The Runaway: Journey to Tambelon

by Hope Caster

Days With Tirek

In the eight years that Spike lived with his uncle, he had never once left Arcania. Arcania was the land of gargoyles and centaurs, and had known peace and harmony for countless generations. Surely, there was no better place for a dragon to be raised. The lush forests, the cascading fields, wildflower gardens, the smell of the pine trees in the summer, and at the very heart of the land, the bustling city of King’s Reach. If he were being honest, Spike had never even been beyond the boarder of King’s Reach. The only thing that could compare to the forests and meadows that he’d read about in his books was the castle gardens, which he only had access to thanks to his uncle, though his uncle was rarely kind enough to let him see them.

“Keep up, child! I do not want you lagging behind,” His uncle sneered as he effortlessly walked through the outer marketplace. A lesson he learned early in the eight years of living with his uncle, was that aging centaur loved nothing more than yelling at him, especially if they were in the market for more than five minutes.

The market was not fancy but it was certainly charming. Vendors and stand owners lined the streets, flaunting their products to gain anyone’s attention. All around, centaurs and gargoyles alike wondered, taking short looks at the wares before buying something or moving on. There were fruits, tools, books, and one stand even had toys. Spike tried to steal a glance or two, but each time he did his uncle’s glare fell on him. Perhaps it was for the best, he had better things to focus on.

Spike carried five heavy books, and had another three in a satchel his uncle had recently given him. His uncle, who wore a heavy black cloak and hood that dragged behind him, had two saddlebags full of books hanging off his sides, bags that he wore only on outings such as this. Part of Spike was glad that his own cloak did not drag along the dirt road as his uncle’s, people were likely to step on it and cause him to fall. His uncle didn’t have to worry about such an event, as most people avoided him like a plague. While struggling to keep the books in his arms balanced, Spike stumbled as he tried his best to hurry along the dirt road and keep at his uncle’s side.

“That fool is more trouble than he’s worth,” Tirek complained, not caring if Spike was listening. “He takes his time to get me the books I want, and when he finally does, most of them are faded and falling apart! I swear Spike, your father hired that oaf just to spite me. It’s my job to learn all I can about magic, but Scorpan and that damned librarian refuse to give me the materials to do so. These tomes will only hinder my work, which will hinder your studies, which will hinder my work further!”

Spike remained silent as his uncle complained, ignoring most of what he was saying. His only worry was hiding his face from the passersby. His uncle’s complaining was starting to draw glances and glares form several female centaurs that were about likely running errands. Female centaurs tended to dislike when men shouted, their loud voices tended to disrupt any piece there was. Such was true especially when it came to male gargoyles. Ironic, as the only form of communication they knew was shouting. Other glances came from female gargoyles, who did not look at Tirek but rather Spike himself. They were not of malice, rather of worry and concern. Female gargoyles were the most natural of natural mothers, and it seemed to hurt their hearts seeing a child in some form of distress, even if it was just a dragon carrying a few books while being forced to listen to his uncle’s complaining. There came several asides, and whispers of pity from them, forcing Spike’s cheeks to flush red just a bit.

Looking towards the distance, Spike let out a soft sigh as his grip on his uncle’s books tightened. Spike and Tirek lived on the outskirts of the city; fitting, as his uncle disliked most company. However, their secluded living space made most of their runs into town difficult, as they would buy everything they needed in a single trip, forcing the two to carry larger loads than they could.

As Spike became lost in his own thoughts, a scampering gargoyle mindlessly rammed into him, causing him to fall forward. Spike’s only response was a small, near silent gasp. He clenched his eyes shut and awaited to slam into the ground, but nothing happened. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw that the books as well as himself, had been caught in a fiery orange aura. Spike looked towards his uncle, who had a small light protrude from under his hood.

“Watch where you run, you damned fool!” he barked at the rushing gargoyle, whom continued on his way paying the centaur no mind. Tirek turned his head to look towards Spike. “Mind your surroundings, Nephew. If those books hit the floor they’ll break apart, then where will I be?”

“Behind on your work?”

“Behind on my-” Tirek paused and gave Spike a stern look. “I do not care how right you are, Nephew, it is rude to interrupt your elders.”

“I apologize, Uncle Tirek.”

Giving a slight sneer, Tirek placed Spike back on the ground while he kept the books suspended in the air. His uncle motioned for him to hold out his arms. The moment Spike did so, Tirek dropped the books into his arms, all perfectly stacked. “Hurry child, it grows late,” Tirek said, staring up at the sun. “I do not wish to be out longer than I have to. Blasted star, why must we live in a sweltering land such as this?”

It was only in the eighties. Spike knew this, his uncle knew this, but he still complained anyway. Spike let out a relieved sigh as the end of the market came into view. The journey home would be made easier once they were out of the crowd.

“Uncle, if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly are these books for?” Spike asked adjusting his arms to keep his books balanced.

“I need them to complete spell some sorry excuse of a mage started. I waste too much of my time meddling in the affairs of others.”

“Why do you need books to help you? I thought you were a master magician, don’t you know everything about magic?”

“Listen well, Nephew,” Tirek growled, coming to a sudden halt. He turned his blazing eyes towards Spike. “I am no ‘magician’, I am above that title. And since you insist to waste my time with questions, I will have you know that in this wretched world, there are fools that have far greater knowledge than I. Nobody worth their weight can afford become complacent.” He adjusted his hood for a moment, before continuing down the path.

Fools knew more than his uncle. Spike was unable to understand the statement. According to anyone he knew his uncle had unparalleled knowledge and magical prowess. If he was remembering the term correctly, Tirek was a Sage, whatever that was in the Mage hierarchy. Spike peered up from the books as their house came into view in the horizon. A relieved sigh left his lips as he once again quickened his pace.

Overall, it was a nice house, though it was impossible to tell from the outside. Shutters were scattered about the yard, and the walls could use a washing. Their front door was a hideous red, with a faded copper knob that was in desperate need of replacing. Stopping at that hideous door, Tirek took a key out from under his cloak and placed it in the slot. There was a soft click and he effortlessly pushed the door opened.

Beyond the awful exterior was a house that even the nobles would be jealous of. Throughout the rooms, save for the kitchen and cellar, beautifully designed rugs covered well-polished, brown wood floors. All the walls were paneled and well insulated, keeping both uncle and nephew warm at night during the winter and cool during the summer. There was a large cellar filled with food, a good kitchen, a study that his uncle rarely used anymore, the basement where Tirek spent much of his time, an attic where Spike slept, a library that housed countless books, and past the entry hall, a fine living room where he and his uncle could lounge if Tirek allowed them to.

Spike rushed past his uncle and began to pivot and turn. “Where should I put these?” He asked, looking to his uncle. His claws began to dig into the hard covers has he leaned his body back in an attempt to keep the books from falling forward.

“Go and put them down in the basement, I’ll tend to them later,” Tirek demanded.

“Understood,” Spike grunted. He quickly darted through the house, turning left in their living room and coming to a door that waited just outside the kitchen.

Spike placed the books to the side, sighing as his aching arms were allowed rest. He opened the door, took up the books once again, and slowly made his way downstairs. The basement was the messiest room in the house, though his uncle called it organized chaos. Everything had its place, and to touch anything was to anger his uncle. Although it seemed to be cramped, the room was quite spacious once he or his uncle organized the countless scrolls, books, plates, cups, and discarded notes.

However, even if his uncle cleaned the room, it would become filthy again in just a short time. Amongst the mess, there was a small cot in the corner of the room, his uncle’s bed. Spike didn’t understand the sleeping arrangement, but he couldn’t complain. After all, Spike slept in the attic. To the far end of the room rested an aged chair and large desk that housed small storage spaces for important documents and personal notes that his uncle kept to himself.

Spike placed the first set of books on his uncle’s desk, and then slipped the last three from his bag, placing them on his uncle’s rickety chair. He looked around the room and noticed several dirty dishes that lingered in odd places, all in need of a good cleaning judging by the amount of mold that clung to them. Spike would take care of those later. Making his way to the steps, Spike heard a slight shuffling from upstairs, followed by a string of curses. His uncle was looking for something. Perhaps it was some other old book that he had put away and forgot about or an old quill that his late grandfather had bequeathed to Tirek. Whatever it was, Spike was sure to help his uncle look for it when he came to the main floor.

As the drake came out of the basement, he was met with a fierce glare. His uncle seemed to slither towards him, his hooves not making a single sound as they hit the floor. “Spike, where are those reports I told you to write? I thought I made it clear to you that you were to leave them in the library when you were done. So help me, if you didn’t finish-”

“They were finished last night Uncle Tirek. I just forgot to bring them down,” Spike interrupted as he closed the basement door. “I can get them if you want.”

“I wouldn’t be asking about them if I didn’t want them.”

“Yes uncle, I’m sorry.”

“Get to it then!” Tirek shouted.

Spike flinched before scampering up to his room in the attic. The attic was quite possibly the nicest room in the entire house, save for the library. Cream-colored carpet covered the floor, and hanging above Spike’s bed was a skyline, which allowed him to look at the stars at night if he wanted to. His bed was one of the most comfortable beds any boy could ask for. His blankets and covers were warm; he had a bureau where he kept his shirts, cloaks and a scarf that he used when it was cold out, and a desk facing the left wall. On that desk sat his work from the other night, a detailed report on the history of both Equestria and Griffonstone, two nations to the east and a report on magic and morality.

Spike grabbed his reports from his desk and quickly returned to his uncle, who sat tapping his boney fingers against the arm of an armchair that once belonged to Spike’s late grandfather, Vorak.

"About time," Tirek hissed, grabbing the papers from Spike. "Next time, leave them in the library as you’re told!"

“Yes uncle.”

Tirek quickly skimmed through the first page of Spike’s reports. As he crushed it, Spike knew he shouldn’t have skimmed his assigned chapters. His uncle looked towards him with a scowl. He mumbled something before continuing, growing angrier with each passing second. Spike prepared for the worst as his uncle crushed several pages of his work in one hand.

“I often find myself wondering why I bother teaching you. Why is it that everything you write is worthless?” Tirek threw several pages of his work on the floor as he stood from his seat. Spike tensed as his uncle began to pace around the room, reading page after page, growing more and more displeased.

“What on Earth were you doing when I left you in your room last night!?” He sneered as his claws ripped the current page to shreds. “Need I watch over you every moment, you-” The centaur paused as he skimmed through the last few pages that Spike had turned in. Tirek read the report several times, before relaxing just the smallest bit, muttering, “This is… passable. Good to know you didn’t waste all that time.”

Spike let out a silent breath as weight slowly lifted from his shoulders. He’d been in similar situations before. He would normally be confined to his room on Sunday if every page turned in was worthless. Unfortunately, the sigh was not what his uncle wanted to hear.

“Do not think you’re off the hook!” He snapped. A small orb of fire formed between Tirek’s two very small horns. Spike tilted his head down and let out a defeated sigh as his uncle reduced his work to ash. “Go to your room, and re-read everything from Magical Morality to The History of Equestria and Griffonstone. I expect your rewrites to be perfect. Are we clear?”

Spike nodded his head, looking towards the floor as he did so.

“Look me in the eye, boy. Are we clear!?”

“Yes, Uncle Tirek,” Spike said, facing his uncle.

“Then I suggest that you get on with it.”

Spike shuffled back up to his room, letting out a small groan as he slipped off his aqua-green cloak, something that his uncle made him wear, and tossed it on the floor. He stumbled to his desk, which was much nicer than what he thought he deserved. It was made of mahogany, as mahogany was the only wood that his uncle would consider buying. It was well polished, and had carvings of flowers and birds travelling down the edges. The draws had an abundance of paper, textbooks and scrolls, more paper, sealed inkwells, inkless pens and quills, more textbooks, scrolls, and paper, and an adventure novel that he had hidden in the bottom right-hand draw, something that his uncle would love to destroy if he knew of it. Taking a seat, he laid his head top of the desk as he looked towards a small framed picture that rested on against the wall.

“He’s mad at me again,” Spike sighed. “I kinda deserved it though; I skimmed my sections again.” Spike looked longingly at the picture, as a heaviness appeared in the center of his chest. “I know. I need to do better. He’s a good teacher and he takes good care of me; I just miss you. You were the best teacher ever.”

Spike knew he had to break the habit of talking to the picture on his desk, but his heart wouldn’t let him. The picture was nothing more than a small sketch of his mother curled around him when he was an infant. It was the only picture Tirek allowed him to keep; the rest were in his Grandmother’s basement for whatever reason he had for keeping them there. Maybe it was so that his father had access to them, without the need to see Tirek. His uncle and his father hated each other for one reason or another. No one ever explained it to him, but he wished there was something he could do to fix it.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recall everything he could about his mother. The sound of her voice, how soft she was when teaching him to read, her hugs, the kisses he would receive when he hurt himself, he even tried to remember her scent, but all of it seemed so blurry. Something that frightened him was the fact that he couldn’t remember the color of her eyes.

His thoughts turned to his lessons. Tirek was good teacher, there was no doubt. In just two weeks, his uncle had taught him could a spell called Candle Light, which allowed Spike to make a small orb of light for a short period of time.

Lifting his head from the desk, Spike decided to get to work. There was no point to him lingering on the past. His mother was not there to teach him, so the responsibility fell to his uncle, who had expectations he wanted met. Spike took his textbook and opened it back up to the previous chapter. When he was finished reading, he moved onto the second. Taking a quill and an inkwell from his desk, he began to work on brand new papers.

Author's Note:

An idea that has been in my head for almost a year now. Hope you like it. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. To make this absolutely clear for anyone still scratching their heads, yes, Tirek is Spike's biological uncle in this, and no, I do not know what I was on when that idea came to me, but yes, I really like it and I loved writing it. :3

Comments

[RadicalDishonesty]

I presume this means Scorpan is Spike's father? Why, if he hates his brother, does he leave Spike with him? Does he also treat Spike poorly and possibly dislike him? We don't know how Spike feels about his father...

Anyway, it's an awful situation but... it could be worse. I'm surprised Tirek's not more cruel and demanding.

It's a pretty good first chapter and I'm looking forward to more.

[Inferno demon Dash]

What a bucking monster! Buck do I hate this guy, poor Spike.