Oathbreaker: A Dark Fantasy Web Serial

Arc 6: Chapter 15: The Hostage

I hadn’t been idle the day before the tournament started. The first thing I’d done was have my meeting with Vander Braeve. Afterwards, I’d paid a visit to the Backroad and convinced the Keeper to facilitate a deal between me and Ostanes. The inn’s enigmatic master agreed to help me with little fuss, after I’d told him what happened to Catrin.

I wasn’t sure it would work, but something had bothered me ever since my last visit to the inn. The other women seemed fond of Catrin, even protective of her. She was liked there, trusted even, and I’d needed help. Even the Keeper’s unsettling bodyguard listened with something very near sympathy in her wolf’s eyes, leaving me to wonder how much of what he’d said during our previous audience was just for show.

No one else would care about Catrin’s fate, save perhaps those other outcasts. If I wanted to save her, and stop this war, I needed to make compromises. Even if it meant compromising myself to those I’d considered enemies.

Regardless, we’d worked out a contract with the Keeper as mediator. Those two meetings done, I’d strategized with my lance. While I helped distract Calerus with war play and tried to forestall disaster on the arena island, they waited for the hours to creep closer to the grand feast which would close out the tourney’s second day. When the opportunity presented itself and her brother couldn’t intervene, they’d taken the Princess of Talsyn into custody. The chaos of the evacuation proved to be an unexpected boon in that regard.

They’d brought her here, to this place, while her brother remained with the other lords and Vander carried out the other part of this scheme. The man definitely didn’t like or trust me, but I felt he was fully willing to act in defense of the realm. Getting him to cooperate with my plan took some doing, and I fully suspected he’d make me pay for it one day.

But for the time being we had a mutual goal, at least where it concerned the Vykes.

The sea writhed beneath the cliffside tower. The sky growled and barked, the structure’s thick stone walls not fully muffling the storm. For a long minute, no one said anything. Hyperia inspected the room, taking in the group arrayed around her, the ritual circle, and me in my tourney armor. I doubted they’d let her see her prison before my arrival.

“So it was you under there all that time, executioner.” A flinty smile quirked the young tyrant’s modest lips before she glanced at the ritual circle. “How exciting. I’m not sure exactly what you have in mind here, but I admit to some… curiosity.”

She tested her bonds, rolled her shoulders, and raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Hyperia’s gaze shot to my squire. “Ah! You must be the Shrike. You’re a bit skinnier than I anticipated. Wasn’t your ancestor supposed to be among our land’s great beauties? Perhaps the blood has thinned.”

She laughed softly, releasing the bubbling gush that hung in nearly every one of her words. Emma went still, then wheeled on Ostanes with death in her eyes.

The crowfriar held up his hands. “We didn’t tell them.”

I studied him a moment, but couldn’t tell if he was lying. What advantage would the missionaries of Orkael have in revealing Emma’s identity to the Vykes?

No, it didn’t add up. They’d found out some other way. Yith, probably.

Hyperia’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, I can tell this is going to be fun. What did you hope to accomplish here, again? You do know you’ve violated near every custom of hospitality by taking me prisoner while I’m under guest right?”

“You’ve violated near every custom of guest right since you’ve arrived, princess.” I folded my arms, glaring down at her. “By the end of the night, everyone in this castle will know it.”

Hyperia considered that a moment, but didn’t seem altogether impressed. She tilted her chin to Ostanes. “And who is he?”

That was interesting. Hyperia was a powerful warlock capable of binding an entity dangerous as Yith, and yet she didn’t recognize the crowfriar for what he was. I could use that.

At my continued silence, some of the mirth faded from the princess’s face. “Well?” She snapped at the whole room. “What is it you all want? If you intend to use me as a hostage against my brother, then you’ve made a grave mistake. He will butcher you all the moment he learns of this.”

“He won’t get here in time to save you, princess.”

She fell quiet at that, fixing her attention back on me. “At the Coloss… your people took me during the evacuation. What happened after? Is my brother…”

She clicked her teeth together, anger and doubt flexing the muscles in her face. She didn’t want to give me anything, but her concern for Calerus was obvious. It told me there was some loyalty between the two of them, at least.

“He is alive,” I offered. “Probably wondering where you are, but the Emperor is keeping him close. I believe His Grace might be a bit suspicious that your family is behind what happened with Ser Jocelyn.”

Hyperia scoffed. “Please, that’s ridiculous. How in the world would…”

She trailed off.

“You’ve been using proxies, dupes, fiends, and forbidden alchemy during the entire length of this shadow war between us,” I said. “Why not the Dragon’s Plague, too? You’ve already proven you’re not averse to heresy.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And you’re all too happy to sell that story to the realms, are you?” She settled back in her chair. “I suppose that’s fair, though it doesn’t explain why you’ve locked me in a tower. What do you want of me, Headsman?”

Instead of answering immediately, I took some time to study my prisoner. As I’d thought on previous encounters, she was very young. Not much older than Emma. It seemed strange to me that she could be responsible for so much of my recent troubles, and yet we’d been able to capture and subdue her with a handful of people and no great battle.

Probably because her position had been tenuous as mine, all this time. Strange, how the simple appearance of strength could accomplish so much.

“I want a number of things.” I began to pace in front of her with slow, measured steps. Ignoring the pain in my leg and ribs, I made myself seem relaxed. “I want you and your family to go back into your hills and never trouble us again. I want you to pay for your crimes at Caelfall, and to pay reparations to the families of every man and woman your schemes have killed. I want to know what you thought to gain from all this, except for more death.”

“Our birthright.”

I wheeled on her, not bothering to hide my anger anymore. “Your birthright was the throne of Talsyn and the custodianship of your people, both of which you and your family have abused in your warmongering.”

“A lord of slaves is still a slave,” Hyperia said in a dark voice. “You turn the lock to your own collar and call yourself noble, and think to lecture me on responsibility? Please.” She sighed and grew calm again. “But what should I expect from a dog but to bark? And I doubt you brought me here for a debate on the philosophy of rule, Headsman.”

I took a deep breath. “No, I did not.”

Turning to Mallet, I nodded to the door. He and Beatriz both went downstairs to guard the tower entrance. I didn’t expect they’d much like what happened next. Penric probably wouldn’t like it either, but I suspected the retired assassin had a stronger stomach.

Hyperia noted this with a poised disinterest, though the act wasn’t perfect. When Ostanes shuffled in the corner and adjusted his hat, her eyes flinched to him.

I noted this and gestured towards the gray-garbed man. “Princess, I would like to introduce you to Master Ostanes. I’ve hired him as a notary for this matter.”

Hyperia blinked, nonplussed. “A notary?”

“That’s right.”

“…I see. And all this?” She tilted her head down to the complex diagram on the floor.

Lisette answered for me. “That is partially for your own protection, princess.”

The cleric did not elaborate. Hyperia considered a moment, her lidded eyes studying the circle in closer detail. “So what?” She murmured distractedly. “Are you going to torture me? Is this some elaborate spell to force truth out of my lips, or rip out my memories? I’ve heard rumors that the Priory was developing new rites to compel confession and bind aura. Perhaps you intend to—”

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Emma interrupted. “You ramble when you’re nervous, don’t you?”

Hyperia glared at my squire. “And you could have regained your family’s throne had you joined us. It’s not too late, you know. High House Carreon could be mighty again.”

Emma shrugged. “House Carreon is dead. They were foolish and short sighted, just like you. History might remember tyrants, Hyperia, but it does not love them.”

Hyperia snorted with laughter. “And you care about love? You, a daughter of House Carreon?”

“Not particularly. However, I’m not much interested in becoming another Astraea. Her story didn’t end very well. Neither, I suspect, will yours.”

Hyperia’s eyes hardened, then drifted back to me. “Explain.”

A true royal, giving orders even when chained and surrounded by enemies. I decided to indulge her.

“About now,” I said, “a lord by the name of Vander Braeve is addressing the court. He is providing evidence gathered by a confederation of nearly a dozen noble houses tying your family to the string of murders that occurred before the tournament. I’m afraid the evidence is damning. It includes accounts by a number of witnesses our clericons managed to save from your demon’s influence, along with some of your agents we managed to take into custody within the last day.”

I regarded her steadily. “You and your brother were too focused on the tournament — you shouldn’t have expected us to hedge all our bets on it. Some of the changeling community has come forward as well. They see almost everything.”

I let her take all that in before continuing. “His people also managed to track down the shop of a toy maker in the city.” The same one who’d tried to kill me with his puppets the night of the Culling, in fact. “Strange how a minor adept who made dancing puppets to entertain children suddenly started fielding war marions almost identical to those used by Recusant armies. His shop was raided. We found the diagrams your people provided. I assume you ordered him to burn those, but he must have wanted leverage. Or perhaps he just didn’t want to lose the designs.”

I shrugged.

“Some scraps of paper, and the accounts of a few half-mad peasants and a gaggle of mongrels tie nothing to us,” Hyperia insisted, though I heard some doubt creep into her voice.

“Lord Vander also had the device your agents planted to gas a mansion in the Fountain Ward taken apart,” I informed her. “An expert on alchemical warfare here as one of the Emperor’s guests from Bantes took a look at it. It’s an outdated design, so no one from the continent would have been using its like. The Emperor ordered a purge of that kind of weapon in every fiefdom from here to the Westvales, but Talsyn never signed onto the Accord. I’d guess your family has more of its like in your arsenal. Am I wrong?”

Hyperia sneered. “Has your precious emperor inspected every cellar personally?”

Time for the hammer blow. I glanced at Emma, and she nodded. This, much like the spectacles on the Coloss island, was a sort of melodramatic game. We needed our prisoner to understand her situation, or she wouldn’t cooperate. She would not surrender if she believed there was a chance at salvaging this.

“Markham Forger is no fool. The very day I made it known to him that your family was possibly involved in this matter, he was already acting.”

In fact, Markham had started acting the same day I’d warned Rosanna about the Vykes, before I’d even killed Horus Laudner or presented myself to the Round. She’d insisted he wouldn’t do anything brash without evidence, and he’d certainly kept his plans quiet.

Hyperia stared at me for a long moment with a blank expression. “What have you done?”

“I’ve done very little, truthfully.” I took a step closer to the circle. “Mostly rushed about trying to collect all the pieces. I expect when the dust settles from this, it will be King Roland who gets most of the glory.”

The princess frowned, nonplussed. “Roland Marcher? The King of Venturmoor? But he’s off chasing storm beasts in the hills.”

I nodded soberly. “Yes. Or at least, that’s what we’ve made sure everyone in the city believes. In fact, as of yesterday morning according to the last messenger bird we received, his retinue, swelled by more than two hundred lances gathered across the Reynish countryside, has crossed the border into Talsyn and taken Illiark Castle.”

Hyperia’s face went bone white.

“According to that same message,” I continued calmly, “the garrison opened the gates for him. They were starving and sick. Roland wrote of desiccated villages in nearly every valley. The castle’s commander admitted that no one has been in your father’s palace in over a year, and few even dare approach it.”

Hyperia drew in a deep breath. “This is a lie. You are lying to me so I’ll give you whatever you want. It won’t work.”

“It’s not a lie, and you know it. Your kingdom has been dying for some time, princess. Your father locked himself in his castle and let plague and famine ravage his people rather than admit defeat and surrender to the Accorded Realms. You are here because you believe that dismantling the peace and regaining what allies your family still has would let you pillage what you needed to revive Talsyn from the chaos. When Karog saw all of this and realized he’d joined the losing side, you tried to use the chorn to take his wits and enslave him, but he escaped.”

I let out a dry laugh. “For all of that, he refused to tell me what he saw in your kingdom. He said he wouldn’t betray the secrets of his employers, past or present. The fomori have very strange ideas about honor. He was willing to help kill you, but not to rat you out.”

Hyperia’s eyes shut, and did not reopen for a long while. I sighed, then knelt on my right knee. The movement sent spikes of agony through my body, dragging out a wince, but I endured it and spoke to the Vyke at eye level.

“You have nothing more to gain from this, princess. The only reason you’re still alive is that the Emperor does want peace. If Talsyn is left without leadership, then the vultures will gather to pick it clean and we’ll end up with another ugly war. Maybe not as bad as the one I feared, but bad enough. And I don’t think you truly came here to martyr yourself.”

“You said something to the cymrinorean.” Hyperia opened her eyes to meet mine. There was no emotion in them, just a crystal focus. “He wouldn’t have surrendered so easily otherwise. What did you say?”

“I think you know.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Leaning closer, I said the same words I’d whispered into Siriks’s ears after he’d lifted me above the Coloss.

“Hasur Vyke is dead. You and your brother killed him.”

Lisette’s eyes widened in shock. Penric cursed savagely behind me, while Ostanes let out a dry chuckle. Emma, who I’d shared the theory with already and who’d agreed it seemed likely, said nothing.

Hyperia let out a shuddering breath, her shoulders slumping. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Yith told me.”

Hyperia bared her teeth. “Impossible! He is bound to me!”

We all let those words linger in the air a long minute. I glanced back at Ostanes. He was studying the circle, his eyes drifting across the candles set at various points within its diagram.

“Truth,” he decided. “Well, I suppose that’s that.”

Hyperia looked between us. “What? What does that mean?”

“You were right earlier.” I nodded to the circle. “Among other things, this detects lies. With the candles, see? They waver when you tell one. It’s a Priory ritual. Sister Lisette was a member of the Inquisition. It works much the same as my eyes.” I tapped my own temple. “Though it’s a bit more gentle than my method.”

I heaved myself to my feet, grimacing, then couldn’t hold it in anymore. I started coughing, my fingers rising to my throat. The gorget of my armor prevented me from rubbing at it, so my fingers just brushed cold metal. Emma already had a cup of water in hand. I took it gratefully and started draining it. Hyperia watched me the whole time, not understanding.

Emma helpfully explained. “His magic. It burns his throat and tongue when he tells lies. Quite inconvenient, really.”

“Tells lies?” She asked, her brow furrowing. “You…” Her expression darkened as she understood. “You bastard!”

“King Roland is gathering an army to reinforce the border against your homeland,” I croaked through my scalded tongue. “And the Emperor has been sending missives out for weeks to ready us for war. But he isn’t going to preempt an invasion and risk being the one seen to end the peace first.”

“Then, all that about the famine and my father…” Hyperia was shaking her head.

“Guesswork on my part. Educated guesswork, but I wanted to see how close to the mark I was. As for your father, a lot about this has struck me odd. For one thing, Hasur wouldn’t have been as sloppy as you and your brother have been. Yith also basically told me, though I didn’t realize at first and I don’t believe he meant to. I pissed him off, and the fly let it slip.”

He’d called her murderer. Traitor. Usurper. Perhaps the demon was referring to Reynard, his previous master, but I’d played on the hunch. The rest of the picture I’d painted about the state of Talsyn seemed plausible, especially with how little information we had about what was going on there. Rosanna was the one who’d offered the most likely scenario for what the mountain country might look like, if it were debilitated and starved of resources.

If I’d been off, it would have tipped this game to Hyperia before her reaction confirmed the truth. But that’s why it’s called a gamble.

“You and Calerus wanted the tournament’s prize to give yourselves an edge, and you wanted to use your demons and your plots to destabilize the realm and start a civil war. Even after everyone learned the truth about your father, it would be too late to stop what you’d already set in motion.”

I spread my hands out. “Once this has all come to light, no House in its right mind will follow you. The game is over, Hyperia.”

The remaining Recusants, both those in hiding and those who might join their ranks if it seemed opportune to do so, all harkened to the banner of the Condor of Talsyn. Once they learned his children were fratricides in command of a wasted realm, they would never throw in with them.

“Is it?” Hyperia’s demeanor had become detached during my monologue, her head rolling to one side.

I glanced at Lisette, who was studying the candles intently. “How many times has she tried?”

“Five now,” Lisette said. “The barrier seems to be holding.”

Hyperia blinked, and this time I explained the trick. “You can’t call Yith from in there. It’s an auratic barrier, blocks spiritual signals. And on that subject, I think it’s time to let you know why Master Ostanes is here.”

I turned away from her reddening face to gesture to the crowfriar, then stepped back to let him approach our prisoner.

“You’ve found yourself in a spot of trouble, young lady.” The man’s flint-gray eyes crinkled at the corners. His tone was sympathetic, almost grandfatherly. “I do not mean to alarm you, but I’m afraid the consequences are quite severe.”

“Who are you?” The princess asked.

“I am a brother of the Credo Ferrum and a missionary of the Iron Tribunal of Orkael, granted authority to make contracts in its name, to offer its knowledge to mortal kind, and…” Here he lingered. “To enact punishment on those who break the Tribunal’s laws.”

Hyperia bared her teeth. “Your laws have no power in this land, devil. This is the God-Queen’s domain, and She banished you.”

“Ah, but that’s not quite true!” Ostanes held up a finger. “She banned us, but allowed room in the Riven Order for us to return to the fold under certain conditions. We have returned, lawfully, and thanks to the actions of Horace Laudner and Lias Hexer we now hold some authority with your clergy.”

He began to pace, enjoying the show far more than I did. “In older times, when our order wasn’t quite so at odds with the infrastructure of divinity, we performed a number of roles. Primary among those is the containment of demon kind… and delivering sentence to those who willfully consort with them.”

He paused, turned, and bestowed an iron-toothed grin on the princess. “You understand, yes? We are the original Inquisition.”