Young Sorcerer

         

It was well past breakfast when Sev opened his tired eyes. He sat up slowly, blinking in the bright light, and stretched his weary muscles. The heavy curtains had been swept away from the windows, letting the sun’s glow seep into the room, and the boy found himself gazing through them. His room had been placed at the back end of his family’s huge manor, just where it would earn the sun’s best attention. A stone balcony was delicately made outside of the windows, overlooking the beautiful garden below.

         Even the room itself was gorgeous. Carpets and wall hanging covered the cool marbled floors and walls. everywhere there were signs of wealth and elegance. Sev himself was sitting on a huge four poster bed which could easily fit three of him. It made him feel somewhat small but he had gotten used to the scale of the manor and it’s contents. He had accepted the fact the his body wouldn’t be muscled or big like his brother’s, only lean and slight. He shrugged the thought away, there was no need to be jealous of his 11 year old half-brother. He reached over to the rope hanging beside his bed and pulled it, a small bell ringing in answer.

         As if on cue, a maid entered through the servant’s door, holding a tray of steaming food, probably courtesy of the cook for Sev’s late sleeping. He didn’t start or jump, being waited on was something he had lived with his entire life. That’s the consequence of having a wealthy noble for a father. His thoughts turned back to the maid and he smiled sweetly at her as she set the food down on the soft burgundy covers of the bed.

         “Sorry I slept so late, Mari,” he said apologetically, his eyes betraying his amusement.

         “Tisn’t you that should be sorry, young’n,” she retorted back, her eyes twinkling with merriment, “Twasn’t your fault you were up past your bedtime.” Her stern face eased as he rolled his eyes, she knew he hated being equaled to a child. In fact, she knew him more than even his own father. Mari was Sev’s favorite maid; she used to be his mother’s lady-in-waiting until Lady Lianne married and Sev was born. Then Mari had become his nursemaid and babysitter when Lady Lianne was gone, and, most recently, his closest confident. He knew everything there was about her; and she, him.

         “You shouldn’t talk of Father’s opinions so plainly, Mari. They could get you in trouble.” He eyes her carefully, the food beside him forgotten. She looked at the boy before her, his nightshirt and hair tousled from sleep. He should be this mature, she thought, he is acting like a young man ready to handle the world, not a small, unsure 9 year old. He was worrying about things that he shouldn’t at his age. She put her hands on her hips, annoyed at this.

         “And since when have I followed orders from the likes of you, cheeky boy? If I remember correctly, twas I who changed your diapers and nursed you when you’re mother was out.” She reached out her hand and cupped his chin, making his silvery eyes meet her brown ones. “Don’t worry about your dear old maid, lad; you have bigger things to worry about.” She released him and straightened, smoothening out her skirts before wandering towards his wardrobe. “Such as, what does His Cheekiness wish to do today, or what will He wear.”

         Sev laughed aloud as she sank into an over-exaggerated bow. She couldn’t help but laugh as well, just the sight of his smiling face brightened hers. He swung his legs off the bed and rose, sighing when his feet sank into the thick red carpet. The boy watched Mari silently as she picked out his outfit for the day until the fluttering curtains caught his attention again and he walked over to them. His reflection stared back at him and he opened the wooden door leading to the balcony and stepped outside.

         A warm breeze toyed with his hair and he leaned upon the stone sidings. He ignored Mari’s call for him to come indoors, and instead craned his neck, trying to see the front lawn. Are they gone yet? he wondered.

         He then yelped with surprise when a hand found the scruff of his neck and purposely dragged the boy back to the confines of his room. Only when the well-oiled door closed silently did Mari let go. She picked up a bundle that was lying on the bed and thrust it at him; his clothes for the day. He grudgingly relented to her insistence, allowing her to remove his nightshirt and help him dress.

         She was buttoning his shirt when he asked the question he desperately wanted to know the answer of. “Have Zef and Father left yet?” Mari wasn’t surprised; he had wanted to be up early enough to see his brother and father off. She stayed silent thought and now turned her attention to the boy’s ear-length golden locks, so much like his mother’s.

         “Nay,” she finally said, once her inspection was complete, “Your brother and His Lordship haven’t left yet, lad.” Sev immediately brightened, his silver eyes lighting up with happiness. His maid stepped aside as the young boy, waving in dismissal to her, flung open the bedroom’s door and raced away. She shook her head knowingly as she listened to his fading footfalls, Just like his mother, the little tyke, just like his mother.

         It took Sev minutes to find his family. Both his father and brother were waiting at the manor’s front entrance, decked in light traveling clothes. Though both father and elder son’s looks were almost identical, their personalities showed otherwise. At the sight of Sev racing toward them from the manor’s front doors, 11 year old Zefron’s face broke into a smile, but Lord Rowan looked away after giving Sev a curt nod. Sev knew that he wouldn’t capture his father’s interest until he was apprenticed, most preferably as a sorcerer. How Sev wanted to be a great sorcerer like his father; in fact, he would be an apprentice within the year, once he turned 10 years of age.

         Zefron, on the other hand, was already a thriving sorcerer-in-training. He was very gifted, so his mentor, Master Valdor, said. “He will make a fine sorcerer one day,” he had told them during one of his stays at Lord Rowan’s manor, much to the delight of Rowan’s, “And I believe his is an immortal as well, like Lady Rispah, may she rest in peace.” Zefron’s face had momentarily closed at the mention of his deceased mother, Lord Rowan’s first wife, but it didn’t stay that way for long.

         Zefron’s interest in the art of sorcery had tripled since he started to learn, to the point where Master Valdor was forced to come live with them for extended periods of time. But this year, it would be different. Zefron would be departing from his home to study with Master Valdor at his own home, a week’s good ride away, and would be staying there for all of fall and winter.

         Surprisingly, when Master Valdor had last visited Zefron, he had also showed an interest in Sev. Late one summer night, when most of the house was asleep, Sev found himself in the manor’s endless library, pouring over as many books about sorcery as he could. He was so intent, that he didn’t hear someone approach until that person asked him what he was reading. Sev had started of course, he was surprised to see Master Valdor there, and was even more shocked when the master sat down and offered to help him in his studies. They spent the night talking about the art and history of magic and Sev had found himself entranced by this blue-eyes sorcerer’s enchanting stories. He didn’t even remember going to sleep, but at some point he did because he had woken up in the library the next day, a blanket pulled over him, his mind still reeling from all he’d learned the night before.

         Sev was then jerked out of his thoughts by his brother’s strong embrace. “So Sevvie,” Zefron laughed, “I reckon your maid had to wake you up?” When Sev shook his head, Zef sounded confused, “No? That’s surprising.” He pushed Sev away and looked knowingly into his eyes.

         “I wanted to see you before you left, Zef,” Sev simply stated. Zefron’s brown eyes lightened to mint green. That Sev was used to; Zefron had gotten his changing eye color from Lady Rispah, the only trait that he had gotten from his mother. “Do you really have to go?”

         “Of course, Sevvie,” Zef studied him closely, “Don’t you want me to become a powerful sorcerer?” Noting Sev’s glum expression, he added, “And when I see you again, I’ll teach you more! You can be my apprentice!” Sev looked up at his brother, hope evident in his silver eyes.

         “Zefron! We have to leave!” Both boys jumped at their father’s voice, he was obviously in an annoyed mood. “Say goodbye to your brother!” With that, Lord Rowan stalked back towards his horse, a handsome bay stallion tacked and ready to be mounted.

         “Ah, well,” Zefron turned back to Sev and placed his hands on the younger boy’s shoulders, “Take care of yourself, Sevvie. Don’t get yourself in to trouble and don’t let Father get you down.” he cringed, “At the very least, keep on his good side until you’re of age. That won’t be too hard for you.”

         He ruffled Sev’s hair good-naturedly and Sev nodded vigorously; Lord Rowan was known for having a short temper, even with his sons. With one last smile towards Sev, Zefron was gone, mounting his horse with ease and settling himself in the saddle. “I’ll write to you.” he cried out to Sev, wheeling his horse around to approach the silver-eyed boy, “At least we’ll have some form of talking.”

         “Sevelius.” Sev jumped; he hadn’t noticed his father’s approach. Only his father called him by his given name. He looked up at Lord Rowan, who looked at him with a calculating gaze, “I will return in two weeks at least. The staff will take care of you. I have assigned you a tutor. He will come before I return. Be courteous to him,” he suddenly leaned down to Sev, his eyes cold, “and don’t give him any reason to punish you. I expect you to learn from him.”

         With that, he straightened and kicked his horse into a trot, motioning for Zefron to follow. Zef looked at Sev worriedly before turning away. The horses’ hooves clicked on the stone pathway as the two riders near the large bushes that flanked the main road. Zefron looked back once; only to wave and yell “Take care” one last time before father and son vanished from sight behind the hedges.

         Sev sighed. He wished he could go with them; wished it with all his heart. Soon, he thought, I’ll be there soon. He nodded abruptly, as if sealing a deal and slowly made his way back into the manor. Nevermind if his father wasn’t there enough for his younger son. Nevermind that Zef might forget about his promise of writing. Nevermind that he had spent most of his childhood alone, with only the company of Zefron, the maids, and their children. If Lord Rowan wanted him to learn and be a sorcerer and if that would get him the freedom he wanted, then he was going to do just that.