Oathbreaker: A Dark Fantasy Web Serial

Arc 3: Chapter 8: The Mercenary

“They betrayed me.” Karog’s voice rumbled like low thunder in the woods. “Discarded me.”

I let those words settle on me a moment. “Why?”

The ogre sniffed once. “They are… unprofessional. They wished to bring me into their fold, to… mark me. A method to ensure my loyalty. I refused. I explained to them that I am loyal to my employer, but they would not accept this. When they pushed the matter, I dissuaded them.”

His burning eyes went to the dead irks. “Now their dogs hound me everywhere I go. I cannot find even a night’s peace. This land is too… loud. Your ghosts run rampant, your woods are alive with elf-kin and illusions. I cannot even find quiet on your mountains.”

His words turned sullen. “I hate this land.”

“Then why not go back west?” I asked him. “Back to Edaea?”

Karog’s eyes narrowed. “I cannot return.”

He didn’t elaborate. I glanced to Cat, who had gone very pale — from lack of air or her vampiric nature surfacing, I couldn’t tell. I pointed my axe at her.

“Let her go.”

“Let her go,” I repeated firmly. Then, taking a deep breath I added, “and we’ll talk.”

The mercenary lifted his chin. “And why should I trust you? Both you and this malcathe have the power to subvert my will. I will not let you eat my mind. That belongs to me. It is not for sale.”

“You know what I am,” I told him. “You said it yourself back in the inn. You called me Alder Knight.” I pressed a hand to my chest. “You know my word is good.”

“I know no such thing,” Karog shot back. “Your order betrayed its master. I cannot trust your word to be binding.”

He had me there. Inhaling through my nostrils I said, “fine.”

I pressed the butt of Faen Orgis, still in its “poleaxe” form and long as a walking stick, down on the ground. After I felt it go rigid, I let it go. Its roots dug into the ground, and its gnarled haft grew again, rising to tower more than ten feet high. Ruddy buds and branches sprouted from the top, forming an ugly little tree. I left a red smear on the trunk as I let go, flexing my fingers as I freed them. My palm dripped blood onto the grass.

I walked forward, leaving my weapon behind. Moving slowly, I took off my belt along with its extra daggers and other items, letting it drop to the ground. I slipped out of my cloak as well, until all I had on me were my elf-made armor and the clothes beneath. I spread my hands out, showing one empty palm and one bleeding one.

“I won’t fight you,” I said. “I just want to talk.” I bowed my head, without taking my eyes off his. Karog, I had no doubt, was a predator — I could show him I wasn’t going to attack, but I couldn’t show him I wouldn’t fight back. That would be a fatal mistake.

Taking a deep breath I said, “please.”

For a minute, Karog glared at me in silence. My heart pounded in my chest, and my nerves screamed at me to help Catrin, but I knew I couldn’t reach him before he killed her. I could kill him after, but I wasn’t interested in proving my strength, or avenging her. Only saving her.

A knight’s pride is his dearest treasure, I’d once been told, but I will abandon it happily if it means losing those close to me. They are few enough, and precious. They are all that keeps me from becoming something truly hideous.

Finally, without ceremony, Karog opened his slab of a hand. Cat fell limp to the grass. I tensed, resisting the urge to rush to her side. She gasped and choked on the ground a while, clutching at her chest. When she’d caught her breath, she looked up through a mess of brown hair to see what the ogre would do.

Karog lifted himself up, then paced to one side. He found the tree I’d felled during the fight and sat on it, sinking his drawn cleaver into its trunk with a sharp crack.

“Fine then,” he said through his fangs. “Talk.”

I didn’t, not immediately. Keeping him in my sight, I moved over to Cat and knelt down to place a hand on her shoulder. Despite the freezing air, she still wore her low-cut dress and tavern girl bodice. The cold didn’t seem to bother her much, but getting squeezed in an ogre’s fist definitely had. I saw ugly bruises already creeping up her neck and shoulders.

“You alright?” I asked her.

She coughed twice before answering, rubbing at her throat. “I think I’ve got some broken ribs, but I’ll be fine I think. I’ve had worse.” She glanced at me sheepishly. “I messed up. Wasn’t ten minutes like I said.”

I felt the corners of my lips twitch. “I wasn’t counting. Can you stand?”

She nodded, and I helped her up. She swayed, leaning against me for support, but managed to find her balance after a moment. Then we both faced Karog. He’d watched our exchange in silence, his angry eyes narrowed. What he thought or felt behind those red-rimmed spheres, I couldn’t guess.

“Do you two need some privacy?” He asked, sneering.

Cat and I both blinked. Had the ogre just made a joke?

Shaking off that moment of strangeness, I straightened to my full height and stepped forward. “What I want is to know everything about the Council of Cael. You don’t know their current whereabouts?”

Karog growled low in his throat, a sound of irritation. “No.”

“Where did you last see them?” I asked. “Any of them?”

He thought a moment, lowering his eyes to the ground. “A fortress in the north, in a land ringed in ice-crowned mountains. Scarlet flowers carpeted the hills, and great falls clouded the southern slopes in silver mist.”

“Great,” Cat murmured at my side. “The killer juggernaut is a poet.”

“We were guests of a lord,” Karog continued. “A king. He was an old man.”

I frowned. That all sounded very familiar. “Do you remember his symbol? It would have been on all his banners.”

Karog met my eyes. “A robed man holding a sword, its blade encircled by a thorned vine sprouting red roses.”

I closed my eyes, drawing in a sharp breath.

“What is it?” Cat asked, stepping close to me.

“Talsyn,” I said. “The Council of Cael were guests of the King of Talsyn, the last Great Recusant.” I turned my attention back to Karog. “How long ago was this?”

“Spring,” he rumbled.

“What were they talking about?” I asked. “What are their plans?”

He just glared at me in sullen silence.

“Karog,” I said, matching his own gravelly tone. “If you’re still trying to protect them—”

“I do not know,” he said, interrupting me. “I was a mercenary. Hired muscle. They did not bring me into their secret councils, not after Orson Falconer’s death. Without his influence as an intermediary, they grew less trustful of all outsiders. It is why they eventually attempted to bind me with sorcery.”

“So you know nothing,” I snapped, frustrated.

“I offer what I do now freely, paladin.” Karog stood then, and the whole world seemed to tilt on his axis a moment. “I tell you all of this because I do not dislike the idea of hurling a stone at those who would betray me. You and I, however, are not allies.”

“Why not?”

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Both of us looked to Cat, who’d broken her own silence. She glanced between us, seeing our confused expressions, then propped a fist on her hip. “Well?” She asked, lifting a challenging eyebrow. “This sounds like an enemy of my enemy sort of situation, boys. Apparently, this club of pissants is worried enough about what Tusks here might know to send assassins after him.” She jerked a thumb at the ogre.

I turned a dubious glance on the mercenary, seeing my doubt mirrored in his own face. I didn’t much like the idea of working with anyone who’d been at Cael, especially not this murderous soldier-of-fortune from the shadowed west. Cat did have a point, though — he was our only link to Orson’s allies.

I considered a moment, then made a decision. “I have one more question for you, Karog.” I lifted my chin at him, letting steel creep into my voice. “When Orson and his allies slaughtered the villagers… did you help them?”

Cat went very still at my side, and I knew she also focused her vampire’s eyes on the ogre then.

Karog glanced between us, his lips forming a thin line so not even his short tusks showed. His nostrils flared once.

The fingers of my right hand flexed. I felt the roots of the Malison Oak coiling through the ground like hungry serpents. At a command from me, they’d burst forth to bind him. I’d had plenty of time to let the Art build its strength.

But would he fight through? Physically, at least, I suspected him to be stronger than Jon Orley. He might reach me before the roots subdued him, tearing me apart with his cleavers.

A quick draw. I was willing to take that gamble.

“I once served the Cambion King,” Karog finally said, his words deliberate and slow, the rumbling baritone of his voice filling the woods. “He filled his court with demons and damned things, heeded their lies. His is a reign of madness. The far reaches of Edaea are a wasteland, boiling with corruption. Once he was a great warrior, dauntless and mighty, deserving of my people’s respect. Now, he is a senile old wretch surrounded by insanity.”

Karog met my eyes, with no fear of the golden light in them. “I had no part in Orson’s folly. I did not kill the people of that domain, nor did I aid in giving the demon they allied with flesh.”

“But you were there,” Cat said softly. “You could have stopped them.”

Karog lowered his chin. Challenge or acknowledgment, I couldn’t tell. “As could have either of you.”

Cat drew in a sharp breath. I winced, feeling the same contrition she likely did. We’d both been there, as Karog said. I’d had Orson Falconer in my reach twice, and I’d let him live because I’d thought I could be clever, draw out more of his plans and allies.

I hadn’t been sent as a spy. I’d been sent as a punishing blade. Even still, I’d wanted to…

I don’t know. Make a difference, maybe.

Catrin had been there, and I imagine she felt even worse about the whole thing. The Keeper of the Backroad had sent her as his eyes, ears, and voice in the gathering of shadowy representatives. She’d believed Orson intended to create a refuge for the outcast and the downtrodden, a place where “accursed” beings like her might find some happiness. She’d mingled with the villagers, saved me from a pack of ghouls and led me into the castle on an altruistic whim.

The Baron of Caelfall played both of us. And, when we’d been too distracted by our private schemes, he’d pushed things beyond the brink.

Karog watched us a while, then nodded. “It is easy to cast blame. Ask yourself — is taking small vengeance on me worth more than destroying our greater enemy?”

Cat glanced at me, uncertainty in her face.

I sighed. “If they’re working with the King of Talsyn, then I’m not sure there’s much the three of us can do. There’s still enough strength in Hasur Vike to hurt the Accord bad, if things come to war.”

Karog grunted. “Are you not an assassin for this little land’s pantheon of godlings? Do you not have the ear of great powers, to tell them of these plots?”

“You’re seriously overestimating how much voice I have with the Onsolain,” I told him. “It’s not like I can talk to them at will. They reach out to me when they have a task.”

Karog peeled his lips back from yellowed fangs. “Then you are powerless. Our enemies shall move freely.” Snorting, he turned his back and began to walk away.

“Where are you going?” I called out.

Without slowing he turned his head back. “To hunt. I am tired of wandering this land as an aimless vagabond. I will die in battle, if I am to perish in this… backwater. I will go north and kill as many of them as I can before I am subdued.”

I had a mind to let him. Even after these revelations, I had no doubt Karog and I would gladly kill one another in any other circumstance. We nearly had this very night. Even still, I stopped him. “Wait.”

Karog did, to my surprise. He half turned, glaring at me.

“I will… do some investigating. See if I can grab anyone’s ear.” I sighed. “There’s no use going off and dying for no reason. Besides, you’ll never make it over the passes, not until the snows clear.”

Karog snorted contemptuously. “I have braved harsher climes than any you have in this land, paladin.”

“Even still,” I said. “It’s not just cold and ice you’ll be dealing with in our passes. There are phantasms and devas too, and they won’t like a western mercenary trespassing. Do you know the Sidhecants that will let you cross sacred glades? How about the tolls for troll bridges? Every one is unique, and some of their guardians are a lot bigger than you.”

I let that sink in. To his credit, Karog looked more hesitant all the sudden, no longer caught in his self-assured bravado. Despite his brutish appearance, he didn’t strike me as a fool.

“What do you suggest?” He finally asked, turning toward me with a bitter expression.

“Be patient,” I told him. “Let me see what I can dig up. I might have one or two allies among the little godlings you mentioned, and some contacts with the Accord. If I start spreading word that the King of Talsyn is cooperating with a council of dangerous warlocks and one of the monsters who brought down Elfhome, I might be able to accomplish something more constructive than a suicidal raid.”

Karog sniffed. “And what shall I do in the meantime, while you… talk?”

Honestly, I had no clue. I hesitated, thinking. I couldn’t bring him to the Fane — it was a sanctuary, and I didn’t trust the ogre a wit.

Catrin spoke up. “Why not stay at the Backroad for now? The Keeper’s been talking about hiring a bouncer, so he doesn’t have to step in personally for every scuffle. You’ll be paid well for it.”

I lifted an eyebrow at her, surprised. “You sure about keeping him that close?”

Cat shrugged. “Oh, the other girls will love him. Big, grumpy, scary? He’ll be a hit.”

Karog looked about as skeptical as me, but he nodded after a moment. “Fine,” he growled. “I could use steady work.” He pointed a tree-limb of a finger at me. “Do not keep me waiting long, elf friend. I do not trust you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, believe me.”

Karog let out a threatening rumble from deep in his chest, then ripped his blade out of the fallen tree and sheathed it. He began trudging back toward the road, pulping one of the dead irks beneath a heavy boot as he did.

I turned to Cat. “I don’t like leaving you alone with him,” I said.

She scoffed. “I won’t be alone. The Keeper stopped your fight earlier easily enough, didn’t he? Besides…” she glanced at the retreating ogre.

“What is it?” I asked her, when she trailed off.

Cat pressed her lips into a thin line, shaking her head. “I don’t know. He seems… sad?”

At my frown, she hasted to explain. “He’s a wanderer from a faraway land, lost and alone, betrayed. He doesn’t have any allies, or direction. He can’t go home…”

Her eyes went distant, and a rare touch of bitterness stiffened the normally relaxed planes of her face. “I know what that’s like.”

I wanted to say something comforting, reassuring. I opened my mouth, but didn’t know what would help. Cat noticed my hesitation and her face softened. “Oh my, I think I just triggered your inner Ser Chivalry. You going to sweep me off my feet? Give me a hug?”

“Would that help?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow.

She thought about it a moment. “I think it might just make me hungry. Best play things safe.” She gave me a wicked little smile, then grew serious again. “So what’s the play, big man? You actually have contacts you can warn about this dire plot?”

I sucked in a breath through my teeth. “I might have exaggerated my connections to stop Karog wandering off on his lone crusade. In all honesty…” I sighed. “I haven’t heard from Them since before Winter. As for the Accord…”

I thought back to the execution of Rhan Harrower. The Urnic Realm knew about the Headsman now, as more than a rumor. Was it time to come out of the shadows?

Would I survive it?

“I do know people among the Accord’s leadership, but no one I’ve spoken to in years.” I folded my arms, frustrated by doubt. “I don’t know if I can do anything about this. I don’t know if I can get anyone to listen, or take action… it’s all too big. Dark conspiracies, apostate kings, demonic plots. I’m just a soldier.”

“A soldier who’s got the ear of immortals,” Cat said, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “Whatever happens, Al, whatever comes… I’ve got your back.”

I looked into her eyes then. I shouldn’t ask, I knew, should just let things be as they were, but the part of me that always doubted, always questioned, couldn’t keep its peace.

“Why?” I asked. “I…” I drew in a deep breath. “You barely know me. I almost killed you the first night we met. I was cruel to you. I’m a killer, Catrin, and a servant of the same powers who call you a monster. How can you be kind to me?”

Of all the times I could have had this conversation. Sometimes, I can truly be a fool.

For a moment, her face went blank. Then, in a motion fast enough to make my head reel, she grabbed my hauberk by the collar and pulled me down, standing on her toes at the same time. I thought at first she meant to kiss me — I’m not certain I’d have stopped her this time.

But her lips went past mine, to my neck. Her tongue darted out, lapping at the blood that’d run from my ears during the fight with the irks. She dropped back down then, closing her eyes in a lustful shudder. When she opened them again, they’d gone incredibly pale, corpse-like. Her skin lost some of its color, and she flashed long canines at me.

“I’ve been a monster, Alken. A real one. My hands are not clean.”

She pressed her left hand to my right, splaying my fingers out and pressing her palm against my bloodied one. I felt her sharp nails against the inner joints of my fingers.

“You want to know why I stick around?” She canted her head to one side, holding my gaze. “It’s because I think there’s a good man in you, Alken Hewer, underneath all that angst and brooding. I like that man, when I see him. I’ll stick around to see more of him. Besides…”

She shrugged one pale shoulder. “This business with Caelfall is my crusade too. Don’t try to leave me out of it.”

I nodded, knowing I blushed some. “I won’t. It’s a promise.”

“A knight's promise," Cat mused. "Aren't I a lucky girl? I’ll hold you to that, Hewer.” She flashed her sharp teeth in a smile. “See you again soon?”

“Hopefully,” I said. “I won’t be traveling anywhere far until the snows clear. It was hard enough finding your inn, and it floats along the edges of the Wending Roads. Once Spring comes, I’ll have something for us. I hope.”

“We could all use a bit of that,” she agreed.

I left her then, to return to the Backroad along with the dour killer we’d formed our strange alliance with. I didn’t know if I’d actually have anything, come Spring, or if we’d be able to accomplish anything even if I did manage to put out word of this conspiracy we’d stumbled on. I didn’t know what the Council of Cael planned, or how the King of Talsyn was involved.

All I knew was that I recognized the harsh scent in what should have been clean winter air — the bitter tang of a storm encroaching.

The stink of war.