Part V continued

"Broken"

Chapter 51

I watched his eyes. They misted like the storm raging around us, his irises constricting in rings, shadow-shifting in waves of gray, but his pupils went deeper and darker than I had ever seen, oceanic depths of blackness unending...

Never before had Loki looked so utterly like the Outsider.

He fed the storm with the Ocean, pulling up the waves to the heavens as lightning and thunder rained down. The wind felt like a hand pushing us across the waters. Loki stood in the circle he had drawn, glimmering streaks of blue luminescence, like whale oil, outlining the spell he had cast over the Dreadful Wale.

We were the eye of the storm.

It was breathtaking, watching from the inside, as the hurricane formed a wall of wind and water around our ship, and yet we moved with it, the storm incessantly turning like an arcane wheel. His spell lasted for hours, but in the darkness of early morning, nightfall nearly breaking, the storm blew itself out.

We had reached Karnaca.

26th day of the Month of Earth, 1852

"How is he?"

I looked up at the door to find Dougal popping his head in. "Sleeping," I said. Loki's head was resting on my lap, my fingers threading through his hair. He was exhausted; the spell had taken a lot out of him.

Dougal's blue eyes were tender on the boy. I knew the feeling. All of us who had watched him were forever changed. He'd done the impossible. When the storm had dissipated and I'd seen that first glimpse of towering mountains in the distance, my heart had swelled with unspeakable relief. The Isle of Serkonos rose from the morning mists, and I remember watching from the rail and wishing Father had been there with me to see it.

It was his homeland.

"Aye," Dougal said, speaking softly so as not to disturb Loki's well-deserved rest. "Meagan's ready with the skiff when you are."

"I'll be right there."

He nodded his head and bowed out.

I stalled a moment, agonizing over leaving Loki. He looked so peaceful. After the spell had ended, he'd collapsed on the deck, unconscious, and Dougal had carried him into my little cabin. It didn't seem right to put him anywhere else, mostly since I had no intention of sleeping again until my dreams were finally protected from Delilah.

I leaned over to press a soft kiss against his lips. He sighed in his sleep.

"Damn," I whispered, gazing at him.

I trailed my fingers around the curve of his ear, a faint smile pursing my lips as I felt for that elusive point at the tip of his ear. It still shocked me that he would have something so… so alien in his blood, an inhuman trait that he could trace back to the Maormer. As if I needed more proof he was special, I thought, shaking my head with a silent laugh.

"You make it very hard to let go, Loki," I whispered.

I gently slid out from under his head and tucked the blankets over him, my eyes catching on the pulse at his neck, the steady drum of life. His long eyelashes curved against his pale cheek and his mouth was slightly parted, those lips having already driven me to pure distraction when he'd kissed me on the skiff like he had never doubted for one moment that he could not only learn how to kiss, but also teach me something deeper in return: he loved me. I'd felt it in the way he had looked at me, patience filling his eyes instead of anger when I had pulled away from his hungry kisses.

In truth, it scared me. Was it love––or obsession?

I was no stranger to infatuation. I remembered what it felt like to fall into the Outsider's black eyes, and before that, it was with Wyman. It was that live-wire connection when his eyes would meet mine across a room. It was the need to talk to him, just to hear him speak, and the need to find little ways to touch him, even if it was just a brush of fingers.

Wyman had waited months before telling me he loved me, but I'd felt it far sooner––mostly when we'd made love, slowly, his lips making me a hot, fuckable mess beneath him, but, later, I'd felt it most in the way he would sigh in relief as he simply held me in his arms after a long absence.

I tried to imagine how desperately Wyman would have pressed his body against mine if Delilah's coup had never happened and he had returned after being away in Morley for four months like he'd planned. But by now, he'd no doubt heard of the coup, but had yet to receive my letter and would be sick with worry. I had no idea how he would change his plans. I prayed he would stay safe in Morley…

I turned away from Loki and closed my eyes, my throat tightening with guilt. Wyman. I knew Loki's patience was born out of realizing I'd been hurt by my father, but what he didn't know was that it wasn't just Corvo…

It was Wyman, too.

Was that another secret I had to keep from Loki? How could I explain where I stood with Wyman when I didn't understand it myself? I thought I loved my Morley Red, but writing it down on paper––on that darn letter––had proved impossible after the whirlwind of feelings the Outsider had stirred in me.

I sighed heavily and moved to the desk, donning my weapons: my father's folding sword (which I'd taken the time to clean properly) and my crossbow, pistol, and stun mines. I was wearing my good clothes, too––the outfit and long coat I'd worn when I escaped from the palace with my trusty leather boots.

It felt good to feel in control again, like I had finally reached a milestone and could actually do something about Delilah's power over me. We'd struck a blow against her by sinking the Jessamine and now I was well on my way to defanging her again.

But first I had to find the Outsider.

He had promised to help me contact Mindy Blanchard, the only person in Karnaca capable of inking the protective sigil tattoo to his specifications. I couldn't wait to meet her and would pay any price for her help… I just hoped it wasn't too steep.

But I'm an Empress, I thought. I could bloody well negotiate with the best of them.

I met up with Dougal in the hallway, taking note of his dock workers' clothes to blend in––as much as a seven-foot man of muscle and brawn could 'blend in.' My father hadn't recruited him to work in the shadows; he was meant to be seen and his specialty was in gathering intel through relationships he built up over time with everyday people whose eyes and ears he could draw upon, making connections across wide angles whereas each individual person only saw through their narrow cone of vision.

However, since Karnaca was as foreign to him as it was to me, his immediate usefulness as a spy was somewhat limited. For now, I had tasked him with breaking into the Fletchers' shipwright office and grabbing what he could out of their safe. It wasn't breaking in, per se, as Mister Alistair Fletcher had given us his key, but I wanted to keep a low profile.

We only had an hour before daybreak and then the seaside docks would be crawling with locals, no doubt suspicious of strangers, and so the Dreadful Wale would remain our base of operations. But having come this far, I wasn't about to wait for the cover of darkness to get what we needed. Eileen had helped with that, sewing a silk handkerchief to fit my face. It would expose my eyes and little else. Perhaps it was overkill––I didn't think anyone would recognize me this far south outside of Dunwall. To most citizens, I was just a face on a poster, an idealized version of myself that even I didn't recognize at times. But Delilah knew we'd hit the streets of Karnaca sooner or later. We had to be careful…

"Don't stick around the office," I said as we took the stairs together, side by side. "Once you have the goods, find the nearest black market and sell what you can." I'd given him a list to memorize of things we needed. More sleep darts, mainly, but also raw whalebone, elixirs, and, most importantly, information about the Addermire carriage line.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, giving me a sideways grin.

"You're in a good mood," I said, playfully punching his arm as we reached the main deck. He held the door open for me.

"Just glad we made it to Karnaca in one piece. That storm was something else."

"And?"

"And I love the excitement of new cities… new missions," he said, laughing like I had pulled his hair to drag it out of him. "One doesn't join Corvo's Eyes if you don't have a lust for danger, aye? We're not here to tickle Delilah's funny bone." We paused at the rail, looking across the city-sprawl of Karnaca in the distance, a thousand lights hugging the mountain as it curved around the bay. "Somewhere out there is her weakness and we'll find it."

"Damn right, we will. Thank you, Dougal, and good luck." This was where we parted. He would take the manual row boat while Meagan and I took the skiff. Both of us would land in the Theodanis District, close to the Campo Seta dockyards, but I wanted our arrivals to be staggered to draw less attention.

I found Meagan waiting for me.

Ever since the storm, she'd looked more tense than usual. As the pulley system slowly lowered the skiff, I watched her face and finally said, "If you have something to say, say it."

I was in no mood for games.

She had brought her pipe with her. She took a long drag, puffing smoke as she monitored the rigging, keeping us balanced as the skiff descended. She avoided my gaze until we hit the water, then her eyes were fire on me, hot and accusing. "Fine. I'm concerned that miraculous storm of yours did more damage than good."

I frowned. "What'd you mean?"

"It was a massive hurricane, Emily, barreling a path between Glory Point and Karnaca. Did you even consider the collateral damage? There's dozens of little islands between here and there. People's homes, not to mention ships en route––"

"Someone you know?"

"Actually, yes," Meagan said, her face hardening into an impassive wall. "I was supposed to meet up with a… friend in Karnaca. I asked him to help with a little problem." She laughed mirthlessly. "But I never in a million years expected that I would arrive before him. He's shipwrecked for all I know. Maybe even dead…"

"He was in the path of the storm?"

"Yes."

She hit the throttle and we raced across the waves.

"What friend and what problem?" I asked, shouting over the sound of the engine, yet knowing I'd get more cryptic bullshit from her. When she put on that face––dead as stone and secretive eyes––I knew the gulf between us could never be bridged.

She ignored me.

When she docked the skiff, pulling up to an old stone pier, she leaned back against the cockpit controls, sucking on her pipe. "I'll wait for you here. Don't get killed."

I stood up, stepping close to her as I disembarked. I growled in a low voice, "Deception makes for poor allies, Foster."

She glared past my shoulder.

I almost turned away, scowling in disgust, but she spoke, her dark eyes flickering over mine in the closest thing I had ever seen to raw honesty in her gaze. "What friend is my friend––from a long time ago. I trust him, and while I would never expect you to, it won't matter because he'll be in and out before you even notice. And what problem? Well, let's just say we all have our blind spots. I'm doing what I can to protect you––to protect our mission. Believe that."

I wanted to, but sometimes I caught a glimpse, just a tiny glimpse, of sharp metals and shadows in her eyes, and I realized I was scared shitless of her.

Maybe I shouldn't want to break down her walls. Maybe her secrets were better left in the dark.

"I'm trying to, Meagan." I walked away, pulling up the silk handkerchief to conceal my face.

Daybreak was rolling over the sky, awakening the colors of Karnaca into a vibrancy I had never before experienced, especially not in Dunwall where muted browns and grays was the palette of choice. Here, the buildings were salt-stained by the sea, washed-out and cracked by the intense Serkonon sun, and yet still had more color than I was used to. Blues and yellows, even reds and pinks… Tropical flowers gushed from numerous windowsills, adding to the charming effect of a seaside metropolitan district with a markedly southern taste.

And it was warm. Bloody warm.

Barely any sun to speak of and already I wished I had left my long coat behind.

But what really got my blood boiling was the banner. I spotted it almost immediately, the black-and-white portrait of Delilah, her face uplifted, a sundial behind her head like a halo, displayed so prominently and proudly from a stately blue building, tall and narrow, overlooking the dockyards as if greetings newcomers like myself, reminding me of the new world order.

I wanted to burn it to the ground. 'Her Majesty Delilah Kaldwin,' it read, 'All Hail the New Empress.'

"Hail my ass," I grumbled.

I followed the stone pier to the streets, sidestepping the whale refuse and fish offal. The sheer redness of that bloody stream made it stand out like an eye sore as it followed a winding course before dumping into the ocean in a hazy red cloud that polluted the water.

But it was familiar. Dunwall, too, ran red. Whale blood. Fish guts. These were the sights and smells of the Empire's coastal cities.

I was glad Loki wasn't here to see it.

There were a handful of people out and about, even at this early hour. Working class folk. Fishermen. Lumberjacks. I saw a sour-looking barmaid who stared at me with hollow eyes. I didn't spot any officers of the Grand Guard and considered myself lucky as I ducked into an abandoned alleyway and crouched beside a dumpster that stank of rotted fish.

I pulled out my map, double-checking the names scrawled in the margins. Amadeo Monte. Vigentino Street. Dougal had spotted the crucial intel in one of the reports Prince Finbar had left behind as a gift. Apparently, the Queen of Morley had developed a keen interest in Outsider shrines and had sent out her spies to locate them without the Abbey's interference. One had. It was my best bet to contact the Outsider. I refolded the map and tucked it back into my coat.

I was close.

I followed the alleyway to a small fish market nestled inside a three-way intersection, the surrounding buildings high enough to shadow the empty stalls. It was too early for the marketplace to be open, and I slipped through unseen.

A stately row of tall apartment buildings crowded the stone walkway, affording a beautiful view of the bay. I hesitated beneath a second-story balcony. I heard voices, male, slightly muffled like from behind a mask. And banging, like furniture being tossed across the room. Shit. I used Far Reach to get a closer look via the balcony, no door to speak of once I climbed over the iron-black railing.

Please don't tell me the Overseers decided to conduct a search for heretical artifacts on this day of all days

My fears were confirmed. The apartment was indeed being ransacked by Overseers––two of them––from the sound of it. I crossed from the balcony to the bedroom, peering around the wall into the living room.

"I can smell the stench of the Void," the Overseer grumbled as he ripped books from a shelf. "There is something perverse in this place."

Like most Warfare Overseers, he was incredibly broad-shouldered and muscled, his body trained from a young age to kill heretics. He had a pistol and a sword. I thought about using my sleep darts, but I spotted an innocent-looking alarm clock next to the couch. I unhooked one of my stun mines and planted it on the clock-face, setting the alarm before returning to the bedroom, the Overseer's back turned the whole time.

"Dig deep, Brother. Remember that the profane seeks to hide itself," the Overseer said. When the alarm rang in shrilly tones, piercing the air, he shouted, "I smell heresy!"

"What is it, Brother!?"

"The alarm––"

"The Abbey doesn't train fools. We know someone is here!"

They drew closer. I smirked as the sound of electrical discharge split the air and the Overseers shrieked in unison. I turned the corner and watched them fall, writhing on the ground until they lost consciousness.

"Thanks for the alarm trick, Father," I murmured, stepping over their bodies. The Outsider shrine was inside a small bathroom––strange––but I ignored it for now, quickly checking the rest of the apartment. A long hallway led to a kitchen and dining room. The apartment owner, Amadeo Monte, had rigged the front door with a trap, but it had clearly failed to keep the Overseers away.

They've probably taken him in for questioning, I thought. Poor bastard.

I returned to the living room, pausing to kneel in the hallway where the Overseers had dug up one of the floorboards, uncovering a bonecharm. Mine, now. Nearby was a desk, cluttered with drawings that caught my eye, being an artist myself.

A large parchment entitled 'Mindy's Tattoos' displayed a 'Left Arm' and 'Right Arm' picture of said-tattoos.

Mindy Blanchard?

I was hoping she'd be somewhere close, but this could mean she was really close! Karnaca was a big city. She could be anywhere…

I frowned at the 'Right Arm' picture––'HOWLERS,' it read. Damnit. Mindy was in the Howler gang? That didn't bode well… Captain Alexi Mayhew had kept me informed of the most powerful gangs operating within the Empire, and the Howler gang was on that list.

I entered the bathroom.

There were candles everywhere, and it smelled of warm wax. The altar itself was all sharp angles and splintered wood. A marble table topped with purple fabric held an offering of two runes, the whalebones singing in my ear.

I lowered the handkerchief to free my face and glanced at the huge painting propped against the wall like an offering to a god. It was a portrait of the Outsider, and damn creepy. The coldness pouring from his black eyes was palpable, and the painter had made him look old, like scorn itself had aged him.

But on second glance, the Outsider appeared regal, too. It was in his hands, the way he was clasping them together, elegance in his bony fingers. Huh.

"Can't say I like it either," a voice said from behind me. The Outsider's cold chill spread over my back like an embrace.

"No one can do you justice," I said, turning to face him with a hint of a smile.

"Affectionate," he said, eyebrows rising. "I like it."

His presence filled me, his black eyes floating in front of my face like twin abysses. "I need you," I said. "Tell me how to find Mindy Blanchard."

"And here I was hoping you needed me for me."

"Don't tease me, Outsider," I said, my heart clenching. "Delilah is torturing me. You said––"

"You didn't bring the boy?"

His question was followed by a sharp exit from the bathroom. (I was hoping we weren't stuck in the cramped space, not knowing how far out he could appear from his shrine). I joined him in the living room as he gazed out the balcony, the dawn's slanted rays shining magnificently over his ghostly blue outline.

He ignored the unconscious Overseers crumbled like ragdolls on the floor.

"No," I said, frowning. "He's resting. He's the reason we're here so soon."

"I know. I felt the storm in the Void. It… prickled." He turned his black eyes on me, straightening his back as he clasped his hands behind him. "I should like for you to bring him to me, Emily. When you can, of course. I will wait."

It made me uneasy. "Why?" I asked.

He tilted his head at me in scrutiny. "If you had the chance to impart wisdom to your younger self, wouldn't you do so?"

"Impart wisdom," I repeated, hard-eyed. I didn't like the sound of that.

"Think I'll corrupt him?" he asked, a tangle of cynicism and amusement in his voice.

I reached for him, and though he was untouchable, I let my hand hover around his ghostly arm. His face transformed, going very still and watchful as I looked up at him, his black eyes growing hungry.

I recognized that look from Loki.

"Trust in yourself," I quietly said. "He'll find his way."

He nodded, but his unease was not quite dispelled. "I still want to talk to the boy."

The boy. "We call him Loki, now."

The Outsider reacted like I had slapped him. His mouth fell open in shock. Even his skin turned a shade paler, and he was already very pale. "Loki," he said in a shattered whisper. "He chose to call himself Loki?"

"Yes. Are you…okay with that?"

"My twin," he choked.

"I know," I said, pained with grief. "He told me. I think a part of him believes he's somehow living the life his brother never had."

"I see." He turned away, as if hiding his face from me. "We will not talk of this anymore."

I bit my lip, chewing in worry. I stared at the Outsider's back, his coat gracefully spilled over his shoulders. "May I see my father?"

"That is… not wise," he said with a gentleness that tore at me. "Learning what he did to you has broken him. He is not ready to face you."

A tear streaked down my cheek, open-eyed.

"Can he see me?" I harshly wiped away the tear. "I mean, from the Void… Can he watch me like you watch me?"

"When he asks, I sometimes let him have a glimpse of you, but my powers are vastly limited, Emily. I cannot watch as closely as I once did before Delilah gave me the kiss of death, nor can I give your father the assurance he craves that you are alive and well. He is… infuriating at times." His face twisted into something almost fond. "Even so, I admit I am enjoying his company in the Void."

"Less lonely?"

"Indeed."

"Is Delilah still unaware that you are alive?"

"It would appear so. Come."

He beckoned with his hand and I took it, 'holding' onto him as we returned to the small bathroom. He gestured towards the two runes. "Take them and unlock your newest power, my gift to you. Master crafting. While some people––like Meagan––can follow primitive rituals to craft bonecharms, the art of arcane bone-inscription lies deeper. To you I give the secret knowledge to craft without worry of corruption and the added benefit of synergy. Your runes and bonecharms will be far more powerful than anything Meagan can provide you."

"I take it you saw that little conversation I had with her?" I asked, stunned.

"A glimpse. I suggest you create your own version of Witch's Bane as soon as possible."

"Why won't you just tell me?" I growled savagely. "If this is about Rosemary––"

"It is and I can't," he said, his cold shadow descending over me as he leaned closer. "I have lost too much of myself to see what danger lies behind her secrets. I'm sorry, Emily. I only know you must take the Blind Sister's prophecy to heart."

"You knew about that?" I asked, his black stare so intense I felt like I was being hollowed out alive.

It wasn't just about the two-faced witch…

I spat, nearly losing my voice, "You knew I was going to be raped?"

"Yes. But not by who."

"Right. Well, lucky me. At least the Blind Sister was kind enough to warn me."

"Emily––"

"No!"

"Never in a million years would I have thought it'd be Corvo. The man I knew––we knew would never––"

"Stop! Please stop! Just tell me how to find Mindy!" My chest felt tight. I could barely breathe.

His voice was cold and calm. "She's behind the black market as we speak. Be careful, Empress. She is curious and utterly ruthless when it comes to feeding her little hobby. When she asks for a dead body, say yes."

"What black market?"

"You'll find it. Just follow the running man." His body disappeared in a rain of black shadows, but his voice lingered in my ear. "And Emily… welcome to the edge of the world."

Notes:

I can't tell you how happy I am that we've finally hit the Karnaca chapters! Woof, what a relief. I apologize if Loki's ability to get them there in one day instead of ten came across as a little far-fetched, but whatever. Spending ten days cooped up on a ship sounded boring, plus – drumroll, please – we're at 200k+ words now so it's about freakin' time! Lol. Thanks for reading and drop me a comment!