Oathbreaker: A Dark Fantasy Web Serial-Interlude: The Doctor

Northern Amberhorns

Winter

12 Years After The Fall

A church bell tolled, striking a mournful beat that ripped the sleeper from her dream.

Delphine woke sweating and chilled, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest. For several minutes all she could do was sit in bed, clutching the soaked sheets and gasping for breath. Her left hand formed a fist over her breast, as though she could stem her panicked pulse with pressure like a bleeding wound.

The same dream again. How many times was this? How many times would she be forced to relive those hellish hours of stumbling through the smoke while the avenues and groves burned, while the thunder of battle drew closer with every moment and laughing things hunted her?

They’d called her name. Taunted her. Where are you going? Won’t you stay? Are you lost, good sister?

They’d killed the others. Torn them apart and worn their corpses like clothing. The other sisters had danced through the ruins and called her name over and over, and she’d…

Only as the remnants of sleep fully faded did Delphine realize the town’s bells were ringing. She often heard that sound in her dreams as well, and it took several minutes to realize they were real. Dawn already?

This wasn’t just the morning bell. They were all ringing, and the sound had a note of urgency in it. Delphine reached for the spot next to her on the bed and found it empty. That sent a thrill of panic through her more intense even than the tolling.

“Gladys?” She called mutedly, but of course no one answered. She was alone in the room.

She scrambled out of the bed and opened the shutters on the windows. Immediately the sound of wind buffeting cheap glass filled the bedroom. The panes rattled, threatening to rip right off the shop’s walls in a brief but powerful gust. Delphine’s room was on the second floor of the old building, one of a score of its like making up this street.

It’s still night, she realized. And the snow still hadn’t let up. Winter had come hard and fast, and for nearly two weeks now the township of Urbaine had been half buried in snowfall. Frost crusted the window.

Watch fires burned along the town’s defensive wall. Down on the street, the mayor’s guard were out in force on their chimera. Big, shaggy beasts suited for this mountainous region. They were going door to door down the row, and already people were emerging from their homes in a scatter of confusion.

No doubt many of them still remembered the war. The Gylden might not have suffered so dramatically as Blessed Seydis, but it had suffered. No doubt the peal of bells and the town waking in the cold dark came as a familiar terror to these people.

But this was no attacking army, no rampaging monster or freak hurricane that brought fire and death in its winds. No, this had the quality of a manhunt.

The bedroom door opened and Gladys burst in. A plump woman in her early thirties with mousy brown hair, she still wore her night dress and held a steaming cup. She saw Delphine awake and stopped.

“You’re up!” Gladys seemed uncertain what to do for a moment. Her eyes went to the window and crinkled with worry. “I don’t know what’s happening. Hugo says we’re not supposed to go to the castle, that the guard wants us to stay inside. That means it’s not war, right? If they want us to stay in our homes, then it’s not war?”

Delphine recognized the plea for reassurance. Instead of giving it she said, “They’ve already been here?”

Now she listened, she could hear Hugo — Gladys’s older brother — moving around downstairs.

“Yes.” Gladys nodded. “They just told us not to panic, that there’s been a disturbance and we’re not under attack. But why would they ring all the bells? Why would they light all the fires on the wall? I don’t—”

Delphine closed the shutters, blocking their view of the waking town. Moving to the other woman, she took Gladys’s face between her hands. Delphine was a good bit taller. She looked down into those huge, scared eyes. Instead of saying anything, she leaned in and kissed her. It was brief, just a quick press of lips and a flutter of eyelashes against the shorter woman’s cheek.

When she pulled back, Delphine smiled warmly. “Everything is fine. We’re not under attack. You have nothing to worry about.”

Gladys blushed furiously. “Oh. Alright. Um.” She lifted the steaming cup. “I made you tea. You were having nightmares again, so I thought it might help.”

Delphine took the cup and sipped. She saw Hugo at the door. He’d seen her kissing his sister, and disapproval radiated from him. Because it was his sister, because it made him uncomfortable, and because he didn’t like Delphine much. All the usual reasons. She didn’t care.

“What did the guards say?” Delphine asked.

Hugo folded his arms and grunted. Round faced like Gladys with the same ashy brown hair and dark eyes, he and his sister had little in common otherwise. Where she was soft and gentle, his work at the mill gave him a bearish strength.

“There’s been a murder,” he rumbled.

Gladys pressed a hand to her mouth. “Who?”

“Don’t know,” Hugo said with a pensive cast to his bearded face. “But with the whole town in uproar, it had to either be the bishop, the knight-captain, or the mayor himself. My guess is the captain. The soldiers looked ready for blood.”

“But why all the bells?” Gladys frowned, realizing they’d stopped. Delphine could still hear them ringing in her mind. They never stopped ringing for her, not since Seydis.

Delphine knew the answer, but Hugo spared her the effort. “They want to make the culprit panic,” he said with grim satisfaction. “We drill for this in the militia. You make a big ruckus and chances are the fox will fly out of the coop. People, especially guilty people, don’t think rationally when you scare the shit out of them, and all that light and noise is fit to scare a demon.”

“I very much doubt that,” Delphine said quietly. Hugo glowered at her, while Gladys shifted in discomfort.

Hugo changed the subject. “I hear it was like this in Vinhithe when Red Leonis got himself butchered.”

Gladys’s face drained of color. “Do you think it’s—”

“Best not to speculate,” Delphine said soothingly, shooting a pointed look at Hugo. The man coughed and avoided her gaze. It’d been nearly two years since the Bishop of Vinhithe was killed — some said executed — and that was a much larger town than Urbaine.

“I’m sure we’ll get more details in the morning.” Even as she said it, Delphine realized it might already be morning. She glanced around her bedroom, which was also her study. Parchment and other material still piled on her desk, most of a treatise she’d been working on since the past spring.

She felt a moment of intense self recrimination. If the guards had come in here and seen that, and the books on her shelves, decided to tear the room apart and find all her research, they might have destroyed it.

Years of work, completely vulnerable in this tiny space she shared with Gladys.

“How long until dawn?” She asked the siblings.

“Barely more than an hour,” Hugo rumbled. “I need to get ready for work. Gladys has been up all night fretting over you, doctor. Best to let her rest.”

He stormed out of the room, letting the door slam behind him. Gladys tossed an apologetic look Delphine’s way. “He’s just anxious. He fought in the war, you know.”

“I know,” Delphine said. She put a hand on Gladys’s shoulder. “Thank you for the tea. Let’s get back to bed, hm?”

Even with the window shuttered, she could still hear voices outside. Distant shouts. The wind seemed to be picking up too. It sounded like another winter storm might be blowing in.

Delphine tried to sleep in, hoping to make up for the hours of fevered dreams. When she realized sleep wasn’t on her schedule for the day she gave up and woke Gladys. They made love. Delphine’s sudden ardor surprised both of them, and when done she left the perplexed, contented seamstress to sleep.

Delphine hoped she’d at least helped ease some of Gladys’s anxiety. Hers boiled in her, a soup of anticipation and dread she couldn’t name.

She washed, changed into fresh clothes for the day, made sure the stove was lit to keep the shop warm. Then she took some time to clean up her room, working furtively and quickly, mindful of her lover in an exhausted stupor on the bed they shared. All her notes, research, her precious materials and tools went into a locked chest or a leather case she could carry.

“What are you doing?” She asked herself. She was acting like she might need to leave at any moment.

Deciding it was just nervous energy, she went downstairs and put on a soup. She made tea, hoping to make up for Gladys’s nursing the previous night. Wind howled outside, the storm she’d anticipated having rolled in hours ago.

Delphine hadn’t lived in mountains before she’d come to this town nearly a year past, and still wasn’t used to just how angry the winter in the Amberhorns could be, or how early it arrived. The valleys would fill with so much snow it could bury houses, so most of the settlements were built on elevation. Everything seemed steep and angular, with roads that gave her a sense of vertigo.

But it was quiet, isolated, and peaceful. Urbaine was a good town, with a full sized cathedral and a strong castle for the people to take shelter in should an attack happen. The locals were suspicious of her, but that was true everywhere considering her profession. People distrusted learned folk unaffiliated with the Church.

They called her Doctor, though she wasn’t the sort to mend wounds or set bones.

Just as Delphine was about to go upstairs and check on Gladys, someone knocked on the door. Thinking it must be Hugo, as no one else would be bothering them in this dreadful weather, she approached to unlatch it. The wind almost slammed the damned thing right into her face.

It wasn’t Hugo. Three men stood outside, two of them strangers. The one Delphine knew was Ser Larkspur, the town’s garrison commander. Hugo had guessed wrong about who’d been killed.

“Captain,” Delphine greeted the man cautiously. The wind faded after a briefly lived gust, allowing them to hear one another. The cold bit at her, chasing away the warmth she’d been stoking into the shop for hours.

Ser Larkspur dipped his head to her. An older man with graying mustaches, he’d draped himself in a fur cloak that had to have once belonged to a huge beast. They had bears in the mountains.

“Good day, doctor.” The knight greeted her. “May we come in out of the cold?”

Delphine nodded wordlessly and stepped aside so the three men could stomp into the storefront. She closed the door behind them, leaving a mess of snow and a lingering chill.

The knight-commander turned to regard her. He was easily the biggest of the three men, leaner than Gladys’s brother but built tall and strong. He wore his armor beneath the fur cloak, and the whole ensemble gave him a distinctly martial cast. freёweɓnovel.com

Delphine didn’t much like soldiers, never had, and Ser Larkspur had always struck her as a soldier’s soldier.

“I am deeply sorry for disturbing you, madam.” The man nodded to his two fellows. “I would also like to add that it was not my intent. These gentlemen wanted to speak with you.”

Delphine turned her attention to the strangers, carefully schooling her expression as she did. One wore armor like the captain, though his looked older and more battered with little decorative. A foggy gray cape hung down his back, which seemed inadequate for the harsh winter. He looked close to fifty, with a sharp widow’s peak and a gaunt face. He exuded a serene confidence.

The other man was younger, thin, with dark brown hair cut into a bowl and a bland face that emoted nothing. His eyes were strikingly blue against his complexion, and seemed somehow empty. He wore no armor, just a heavy black coat with a high collar.

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Delphine nodded politely to them. The man in black spoke first.

“You are Delphine Roch?” He had a nasal voice, emotionless as his eyes and pitched to a low volume.

“I am.” Again she glanced to the captain. “May I ask what this is about?”

Only then did she realize Ser Larkspur looked nervous. He shuffled uncomfortably, and kept looking at the two men as though worried about what they might do.

Delphine understood his worry. She knew who these men were. She hoped Gladys would remain asleep.

“May we sit?” The blue eyed man asked. There was a small sitting area behind the counter near the stove, with chairs and a table where Delphine often sat and ate with Hugo and Gladys, when she wasn’t too busy with her work and taking meals in her room.

Delphine agreed and they all sat after she poured the men tea. There were four chairs, but the captain remained by the door as though eager for this business to be done. The man in the gray cape refused the tea and started wandering around the shop, admiring all the textiles Gladys wove.

That pacing made Delphine even more nervous, but the blue-eyed man drew her attention as he settled on the opposite side of the table.

“Do you know who we are?” The man asked her after he’d sipped from his cup.

Delphine realized they must have arrived in the night, sometime before the storm. She noted the symbol stitched to the left shoulder of the blue-eyed man’s coat. A red auremark with barbed ends, curved up on the wings to form a stylized trident.

“You are from the Priory of the Arda,” Delphine said. “You’re inquisitors.”

The man smiled. Delphine had to suppress a shiver. The expression brought no warmth to his face.

“My name is Oraise,” the man said. “I am a presider for the Priory. Until early this year I was on the Emperor’s small council, but our organization was compelled to move its operations to Durelyon and I could not be spared.”

“Compelled?” Delphine raised an eyebrow. The way she’d heard it, the Inquisition had been caught up in some huge scandal and decimated by the outbreak of violence that’d taken the capital of the Accorded Realms by storm the past spring.

Oraise shrugged. “I’m certain you’ve heard rumors. True, the Priory has suffered some losses. We are rebuilding, focusing our efforts outside of Reynwell."

"We are far from Durelyon," Delphine noted.

"Yes." It was all the man said in response.

Again, Delphine’s eyes shifted to the man in the gray cape. He ran his hand through a rack of scarves. Swallowing, she spoke to the Presider. “And may I ask what you are doing here, in my home?”

Oraise tilted his head. “I hear from the captain that this is the home of a seamstress, one she shares with her older brother. A millworker? You’ve been boarding with them for the past eleven months. Is that accurate, doctor?”

Delphine didn’t like the way he enunciated doctor. She was starting not to like this man. “That is correct.”

Oraise sighed. “I can see that we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I assure you, Miss Roch, we mean you no harm. Quite the opposite, actually.”

The coldness in Delphine’s own voice took her by surprise. “I find that hard to believe. I’ve heard things about your organization.”

She glanced at the man in the cape, who paused to meet her gaze. She noted his dark gray eyes, the way they caught the light strangely. Delphine took a deep breath. I hate games. Best to just be out with it and stop all this circling.

“I’m certain you’ve heard things about me from the townsfolk,” Delphine said to both of the men, knowing the captain could also hear. “About my proclivities. I assume you are here to ascertain the truth and see my sinful ways punished. So yes, let’s be out with it. I prefer the company of women. I spent half the morning violating that poor weaver upstairs and I’m a terrible iconoclaste, a witch of the most dubious sort.”

She slapped her hands down on the table, realizing only then that they trembled. “So there’s my confession. Must I sign something?”

Larkspur started coughing. The man in the gray cape looked bemused at her outburst.

The inquisitor studied her for a long moment, giving nothing of his thoughts away. Then in a slow and casual motion he spread his gloved hands out. “I think we have something of a misunderstanding, Miss Roch. I am not Leonis Chancer. I know he had a reputation, and ties to our order.”

“A reputation?” Delphine gave the man a thin smile to match his own. “You mean how he prosecuted changelings? Declared insular sects of the Church apostate, and instigated people to lynch preosters who preached doctrine not in line with his own? Do you mean how he claimed that people like me are astray from the God-Queen’s love and that only in correcting our sinful ways can we find salvation? Is that not how the entire Priory has been operating for years now?”

Oraise seemed unfazed by her harsh tone. “We have experienced some… let’s call it a crisis of identity.”

Delphine snorted. Her fear had given way to anger, which she knew was just adrenaline. The moment they offered her any sort of violence or showed so much as the tip of an iron hook, she’d break.

“I’ve heard more than enough about your new Grand Prior, too. You know I read Diana Hallow’s treatise?” She quoted the name. “The Heir’s Lament? Have you read it? Your leader has some choice ideas about the sorts of things God disapproves of for a woman who’s clearly done no research dating further back than Lyda’s Plague. It’s a disgrace her words were read aloud to the Clericon College last year.”

Only distantly did Delphine know just how foolish it was to say these things to these men. She was scared and angry, and acting rash. She knew they weren’t here for that. She knew the face across the table from her belonged to a very dangerous man.

But all she could see that moment was the face of the Mother Superior in front of her, nose upturned in imperious distaste.

Oraise continued to watch her. Delphine began to calm, and once more the dread she’d been feeling all day came rushing back.

“Diana Hallow is no longer Grand Prior, and I am not here because of your choice in lovers.” Oraise shook his head. “Which I think you know, but I commend the deflection. No, doctor, I am here because of who you once were.”

Delphine felt very tired all the sudden. “And what do you know of who I once was, Presider?”

Oraise placed his hands on the table, mirroring her pose. “Information about what exactly happened in the east when the war began is scarce, and a truly cyclopean amount of knowledge was lost when the elven city was destroyed. However, the Church’s records on its own membership are quite thorough.”

He leaned forward, his dead eyes suddenly alight with interest. “You were a member of the Cenocastia. You were a scholar-nun, one of an order of learned scribes who spent many years cloistered and dedicated to studying the mysteries of our world. You were there when the city burned, and you escaped, and afterward you quit the Church. But you did not stop studying, did you? You are a woman of great knowledge in many subjects, particularly those pertaining to the occult.”

He let that last word linger. The man in the gray cape stood close to them now, but Delphine hadn’t noticed until just then. Oraise tilted his head down, his voice lowering into an almost conspiratorial pitch.

“Is that not all true… Delphine Roch?”

He paused before using that name. And there it was, the thing she’d been afraid of since seeing this man in the doorway. The thing she’d been afraid of for years, and expected, ever since she started on this path.

“So you’re here to prosecute me for my studies.” Delphine didn’t make it a question. She leaned back, the chair creaking beneath her. “You want to burn my research.”

Oraise blinked. “Quite the opposite, actually. We are here for your help.”

Delphine stared at him, nonplussed. “Come again?”

For the first time the knight in the gray cape spoke. “Are you aware that the mayor of this township is a rather famous collector, doctor?”

The sudden change in subject threw Delphine off even further, but she nodded as she glanced at the strange man. No one had given his name. “Yes. It’s the reason I came here originally. He had some items of interest to me.”

Oraise indicated the man. “My apologies. I’ve not introduced you to my colleague.”

Games up anyway, Delphine thought. No reason to play the fool. “I know well enough who he is. Or should I say what he is?”

Oraise lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Delphine laced her fingers together, forcing calm over her nerves with a savage internal effort. “I know a servant of the Zosite when I see one.”

A long silence lingered after that. The gray knight, who Delphine felt certain was no knight, looked amused. Delphine felt no amusement.

“I have broken none of your realm’s laws,” she spat at the gray knight. “I have not attempted to break any gaols and I have communed with no demons.”

That last was a lie, but the power to tell lies wasn’t ascribed to this creature’s order. Delphine would have to hope she wasn’t misinformed about that part. The man did not respond, only stared at her with that faint smile like he knew something she didn’t.

“How did you know?” Oraise asked curiously.

Delphine tapped at the shadow on her eyelids, very much like the kohl a noblewoman might wear. “This is made from an extract of elfhorn and the same oils used in rites within the Church. I smoke a variant of the same mixture. I can tell he’s wearing a glamour. I can see the hellfire in his eyes, and smell brimstone. Also, he wouldn’t touch the tea. I’m guessing he could sense the silver dust I put in it.”

Oraise glanced down at his own cup.

Delphine gave the gray knight a hard look. “I know a crowfriar when I see one. What’s the old saying? Blessed gold is demon’s bane, hallowed silver is the dead’s? And you are dead. I wasn’t sure it would do anything since you’re not a true devil, just one of their damned patsies. I thank you for proving my theory correct.”

The two men exchanged a look while Delphine worked to keep her breaths calm. Her heart pounded in her chest.

“Yes,” Oraise said finally. “I think you will do, Miss Roch.”

Delphine still felt very confused. “What happened last night?”

For the first time the Presider looked annoyed. “An attempt to waylay us. Ser Kross dealt with it, but I’m afraid there is still danger. So I must get to the point, doctor. We came to this town for you.”

Delphine shook her head. “You came all the way from Durelyon for me?”

Oraise nodded. “Yes. Your expertise as a scholar of the occult is of great value to us.”

“I would think it of great consternation to you,” Delphine replied acidly.

Oraise shook his head. “Perhaps to some members of the Priory, but in all honesty the priors are just the patrons of the Inquisition. We are under new leadership now, and our goals are more focused. There are evils in this land, Miss Roch. Evils you encountered in Seydis.”

Delphine remained quiet, hearing the sound of bells and her dead sisters laughing.

Oraise placed a hand to his chest. “The old order is collapsed. The Accord is divided and distracted. The Church is fractured. The Recusants are cowed, but some of the most dangerous of them are still at large. The Table is gone, and there is nothing left to protect us from the things that lurk in the night. From the warlock and the devil, from the wicked elf and the restless dead. We seek to fight the growing darkness, but to do that we must understand it.”

Delphine didn’t bother hiding her derisive smile. “You profess to fight devils while letting one stand over your shoulder?"

"What's the old saying?" Ser Kross asked. "The devil you know?"

Delphine wasn't convinced. "You’re telling me you mean to replace the paladins of Seydis. I have seen the Alder Knights with my own eyes, Presider, and I have seen your priorguard. I tell you now that they do not compare.”

“Not yet.” Oraise folded his hands. “We do not have the magics of a demigod or six centuries of experience, so we must think outside the box while we endeavor to fill the void. That is what we desire of you, doctor. Fresh eyes unmarred by creed or dogma. A practical view.”

Delphine shook her head. “I have no interest in joining the Priory. I quit the Church.”

Oraise took this in stride. “We are happy to hire you on retainer as an independent consultant. You will be compensated.”

Delphine was not above greed. Being an independent scholar could be poor living. “Compensated?”

“Enough of a stipend to conduct your research at your leisure, of course. You will be given access to our archives. You may work as you see fit. The Priory is rebuilding, as I said, and we could use a liaison with your expertise. Consider yourself a contractor.”

He smiled that cool smile again. “You say you read Prior Diana’s treatise. Did you know the new Grand Prior has read your work, Miss Roch? He is quite impressed, not to mention eager to meet you.”

Delphine drummed her fingers on the table. “And I would be under no permanent obligations? I would have my own study, my own lab? Full access to your organization’s archives? And no interference from your inquisitors?”

Oraise dipped his head. “That is so.”

Delphine felt herself start to relax for the first time since she’d lain with Gladys earlier that day. Ah, sweet Gladys. I’m sorry. You knew this might happen eventually.

“We will be departing Urbaine once the weather clears,” Oraise continued. “If you decide to become part of this effort, you will of course have to go with us. We will be traveling eastward with as much haste as the snows allow.”

Delphine’s eyes squeezed shut in a brief yet fierce blink. Part of her didn’t want to leave her comfortable life here. She didn’t want to leave a warm bed and a kind companion.

But a much greater part of her had been itching for just this sort of thing. The opportunities it presented were nearly as great as the danger… no, much greater. It might be the missing piece she’d been waiting for.

Indecision waged a brief, fierce battle behind her steady eyes. “I would like time to think about it.” Delphine pushed away from the table. “Alone.”

Oraise nodded and rose to his feet. “We depart as soon as the weather permits. You will have a few days at least.”

After they’d left, Delphine turned from the door to find Gladys standing on the stairs. Her mousy hair was a mess and she wore a night robe. She stared at Delphine with what could only be described as glum acceptance.

“How much of that did you hear?” Delphine asked tiredly.

“Enough.” The seamstress continued to stare sadly. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

Only when the question was asked did it become real, and Delphine knew she’d already made up her mind. “I’m sorry, Glad.”

Gladys fled back up the stairs. Delphine didn’t follow her. She felt regret, but a much stronger degree of anticipation.

She spent the day packing. Gladys wouldn’t speak to her. When Hugo came home and realized what was happening, he acted surprised and tried to convince her to stay until spring, but she knew his attempts were half hearted. He’d wanted her out of his house for months.

Delphine learned from Hugo that the mayor’s castle had been attacked the previous night. Several people died, but the knight-exorcist who’d come with the Presider slew the attacker. The rumors around town were that it was some kind of war chimera, but like nothing the guards had ever seen. A monster.

If she joined them, she would be in danger. Those men were fighting a war.

This is foolish, a more sensible part of her warned. If that devil starts to suspect you it could go very badly. He’s as dangerous as any fell thing they’re in the middle of battling.

Scared. Delphine was scared, and she’d been a mess ever since Seydis. She’d been a mess ever since those golden eyed monsters had slain the only one who’d ever understood her, leaving her all alone in the world.

But not for much longer. Her dreams were different of late. Not just the fevered rememberings of that terrible day. She’d felt a will in them, a presence. A shadow of what she’d lost. The longing had burned in her hotter with every passing hour.

As Delphine packed her things and tried to ignore the rumpled spot on the bed where she’d attempted to fill that void earlier the same day, a subtle movement disturbed the room. She felt a cold that had nothing to do with the winter. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

Her eyes went to an old volume she’d left on the desk. Approaching, she opened it to the right page with a practiced movement and let her hand brush the drawing there. Her own drawing, done twelve years before when she’d been much younger and still trying to understand what she was feeling. Her fingers traced the sketched ridge of one folded wing before sliding to the subject's face.

“I will make this right.” Delphine set her jaw as she made the promise. She'd grown tired of nightmares and regret.

She closed the book to hide the image of the demon and prepared to leave.