Oathbreaker: A Tale of the Wilds

by R J Murray

  “Yer berries will be fine, man. Remember this next time you swing a club at me!”

  “That will be enough, corporal.”

  Kristdor wiped at the sweat on his forehead as the people who turned the corner turned out to be a squad of constables. Bruised, battered and covered in blood but determined to do their duty. He couldn’t have been prouder.

  “Serjeant,” he said by way of greeting as a heavyset bald man stopped before him.

  “Sir.”

  The watch captain frowned at the lack of salute, customary and used almost without thinking by the men and women of the watch. That the serjeant didn’t use one was telling. Word was out.

  “Report!”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t do that.”

  “Thrice damn you, man! The city’s falling apart!”

  “Aye, sir. Captain Bara has it in hand. You are to be relieved of duty by order of the city council.”

  “I shall happily relieve myself once the city is calm.”

  “Sorry, sir.”

  With a gesture from the serjeant, the squad moved forward to surround him and he looked at each of them in turn. There was discomfort on their faces and none would look him in the eye, but they did their duty as good watchmen should.

  “Very well,” Kristdor said stiffly. “Corruption take the city lords for this.”

  “Cap’n?” Constable Snorri said. “You want me to head back with you?”

  “He’s not a captain no more, Snorri.” The Serjeant said, with an apologetic look at Kristdor. “Just another citizen.”

  “Not till I hears it for myself,” Snorri said, lifting his chin. “I’ll come back with yer and wait for orders then.”

  “As you wish.”

  The serjeant's reply was a little prim and his cheeks had colour in them as he spun on his heel and began the long march back through the slums.

  Smoke filled the air and the cries of the injured carried over the rotting tenements and rubbish strewn streets. Some enterprising souls were using the riots as an excuse to rob their neighbours and local businesses blind.

  For much of the night, while he should have been searching for the high priestess and her pet monster, Kristdor had been attempting to restore order whilst keeping the rioters contained in the slums.

  He walked with his back straight and his head high, not showing the fatigue that threatened to drag him down. He wouldn’t give those citizens watching from their windows the satisfaction of seeing him so.

  Blood pooled in the churned-up mud of the streets and bodies lay everywhere. Most of them hurt or unconscious but far too many of them dead. Either by the hand of the watch or their own people taking the chance to kill an enemy in the chaos and confusion. Some even just crushed by the press of bodies. The priests would be busy for days with the funeral rites.

  Weary men and women in the uniform of the watch stood in groups at street corners and junctions, weapons drawn and faces set. They saluted the former captain as he passed, a sign of respect or just that they hadn’t heard he was no longer their captain.

  “You’re going the wrong way,” Kristdor said as they turned out of the slums and into the temple district, past a full squad of watchmen armed to the teeth.

  “Sorry, sir. Not taking you to the watch-house. The city lords have demanded your attendance.”

  That was not a good sign and he knew it. By the uncomfortable shifting of the constables surrounding him, they knew it too.

  To be summoned directly before the city lords meant that he was in far worse trouble than just losing his warrant of office. It likely meant they would be in need of someone to blame to appease the populace and absent a killer and its master, that was to be him.

  The very best he could hope for would be banishment. Knowing his mother and the lofty goals she had set for herself, it was just as likely that he would face imprisonment in the city gaol just so no other city lord could claim favouritism and use it against her.

  Kristdor couldn’t help but smile as he passed the temples, their doors open wide to admit the injured even though many of their faithful were already out in the city helping where they could. Their gods, it seemed, had abandoned him.

  “Constable Snorri.”

  “Sir?”

  “Perhaps you could be so kind as to find my sister. She was somewhere near the south gate attempting to douse the flames if I recall. She will-“

  “Sir?”

  “Hush, do you hear that?” Kristdor slowed to a stop, tilting his head as he listened hard, sure he had just heard something.

  “Here now, keep moving, sir.”

  “Quiet man, can’t you-there! Did you hear it?”

  “Hear what, sir?”

  “A child crying.”

  Kristdor stared at the darkened entrance of the long-abandoned temple and felt a shiver run through him. No one entered those temples, long considered cursed and haunted. Not even the street urchins, those homeless children that begged and thieved on the city streets.

  “Sir, you can’t avoid this…”

  “Serjeant, if you ever had any respect for me or my position, you will listen. I heard a child cry out where no child should be. That warrants investigation.”

  “Sir…”

  “Will take but a minute or two to look,” Snorri said. “Can spare a little time.”

  “I think I heard it too, serjeant,” one of the constables offered almost apologetically.

  “Corruption take it! A quick look only and then straight to the council chambers.”

  “Of course,” Kristdor assured him.

  The serjeant grimaced but turned from the road onto the path towards the darkened temple. Where the other temples shone white with reflected glory, even the stone of the abandoned building was grey and drab.

  Weeds choked the gardens where flowers had once bloomed, and no leaves would grow on the trees whose branches hung down almost to the ground. Even the stained glass in the windows was cracked and covered in a thick layer of muck.

  Great wooden doors hung open, allowing entry to anyone who wished to do so. Few did for any that stepped across the threshold felt the same thing and soon fled.

  There was an absence within, a place where a god had once resided and their missing could be almost felt. An unnatural chill filled the air and dust covered every surface.

  “Footprints, sir,” Constable Snorri said as he drew his short sword.

  Kristdor looked to the serjeant before reaching for his own sword. He didn’t want to give him the wrong idea and end up in a sword fight with his own people.

  Former people, came the stubborn thought.

  The serjeant nodded assent and he and his squad all pulled free their own blades and truncheons. They followed the trail of footprints, visible even in the dim light within the abandoned temple and entered a small room off to one side.

  There was a hole in the floor, a rusted iron grate that had sat in it had been lifted out and dragged to one side. Light flickered and danced in the hole and Kristdor held up one finger to his lips for silence before kneeling down and slowly lowering his head through the hold.

  ****

  Amina stood with head bowed, praying to Ysnir as constable Asa drew a wide circle on the dusty stone with a piece of chalk. She added symbols and sigils around it, making sure to get each one just right.

  The child clung to her legs, crying occasionally and she ached to reach down and take her into her arms. That was impossible with her hands bound in the shackles as they were.

  “Done,” Asa said with a wide smile. “The time is almost here.”

  “How do you know when it is time?”

  “My master will let me know.”

  She shook her head at that, hair falling loosely around her face as she did so. “I’ll need to prepare.”

  “Then do so.”

  Amina gently pulled away from the child and walked to the centre of the circle before bowing her head again. The rite itself was fairly simple but the amount o
f power it required was too much for a human body to handle.

  She needed to brace herself against it, to draw strength from her goddess so that she could hold it, let alone wield it. She dropped to her knees, consciousness turning inwards.

  There was a deep feeling of wrongness in helping the creature but at the same time, she could not allow another child to die if she could stop it. Taking the creature across the bridge to the caves would ensure it was away from the people of the city and that they would be safe.

  That alone made it worth doing. No matter the personal cost to her.

  Her consciousness dropped down deeper, ever deeper into herself until she came to that quiet place in the centre of her being. It was there, freed from the concerns of her earthly body that she could think clearly for the moment.

  As always, her goddess was there, and she reached out, touching her presence and feeling the warmth of Ysnir’s love wash over her. With it came strength and a touch of sorrow. Ysnir knew what had happened in her temple.

  She knew what Amina was about to do and what was needed, and she gave her blessing. No matter the outcome, Amina knew her goddess supported her and loved her without question. As she began to pull her consciousness back, three words appeared in her mind’s eye.

  DO YOUR DUTY

  Amina opened tear-filled eyes and turned to the former constable. “I am ready.”

  Constable Asa, the mandibles still sprouting from beside her mouth nodded abruptly. “Took you long enough. It’s time.”

  The high priestess smiled, sadly. Her time with the goddess may seem like mere moments to her but hours would pass in the outside world. She flinched as Asa came towards her, leaning in as the mandibles stretched wide. Asa grinned as those mandibles closed around Amina’s head, digging into the skin.

  Then Amina’s eyes opened wide as power flooded into her, filling her almost to bursting and she staggered, held upright only by the mandibles digging into her skull.

  She did fall to her knees as they were retracted and Asa stepped back, that same vile grin on her face as Amina struggled to contain the sheer amount of power she held within her. Always before, the power had been held by the faithful and she had drawn it from them in increments as she required it.

  To hold it all at once was painful beyond belief. She felt as though her insides were being burned to ash by it as lightning ran down her veins and nerves. The world came into a sharp focus like never before.

  She could feel the movement of air as the child breathed, hear the thunderous beating of her heart and there, close by, the breathing of a handful of men. She could smell the oils they used when sharpening their blades and the polish that shone their breastplates.

  They couldn’t possibly help her and all they would do was die if she did not finish the rite as she planned. She rose to her feet, a golden glow rising from her as she began to pray, calling on the goddess to bridge the gap between where she was and the place she wanted to be.

  “Mistress,” Constable Asa said with a wide grin as she lifted the screaming child easily in one hand. “This squalling brat will come with us, so make sure you take us to the correct place.”

  Amina glared at the creature through narrowed eyes as she stepped into the circle, the child held fast in her hand. The high priestess closed her eyes and went back to her prayer, changing the destination from the bottom of the Tomur sea back to the cave.

  Her destination firmly in mind, she called on her goddess and the light rising from her body dropped back, forming a glowing ball in the centre of her chest. So much power was contained in it she could barely hold on to it.

  She sent it crashing against the flood where it spread out, filling the circle entirely and reaching to the roof above. She clung to the power, fighting it with every fibre of her being. She could sense the fast approach of the watchmen and struggled to finish the rite in time so that they would be spared.

  With a final cry, the light burned so bright she squeezed her eyes tight, tears leaking from them from the intensity and then she was somewhere else.

  The serjeant stumbled to a halt, holding his hands up for his men to stop too and stared at the circle etched into the floor. Smoke rose from the stone that glowed still, but the high priestess and her monster were gone, as was the captain.

  “How in the nine hells am I to explain this to the city lords?” he muttered, getting no response from his men.

  Chapter 30

  A rock caught Elva on the temple and she cried out as she stumbled, falling to the ground, blood streaming from the wound the stone had made. Mia called another shield into being and used it to cover her friend as more stones rained down on them.

  “Where are the thrice-cursed rodents!” Wynn snarled, hands raised and spell ready.

  “Above!” Syn yelled, holding his cloak up as a shield, the thick material proving quite effective.

  Fire swept the upper reaches of the small cavern they were passing through and squeals erupted as several of the Rottaka died in flames. The rocks ceased falling on them and Mia helped the ranger to her feet.

  “You should have saved your healing potion for yourself,” Wynn snapped.

  “I’ll be okay,” she replied, though she was a little unsteady on her feet and had to hold to Mia for support.

  “How much further? Can anyone remember?” Jochum asked.

  “Not far,” Wynn snapped.

  He had been increasingly irritable as they moved closer to their destination. At one point he had even been muttering under his breath as though replying to the voices that he heard. It was more than a little alarming to Mia and she trembled with fear.

  “Keep going, I’ll be fine.”

  Jochum nodded once at Elva’s words and led the party onwards. The caves, while not extensive, did go deep underground and they meandered with several small caverns along the way. At some point in the distant past, some burrowing creature had passed through and connected the caves to its own tunnels which also allowed a whole host of creature’s access.

  The warrior’s sword thrust down into the body of a large arachnid with a stinger like that of a scorpion from which venom dripped. He grimaced and pulled his blade free.

  Out of the cavern and down another long tunnel through the rock. The paintings and symbols had long since disappeared and Mia wondered if that was because the rottaka didn’t need to go so far down or if there was something worse to come.

  She didn’t need to wonder for long as a rasping sound came to the group. They slowed their pace and the warrior looked back at Wynn. With a gesture, the mage sent the light further down the tunnel and they all took several steps back at what was revealed.

  “Corruption take this place and everything in it!” Syn cursed as he applied poison to his blades.

  “How do we kill… that?”

  “You don’t,” Wynn snapped.

  He raised his hands, chanting a long string of words that balanced on the edge of Mia’s hearing as though she should understand them if she just listened a little closer. Between his hands a ball of flickering light appeared, growing slowly.

  “Buy him time,” Jochum called as he strode forward, sword raised.

  The Umber Hulk moved with surprising speed for a creature of its size. Something akin to a cross between a gorilla and a beetle it had four multi-faceted eyes with long mandibles the size of a small child. It towered over the humans and was covered in a thick armour as strong as full plate mail.

  It scrambled towards them, claws digging into the rock as easily as fingers would in the dirt. Jochum ducked below a surprisingly fast swing of a heavy arm and lashed out with his blade to little effect. He cursed and scrambled back from a clawed fist the size of his head that slammed into the ground where he had been moments before.

  Syn flung a dagger that rebounded from the armoured carapace and ran forward, a dagger in each hand, both dripping with poison.

  “Stay back, child,” Elva said as she lifted her bow. It shook in her hands. “They just
need to stall it.”

  She loosed an arrow that scored a line from the protective armour near its eye to the back of its head and she reached for another. Syn, leapt forward, his shoulder hitting the ground first as he rolled between the creature’s legs, rising up behind it and jumping onto its back.

  His first dagger slammed down with all the weight of his body behind it and sank barely an inch into the armour.

  “Corruption!” he called as it slipped out and he fell back to the ground as the creature spun to face him.

  Jochum's sword caught it in the joint of its leg, between the carapace plating and into the soft flesh beneath. An ear-splitting howl filled the corridor as it swung back to him, its claws tearing away several metal disks from his armour.

  “Move!” Wynn yelled, and the two men scrambled out of the way as the growing ball of sparkling lightning between his hands was thrown forward.

  It struck the umber hulk full-on, the blast throwing everyone back with the force. For a moment, the umber hulk stood stock still, staring at him as smoke rose from the burning crater in the centre of its chest. Then it collapsed backwards.

  Syn screamed as it landed on him, crushing his leg and trapping him beneath its heavy bulk. Jochum, the first to rise to his feet rushed over and the others soon followed.

  “We need to get this off of him!” Mia yelled to be heard over the ringing in their ears.

  The warrior braced his feet and set his shoulder against the creature but couldn’t so much as shift it so great was its bulk. Sweat dripped from him and the veins in his neck stood out as he strained with all of his might, to no avail.

  “A lever, child!” Elva said to Mia. “Quick now. We need a lever around four feet in length and as thick around as my thumb. Use one of the iron nails to give it strength.”

  Mia clutched the source stone to her hand, feeling the warmth of the glow and reached for the strands of air she needed, forming them quickly as she could into the shape Elva asked for. With it firm before her, she reached into the satchel and pulled out an iron nail.

  With growing confidence, she transferred the strength and solidity of the nail to the shape she had formed in the air. As the nail crumbled to dust, the bar of air dropped into Jochum's waiting hand and he jammed it beneath the armoured carapace of the umber hulk.