Oathbreaker: A Dark Fantasy Web Serial

Three days later, I stood outside Emma’s manor — or Brenner’s manor, anyway. I leaned against one of the pillars supporting the main entrance’s overhang. In my left hand I held the medallion Vicar had given me, running a calloused thumb over its marred surface. On my right hand, my drow-craft ring sat in its usual place on my forefinger, weighty for something so small. The sun rose over fields still half covered in snow, though it would melt quickly. The premature winter had retreated, at least for a time. True winter wouldn’t be far off.

The door opened, then soft shoes padded down the steps. Vanya paused next to me, wiping at her brow. She’d been working for a day to get the place packed.

“I hear you’ve gotten work at Antlerhall,” I said without taking my eyes off the medallion. “Helping your kid with laundry?”

The maid let out a huff of laughter. “Maybe, for a start. Still…” She turned wistful eyes on the manor. “I’ll miss this place. I liked the quiet. I still don’t understand why Lady Emma has to just leave. I tried to get her to explain, but she kept deflecting…”

She paused, and I knew she hoped I’d fill the silence with an explanation. When I didn’t, she made a frustrated sound. “You and she are just alike, you know that? You wrap yourself in mystery and think it impresses the rest of us.”

“Doesn’t it?” I asked.

She gave me a light shove. “Maybe a bit, in your case. Are you certain you have to leave so soon? I’d be willing to bet Lord Brenner would give you work, if you stayed.”

I snorted. “Because of me, Brenner lost a marriage for his son and a Blood Art for his grandchildren. No, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stick around.”

In truth, Brenner didn’t know a lick of what was going on. I only felt glad his son had survived, though I didn’t like to think on the broken heart the boy would be dealing with soon enough.

Vanya didn’t reply immediately, and I glanced at her to find she wore a troubled look. “What is it?” I asked.

The maid shrugged. “It’s just… I don’t understand any of this. Orley is gone, right? So why does Lady Emma have to leave?”

I didn’t correct her on the Lady part. Emma hadn’t explained to anyone that she was no longer nobility — how would she explain anything that had happened that night, to anyone? Brenner didn’t even know his ward planned to leave the fief, or where she intended to go.

I didn’t know, either. The fell young woman had been unusually terse in the past three days. I didn’t even know why I had stuck around.

Maybe because you know there are questions you need to ask once you’ve gone, and that you won’t like the answers.

“Thank you,” I said.

Vanya blinked. “For what?”

“For looking after her all these years. For not letting her be alone. I think…” I shook my head. “I don’t know. I think this all might have turned out very differently, if Emma had spent her life surrounded only by people like Brenner.”

I left the maid with that thought, not certain I’d ever see her again. Chance encounters, small roles… but how large a part had Vanya, no big player in the grand scheme, actually played in helping Emma Carreon choose her path?

I pocketed the medallion as I walked, turning my thoughts to other matters. I caught sight of a figure lurking in the shadows at the edge of the woods. As I approached, Qoth the coach driver — and the Briar Elf — nodded to me.

“Headsman,” he greeted me.

“Wondering where you got off to.” I eyed the familiar warily. “How much did you end up witnessing, anyway?”

“Most of it,” Qoth said, grinning with pointy teeth. He didn’t wear his bandanna, leaving his bestial features on full display. “I hid in little Emma’s shadow. Had things turned to violence, I would have bared my fangs.”

“Half wish it had,” I groused. “I never want to debate with a devil, again. They’re real bastards.”

Qoth cackled, then jerked his head toward the woods. “She’s waiting for you.”

I followed him, and in the further part of the woods where the shadows pooled deep, I found the being whose dark whims had drawn me into this strange drama. Nath stood beneath the boughs of an ancient oak, running her hand along its diseased bark. She didn’t look at me as I approached, waiting for me to step into a patch of light beneath the canopy. Qoth remained a ways behind, lurking.

“I am well pleased, Headsman. My dear godchild is free of the machinations of Orkael, her fate untethered. I could not have asked for a more interesting outcome.”

I lifted my eyebrows, mildly surprised. “I would have thought you’d have been annoyed at this. Weren’t you mentoring her because of her lineage?”

Nath snorted, shaking her head. “Perhaps at first, but do you truly believe I hold such value in the constructs of family and right of rule? I abandoned all of that. No, this only brings the dear child closer to my aspect.”

That sent a shiver down my spine. “If you’re planning to bring her into the Briar,” I said, hardening my voice, “I will take issue with that.”

“Have you learned nothing from all of this?” Nath finally turned to face me, her empty eyes narrowing into black slits. “All that matters is her choice. Besides…” She sighed heavily, turning her attention back to the dying tree. “I do not think she will choose to stay under my wing, loathe as I am to admit it. She seems enamored with a wholly different path, one I find most dull. But I am but her godmother, her teacher.” She shrugged.

I frowned, not understanding. “You know what she plans to do?”

“She hasn’t spoken to you? Ah, well, no matter. In any case, I have a reward for you.”

I blinked, taken aback. “A… reward?”

“Oh, that’s right.” The Fallen let out a low, chortling laugh. “My kin don’t really pay you, do they? Stingy, short-sighted creatures. Well, you will find that Nath always rewards good service. Qoth?”

She beckoned, and the briarfae stepped out of the shadows. Qoth approached me, and I saw he held something in his hands — a folded bundle, the material darkly red.

I took it, and in a moment I realized what I held. A new cloak, much the same as the one I’d worn for many seasons, long enough to trail along the ground even with my height, with a pointed cowl. However, this one had a much deeper color, a red so dark it looked near black in the woodland gloom, closer to dried blood than scarlet. The material felt impossibly light and smooth.

“Made by Qoth’s own kin,” Nath said. “It will not easily fray from long roads, and many beings will find you harder to track by magical means. You may find the shades that haunt your steps less dogged, so long as you wear this. It has an Aspect of Fear woven into it.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. I hesitated, and Nath let out an eerie laugh.

“Oh, don’t worry. It is not infested.”

I glanced at her, not trusting her an inch. “The stories say you trap most of your marks like this. With gifts.”

I couldn’t find any signs of barbed thorns or creeping vines in the cloak, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

“I promise you, this is no trick.” Nath shook her head, so her mane of writhing black hair twisted into strange shapes. “Now that I am rejoining my kinfolk, I may call on your services again. I would rather you be… unspoiled.”

No matter how hard I looked, with my eyes or my aura, I couldn’t find any signs of a trap. Even still, the cloak was a fell thing. Elf-make like my armor and axe, it had a sort of life in it. I could feel the aspect Nath had mentioned. Wearing this, I would add to my own supernatural visage, become a more foreboding figure in the world. These things have a way of sticking, of becoming part of you.

No use tiptoeing around. This is what you’ve chosen. I let my tattered old rag fall to the ground and donned the new cloak. It wrapped easily about my neck, almost up to my chin, hugging close to my skin as though relieved to be worn. It fell down to the forest floor like deep crimson liquid, its folds shifting subtly in an unseen wind.

Creepy. And damn comfortable.

“Thanks,” I said. “It’s very, uh… ominous.”

“Isn’t it?” Nath pressed a hand to her cheek, admiring me. “Flatterer.”

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I turned to go, then paused. “I should thank you for something else, too.”

Nath quirked an eyebrow. “Hm?”

I half turned to face the Onsolain. “At the Circle of Doom… Eanor was there because of you, wasn’t she? I don’t think that would have turned out the way it did had there not been someone sympathetic to Emma’s plight.”

Nath lifted both her hands in a dismissive shrug. “Oh, my beloved twin does have a weakness for causes tragic and romantic. I may have ensured a little bird whispered in her ear, but who can know such things?”

“Right… anyway. Goodbye, Nath.” I held up a finger as I turned. “Don’t call on me again any time soon. I don’t plan to make working for you a habit.”

“Presumptuous mortal. Would you have been so opposed to this task, had it not come from me?”

That was a good question, and not one I felt prepared to answer just then. I left the inner woods, and the wicked being who lurked in its depths. As I made my way back to my manor, I tried to get used to the strange sensation of the new cloak —it kept moving, shifting against my armor and skin, as though trying to find a comfortable arrangement.

I propped my axe on my shoulder as I went. With its haft lengthened since I’d pulled it from the Malison Oak, I couldn’t comfortably hook it on my back or belt anymore. I’d have to get used to carrying it. Maybe I could start using it as a walking stick, if it got longer? Or I could shave it back down. Those idle musings kept me company until I reached the edge of the woods.

The manor, bathed in cool Autumn daylight, looked calm and peaceful, and subtly sad. I’d only been there a brief time, but I felt like that image would stick with me. Vanya had called it a quiet place. I wouldn’t mind living somewhere like that, someday.

I scoffed, and started to step out of the trees. I paused, frowning. This was all done, now. I had no reason to linger in these people’s lives. In fact, it wouldn’t be good for anybody if I did. They were all haunted enough, and I had long roads ahead. I turned back toward the woods.

“Truly? You didn’t even intend to say goodbye?”

I froze, then sighed. “I didn’t sense you. Nath teach you that trick?”

Emma stepped out of a particularly dark shadow, which lightened as she emerged from it into a normal bit of shade, the glamour she'd drawn over herself fading. “Among a few other things, yes. So that’s it, then? You’re just going to go like a passing wind?”

I shrugged. “It’s what I usually do. But you’re here now, milady, so I’ll humor you.”

I turned to face her and gave her my most knightly bow. “Goodbye.”

Emma glared at me a long moment, then tch’d. “Fine, then. Go.” She waved a hand in lordly dismissal. Abandoned her name and titles she might have, but she’d lost none of the habits as of yet.

I nodded, but paused before turning away again. Something Nath had said lingered in my thoughts. “What do you plan to do?” I asked.

“What do you care?” Emma asked, nonchalant. “But if you must know, I’ve been thinking I might start a bandit gang, or perhaps become a perfumer. The whole world is open to me, now. I could become anything I want. Maybe a woodland witch, even? I think I’d enjoy that.” She smiled grimly. “I could lure in children and cook them in my stew, curse villages.”

“Is that really what you want?” I asked, sensing some trace of bitterness in her voice. “To be a villain?”

Emma’s face fell into neutrality and she shrugged. “What do you care? This was all just a labor to you, anyway. You’ve done your quest, no need to fret over it.”

“Is that what you think?” I asked softly. “That I don’t care, after all that?”

“I don’t understand why you would care.” Emma’s voice turned exasperated. “We’ve known one another a week.”

Had it really only been that long? I rubbed at my chin, recalling the past days. Everything had moved by in a rush, one problem after another. Strekke, Nath’s request, then my return to the Fane, Maxim, the Briar Brother, our journey on the Night Coach, and all the madness after.

A lot had happened in a short time.

“They say grand quests have a habit of forming from a single night of drunken revelry in an inn,” I said, smiling. “Doesn’t seem so strange to me. Whatever happens, whatever you choose…” I put as much feeling as I could in my next words. “I wish you luck. You’ve earned some.”

I’d gone less than ten steps before she called out at my back. “Wait.”

I stopped, turning around again. Emma had a strange look on her face, her lips pressed tight. I noticed then she’d dressed in sturdy traveler’s clothes, once again more on the masculine side of androgynous. She had her sword on her back instead of her hip, its fine sheath and hilt disguised by dun cloth. She held a pack in one hand.

I’d noted those details before, but had chosen not to mention them. I didn’t want to condescend, or judge, to treat her like a child. She’d stopped being one the night she’d renounced her lineage, in my eyes.

Emma took a deep breath, and I realized she was blushing. Her pale cheeks had turned bright pink. She spoke in a rush. “I want to be a knight.”

I turned fully to face her, frowning. Then, as I chewed on that statement, I started to put some facts and details together.

Damn. How had I missed it?

“How long have you wanted this?” I asked, suspecting I knew the answer.

“Years.” Emma winced, clearly embarrassed. “I hid it from grandmother, but Nath figured it out… she kept telling me she’d send me someone who’d show me what that path looked like. A shining example, she said.”

“Ah.” I thought that over a moment, then sighed. “Ouch.”

“She does have a twisted sense of humor, doesn’t she?” Emma’s lips formed a crooked smile, then she became serious again. “Even still…” she stepped forward, lifting her chin. “It’s what I want. I want to win glory, live with honor, face all the horrors of this world with naught but my sword and my mien. I want to be in touch with my blood — not just Carreon, but Orley too. They say my great-grandfather’s house were among Urn’s most honorable, most respected…” she closed her eyes. “I want to prove it to myself, and everyone else. That I can make my own path, be more than my origin.”

“It’s a hard road,” I said. “And a crooked one. They say a lot of pretty things about knighthood, but it’s a violent life, and honor can end up meaning nothing other than what you decide.” My voice turned bitter. “Or what others decide for you.”

“Still,” Emma said, serious and certain as she’d been at the Circle of Doom, “I want the chance to decide it for myself.”

“Will you join Brenner’s guard, then?” I asked. “Become one of his bannermen?”

Emma opened her mouth, snapped it close, then almost spat in frustration. “You really are a fucking idiot sometimes, aren’t you?”

I blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you, oaf?” Emma made a clawing gesture, then let out an angry, almost catlike hiss. “I do! I do, don’t I? Fine then.”

She stepped forward and pressed a hand to her chest. “I want to go with you. I want to be your squire.”

“Emma…” I sighed. “I’m not a knight. I can't have a squire.”

“I don’t give an erk’s backside whether the Church acknowledges you as a knight or not,” Emma said in a hard voice, her eyes intensely wide, showing that hawk’s glare she so often held. “Or all the lords of Urn or all the sorcerer-kings of Edaea, for that matter. To hell with all of them, I’ve renounced them. What I care about is what you’ve shown me, and it’s that you have honor. You fought for me even though it might have ended in your death and disgrace.”

She took a deep breath. “That matters to me.”

“There are knights all over the land,” I said, knowing it couldn’t work, what she asked. “Not just nobles and bannermen. There are Glorysworn, questing knights, hedge knights, free companies, chivalrous sellswords… hell, there are wizards who could use an apprentice with some sword skill. You don’t have any lack of teachers, kid.”

“I’ve decided,” she said, with no trace of doubt on her narrow features. “This is what I want. Refuse me if you will, I will follow you from one edge of the world to the other, and learn by watching if I have to.”

She trailed off, and much of the emotion in her drained away. “Please. I… I don’t know what to do next, or where to go.”

My skull began to ache, and I massaged at it. What she wanted wouldn’t work. I wasn’t a knight, and hadn’t been a particularly good one even when I had been. Even still, looking at the youth in front of me, I saw the fear in her, the doubt. She’d just lost everything she’d ever known or been. In every way that mattered, she’d been cast adrift on, as Mother Urddha had put it, tumultuous seas.

She wasn’t out of danger, I knew that for certain. The crowfriars wouldn’t forget being shown the door, and Vicar’s threat that his faction would reclaim Emma’s soul still bothered me. More, she still possessed the Carreon Blood Art. Dark things, ghosts and demons, might be drawn to feast on that power, and she wouldn’t have any way to defend herself. Any lingering remnants of her own family might also seek revenge. I doubted a family with a history that dark would have restful dead.

I’d helped get her to this point. Perhaps things might have been even worse without my involvement, but I couldn’t deny that I’d played a part in how things had turned out. I had been the one to call for the Rite of Doom. I had been the one to bind Orley, and force Vicar to reveal himself. I’d acted as Nath’s hand.

Could I really just walk away, and leave her to tread water alone?

I could. I’d just be a real bastard to do so. I could be that, and had been, but even still.

I took my axe, bound and concealed in cloth like Emma’s sword, off my shoulder and propped it on the ground. Resting my hand on the head, I studied the former noble down the length of my nose. “You understand,” I said slowly, “what I am?”

Emma canted her head to one side, considering the question. “They called you Headsman, and you were on speaking terms with those beings. Those… gods.” I knew it cost her something to use that term.

“I am an executioner,” I said bluntly. “I’m their axe man. I do dark work, ugly work, and honor doesn’t tend to play much of a role in it. You stick with me, I can teach you things. I can train you to fight, teach you sorcery, maybe even give you some guidance on knighthood… but chances are, kid, you’ll just as easily become an apprentice Headsman as a knight, and I don’t want that for you.”

I met her eyes, letting her see the sheen of auratic gold in mine, the ugly scars on my face. “Are you sure I’m the mentor you want?”

Emma closed her eyes, took a deep breath through her nose, then met my gaze evenly. “Yes. I am certain.”

I held her eyes a long while. Not once did she flinch, or avert her face.

Nath had asked me, in that moonlit glade, if I would take responsibility for speaking on Emma’s behalf to the forces of Heaven and Hell. I’d said yes. Had the dark seraph known, even then, how far that decision would stretch?

I certainly hadn’t. Even still, I’d made the choices I felt to be just. I might not have had a queen or an order of chivalry to tell me what justice is anymore. I just had to find my own path, navigating each situation as it came, hoping I had the strength to stand by my choices.

Helping Emma hadn’t felt wrong to me, not once. Ever since I’d met her, I’d understood one thing — she wasn’t evil, and she didn’t deserve damnation. She just needed someone to give her a bit of faith.

I could do with a bit more faith in my life. Maybe not faith in gods or higher powers, or in nations, or ancient traditions. But I could have faith in people, in this young woman who wanted to make her own way through an unfair world. Maybe I could help her make better choices than I had, and avoid some of those more twisted paths.

“You’re not a Carreon any longer…” I studied her, questioning. “Emma of the Westvales is a bit of a mouthful. What should I call you now, anyway?”

Emma thought about it a moment. Then, with a small smile and a shrug she said, “How about Emma Orley? I’d like to try being an honorable fool, see how it fits. Besides,” she added wryly, “that name belonged to me as much as Astraea’s ever did, and deserves to be remembered. Maybe I can give it some redemption?”

That would piss off the ghosts of House Carreon, if anything did. And, more so, it struck me as a noble purpose far more than any want of glory or respect. I closed my eyes, feeling the chill wind on my face as the moment settled on me, and I reached a decision.

“Very well, then.” I shouldered my axe and turned toward the wilderness. “Keep up, Emma Orley. We have a long road ahead of us.”

End of Arc 2

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