Theurgy: Forsaken Oaths (Book Two)

Chapter 5 An Unfamiliar Home

     Ryan slowly awoke to the world around him. He was in a stuffed bed, probably the most comfortable one here. And like many of the larger mats, packed with others that dreaded the hard floor. Instead, he was used to it, and everyone had mastered the art of remaining as still as possible so as not to kick someone off the bed accidentally. Not that he could get much sleep anyway. It was hard these days. So he just kept his senses sharp, watching over all the little ones as they slept as well as Avery. Avery herself did not rest until everyone was accounted for, but she too soon succumbed to the night as well. She looked so tired when he first saw her. The Avery he knew had more energy than what Avery displayed now. Then again, in that time, she has assumed quite the parental role. He does not blame her for treasuring the sleep. But he can not do the same, unfortunately. Years of practice and regimen have kept his body operating for quite a long time without sleep. Even if he needed it, he almost felt compelled not to do so. So, when rest eventually found him, it felt only to blast a mere moment before his internal systems snapped back awake and restored energy.

He looked to his left; Avery was still asleep. She cradled one of the younger ones in her arms, sleeping soundly. He smiled a bit, seeing the small puddle of drool seeping from the child's mouth. That may be a pleasant surprise in the morning, but he's sure that she was pretty used to it by now. Ryan brushed a few stray strands of hair from her face and kissed Avery on her forehead.

"I made a promise," he whispered to her, then picked himself carefully from the pile of sleeping children. He took to a nearby room that acted like a bathroom with the only toilet and "bath" in the whole building. This place was filled with tiny little hiding places and such. And he remembered one just beneath the floorboards before the door. He pulled them up, setting them aside to reveal most of his valuables. He took a few coins, a cloak, and then a shortsword. And he set out for the early morning. Activity on the streets was almost non-existent. One could mistake this place as a ghost town, the decrepit state of all, the fog that settled in on this humid day, the constant presence that seemed to cling to all and notice all. Watching, and waiting for something, anything to draw out its malice. But Ryan kept himself calm. The only people he saw out were the "peace officers" who patrolled the streets from time to time. Though Ryan is confident he will see less of them the further he gets from the merchant district, they didn't seem too thrilled to notice random street urchins. But he was still wary, and he never liked the feel of those guys. There was something odd.

He made his way to the worker's district, where many ordinary people could find some sort of work. Sometimes. The day was cool, and the air stiff. This time of day was no time for anyone to be active. Yet, he was not so surprised to find people already at the bar he was headed. He pushed through the double doors, one of them missing a hinge. The place was dimly lit with few candles here or there, and a dusty feeling immediately covered him. This was not a place one would like to be for any amount of time. As soon as he stepped in, everyone had eyes on him, assessing him, perhaps debating whether or not he was worth the trouble. He's not the only one with a blade, neither. The best thing o do was ignore as many as he could. But as he tried to move to the back of the room, a foot suddenly crossed his path. He stopped, lifting his head to see a shaven man with a giant grin looking down at his drink as his companions laughed.

"Hilarious," Ryan spat at the ground and shoved past him. But almost as if waiting for the response, he and his other two companions rose, and he stepped directly in Ryan's path. No blades drawn, but Ryan smelled trouble from these guys.

"Now now, friend," he said. "You just scuffed up my shoes there. You know how much these cost me?"

"I have no doubt you'd sell your mother all over again for them, friend," Ryan said,

The smile slowly faded away into a sneer. "You better pay me back for it, you little shit, or things are going to get ugly."

He placed his hands on the blade at his side, a saber of relatively fine make. The other two behind Ryan mirrored the motion. Ryan's hand almost instinctually went to his as well, but he kept them still; instead, no doubt they were looking for the excuse.