Impavidus the impavidus.., p.5
Impavidus (The Impavidus Cycle Book 3), page 5
“This is about more than that, Ismaire. There are more lies afoot in this Order than you can possibly imagine, and I still aim to uncover them all. It… worries me that Mianna has seemingly ceased looking into these matters.”
Ismaire let out a short breath, frowning. “You know I won’t hear any accusations against her, Almar.”
“I know. I am not making any. But despite my missing memories, I feel deep within myself that something must be done.”
“Alright,” Ismaire relented, holding up both hands and giving a frustrated sigh. “We can… speak with them about it soon.” She knew he was right, deep down. She felt it too – in spite of this momentary triumph, there was much that was still unknown. Still, the thought of facing it terrified her.
“Soon,” Almar repeated as he turned to continue down the hall, leaving her standing alone beside the window as the dim light of the sun began to shine through.
Albtraum had not slept long, he knew, when he awoke to the sound of Renegade softly whining.
He shifted and rolled over in bed, looking toward the window to find Mianna seated at her vanity table brushing out her hair, Renegade begging for attention at her side. She patted his head and shushed him, and he looked disappointed before curling up to lie at her feet. Her chestnut hair shone in the morning light, and for a moment he simply watched her as she smoothed each unruly strand with the brush.
“Mia,” Albtraum finally said in greeting, pushing himself up to a sitting position. He found his shoulder still ached – he’d strained it too much the night before.
“Oh, Albtraum,” she answered, quickly turning his direction. Renegade, too, raised his head before trotting over to greet him. “Did he wake you? He’s been rather needy this morning…”
Albtraum stroked Renegade’s head as he sat beside the bed and waited expectantly. “Perhaps, but… If you are awake, I’d like to be as well.” He looked out of the large windows, finding the sun had risen over the frosty forests they overlooked.
There was an uneasiness that sat in his chest, and he began to dismiss it – before the events of the prior evening returned to him. The voice that had spoken to him, unmistakably, was Lucifurius.
But this was different than it had been before. Lucifurius no longer existed within him, and yet some connection between them incontestably remained – the familiar sensation of agony that had been strong enough to momentarily snuff his consciousness was proof enough of that.
Now, though, he felt… nothing. It was as though the incident had never transpired.
Shakily, he lifted himself from the bed, straightening his sleeping clothes that had twisted awkwardly around him as he fitfully slept. He crossed the room to where Mianna sat, stooping slightly to wrap his arms around her shoulders and nuzzle into her hair.
“I’ve been out of sorts lately,” he murmured as she leaned into his touch. “I am sorry. You have my full attention today – we can do whatever you’d like.”
She turned back to look at him, slowly smiling. “It’s alright, darling. Truly. Yes, though – I’d like very much to have you to myself. Provided, of course, you don’t mind accompanying me as I work this morning…”
“Not at all. Perhaps I might be of some help to you, as well.”
“So we can get back to more enjoyable things quicker. I do like your thinking.” She gently reached up to tilt his head to hers so she could kiss him, lingering with her face pressed close to his before she broke away. She smelled slightly different this morning, soft and floral – she must have been bathing with new soaps and oils.
Together they dressed and left for the main hall of the estate, hand in hand, Renegade trotting contentedly behind them. Albtraum felt some his tension beginning to fade – Mianna’s presence provided him a feeling of comfort and safety, and he felt drawn to her to soothe the persistent disquiet that plagued him.
It was a calm morning, he noted as they arrived in the main hall. He saw Joaquin conversing with Feliks, one of the head servants – but from their jovial demeanors and periodic laughter, for once it seemed they were not discussing the day’s work.
Mianna led Albtraum to where the laborers had started to gather. Brunhart still led them, though Albtraum wondered if this was less due to his skills as a craftsman and more that he wished to remain closer to the estate.
“Brunhart,” Mianna greeted. “Anything to report today?”
“Yes – good news, as a matter of fact,” Brunhart answered, reaching over to pat Albtraum’s shoulder in greeting. “Repairs to the damaged walls should be complete within the week. As you know, much of that section of the estate was not salvageable with the chasm that’s formed there—”
“Ah, but,” he heard Joaquin calling out to them as he exited his conversation with Feliks, “The architects are drawing up plans to add another wing to the other end of the estate, once we have the resources. I have all sorts of ideas – another library, or our own theater, perhaps?”
Brunhart sighed. “Perhaps we should find our way through the winter first.”
“And if we do not construct the proper plans now, where will we be once winter ends? Waiting for next spring, at that rate.” Joaquin crossed his arms and looked pointedly at Brunhart.
Brunhart simply shook his head. “In any case… I will resume my normal duties after today. All that’s left is to finish the mortaring and mount a few windows.”
Albtraum cleared his throat. “There’s no need to rush back so quickly, is there? You know my soldiers have been helping with the guard rotation…”
As Brunhart appeared to consider the suggestion, Joaquin added, “True enough. With the help of the Shadrans, Sylva is as well-guarded as she’s ever been. And Noman has been so enjoying his time as acting captain, we may as well let him have his fun a while longer.”
Albtraum nodded. “We’ve all been running ourselves ragged for so long… It can’t hurt anything to take a moment to breathe.”
Brunhart remained silent a moment longer, gaze downcast, before he nodded. “Yes… I suppose I might wait a few days before I rejoin with the guard.”
“Wonderful, it’s settled then,” Joaquin agreed. “You can finally give me the chess match you owe me. We haven’t played in almost half a year by this point.”
“And I’m afraid I don’t make for as riveting of an opponent,” Albtraum admitted sheepishly.
“Unfortunately, our dear boy is correct. His record against me is shaping up to be rather like my own against you, Brunhart.” Joaquin sighed, running a hand through his hair.
Mianna smiled cautiously, seeming glad with what they’d decided. “I will go over the architect’s plans with you soon, Joaquin – I must say I am fond of the idea of Sylva having her very own theater. You certainly could use a new creative outlet from which the rest of us can benefit.”
“I would positively adore adding ‘playwright’ to my list of titles.”
As Brunhart turned his attention back to the laborers to finalize plans for the day’s work, Mianna turned back to Albtraum. “My only undertaking for the day is to visit one of the lower villages to ensure they are faring well. You can accompany me. It is cold today, and having your company will help take my mind off it.”
“Or we might ride together,” Albtraum suggested with a slight smile. “To keep warm.”
“Hmm, a romantic suggestion, to be sure… but perhaps a somewhat unprofessional way to arrive to a village as their monarch.” She smirked. “On the way back, perhaps. Give me just a few moments – I will finish my daily discussions, and then we can depart.”
Albtraum watched her walk off before he felt a hand rest on his shoulder – he turned to see Joaquin offering him a smile in greeting. “Albtraum, while I am very glad to hear you encouraging us all to rest… I would like to see you take a healthy dose of your own advice. You look exhausted.”
“Yes… I am. Very much so.” Albtraum shook his head. “You are right, and I do intend to.” Before I must return. The thought weighed heavy, but he brushed it aside.
“Good. Then I shall hold you to it,” Joaquin chuckled, but his voice edged on threatening.
“I will ensure I remain above reproach,” Albtraum promised jokingly, turning once to walk to meet Mianna as he noticed she was approaching him.
He heard the activity outside the hall rise in volume, a clamor of voices that likely meant the estate’s day had begun in earnest. The sound caught Mianna’s attention, and she glanced over to the doorway. “Mia, are you—”
No sooner had he spoken than he saw Mianna’s eyes widen, and she suddenly halted – and Albtraum realized the rising voices outside the door were not the usual morning chatter, but shouts of alarm.
He spun on his heel toward the doorway, in time to see the flash of a charging figure – horns, and the dark form of the Gift—
And two guards too far behind to do anything but watch as a daemon tore across the main hall and embedded a bladed arm straight through Joaquin’s side, between his ribs, before he had so much as glanced over his shoulder to discern the source of the sudden chaos.
“Joaquin!” Mianna’s voice behind Albtraum might well have been an echo across a chasm for how distant it sounded.
Joaquin gazed at his attacker with wide, fearful eyes before he was shoved back, crumpling to the ground as the black-haired daemon pointed his bloodied Gift-blade at Albtraum, blood splattering in an arc across the floor from the force of his movement. He was tall and broad, with two of his six curving horns broken on one side.
“Hiding behind the Order’s immortals won’t grant you safety from daemon blades, Impavidus! You will—”
Everything in Albtraum was ice – but it did not stop him from moving with inhuman speed at the daemon. His mind processed each movement after it was made – the Gift covered his body, he swung wildly with a suddenly-clawed hand, catching the daemon across the face as he scrambled to get away.
Albtraum’s assault did not relent. It was a thing that felt wholly outside his will, his vision near-blurred and every sound in the room overtaken by a roaring drone within his mind. He felt a splash of blood splatter across him, soaking the sleeve of his coat. There was a sharp thud as the daemon’s head hit the floor. A snarl. His own? He struck again, again, again.
There was a weak whimper. He swiped once more. Finally the sensation of his knuckles against hard bone cut through the fog. He pulled back his fist. It hurt – it burned. Hard, white forms beneath shredded flesh and flowing blood – Albtraum stared, blinking hard to refocus his vision as he realized they were his knucklebones.
There was a small clattering sound. Three teeth hit the stone floor as the daemon spluttered. He groaned, trying to free his arm from where it was pinned beneath Albtraum’s Gift-weighted knee, shattered like a brittle branch under the force of it.
The daemon’s uninjured hand weakly gripped Albtraum’s sleeve as another whine sounded from the bloodied flesh that remained of his face. “Ah… En…ough… I…”
Albtraum cried out in an innominate emotion and tore his arm from the daemon’s feeble grip, gripping one of his unbroken horns and sharply twisting it to the side until he felt a dull snap.
The daemon’s corpse had scarcely gone limp before it ceased holding Albtraum’s attention. He staggered back to his feet and turned in place to face where Mianna and Brunhart had knelt beside Joaquin, and a small crowd of guards and servants had gathered.
“Joaquin,” Albtraum gasped, feeling as if his voice was chained in his throat.
He was distantly aware of Brunhart and Mianna’s gazes turning briefly to him before snapping back to Joaquin.
The pool of blood around him was steadily increasing in size, and Joaquin shuddered as he held a hand uselessly over the wound, blood flowing freely from between his fingertips.
Brunhart’s face was stony as he slid an arm under Joaquin’s shoulders to lift him. “Here,” he said gruffly. “I am going to—”
Joaquin cried out, wincing at Brunhart’s touch. He coughed, and blood sprayed from his mouth. “Agh— That hurts, Brunhart… please, just… Give me a moment, and I will stand…”
Brunhart looked up at Mianna, who was similarly expressionless – but Albtraum could see the tension in her brow. “Get him to the infirmary now,” she said quickly.
“I’ll run ahead to alert Aleksandra,” one of the guards who’d rushed into the room said hurriedly before sprinting off.
Gently as he could, Brunhart lifted Joaquin from the floor, and Albtraum could see him wince as Joaquin cried out in pain once again. He rushed from the room, leaving a thin trail of blood as he went – and suddenly the hall was filled with deafening silence.
Finally, Mianna stood. She trembled as she reached out to grab Albtraum’s arm.
“Albtraum, I… Are you…”
He quickly shook his head. The fog had lifted – every sense was suddenly sharp as a razor. The smell of blood all around, the cooling of the hot blood splattered over much of his body, the crushing quiet that had spread like a pall over the room. “No. Go with them,” he said, barely a whisper, his voice still strangled. “Please.”
Mianna nodded and rushed off, her path tracing the trail of blood on the stone floor. As she passed through the door, two others passed her as they ran the opposite way, into the hall.
“Most High!” Tebryn, with Adramellach close behind. “I was just informed of the attacker—”
“What happened?” Albtraum demanded, his voice suddenly sharper than he’d ever heard himself speak, echoing through the empty space.
“He snuck through the city and rushed the gates to find you,” Adramellach explained. “By the time he was noticed, he was already at a doors of the estate…”
“Was there anyone else?” Albtraum asked. His voice once again weakened and cracked. Joaquin, this is more than I can bear, please, do not let there be another—
“He had no army, Most High, and—”
“Was anyone else harmed?” Albtraum shouted, grabbing Adramellach by the shoulder.
He expected the young Shadran to flinch away, but Adramellach stood fast, vigorously shaking his head. “No, Most High. He… It seems he intended to face only you.”
Then why did his blade not meet me first? Why, why did this— “Tebryn,” he said abruptly, turning to him. “Who is guarding the rift?”
“I do not know, Most High, but I will find out immediately—”
“No,” Albtraum growled, striding for the door. “We are going to see ourselves.”
Chapter V
Albtraum saw nothing as he rode down the road to the forests to the temple that housed the rift. The sun shone, but he did not see the snow it melted or the budding green it illuminated – he only thought of how it blinded him, and hurried his horse forward to the cover of the trees so he could increase his pace.
His head was muddled in a haze, the events of the past hour drifting until he nearly forgot them before the memory returned to him, sharp and striking.
Joaquin. Joaquin was nearly… he may still…
Try as he might to banish the thought, he could not. It tangled together with recollections further past, in a voice not his own.
Surely now you realize the futility in this.
He kept his attention trained on the path ahead.
They had moved in silence all the way along the path, Adramellach and Tebryn closely riding behind him. Through his disconsolate reverie, he heard the sound of hoofbeats approach alongside him.
“Most High,” Tebryn murmured timidly. “Forgive my forwardness, but… Lord Harlan is a man of exceedingly strong will. I believe he will endure this ordeal.”
Albtraum could say nothing in return, merely giving a strained hum of acknowledgement and a small nod.
They at last reached the clearing before the old temple, and Albtraum saw that a small group of Shadrans had gathered near the entrance. He quickly dismounted his horse, and the Shadrans bowed as they saw him approaching; most appeared nervous but for one, a tall and broadly-built Shadran who had been a capital soldier. Albtraum knew him only as Corvus.
“Most High,” he greeted. “I was patrolling the road when a scout informed me a daemon had managed to infiltrate Sylva’s walls. Your presence here clearly means you have prevailed – though a daemon without an army posed little challenge, I am sure.”
“Corvus,” Albtraum rasped, “What of the guards here?”
“Ah, Loukas would be the one who has been leading the rotation here this post these past days. He waits below if you would like to speak with him.”
“This post’s orders were to allow nothing to pass!” Tebryn shouted, stepping up alongside Albtraum.
“Indeed,” Corvus agreed, crossing his arms. “And given that Loukas is not lying dead on the temple floor, it would seem we are presented with a clear-cut case of insubordination. Most High, should you wish it, I will gladly dispatch him. I imagine you’ll not want to bloody yourself… well, any more than you have already.”
Albtraum stepped past Corvus to the doorway of the temple and began his descent down the steps. “No.”
He had not set foot within the temple since his return. He had forgotten how cold the air was here, how close and all-consuming the darkness felt as it swallowed the faint sunlight shining down from above.
There were hushed voices from within, and as they neared the rift itself Albtraum saw the Shadran guards waiting near the wall. There were five – four had already rushed to bow, but one remained standing.
“Impavidus.” The standing Shadran gave a brief nod. Loukas, Albtraum assumed, from how the others watched him keenly as if following his lead. They remained kneeling in place as Albtraum circled him.
“What happened here?” Albtraum asked, his voice so flat it was hardly a question.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to clarify the question, Most H—”
“Don’t.” Albtraum took a single stride forward until he was inches from where Loukas stood. His blue eyes widened slightly, but he was quick to compose himself and speak.
“Our kind is forbidden to interfere in the combat of daemons. The trespasser sought a battle with you – and so I stood aside.”
