Oathbreaker

by Cara Witter

  But nothing happened.

  Erich chuckled. “Let’s get going. We’ve got a long journey ahead.”

  Fifty-seven

  Jaeme’s hands shook violently, and he dropped the sword in the dirt. He should have held on to it; he knew it. But as hot tears pressed their way into his eyes, he knew just as surely that he wasn’t going to be able to see the next blow that came for him, wouldn’t possess the strength to fend it off. Jaeme crumpled to the dirt beside the body of his uncle, whose eyes remained open, turned unblinking to the sky. A roaring filled his ears, and Jaeme choked on his own tears, hands scratching the dirt.

  Why? Why did everything he loved crumble to dust? He was supposed to be the chosen of a god. Saara was a queen; Nikaenor was a hero. And Jaeme was nothing but a disappointment.

  Dimly, Jaeme heard Kenton shouting at him, heard footfalls as more guards advanced into the clearing. But all he saw was the truth he had long suspected.

  Kotali had made a terrible mistake.

  “Jaeme,” Hugh said.

  Jaeme looked up, his face still wet with tears, and found Hugh standing before him, his sword drawn. Behind him, the courtyard had filled with guards. One had Sayvil by the arms, and four—including two full knights—had Kenton spread on the ground. Kenton fought them, trying to get his face out of the dirt, yelling something in Jaeme’s direction, but it came out garbled.

  Hugh stepped toward Jaeme, holding out his blade. He looked weary and mournful. “Jaeme. I’m sorry, but you know what has to be done.”

  Jaeme felt the stone pulse once in his pocket. Or maybe he imagined it, for the boy was back again, staring at him sadly. The little red-haired boy with curls like Dani’s, and eyes and chin a mirror of his.

  What had to be done.

  “Do it,” Jaeme said. Kenton would escape. Kenton always escaped, even from the grasp of Diamis himself. The jewel was free from its rock; they didn’t need Jaeme anymore. They’d steal the stone and escape. If a bearer was needed at the Chamber of Binding, Kenton would find one.

  And Jaeme would finally, finally be at peace.

  He looked up into Hugh’s face, ignoring the boy no one else seemed to notice—and why should they? He was a ghost come to haunt Jaeme alone. Hugh’s face was still as stone, and Jaeme knew his friend didn’t want to kill him. Hugh had been nothing but Greghor’s pawn, like Jaeme.

  But Hugh would live through this. That was some comfort at least, even if in killing his uncle, Jaeme had made Hugh an unwilling executioner.

  “I could arrest you,” Hugh said. “But they’ll stone you. You’ll die a traitor’s death. There’s only one way I can spare you that.”

  “I know.” Jaeme’s voice didn’t sound like his own. “Do it.”

  “Lord Jaemeson of Grisham,” Hugh said. “By the power granted me by the Dukes Council of Mortiche, I sentence you to die for the crime of treason against Duke Greghoran of Grisham, and treason against Mortiche.”

  Jaeme saw his friend Stephan at the back of the group of guards, looking on in horror. Stephan lunged forward, but the knights at his side must have expected this, because they wrestled him to the dirt beside Kenton.

  Hugh pressed his sword tip against Jaeme’s neck. In Jaeme’s pocket, Kotali throbbed again.

  “I’m sorry, Jaeme,” Hugh said.

  Jaeme drew in a deep breath, feeling the prick of the sword still against his skin. He looked around for Daniella, hoping at once that she’d come back to him, and that she hadn’t, so she’d be spared watching him die. The former won out; he wanted his last sight to be her face, his last dream to be of that lost future.

  She hadn’t returned. Jaeme closed his eyes. The roaring returned to his ears, and he waited for the end, the image of Daniella’s face in his mind. And then the ground beneath him trembled again, and the roaring gave way to a voice, loud and clear and unmistakable: “SPARE MY CHOSEN.”

  The blow never came. Jaeme opened his eyes again. Hugh was staring at him, eyes wide and unseeing, his lips parted. The sword hung limply at his side. Behind him, several of the guards murmured among each other, and two of the knights fell to their knees, though not, Jaeme noted, the ones pinning Kenton.

  Finally, Hugh blinked and came to himself again. Seeing Jaeme still kneeling before him, a look that was equal parts fear and awe crossed his face.

  “You are his bearer,” he said with wonder, his voice barely above a whisper. Tears formed in his eyes. “May I see the stone again?”

  Jaeme paused for a moment, looking down at his dead uncle, lying in the dirt. Then he reached into his pocket and removed the stone, holding it in front of him with both hands.

  Hugh looked at it with reverence. “My god,” he said. “Kotali, Lord of Stone.” He returned the sword to his sheath and held his right hand a few inches above Jaeme’s head, palm down and trembling slightly. He spoke in a loud voice. “I, Duke Hughsen of Bronleigh, hereby absolve Lord Jaemeson of Grisham of the murder of Duke Greghoran and find him innocent of treason. Let his name be made clean from all accusations, with honor and birthright fully restored, according to the holy and indisputable power of Kotali.”

  Jaeme accepted Hugh’s hand, and Hugh pulled him shakily to his feet. “Thank you,” he said simply. There was nothing else that could be said, nothing he could add to what Hugh had experienced. What should have been a proud moment—Jaeme absolved of wrongdoing—was soured by the death of his uncle, by the loss of Daniella. He looked over at the guards holding Kenton and Sayvil. “Let my friends go. They were only trying to protect me.”

  Hugh gave the order, and Kenton stood out of the dust, brushing himself off. He looked at the stone, but his face didn’t quite glow with the triumph it had when he’d watched Saara’s aunt kneel before her. Jaeme had done his job, finally. But in the process, he’d burned to the ground all he held dear.

  When he looked down at his god lying quiet in his hands, Jaeme wished that Kotali had chosen anyone but him.

  Fifty-eight

  The hallways of the castle were suspiciously quiet as Perchaya and Nikaenor ran to find Kenton. Perchaya had meant to send the first guard she found after Erich, but the halls of Castle Grisham were empty.

  It was just as well. She couldn’t be sure the knights of Grisham weren’t already under specific orders from Duke Greghoran to let Erich have them all.

  Perchaya made her way out of the castle and stopped short at the sight of a crowd of guards circled around Jaeme, who held the stone out in front of him. Nikaenor ran smack into her from behind, and Perchaya stepped out of the doorway and into the courtyard. Hugh stood nearest Jaeme, who looked like he’d crossed through the Shadowvale right into the lowest level of hell itself.

  Hugh turned and looked up at her with a shocked expression, as if he’d only now remembered she existed. Or, more likely, he’d realized that, as she’d been traveling with the bearer of Kotali, she was probably more than a simple lady-in-waiting.

  There was no time for that. The guards made no move to apprehend her, so Perchaya shouldered her way through the crowd to Kenton, who stood toward the back of the group, spitting dirt out of his teeth. “Kenton,” Perchaya said. “Erich took Daniella. We have to go after them.”

  Both Jaeme and Hugh turned toward her, Jaeme with a look of anguish on his face. Daniella had said he’d betrayed her, but he obviously still cared. “They were headed for the main gate,” Nikaenor said. “But the chasm—”

  “They may already have a way across,” Kenton said. “Erich got in somehow.” He turned to Hugh. “Your lordship, can you spare your men?”

  “Yes,” Hugh said. “Certainly.” He began to run around the castle toward the front gate, motioning for the guards to follow him. Kenton and Nikaenor ran after them, and Perchaya paused for a moment, turning back to Jaeme, who stumbled forward on unsteady legs.

  Perchaya grabbed him by the arm, careful n
ot to make contact with the stone. “You’d better stay back. Let Kenton handle Erich.”

  Jaeme shook his head but tripped, Perchaya’s grip on his arm the only thing keeping him upright. “Jaeme,” she said. “You’re in no shape to help Daniella.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jaeme said, sinking to his knees, and Perchaya knew it wasn’t really her he was apologizing to.

  “I know,” Perchaya answered, and then she ran after Kenton and the others, leaving Jaeme alone with the body of his uncle.

  When Perchaya caught them, she found the group of men running toward the gate house, cursing loudly for their lack of bows. Across the chasm, Erich slung a bound Daniella onto his horse. Daniella twisted to look at them, kicking and wriggling as if trying to fall off the horse, but Erich tied her to the saddle and mounted. The broken remains of a disassembled wagon lay upended at the bottom of the chasm—Perchaya could only assume they’d used the planks to get across the first time, then left them here for a quick escape.

  Perchaya looked from the gap to Kenton, waiting for him to launch an ingenious plan to catapult himself over the chasm and save her. But Kenton only swore loudly and looked after the knights who had run for ranged weapons.

  Even Perchaya could see that they weren’t going to return in time.

  After a few helpless moments, Kenton picked up a rock and threw it at Erich, which managed to clear the gap and kick up the dust at the feet of Erich’s horse. Erich’s men all mounted their horses, and Erich turned once and smirked back at Kenton, offering a little salute, and then the group of them rode off through a broken gap in the city wall and into the field beyond.

  Perchaya’s heart sank. Gods, what would Erich do to her? How would they ever find her again?

  And if the general took her back to Diamis, what fate would await her then?

  Kenton swore again and wheeled around, as if searching for something else to make a bridge, but there was nothing. Besides which, even if they made it across, they’d still have to find horses. And Erich was trained cavalry—he and his men had made one of the fastest and most successful rides in recorded history.

  They’d never catch him. Not like this.

  “I’m sorry,” Hugh said.

  Kenton shot him a glare and stalked off toward the castle again.

  Perchaya moved to follow Kenton, but Hugh caught her, taking both her gloved hands. “Perchaya,” he said. “Are you all right?”

  Perchaya looked over her shoulder after Daniella and shook her head. “We can’t just leave her to him.”

  Hugh squeezed her hands. “They’ll be headed for the border. To catch a ship, probably in Haidshir or Bronleigh. I’ll send word to have the ports watched. We’ll find them.”

  Perchaya was certain Erich was smart enough not to leave through any of the main harbors, at least not after a messenger had time to arrive with word. For a moment, she envied Diamis his dead bodies—at least they made communication efficient, if considerably more evil.

  Gods. She was starting to think like Kenton.

  “Perchaya,” Hugh said. “I understand that you arrived here under pretense. Are you one of the bearers?”

  “No,” she said. After all of Hugh’s kindness, after his willingness to go after Daniella, after his sparing of Jaeme, whatever the reason, Perchaya found that she wanted to tell him the truth. She pulled off her glove, showing him her ring, with the runes etched across its surface. “Sayvil and Nikaenor are bearers,” she said. “Kenton and I are the last of the Drim.”

  A look of shock crossed Hugh’s face, as if this were a greater surprise than her being the bearer of one of the gods. “The Drim?” Hugh said. “But what—”

  “Diamis killed our people for his own ends,” Perchaya said. “He’s trying to release Maldorath, and we hold the keys.”

  Hugh looked unsettled by this information, but he didn’t let go of her hands. “I want you to know,” he said, “that this doesn’t change anything. Not for me.”

  Perchaya blinked at him. She should think that the death of the duke and the knowledge that their foe was using blood magic to end the world would have made quite a difference. “What do you mean, anything?”

  “Between us,” he said. He cleared his throat nervously. “It doesn’t change my feelings for you. In fact, if you’re in danger—” He looked over his shoulder, as if Kenton might be waiting to punch him in the face. “I’d love it if you’d return to Bronleigh with me, when things are sorted out here. You’d be safe there. I’d see to it. And—” He cringed, as if he were about to ask something awful of her. “And it would do me a great honor if you would consent to be my wife.”

  The world tipped so violently then that Perchaya thought she might fall into the chasm. She gripped Hugh’s hands to keep herself upright. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

  She believed Hugh when he said he would keep her safe. And wasn’t that what Kenton had wanted—to keep her from Diamis’ reach?

  Hugh smiled and shook his head. “You don’t have to answer now. You can think about it.”

  Perchaya looked into his eyes and felt herself rocking forward on her toes, leaning into him.

  With him, she might find the only safety the world had to offer her, at least until the quest was complete. But Kenton and the others—they would march forward into danger, with or without her, possibly to their own deaths. Would Perchaya be abandoning them, or granting them peace of mind, allowing them the assurance of knowing that even if they failed, she alone, the last of the Drim, prevented Maldorath’s release?

  Hugh let go of her hands, and his arms wrapped around her waist. “Though if you did have an answer. I wouldn’t mind hearing it. This silence is all hells on my nerves.”

  Perchaya wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight. Hugh was kind and good, and life with him would be better than Perchaya had ever dreamed her future could be since the day her father told her what she was. Perchaya peered over Hugh’s shoulder, looking in the direction Kenton had gone.

  And all at once, she knew what she had to say.

  Fifty-nine

  Kenton stalked back from the edge of the chasm, cursing Erich, Kotali, Diamis, and most of all Jaeme. Daniella should have been with them. She should have been safe. If Kenton hadn’t let her go off with Perchaya and Nikaenor . . . Gods, he was lucky that all three of them hadn’t been taken. He’d assumed it would take longer for Erich to cross the chasm in the first place, an assumption he’d paid for dearly.

  But being ambushed by Erich—for that, Jaeme was solely to blame.

  Kenton found Jaeme stumbling toward the front of the castle, his face tear-stained. His hand pressed against the shallow cut on his neck. Kenton might have felt pity if Jaeme hadn’t been such a gods-damned idiot. Kenton didn’t slow. He strode toward Jaeme, who looked up into his face, only registering what was coming at the last possible second.

  Kenton punched Jaeme squarely in the face, knocking him back on his ass. And when that didn’t feel as good as he wanted it to, he picked Jaeme up by the front of his shirt slammed him against the outer wall of the castle.

  Jaeme cried out in pain, his eyes shut against the blows, but Kenton didn’t release him. “You sold us out,” Kenton said. “You sold us all out, and now Erich has her.”

  Jaeme cried out again, this time in anguish. Kenton felt the smallest bit of pity, and he pulled Jaeme forward and then slammed him back against the wall again to quash it.

  “I didn’t know!” Jaeme cried. “I didn’t know my uncle was with Diamis until after we arrived. I didn’t know he was reporting on us. I didn’t know—”

  Kenton dug his fingertips into Jaeme’s shoulders, and Jaeme winced. “But you damn well did know that your uncle sent you to seduce her. What exactly have you been playing at, if it wasn’t this?”

  “I wasn’t pretending,” Jaeme said. “I love her. I—” />
  Kenton released Jaeme and punched him once more in the face. Jaeme slumped to the ground, blood running from his nose, a dark bruise already forming between his cheekbone and his eye.

  “You love her,” Kenton said. “But you didn’t think that obligated you to tell her the truth. It’s because of you she’s gone. And Nikaenor’s father is dead. And all those people back in Ithale—”

  “I know,” Jaeme said, his voice thick with hysteria. “I know. I swear on Kotali I didn’t mean it.”

  Gods. The stone. Kenton looked down at Jaeme and saw the round form in his pocket. They had that much, at least.

  Jaeme tried to climb to his feet, but only succeeded in kneeling in the dirt. Behind him, Kenton saw Nikaenor and Sayvil hovering. Waiting to see what he would do.

  Kenton stepped back, letting the other two help him to his feet.

  “I’ll go after her,” Jaeme said. “I’ll get her back.”

  “Yes,” Kenton said. “That’s exactly what Daniella needs—to be chased by both of the gods-damned monsters who hurt her.”

  Jaeme’s face crumpled, and Kenton stepped back before he could start to feel sorry for him again. “You’ll take your stone. And you’ll go to Andronim.”

  “No,” Jaeme shouted, struggling against Sayvil and Nikaenor, even though he clearly needed their support to remain standing. “I have to go after her. I have to help her. I—”

  “I will go after her,” Kenton yelled back. “You will go with Sayvil. And if you won’t, I will break both your legs, and Sayvil and Nikaenor can carry you.”

  All three of the bearers looked at Kenton in shock, probably because he sounded like he meant it. And he damned well did. They couldn’t let Erich take Daniella to Diamis. Gods only knew what he would do with her. If she really was the receptacle of souls, she was possibly the most important of them all. More than that, Kenton didn’t want Diamis to hurt her anymore. Daniella had suffered enough.