“Do you deny the murder of every man, woman, and child read to you today?” Daithi’s voice reverberated throughout the great hall. Ayube stood before him, laden with far more chains than was necessary.
“I do not, but if you would—”
“Do you deny your attempted escape in which you assaulted three members of my guard as well as myself?”
“Their deaths will be in vain if I—”
“Silence!” yelled Daithi, standing from his chair, eyes large and full of hate. Cian and Bridan, Daithi’s Captain of the Guard and Steward, sat next to him, both shifting uncomfortably.
“You’re lucky that today we celebrate the harvest, otherwise I’d hang ye by your neck myself.”
Commotion sounded outside the chamber’s heavy doors. Daithi’s gaze snapped to the door just as it crashed open; Worne ducking in with a small woman behind.
The omeness.
“No! Both of ye, out!” the lord shouted.
Madwen stepped in front of Worne as he stepped to the side and blocked the entrance, staring down several guards that backed away at the sight of him.
“Ah,” said the omeness. “You must be Lord Daithi.”
Daithi frowned. “And you must be the mad Madwen. You’re lucky I don’t string you up like this murderer here.”
At any other time in Daithi’s life, he would have used his words to play with his unwanted guests, however, Daithi was done playing games. The entirety of his personal kingdom had nearly been taken from him. The lives of so many who counted on him for protection went unprotected, and the omeness was solely to blame.
The woman who had just bursted into the room, the mad Madwen, turned her attention to Ayube as he stood completely frozen in the centre of the room. The woman from my vision! he thought. This was the woman who had spoken those mysterious words to him. This was the woman who calmed his nerves—something he hadn’t felt since he was a child. This was the woman who helped free him and held back the entire city. But she was just a woman—an old one at that. In his vision, though she appeared fuzzy and warped, she still at least looked cleaner and well-put together. He’d always imagined the omenesses of lore to be younger and more beautiful. Now that he’d finally laid eyes on one, he didn’t know what to think.
“You,” she said, looking directly at Ayube. “I’m here to take you to the High Kingdom.”
Ayube stood, still stunned. Could this be his salvation? Or perhaps this was a dream; some twisted joke his unstable mind had created to torment him further. No, he thought, his episodes had never been so elaborate and real. Normally, his thoughts and pulse raced. This had to be real.
“You’ll do no such thing!" Daithi hissed. “Take him to the dungeon. We’ll deal with him tomorrow. I’ll be glad to rid him of this world after a beautiful night of song and dance. I might even see to it before bed, should the ale fail to sleep me.”
“My lord,” said Cian. “The boy hasn’t been allowed to speak.”
“The matter’s been decided. I am your lord. You will do as I say and I say seize that man!” Daithi dropped back into his chair and took a swig from a decorated wine glass. A sort of fear lingered on the guard captain’s face as he stepped forward along with two of his men. Worne stepped forward as well, eyes sharp like a predator before its prey.
“Don’t you dare!” bellowed Daithi. “You may have helped last night but that doesn’t make us allies. You can consider our little deal broken. If not for you, none of this would have happened.”
Madwen eyed Worne. Deal?
Worne moved to take another step, but Madwen touched his arm. A bite of frost nipped them both upon that simple touch—neither acknowledged it.
The guards grabbed Ayube’s shackles and began pulling him toward the back of the room. The man had been so laden with chains that he struggled to move, and that was the point. He’d freed himself of his cell previously. Were he somehow given another opportunity, at least he’d be easier to catch. Not that he presented much of a challenge to Daithi the previous night. The prisoner was weak and Daithi possessed a surprising amount of prowess for a man in his fifties or sixties.
Madwen straightened, locking her gaze to the stranger’s. “You’re an omener, stranger!” she shouted. “The High Crown will see you treated as such! I’ll take you to the High Capital, I promise!” Madwen watched as the young man was pulled into a dark corridor behind the fief lord.
“And how do ye plan on doing that?” mused Daithi. “Plan to pin us all the ground as you did before?”
“Daithi,” Madwen stepped forward, bowing in respect. “Truly, I apologize with all my heart. What I did was horrendous. There’s no different way to say it. I lost control. I promise it was the omen that—”
“Ah yes, the omen. Worne told me you hadn’t the foggiest clue what supposedly lurks here. Now, I’ve never met an omeness me'self, though I’ve heard ye work fast. Tell me Lady Madwen, it’s been six days now, what have ye found?”
Madwen took a deep breath. Her emotions were calmer. “My ritual was interrupted I—”
“Lost your mind and crushed my entire city. Yes, I was there.”
“That was a mistake, I told you—”
“Well, it’s all better then,” Daithi said sarcastically. He and Worne were more similar than they’d probably like to admit.
“No, it’s not all better,” said Madwen. “But I can make it better. If you give me one more day to find this thing, it won’t heal the pain and fear I caused, but perhaps it may not all have been for nothing. It’s the only way I can think to make it up to you, to all of you.” Madwen gestured around the room to the few guards who stood at their stations.
Daithi smirked, shaking his head toward the ground. “I told Worne ye had until tonight, but that’s out the window now. You’re to cease your investigation immediately.”
“But, my lord—”
“I won’t hear any more of it! One night an omeness enters my city and hunkers down into a tavern, ignoring me entirely. ‘Perhaps,’ I think, ‘she’ll only be here another day or two. Maybe she’s passing through, maybe some spine-latcher crawled its way into a nearby lake from the sea. But she’ll be gone soon enough.’ Then another stranger shows up a day later and slaughters an entire village because he says he was scared of his thoughts. Not four days after that, my entire city is bowing at the knees of an unknown force from another magic user that lost their mind.”
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“I haven’t lost my mind, nor did I last night,” Madwen protested.
Daithi feigned a look of confusion. “Have ye not? I’ve heard the reports from my men and woman who stood on that very hilltop as ye flattened them with joy and laughter. Even your own Worne had to stop you. I’m only sad he couldn’t put you down where ye stood.”
“I’m telling you, it’s the omen. You blame us for all the happenings here, but I can assure you it’s some kind of demon or I think even an old god,” Madwen insisted.
Daithi rolled his eyes. “Is it? Have my eyes deceived me, Lady Madwen? Ye think me blind? I look around and see nothing but happy, healthy people. Well, all but one. Lady Carlina tells me you went days without sleep. Said ye refused a room until just yesterday and even then, slept only an hour.” Daithi looked to Worne. “Tell me, Worne. Do you believe the Lady Madwen? Have ye seen anything yourself?”
Worne looked down at Madwen as she looked up at him. It was true, he hadn’t seen anything. There had been sounds, yes, there had been eerie feelings of being watched in the forest, there had even been bizarre test results which he could not understand, but the pure darkness she insisted plagued the land seemed to allude him and everyone else around. He’d seen the carnage in the village and the agony later caused by the omeness. One could easily rationalize that she, like the dark-skinned man, had lost her mind—she’d even expressed the worry herself, but Madwen had never lied and had not once been wrong about the presence of an omen.
Worne moved to speak, but already Daithi and Madwen had seen his hesitation.
“That’s what I thought,’ said Daithi, smiling pleasantly.
“If she says something’s here, then something’s here.” Worne puffed out his chest, proudly. Madwen looked down. She did not smile, but at least felt some kind of reassurance. Still, she could not deny the facts. Daithi pressed on the very thoughts of doubt that seeded and grew within her mind. Exhaustion was one thing, but the visions and shadows seemed nearly unexplainable. More than once had the thought to retreat scratched at her mind. But could she really do so?
“Interesting,” said Daithi. “Your loyalty seemed easily bought yesterday. Maybe I misjudged you, Worne.”
“Please, Lord Daithi, excuse Worne. He only does as I ask. Perhaps you’re right.”
Daithi narrowed his eyes. So quickly she admits defeat?
“I’ve been trying to deny it since my arrival,” Madwen continued, “but something—something seems to be wrong with me. You said it yourself, I haven’t slept since my arrival. I don’t know why that is, but, well there’s no denying what everyone’s seen and felt here. Even Worne doubts me. I can see it in his eyes though he refuses to admit it freely, maybe because I am his employee. I cannot say. Clearly, myself and that stranger are the outliers in this city. As hard as I’ve tried, I haven’t found a single person who has shared the same experience as I have. As much as I try to deny it, I cannot help but admit that your questions are the very same I’ve come to ask myself.” Madwen looked up to Daithi, but saw no grin on him. Surely, this is what he wanted, though perhaps gave up too easily.
“Madwen,” said Worne. He didn’t move, though Madwen could feel him watching her.
The omeness stepped forward, giving a full, proper bow once again. “I ask your forgiveness. I know I don’t deserve it. I should have come to you on the night of our arrival. I had my reasons as to why I did not, though they hardly seem relevant anymore. If I’m honest, I think I may have simply become used to the power of my station.”
Daithi straightened up in his chair. Still, he held the glass of wine, but Madwen’s words were speaking to it.
Madwen continued. “I’ll cease my investigation at once, though, in truth I’m not sure how could even resume it should I wish to. All I ask is for is the prisoner’s life. You may keep him for the night, but I beg you, Lord Daithi, please allow me to take him to the High Crown. I understand you have no reason to trust me and owe me nothing, but allow me to remove this man and see that he be handed off to the appropriate authorities. Perhaps my taking him will help this land heal. After all, the last thing your peaceful city needs is more bloodshed.”
Daithi studied Madwen with an intensity neither Worne nor Madwen had seen in the man thus far. He was searching for deceit, that much was clear, but that meant he was considering her proposal. Worne was almost annoyed with how effective Madwen’s words were at silencing the talkative man. More than that, she had proven once again that Worne’s lack of diplomacy and charisma made him weak outside of combat. He knew violence was his strength, but still, the blatant reminder of his weakness stung.
“The prisoner stays,” Daithi finally said, much calmer now and with a notably more serious tone. “I can see you’re making an effort to appeal to my better nature, but as I’ve told your Worne, I’m a man of justice. There’ll be no more deaths tonight, I can promise ye that. It’s the autumn harvest. I won’t stain the ancient tradition with blood, or pettiness. I’ll still honour ye both as guests as well, should ye wish to partake. But no funny business. I don’t much care if it kills me, I’ve asked ye to stop and if ye can’t be bothered to honour my arrangement, I’ll see to it neither of ye leave this place alive. Do you understand?”
Worne and Madwen shared a look, then nodded toward the calm lord.
“Good. I agree with your sentiment Lady Madwen, I too wish to see our land and our people heal. Let us put this nightmare behind us.”
Daithi dismissed the two with a single, solemn wave, not bothering to watch as the two departed.
The slope in which Gildaun’s castle stood was steep. Madwen walked down the cobblestone road slow and awkwardly with Worne in tow. The city below was truly beautiful, both could hardly look away. The High Capitol was truly a marvel of technical achievement, with it’s glass spires and single, massive white-steel tower in the centre, but the beauty of Gildaun felt so familiar, like the home one never knew they had.
The pair simply took their time, walking in silence as they distanced themselves from the castle.
Worne was the first to speak. “How are we breaking the dark-skinned man out?” he asked.
“We’re not.”
“Giving up then?”
“Not at all,” said Madwen, strangely chipper. “Daithi’s going to give us the stranger himself.”
Worne stopped in place. “Going to fill me in or you enjoy being a sneaky prick?”
Madwen smiled. “At the feast tonight, I’m going to flood the dungeon with magic.”
Worne grunted. “Going to crush the prisoner and have Daithi give us the bones?”
“Remember how I said magic and emotions are mixed? Daithi said the stranger lost control in that village because he was ‘scared of his own thoughts.’ That sounds like anxiety to me.”
“That supposed to mean something?”
“The stranger’s emotions, he can’t control them—at all. We’re going to use that. Burden, the spell that turns people into stuff. It’s the most oppressive spell in human existence; unleashing all your emotional burden onto the shoulders of anyone around. Light requires pure empathy, burden requires pure apathy, and with that burden comes all the negative emotions associated.”
“Going to make the boy snap again? Why not just do it yourself and blame the boy.”
“Daithi’s cunning. Already I worry he suspects me. I imagine he’ll have a number of guards in the dungeon with the stranger. If none of them see him losing his mind, Daithi might suspect that I was behind the crushing, not the stranger. He may even question the stranger separately and I doubt the young man will know to play along.”
“Not sure we want another Fiamór,” said Worne.
“I can keep us safe. I can cancel the boys burden with my own. He isn’t as strong as me, even without my rings. I’ll make sure to match his power and hold him back if he threatens to kill anyone.”
“And the omen?”
Madwen paused and looked out toward the forest surrounding the city walls. “I’m not sure,” she said. “As for now, I meant what I said to Daithi; I’ll cease our investigation.”
“Placing that stranger above the omen?”
“I can hear it, Worne. The dissonance whines in my ear day and night. Just when I’m about to forget of its presence, it whines louder. There’s no doubt in my mind that a being of vast magical strength resides here, but only I seem to suffer it. I’d almost wager I could return in a hundred years and find the same prosperous city and the same happy people, but that young man will die tomorrow if we don’t intervene. I can always return later, and with a royal military if need be. But the young man? That takes priority. Omenesses are rare, omeners even more so. The High Kingdom will need as much of us as we can manage if we plan on expanding our cities and keeping our people safe.”
“Think your kind do that much good?”
Madwen spun and continued down the hill. “You heard of Neurovy?”
“Rings a bell,” said Worne, following.
“Wiped off every map in a fraction of a second. A demi-demon slowly gathered life force over a century then unleashed it all at once just to see humans destroyed.”
“Saying that dark-skinned bloke might kill a demon?”
“Not at all. He may never even serve with The Coven, but we need all the help we can manage.” Madwen turned to Worne, yellow sunlight shining through her frizzy grey hair. “You never know when one omen may kill us all.”