Oathbreaker: A Tale of the Wilds

by R J Murray

  “Was there not another of your party?” Braphus asked after a short while.

  “Mia,” Elva said looking around and realising for the first time that she was gone.

  The minotaur rose to his feet, placing a hand against the wall that creaked as he rested his weight there a moment.

  “I shall go and find her. Is not safe out there.”

  “Hold, warrior,” Jochum said softly. “She is safe with a friend.”

  “Syn?” Elva asked and immediately berated herself. Who else could it be? She thought.

  “He will have taken her to the healer's house,” Jochum said and Elva relaxed visibly while Braphus looked at him, head tilted to the side. “Tis the house on the edge of the village. Inside, the sky at night is visible no matter the time of day.”

  “Pah, magic,” Braphus spat but seemed to accept that. He pressed his back against the wall and let himself slide back down to where he could rest.

  Jochum watched the minotaur, unsure of what he had just seen. A creature of the wilds, born of corruption and yet willing to go out into the storm that while not as dangerous within the confines of the village, could still harm him. All to find a human girl he did not even know.

  Always, when they had entered the wilds, they had been beset by countless waves of creature’s intent on harming them. Some had been more vicious than others and yet, whenever he had encountered the minotaur’s, they had held themselves honourably.

  It had struck him as strange on many occasions. While they would kill the humans they fought, if their opponent yielded or was too injured to continue, they were content to let them leave. The more Jochum thought about it, the more of a pattern in their behaviour he began to see.

  “Tell me of your people,” Jochum said softly, voice barely heard above the howling wind. “About the minotaur’s of the wilds.”

  “Why?”

  “It will pass the time and, perhaps, allow us a greater understanding of one another.”

  The minotaur stared at him for a time that stretched out uncomfortably before he shrugged his large shoulders.

  “Very well. I have no kin left to carry our story, you will do.”

  “Noaris,” Syn began. “Had ruled over these lands for thousands of years. She ruled wisely and well. Her magics soaked into the land, bringing bountiful crops that ensured no belly was ever empty. She was one of the most beloved of the ascendants and her name was known across all the world.”

  “My people were created by the eternal lady. She who ruled this place many lifetimes ago,” Braphus started, his voice roughened with pain and weariness. “To better serve the people she ruled, she raised up my own and gave us one task. To serve the land and its people.”

  “She cast her spells, working magics unlike any we can imagine these days. She had no need for armies but like many of the ascendants, she had servants aplenty to help her maintain her domain. Everything was well in the world and it was truly an age of wonders.”

  “My people farmed the land, our strength and size making us hard workers. We toiled for her, to please her for she was the mother of our race and we loved her deeply. Our people prospered, growing in number and spreading across these lands that we shared with the humans in peace.”

  “There was no want, no need, amongst her people until the thirteen ascendants formed their mad plan to fight the gods. Their leader ruled the land next to hers and in his desire for power, he did something terrible.”

  “Samel was her brother,” Braphus said. “Well respected by my people but not loved. One day, he committed a great evil, tearing apart his own lands and slaughtering those he was to protect. Many died but he became powerful and those he killed were raised from their rest to become an army of the dead.”

  “The other ascendants knew they had to stop him, and they tried, oh how they tried. But he was too powerful and joined with twelve others, raising armies unlike anything ever before seen. They came out of the blasted ruins of his own domain and sought to tear apart everything in their path.”

  “When the dead marched into our mothers’ lands, she gathered her children to her and gave us the will to fight. We were to be her protectors, her chosen warriors. It was the greatest of honours and we swore an eternal oath to obey her every command.”

  “The ascendants met in battle. Their armies fighting on the plains below while they fought above, their magics tearing the earth asunder and blackening the sky with their power. Despite the many good and wise ascendants facing them, the thirteen were too strong.”

  “Samel struck down our mother with a blade of fire, searing her flesh and sending her crashing to the ground. His undead forces pressed my people back, with every kill their numbers grew while ours dwindled. We knew that we could not win.”

  “Ascendants died that day, many of them struck down by the powers of the thirteen who dreamt of being gods. They drove back the other ascendants, forcing them to flee, leaving their dead brethren and Noaris, wounded unto death.”

  “My people, they carried her away from battle. Her blood stained their flesh, her screams of pain stole their hearing, sending them mad with grief. Many more of my kind stayed behind, holding back the enemy with their lives to give the others time to take our mother to safety.”

  “Some of her followers managed to spirit her away from the battle.” Syn paused as a particularly violent gust of wind tore at the shuttered windows. “They brought her here, to this very village and grieving for her, begged the healer to help.”

  “Our mother was dying. Some of my people, driven to madness, fled, seeking death on the battlefield rather than face a world without her. Those that stayed by her side did all they could to help her, to no avail.”

  “The healer did the best he could, calling on all of his skill and knowledge but there was nothing he could do. Finally, he admitted defeat.” Syn licked his lips and flipped through the journal’s pages. “Here, he describes her final words.”

  “Knowing her death was near, she gave my people one last command.” Braphus paused, squeezing shut his eyes as though he could feel the pain of her passing. “It was a command that my people obey to this very day.”

  “Another ascendant, fleeing the battle sensed her impending death and stopped by this place. The healer speaks of the two beings so close in power to the gods, sitting together in this very room, speaking almost silently until she died.”

  “Her words empower us, give us the strength to continue on when all seems lost. The fight is not over and will never be until her last command has been obeyed.”

  “The ascendant, grieving for the loss of one he had known and loved for millennia, cast his spells. The statue was raised with a word, honouring her life and a spell was cast over the village to keep it safe, as thanks for the help the people had provided her. Finally, he created a hole in reality, showing a night sky in a place where it should not be and taking her in his arms, he rose into the heavens and disappeared.”

  “W-what were the words?” Jochum asked as the minotaur fell silent. “What was her command?”

  “To protect the people and the lands she loved. To stop the corruption and the evil it creates from spreading across the world.” Braphus paused, his eyes heavy with sleep and looked at the warrior with such sorrow Jochum felt his heart might just break. “We have fought it for a thousand years and while our numbers are now so few, we still fight on, hoping to one day fulfil our mother's last command.”

  Chapter 27

  Kristdor skidded to a stop on the slick cobbles, his mind refusing for a moment to understand what he was seeing. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it before drawing his short sword.

  “Stay where you are, constable.”

  Constable Asa’s lips stretched wide in a mocking smile as she pulled the priestess closer to her. The watch-house door slammed shut behind her.

  “Captain.”

  “It was you… Why?”

  “For reasons you wouldn’t understand.” She pulled the prieste
ss closer and flashed another mocking grin at the captain and his sister. “You, mage, I will remember. You hurt me!”

  In answer, Vala threw out her hands and a spear of air that glowed with fire flew out as though fired by a musket. Asa swayed to the side, not even bothering to move her feet and the fiery missile struck the doors behind her, bursting into flame.

  “Not so easy when I am ready for you,” she mocked.

  A clatter of boots on cobbles announced the imminent arrival of more constables and Asa gripped the priestess tight, bent her legs and propelled herself upwards with enough force to launch her to the top of the watch-house roof, sending the roosting ravens flying squawking away.

  She stayed there a moment and then was gone, leaving Kristdor and his sister staring upwards futilely.

  “Corruption take her! I liked her!” Kristdor snapped.

  “We’ve no chance of following,” Vala said as the constables arrived in force.

  “I know that! You!” He pointed at a serjeant. “Get everyone spread out, I want this entire district covered in watchmen. That creature must be found!”

  The serjeant saluted and began barking orders to the constables as Kristdor turned back to the watch-house doors. He knew what he would find within, two squads, dead. He clenched his fists and sucked in a deep breath.

  “Cast every spell, summon every thrice damned priest and soothsayer in the city! I want them found!”

  “It will be done, brother.”

  Not only had he lost more watchmen in a single seven-day period than any other watch captain had ever lost in a lifetime, but he had captured the malevolent mind behind the killings and then let her escape. He would be lucky if it was just his warrant of office that was taken from him by the city lords.

  His career, such as it was, was over. Dismissed in disgrace and likely a pariah amongst the noble born of the city while the common folk would see their chance to take out their frustrations on him since he would no longer have the power of the city watch behind him.

  No, he was done. The one last, good, thing that he could do would be to capture her and end the killings once and for all. After that, he would leave the city in disgrace, sparing his mother and sister the shame of his presence.

  Vala, sensing his thoughts and knowing too well how his mind worked, placed a hand gently on his arm.

  “We’ll find her, brother.”

  “I know,” he whispered.

  A constable snapped to attention beside him and he turned his head to face the familiar man. Constable Snorri was almost an institution in the watch. He’d been at the watch-house for so long that no one else was there who could say they remembered his arrival.

  His nose was crooked, having been broken so many times before that not even he could tell what it had originally looked like. Sunken eye-sockets above sharp cheekbones and an angular jaw with thin wisps of coppery hair sprouting from the chin.

  When he removed his helmet, the same coloured hair could be found around the back and sides, leaving a leathery dome rising over it. His armour hadn’t seen polish in years and even the leather-wrapped hilt of his sword was cracked with age.

  “Sir.”

  “What is it, constable?”

  “Er, I, erm…”

  “Spit it out man, this is hardly the time for dithering!”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  The man looked miserable as he reached beneath his breastplate and into his coat pocket, pulling his hand out moments later holding an envelope that had not fared well in his pocket. He held it out to the captain who took it with a look of mild distaste, holding it with two fingers.

  Kristdor didn’t need to know who it was from as he saw the red embossed wax with his own family seal in it. A formal letter from his mother then and that meant official city business, which would mean nothing at all good.

  “Are you going to open it?” Vala asked, eyeing the seal as one would a poisonous snake.

  “There is little point. I know what it will say and since mother sent it herself, I am done.”

  “You can’t know that unless you open it!”

  He gave her a look that raised a little colour in her cheeks and thrust the letter towards her. “Open the thrice-damned thing yourself then. I have a killer to find.”

  Kristdor stalked off, gesturing with a brusque wave of his hand for constable Snorri to follow. The man scurried along behind the taller captain, glancing back uncertainly. He too knew what the letter likely contained, and he wasn’t entirely certain he should still be following the captain’s orders.

  Priests were summoned to deal with the dead constables and squads of watchmen moved through the city looking for anything that might be a sign of the killer and its master. Apprentice mages went with them, casting their spells and looking for an aura of powerful magic in a city that had little of it.

  Vala caught up with Kristdor in the early hours of the morning, dark circles beneath her eyes the only sign of the strain she was under, her body barely recovered from the wounds she had received at the killer’s hands.

  Together they searched with little success and it was as the first light of dawn shone over the city walls that the bodies were found. An entire family in the slums, their bodies drained of life and faces blank.

  A city that had been tense and full of fear for two seven-days was no longer willing to stand for their people dying. They had little faith in the watch or the city lords and with most of those watchmen out scouring the city, no one to stop them from doing as they pleased.

  The riots started almost immediately.

  ****

  Amina pressed herself against the cold stone of the wall, trying to ease herself upright in the pitch black she found herself in. Her hands, she had found, were still bound with the iron shackles of the watch.

  Sometime during the flight across the rooftops, the constable had reached over with one hand and rapped her sharply on her skull. Unconsciousness had been almost instant and as a result, she had no idea where she was. Just that she was alone, in the dark and the cold.

  It had all happened so fast that she had not really had time to accept the deaths of the faithful in the temple. Alone, there in the dark, she could think of nothing else and tears threatened to come. She shook her head, repeating a prayer for the dead, trying to picture the faces of each of those brothers and sisters of the temple as she did so.

  She drew strength from the anger that burned within her at their murder, at the desecration of a sanctuary, a place devoted to her goddess. Once she finished her prayers for the dead, she reached out for her goddess, feeling the need for the strength and the love she would find there.

  In millennia past, in another age, the gods had taken physical form and walked amongst their children. They had used their power freely and wisely. That had ended when they retreated from the world and all they could do since was work through their chosen faithful.

  Unfortunately for Amina, that power her goddess did provide was little use for escaping a monster that had her in its clutches. The goddess Ysnir was very much in favour of the faithful managing on their own as best they could.

  It was part of what had originally drawn her to the goddess. That independence demanded of those who worshipped her. There was no blind faith with the goddess.

  Amina pressed her back against the wall and pushed herself to her feet. She couldn’t see anything in the darkness, but moving slowly, her back against the wall, she was able to trace out a rough idea of the size of the room. It was not small.

  Easily the size of the great hall where services were performed in her own temple, the room was cold, damp and empty of anything. In her tentative walks across the room, she had encountered several stone pillars which told her one thing. She was underground.

  That gave her some insight into where she was, and it was not a pleasant thought.

  A creak came from the far corner and something dropped lightly to the stone floor. Their feet made soft sounds as they moved, and she cou
ld hear the sound of a sheathed blade being drawn.

  She let out a yelp as a match burst to light before her very eyes and a low chuckle came from constable Asa.

  “Mistress,” came the mocking greeting. “I trust you awoke refreshed and ready to do what my master requires?”

  There was a smell of fresh blood on the woman’s clothes and Amina took a step back as Asa lit a lantern. Once lit, the light didn’t touch the far walls and she grimaced, realising she was right about where they were.

  “What makes you think I will do as you ask?”

  “My master told me to tell you that Jochum lives, for the moment.”

  Amina gasped at that, eyes going round as she stared at the killer. “You lie!”

  “No.”

  Just that, a simple denial that almost made Amina believe she was telling the truth. Almost.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “That is up to you. My master would have you know that he lied to you to ensure you did not attend your gathering.”

  “Why?”

  She shook her head, disbelief writ large on her face as she struggled to think of a reason why he would do that to her. What purpose would it serve other than to ensure they could not possibly fulfil their oath.

  By that one act, he would be dooming the world to an unending darkness that even he would not survive. The oath they had made was clear and by keeping her from meeting with her old friends, all he had done was ensure his own death.

  “That is not my concern. I simply obey.”

  “It matters not. I will not do as you ask but even if I would, I have not the power. It would take the strength of many of the faithful to give me that power.” Her words caught for a moment and she had to swallow hard before she could continue. “You have made sure that cannot happen.”