Page 16 of Oathborn
The creamy paper card felt expensive as Tobias brushed his thumb over it. He scanned the information, but it only contained an address and instructions for sending a telegram. No name, no identifying information, no governmental seal. All of the vagueness, the strangeness, added up to nothing good. “Are you implying Captain Javen is some sort of a… a threat?”
“I’m implying nothing.”
“Then what are you trying to say?” The room started to press in on Tobias, as if the walls were inching inward, squeezing out the air. Whoever this man was, he had a posh accent and a smug, self-assured way about him, like he was used to being in charge.
“Very well.” The smile remained on his face, though it did not reach his cold eyes. The expression reminded Tobias of a dead fish, left on a shop cart for too long. “You have a family back in Karsic, don’t you? A mother, younger siblings… I believe you send most of your paycheck home, do you not? It’s a pity that a lieutenant’s pay isn’t enough to cover all her expenses. A pity, truly. Perhaps you would be more inclined to talk to me, and my associates, if I informed you there was a… thank you gift of a certain sum, in return.”
“A bribe.”
The man shook his head, making atsk-ing noise with the tip of his tongue. “Nothing so uncouth. Just. Please do remember this conversation, in case of any unusual events. It would be a shame for us to hear the news from another source.”
In other words, someone else had already accepted the deal, and was also spying on Javen, and perhaps, even Tobias. It was only his training which kept Tobias composed, kept him from blurting out any further questions, which would surely lead to more trouble.
Tobias slid the business card in his wallet, then headed back to his apartment to gather his thoughts.
Unlike other units, the Cobalts, charged with protecting the capital, did not have communal barracks. Instead, each captain’s direct reports shared a small apartment. As Tobias was Javen’s only direct report, he got the place to himself. After years of sharing rooms with smaller siblings, he took great pleasure in having his own space. Since there were no inspections, Tobias felt no need to keep it tidy. To even open the door fully, he had to push with a shoulder, shoving hard enough to move the mountain of dirty clothes away.
Tobias stared, his jaw falling open. Captain Javen sat, in the middle of his room, booted feet up on Tobias’s nightstand. His disdainful blue-eyed glare swept over Tobias as he spoke. “Do you truly live like this? It’s a wonder you’ve ever made it to drill on time.”
“Ca-Captain!” Tobias snapped into a salute. How had the officer gotten into his apartment? He always locked the door.Strange events,the rich man had said. Tobias shivered and shook his head. Perhaps Javen had a set of keys. Or he was talented in lockpicking.
“Does anyone else live with you?”
“N-no?” Tobias heard the question in his own voice. “Should they?” Was there another soldier that should have been sharing the housing assignment?
Javen’s brow furrowed. “That is a personal choice, is it not?”
“I don’t understand.”
“You have no…” Javen gestured with a hand, as if summoning a word from the air. “Romantic connection who dwells here, currently?”
Tobias, finally understanding what was being implied, reddened. “Uh. No, sir.” He wouldn’t mind having a wife, someday. That would certainly require moving out of military housing. Unless Javen was asking more about some shorter-term romantic situation, in which case he needed to defend his honor. “And I’m a gentleman. I’d never have a lady here past curfew or—”
“Your hearth,” Javen said, clearly uninterested in further, or any, explanations. Tobias also noted how he used the older word, instead of simply calling it a fireplace. A habit of Javen’s, to use older, archaic language instead of anything modern. “It’s out. Light it.”
Another habit. To command, with sparse, if any, additional information.
Tobias’s hands shook as he placed coal on top of the glowing embers. Soon, heat and light filled the room. Standing, Javen watched the whole process, arms folded. He kicked the chair toward Tobias.
“Sit.” Javen withdrew what looked like a bundle of herbs for soup from his pocket and threw them into the fire. When they ignited, a thin plume of white smoke filtered out, carrying a strange scent. Something sweet but bitter too. A hint of salt, and then… the crash of waves upon the shore filled his ears. Tobias found himself gasping for air and shivering, as if he’d dove into the sea.
Javen folded his arms. “Tell me precisely what happened when you were attacked.”
“I… I did,” he protested. “I mean. I gave you my best guess. Coulda been anyone. Or anything. Maybe even Blood Ember.” Tobias threw the name of the beast out to see Javen’s reaction. Every old-timer had at least one story of a friend beheaded by the Queen’s pet monster.
Everyone except for Javen, who never told war stories, though he’d dragged Tobias to multiple memorials for fallen soldiers. A month ago, on the anniversary of the attack on Fort Lochna, Javen even made him read through the list of names of those fallen.To remember those who would be forgotten,Javen had said.Tobias’s voice had gone hoarse long before he’d finished reading all those killed that terrible day.
“Blood Ember?” Javen smiled coldly around his cigarette. “Don’t be foolish.”
The smoke grew thicker around him. The strange tide washed over him once more. He fought the urge to kick his feet, as if to free himself from seaweed tangling around his legs. “I think… the attacker…” Each word took effort to say, as if he was very tired, or very drunk. He wished he was the latter. “Before the purple smoke, there was a series of explosions.”
“Yes. What did they look like?”
“They… they shimmered. Like oil on water.” Tobias shook his head. How had he forgotten that? The smoke had an unnatural sheen to it, a purple hue that he’d never seen before. It caught his eye and he’d pointed it out to the soldier standing next to him. Then…a heavy floral scent burned his lungs. He’d started coughing and… “I can’t remember much more, sir.”
“Were the explosions what wounded you?”
“No. That was…” His throat burned as he fought to speak. “A fae. Flashing sword, wild eyes, white hair.” Long flowing white hair, that snapped behind the attacker as they’d ran.
