it, he had blended into the crowd and the guardians were marching toward her.

  “Priestess, your presence is requested in the royal pavilion at once,” one of the guardians said to her.

  “We had better go then.” She popped up full of cheer, feeling as if nothing could put a damper on her day. The fact that Sytravious had been keeping an eye on her made her feel bubbly inside. She could not wait to get to the arena and spot him so they could share secret smirks and glimpses with each other.

  As she drew nearer to the pavilion, she found that the courtyard was barely recognizable as a detail of soldiers finished the setup for the tournament. They had created an entire arena complete with a platform in the center. Townsfolk were already filing into the seats, hoping to get a good view. Would Sytravious be in the front row? Raiven entered the pavilion to find Jezra, Kenshiro and the warden conversing.

  “My dear, you have arrived! What took you so long?” Jezra inquired.

  Raiven shot a glance at the guardian behind her, and he communicated with a small shake of his head, that he had not said anything about her running off. She mouthed the words ‘thank you’ to him and turned back to Jezra. “Oh, I must have gotten caught up poring over the unique arts all the citizens have to offer. They really are talented. I wish I could spend more time amongst them.”

  “Come, sit down.” The old woman gestured to the empty chair that was designated to the priestess.

  Raiven took her seat and continued to speak to her mentor. “There was even this blacksmith that---”

  “I know, my dear. As sovereigns of the temple, we always wish we could afford the time to spend with our people, so that we may sincerely appreciate Vesalys’ light in every one of them, but our schedules are too hectic for that. It is part of our jobs to find the balance that allows us to dedicate the time to those who need us while being able to carry out our other duties.”

  “Look at that!” the warden shouted and pointed, stretching his arm out, right in front of Jezra’s face.

  “Excuse you!” she scoffed and pushed his arm away from her.

  “My apologies, Your Holiness, but the constable has won the archery contest over there. Kenshiro, you owe me twenty silver pieces!” The warden guffawed and slapped the general on the shoulder.

  Jezra fluttered a handheld fan in front of her face, and commented, “Edgar, it seems you have Elric in the wrong field. An expert shooter of that caliber ought to be in charge of the archery unit.”

  “He may be a good archer, but he is an excellent investigator. He is right where he belongs,” the warden countered. “Unlike the general’s protégé, who I still say has no place in this tournament.” He chuckled at his own comment and held out his hand while he sipped from his goblet, spilling wine down his beard.

  When he glanced at the warden and Kenshiro could not mask his repulsion as he dropped the silver pieces into his grubby hand. “Keep bad mouthing Kaspar, but when he beats Xertias, you will regret having wagered fifty gold pieces against him.”

  “You are a fool to be confident in Kaspar. I do not know with whom he had to fight in order to qualify for today, but I assure you they were nothing like Xertias. Your wager will be the easiest gold I will have won thus far. Honestly, no one stands a chance against that man. Even if it was you out there about to fight him, Kenshiro, I would still bet on Xertias!” the warden boasted.

  “Oh please. I have invested years of my time into his training to ensure that he is a superb sword fighter, and I am pleased to tell you that he has proven himself. He fights as if he were my own shadow,” Kenshiro said with a smug expression on his face.

  Jezra rolled her eyes. “Kenshiro, it is unwise to discount Xertias. I have seen his battle skills for myself. However, Edgar, it is stupid to disregard the general’s talent, which he has undoubtedly passed on to Kaspar. I just know that after this contest is over, you two had better drop the topic and figure out how to carry on a decent conversation because I will not put up with this bickering at supper tonight.”

  Her words shut them up, and it was obvious Jezra took pleasure in their silence. Meanwhile, Raiven had stayed quiet, scanning the masses for Sytravious. The competitors started to walk out into the provisional arena and the crowd cheered. The group entering the ring carried all sorts of weapons from swords to battle-axes.

  “Hey, there is my guardian, Bryce! I bet he can beat up both your contestants with ease.”

  “My dear, do not encourage their squabbling please,” Jezra begged, but it was too late and the warden pounced on the chance to gamble more.

  “Aha! Another wager it is, Priestess.”

  Jezra mumbled, “I would gladly pay you to hush.”

  “Let us make those two wagers for the two ladies!” the warden exclaimed. “The young lady is placing a bet on her guardian, and the old la---High Priestess has stake in my silence, but she has yet to choose a fighter.”

  “Ugh, well since you have already selected Xertias, I will have to pick somebody else. It seems since all the sensible choices are taken, so I will choose…” She narrowed her eyes and placed her finger on her chin to simulate deep thought as she browsed her options. “That one right there.” She nodded towards her choice.

  “Which one?” the warden asked.

  “The one with the black armor and polearm weapon. He looks like he can do some damage.”

  The pudgy man leaned forward to see whom
she was talking about.

  “She means the one without the banner, the citizen,” Kenshiro uttered.

  “A citizen? Ha! Too late to change your mind now, that is your competitor, Your Holiness. I will start preparing a long list of topics to talk about tonight at the banquet, and you had better get ready to delve into your private stash because I expect a bottle of Cleary Court’s finest wine when I win.”

  “We shall see,” Jezra replied.

  “If I win, I would like to be able to visit my garden once again,” Raiven added.

  “From what High Priest Vienken has told me, I understand it has been distracting you from your studies, but I suppose I can consider it,” Jezra said.

  “And what if you lose, cousin? How about you owe me a dance?” Kenshiro shifted closer to her and continued in a whisper, “or a kiss.”

  She was gawking at him in astonishment when the trumpet fanfare rang out, catching her attention. The cheers grew noisier in anticipation. The royal crier walked into the arena, stepped up onto the platform, and cleared his throat.

  “Welcome all, to the final event of this grand festival!” he shouted, “One last time, let us thank the Warden of Havencrest for making all this possible!” The audience applauded to show their gratitude.

  “Due to the large number of entries, there are many finalists. Therefore, the tournament will be in the form of a melee, every man for himself. To win, the competitor must be the last man standing. Conceding defeat or being disarmed by an opponent leads to automatic disqualification. Once disqualified, the fighter must exit the arena immediately. Every participant knows the rules. Good luck and may Vesalys be with you all.” The crier sprinted out of the ring. Nearby, drums thundered, and the warden rose up to bellow, “Let the battle begin!”

  The fighters drew their weapons, charging at one another straightaway. Raiven watched as the men exhibited their speed and brute strength. The clanking of multiple blades hitting against each other, was drowned out by yelling from the crowd while people rooted for their favorites. While the rest of the royal party was entertained by the show, she glanced over the swarms of onlookers in search of Sytravious. He had said he would have one of the best seats in the house. Raiven looked through the front rows of seats, but to no avail. Maybe he was caught up doing something else and could not make it.

  When the warden stood up and yelled, “Come on, Xertias!” Raiven stopped to find Jezra’s guardian in the fight. He was easy to locate because he wore sapphire blue armor and yielded an unusually large sword, which he swung with ease. She observed as he disarmed three men in a row and knocked out a fourth with the flat of his blade. Fighters were getting disqualified left and right. Even a few of participants fled the arena once they saw they did not stand a chance against Xertias, but Bryce was not one of them.

  From the platform, Raiven’s guardian stood his ground, taking down those who had the courage to challenge him. Bryce slashed his sword down to connect with each one of his targets. The sheer force behind each blow sent his foes thumping to the ground. Their unconscious bodies were dragged out of the arena. The priestess was happy with how well Bryce was doing so far. She grinned and glanced at her cousin, but Kenshiro was too busy shouting advice to Kaspar. Raiven turned to Jezra and saw she was concentrating on the unknown fighter she had chosen, who was actually quite clever in his strategy.

  The citizen stayed continuously moving around the arena, and using the long reach of his weapon to swipe his opponent’s feet out from under them. Once they slammed into the ground, he was quick to use the halberd to flick the weapons out of their hands. However, for those with nimble footwork, the citizen jabbed the giant blade of the weapon into their helm, knocking them out.

  As the number of men in the arena dwindled, Raiven was feeling great about her chances of winning. With every competitor that got disqualified, the closer she was to getting her time alone in her garden given back to her, which meant Sytravious would be able to secretly see her again. Overjoyed by the mere idea of getting her late night visits back, she jumped up and cheered, “You can do it, Bryce!” She knew he would never hear her over the cacophony in the arena, but she wanted to give him extra encouragement. A lot was riding on his victory.

  Therefore, when her guardian bumped into the citizen, she did not worry for the man was half the size of Bryce, he did not stand a chance. The guardian lurched at him and swung his great sword. The civilian fighter barely evaded the attack. Bryce advanced towards him. The citizen took a defensive position as the guardian got closer to him. In a snake like move, the civilian used the long pole to strike out towards the guardian’s helm. The impact nearly knocked Bryce off his feet. He stumbled back a few steps.

  When he regained his composure, the brawny guardian continued his assault. They matched each other blow for blow, until Bryce thrust his blade forcefully into the staff of the halberd. The rod smashed into the citizen’s chest armor. Bryce stepped forward, pushing against him. The civilian dug his heels into the ground and pushed back. The guardian gave him a strong shove that sent him crashing into the ground with a thud. The audience groaned in unison when the citizen hit the floor.

  A knight from the elite guard took advantage of Bryce’s distraction and sprung at him to hit him from behind. The guardian turned his attention to the man pursuing him from the rear. The citizen got up, unfazed. While Bryce was busy fending off the knight, the unknown fighter took his time to measure his next move. With his left hand out, and polearm held back in his right hand, he began sprinting toward the distracted guardian’s back. He got a running start and leapt high into the air as he thrusted his weapon. The blade of the halberd plowed into the back of Bryce’s helm, causing the guardian to tumble into the knight. The knight fell back, but Bryce was still standing. With a swipe at his ankles, the polearm sent the guardian face first into the ground. The citizen walked up and used his weapon to flick the sword from the guardian’s hand.

  “Whoa ho ho! Beat by a citizen! I guess you owe me a dance tonight,” Kenshiro teased Raiven.

  “Who is that man?” the warden questioned. “I know many townsfolk signed up, but I never expected them to make it through the preliminary duels.”

  “Then why offer a prize you did not intend for them?” Raiven retorted.

  “Why, it is called incentive, Priestess. It is the only way to get the best entertainment out of them, like with this one today,” he replied and pointed to the civilian in the ring.

  She huffed and slouched in her chair, now impatient for the tournament to end. Without someone to root for, Raiven went back to trying to find Sytravious, but it was difficult to ignore the warden and Kenshiro taunting one another.

  “I would not get too excited, Kenshiro. Here comes Xertias for your little soldier now.”

  “I am positive Xertias is about to learn a hard lesson in defeat. Kaspar may have gotten off to a slow start, but it is only because he was being cautious. It is evident he has become more confident with each competitor he takes down.”

  “Slow is right. That shield is tiring him out, and fast. At least my fighter can carry his shield without straining.” The warden held his belly as he cracked up.

  Xertias had taken Bryce’s previous spot on the platform, slashing down anyone in close enough proximity. Kaspar was about to hop on the stage, when the Xertias noticed him. The guardian bounded across the platform and jumped off the edge. His sword was held high above his head, when he brought it down with force. The young soldier anticipated the guardian’s move and held his shield up. With a clash, the sword bounced off the shield, sending Kaspar reeling backwards into the ground and he scrambled to get up.

  The soldier found himself on the defense again. Xertias pounded against his opponent’s shield with a series of slashes. When Kaspar found an opening, he used his blade to stab at the guardian. Xertias parried the attack. The guardian answered every move the soldier attempted. Kaspar threw the shield on the ground and switched to a two handed grip on his sword. The s
oldier became the aggressor. His swift speed was undeniable, making Xertias the one using his shield as a buffer now.

  Meanwhile, the citizen fighter prepared himself for the remaining six knights who had decided to join forces against him. As they crept up, surrounding him, he spun the halberd above his head. The weapon whirled with such grace and rapidity; each knight was hesitant to be the first to charge. Before any of them could make their move, he brought the blade down as he pivoted in a full circle. He sliced into each man one after the other. Five of the knights fell to the ground when the steel plowed into their helms.

  A tremendous cheer erupted from the crowd. The last man standing staggered back. The knight’s wrist wobbled as he held up the spear to throw it. The citizen rushed at him. He sprang up and kicked his foot into the center of the knight’s chest and the sixth man slammed to the floor. The civilian picked up the spear from the fallen knight’s hand and searched around the arena. He pulled the weapon back and squinted his eyes, zeroing in on his target. His arm hurled forward as he released the spear. The weapon zipped through the air.

  Kaspar was forcing Xertias against the border of the ring when spear rammed into the back of his helm. In a momentary lapse of judgement, the soldier looked back to see where it came from. When he turned back, his chin was met with an uppercut strike from Xertias’ sword. The wallop left a dent in Kaspar’s armor. The soldier dropped to his knees before falling over on his side.

  “Whoa, ho ho! Beat by a citizen!” Raiven said as she mocked her cousin.

  Kenshiro snarled and threw his goblet to the floor and he warden’s boisterous laughs followed. “No need to be a sore loser.”

  The spectators watched in awe as the last two men got ready to face off. The guardian smirked and stepped over Kaspar’s body, stalking up to his foe, who met him in the center of the arena. He fixed his stare on the only person who stood in the way of winning, the mystery fighter. Xertias gestured for the crowd to get louder as they cheered for him. The onlookers fed off his arrogant and pompous energy. He pumped his fist in the air triumphantly as if he had already won. While Xertias hyped himself up, the citizen fighter observed his opponent, with the halberd laying over his shoulder. The pounding of the drums started up again, adding to the anticipation of the final matchup.