Oathbreaker: A Dark Fantasy Web Serial
Arc 7: Chapter 19: Inquiry and Wait

Arc 7: Chapter 19: Inquiry and Wait

As I roamed the battlements of Castle Tol, thinking over the day’s revelations while evening settled over the winter countryside, armored footsteps made me turn.

“Lord Cyril,” I greeted the fort’s commander. The young knight nodded a quiet greeting to me. Clad in white and gold, the Stork of Osheim looked well matched to the sterile background, like a flash of pale sunlight in cold surrounds.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said. “You reminded me that we all have a role in this war, Ser Hewer. The hunger for glory has poisoned the Houses for far too long.”

I waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t overthink it. I know House Stour’s reputation. Your uncle chose to keep watch over Kingsmeet and the gate to the east while the rest of Urn’s clans were competing for glory at Garihelm’s tournament. I’m certain the Emperor knows this effort is in good hands.”

“Will you be moving on to Baille Os after this?” The knight asked. “You should listen to the Cardinal speak. He is a man of great vision.”

“I’ve heard some tell of Cardinal Manfred, and of the people he’s keeping close. You know the Priory is out of favor in the capital?”

Cyril’s tone became cautious. “In the capital, perhaps, but the Priory is well respected here. Grand Prior Eirik was nominated by the Cardinal himself. We understand there was some… scandal in Garihelm.”

I snorted. “If that’s the word you want to use. Horace Laudner wanted to sell his congregation out to an occult power. He was as bad as any Recusant.”

And now you’re working with the same devil who seduced him into that choice, I reminded myself. I never would understand what exactly had lead the Grand Prior to that decision, though I could guess that it might be more complicated than some selfish bid for power.

“We have heard stories,” Cyril said, his voice still reserved.

“Like how the Emperor called angels to bring the Accursed Headsman to heel?” I laughed softly. “Yes, I’ve heard some of those too.”

“In all honesty, I wanted to speak of the future more than of the past.” Cyril moved to the parapet and placed a hand on the stone. “I know you did not come simply to observe, Ser Hewer, forgive me for my candor.”

“Oh?” I folded my arms and waited for the request I felt coming.

“You are the man the Emperor — indeed, if the rumors are true then those behind His Grace as well — sends to get things done, even should those tasks prove distasteful.” He glanced at me and straightened, propping a hand behind his back. “You solve problems.”

I shrugged. “That’s probably the most succinct way I’ve heard my duties summarized.”

“The elves.” Cyril took a deep breath, though his attempt at calm wasn’t fully successful. I noted how his jaw clenched. “Something must be done about them.”

Something. “And what would that be, in your opinion?”

“It is my Lord Uncle’s opinion that the Sidhe have gone insane, that the corruption of Seydis has altered them in some deep, fundamental way. Church scholars concur. For years they have acted erratically, and now this invasion of the old crossroads city…”

He turned to face me directly, his angular face set in lines of dire certainty. “You were once an Alder Knight.”

“Once, lad.” I sighed and averted my gaze from his, hoping he wouldn’t look too hard at the glint of aura in them. “The order’s gone.”

“But you know them. You know I am right. The elves are not humanity’s allies anymore. The old bonds are broken, and they have become the monsters in the woods once again.”

I wanted to dismiss these claims, but a flash of memory struck me in that moment. Princess Maerlys at the trial of Rhan Harrower, her immortal flesh charred to a ruin, her false eyes burning with malice.

I was almost certain that Jocelyn, the Ironleaf Knight and a Wyrmblighted, had been her pawn in Garihelm’s tournament. He’d taken something from that ritual, something intangible but very dangerous, and all our efforts to track him or the elf Fen Harus down had failed. Karog disappeared some weeks after being knighted, and I half believed he’d been dispatched to hunt the missing Glorysworn down. Whether by Markham or by Laertes, I couldn’t say.

Cyril saw my hesitation and took a step forward. “We need you, Headsman. The Aureate needs you. You can be a mighty weapon for good if you join the crusade.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

He didn’t understand. He didn’t know that the elves, regardless of whether they’d gone wild or not, had just as much pull on me as humanity, as the gods. If any of them tried to pit me against the other, it would break me into pieces.

“I am asking for you to join a worthy cause!” Cyril saw none of my inner torment. His eyes were lit with a bright fervor. “Fight with us! It will be as it was during the last war. Good against evil, light against dark! We will drive the enemies of our faith out, fully this time, and—”

“Enough.”

My voice echoed slightly. I hadn’t meant to, but my self control lapsed and my will burst out with the word. Cyril flinched.

I took a deep breath, wrestling the magic back under control. “I’m not here to be your weapon of crusade, boy, and I’m not here to kill elves for your uncle.”

The nobleman looked like I’d struck him. “But…” He mastered himself and stood at attention. “Of course. You cannot speak of your duties, and I…” He shook his head. “I shall leave you to your rest, Ser Hewer.”

He left then, marching away in a flutter of gold-threaded cape and clicking armor. The sun set, sending curtains of shadow spilling out from distant mountains.

I needed my business here done, before House Stour dragged me into a war with the elves.

The mirror, an innocuous thing freed of its archaic frame, sat in the guest room as Vicar and I stared at it. Now taken out of the ritual chamber we’d found it in, the piece no longer looked so sinister propped against a wardrobe.

“The doctor wanted to help me,” Vicar muttered. “But I thought it best to keep her from it. She did not react well to its tricks last time.”

“Isn’t this her area of expertise?” I asked. “My understanding is that the Priory brought her on because of her occultism.”

Vicar nodded slowly, pursing his lips. “Miss Roch is an intelligent woman, but she is hardly a match for Hexer when it comes to sorcery. I am certain she can piece together the make of the binding, help me unravel it, but contending with the malice of the beings inside?” He shrugged. “She is mortal.”

“She was in Seydis,” I blurted. Vicar glanced at me, and when I didn’t register surprise on his face my voice hardened. “You knew.”

“Of course. We vetted the doctor thoroughly before bringing her in. What did she say to you?”

“…Not much. Only that she knew who I was. She recognized me. But Elfhome was a big place. There were thousands of humans living there along with all the Sidhe. Who was she?”

“Have you not guessed?” Vicar played at being distracted by the covered mirror, but I sensed a tension in him. I opened my mouth to demand he stop playing games, but realized that he probably just wanted me to work it out for myself.

“She was a cleric.” I thought through what I knew so far. “She knows about all kinds of esoteric lore, and the form the mirror demon took when it mocked her… it was familiar. I’ve heard that voice, but I can’t—”

“You know where you remember her from,” Vicar said with an edge in his voice. “You’re being obtuse, Hewer. Is this some kind of self defense? Is any memory of your sin so distasteful that you’ve blocked it all out?”

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Leave it to a devil to cut to the heart of the matter. Before I could respond, there was a knock on the door and Delphine entered. She’d changed out of her physiker robes into a simple town dress and a woolen shawl for the chill. “Any luck?” She asked.

Vicar smoothly shifted topic, taking advantage of the interruption. “The mirror sees into mortal souls. A property of the mirror itself as a symbol, I think, more than an intrinsic power of the spirits inside.”

“Why would Lias want something that’s good at seeing into him?” I asked.

Vicar shook his head, but Delphine answered for me. “There could be many reasons. The Magi are said to have tangled souls. Sometimes they require help just to pluck a particular scrap of knowledge from their own essence. There are all sorts of old hermetical texts about mind palaces, drug-induced visions, a plethora of mental exercises just to access the archives a magus might hold inside her own head.”

I frowned and rubbed my freshly shaved chin. I’d taken advantage of our accommodations, which included fresh clothes and a bath. “So Lias needed these demons to tell him something he already knew? That he’d forgotten, or lost within himself?” It sounded overcomplicated to me, but then I wasn’t a wizard.

Vicar narrowed his eyes, his face very close to the covered mirror. The cursed thing remained eerily still. “Perhaps he wanted to scour himself with his own sins,” the crowfriar muttered. “Convince himself to turn back… or to press forward.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Lias I knew,” I said quietly. “He never did anything without a reason.”

“The rites I must perform to interrogate these dregs are not for mortal eyes or ears,” Vicar said and straightened. “You should both get rest.”

“What if the castle’s inhabitants hear you?” Delphine asked.

“They will not. I have already prepared the room for my work. Go. Rest. You especially, Hewer. You have not slept in many days.”

I shrugged. “I don’t need to sleep that often.”

“But you do need it. Replenish yourself. Your aura is growing wan, and that is dangerous with what stalks you. A sleeping mind can be infiltrated, but an exhausted one can be dismantled.”

Delphine cast me a curious look, one that I turned away from. “Fine. I’ll check in before dawn.”

I wanted to be part of the interrogation and make certain nothing was kept from me, but Vicar had been adamant; he wouldn’t let us “mortals” witness his infernal prayers. I would have to trust him.

And what if he gets the knowledge he needs and runs off without you? I asked myself. You just don’t want to witness him using unholy powers. Easier to ignore it if you don’t see it.

I wouldn’t sleep. If he tried to flee the castle, I would be ready.

Delphine and I walked out into the hallway. A servant checking the halls blanched when she saw me and curtsied before scurrying off. Cyril was somewhere, probably in his office or preparing for bed. The hour grew late.

“I’m not sure if I can sleep after what I saw today,” Delphine said. “Do you think we can trust him?”

I shrugged. “He trusted you. I’m still not sure why. What is it between you two?”

I wasn’t sure she’d respond as we walked down the hall. Then with a sigh she said, “When I was brought into the Priory, I knew what he was. I didn’t trust him, or any of them. I kept feeling like I was walking into a trap. I got along fine with Master Hexer, but he was completely lost in his work. Renuart, or Vicar I suppose…”

Her step slowed as she thought, and I slowed to match her pace. “I felt curious. I am a scholar, and there’s so much we don’t know about the Realms Immortal. We live alongside our dead now, keep them locked beneath earth and stone walls, but that wasn’t always true. The things Vicar has seen...”

Delphine shook her head. “It beggars belief. He has witnessed horrors and wonders, walked the hinterlands of Creation itself. I couldn’t help it.” She smiled wistfully. “I wanted to know what comes after. The make of our existence. Does that make me like every other fool who’s gone astray seeking that knowledge?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “It scares the piss out of me, the idea everything can be so vast. The world seems big enough. I don’t like the idea that it’s surrounded by brittle walls, waiting to crack so monsters can flood in. It was the Table’s job to guard that wall, keep its cracks mended… now I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

Delphine stared at me with a look I couldn’t read. I quickly changed the subject. “So you were curious about the devil. Was that all of it?”

“At first.” Delphine frowned. “He wasn’t what I expected. He seemed so… Alone? Unfocused? Like he’d lost his way somewhere. It might have been a deception, but he seemed very human sometimes. A bit like you. The other paladins weren’t like that.” She shivered.

“I am not like him,” I said vehemently.

“You’re both soldiers,” Delphine argued in a blunt tone. “You both believe in your causes.”

“Causes?” I wheeled on her. “I’m fighting for us. For humanity. I’m trying to keep the world… sane. He serves some kind of tyrant machine. He’s evil, Delphine.”

Delphine didn’t say anything, and I couldn’t read her expression. She wore a solid mask over her thoughts.

Better to have it out in the open. “Why do you recognize me?”

I remembered her words from the Inquisition dungeons. It’s all right there, just like in the rumors. And yet, when I look past all that you’ve barely aged a day…”

The doctor averted her eyes from mine, letting her gaze slide past to look down the hallway. I suspected she knew about the compulsion in my stare.

Vicar was right, and I did have a hunch, but I needed it confirmed. Trying to speak with less heat I added, “You obviously remember me from Elfhome. I’m sorry, doctor, but I don’t remember you.”

“…You were one of the Archon’s knights,” Delphine said. “You were all larger than life. Hard to forget.”

A deflection. “And who were you?” I pressed.

Her lips thinned. “No one. I was no one at all, Ser. Good night.”

She glided off to her own room, leaving me standing alone in the hall and feeling like I’d said something cruel, though I didn’t understand why.

In the comfortable guest room Ser Cyril had leant me, I found myself pacing by the window. The Living Moon rose above Osheim, huge and brilliant, its cerulean face crawling with swathes of emerald. The Corpse Moon glared from behind it, smaller and more distant, a sullen sphere of decrepit gray.

Despite the cold, I opened my window and let the night air in. Aureflame kept me warm enough, and I needed the freshness. I drank in the energy shining down from the greater moon, soaking in it like sunlight. It didn’t warm the same, but nights when the Living Moon shone full were always invigorating to my magic.

He seemed very human sometimes. A bit like you.

Nonsense. Vicar was a cog in a cold machine. I couldn’t understand loyalty to something like that. I’d much rather feel some affection for the leader who told me where to wield my blade.

She was right about the Alder Knights, though. I wondered how long it would have taken for me to become like the others, a vessel for my magic with little left for my self. Maxim had been woken from that dream by force when Rysanthe and I found him, and it broke him into pieces. I wasn’t sure he’d ever heal.

I wondered how the inhabitants of Oria’s Fane were doing. I hadn’t seen any of them since Emma and I departed for Garihelm. I’d considered stopping by during my journey south, but Vicar had tailed me the whole way and I wouldn’t make him aware of that sanctuary.

A lot had happened these past weeks. The surprise visit from Donnelly that’d started me on this road, the equally unexpected encounter with Vicar at the Backroad Inn, the ensuing journey to Tol and the search for Lias. The revelations about the Priory, rogue angels, infernal plots.

Then there was everything I’d left behind in the north. Tasks and duties, plans and hopes, preparations for Rosanna’s departure for the Karledale. My search for a way to help her ghoul-cursed son.

I wondered how Emma and the others were doing, if they were buried deep in their own complications or just enjoying the wonders of Mirrebel. That was a raucous place, steeped in the renaissance movement and full of art and culture. Nothing like this dreary country with its thousand churches and whispers of crusade.

Damn it, Li.

The soft rustling of feathers alerted me when I was no longer alone in the room. Swallowing the first shock of panic, I managed to reply in a calm tone. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

I didn’t turn. I didn’t need to. I could hear him there, feel his presence. Even though he didn’t blaze like during our first meeting, the world itself tilts around the appearance of an Onsolain.

“You play with poisoned fire, Headsman.” Chamael’s voice was a murmur almost quieter than the wind over the parapets. “The scorched wolf will use you to regain favor, then it will discard you.”

“That feels somewhat hypocritical, considering you were working with the Credo Ferrum for months.”

“I do not serve Orkael’s interests,” the Saint said. “I am not here for them.”

I turned to face the angel. He seemed smaller than before, though he still towered over me. I wasn’t sure if he’d shrunk himself to fit in the room or if there were some supernatural trick in perception that made him seem so, but his trinity of faces drew just short of scraping the ceiling. He’d folded his wings around himself, so the androgynous form within seemed swallowed by a feathery cocoon.

“But you cooperated with their plot,” I said. “You helped facilitate the Knights Penitent.”

“Yes.” Three sets of eyes rolled to regard me coldly. “I am here for them. I am here for the priests and their congregants, and for those suffering souls who accepted the ministrations of Zosite alchemy. Orkael may have laid a claim over those promised to the Priory of the Arda, but they are still my queen’s subjects. My kin still have a responsibility to shepherd them.”

I stared at him for a long moment. His gaze was hard to meet. Too bright, too heavy, and yet…

His main eyes narrowed slightly.

Angels cannot lie. That’s why the Zosite and their servants can’t… but he’s leaving something out.

“And your cooperation with the Priory has nothing to do with the Zoscian?” I asked.

Chamael lifted his chin. “You speak of matters you do not understand, mortal. The Choir made a mistake to make you our hand. Your loyalties are too divided, your mind too full of doubts. The others will see with clear eyes in this matter soon enough.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

The seraph leaned forward, and the whole castle seemed to creak at that small movement. “Urddha has spoken to me of your new orders. She has asked me to abstain from interference, and I shall. I will stand back, and I will watch.”

He leaned forward close enough to whisper into my ear. “I will watch when you face Lias Hexer at the end, and balk instead of killing him. In that moment you will be proven false, and the Knights Penitent will take your place as our Doomsmen.”

He drifted back and seemed to float into a distant darkness, like the ceiling of the bedroom had become an empty night sky. “For now I will wait. When you fail, Alken Hewer, I will be there to deliver your sentence personally.”