Oath of War (The Cursed Bonds #2)
1. Chapter 1
I was floating in a stormy sea of darkness. My body rocked back and forth with such force that pain skittered across my awareness in muted colours. The sounds of scratching and whispered hate left fear teasing the edges of my mind.
‘Are you sure about this?’ I heard someone ask through the haze.
‘Yes, the passage through the Rift is too closely guarded to transport her straight to Katrass, and his fae mage showed me how to draw the portal sigil. I have everything prepared; no one will disturb us here. Just make sure there are no witnesses.’
‘What if the king asks about her?’
‘That damn fool hasn’t been lucid for years. Besides, he won’t be king for long.’
‘We still need her geas.’
‘Don’t worry about that. Just do your best to ensure the sigil works.’
Danger, whispered my instincts, trying to keep me awake, but another voice lulled me into unconsciousness, and the blackness swallowed me whole.
My awareness resurfaced as my body was buffeted and manhandled, and I felt myself recoil from the distasteful pawing. Rusted hinges screeched, then rough hands grasped my clothes and I had a sudden sense of falling, followed by the painful impact of my head hitting something solid.
The unexpected pain that blossomed in my skull overwhelmed me, and the darkness took me once more.
Maybe I was dreaming. Or perhaps I occasionally regained consciousness . . . but I swore someone was pouring something down my throat. The bitter taste was so foul it reminded me of the flavour Katja would make my medicinal concoctions whenever she was particularly upset over something I’d done. I grimaced and choked, trying to tell her I was fine and didn’t need any medicine, but nothing stopped the vile liquid as the dream faded into shadows.
A rasping groan woke me, and it dawned on me that it was my own voice protesting the deep ache throbbing through my head and body. Every bruised and battered muscle flared with pain as I tried to lift my head, dragging me back to reality. For a moment, I thought the murkiness around me was caused by the headache, but as my eyes adjusted, it didn’t take me long to realise it was my surroundings—a dank cell in gods knew where.
My stomach growled, and I pressed my hand to it. It felt like days had passed since I had last eaten.
‘Vahin?’ I whispered, testing my magic, but his presence in my mind was missing.
As my memories returned, I recalled Ihrain and his bloody poison and a wave of panic hit me. I slid a hand to my chest, ripping off a few buttons in my haste until my fingers touched the mark of my Anchor bonds over my heart. It was still there. Tracing the sword and the dragon with my fingertip gave me some reassurance. Whatever had happened, the bonds themselves were not broken, only blocked, along with the rest of my power.
I searched around, my probing fingers moving upwards as I pressed against something solid. It must be a wall , I thought and shifted over, supporting myself against it. I needed to get up, but my pounding headache made it difficult to concentrate.
It took longer than I wanted to admit, but eventually, my shaking legs pushed me upright as I fought giddiness and nausea. I wondered if I should have stayed on the ground, but I was determined to show I wasn’t beaten down and helpless.
‘Ihrain! Come out, you coward. Stop hiding in the shadows.’
My voice bounced off the bare walls, its echo giving me the sense that I was in a tall but confined space. A tower, maybe? To test the theory, I called out again. ‘Hello! Is anyone there? C’mon, you didn’t drag me here just to abandon me in this fucking dump.’
I listened, but no one answered. The echoes carried upwards, confirming the emptiness around me. Down here, only a handful of sounds broke the oppressive silence: the steady drip of water, a faint rustling—likely from insects or rodents—and the whistle of the wind above, its icy drafts biting through me. The longer I strained my ears, the clearer it became that I was the only prisoner in this place. The darkness remained unbroken; no flicker of light hinted at the presence of a guard. I was utterly alone, and I couldn’t yet decide if that solitude was a curse—or an opportunity.
‘Gods, that hurts,’ I muttered as I took a few steps forward, feeling the wall with my hands.
The spot under my ribs was particularly painful, as if someone had kicked me there right before they threw me on a pile of rocks, and I cursed each time I took a deep breath. The absence of aether, also, was a strange sensation, almost as if I were missing a limb. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it was a very disconcerting and unbalanced feeling.
‘Bloody Ihrain and his godsforsaken potions. I will geld him when I get my hands on him, magic missing or not,’ I snapped out, followed by a short laugh that ended as a sob.
Who was I kidding? I was locked up, drugged, and injured, likely to be served to the Lich King with a golden bow tied around my neck.
I bit my lip, trying to calm myself, and my fingers slid over my heart, tracing the mark. The image of bright blue eyes, their depths burning with lightning, filled my mind. Vahin, my lovingly hypervigilant dragon, would find me. As long as I stayed alive, there was always a chance to escape.
‘I’m Annika fucking Diavellar, and I won’t give up,’ I whispered to myself. ‘Ihrain, you will regret messing with me. I swear to the gods, even the Lich King won’t be able to resurrect you after I’m done!’ I shouted to the darkness above me, smiling at how the promise of vengeance against Ihrain and his accomplices somehow made me feel better.
I knew the potion would wear off eventually. After all, the Lich King wanted a functioning conduit mage, not some wreck who couldn’t access her abilities. But until that happened, I needed to rely on more mundane means of survival.
Shuffling and feeling my way around slowly, I trailed the edge of my hand along the damp, uneven wall as I groped for any cracks or weaknesses to exploit. The rough texture of sandstone met my fingertips, slick with a fine layer of condensation that made my task all the more difficult. Occasionally, my hand struck cold metal—chains bolted into the stone, their loose manacles rattling with a hollow clang that echoed through the darkness.
‘Ewww ...’ I groused when I accidentally slid a finger over two long bones still bound to the wall, but I kept going until I encountered what felt like a door and its lock.
‘Great, I’m in a dungeon with a rusted lock,’ I mumbled, pondering which slimy establishment they’d chosen as my temporary domicile. I assumed I was in the capital, as that made the most sense. If I was right, there were three places in Truso with dungeons like this.
The first was the seat of the Court of Aether, a structure nestled between the university and the king’s court. It housed the Council of Mages, the chamber where geasa were extracted during the Blood Rite, and the geas vault. It also contained a prison designed for magically gifted criminals, fortified with wards and sigils to suppress their powers. However, it lacked a tower, making it an unlikely candidate.
The second possibility was the magistrate’s prison in the merchant’s quarter. Its dungeon was small, with only a few basement cells where criminals were held before being sentenced. While plausible, it didn’t seem to match the depths I found myself in.
That left the royal palace. Though court life now revolved around the sprawling audience chambers, the ancient fort that predated the palace still stood within the edifice. Mostly abandoned due to its crumbling state and lack of light, its dungeons dated back to the Necromancer’s War.
I knew of the fort because I’d studied it in detail before using an old, hidden tunnel that spanned the area to slip away without being seen when I faked my death. Its narrow corridors were infamous, with barely-there windows and thick shadows where unruly nobles used to vanish without a trace. If I was right, that was where I was now—a place where uncomfortable secrets disappeared.
‘I am one secret that won’t vanish without a trace,’ I said with gritted teeth, picking up one of the discarded chains and jamming it into the gap between the door lock and the wall. I couldn’t see much, but I’d felt the rust on the metal, and it gave me hope of forcing open the mechanism.
Escape might be next to impossible, but I had to do something . Sitting in the darkness, waiting for my enemies to come, was not an option.
‘Gods, I have to find a way out, not just for me but for my men,’ I whispered, trying not to think of the turmoil my disappearance had caused those who cared for me.
My one-sided conversation became my refuge against the silence. The true cruelty of dungeons lay in their isolation and the disorienting absence of time, designed to unravel the mind. I understood this all too well, yet knowledge offered no immunity to the slow creep of those tormenting thoughts.
‘I would sooner drown this place in blood than give up,’ I said out loud. Hatred was a bad advisor, but it was the strongest motivator for staying alive, and I had plenty to go around.
‘I’m glad to hear that, my lady,’ whispered a voice behind me.
Screaming bloody murder, I spun around, brandishing the battered chain like a weapon. A faint purple glow emanated from the wall, illuminating in eerie detail the skeletal remains of the cell’s previous occupant. Before my eyes, the bones began to shift, snapping together with uncanny precision until they formed the twisted shape of a person.
The skeleton rose to its feet, only to lurch backwards as the chain, still locked around its wrist, pulled taut. For a moment, I could have sworn its hollow skull tilted to stare at the shackle in surprise, and I whispered a prayer of thanks to Svarog, god of fire and smithing, for that small protection.
I had no fear of corpses—far from it. I’d faced my share of monsters and studied even more of their victims than I cared to count. But corpses didn’t usually talk to me. And those that did weren’t tied to the intricate glyphs now blazing on the wall. And in the middle of it, as if the situation wasn’t horrifying enough, loomed a portal. A fucking portal.
I backed away as far as I could. If I hadn’t been stripped of my magic, I would have sensed it. Instead, I only noticed it now because the damn thing was glowing like a carnival attraction.
‘Who did this?’ I wondered out loud, and the corpse must have heard because it turned back towards me.
‘You did. Only your touch could activate the sigil,’ it said.
I scowled down at my hands, battered with scrapes and bruises from feeling my way along the rough wall. Fresh cuts still trickled blood, evidence of my blind exploration. I must have smeared some on the bones—but had I also touched the glyph?
Someone . . . No, not someone . Fucking Ihrain. That bastard had locked me in a cell with a portal glyph and a host, knowing I’d eventually touch it. Now, a shadow from beyond the Veil had crossed into my cell.
‘Who were you?’ I asked. The skeleton’s head slanted slightly, as if pausing to consider its response.
‘Were? There is no “ were. ” I am, and always will be, immortal and waiting for you. Don’t be afraid of the darkness, little mage. You are safe in my presence. My servants brought you here because I wanted to see you with my own eyes.’
The response came from everywhere and nowhere at once, and immediately I suspected I knew exactly who was speaking to me.
‘Your eyes rotted away long ago, remnant,’ I stated, and the shadowy voice laughed.
‘Such fire for someone helpless and imprisoned, but what else should I expect from the mage who tethered a dragon’s heart and broke the compulsion on my fae slave?’
‘I’m not helpless.’
‘Oh yes, you are, at least for the moment. But it won’t last forever, and I’m looking forward to seeing what you can do. From what I can detect with my abilities, you are a sight to behold, Annika. I could even forgive you for taking Alaric away from me.’
‘I know it’s you, Cahyon,’ I spat. A hollow laugh echoed within the cell as the skeleton bowed its head.
‘At your service ... Nivale. You know, I have to praise the commander for such an insightful name; a more apt comparison could not be made. Such rare beauty should always be difficult to acquire. Yet here you are, tight in my grasp.’
‘What do you want? And don’t insult my intelligence by attempting to flatter me. We both know that’s never going to work.’
‘Today? I simply wanted to meet you and perhaps convince you to join my cause. I may be the Lich King, but I’m bored and tired of being limited to Ozar, my lady.’
‘Maybe you shouldn’t have fucking murdered and corrupted everyone, then. That way, you’d still have plenty to keep you amused. I’ve heard it was a beautiful and lively kingdom before you destroyed it.’
‘Oh, but destroying them was the most wonderful entertainment. Corrupting the Moroi was quite satisfying, and defying death’s hold to create new beings kept me busy for centuries. Now, though, I want a new adventure, and I’m willing to compromise if you’d care to listen.’
‘Do I have a choice?’ I huffed in annoyance.
‘No, sweet Annika, you don’t.’
‘Well, then, get on with it so I can get back to ignoring your existence,’ I said, and the skeleton went rigid, purple light pulsing brightly in its eye sockets.
‘Such wit, my lady. I look forward to experiencing it in person when you come to Katrass. My invitation still stands, despite the fact that you killed my poor latawce. 1 Now, take my hand and step through the portal,’ he offered, a skeletal hand reaching towards me.
I stepped back, and the skeleton’s bones rattled as its hand reached out further. ‘Don’t you know,” he continued with a dark laugh, “that the more you resist me, the sweeter the pleasure will be when you finally submit?’
‘Yeah, good luck with that, asshole,’ I quipped humourlessly.
‘Think about it, Annika,’ he said, his voice smooth and persuasive. ‘I have no need for war. It was a mistake five hundred years ago, and it would be a mistake now. I’ve learned from my ... Well, let’s just say I’ve evolved. I’d like my life to be a different kind of interesting, and having you join me would certainly help with that. I’m no monster, and with you standing by my side, the fertile Lowland Kingdoms would bow before me without the need for violence. Those who would otherwise die in the flames of war will bless your name. You could be their saviour if you join the winning side.’
‘No.’
‘No?’ There was amusement in his voice, but I could sense anger, too. ‘Tsk. Keep resisting, and I will take everything from you, starting with your Anchors.’
‘Touch them and I will—’ I whipped the chain, smacking the effigy of the Lich King in the chest. Several bones cracked, but the skeleton still stood.
‘What? Destroy me? I am eternal. As for your men, Alaric is already mine. I can see through his eyes, can whisper to him in his dreams ... It is just a matter of time until he comes to me.’
‘You can’t do any of that when he’s near me.’
‘Poor, delusional Annika. You’re not with him now, are you? Your precious ability is of no use to him while you’re here.’
‘You may see through his eyes, but you don’t know the man you’re tormenting,’ I said, my voice dripping with disdain. ‘Go back to whatever shithole you crawled out of and leave me be. I’m bored with your company.’ I waved him off dismissively, hoping to provoke him. I needed to distract him; if I couldn’t hurt the skeleton, maybe I could disrupt the glyph. To do that, I’d have to get closer to the terrifying creature.
‘Annika, your stubbornness is charming, but that, too, has its limits. You will not insult me—’
‘Or what? What can you do, trapped in a dead kingdom with your worthless sycophants? You’re burning through your stores of aether just to annoy me with your presence, and I’m not even afraid. Look, I’m coming closer, oh mighty Master of Death,’ I goaded him, wrapping the chain around my fist as I approached the diagram.
The corpse quietly observed me, its eye sockets filled with flickering purple flames. This time, however, there was no amusement. Harsh, threatening power filled the room. Its suffocating energy, unlike anything I’d ever felt before, enveloped me. The portal widened, as if he’d waited for the best moment to strike, but I didn’t let it deter me.
I smiled, twirling around as if taunting him. Then, with all my strength, I hammered my chain-wrapped fist into the glyph, disturbing the first line. The skeleton shuddered, and the depths of the portal gate shimmered with unnatural light. I scraped my hand over the second line, further unravelling the connection. But before I could reach the third, a darkness surged out, its cloying tendrils encircling me and halting my hand.
‘Such a savage little mage,’ he sneered. ‘Have a taste of what awaits you if you insist on resisting, then.’
I struggled against the viscous tendrils as the Lich King’s aether spilled relentlessly through the portal. Black strands coiled around me like a venomous vine, contorting my body until my head was forced back. I fought desperately against the suffocating embrace, terror gripping me as the inky tendrils slithered into my nose and pried my mouth open.
‘I will burn the aether of a thousand souls until I have you. How does it feel, Annika, to be helpless in my grasp? This is a small fraction of the power you will face, little mage. You have no hope of enduring. I wanted to give you a choice, to join me as my queen, yet you choose to be broken like a slave.’
The sable vines pulled me closer to the portal, and I felt the void dragging me in while I choked and spluttered, fighting to breathe as the vile, corrupted magic pulsed obscenely in my throat.
‘Should I show you what I make Alaric suffer through to entertain myself? Why he hurts himself to avoid my nightmares?’ he continued.
Laughter echoed through the room, and the pressure in my throat eased as the tendrils pulled out of my mouth, another sliding up my thigh as I inched closer to the portal. I could feel the twisted aether powering the glyph, and the shimmering hatred behind it.
The bastard was going to rape me while pulling me through the portal.
‘Go to hell,’ I croaked, parting my legs as if inviting him in. I used the brief flicker of distraction to unfurl the chain and smash it onto the glyph, destroying the third line. The Lich King’s grip faltered, his power momentarily slackening, and I threw myself to the side of the portal, scratching through whichever line came within reach.
The purple light in the skeleton’s eyes dimmed as the portal weakened, then disappeared altogether. I refused to stop, destroying every trace of the foul magic in a desperate frenzy, trying to erase the memory of his sickening laughter.
Soon, the glyph was nothing but stone dust coating my skin, making me shudder with revulsion. My hands were raw and bloodied from the frantic destruction, and only when the last line was obliterated did I collapse to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. I felt violated. It had only been a shadow, yet it had felt so real . . . as if the Lich King had—
Tears blurred my vision as I dragged myself to the wall and curled into a ball. I sobbed until my throat was raw, the sound echoing in the surrounding emptiness. I felt dirty—tainted in a way no amount of bathing could ever cleanse. But the worst pain came from the knowledge of what he was doing to Ari, and the crushing guilt that I wasn’t there to protect my fae.
‘I swear I’ll kill you,’ I whispered. ‘Even if it ends me, I swear to the gods above and below I will be your death.’ With deliberate precision, I pressed my bleeding thumb to my chest and drew the bloody sigil of an unbreakable oath on my skin.
I was the last living conduit mage in the kingdom, and with fury in my heart and vengeance in my soul, I bound myself to an Oath of War.
1. Latawiec(s.)/latawce(pl.) /pron:Lata-vi-etc/ —shapeshifting demons. They flew in the wind currents. Their physical bodies were similar to large birds, with sharp claws and colourful feathers, but they had human heads.