Oathbreaker: A Dark Fantasy Web Serial

Arc 1: Chapter 29: Catrin

“You’re wounded.”

Normally, those words would have held a note of concern or panic. Catrin said them like it was something erotic. She stepped forward on light feet, heedless of the chimera blood on the floor. She left one purplish footprint on the stone as she advanced.

“I’m fine,” I said, heart quickening in my chest. The young woman — was she truly young? — brushed my left arm with her fingers. The chimera had left two deep, ugly gouges just above my elbow. The elven armor I’d received from the oradyn was of an archaic design, not a full set of plate, and there were parts of me it didn’t protect. In this case, I only had metal covering my upper arm from the spaulders and short sleeves of the hauberk, then a gap until the vambrace strapped to my forearm. The monster had found that gap.

So did Catrin. Her fingers curled around my elbow, her red eyes fixing on the wound. They were unnaturally bright in the gloom, a feverish shade of crimson. She seemed to be breathing quicker.

Then, before I had even quite realized what was happening, she brought her face down to nuzzle the wound. Her tongue ran across the slashes and her whole body shivered.

I shoved her. I did it harder than I meant to — the stress of the cave had us both not thinking straight, and I didn’t truly believe she’d meant to hurt me. But there was still my lingering distrust of her, my instinct that part of her — a part as dark as any battle instinct in me — did want to hurt me, and I shouldn’t let my guard down. She’d already tried once.

Catrin slammed against the opposite wall of the hallway. She recovered instantly, glaring up at me — her face had turned corpse-pale, her eyes into milky white spheres — and hissed like an animal, revealing needle-sharp teeth.

She lunged at me, or tried to. With a furnace growl I summoned my aura again, filling the passageway with dim amber flame. Catrin recoiled from it just as the chimera had, letting out a noise of frustration.

I kept it up until she got her breathing under control. With it came her senses. She knelt against the wall, her corpse eyes unfocused, but I saw a hint of the mischievous spy I’d come to know over the past several days peek through the bloodlust. Her eyes, still empty, widened as she met mine.

“Are you in control?” I asked. I still burned my aura, not quite trusting she was in control of herself. This might be a trick, a vampire’s ploy to make me let my guard down. I had no way to know how much influence that part of her had over her words as well as her actions.

Catrin considered a moment, then shook her head. “I haven’t fed in days. I think…” she shivered and grit her sharp teeth, hissing the words through them. “I think you should go on. Leave me here.”

I considered doing just that. I didn’t much like the idea of heading into what came next with a hungry dhampir at my side… but having that same treacherous companion at my back wasn’t any more appealing.

I could only think of one thing to do, and it was a goring stupid idea.

I let the flames fade. “Fine,” I said, and held up my wounded left arm. “Take enough to keep your head. Not a drop more. I need to be able to fight.”

There was a second of hesitation. No more. She darted forward, fast enough to make me flinch, and dug sharp nails into my arm. It took every ounce of my self control not to hurl her away again. She pressed her lips to the gashes — I feared for a moment she’d bite and make the injury worse — but she only suckled at it, a soft moan escaping in the act.

It felt… strange. Not as bad as I would have thought, though even that realization disturbed me. I could feel my blood pumping through my arm, feel her warm tongue pressing against my flesh, soaking it up like a sponge. I tried to relax, knowing clenching my arm would only make the blood loss worse. I felt revulsion, and guilt at the revulsion.

I felt pity for her, that she’d been born this way. And anger, at whatever creature had been responsible.

When I knew she shouldn’t take anymore, I still didn’t pull away or shove her. I needed to know I could trust this… not creature. This woman, this person who’d been born with this dark hunger. I needed to know she could make the choice to pull away.

If she couldn’t… My fingers tightened on the oaken handle of the axe in my right hand. I didn’t want to do it, but I’d done worse.

“Catrin,” I said. Then, softer, “Cat.”

There was a moment where I didn’t think she’d pull away. Her eyes, previously that ghoulish empty white, had slowly filled with red as she fed. Her fingers tightened on my arm…

She dragged red lips away and stepped back. She clenched stained teeth, squeezed her eyes shut, and hugged herself. She shivered violently and said, “I’m alright. I’m..” She sighed in satisfaction. “I’m fine.”

Ruby eyes wide with disbelief met mine. “You really just let me do that?”

I tore off a strip of my cloak and started tying it around the wound, turning my gaze away from hers. Her eyes had become entirely red, no sclera or pupil to see, and I felt a subtle pull there I recognized from that night in the castle chamber. I didn’t want to get mesmerized again. “I need you in your right mind,” I said. “We have work to do.”

“…Right.” Did I hear a note of disappointment in her voice? “Well, anyway.” She wiped at her mouth with one arm, smearing the blood more than cleaning it. “Thanks for that, then.”

I passed her another strip of my cloak. She accepted it and dabbed at her face, though it still did little to clean the blood. My blood, I thought.

Then, shocking me, Catrin stood up on her toes and pecked me on the cheek. When she’d lowered herself, her fiendish eyes were warm as they looked up into mine.

“Thank you for that,” she said, more genuinely this time. “For trusting me.”

I hadn’t trusted her. Swallowing my guilt, I just nodded, not sure what to say. “You ready to go?”

“I’ll lead,” she said. “I know the castle a bit better than you, big man.” Then she turned and started down the hallway, moving with a touch too much haste. She seemed almost chipper.

I felt at the spot on my cheek where she’d kissed me. When I pulled my hand away, my fingertips were stained red.

***

The halls of Castle Cael were far too quiet.

“When I was last here,” I said to Catrin, who padded along at my side, “I didn’t see any guards besides the Mistwalkers. No servants either, besides that one in the green cloak. Priska.” A lord with a holding as large as the Falconer estate should have servants, guards, even a reservoir of lower ranking knights in their service.

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“Couldn’t say,” Catrin said, speaking just as quietly. The cavernous halls had a disconcerting way of echoing even small noises. “It was like this when I arrived. Empty.”

After what I’d seen at the village chapel, I had a suspicion I knew the fate of the castle’s original inhabitants. Even still I kept myself alert, knowing more mercenary ghouls — and probably worse — likely lurked about. More chimera? Or would I face the ogre from the council? I didn’t relish the thought of fighting him.

“Something ahead,” Catrin whispered. We both stopped.

I focused, but heard nothing. The changelings hearing must have been sharper than mine.

Considering the chimera had attacked us in the lake caves beneath the fortress, even with Catrin present, I assumed the Baron knew I was his enemy and had prepared for me. I tightened my grip on the Axe of Hithlen and drew up power — it came tiredly, my aura already winded from my exertions below.

A figure stepped out into the hall ahead of us. I went on guard. Catrin did not. She’d known who was approaching the moment she’d gotten their scent.

“Quinn.” The dhampir’s bloodstained lips pressed into a thin line.

The Mistwalker stepped into the light of the wall sconces, which flickered moodily on their ancient metal hands. His hand held a drawn gladius, and a neutral expression masked his handsome features.

“Cat,” the mercenary said. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What I think’s right,” Catrin said, eyes narrowing. “Not playing part in mass slaughter.”

“You have no idea what you’re getting involved with,” Quinn said. He held up his weathered sword so its edge seemed to burn orange in the torchlight. His corpse-blue eyes flickered down, and he noted the red on her lips. He noted my wrapped left arm too, and a sickly sort of smile spread across his lips. “Ah. So that’s how it is.”

Catrin’s expression wavered, a touch of worry splintering her confidence. “You bastard. This isn’t like that.”

Quinn ignored her and focused on me. “I told you who she worked for — I didn’t tell you why.

“Quinn—”

The Mistwalker interrupted her. “She’s a whore. Entertains the Keeper’s guests. Gets them off while she’s taking their blood like a dirty, desperate leech.” He canted his head to one side and shrugged, still smiling. “Trust me. I’d know.”

Catrin hissed at my side, closing her eyes. There was anger there, intense frustration. Perhaps shame as well.

I took the time for a long inhalation through my nostrils, then began walking forward.

Quinn took a guard. “Don’t you step any—”

“Don’t move,” I said, hitting the ghoul with a lance of auratic command.

Compulsions aren’t very effective on non-humans, or any human with an awakened soul. But Quinn was a worm — his soul barely clutching his tired form, his life extended by a gruesome appetite that had him sifting through grave dirt and gnawing on rancid, rotting bones. He didn’t have much control of his compulsions on the best of days.

He froze for a moment, stunned in place by my cant.

I punched him. Brittle yellow teeth shattered, brackish blood scattered, and the fop went down hard.

I flicked blood from my knuckles and glared down at the Mistwalker, who lay there in disbelieving pain. A boiling rage had risen up in me before I’d even realized it myself.

I had been a knight once. I might not have much of a claim to chivalry anymore, but those customs were something very much like instinct. Perhaps they were instinct, the core values of knighthood wrought into my aura same as my oaths were, compelling this response.

Or maybe the reason was more simple. Perhaps, I thought, I’d just come to respect the changeling woman and my anger was a more honest one.

Maybe it was a bit of both.

Who can say?

I glanced back at Catrin, a thought striking me. She looked almost as stunned as Quinn was. “I’m sorry for the names I called you before,” I told her. “Vampire, bloodsucker… all those. It was unworthy of me.”

Catrin just nodded, the motion a bit stiff. “It’s fine. I’d already forgiven you.”

I turned back to the ghoul. “Where is the baron?”

“Go fuck a troll,” Quinn snarled. He reached for his fallen sword.

My axe came down on his wrist, severing it. Amber-tinted flame erupted from stump and hand both, consuming the latter and scorching the mercenaries arm. He let out a wheezing, half-formed wail of pain and horror.

“I will not ask again,” I said quietly, feeling a strange calm. The memory of the slaughtered villagers a slow-running blood in my thoughts. “Where is Orson Falconer?”

Quinn cursed again, this time less intelligibly. I showed him the burning edge of Faen Orgis and fear flickered in his too-pale eyes. “Above!” He hissed. “In his study. It’s a tower room.”

I glanced at Catrin, and she nodded. “I know where it is.”

I turned back to Quinn. He was clutching at his burnt wrist stub, breathing heavily. The breaths looked forced, almost theatrical, like a bad actor trying to mimic distress.

He’s pretending to be more alive, I thought. It was a way he could keep his soul tethered — my weapon’s hallowed bite could exorcise his ghost. “Where are the others?” I asked. “The Baron’s guests.”

Quinn’s eyes moved back to me, narrowing. “Gone,” he said. “They have what they came for.”

I frowned, not understanding. “What do you mean? When did they leave?”

“After,” Quinn spat. “After the Baron’s ritual.”

I began to understand, in the same way I might begin to take note of a cut artery and realize, even as I felt very little pain, that it was a lethal wound.

Quinn saw my dawning realization and laughed, revealing macabre yellow teeth in a too-dry mouth. “You’re too late, paladin.”

“What?” Catrin asked from behind me. “What does he mean?”

Quinn and I both ignored her. The ghoul was too busy gloating, and I was too preoccupied with the coiling tendril of horror in my gut.

“What did you think this was going to be?” Quinn hissed, corpse eyes going wide with fury. “Some heroic tale where you’d slay the monster and stop the evil sorcerer? This was never about Orson Falconer.” He winced in pain, a shudder rippling through his body as the holy fire I’d struck him with scalded his spirit. “He was just an intermediary. No more than a merchant.”

“What are you babbling about!?” Catrin’s voice had turned frustrated.

“The demon,” I said. To my own ears my voice sounded more tired than angry. “I was wrong about all of this. I thought he was going to bind the spirit to him and use it as a weapon against the Church. That was never his plan.”

“Falconer knew you could stop him,” Quinn chortled. “He knew who you were an hour after he met you here in the castle. You really thought he was going to just take your word? He consulted with that old hag, Lillian, and they interrogated some lesser fiends called up from the Wend. I had orders to kill you that day we rode out, then you went and wandered into an Irkwood all on your own… I didn’t figure you’d come out. Guess I should have known the elves would kiss your holy ass, paladin.” His eyes went to my new armor.

I should have killed the baron that first night. I tried to be clever, but I’m a damned fool who can’t tell a lie from a song. It was just like before. Just like ten years before. I was a gullible fool.

The only thing I’d ever been good at was swinging a blade. I should have cut my way to my enemy from the start, my own life be damned.

That’s what was expected of me.

“Look at you,” Quinn laughed. It was an ugly, wheezing sound, half pained and half maliciously cheerful. “Ah, that’s a fine expression. Some hero you found yourself, Cat. Then again, you always did like the big, dumb ones.” He returned his attention to me and his voice turned conspiratorial. “She let you fuck her yet? She will. It’s the blood, turns her into a loose—”

He never finished whatever ugly thing he’d been about to say. My axe came down on his skull, splitting it and sinking an inch into the stone beneath. There was a low rumble of fire, and the body immediately began to disintegrate as hallowed aura tore through it.

I stood, planting a boot on the dead mercenaries breastplate to rip my weapon from the floor. I spent a minute watching the body burn. I didn’t really see it. My mind wasn’t in that hall.

“Alken…” Catrin’s voice drew me from my stupor. She had a sad look, though whether it was for our situation or for the death of the Mistwalker she’d formerly been acquainted with, I couldn’t say. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

“Orson Falconer never intended to use the demon as his own personal minion,” I said. “He was just a merchant. A trader. All those Recusants who were here…” I cursed savagely. “I should have seen it! A backwater sorcerer gathering so many allies. He prepared the fiend for them. They’re all gone… and they have one of the nightmares that helped destroy the elves for their own uses.”

I’d failed to stop the calamity Lady Eanor had feared.

“Damn.” Catrin bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Alken. Really. If I’d known… I swear if I’d known what he was planning, I would have tried to stop it. I think Quinn played me too, letting me know where you’d gone so I’d go off and not be there to stall the ritual. He knew I wanted the villagers left out of all this.”

I turned to her and nodded. “I believe you.”

Catrin shuffled, averting her eyes. They were still red, I noted, not having darkened to their usual soft brown. “You…” she licked her lips, wetting some of the drying blood still there. “What he said about me, it—”

“Doesn’t matter,” I told her.

“But it’s true,” Catrin said, squeezing her eyes shut and folding her arms. “I work for the Keeper of the Backroad Inn, and… that’s how I get most of my blood.”

“And I should prefer you prey on unsuspecting villagers?” I asked. “I’ve no right to judge you, Catrin. I saw you weep for the people Orson Falconer slaughtered. I’ve seen real monsters many times in my life…” My voice hardened. “You are not one.”

A tear fell from the dhampir’s ruby eye. She closed those eyes and shuddered.

“We don’t have time to waste,” I said. “I still have a job to do.”

Even if I’d failed to stop a tragedy in Caelfall, its mad lord still needed to die.