Oathbreaker: A Dark Fantasy Web Serial

Inns are special places. They are where strangers meet and leave as friends, where quests start, where warmth and safety can be found regardless of your origin or destination. Lords and peasants can rub elbows by a quiet roadside hearth as anonymous travelers, without concern for station. There are old traditions around such places, strong as any devil’s contract or elf’s bargain.

But there is one place like a shadow to these, latched to the border between the waking world and stranger realms like a leech on a vein. A meeting place for the lost and the desperate, for the apostate and the blackguard, for the dead and the damned.

A den where hungry wolves can find their like.

It can be found in any country, the Backroad Inn, if you know the signs to look for and if it wants to be found. Easier if you have a token from its master. I kept the bronze coin in a hand half hidden beneath my cloak, rolling it through my fingers.

Some parts of Garihelm have no proper streets, and need to be navigated by boat. I found myself in one of these, the sleek gondola beneath me plying dark, burbling waters along a narrow stretch. Homes, shops, and brothels rose to either side of the drowned street, their windows and balconies set right over the water.

Hendry, who rowed for us, watched the surrounding rows with a nervous eye. Many of them were populated by flint eyed men in the garb of dockworkers or fishermen.

There wasn’t much noise here. We were in a bad part of town.

“You’ve been to this place before?” The brawny lad asked me. He’d switched out of his Storm Knight uniform, dressing instead in a simple coat and shirt like I’d often worn after my tenure in Inquisition custody, his shaggy brown hair tied back from his face.

“This place?” I asked, glancing around at the neighborhood. “I haven’t.”

Emma, reclining at the front of the boat with her boots crossed at the ankle, rolled her eyes. “Don’t indulge him, he’s being all blunt and mysterious. It’s practically his favorite pastime. It’s simple, really. The place we’re going can’t be found, it has to find you. He’s just getting us lost in the ass end of the city to speed things along.”

Hendry blinked. “Oh. That makes sense, I suppose.”

Emma looked to me, not bothering to hide her annoyance. “Is there a reason why we needed a third wheel?”

I’d originally divided the six we’d been given to assist with my work into pairs, sending them out to investigate several of the incidents from the night of the Culling. Hendry and Emil, the cleric, had been chasing leads in the palace to follow up on Ser Jocelyn’s encounter. I’d ended up pulling Hendry along into this, leaving his partner to pass along instructions to any of the others who reported back to the tower while I was away.

“Because this isn’t like the other times I’ve gone to the Backroad,” I told her. “This is an official meeting.”

Emma tilted her head, humming. “And you look more official with two attendants. Or, one attendant and a thug, as it were.”

Hendry, in an uncharacteristically bright tone said, “You do have an intimidating glare, Em.”

I swear, the air around the boat crackled. Emma went very still, save for a slow turn of her head as a pair of avian amber eyes fixed on Hendry. She spoke in a calm, patient voice sharp and hard enough to chisel steel.

“Don’t call me that,” she told him. “Ever.”

Hendry froze, his rowing motions faltering. “I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No one told you to stop rowing,” she said, still in that deadly patient voice.

The young man started rowing again, his face pale. I said nothing, though the cold fury in my disciple unsettled me.

I’m going to need to take care of that, I thought. Otherwise, I’ll have to let Hendry go. Emma’s anger toward House Hunting remained too raw.

The rest of the ride passed in uncomfortable silence. Eventually, I had Hendry pull us up to a small dock set below a four story building larger than most of the others. There wasn’t much different about its make, but I sensed something about it. It didn’t belong.

Or perhaps it was the lantern burning outside and the fact that the water below had a light mist coiling over it, despite the day being warm and clear. Who can say. My powers aren’t really a science. I’m guided by intuition more than anything, and when something feels out of place in the world around me, I’ve learned to pay attention.

Hendry and I tied up the boat before the three of us moved up the short stair to the front door. As we passed beneath the overhang of the roof, the bright early summer day seemed to grow dimmer. Emma paused, frowning, though Hendry didn’t seem to notice. His aura wasn’t awakened like ours.

“This is the place,” I said. “Keep close to me, speak to no one, and don’t let anything distract you. The inn is predatory.”

Emma nodded, having gone into more than a few preternatural locations in her time. Hendry swallowed, but made a visible effort to steel himself.

Truthfully, I hadn’t wanted to bring Emma along. There were likely to be some beings, the Keeper himself not least amongst them, who would be very interested in her origins. If any of them found out the truth, that she was the last scion of the bloodline of House Carreon, it would be trouble.

But I’d rather keep her close, and I had promised to stop leaving her behind when I went into danger.

Hendry was another problem. I’d brought him mainly because he was the youngest member of my new lance, the least experienced and the most high risk with his status as a House heir. I wanted to observe him, see if he could be an asset or a handicap.

What I’d overlooked was the tension between my two companions. Emma had played nice so far, but the tense moment on the boat proved to me she wasn’t fully accepting of her former betrothed’s presence.

Putting it from my mind, I stepped through the inn’s front door. I’d been in the Backroad a number of times, and expected the usual scene — a quiet, smoky room with two levels, a fire pit in the middle, and an assortment of dubious, threatening looking characters huddling over drinks as they conversed privately.

Superficially, the room I entered looked as I’d remembered. There was the fire pit, and the second level still had that walkway with extra tables and halls leading deeper into the building. There was the bar by the stairs, where the Keeper usually lurked as he glared about and served drinks. There were the tables, and the guests, and the…

Dancers?

We stepped from the quiet, waterlogged neighborhood into a violent, cacophonous siege on the senses. The inn’s common room was packed with people either milling about the tables or clustered around them, the air filled with an eye-itching haze of smoke, sweat, musk, cooked meat, alcohol, and a dozen other nameless scents.

In addition to the anonymous looking travelers I usually saw, there were also brightly dressed merchants and even what might have been nobles in current fashion. There were bankers, foresters, priests, guildsmen, and mercenaries in full war gear. I saw sailors, some of whom looked like they’d fresh arrived from the continent by their strange dress and the various accents I caught snippets of in the din.

The Keeper had often employed what would have passed as ordinary tavern maids anywhere else — usually women of varying ages. Now, most of the girls I saw with trays of steaming food or drinks wore more revealing outfits, with low-cut dresses, some of them slit up the legs. They wore jewelry and flamboyant hairstyles, painted their faces, even sported tattoos and elaborate piercings.

And some of them entertained the guests with more than just conversation and drink.

On one table, a woman in a chiton, the thin garment pinned at one shoulder to leave the other bare, spun to the tune of a fiddle played by a man nearby, her bare feet and loose dress whipping out to nearly strike the clustered onlookers. Her sweating face had a distant look, as though she’d been entranced into some unstoppable motion. Her brown hair formed a blurring veil around her face, but I thought I caught a glimpse of bright yellow eyes and pointed ears.

Pointed teeth, too.

The fiddler wasn’t the only musician present. I heard strings, flutes, and drums within the din, giving the scene a sort of melodious heartbeat as I led my companions into the chaos. It wasn’t just the noise and variety of people that’d changed, but the building itself. It seemed bigger, more complex in its arrangement, with chandeliers hanging down from the ceiling and statuary set along the supporting sections of each wall. There were alcoves with larger tables where people gambled.

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People did other things in those nooks as well, which I tried to ignore. It is a brothel, I thought. You knew this. Don’t get all out of sorts.

Taking a shallow breath and forcing myself to focus, I pushed through the throng with my tag-alongs keeping close. As I often did, I went near the fire pit in the room’s center to let the spirit inside catch my scent — an old custom from the Dales I’d kept.

I nearly reeled back into a table full of continental lansquenets when the flame erupted, then took the shape of a naked elf who rose above the throng. She spun to the same music as the woman near the door, letting out a throaty laugh that sounded like crackling embers.

Nonplussed, I searched the room for a familiar face. The Keeper wasn’t behind the bar, which also looked bigger and more lavish than before. Instead, a handsome young man with bright yellow hair stood behind it, chatting jovially with some guests. He wore an apron over a black vest and white shirt, and seemed to be an employee. His teeth were bright and white when he flashed them.

“No wonder you wouldn’t bring me here,” Emma quipped, raising her voice over the noise. “It’s a pit.”

“It’s not always like this,” I answered, not sure if she heard me over the noise. I felt dazed, though that might have been whatever was in the smoke.

The feminine thing in the fire was trying to entice Hendry to join her, beckoning to him with a shapely leg. He looked more frightened than interested, his brow beading with sweat and his hand hovering near his sword’s hilt.

I grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him along. “I told you not to get distracted.”

Hendry couldn’t take his eyes off the burning elf-maid. “What is that? Is it… like Orley?”

Emma’s head turned sharply. I noticed that Hendry had tucked his left arm in, almost hunching.

“That’s a hearth wraith,” I told him. “An elf who’s shucked their body and bound themselves to a place. Don’t get close. She’s taken a liking to you.”

I led him along while the spirit cast wistful eyes our way. Emma looked more engaged than Hendry, her attention flicking from one colorful scene to the next, a jaunt in her step. I’d have to watch her, too.

I noticed a figure standing by the entrance to a hall next to the stair, waving furiously. I navigated through the mess, grabbing Hendry again as he bumped into a pair of hooded vagrants who turned out to be dyghouls rotted nearly down to the bone. I avoided a confrontation through sheer force of momentum as their empty eye pits glared after us.

Soon enough, I got my group over to the one who’d beckoned me. Catrin had changed too in the three days since I’d last seen her. She wore an archaic looking garment very similar to the woman dancing to the fiddle, though hers included laced sandals, a stiff collar, and one billowing sleeve.

She wore makeup, which I’d never seen her in before, a touch of red on her lips and smoky black on her eyelids. Her ringlets looked a brighter shade than normal, closer to red than brown, with four long coils framing her temples and the rest knotted back to reveal her tapered ears, which she usually hid.

She’d even painted her sharp nails black. With her pale skin, the outfit made her look much like the classic vampiress, like some blood count’s sultry bride.

“What is all this?” I asked.

Catrin shrugged, as though the chaos of seedy entertainment was nothing much. “We’ve latched onto the biggest city this corner of the world. The ‘Keep’s expanding his business, taking on new clients.”

She spread her arms out, indicating the transformed inn. “Welcome to the new Backroad.”

“It’s much… louder.” Almost on cue, the music picked up in tempo. It didn’t quite hide a high cry of passion from one of the various nooks.

Catrin had us follow her into the back halls of the building’s first floor. The sound muted, allowing me to hear my own thoughts. I heard muffled conversation in some of the rooms.

“Private gambling spaces mostly,” Catrin explained. “Lot of business meetings get done back here. This place isn’t just for drinks and beds, especially not these days.”

“Yes,” Emma said in an amused tone. “I’m certain it’s all cards and coins laid out on those tables.”

I threw her a furious glare, but Catrin just glanced back and flashed a toothy grin. Then, lowering her voice she said, “I’m surprised, Al. I thought you said you didn’t want to be involved with this place?”

“I don’t,” I said. “But things have changed. You’ve heard about the trouble in the city?”

Catrin nodded. “I found out the attempt on you wasn’t isolated as soon as I got back here that night. I wanted to talk to you about it, but…”

“It’s alright,” I said. “I was in the palace, anyway.”

I gave her a brief summary of the situation, which she already mostly knew from the letter I’d left hidden in the house by the docks before vacating it — a system we’d worked out to communicate when we couldn’t reach one another personally.

“So in short,” I finished, “I can’t afford scruples. I don’t have to like the Keeper, but he’ll know something.”

Catrin grimaced. “He’ll make you pay for it.”

“I know.”

“I’m serious.”

She paused by a door near the back of the hall — it had been much longer than it had looked before I’d entered it — and turned to face me. “I can’t bail you out of this one, Alken. The Keeper knows you and I are closer than I am with most of the guests. He’ll use that if we let him. Whatever he says, whatever he asks of you…”

She smiled wistfully. “I’ll have to go along with it.”

I nodded, trying for a reassuring smile. “It’s fine. I’m a—”

“Don’t say you’re a big boy. I don’t steal your lines.” She flashed a fanged smile, then nodded to the door. “This is it.”

She glanced at Emma and Hendry. “Those two will have to wait out here. This is a private meeting. Why don’t you two go get some drinks, take a load off? This might be a while.”

I started to protest. “I don’t think that’s a—”

Catrin nudged me. “Don’t worry, you’re all under guest right. They’ll be safe from any trickery. I’ll put a couple of the girls I trust on them, just in case.”

Hendry blushed. “You mean…”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t get all out of sorts, Hunting. You’ve seen breasts before, surely.”

Hendry’s blush deepened. Catrin frowned, leaned close to the young man, and sniffed. The sniff immediately became a sharp inhale. He shuffled back a step, clearly uncomfortable.

The dhampir’s eyes widened and turned a paler color of brown. “Shit. I don’t think he has.” She looked at me with a reproachful expression. “Al, this is a wolf’s den. Why’d you bring a lamb in?”

Hendry’s blush took on a different color, his face darkening with anger. “I am no lamb. I am Ser Hendry of House Hunting, firstborn son of Lord Brenner Hunting. I was knighted by King Roland of Venturmoor, and earned a post with the Stormguard of Garihelm through feats of arms. I charged Jon Orley on the field of battle, and still bear the wound from it.”

He pressed a hand to his left shoulder, took a deep breath, then spoke in a steadier voice. “I will not be mocked.”

He looked first at Catrin, then at Emma, who was staring at him with an openly surprised expression.

Catrin, for her part, just gave him an approving nod. “Right. Well, good on you.” In a half whisper to me she added, “I’ll make sure no one turns him into dinner, don’t worry.”

I didn’t want to leave either of them to the inn’s mercy, but I’d come here for a purpose and I trusted Catrin. I turned to Emma. “I want the two of you to listen, find out if anyone’s talking about the other night.”

Emma pursed her lips. “Shall we ask questions?”

I considered, then shook my head. “I’ll leave it to your judgement, but try not to draw too much attention. I’d rather it stay on me.”

Emma wasn’t slow, for all her flippancy. Her eyes widened a fraction. “That’s why you had us dress inconspicuously while you came fully arrayed as the Headsman. You’re bait.”

I gave her a tight smile. “Someone might approach you and ask questions, or just stalk you. If that happens, mark them and let me know about it.”

“And if there’s trouble with this broker?” She asked, glancing at the door.

“He might try to strong arm me in negotiations,” I admitted, “but he’s basically a lord, and we’re in his hall. So long as we’re good guests, he wouldn’t dare do anything that might hurt his reputation.”

I gave her one last significant look, then nodded to Hendry. Catrin had walked a distance away with him to chat, their conversation muffled by the muted din of the common room. He looked perplexed and anxious, but whatever she was saying to him seemed to be helping his nerves.

“I know there’s some history between you two,” I said quietly. “But keep things professional.”

Emma scowled. “I am.”

“You’re prodding at him to get him to quit.” I spoke more sternly. “I don’t know that boy as well as you, Emma, but I don’t think he has untoward intentions.”

Her scowl deepened, but I fixed her with my most serious look. I still remembered my brief encounter with Hendry in Rosanna’s bastion a month before. He’d had so much regret in his eyes.

“I believe he cares about you,” I said. “You don’t have to reciprocate those feelings, and by all means draw whatever lines you think necessary, but give him a chance to help.”

“And what do you know about it?” Emma snapped, the anger she’d been keeping inside all day bursting out. “His father tried to use me for my name and my body, like a prized breeding mare. That was his stud of choice.”

She pointed at Hendry, her eyes furious.

“I know,” I sighed. “But that was his father. And… damn it Emma, I don’t know the boy, but I think he feels bad about it. More than that, I could use someone whose motives I actually understand on this team I’ve been saddled with. Even still…”

I gave her a level look. “If you want me to send him away, I’ll do it. Is that what you want?”

I watched her consider it. Then, sighing, she shook her head. “No. Besides, his father might still show his bristly face at some point. Best we don’t get blindsided by that.”

I nodded, relieved. “Good. Then don’t get him killed. Catrin was serious about that wolf and lamb thing. Most of the Keeper’s girls are predators, and use this place to get their meals. Don’t let him out of your sight.”

Emma suddenly looked more nervous, but nodded. “If any fanged harlots flash their tits at him, I shall intervene.” She hesitated a moment before adding, “Does that include her?”

She pointed. I realized Catrin was laughing at something Hendry had said. She had her hand on one of his arms, as though she’d patted him and let it linger there. He was smiling, looking more relaxed than he had before.

A knot formed in my chest, one I’d felt before. I knew she worked here, that this was normal for her, but even still…

Seeing it was different. I took a deep breath, letting my tension loosen. “Then… that’s between them.” I shrugged it off. “Hendry’s a grown man, and Cat and I… we aren’t really going steady, not like that. She can be with who she wants.”

Catrin worked in a brothel, no matter how supernatural its trappings. Giving me her company once in a while didn’t make her mine.

Emma watched me steadily, not commenting. Almost as though drawn by my attention, Catrin looked away from Hendry and met my eyes. She nodded to the door, and I got the message. It’s time.

I gave Emma one last reassuring smile, not feeling it at all, then gestured for her to go with the other two. Then I turned to the door and stepped inside to meet a devil.

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