Oathbreaker: A Dark Fantasy Web Serial-1.37: 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’d lost her fine shoes at some point, and 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 wasn’t 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, the sclera darkened closer to yellow than white. 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. Catrin slammed against the opposite wall of the hallway. She recovered instantly, glaring up at me. Her face had turned corpse pale, her eyes fever red and veined. She hissed like an animal, revealing teeth closer to wolf than human.

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 and fear.

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.

“Alken…” She shuddered. “I’m so sorry. Bleeding Gates, I’m sorry, I didn’t… I can’t…”

“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 too long, and that silver arrow made it worse. 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.”

She hesitated three quick heartbeats. 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 the wounds. A soft, muffled moan escaped her throat.

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 damaged 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.

And I hated myself, because this hadn’t been mercy or trust, but a test.

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.”

A moment came where I didn’t think she’d pull away. Her yellowed sclera had slowly filled with red as she fed, her pale skin taking on a healthier tint, her fingers growing firmer, stronger. Her grip tightened on my arm…

I started to lift the axe.

Catrin dragged red lips away and stepped back. She clenched stained teeth, squeezed her eyes shut, and hugged herself. After shivering violently she 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. 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.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“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.”

“We need to find the baron,” I said. “And Olliard, if he’s actually here.”

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

I focused, but heard nothing. The changeling’s hearing must have been sharper than mine. I tightened my grip on my axe and drew up power. It came fitfully, singeing me in several places as I struggled to assert control over it. I grit my teeth against the pain and focused forward.

A figure stepped out into the hall ahead of us. I went on guard. Catrin did not. She’d known who approached 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 right hand held a drawn gladius, and a neutral expression masked his handsome features.

He’d been injured. Viscous blood dripped from the fingers of his left hand from a long, ragged tear along the forearm. A claw wound.

“Cat,” the mercenary said. “Where have you been?”

“About,” Catrin said, taking a step forward.

Quinn’s glassy eyes went to me. “What do you think you’re doing? There’s no reason for you to be here anymore.”

“What I think’s right,” Catrin said, her own eyes narrowing.

Quinn let out a strange, choking laugh. “I never understood that. The people you hang around with, the things you do, the man you work for… and you have all these scruples?”

Catrin shrugged. “I don’t care if you understand it or not, Quinn. Where’s the baron?”

In the distance, an inhuman cry echoed through the halls. Impossible to say how far in the depths of the castle. It could have been from another level, or two halls down. I tensed, but Quinn remained impassive.

“Around.” The soldier said in answer to Catrin’s question. “Bastard’s making us work for it.”

“Why did you turn on him?” I asked.

He didn’t answer my question. Instead, twirling his blade in an idle flourish he said, “You have no idea what you’re getting involved with, Cat. Ditch the vagabond, and I’ll make sure you get out safe.”

Catrin didn’t answer. Quinn’s corpse blue eyes seemed to focus, and he noted the red on her lips. He saw 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."

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“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. How many times have I paid your price, Cat?”

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 who’d learned to guard their will. But Quinn was a worm. His soul barely clutched 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 command.

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 stunned disbelief. 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’d just come to respect the changeling woman and felt genuine anger. At him, and at me for forgetting myself.

Maybe it was a bit of both.

Who can say?

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

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 the hand. Amber tinted flame erupted from stump and hand both, consuming the latter and scorching the mercenary’s 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 was 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.

“Below!” He hissed. “In his lab.”

I glanced at Catrin, and she nodded. “I think I can find it.”

I turned back to Quinn. He clutched 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, but he kept it in his body through sheer will.

“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 ritual. The captain left us behind to clean up.”

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 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. He made the same mistake any caravaner does, thinking we wouldn’t just take what he had to offer. What an arrogant fucking prick he was. We taught him good!”

“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. Maybe that was his plan, but it didn’t need him.”

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 who couldn’t look at the big picture.

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.

“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 mercenary’s breastplate to rip my weapon from the floor. I spent a minute watching the body burn without 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 thought he had all the power here.” I cursed savagely. “I should have seen it! A backwater sorcerer gathering so many dangerous allies. They used him. Duped him. That witch, Lillian, helped him prepare his ritual. When it was ready, she just went and did it herself.”

I turned to the dhampir. “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 they were really 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 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 squeezed her eyes shut and folded her arms. “The Backroad isn’t just a traveler’s inn. It’s a brothel, and… that’s how I get blood.”

“I’ve no right to judge you, Catrin. I saw you weep for those villagers. 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.

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