Oathbreaker: A Dark Fantasy Web Serial

Arc 4: Chapter 10: Hollow

Arc 4: Chapter 10: Hollow

I don’t know how long I knelt there on the floor, staring at the empty patch of wood where the boy I’d failed so badly had experienced his last, terrible moments. I heard the floorboards creak behind me after some time.

“Alken?” Emma’s voice. She spoke hesitantly.

I stood and turned. My squire looked up at me, and when she saw my face her own fell. She reached out and grabbed my arm.

“You fought as hard as you could,” she told me. “This was that thing, not you.”

She was right. And wrong. If I’d slain Yith Golonac in Caelfall, none of this would have happened. Dozens would have been spared. If I’d stopped the traitor knights eleven years ago, countless thousands would still be alive.

If I’d listened to Fidei…

No. That way lay madness. Yith was her kinsman. In any case, I'd gone far past avoiding blame.

I said none of that. Instead, hearing myself as though at a distance I said, “I promised Laessa I’d save him.”

“You spared him further pain,” Lias said from nearby. “He was lost to us the moment Yith infested his corpse, which happened many nights ago.”

I felt the pain, the self-loathing, the rage. I pushed it all down.

“You will find it,” I told Lias. Not a question.

Lias stared at me a long moment, then nodded. “I will.”

I took a deep breath. “And you will speak with Rosanna.”

Lias scoffed. “She will have me thrown into a dungeon!”

“She may,” I agreed, glaring. “You will speak with her, and accept her judgment. And you will ward the palace against that thing. You brought me into this, Li. Time to be part of it yourself.”

Lias winced as I met his eyes, averting his gaze. “I will ward the palace. And…" He spat out a curse, his expression darkening with frustration. "I will speak with Rose after the summit.”

I nodded, accepting the compromise. Lias had never bended easily. “I will hold you to it.”

No more of everyone acting the rogue. We would pull together, or Garihelm would turn into another Elfgrave.

I would not allow it.

“Let’s go,” I said to Emma, turning to the exit.

“Wait,” Lias said. I turned and caught the magus dismissing his minions, sending them from utter stillness into a flurry of movement as they skittered into the corners of the room. Some had been destroyed, and most damaged, torn or scorched by abyssal fire.

Lias walked to one of the ruined tables, knelt, and picked up something off the ground. He approached me and handed it over.

“This is everything I’ve managed to compile over the last eight years. I started near the end of the war, and collected scraps where I could.” He shrugged, not meeting my eyes.

“What is it?” I asked, taking the book and frowning. It was a small thing, innocuous, with a cover of black leather and a soft spine. A journal more than a tome.

Lias watched me a moment, not quite meeting my eyes. I sensed his hesitation, especially in the way his hand lingered on the book, holding it between us.

“Answers, maybe.” His one eye went to the left side of my face, fixing on the long lines of scar there. I understood, and almost dropped the book as though it were covered in spiders.

“Best to arm yourself with knowledge,” he said. “It’s the way of the Magi... And of the Alder Knight.”

He let go of the book. I didn’t drop it. Emma only frowned at us, confused.

“I need to get the place cleaned up,” Lias said. “Make sure Yith didn’t leave any nasty surprises behind when he fled. It would be like him, to hide bits of himself in the walls." He frowned at the mess of his study, idly clicking his tongue before continuing. "Come back and speak with me in a few days. In the meantime, I’ll look into Anselm of Ruon.”

I nodded. The enigmatic artist was our next best lead. I didn’t know how he connected to all of this, but I had a strong suspicion he did.

I sensed there was more. Lias continued to hesitate, on the verge of speaking. Then, sighing and shaking his head with a small smile, he nodded to the door. “That passage will take you out near the palace. I am glad we didn’t kill one another.”

“I as well,” I said, my voice rough. “See you around, Li.”

The thin man turned and walked into the depths of his ruined study, the shadows seeming to swallow him. I felt like he still hid something from me, but wizards would have their secrets.

We returned to the Queen-Consort’s bastion barely a few hours before nightfall. After being admitted and waiting a time, one of the older men-at-arms brought me to Rosanna’s study. Ser Kaia stood guard outside, and gave me a distant nod which I returned.

When I walked in, I found the Empress sitting by a lit hearth. In the upper reaches of the great fortress, a chill persisted year round. My queen sat on a high backed chair, almost a throne, and her youngest son sat at her feet. His eyes went to me as I walked inside.

Darsus Silvering looked so much like his mother as to be uncanny in resemblance. I placed him near five years old, and he had Rosanna’s raven black hair, her gemstone green eyes. He was darker of complexion, hinting at his father’s blood, but I couldn’t help but see her in the narrow lines of his face, his small mouth and intelligent eyes.

They weren’t a young child’s eyes. They seemed very aware, intent with hidden thought. I’d seen such before. The higher nobility cultivated strong aura, and even at a young age the wills and thoughts of their ancestors could linger in their spirit. It usually gave them access to powerful Art, if they chose to awaken it. More commonly, it meant they matured in mind faster than body.

Emma had probably been just as eerily aware at that age. A disturbing thought.

I didn’t see Darsus’s older brother, the Forger heir. They’d taken on different surnames to ensure the survival of both great houses. I imagined Malcolm spent more time with his father as a result.

Darsus leapt up, much more like a child in that motion, and hid behind his mother’s skirts.

I dipped my head gravely to them. “Your Grace. Young lord.”

Rosanna hid a smile in a turn of her head. “Time for bed, Darsus. It is getting late.”

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She waved, and a maid hurried over from the corner of the room to usher the boy out. His green eyes kept drifting to me as he went.

“I wish I had more time for them,” Rosanna said wistfully after the door had closed. “My parents left servants to raise me — It’s the norm. But I want them to remember their mother’s voice, and not just in lessons of state.”

“Stories?” I asked.

She nodded. “When I have time. Malcolm is getting old enough to act as my lord husband’s page, and I see him less often these days.”

Much more of her time had been taken up by the approaching summit, I knew. More guests arrived every day. Outside her section of the palace, the halls teemed with lords, merchants, servants, and dignitaries of all sorts.

“You’re injured again,” the Empress said, the calm fading behind her royal masque.

I grunted. “I found Yith.”

She stood, placing a hand to the rounded belly not quite hidden behind a layered dress of pale blue and white, and walked around the tall chair. “Tell me.”

I’d been considering what exactly to tell her during the entire trip back to the palace. I hadn’t reached a decision until that very moment. I told her all of it, including how Lias had been involved. I watched my queen's expression grow colder throughout my account.

“The Emperor will have him in chains for this,” she said in a low, hard voice I'd heard before and learned to be wary of. “Interfering with agents in the very city from which he’d been banished, attacking them, keeping a private sanctum within sight of the palace.”

“I’m your agent, am I?” I asked. Perhaps my caution had frayed from so many years alone.

She turned her anger on me. “Yes. Do you deny it?”

I tread on dangerous ground. I’d seen this sort of mood before. It rarely went anywhere good. More, I’d set a precedent by essentially telling her I still felt more loyalty to her than anyone else, during our first meeting that night I’d been rescued from the Inquisition.

I felt I should deal with this now, but I didn’t trust myself to stay calm and reasonable just then.

Hurts, hurts, hurts, hurts—

I took a deep breath and said, “I am on your side, Your Grace.”

Rosanna glared at me, then made her own visible effort to calm herself. She turned her back on me and walked toward the window, perhaps using the colder air in that section of the room to chill her anger.

“Why should I not have you drag him back here to face judgment?” She asked bitterly.

For one thing, I thought, because I’m not sure I’d obey. And if I did, I’m not sure any of us would ever recover from it, or forgive one another.

Aloud I said, “because he’s still on our side. If he hadn’t interfered, Yith might have revealed himself in a situation where I couldn’t trap or fight him as easily. As it is, he might have saved my life, or yours. Or your family’s.”

“Don’t hold my family’s safety over my head like it makes what Lias has done right,” Rosanna shot back. “I am growing very tired of his scheming. He is my vassal, my liegeman. I cannot have my hands acting independently!”

I shrugged and said, “Wizards.”

Rosanna scoffed. “So I should do nothing?”

I moved to stand in the center of the room. “I think you should wait. He’s agreed to speak to you when this is done.”

“He is banished!” Rosanna hissed. “He should not be speaking to me, or even within fifty miles of this city. If I leave him be, I am complicit. That is how the lords will see it. That is how the emperor will see it.”

I didn’t say anything. I’d extended the offer. It was up to them to work it out, or not.

Rosanna muttered something I didn’t catch, then turned to look at me. “So, this demon… You wounded it?”

“Badly,” I confirmed. “It’s not dead, but it won’t be a threat until it recovers. In the meantime, I want to investigate this man Kieran mentioned, Anselm.”

“I’ve heard the name,” Rosanna mused, tilting her chin up in thought. “It’s been spreading in many circles lately. I admit, I’ve paid little attention to the art movements. I’ve been told it is a good sign to have such an interest in beauty during hard times, but I’ve been distracted by all this bloody politicking.”

She waved a hand to her cluttered desk, then sighed and placed her hands on its surface, her brow furrowed. “Do you think this master artist is some sort of warlock?”

I shrugged. “I’d need to meet the man to be sure.”

She nodded. “Have it done, however you need. I give you leave to deal with the matter of the Carmine Killer as you see fit.”

I took that as a dismissal, bowed, and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Rosanna asked. Not a challenge — I only heard curiosity in her voice.

“I watched an innocent die today,” I said. “And broke a promise to the woman he loved. I need to face that.”

Rosanna’s voice was softer when she spoke again. “You should rest, too.”

I ran a thumb over the first joint of my right forefinger in old habit. “Probably.”

But I doubted I would.

I found Lady Laessa in the same comfortably furnished guest room as before. She sat on a chair by the window, staring out over the city with a remote expression. The last rays of daylight peaking through the clouds lit her face, giving it a serene aspect.

I moved to the center of the room and stood there for a full minute, trying to find words. Laessa found her own first.

“Did he suffer?” She asked, her voice surprisingly calm.

I started, surprised. “How did—”

Her tired eyes, red from crying, drifted to me without truly seeming to see me. “I knew where this would end, Ser Alken. He was dead before he came to my room last night.”

Had that really only been last night? I hadn’t slept since, and yet it felt like a very long time.

I considered lying, and couldn’t bring myself to. “Yes.”

Laessa closed her eyes. “Is he still suffering?”

I bowed my head. “I do not think so.” Then, with too much haste I added, “I hurt the thing that killed him. I will destroy it.”

A pointless boast. It wouldn’t do anything to ease the girl’s pain.

The young noble’s lips pressed together, not quite quickly enough to hide a tremble. “This is my fault.”

I shook my head. “There wasn’t anything you—”

“It,” Laessa cut me off, “is my fault.”

I took that in a moment before speaking. “I don’t understand.”

She drew in a shuddering breath. Her shoulders had hunched, and the hands she poised on her lap were clasped very tightly. “He killed himself because of me, not because of this monster.”

“Laessa…” I shook my head again, exasperated despite Rosanna’s warning. “My lady, this is not something you can blame yourself for. It’s my fault. I failed you both. I swore to bring him back to you.”

“There wasn’t anything to bring back!” She let out a choked sob. “I ended things between us before he died.”

I frowned, but didn’t interrupt.

“I knew it wouldn’t work,” Laessa said, bowing her head. She had started to cry, silently, her dark eyes glinting with tears. “Us. He worked so hard to make himself… Worthy. He wanted to become famous, enough to marry me. He called me his muse.”

She let out a muted laughed and wiped some of her tears away. “He dedicated so much of himself to me, but it never mattered. My family would never have allowed it. I will marry a lord, and my children will be of the Blood. I have a responsibility to my family, a duty. I told him all of this.”

Her voice turned hollow. “I told him he could paint a thousand masterworks, and it would not change anything. I told him that I never wanted to see him again.”

She met my eyes. Her own seemed very empty. “I killed him. I broke his heart, and your monster crawled into the hole I left. It is my fault.”

I didn’t know what to say. Outside, the sun set. When the girl began to weep in earnest, I left her to her grief in that darkening room.

When I exited the room, I found Emma waiting in the hall outside. She leaned against a pilaster, her arms folded. She’d changed her shirt since the fight with Yith, and I could make out the hint of bandages at her neck.

I jerked my head down the hall and we began to walk. We went a ways in silence. A few guards the Empress had posted nodded to me, some murmuring “Headsman” in greeting.

Strange. They didn’t mean it as my formal title, the Headsman of Seydis. They still saw me as Rosanna’s Headsman, the First Sword of Karles. The older men-at-arms still remembered me. It gave me mixed feelings.

Emma broke our silence three hallways on. “She is a fool.”

I grunted. “How’s that?”

I realized, when I glanced at her, that Emma’s face had gone pale with rage.

“What is power if you let it be a cage?” She said, almost seething. “She could have married that boy and been happy. He could have found wealth and influence regardless of his birth. If she did not love him, then she should have accepted that and not made pretty excuses.”

She came to a sudden halt. I walked several more feet before turning. Emma clenched her hands into fists, glaring at some point past me. After a moment, she met my eyes.

“It is her fault he’s dead.”

“Kieran had his own agency,” I said. “He could have realized their situation himself, rather than getting caught up in a fantasy. Laessa sacrificed love for duty. There is honor in that.”

“Honor,” Emma scoffed. “She dishonored Kieran by treating him like a toy. Now she has the gall to weep and take the burden of his death on herself after discarding him?" Her lips curled into a sneer. "It makes me sick.”

I felt sick too, though not quite for the same reasons.

Hurts, hurts, hurts, hurts, it hurts—

Kieran's final words wouldn't stop circling my thoughts.

“What’s next?” Emma asked after she’d matched my pace. “Hunt down Yith?”

“He’ll have gone to ground,” I said. “And he won’t be a threat in his state, not for a while. Lias is investigating this artist Kieran mentioned, Anselm of Ruon. It will take some time before he has anything for me.”

Emma frowned. “What’s next then?”

Outside, thunder rumbled as a fresh storm made its approach.

“The Onsolain have been far too quiet through all of this." I stopped by a window and glanced out at the darkening sky. "It’s time to contact the Choir.”