Oath & Promise

Rowan was startled to feel a hand upon her and it took a certain amount of effort to not respond with violence. "Unhand me," she snarled, turning around to stare down Ash, a young man, though rugged from stress and wear, had the face of a someone who had been brought up in a lavished lifestyle.

"You were making a run for it," he hissed, "and my lady gave me the command to do as I pleased if you ever failed your side of the bargain. And betrayal is punishable by death." Ash didn't back down when Rowan faced him, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin to meet his gaze head on. However, he certainly looked like he regretted his choice of action in touching her.

"The girl won't be up within the comfortable luxury of the towers," Rowan told him, fighting back a severe eye-roll at his faith in the chivalry of the noble and rich. "She is in the dungeons and that was where I was heading, you fool." Rowan pointed her sword down the dark corridor they had come to. It was a poorly lit and a stairwell descended down into the presumed dungeons. Rowan knew it did, for a disgusting muggy smell wafted from it, one Rowan was familiar with.

"The girl is a lady of the finest noble family," Ash insisted.

"Drop the pretty words; she was a misbegotten child of a recently dead noble lord. Lord Brightton offers no ransom for her, he has no need to. If she is not dead, as you lady's sources report at the very least, then she is within the dungeon cells."

"Bastard she may be, but rightful heir to the Peartrees fortunes. He would be a fool to kill or torture her."

"He already has mountains of wealth beneath him, as well as the wealth of his wife and her ventures. Your lady told me this girl was a prisoner. Not a bed warmer, not buried somewhere in an unmarked grave. And where do prisoners go but the dungeons?"

"What if you're wrong?" Ash stubbornly asked.

"I won't be. We're losing time. Your lady’s men cannot hold the attention of Lord Brightton's mercenaries for long."

Rowan waited, wondering if the fool would choose correctly or if she was to put him down. She may be a thief, but there was still some honor in her and she would repay Lady Dominil one way or another. Getting the girl seemed to be the easiest way in doing so.

"Lead the way," Ash muttered. "But if you're wrong, then your head shall roll before mine does." He removed his grip from her forearm.

Rowan led them down the corridor, the smell becoming stronger and unwelcomed memories and feelings swarmed around her. The dungeons were meant to be a horrible place and the devices in them made Rowan shudder when they reached the bottom of the stairs. It was a vastly large room and filled with hideous instruments that could reap horrible sounds that seemed impossible for a human being to make. Once within the dungeon and its crueler catacombs there was no respite, but everlasting pain that was never late to come and very plentiful. Ash looked around, uncomfortable, with a hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Were you not a captain of the guard, Ash?" Rowan asked in a hushed voice as they moved through the square chamber. It was empty, like everywhere else within the palace. A quarter of the residents, being the servants and militia and other palace workers, had been slaughtered when Lord Brightton took the territory from the governing Peartrees. When the “rouges”, Lady Dominil’s undercover brigade, came to "steal" what they could, all the hostage nobles and remaining servants were taken to the siege room. Ash had assumed the misbegotten girl would be there as well and clearly had been prepared to fight his way to her. However, Rowan knew better than that, having researched all she could find of the Peartrees private palace, the capitol of the territory Adarvion. "I'm sure you’re familiar with this kind of setting."

"Our prisons are nothing like this."

"You're right. They only have half of what Lord Brightton brought with him."

"That's not-"

"Quite," Rowan halted and turned around. The stairwell they had just come down was casted in an orange hue from torch light brighter than the ones burning upon the walls. Their whispers had gone unheard, for the approaching party was talking much louder.

“This way,” Ash said, pulling her to the room’s right corner. A corridor led north and as soon as they gone into it another passage appeared, leading east. The pair slid into it, hidden for now.

”-soon. There is no need to cower and hide.”

“My Lady, you are always wise. But Lord Brightton will not be happy with you.”

"Do you doubt my usefulness, Loremaster?"

"No, no my lady I do not!"

“That man wouldn’t dare lay a finger on me. Not after I’ve done so much for him.”

“Of course, of course…”

"Marco informed me the girl was put in the sunroom today.”

“No one has gone to get her yet, my Lady. The rouges were spotted coming up the eastern road and all the mercenaries were sent to the walls and courtyard.”

There was a long sigh of annoyance. ”How vexing. Go to my private room and retrieve the shadow’s relief ."

The voices had gotten much closer and either Rowan and Ash had very ill luck or they were being given a break in having to search the entire catacombs. The orange light shined down the northern corridor and a lady came into view. Rowan took one look at the woman; yellow hair hanging far past her waist, pale shoulders beneath the wavy tresses, and a dress of white gossamer with long sleeves. Details that were identical to what Dominil had informed Rowan.

'Kill Lady Tana if you can. The stories I hear of her are disturbing and I would rather they remain a mystery then to learn how true they are. If my fears are correct I would have not such a foul creature exist within the King’s palm.'

Lady Tana came to a stop and Ash acted first, taking his sword and hurtling towards her. Rowan was right behind him, slamming against the loremaster and pinning him to the wall. While the old man struggled to regain the air knocked out of his lungs, Lady Tana twisted her body, twirling around Ash as his blade chased after her. Rowan swung her own out, forcing Lady Tana into the now vacated eastern passage. Lady Tana moved back gracefully, and her red lips were smiling, but when she realized her folly she snarled like a wolf and from her sleeves she pulled out two daggers. Ash had her trapped her within the narrow passage, allowing Rowan a free path to the girl.

"You heard Lady Tana," Ash said, lifting his blade at the woman. "The girl is in the sunroom. My comrade, seize the bastard and do not wait for me." His dusky eyes met Rowan's gaze one final time before turning them onto the woman who looked at him with fuming blue eyes. Killing her had not been an order, but his Lady Dominil had wanted the woman dead, so Ash would ensure just that.

"Go!" Rowan hissed, shoving the loremaster forward. "Do as I say and I won't kill you."

Seeing no other option the loremaster complied, too eagerly and Rowan couldn't wait to drive her sword through him and end his life before he could muster up some scheme. Grabbing the front of his robes he skittered forward in a pace as fast as his bent legs could muster. They passed doors and dark corridors, moans came from some, silence was more frequent. Too many sounds of agony made the nobles uncomfortable. The loremaster halted, turning to a door marked with old alchemy symbols and a bonewoman’s sigil burned over the archaic runes.

Whereas the dungeon made Rowan feel like she was drowning, this room made her feel like she was on fire. The walls were filled with jars, some containing hearts, and others held other organs. Potions were scattered about and upon the table within the center of the room was a decaying corpse that didn’t hold the smell of death.

"What is this place?" Rowan whispered, to herself, to anyone who held an answer. A sickening feeling overcame her. She had seen worser things, but never had she seen something so evil.

"It's what allowed my lord his victory," the loremaster replied. His gnarled hands roamed within a cupboard, picking up a tin and taking off the top. He sniffed it and hastily put it back upon the shelf before moving onto the next. "This is where she hosts all her experiments."

"This is a forbidden lore. I've known loremasters who killed themselves rather than be forced to take part in…in this.”

The loremaster didn't respond, but he pulled a glass from a wide cupboard upon the wall and took it to a smaller wooden table ridden with jars full of herbs and dirts. "Upon the fall of the Peartrees, if I had tried to run, the mercenaries would have struck me down. Therefore, I stayed and tended to the wounded. I even delivered the Lord Brightton's child, for the mercenaries killed all the midwives and the bonewomen. Lord Brightton is a harsh man, but he showed mercy upon me and for some time I became compliant with his leadership. I became loyal. As you may well know he was a lord in the past too, is rather efficient, and was a war hero. I was sure the King would forgive Lord Brightton's invasion upon the Peartrees'. I believed I was secured. Then that woman came and I saw the truth of Lord Brightton, of how he befelled the Peartrees." He was taking a painfully long time to make the remedy, shadow’s relief as Rowan knew it to be called. She had gone through the same torture too; the sunrooms were brutal, the only sort of torture that allowed a relief from it.

"I fear death and Lady Tana has promised to provide me the means of escaping it." He continued. "Finished."

"Take me to the girl," Rowan demanded, "or I'll see that promise never be given."

"Run that blade through me if you wish. Bringing back the dead is child's play for her."

"Shut your mouth and start walking. Your Lady may not see the effort in reattaching limbs and a head for the sake of someone like you."

"You need not a body to be called alive, child." He walked past her, smug, and Rowan followed him, listening to the sound of clanging blades behind her as the loremaster's words echoed in her head. It was like she had walked into a nightmare and for a moment she considered the chances of her survival. As long as she did not take the girl then Lady Tana would have no reason to kill her. What was some bastard child's life compared to Rowan's? She would find another way to repay the debt.

Rowan endured a year of torture and gruesome labor in the mines of the Southern Tundra. She was a thief, an infamous one among the realm of Duna’har and she had finally gotten caught. She had escaped the gallows because there was no proof she had hands in the murders surrounding her break-ins. While in the mines she had hopes of surviving where most wouldn't and the day had finally come in the most unlikely of ways. Not by escape, as she had planned, but by Lady Dominil Stormweaver; a noble woman within the King's court and a member upon the King's Council. She had pulled some strings and Rowan was free from her hell. Several months later a rehabilitated Rowan had come here to repay the favor and Lady Dominil asked the freed thief to steal a girl, a bastard of the dead noble family, the Peartrees. It sounded like a simple task at first.

It turned out to be much more complicated than that. The King had yet to reveal what he would do about Lord Brightton. Would he send Duna’har forces to Adarvion and reclaim it? Or would he officially approve of Lord Brightton’s actions and offer the lord the vacant seat upon the Council? Clearly Lady Dominil didn’t want that to happen, but instead of sending an assassin to kill Lord Brightton, she sent a personal guard and a thief to steal some bastard girl.

Rowan hated nobles and their games. Royals were always too occupied in watching their backs for relatives with daggers, but nobles had too much time on their hands and petty disagreements became storms of revenge and wounded pride.

The sunrooms weren’t too far away, for they required to be close to the surface. The brick walls turned to stone; natural and carved, worked at by feudal people from ages past and their graves forgotten. The sunrooms were simply deep holes in the ground, smooth stone tombs of white stone that opened to the sky. A prisoner would be thrown at the sun's peak and be left to die or to roast for awhile.

There were five rooms of such nature, as the round bare chamber proved. The loremaster went for the one to their right, reached into his cloak, and pulling out a set of keys. Day had already gone and now it was the chill of night that threatened to kill whoever had been put in it.

"Pretty bird," the loremaster called out, pushing open the door. "It is time to leave this cage of yours."

Rowan stepped into the room and halted, perplexed and confused as she looked down upon the malnourished and unconscious body lying on the white stone.


'Does this bastard girl have a name?'

'No. But she is like her father, of course, and you have made a fool of him in the past. Surely you remember what he looks like. What little I have gleaned isn’t much, but she is her father’s daughter.'

"What scheme are you plotting?" Rowan asked, raising her sword. "Where is the girl I seek? The bastard of Lord Peartree!"

"You look upon her now," the loremaster answered.

"Don't lie to me! The one we seek has thick black hair and eyes the color of tree bark. A summerling. This girl is as white as the stone surrounding us."

"I must admit my lady didn't cannot foresee all that may be dealt by her hand and power. She so rarely is granted permission to have live subjects, errors are bound to happen."

"Another one of her experiments?" Rowan peered closer and she had to admit the girl shared the same features of the people who lived within the summerlands, summerlings as they were called, but they were not the natives of this territory. But did it make her the girl that Dominil wanted?

That bastard hadn't been of any importance, so no one ever cared to learn her name. This girl could be anyone and until she was conscious and able to speak, Rowan would have to take the word of the loremaster.

"This lotion will heal her burns," the loremaster said, holding the remedy in his hands. His words were cut short by the pommel of Rowan's sword and he crumbled to the ground with a gasp of breath. She moved him aside, taking the jar with her. She knelt before the girl who glowed red from burns.

Rowan knew of albinos, she had befriended a few over the years, and she knew how the sun affected them. Yet never before had she heard of someone being turned into one by whatever means Lady Tana had done and she knew such a thing had not been done by error. It was done on purpose.

The paste began to take away the vibrant redness upon the girl and she began to look remarkably better. At least she may now survive the journey back to Dominil's territory in the north.

"I see you killed him," purred a voice from behind and Rowan froze, never having sensed Lady Tana's arrival. Not a sound of walking feet or of breathing. "Lord Brightton has some honor and asked of me to keep this old man alive, his service to the little lording brat was rather impressive. Loremasters such as this one hardly care for the teachings of childbirth, but I'm sure if the labor had been more difficult I wouldn't be hearing the wails of a child at all hours of the day."

Without a word Rowan picked up the girl and put her over her shoulders. Ash had been good with a sword, as he demonstrated to her in a way of showing how much of a threat he was and how easily she would die if she were to try anything sneaky. Fights between swords never lasted long, but Ash would have prolonged it by any means to give Rowan time to steal the girl. But the man hadn't been good enough.

"Your partner was admirable, certainly a swornsword of the king. Or his ravens. But you two aren't enough to defeat me. I'm afraid the raven who sent you will be disappointed to know their schemes were for naught. I won’t be here for long. I hear that the capitol of Duna’har gleams gold this time of year." Rowan spun around, swinging her sword low and Lady Tana didn't expect that. Her blades were two short and Rowan’s sword sliced into Lady Tana’s thigh.

Rowan wasn't a swornsword. She didn't have that kind of blind honor and playing dirty meant surviving. It kept her alive for this long; throwing dirt in eyes, using poison, cutting down legs to get away. She was always called a coward for doing so, but those who jeered that at her were probably dead by now; their honor giving them early graves.

The thief ran from the sunroom and closed the door behind her, taking out the key’s the loremaster had used to lock the door once more. She then stuffed them down the front of her chest, between her tunic and leather armor. Lady Tana was screaming, in pain or fury. Rowan then tore down the corridor, well aware that her speed wasn't as it once was. She passed the passage where Ash had fought Lady Tana. There was blood splatter on the floor, but no sign of him and she didn't have the time to search for him.

Retracing their steps, Rowan came across no one. She hurried, coming to a flight of steps that led to the kitchens and thus outside within the back courtyard of the palace. A place out of sight and quite the opposite of the front gates; which were more green and clean.

The kitchen door was still slightly ajar, just as Ash had left it. No one had come this way and as she burst out into the cold air, the heavy smoke and tinge of orange drew her eyes to the eastern stables. Someone had set it on fire, sending the horses in a fury and creating more chaos between the mercenaries and rouges.

A burly mountain woman caught Rowan's eye and with her heavy two-sided axe she decapitated her opponent. The mere sight of seven-foot woman with hair as yellow as Lady Tana's would scare anyone, but the mercenaries were made of sterner stuff. Rowan wondered where Lord Brightton had found such people.

"Where's Ash, Thief?" Brewen asked.

"He was unable to kill Lady Tana," Rowan responded. "Can you lend me your cloak? The girl-the bastard is in need of it."

"I didn't know she was albino." Brewen removed her bloody cloak and the foreign word was strange upon her tongue. "This girl is magic?"

Rowan almost snorted, but the mountain folk and their ways were not to be made light of. You don’t insult someone who could crust your head with their hand. "Lady Tana knows wicked herb-lore, surely that could explain what has befallen the bastard."

Brewen spit upon the ground and Rowan draped the gory fabric over her shoulder, concealing the stark white of the girl who certainly would catch unwanted eyes. "We're done here," Rowan said and she was unprepared to be picked up like a sack of rice by the mountain woman. She grabbed the painfully thin long legs of the girl to ensure she charge didn't got lost along the way.

Once the rouges saw Brewen charging towards the gates, the fighting ceased. A few more mountain folk picked up their wounded comrades and the group was gone as swiftly as they had come. A horn blew and the rouge archers who had been left outside stormed from the sparse woodland that stood between the palace and the village further down the hills. The archers had kept birds and mercenaries from sending down to the village for aide as well as having kept watch over the horses.

Word spread quickly of Ash’s absence and probable demise. Rather than feel embarrassment for being carried by a mountain woman who could keep pace with a running horse, Rowan was relieved. Some of the looks she was given certainly would be acted upon later by the pointed ends of blades.