Oathbreaker: A Tale of the Wilds

by R J Murray

  “Aye, that was it,” Jochum agreed, his face darkening at mention of the priestess.

  “Won’t they still be there then?”

  “Nay, lass. Nothing stays still in the wilds for long. If you do, something bigger and nastier will come along and eat you up.”

  She gave a small shiver at that thought and pulled her cloak tighter around herself, though it afforded little real protection.

  “The ruins are all around the wilds,” Syn added. “The village ahead is well preserved compared to many, but they built things to last back then. The city of Elara is still impressive, infested as it is with imps.”

  She had no idea what city he meant but she nodded anyway. Every day she spent in the wilds she learnt something new about it and most of it scared her more than she would like to admit. She had decided to stay with the company for the adventure it would give her and a chance to earn a life away from being a serving girl in an inn.

  At no point had she considered just how dangerous the wilds were. She’d heard tales of them, of course, but she’d always thought they were just overblown to add excitement. After a small blue flower had tried to bite her not long after leaving the airship, she’d realised that wasn’t the case.

  They set off, following the way Elva had led them, each keeping a wary eye out for danger. They’d not gone far before Elva met them, shaking her head and gesturing them back.

  “What is it?”

  “Minotaur,” she said, face grim.

  Mia looked at the others, wondering at their reactions and wondered if she should ask, but not quite wanting to know the answer she might receive. She didn’t need to, as Syn decided to tell her anyway.

  “You’ve heard of minotaur’s, yes?”

  “Yeah, the tale of Gya and the labyrinth had a minotaur in it.”

  “Aye, well, don’t expect it to be like a tail-tellers yarn,” he said. “the average minotaur is about the same size as our big friend over there.”

  Mia looked across at the warrior who stood head and shoulders above her and swallowed the sudden fear.

  “Probably have the same amount of muscle too,” the thief mused. “They walk upright like a man but have the head of a bull with thick horns that I’ve seen pierce a man clean through.”

  “Hot tempered as a bull too,” Wynn said with a chuckle. “Get them mad enough and they will charge with no thought for the dangers.”

  “All true enough,” Jochum added. “But I’ve fought one before and know from experience they can be canny fighters and tough to boot.”

  “What should we do then?” Elva asked. “To go around the village will add two days journey at least and two more days of danger.”

  “Unlike most other monsters that infest these lands,” Jochum said carefully. “The minotaur are almost civilised. They understand honour and usually travel in their family groups. If this one’s alone, it’s because he’s lost his clan to war or disease.”

  “Or he’s been cast out for being too violent,” Syn muttered and the warrior nodded agreement.

  “True enough. But it’s worth a risk.”

  “What is?” Mia asked in a small voice, not really understanding what the others seemed to be speaking of.

  “The big fool is going to challenge it to combat,” Wynn said with a chuckle.

  Chapter 24

  The village looked much like any other, Mia thought. A cluster of houses set around an open space that would have been the village green. There was a stone built well in the centre and all of the houses were built of the same grey river stone, with sagging, moss-covered roofs of wooden tile.

  While the windows were empty of glass, and doors hung from hinges, it still looked like the place had been abandoned just a decade or more ago. From what the others had said it was well over a thousand years old though.

  She gripped her source stone, feeling the warmth of the light that glowed within it and stared around. Magical webs covered everything, their weavings too intricate for the eye to follow let alone to unravel.

  Some great spell had been cast over the village all those centuries ago, slowing times effects and preserving the village to some degree. She wasn’t sure why it had been cast but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been done deliberately.

  The spell work was just too intricate to be accidental. The others though, didn’t seem too curious, seeing just another part of the wilds. One that was as dangerous as any other, or perhaps more so for it encouraged monsters to gather there.

  Wynn readied his regents, fingers weaving a slow spell web while Elva watched the buildings they passed, arrow nocked and ready to be loosed in an instant. Mia looked back and realised that Syn had disappeared, his leaving so silent that she had not noticed.

  She opened her mouth to tell the others but caught a flash of light glinting off a blade in the corner of her eye and turned to see the grinning thief holding a finger up to his lips before sheathing his blade and vanishing into the shadows between the houses.

  Jochum stopped at the edge of the village green, a patch of land that had resisted the corruption, the waist-high grass being a normal mix of greens and yellows, the weeds just the usual daffodils and the like.

  It must be part of the spell she realised, preserving the grass as it had the houses. No matter the cause she could have almost wept at the sight of something that wouldn’t try to kill her just for walking through it.

  “I am Jochum, of Rheirus and I challenge any worthy warrior to combat.”

  His voice was overly loud in the still air and was answered with a bellow that set the fanged birds in the trees to flight. Mia stepped a little closer to the others and clutched her dagger tightly as the owner of that bellow stepped out from between the houses.

  Easily as tall as Jochum if not taller, it had broad shoulders and a chest as wide as Wynn and arms bigger that Mia’s waist. He wore a rough leather loincloth and sandals of the same hide. Its skin was a golden bronze and thick hair covered the chest.

  The head was that of a bull with foot long horns that sprouted from either side, stretching out and then turning up to form sharp points. There was an intelligence in those bovine eyes that shouldn’t have been there and in its hand, it held a crude iron, double-bladed axe with a handle as tall as Mia.

  She swallowed hard and resisted the urge to take a step back, which was immediately followed by an urge to turn and run for her life.

  “Braphus,” the minotaur said in a voice like boulders rolling down a hill.

  “No clan,” Elva muttered. “That’s not a good sign.”

  “My clan is gone,” Braphus said, voice weary and full of old pain. “My mate and younglings’ food for the basilisks. Speak of it once more and I shall water the earth with your blood.”

  Something inside of Mia ached for him. With just those few words he was no longer a monster to be feared but someone to weep with. As she looked at him anew, she saw the grey in the mane of hair that ran from the top of his head and down his back.

  The many scars, old and new, that covered his body. Some of those newest were covered with crude poultices that did little to hide the fact that they were full of infection. Sorrow wreathed him like a cloak and there was a sense of loss about him.

  “I will pray for those you have lost,” Jochum said in a tone of calm respect.

  He was speaking, Mia realised, not as a man to a monster, but as one warrior to another. The minotaur acknowledged his words with a slight incline of his head.

  “What is it you want here, human?”

  “We seek to pass through, no more.”

  “I cannot allow that to be.”

  “Bah, send an arrow to the cow’s heart and be done,” Wynn snapped. “We have no time for this.”

  Braphus merely looked his way and lifted the axe as easily in one hand as Mia did her dagger. A sure sign of his strength and a threat implied.

  “You will die before the arrow strikes me.”

  Jochum turned to scowl a warning at
the mage before looking back at minotaur and raising one hand placatingly.

  “Do not heed his foolish words. We seek to pass through and mean no harm to you.”

  “I cannot allow that.”

  “Then speak and tell us why.”

  “The last of my clan rest in this place. While I live, none shall disturb them.” The minotaur paused, raising snout to the sky and sniffing the air. “I will not harm you should you leave here now, but leave you must, and soon. A storm grows to the east.”

  “Forgive me, brave warrior,” Jochum said softly, voice tinged with sorrow. “We must go through this village.”

  “As you wish.”

  Braphus raised his axe and set his feet, bracing himself as he leant forward, ready to swing. Jochum gestured for the others to move back and raised his own sword.

  “As one warrior to another, know that my friends shall not interfere in this fight.”

  The words were spoken to the minotaur, but Mia was pretty sure they were intended for Wynn as much as anyone.

  “You are brave, human. I shall bury you with my clan.”

  That was the only warning Jochum had as the minotaur set off at a fast dash towards him. The axe was raised and brought down in an arc before him, as the warrior leapt to the side, falling into a roll and coming up in a crouch, sword still in hand.

  Jochum ducked another mighty swing and struck back with his sword, cutting the thick skin of the minotaur’s side. He bellowed his rage and pulled the axe back, catching Jochum with a glancing blow that tore several of the metal disks from his armour and sent him spinning away.

  The warrior recovered quickly, circling the minotaur, seeking an opening. Braphus turned with him, the axe seemingly weightless in his hand. Mia held her breath, fearing for the brave warrior and to her surprise, the minotaur too.

  Jochum darted in, sword moving lightning fast to score another blow on the minotaur. It huffed and narrowed its eyes as it watched him, shaking its shaggy head from side to side as its anger mounted.

  The axe slammed into the dirt bare inches from the quick-footed warrior who leapt forward, sword raised and flew several feet to crash into the dirt as the minotaur, expecting the move, caught him with a swift backhanded blow.

  Braphus pulled the axe free of the dirt and crossed to where the warrior lay in the mud, shaking his head to clear it. His sword lay several feet beyond his reach and blood leaked from a clearly broken nose.

  “Help him!” Mia called, and Elva shook her head.

  “Nay, child. Tis a duel of honour.”

  “Honour be damned,” the mage snapped throwing his hand out.

  A burst of air swept the minotaur off of his feet with its force and the mage gave an evil grin as he began to cast a second spell. An arrow buried itself in the dirt at his feet and he looked over to where Elva was drawing another.

  “Have you no honour?”

  “Honour is for the foolish and the dead,” Wynn snarled back.

  “Then know this, you interfere again, and my next arrow will be through your neck and consequences be damned.”

  Wynn snarled but lowered his hand and settled for sulking, eyes glittering from beneath his hood. Elva turned back to the minotaur who was pushing himself to his feet.

  “My apologies, warrior. There will be no more interference.”

  The minotaur merely snorted a reply and went to retrieve his axe. Jochum, meanwhile, had climbed to his feet and picked up his own sword. He scowled at the mage but turned his attention back to the minotaur as it came at him.

  He staggered a little but ducked the first blow and then deflected the next with his sword. The third tore away the pauldrons on his left shoulder and he backed away. There was a grim determination on his face as the minotaur lumbered after him.

  When it raised the axe for its next swing, he dashed in, lowering his shoulder and hitting it in the midriff with all his weight behind it. Braphus grunted and doubled over, the axe hitting the ground as the large warrior spun away from him and caught him across the back of his knee with the sword.

  Braphus didn’t cry out or beg and plead, he just went down on one knee, blood leaking from the wounds Jochum had inflicted and looked him straight in the eye.

  “Finish it, human.”

  Jochum raised his sword high and then hesitated, staring into the proud minotaur’s eyes. He stepped back, lowering the sword and shaking his head before sheathing it.

  “You are beaten. I declare victory and will pass through this place.” He paused and then added, “we shall stay on the path and not disturb your fallen kin.”

  The minotaur lowered his head, nostrils flaring as he breathed hot air and shook his shaggy head. His weary sorrow was palpable, and it was Elva who next spoke. She lowered her bow and reached into her pack, pulling free a small round-bottomed bottle with a crimson fluid within.

  She approached the fallen minotaur and unstoppered the bottle. “Hold still,” she ordered as it lifted its head to look at her.

  “Are you mad woman! That potion cost five gold pieces!”

  Elva ignored the mage as she splashed a little of the glittering crimson fluid onto each of the minotaur’s wounds and then handed the bottle to him.

  “Drink,” she ordered.

  Braphus gave her a look that Mia couldn’t quite understand though the ranger seemed to as she knelt down beside him, the bottle still offered in her outstretched hand.

  “It is no dishonour to live on.”

  “I have nothing left to live for.”

  “While we draw breath there is always something to live for,” she countered.

  The minotaur grunted but reached for the bottle. It was tiny in his huge hand and he swallowed the contents in one gulp, pulling a face which was odd indeed on his bovine countenance.

  “My thanks,” Braphus said. “For the reminder that not all in this place seeks to kill my people.”

  Elva reached out and pressed her hand briefly on the minotaur’s arm before rising to her feet.

  “We should go.”

  “No.”

  Braphus raised his hand and behind him, Jochum half drew his sword, expecting a fight but the minotaur simply held his hand out.

  “There is a storm on its way. I can smell it on the wind and you do not want to be caught out in it. Rest here for the night and leave in the morning once it passes.”

  “We would not intrude on your grief,” Jochum said softly. “The storm can be weathered.”

  “But not without some pain,” Braphus said with the bovine version of a grin. “Come, help me up and I will show you a place you can rest.”

  Wynn grumbled but it seemed that even he didn’t wish to be caught outside in a storm and Mia, wondered at how bad it could be considering it had been raining slimy water since she had stepped off the airship.

  Together, they managed to help the minotaur to his feet. Up close he had a musky odour reminiscent of old earth and leather. He directed them to one of the larger village houses that he had clearly been staying in himself.

  He’d fixed the roof as best he could to stop water seeping in, packing it with some crude thatch and covered over the windows with heavy squares of leather that he’d nailed in place. Mia wondered at where he had found the nails or even the iron for the axe and added it to her list of questions she intended to ask the thief when he returned.

  Inside the house was almost cosy. The furniture had long been destroyed by one of the many creatures that had taken up residence in the village over the centuries, but a fire had been built in the hearth and an iron pot hung on a hook above it, the contents bubbling away merrily.

  Despite her misgivings at the thought of the types of things the minotaur would consider food, she couldn’t help the rumble in her belly at the delightful odour that rose from the pot.

  They let the minotaur down to sit against the wall and unrolled their bedrolls. None of them seemed concerned that Braphus would attack them in the night which was bizarre indeed to the former s
erving girl.

  She resolved to ask about it as soon as she could but was distracted by a tap on her shoulder. She gave a little yelp and spun to face the thief who grinned at her response.

  “Come with me,” he said in a low voice. “You’ll want to see this.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply as he stepped back outside the house and with a look back at the others who seemed to have not noticed the thief’s return, she followed him.

  Chapter 25

  The priest laid his hands against Vala’s wounds and whispered a prayer. Golden light spilt from between his fingers and the mage let out a gasp as the power worked its way through her, knitting together the skin and flesh that had been torn apart by the killer’s claws.

  Kristdor knelt on the cobbles, her hand clutched tightly in his own as he sent a silent prayer of his own. It likely wouldn’t do anything to help but it wouldn’t hinder either and right then, he badly needed to be doing something.

  “Nothing, sir,” the serjeant said, breath coming in gasps. He’d run straight back to the waiting watch captain after leading his squad through the twisting streets in search of the killer. To little avail.

  How could you find a killer who could change their face to look like anyone they pleased? That was the question that plagued Kristdor and he could give no answer, no matter how long he dwelt on it.

  Still, he had to be seen to be doing something lest the people let their fear become anger and then he would have a truly difficult time of it. With the anger would come riots and that would bring more people dying.

  “Get every spare man and woman of the watch and have them out searching.”

  “For what, sir?”

  The serjeant's puzzled look set Kristdor’s teeth on edge and he sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm himself before snapping at the man. Was no fault of his and when all was said and done, the goodwill of the watchmen was pretty much all Kristdor had left.

  “Blood,” Vala said and both men turned to her. “The creature was hurt and leaking blood. Go to the college and tell master Thorey to gather as many light orbs as she can find. Then rouse the apprentices.”