Arc 2: Chapter 10: Emma’s Tale
Once we seemed out of immediate danger, I slipped into the still moving coach. I settled back, took a deep breath, and laid my axe on my lap to keep another surprise from sending it from my hand. Then I fixed Emma Carreon with a hard look.
“I think it’s time for you to tell me exactly what’s going on here,” I said. “And why Nath loaned my services to you.”
Rather than looking admonished or contrite, Emma appraised me with curious eyes. “That power you wielded back there…” excitement sparked in her avian eyes. “That was High Art.”
“No more deflections,” I said, swiping a hand through the air. “Yes, I can wield Art, and you have a fallen angel as a benefactor. We both have secrets.” I ignored her scoff. “I need to know what I’m getting into, and I can promise you this, Lady Emma — If it comes to a choice between murdering commonfolk or leaving you to fend for yourself, I will stay my hand. I am not Nath’s slave, and I am not a knight anymore. I have no chivalry in me for you to take advantage of.”
I let her take that in a moment before continuing. “What is this business about a curse? What’s after you, that has the local villagers so afraid?”
Emma remained quiet a long while, her eyes lowering to study the sheathed sword in her lap. She ran a hand over the metalwork on the scabbard. Perhaps five minutes passed before she squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and began to speak.
“My family was once very powerful. We made many enemies. One of those enemies hounds us still, even from beyond the grave.”
She let that sink in. When I didn’t jump in with more questions, she continued. “House Carreon once ruled a great demesne, far south of this land. We were good as kings in the Westvales. But my ancestors were also…” she bobbed a finger in the air, as though conjuring the right word. “Somewhat draconian. What friends we had were loyal more from fear than love, and we had our share of zealous enemies. One of those enemies found defeat and death to be little more than an inconvenience, it seems.”
She met my eyes then. “I am the last. The last Carreon. All the others have died, either from the rigors of time and the fall of my house, or from the vengeance of this spirit.”
I folded my arms and leaned back, taking a deep breath. “Damn. A revenant. This is the Burnt Rider those people spoke of?”
Emma nodded. “I believe that’s the term, yes, and that is what the locals call him. Does this upset you?”