Serious about Siroc (1)

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Published: Apr 10, 2008
Revised: May 30, 2008
Words: 20,309
Genre: Angst
Type: Story

2 ratings

By vigilanti

from Young Blades

Tags: siroc, ramon, dartagnan, aramis, athos, slave, mazarin, richileu, dark magic

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Serious about Siroc (1)

Who is Siroc, what is he hiding? Can he escape the nightmare that haunts him? Discover the truth.

Siroc doesn't speak of his past. He knows well that For a Slave of the Cardinal, Escape is not necessarily the same as Freedom. Action, Adventure, Anxt...no slash Story number One in the Youngblades Unleashed saga.

Serious about Siroc 1

Serious about Siroc

Disclamer: All hail Dumas and his descendants.
PAX young blades and the Disney version of 3 musketeers gave inspiration to this tale.

There is no money in it for me, just enjoyment – Something I hope to share.

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-(Chapter one –Slave Reflections)-

Ramón prattled amiably as they rode along the Seine. The Q. de la Grève was beautiful this time of year. And the young poet was still energized from his afternoon in the salon at the Hotel de Ville. “Ah, if only mi familia could see how popular I am they would regret loosing me I am sure.” He sighed lacing his gloved fingers behind his head and stretching, while guiding his horse only with his knees. “How about you my friend…I’m sure you didn’t expect to become a musketeer… What would your family say?”

Siroc, never spoke of his past…He didn’t even want to think about it. Eventually he hoped his companions would figure this out and stop trying to press him. They meant well, he knew, but in the great scheme of things it mattered little. The closest he’d ever come to explaining himself was to admit, “It’s complicated.” How could he tell anyone that for him life before the age of fifteen was a forgotten dream, and life after that an indelible nightmare? He didn’t even know his true name. Images poured unbidden into his mind. Clouds covered the sun and he shivered at the sudden chill…

The boy fought …he knelt on cold stone, immobile. Hands bound tightly behind his back, he could not struggle. In fact, he could barely move. Still he fought with the only weapon left to him—his mind. The enemy was cunning and subtle, that much he knew. Else how was it that the boy had been taken so swiftly, spirited away from those who watched over him? Those whose duty it was to…What? Keep him where? The boy fought valiantly for answers, but the weapons of the enemy were many, and he was loosing ground at an alarming rate. Fatigue… hunger…darkness … fear -- the boy swayed on his knees pulling the chain collar taunt about his neck.

“No rest for you my pet – not yet.” The words chilled him, and inwardly he cringed – but only for a moment. The flame of his spirit still burned bright. ‘I will not succumb to the terror of this place!’ The boy told himself, teeth gritted against the wooden bit in his mouth. “I will NOT show weakness.” Determination flared in his breast.

But how long could his resolve last? He’d been cut, beaten, doused with icy water, deprived of food and rest, accosted by sound, light and finally darkness. What new torment awaited him? The sharp pain in the side of his neck was just the beginning. Fire coursed through his veins and pain screamed behind his eyes as the reigns of his mind were yanked violently from his grasp. His world eclipsed in an unrelenting torrent of red.

I mean really Siroc, you’re a scholar…only a noble could dream of an education like yours…

“An education like mine,” Siroc echoed in a thoughtful whisper.

Ramón continued uninterrupted, “Surely your family thought you’d be teaching at the university or enmeshed in politics…I’d wager they never imagined you’d make a living with a blade.

“Master please,” the boy’s voice croaked in a horse whisper. He barely recalled the last time the bit had been removed from his aching jaw – being able to speak freely felt…unnatural somehow.

“You think yourself ready?” the master asked, stalking, beast-like about the small study.

“Test me, I pray you, my lord.” The defiance was gone now and there was an earnestness to the boy’s voice that hadn’t been there…before his “training”.

The Master stopped pacing and regarded the sandy-haired boy chained at his desk. How many tomes had this supple-minded pet ingested so far? Fifteen…sixteen? Eighteen. The Master smiled.

“What does Libavious say of minerals?”

“They can be identified by the shape of the crystals produced when a solution is evaporated.” the boy answered immediately. “His work illustrates how to identify and prepare hydrochloric acid, tin tetrachloride, ammonium sulfate, sulfuric acid and aqua regia.