Part 1 - Burn the Witch!

Thanquil

Not for the first time in recent memory Thanquil awoke to find himself tied to the bed. He let out a laugh and tried to blink away the sleep from his eyes. Jezzet sat at the end of the bed watching him, a wry smile tugging at the right corner of her mouth. He watched her for a while, letting his eyes soak in the sight of her long red hair, her dark olive skin, her ethereal red glow.

“Wait,” Thanquil said shaking his head. “You’re not Jez. Who the hell are you? And… why are you glowing?”

The ghostly woman at the end of the bed let out a low, throaty laugh, gracefully stood from her perch and walked closer. Thanquil glanced around the room to find he was still in the inn, the same room he’d purchased the night before, the door still looked locked and the window closed. Quite how the woman had managed to enter was more than a little vexing but he currently had more pressing issues to deal with.

“Is this a dream?” he asked the woman. “Because if so you might want to…”

“I’m not physically here, Arbiter,” she said sitting down on the bed beside his chest. Her voice was warm and honeyed and her eyes sparkled like the sun glinting off a dagger, blinding and dangerous.

“Then how did you tie my hands?” Thanquil craned his head to look at his right hand. The wood of the bed post had grown outwards and had encased half of his arm. “Oh… I see.”

“I have no wish to harm you, Arbiter,” the apparition said as it trailed a ghostly hand down his chest. He felt a tingling sensation where the soft red glow touched his skin.

“Um… who are you?”

She laughed. “I’m the woman you’re chasing.”

“The witch,” Thanquil breathed. “Well I guess that makes sense.” He struggled against the bonds that held fast his hands but there was no give. His feet were free but with his arms pinned he was still well and truly stuck. “What is it you want?”

The witch smiled, she had a strange beauty about her and it wasn’t just in her face. Her body was made of curves that were accentuated with her every movement. Her hair was a bright red the colour of heated steel and her eyes were deep and grey like an angry cloud. The soft red glow that surrounded her only served to increase her beauty, lending her a dangerous air. If there was one thing Thanquil had learned in the past two years it was that he had a thing for dangerous women.

“What do I want?” she repeated. “I want to let you go unharmed, Arbiter. I want you to stop chasing me.”

Thanquil snorted. “Can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Well… you’re a witch, I’m a witch hunter. This is kind of what I do.”

“I didn’t think you people liked the term witch hunter,” she said. The smile still graced the witch’s lips but it didn’t reach as far as her eyes.

“In this particular situation,” Thanquil said, “it applies.”

The apparition drew in a deep breath, her bosom rising, her cleavage clearly visible. Thanquil swallowed and tried to think of something else, anything else. He failed. Then the witch sighed.

“Then I would ask a different boon of you, Arbiter.”

“Well it’s a slight imposition but I suppose I can find the time to hear you out.”

The witch looked at him, her face darkening and filling with loathing. “I want you to burn!” Then she was gone, vanished as if she were never there.

Thanquil breathed in and sighed out a ragged breath. She certainly wasn’t the first witch he had hunted but she was quickly turning into the most troublesome. Just two days ago his horse had stumbled and broken a leg, not an unheard of event by any stretch of the imagination but it was his third horse to do so in as many weeks. Twice the weather, despite being relatively mild this time of year in the Dragon Empire, had taken a sudden and apparently unprecedented turn for the worse. The first had been a rain-less thunderstorm so bad that lightning strikes had scorched the surrounding ground black and set fire to the barn Thanquil had been staying in. But even the thunderstorm paled in comparison to the second weather phenomenon; the wind had whipped itself into such a frenzy that it actually formed into funnel of spinning, churning air that touched the ground tearing up buildings and earth and anything else that happened to get in its way. Some of the folk in the nearby village had nodded and claimed it happened from time to time but never this time of year and never so suddenly. Thanquil knew better, he recognised the signs of magic use when he saw it.

Lying on the bed Thanquil shifted his weight to brace himself and tried to pull his arms free from their bonds, there was still no give. He wondered what type of magic could control dead wood to grow and twist its shape like that but it was something he would need to discover later.

A sharp, acrid smell reached his nose and it took him only a moment to realise what it was. Being an Arbiter, Thanquil knew the smell of burning flesh better than most. He lifted his head to look towards the door to his room. Dark grey smoke drifted in through the gap underneath. He strained his ears and he could just about hear the familiar sounds of someone screaming in pain, the sort of pain that only came from being burned alive.

Thanquil sighed. Everywhere he went someone had to get set on fire and he was so rarely the one holding the torch. Again he struggled against his bonds and began whispering a blessing of strength. A normal Arbiter could near double their strength with a well-rehearsed blessing but Thanquil was no normal Arbiter; he excelled at both blessings and curses. For a brief moment he felt the magic swell into him, augmenting his own strength and the wood holding his hands tight started to creak. Then the words failed him and that same magic fled from his body leaving him feeling deflated and light headed.

He shook his head and focused his mind and again started up the chant. Again the blessing filled him with magic and he felt his strength grow. Again the words failed him. To say he felt embarrassed was one thing, he had never before had such performance problems, but the amount of smoke drifting through the crack beneath the door was growing and he was pretty certain it was starting to get warmer in his little room. Thanquil began to panic.

He could see a faint orange glow coming from the other side of the door and the hiss, pop and crackle of fire. Arbiters were taught early on to use fire as a means of purging heretics, there was, after all, a cleansing power to the flames but Thanquil had been burned. His right arm had been set on fire only a year past and it had never healed quite right; the skin remained twisted and tight and sensitive to both hot and cold, not to mention the pain… The last thing Thanquil wanted was to be burnt again and especially not burnt to death.

He struggled against his bonds, pulling and pushing his arms to no avail, he kicked his feet and twisted his whole body but he was stuck fast. Eventually he tried the blessing of strength again and again the correct words fled his mind. The smoke in the room was thickening and Thanquil couldn’t help but cough as he struggled impotently. He lifted his head to look at the door and that’s when he saw it, a small strip of paper attached to his chest just below his navel. There was a charm that Arbiters liked to use; a small strip of paper that, when attached to a person’s skin, blocked out the memory of magic, it literally stopped the affected person from remembering how to use magic and he had one such charm stuck to his skin. To make matters worse he recognised the writing on the charm; it was his own. The damned witch was trying to kill him with his own magic. A part of him was glad Jezzet wasn’t there to see his embarrassment, another part of him wished she’d turn up and save him as she had a habit of doing.

Thanquil took a deep breath and struggled against the urge to cough. “HEEEEELLLLPPPPP!” he screamed at the very limits of his voice. There was no answer. No reply at all apart from the hungry fire on the other side of the door. Again he screamed for help and again there was nothing.

Drenched in sweat with his eyes stinging from the smoke and tears, Thanquil coughed and resigned himself to dying a slow and painful death by burning in this piss poor excuse for an inn located somewhere in the arse end of the Dragon Empire. It was then he realised his biggest regret would be never seeing Jezzet again. Never again would see her beautiful smile, never again would he hear her mocking voice so full of masked affection, never again would he feel her lithe body beneath him as she moaned softly in his ear.

Thanquil let out a wordless scream of rage and looked around the room for anything close by. “I am NOT going to die here!” he promised himself aloud.

Discarded just a few feet away to his right on the clothes chest was his coat. An Arbiter coat was a uniform for members of the Inquisition; it had a distinct look that all recognised as belonging to the order of witch hunters. But more importantly right now, it contained a multitude of hidden pockets for Arbiters to store their charms and runes and other things they needed for their vocation.

Thanquil swung his legs left and then flung his whole body right. The bed jumped a little, edging close to his coat. Another couple of jumps like that and he could reach his coat with his feet. Again he swung left then flung himself right and again the bed jumped. Coughing and spluttering from the smoke and sweating from the heat Thanquil once more swung his legs left before flinging his whole body right. The bed jumped, tipped and teetered for a moment on its side before tipping over. Thanquil found the floor rushing up to meet him. In a moment of panic he kicked out at his coat and felt something snap beneath his bare feet just before the bed crashed down with him underneath it.

Even Thanquil had to admit the situation would have been comical if it wasn’t for his life being very firmly on the line. The fire was licking the other side of the door, he could even make out flames through the crack and the whole building was starting to creak. Not to mention the heat… Thanquil paused in his struggles. The room wasn’t hot any more; it had in fact taken on a distinct chill. Then he heard the chains; a distant rattle of giant metal links holding back something terrible and beyond powerful.

Thanquil couldn’t see the demon, trapped underneath the bed as he was but he could feel it. The creature’s evil presence tugged at every nerve he had as it entered his realm, summoned there from its home in the void.

“Arbiter Darkheart,” the demon said its voice a harsh sound that blasted the room with frozen air. It laughed and the floorboards rumbled along with the noise.

Thanquil felt his skin prickle, being so close to a demon was ever an uncomfortable feeling. “Help,” he squeaked his voice breaking as the words left his lips.

There was no response from the demon but Thanquil could hear the creature breathing and feel it watching him. “Get me out of here!” he ordered again mustering all the command he could.

The demon growled low in its throat before responding. “We obey.”

The wooden bed exploded into splinters, shards of wood flying in every direction and more than many sticking into Thanquil’s bared skin causing a not insignificant amount of pain. He shoved aside his agony and forced himself to his feet amidst the smoke filled room before glancing at the ruins of the bed. Thanquil had never known a bound demon to possess so much power in this realm. The creature’s head, the only bit of it that had manifested, was as long as he was tall and its yellow eyes glowed fiercely from the patch of midnight black that was its face. Thanquil had met many demons in his years as an Arbiter and though they differed in size all looked the same yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen this one before.

They faced off, staring at each other for what seemed to stretch into minutes before the demon tilted its head slightly to glance at the entrance to the room. Thanquil followed its gaze and found not only the door well and truly on fire but a fair portion of the wall as well. The heat would likely have been unbearable if it wasn’t for the otherworldly presence of the demon chilling the nearby air.

Thanquil snatched up his coat, shoes and belt and turned one last time to the demon. “Go back to the void.”

Again the demon laughed causing the room to shake. “We obey.”

As the demon’s face faded back into nothing Thanquil launched himself through the single shuttered window. The wood splintered outwards and he found himself sailing through the air as the ground rushed up to meet him.

Despite himself Thanquil was not prepared for the impact of jumping from the first story of the inn. His feet hit the hard packed ground awkwardly and, in his attempt to collapse into a roll, he tripped and his left shoulder struck the ground. He felt the joint pop and a wave of pain and nausea washed over him. His world receded to a small tunnel of red pain and the uncomfortable heat from the fire. Then hands were pulling him away from the burning building, dragging him through the dust.

As soon as the hands were gone Thanquil rolled onto his right side and launched into a well-deserved coughing fit. The splinters in his back were agony and the popped shoulder was something far, far worse. He was just about to consider opening his eyes when he felt yet more hands on his skin. These were softer and gentle and probed at the splinter wounds on his back with practised skill, plucking the worst of the wooden shards out.

He heard a woman’s voice, thick and commanding. “Some of these will need to be sewn, others will heal on their own but none are urgent. The shoulder…” the hands moved to his left shoulder and Thanquil cried out in pain, he still hadn’t summoned the effort to open his eyes, “will need to be set before we move him. You, you, hold him!”

Thanquil felt big arms wrap around his chest and more around his feet, then the skilful hands took hold of his arm and began to lift it.

“WAIT!” he screamed, his eyes opening just in time to see to see the burning inn collapse in on itself in a gout of flame and ash. Then something wrenched on his arm and somewhere amidst the sea of agony that washed over him he passed out.

Thanquil

The first thing Thanquil noticed when he woke was the lack of pain. He had a very vivid memory of jumping out of a burning building and dislocating his shoulder, he also had a very vivid memory of someone popping that same shoulder back into its joint, a process that always seemed to hurt more than popping it out.

The second thing Thanquil noticed was the bandages. He was swamped in them. He could feel at least one around his head, his chest was more linen than skin, his left arm was in a sturdy-looking sling and, though he couldn’t see underneath the blanket that covered his legs, he could feel bandages down there too. He tried to use his right arm to push himself up into a sitting position and discovered the pain that had been absent. With a strangled cry he collapsed back down onto the bed and considered passing out again.

“You shouldn’t try to move yet,” came a voice that sounded familiar. “You took a nasty drop from the window and…”

The woman’s voice faded away as Thanquil chanted a curse to dull his senses. He silently thanked Volmar someone had removed the charm that had prevented his magic and pushed himself up into a sitting position, resting his back against the wall of the room.

As he stopped the curse the pain was the first thing to flood back in followed swiftly by a fair dose of agony but both soon began to wane and he stopped wincing, opened his eyes and looked about the room.

He was in an infirmary of sorts and he was far from being the only patient. Beds lined the walls spaced no more than a couple of meters apart and every one was occupied. Some of the injured were conscious, some were not. Some were strapped down, some were lying down, others were sitting up. One thing Thanquil saw a lot of was burns.

The woman who had advised he stay lying down was staring at him. She was short and thick with wide hips, heavy breasts and a face just beginning to wrinkle. Her dark brown hair was tied in a bun behind her head but strands had pulled loose and cluttered down by her cheeks. Her ice blue eyes regarded him curiously. She looked far from a typical woman of the Dragon Empire.

“Not many men would have the strength to sit so soon after taking the injuries you did,” she said. Her voice suited her well, dusky and well-used to giving orders but accented as one used to speaking a different language.

Thanquil laughed. “If Jez can sew herself shut after being run through I think I can manage sitting up.”

“Who’s Jez?” the woman asked.

Thanquil almost answered but he caught himself and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Where am I?”

He felt his compulsion locking onto the woman’s mind, felt the brief rush of ecstasy as his will subverted her own and forced her to think only of the answer to his question. In that brief moment Thanquil hated himself for his weakness.

“My hospice in the village of Colmere,” the woman answered and then shivered as her will once again became her own. She narrowed her eyes and Thanquil expected her to run, to scream, to hit him. He expected her to do almost anything other than sit at the foot of his bed.

“You are one of them Arbiters then,” she said and it wasn’t a question.

Thanquil nodded. “The coat usually gives it away.”

“That thing?” the woman asked, nodding across the bed. Thanquil followed her gesture and saw his coat hanging next to him, stained and ripped in multiple places and now darkened with smudges of soot and ash. That coat was a part of Thanquil and he felt naked without it. “I saw it,” she continued. “Wasn’t sure but I thought that’s what it was. None of the others would dare come near you even after I made it an order.”

Thanquil snorted. “Aye. Afraid I’d burn them, no doubt.”

The woman’s face went hard. “So it was you who started the fire?”

He shook his head. “No but it was meant for me. A witch with a keen sense of irony strapped me down and tried to set me on fire. One day I hope to repay her in kind.”

“Will I have to save her once she jumps out of a window and feints as well?” the woman asked with a smile.

Thanquil scoffed. “I didn’t feint. I passed out. There’s a difference.”

The woman patted his leg. “Of course there is.” She stood. “You need to rest, a couple of days at least. If you need anything just yell for me.”

Thanquil had a feeling the woman was right about the rest, he could feel how heavy his limbs were and how the weight of the world seemed to be tugging at his eyelids. “I might need your name for that.”

“Shen,” the woman said in her dusky tone as she walked away.

Three days after escaping the burning inn and Thanquil was far from satisfied with his recovery. His back and legs were healing nicely from the splinters that had riddled him after the demon made kindling of the bed. They were scabbed over and, though they still occasionally oozed a little, they itched like a fire ant attack. Itching, Shen assured him, was a good sign.

His shoulder was another matter altogether. Rarely had an injury been so much of an annoyance save the burn that covered most of his right hand and about a third of his right arm. At least he had earned the burn during his fight with the heretical Inquisitor Heron; being so injured by a poor landing from a twenty feet drop seemed embarrassing by comparison.

Shen was never far. She had plenty of other patients, that much was certainly true, but around Thanquil she lingered. He had seen similar reactions in many folk before, usually men and usually for a different reason. Some people were so scared of Arbiters they wouldn’t come within shouting distance in case they were noticed by the witch hunter, others would make a daring game of who could stay in the Arbiter’s company for the longest. It was no small wonder to Thanquil that, despite him being part of the Inquisition, the most feared organisation in the known world, and despite him having the power to both judge and sentence people on sight and at a whim, some folk continued to seek out his company. Shen was without a doubt one of those folk. Her torrent of questions always seemed endless.

“How does one become an Arbiter?”

“How long does the training take?”

“Do you enjoy your work?”

“Why do you burn people?”

“Who is Jezzet?”

The inquisitive healer even had the gall to ask Thanquil how many people he had murdered. He had long ago stopped counting but he wouldn’t have answered even had he been able to remember; some things were best left to God.

“How is the witch hunter doing today?” Shen asked as she approached. The morning light had been shining in through the windows for easily an hour and one of the younger healers had already been round with the breakfast meal; she had stopped and talked with most of the others, at least those that were conscious, but the young woman all but threw Thanquil’s food at him before fleeing from his sight.

“Tired,” Thanquil growled as he pushed himself into a sitting position. He no longer had to use a curse to dull his senses to mask the pain and for that he thanked Volmar but the tiredness grated his nerves. It seemed almost as if weariness had seeped deep into his bones and no amount of sleep could rid him of it.

“That’s to be expected, Arbiter,” Shen said with a smile as she perched on the end of his bed. “It will almost certainly take a week or two before you’re back to running around looking for people to burn.”

“I usually heal quite quickly,” Thanquil said, “but this time…” he could already feel the energy draining away from him, tugging at his eyelids. His shoulders drooped and he let out a dogged sigh.

“Men…” Shen said shaking her head. “Always seem to think you’re invincible and always lament when you find out you’re not.”

Thanquil snorted. “I long ago learned I’m not. Jezzet’s the invincible one.”

“What does she look like?”

Thanquil felt the corners of his mouth tug into a smile and he was just about to answer when he caught himself. He composed himself. “Surely you have some sort of brew or tonic or herb that can speed healing or at least give me the energy to get under way.”

Shen shrugged. “None that will serve you half so well as few more days rest.”

“I don’t have the time.”

“Still on about chasing that witch, are you? Besides, in your condition if you step outside you’ll probably end up with a rope around your neck. I can’t protect you out there.”

On the first day a group had gathered outside the infirmary and had shouted and threatened and demanded Shen bring out the witch hunter. It appeared some of the folk in Colmere blamed him for the fire and they made enough a racket that Thanquil had heard it even abed. Some had apparently thrown a few rocks but Shen had put a stop to that. The healer seemed to have a tight grip on the village inhabitants, rare for a woman in the Dragon Empire, but if he was seen outside and unable to defend himself the mob would rally and there would be nothing she could do. It pained Thanquil to admit it but Shen was right; he would just have to wait until his body had healed itself. Either that or sneak out in the dead of night when all but the most foolhardy were long since asleep.

“You should get some more rest,” Shen said with a warm smile that lit up her face. She was beautiful in a strange matronly way that was not unappealing to Thanquil.

He shook his head but he could already feel that she was right. “I feel as though I’ve only just woke up.”

“Go back to sleep,” she said still smiling. “There’ll be plenty of time to hunt that witch of yours when you’re back to full strength.”

She pushed on his chest gently and despite his desire to struggle and stay awake Thanquil felt himself give in and sank back down into the bed.

“I should really…”

“Shhhh,” he heard her whisper as his eyes closed and for the briefest moment he thought he felt her lips on his own. Then he was gone.

Thanquil

Thanquil laughed along with Shen. “Honestly, a bed pan. He must have killed hundreds of people, including more than a few Arbiters, and I found him stealing a bed pan.”

“He sounds like an interesting taecko,” Shen said using the word in her own tongue for sell sword. She was once again sitting on the far end of his bed, looking at him with her ice blue eyes crinkled at the edges with a little age and a lot of laughter. Her hand was on his leg, just below his knee and her touch felt somehow reassuring.

“He was,” Thanquil admitted. “I’d say interesting would probably be the best way to describe him.” His laughter trailed off as he remembered.

“What happened to him?” Shen asked. Her smile gone, her face now full of concern. She had a strange way of reading his emotions like he was an open book.

“He… uh,” Thanquil looked away, unable to meet her eyes. “He’s dead.”

Her hand left his leg and she shot him a queer look. “You killed him?”

“No!” Thanquil all but shouted. “Or maybe yes. I sent him after someone else, someone beyond him. I didn’t kill him. I just got him killed.” It felt strange to admit it. His guilt over Thorn’s death was something he’d never revealed to anyone, not even Jezzet.

They were both silent for a while before Shen finally broke the quiet. “I’m sure it wasn’t…”

A scream ripped through the air coming from the far end of the room. One of the burn victims had awoken to find half his body blackened to a crisp and one of his legs missing. It was fair to say the discovery caused him some surprise.

Shen leapt up from the bed. One of the other healers was already beside the screaming man but such an injury would need the best and that was Shen.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I need to go. You should rest.”

Thanquil nodded, his eyelids feeling heavy as the healer hurried away to deal with the burned man. He watched her work from his bed, watched how she soothed and calmed, how she ministered over his wounds and how she ordered the other healers about despite more than one being twice her age. Shen seemed to do a good job of calming the man before brewing a cup of tea and helping him drink, within minutes the man was unconscious again and she stood, wiping a bloody hand across her brow. She glanced once in Thanquil’s direction and smiled before another of the healers dragged her into the next room.

He acted quickly, shifting over in the bed and reaching across until he had hold of his coat. There were ten pockets in his Arbiter coat and each contained a variety of runes, charms and other useful items but Thanquil had long ago taken to memorising what he kept in each pocket. It was sometimes difficult due to his tendency to steal things without realising but his hands found the correct pocket and the correct charm in short order. It was a small strip of paper no wider than two fingers and no longer than his hand and on it was inked a single symbol imbued with energy. A sleepless charm. It wouldn’t stop the affected from feeling tired but it would stop them from falling asleep or losing consciousness; a powerful charm and a dangerous one if used incorrectly but Thanquil had years of practice with it. He pushed his coat back into position and sealed the charm to his skin, just above his knee before pulling the blanket up to cover it. Then he waited.

The sun had long since move past its zenith when Shen returned, it was in fact dimming quite rapidly in the infirmary and one of the young boys had recently been around to light candles. Thanquil thought it no small wonder that they would still trust him so close to an open flame, many no doubt still blamed him for the burning down of the inn and the majority of the injured currently occupying the very same building he did.

“I thought I told you to rest,” Shen said as she approached. She looked tired, weary from a day’s heavy exertion, smudged with blood and grimy with sweat. Somehow it only managed to increase her appeal.

“You did,” Thanquil said with a grin. “But I’ve never been very good at following orders. Defiant, Jezzet called me. Said I did it on purpose though she could never figure out why.”

The curvy healer nodded. “It sounds like you really care for her.”

Thanquil looked at Shen for a few seconds before judging the time was right to look away. “I suppose so. I really should be leaving sometime. How long before my shoulder is fully healed.”

Now it was Shen’s turn to look away. “Joint injuries are always the worst to heal. I wouldn’t say any more than another week at most. Are you really in such a hurry to get back?”

“Back… I have a witch to hunt, Shen.”

She snorted. “You should just leave her alone. She does nothing but good for the people.”

Thanquil suppressed a grin, they were finally getting somewhere. “Please, Shen, tell me everything you know. Do not make me ask you.”

She looked at him and her ice blue eyes were cold and hard. “Try it and I’ll have you strapped to the bed.”

“I’ve been strapped to more than enough beds recently, thank you. The witch, Shen, you know more than you’re letting on.”

“Is chasing her all you care about?”

Thanquil started to push himself up, as if to leave the bed. Her hand went to his chest and she pushed gently. He made a show of struggling against her until she bent close to him.

“Sleep,” she whispered at him and he felt it then; his limbs went leaden and his eyelids drooped, energy seemed to leak from every part of his body as he collapsed back onto the bed.

Shen’s face hovered just inches above his own; the cold look in her eyes was gone, replaced by one of pity. “Sleep now.”

Thanquil closed his eyes and slumped, letting every part of him go loose. Again he felt her lips against his own for a moment and then she whispered in his ear. “I’m sorry.”

Shen waited only a brief moment before striding away. Thanquil listened to her footsteps retreat and kept his ruse. If his judgement on time was anything to go by he would have to wait only two hours before the sun had well and truly set and darkness once again ruled the sky. He would need the shadows if he was to accomplish his task.

Those two hours proved to be some of the longest of his life. He soon discovered pretending to be asleep was about as much fun as it sounded and it sounded far from fun to begin with. Shen never made another appearance or at least she never spoke if she did. He heard some of the other healers from time to time, they whispered and occasionally he heard his name but Thanquil wasn’t about to risk blessing his senses just to eavesdrop on some gossip.

When the noises died down and eventually stopped that was when he risked cracking an eye open. He scanned the room quickly and found it empty of healers, only the sick and injured remained and most of those were either sleeping or long past waking ever again.

Holding his breath Thanquil swung first one leg over the side of the bed then another before hopping down onto the floor. His legs wobbled but held and he clutched to the bed for support. He had been injured before and worse than this but never had he felt so weak, that was proof enough for him that this was no natural malady.

Taking a deep breath he began chanting a blessing of strength and felt new power surge into his limbs burning away the weakness. He expertly combined it with a blessing of endurance. There were not many Arbiters who could use dual blessings but it was a skill Thanquil had long ago mastered. His own skill with a sword may be lacking but he had always excelled at his studies where blessings and curses were involved.

Thanquil tore the sling from his left arm and worked the shoulder joint. It screamed in pain still but it was nothing he couldn’t live with. He pulled on his worn, faded trousers and quickly belted them, reassured by the familiar weight of his sword and pistol. His shirt was missing and he remembered leaving it back at the inn when he was leaping out a window. He pulled his coat around his shoulders and threaded both arms through the sleeves, tugging the leather duster into position. Finally he looked around for his boots but found none, those too he must have left back at the inn. Barefoot was never a good idea but sometimes, Thanquil knew, needs must.

Most of the other patients were asleep, resting and recovering but one man was watching Thanquil through a wary eye. Half of the man’s face was covered in thick bandages stained a muddy red with fresh seepage. He made no move to talk or warn anyone of the witch hunter’s imminent departure, only watched as Thanquil made ready to sneak from the infirmary.

Thanquil walked past the man, not willing to look. “I’m sorry,” he said in a quiet voice. “I didn’t start the fire but… Sorry.”

The man said nothing in reply and Thanquil decided to take his leave.

The door to the infirmary was unlocked but even had it been Thanquil would have found a way. In his youth he’d spent no small amount of time with a gang of thieves in Sarth. It had sated his need to steal and taught him a great many skills he had found useful in life; chief among them, running away.

He cracked the door open a jar and thanked Volmar the hinges were well oiled; it made not a sound. Peering out he saw a hallway beyond, lit by the dull orange flicker of candle light. It was no wonder places burned down when folk left untended open flames in buildings made of wood. Back in Sarth the majority of the city was stone. The kingdom was known for its near limitless supply of brilliant white marble and, as a show of wealth and power, most of the city was built from the beautiful substance. Of course the white marble had a nasty habit of becoming dirty and faded so most of the city was also cleaned daily by an army of slaves. Not a practice that Thanquil personally agreed with but then it certainly wasn’t his place to make policy, especially as, being a wandering Arbiter, he spent most of his time out in the world hunting heresy, not sat in a comfortable room writing rules on paper.

The corridor looked empty from his relatively narrow vantage point and he could hear nothing outside the faint hiss and pop of the candle and the ragged snoring of a patient behind him. Still chanting his blessings of strength and endurance Thanquil edged through the gap in the door and pulled it close behind him.

Ahead was another door, the same as the one he had just come through. Thanquil decided the wise money was on it being another ward for patients and decided it was best left alone. To his left the hallway ran straight forwards with a looping staircase to on one side and a door to the other. Thanquil padded up to the door, the bare floor rough against the soles of his feet, and snuck a glance out of the shuttered window. He saw bare earth, a raised platform with a hastily constructed stock and clear dark sky alight with more stars than he could count. That brief sight reminded him of Jezzet, she had always loved the stars, usually so jittery and energetic, the stars seemed able to capture her attention in a way nothing else could so that she would sit and watch the lights twinkle in and out of existence for hours. The memory both gladdened and saddened Thanquil and he turned away from the exit and from freedom and instead mounted the first stair.

Thanquil

The top stair creaked as his weight hit it and Thanquil froze. He waited, straining his ears for any sign that someone had heard. Time seemed to stretch on forever as he hesitated with one foot on the stair behind and the other on the creaking plank of wood that was determined to betray his presence.

Nothing.

With a smug sneer towards the offending stair Thanquil pulled his foot back and stepped up to the landing. As if to mock him the first floorboard of the landing let out a loud groan as his full weight hit it. Thanquil breathed a silent sigh.

He had stopped chanting his blessings for now. It made him feel weak and every inch of him seemed to ache but too much use of a blessing would tire him out further, make him weary and unfocused. Right now Thanquil needed his mind to be sharp. He wasn’t certain of what he might encounter in the next room, let alone the rest of the little village and he needed to keep his wits about him at all costs.

Thanquil stopped at the first door he came across and pressed his ear up against the rough wood. There was no sound from within and no light spilled around the edges of the frame so he quickly moved towards the next door. Again he moved close and pressed his ear to wood.

“… not your choice to make,” said a male voice heavily accented by the region.

“And you think the choice should belong to you?” replied a female voice that sounded a lot like Shen despite the muffling provided by the door.

“Yes!”

“Well it doesn’t. This is my hospital and so long as it remains that way anyone and everyone inside of it is my responsibility. I will not allow you to murder a man who can’t defend himself.”

“You can’t stop us, woman. Whole town’s behind me. We reached an accord, all of us…”

“Not me.”

“Women don’t get a vote. Either you bring the witch hunter out or…”

“Or what, Hizo? You’ll smash your way in here and take him by force? You do that who will heal you or that fool son or yours next time a wound gets infected? What about next time one of the village folk gets Pink Fly eggs, who will dig them out without me around? Who will pull Wowo’s child from between her legs next month without me around? One of the other girls? Not a one of them even knows how to stitch a wound without me looking over their shoulder.”

There was a short silence before Hizo spoke again. “You wouldn’t leave on account of him. What is he to you?”

“He’s in my care and I… I won’t… can’t let any harm come to him.”

Another silence.

“He’ll kill you,” Hizo said almost too softly for Thanquil to hear.

Thanquil pulled back from the door in shock. Things were starting to click into place. How Shen was able to command people to sleep with nothing but a word, her ability to heal others and the other villagers’ deferral to her. She looked different from the apparition Thanquil had seen back in the inn just before it had burned to the ground but it all made sense now. Shen was the witch he was hunting, the witch he had been sent to kill.

He shook his head as he thought through everything that had happened since he left the capital. There was one thing that didn’t make sense; if Shen was the witch why was she protecting him now when she had spent the past two months trying so hard to kill him. She’d burned down the inn in an attempt to see him dead and now she was denying the villagers the chance to do her work for her.

The door opened and Hizo stood on the other side of the threshold staring at Thanquil with his mouth slightly ajar. He was a big man, a good head taller than Thanquil which made him near a giant as far as the Dragon Empire was concerned, and had enough bulk to make him more than a little dangerous. People from these parts were fruit collectors for the most part, used to climbing up and down trees all day, they were tough and strong but they were not fighters.

Thanquil counted himself lucky that Hizo was caught off guard by the appearance of the witch hunter as he launched himself at the villager pushing him hard in the chest. Hizo took a single step backwards onto his left foot and growled before swinging a heavy punch at Thanquil’s face.

Thanquil ducked the punch, started chanting a blessing of strength and sent a silent prayer of thanks to Jezzet for teaching him a few of her more choice unarmed combat moves. He sent a blessed fist into Hizo’s kidney and winced as the bigger man dropped to his knees with a cry of pain. Thanquil knew first hand just how much a blow like that could hurt, Jez had always been more of a hands on teacher. He quickly stepped behind Hizo and wrapped his arms around the man’s neck just like Jezzet had taught him. The Blademaster had shown him the exact placement needed to cut off the blood supply to person’s brain just long enough to make them loose consciousness. She had once used the move on Thanquil and by the time he had woken she had fully disrobed and was busy…

Hizo lurched to his feet, lifting Thanquil onto his back, and stumbled backwards. Thanquil hit the wall hard and both men crashed through the old wooden planks into the room beyond. The bigger man fell back and landed on top of Thanquil but still he did not release his hold, only gripped tighter.

Thanquil heard Shen shouting something from somewhere nearby but he didn’t have the time to look for the witch. He needed to deal with her minion quickly so he could fight them one at a time.

Hizo was weak now, his hands pawed impotently at Thanquil’s blessing enhanced arms and his mouth worked open and closed like that of a fish on dry land. Then the big man went limp and still.

Rolling Hizo away Thanquil forced himself to his feet. His shoulder hurt like it had recently been pulled from its socket and his legs seemed to wobble as stood. The witch let out a gasp and rushed forwards, kneeling by Hizo and putting her hand to his neck.

“He’s alive,” she exclaimed with a sigh.

Thanquil snorted. “Well of course he is,” his blessing of strength faded as he began to speak and his limbs felt heavy, like they were weighted down by some indomitable force. “If I’d wanted to kill him I would have drawn my sword.”

“Then why did you attack him?” she demanded. Her face was flushed red and her eyes looked damp. Thanquil found himself feeling decidedly guilty.

“I… well… I mean… he…” Thanquil let out a growl and grabbed hold of Shen, wrenching her to her feet and pushing her up against the wall. His scarred right hand went to her neck and his left hand pulled the pistol from his belt. He pointed the barrel at the witches head and cocked the hammer. She put a light, calloused hand on his bare chest and whispered at him.

“Sleep.”

He felt his eyelids grow heavy but the magic would not work, could not work. The sleepless charm he wore would prevent him from losing consciousness under any circumstances.

“I think it’s about time we had a proper chat, Shen. Are you the witch?”

The woman’s eyes went wide as Thanquil’s will locked onto her own and forced the truth from her and she shook her head violently. “No I’m not.”

“You’re… what…”

Shen’s eyes were wet with tears but in testament to her own strength she refused to let them fall. “I’m not a witch, Arbiter. I swear to you.”

Thanquil let go of her neck and began rooting around in one of the hidden pockets of his coat but he kept his pistol trained on the woman. His hand closed around the item he was looking for and he pulled out a small green gemstone, normally dull and lightless but with Thanquil’s touch it glowed with a warm inner blaze. The gem was ensconced in a small bronze housing with a long chain attached. To the untrained eye it would look no more than an item of jewellery, a necklace suited to those of lesser wealth, but the Arbiters of the Inquisition knew better. The gemstone glowed when touched by one with the potential to wield the powers of magic.

He let the gemstone drop and caught the chain between the maimed fingers of his right hand. Without his touch to sustain it the glow of the gem ceased and it once again became dull and lifeless. He held the gem up to Shen’s head. She flinched but didn’t cower. Thanquil respected her for that. The green gem did not glow; its inner light remained well and truly dead.

Thanquil whipped the gemstone away and shoved it back into his pocket. He backed away a step, lowering his pistol, and tripped over the prone form of Hizo. Before he could catch himself he tumbled backwards, landing on something soft and banging his head against the wooden wall of the room. Shen was there beside him in an instant, attempting to minister to the bump but Thanquil shoved her away. He glanced down to find he had landed on a bed, no doubt Shen’s bed given the close proximity to her study.

“But you used magic,” he said as much to himself as to the healer.

Shen shook her head. “When?”

“You kept commanding me to sleep.”

“You were tired.”

“No… well yes but it was more than that. I could feel the magic at work, sapping my strength.”

“Oh… that.”

He glanced at her. She kept her eyes lowered.

“Shen, tell me.”

“Your shoulder was worse than I let you know,” she said still staring at her feet. “You tore the muscle from the bone. It was unlikely to heal on its own. I didn’t make you sleep. I sped up the healing. It tends to drain the patient.”

Thanquil shook his head. “Magic. But you don’t have the potential. It shouldn’t be possible for you to use magic.”

Shen shrugged. “I don’t know, I just can. I’ve had the ability for a couple of years now. I could… I could probably heal your hand,” she said and placed her own hand on his right. He didn’t pull away.

“No,” Thanquil said. The hand wasn’t crippled, only burned, the skin had never healed right but it served as a reminder to the heresy of the dark Inquisitor. It served as a reminder to what he fought against.

“I should go,” Thanquil said.

“Please don’t,” Shen leaned her left shoulder into his right. “You could stay. Here with me.”

Something about the situation still didn’t seem right to Thanquil, not least of all because he was tempted. “I have a witch to find, Shen.”

“You won’t. Find her, I mean. Not unless she wants to be found.”

He pulled his hand away and narrowed his eyes, set his jaw. His face became stone. “You know more than you’re telling me.”

“I…”

“Do not make me force the truth from you.”

“She arrived a few years ago. Ever since our harvest have been plentiful, people don’t fall ill so much, we’ve less still-borns and the storms don’t touch us no more. She’s done nothing but good for us, for everyone. She’s not a witch, she’s a sorceress.”

Thanquil snorted. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Tell me where I can find her.”

Shen shut her mouth, leapt up and ran for the door but Thanquil was quicker. He caught her wrist, span her around and threw her back onto the bed, pressing his own weight down on top of her. She whimpered but her mouth remained closed.

Thanquil resigned himself to asking one last question as he stared down at the healer. “Where is the witch?”

Shen’s eyes widened in fear as she tried to fight the compulsion. Tried and failed. “Fort Talon.”

Thanquil sighed. “Where is Fort Talon?”

“Four days travel west.”

Thanquil could feel the intense pleasure that came from using the compulsion. The ecstasy was a wonderful contrast to the pain in his shoulder. He wanted to ask more questions, needed to ask more. Just one more.

“Who rules Fort Talon?” he asked.

“Prince Naarsk.”

“A Dragon Prince is in league with a witch?”

“Yes.” Shen burst into tears, rivers running down her face into the linen of the bed.

The sight of the healer crying stopped him, shocked him from his addiction. Thanquil pushed himself off the bed and stumbled away, again tripping over the prone body of Hizo, this time hitting the floor as he fell.

He was shaking. His hands, his arms, his legs, even his head. He was shaking all over from the rush of pleasure from using the compulsion. Thanquil didn’t trust himself to speak any more, didn’t trust his own tongue for what it might say. Silently he pushed back to his feet and made for the door.

“Please don’t…” Shen said between sobs. “Please don’t go.”

Thanquil turned once and glanced back at the healer. She wasn’t on the bed any more, she was on the floor, on her knees, begging him not to leave, tears still streaming down her face.

Without a word Thanquil threw open the door and fled.

Thanquil

Thom, probably the most prolific, infamous and apparently immortal thief Thanquil had ever met had once told him he was a brilliant pick-pocket and an accomplished sneak-thief. Of course Thom had accompanied the compliment by stealing the purse from Thanquil’s belt and sending him on his way none the wiser. That being said Thanquil knew a few things, one of them being how to steal from unlocked houses in poor rural villages in the dead of night. So, by the time he left the village of Colmere Thanquil had procured an ill-fitting shirt made from the itchiest fabric known to man and a pair of well-worn boots better suited to the fire than to cover anyone’s feet.

Shen didn’t come after him and nor did she send anyone in her stead. Doubtless she would receive no small amount of grief from the villagers for allowing him to leave as such but she didn’t seem the type of woman to crack under such pressure. Still, Thanquil couldn’t help but remember her on her knees, crying and pleading with him. The memory made him shudder but it was more to do with his own actions than her response. Thanquil had long ago sworn not to give in to the addiction of the compulsion but it was something he had to fight every day; a nagging, gnawing need to dominate other people’s will. He was disgusted at himself for allowing even that slight lapse in his intent.

Finding west in the night sky, with no sun to guide him, might have been a real problem but Thanquil soon discovered a small, dirt road, well worn with the sign of hooves, leading out of the village. An old wooden sign with the word Talon on it was almost more than he could have hoped. It gave him a direction at least though following the road in his current condition was difficult, but he needed to put some distance between himself and Colmere lest the villagers decide to come looking for him. He doubted Hizo was the type of man to take such a defeat lying down. Come the morning Thanquil would take himself off the path a ways, find a tree to rest under and pray to Volmar that no wild animals mistook him for an easy meal.

It was at times like this he missed Jezzet the most and not just for the protection she provided. The Blademaster could most likely have fought her way out of the small village though, he had to admit, the body count would have been a lot higher. He missed Jezzet for the company. She made him smile and brought out the best in him and, Thanquil liked to think, he returned the boon. Unfortunately Jezzet had a small issue with Thanquil’s profession. It wasn’t that she disagreed with the hunting of witches and heretics, or even to the occasional burning of said heretics. Jezzet disagreed with the entire notion of Thanquil having to report to the Inquisition. She mistrusted the organisation since their exposure and subsequent purging of Inquisitor Heron but, even more than that, she disagreed with their treatment of Thanquil afterwards.

Upon learning of Inquisitor Heron’s heresy Thanquil had not reported to the council of Inquisitors but had instead taken matters into his own hands and dispensed his own, rather fatal, justice. The council had then punished him. They had decreed he would never advance beyond the rank of Arbiter and they had planned to send him somewhere he could never cause trouble again. That was until the God-Emperor had stepped in. The mortal form of Volmar reborn, Emperor Francis had requested Thanquil be sent to the Dragon Empire on matters of his own discretion. The council of Inquisitors could hardly decline their own God’s request but had allowed that Thanquil, while working for the God-Emperor, also carry out his normal duties as an Arbiter, chief among them; reporting to the council.

The resulting political power play between the council and the God-Emperor had left Thanquil in a somewhat untenable position. He was required to report to, and take orders from both parties and owed allegiance to both. While Thanquil himself accepted the situation as an annoyance but ultimately out of his control, Jezzet did not. The arguments since then had, at times, become heated and on one occasion violent. That occasion had seen Thanquil knocked firmly on his arse and forced to submit but then he expected no less from fighting with a Blademaster, even when she wasn’t wielding a blade.

So it was with thoughts of Jezzet Vel’urn and the first rays of the rising sun peeking out through the giant-leafed trees Thanquil wandered off the beaten path and into the forest. He tried his best to ignore the hooting of the nearby monkeys, hoping and praying that none in this region were large enough or bold enough to provide him any real threat. He also hoped that none of the giant cats prowled this area of the forest as any one would be more than a match for him in his current state and many of them hunted in packs.

He trudged across the forest floor, tripping on fallen branches more than once but soldiering on. Not for the first time in his life Thanquil knew he would already be unconscious if not for the sleepless charm still attached to his skin. He tripped again and stumbled into one of the slim trees that stretched up high in the forest canopy. The tree wobbled with his weight and he heard a rustle from above, looking up just in time to see something heavy and hard hit the ground a foot to his left. The near miss shocked him back into focus and upon closer inspection he could see it was one of the hairy fruits that grew on many of the trees. He made a mental note to find a tree to sleep under that did not produce such fruit and then made a second mental note to remember the first just in case.

He eventually stopped underneath a giant of a tree with a trunk that would easily take ten men to encircle. The roots sunk into the earth were beyond massive and, looking up, Thanquil could see it was more or less straight right up into the canopy where it branched off in every direction shading the nearby area with its leaves.

Thanquil sunk down between two of the roots and wrapped his Arbiter coat around him. The air was warm and moist and he would no doubt wake even more sweaty than he was now but the leather would provide him some protection from the biting flies that preyed on any who were fool enough to sleep outside without a net. With a weary hand he reached down and peeled the sleepless charm from his flesh, taking more than a few hairs with it as it went. No sooner was he free from the effects he faded into the blackness behind his eyes.

Thanquil looked up the Arbiter; the man seemed half a giant to an eight-year-old’s eyes. He had a strong jaw with a scattering of stubble framed by a mop of dirty blonde hair. The Arbiter’s coat was what fascinated Thanquil most, though. Dirty and scarred, the tough brown leather seemed more a suit of armour than any the boy had ever seen and the buttons glinted in the low afternoon light drawing the eye. Each one had the same engraving on it but Thanquil could not see any clear enough from his position.

The Arbiter kept his left hand on Thanquil’s shoulder, whether to provide support or restraint he did not know. The man glanced down at Thanquil and smiled for a moment.

“Do you know why this has to be done, boy?” the Arbiter asked.

Thanquil wanted to lie. He was good at it, so good even his parents couldn’t tell when he was spinning a tale, but for some reason he couldn’t. He felt the truth bubble up inside of him and burst forth from his own lips.

“No.”

“When addressing your betters you should use their title, boy.”

“Sorry sir.”

Again the Arbiter glanced down at Thanquil but there was no smile this time, only a cold light in his dark eyes. “I am no knight or petty lord, boy. I am an Arbiter of the Inquisition.”

Thanquil refused to look away; he met the Arbiter’s cold stare and sniffed. “Sorry Arbiter.”

Satisfied, the man looked away, pouring his attention back onto the two pyres being hastily erected by the town’s folk in the centre of the square. “Then listen to my words well when I pronounce judgement. Listen and heed them. I would not want to have to decree the same fate to you.”

Thanquil saw Olley and Ten in another section of the crowd. Both of the older boys were staring right at him and making rude gestures. Thanquil knew he had to make a show of not letting them. He’d lose the scrap, after all there were two of them and they were both bigger than him and history had already proven time and time again that he couldn’t take either one of them. Despite all the reasons why he shouldn’t give them the satisfaction of handing him another beating he knew he had to. If he backed down even once they would never stop.

“Ignore them,” the Arbiter said in a soft voice.

Thanquil quit his glaring at the two older boys and instead inflicted it upon the Arbiter. “Can’t. Can’t let ‘em think they won without a fight. Da’ always says…”

“Forget everything that man ever told you, boy.”

Thanquil scuffed the dirt with his feet and swallowed a lump in his throat. “They’re insulting me.”

“People will do that. Learn to ignore them. They’ll soon stop once they realise you don’t care.” The Arbiter turned his head and looked straight at Olley and Ten. Both boys froze mid gesture and then disappeared into the crowd. Like as not Thanquil would get a double dose of beating later for hiding behind the Arbiter. “You’ll have to get used to the insults from now on, boy.”

Thanquil didn’t understand but he wasn’t about to ask the Arbiter what he meant. Instead he stared sulkily at the ground, at the crowd, at the sky; he stared anywhere but at the pyres.

After a while he couldn’t stand the tension any more. “People say you’re a witch hunter,” he said glaring up the man.

Without so much as looking at him the Arbiter cuffed Thanquil on the back of the head. The blow stung like rat bite and sent the boy sprawling into the dust. Folk nearby in the crowd turned away, unwilling to get involved, not wanting to draw the attention of the Arbiter.

Thanquil lurched to his feet and made to run but the Arbiter grabbed hold of him and pulled him close. “Fight me and I’ll add a smaller pyre just for you, boy.”

Thanquil had been about to bite the Arbiter’s hand in an attempt to get away but he stopped, instinct for self-preservation warning him the man wasn’t making an idle threat.

“Run and I’ll find you and do the same,” the Arbiter let go of Thanquil. “We don’t much like being called witch hunters. That’s a lesson you’d do well to learn only the once. Others might not be so forgiving.”

One of the men signalled that the pyres were finished. Dry wood fit for burning piled high with a single, thick stake in the middle. The Arbiter moved forward to inspect them and then nodded his acceptance. “Bring them out.”

Four men escorted Thanquil’s parents out into the town square and he recognised all of them. Gerold Baker who sold the best bread in the village and had, on occasion, snuck Thanquil a chunk of his freshest produce. Bob Forester, as big as a bear and near as hairy too, the man was best known for his frequenting of the tavern but also for his good nature and easy smile. Din Bellows, passing sixty was easily the oldest man in the village and despite having lost all but one of his teeth the man claimed to be as strong as an ox. Colt Oldson, the town crier was small and round-bellied with ruddy cheeks and a voice louder than his bell.

All four of the men were stony faced and armed with weapons Thanquil hadn’t known they owned. Gerold carried a cleaver, sharp as a razor and heavy as a hammer. Bob sported his old axe, long since lost its edge and rusty from neglect but still dangerous enough. Din kept a hunting knife sheathed at his belt and Colt, the man who was almost family, the man who Thanquil had named uncle since he first learned his words, carried a short sword with the Sarth royal guard’s crest on the scabbard.

Thanquil knew all the men and they knew him and they knew his parents. All except Din had visited them often, even stayed for supper once or twice and, just three days ago, all would happily have named the Fishers of Stonepost as friends. Now they marched Thane and Isa Fisher, bound and gagged, to their own execution.

Isa cried. Thanquil’s mother had always been so tough and strict but now she wept openly, her wet eyes searching the crowd until they met with Thanquil’s. On her face he saw a glimmer of hope, the ghost of a smile played at the corners of her eyes and then she was shoved along by Gerold Baker and they lost the contact. Thanquil swallowed a heavy lump in his throat and refused to cry.

Thane Fisher, at once both the strongest and kindest man Thanquil had ever known, did not go so meekly to his own execution. He stared at every one of his captors, meeting the eyes of each and holding onto that gaze until they looked away. It was a challenge. If they wanted him dead for his crimes he challenged them to do it themselves rather than rely on one of the Inquisition’s witch hunters. None held his challenge for long. None except the Arbiter.

The witch hunter waited until the Fishers had been tied securely to the stakes in the centre of the pyres and then turned to the gathered crowd.

“You know these people.” He raised his voice only a little but a strange silence descended on the square as people quieted themselves to hear his words. Thanquil found himself in awe of the respect the Arbiter commanded. “You have lived with them, worked with them. But they have brought evil into Stonepost and into Sarth.”

The Arbiter swept his gaze over the crowd and let it rest on Thanquil. “They are demon-touched. Guilty of the most heinous heresy of all; forging a contract with demons. For that crime they must be purged by fire.”

Isa Fisher burst into fresh tears but her husband didn’t give the crowd the satisfaction; he just kept his eyes locked on the Arbiter, unfaltering and unflinching in the face of his accusations.

Din Bellows lit a torch from the nearby brazier and handed it to the Arbiter. “Let their judgement serve as a warning to all those with sin in their hearts. The Inquisition will never suffer a heretic to live.”

The Arbiter started with Thanquil’s father’s pyre, lowering the torch slowly into the oil soaked kindling until the wood burst into flames. His mother started screaming through her gag as her own pyre was lit. The Arbiter discarded the torch and turned away, walking towards Thanquil.

“Don’t turn away, boy. Watch your parent’s heresy washed away by the flames,” the Arbiter said, putting a firm hand on Thanquil’s shoulder.

Thanquil had no intention of turning away. He could see his parents burning, could hear their screams as the fire consumed their bodies, could smell their flesh burning. He felt tears cascade down his face and tasted the salt on his lips but at no point did he turn away from the horror.

Once the screaming had stopped and the bodies of his parents were no more than lifeless burning corpses the crowd began to disperse. Some of the people glanced his way, others traced holy symbols in the air with their fingers but none attempted to speak with him. Still Thanquil watched the flames, the weight of the Arbiter’s hand on his shoulder seeming comforting somehow.

Something light and warm bumped onto Thanquil’s forehead and he looked up to see the Arbiter holding a small, glowing, green gemstone on the end of a chain. The stone rested against his brow and was lit with a fierce inner light. Thanquil moved to grab at it but the Arbiter whisked it away and placed it in one of the many pockets of his coat.

“I thought as much,” the Arbiter said with a knowing nod. “What is your name, boy?” he asked and Thanquil felt the truth being torn from him.

“Thanquil.”

“Do you understand why that had to be done, Thanquil?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

Again the Arbiter nodded. “Then you will accompany me to the Inquisition in Sarth.”

“To be an Arbiter?”

“To become an Arbiter, Thanquil Darkheart.”

Thanquil

He hated that dream. There was a time when he had seen his parents burning every time he closed his eyes. He knew it needed to be done, he had seen them consorting with demons but the sight of the only family he had ever known being eaten by fire had haunted him for years. That was all a long time ago though and now he couldn’t remember the last time he’d dreamt of them. It had seemed different this time too, more real somehow, as if he were actually there reliving the execution, reliving the day Arbiter Yellon recruited him and named him Darkheart.

Opening his eyes Thanquil was surprised to find there was still daylight filtering through the trees. It was dimming, the sun just beginning to dip below the western horizon and it cast the forest in a world of looming shadows that stretched into each other. He pushed himself up onto shaky legs and stretched out the stiffness in his back. Something on his neck itched beyond all reason and with just a small inspection Thanquil found a number of angry red marks. It would seem his coat hadn’t protected him from the biting insects after all but at least they had stayed away from his face, preferring instead an area with a better blood supply.

With a weary sigh Thanquil set his feet towards the sinking sun and started walking. He was still tired and no mistake but Arbiters were conditioned to function on very little sleep. One of the earliest lessons they were taught was how to force their bodies to keep going and running on reserves until they finally had opportunity to crash and recoup. One such lesson had the initiates of the Inquisition standing still, awake and alert for three straight days with no food or water. It was a lesson he had failed twice, succumbing to sleep and collapsing midway through, before he finally passed the test.

The animals of the forest marked his passing, from the smallest of insects, to the brightly coloured birds that could be taught to talk, to the giant bear-like creature that clung to the trunks of trees and moved no more than a few meters per day. They all watched but none gave him any particular notice.

When Thanquil finally reached the road that travelled to Fort Tallon he stopped to catch his breath and lamented over his foolishness. He had left Colmere without food or water and with four days walking in the current heat he knew he was unlikely to make such a journey. He picked up one of the fallen hairy fruits by the road side and peeled away the tough skin. He knew it would be overripe but he also knew he had little choice. The flesh of the fruit was a dark red colour and riddled with seeds, it was passing moist, smelled a lot like vomit and tasted as bad as it smelled but Thanquil bit into the mush and swallowed it down as quickly as he could. He then found two more of the fruits and gave them similar treatment before continuing on.

He decided it was probably best to travel by night and rest by day to spare himself the brutal sun and the unbearable humidity of the afternoon hours. He didn’t dream of his parent’s execution again, thankfully he was spared that torment. Instead he found himself dreaming of Jezzet. It was now over a month since they had last been together, easily the longest period since they had met, and he found he missed her more than he was comfortable admitting.

It was almost a shock when the upper walls of Fort Tallon made themselves visible over the tree tops. Thanquil marvelled at how big the structure must be given that some of the trees in the forests here were known to grow to near two hundred feet.

He made a quick check of his weaponry. His sword, newly forged less than a year ago and inscribed with four of the most powerful charms, was still perfect and as sharp as the day it was made. His pistol, a little battered and dinted after so much use, was faring less well. The little hand-held device needed a flint to strike a spark and, though the current flint still served, it needed replacing with no small amount of urgency. Worse was his lack of black powder. Without the explosive substance the pistol simply would not fire and Thanquil was down to his very last charge. Black powder was outlawed in the Dragon Empire and, though he himself was above the law, the merchants would not dare risk their necks by stocking the substance. Therefore the only place it could be bought in the empire was the free city of Larkos and he had not been back there for many months.

Thanquil tucked the pistol back into its holster and checked the runes and charms he had prepared in his pockets. Those too were lacking given the majority of his supplies were last located in his back pack which, to the best of his knowledge, had been in the inn when it had burned to the ground. Whatever he had would have to suffice.

With a grim determination to find and put an end to the damned witch that had caused him so much trouble Thanquil redoubled his pace and made quickly for the fort.

He found the structure to be even more impressive when he could properly witness it. The walls were beyond high, rising hundreds of feet into the air and a single central tower rose even higher still. Thanquil could not be sure but he wagered its size would rival even that of the Inquisition’s Black Rock tower back in Sarth.

The walls of Fort Tallon were a dark grey stone scorched black in places by fire. The blackened sections were in stark contrast to a large section of the wall on the far side from Thanquil that was made from a much lighter coloured rock, no doubt an area of recent repair. It seemed the fort had seen battle in living memory. It was not truly unsurprising, he knew the Dragon Princes were as happy to fight each other as they were any other enemies, each would levy their own armies from their lands and attempt to curry favour by proving their strength in both tactics and combat. Only the Dragon Empress could unite the Princes’ purpose and it was beyond rare for her to do so.

As Thanquil came closer to the fort he could make out massive engines of war atop the walls. Huge ballistae were mounted on wooden turntables, each firing a bolt as large as a full grown man. Thanquil found himself wondering if such a deadly weapon could actually bring down a dragon. Catapults also graced the walls, each capable of firing both rock and fire oil and atop the tower Thanquil thought he could make out the silhouette of a giant trebuchet. He could just about make out the vague shapes of men moving about the battlements and was fairly certain that by now they had also spotted him, a lone figure moving up the worn path towards the fort.

As if to answer his musing he saw the great iron gate of the fort rise and heard the distant grating of chains. A moment later a unit of mounted Dragon Knights rode forth to greet him, each one armed with a sword forged of dragon bone and nigh on indestructible. They thundered up the dirt path at a gallop and encircled him. Eight armed and armoured men against his one. Thanquil couldn’t help but don a grim smile.

One of the knights stepped his horse closer and looked down at Thanquil over his gorget. Each of knights wore a suit of boiled leather and chainmail with plate guards on their left shoulders, a plate gorget and thick leather gloves. Each also carried a long wooden spear in their left hands but none had drawn their dragon bone swords. It was said when a Dragon Knight drew his sword blood must be spilled in order to honour the dragon who had given their body to the forges of the empress.

For a while no one spoke, each of the knights circled Thanquil in silence and he in turn made clear inspection of each, memorising their faces.

“Hello,” Thanquil said eventually when it appeared none of his greeters would be the first to speak.

“You are an Arbiter,” said the first of the knights, the one who had already dared to move his horse closer to the witch hunter.

Thanquil smiled. “I wonder what gave it away. I’ll wager it was the coat.”

“You’ve come to see the lady of the fort?”

“I rather thought I’d come to see the prince. But if he is in the habit of allowing a witch to vet all his guests then I suppose I must see her first.”

The first of the knights stared at Thanquil with unabashed hostility. He was a big man, easily outmatching the Arbiter in both reach and strength and he was armed and had backup but still he moved his horse back when Thanquil took a step forward.

“We will escort you to the fort…”

“How kind of you. I was a little worried for my own safety, I must admit.”

One of the knights laughed but was quickly silenced by his fellows’ stares.

“We will escort you to the fort. There the prince and the lady will decide your fate.”

Thanquil grinned, making sure to show off a lot of teeth, a petty gesture he had learned from Jezzet but a useful one for setting men on edge. “As you wish.”

The escort consisted off all eight men riding slowly around Thanquil as he walked towards Fort Tallon, all the while making a whole host of jeering comments as to the functionality of his penis. He responded to the first few insults but soon decided it was likely best to let the men have their fun. They certainly weren’t the first men to make such comments since his arrival in the Dragon Empire. Thanquil put it down to their living within a society where most women were considered as objects, little more than animals, that the men seemed to constantly feel the need to insult each other’s virility. Back in Sarth such things were rarely, if ever discussed, and especially not with an Arbiter. He felt the sudden urge to remind the knights escorting him that he could legitimately have any, or in fact all of them, tried and executed for heresy at a whim. Only royalty were exempt from the judgement of the Inquisition within the Dragon Empire and that unfortunately extended to the princes.

He walked through the main gate of the fort and, through the horses and bodies of his escort, he could see more soldiers armed and watching the procession. It seemed half the fort had turned out to watch the spectacle of an Arbiter being escorted to a witch. The irony was not lost on him.

The mustering yard was wide open and spacious with enough room for a small army but nowhere did Thanquil see the towering form of a dragon and if the dragon wasn’t in attendance then neither was the prince. The two would never be separated. It was widely believed that both dragon and prince were in fact two halves of one soul. Neither would consent to continue living without the other, a fact that was harder on the dragons given that, despite the dragon princes’ unnatural long life, they lived longer than their human counterparts.

The knights in front of Thanquil parted and he found himself staring at a giant black stallion with flame red hair that was matched by the fire that danced in its eyes. Atop the hose sat a woman dressed all in white, a woman he recognised from the apparition back in Colmere. Atop the horse say his quarry.

“Impressive trick,” Thanquil said gesturing towards the horse. There was a general move of hand towards sword as he waved at the beast but when the Dragon Knights saw he made no further move they relaxed a little.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile, “the eyes are particularly hard to get right.” She was the same as the apparition he had seen in Colmere but also different. Her body was still all curves, her face was still plain and she still held a beauty that had nothing to do with her looks but her hair was now a mousey brown colour and her voice was softer.

The witch swung a leg over the horse and slid down its flank onto the ground with the help of a Dragon Knight holding her hand. No sooner had her feet touched the floor a child broke through the protective guard of knights and ran to the woman’s side, holding onto her white skirts and staring at Thanquil through grey eyes, the same grey eyes as the witch.

“It’s alright, Berry,” the witch said, stroking the hair of the little girl. “We’re safe here, he means us no harm.”

Thanquil snorted. “I most certainly do mean you harm.”

The girl narrowed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him, Thanquil mirrored the face and she quickly retreated behind her mother’s skirts. The witch laughed and shook her head.

“She’ll be a horror to put to bed tonight now,” the witch said.

Thanquil glanced around at the Dragon Knights, he counted twenty two of them now and most looked eager to show him the business ends of their fancy dragon bone swords. Nervous barely even began to describe how he was feeling and with everyone keeping a wary distance from him he had no way to steal anything. Committing such petty crime always helped to ease his nerves.

“Listen…” Thanquil started to speak but the witch cut him off.

“You look positively out of sorts, Arbiter Thanquil,” that she knew his name did not escape his attention. “Sir Taber, take the Arbiter to the guest quarters. Make sure he has hot water for a bath and try to find some different clothes for him. Prince Naarsk will never take you seriously in those rags. I’m afraid he’s the critical sort.”

The knight who had escorted Thanquil bowed his head. “Yes my lady. Should we disarm him?”

“Of course.”

The Dragon Knight turned to Thanquil and gestured towards a doorway that seemed to lead into the keep proper. “This way please.”

Thanquil looked at the big knight, then at the witch and back again. He was well aware he was currently in no state to argue and for now he knew he best chance at getting to the woman was to play along. With that thought in mind he allowed himself to be led into the keep.

Thanquil

The guest quarters were large and spacious and austere in their decoration with few luxuries an even less extravagance. It was a far cry from the royal palace in the capital. Thanquil and Jezzet had been staying in the palace at the Dragon Empress’ request for somewhere close to a year and Thanquil had discovered he was hard pressed to find a room that did not have either a painting, statue or engraving of a dragon somewhere. Despite the space of his current quarters Thanquil was under no false impressions it was a makeshift prison.

Bars on the window were made of cold cast iron and would take a furious show of force to shift. The door was similarly made of strong, banded oak and barred from the outside. Neither door, nor bars would stop Thanquil escaping should he decided to use magic to free himself, a rune of explosion was more than a match for a few inches of wood, but he doubted he would get very far before being set upon by Dragon Knights and he doubted he could fight his way free of all of them. Especially not in his current condition.

Given his predicament Thanquil complied with the witch’s wishes. He bathed in the water they brought him, soaking deep aches from his wounds and then dressed in the clothes they brought him. A simple cotton tunic and matching trousers, both brown and nondescript. He pulled his coat on over the top and noticed for the first time one of the buttons was missing. It brought a wry smile to his face.

Despite the witch’s claims that Prince Naarsk would see him Thanquil doubted the prince was currently in residence at the fort. The prince would never be long separated from his dragon and Thanquil had seen no evidence of the beast. His experience at the royal palace had taught him that dragons tended to be noisy and fairly conspicuous and, even though the fort was large, he was certain he would have seen or heard evidence of it by now.

To say he missed his weapons would be something of an understatement. The feel of a sword by his side, despite his general lack of skill, was comfort to him he now realised he took for granted. His pistol too served to lend him both courage and confidence and right now he felt like he could use a healthy dose of both.

When the witch arrived, as he knew she would, she came alone and seemingly unarmed. She had changed her white dress for simple grey shift, a brown scarf and white apron over the top. The apron was stained in countless places with a variety of colours that attested to its regular use but not its purpose. The witch closed the door behind her and smiled at Thanquil as he paced close to one of the windows.

“Brave of you to come alone,” Thanquil greeted the woman.

“Is it?” she asked. “Perhaps you should take your chance before I think better of it.”

Thanquil snorted. “I’m no fool. Kill you I might but your pet knights would tear me apart before I reached the front gate. I’m not here to commit suicide.”

Again the witch smiled and waved towards the table and chairs in the room. “Regardless,” she said in a matter of fact tone. “You are not my match.”

She glided across the carpeted floor and flowed into a high-backed wooden chair with more cushion than most brothels Thanquil had visited. He in turn remained standing, arms folded, watching the woman. He slipped an item from his sleeve into his left hand and ran his thumb across its surface. It was small loop of copper, a woman’s earring stolen from one of the serving maids who had filled his bath earlier; worthless but it gave him strength, stealing things always did.

When the witch saw Thanquil was making no move to seat himself she raised an eyebrow. “Scared, Arbiter?”

Thanquil narrowed his eyes at her. “What is your name?” He threw the full force of his will behind the compulsion, attempting to dominate her but he felt nothing. There was no contest, no rush of pleasure as his own will subjugated hers. It was as if his compulsion simply passed straight through her. It was a feeling he had never observed before, not even from other Arbiters. The witch not only knew of the compulsion, she understood it and thus had developed a defence to it and a novel one at that.

“Verla Pre’lain,” she answered with a smile and a slight incline of her head.

“An Acanthian name,” Thanquil said. “That explains it. You don’t look like you’re from here. The folk in the Dragon Empire tend to have almond shaped eyes and olive skin.”

The witch nodded. “Originally I was from Acanthia, yes. I have not visited that little kingdom in quite some time though.” She took a deep breath and exhaled it as a sigh. “You are here to kill me, Arbiter Darkheart. I intend to change your mind.”

“Why?”

“Did you know this is not the first time the Inquisition has sent its agents after me? Did they tell you that? I’ve had to kill two Arbiters to ensure my daughter’s and my own safety and I’ve no intention of killing any more.” She fixed him with a hard stare. “That’s not to say I won’t should you threaten her.”

Thanquil uncrossed his arms and thrust his hands into his coat pockets as he began pacing in the luxurious prison cell.

“Before you go reaching for your runes, Arbiter, be careful. I am not without magic of my own, as you have already experienced first-hand.”

Thanquil’s hand brushed the seam of a hidden pocket. Inside that pocket were not, as the witch suspected, runes but instead he kept a small, paper-thin knife. The Black Thorn had many times warned Thanquil that you never knew when someone might try and disarm you and therefore it was best to make sure they couldn’t. He had taken the lesson to heart and had quickly discovered that the Arbiter coat leant itself very well to the hiding of knives.

“The Inquisition didn’t tell me anything,” Thanquil admitted, “because they didn’t send me. I’m a wandering Arbiter, I go where I please and, given that I’d heard stories of a witch out in these parts,” not to mention his argument with Jezzet had left him wanting some time away from the woman, “I decided to hunt you down.”

She smiled. “And now you have found me. Truly I see fate’s hand in this.”

Again Thanquil narrowed his eyes, trying to discern the truth in the witch’s cryptic words. “What is it you want?”

“You,” the witch replied in a calm, level voice. “I’m tired of running, Arbiter. Your magic and your connection to your God give you a long life, my own magic provides me with much the same. I am older than I look and I am tired of running from the Inquisition. Tired of watching my own children hunted down and killed, or worse, for the power I gave them.”

“What could be worse?” Thanquil said.

“Being made into one of you.”

Disagree as he might Thanquil could see the woman’s point. An Arbiter’s life was far from pleasant and for a daughter to be an Arbiter while the mother was a witch. It was a stark reminder of how little difference there truly was between hunter and hunted.

“With an Arbiter under my employ I could convince the Inquisition I were dead. I could finally be free from them and I could concentrate on helping the good people of this region, helping Prince Naarsk and raising our daughter.”

“The child is his?” Thanquil asked.

“Berry is ours,” the witch said meeting Thanquil’s eyes in a challenge.

Without a doubt that made things more complicated. “What about Shen?” he wasn’t even certain why he asked; the question just seemed to slip from his mouth.

The witch shrugged. “A country girl, born and bred in Colmere. I had honestly hoped she might convince you to stay. Her feelings for you were genuine, at least to a point. I… bolstered them a little.”

“And her magic?”

“She has none. It is my magic, I simply allow her to use it and in exchange…”

“You control her,” Thanquil interrupted.

The witch paused, staring at Thanquil with the strange sort of a smile touching her lips. “I influence some of her decisions. She knows nothing of it and I would never force her to do anything that may bring harm to herself or others. She would resist me if I did, her instinct to protect and heal is so strong.”

“And what of Prince Naarsk? Do you… influence him?” Thanquil asked with no small amount of venom.

The witch shook her head and laughed. “I would never dare, Arbiter. Nor would his dragon let me. Mother to his child I may be but if the dragon felt me inside his Prince’s head even for a moment…” she looked at Thanquil and a shadow passed across her face. “Have you ever seen an enraged dragon, Arbiter? It is a sight to behold and no mistake but I would not wish to be on the other side of that rage. I would not wish anyone on the other side of it.”

“Regardless,” Thanquil said, “there are other ways for a woman to influence a man. You are the mother of his child after all.”

Again the witch smiled, the same way a parent might smile at an overly wilful but clearly naïve child. “If you believe my opening my legs to Naarsk and giving him a daughter puts me in a position to influence him you clearly don’t know the Prince.”

“And if you believe I would ever betray the Inquisition for a witch you clearly don’t know me,” Thanquil shot back.

The witch glared at him and Thanquil glared back. Neither was willing to be the one to back down and both proved to be as stubborn as the other.

Eventually the witch planted both hands on the hard wood table and slowly stood, the chair rocked back and toppled. She sighed and turned, picking it up and placing it back into its spot. “I had hoped, given your reputation, Arbiter Darkheart, that you would be different. A little more understanding. Less prejudiced. The prince will…”

Thanquil snorted. “More understanding towards a witch? You speak as though you don’t even understand how your magic works. As though you don’t understand the evil you let loose into this world.”

Thanquil had long ago discovered he had an innate ability to push people, to anger them and to drive them towards emotional outbursts. It seemed the witch was not immune.

“Evil?” she shouted. The woman had been walking towards the door but now she turned back towards Thanquil, her face twisted into a mask of righteous indignation. “I have done nothing but good for these people.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes! I use my magic to heal wounds, to stimulate the growth of crops, to keep the forest predators from entering the villages.” She took a step toward him and Thanquil could almost see the power radiating from her. Borrowed power. Deep inside one of the pockets of his coat he felt the warmth of a potential-detecting gemstone as it reacted to the power even from this distance. To say she was powerful would be a gross understatement and Thanquil was no longer certain he doubted her claim that he was not her match.

“Through me more children are born in the surrounding villages than ever before and more are surviving their first years. I help these people…”

“What about those in Colmere? Those that were injured or died from the fire at the inn?” Thanquil threw the question as an accusation and almost smiled as the witch paled and lost her momentum. He pressed the advantage. “You set the fire to kill me and instead you killed those people you claim to help.”

“I didn’t intend to kill you I just needed you to…”

“That only makes it worse,” Thanquil hissed at her. “You injured those people for nothing. You killed those people for nothing.”

“No, not for nothing. I…”

“There is never a good reason to kill innocents,” Thanquil shouted her down and immediately realised he had said the wrong thing.

The witch’s eyes snapped up to meet his own and he saw the clarity and focus had returned. She hissed out an alien word and a thunderclap rocked the room pulsing out from the woman and sending the chairs, the table and any other loose object flying towards the walls. Unfortunately Thanquil happened to be one of those loose objects. He flew backwards, hit one of the bed posts and span in mid-air before the far wall rushed up to meet him. He hit it at an awkward angle and excruciating pain flared to life in his left shoulder. Another pulse of force hit him and flattened him against the wall, holding him there as the witch advanced on him.

“How dare you?” she hissed, her eyes aflame with hatred. “You accuse me of killing innocents. My son was innocent, you people killed him. My first daughter was innocent and you took her and taught her to hate me and then sent her after me. Your Inquisition forced me to kill one of my daughters to save the other and you accuse me of harming innocents?”

The witch spat and the phlegm rushed at Thanquil, propelled by the same force holding him against the wall. It hit not a foot to the side of Thanquil’s head and splintered the wood where it hit such was its force.

Thanquil slowly, painfully curled up the fingers of his right hand into his coat sleeve looking for one of the pockets hidden there. He could still speak, despite the crushing force on his chest, but no blessing or curse would help him here.

“Do you even know where this magic you’re using comes from?” Thanquil shouted against the force crushing him. He laboured to suck down another breath of air before continuing. “Runes and charms may use your power alone but this… Who are you calling on to power this? What are you calling on?”

The witch took a step towards him and the force pushing Thanquil against the wall increased. The air around her crackled with energy and huge tears rolled from her rage-filled eyes.

“This is why…” Thanquil started but the witch took another step forward and again the pressure increased. It felt as though his ribs were buckling under the force and he was certain his chest would cave in at any second. In any case Thanquil knew he wouldn’t survive if she came any close and the look on the witch’s face told him she knew it too. His fingers brushed against the rune hidden up his sleeve.

“This… is why… we hunt you,” he said between the most painful breaths he had ever experienced. “You don’t care… where… the magic comes from.”

The witch said nothing. She just stared at him, silently judging.

“Do you think… this sort of magic… is harmless? You call… on other beings… more powerful than you… to come… to your aid… to lend you their magic… But you don’t… you don’t care… what they do… through you… You act… as a conduit… for their power… to affect this world. You think… you use that magic… to help others… but through you… those beings… can cause… so much damage.”

“And how are you any different?” she screamed at him but came no closer. “You Arbiters call on that thrice-damned God of yours for power. How is he any different?”

“Because he is!” Thanquil screamed back though it hurt more than ever to do so. He heard a muted pounding noise and knew it came from guards trying to get into the room but the magic force holding him in place, crushing him, expanded from the witch in all directions and held the door tight. “I have… never seen… Volmar corrupt a child… take away… a boy’s morals… and leave him… a shell of hated… and pain… I have never… seen Volmar… twist an animal… into a grotesque… and have it… attack its masters… I have never…”

The witch spoke with a lowered voice but her words carried to him nonetheless and her left foot lifted just slightly, ready to take the final step towards him. “Just because you have never seen a thing does not mean it is not so. How can you know Volmar is this force for good you claim him to be.”

Thanquil’s fingers closed around the rune and he braced himself for what was to come, sucking in a final breath. “Because I have faith.”

A profound sadness filled the witch’s eyes and her left leg started forwards. Thanquil snapped the rune in his right hand between thumb and fore fingers and everything changed. A pulse of magic burst forth from the rune but there was no kinetic force involved in the magic, it was purely a neutralising blast, dispelling the magic that held in him place.

The witch gasped and dropped to her knees as the power pulsing from her was abruptly cut off and Thanquil crashed to the floor in a heap. With no time to waste he pushed himself to his feet and his left hand whipped inside his coat pocket, pulling out the paper thin throwing knife.

The door to the room burst open and a Dragon Knight, fully armoured and sword drawn, charged in followed by another and another. Thanquil let go of the knife, dropped to his knees and held up his hands in the most submissive manner possible. The first knight charged him and raised his sword to attack.

“Stop!” the witch shouted. Thanquil couldn’t see her behind the three Dragon Knights but he could hear the tremble in her voice. She slowly walked into view and looked down upon him. “Do not kill him. Prince Naarsk will decide his fate.”

Thanquil snorted out a laugh. “A wise choice. The…”

He never finished the sentence as a dragon-bone hilt connected with the side of his head.

Thanquil

“Stop fiddling with it,” Kosh said giving Thanquil a friendly shove shoulder to shoulder.

“Easy for you to say,” Thanquil complained. “It hurts.”

“So stop poking it.”

Thanquil gave his swollen nose one last squeeze and winced at the pain before dropping his hands and giving Kosh a shove back. The bigger boy, despite being almost a year younger, didn’t budge an inch. Thanquil had quickly learned that fighting Kosh was akin to head-butting a stone wall; messy, painful and ultimately pointless. He was taller than Thanquil, broader and well-muscled despite his young age, he also seemed to have a natural feel for combat and was as happy facing two or even three foes as most of the initiates were fighting one.

Despite Thanquil’s name and the stigma that came attached to it Kosh had quickly befriended him and the two had become near inseparable. Just five years into their training and both had already outdistanced those of the same age as themselves; Kosh excelling in combat, even against the older boys, and Thanquil proving himself to be almost on par with some of the recent graduates when it came to blessings and curses.

Their quick progression through the initiate training did nothing to bolster Thanquil’s popularity amongst the others though. Kosh could get away with the attention due to his good looks, boyish charm and his ability to knock the heads of any who took exception. Thanquil had none of those desirable attributes and the instructors’ constant use of the name Arbiter Yellon had given him never let anyone forget that he was a Darkheart and therefore not to be trusted.

The other initiates would only leave off their taunting and bullying so long as Kosh was around and only then because they were scared of the damage he could, and would, do but Kosh couldn’t be around all the time and Thanquil’s ardent refusal to back down from a fight only served to antagonise the others.

The constant bullying was in fact why his nose was currently well and truly broken. In an attempt to gain some respect and develop the ability to defend himself Thanquil had of late been taking sparring lessons from Kosh, unfortunately the beatings he received in those lessons were turning out to be worse than those the other initiates could ever hand out. Kosh was nothing if not a harsh tutor but it didn’t matter how many injuries his friend gave him, to Thanquil there was a principal to uphold and that was the real reason he was willing to suffer through the pain.

Of course there was something even more unfortunate than the broken nose, the two black eyes, the bloody lip, the ringing in his ears, the sore and twisted wrist and the pronounced limp that came from a leg that until recently was feeling very dead; the sun had only risen an hour ago and both he and Kosh had to get back to the initiate dormitory, perform their daily duties of cleaning the communal waste area and then they had a full day of training ahead of them. Kosh made no issue of it, he was built for physical endurance and seemed to have boundless energy, Thanquil was not so silent on the issue, he was beyond tired and that made him grumpy.

“What training do you think they’ll give us today?” he asked the bigger boy as they walked, or while Kosh walked and Thanquil limped. “Reciting passages from the book of hells from memory while standing on one leg and juggling bees?”

“I’m hoping for combat training,” Kosh replied and Thanquil saw his friend crack a cheeky grin. “I could use a challenge after this morning.”

“Wonderful. You continue joking, I’m in real pain here.”

“Broken nose ain’t real pain,” Kosh said with a snort. “You want to try a dislocated shoulder, now that fucking hurts!”

Thanquil grit his teeth at his friend’s use of the profanity. It wasn’t that he had any real issue with the word, only Kosh liked to use it a lot. “Well then I hope I’ll never have to experience it.”

They rushed through the city as fast as Thanquil’s limp would allow. Taking a five minute break to dive beneath the clear blue waters of the Brooklowe canal, it was not the deepest, nor the most empty but it was the cleanest and the wash did them both the world of good, wiping away the exertion sweat from the morning and much of the drying blood on Thanquil’s face. It was not technically legal to swim in the canal but then neither was it legal to arrest an Arbiter or an initiate of the Inquisition and no guard would have the stones to march the boys up to the Inquisition itself to complain of so trivial a matter. So the men on watch grumbled but did nothing and Thanquil and Kosh made sure not to overstay their welcome. By the time they reached the Sarth training compound they were as ready as they would ever be to clean the waste rooms.

After a gruelling hour and another quick wash they lined up with the other initiates of their group in the meeting yard and waited for the instructors. Thanquil was safe from physical bullying here and not just because Kosh was with him, if the instructors witnessed an attack then all the initiates involved would be punished, including himself.

As always Jacob was the first to the yard and scowled at the others as they arrived late. The older boy had taken it upon himself to organise the other initiates and no one was about to stand up to him. He was, in fact, the only one of them who could give Kosh a fair fight and had, on occasion, beaten him. On top of his dominating strength and martial skill Jacob was more than well versed in rune and charm lore and had even mastered some of the most basic of sorceries. He was also noticeably lacking in skill when it came to bestowing blesses and curses and that gave Thanquil cause to grin. A minor victory it may be but Inquisitor Heron herself had spoken to Thanquil during her tour last week and she had said that small victories can defeat even the largest of men.

“Initiate Jacob,” said Kosh as they arrived.

“Kosh,” said Jacob with a smirk.

The two boys, widely accepted as the two most promising of the group’s initiates, faced off against each other standing chest to chest, nose to nose and postured for all they were worth. Kosh, despite being two years Jacob’s junior was taller than the older boy but Jacob was bulkier. Thanquil watched in silence with a half-smile at the foolishness of it all.

“Darkheart,” Thanquil heard his name said and sighed at the voice.

Beck was the group’s only girl and also Thanquil’s least favourite person in his entire world. She hated him, that much was clear, and he had never figured out why. It didn’t help that she was passing beautiful with a mesmerising pair of breasts that seemed to grow bigger every day. It also didn’t help that the other boys trailed behind her ready to jump to her every word.

Thanquil turned with an insult ready on his lips but his treacherous voice died in his throat when he saw her. She was wearing her golden blonde hair down today and it framed her face perfectly, drawing attention to her sapphire blue eyes. Her plain brown tunic, though the same issue as the boys, may have hid her cleavage but it did nothing to hide the fact that it was there. Thanquil couldn’t help but stare and Beck couldn’t help but notice.

“As close as you’ll ever get to a pair, Darkheart,” she said with a sneer that was obvious from her tone despite the fact that Thanquil’s eyes refused to dislodge themselves from her chest.

There was a round of laughter and Beck stepped closer, so close her breasts almost brushed his arm. Thanquil felt his heart quick and his cock stir and he tried his best not to let it show. Beck moved her lips close to his ear and whispered.

“I hope it eats you today.”

Thanquil swallowed nervously but only once Beck had moved away did her words register to him and he realised he had no idea what she was talking about. Before he could give it any further thought instructor James marched into the yard and shouted for them all to form up.

The instructors were Arbiters in their own right but those who were too old or infirm to continue hunting down heresy or occasionally those who just couldn’t take the pressure any more. They treated the initiates with a cruel discipline and James was no exception, he was a hard man, tall and thin and all angles. He had great green eyes that goggled at everything and a single missing tooth he liked to suck air through making a whistling noise that set Thanquil’s nerves on a knife edge.

As the initiates lined up and waited for further instruction instructor James glared at them all with savage scrutiny. Thanquil took his place next to Kosh and the bigger boy winked at him.

“I hope you’re all prepared,” the instructor said.

Thanquil glanced at Kosh who sent a nonchalant shrug right back.

“Beck, you’re first. By my side now.” Instructor James walked away and Beck hurried after him sending a nervous glance back at her group of followers who all simpered in return.

Thanquil sniffed painfully through his broken nose and approached Jacob. The older boy looked down on him with a neutral smile. Jacob, while not friendly, was not like the others, he didn’t feel the need to bully but neither did he particularly register Thanquil’s existence as a person.

“Jacob,” Thanquil offered in greeting.

“Darkheart,” Jacob said with an amused nod.

Thanquil noticed Beck’s crew of admirers watching curiously and lowered his voice to stop them from overhearing. “What’s happening today? Seems we missed the announcement.”

Jacob glanced at Kosh behind Thanquil and then back again. “Demon summoning,” he said with a mad grin. “Today we learn the rune to summon and bind one of the beasts.”

Thanquil felt his stomach lurch, turn over and finally try to cower behind his kidneys. Beck’s final comment made a whole lot of sense now but even without it he’d have been close to terrified. He turned to find Kosh looking equally worried.

“Starting to wish I’d gotten a full night’s sleep,” Kosh said with a grin that lacked its usual fervour.

“I’m starting to wish I hadn’t let you break my nose this morning,” Thanquil answered.

“You let me?”

“Of course,” Thanquil said quickly. “Otherwise you’d never win.”

Kosh smiled and shook his head and some of the tension broke but it was a nervous time as they waited for Beck and instructor James to emerge from the training hall. Even her followers were less enthusiastic than normal with their insulting comments and hostile stares. Thanquil almost began to wish that they could summon a demon everyday just to keep the others off his back.

Then Beck and instructor James emerged. Her head was down and her walk was slow, her legs looked as though they wobbled a little with every step and James’ hand was on her shoulder in such a way that he looked to be both comforting her and guiding her back towards the others. Despite himself Thanquil found he felt sorry for the girl, she who was the worst of his tormentors. He cursed himself for a fool and schooled his features into a harsh frown.

Instructor James let go of Beck’s shoulder and she struggled on towards her followers without ever raising her eyes. The instructor whistled as he sucked in a breath. “Jacob, you’re next.”

Jacob glanced towards Beck then looked back at Kosh and grinned and then jogged after the instructor. Kosh shook his head and laughed. “That one is crazy.”

For once Thanquil couldn’t think of a retort so he kept his mouth shut and watched Jacob jog across the yard and disappear into the training hall. It seemed like an age before he came out again, no longer jogging or full of energy and with a look on his face that mirrored Beck’s. He walked ahead of instructor James and kept his eyes firmly on the ground. Thanquil was about to call out to Jacob when the instructor cut him off.

“Initiate Darkheart. With me.”

Thanquil nodded and swallowed down a lump in his throat. Then he realised his legs weren’t moving. It wasn’t a conscious decision to stay rooted to the spot but rather the fact that everything below his waist seemed to be refusing to accept his command. Jacob and Beck were two of the bravest people he knew and for both of them to look so harried.

Instructor James hadn’t waited to see if Thanquil followed, the man expected and demanded instant obedience. Thanquil needed to move and now or face punishment. He felt a hand on his back and a hefty push later his feet stumbled then remembered how to move; one foot first then the other. Thanquil glanced back and gave Kosh a grateful nod before hurrying after the instructor.

“I expected more of you, Darkheart,” the instructor said as Thanquil caught up. He had a way of saying Thanquil’s name that made it sound like an insult.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Arbiter,” Thanquil said.

Instructor James snorted. “You have already seen a demon, have you not?”

“I… don’t well remember, Arbiter. I think so.”

“Then you are the last one I would have expected to hesitate. It seems cowardice runs in your heretic blood.”

Thanquil tried to bite back his retort, he failed. “Better than the bile that runs through yours.”

He regretted the words before, during and after they came out of his mouth but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. Instructor James did not take insult well. The Arbiter span around on his heel and backhanded Thanquil across the face. Even had he been as large as Kosh or Jacob the blow would have still felled him and Thanquil couldn’t help but notice the instructor had been whispering a blessing as he struck. It seemed a strange victory that the man felt he needed to augment his strength to hit a boy but it was a victory Thanquil clutched to as the ground rushed up to meet him.

He hit the ground heavy and felt the air rush out of his lungs, a moment later he was gaping like a fish and praying for a respite. James did not give it him. The old Arbiter aimed two savage kicks at Thanquil’s ribs, flipping him onto his back and then bent down and hauled him up by his collar and shoved him towards the training hall. Thanquil stumbled along, all but blind as he gasped, trying to remind his lungs what air felt like. He did not move fast enough and the instructor gave him another shove towards the door.

Thanquil thought about apologising to the old Arbiter but decided against it. The apology would ring false and it was unlikely to gain him anything. Instead he let the man push him through the doorway into the great training hall.

The room was well lit with sunlight streaming in through high windows sending shards of light angling across the hard, wooden floor. A number of training dummies had been moved to the side of the hall and the prayer mats had all been rolled up and stacked by the far end. Thanquil had never seen the room so empty; only a small table with a stack of brittle wooden chips and an inkpot stood in the centre. As Thanquil drew closer he also saw a sheet of parchment no bigger than his hand. Three bold runes were inked onto the parchment, three runes Thanquil did not recognise.

Instructor James put a heavy hand on Thanquil’s shoulder and turned him around. The old Arbiter stared down at his charge with barely concealed hatred. “I give you five minutes to memorise that rune, Darkheart. I will not show it to you again.”

Thanquil nodded vigorously then turned and ran the last few steps to the table and bent his back, studying the combination of runes with an intense scrutiny. All too soon the instructor stepped up beside Thanquil and whipped the parchment away, pocketing it out of sight.

“Now transcribe the first rune, Darkheart.”

Thanquil picked one of the wooden chips and inked the brush, he recalled the first rune and set about copying it onto the wood. The first rune was fluid, swirling in on itself in a most organic, circular fashion and ending with an angled tail that connected it to the second rune. Thanquil could feel the energy flowing out of him into the wooden chip and felt his arms wobble slightly. When he was done he put down the brush and stepped back for the instructor to inspect.

Instructor James scrutinised Thanquil’s copy and gave a grudging nod of his head. “What is the purpose of the first rune, Darkheart?”

Thanquil had been expecting this and he could answer the question without hesitation. “It is an energy rune, Arbiter. The rune required to summon a demon is a strong one and so an energy rune is required to power it.”

Instructor James grunted. “Transcribe the second rune.”

Again Thanquil stepped forward and picked up the brush. The second rune was more angular, there was nothing fluid, nor organic about it; it was harsh and rough, showing many edges and forking back on itself in most unnatural of ways. Once finished Thanquil stepped back. The very shape of the rune seemed to make his eyes itch but he refrained from rubbing at them.

Instructor James whistled through his teeth. “It will suffice. What is the purpose of the second rune?”

“It is the summoning rune, Arbiter. It opens the path between our world and the void for a demon to pass through.”

“Transcribe the third rune.”

Thanquil bent to the task with vigour after his two successes, an arrogant pride warming him inside. The third rune was easy and one he knew well; a large triangle and a smaller one above with a line running straight through the centre of both. He finished, placed the brush back in the ink pot and stepped back with a smile.

“It’s Volmar,” he declared before Instructor James could ask. “His name in runic.”

The old Arbiter turned to Thanquil with a sneer. “And what is its purpose?”

Thanquil had already opened his mouth to answer when he realised he didn’t know. He floundered, his mouth working but no sound coming out. When it was clear he had no response James grunted.

“It is used as a binding rune. The demons are already bound to obedience but invoking Volmar’s name in the summoning reminds them to whom they are beholden. Never draw a summoning rune without it, Darkheart. The demon will be that much stronger if you forget.”

Thanquil nodded and made sure to file the information away.

“Now. Summon your first demon,” Instructor James said with a wave towards the table.

Thanquil crept forward and picked up the rune in both hands. He looked back at Instructor James and for once the old Arbiter gave a reassuring nod. Thanquil sent a prayer of thanks to Volmar that the old man was standing behind him and, grasping the rune between thumbs and forefingers he snapped the wooden chip in half, dropping both to the ground and taking a step backwards.

Both halves burst into blue flame and immediately Thanquil noticed the room darken and the temperature drop. The shards of light flowing in through the windows became dim slivers of grey and his breath frosted in the air as it left his mouth. A metallic clinking noise played on the edges of his hearing, as though chains were rattling somewhere far off and Thanquil shivered.

The area in front of him grew darker still and Thanquil could just about make out the shape of a great, jagged face, almost triangular and covered in lethal spikes. Two black horns jutted out from atop the face and as Thanquil stared on two bright yellow flames flickered to life. A jagged line of white light formed into a mouth and the demon drew in a breath. Thanquil felt his blood go cold as the demon looked upon him, its face a maniacal grin of sharp black teeth and hungry eyes.

Then it screamed. Cold air rushed past Thanquil, battering and buffeting him as the demon’s mouth, just a couple of feet from him, roared its deafening bellow.

Thanquil heard a gasp from behind and then the sound of instructor James hitting the floor hard but he did not move. He stared right back at the demon and prayed to Volmar he wasn’t shaking as much as he thought he was.

There was a crack and one of the floor boards in front of Thanquil splintered as the demon stretched a giant, serrated foot out of the void and into his world. Still the demon stared at Thanquil through those bright yellow flames.

“BANISH IT!” he heard instructor James scream.

Thanquil’s training took over. He pushed down his fear and with a voice that cracked on the words shouted at the demon. “Go back to the void.”

Already the demon was fading but the set of its mouth left Thanquil with no illusions it was laughing at him. “We obey, initiate Darkheart.”

As the light in the hall grew brighter the demon faded entirely leaving the splintered wooden board and Thanquil’s overwhelming sense of relief as the only evidence it had been there at all. He turned to find instructor James staring through eyes showing equal amounts of awe and terror. It took only a moment for the Arbiter to collect himself and the man lurched back to his feet and coughed loudly.

“Back outside, Darkheart, now. Tell the others all classes are cancelled for the day. You are all to study Volmar’s text on the third level of curses.”

Thanquil ignored the order. “Was it supposed to…”

“I gave you an order, initiate,” instructor James roared.

Thanquil bowed his head in submission and bolted for the door before the Arbiter could deal him another backhand. He burst out into the early morning sun and quickly slowed, determined to approach the others as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened despite his growing suspicion that the truth was quite the opposite.

Thanquil

When Thanquil dreamed of his past he never woke truly rested and this time it was certainly not helped by the pounding in his head from being struck by a sword hilt. He supposed he should be thankful the Dragon Knight hadn’t broken his jaw though reliving that first demon summing was more terrifying than any broken bone he had ever suffered and he had experienced his own fair share.

He could hear cheering, loud and raucous and coupled with the unmistakeable sound of steel bashing against wood. Swords hitting shields, he decided and hoped the fort was under attack. He knew it was far more likely that…

A thunderous roar that rattled the shutters on the windows blasted over the noise of the cheering and Thanquil knew there was only one beast that could make such a sound. He had heard it many a time sounding over the capital but usually at a much greater distance. The Dragon Prince had arrived.

In a magnanimous decision of spite Thanquil rolled over and tried to cover his face in order to garner some more sleep. It was then he discovered his right hand was chained to something. Upon cracking an eyelid, and wincing at the pain it brought, he discovered he was fastened to the stone wall by a thick iron chain that showed not a spot of rust. He made an exploratory tug of the chain and decided it would likely hold even with a blessing of strength. Thanquil groaned, threw his left arm over his face and waited for oblivion to claim him.

Oblivion, it appeared, did not want him. The dragon roared again and again Thanquil devoutly ignored it, focusing instead on the pulsating pain in his skull and trying to remember the face of the man who’d dealt him the blow. His mind was as unaccommodating as oblivion and all Thanquil could remember about the Dragon Knight was how hard his dragon bone sword was.

It wasn’t long before he heard a door open nearby and the sound of chain armour clinking and heavy boots on wooden floor.

“Prince Naarsk wants to see you,” said a loud, male, overly gruff voice.

Thanquil didn’t bother opening his eyes but his rattled his chain. “I’m sure he does and I’d love to oblige but I appear to be a little tied up.”

“Clean him up,” said the male voice. “Don’t worry, we’ll be right here. Won’t let him hurt you.”

This time Thanquil opened his eyes, an act that brought a fresh wave of nausea and pain and lifted his head. A young girl stood between two Dragon Knights, she looked familiar and it only took a moment for him to notice the resemblance.

“You’re Berry,” Thanquil said wincing at the pain in his face. “The witch’s daughter.”

“Careful, witch hunter,” said the Dragon Knight who looked suspiciously familiar. “If you so much as lay a finger on the princess we’re ordered to put you down.”

Thanquil smiled and hoped he hid how much the expression hurt. “She is no princess,” he said and quickly continued before the Dragon Knight could object. “And no amount of arguing is going to make it so. Your own empire’s laws are quite clear on the matter.”

The Dragon Knight grumbled something Thanquil could not and did not care to hear. “Nevertheless,” he continued. “I will not harm her.”

The girl moved forward with a small bowl of water in her hands and set it down on the bed. She picked a cloth out of the bowl and wrung it twice before gently applying it to the left side of Thanquil’s face. He winced.

“Sorry,” the girl said. “Father ses t’ clean ya up.”

“Of course,” Thanquil replied as she dabbed his face with the cloth. “Wouldn’t want to see evidence of his own troops’ brutality. I presume it was your mother who suggested you be the one.”

The girl nodded. “Mhm. She sed it might make you op’n ya eyes.”

Thanquil looked at the girl. She was the spitting image of her mother only with eyes that pulled down a little at the corners and darker skin. She bit her lips as she dipped the cloth in the water and wrung it out again.

“Ma ses ya ain’t so bad,” the girl said. “Just… she ses ya misguided.”

Thanquil attempted a shrug, it set his shoulder to hurting. “She’s wrong.”

The girl giggled. “Only da’ ever ses that.”

Thanquil wasn’t entirely sure he believed the girl but he didn’t argue. “That’s an interesting necklace.”

The girl drew back and her hand went to her throat. “You can’t have it. S’mine”

Thanquil laughed. The necklace was a small green gemstone set in a bronze holding and glowing with an inner white light. He knew the stone well for it was his. The witch had taken it and gifted it to her daughter to show Thanquil that she had potential. No doubt she expected that seeing such a young girl and knowing how she would be treated in the Inquisition would sway him, convince not to do what he must. She was wrong.

He shifted his gaze to the two Dragon Knights. “We’re done. I would like to see your Dragon Prince now.”

“Berry,” said the familiar Dragon Knight as he stepped forward.

The girl hopped off the bed and scurried away, hiding behind the man. She peered out at Thanquil from behind his leg but he could still see the gemstone necklace glowing. The girl was powerful and no mistake but he wondered how much she had been taught about that power.

The second Dragon Knight, a bald man with a gorget that covered everything below his mouth, moved forward with a heavy iron key and proceeded to unlock the manacle holding Thanquil to the bed. He quickly stepped back and drew a large, very sharp-looking dagger that Thanquil had no intention of experiencing.

“Up witch hunter. Start walking.”

Thanquil rolled off the bed and slowly stood up before making a show of rolling his shoulders and stretching out his arms. He bowed his head slightly and grinned at the bald knight. “After you.”

The Dragon Knight looked worried for a moment then reached out and gave Thanquil a push with the hand not holding a sharp knife. Thanquil stumbled towards the door and started walking. Berry was gone but the familiar-looking Dragon Knight turned and led the way, trusting his companion to warn him should their charge cause any trouble.

They led him through the fort, past locked doors and alert sentries, past servants and soldiers. Prince Naarsk seemed to keep an austere home and a prepared fighting force. The knowledge didn’t surprise Thanquil, he knew the Dragon Princes fought each other and were more than happy to kill each other but he’d never seen evidence of their warfare up close before.

The familiar-looking Dragon Knight stopped before a large metal doorway and glanced back at Thanquil with a grin before setting one hand to either door and putting all his weight into pushing them open. It took a moment for the giant slabs of metal to shift but when they did they grated against each other with such a noise that set Thanquil’s teeth to itching.

By the time the doors boomed against their holdings Thanquil could already see what awaited him inside the fort’s great hall. If someone had told him Prince Naarsk had summoned every man in the fort he would likely have believed them. People packed every corner, wall, table and balcony in the hall. A strip along the centre of the hall remained bare of people and along it Dragon Knights were lined though whether to keep Thanquil from the crowd or the crowd from Thanquil he couldn’t decide.

It was the massive dais at the far end of the hall that demanded his attention though. The witch, Verla Pre’lain stood conversing with a tall, thin man dressed in leather and half plate. The man had long, jet black hair and stood with a predator’s ease. Behind and towering over them both sat Prince Naarsk’s dragon.

Like a giant scaled bat the dragon sat behind them as tall as a house and half as wide. Its wings were folded up onto its forearms but Thanquil knew from experience its true span was many times as wide. Its brutish head hung on a short neck and its pointed snout ended in a razor sharp, toothy overbite. Two beady eyes locked onto Thanquil and stared with a savage intensity. The giant tail, thick as human body and easily twice as long as the tallest man Thanquil had ever seen flicked in a way that suggested agitation.

Thanquil had been in the presence of dragons before, many times, but never had he been subject to such scrutiny by one of the beasts. Its reptilian appearance belied its savage intelligence but he knew they were capable of communication, though of a form he had never experienced. Dragon and prince could understand each other though none other could.

A murmur had picked up from the crowd as Thanquil entered the hall but the dragon’s breathing was louder by far; great hissing breaths sucked in slowly and let out as a foetid rush of air that he could smell even from a distance. As Thanquil walked closer, still escorted by his armed guards, the dragon let out a low, rumbling growl and Prince Naarsk turned to regard his beast.

“He doesn’t like you,” the prince said turning his head and giving a nod to his knights. The three escorts stopped and the man behind Thanquil grabbed hold of his wrists and twisted them behind his back.

“A shame,” Thanquil said with a wince at the pain in his shoulder, “I was hoping we could be the best of friends.”

The sun just started to dip low enough to shine in through the giant balcony behind the dragon and bathed the creature in a golden light that set its green scales shimmering. Thanquil had noticed most forts and official buildings in the Dragon Empire sported huge balconies that were able to land two dragons.

“Why are you here, Arbiter?” the prince asked.

“Don’t tell me your witch didn’t tell you…”

“My witch has a name,” Prince Naarsk interrupted Thanquil but his voice was calm and level with not a hint of anger, his dragon, on the other hand, seemed to be a boiling river of rage that might burst its banks at any moment.

“They all have names,” Thanquil muttered.

The knight behind Thanquil pulled his arms up a little and an involuntary gasp of pain escaped his lips. Thanquil craned his neck to look at the knight from the corner of his eye. “I’d much rather you didn’t do that. It actually hurts.”

The knight only lifted higher causing more pain and Thanquil would have sworn blind the dragon managed a smile but the witch whispered something in Naarsk’s ear.

“No I think he can stay like that,” the prince said his face as emotionless as stone. “I like him humbled.” A rumble of laughter ran through the assembled crowd and the knight behind Thanquil relaxed a little.

“I ask you again, Arbiter,” the prince said once the laughter died down. “Why are you here?”

“To claim my right as an Arbiter of the Inquisition and pass judgement on your witch.”

“Your right?”

“Yes. The Inquisition operates within the borders of the Dragon Empire under the express permission of the Dragon Empress. It is my right to question, judge and sentence anyone within its borders.”

“Except for members of royalty,” the Dragon Prince said his eyes narrowing slightly. “We are above your… suspicions. My wife is above your suspicions.”

Thanquil glanced at the witch who stood with her eyes lowered. “She never told me you were married.”

“It is a recent development. She is both my wife and the mother of my…”

“Regardless,” Thanquil interrupted the prince. “You have no royal blood yourself but are considered royalty only by your relationship with that thing.” He nodded towards the dragon. “The protection afforded you from the Inquisition does not extend to your wife or your daughter.”

The pressure on Thanquil’s arms increased again and this time was accompanied by a loud roaring from the crowd drowned out by a much louder roar from the dragon. Thanquil decided it was very possible he had said the wrong thing.

For the first time Thanquil noticed the little girl hiding behind one of the dragon’s great, folded wings. She peered out at the proceedings from her position of safety.

Prince Naarsk again waited for the noise to die down. “You come into my home, Arbiter. You threaten my wife and my daughter and you expect me to simply give them to you for your biased judgement?”

“No,” Thanquil quickly shouted over the murmur of the crowd. “I have no interest in your daughter but I do demand you step aside while I judge your wife. As is my right!”

Prince Naarsk slowly shook his head and spoke, his voice quiet and commanding. “Denied.”

Thanquil shifted slightly in his escort’s grip. “You’re testing my patience Prince Naarsk. You have no say in this. If you send me away I petition the Dragon Empress and I assure you she will side with me. If you kill me the Inquisition will send someone more powerful than me next time, maybe even an Inquisitor, and that is something you do not want.”

Again the witch whispered something in Naarsk ear and this time his dragon let out a low rumble that shook the stone they were standing on. Even the crowd quietened from the threat inherent in the creature’s growl.

Prince Naarsk raised his hand and the witch stepped back, her eyes once again lowered to the ground and her lips closed.

“Release him,” the prince ordered and the knight behind Thanquil obeyed immediately. “She says you’re right, Arbiter. She seems to believe the only way this can end is to let you have your way. She also tells me it’s a battle you can’t win.”

Thanquil rolled his shoulders and sent an acidic glare back at the knight who had detained him before turning back to Prince Naarsk. The dragon kept its beady, lidless eyes focused on him the entire time, ready to strike should Thanquil make any threatening move.

“I’ve made something of a habit of fighting battles I can’t win.”

The dragon rumbled low in its throat and Naarsk turned to it as if talking but neither spoke a word. “I give you two hours to prepare yourself, Arbiter.”

Already Thanquil’s escort were forming up around him, ushering him back out of the great hall. Thanquil shouted to be heard over the wall of flesh and steel.

“My weapons…” he prompted.

“Will be returned to you before your… judgement.”

The familiar Dragon Knight gave Thanquil a firm push in the chest and he had no choice but to stumble along as they ushered him back to his well-decorated cell.

Thanquil

It so often came down to this. Thanquil couldn’t blame the witch, he couldn’t blame any of them; if they didn’t fight they were still going to receive judgement. In most situations judgement involved either forcing the witch to reveal herself by using her magic or by certain other tests, many of which were invasive and, in the unlikely event that they were not a witch, left the judged severely wounded or worse. Today there needn’t be any true judging, the witch had already revealed herself. Today all that was left was the sentencing and it was this part of the job that Thanquil liked least.

He was not the type of Arbiter to burn his heretics, not unless the situation truly called for it. There was a cleansing power in fire that couldn’t be denied. He looked down at his right hand where the flesh was still tight and twisted. His own judgement and sentencing had been the most painful thing he ever experienced; as if being set on fire wasn’t enough he had to call down and experience the Judgement of the Righteous; the Inquisition’s most powerful magic. It was a searing beam of light sent from Volmar himself that literally burned the sin from a person’s soul. Standing in that light Thanquil had learned first-hand he was far from pure.

He decided then he wouldn’t burn the witch. She did not use her powers for evil, though he had no doubt evil was done through her, she used her powers to help Prince Naarsk’s people and to protect her daughter. Thanquil decided he would give her a quick death… assuming she didn’t give him the same first.

Walking out onto the dry, dusty ground Thanquil purposefully scuffed his boot in the dirt. Packed earth as solid as rock. He looked up to see a grey blanket coating the sky, blocking out the afternoon sun. The clouds were gathered and heavy but they were not yet ready to shed their load. It was said nowhere in the world did it rain like the Dragon Empire. A good storm could last for weeks of solid downpour so thick you could only see a foot in front of you. Entire villages could be swallowed in hours leaving only a haunted lake and drowned ruins behind. Towns could be washed away in flash floods as sudden as a lightning bolt. Such a storm wasn’t far off but it would not start for a few hours yet at least. Thanquil decided to reserve judgement as to whether that was a good thing or ill.

If anything the gathered crowd was even larger than in the great hall. Many soldiers lined the battlements so high up they would barely be able to see the action. Others, along with the serving folk and peasantry and even women and children crowded every spare inch of the mustering yard with a large circle left free and clear in the centre for the afternoon’s entertainment. Many buildings, some homes, some workshops, some warehouses overlooked the yard and both the windows, doors and even the rooftops were bustling with the masses. Here and there an entrepreneurial food seller hawked wares, mostly in the form of rotten fruit no doubt harvested from the forest. Folk wouldn’t dare throw anything at an Arbiter now but if the witch won none would hesitate at the chance to humiliate him further.

Overlooking the entire mustering yard on a permanent gallows sat Prince Naarsk, his legs dangling over the side of the giant, wooden monstrosity. His daughter sat by his side mimicking his actions as well as she could and the witch stood at the foot of the gallows waiting for the Arbiter. The dragon was thankfully nowhere to be seen.

The witch had changed but only little. She still wore a white dress, this one cut to a length between the knee and ankle and more open to allow ease of movement and she wore heavy leather boots to protect her feet. Thanquil had to admit white truly made her more beautiful. A half-chested leather jerkin covered her breasts and a portion of her mid-section and her arms were bared save for leather bracers. Her mousey brown hair was now tied into a braid that hung over her left shoulder and her eyes were lit as though on fire. She paid Thanquil no mind as he approached; her eyes were for the Prince alone.

“That’s far enough, Arbiter,” the prince said as Thanquil entered the cleared circle, his escort dropped back into the crowd and he felt something thrown hit his leg. Looking down Thanquil saw his belt complete with sword, pistol and dagger. He quickly picked up the belt and set to fastening it around his waist.

Prince Naarsk cupped the witch’s face gently with his hand and nodded to her. The woman smiled back, said something to her daughter and turned to face Thanquil, striding forwards to meet him with her head high and her shoulders back. She carried no visible weapons but then, Thanquil supposed, she didn’t need to if she were as powerful as she claimed to be.

“He gives you one last chance to leave,” the witch said as she drew close, stopping almost within striking distance and easily within pistol range.

“I give you one last chance to submit to my judgement,” Thanquil shot back with a half grin that the witch did not return.

“He would have me kill you,” she continued as though he hadn’t spoken, “but he does not understand it would mean his own undoing. The Inquisition’s quarrel is with me and it will stay that way.

“I will beat you and I will have you thrown out and when you return with the others I will be gone. I beg you don’t tell them of my daughter, if they try to take her Naarsk will fight.” All this the witch said in a quiet voice pitched so no one but Thanquil would hear.

Thanquil had no intention of telling anyone about the witch’s daughter so long as she didn’t use her mother’s magic. “I make no promises. Was the marriage his idea?”

The witch smiled and Thanquil saw tears welling in her eyes. “He thought it might protect me.”

“A foolish plan.”

“His way of showing he cares. How many witches have you killed?”

“Somewhere between one and all of them.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Thanquil looked away. He wasn’t even sure why he was considering answering. “Thirty seven”

“And how many innocent people have you killed?”

“More.”

“Is that why you’re hesitating now?”

“What?”

The witch gave him a half-smile that reminded Thanquil of Jezzet and he felt his stomach twist into a knot.

“You’ve had your weapons for a while now,” she said. “You could have attacked me any time you wanted yet you hesitate. Why is that?”

As the witch spoke she turned and walked to her left and she changed. Verla Pre’lain was gone and now, standing before Thanquil, stood the image of his mother as she was when he was just a child. She wasn’t beautiful, none would ever call her that, but she had a strange matronly air that drew the eye and made him want to please her.

“That won’t work,” he said, glaring at the witch wearing his mother’s form. “My mother was a heretic too.”

“Perhaps that’s the point,” his mother said as she turned back and walked the other way. Again her form changed and this time she was old and crooked, her back stooped from years of hard use, her skin wrinkled and weather-worn, her hair as white as bone and as brittle as straw and her mouth all gums with only one remaining tooth. Now Thanquil once again looked upon the first witch he had ever hunted.

A haggard old thing she may have been but that first witch never meant harm to anyone. She simply didn’t understand what her magic let loose in the world. She didn’t even fight him when he came for her, just submitted to his judgement and allowed him to burn her at the stake. She deserved better than burning but Thanquil had been young and full of righteous glory and determined to cleanse her with fire.

“So can you only assume the form of heretics?” he asked.

The old woman smiled a toothless, gummy grin and stepped towards Thanquil. “Perhaps.” With that step she changed again, this time into Jezzet Vel’urn.

Thanquil knew the figure that stood before him so well that the image the witch pulled from his mind was perfect. The way Jezzet stood just an inch taller than him. Her lithe body so tight with muscle. The way she stood; a warrior’s stance, ready for a fight at any moment but always leading with her left leg. Her short, black hair and the way it framed her face and her dark brown eyes. That half smile that was so familiar to him played upon her lips. Thanquil couldn’t put into words how much he missed her, the real Jezzet, but he wasn’t so foolish as to believe this magical imitation could ever live up to the real thing.

“That glamour won’t stop me,” Thanquil said.

“You would kill me?” Jez asked.

“No, I wouldn’t, but you’re not her.”

Thanquil’s hand found his sword hilt and the blade cleared the scabbard with a metallic ring that was drowned out by the roar of a dragon from somewhere behind him. He turned, searching for the winged monstrosity and found it clinging to the battlements, high up on the wall, staring at him just as it had back in the great hall. Nearby soldiers had scattered giving the creature a wide berth and were starting to recover from its sudden appearance, stumbling over each other as they tried to back away from it.

Satisfied that the creature wasn’t close enough to eat him Thanquil turned back to the witch to find not one but ten images of Jezzet spread out all around him, each one as beautiful as the real woman and each favouring him with that suggestive half-grin.

Thanquil leapt at the nearest image and slashed with his sword but the blade passed straight through her. The image of Jezzet laughed and stepped through him. When he turned again the ten images had shifted places and again Thanquil had no idea which was the real witch.

A pointed laugh from the crowd spread like wildfire and it soon seemed like the entire fort was mocking him, jeering as he flailed against a superior opponent. Something hard hit him on the back and Thanquil stumbled forwards a step as the stone thudded to the floor. Another missile flew at him from somewhere but this one missed by inches. He looked to the prince but Naarsk did not seem inclined to stop his subjects from interfering. Thanquil knew then he needed to do something to bring the situation back under his control. Or at least take the situation out of the witch’s control.

The images of Jezzet Vel’urn watched Thanquil, waiting to see his next move. He planted his sword in the ground and pulled out his pistol.

“A one in ten chance, Arbiter. Assuming you don’t miss,” the images shouted at him in unison over the mocking of the crowd.

Another stone launched from the crowd shot towards Thanquil and he ducked underneath its arc as he pulled a paper rune from his coat pocket and unceremoniously shoved it into the barrel of the gun.

“Which one of us will you shoot, Arbiter?” the Jezzet’s asked.

A stone collided with his head and Thanquil careened to the ground, the pistol falling from his hand as his vision rocked and blurred and sprouted flashing white lights. The roar of the crowd seemed to be everywhere, deafening as it swallowed him up and buffeted him from all sides. With feverish eyes Thanquil looked around for his pistol and found it lying a few feet away. Another stone hit him on the back and more struck the ground around him, a veritable hail of rocks falling towards him. He crawled to his gun, snatched it into his right hand and pointed it towards the sky.

Bang!

His one and only remaining shot rang out loud and clear and echoed around the fort. The jeering of the crowd ceased along with their attempts at stoning Thanquil and he slowly pushed himself to his feet. There was a stunned silence as everyone failed to realise just what he had done. The images of Jezzet all looked at him in confusion, unsure of how to proceed. Thanquil ran a hand through his dusty hair and it came away red, wet and sticky where the rock had struck him. Still the confused silence held.

It took less than a minute before his shot was answered. A low rumbling spreading across the sky and building into a cacophony far louder and more violent than anything the gathered crowd of angry fools could throw at him. The crash of thunder built up to near deafening levels as it passed over the fort and sent a wave of panic through the crowd. A rain storm was not something any of them wanted to be caught outside in, especially not with so many people in a confined space.

A flash a lightning streaked across the sky just as the first fat drops of rain plummeted to the earth. Slow at first the rain quickly built in speed and soon began to threaten being classed as a downpour.

The crowd broke with the next crack of thunder.

The dragon knights’ vain attempts to impose order failed in an instant as people began pushing and pulling, barging and stumbling as they all rushed and clambered to get away and out of the rain. People went down with screams of terror as they were trampled by their neighbours. Thanquil plucked his sword from the ground just in time as the crowd surged forward and engulfed him. People bumped into him from all directions as they struggled to run somewhere, anywhere and the rain built and built until it fell in noisy, grey sheets soaking everything it touched.

Under the wave of people and the fall of rain the witch could no longer hold her weave of illusions and as one they failed. Where before there had been ten images of the woman Thanquil loved now there just stood a single person; the witch Verla Pre’lain, her face a mask of panic.

The Dragon Prince shouted something but was drowned out by another crack of thunder and could not come to his witch’s aid as he was forced to stay on his pedestal and protect his daughter from the crush of the crowd.

Thanquil began to push his way towards the witch, forcing the crowd to part before him with a blessing of enhanced strength.

Another fork of lightning lit the sky a dazzling white-blue as it arced towards the fort and struck the battlements. The dragon, still perched nearby let out a shrill squawk that seemed out of place coming from its giant maw. As it edged sideways away from the site of the lightning strike it trampled two soldiers not quick enough to get away.

Thanquil hadn’t let his eyes move from the witch since the panic began and now she saw him coming and struggled to push through the crowd to escape him. Already the flow of people was beginning to lessen but the effect was already clear, the mustering yard had been churned by the rain and the people’s feet into a thick mud that squelched and sucked at the feet. Here and there bodies lay trampled and bloody in the brown mess and some of the injured were crying out in pain, screaming for assistance but Thanquil ignored it all.

He pushed the last person out of the way with unnatural strength and there was no one left between him and Verla Pre’lain. The witch spoke a word and hurled a blast of sizzling energy his way, streaking from her hand towards him but Thanquil was prepared. He snapped the wooden rune he had hold of and the spell disintegrated. The witch screamed and collapsed as the backlash from the neutralising rune hit her.

Her dress, now brown from the mud tore beneath her as she struggled to stand and stumble away. Watery blood leaked from her nose and eyes. She looked like nothing so much as a pathetic drowned rat but Thanquil couldn’t let pity stand in the way of judgement. He forged forward, reaching out and grabbing the witch by the hair at the back of her head.

As Thanquil raised his sword to strike he saw from the corner of his eye Naarsk leaping from the gallows into the mud and running towards him. Then he felt the impact of something impossibly large and heavy hitting the ground behind him and mud splashed up and covered the back of his coat.

Thanquil let go of the witch and turned slowly, already knowing and dreading what he would find. Through the pouring sheets of grey rain the dragon towered over him, its massive head lowered but still a good eight feet from the ground and its beady eyes glowering hatred at him. Thanquil felt his arm shaking and knees go weak but he held his ground and stared back at the beast, his grip tightening on his sword.

He had no idea how to fight a dragon, even his not-insubstantial reading on the subject area had provided him with no real knowledge of how to defeat one of the creatures without a very large arbalest and exceptional aim, neither of which did Thanquil currently possess. The only thought that raced through his mind was a simple piece of advice Kosh had once given him when fighting a man bigger than himself: Go for the eyes.

From somewhere nearby Thanquil heard Naarsk shout an order for the dragon to stop. The creature’s eyes flicked sideways to its prince and Thanquil ran. He had no idea where to go but he turned and fled.

The dragon was faster.

Its huge head lunged forward and its mouth snapped shut around the tail end of Thanquil’s coat. He heard the leather tear but Arbiter coats were made of sturdy stuff and the garment unfortunately held together. With a violent shake of its head the dragon threw Thanquil across the mustering yard.

Air, rain and mud all passed before Thanquil’s eyes in a dizzying blur of motion accompanied by a crack of thunder so close it sounded like an explosion. Then he hit the ground and rolled to a stop, inhaling mud and attempting to cough it back up all in one motion. He retched up a mouthful of the foul brown muck and, with the back of his hand, wiped away the mud from his eyes just in time to see the dragon ignoring its prince again and lumbering towards him.

Thanquil lurched to his feet. The mud may have broken his fall and stopped him from breaking anything but now he was covered in it, soaked in it. Miraculously he found he had kept hold of his sword and said a quick prayer of thanks to Volmar for what little good it would do him.

The dragon skidded to a stop mere metres from Thanquil and again lunged at him with its mouth. Thanquil lurched to his right and impossibly sharp teeth snapped together around what had almost been his head. He thrust with his sword and the blade struck home. Sharpened, enchanted metal connected with wet, scaly hide and did what Thanquil could only describe as nothing.

The beast launched itself onto its back legs and flapped its massive wings at him and the blast of air once again knocked Thanquil on his arse in the mud and the pouring rain. He was just about to struggle to his feet again when the dragons head appeared above him, staring down at him with its mouth open. Hot, rancid breath hit him and Thanquil gagged at the smell but then a part of him realised that bad breath was currently the very least of his problems.

A roar tore into the mustering yard and Thanquil glimpsed another dark shape land on the battlements far behind the dragon peering down at him. The beast stopped and turned, craning its head around to look at the new arrival. Thanquil let himself hope the fort was under attack by another Dragon Prince. The alternative of having to fight two dragons when one was clearly enough to best him did not even warrant thinking about.

Prince Naarsk’s dragon let out a challenging trumpet noise and the new dragon again answered with a roar. Without warning the beast that had almost killed Thanquil backed away from him, lowering its head in a posture that looked much like submission.

Thanquil pushed himself to his feet, using his sword as a cane and peered through the pouring grey sheets. He saw Naarsk, holding both his witch and his daughter in his arms down on one knee with his head lowered. Thanquil knew there were only two people in all the Dragon Empire that could command such respect and obedience from a prince and he was all but certain the Dragon Empress hadn’t left the capital.

The new dragon lowered its head and allowed its rider to dismount into the muck below. The newcomer was dressed in a suit of dragon bone mail with plate leggings and boots and wore a cape of the deepest scarlet though it was soaked through and dragged in the mud turning it a nasty brown colour at the hem. He was no taller than Thanquil, being a native to the empire, and his dark hair had a shock of grey running through it. He strode towards Thanquil, heedless of the mud sucking at his boots and stopped just a few feet away.

“Arbiter Darkheart.”

Thanquil gave the man a half-hearted smile and waited for another peal of thunder to subside. “Dragon Herald. I assume it wasn’t the weather that brought you to this neck of the woods… or jungle,” he shouted over the sound of the downpour.

The current Dragon Herald was a man called Travine and he was the one man in all the empire who could command the princes with the empress’ voice. He was a hero of no small regard having quashed a rebellion back in his youth and was essentially the supreme commander of the combined forces of the empire. Though he was no prince and therefore had no dragon of his own it was not unheard of for him to borrow a prince’s dragon when the need arose. His current mount was a beast with green eyes and silver scales that glittered in the muted light.

“The empress commands your attendance,” the Dragon Herald shouted in a clipped tone.

Thanquil stood in the mud and pouring rain and found himself lost for words. “I… um… can’t. Not right now. She’s, uh, a very long way away and I have business here.”

The Dragon Herald looked Thanquil up and down and then turned to Naarsk’s dragon, seemingly noticing for the first time that the beast had been trying to eat the Arbiter. “What is happening here?”

Naarsk walked forwards through the rain, his wife and child behind him. “He is trying to kill my wife,” the prince shouted and his statement was punctuated by another blast of thunder.

The Dragon Herald turned to Thanquil who simply shrugged. “She’s a witch.” Lightening streaked across the sky.

The Herald turned back to Naarsk. “It is his right.”

Naarsk’s jaw clenched so hard Thanquil thought his teeth were sure to snap. “She is my wife,” he screamed.

The Dragon Herald stepped toward Naarsk and backhanded the prince across the face in an almost casual motion. “The empress herself gives the Inquisition right to operate in the empire. Would you disobey her, Prince Naarsk?”

Thanquil felt the balance of power shift as the prince lowered his head in resignation. He allowed himself a smile of victory and stepped forward.

“Then it is settled,” the Dragon Herald shouted, turning to Thanquil. “You will come with me to Soromo to attend the empress. Afterwards you may return to carry out your judgement.”

“No!” Thanquil said, the smile slipping from his face. “I will carry out my judgement now. Whatever your empress wants can wait until I am finished. I’m sure it won’t take too long to fight my way through both dragon and prince to the witch and besides, Soromo is many weeks travel away. What harm could another day do.”

The soaked Dragon Herald positioned himself between Thanquil and the witch. “My empress commands your presence, Arbiter,” he shouted in Thanquil’s face. “For the trial of Jezzet Vel’urn.”

“What?” Thanquil asked without thinking. The question was too broad, too unfocused and the Dragon Herald merely shook his head and grunted as though shaking off a dizzy spell.

“Do not use your magic on me again, Arbiter,” the Dragon Herald warned in a thick voice that stemmed the next question before it formed. “You will come with me to Soromo now.” He gripped hold of Thanquil’s arm and began dragging him away. Before Thanquil knew what was happening he found himself standing before the great silver dragon the Herald had arrived upon. The beast was as large as a house and regarded him with calm, intelligent eyes. “Climb on,” the Herald ordered.

Thanquil looked up at the big winged lizard with something akin to fear but a peal of thunder drowned out his curse.

Part 2 – Law and Order

Jezzet

The city of Soromo, capital of the Dragon Empire, was a city like no other Jezzet Vel’urn had ever seen. Built upon the Emerald Sea, a lake in the mainland of the empire so large it was impossible to see from any one shore to the opposite no matter how clear the day, Soromo half-floated and was half-supported by giant stone pillars that ran deep below the turquoise water to the rocky bed below. That was the true marvel of Soromo, Jez decided; it was a city as large as any other she had been to but it was a floating city.

It had taken her months to get accustomed to the strange sensation of living on what felt to her like a city-sized boat. Even the Empress’ palace and the richer districts built upon the stone pillars had a distinctive rise and fall when the waters were at their most turbulent. Jezzet had once asked how such a thing was possible and it had been explained to her that the pillars were actually formed from a strong inner core of hard, unyielding rock and thousands upon thousands of giant, buoyant stone rings, the city rested upon those rings and, as such, had a certain amount of leeway to cope with the waves of the Emerald Sea. Who had designed such a thing and then who had subsequently built it was a question that left Jez’s head spinning.

To say Jezzet was in awe of the city’s architecture would be a gross understatement but as she knew no other word to describe her amazement she settled with awe and simply tried not to think about it.

The poorer districts of Soromo were no less wondrous. Built upon monstrously large wooden rafts multiple layers thick and treated to withstand the rigours of age and rot, the poorer districts were lashed together and secured by giant walkways that stretched out over open water and connected each district to its neighbours. These districts were built lower, able to carry less weight than their stone counterparts and surrounded the richer districts in concentric circles growing ever smaller as they spread outwards.

Giant bridges of wood or stone able to support a host of people and all at least four carts abreast connected the separate districts allowing an easy, if a little constricted, method of travel. Boats were the other frequent method of travel: from small, passenger-laden gondolas to the larger pleasure barges to heavy cargo boats sitting low in the calm waters, wallowing from destination to destination. Boats were the key to transport in Soromo and they were heavily taxed by greedy officials eager to secure their own advancement by pulling in more money than their peers. Boats were also the key to many a merchant’s wealth and where there were merchants there was competition and where there was competition there was work for people like Jez.

Of course Jezzet knew she didn’t need to work, the money Thanquil had left her was more than enough to sustain her for many months and many more but it was the Inquisition’s money and Jez didn’t like being beholden to anyone, least of all the same damned organisation that held Thanquil so tightly by the stones. There was ever work for folk with her particular skill set and especially so for folk willing to use those skills without scruples and scruples were something Jez had abandoned long ago. So it was that she found herself working, and not for the first times, for a fat merchant by the name of Gok.

Guards were not strictly necessary on the cargo boats but then if merchant Gok was paranoid enough to hire guards as experienced as Jezzet Vel’urn, and she was not the only veteran on duty, then she supposed his cargo must be valuable indeed. Either way she was not of a mind to argue with her employer’s decision.

A small, heavily-laden fishing skiff floated by at a leisurely pace. The fisher, a thin man baked dark brown by the sun, stared at Jez in open wonder even after she returned his gaze. She assessed his threat level in an instant and put it at non-existent before going back to scanning the jade-coloured waters ahead of them.

“You cut a damned imposing figure up front like that, Vel’urn,” said Sally from behind. Big and brutish with a neck as thick as one of Jez’s thighs Sally never stopped smiling. He claimed to be Five Kingdoms born and bred and she could well believe it. Jez hadn’t spent long in the Five Kingdoms but she had seen how large the northerners grew over there and he certainly spoke like a Five Kingdomer, always referring to people by their family names.

“Kind of the point ain’t it, Sal,” Jez said without turning to look at the big man. “Better to scare them off than fight them.”

Sally chuckled. “Not sure I agree with that.”

Me either, Jezzet thought.

She glanced down at herself then and smiled. Sally was right about one thing and no mistake; she did make for an imposing figure with her right foot on the stumpy railing that surrounded the barge.

Jezzet no longer wore leathers, long since having decided the merciless sun in the Dragon Empire was too hot and, as Thanquil had pointed out on multiple occasions, she didn’t need the protection. Instead Jez wore a set of flexible lightweight boots laced firmly around her ankles and calves, a simple pair of brown, cotton trousers than ended just below her knees and a bone-coloured linen shirt left sleeveless to bare her arms. Over it all she wore a light tabard dyed a dark, royal-blue that stretched from neck to calf on the front and back while being open at the sides. She belted the tabard at her waist with a red sash. The cloth merchant who had sold Jez the tabard had asked for her crest but she had been forced to admit she didn’t know it. The Vel’urn name was not truly hers but had belonged to her old master, she had decided to take the name after killing the old bastard to complete her Blademaster training. Jezzet completed her attire by tying her jet-black hair into a small tail with a red strip of cloth the same colour as her sash. It was rare she let her hair grow long enough that it needed tying back but recently she had been feeling the need for a change so she had allowed it to grow unmolested.

Jezzet also carried her swords. She never felt complete without a blade at her side and these days she carried three. Her long sword, as always, was sheathed by her hip on her left side. She could wield the weapon as skilfully in either hand but drawing steel with her right felt as natural as drawing breath. Along her belt at her back she kept sheathed dual short swords. Slim and razor sharp she could draw both blades in an instant and Jez was more than comfortable dual wielding.

Given everything Jezzet had no doubt she cut an imposing figure. Even as slim and beautiful as she was no one would mistake the danger inherent in her poise, her posture and her attitude. Though she might never admit it Jez took great pride in her appearance and she liked to appear dangerous.

Another small vessel, this one a gondola carrying a couple bearing the marks of high birth down their arms, Jezzet had never been bothered to learn which tattoos denoted loyalty to which house, passed by the cargo barge. The gondolier pushed against the larger boat with a long pole to stop the two craft from bumping into each other and they passed without incident.

Jezzet stifled a yawn.

“Fancy a drink, Vel’urn?” Sally asked.

She turned to find he had set up a small, square table on the crowded deck. Sal dwarfed his tiny chair, while Lei, the wiry, scarred veteran who barely said a word on a good day, dealt out cards. Jaeryn, the ever amiable leader of the little guard crew sauntered into view from behind a stack of securely lashed crates and sat at the table before motioning for Jez to join them. With a shrug she left her post at the bow and lounged in the one remaining chair. Sal grinned and passed her a frothy mug of something brown and alcoholic. Jez gulped down a mouthful without ceremony much to the big northerner’s obvious amusement.

“In for a hand, Jezzet?” Jaeryn asked indicating the cards.

Jez snorted. “Not after last time, lost half a job’s pay to that blatant cheat.” Lei simply shrugged in response so she continued. “Shouldn’t one of us be watching out at least?”

“Captain will warn us before anyone gets close to board,” Jaeryn replied in his frustratingly nonchalant tone. “Besides, there’s no one will try for us this evening. Sun is long past waning, all the respectable pirates are abed resting up for a night full of debauchery.”

Jez cocked an eyebrow. “What about all the unrespectable pirates?”

Again Lei shrugged but it was Jaeryn who spoke. “Cei am, cha am.”

Sally snorted and Jez spat over the side of the barge. It was a popular saying in Soromo and it meant: what will be, will be but Jez was never one to leave things to fate or the whim of the Gods.

Somewhere high above a dragon let out a thunderous roar to announce its arrival. Sally jumped and commenced a wide-eyed staring into the sky but none of the others so much as acknowledged the noise. Lei and Jaeryn were native to Soromo and had grown up with dragons roaming the skies, Jez on the other hand was simply used to the monstrous beasts. A side effect of being a regular in the Dragon Empress’ court was that she had seen many dragons including the current matriarch and mother of them all.

“What’s she like?” Sally asked after he was well and truly certain the dragon was now about to snatch the barge from the water and give its occupants the chewing of a lifetime.

“Huh?”

“The Empress. I hear she’s a wonder, her beauty only being matched by her temper.”

Jez shrugged. All the members of the little guard crew knew of her regular access and enforced attendance to the Dragon Empress’ court and it was a fact they took great pride in; not many crews could claim such a thing nor could they claim they had one of the few remaining Blademasters in the world working for them. It gave the crew no small amount of renown and that, along with a reputation for getting the job done, kept them well supplied with work.

“I suppose she’s pretty,” Jez replied at length, “very symmetrical but I reckon I’ve seen prettier. It ain’t her you want to worry about when a dark mood takes her though, it’s that bloody dragon of hers. I’ve seen some things,” like a man coming back from the dead after I put a dagger through his heart, “but when a winged lizard the size of a house gets angry it’s not something you want directed your way.”

“Thought all Blademasters were fearless,” Jaeryn said with a toothy grin. Jez liked the little man but he wore altogether too much make-up around his eyes. Too much being any at all.

“Only folk who are fearless are the foolish and the dead. Blademasters just know how to conquer fear, how to use it and not be ruled by it.”

Lei made a derogatory motion with his hand and the others laughed. Jez leaned forward just a little and gave him a hard stare, her dark brown eyes boring into his jade greens.

“Would you like me to give you a demonstration?”

Lei coughed into his hands and decided his cards were more interesting, the others laughed again and this time Jezzet joined in.

There weren’t many folk willing to challenge Jez these days. Even those who didn’t know of her skill with a sword sensed something about her that made them pause and think twice. Thanquil said it was all in the way she carried herself these days, something about projecting an air of danger. He said she was a different woman after Sarth last year, after killing Arbiter Kosh, and it was true to a point. Jez had completed her Blademaster training many years ago but it wasn’t until Sarth that she had truly embraced the teachings.

“So you in, Vel’urn?” Sally asked bringing her out of her reverie. She looked up to find Lei giving the deck an enthusiastic shuffle and nodded her assent.

A few moments later she had a hand of cards and a few moments after that she found herself a couple of lats worse off. Lei proceeded to rob her of a fair portion of her remaining money in a way that convinced her he was somehow cheating but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out how.

Thanquil would know. He’d be robbing Lei right back. It was true too; Thanquil had always been infuriatingly vague about how he’d learned to steal but there was more than a little thief in the Arbiter and, despite his maddening silence on the matter, it was one of the things Jez liked about him.

Eventually the barge captain called out their arrival and the cargo boat bumped against one of the small wooden jetties that protruded into the waterway. Jez was the first ashore, already having lost more than enough lats.

Their destination appeared to be a small strip of wooden raft that had once been used for public events; maybe announcements or executions, proclamations or auctions but as the city of Soromo had grown it left small areas like these, too small for any useful establishment and usually not very well travelled, behind to become run down relics of a time when the capital was a smaller place. Areas such as these were well known to Soromo’s seedy underbelly and were well used by the criminal class. It gave Jezzet a moment’s pause to wonder just what they were transporting but then the truth was she didn’t really care so long as she was paid. It wouldn’t be the first, nor the last illegal job she took part in.

The buyer was already waiting for them with a crew of his own. He was clearly merchant class though he couldn’t look more different from Jez’s employer. This one was thin where her employer was fat, angular where he was soft and had a hook nose with an ornate pair of glass spectacles perching atop it. His clothing, however, could not have been more similar. He wore a thick woollen dress buttoned first left, then right over the top and thin hat that ran like a crest from his forehead to his crown. He looked like a man who wielded numbers as a warrior wields a sword. He sneered at Jez as she stepped onto the platform and she returned the disrespect in kind.

The buyer’s crew were not so disrespectful, after all, Jezzet Vel’urn had a reputation in Soromo and it was one that most of their kind knew of and knew not to mess with.

Sally was next off the barge and commanded almost as much respect as Jez though for a different reason. It wasn’t that Sal wasn’t formidable but by his sheer size most folk in the Dragon Empire were awed by him. They tended to be a smaller people; stout but short. Some of them even made Jez feel tall.

Lei and Jaeryn stepped off the barge together, Lei as silent as the grave and Jaeryn all smiles and open-armed greetings. The leader of the other crew responded in kind, it seemed to Jez the two knew each other but there was no way to be certain.

After Jaeryn felt certain there was no trap or signs of double cross he gave a sharp whistle by putting two fingers in his mouth and blowing hard. A moment later Jezzet’s employer stepped out from the hold and waddled to the side of the barge. Sal moved to help the mountain of fat from the boat to the platform but even the giant Five Kingdomer wasn’t enough to stop the fat merchant from puffing and wheezing as he leapt across the little gap Jez rolled her eyes at the spectacle and Lei gave her a confidante’s grin.

“Arai,” Gok said with a bow to the other merchant that set his chins to wobbling.

“Arai,” the thin merchant replied with an identical bow.

Jezzet turned her attention to the other crew, she had long since learned there was no point in listening to the merchants of Soromo, they spoke in a language apart from the rest of the world and known only to each other. All haggling and deal brokering was spoken in such and therefore excluding all others.

The other crew was made up of ten men in all and not a single woman though that was not overtly surprising. In the more rural areas of the Dragon Empire Thanquil assured Jez that women took a more active role in society but in the cities and especially in Soromo women seemed almost like ornaments to hang on men’s arms. It both angered, disgusted and confused Jezzet. The Dragon Empire was ruled exclusively by women and had been since its founding; an unbroken line of Empresses dating back further than Jez could be bothered to think about.

Perhaps that’s why the current Empress is so damned fascinated by you, Jez. You’re the only woman in this whole bloody empire, other than her, that doesn’t just lie down and spread their legs on command.

One of the members of the other crew winked at her and waggled his tongue between his fat, worm-like lips. Jezzet snorted and spat and the man adopted a mean look that almost had Jez creasing up with laughter.

The haggling went on for what seemed to Jez like an eternity. Rich men arguing about who’s richer like the numbers have purpose. Who’s stronger; the person with a coin or the person with a sword?

Jez sighed and settled into an evening of a guard’s most laborious of pastimes: waiting. After near an hour of constant chatter back and forth the two merchants finally struck a deal and each produced a small grey slate from their robes where they proceeded to scratch the terms of their deal and sign it before exchanging slates.

The thin merchant and his crew of ten piled onto the boat Jez had arrived on and the captain pushed them back into the waterway. Within minutes they were a slowly receding outline floating away as the light faded. Gok then led his own crew to the boat the other merchant had arrived in, a large skiff able to sit twenty. The fat man climbed aboard and took a seat at the front, waiting for his hired crew to follow him and take up the oars.

“Think we get paid extra for the rowing?” Jezzet asked with a wink. Gok ignored her, as was his way, but the others laughed as they set to the oars and pushed away from the clandestine meeting spot.

Jezzet

“Once, just once,” Sally said as he crossed his legs and tried to edge his knees under the table, “I’d like there to be some sort of action. Feels like a couple of ages since anyone kicked up any sort of trouble.” His big knees bumped the side of the little table and he gave up, instead turning sideways and relaxing back onto his elbows.

Jez knelt down in the traditional Dragon Empire style and slotted her own knees easily underneath the table. She had been to taverns all over the known world but nowhere did drinking holes quite so differently as Soromo. Instead of the common room seen most places Soromo’s taverns were large collections of rooms separated from each other by thin screens of wood and paper. Customers were given their own rooms and rarely, if ever, saw another customer. Perhaps because of this is it was almost unheard of for tavern brawls in Soromo to take place. Each room contained a table perching roughly a foot off the floor and a number of chairs which in truth were little more than gaudily-coloured mats with wooden backs. It was considered an insult to the establishment to sit at the table without first placing both weapons, shoes, gloves and hats at the entrance to the room. It was also considered an insult for the establishment for a woman to sit at the table but then not many places argued with Jezzet over that insult twice.

It was Jaeryn’s own personal tradition to take his crew to one of Soromo’s taverns after every completed job. As the boss he pulled in a substantially larger cut than his crew mates and was more than happy, much to Jez’s approval, to treat his crew to a meal and a couple of drinks out of that cut. Rarely had she met a boss so generous or amiable as Jaeryn.

This particular tavern was named Yaname and Jezzet neither knew, nor cared what it meant but it was one she had not frequented before with, or without the little guard crew and she already knew what was undoubtedly to come.

The waitress entered the little screened room and stopped in her tracks. Jezzet looked up at her. Like all the serving girls in Soromo she wore a large woollen dress that engulfed her, hiding her figure save for her head, hands and slippered feet. Her face was covered by a plain white, ceramic, featureless mask with two slits for her eyes and an even thinner but longer slit for her mouth. By some trick of the light neither the serving girl’s lips, nor eyes could be seen beneath the mask and it was something that was done by design.

If neither her figure nor her features can be seen by the men she’s serving they won’t even think of her as a woman, nor as a person. Truly what a wonderful city this is.

The serving girl’s hair, almost as black as Jezzet’s own, hung down to her shoulders and served to frame the mask; it shook a little as she babbled something in a language Jez didn’t know before turning and rushing from the room. Yet another injustice done to the women of Soromo was that they were forbidden from learning the common tongue, at least not those of common birth, and therefore could not communicate with outsiders.

Lei chuckled and took out a smoking pipe, packed it with dried leaf and lit it from the single candle in the centre of the table. Jaeryn spread his hands wide with a resigned smile and reached into his jacket for a din, a wooden chip that served as money in the Dragon Empire and was worth more than the common lat.

“Every time,” Jez said with a sigh and a shake of her head.

Jaeryn nodded. “Costs about as much just to let you drink in these places as it does to feed you all for a night.”

“Don’t pay then,” Jez replied casually. “I’ll teach them not to be so disrespectful.”

Jaeryn snorted. “You’d bring the damned guard down upon us. Might be alright for you given how taken the empress is with you but us… we’d be executed for disturbing the peace.”

Jezzet nodded, public executions were not uncommon in Soromo for all manner of crimes and disturbing the peace was certainly one of them. Barbaric as blanket capital punishment was it did tend to bring crime levels down. Or just forces the criminal class to work smarter and be more discreet.

A tall man wearing robes that identified him as the owner walked through the door and pointed at Jezzet. “Out,” he ordered with bulging eyes.

Jez turned her head and gave the owner a dark smile that made him step back in fright but Jaeryn was already up and placating the foolish man. A few calming words and a din later and the owner grunted his approval at Jezzet staying. She applauded him as he left the room but he ignored her.

A few minutes later the serving girl reappeared. Some people might have thought it a different girl but Jezzet could tell it was the same one. She noticed it in the way the woman walked, and the minute head twitches Jez’s way. The women of Soromo always found her fascinating and given the way that they were treated she wasn’t at all surprised.

They ordered some food and something to drink and the all the while the serving girl said nothing, only bobbing her head enthusiastically. Jezzet watched her and shook her head. “The way you people treat women is disgusting,” she said accusingly at Jaeryn and Lei.

Lei smiled and shrugged but Jaeryn laughed. “Me people or my people? I myself allow my wife all the comforts and rights she deserves. Unfortunately she refuses to allow herself those same rights I wish to give her.” Jezzet snorted but Jaeryn forged on. “It’s true. An unfortunate consequence of the culture we live in is our women truly believe they are less than the men.”

“They are,” Lei said speaking for the first time that day and, judging by experience, probably his only time that day.

Jez stared a burning hole through Lei but he simply shrugged and ignored her.

“I personally,” Jaeryn continued, “do not believe this to be a fair derision. The way we relegate women to menial duties only, the objectification exhibited by most men including my silent friend here. All wrong, in my mind at least, but then what am I to do? I am a simple man of simple means. I work to support my family. I am no revolutionary.”

“Why not?” Jez pushed. “Take a stand, make a difference if you truly believe what you just spewed up.”

Jaeryn laughed and shook his head. “Simple man. Besides I’ll wager you’re doing more than I ever could just by being you in this fair city of ours.”

Jez snorted. She felt like spitting but doing so in Soromo was considered rude especially when indoors.

“Oh you don’t believe me? But it’s true. You spread dissension by your very act of being, Jezzet Vel’urn. The women envy your freedom and your strength while the men they realise they want something more than the meek shadows that are sold to them as wives.

“The day you and your Arbiter arrived you had the whole city in an uproar.”

“He tends to do that wherever he goes,” Jezzet said.

“Not him, you. Some of the high-born, men from clans Seisei, Rolyn and Reika petitioned the empress to have you killed. When she refused they begged her to banish you. When she refused again they argued. She had each man’s first born son executed to show them she would brook no more argument.”

How very merciful. The empress is as bad as her people. Jez thought about it for a moment. Actually she’s worse.

“Even now there are people who are afraid of the way you influence her at court,” Jaeryn continued. “You are a bottled storm, Jezzet Vel’urn. Wherever you tread turbulence and change follow. Be careful, there are elements in this city that will stop at nothing to see you gone.”

Jez grinned. “Let them try, I’ll personally show them that storm.”

Jaeryn shook his head, his face dropping. “They will not come at you directly; they won’t risk the empress’ wrath.”

“You seem to know a lot about this, Jae,” Jezzet said.

He shook his head. “Just a man with his eyes open. As I’ve already said, I just want to feed my family, I’ve no intention of joining a revolution.”

“And I’ve no intention of starting one,” Jez countered and for a while both stared at the other.

“I think this place could learn a thing or two from the Five Kingdoms,” Sally said as he took the sour-wine bottle from the serving girl. “Back in my hometown of Kitswald the women are even tougher than the men. They look after the kids and the house, make the town decisions, even take up arms with the men when it’s needed.

“I remember one time my father came back near gutted by a wild boar. He killed the beastie good and proper but it damn near stuck one of its tusks through his belly. He dragged the thing home and collapsed on the ground just outside our cottage. My mother found him, cleaned him up and tended to his wounds, skinned the boar and cooked it and then spent the next few weeks doing his job as well as hers all the while stopping me and my sisters from killing each other.” Sally grinned. “They were good times.”

Never really knew your mother, Jez, or your father. They had tried to sell her to a pleasure house at the age of nine years. Only the timely intervention by one of the brothel’s regular patrons had saved Jez from the life of a whore. Lucky for me that patron turned out to be a Blademaster.

For a long time after her parents had sold her Jez was furious at them. She was young but not too young to understand what they had tried to do and what she had been saved from. Back then she hadn’t realised what was to come but her master, Yuri Vel’urn soon made it clear. On her first night as his new apprentice Jezzet had lost her virginity. He was not rough but then he wasn’t gentle either, at nine years old it was a terrifying experience for her and that night she cried herself to sleep. Cried yourself to sleep the first month, if I remember right, Jez.

The next morning Yuri started Jez out with small tasks designed to test her, make sure she had what it took to be a Blademaster. Physical ability could be earned through hard work, skill could be taught, although Yuri always preached Blademasters were born not chosen, but there was a particular mind set required to complete the training and he tested Jezzet to make sure she had it.

At first he set her menial tasks and far too many than she could realistically complete in one day. The tasks were designed to drive her to exhaustion both physically and mentally and then push her past those barriers. The master needed to know his apprentice had the drive to keep going beyond her limits. More than once Jezzet had returned to their home too tired to think or feel, sometimes she was literally asleep on her feet and she knew for a fact Yuri had occasionally used her body for his own pleasure after she had passed out from the day’s grind.

After he was certain his apprentice wouldn’t give up or complain about the workload Yuri tested her ability to learn. He gave her tomes of history to read, dull, dry literature that had her yawning so often she thought it would be easier simply to keep her mouth open. At night, after he had had his fun Yuri would quiz her on what she had learned, making sure to focus on the details. There was the physical learning too; he would show Jez a dance just once then leave for the day, she never knew where. When he returned he would order her to recite the dance perfectly.

Those were the easy tasks, the ones she never got wrong. After just three months of testing her Yuri Vel’urn decided Jezzet might just have what it took to be his apprentice. Her training followed and it pushed her to the edge of death more times than she could count. There was even that one time he actually killed you, Jez.

“Mind if I join you?” Came a voice from the doorway behind Jezzet. It was a voice she wished she didn’t recognise.

“I do mind,” said Jaeryn, his voice devoid of its usual smile. “This happens to be a private gathering, friend.”

You should probably say something before he gets himself killed. “Hello, Drake,” she said without turning to look at the pirate captain. She did however take great pleasure in watching the colour drain from Jaeryn’s face.

“Y-you’re Drake Morrass?” asked Jaeryn.

“I am,” replied Drake. Jez could tell he was smiling even without looking. “And you’re Jaeryn Ito.”

Jez wouldn’t have said it was possible but Jaeryn somehow managed to pale even further. “You know my name?”

“I know everyone’s name. Evening, Jezzet.”

Jez waved a hand over her shoulder in greeting and reached for a meat dumpling, popping it into her mouth without ceremony and chewing loudly.

“Such manners,” Drake purred. “No wonder my empress is so taken with you.”

“Reckon she’s a little more taken with you. At least I’d hope so,” Jez snorted out a laugh but none of the others joined in, they were far too busy being in awe and fear of the dreaded pirate standing behind her. It would take more than Drake Morrass to make Jezzet Vel’urn wet with either.

“Mind if I join you then?” Drake asked as he sat down.

“Yes,” Jezzet replied around the dumpling in her mouth, still not sparing the pirate a glance.

“No, of course not,” Jaeryn spoke over the top of Jez and bowed his head. “It’s an honour to host such a prestigious member of the empress’ court.”

“Prestigious?” Drake asked with a laugh.

“Well you are fucking the bitch,” Jez said. “Personally I’d have gone with deceitful or sycophantic.”

“Not charming?”

Jezzet just aimed a level stare at Drake. The man was pretty and no mistake, with sharp features, rugged, weather-beaten skin, dark-oak hair and flashing eyes but Jezzet had seen prettier and she’d fucked prettier. She saw Drake Morrass for what he really was and it was anything but attractive.

“Guess not,” the pirate continued before turning to the rest of the little guard crew. “How about you boys go stand around outside for a while so I can have some one-on-one time with miss Vel’urn. As payment I’ll say the evening’s on me.”

Lei stood without hesitation but Sal and Jaeryn at least had the courtesy to look to Jez for permission. She favoured them with a genuine smile and nodded, it was well known to be unhealthy to deny one of Drake Morrass’ requests.

Jezzet picked up something that looked to have once been part of a fish, now wrapped in rice and held together by some culinary trickery, and popped it into her mouth while the others left the room. Drake sat down opposite her. It did not escape her notice he was still very much armed.

“What d’you want, Drake?” she asked around a mouthful of fishy-rice.

He smiled at her and for a moment Jezzet thought it might be genuine, then her common sense kicked in. “I want to be your friend, Jezzet Vel’urn.”

She gave him her very best blank stare and picked up the small bottle of dry, rice wine and, forgoing the use of the tiny, flat cups, took a healthy swig.

Drake laughed. “Fine. I want to be more than your friend.”

Well that at least sounded more honest. Jezzet thought while continuing her silent stare.

Drake picked up one of the other wine bottles, poured a thimble worth of liquid into one of the cups and sipped it.

“You and me, Jezzet, we’re very similar,” Drake started. Jezzet scoffed but the pirate continued regardless. “Do you really think you’re happy here in this place? When was the last time you fought someone? When was the last time you killed someone?” He fixed her with a dark stare from eyes that seemed to twinkle in the light. “You aren’t meant for such tedium, Jezzet. This inaction doesn’t suit you.” He took another sip then placed the cup back on the low table and leant back on his elbows. “And it doesn’t suit me either.”

Jezzet took another large swig from the bottle and gulped down the wine, it was stronger than she was used to and she could already feel the alcohol working its way through her system making her both more confident and less capable all at the same time.

“So what? We’re two peas in a pod?” she asked him in a mocking tone. “Perhaps we should just strip down right here and go at it on the table. Oh sure, it’s probably a social insult to the establishment but so is simply serving a woman so I think we could get away with it.”

Jez was ready to break the pirate should he actually try anything but Drake made no move, just sat there grinning at the Blademaster.

“It’s tempting, Jezzet, but I think I’ll have to decline.”

“It wasn’t meant as…”

“Besides, I had something far more interesting in mind.”

Once, Jezzet knew, she would have loved this sort of banter but these days it just frustrated her. “What do you want, Drake?” she asked again, far more seriously this time.

“Your services,” he said smiling through his stubble. “Your whole little crew’s services as well, I suppose, but mainly yours. I’ll talk to Jaeryn Ito outside but I wanted to ask you first.”

“What do you want?” Jezzet asked one last time, punctuating each word.

“I have a shipment of… items coming in five day’s time. Getting them through the city will be more than a little dangerous and I can guarantee at least one attempt to steal the shipment by force.”

“Why me? Us? Why not your own people?”

“My people are, hmm, recognisable as my people. I need my name unattached to this little venture…”

“Your name goes hand-in-hand with greed, corruption, violence, blood and more than a little sodomy. What could possibly be so bad that it would sully your good reputation?”

Drake winked at her. “Last I checked there was some necrophilia in there too. As for what the shipment is… better you don’t know.”

“So why…”

“Because I guarantee a fight,” Drake smiled. “A real fight.”

Say ‘no’, Jez. Morrass is as slippery as an eel and as dangerous as a shark. Not to mention responsible for even more death than you are.

“Sure,” she said with a grin that matched the pirate’s, “why not.”

Jezzet

“Empress Rei Chiyo,” the attendant shouted out to the court before scurrying away from the balcony as fast as his short legs would take him.

Such a dramatic entrance every time. I wonder if she’s as bored with it as the rest of us?

Jez didn’t even bother trying to hide the yawn. More than one of the city magistrates noticed so she decided to compound the insult by stretching out her arms. Even more of the men took notice, some leering openly, others stealing sly glances when they thought no one was watching. Drake Morrass stood on the other side of the hall grinning, his single gold tooth glinting at her.

When Jezzet had finished with her overt stretching she found most of the magistrates had looked away, either from disgust or just in an attempt to ignore her existence. One of them, a balding man Jez remembered as being called Hideo Rurin had not yet looked away but instead was staring at her with a hungry look on his face, more accurately, he was staring at her breasts. Jez had never been particularly well endowed in the chest area, a fact she was more than happy about, but her current attire made no attempts to hide her breasts and many of the men in Soromo seemed to take that as an invitation to give them the ogling of a lifetime. Jez stared back at Magistrate Rurin and waited for him to notice, when he finally managed to tear his eyes away from her chest and meet her gaze she winked at him. The magistrate went as red as his colouring would allow and quickly decided the floor was more interesting than Jezzet or her breasts.

Anyone would think they’d never seen a woman before.

There came the sound of giant, scaled wings beating the air and a rush of wind blew through the gathered court, stirring robes and blowing banners around. Jez’s tabard whipped against her shins and a few strands of hair broke free from their binding and settled over her face. Jezzet thought for just a moment about covering her face with a hand like some of the others but decided against it.

Let them see you don’t care, Jez. Let them think you don’t fear the giant flying lizard with all those teeth.

The dragon matriarch touched down heavily on the balcony, its muscled back legs absorbing the impact and its wings folding up quickly so it could fall forwards onto its front legs. The beast roared its own announcement directly into the court room and Jez found herself engulfed by a rotten, reptilian stink. She couldn’t help but crinkle her nose at the smell, an insult if anyone witnessed it but thankfully all eyes were on the dragon in front of them.

As the dragon lumbered into the hall it swept its gaze over the assembled court. The most powerful people in all Soromo all bowed their heads and lowered themselves to their knees. The only people in the hall left standing were the Dragon Knights, sworn to protect and exempt from the obeisance, Jezzet and Drake Morrass. The pirate captain winked towards Jezzet, ignoring the giant lizard. She rolled her eyes at him and then looked back towards the dragon only to find it watching her intently.

Jez couldn’t help but be impressed by the matriarch every time she saw it; half again as big as the male dragons, only one female dragon was hatched each generation and matriarch and empress ruled the empire together.

On the back of the Dragon Matriarch, in a saddle that seemed to be formed from the beast’s own scales, sat the Dragon Empress. Little more than a girl, the current empress, Rei Chiyo was the supreme ruler of the entire empire and even Jez had to admit, the little empress bore the weight of such responsibility easily.

Benefits of being born to rule, I suppose.

The Chiyo bloodline, if the historians were to be believed, had never been broken. Being bonded to the dragon matriarch gave the empresses unnatural long life, resistance to illness and the most dangerous bodyguard in the known world.

The court hall was monstrous in design to accommodate not just the matriarch but a number of smaller dragons each belonging to one of the empire’s Dragon Prince’s. Spacious, Jez decided, would be something of an understatement. A number of giant stone pillars, spaced far apart from each other, held up the roof which consisted of tempered glass, clear enough to allow in the sunlight but strong enough to withstand the pressure of the elements. A number of balconies, each able to land multiple dragons, graced the edges of the hall but none were so big as the matriarch’s landing balcony. In the centre of the hall, upon a slightly raised dais, sat the empress’ throne; a massive construction of worked dragon bone that was big enough to seat four of the current empress. It was said each Dragon Matriarch contributed a single bone to the throne and upon the bone was carved the names and deeds of the empress and her dragon.

On the dais, in his traditional place next to the throne, knelt the Dragon Herald. The man was almost as imposing as the matriarch in his dragon bone armour. Jez had heard many and more tales of his prowess in battle and the idea of fighting the man sent a thrill through her she couldn’t quite suppress. If it wasn’t for the problem that a duel between the two would end in one of their deaths Jezzet would happily have tested her mettle against the herald.

Fanning out in front of the throne were widely spaced cushions, one for each attending member of court. It was traditional for all members of the court to kneel in front of the empress and only stand when given express permission to address her directly. Not even the elderly or the crippled were exempt from such tradition and indeed neither were visitors to the court, Jezzet would have to take to her own cushion soon or risk arrest.

The matriarch stopped behind the dais and lowered its head, the young woman sat atop the beast slipped elegantly and fluidly to the floor. The moment the empress’ sandalled feet touched the carpet of the dais Jezzet saw Drake Morrass kneel upon his cushion. She did not follow his example.

Shorter than Jezzet and a good deal younger the Dragon Empress was barely more than a girl. The last empress had abdicated as soon as her daughter came of age for reasons unknown, leaving the Dragon Empire in the hands of a child. She had flawless skin, the perfect shade of olive, a slender figure with curves that were still developing, and luxurious dark hair that cascaded down her back, reaching all the way to her arse. The empress had recently taken to wearing a tabard in the same fashion as Jezzet but in a deep crimson colour, the same shade as the scales of her dragon. It showed off more of the little empress’ body than many in the court would have liked and they had not been quiet in their condemnation of Jez for so influencing their empress.

The empress immediately turned her pale green gaze to Drake Morrass and the barest hint of a smile touched her lips. It was no secret anywhere that the girl had chosen Drake as her lover and it was also no secret that the pirate had actively courted Rei Chiyo’s affection. There was no law against it and so long as she never bore his child her actions would never be openly criticized by the court as to do so would certainly mean the critic’s death.

The Dragon Empress stopped in front of her throne and let her gaze sweep over all her gathered courtiers. Other than the empress herself, Jez was the only one still standing, she would need to sit before the empress or it would be classed as a grave insult. Just what most of the magistrates want. The empress’ eyes met Jez’s and she gave a slight nod. Jezzet inclined her head in return and took to her cushion mere moments before the empress’ royal arse touched down on her throne.

It’s a shame you never learned to sleep with your eyes open, Jez. Now would be the perfect time. As was usual for such meetings of the empress and her magistrates the first order of business was to discuss matters of the city and of the empire, none of which concerned Jezzet in the slightest. She tried her best to faze out the inane chatter of the folk who ruled the empire by thinking of other things. Jez had to admit she was impressed by the empress’s fortitude over such matters; at seventeen years of age Jezzet wouldn’t have been able to sit through such boredom.

Eight years into her training and a good few years into becoming a woman, Jezzet had been as trying to her master as his training was to her. Her body was still changing and along with the physical training she found she was finally putting on some real muscle and she had the overconfidence associated with wild youth to want to put that new muscle to the test. She attempted to match strength with her ageing master at every opportunity which made it all the more frustrating that he refused to allow her any such opportunities. Only half way through her training Yuri outclassed Jezzet in every possible meaning of the word skill. He would feign going in for a test of strength only to twist, turn or parry at the last moment and Jez would find herself swinging steel at open air.

It was also around her seventeenth year that Yuri started cutting her. He said a Blademaster needed to know what it felt like to be injured, to be stabbed and cut so that they could learn to ignore the pain in battle. At first the wounds were irregular, shallow things designed to hurt like hell but leave little evidence after healing. Before long he was showing her the pain in every sparring lesson; different types of wound and different types of weapon and never in the same place. Jez’s chest and back were a field of scars and her legs and arms were little better but she had only the one on her face, a tiny snip of a scar underneath her right eye.

The old bastard wanted to keep you pretty, Jez. Didn’t want to fuck a girl he’d uglied up.

Jez still hated her scars, she wasn’t entirely sure why but she hated the idea of people looking at them. Wasn’t often she found herself self-conscious but when folk looked at her battle wounds she felt her skin crawl. These days she welcomed some of that attention though. She bared her arms on purpose to give folk a look, to show them she’d been through worse hell than them and had come out the other side still whole.

Magistrate Hideo Rurin was called upon to address the empress, the man was stern, with hawkish features and a long horseshoe of hair around his head. He was also the magistrate tasked with overseeing matters of trade between the Dragon Empire and the free city of Larkos, widely accepted to be the biggest and most profitable city in the known world. As the magistrate launched into a recounting of some recent trade agreement Jez couldn’t help but notice the empress’ gaze flicking towards Drake Morrass.

Jez herself remembered her own fascination with an older man when she was that age and it was not her old master; a fact Yuri came to realise and act jealously upon. As the Blademaster’s apprentice Jezzet had been sexually active since first being sold. Yuri had no scruples over age, nor willingness, nor even a young girl’s understanding of sex. He had used her body whenever it pleased him and did not even bother justifying it to her though at that age Jezzet had assumed it was payment for all he was teaching her.

There was another, an older man from the nearby city of Truridge though he looked little more than a boy himself. He had dirty hair that regularly flopped down across his face and wore bedraggled clothes that almost made him look a pauper though it was clear he wasn’t. Jezzet was regularly sent down to the Truridge market either to shop or to steal as part of her training. The young man was always there alone, always drinking a sour wine while watching the world go by.

He seemed so mysterious and dangerous back then, she remembered with a smile.

When Jez finally worked up the courage to talk to the man she discovered his name was Thom though she never learned what he did. It didn’t take long before they first fucked and for a week they were at it every day. Though younger than Thom, Jezzet taught him a thing or two. She’d almost convinced herself they were in love. Then Yuri found out.

He wasn’t the type to get angry, or at least he wasn’t the type to show it. With a bitter smile Jez remembered begging her old master not to do anything to Thom but she needn’t have bothered. Yuri went down to Truridge and found the man. After that Jezzet’s young lover wouldn’t speak to her, wouldn’t even acknowledge her, he would simply ignore her and walk away whenever she attempted to engage him.

Never found out when the old bastard said to Thom but whatever it was it did a damned good job of scaring him away.

Thinking of her old conquests inevitably brought Jez to thinking about Thanquil and with it came the dull ache in her chest she refused to acknowledge. She knew what it meant, why it was there; she missed the Arbiter. Missed him like she’d miss a part of herself. Their last words to each other had been shouted, a pointless argument that gained nothing for either of them.

He’ll always put that damned Inquisition first and you’ll never understand why, Jez. Better just to end it now before it goes any further. Another bitter thought and one she knew she’d never act on; it had already gone too far. She might have the courage to face down a hundred armed soldiers in battle but she knew she didn’t have the courage to leave Thanquil.

“Jezzet,” the empress’ voice snapped Jez out of her reverie. She realised, with no small amount of concern, that the entire court, including the giant, toothy lizard, were watching her. “Would you stay and talk a while?”

Jez smiled and inclined her head. “With pleasure, empress.”

“The rest of you will leave,” the empress said in a tone that left no one doubting it was an order.

Some of the magistrates made derogatory noises in Jez’s general direction as they pushed themselves to their feet and shuffled from the court. Hideo Rurin gave her a long, pointed stare down his beak of a nose but he wouldn’t say anything in front of the empress. The magistrate had been one of the most outspoken regarding Jez’s presence in court and had already lost his first born son due to his opinion displeasing the empress. He made no attempt to hide that he blamed Jez for his son’s execution.

Neither the Dragon Herald nor the Dragon Knights gave any hint of leaving, they would stay and protect their empress in case anything should happen. The only time the little empress was not under heavy guard was when she was in the sky with her dragon and then she was out of reach of even the most skilled assassin.

Drake Morrass waited until the last of the magistrates had shuffled from the hall before standing. He crossed the distance between himself and the dais in a few easy strides and boldly climbed it, leaning down and whispering something into the empress’ ear. The little woman giggled, kissed Drake and then waved him away. The pirate captain sketched a lazy bow more suitable to Sarth than the Dragon Empire and sauntered towards the exit, winking Jezzet’s way as he went. She snorted and shook her head but he paid her no mind, striding past her with his head held high and his boots clicking on the surface of the polished stone floor.

No sooner had the door closed behind Drake, the empress was on her feet. She rushed towards Jezzet and waved at her to stand.

“Up. Up. Please,” the little woman said with a broad smile, she took hold of Jez’s arm as if to lift her. “No need to be so formal now they’re all gone.”

Jez pushed onto her feet. She and the empress were almost of a height but Jezzet was lean and well-muscled where the other woman was slight and dainty. She looked too fragile to ride a dragon, let alone the largest of all the dragons, but Jez had seen the spectacle with her own two eyes and knew it to be truth. Still, she took no small amount of satisfaction in knowing she could snap the empress of the Dragon Empire like a twig.

Back by the dais the matriarch rumbled out a low growl. The Dragon Empress stopped and turned towards her dragon, cocking her head to the side a little, then she turned back to Jezzet.

“She senses danger from you,” the empress said with a girlish smile. “Do you mean me harm, Jezzet Vel’urn.”

Careful, Jez. Remember what Catherine used to say. The truth can be your shield but too much can make it your noose.

“Never that, empress,” Jez said holding up her hands in a placating manner. “I was simply wondering at how slight you seem today. It amazes me how you can ride that thing.”

Again the dragon let out a low growl but the beast was settled onto its back legs and didn’t seem to be in any mood to rush forwards and eat Jezzet, though she had no doubt the creature could. Jez had once seen the matriarch bite a horse clean in half. Only the serpents that lived in the deep sea could match such a feat and, unlike dragons, Jez had never seen one of those.

“She doesn’t like being called a thing,” the empress advised.

Jezzet looked over at the matriarch and bowed. “I apologise.”

“I told her she must have been mistaken,” the empress surged on, taking Jez by the arm and walking her towards the balcony. “But she said she sensed something from you, aggression maybe.”

“I promise you, empress…”

The little woman waved away Jez’s words. “She is immature still. She makes mistakes. Seventeen maybe young for a woman but for a dragon it is younger. Come.” She pulled Jez out onto the balcony and then shoved a small hand in front of her face. “Drake gave me a ring, isn’t it wonderful!”

Jez almost laughed at the wide smile on the empress’ face. “Does it bite?” she asked.

For a moment the smile dropped and the empress looked confused. “It is a ring, Jezzet Vel’urn. It could not bite.”

Powerful and naïve, such a dangerous combination.

The ring looked to be made of silver; two bands were interwoven, looping over each other again and again. Along each band something was written but it was in a language Jez did not understand.

She fingered her own ring; a plain wooden band on the third finger of her left hand. Thanquil had given it to her in order to resist the compulsion. It was a charm designed to fool an Arbiter into thinking Jez was telling the truth. He had given her the ring in Sarth, to dupe Arbiter Kosh. Jez had still never taken it off since.

“He’s handsome and kind and he knows just where to touch me,” the empress was saying.

The last thing Jez wanted to talk about was sex. Yet another reason to miss Thanquil. “Kind?” she said with a laugh. “Are we talking about the same Drake?”

Again the smile slipped from the empress’ face, she cocked her head and stared at Jez who got the distinct impression there was a conversation happening she was not privy to. “Do you miss him?” the empress asked as she turned and walked further onto the balcony.

Jez followed the little woman. “Do I miss Drake?”

The empress shook her head, from behind all Jez could see was the thick bind of hair trembling. “Arbiter Darkheart. I could order him back here. I could send one of the princes to find him. It would take no more than a week.”

“No. Thank you, empress,” Jez said. “He has a job to do…”

“But you don’t agree with it?”

“It is not the job I disagree with, more the employer.” Jez had to admit being so quizzed by the empress of the Dragon Empire was more than a little strange and she couldn’t help but notice the herald had followed them out onto the balcony. It was times like this she really hated being unarmed.

A Blademaster without a blade…

A growl floated out onto the balcony and Jez turned in time to see the matriarch lumber into view, its giant head and beady eyes peering out at her.

“You feel threatened,” the empress said.

Jez snorted. “Just don’t much like talking about it. Me and Thanquil… We argue about it. Don’t reckon it’s something I should discuss with others.”

Again the empress gave her a girlish smile, this time full of concern and sympathy. “Isn’t that what friends do? Talk about their problems. I miss Drake when he isn’t here. He sails off for months at a time doing… Whatever it is he does.”

“Pirating, I’d wager.”

“Yes I suppose so. I miss him when he’s not here.” She sighed. “Cei am, cha am.”

The matriarch lumbered out onto the balcony and towards the two women. Jez tried her best not to show any fear as the huge creature approaching but it paid her no heed either way . It stopped a few feet from them and lowered its head. Jezzet had never seen the beast so close before. Its head was as big as a carriage and each tooth the size of her arm. How such a thing could fly was beyond her. How the little woman standing next to her had the courage to ride it was something entirely different. A low keening sound escaped the dragon’s mouth and the empress nodded.

“Would you like to eat?” the empress asked, her attention back on Jezzet again.

Jez shrugged. “Where I grew up you never passed up the offer of a meal.”

“I’d like to hear about it. Where you grew up. I’ve seen much of my empire from the sky but you must have seen all sorts of things. Drake tells me stories; tales of evil places full of violence and blood and sex. He tells me of a vile race of creatures called the Drurr and a land where the dead walk. He tells me of giant sea creatures that dwarf even my dragon and wars fought with thousands upon thousands of men.

“He promises there are glades in the deepest southern forests where ancient spirits take the form of people and entice humans, convincing them to give their lives to the spirits willingly. I’ve heard him tell of a city built all of white stone that shimmers in the sunlight, of demons that can steal a man’s soul and of Gods that walk the earth.”

The empress smiled and looked away. “I’m never certain how much I should believe. Will you tell me your stories?”

Jezzet suppressed a sigh. There best be wine to go with that meal. “Of course, empress.”

Jezzet

“You knew the Black Thorn?” Sally asked, his eyes wide in his freakishly large, and disturbingly round, face. After hearing that Jezzet had spent a full day entertaining the empress with stories the big soldier had demanded to hear each one she told. He had accepted most of Jez’s stories of sex, violence and miraculous escapes with a stoic and repetitive nodding but the moment she mentioned Thorn, Sal’s jaw dropped.

“I did.”

“Did you… you know…”

“Fuck him?” Jez snorted. “No.”

“What was he like? Before…”

“Before he died? Harsh. Harsh and violent. Fun. Loyal to a fault though the bastard always tried to hide that. He wasn’t nearly so bad as all the stories made him out to be but he also wasn’t someone you would want to be on the wrong side of.”

“Was a bad day when I heard he died. Like being told Trolls don’t exist, some of the magic gone out of the world.”

For you maybe, for me it was like losing one of my friends. Don’t have that many left.

She let Sal keep talking while she once again tried to reconcile the two versions of the empress she had come to know. When alone with Jezzet, Rei Chiyo was much like any pampered young woman. She was full of restless energy and eager, even desperate at times, to share her new experiences with her new friend. More than once Jezzet had to sit silent and politely listen to some of the things the empress and Drake did to each other in private. While not a single one of those things was enough to make Jez blush that did not mean she wanted to hear about them from the seventeen year old ruler of the largest empire in the world.

And that’s the other version of Rei Chiyo; the Dragon Empress.

While Jez had seen the empress bounce up and down, giddy from explaining the virtues of Drake Morrass’ smile, she had also seen the empress order the execution of her own people as if they weren’t people. One of the magistrates had come to court begging the empress’ permission to find another wife because his own had looked at a servant in such a way that had made him jealous. The empress had ordered the deaths of both the magistrate’s wife and the servant and had granted the vindicated man permission to remarry and, if he should choose, disinherit all of his current children.

That the little woman could be so callous one minute and so vibrant the next not only scared Jezzet but angered her almost to the point of violence.

A fitting end to Jezzet Vel’urn; slain after brutally murdering the Dragon Empress in front of her own dragon. Reckon I’d make a few history books.

Of course the giant flying gecko was her other worry. The beast had a worrying ability to read Jez’s mind, or at least sense her feelings when around the empress.

There was a time when you wanted to come to this bloody kingdom to see a dragon, Jez. Well now you’ve seen one, up close and far too fucking personal and I’ve decided well and good; I don’t like dragons.

“Strut shift is coming,” Lei said, his first words all day.

“It worries me how you can sense the shifts, Lei,” said Jaeryn as he planted his feet and waited.

Jez looked at Sal. Sal looked right back and shrugged. They were both sat on a couple of crates and were about as stable as they were ever likely to be but that didn’t mean a damned thing when a strut shift was coming and Lei had proven time and again he was never wrong about such things.

“Gonna be a bad one, Lei?” Jez asked the thin Soromo native. He shrugged in reply but the smirk on his face told Jezzet he knew more than he was letting on.

Jez didn’t fully understand why the strut shifts occurred, something to do with forces far beyond her own imagination, she reckoned, but she knew what they were. From time to time the buoyant stone rings that kept Soromo afloat moved. Some of the rings would float a bit higher, taking less of the city’s weight, whereas others would sink under the newly distributed pressure.

With results ranging from disorientating to ‘Oh shit, why am I on my arse and what’s that heavy thing about to crush me.’

They all waited. And waited. And waited. Just when Jez had decided Lei was finally wrong it happened and the city gave a lurch.

There was a reason the city of Soromo was built as it was, essentially hundreds of islands of wood and stone all lashed together. If it had been built as one massive island it would snap and collapse under the strain of its own weight when the first shift hit. The island they were currently on was in a harbour district and built long and low but even so Jez could see things shift and heard the crash of unsecured items experiencing the thrill of gravity. Some of the other areas of the city had a far more pronounced experience with entire buildings taking on distinct leans and the odd scream punctuating the crisp night air and sending roosting birds scattering into the sky.

Jez, ever nimble and more graceful than a shark in water accepted the new tilt to the world with fluid ease. Sal was not so lucky. It was only the big man’s second strut shift and his first was barely noticeable. This one sent him tumbling from his crate to the wooden floor and he almost tumbled into the waterway. It would have been an easy thing to laugh at his misfortune and once she might have but Jezzet wasn’t the same person any more. She braved the still rocking deck beneath her and stood, extending a hand to help Sally regain his feet. Lei joined her and together they pulled him up.

Waves lapped noisily against the side of the harbour as the shift in weight from the city displaced water on an epic scale that Jez didn’t even want to think about. Turbulent water worried her almost as much as deep water and here the stuff was both. Not that Jez let fear rule her life these days but that didn’t mean she wanted to take unnecessary risks and deep, turbulent water seemed like the very definition.

“They’re late,” said Jaeryn, apparently un-fazed by the recent realigning of the city. “If they don’t deliver, Drake can’t blame us can he?”

It took Jez a moment to realise that Jaeryn was asking her. She shrugged. “They’ll be here, Jae. People don’t tend to survive pissing off Drake Morrass and not delivering his cargo would be a good way to do just that.”

“Sure, sure. It’s just it’s good pay, really good. Maybe even enough to… you know, move up a class. Get my family, get us all out of the Breakers.”

The Breakers was the nickname given to the very outskirts of the city of Soromo. Those districts tended to be newer and less-well maintained. The ravages of the Emerald Sea and its accompanying elements were worst out in the breakers and it was not unheard of for people, especially children, to go missing, either from falling into the waters never to be seen again, stolen by one of the beasts that called the sea its home and only came up from the depths to feed, or even the occasional kidnapping.

Slavery is only illegal if you get caught, Jez mused to herself. And children fetch a high price. Easier to train to be docile.

Jaeryn had latched onto the idea of working for Drake, dreaming he could secure himself some more permanent work in Soromo, work that would pay better. The man wanted the best for his family and though Jezzet could understand she was not so certain that working for Drake Morrass was the way to achieve his goal.

“Is that them?” Sal asked, pointing a finger towards the open water. He looked far from comfortable with the way the city was still rocking.

It was a wide boat, low and heavy in the water and rowed by a number of people. Jez made a quick count of six oarsmen and a man with a monoscope standing at the fore of the little boat. He was big and no mistake but by the colour of his skin and the slant of his eyes he was no doubt a native to the empire.

As the boat pulled closer Jez could see the cargo shack, a small room no more than ten feet long and wide sat at the back of the boat. It was an outdated boat design but not one she was unused to seeing. Sails were not used on the waters of the Emerald Sea and to even think of raising canvas in the city of Soromo was a good way to find out what the dungeon looked like. Though Jez had never been there herself she had it on good authority that it was wet and to be a permanent resident you’d need to be able to hold your breath for a very long time.

“Nobody say or do anything to mess this up,” Jaeryn said, all his usual smiles long gone now.

Sal gave Jez a poignant look. “I think he’s talking to you, Vel’urn.”

As the little cargo boat drew closer the oars stopped rowing, the men attached to them taking a grateful rest from the strain of pulling against the water.

“Which one of you is Jaeryn?” called the big man standing at the fore of the boat. He’d put away his monoscope, revealing a light pair of wire-glass spectacles giving him a learned appearance. Though close enough to talk the boat still floated outside of boarding distance. If Jezzet and the others did want to get aboard without permission they’d be taking a dip in the Emerald Sea along the way. Now she could see the man up close she had to admit he was ugly as all the hells with only a horseshoe of mud-brown hair around his head that managed to make it look altogether too small for his body.

“That’d be me,” Jae shouted back. “We all set to go.”

The man on the boat studied the little guard crew for a while, his eyes lingering on Jez for an period of time that bordered on being rude to the point of an insult, before nodding his assent and ordering his rowers to take them a bit closer to land and then shipping the oars in favour of the poles that were often used to navigate Soromo’s waterways.

Jezzet was first aboard when the boat touched dry land. She hopped over the little railing and stood face to face with the man in command. She squared her shoulders, adopted a smirk and stepped aside as Sally leapt onto the boat. The Five Kingdomer was taller than the boat man but not by much. Definitely broader though, the man in charge may be tall but his bulk’s gone to fat. Not even a challenge, if it comes down to it.

An ingrained response Jezzet had learned at Yuri’s command early on in her training was to assess the potential threat and combat ability of everyone.

“Assess and re-assess,” the old bastard always used to say. “See everyone, watch everyone. Know which ones you can kill and which ones you can’t and any that you can’t watch and learn why not.”

It was good advice and no mistake, it had saved her life on more than one occasion and Jez would happily put money on it saving her many times again before her time was through. Some part of her deep down registered at times like this that it might be worth her taking on an apprentice of her own one day but she knew that could only ever end one of two ways; either she’d kill the apprentice for not being good enough or they would be good enough and would end up killing her. As neither of the two prospects appealed she had consciously taken the decision to delay the process for somewhere close to forever.

Once they were all aboard Jaeryn took the boat man aside and they spent a few minutes arguing in dramatically hushed voices. Jez watched, out of earshot, with a forced casualness.

Drake promised a fight. A real fight. Certainly not going to be from any of these lot. Jez found herself hoping the boat would get underway again soon. The sooner she got to flex her sword arm the happier she would be. She was full of a nervous sort of energy, excitement mixed with anticipation, the same feeling she got when she saw Thanquil only for very different reasons.

She knew she couldn’t trust Drake Morrass, knew she had no reason to believe he had been telling the truth even for one second but none of that mattered. She was pent up, ready to explode and ready to sate her desire on the first target that presented itself. As the boat finally pushed away from the district into the waterway Jez found herself once again standing at the front of a boat, with her foot on the railing, her hand on her sword and a wild grin lighting her face.

The attack came sooner than she anticipated and it seemed none but Jezzet were expecting it. The whistle warned her the arrow was coming a moment before she saw the shaft. Jez had no time to dodge the deadly missile but then she didn’t need to, it flew past her and she heard Sal scream in pain.

Jez risked only the barest glance behind her to assess his condition. He was down on his right knee with the arrow protruding from the meat of his left thigh. The head had passed clean through the flesh and stuck out the other side.

Small mercies. Apparently it’s a lot worse if it hits bone. Jez had never been hit by an arrow herself, one of the few weapons she hadn’t experienced the business end of, but she had been around enough folk who had and knew as well as any and better than most how to deal with such a wound.

“Snap off the ends and pull it through,” she called behind, turning her eyes back to the front, scanning the nearby buildings and looking for the archers. The arrow had come from a fair way in front of them, it seemed they were floating right into a trap. Her blade sang a beautiful harmony as it slid from its sheath. It was a work of art even Yuri would have been proud to own. A straight single-edged blade folded hundreds of times in the style that only the smiths of the Dragon Empire knew. Those same smiths boasted their swords were sharp enough to cut through rock and, though Jez wouldn’t normally believe such a claim, she had seen it done. The charms along it were Thanquil’s addition. Six of them and etched painstakingly in his own hand. Never had anyone given Jez such a beautiful gift and the night he had given it to her she had repaid him many times.

Another arrow flew out of the murky darkness from in front of the boat and to her left. The shaft went well wide and plopped into the waters that surrounded them.

Sal grunted and gasped in pain as the shaft was pulled free from his leg and even without looking Jez knew Lei would be ministering to the wound. The silent man wasn’t nearly so good at fixing people up as her but Jezzet wasn’t about to waste time tending to someone mid-battle.

“Turn the boat around,” Jaeryn ordered. “It’s a trap!”

“Belay that,” shouted the boat man, his cheeks as red as a slapped arse. “We keep on through. They’ll have to board us if they want the prize and then it’s a fight on our terms. That’s why you’re here isn’t it? Harder, boys. Push harder. Get us through or we’re all target practice.”

Another arrow whistled and ended with a wet thud as it found the bared chest of an oarsman. He went down silent as only the dead can be and the men either side of him picked up the slack and poled even harder. Another arrow flew out of the darkness, almost level with them now, and stuck in the deck, harmless.

Jezzet sucked at her teeth.

“What is it?” Jaeryn asked her, his voice hushed and his stance low and ready.

Jezzet glanced at him and cocked an eyebrow. “There’s only one of them and they’re a fucking bad shot.”

“Only one?”

She nodded slowly. Another arrow arced over their heads and landed somewhere in the district to their right. “And they’re a fucking bad shot.”

A last arrow flew out of the darkness and buried itself in the wall of the cargo cabin. Jezzet heard a squeak but she didn’t have time to investigate.

“Boats!” the boat man shouted. Pointing ahead of them as if there were anywhere else they could be coming from. They were in a particularly straight stretch of water wedged in between two large districts, one primarily warehouse and one residential and there wasn’t a turning in sight in front or behind.

Jezzet counted three boats, little more than rafts really, each carrying no more than four assailants and they all looked to be well armed and dressed all in black with their faces covered.

“Eleven men,” Jaeryn said as he stepped up beside Jez. She detected the hint of a tremble in his voice.

“Twelve,” Jezzet corrected him. “The archer is still out there somewhere.”

Jaeryn nodded and she saw him look behind. “Not sure how much use the others will be, Sal’s pretty badly hurt and the oarsmen…” Jez heard a splash. “Well two of them have decided to swim for it. How many can you handle?”

Jez laughed. “All of them.” The boats were closer, she guessed they’d be within boarding distance inside of a minute. Jez stepped away from the edge of the boat and crossed towards the centre of the vessel. The boat man stood, large and sweaty, with a dagger in his hand that looked comically small.

“That’s… uh… reassuring,” Jaeryn said as he followed her. “But really…”

Jez could hear a soft whimpering coming from somewhere, barely audible over the sound of the boats moving through the water, Sal’s sharp intake of breath and the rapid praying of one of the rowers. Somewhere behind them a man screamed and then the noise was cut off rapidly. Strange creatures hunted the waterways at night and the swimmers seemed to have found one of them.

A three pronged grappling hook looped over the side of the boat and pulled taut. Something heavy and solid bumped against the front of the boat. Jez relaxed into a fluid combat stance, light on her feet, ready to move.

“Try not to get in my way,” she said quietly.

Jaeryn looked at her. “Huh?”

A hand appeared on the railing to her left and Jez was already moving by the time the man jumped up, pushing himself over the lip onto the deck. The little rafts were lower down in the water and the attackers would have to open themselves up to attack as they boarded. The first man learned the hard way just how vulnerable boarding made him. There was no point stabbing the man, Jezzet hated to do it but in this situation it was easier to wound him and allow the things in the water to finish the poor bastard. Her blade flicked out, quick as a lightning flash and took off his right arm at the elbow. He toppled backwards, staring at but not comprehending the stump at the end of his right arm. Jezzet had already turned away by the time she heard the splash of the newly-maimed hitting the water.

Two more of the masked assailants vaulted onto the boat and Jez knew more would be following. The closest rushed her, closing the scant feet between them in moments. Jez flowed to her left, moving around the cut of the man’s sword and found herself face-to-face with another of the attackers. She ducked the second man’s wild attack, stepped backwards and blocked another thrust from the first.

Jez twisted her wrist, locking the man’s sword against his chest and brought her left knee up, striking him in his kidney. The unlucky assailant went down on one knee and Jez both pushed, span and stepped away all in one easy motion. Her sword cut through the man’s throat as easy as it did the air and blood sprayed onto the deck of the little boat.

She glimpsed Jaeryn and Lei backing towards the aft of the little boat, two of the black-clad men waving swords at them. A guard crew they may be but Jez’s friends were not used to real fighting, they were little more than hired thugs and were far less than capable of standing up to trained warriors. An arrow slipped out of the darkness, narrowly missing Lei and burying itself in one of the oarsman.

Jez broke from her opponents into a run that none of them expected. She leapt between Jaeryn and Lei’s attackers, her sword flicking first left, then right and both went down hard. The first man was dead before he hit the deck but the second gurgled out a bloody moan before dying. Her own opponents were close behind her so Jez stepped forward to meet them, putting herself between them and her friends.

Her blade was a blur, blocking once right and another left. Both men were taller than her, both had reach to their advantage but neither was a match for an experienced Blademaster. Jez feinted right, ducked left and with a downward slice took the man’s leg off at the ankle. He never had time to scream, Jez’s back-swing rent a gouge along his face and her sword met the next man’s with a glorious ring of metal on metal.

I should remember to thank Drake.

The man made a grab for Jezzet’s hair but the fool underestimated her strength. The moment he took his left hand from the hilt of his sword Jez pushed, crushing through his defence, she forced his sword down and thrust, twisted and withdrew. The man continued to spurt blood from his wound long after he was dead and Jez was left with five opponents.

Jaeryn and Lei took the opportunity to step up beside her, sensing the tide was turning in their favour. Lei looked at Jez, his mouth open to speak and his eyes went wide, he stepped back, giving her some room. She could feel the blood spatter on her face and the wild grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth, no doubt it was scaring their attackers as much as her own allies but Jez didn’t care, she was revelling in the bloody action.

One of the assailants threw something towards them, something small, dark and fizzing. Instinct, more than understanding told Jez to shield her eyes but her body was slower than those instincts. The thing exploded mid-air in a flash of light as blinding as the sun. Lei and Jaeryn staggered back screaming but Jez had managed to cover at least some of her eyes and she squinted against the darkness that rushed in all around her punctuated by brightly coloured pulsating orbs of light.

A painful man-shaped blur loomed out of the sea of colours towards her. Jez couldn’t tell if it was friend, foe or trick of the light but she wasn’t about to wait around to find out. She ducked, tucked and rolled, feeling something sharp and deadly pass just over her head. Mid-roll she thrust out with her sword and felt resistance, someone screamed and something heavy hit the deck. A moment later what seemed like a laugh.

Jez rubbed furiously at her eyes and some of the spots of light faded, others resolved into men with weapons and the large, noisy one crying at her feet turned out to be the boat man. He clutched at his ankle and cursed in at least one language Jez didn’t understand. She spared close to a moment’s thought to apologising but decided against it and turned to face the armed blurs coming towards her again.

Too late she saw another sparkling object hurtling her way. It exploded in a flash of blinding agony and this time Jez had nothing covering her eyes.

Shit, Jez, you’re blind. Run. RUN!

She turned and ran, not knowing where to only knowing what from. Even as good as she was she couldn’t take on five armed assailants while blind. Her foot caught on something and she stumbled, her left hand hitting the deck of the boat, covered in something wet and sticky with an earthy metallic smell. Then she was up and moving again, hearing shouts from behind as though they were very far away. Her leg hit something hard and there was nowhere else to run.

The edge of the boat.

The realisation came too late and Jez was already tumbling over the edge of the little craft, head first into the monster-filled waterways of Soromo. Her fingers caught onto the lip of the railing that ran all around the edge of the boat but she found no purchase, covered in slick blood as they were. Tepid water hit Jez, enveloped her, rushed into her mouth and nose and ears.

Don’t panic, Jez.

Still blind she somehow managed to right herself in the water and came up gasping for delicious air. Something brushed against her feet.

Panic, Jez!

Her vision was a mess of dark colours all merging into one formless quagmire of confusion but she could see the boat nearby, an imposing mass in front of her, still in the calm waters. Even closer still, lashed to the boat was a smaller strip of brown that Jez hoped was one of the little rafts the assailants had used to board them. She kicked towards it, thanking all the nameless Gods Yuri had taught her to swim.

As she reached the raft Jez wasted no time in hauling herself up and onto the construction. It was little more than a number of wooden planks treated and then lashed together but it would serve to keep the water-bound monsters from chewing on her.

Jez rubbed at her eyes, trying to dispel the blobs of coloured light that throbbed in and out of her vision. Only then did she realise her sword was gone, she’d dropped it when she went overboard.

That glorious piece of metal, a gift from Thanquil and the most beautiful thing you’ve ever owned and now it’s lying down at the bottom of the Emerald Sea.

To say she was angry didn’t even start to cover what Jez was feeling as she pushed herself to unsteady feet and with a jump she mantled the railing and was back on the boat.

She could see four of the black-clad men left, the other was gone and so were all of the oarsmen, dead or fled. Lei and Jaeryn were backed towards the cargo cabin and Sal was at the fore of the boat with two of the assailants attempting to put a second hole in him. Jez broke into a run and was on the two men fighting Sal. Her right hand found one of the dual short swords sheathed at the small of her back and the blade flashed out, slicing a long cut along the first man’s back before he even knew she was there. He went down alive but Jez left him for Sal to finish off, her blade changed directions in her hands and buried itself in the second man’s neck before he could react.

Jezzet put her foot on the man’s back as he dropped and wrenched her sword free in a spatter of blood and flesh and bone. Turning she found Lei was down, crawling away and Jaeryn had been manoeuvred away from the cargo cabin and was still struggling against his own opponent. The other attacker was busy fiddling with the lock on the cabin. Jezzet wasted not a moment.

She ducked, plucking a dagger from the inside of her boot and launched it at the man attempting to murder Jaeryn. She heard the scream as the dagger found its target but paid it no more heed as she launched herself at the last man.

He never even turned to face her, too busy attempting to open the lock. Her sword plunged straight through his chest and buried itself an inch into the thick wood of the door. Jezzet heard an unmistakeable feminine squeak.

She looked across just in time to see Jaeryn, breathing heaving and wild eyed but uninjured, kick the corpse of his recently deceased attacker. The leader of the little guard crew took a deep breath and sighed it out in prayer for the dead before turning to her.

“Damn Jez,” Jaeryn said, the ghost of a smile returning to his lips. “You really do know how to fight.”

She nodded, looking past Jaeryn to the residential district behind him. Lanterns had been lit and people were out, watching and whispering. The screams and metal-on-metal clashes had brought unwanted attention to the scuffle and she did not doubt the city guard would be far away.

“Fuck,” she swore all too loudly.

“What?”

“I dropped my sword,” she admitted to the survivors. Sal was helping the boat man up and Lei was busy tending to the shallow slash across his ribs, his shirt off showing a chest even more hairless than most women’s.

“Where?”

“Overboard.”

“Oh.”

“Fuck,” Jez swore again and kicked the door in impotent anger. Again the frightened squeak from inside the cargo cabin.

Jezzet looked at the door, then at Jaeryn who shrugged, then she looked over to the boat man as he limped towards them, supported by Sal’s massive frame.

“Open it,” Jez ordered the man on his own boat.

“No,” the boat man replied his voice quivering even as his chin stuck out in defiance.

“Please,” Jezzet put as much menace as she could able into the one word.

The boat man seemed to shrink away from her. He detached himself from Sal and sat down on the deck, taking his weight off of his leg, off of the ankle that Jez had wounded. “As scary as you are, woman. I am more scared of Captain Morrass and this is his cargo. That door opens when we get to the drop off point and not before.”

Jezzet spat and was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath from the boat man. In the wilds spitting was considered a waste of water and nothing else but here in Soromo spitting on a person’s property was considered a great insult, one that only violence or recompense could justify.

“Sal, the door,” Jez said.

The big man grunted, limped towards the cargo cabin door, put his shoulder to the wood and shoved with all his weight and strength. A grunt and a crash later and the door burst inwards, the lock ripping from its housing. Sal took a moment to stare into the cabin and then stepped aside with a whistle. Jez walked to the doorway and gave her eyes a second to adjust.

Inside the cabin were seven women and each of them showing the tattooed arms of those either born or promised to one of the noble families. They huddled at the back of the cabin, as eager to distance themselves from their other captives as they were Jezzet standing silhouetted in the doorway. Each one of them was short, as was befitting for a woman in Soromo, but not too short, each one had dark eyes, long dark hair and each one was timid and terrified.

Jezzet backed out of the cargo cabin shaking her head. “You gotta be fucking joking, Drake. Of all the stupid…”

“Close the door, Sal,” came Jaeryn’s voice from behind. “You,” he pointed at the boat man. “You know where the drop point is? You can get us there?”

“Uh, yes,” the boat man stammered out, clearly shaken by the entire episode. “But I have nobody to…”

“You tell us where we’re going and we’ll pole the damned thing,” Jaeryn said. “Sal, close the door now!”

Jezzet was standing between Sal and the cargo cabin door and she did not feel particularly incline to move. The big man looked first at her, then at Jaeryn, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

“We’re not delivering these women to Drake,” she said very loudly and very clearly. “I’ll not see them sold into slavery to line his pockets.”

Jaeryn took a step forward and Jez noticed his sword was still in his hand. “It’s our pockets I’m interested in lining, Jezzet,” he hissed. “Morrass is paying well for this job, very well. Enough that I can move my family up a class. We can get out of the breakers, my children could be… anything. Anything but us. Move aside, Jezzet.”

She shook her head.

“It’s easy for you to make a high moral choice. Kept by the Inquisition. Given everything you want. Paying visit to the empress’ court then coming down here and playing like the poor with us. Well you’re not poor and you’re not one of us. I don’t complete a job and my family don’t eat for a week. You don’t complete a job and you go crawling back to the palace and beg your Arbiter for another few buls.

“One last time, Jezzet. Step aside.”

To say his attacks had hit home would have been an understatement. That they saw her as some sort of high lady playing at being a commoner cut Jez to the bone but this was not an issue she was willing to budge on, not this time. Again she shook her head. “We’re freeing these women, Jae. However you might feel about me don’t matter. I won’t allow them to be handed over to Drake for his profit and amusement.”

She saw his grip tighten around his sword. Don’t do it, Jae. Please.

He smiled, not a strange occurrence for Jaeryn but this smile was different. Jez had seen that same smile many times before but usually on the faces of the wounded and the dying.

“Tell Morrass I tried,” Jaeryn said and rushed her, his sword up and swinging.

Jez’s own sword was still in her hand, it was an easy thing to parry Jaeryn’s attack to the right as she flowed to her left. Her other hand found the hilt of her second short sword and it whipped from its sheath, spinning around in her grasp and sliding up into Jaeryn’s side, between his scant armour and through his soft, unprotected flesh. He let out a wet, raspy gurgle and blood trickled from his lips as he teetered. Jez gave her sword a slight twist and pulled it free.

Blood spattered over her boots and the body of her latest boss, a man she had considered, until just now, to be her friend, collapsed to the deck.

“Sorry,” she whispered but it was too late, the light had already gone from his eyes.

Jezzet

Gardens had always held a peculiar fascination for Jezzet. Not the gardens that grew fruits, vegetables and herbs, she accepted those as having a purpose, but the gardens that were designed purely for the aesthetic. They were the domain and the property of only the excessively wealthy and were just so in an attempt to put on display just how excessively wealthy they were. The gardens known as Dragon’s Perch up on the very top tier of the Imperial palace grounds were beyond extravagant in their pure, purposeless existence.

They are beautiful though.

The Dragon’s Perch gardens were originally designed only for the empress, the princes and their dragons but the previous Empress, Neris Chiyo had all but banished the Dragon Princes from her court. She had separated them and given them each a little portion of her Empire to rule over. The princes fought and warred but in fighting each other they left the capital in relative peace. Neris Chiyo had then opened Dragon’s Perch to her dragon-less guests and it was an observance that the current empress had perpetuated. Jezzet, despite her usual cynicism over such frivolous wastes of money, was beyond glad. The gardens had an earthy peacefulness that seemed to calm her even when her inner turmoil was at its very worst and today it was far beyond its worst.

A cherry blossom floated down beside her, swaying in the still air. Jezzet plucked it from its meandering path with practised accuracy and crushed it in her fist. The cherry blossoms were the worst form of impractical indulgence. The entire city was built upon layers of floating rafts so dirt had to be ferried over from the mainland and placed in specially designed troughs. The troughs had to be watered and fed nutrients every day or the trees grew stunted or not at all. It was a remarkable feat of opulence and a remarkable spectacle when all the trees were in bloom. Soft pink petals the colour of a nipple surrounded her on all sides but the balcony behind her.

She leaned against the railing of the balcony and watched and marvelled, feeling a deep peace settle upon her. It didn’t last long. Drake found her.

The pirate captain and empress’ lover approached Jez wearing a smile that most women would no doubt have found charming, Jez knew better, she knew false affection when she saw it. There was a path of crushed white gravel leading up to the balcony but Drake Morrass ignored it, he walked alongside the path, purposefully treading on the short green grass as if doing so was some great victory of his. He was armed, a long sword buckled by his left hip and a dagger secured beneath his jacket that he thought she couldn’t see.

Drake stopped a good few feet from Jez and swept a low, overly formal bow that should have been reserved for royalty. Jezzet doubted he ever bowed to anyone like that, even the empress, there was something mocking in the way he bent so low. He was impeccably dressed as always; elegant trousers dyed black with gold trim and high boots that reached up almost to his knees. He wore a black shirt also with gold trim from a material that looked a lot like silk but his jacket was as fine as any Jez had ever seen; deep, royal blue and cut so well it made him look the very definition of noble. His hair was the colour of dark oak and cut short but not too short, it teased the bottoms of his ears. A single gold tooth glinted at her from his mouth, catching the light of the sun.

“You look radiant in the afternoon light, Jezzet Vel’urn,” cooed Drake, his voice soft and velvety. The sun was behind Jez and just starting to dip, it bathed the entire balcony in hot, white light and she doubted it did anything good for her complexion.

She stared at him, doing her very best to give him the impression she really didn’t care but Drake ignored the hostile look and walked past her, taking up a position leaning against the rail of the balcony and staring back into the garden. He brushed his hair away from his face and watched Jezzet.

Damn but the man is pretty.

“You failed…” he started.

“You were trading slaves,” she interrupted.

“What…”

“Fuck, Drake. You weren’t just selling slaves they were noble. Taught from birth to be pliable and pleasing and you steal them from their families and sell them to… who? Where were you taking them? What the fuck were you thinking?”

Drake laughed, a loud throaty laugh full of mirth and more honest than anything else about the pirate. When he stopped he spoke with a hushed voice. “If I was trading slaves, why’d I hire you to protect them? Reckon my own men could have done a fair better job comes down to it.”

Jez looked at him sceptically. “To keep your name away from the situation.”

“Aye, that’d be the reason I hired you but if I were slaving why would I bother? Captain Drake Morrass gets linked to slaving and exactly who gives a fuck? Even a few noble bints. I might piss off a family or two, sure, but with the empress sucking my cock every night who the hell is gonna kick up a fuss?”

“Then why…”

“I wasn’t stealing those women, Jezzet… Or, well, I was but not for slaving.” Drake affected a smug smile. “I was saving them.”

“Liar!”

“Hard to believe isn’t it. True though.”

“Drake Morrass doesn’t do anything without a profit for himself,” Jezzet said though she was no longer so sure of her own words. Her mind was already working on the implications if what he said was true.

“Oh believe me, there was a fair sized profit for myself. Far more, in fact, than I’d have made selling those lovely, nubile cunts. They, or their families, were paying me to save them from the harsh life of a Soromo mistress. I was supposed to take them to Larkos where they could… well they could do whatever the fuck they wanted far as I cared. But that’s all over now because you saved them from me and gave them back to their magistrate husbands or masters or whatever the fuck they call them.”

If it was true than Jez had rescued the women from freedom and committed them to a life of slavery, exactly the opposite of her intentions. “So save them,” she said. “You say they were paying you to get them out. Find them and kidnap them again.”

Drake laughed and shook his head. “I said they paid me. Past tense. I made sure to get paid up front. Wherever those poor women are now is not a drop of concern to me. You feel that guilty about giving them over to their oppressors, you go save them.”

“I couldn’t…”

“Nah,” Drake said smiling again. “You wouldn’t. Jezzet Vel’urn is well known for being only out for herself.”

Jez took a threatening step towards Drake and he held up his hands in a placating manner. She was a good half a foot smaller than him and usually she was well accomplished at scaring men but Drake didn’t look in the least bit frightened, just amused.

“I didn’t come here to fight Jez. In fact I brought a peace offering.”

Drake’s hand went to the hilt of the long sword buckled at his hip. Before it got there both Jez’s short swords were out, one held in defence, ready to block and the other pointing at Drake, ready to kill.

“Don’t try it, Drake,” Jez said though a part of her hoped he would.

“You think if I wanted you dead I’d be stupid enough to attack you myself? In single combat?”

“Well I do hear you’re crazy.”

“Aye. I’ve heard that one too, also goes that I was birthed by O’tstetta, the sea Goddess and after she squeezed me out I turned right around and ate her.”

Jez snorted out a laugh. “Can’t say I’ve heard that one,” she still held her swords ready but she got the distinct feeling Drake had no intention of fighting her.

“Nah, I just made it up. Think I might pass it around a bit though, reckon it’ll take.” Despite the sharp, dangerous blades pointed his way Drake pulled the long sword at his hip from its scabbard and Jez felt her jaw drop. “You recognise it then?”

I bloody well should, it’s my sword!

“I lost it overboard,” she said. “How the hell did you rescue it.”

Drake grinned wide making him seem even more handsome. “Spawn of a sea Goddess.”

He reversed his grip of the sword and held it out for her to take hilt first. After a moment’s consideration Jez decided he was unlikely to try anything and re-sheathed her short swords before reaching out, desperate to be reunited with her long sword.

Just as Jez’s hand reached the hilt Drake flipped it away, the sword flying through the air and clattering to the stone floor of the balcony. At the same time the pirate reached inside his jacket for his hidden knife. Jez reacted just as fast. As the knife flashed out at her she dodged to her right and made a grab for Drake’s arm. He pulled away and jumped back a step, positioning himself between Jez and her long sword.

She crouched down into a ready stance but did not draw her swords, something told her she didn’t need to. “What are you doing, Drake?”

He grinned at her, his gold tooth drawing the eye as it glinted in the sun light. “Just having some fun.”

He rushed her, his hand a blur of motion as the knife flicked at her. Jez dodged once to her right, then ducked and span away. Drake didn’t let up but Jez was ready for the fourth strike. She caught his wrist and twisted. The pirate captain twisted with her and stepped in close. Jez found herself all too close to Drake, close enough to see the individual hairs of his perfectly groomed stubble, close enough to smell the earthy musk of his scent.

The blade of the dagger was close to her neck but not close enough to cut and her own hand was on the hilt, between the edge and her skin.

“See,” Drake said, his breath smelling of mint with a tang of rum. “Isn’t this fun?”

Yes.

Jez kicked the pirate in the shin, stepped away, span around with her hands still on the knife and stepped close again. By the time Drake had recovered from the shock of being kicked he found Jezzet just as close as before but this time the knife was at his neck and he did not have a hand between the blade and his skin.

“Has anyone ever told you, you’re very flexible, Jezzet.”

She grinned. “Many times. And he’s seen just how flexible.”

Without warning she gave a hard shove and Drake stumbled backwards, letting go of the knife and catching himself on the railing of the balcony. Jez walked over to her fallen long sword, picked it up and threw the dagger over the side of the balcony into the crystal clear waters of the pond below. She turned and stalked off down the pathway away from Drake.

“Thanks for the sword,” she called back, not bothering to turn around. She hoped he would curse or shout back but all she heard from Drake was the sound of his braying laughter as she walked away.

Jezzet

Waiting on royalty or nobility was an unfortunate necessity in Jezzet’s life these days but it was one she was becoming accustomed to. It still grated her nerves but she understood the why of it. D’roan, the nobleman from the untamed wilds who had treated her as his own personal slave for months, had delighted in schooling Jez in the ways of politics and the games those with power liked to play. It was a crude way to show importance, magistrate Hideo Rurin had summoned her and now she was here he was making her wait.

You could leave, Jez. She turned and looked at the guards waiting by the paper panel that served as a door. Not like either of them could stop you. They were dressed in heavy robes buttoned right to left and each held a single curved sword across their backs. Jezzet had never liked the idea of keeping a weapon sheathed so, one of Yuri’s teachings he instilled in her with practical example.

They had used a plain long sword in that example and each had wielded a copy of the other. Jez had the weapon sheathed across her back, the handle poking out above her right shoulder and Yuri had his blade at his hip. They had drawn at the same time. If anything Jez’s reactions had been faster, if only marginally, than Yuri’s but every time Jez had been dead before her sword had cleared its scabbard and every time Yuri had painfully made his point. She had the scars to prove it.

One of the guards noticed her watching and glared. Jez blew the man a kiss and laughed as the fool blushed. She had to admit they were disciplined, all men in the Dragon Empire seemed to be disciplined. In the wilds folk rarely sat still and most guards were little more than thugs given purpose but here in Soromo they were trained warriors and attendants, able and willing to sit still on their knees for hours on end seeing nothing and hearing nothing unless their master required help.

Jezzet chose not to kneel on the mat provided her; she lounged, propped up on her elbows. It was a petty little insult to the magistrate but she didn’t care, she also knew such a blatant display of her breasts, even underneath layers of clothing, would make the man uncomfortable. The men of Soromo always seemed to become uncomfortable around that they that couldn’t have.

I miss chairs. Jezzet decided as she waited. There wasn’t a single chair to be found in the whole damned empire, unless you counted the bone monstrosity they called a throne. Jez did not.

The paper panel door slid open and magistrate Rurin stepped through. He paused mid stride when he saw how Jez had positioned herself and his cheeks coloured. He coughed and pulled his purple robe close around him.

Such a subtle way to hide his arousal. Jez grinned at him.

“Blademaster Vel’urn,” the magistrate said as he knelt on one of the floor mats and crossed his hands, hiding them inside his robes.

Been a long time since anyone’s used your full title, Jez. Last time was… never. I feel so appreciated.

“Call me Jezzet,” she said, noticing that the man never quite managed to lift his gaze to her eyes. “Sorry. Were you addressing me or my breasts?”

Magistrate Rurin’s nostrils flared but behind her Jez heard one of the guards gasp and the other surge to his feet. The only reason she didn’t kill him was he hadn’t yet drawn his sword.

“Father, you cannot allow this… this woman to talk to you such.”

“You should probably tell Rurin junior to sit back down,” Jez said. “Unless you can afford to lose another son.”

Magistrate Hideo Rurin took a deep breath and then waved at his son. “Sit down, Hachi. Blademaster Vel’urn is our honoured guest and will be treated with the up most respect.”

Jez doubted anything the man could have said would have made her more suspicious. Hideo Rurin had been one of the most ardent supporters in the get rid of Jezzet Vel’urn movement from the very beginning and now she was his honoured guest.

Careful, Jez. Something doesn’t sit right here. When in doubt, meet your enemy head on. Another of Yuri’s teachings both in combat and in life. She was a woman and not a large one, men rarely expected her to stand toe-to-toe with them.

“What’s your game, Hideo? First you want to throw me out of your empire and now I’m a… shouldn’t the honoured guest gets snacks? Or at least a drink?”

“You did us a great favour, Blademaster. You brought back our wayward women.”

“Oh, that.”

The magistrate shifted a little, no doubt uncomfortable at the idea of treating a woman as his equal. “I would like to make you an offer, Blademaster Vel’urn. One I believe you will not be able to refuse.”

Jez almost laughed. “Let’s hear it.”

“I want you to leave. Tell the Dragon Empress you have enjoyed your stay but it is time for you to go. Tell her it is time for you to continue your travels, or to see another part of the world, or to go back to whatever backward place it is you call a home.”

This time Jezzet did laugh.

“In return I offer you life…”

“An interesting offer considering I could take yours right now, and no,” she looked over her shoulder at the two guards, “you couldn’t stop me.”

“I offer you your life and that of your lover’s. Refuse me and I will see you executed for your crimes.”

Jez fixed the annoying man with a stare as cold as the deepest sea. “I refuse. Whatever it is you think you can do to me, or him, I dare you to try.” It was perhaps a little over the top but Jezzet did not respond well to threats and this man was without a doubt threatening her. “Seems to me the only reason you want me gone so bad is because you’re scared so, no. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I offer you one last chance to reconsider, Blademaster Vel’urn.”

Jezzet stood and made her way to the exit. “Goodbye magistrate.”

“We have a hero in our midst,” the empress of the Dragon Empire declared with a smile.

Any of the Gods listening? I swear I’ll learn and remember your name if you stop this before it happens.

The empress gestured Jez’s way. “The Blademaster Jezzet Vel’urn.”

Some of the gathered magistrates gave begrudging nods of half-feigned respect but behind Jezzet a roar of applause went up. She had been wondering why the palace had been opened to the common folk today and though they were guarded well by more Dragon Knights than she knew existed they cheered her name all the same. She felt her cheeks redden.

Caught between humiliation and a strange pride that she could neither understand nor agree with Jez weathered the affirmation of her great deed with a stoic determination to get through it and out the other side unscathed. If there was one thing she hated more than the attention of the masses she couldn’t name it.

One consolation, Jez. Most of the magistrates look even less comfortable than you. She spotted magistrate Rurin making a point of not looking at her. He was directing his full attention towards his empress, as was proper when in her presence.

“She has shown exceptional strength and courage in her struggle to save our citizens from certain slavery,” the empress continued her voice loud and clear and unwavering despite coming from one still so young and addressing so many. Jezzet was fairly certain she’d jump out of the nearest window should she ever find herself in the empress’ current position. She thanked the nameless Gods that it was considered improper for her to speak in public while in the empress’ presence lest they ask her to make some sort of speech to the gathered masses.

“We bestow upon her the title of Dachi and all the rights, privileges and responsibilities that accompany it.”

Wonderful, another title. I have something of a collection these days. Judging by the gasps of a few of the magistrates and the cheers from the more common folk Jez assumed the title was something of a big deal though she had never heard it before and no one had discussed the matter with her at all. Whatever privileges and responsibilities she was now entitled to, it was safe to say she neither wanted them, nor had she earned them.

They’re making far too big a deal of this, Jez. Something’s not right. She was beginning to attract more than a few hostile stares from the magistrates and they weren’t even bothering to hide it. None would speak out for fear of reprisal by the empress. They were in front of the public now so any that argued with the young ruler were like to find themselves on the pointy end of a dragon-bone sword but Jezzet couldn’t shake the feeling the empress had painted a target on her, one that all the magistrates would be aiming for.

The rest of the morning was less eventful and passed slowly. Jezzet had no problem with sitting still for hours on end, Yuri had made her do far worse and for far longer as part of her training, but it was certainly a dull way to waste her time. She found it hard to stop her mind from wandering and no sooner had her will slipped the damned thing made a beeline to thinking about Thanquil.

She wondered how he was doing, where he was, whether he’d found the witch yet. More than that she wondered if he was thinking about her, wondered if he was missing her as much as she missed him.

Jez looked around the great hall. Magistrates were in heavy attendance as always. Many of the more common folk, though none too low in class, still remained; they were required to kneel as well but their status did not afford them the luxury of a mat. The empress sat on her throne of bone with her great looming dragon behind and the Dragon Herald to her right.

Drake isn’t here. Jez realised with a little too much disappointment for her own liking. She had come to expect the pirate’s smug presence and had almost come to enjoy their mutual amusement at the rigid formality of the empress’ court. They shared unspoken jokes in smiles and eye rolls and, though she would never trust him, she counted him as one of her few allies here in Soromo. After all, he wasn’t nearly so bad as all the stories made him out to be. He was pretty enough to warrant looking at and had a charm all of his own. She wondered where he was and why he wasn’t in attendance. If the empress was at all perturbed by his absence she showed it not a drop but Jez could imagine the girl was experiencing some turmoil of her own.

It was a little before midday when the empress’ dragon called an end to court. The beast, which had appeared to be sleeping, let out a mournful rumble followed by a bark. The empress nodded and bade everyone leave. As Jezzet stood up to go she noticed magistrate Rurin and two others hanging back, no doubt attempting to secret a private word with the empress. She snorted out a laugh and made hastily for the exit. Some of the common folk, still under guard and made to stay until their betters had departed, applauded her as she passed. Jezzet quickened her pace to be gone from the awe-filled gazes.

She found the Dragon Herald waiting for her outside of the great hall. Still dressed in his dragon bone armour he cut an impressive sight and again Jezzet felt the urge to prove herself against him in combat. He pulled her aside into a small room with a low desk with a mat either side. As with most rooms in Soromo it was separated from the rest of the building only by small paper screens.

The Dragon Herald took a seat on one of the mats and waved Jezzet to the other before speaking in a hushed voice.

“You are Dachi now,” the herald said.

“Skipping the pleasantries are we? Well then yes, it appears I am. And what exactly does it mean?”

The herald frowned, obviously trying to translate the word into a more common term. “Dragon Friend.”

Jezzet cocked an eyebrow. “Only dragon I know is the empress’ and I’m not sure we’re friends, certainly not on first name terms.”

The herald didn’t laugh, nor did he frown, he stared on impassively at Jez until she sighed and shrugged. “Go on.”

“The empress has not made many allies amongst the magistrates in making you Dachi. You are the first in almost one hundred years and the only woman ever to have been honoured with the title.”

“Well I certainly feel honoured,” Jez quipped with a smile but was rewarded with yet more nothing. The Dragon Herald could almost have been made from stone he was some impassive. “So what does it actually mean?”

“You are entitled to purchase land within the Dragon Empire and have been granted a home in the Kai district.”

Jezzet’s eyes widened at this. The Kai district was reserved for visiting royalty, Dragon Princes and only the most trusted of the magistrates. For Jezzet to be granted a home in the most prominent district in the city. No wonder the magistrates weren’t pleased.

“The upkeep of your house will be your responsibility,” the herald continued ignoring Jez’s obvious surprise. “You have also now have a seat on the council. You will be required to attend at least once per month while residing in Soromo and your voice will add to the others.”

The council was a ruling class that existed under the empress. Decisions deemed not important enough for her attention were discussed, at length, and made by the council and they had always been exclusively male. For Jezzet to hold such a seat, such a voice…

You’re being played, Jez.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because the empress wishes it.”

“Sure, but, why?”

The Dragon Herald stood and bowed his head. “Your things have already been moved to your new household. I will have a servant meet you outside to show you the way.

“Good luck, Dachi Blademaster Jezzet Vel’urn.”

With that the herald walked to the door, slid open the panel and was gone. Jezzet sat still for a few moments, shocked and unsure of how to react. For the empress to give her a position of such power. Over the years Jez had developed a good sense of when she was being made a pawn in a much larger game and right now that sense was tingling. Unfortunately, other than turning tail and running, she could think of no way to extricate herself from the situation. With a frustrated resolve she determined to go along with the whims of the empress. At least until Thanquil returned, then she decided they’d find a pressing need to be elsewhere.

That night they came for her in force.

Jezzet

The first Dragon Knight died in an instant, unprepared for a rudely awoken Blademaster he didn’t even have time to raise his pretty sword.

Jez had always been a light sleeper. In the early days of her training it had served to warn her when Yuri was coming to her for sex. She would lie awake and feign sleep until the old bastard had touched her, until he disrobed and thrust himself inside of her without ceremony. Later in her training they had turned her light sleeping into an exercise. Yuri would try to sneak up on her, to attack her unawares. Not once did her old master succeed but despite her always waking at his approach she never once got the better of him.

But that was then and this was now. These men were not Yuri and she was no longer an apprentice. She was the Blademaster now with near a decade of experience and in all that time only one man had ever managed to sneak up on her; Thanquil.

She rolled out of bed, instinct making her body react long before her mind registered the specifics of the situation. The first Dragon Knight had barged through the door and Jez’s sword cut a broad stroke across his unprotected face and he dropped to the floor heavy and dead.

She was in her new home, in the largest of the sleeping rooms and surrounded by paper screens that acted as walls. Silhouettes already warned her there were more assailants and she already knew she wouldn’t be able to match them for strength.

As the second Dragon Knight burst into the small room, ignoring the door and instead tearing apart the paper of the wall, Jez snatched up her second short sword. Some part of her had registered the tightness of her surroundings and had decided the long sword would be too unwieldy. She wore only her undergarments; a pair of pants and a soft cotton top, both white.

There was a time you would sleep in your armour, Jez. You’ve been living comfortably for too long.

Most men in the Dragon Empire might pause and stare at her lightly clothed form but these were Dragon Knights and they were not so easily distracted. Jezzet used both swords to block a deadly swipe as another two men crashed into her small room.

You need better surroundings, Jez. Run!

She spat in the face of the Dragon Knight, turned and ran, snatching up her tabard as she went and crashing through one of the paper panels. Damned flimsy walls work both ways. It pained her to leave her long sword behind but there was nothing for it.

Jez barrelled through two more rooms, leaving torn paper and angry shouts in her wake before running into the outside wall of the building, a wooden wall. A Dragon Knight emerged to her left and before he had a chance to take stock Jezzet launched herself at the man. He deflected her first sword with his chain-linked armour but her second found a weak link and slid into his belly. Jez felt hot liquid wash over her hand as the man fell away from her with an expression caught between surprise and incomprehension. She wasted no time in pondering the expression but ran as more Dragon Knights arrived.

Even with her right hand slick with blood it took only a moment to throw her tabard over her head and another to belt it around her. She burst out of the side doorway to find herself in a garden she didn’t remember seeing before. Jez had spent almost ten minutes earlier that day surveying her new home before boredom set in, that it had coincided with her finding a cupboard full of rice wine was merely a happy coincidence.

Now she found herself surrounded by cropped green grass on miniature hill in the middle of the grounds. Fruit trees clustered around the edges of the garden and somewhere to her left she heard trickling water and the occasional sound of wood striking wood. The moon was high and almost a full circle and the stars crowded the night sky like thousands of tiny candles all flickering at once to prove their existence. She was surrounded by Dragon Knights.

Those left from the party that had tried to take her by surprise piled through the door behind her. Those in front and to her sides stood at the ready, swords drawn and expressions stony.

Jez stopped in the centre of the little grass garden and took stock. She counted fifteen Dragon Knights and with the two she had already murdered that put her somewhere close to fucked.

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

“Put down your swords, Blademaster,” said one of the Dragon Knights. Jez focused on him assuming he was the most senior of the group and the man in charge.

She grinned, wild and menacing though she didn’t feel it. “I was about to say the same to you. Unless you want to fetch some more men so we can call this an even fight.”

“You’re under arrest.”

Jez laughed. “And which one of you wants to be the first to try taking me in?”

“By order of the Dragon Empress.”

She stopped smiling. That changes things. Can’t fight the whole fucking city, Jez.

“What’s the charge?” she asked, stalling for time, for a way out, for any sort of advantage. Being out numbered seventeen to one was not her idea of a fun night under any circumstances and never less so than when the seventeen carried seventeen pointy objects.

The man in charge stared on. “Put down your swords.”

It was all starting to feel horribly familiar. She’d been arrested in Sarth in much the same fashion. Outnumbered, surrounded, the dead of night, her wearing little or less and no charge to speak of. Well the latter wasn’t entirely accurate given that in Sarth the guard had witnessed her murder a man. That the man had been a heretical Arbiter attempting to subvert the very organisation tasked with purging heresy was an ironical truth that had never come to light. Arbiter Kosh had died a nameless body on the streets of Sarth and Jez had given up her sword, surrendered to the guard and spent the next two weeks in prison awaiting sentence. Thanquil had come to her rescue then, much like the first time they met in gaol of Chade. A proud woman might have bristled at that but pride was not a vanity Jezzet Vel’urn counted, she had long ago given that up in favour of survival.

“Last time, Blademaster. Put down your swords.”

Better locked up and alive than free and dead, Jez.

She held the façade for a few more seconds before straightening, dropping her swords and taking a step backwards. The Dragon Knights wasted no time in rushing in to secure her. Gauntleted hands grabbed her, shoving her this way and that. A foot kicked in to the back of her knee and Jez went down, collapsing into the grass with her arms still held out. She gave an involuntary cry of pain as one of the knights pinned her arms behind her back and manacles were fixed around her wrists. A hand wrapped around the back of her neck and Jez found herself wrenched back to her feet to face the lead Dragon Knight. Another hand grabbed hold of her hair from behind and wrenched her head backwards. She glared deadly daggers at the man in front of her.

“Blademaster Jezzet Vel’urn,” the Dragon Knight said in a formal tone. “By order of the Dragon Empress Rei Chiyo I place you under arrest until such time as she deems you ready for trial.”

The man grabbed Jezzet by the chin and stared down into her face. She didn’t struggle, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “You killed two of my men.”

A fist connected with her gut with such force Jez felt the lights go dim. The wind was blasted from her and her body simply couldn’t remember how to breathe. She slumped, gasping and the men holding her let go. She hit the floor and writhed in pain, still trying to draw breath.

“Nothing permanent,” she heard the Dragon Knight say. “And nothing visible.”

When she woke Jez could honestly say, she hurt. The knights had worked her over good and proper after she had lost consciousness and though her face was blessedly free of swelling, a small mercy but at times like this she was willing to jump on any that happened to be going, the rest of her was not. Her entire body felt stiff and she ached in every limb. Her laboured breathing convinced her she had at least one broken rib and… It suddenly dawned on Jezzet that she felt wet.

Opening her eyes Jez’s spirits sank even further. She felt wet because she was wet. She was lying on the floor in a good inch of stale, reeking, standing water. Three stone walls surrounded her and on the fourth side were steel bars, slick with some sort of green substance. A constant and nauseating dripping sound seemed to permeate her very being and threatened to drive her to despair.

Jez let out a loud sigh and ordered her body up. It didn’t respond. A horrifying thought occurred to her and Jezzet quickly thrust her hand down her underclothes and felt between her legs. She sighed again in relief.

“Well at least they didn’t rape you while you were out, Jez.”

“Do you always talk to yourself?” came a familiar voice from somewhere in the gloom.

Normally Jezzet would have been up in a shot, ready to face whatever and whoever was there but her body was sluggish and unresponsive. With more effort than she knew she had she pushed herself up onto her knees and then onto her feet. The entire left side of her body was soaked and her hair was plastered across her face. She moved it from her eyes and peered into the darkness beyond her cell.

There was little light down here in the dungeon. She knew, in fact, that she was currently underwater and the only thing that kept the water out was the sturdy design of her cage and a complex system of pumps that managed to remove all but the one inch of water she was currently standing in. There was no bed in her cell and only a small, floating wooden bucket for waste.

You’ve been in worse prisons. A sentiment she knew was true but then she’d been in better too.

“Looks like you fought back,” the voice said again and Jezzet gave a groan as she recognised the owner. “I opted not to take a beating. Reckon I came out better off.”

Past her own bars and a little to the left Jez could just about make out a figure leaning against bars of his own. That the bastard clearly had better night vision than her only served to make her more angry.

“They at least tell you why you’re here, Drake?” Jezzet asked, turning around and leaning her back against her bars with a painful moan. “All I got was you’re under arrest and here, have a free beating.”

Drake chuckled and let out a sigh. “Aye. It seems the empress is the jealous type, Jezzet and she ain’t too fond of our burgeoning relationship.”

“What relationship?”

“Well she has this idea in her head that me an’ you are fucking.”

Jez groaned again. Some of the feeling was starting to slip back into her body and along with the dull ache came a roaring fire of anger that the crazy little bitch could actually think she’d cheat on Thanquil with Drake. “Where the hell did she get such an idea?”

“Hideo Rurin told her,” Drake said, “apparently he had some sort of proof.”

“What proof?”

Again Drake chuckled. “My confession.”

Part 3 – Part of the Plan

Thanquil

Thanquil all but fell from the dragon when it touched down with a bump on the upper tier of the palace of the Dragon Empress. He slid from its back and dropped the six feet to the ground where his legs promptly buckled and he found himself kneeling on the stone landing platform praying to Volmar he never had cause to ride a dragon ever again. His one and only consolation was at least it was not yet raining though somewhat fittingly the storm that he had started back at Fort Tallon had followed them all the way here and was threatening to engulf the city in its violent, wet rage.

There was a man waiting for them on the landing platform; he was young and skinny with hands too big for his arms and an unfortunate slant to his face that made him seem permanently spooked by the entire world. The Dragon Prince Yun was a sickly man given to frequent periods of illness and a variety of unfortunate disorders including a facial tick. He was exempt from the constant warring of the other princes on account of his illnesses and so took up permanent residence in the palace of Soromo, the only Dragon Prince afforded such a luxury.

It was prince Yun’s dragon who had been tasked with carrying the Herald to fetch Thanquil and while he was thankful of the speedy flight back to the capital city he was not altogether pleased by the journey itself; terrifying ordeal only began to describe the experience. But Thanquil was here now and he found himself with a pressing need to see Jezzet right away.

“Thank you, prince Yun,” Thanquil said as he forced himself to his feet and struggled to stop his knees from buckling. The Dragon Herald Travine slid down from the dragon’s back and moved to stand behind Thanquil.

“I wonder if it understands me,” Thanquil continued motioning towards the dragon.

“He is not an it, and he understands you just fine,” Yun said with an affronted tone and a twitch that bordered on looking painful.

“I apologise,” Thanquil said before turning to the dragon. “Thank you.”

The beast responded with silence and a penetrating gaze that almost had Thanquil dropping his own eyes to the ground. Then the dragon looked away and took a few small steps forward to rest its head on the ground in front of prince Yun. The prince met the dragon half way and embraced the creature’s massive, square head.

Thanquil felt a hand on his shoulder and was gently steered away by the Dragon Herald. “It is unusual for a dragon to be so far parted from its prince.” It was the only explanation the Herald offered as he pushed Thanquil toward the stairs that led down from the balcony.

“I wish to see Jezzet Vel’urn immediately,” Thanquil said with all the conviction he could muster. He had not dared ask the Herald what her charges might be while riding on the back of the dragon and after what he calculated to be a full day’s travel he was still none the wiser. The suspense was frustrating to say the very least.

“The Empress wishes to see you first.”

Thanquil felt his jaw clench with the anger that bubbled up from deep down. “I don’t give a damn what your empress wants. You will take me to Jezzet now…”

“Or what?” the Herald asked, still walking ahead of Thanquil and not even bothering to look behind to check whether the Arbiter was still following. “You would do well to acquiesce to her demands, Arbiter. She holds your woman’s life in her hands and she does not respond well to threats, insults or coercion. Do not attempt to use your magic on her.”

Thanquil was well aware that threats, insult and coercion counted for roughly all of the tools at an Arbiters disposal and as the empress was royalty she was exempt from any form of suspicion or interrogation by an agent of the Inquisition. Only an Inquisitor would be allowed to question the little ruler and that would likely start a war neither Sarth nor the Inquisition could afford. The Dragon Empire’s armies were fractured, each faction following a Dragon Prince but should their empress be threatened they would galvanise in a moment and that was a force no other kingdom in the known world could hope to stand against.

“This best be quick,” Thanquil growled determined to have the last word as a petty victory.

“It will take as long as she wants it to take,” the Herald replied in annoyingly neutral tone.

“And how long will that be, I wonder.”

“Cei am, cha am.”

Thanquil ground his teeth but said nothing more, only followed the Herald in silence through the dark corridors.

There was something about being encased in stone on a floating city that worried Thanquil. Boats he could cope with, though he never liked to be surrounded by so much water under any circumstances, but the idea of a floating city was beyond the pale. He had lived here for almost six months with frequent trips into the nearby settlements but he had never quite managed to find his legs. He was forever imagining the city was swaying from side to side and found he could never walk in a straight line.

Even before he had left on his most recent witch hunt, even before his most recent argument with Jezzet, he had decided it was time to move on, time to move away from this cursed city. Jez’s arrest only confirmed that it was indeed time to leave. Both of them had always wanted to see a dragon but now that they had Thanquil found he would rather have left them as creatures of legend and fanciful tavern talk. The reality of the beasts were that they were loud, smelly, worryingly intelligent and dangerous on a scale he had never before witnessed. It was sheer luck he had survived his encounter with Prince Naarsk’s dragon long enough for the Herald to arrive and he knew it.

They arrived at the great hall doors, little more than sheets of paper truth be told and Thanquil knew first hand just how little privacy they truly afforded, and the Herald turned to him with an odd expression.

“She is hurting, Arbiter. I would advise… caution and tolerance.”

Almost, Thanquil asked the Dragon Herald Travine about Jezzet’s crime. They had travelled a long way together and all that time they had spoken little. Thanquil had been far too scared to ask the question lest the Herald take offence to the subversion of his will and throw the Arbiter from the back of the dragon. They had been quite high up and Thanquil had never quite managed to master the art of flapping his arms fast enough to fly.

The Herald slid the screen door open and stepped through and Thanquil followed the man into the massive hall. He counted sixteen Dragon Knights and with their training that was likely enough to kill him sixteen times over should he say the wrong word. Four stood by the screen door, watching, waiting and alert. The other twelve stood close to the dais and the dragon bone throne. The empress sat upon the throne, rigid and harsh, wearing the bulky robes of her office and an expressionless mask as unreadable as stone. Behind her lounged her dragon, the matriarch, and Thanquil couldn’t help but be awed by its size. It seemed so long ago but it was barely a day since he had fought with Naarsk’s dragon and almost died. This dragon was easily half again as big as Naarsk’s and, Thanquil assumed, half again as dangerous.

He stopped before the dais, a good distance and a dozen Dragon Knights between him and the little empress. He did not bow, nor kneel, to do so would be inappropriate. Thanquil was an Arbiter, a representative of the Inquisition, he answered only to the council and to Volmar and this empress was surely neither.

He waited, his gaze levelled firmly at the girl on the throne, and said not a word though the suspense was a grating, painstaking pit in his stomach. He could feel his hand trembling in his pocket and then it closed around something small and wooden, too small to be a rune and made of sturdier wood. He realised then it was a single lat and though he did not remember stealing it from the Herald it bolstered his resolve and calmed his nerves in a way that only two things ever could; thieving and Jezzet.

“I have summoned you, Arbiter Darkheart,” the empress said eventually when it became clear Thanquil had no intention of speaking first.

“I had noticed, Empress, and you provided such an excellent escort though for a Herald he does seem a little laconic.”

A painful silence erupted into the great hall as all waited for the empress’ reply. “The Blademaster Jezzet Vel’urn has been arrested.”

Thanquil shook his head. “About that…”

“On the charge of having a carnal relationship of my own paramour.”

Thanquil couldn’t help the bark of laughter that burst from his lips and he couldn’t help but notice the tensing of two nearby Dragon Knights.

“That’s… She didn’t… It’s not true.”

The Dragon Empress opened her mouth to speak but Thanquil cut her off, taking a step forward despite the deadly force dedicated to preserving the girl’s life, and raising his voice a notch. “Release her at once. You have no right to hold her. The charges are false and, even if they were not, if sleeping with Drake Morrass is a crime you’ll have to arrest half the Pirate Isles. Release her.”

The dragon behind the empress stirred and let out a growl, dark eyes fixing on Thanquil and boring into his own. “You dare to order me?” the empress shouted.

Thanquil was about to raise his own voice and shout back when he caught the Herald’s minute shake of his head. It dawned on him then that attempting to strong-arm the empress might be a bad idea. Unfortunately diplomacy was not one of the Inquisition’s teachings because there could be no negotiation with heretics. However, given that the empress was neither a heretic nor, judging by Thanquil’s brief knowledge, entirely sane, he decided perhaps negotiating with the woman might be more fruitful than getting himself executed.

He took a deep breath and steadied himself, tearing his eyes away and looking towards the floor. “I apologise, empress. I did not mean… I simply find this accusation hard to believe. I assume you have proof.”

“Drake confessed.”

“He’s lying,” Thanquil all but shouted before forcing himself to calm once again. He refused to even accept the possibility that the accusation could be truth. “Allow me to help in the investigation, empress.”

“How?”

“I’ll interrogate Drake Morrass myself. He will not be able to lie to an Arbiter.”

“And what of Jezzet Vel’urn?”

Thanquil ground his teeth. He had never asked Jezzet anything, not once in all the time he had known her had he used his compulsion on her. The very idea of dominating her will in such a fashion was beyond detestable to him, it was a violation of everything they had shared and everything they were to each other. Taking another deep breath he steadied himself.

“I will interrogate Drake Morrass and, if need be, Jezzet also.”

Jezzet

For five days now Jezzet had been locked down in the dungeon with the permanently wet floor and the constant dripping of water. In those five days, and apart from the occasional servant bringing them some of the most meagre rations she had ever survived on, her only company had come from a small snake no longer than her forearm, that seemed as comfortable slipping its way through the dank water on the floor as a bird would flapping its way through the sky, and of course Drake Morrass.

Not that he’s bad company. Easy to talk to and even easier to look at.

The pirate captain did not act as though he were locked up in a watery dungeon awaiting the callous whim of a woman he had scorned, he seemed to enjoy the time, always laughing and happy to relate some of his more colourful stories to Jezzet in order to keep them both company.

I doubt the little empress has heard these stories, too brutally truthful for her fragile little ears. Jezzet had already decided to place the blame for this little escapade solely on the shoulders of the Dragon Empress Rei Chiyo though she was well aware it would more deservedly rest with Drake.

He had yet to explain why he had admitted to a crime that had never taken place and why he had implicated Jez in that same crime. Fucked a lot of men but fairly certain I’d remember Drake Morrass between my legs.

Drake both irritated and fascinated Jez. His self-assuredness frustrated her and attracted her in equal measure and his enthusiastic aloofness made her crave to know more. There were times when Jez caught herself staring at the imprisoned captain and imagining what he might look like without the armour, without the clothing. He’s managed to seduce an empress, possibly the most powerful ruler in the known world. He must be good… Jez mentally shook herself and tore her eyes away, lapsing into a brooding sulk.

“I gotta admit, I’m enjoying this time we’re spending together, Jezzet,” Drake announced into the gloomy, wet prison. “You’re a little cold at times but good company all the same. Shame we’re in different cells though.”

Jez rolled her eyes at him. His implication was worryingly close to her own thoughts but she had already noticed, much to her annoyance, that Drake had an unerring sense of what she was thinking.

“Even when you’re sulking, you’re right pleasant company,” the pirate continued. “Definitely more pleasant than that other one.”

Jezzet waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t. Eventually she stood, wincing from the bruising and the possibly broken rib that the Dragon Knights had afflicted upon her even after she had surrendered. She was soaked to the bone from the standing water on the cold, stone floor and miserable to boot and despite it all, or perhaps because of it, Drake provided the only distraction. Not to mention you’re curious to know what he’s talking about, Jez.

“Other one?” she asked, approaching the bars.

Drake was leaning with his back against the bars of his own cell, watching her over his shoulder, his single golden tooth catching the dim light and broadcasting his smile.

“The other Blademaster.”

Now Jez’s attention was well and truly peaked. In all her life she had met just two other Blademasters and one of those was Yuri and she knew for a fact that he was well and truly dead. That left only one. “The Sword of the North?”

“That’s the one. Interesting fellow, very intense and not nearly so pretty as yourself.” Drake wasn’t even looking her way now, he was staring back into his cell.

The bastard thinks he’s got you, Jez. Just ignore him.

“When did you meet him?” she asked.

Jezzet had met the Sword of the North just once and she had never been quite so terrified. The man was like death given form. Jez was good with a sword, with any blade, she was beyond good and she knew it. The Sword of the North was better. He had challenged her to a fight to determine which one of them was the best. Instead of accepting the duel Jez had declined and fucked him. As soon as it was over she had fled, jumping on the first ship away from the Five Kingdoms and praying to all the nameless Gods she never had cause to meet the man again.

“Very scary man, that one. He has,” Drake paused as if searching for the right word, “a feeling about him. Makes you think he could kill ya anytime he wants and it’s only his own restraint that’s stopping him. Little bit like yours, truth be told.”

Jez was damned certain she wasn’t anything like the Sword of the North and she opened her mouth to say so.

“This is starting to become something of a habit, Jez.” Her heart sped up at the sound of Thanquil’s voice and a flood of emotion swelled through her, far too many different feelings to make sense of but she was fairly certain both joy and embarrassment were in there somewhere.

Jez rushed up to the bars of her cell, ignoring the pain in her side. Thanquil walked into view, the Dragon Herald beside him looking as stern as ever.

“Every time I leave you alone you go and get yourself arrested,” Thanquil continued, a smile playing on his lips as he squinted at her through the darkness.

She reached through the bars and grabbed hold of his coat, pulling him close and she kissed him. The bars made the reunion awkward but Jez’s fervour was obvious and Thanquil returned with equal passion. When their lips parted Jez found herself breathing hard and she found Thanquil staring at her with moist eyes.

“I missed you,” she whispered so quietly only he could hear.

He nodded, grinning at her. “I can tell.”

“I didn’t do it. I swear I didn’t…”

“I know.” Thanquil was gripping the bars with both hands so tight his knuckles were white. Jez put her own hands on top of his. “I know,” he said again.

“Now this right here is a touching reunion. Wouldn’t you say so, Travine?” Drake said. Jezzet didn’t bother looking at him but she could tell he was smiling by the mirth in his voice. Everyone ignored him.

“Seems I’m forever breaking you out of gaol,” Thanquil said.

“I’m high maintenance,” she agreed.

He kissed her again quickly before stepping back from the bars and taking a deep breath, letting it out as a laboured sigh. “The Dragon Empress has granted me access to the prisoners in order to determine the legitimacy of the crime.”

“The compulsion,” Jez said. “You can force the truth out. Nobody can lie to an Arbiter.”

Thanquil nodded.

“So ask me!”

Jez saw him wince and she knew why. In all their time together he had never once asked her anything, never once used his compulsion on her and it wasn’t just because it was as addictive as a drug. She knew he hated the idea of dominating her will and she had felt an Arbiter inside her head before, it was not something she ever wanted to experience again, not even if it was Thanquil inside of her but she was willing to allow it to prove her innocence to him.

Thanquil turned away from her. “I’ll start by interrogating Drake Morrass.”

The pirate chuckled. “This should be fun. Never been interrogated by the Inquisition before. So, Arbiter Darkheart, where do we start? You want to break a finger? Or do you prefer just to beat on your prisoners ‘til they talk.”

Jez watched as Thanquil approached the cell holding Drake Morrass. She saw the Dragon Herald tense and she could feel the change in the atmosphere almost as though Thanquil’s anger was actually poisoning the air around him.

“Nothing so crass, Drake,” Thanquil said with real menace and Jez saw the grin slip from the pirate’s face. “All I need is a single question.”

“Aye?”

“Did you have sex with Jezzet Vel’urn?”

Jez watched as Drake’s face contorted into a mask of confusion. Sweat sprung instantly from his forehead and he winced as Thanquil’s will dominated his own and forced the truth from his lips, forced him to admit to his lie.

“Yes.”

The world around them seemed to freeze. The Dragon Herald remained impassive. Thanquil took a staggering step backwards and Drake collapsed against the bars of his cell no doubt exhausted from the internal struggle. Jez let out a shuddering breath she hadn’t even been aware of holding. She sucked in another deep breath and let it out as a shout.

“He’s lying!”

“No,” Thanquil said quietly. He glanced Jez’s way once and then looked away but in that moment she saw the confusion written plainly on his face. “He isn’t lying.”

“Thanquil please,” Jez pleaded pushing herself up against the bars. “He’s lying. I didn’t fuck him. Ask me. Ask me!”

He didn’t. Thanquil didn’t even look at her again. He stuck his shaking hands in his pocket and stormed towards the exit of the dungeon with the Dragon Herald following close behind leaving Jez once again locked up in her prison.

“I didn’t fuck Drake Morrass,” she screamed after them but if Thanquil heard he made no reply.

Jez dropped onto the floor of her cell with a wet splash and felt despair take hold. How could he not believe me?

From the cell across from her she heard Drake Morrass start to chuckle.

Jezzet

Both prisoners were quiet for a long time. Drake disappeared into the back of his cell, occasionally splashing about but otherwise noiseless. Jezzet knelt in the cold water staring into space. A few silent tears crawled down her face and were lost amidst the lake around her.

She was angry and sad and a bit more angry but she couldn’t tell who the anger was directed at; the empress for arresting her, Drake for accusing her or Thanquil for not believing her.

The darkness seemed to creep in around her and soon she started to shiver but Jez paid the cold no mind, she was far too lost to care about such inconsequential matters. You’ve been in some pretty shitty situations before, Jez. Worse than this by far… strange this one feels like the end of the world then.

“Reckon we’ve spent enough time moping,” Drake said his voice sounding as though it had regained some of its usual cheer. “That and we need to have a bit of a chat. Time is short.”

Jezzet didn’t reply.

“You want to get out of here?” Drake asked.

“How did you lie to him?” Jez asked sullenly.

“I didn’t.”

She looked up at the pirate and gave him her very best level stare. She didn’t know if he could see her face in the cosy gloom but then she didn’t really care either.

Drake laughed. “All right. I lied, but then you know it’s possible, you’ve lied to an Arbiter yourself before.”

She had. Back in Sarth she had lied to an Arbiter in order to discover the identity of the heretical Inquisitor. Thanquil had made her a ring and ever since Thanquil had given the ring to Jez she had never once taken it off. She looked down at her left hand now to find the ring missing, the skin a slightly lighter shade underneath where it usually sat. She looked up at Drake.

“Interesting bit of jewellery this,” he said smiling at her as he held the ring between his thumb and fore finger.

“When did you…”

Drake flicked the ring through the bars towards her. Jez snatched it from the air and shoved it back onto her finger.

“So, Jezzet Vel’urn,” Drake said. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“I don’t need to. All I have to do is wait for Thanquil to come back. I’ll explain everything to him. He’ll ask you again, then he’ll ask me and your stupid bitch of an empress will have no choice but to free me.”

Drake laughed again. “Always the same Jezzet. Gets herself into trouble then waits for whoever she’s currently fucking to get her out of it.”

“Fuck you!”

“Poor choice of words given my current proposition,” Drake said. “’Sides, I see two problems with your plan of wait to be rescued. I ain’t going to be here when your Arbiter comes back so they’ll be no more questioning of Captain Drake Morrass and given that it’ll be your word against mine I reckon my bitch of an empress will choose to see you dead. Ya know, just in case it’s true.”

“How are you going to escape?” she asked.

“First things first. You coming with me? Or staying here to face Rei Chiyo’s wrath? I expect she’ll feed you to her dragon.”

Better alive and hunted than dead and… dead.

“I’m sure your Arbiter will come after you. Give you a chance to explain when he catches up but by then we’ll be far enough away from Rei’s influence that not even her bloody dragons will be able to reach us.” Drake paced in his cell, his feet creating small waves in the standing water. “You can take a little time to think on it but don’t take too long, Jezzet. We’re running out of time… well, you are.”

She looked at the pirate splashing about in his cell, smiling to himself. She knew it was a bad idea; running would only serve to fuel the fire, add to the suspicion of her guilt but if Drake was right, and he had an unnerving way of being just that, then staying here would likely end in her untimely demise anyway.

One of Yuri’s old sayings rang out in her head. When people expect you to do the unexpected, surprise them and do what they expect.

The splashing had stopped and Drake was pressed up against the bars of his cell, studying her with a fierce intensity that would have made most women blush. Jezzet was certainly not most women.

“How are we getting out of here?” she asked.

The pirate grinned. “We wait.”

“For what?”

“Chaos.”

After Jez agreed to participate in the escape Drake refused to elaborate on the plan and fell uncharacteristically silent. Frustrating was the only word Jez could think of to describe it but it was a word that did not do her feelings justice. It’ll be a fucking miracle if you don’t end up killing that man, Jez. She thought to herself but she knew she wouldn’t, right now she needed him but even more than that she needed to know his motives. He had implicated her in a crime that would sentence them both to death despite it never having taken place and now he intended to free her from prison so they could run away and be forever banished from the Dragon Empire. Something didn’t add up and Drake’s refusal to satisfy her curiosity only served to make her all the more curious.

“It’s time,” Drake said eventually stepping up to the bars of his cell and taking a firm grip.

Jez got to her feet and gave the pirate a sceptical look. “You going to bend the bars? The cast iron bars…”

Drake looked at her with a grave expression. “You might want to hold on to something.”

“Why?”

Then the world realigned itself. The whole dungeon tipped to its side so far that all the water and Jezzet with it lost grip on the floor and crashed to the stone wall hard enough to make all of her injuries scream in pain and her with them. Somewhere nearby Jez heard an almighty crack followed by the sound of gushing water. A part of her registered how incredibly dangerous that sound was but her mind was stuck trying to figure out what had just happened.

Still lying flat against the wall of her cell Jezzet gasped, the stale air of the dungeon rushing back into her body. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw water rushing past her, flowing into the dungeon and rolling past her towards their one and only exit.

If she had thought she had experienced a strut shift before, this one taught her the error of her ways. For such a pronounced shift to occur half the city must have been sitting at an angle, the destruction and panic would be on a scale she dare not even imagine. It occurred to her that a good portion of the city might now be underwater. It would be chaos both inside and out and would provide the opportune moment to escape.

Jez struggled to her feet, balanced at an angle between the wall and the floor. She heard a grunt and a moment later Drake Morrass grabbed hold of the bars to her cell, somehow freed from his own he had leapt the gap over to her.

“You knew this would happen. How?” she accused.

He grinned, already at the door to her cell and fiddling with the lock. “Is that really important right now?” There was another crack and a stone crashed along the floor along with even more water rushing down towards the exit of their prison. “I think we have more pressing concerns.” He looked at her. “Now before I let you out, how about a kiss?”

Jez glared at him.

“Worth a try.” Drake pulled the door to her cell open with a clang and clambered down a short way to give her room to pull herself out of her cell. “Now I should probably have asked this before but, you do know how to swim?”

Jez shrugged. “Point where you want to go and kick.”

“Good enough. Follow me.” With that Drake let go of the bars and dropped into the growing pool of water at the bottom of the dungeon.

Jez waited a few moments but the pirate didn’t re-surface. The prison was filling up quickly now and Jez had no intention of drowning here or anywhere. She sighed, took a deep breath and let go, dropping into the pool just inches from where Drake had taken the plunge.

Cold water assaulted her on all sides and Jez lost discipline, her body gasping despite her fervent orders against just that. The Emerald Sea rushed into her lungs and she panicked, kicking and thrashing in the dark wet. Then she felt air on her face. She coughed and spluttered and tried to gather her bearings. She was still in the prison, in the gathering pool and that meant she needed to dive down to find the exit. Another great crack sounded from somewhere above her and Jez needed no more encouragement. She put her head down, her arse in the air and kicked, pulling herself through the water, hoping she could find the exit.

She saw a blurry Drake-shaped image in front of her and steered towards it. The blur looked to be waving at her and then it turned and swam away, Jez followed as quickly as she could and tried not to think of all the blood thirsty monsters that called the Emerald Sea their home. Water was their element but it was most certainly not hers.

Jez followed the Drake-blur up a small set of stairs that bent back on themselves and through a near pitch-black room then up another similar set of stairs before he disappeared from view. Again panic started to set in, compounded by the lurching of her lungs as they rebelled, insisting that she was suffocating and attempting to trick her by claiming she could breathe water.

Her face broke the surface of the water and Jez gasped on instinct long before her eyes cleared enough to focus. Strong hands grabbed her underneath her arms and helped pull her out of the water and she collapsed on top of someone, gasping for air and coughing up water in equal measure. Dimly she was aware that they were still on a distinct slant and it was only by the effort of the person she was collapsed upon that she wasn’t rolling down the floor of the room.

Jez wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand as she coughed up the last of the water and looked about herself. She was lying on top of Drake who, it had to be said, looked good wet. He was grinning at her and returning the look. Jez realised she was still wearing somewhere close to very little and what she was wearing was clinging to her. She felt something move beneath her and Drake gave her a wink.

Rolling off the aroused pirate Jez struggled to her feet, slipping once but managing to stand up in the distinctly slanting room. A paper lantern hung from the roof at a dangerous angle, still alight and giving the room an eerie blue tint. The room seemed to be a antechamber with a weapon rack attached the wall and two guards piled in a corner between the wall and the floor each with their throats well and truly slit. Jez glanced at Drake with a cocked eyebrow.

The pirate coughed. “What luck, the guards appear to have conveniently committed suicide. It’ll be sometime before our escape is reported.” He looked back at the stairwell from which they had come. “Or they might just assume we drowned. Either way, we should go.”

Jez started towards the weapon rack. The swords there were curved and not her favourite style but they were sharp and Blademaster without a blade was a master of nothing.

“Leave those,” Drake ordered, already struggling towards the entrance to the corridor. “Weapons will only draw attention. Best folk just think of us as harmless foreigners attempting to escape the mayhem.”

Jez thought about it for a moment then relented, following the pirate and praying to all the nameless Gods he knew where he was going.

Drake hadn’t been wrong when he said he was waiting for chaos and, though Jezzet still didn’t know how he had predicted the strut shift, he certainly got chaos. There was evidence everywhere of the violent and destructive change in orientation. Water was everywhere as was the dark smoke that always accompanied uncontrolled fire. Distantly Jezzet heard people screaming and others shouting for help or giving orders, they passed people in the corridors who were in obvious shock, some curled up in balls muttering to themselves, others running about frantically with no thought of purpose, but they stopped to help no one. They had a mission and that mission was saving their own hides, Jezzet was more than happy to let the people of Soromo fend for themselves. She had had enough of this city weeks ago and now she was finally leaving though not, as she had imagined, with Thanquil.

She let Drake lead the way and he did so happily, steering them through hallways and occasionally short-cutting through rooms when fallen debris blocked their way. He checked behind him from time to time, no doubt making sure Jez was still following and giving the odd word of encouragement. Jezzet laboured on in silence. Wet and miserable pretty much encompassed how she currently felt and no amount of forced cheer from her accuser and saviour was likely to lift the sullen mood she found herself in.

Eventually Drake battered down a wooden door now sitting slanted in its frame and they were outside. Crisp air, dark and heavy with a spitting rain greeted them with invigorated gusto and it set Jez to shivering which in turn set all of her aches and pains to aching and causing pain.

Drake took a deep, overly-dramatic breath and let it out with a happy sigh. “Told ya I’d get us out.”

Jez considered leaving the pirate and running off, finding Thanquil and begging him to believe her, to run with her but she couldn’t be sure he would, couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t turn her back into the empress’ custody. The idea that she no longer knew whether she could trust him hurt more than any of her physical wounds and she wagered it did little to make her engaging company but Drake showed no signs of disappointment.

Even from their low vantage point with the water of the Emerald Sea lapping up onto the covered walkways and the nearby garden completely submerged, Jez could see the city was a mess. Some sections leaned at awkward and unreal angles so much so that she couldn’t see how the buildings remained standing, other sections seemed to be almost unaffected. It was as if half the struts in the city had shifted and the other half had remained as before. It was almost like looking at the whole city sideways.

Fires were raging in many parts of the city. Entire buildings had gone up in flames and black smoke belched into the dark sky in giant plumes. People were everywhere. Soldiers, commoners, merchants, thieves and nobility all forgetting their rigid class structure and pitching in to put out fires, clear debris, save loved ones, all labouring to bring order back to their beloved city. Even the women were helping in whatever ways they could though they kept the voluminous clothing wrapped tightly about themselves.

Boats were out in force, everything from the small skiffs and rafts to the giant pleasure barges and cargo haulers. They ferried the wounded to safer areas, brought more people to help and evacuated folk from sections that seemed all but lost.

The Emerald Sea is swallowing the city. Has Drake doomed everyone just to free himself… and me?

A small boat, no more than twenty feet long and poled by a man in a dark coat with a hood pulled up so his face was invisible, bumped onto the wooden walkway nearby. It was crewed by three more men all similarly dressed to the poleman. Drake strode over to greet them.

“Perfect timing,” he said with his usual golden grin.

“To the minute, Captain,” said the poleman. He was a broad man, thick with muscle and long, dirty-blonde hair that hung in wet clumps around his hooded face. “Brought ya coat an’ hat.”

Drake took the coat and swept it over his shoulders, buttoning the royal blue great coat in a swift motion. Then he took the well-used tri-corn hat, gave it a courtesy dusting and affixed it atop his head. For the first time since Jez had met Drake he actually looked like the legendary pirate everyone thought him to be.

And it suits him well.

“Thank you, Princess,” Drake said to the poleman with a wink.

Jez snorted out a laugh. Both men gave her a curious look.

“You call all your crew, Princess?” she asked the pirate.

“Only the ones whose name it is,” Drake replied with a straight face.

“Your name is Princess?” she said smirking. “Your dad must really have wanted a girl.”

Princess did not look amused. His jaw was clenched and his brow well and truly furrowed. He spat once on the wooden deck and looked to Drake. “Captain?”

Drake shrugged. “You’re welcome to try but I don’t rate your chances, Princess. She’s tougher than she looks… And she looks pretty tough already.”

Princess nodded and gave Jez an appraising look. “Me ma’ gave me the name an’ I’d thank ya not to besmirch her memory. That and,” the man drew a sword from its scabbard attached to his belt, Jez’s sword, the same one Thanquil had given to her and Drake had rescued, “if you take the piss again you’ll not get this fancy bit of metal back.”

Worth being civil to get it back, Jez. Best sword you’ve ever owned. Not to mention…

“You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Princess held the sword for a moment longer before re-sheathing it and handing it to her. Jezzet took it gladly and only wished she had a belt upon which to attach it. She might have lost Thanquil but she’d be damned before she’d lose the sword he gave her again.

“Excellent. Glad we’re all being civil about this,” Drake said looking up at the sky. “I’d say we have about two hours.”

“Less,” said Princess. “Storms moving fast.”

“And we really don’t want to be here when it hits,” Drake concluded. “Storms like this come along once every decade or so. Fair to say Soromo has not seen the last of its sorrow this night.

“Princess, take the pole. Boys, un-ship those oars. You too, Jezzet.”

She looked at him incredulous.

“I don’t care how much you pout, even if it does make you stunning, nobody gets a free ride on any of my boats no matter how small they might be. You either row or you swim.”

Jez gave him a dark look but relented, clambering onto the little skiff, sat down next to one of the pirates and picked up one of the oars.

How hard can it be?

Drake climbed aboard last. He took up position at the front of the boat, standing with one leg on the side looking ahead. It was a striking pose and one Jez liked to use herself though she doubted she looked quite so good doing it.

“Right then, boys… and Jezzet, put your backs into it and fucking row!”

That night Jezzet learned the hard way just how much work rowing a boat was. Her Blademaster training had made her strong, far stronger than most women her size, and had shown her how to best use the muscle she built. In the years since she had completed her training and become a Blademaster by duelling and killing Yuri she had perhaps lost some of that strength but she kept herself in passing good shape. Rowing appeared to use muscles she did not even know existed. Before ten minutes were out her arms were aching and her back felt as though it was on fire. It was almost two hours before they finally reached the shore of the Emerald Sea and she was somewhere beyond exhausted and wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and rest under Thanquil’s watchful, and often sleepless, eye. Unfortunately she had neither the Arbiter nor the time for such luxury.

“Will it be alright?” she asked as they pulled the skiff up onto the shore. “Soromo, I mean.”

The city had suffered greatly at the hands of the strut shift, that much had become clear as they gained some distance and perspective. Many districts were affected and not all were leaning the same way. Chaos, as the pirate captain had called it, would only begin to describe what was happening. The screaming and the panicking and the scale of the destruction had followed them long after they left the city limits and made for dry land. They were still on the outskirts of the storm then and for the first time Jez witnessed a glimpse of the true danger of the Emerald Sea.

The water was a churning mass of black waves and cold spray. Some of the waves were easily twice the size of the tallest man she’d ever seen and it was only by Drake’s confident orders and Princess’ expert steering that they made it ashore without capsizing. More than once Jez caught a fleeting sight of something unfathomably large swimming beneath the surface but she refused to let her mind linger on the danger.

“It won’t sink,” Drake said. “But that city is in for a rough time of it.” The pirate captain looked tired. His hair was plastered to his face in the rain and his eyes had a weary look to them but he still smiled. “You look like hell, Jezzet.”

“How did you shift the struts?” she accused. Careful, Jez. You’re surrounded and in no condition to fight five armed men.

But Drake showed no sign of offence. He laughed, loud and full of unfeigned mirth. “I’m just a man, Jezzet Vel’urn. How could I possibly have managed such a feat as moving an entire city?”

There was a strange light in his eye but Jez ignored it. “But you knew. You knew about the shift before it happened.” She realised she was shouting over the rising sound of the rain as it began to drive down harder around them.

Drake laughed and nodded before turning to the two men who had been waiting for them ashore, two men with eight horses. “Princess, Jez, you’re with me,” Drake announced, shouting against the wind as it tried to tear his words away. “The rest of you ride hard and fast and every one of you who makes it back to the Fortune gets a bag full of coins the colour of your choice.”

The gathered pirates whooped and ran for the horses before riding them off in a variety of directions. Jezzet shot Drake a questioning look.

“To throw the dragons off our trail,” he shouted. “They’ll be coming for us soon as this storm lets up an inch.”

“Pretty generous giving them gold to lead the dragons away,” Jez shouted back.

Drake laughed though Jezzet couldn’t hear it over the wind. He leaned in and shouted so close she could feel his breath hot and heavy against her ear. “None of them are gonna make it back. Dragons’ll see to that.”

“And what about us?” she screamed over the wind as Drake led them to the three panicking horses that waited for them.

“Don’t worry,” he shouted back as he swung up onto a horse. “This ain’t the first time I’ve given that crazy bitch’s dragons the slip. Now stop fucking talking and ride!”

The pirate captain put his heels to the horse and the beast needed no more encouragement, it trotted away into the waiting darkness. Princess gave her a grin, pulled his hood up and followed. Jez turned in her saddle to look back at Soromo but the city was too far away and hidden by the dark and the storm and Thanquil was hidden with it. With a heavy sigh she put her own heels to the horse and followed Drake Morrass into the night.

Thanquil

There was a certain poetic irony to Thanquil’s current situation. That the storm he had unleashed back at Fort Tallon had decided to follow him all the way to Soromo before finally venting its full force directly overhead might have made him laugh had the whole incident not been preceded by the worst strut shift the city had ever experienced. To compound the issue Thanquil found himself right in the very worst of it.

He’d been in one of more colourful parts of the city and he’d gone there angry and confused, unsure of what he felt and even more unsure of what he should do about it. He had felt his will lock onto Drake’s and force the truth to bubble up out of the man. He had felt the thrill of pleasure, so much like a drug, as he dominated the other man. Drake Morrass hadn’t lied and that meant Jezzet had. They had coupled, rutted, slept together, fucked, made love. Hundreds of thoughts and images floated around in Thanquil’s head all vying for attention and he wanted to think none of them, see none of them. So he had gone there, looking for a drink, looking for companionship but most of all he had gone there looking for a fight. Instead he got chaos, panic and more than a little good will.

“We commend you for your part in helping Soromo through this, Arbiter Darkheart,” the Dragon Empress said with a distinctly imperial air. Despite all that had happened; the strut shift, the storm, the fact that her entire meeting hall was currently sitting at a pronounced slant; the empress had not a hair out of place. The city might have been hit by its worst disaster in living, or dead, memory but its ruler carried on as though all were normal.

Thanquil, on the other hand, looked anything but normal. His hair hung in lank, greasy strands framing a soot smudged, weary face. He had not rested in days now and the only thing keeping him upright was the sleepless charm affixed to his left arm. He could feel the hazy fog of sleep at the edge of his mind but the charm kept it at bay.

His colourful district had been one of the worst hit by the strut shift. Buildings were wrecked, fires burst to life from the devastation despite the heavy rain and everywhere the injured and the dying cried for attention. Far from the murderous, human-sacrificing zealot most people seemed to believe he was Thanquil had proven to the people of the district that having a man who can increase his strength two-fold or dull someone’s senses to take away the pain was entirely useful. He had spent most of a day, even during the very worst of the storm, clearing wreckage, putting out fires, dragging survivors to safety and tending to wounded. The people had rallied around him, helped him and he had found himself wrapped up in the appreciation. It had done wonders to keep his mind occupied and now sheer exhaustion was doing much the same job.

“I only wish I had better news to share with you,” the Dragon Empress continued. Though the throne of bones had survived the catastrophe she did not sit it but preferred to stand, her dragon resting behind her as always, a giant reptilian mound of teeth, wings and bad temperament. Dragon Knights still crowded into the meeting room despite the fact that they could be of more use out there in the city, helping the helpless and a few of the surviving magistrates were in attendance. The district most of the magistrates called home and been the worst hit in the city; its strut had snapped and the entire section had sunk into the watery depths. In one monumental tragedy the Dragon Empire’s government had been crippled leaving the empress with more power than ever before.

“The pirate Drake Morrass and the Blademaster Jezzet Vel’urn are dead,” the empress announced.

Thanquil felt as though someone had punched him in the gut. He found it hard to breathe, hard to think. His limbs were heavy all of a sudden and his words caught in his throat. The Dragon Empress did not spare him even a moment to come to terms with the news.

“The dungeon was flooded during the storm. They both drowned.”

“But… I don’t…”

The empress frowned at him and kept talking, clearly she was not used to being interrupted. “The people of Soromo need never know of her crimes. Perhaps the whore can restore in death some of the honour she threw away in life.”

It was all too much for Thanquil. He looked up, his eyes meeting the empress’ cool green gaze. “How dare you?”

The words were out of his mouth before he realised what he was doing and by then it was too late to take back. The empress stumbled, reeling as Thanquil’s will smothered her own but he never heard her answer. The empress’ dragon was the first to react. Launching up from its dormant spot and lumbering forwards, covering the empress from view with a wing and then letting loose a roar of pure fury and malevolence that echoed around the meeting hall. The Dragon Knights responded a moment later, unsure of what exactly had happened they still knew it was his fault and they came towards him weapons drawn.

Thanquil stumbled backwards himself, still shocked at what he had just done and what it would mean. The Dragon Empress was royalty and beyond the suspicion of the likes of him, even if he had believed she was guilty of heresy. For him to use his compulsion on the empress was a crime punishable by death and not even his status as an Arbiter would be able to protect him.

Panic clear on his face Thanquil stopped backing away and drew his sword into his right hand and his pistol into his left; the little gun had no black powder in it and would not fire but he hoped the Dragon Knights didn’t know that, it might buy him an extra second or two. Not that he knew what he might do with those extra seconds. If they wanted to kill him there was little to nothing he could do about it. Even so, the Dragon Knights stopped their advance, all fourteen of them staring at him with apprehension. Maybe it was his weapons or his status as an Arbiter or maybe even the wild look in his eyes but the Dragon Empress’ elite guard did not look keen at the idea of coming any closer.

“WAIT!” the empress’ voice was raised and shaky. “Do not kill him.”

Thanquil was somewhat glad of the order, he didn’t really fancy fighting fourteen men at once… or even one at a time.

The empress emerged from behind the dragon’s scaled wing and she no longer looked to be immaculate. A large collection of strands of dark hair had come free and spilled across her face, her cheeks were bright red in colour and her brow heavily furrowed. Her dragon stared at Thanquil with its dark, beady eyes, its mouth open a little and a low rumble emitting from deep within its throat. The empress stepped forward, compensating for the slope of the floor and placed a tiny hand on the dragon’s massive head. Thanquil wagered the beast was big enough to eat three of her whole but it quieted a little at her touch.

“You overstep your bounds, Arbiter Darkheart,” the empress said her voice now hard and full of malice. “And I would be well within my right to kill you.”

Thanquil knew this was one of those times when he should keep his mouth shut but the damned thing had a habit of not listening to him. “You mean have me killed. Folk in your position so rarely get their own hands dirty.”

She didn’t rise to his baiting and for that he counted himself lucky. “There are no people in my position.

“Because of your service last night and for the betrayal that we both share I will not kill you, Arbiter. But you are banished from my city and from my empire. Leave. Now. And do not ever think of returning.” Thanquil heard the door behind him slide open. “My Herald will escort you.”

Thanquil craned his head around to find the Dragon Herald standing by the open door, his usual blank, impassive stare fixed firmly to his face. He put his sword and pistol away and turned back to the empress, determined to have the last word he snorted. “I’ve had more than enough of your damned empire.”

With that he turned on his heel and strode from the meeting hall, the low rumbling of the dragon still echoing around the cavernous space behind him.

Thanquil didn’t stop until he was out of the palace. The sun was just starting its daily decline and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, the storm had quite literally expended itself. Yet the world seemed a dull, dim, lifeless place and Thanquil felt a cold hand squeezing the heart within his chest.

“She’s not dead,” said the herald. He had followed Thanquil all the way outside the palace into the slanting, ruined garden leading up to the main entrance.

Thanquil turned to look at the man but no words would form on his lips so he let out a strangled sound of curiosity instead.

“We don’t think she’s dead,” the herald clarified. “The cells were flooded but we found the guards. They didn’t drown, their throats were slit. We’ve not managed to drain the water to investigate further but I believe your woman and the pirate escaped.”

“The empress said…”

“She doesn’t want you going after them. She’s sending the dragons. All of them. She wants Jezzet dead and Drake back here for good.”

“But you don’t.”

The Dragon Herald took a deep breath and sighed it out. Regardless of any misgivings Thanquil might have about the man he seemed the honourable sort.

“Drake Morrass is poison,” the herald continued and the venom in his voice was enough to convince Thanquil he spoke true. “He twists the empress, pulls her in directions she ought not go in and clouds her mind to her advisers, to those who want what’s best for the empire. I do not like him and I do not want him coming back. Ever.”

“And you want me to make certain of that,” Thanquil finished.

“What you do when you catch the pirate is your business. They will go to Larkos; it is the only place they will be safe from the dragons and the only place the Fortune can make port once the empress’ orders get out.

“I have a boat waiting to take you out of Soromo and a horse waiting for you when you leave the Emerald Sea. From there you can make your own way to Larkos.”

Thanquil nodded. He couldn’t really tell what he was currently feeling, his emotions seemed a jumble tied in a knot wrapped around a mess but he had a strange inkling that killing Drake Morrass would help.

“Thank you,” he said to the herald. “I’ll make certain Drake doesn’t come back here.”

Two hours later Thanquil found himself astride a horse heading towards Larkos in the most direct route he knew. Heading towards Drake Morrass. Heading towards Jezzet.

Jezzet

True to his word Drake led them to Larkos without being eaten by any of the empress’ dragons. His inside knowledge of how to give the flying beasts the slip turned out to be the cunning plan of staying under the tree cover. It was a plan Jez wagered she could have figured out on her own but then at least the pirate was pleasant enough company that she could cope with his wild boast.

Both Drake and Princess turned out to be more than serviceable companions for the trip. The pirate captain, apart from his dashing good looks, had a wildly mysterious way of talking that Jez found drawn to and was determined to dig deeper into the man’s past and his vague motives. His subordinate on the other hand had a stoic camaraderie and a near permanently cheery disposition so long as no one made fun of his name.

They rode their first horses near to death, streaking through the night and the rain in a flight as terrifying as the storm chasing them. Jez counted it a miracle none of their mounts slipped, breaking legs and throwing the riders to certain death. They changed those horses for new ones, with Drake generously footing the bill, at the first town they came across and at every small village and large city in between. By the time they arrived at Larkos each of them had ridden no less than four different horses and Drake had ridden five after one had turned up lame only a mile from the shoddy town from which they had bought it.

The ride up to the great gate of Larkos was nerve-racking. Jezzet almost expected to see dragons perched upon the battlements waiting for them but it was nothing but foolish fancy. The free city did not allow dragons within its limits and they had the weaponry to enforce that rule. Ballistae, repeaters, catapults and scorpions all sat atop the walls of Larkos and all were well maintained and regularly tested. No soldiers in the known world were as accurate a shot nor so quick to aim for no other soldiers in the known world lived under the constant threat of dragon attack.

Jez looked up at the great gate as they approached. Really is a fitting name. It wasn’t the first time she had seen it but no matter how many times she did, it never failed to awe her. Standing somewhere close to a hundred feet high and almost the same wide it was without a doubt the biggest gate she had ever seen. It closed in times of war and the mechanisms that closed it also barred it in a thousand different places. It was just one of the tourist attractions of Larkos and understandably so. Never in all its history had the great gate ever been breached. Armies had tried in the past but most gave it up for a bad idea and decided climbing the hundred and fifty feet high walls to be a more likely and less costly avenue of attack.

Upon each side of the gate were carved thirteen symbols, one for each of the companies that both ran and protected Larkos. The city was split into twelve public districts and one, central, private district. Every five years the companies randomised which of them controlled each district and that in turn randomised which of them was the richer but not the more powerful; each of the thirteen had equal say in the running and ruling of the city and though they occasionally squabbled, they were always united in the cause of Larkos.

There’s a reason the Dragon Empire has failed to take this city no matter how many times it tries.

Jezzet liked Larkos. It was a city she would happily have named home if it weren’t for the rigid adherence to the laws and the companies’ brutal and unmerciful upholding of those said laws. Some were known to be worse than others but none were known to be particularly kind to criminals and Jez had a habit of falling into that category.

Drake was smiling at her. The pirate didn’t even bother to hide his bold-faced leering. “Don’t worry, Jez,” he said with his golden grin. “Long as ya’ here with me, you’re safe.”

“Is anyone safe when they’re with you?” she shot back earning a snort of laughter from Princess.

“I got an accord with those that run this city. Protection and a certain amount of… discretion. All for a hefty annual sum of course but then I count it as full worth the cost.

“I get free port, pick of the litter when it comes to berth, good prices so long as I sell to the companies and not direct to the merchants and I get to conduct my own business even when it’s not entirely, um, legal. I also get to hide from the empire and its empress should the need ever arise and right now there’s a definite rising.”

As they queued to enter through the great gate, waiting with all the merchants, commoners and tourists, a hooded man detached himself from the side of the road and approached. Alarm bells sounded in Jez’s head, she knew a thief when she saw one but it was clear Drake had seen the man too and he didn’t appear alarmed.

“Cap’n,” the man said with a voice like grating rock. He stank of stale casher weed.

“What’s the word?” Drake asked.

“Envoy from the empire arrived just yesterday. Queen o’ Blades is puttin’ them up and keepin’ ‘em well and truly companied. Plenty o’ time for us ta get gone.”

Drake nodded. Jezzet watched him with more than a mild suspicion. “What about the Fortune?” the pirate captain asked.

“Ready ta sail soon as you are, cap’n. She comin’?” he jerked his head towards Jez.

“Aye, that she is,” replied Drake.

Am not! Jez thought but for some reason she kept silent.

“Skip ahead and tell the boys we’ll be sailing come sun down,” Drake said. “Best we slip away under cover of night and no lights above deck. We’ll be along soon enough.”

“The Oracle?” asked Princess.

“Best we say hello,” Drake said with a nod. “Him and the Scarred Man both.”

The hooded man turned and darted away, quickly disappearing into the crowd. Jez waited a few moments before turning to Drake. “I’m going with you?”

“If you’re hoping to survive this bloody empire you are. Her dragons might not be allowed within sight of the walls but you’re fooling yourself if you reckon she ain’t got agents inside this city.”

Jez snorted. “Let them come. I’d happily have something to hit.”

“Oh aye, you’d be a real terror to them if they came at you straight with swords a swinging but I don’t reckon that’s too likely. They’ll wait until you think you’re right. Few days from now you’ll be sitting down with a beer or chewing a strip of beef and your throat will start to itch, little bit at first but it’ll grow. Soon you’ll find yourself coughing but no matter how much you can’t seem to shift it. Then it gets hard to breathe as your airway starts to close and the wheezing begins. You claw at your throat, neck swelling and face turning all sorts of purple and then… well then you die.”

Jez couldn’t help but rub at her neck, imagining it itching already. She glared at Drake. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

Drake grinned, his gold tooth glinting. “You don’t get to be Drake Morrass without living through a poisoning or two.

“Fortune sets sail tonight, Jezzet. You want on it and the space is yours. I’ll deliver you back home to the wilds, well out of her reach, and from there your life is yours again. Do with it what you will. You don’t want on it and I reckon you can count your remaining days on one hand. Again, your choice.”

Not much of a choice at all. Flee to the wilds, Jez. Get word to Thanquil and convince him it was all a lie. She looked up to find Drake regarding her through cool, green eyes. Bastard’s responsible for you being here in the first place but he’s also the only chance you’ve got at surviving the whole fucking mess.

“Fine,” Jez spat with a grin. “But if I’m sailing for you, Drake, I best get paid.”

Princess burst into laughter and Drake nodded with a bemused half-smile. “Aye. Reckon we’ll make a pirate out of you yet, Jezzet Vel’urn.”

Thanquil

Thanquil glared at the young boy and the young boy glared right back. His very first mission since graduating to the status of Arbiter was not going exactly as he had planned. Thanquil had imagined folk would be cowed his presence, gazing on him with awe and respect. He was half right in that regard, they were most certainly cowed but instead of awe and respect there was fear and barely concealed hatred. He had imagined he would stride into the small village with his head held high and, using a combination of the skills he had been mastering for the past twenty years, he would determine the identity of the heretic, should there be one, and subsequently fight a short but heroic battle against the forces of darkness. Instead he had stolen into the village in the dead of night and slept most of the following day away in the local inn. Upon waking he had discovered, far from the epic battle, much of his calling seemed to entail a series of lengthy interrogations and the continued use of his compulsion. While the process was not without its own sense of enormous pleasure, the compulsion was a joy to use and left him with a heady feeling of power, it was also a very dull process.

The boy bit his lips and swung his feet, the chair was too tall for him. Thanquil scratched at his day-old stubble and decided he would need to shave soon. He couldn’t imagine ever living with anything resembling a beard. The boy mimicked his action.

Thanquil dropped his hand back down to his side and tilted his head a little to the left, the boy also dropped his hand but titled his own head to the right. Thanquil grinned in triumph. The boy grinned with him.

“Stop that,” he ordered the child. “I need to ask you a few questions. Do you understand?”

He felt the pleasure surge through him and saw the boy frown with concentration as his will was dominated and he was forced to speak the truth. A simple question and a simple answer but the boy still resisted. Thanquil had to admit, though only ever to himself, it was more fun when they resisted.

“Yes,” the boy said with a wince and then promptly commenced sulking, his bottom lip sticking out and eyes lowering to the floor.

“Good. Then we’ll begin. What is your name, boy?”

This time he answered immediately. “Damien.”

“Do you ever see any of the other villagers practising dark magic, conversing with demons or possessing of strange powers, Damien?”

The boy winced and moaned, his eyes tearing up. “I don’t know.”

It was possible, Thanquil had to admit, the question may have been a bit too complicated for a four year old. Instructor Noin liked to say the questions should never be routine but an Arbiter should tailor them to the individual. He would need to ask the question in way in which the boy would both understand and be capable of answering.

“Damien,” Thanquil continued before the boy could start crying. “Are any of the villagers here… evil?”

The boy shook his head and sniffed loudly. “No. I don’t think so.”

Thanquil nodded, picked up his notebook and scribbled down the results of the interrogation. It did not take long. “You can go now, Damien.”

The boy slipped down from the chair and rushed for the door, he spent a few moments attempting to reach for the handle before giving up and kicking the door twice. A moment later it opened and the boy rushed out. A thin man of advancing years and more hair in his nose than on his head stepped through into the little room and looked around in distaste. Thanquil had painted the symbol of Volmar on the wall in dark black ink and had cleared the room of all but two chairs. The thin man obviously did not well appreciate the use of his office in the town hall.

“Can I fetch you anyone else, Arbiter?” the man asked in a deep baritone of a voice.

Thanquil snapped to his feet and turned on the man, staring him down with a vicious glare. “I will be doing the questioning around here, not you.”

The man backed up a step, nodding and casting his eyes to the floor. “Is that a no or a yes then?”

Thanquil suppressed a sigh and stepped close to the man. “No. That will be all for now. Leave, quickly.”

The man sketched a hasty bow and turned and fled, almost tripping over his own feet as he went. Thanquil closed the door behind him and only then allowed himself a grin. There were most certainly some perks to the job and the ability to make folk uncomfortable certainly seemed like one of them. There was also the fact that no one would suspect it was he behind the recent spree of pick-pocketing. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wooden toy, roughly half the size of his fist. It was conical in shape and had thin protrusion on the top. He had seen the boy playing with it the day before, spinning it on the floor and seeing how long it could remain upright. The opportunity had presented itself earlier so Thanquil had taken the toy. He stowed it quickly down in the bottom of his pack and decided to review his notes. It did not take long.

He had interrogated almost every citizen in town and was quickly coming to the conclusion that there were no heretics here. Tinfield was as peaceful and sleepy a place as it appeared to be. Thanquil was beginning to wonder whether the council had sent him here knowing this, the polar opposite to a baptism of fire they sent him to a town filled with citizens living normal lives and knowing little to nothing of the heresy he had come here hunting. In a way it made sense, the Inquisition sending Arbiters on their first mission to a place where no action would be required. He doubted any of the new graduates were sent to deal with real heretics straight away. He could still, of course, accuse one of the townsfolk, execute them under suspicion of heresy to set an example for all others, it was well within the bounds of his authority but Thanquil did not feel like murdering an innocent for little more than no reason at all.

He placed his notebook back inside one of the many pockets of his coat. The long, brown duster was so new it still had the smell of cured leather about it and that smell was enough to make Thanquil smile. His coat was proof that he had endured his Arbiter training and graduated, proof that he was a full agent of the Inquisition and wielded the authority of such a powerful and prestigious organisation. Now he needed to check in with that organisation, send word to the council and receive any orders that had sent to him. He would have to steal out into the nearby forest and summon a demon. If he said the thought of summoning one of the creatures didn’t excite him, he’d be lying. Ever since that first time he had been fascinated by the demons of the void and subsequent summonings did little to extinguish that curiosity.

Inquisitor Poole himself had observed one of Thanquil’s demon summonings and the entire council admitted that strange occurrences were almost the norm when it came to Thanquil. Every time he summoned one of the beasts he had to wonder; what would happen? His only disappointment was that not once had his first encounter ever been repeated, not once had he seen a demon attempt to manifest itself properly to such an extent that it was able to interact with this world.

Sneaking out wasn’t a problem for Thanquil. Even if he hadn’t been as stealthy as a cat in the dark he was an Arbiter now and people purposefully tried not to notice him and would happily let him go about his business. Even so, it was far more exciting edging out through the first floor window, pulling himself onto the rooftop and creeping along the tiles, as silent as a breeze until he reached the backside of the building. There he shimmied down to the ground, looked to make sure there was no one about to see him and sprinted for the tree line.

It was near total darkness in the woods, the only light coming from the occasional moonbeam striking the forest floor between gaps in the canopy and creating strange swirling eddies of moonlit dust in the dark. It was impossible to be silent here, twigs snapped underfoot and leaves rustled in his wake but there was no one around to hear him but the animals and there were none in Sarth dangerous enough to cause him damage.

He moved a fair distance from the town, judging a mile or so to be sufficient. Thanquil was always mindful that the demons sometimes made a lot of noise and he also knew the judgement he would have to administer to anyone who was unfortunate enough to witness what he was about to do. The Inquisition’s best kept and dirtiest secret; that they used the demons responsible for people’s heresy. They were hypocrites of the highest order but that did not mean they did not do good. The demons were bound to the Inquisition by Volmar himself and had to obey all of the organisation’s agents no matter the order. Through the demons the Inquisition performed good to outweigh the sin, through the demons they were able to communicate over any distance.

Thanquil took out the wooden rune he had prepared before leaving his room. A small chip of brittle wood scored horizontally across the centre and painted with three symbols. The summoning rune, the power rune and the control rune; only with all three was he able to bring a demon into this world and control it.

He drew in a deep breath of crisp, night time air and let it out as a ragged sigh, full of nervous excitement. Then he snapped the rune and dropped it to the ground.

The world grew somehow darker and colder. His breath began to mist in front of his face and Thanquil dug his hands into his pockets to ward off the chill. Then came the rattling of the chains, huge, heavy chains made from a metal that only Volmar knew. The God had forged the chains too bind the demons and he forged them so only he could break them, sealing the beasts’ subservience for all time.

A patch of darkness in front of Thanquil, almost as large as he, grew darker still and he could just about make out the spiked form of the demon’s head as it phased into this world from the depths of the void. Two tiny sparks of yellow blossomed into intense flame as the demon opened its eyes.

Another patch of darkness roared into life easily three times as large as the first. The second, larger demon snarled at the first, opening its mouth wide to show the piercing white light within framed by row upon row of jagged black teeth. The first demon shrieked and turned away, fading into the night in a moment.

The second demon, its face almost three times as big as Thanquil, turned towards the Arbiter and regarded him with its eyes of pure fire.

Thanquil grinned, air escaping from his mouth in an almost hysterical laugh. He had certainly never seen anything like that before.

The demon’s face moved closer to Thanquil and he again heard the rattling of chains. “Arbiter Darkheart…”

Thanquil came awake instantly and became instantly aware of the sharp pain in his back and general ache in his entire body. Sleeping on a bunch of felled tree trunks as they were carted towards their destination was apparently a very painful idea but at least he’d snatched a few hours sleep, though with his current trend of dreams he was starting to wish he hadn’t.

The reason for his waking was clear; the cart had stopped. Thanquil rolled off of his makeshift bed and onto his feet, struggling to stand from the stiffness. He had apparently ended up sleeping with the sharp stump of a decapitated branch poking into his back just above his kidney and he had the agonising pain to prove it.

With a weary sigh borne from weeks of sleep deprivation Thanquil shouldered his pack and walked to the back of the cart, leaping to the ground just as the driver rounded to the side of the big wooden log hauler.

The man’s eyes went wide and he stumbled back a step as Thanquil’s feet hit the ground. Evidently he had not realised there was a slumbering Arbiter in the back of his cart. Even through a long drooping moustache and with his face shadowed by the wide-rimmed hat Thanquil could see instant anger on the man’s face. He opened his mouth, clearly about to admonish the stowaway before his eyes fell on Thanquil’s coat. The cart driver’s mouth snapped shut and he bowed his head quickly.

Thanquil smiled and nodded at the man before turning and striding away around the side of the cart. That was when he saw the walls of Larkos looming up in front of him and the great gate standing as firm and impenetrable as ever.

He had been at least two days travel from the free city when he stowed away on the cart even if the driver had pushed his animals and forgone the customary stops. For having had two days rest Thanquil certainly didn’t feel rested though it would explain the dry, carpeted taste in his mouth and the rumbling pit that had once been his stomach.

The cart was sat in a queue leading up to the great gate as the guards checked each cargo and taxed entry to the free city. If he stayed in his current place in the queue it would be hours before he gained entrance but Thanquil had no intention of staying in his current place. Arbiters may not have any official authority in the free cities but that didn’t mean he couldn’t abuse people’s innate fear of witch hunters to skip a few hours of boredom and the sooner he was inside the walls of Larkos the sooner he could start looking for Jezzet.

Thanquil approached the great gate to the side of the queuing folk. It was an act that earned him baleful stares a plenty and even a few quietly spoken insults but he ignored them. He passed carts loaded with goods, food stuffs, weapons, buildings supplies, canvas, metals. Some were even guarded by armed, paid caravan-working mercenaries. He saw peddlers standing alone with only the goods in their packs and the rare goods stashed away close to their persons. Thanquil felt his hand shake a little as he witnessed cutpurses and snatch crews working the queue. He knew if he chose to walk with the queue instead of beside it he’d find all sorts of useless junk in his pockets by the time he reached the gate. His habit of stealing useless things from people who needed them least was a strange compulsion that he had never managed to shake and, if he was true to himself, did not want to.

He saw a thief, a child no more than six years old whose gender was indeterminable, creep up behind a distracted journeyman busy arguing with another of his peers over the unusual waiting time. The child lifted the journeyman’s purse, cut the strings in a fluid and practised motion before rushing off into the crowd. A part of him longed to join in as he once had but he was too old and too big for such work these days and he had a different calling. He always had. Thanquil’s calling was to hunt and judge heretics, not steal purses for a living. It was a calling that was altogether far better paid.

As he approached the gate three Scarred Men broke off from inspecting an ore cart and approached, their individual features hidden behind their metal masks.

“Arbiter,” said the middle of the three, holding up a hand to halt Thanquil.

Thanquil looked at each of the three Scarred Men in turn, attempting to memorise the only visible parts of their faces; their eyes.

The Scarred Men were currently one of the richest and without a doubt the most brutal of the thirteen organisations that governed Larkos. They were founded by the Scarred Man when the city was built and all that was known about that founder was that he was horrifically scarred. If the organisation itself had any more about its founder’s history they were not in the habit of sharing it with outsiders.

The way Thanquil heard it said only their leader, the current Scarred Man, was allowed to be seen in public without his mask and that was because each time a new leader was chosen they were required to deliberately scar their own face to match that of the founders. Each of its members wore a metal mask in the visage of that founder as well so the effect it produced was that all the Scarred Men looked the same apart from the metal that their masks were made from. There appeared to be some sort of ranking system with the more precious the metal the higher up the chain of command the person was but Thanquil did not know it and did not care to find out. What he did know was that the Scarred Men were a brutally vicious organisation who practised eye-for-an-eye punishment and brooked no crime on their streets. They were also currently in charge of the great gate district of Larkos and that made them both rich and powerful.

Thanquil stared down the Scarred Man in the middle; his mask appeared to be made of black iron. “This is where you tell me you don’t like witch hunters,” Thanquil said in the most condescending tone he could manage. He had been through that conversation his last time in Lakors and it had bored him then as it threatened to do now. It seemed the current Scarred Man had an issue with the Inquisition, as did many people in the known world and the current most notable of those was the Dragon Empress.

“There’s a man wants to see you,” the middle man said from behind his mask his tone completely unreadable.

“I’m afraid I don’t do requests so if you’ll just step out of my way I have to get to the harbour district which will put me firmly out of your way and someone else’s problem. I believe the Clerics are currently in control of the harbour.”

Three sets of cold, dead eyes stared back at him from three cold, dead masks.

“So there’s a man wants to see me.”

“Yes, Arbiter.”

“Lead the way.”

The three Scarred Men escorted Thanquil through the great gate and into the immediate main square. They led him further into the centre of the square and then, as one, they melted away into the crowd. Just ahead of him Thanquil saw the common folk of Larkos, usually going about their daily business, parting like a river parts before a rock. With sinking certainty he realised it was the same way they parted around him, the same way all people parted around Arbiters, their natural fear of the Inquisition forcing them to avoid all those associated with its judgement.

As Thanquil approached he saw a tall figure wearing a common brown jerkin and matching trousers and a coat much like his own but dyed in bleach bone white. His first reaction was much the same as that of the common folk; part, walk around, hope the Inquisitor wouldn’t notice him, but it was already too late for that. Unnerving yellow eyes, the colour of desert sand had already locked onto him.

He stopped in front of the Inquisitor and had to force himself to meet the man’s gaze. “Hello Inquisitor Vance. You know at this rate of promotion you’ll be the God Emperor in only a few months.”

Inquisitor Hironous Vance ignored the jab. “Arbiter Darkheart. It’s been some time. I believe you were being tried for heresy last time I saw you.”

Thanquil almost laughed but he managed to stop himself. “I remember.”

“And I believe it was my suggestion that saved your life.”

“I remember.”

“We should go somewhere we can talk more privately.”

Thanquil sucked at his teeth as loudly as possible. “You know I’d love to but I have somewhere to be.”

“Not a request, Arbiter. Follow me.”

Inquisitor Vance turned and walked away. Thanquil followed meekly. He had no choice.

The Dusty Tome was a dirty inn inside of one of the resident districts and it had a distinct thiefy feel about it not least of all because it was deserted. The name at least suited Thanquil’s current companion; Hironous Vance had always struck his as a bookish sort; the most dangerous librarian one was ever likely to meet.

The Inquisitor wiped a layer of dust from a table and waved away the bar man before sitting down on a rickety chair. Thanquil pulled another chair from the side wall and sat down opposite.

“This feels a lot more like a safe house than an inn,” Thanquil commented.

“It is,” said Vance. “It’s owned by a friend. We’re safe to talk.”

“Wonderful…” Thanquil started.

Inquisitor Vance unattached something from his belt and laid it across the table. It was long, between two and three feet, and covered in thin strips of paper, the same type of paper Arbiters used to make most charms. There was something else about the package though, something he couldn’t quite place. Thanquil felt his eyes drawn to it and old aches and pains he thought gone flare to life.

“Must be nice to have friends,” he heard himself say. “All mine are either dead or… missing.”

“Your companion, the Blademaster?” Vance asked.

“Jezzet Vel’urn. She’s missing. Missing with Drake Morrass. That’s where I’m going. To find her. To find them.” The package on the table was distracting him. Thanquil thought he heard someone whisper his name but decided it was his imagination.

“Missing with Drake Morrass,” Inquisitor Vance repeated. “I’m sorry.”

Thanquil had experienced many comfortable silences in his life; with Jezzet, with Arbiter Kosh who turned out to be a heretic, even with the Black Thorn; a murderous sell-sword renowned for using his murderous skills to murder Arbiters. The silence that descended between him and Inquisitor Vance was anything but comfortable. Eventually he could take it no more.

“Why are you here, Inquisitor?”

“Officially I’m here to see the Queen of Blades. I have a previous relationship with her from my time stationed here as an Arbiter and the council wanted me to talk to her.”

Thanquil snorted and tore his eyes from the package on the table to look at the Inquisitor. “We treat with Drurr these days? I thought the standing orders were to, you know, kill them all.”

The Inquisitor scratched at his chin. Thanquil couldn’t help but notice he had an extremely symmetrical face with long brown hair that framed his cheek bones and drew attention to his unnerving yellow eyes.

“The Queen of Blades is granted special dispensation on account of the Inquisition being loathe to start a war it likely can’t win.”

“Oh.” Thanquil had to admit it was somewhat refreshing for an Inquisitor to speak so candidly.

“My true reason for coming to Larkos, however, was to find you and to give you this,” he waved a hand at the package on the table. Thanquil refused to look down, refused to ask what it was.

“Whatever it is, Vance, I can’t do it. I have to find Jezzet. I have to find Drake and beat the truth out of him.”

“That can wait.”

“It damn well can not wait.”

“Kessick is alive.”

Thanquil opened his mouth to argue further but nothing came out. Arbiter Kessick had been Inquisitor Heron’s heretical right hand and with Arbiter Kosh the three of them had planned to implant demons into the Arbiters and Inquisitors of the Inquisition. The three of them had planned to destroy the Inquisition from within. Thanquil had uncovered the plot and he had killed Heron himself. Jezzet had killed Kosh and Thanquil had sent the Black Thorn to kill Kessick. He had presumed the Black Thorn succeeded and fled back to the wilds in case the Inquisition tried to judge him but if Kessick was alive that likely meant Thorn was dead. One less friend Thanquil had left in the world.

“So the council wants to send me to finish the job I started. The job they almost killed me for doing.”

Vance’s face remained an impassive, still mask. “Not exactly. The council have chosen not to act until they have more information. It is a stratagem that will likely prove fatal to the entire Inquisition if it is allowed persist.”

Thanquil laughed.

“The Inquisitors are afraid, Arbiter Darkheart. All of them, even my father. Heron duped them all into believing her lie and now they’re too busy watching each other to pay attention to the outside world. Kessick is attempting to complete his late master’s work and the council choose not to believe it. They are choosing to do nothing.”

“But not you?” Thanquil asked.

“Not us,” Inquisitor Vance clarified. “I am not alone in this, Arbiter. My concerns are shared by the God Emperor.”

“So why doesn’t he go and deal with Kessick? Why don’t you go? I have a Blademaster to find and a pirate to judge. Just between you and me, I have a feeling I’m going to find him very, very guilty.”

Still Vance’s face remained a mask of serenity. “The emperor cannot go, Arbiter, it would undermine the Inquisition’s authority…”

“I’ve heard that tune before.”

“And I cannot go. I have already more than overstepped my bounds by taking this,” he said and waved at the item on the table. Thanquil resolutely ignored it despite the overwhelming urge to touch the thing, to undress it.

“Whereas I can act with impunity?” He snorted. “And if you are correct and Kessick is alive and is continuing to raise an army of demon-possessed super people, what should I do against them?”

“That is why I brought you this. You know what it is?”

Thanquil nodded. He knew exactly what it was. He had felt it the moment Vance had placed it on the table. He had felt his wounds ache where it had cut him and he had heard its voice in his head. “It’s Myorzo. Heron’s sword and the prison Volmar forged to house the first demon he summoned from the void. Something tells me the council would not agree with you entrusting this thing to me. It corrupted an Inquisitor, what makes you think I’ll…”

“The God Emperor has bound it in dampening runes that should shield you from the majority of its influence. Even so I would not unwrap it until the time is right and try not to let others see it.”

“And I’m expected to do what with it?”

“Hopefully nothing,” Vance said, his composure breaking for an instant and his face looking weary. “But if there is no other way… Volmar used this sword to bind them all. With it you can break the chains.”

Thanquil didn’t even bother trying to hide his shock. “All the chains? At once? By Volmar, Vance, you’re talking about freeing the demons from their service.”

The Inquisitor nodded. “Yes.”

“We wouldn’t be able to control them. I… Not to mention the council would not exactly look favourably on me if I severed the Inquisitions only way to communicate over distance.” Thanquil looked down at the wrapped sword and heard a faint whisper in his head. He ignored it.

Vance was staring at him in silence, his witch’s eyes seeming to burn into his very soul. “Call it a last resort, Arbiter Darkheart. The God-Emperor and I agree, if there is no other choice…”

Thanquil let out a hysterical laugh. To be handed so much power and given the choice over whether to use it… It was not a decision he would wish on anyone, least of all himself. He ran a hand through his greasy hair and remembered to breathe. “Where is he? Kessick?”

“The wilds. I’m not certain where exactly but my sources tell me he has a new contact supplying him with bodies to possess.”

“Well he would need one.” Kessick’s previous supplier, Gregor H’ost, Thanquil had murdered after a brutal interrogation relying on intense, physical pain rather than the compulsion. He buried his head in his hands. “I’ll leave right away.”

“Thank you, Arbiter.”

Thanquil sighed. “I asked you once before to look into my future with those eyes of yours, Vance. I reckon I could really use some of that future-telling right now whether it’s heretical or not.”

There was a long silence. “I see nothing.”

Thanquil looked up into Inquisitor Vance’s eyes. “You said the same thing last time. You sure it isn’t broken? Maybe a couple of head shots would shake it loose.”

Vance shook his head. “It isn’t broken, Arbiter. I see nothing because there is nothing there to see. You do not have a future.”

“I… um… right… only… uh… what?”

“It is as if fate has simply forgotten you, Arbiter Darkheart. I do not know why or how but you have no future. I look at you and see nothing.

“It is why I first suggested the God-Emperor send you to find H’ost and root out the heresy within the Inquisition.”

Thanquil remembered meeting Vance for the first time, back when he was still an Arbiter and only a day before the God-Emperor had summoned him to a private meeting.

“It puts you in a unique position, Arbiter. The position to fight Kessick and the forces he hopes to bring to bear against us.”

“It does?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Thanquil could think of nothing else to say. Shocked, he decided, would be the right word for his current state. It wasn’t every day that he found out he had no future. He looked down at the sword on the table and could have sworn it was mocking him somehow.

The early evening found Thanquil roaming the Larkos docks. It was a cacophony of noise and activity. Bawdy sailors, finished with their day’s work, lounged about or stalked the harbour in packs looking for trouble yet avoiding Clerics wherever possible. Folk who committed crimes and were taken by the Clerics tended to end up flogged and put to community service. For a sailor that would likely mean missing their departure and that would put them out of a job.

Merchants crowded the designated spots, none willing to risk setting up their stalls anywhere else, and hawked to the passing crowd while sending each other furtive glances. Many sold the same wares and prices were constantly driven down by nearby competition. Thanquil stopped at one such merchant and purchased a new bag of black powder. His pistol had been impotent for far too long.

Slaves and their overseers were in abundance, marching to or from low wallowing ferry ships. No self-respecting pirate would bother taking a slaver as there was nothing there for them to take so the ships could afford to be slow and fat and ugly. Larkos was well-known for its slave trading; an empire founded by the independent merchant Ryos had blossomed into a business so profitable he had flat out purchased one of the thirteen companies that ruled Larkos. These days the Bleeders worked for Ryos and they and they alone ran the slaving business in the free city. All attempts at competition had apparently met with quick and bloody ends.

Rats were everywhere. Huge, beady eyed monstrosities of teeth and fur and quite possibly disease, they gathered sometimes in large hordes and other times in solitary but they were ever present in the docks of Larkos, as were the cats that preyed upon them. Never had Thanquil seen so many cats and none looked to be going hungry. They crowded rooftops, stalked alleyways and even managed to intimidate many a passer-by. The cats of Larkos were notorious for their lack of fear and it had been rumoured once or twice that they were not above attacking people.

He had added another layer of protection to Myorzo by wrapping it in a thick woollen blanket and had it slung across his back. Even so he could feel the occasional stare his way from those affected by its influence. Thanquil wasn’t certain whether the demon inside the blade had stopped whispering to him or whether it had become so pervasive that he no longer noticed it. Either way seemed a terrifying prospect.

He found what he was searching for floating languidly on one of the less well-travelled and less well-maintained jetties. In the waning light of the evening the Phoenix looked sleek and dangerous, just as many a sailor and port official had claimed. Thanquil hadn’t needed to use his compulsion to ask around; merely the mention of looking for a pirate ship had ended in many fingers pointed this way.

Two sailors lazed about on rickety wooden stools at the end of the gangplank that led up to the ship. Neither of them looked particular bothered about taking part in their watch duties. The first, dressed in a matching but worn suit of pale green, was picking at his finger nails with a short knife and the second, wearing a fiery red jacket over brown cottons, was occupied staring out across the water of the bay.

When Thanquil approached the first sailor whistled and poked the second who promptly gave up staring at the ocean and uttered a foreign curse Thanquil had never heard.

“I’m looking for…” Thanquil began.

“That’s a right fancy coat,” said the first sailor.

The second sailor sucked on his teeth. “That’s one o’ them Arbiters. Witch hunter from Sarth.”

The first sailor shot the second a look before turning back to Thanquil. “That right? You a witch hunter?”

Thanquil nodded. “I’m here to see your captain.”

Both men were silent for a moment then the second sailor glanced back towards the ship and shouted. “Yanic.”

After a short while a face sporting a neatly trimmed moustache and a scar that stretched from the right side of his mouth almost to his ear appeared over the rail of the ship and looked down at them. “Fuck me. Is that one of them Inquisitors?”

The second sailor shook his head. “He’s an Arbiter.”

“There a difference?” asked Yanic.

The second sailor shrugged.

“Well what does he want?”

“Wants t’ speak to the captain.”

Yanic laughed. “Well tell him the captain ain’t fucking here.”

The second sailor turned back to Thanquil. “Yanic says the captain ain’t here.”

Thanquil sighed. “Thanks. I don’t suppose Yanic might know when he’ll be back.”

“You know when the captain’ll be back, Yanic?”

Yanic shook his head.

“Yanic says he don’t know when the captain’ll be back.”

“Then I’ll just wait here for him,” Thanquil said looking around hoping to find another of the rickety wooden stools.

“Captain could be a while,” said Yanic.

“Aye?” asked the second sailor.

“Aye.”

The second sailor looked back towards Thanquil. “Yanic says the captain could be a while. Reckon you’d be more comfortable buggering off to a tavern. Come back tomorrow morning.”

Thanquil snorted. “You’ll be gone by the morning. I think I’ll wait.”

The second sailor spat on the jetty. “Suit ya’self.”

“What does he want with the cap’n?” asked Yanic.

“Dunno. Didn’t ask.”

“Well ask him.”

“What d’ya…”

Thanquil interrupted the man. “I’m looking to book passage on your ship.”

All three sailors burst into laughter. “Reckon ya might have the wrong ship, Arbiter,” said the second sailor. “We ain’t exactly the passenger ferryin’ types. We’re, uh, buccaneers.”

“You’re pirates,” Thanquil said.

“Same thing really,” replied Yanic. “So don’t make no sense you wantin’ to ship out with us.”

Thanquil sighed. “I need a ship fast enough and a captain crazy enough to go after the Fortune. So I think I’ll wait right here until your captain returns.”

Yanic looked down at the second pirate. The second pirate shrugged and stood, running a hand down his jacket then proffering it to Thanquil. “Captain Keelin Stillwater.”

Thanquil opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out so instead he took the pirate’s hand and shook.

“First things first, Arbiter. You don’t have a hope in all the hells of catching up with the Fortune even aboard the Phoenix and even if all the Gods line up and take it in turns farting into her sails. Drake left port…”

“Three days back, cap’n,” called Yanic.

“And there isn’t a ship built can catch the Fortune on open water. That being said, I do happen to know many of the places Drake frequents and I reckon I know where he’s most like to be. So,” Captain Stillwater grinned wide, “let’s talk about your fare.”

Jezzet

They came for her on the fourth night. Drake had brought her aboard and told her there were no free cabins on the Fortune but she was welcome to stay in his. Jezzet declined. She trusted neither Drake nor herself in such a situation so decided the best course was to remove the temptation. She opted to sleep down in the hold when she managed to sleep at all and she had found a nice little corner of nowhere that was snug and warm and only smelled badly as opposed to terribly. Drake had laughed it off, told her she could sleep where she liked and now it appeared her stubborn defiance was having consequences. Drake’s crew obviously thought she was fair game.

She was awake as the first of the pirates, a big man with beady eyes and no hair, stepped close to her hiding place, he was not light and he was not stealthy. Jezzet opened her eyes a crack. Three pirates; the big one, a small one and a greasy-haired frog of a man. She waited until he was just a couple of feet away, until she could smell all three men’s unwashed stink, and then she struck.

Best teach them a lesson so that none of them will forget, Jez.

She launched from her sleeping spot with her dagger reversed in her hand. There was no point to wielding a sword in such a confined space, better something with a short blade. The pummel of the dagger connected with the big pirate’s gut, driving the wind out of him. Jez saw his eyes bulge and his mouth crease up and she struck again, this time the pummel of her dagger cracked the man across his jaw. He went down with a grunt and a spray of blood as the second two came at her.

The greasy frog was as clumsy as he was careless. He rushed at her with clutching hands hoping to overpower her. He didn’t get close enough to try. Jez lashed out with her foot and heard the snap at the same time she saw his leg buckle. He hit the wooden floor screaming and Jez danced out of his reach.

That was when the smaller man realised he was outmatched. Jezzet saw the change in his eyes, saw the look go from feverish lust to abject terror. The fool turned and started to run. Jezzet had no intention of letting him get away free. His intention had been rape and possibly a bit of a beating thrown in. Jezzet’s intention was to make an example.

Both Drake and his first mate, Zothus, were on deck when Jezzet marched up out of the hatch pushing the little would-be rapist in front of her. They heard the man’s snivelling cries and both turned to watch Jez’s display, as did every pirate on duty.

Good. Get the message to as many of them as possible.

Jez walked the man to the middle of the main deck with his arm thoroughly twisted behind him and then kicked the back of his knees. The little man crashed to the floor weeping and cradling the wrist Jez had just relinquished. He was mostly unharmed besides the broken wrist but Jezzet was about to do worse.

As the little man crawled back onto his knees he looked back over his shoulder at her, a sneer on his face. Jez was ready and waiting. She punched him with all the force she could muster and well she knew that was a fair amount of force. The pirate did not get back up. He lay in a slowly spreading pool of blood and spittle.

Good message, Jez. Show them all you’re not afraid to break your own hand.

There were plenty of pirates gathering now including, Jez noticed, the big one who had just recently tasted Jez’s dagger pommel. Some watched her with the same lust she had seen before administering the beating, others were wary, trying not to meet her eyes and she swept her gaze over the crowd. Eventually she looked at Drake.

“You might want to tell your crew to try sticking their cocks somewhere else, Drake,” she shouted at the pirate captain.

He laughed. In a sea of ugly faces on board the ship Drake was a beacon of pretty but underneath all of his smiles and dark eyes he was as rotten as the rest and Jez knew it as well as he did.

“Reckon that’ll have to be a lesson you teach them your own self, Jezzet,” Drake called back. “Try not to kill her, boys.”

Drake leaned his elbows on the railing and watched with a wry half-smile, Zothus shrugged and did likewise.

“How many pirates are you willing to lose like this, Drake?” Jez screamed over the rising clamour of voices.

Jez saw the bastard shrug before she decided it was time to turn her attention to the twenty pirates looking to use her like a shore-side whore.

She sensed the big pirate coming from behind long before he got close. An easy duck to her left and she span and drew her sword in one fluid motion, cutting a large gash up the man’s back as he passed her harmlessly. With a howl akin to a new born babe the big pirate went crashing to the deck, screaming and bleeding in equal measure. The other pirates hung back, they recognised a game changer when they saw one and the bloodied three foot of steel in her hand was just that.

Whilst weapons were a regular commodity aboard a pirate ship it was rare the crew carried any. Drake and his first mate were permitted weapons but the rest of the pirates usually had to wait until prey was spotted before the swords, axes and bows were brought out. That did not stop a plethora of knives appearing in calloused hands and all of them pointed towards her.

She saw Drake watching with unfeigned interest. No doubt the bastard is hoping they beat me so he can take his turn. Jez had no doubt she’d lose, against so many in such tight quarters her chances bordered on hopeless but she would be damned before she let a single pirate inside her and she’d take as many of the bloody shits down with her as she could before they beat her.

Jez dropped down low into a fighting stance, like a predator waiting to pounce. She held one sword in her right hand across her body, her left hand hovered near the hilt of the other.

Yuri had taught her how to fight multiple opponents, he had even gone so far as to hire men to attack her. His method was simple; imagine a circle around you, no more than two feet in all directions. That circle is your territory, that circle is your body. Anyone who enters that circle dies. Jez held her weapons so she could strike anywhere and she focused on all her senses, not just her sight, to know when and where they came from. She calmed her breathing and waited for the attack.

“Ship! Dead ahead.” Came the shout from above.

All the pirates looked toward their captain. Drake was already moving, heading for the bow with a spyglass in his hand. He walked straight past Jezzet and the pirates surrounding her and Zothus went with him. Jezzet waited, keeping all of her senses trained on her circle.

After one of the more tense minutes of her life Drake strode back into view. “Jezzet Vel’urn’s introduction to the Fortune will have to wait, boys. Merchant cog ahoy, sleek and fast but low in the water and just about right for the taking, I reckon.”

A cheer went up and most of the pirates scattered to their posts. A few remained behind including the bleeding pirates now based on the deck. “What should we do with Si, cap’n?” asked one of the pirates.

Drake cackled. “Ain’t got no use for a wounded pirate. See if the sea wants him.” As two of the pirates dragged the mewling, wounded man to the larboard railing Drake leaned in close. “Now why is it you always look most beautiful when you’re fighting for your life?”

Jez felt her cheeks heat and floundered for a response but it was too late; Drake walked away smiling and she found herself standing alone on the main deck as Zothus screamed for all hands on deck and pirates rushed to and fro all around her.

The activity on the Fortune was organised, frenetic chaos but every member of the crew seemed to have a job and every one of them obviously knew it well. More than once Jez found herself in the way as a pirate rushed to his task. Eventually she moved up to quarter deck where Drake held the wheel. The night was beyond dark and the moon thoroughly hidden behind layer upon layer of churning cloud but the pirate captain steered the ship with the same confidence she had come to expect from him.

“We’re going to attack them?” she asked.

He gave an appraising look. “Aye. We are.”

Jez nodded. Her sword was back in its scabbard but her hand never strayed from its hilt. The idea of a fight excited her more than she liked to admit. She had come close to one and it had stirred her blood, now she had pent up energy just waiting to be expended.

She glanced sidelong at Drake. With the wind blowing back his hair and a predatory grin on his pretty face she could certainly see what the Dragon Empress saw in him. Dangerous game, Jez. She looked away quickly.

“How’s her sail lookin?” Drake shouted.

“Full.” Came the reply from above. “Reckon she’s seen us cap’n.”

“Right then,” Drake said grinning from ear to ear. “Hoist the colours and pile on the sail, boys.”

Another cheer from the pirates and one whooped close by. Jezzet turned just in time to see the scrawny pirate scutter to the railing and leap onto the rigging where he raced up to the mast as fast as a monkey.

“Shouldn’t they be armed?” Jez asked as she watched the pirates run about the ship like fleas on a dog’s back.

Drake chuckled. “Might want to settle in, Jezzet. Got a while ‘fore this chase turns into a fight.”

He wasn’t wrong. For over an hour they chased after the ship ahead of them, steadily gaining but not nearly fast enough for Jezzet. It came as a relief when Zothus finally called for weapons and she watched as each one of the pirates aboard the Fortune broke their post for a handful of seconds to select a weapon. Some picked swords, others picked axes but all were crude things of wood and metal. They were well looked after and she didn’t see a spot of rust on them but they were weapons for those that didn’t know how to use them. Jezzet’s sword was a precision instrument, one she intended to use.

When the Fortune pulled close it didn’t take long for the arrows to start flying. More than a couple of shafts planted themselves in the hull and the deck of Drake’s pirate ship but none managed to hit their targets. Drake laughed at the attempts to defend. “Reckon negotiation is out of the question.”

“That was an option?” Jez muttered over her shoulder to the captain, her attention was focused on the little ship they were about to board.

Drake took a moment to reply but she could feel him watching her. “Nah. Don’t reckon it was.”

Jez heard an odd clicking noise and looked down to find the most grotesque creature she had ever seen watching her. The spider was the size of a cat with eight eyes, each the size of her fist, positioned around its head. The beast had a strange turquoise sheen to its body and its huge fangs rubbed together producing the sound she had heard. She stared at the spider for a while before turning to Drake. “This thing yours?”

“Don’t you worry none,” said Zothus, appearing at Drake’s side. “Reckon Rhi’s taken a likin’ to ya. See how she ain’t tryin’ to eat your face? Means she likes ya.”

Drake shrugged and Jez turned her attention back to their prey, ignoring the little beast as it chittered beside her.

As the Fortune pulled alongside the merchant cog Jezzet could see its crew were armed and waiting for the pirates but not a one of them looked ready to fight, only willing.

Jez had been in fights before, more than she could or cared to remember, she’d been in battles before, she’d even sparred with Thanquil aboard a ship before but never had she been involved in a clash like this. Time became a blur of rolling decks, screaming faces and blood. She was one of the first across and the first into the fight, forgoing the use of a grappling line and simply leaping across from one ship to the other as they pulled close.

Men came at her from all sides but none of them were prepared for an excited Blademaster determined to do damage and none of them were warriors. They were sailors and they weren’t fighting for King or country or money, they were fighting for their lives. Jezzet knew that but somehow the thought got lost amongst the thrill of battle.

The two ships danced a dangerous jig together and Jezzet Vel’urn danced with them. She fought her way from bow to stern of the cog cutting a swathe through any that dared stand up before her and the pirates of the Fortune surged in her wake. Some occasionally caught up to her, fighting alongside her, spattered with blood and grinning just as she was. The giant spider was there too; at least once she saw it spit its silky webbing into a sailor’s face and watched as the man dropped to the deck clawing at his bloody face, unable to scream or even breathe.

Before long she found herself on the quarter deck of the cog with only the captain of the smaller vessel left standing before her. He was a tall man, well-dressed and well-groomed but a coward. He had stayed out the fight for his ship until now and when he saw Jez approach he dropped to his knees and begged for parley. Jezzet neither knew what the word meant, nor cared.

“Wait!” She heard Drake shout from behind.

Jez looked back to find the captain leap up the last steps onto the quarter deck. His cheeks were flushed, his hair was tousled and his sword was bloodied. Jezzet respected that, the man had fought alongside his crew. She turned back to the captain of the cog.

“Why?”

Drake put a hand on her shoulder and turned her away from the cringing captain. “Because while we all like ourselves a spot of murder there’s something we pirates like more,” he said to her so close she could smell the mint on his breath. “Money. Captains tend to own their ships and that means they’re worth ransom.”

Jezzet spat, shrugged and stalked away, wiping her sword down and placing the blade back in its scabbard. Drake followed her.

“Get that simpering bilge pump where he belongs and sweep the ship,” Drake ordered.

“We keeping it, cap’n?”

“Not this time. Take what you can then scuttle it,” he caught up with Jez as she approached one of the make shift walkways. “You look like you could use a drink, Jezzet.”

She grinned at him. “Wouldn’t say no.”

Inside Drake’s cabin Jez paced like a caged animal. Her mind span from one thought to another, replaying the short fight over and over, analysing every move she made and deciding how she could have been better. It was not uncommon for her and it was, in fact, her own particular method of unwinding. Only she didn’t want to unwind, she was enjoying being wound.

Drake handed her a glass and she downed the contents in one, swallowing down the cough as the rum seared her throat. He poured her another and she gave it the same treatment. When she stopped pacing she found the pirate watching her with blatant interest and worse she found she liked it.

It didn’t take much of an effort to make the next step. Jez dropped the empty glass and advanced on Drake, pushing him up against his desk. She stepped close, close enough to smell him and close enough for him to smell her. The flicker of a grin passed Drake’s face and then he bent his head and kissed her and she kissed him back.

His hands went exploring, rubbing first against her breasts and then down her hips until they reached her arse. He pulled her close and she let out a strangled gasp. Her own hands tore at his shirt, ripping it open to expose his chest.

Drake was sitting on the desk now, his hands gripping her buttocks as they kissed each other with wild, bruising passion. Jez placed one knee on the desk grinning as she stared into his dark eyes.

JEZ!

She stopped. Her own voice in her head snapping her out of her strange trance. Drake leered back at her, the ghost of confusion passing across his eyes. He made to kiss her again and she recoiled, pushing off the desk and backing away a few steps.

They were both breathing heavy; Drake with a half-smile, watching her, licking his lips and Jez trying to make herself look somewhere else, anywhere else.

The night seemed almost like a dream. Drake had been ready to let his crew rape her and then… the ship… the battle. She hadn’t killed men like that for a long time, not since the days of Catherine and Constance and the Angel’s Blades. Not since Thanquil.

Without a word Jezzet turned and fled, crashing through the door to Drake’s cabin and storming down into the hold of the Fortune. There she found herself a dark corner and silently wept bitter tears of anger.

Jezzet

Standing on the forecastle on a day lit by relentless sunshine it was easy for Jez to see why people fell in love with the sea. It was beautiful. A vast crystal blue of rolling waves with beams of light fracturing and dancing off the surface. Jez wasn’t fooled though, she knew the sea for what it really was; cold, wet, infinitely dark and infinitely dangerous. The truly wise feared the water and though Jez didn’t count herself among them she definitely agreed with them.

In the two weeks since their attack on the cog she had learned the names of many of the Fortune’s crew and even a few nautical terms. She had come to enjoy standing here at the bow, staring out over the water and had somehow managed to strike up a strange sort of camaraderie with a giant spider; the little beast often found its way into her company and more than once she had awoken to find it watching her and she chose to believe it was watching over her and not deciding on the best time to eat her. In the two weeks since their attack on the cog she had also studiously avoided Drake Morrass as much as was physically possible. Unfortunately it was his ship and she was discovering ships were not really that big.

The few times she had run into Drake she had done her best to seem terse and uncooperative but the man had a charm all of his own and Jez always found herself drawn into conversation or jab trading. Those she could handle, just so long as things didn’t get physical. She had a history of making poor choices once her blood was up.

Blademasters were not supposed to kill for fun. They killed for money, or for loyalty to a lord, for honour, for a challenge, or to protect themselves but they did not kill for fun. Yuri had been very strict on that regard, making certain she knew he wasn’t training her to be a cold blooded killer. On the cog though… Jezzet had enjoyed it and those men hadn’t even served her as a challenge. They were just… there. Afterwards she had almost enjoyed Drake and that was something else that could never happen again. Otherwise she didn’t deserve the chance to protest her innocence to Thanquil and that was something she desperately wanted.

None of the pirates had tried to rape her again since that first time. Whether that was Drake’s influence or the effect of them seeing her in battle, she didn’t know but it was something she was glad of. Sending them a message just the once was a chore, if she had to do it again and again she would quickly run out of pirates to maim.

“Ship ahoy. Right behind us,” Princess shouted from the nest. Jez recognised his voice immediately.

Despite her best intentions she felt her blood stir at the prospect but she ignored it as best she could. It didn’t take long to cross from one end of the ship to the other at a full run and Jezzet had always been fast. It was mere moments before she was standing at the aft railing staring at a speck of black on the shimmering, blue horizon.

Drake calmly joined her at the rail. She could feel him staring at her and it caused a squirmy feeling in her gut she both knew and hated.

Zothus joined them shortly after with Rhi sat on his shoulder clicking and chittering to itself. The first mate stood next to his captain and dwarfed him; though Drake was not a small man, Zothus was both tall and broad. His head was entirely hairless, even devoid of eyebrows, and a large scrawling tattoo stretched from his left cheek all the way down his bared, bronze torso crossing over to the right side of his body before disappearing below his trouser line. The design made no sense to Jezzet, a swirling mass of lines and shapes she couldn’t understand, but it fascinated her all the same.

“Navy?” Zothus asked.

Drake shook his head. “Could be. Seems unlikely this far out but might be hunting bad people like us. We have been running slow for a couple of weeks.” He caught Jez looking at him and grinned as she looked away. “No rush, eh.”

The captain took his spyglass from his belt and handed it to the spider.

“Up.”

Rhi flexed it fangs and took hold of the little spyglass before leaping from Zothus’ shoulder onto a rope and scuttling up it until it hit the rigging, from there it zigzagged upwards. Jezzet lost sight of the little beast but a few moments later she heard Princess’ scream.

“Well he screams like a girl,” Drake said grinning at Jez. She laughed back.

“Zothus,” Princess shouted from the nest. “Keep your little demon away from me!”

Drake took a deep breath and bellowed back. “The second you see colours you let me know, Princess.”

“Aye, cap’n.”

“What happens if they’re navy?” Jez asked.

“We run or we fight.”

Run.

“We can outrun them?”

Drake laughed. “This here is leisurely sailing for the Fortune. Don’t see no need to run her ragged. But if that ship’s a threat and if we don’t feel like a fight. We’ll show them what our arse looks like.” He took the cue to look at Jezzet’s arse. She glared at him. “Reckon we got a little while if you…”

“No.”

The captain sucked on his teeth. “Good job I like a bit of teasing. You’ll come around eventually.”

Jezzet ignored him, staring at the boat behind them. “Could it be one of hers? The Dragon Empress.”

“Nah. She was never even after us.”

“What?” Jezzet turned to find a smug grin on Drake’s face. “I distinctly remember being locked in a flooding cell… and being arrested.”

“All part of the plan.”

“Whose plan?”

“Hers. Mine. Sort of a combined effort really. See Rei has been wanting to make a few changes to her empire for a while now but she needed more involvement from its people and less from the magistrates. You were needed to show the people that women, and not just their empress, could be more than just ornaments to be shown off and hidden in equal measure. And you played your role very well, a real cooperative little pawn.”

“The women on the boat? The attack?”

“All staged. My little Rei she knew what she wanted to do with her empire but didn’t know how to go about it, so she asked me and I came up with a plan.” Drake looked at her and Jez felt her cheeks redden. “Problem is she couldn’t have you sticking ‘round after. The political power you’d have wielded would have been too dangerous for her.”

“I wouldn’t…”

“Funny thing about folk in power; they don’t like letting go of it. Any of it. She needed you to play your part then she needed you to go. So I stepped in again. Needed some time away from her anyways. This worked out best for all involved.”

“Not for me!” Jez shouted at the pirate. “Not for Thanquil.”

Drake nodded. “Aye, well, thing about pawns is they’re there to be sacrificed.”

Kill him, Jez! But she knew she wouldn’t. She’d never survive his crew turning on her and she needed to tell Thanquil the truth. She would not allow herself to die before she got the chance.

“What about the magistrates?” she asked. “They would never allow any sort of…”

“Reform?” Drake laughed again. “There ain’t exactly many survivors. Most suffered and unfortunate case of drowning during the storm. Way I understand it is one of the struts gave way. Whole district sank. Very tragic and no way to predict. No way Rei could possibly be blamed. In fact there ain’t really anyone to challenge her power any more. Seems to me she can do… almost anything she wants. And I reckon last thing on her mind is chasing after us. She knows I’ll come back eventually.”

“Why?”

Drake looked sidelong at Jez. “She’s very limber.”

Jez snorted. “Back in Larkos, you said she had agents in the city looking for us.”

“A lie. I felt like the Fortune needed a woman’s touch and you an’ me, Jezzet, we’re a lot alike.”

“We’re nothing alike.”

“No? We both like danger. Both like being dangerous and being around dangerous. Both like a spot of killing. Don’t deny it. I saw you after that fight, all hot and bothered. I reckon…” He licked his lips. “Yep. I can still taste you.”

She swung at him. A full fist snapped towards Drake’s face but the pirate was waiting for it. He blocked and hit back, a lazy blow Jez avoided with easy. Before she could stop herself she reached back for one of her short swords and it flowed like water from its scabbard towards Drake’s neck. His own blade was out in a flash and the two weapons hissed as they met.

Neither Jez nor Drake made another move, they just stared at each other over naked steel. As fast as he was Jezzet had already assessed the pirate and she knew the truth of it.

“I could kill you,” she said her voice flat and emotionless.

The corner of Drake’s mouth twitched upwards. “I know. Makes it even more exciting don’t it. You think you could do it before my boys get to you?”

“Yes.” Jez glanced over Drake’s shoulder. Zothus was there with his spider, watching them but making no move, still leaning on the aft railing as though he wasn’t in the least concerned.

“Confident,” Drake said, taking his sword away and slipping it back into its scabbard. “I like that. But even if you did, I don’t reckon you’d enjoy what came after. My pirates might not take too kindly to you killing their captain.”

Jez could hear her heart beating in her ears, could feel the blood pumping through her veins but she ignored it all, sliding her own sword back into its place.

“Captain,” shouted Princess from somewhere far above.

“Aye,” Drake shouted back, the smile never slipping from his face and his eyes never moving from Jezzet.

“It’s the Phoenix.”

“Stillwater,” Drake mused. “Now what would that ponce be wanting with me?”

Jez looked away, walking back to the rail and leaning on it. “Is it so unusual for you pirates to talk to each other?”

“Aye. ‘Way from port as we are. Could be he wants a chat. Could be he wants what we got in our hold. Never can be too sure with pirates, deceitful lot as a rule.

“What do you think we should do, Jezzet Vel’urn?” he asked.

Jezzet thought about it. Thought about the cog and how the fight had made her feel, how killing those men had made her feel, how much she had wanted to fuck Drake afterwards.

“Run,” she said. “No sense in risking a fight in open water. Nothing to gain from it.”

She could feel Drake watching her, studying her and he did so for a while before speaking. “You heard the captain, Zothus. She says run. We run.”

Thanquil

“Give chase!” Thanquil shouted.

Captain Stillwater turned dark grey eyes on the Arbiter before going back to regarding the ship in the distance.

“Put on more sail or…” Thanquil floundered. “Make the ship go faster.”

“One more time, Arbiter. If you try to give me an order on my own boat one more time, you can swim after Drake.”

Thanquil’s jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. He stepped close to the captain. “We had a deal. You help me catch Drake…”

Captain Keelin Stillwater placed a hand on Thanquil’s chest and pushed. The Arbiter stumbled back a step. “Our deal was for me to take you to where Drake is most likely to be, not catch him. I told you we would never out-pace the Fortune and it still holds true. Only reason we got this close is she’s been shuffling along, lounging in the breeze. Now she’s put on sail, Arbiter. Drake is running and there’s no way we’re catching up to him now. Our deal still stands.”

“But he’s right there,” Thanquil pointed a finger at the ship in the distance. “She’s right there.” He still hadn’t told the captain why he was after Drake and the Fortune, it was information the man didn’t need to know.

“Right there happens to be well out of reach, Arbiter. And what would you have us do if we did catch her? Drake’s running means he ain’t in the mood to talk. You think you could take the Fortune all by yourself because I don’t have the men nor the will to fight him.”

Thanquil fumed. To have Jezzet so close and still so far away was maddening. Despite Inquisitor Vance’s orders Thanquil had chosen to chase after Drake. He justified the defiance easily. Kessick was known to be somewhere in the vastness of the Untamed Wilds and Drake’s most likely destination was also somewhere in the wilds so he was completing both tasks. That neither the Inquisitor nor the God Emperor would likely agree with him was no matter, they weren’t here and he was.

His thoughts turned to the sword he had stowed safely below decks in a locked chest to which only he had the key and only he knew how to safely disarm the charms he had placed to protect it. He didn’t like thinking about the demon-possessed blade but unfortunately he couldn’t help it. The thing called to him, whispered to him. It was almost as if every time he managed to forget about it, it intruded on his thoughts to remind him it was there. Thanquil had seen the way some of the pirates had stared at the wrapped package. They didn’t know why their eyes were drawn to it and likely they couldn’t really hear the demon’s whispering but it fuelled their curiosity and they knew they wanted it whatever it was.

Inquisitor Vance had told Thanquil what to do with the sword and it all seemed simple enough. If Kessick’s forces proved to be too much to handle all Thanquil needed was Myorzo and the blood of a demon-touched and the only person Thanquil knew to be demon-touched was Kessick himself.

Thanquil wrenched his mind away from the demon sword and found Captain Keelin Stillwater watching him. The man wasn’t overly tall but he was stocky and was definitely among the better dressed pirates Thanquil had met. In truth the Phoenix did not feel much like a pirate ship at all. There was drinking and scuffling and at times the crew were crude and the captain assured Thanquil if they ran into a fat juicy merchant vessel they would run her down and rob the guts from her but the pirates of the Phoenix, while not polite, were civilised. They dressed well, cleaned themselves and treated each other with respect. Thanquil couldn’t decide whether it was his own image of pirates that was wrong or just the men on this ship. One thing he was certain of, though, Captain Stillwater did not like him.

He considered for a moment asking the captain why, using his compulsion on the man to explain his obvious dislike but he knew how that would end and the sea did not look particularly warm. There were other ways though. Thanquil knew better than most Arbiters that often all one had to do was coax the target to start talking and then shut up and let them spill it all.

“Drake has someone. She’s very… She’s mine and I want her back.”

Captain Stillwater cocked an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Just thought you should know why I’m chasing him,” Thanquil continued.

“Doesn’t change a thing, Arbiter. The Fortune is faster than the Phoenix. End of.”

Thanquil swallowed down a sigh. He had hoped the captain might elaborate on his own reasons for striking the deal with Thanquil but it seemed the man was more shrewd than that.

“You’re not from the Pirate Isles,” he tried.

Captain Stillwater laughed. “No one is from the Isles, Arbiter. Folk just end up there trying to escape whatever it is they’re running from.”

“Like the Inquisition.”

“Aye. Lots of folk run from that.”

“But not you.”

Captain Stillwater sucked on his teeth and looked out across the water. Ignoring the blinding sun and the shards of light it sent dancing across the waves. Thanquil tried to follow his gaze but had to shield his eyes from the glare.

“Five Kingdoms. Easterner from near Land’s End.”

Thanquil let slip the smallest of smiles and kept quiet. He couldn’t say he was particularly bothered about the man’s reasons for his part of the deal but right now he would take any distraction he could get.

“You want to know why,” Captain Stillwater glanced at Thanquil and he could see anger in the man’s eyes. “Mine is a deal made out of the desire for revenge, Arbiter. Is that a problem?”

Thanquil slowly shook his head.

“Good. Because I intend to kill him. I had family once; a mother and father, older brother, younger sister. I had a home. Until Arbiter Prin came.”

Still Thanquil kept quiet. He had no love for Prin, quite the opposite, the rack-thin Arbiter had always enjoyed the judgement too much for Thanquil’s liking. Their calling was necessary but they killed people and that should never be fun.

“My father requested him, or, he requested one of you. Thought my sister, Leesa was possessed. She had always been sickly and quiet, knew things she shouldn’t but not things she couldn’t.

“When Prin arrived,” Captain Stillwater paused taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “He killed her. Burned her at the stake for heresy. Burned her alive. She was eight years and he burned her alive for nothing.

“Split my family apart. My brother left, couldn’t stand to be around. My mother died of… something. She’d already stopped wanting to live long before though. I left soon as I could.” The captain again focused Thanquil with his grey eyes. “So now that’s your end of the bargain. You tell me where I can find Arbiter Prin so I can kill him and I’ll take you to where Drake is most likely to be, further than that I want nothing more to do with you, Arbiter. Are we clear?”

Thanquil nodded. He could barely even see the ship on the horizon now. Jezzet and Drake were little more than a speck vanishing into the seascape.

Part 4 – Reunion

Thanquil

“Get ya gear, Arbiter. We’re here.”

Thanquil was awake in an instant, half remembered dreams of darkness and demons fading quickly. He’d always been a light sleeper but these days more so than ever. Looking at the locked chest by his bunk, he knew why. The sword whispered to him during the days but at nights when he was asleep all he dreamed of was demons and his past.

He rubbed at his eyes and yawned, looking for the source of the voice that had awoken him. A balding pirate with a tuft of hair was standing at the top of the stairs looking at him. “We’re here,” the pirate repeated. “Cap’n ses to get ya gear. Ya gettin’ off soon as we make port.”

“Wonderful,” Thanquil said rolling out of the bunk and stretching. “The sooner I’m back on dry land the better…” he started to say but the pirate was already gone. None of them were particularly social towards him and some of them were damned rude. A few had taken to baiting the Arbiter in an attempt to get him thrown off the ship early and fatally. Thanquil had stoically ignored all such attempts but he’d have been lying if he said he there wasn’t anyone on the ship he wouldn’t happily judge.

It was over a month since they had spotted Drake’s Fortune and over a month since it had run off leaving them in its wake. Captain Stillwater assured Thanquil that no matter how fast the Fortune she could not be more than a few days ahead of them. The wind had been good and steady all the way with not a storm in sight and they had only stopped the once for pirating. Unlike the brutal massacre Thanquil might have expected it was a mostly bloodless affair. The crew of the trader had fired a few arrows over towards the Phoenix but had soon relented when Captain Stillwater had sailed alongside them and promised life to all crew members so long as they surrendered their captain and their cargo. A short mutiny had followed and both cargo and bloodied captain had been handed over. Then Keelin Stillwater had briefly questioned the mutinied captain before deciding he was worthless and throwing him overboard. The Phoenix had calmly sailed away with a hold full of pilfered bounty and not a single loss of life. Stillwater assured Thanquil that was how most pirating went but he wasn’t entirely certain if he believed the man.

Thanquil didn’t really have much to collect. His coat he had eventually taken off and stowed under his bunk due to practicality, he now retrieved and felt all the better for wearing it again. Nothing made him feel quite so naked and helpless and being bereft of his Arbiter coat. His sack full of clothing and supplies he had never unpacked so he simply shouldered it once more. The demon sword was less simple. First Thanquil disarmed the protective charms; two were gone already and two pirates had burned hands to attest to how well the charms worked. Once the crate was unlocked Thanquil spent a minute staring at the covered blade; just being so near to it he could feel his old wounds ache and a strange irritable sensation like an itch he couldn’t quite reach. He took the sword from the chest and quickly hung it from his belt, pulling his coat around it to obscure its presence. Then he was heading for the hatch and onto the deck.

It was early dusk outside, the sun just beginning to dip below the water line and that surprised Thanquil. It was barely dawn when he had lay down in his bunk and the days in the wilds were never so short. He had slept an entire day away and still felt unrested. Pirates ran to and fro, some climbing up rigging and adjusting canvas, others washing down the deck or performing a multitude of tasks Thanquil neither had a name for nor understood. Captain Stillwater ran a tight ship and a clean ship and anyone who did not have a job soon found themselves inheriting one. Thanquil himself had been put to work untangling rope more than once, quite how the rope got into so tight knots in the first place was a mystery he didn’t think he’d ever understand but then he didn’t care to. He’d just be happy never to see a rope again.

“Captain Stillwater,” Thanquil said with false cheer as he approached.

The captain turned with a smile on his face that soured the moment he laid eyes on Thanquil. He had been standing, talking with his first mate, a burly man with permanently ruddy cheeks whose name Thanquil had never bothered remembering, but now he turned and regarded Thanquil with cool distaste.

“I’m told we’ve arrived,” Thanquil prompted.

“Aye, that we have. About time I got you off my bloody ship. About time I got that payment you owe me.”

Thanquil nodded, his hand twitched in his pocket. Most times aboard ship after so long he shook uncontrollably from his lack of theft but not so on this journey, he had taken to sneaking into the cargo hold and pilfering small items originally stolen from the trader. It kept his compulsive need to steal at bay and seemed somewhat fitting.

“First things first, captain. Exactly where are we?”

“Welcome to Fortune’s Rest, Arbiter,” Captain Stillwater said pointing out over the railing.

Thanquil felt his jaw drop and what he was seeing deserved no less. There were ships everywhere; hundreds of them, more than he’d ever seen collected in one port. Bare masts thrust up in the sky and round hulls bobbed down below on the water. There was no uniformity, some of the ships were small cogs mostly used for short trading trips and others were galleys best suited to war. Some of the boats faced them while others faced inwards or out in a jumble of directions. As Thanquil watched he saw lights begin to flicker into existence, tiny lanterns on the ships to ward off the encroaching darkness.

“This is a city,” Thanquil said unsure of whether or not his own words were a question.

Captain Keelin Stillwater laughed from beside him, a wide grin splitting his face. “Not quite, Arbiter. Fortune’s Rest is the largest pleasure house in the known world. Drake claims three hundred ships at last count. A fleet by any other name and verging on an armada, I’d wager. It moves regularly but those of us with invitations have ways of finding it.”

“It’s Drakes,” Thanquil said. “He owns it?”

“Aye, that he does. Most anyone who’s anyone has been here one time another and some folk say more bits pass through Fortune’s Rest in a night than in the rest of the wilds combined. It’s how Drake made his fortune though he’s not so stupid as to rely upon it solely. These days he damn near owns Chade and word tells he’s in bed with that bloody thief master in Truridge.”

Thanquil still couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. It almost looked like Soromo; hundreds of different rafts all lashed together in a maddening series of walkways almost like a maze only the ships of Fortune’s Rest could move, could sail away. Drake Morrass had created a mobile city out in the ocean.

“Is Drake here?” Thanquil asked Captain Stillwater.

“Couldn’t say,” the captain replied. “But then I never agreed to take you to Drake, just to where he’s most like to be. Way I hear it he’s never gone from here for too long. So, time to pay up Arbiter. Where do I find Prin?”

Thanquil snapped out of his wonder and looked at the captain. Stillwater’s face had become grave, his grey eyes bright in the waning light. “I don’t know exactly,” Thanquil said. “But I can tell you where he’s most like to be. There’s a fishing village in southern Sarth, between Swordpoint and The Burned Lands. Village is called Ironsands. It’s where Arbiter Prin was last stationed and still is to the best of my knowledge.” The lie came easily to Thanquil’s lips, he had no idea where Prin was stationed and nor would he give up a fellow Arbiter, even one such as Prin, for misguided vengeance.

Captain Stillwater nodded, he eyes never leaving Thanquil’s own. “Can’t say fairer than that, I suppose. One good deed, as they say.”

“So we’re done,” Thanquil said, turning his eyes back to Fortune’s Rest.

“We’re done.”

Before Thanquil could ask the Captain to lower a skiff the man grabbed him by his coat collar and span, dragging Thanquil with him. The world turned and Thanquil felt his feet leave the deck and saw the railing pass beneath him. Then he was falling. The water was more than just shocking; it stunned the breath from his lungs and left him gasping. He was surrounded, submerged and lost, unable to figure out which way was up and…

Thanquil gasped and cold water flooded into his lungs, he gagged and coughed all at once but still could get no air. Something gigantic moved close by and on instinct he kicked towards it, not knowing what it was and not caring.

He broke the surface of the water gasping and coughing and with an unhealthy amount of flailing as he struggled to stay afloat. Thanquil had always hated the water, especially the sea; one could never tell what was below you, in the depths, just waiting… Panic set in and he flailed again, coughing more and more as he attempted to clear his lungs.

“Might want to calm down, Arbiter,” shouted Captain Stillwater from somewhere above.

Thanquil looked up to see the hull of the Phoenix sliding past him slowly, gaining speed. Through water-blurred vision he could just about make out a group of figures staring down at him and laughter reached his ears. His bag coat and weapons were weighing him down, dragging him down and he struggled to tread water.

“Fortune’s Rest is that way,” the figure that sounded like Stillwater pointed and Thanquil turned in the water. All he could see was the tiny fires of the lanterns flickering in the distance. “Hope you can swim. And give Drake my regards.”

Thanquil wasted no more time on the Phoenix or its captain, nor on the crew shouting witch hunter based insults at him. He struck out towards the floating pleasure house and kicked with all his might, steering with his arms as he went and hoping his strength would hold out against the cold seeping into his bones.

By the time Thanquil reach the outermost ship of Fortune’s Rest he had lost track of time and barely had the strength to grab hold of the soaked rope ladder that led up to the deck. He steadily pulled himself hand over hand, whispering a lazy blessing of endurance as he went to keep himself going, usually he could combine two or even three blessings but he was finding it hard to focus, finding it hard to keep his mind ticking over. Eventually he gained the deck and with a little more struggling rolled onto his back and lay there gasping, staring up at the mast above him, and the sky it reached towards and the tiny blinking stars that pocked that sky. Darkness had set in now and the cold appeared to have come with it. Thanquil could feel himself shivering and counted himself lucky, he knew it was when he stopped shivering that he needed to worry, before that happened he needed to find a fire and he didn’t think the owners of this ship would be too impressed if he set it ablaze.

“Never seen a man swim to the Rest ‘fore. How’d you get here?”

Thanquil rolled over to see a tall, burly man with a face full of beard and a hand full of cutlass. In his other hand he held a lantern out in front of him and beyond that light Thanquil could see another three folk, similarly armed, all staring at him.

“Boat,” Thanquil managed through chattering teeth.

“Pirates threw you overboard, heh? Aye they do that to tourists from time to time. Bit of hazin’, nothing more.”

“Hazing…” Thanquil chattered rolling onto his front and pushing to his knees. “They tried to kill me.”

“Nah. You’re still alive. They wanted ya dead, I reckon ya would be.”

Thanquil let out a ragged sigh and determined not to argue with the man. “I need a fire and some food.”

“Well we got both of those here at the Rest but each’ll cost ya. Can ya pay?”

Thanquil nodded and his hand went to his belt only to find his purse was well and truly gone. He hadn’t felt anyone lift it from him which probably meant he had lost it in the swim. He groaned when he realised, while he had lost his purse, he hadn’t lost the demon blade; it clung to him and filled him with dread even now.

“I appear… to have… lost… my purse.”

“Well now. That makes for something of a problem then. See we don’t just give things away for free here…” One of the other men stepped forward and whispered in the speaker’s ear. “That right? You one of them witch hunters?”

Thanquil groaned. “Yes. I’m an Arbiter.”

A grin broke onto the man’s face. “Well that makes a whole world of difference. Been told one of you might be popping by some point. Never expected you to crawl up out of the drink though. Come on,” the man moved forward and took Thanquil under the arm, hauling him to his feet and supporting him as they walked. “We’ll get you warm and fed. Drake’s orders.”

It turned out the man’s name was Ianic and he was a pirate, or at least he had been up until a few years back. Drake had taken his ship and his crew, murdered the captain and given the others a choice; die or join Fortune’s Rest as a guard. All the guards were ex-pirates gone legit, according to Ianic and many of them fared well in their new roles.

Ianic had a wife, two children and a cabin aboard one of the larger boats; a galley by the name of Defiant. He was housed and clothed and paid well enough to provide and mostly his job entailed patrolling the Rest and making his presence known. Crime was a rare thing aboard Fortune’s Rest despite the criminal nature of the entire enterprise. Folk didn’t commit crimes because the punishments were somewhere beyond severe and many of the people who frequented were rich enough to consider traditional crime far below them.

It seemed Drake had set up his pleasure house to be a cut above the rest and discretion was the name of the game. Discretion and supply as, according to Ianic, almost any tastes could be catered for.

Ianic half supported half dragged Thanquil into the bowls of the ship he had pulled himself up onto and kicked open the door to the galley. The chef raised a giant metal spoon in complaint but soon quieted after a hissed word from Ianic. The pirate sat Thanquil down in front of the fire and wandered away to fetch some food.

Blood dripped from Thanquil’s fingers to the ground below, a steady rhythmic drip drip as it rolled down the channel on his arm, across his hand and down his digits. The wolves below yapped and growled and snatched at the dripping gore. They had long since given up worrying at his coat and now he regretted throwing it at them.

The spell controlling the wild canines worn off but they were already driven into a frenzy and the smell of blood only excited them more. Up in the tree Thanquil was safe from them, it was common knowledge wolves were terrible climbers but as long as he was up here he couldn’t get his arm seen to and there was only so much blood loss a man could take before it became as fatal as the beasts that prowled below.

“Woof,” Thanquil said to the beasts below, it was meant to be something of a shout but he was lacking the enthusiasm. The wolves were not so handicapped, they leapt into another flurry of activity, pacing, growling and jumping up at the tree.

Thanquil looked around for something he could use as a weapon and came up empty. His sword was long lost, still lodged firmly in the chest of the witch who had summoned the wolves. He must have been mad to summon so many; a pack of nearly twenty, Thanquil found it hard to be accurate in his counting as the creatures never ceased moving.

It had been a hard battle full of near misses but Thanquil had come out on top, closing the distance to the witch and planting his sword through the man’s torso even as he howled out his final breath. Not a few minutes after the witch’s death the wolves had arrived in force and they had given chase. Thanquil fled, threw down his coat to distract the beasts and jumped for the first tree of suitable height. Now he was stuck up here bleeding to death while the corpse of the witch whom he had been sent to capture was eaten by the same wolves he had summoned. It was strangely fitting in a gruesome sort of way.

He shifted his position in the branches, trying to get comfortable only to shift back when he realised comfortable was the last thing he needed right now. One of the wolves made a valiant attempt at jumping the ten feet up to him and hit the ground heavy, another snapped at it and they went back to prowling. White wolves with fur the colour of packed snow, some part of him was aware how rare it was to see such coloured wolves down in Sarth but another part of him didn’t care.

Rooting around in his pockets Thanquil found only a small chip of wood, the same chips the Inquisition used to create runes only this one was blank. He knew it was his only way out and knew what he had to do. Not many runes would be powerful enough to kill the whole pack and those that were would likely kill him too. There was one that would scare them away though he doubted it had ever been used for such. With no ink to speak of Thanquil had only one way to inscribe the needed runes onto the chip. He flexed his left hand, set his index finger to the chip and started drawing. One rune to store the power, he felt himself weakening as he wrote it, as it absorbed his energy. One rune to summon. One rune to bind. When it was done he let out a shuddering breath and without a thought of hesitation snapped the rune in half, dropping both sides to the leafy ground below.

The demon roared into existence in an explosion of noise and darkness. Usually they faded into and out of this world but this time it was almost as though the demon knew it needed to make a grand entrance.

The wolves scattered, whimpering and breaking from their frenzied stalking. One was foolish enough to snap at the demon. It made a quick and easy meal for the creature from the void and blood and wolf parts soon littered the ground. The other wolves had fled by then, long gone. Eventually the face of the demon turned up towards Thanquil and something that could have been a grin spread across the patch of darkness. Beady, flickering yellow eyes stared into his own and the mouth opened to speak…

“Arbiter,” Ianic said, shaking Thanquil gently.

Thanquil prised his eyes open, an act that took no small amount of effort. “I was dreaming,” he said dumbly.

The pirate nodded. “That’s a side effect of sleeping, so I’m told.”

“How long was I out?” Thanquil asked.

He felt his compulsion grip hold of Ianic even as he saw the other man frown. “Not long. An hour most.” The pirate shook his head and blinked rapidly. “Well that was unpleasant.”

“Sorry,” Thanquil said. “I didn’t mean to do it.”

“Aye. Well no harm done. All the same I’d rather it didn’t happen again if it’s all the same.”

“Of course.”

“Good,” Ianic said still frowning. “Cook whipped you up some stew. Not much meat in it sad to say, but it’s hot and tastes… well I’ve tasted worse.”

Thanquil took the proffered stew and the heel of stale bread and wolfed it down. It was during that meal he realised that he had asked Captain Stillwater questions back on the Phoenix. He hadn’t noticed at the time but his compulsion hadn’t taken hold. Whether from exhaustion or something else he couldn’t be sure, it certainly seemed to be working again now.

“I need to see Drake,” Thanquil said around a mouthful of bread and stew.

“Figured ya might say that so I had me an ask around while ya were out,” Ianic said setting down a cup of something that looked suspiciously alcoholic and then taking a deep swig out of a second mug. “He ain’t here.”

“And you don’t know where he is,” Thanquil finished.

“Can’t say I know Captain Morrass too well but he don’t seem like the sharing type, specially not to folk like me. Only met him the once.”

“But he was here. He let you know I’d be coming.”

“Seems that way,” Ianic took another swig from his mug and Thanquil followed suit. He couldn’t say he’d ever really acquired the taste for grog but right now the devilish mixture of beer and rum was just about the best thing he’d ever tasted. He felt a warmth spreading through his body as he swallowed it down.

“I need to get after him,” Thanquil said after the grog had slid into his system and was resting comfortably in his stomach. “There are ways off Fortune’s Rest. We must be near the mainland, near a port.”

“Not too far, not too close. The captain likes to keep his Rest off the beaten routes. Don’t like folk just stumbling upon us. A few days sailing’ll get you to Overlook though. Don’t know any folk heading that way but then I ain’t the dock master. Better to ask around.”

“I don’t know Overlook.”

“Big fort built looking over a bigger cliff. Town just sorta sprawled out below it. Owned by the Ferin family. Not much to see or do but it’s the nearest port. Don’t reckon Drake’ll have gone there though.”

Thanquil nodded, finishing the stew and then the grog. “I need paper and ink.”

Ianic looked blank. “Uhh.”

“Fabric will do,” Thanquil said quickly. Now he had a full belly he could feel sleep pulling at him, trying to drag him down into sweet oblivion. “Something like a bandage.”

“Reckon I can get some.”

“And ink.”

Ianic shrugged.

Thanquil sighed. He’d had a full inkwell in his pack but that he had abandoned to make the swim to Fortune’s Rest. His entire belongings currently consisted of his clothes, his coat, his weapons, a small tube of black powder thankfully stoppered to protect it from water, and Myorzo. “I’ll manage with just the bandage.”

Ianic put down his mug of grog and scampered off. Thanquil fought the urge to sleep, staring into the embers of the dying cook fire. Fire was never safe aboard a ship and especially one connected to hundreds of other ships but Thanquil wasn’t about to argue, he was simply happy of the warmth.

By the time Ianic came back Thanquil’s eyes were very nearly closed. The pirate shook his shoulder gently and proffered a handful of bandages of varying lengths. Thanquil selected one roughly twice the length of his hand and laid it out before him. He drew the knife from his belt and cut a slit from his index finger.

“Uh,” Ianic grunted. “What are you doing?”

Thanquil ignored the pirate. He sucked the excess blood from his finger and pumped it a few times to get the blood flowing again, then he placed it lightly on the bandage and drew a clumsy symbol. The sleepless charm wouldn’t be his most effective but as long as it lasted a day or two he would be happy with it. He doubted it would take more than that to earn enough money to get to the mainland; he was, after all, a thief surrounded by casinos, bars and a whole host of rich folk. He tied the bandage in a loop and bared his arm, pulling the makeshift charm up to his bicep he tightened the loop and let out a shuddering breath as the magic took effect. It might not keep him from being tired but it would stop him from falling asleep.

“You alright, Arbiter?” Ianic asked. “Ya look like ya could use some sleep.”

Thanquil laughed bitterly. “Believe me, sleep would bring me no rest. Filled with bad dreams. This is better.”

The pirate nodded slowly though he looked more than a little sceptical.

“I’d like to see the sights now, Ianic,” Thanquil said. “A gambling house would be best.”

“Sure. Whatever you say, Arbiter.” The pirate stood and Thanquil with him. “Reckon I know just the place.”

Each ship in Fortune’s Rest was more than just a ship, each and every one was a brothel or a gambling house or a fighting arena or an inn or drug den and each one was owned and operated by men and women loyal to Drake Morrass. Ianic claimed a person could sate any desire in the floating pleasure house and Thanquil could well believe it to be true.

He saw two women, one a southerner from the wilds with skin as black as the night and one with the pallor and pointed eyes of the Dragon Empire, sat outside a cabin on a ship, they were playing a game called buiss; it was a strategical game Thanquil had never managed to pick up despite Jez’s frequent attempts to teach him. The girls were placing chips on a board, on one side the chips were black and on the other white, depending on the placement one girl would capture the other’s pieces and flip them over, the winner would be the one with the most chips their colour at the end. When the women saw Thanquil and Ianic crossing from the previous ship to theirs they stopped playing and the southerner reached across the table, took the other girls breast in hand and licked at the nipple. Thanquil looked away. Ianic chuckled.

“They specialise on that sort of thing here on Percy’s Ghost. Never been in for it myself but I know a few lads who swear by it, one woman too.”

“That sort of thing,” Thanquil repeated.

“Yeah. Same sex stuff, two women one cock. Ain’t the weirdest thing the cap’n offers at the Rest but it’s one of the better earners, I hear.”

They crossed the deck of Percy’s Ghost and onto another wooden walkway connected to a ship called Dragon’s Dare. The deck of the new ship was deserted, no sailors, no guards, no customers and no workers. Thanquil looked at Ianic who was frowning and clearly a little uneasy.

“Cross this one quickly, Arbiter. You don’t want to see what goes on below deck.”

“What could possibly…”

“You don’t want to know, Arbiter. Hells I don’t want to know. Let’s just move on quick.”

Thanquil warred with his curiosity and won, following Ianic as he rushed across the deck of Dragon’s Dare. The ex-pirate led them through a winding route across ships and further into the heart of Fortune’s Rest. On each ship he explained its current purpose and what services it had to offer. Thanquil saw midget people fighting and customers betting on the outcome and on the very next ship he heard a roar come from below deck, Ianic explained they set packs of wolves against bears down below. Thanquil couldn’t decide if he was more worried that people would be willing to pay to watch such or that Drake had brought both bear and wolves out to see to satisfy the desire.

The number of customers increased as they approached the centre of the fleet and while some looked a lot like the more common folk of the wilds, many looked to be rich individuals or couples, and many did not look as though they came from the wilds at all.

“Folk travel from everywhere to spend their money at the Rest,” Ianic said. “Some never leave, get in over their heads and have to work it off, find themselves a life.”

“Slaves,” Thanquil said.

Ianic shook his head. “No slaves at the Rest. Not one. Drake don’t allow it. Had a slaver pull up a year or so back, hold full of folk waiting to be sold and the captain of the ship wanting to hold here for a few days while he got himself some pleasure. Drake didn’t look on that too kind. Seized the slave ship, killed the crew, freed the slaves and added the ship to the Rest. Some of those slaves work here still.”

“So the people who get over their heads…” Thanquil prompted.

“Those are willing to work get put to it, pay off their debts and then they’re free to go or stay as they please. Those not willing to work… We have a more permanent solution for them. Makes an example. Not many folk not willing to pay off their debts these days.”

“How have I never heard of this place?” Thanquil asked himself.

Ianic took it upon himself to answer. “Don’t reckon many of your kind have, don’t reckon there’s many witch hunters been invited.”

“For fear we would come in numbers and shut it all down,” Thanquil said looking around in both wonder and disgust. Hundreds upon hundreds of ships and he had seen only a handful and in that handful he had seen much of the worst people had to offer; women and men whoring themselves out to any that had the coin and willing to debase themselves in any way for that coin. People paying money to watch others beat each other to death. Drug addicts so cooked by their own particular choice of vice that they could no longer function without it. Thanquil knew how addiction worked all too well and knew the dangers of indulging. He judged most of the people here were addicted to something; pain, pleasure, drugs. He doubted there were any real heretics here but that wouldn’t stop the Inquisition shutting the place down just in case.

“This is it,” Thanquil said. The ship they had come to was named Teigun’s Treason, a sleek craft of Five Kingdoms’ origin and it had a small host of armed guards waiting on the outside of the hatch. Above decks towards the aft of the ship a group of men were sitting, enjoying the cool night and playing a card game on a table lit by a windowed lantern.

“Aye,” said Ianic. “This is it. This and the next two ships on are all gaming dens. But they don’t play for free, Arbiter. You’ll need some coin if you expect to try your luck.”

Thanquil reached into the breast of his still soggy coat and pulled out a small purse, he judged there was only a few coins inside and he doubted they were of anything but the smallest currency but it was a start and he would wager he could have many times the amount in no time.

Ianic looked confused. “Thought you said you’d lost ya purse.”

“I found another one,” Thanquil replied.

Ianic patted down his pockets and was relieved to find his own purse still in his possession. The ex-pirate backed off a step. “Reckon I’ll leave ya here then, Arbiter. One word of warning though; the house always wins.” With that the man turned and walked quickly away. Thanquil watched him go, watched him look backwards more than once to make certain he wasn’t being followed. Only when Ianic was well and truly out of sight did Thanquil turn towards the guards at the hatch and approach with a wide smile.

One of the guards, a woman with a crooked nose, short brown hair and breasts that barely registered as bumps underneath her tunic, stepped forward between Thanquil and the hatch. “What’s your business here, witch hunter.”

Thanquil leaned in close and was rewarded by the woman taking a hasty step backwards. “I prefer Arbiter. No business. I’m here for pleasure,” he said spreading both his hands. “Gambling is a hobby of mine and I hear there’s no better place to lose a few bits.”

The woman looked far from convinced. She looked Thanquil up and down, her eyes lingering on the covered blade that hung at his belt. The lure of Myorzo had become such a constant in his world Thanquil had almost forgotten he had it. Now he thought about it he could hear the whispers again and, judging by the woman’s slack expression, she could hear the voices too. Thanquil quickly pulled his coat closer about him, covering the blade with its leather embrace. The woman shook herself free from the trance and wrenched her attention back to Thanquil.

“We don’t take weapons from folk, Arbiter, but we do ask that you don’t use them. If asking fails we then tend to insist and I assure you we don’t insist peacefully.”

Thanquil started towards the hatch. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He descended in a dimly lit clamour heavy with the smell of sweat and casher weed. The ship was full of tables bolted to the wooden floor and each was in use. Betting games from card gambling to dice rolling to scorpion racing, there were even some Thanquil had never heard of including one that seemed to involve small clay tiles each with a symbol scribed upon it, some of them actually looked a little like runes and Thanquil quickly decided to thieve a few of the tiles to replenish his own lost supply of prepared runes.

A few of the customers had taken notice of him, some watched with wary eyes, others eyed him up only as a mark, one more body to take money from. Ianic may have warned that the house always wins but not all games of chance were played against a house and it was always far easier to cheat other gamblers than it was the establishment.

Thanquil couldn’t help but notice there were even more armed pirates masquerading as guards down below. He was sure if any of them caught him cheating he would soon find himself back in the water and that was something he most certainly did not want but he was also well aware that he had never been caught yet.

There was a trick to gambling and it was different from the art of thieving. Pick pocketing took nimble fingers, quick reactions and the ability to assess potential marks, to determine which were paranoid and paying attention to their purses or jewellery and which were oblivious to the epidemic of thievery that infested every part of humanity. Cheating at gambling required misdirection or, as Thanquil had long ago learned, he could just use magic to cheat.

The three schools of magic each Arbiter received tutoring in were Runes and Charms, Blessings and Curses, and Sorcery. Of the three Thanquil had always excelled at the use of Blessings and Curses; he was, in fact, one of only four members of the Inquisition who could weave together five Blessings into a single stream, that was a feat even the Grand Inquisitor had never mastered. Sorcery, however, was not one of Thanquil’s specialities.

The school of Sorcery was most akin to the power of witches. It was not the Arbiter’s own power fuelling the magic but instead that of Volmar. The Arbiter used their body as a conduit for the God’s power to effect the world and in doing so Volmar could wreak his own changes upon it. There were some Arbiters, not to mention both Inquisitors of the family Vance, who specialised in Sorcery and they were without a doubt a force to be reckoned with and one Thanquil truly hoped he never had to. His own use of Sorcery was confined to parlour tricks and the occasional exploding wall and he was well aware the latter wouldn’t so much help in this situation as it would cause a watery death.

Stepping up to a dice table Thanquil reached into his stolen purse and pulled out a coin, a single silver bit; wilds currency. “Mind if I roll,” he said already reaching for the dice.

The gambler beside him backed away a step but the pirate watching over the table, dolling out any winning and collecting the losses, inclined her head. “Simple game, witch hunter. You name the number and roll. Your number comes up you take your coin plus another. Your number don’t come up, I take your coin and you get to put down another. Savvy?”

“Sounds fair. Four.” He picked up the dice, whispered a word to them and rolled a double two.

“It’s one o’ them, ain’t it.” Came the voice from behind. Thanquil ignored it.

After just a few hours he was well and truly up. The regular use of magic was leaving him feeling a little drained especially coupled with the lack of sleep but he had turned a few silver bits into a handful of gold. The trick was not to play one game for too long so as not to garner too much in the way of suspicion. Also he was fairly certain being a much maligned witch hunter and feared by everyone helped with avoiding said suspicion.

“You know I do believe she’s right, boss. He does look quite like one of them,” the second voice was male and carried the unmistakeable lightness of good humour.

“Reckon ya jus’ took piss, I do,” the first voice again, female and unrefined. Thanquil sighed and picked up his cards; a tree and the sun, all he needed now was a fire and…

“You know it’s really not becoming for such a small lady to speak in such a way.”

“Oh, I see. An’ tell me; how becomin’ is it fer a small lady ta forcefully interpose a dagger up ya posterior?”

There was a moment’s silence. “Not very.”

“Right, so how’s ‘bout ya shut the fuck up?”

“There really is no communicating with her when she gets like this, boss. Could we not just put her back in the alley from which we took her?”

Thanquil paid for another card and pulled a spear, he flicked the edge of the card once and it took on the appearance of a fire. He laid all three cards on the table to a collective sigh from the other gamblers and then pulled the bits toward him.

“Well ain’t ya gonna kill him?” said the first voice again. Thanquil started shoving the ill-gotten gains into his purse and decided it might be time to turn around to face his oncoming killer.

“Don’t reckon I will, no,” came another male voice, one Thanquil recognised. “Don’t do that no more, Ril. Besides…”

Thanquil turned around and stared into the face of a ghost. The Black Thorn stopped mid-sentence with his mouth slightly ajar. He looked different; less hair on his head and more on his face, a couple more scars around the burn maybe but it was hard to tell. Also his left eye appeared to be missing unless he was wearing the patch as a fashion statement.

“Thorn?”

The Black Thorn winced as Thanquil’s compulsion locked onto his will. “Aye,” he said with a grunt. “Was that really fuckin’ necessary, Thanquil?”

Thanquil broke into a wide grin and was relieved to see it mirrored on the Black Thorn’s face though distorted into a horrific pulling of melted flesh on the left side.

“I heard ya were dead,” Thorn said, walking forwards and clapping Thanquil so hard on the shoulder he stumbled.

“That so. I heard the same about you.”

Thorn laughed. “Aye, that one’s been doin’ the rounds fer a while now as it happens. Truth is it’s a bit harder ta kill me than most folk realise. Never seems ta stop ‘em tryin’ though.”

Thanquil laughed. “It’s good to see you again, Thorn. Looks like you have a whole new crew these days.”

“Aye,” Thorn said nodding. “I’ll introduce ya. This fancy fuck is Anders, the little cunt is Rilly, that one is Ben…”

“Six-Cities Ben,” said Ben.

Thorn ignored the interruption. “The big one at the back is Suzku and I reckon ya already know Henry.”

Thanquil had overlooked the small woman hiding at the back of the group but now she tilted back her cavalier hat and gave Thanquil a lopsided grin. “Arbiter,” she said by way of greeting.

“Good to see you again, Henry. Wasn’t sure you made it out of Hostown,” Thanquil replied. “You should have seen Thorn, cried like a newborn.”

The little murderess laughed and shoved her hands into her pockets, she seemed less angry than Thanquil remembered. “Where’s that whore ya used ta crew with?” Henry asked. “The one that near threw me into the Jorl.”

“Aye,” Thorn butt in. “Where is Jezzet?”

It was the last thing Thanquil wanted reminding of, not that it had ever been far from his mind. “Drake has her.”

Anders stepped up beside Thorn. “Drake has her? He kidnapped her?”

“Well…” Thanquil started, stopped and scratched at his scarred arm. “Not exactly. She kind of went willingly.”

“That makes more sense,” Anders replied. There was something familiar about him, Thanquil couldn’t quite shake the feeling he had seen the man before.

“Sorry, Thanquil,” the Black Thorn said. “Hard ta keep the interest of a lass like Jezzet Vel’urn, I reckon.”

“No,” Thanquil said. “That’s not it. She… She had to go or… I’m looking for Drake. He has her and I need the truth from him.”

“Ya should try askin’ Anders where the bastard is,” the little woman called Rilly said while picking at something between her teeth. “Blooded cocksucker works fer him.”

The Black Thorn let out a groan.

Thanquil looked at Anders. Anders smiled back at Thanquil.

He grabbed Anders by the collar and dragged him forwards, span him around and slammed the man down onto the card table. He struggled a little, attempting to push back but Thanquil was the stronger of the two and he just slammed Anders back down again. “Where is here?” he demanded.

Anders shuddered as Thanquil’s will dominated his own. “I don’t know,” the man whined.

“What do you know?” Thanquil screamed back into the man’s face.

Anders just groaned on the table, the question was too open, there was no answer. Thanquil was just about to ask another when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder, he struggled against the pull but he couldn’t match the Black Thorn for strength and slowly he found himself dragged away. Thorn positioned himself between Thanquil and the prone form of Anders. From his peripheral vision Thanquil noticed some of the guards taking an interest but none were investigating.

“No more of that, Thanquil,” Thorn said his face as stern and unyielding as the steely tone in his voice. “Anders might work fer Drake but he works fer me too an’ I ain’t ‘bout ta let you question him like that. Time was you didn’t like ta ask questions, as I remember it.”

“If he knows anything…”

“He don’t,” Thorn interrupted.

“I dunno,” Henry cut in. “Reckon we should let the Arbiter at him. Might finally get the truth from the little bastard.”

Anders rolled off of the table and onto the floor. “I know we’ve had our differences, my dear, but I don’t think that’s cause to want me tortured.”

Henry just shrugged.

Thanquil turned back to Thorn. The man seemed taller than he remembered, towering over him as he stood between the Arbiter and Anders. “I need to be certain.”

“Ya can be certain. I’m tellin’ ya, Anders don’t know nothin’. Good?”

Thanquil forced his breathing to slow and unclenched his jaw. He did trust Thorn, despite or perhaps because of all they had been through. He also knew there was no sense in arguing, he was a little outnumbered. “Fine,” he said. “Sorry, Anders.”

“Good,” Thorn said. He turned and extended a hand to Anders, helping him up from the floor. “Truth is we’re here on Drake’s leave.”

By the curses that erupted from the rest of Thorn’s crew Thanquil judged he was not the only one surprised.

“We workin’ fer that fuck again, Thorn?” asked the girl, Rilly.

“Nah,” Thorn said, his one eye staring at Thanquil with doubled intensity. “We ain’t workin’ fer him. But he’s knows we’re here an’ his pirates know ta leave us be.”

“Why are we here?” asked Six-Cities Ben before breaking into a grin. “Not that I ain’t enjoyin’ some of the attractions.”

Thorn sniffed and looked to Henry who shrugged back, then he turned back to Thanquil. “Reckon this is one of those things we should be talkin’ ‘bout somewhere a little less public.”

Thanquil nodded. “Lead the way.”

Thorn led them to one of the ships at Fortune’s Rest that acted as a brothel. He paid for a room, the largest cabin the ship had, and, much to both Anders and Ben’s disappointment, no women. The request was unusual to say the least but the woman in charge was compliant enough when she saw Thorn’s face and even more so once she saw his money.

Thanquil was the last into the room and the big quiet one, Suzku, closed the door behind him. Thanquil hadn’t managed a step into the room before a big hand touched lightly on his shoulder, he turned to find Suzku staring at him with equal parts wonder and curiosity. He wore a light suit of bronze-link despite the weight of it and a white robe over the top with a white wrap around his head, he was as tall as the Black Thorn and even bigger in build.

“You have no colour,” the man said with not a trace of wilds drawl in his voice.

“Um,” Thanquil grunted stepping away from the man. “Thank you.”

He moved further into the room, finding himself a wall to stand with his back to. Thorn had found a similar wall and stood with a similar posture, Anders had collapsed onto the bed headless of the sexual deviances that had no doubt been performed upon it, Henry stood in the centre of the room with her hat tilted to hide her face, Ben collapsed upon a chair and stretched with a noisy yawn and Rilly paced about the room like a caged animal waiting for a chance at freedom.

“So yeah, there’s a reason we’re here an’ it ain’t jus’ ta see how fucked up some of these folk are. Henry an’ Anders already know this; looks like we got another line on Kessick.”

A hush fell upon the room as all the members of the Black Thorn’s crew gave each other significant glances and Thanquil let out a mental sigh. Fate may have forgotten that he existed but it didn’t stop it having a keen sense of irony. He had purposefully shirked his responsibilities and his orders to come here chasing Jezzet and yet he already knew how this conversation was going to end.

“You’re chasing after Kessick,” Thanquil said, purposefully not making it a question.

“Aye,” said the Black Thorn. “Have been ever since I escaped the Inquisition. Truth is I thought he’d killed a couple of friends of mine. Turns out now they’re both still ‘live an’ at least one of them is fuckin’ Morrass. Seems he might have mentioned that last I saw him.”

“She’s not…”

“S’not the issue. Bastard still took my eye an’ I mean ta pay him back fer that. An’ I made a deal a while back. Still lookin’ ta hold up my end if you’re still good fer yours.”

“My end…” Thanquil repeated.

“I kill Kessick,” the Black Thorn said, his one eye staring at Thanquil, “an’ you get me that pardon. Don’t much like these Arbiters comin’ after me.”

“You were never… There aren’t any Arbiters hunting you.”

“Aye? You tell that ta the one that killed Rilly’s da’ an’ Ben’s brother. ‘Cos the bastard was after me an’ no mistake. Don’t much want any more bein’ sent.”

Thanquil nodded.

“Good,” continued Thorn. “Man here who knows where Kessick is goes by the name of Carlston Barrow an’ it jus’ so happens we got some unfinished business with that fuck too. Now we were lookin’ ta go at him the hard way with a long session of arduous torture. Reckon Henry was lookin’ forward ta it but I know fer a fact Suzku ain’t too fond of the torturing.”

The big man by the door nodded solemnly. “Seen it once too many times in my life.”

Six-Cities Ben leaned forwards on the chair, rubbing his hands together with a wide grin. “Oh I’ve been waiting fer this, a few gritty details from Pern’s past. So how many times you seen men tortured?”

Suzku shrugged. “Once.”

“It ain’t an issue no more,” Thorn continued. “Seein’ as you clearly don’t mind askin’ questions these days, Thanquil, reckon you could do the interrogatin’. Use that compulsion of yours fer good.”

“Wait,” Rilly shouted. “We workin’ fer the Arbiter now?”

“The Arbiter’s workin’ fer us,” Thorn shouted back.

Thanquil snorted. “The Arbiter’s working with you.”

“Same bloody thing, Thanquil.”

“Nah,” Rilly was still shouting. “Don’t trust ‘em an’ neither should you. Fucks tried ta kill you. Killed my da’. Killed a lot o’ folk.”

“Rilly would you jus’ shut up,” Thorn said his voice taking on a commanding tone. “’Cos if you don’t, by the hells girl, I’ll…”

“What?” Rilly asked. “Ya ain’t gonna hit me.”

“I’ve hit girls younger an’ prettier an’ who deserved it a damn sight less.”

Thanquil looked at the young woman, her delicate features were at war with her posture, her attitude and her appearance. Bright red hair cut to various maddening lengths, piercings through nose, ears and lips, a scrawl of ink across the base of her neck disappearing below her bulging jerkin. She also had the foulest mouth Thanquil had ever heard on a woman and he had lived with Jezzet for over a year.

She snorted. “Da’ never fuckin’ hit me. You won’t neither.”

“Ya da’ shoulda taken a fuckin’ lash ta ya back on his boat. Might have taught ya a few manners.”

Rilly sneered at Thorn. “What makes ya think he didn’t?”

The Black Thorn let out a groan and shook his head. “Henry.”

The little woman turned and Thanquil saw a grin from underneath the hat. She advanced on Rilly silently, her hands open and ready. Rilly backed away, her anger and courage both forgotten.

“Alright,” Rilly said as she bumped into the far wall. “Alright. Enough.”

Henry tipped back the front of her hat and Thanquil could clearly see the sneer on her face and the scarred lip that created it. She was pretty in a strangely feral sort of way but Thanquil knew just how dangerous the little woman was. “Glad we had this talk,” Henry said with a wink and walked away. Rilly quickly took to sulking.

“Right we are then,” Thorn said eyeing each person in the room. “Any other questions.”

Thanquil held up a hand. “I’m wondering what it is this Carlston Barrow does for Kessick.”

“Oh, I know this one,” Anders said from the bed. “What we know for certain is he’s providing Kessick with people.”

Thanquil waited for the man to elaborate. He didn’t.

“That can’t be it.”

“Might be there’s more to it than that. These folks he’s sellin’ ta Kessick they all got what you Arbiters call potential. Swift used ta work fer Kessick doin’ the same thing up until Henry gutted him.”

Henry spat.

“Well Suzku used ta work fer Swift an’ he said Kessick gave Swift some sort of jewel or somethin’ which set ta glowin’ ‘round certain folk.”

Thanquil’s hand reached into one of the hidden pockets of his coat but came out empty, he had lost his own gem to the witch’s daughter back in Fort Talon.

“Near as we can figure it he’s recruitin’ folk with this potential. Creatin’ an army of evil Arbiters or something.”

Thanquil thought about telling them all the truth but decided against it. The Inquisition’s dirty secret, its connection to the demons was something he wanted to keep hidden if possible. It was something he had to keep hidden, something all Arbiters had to keep hidden.

“No more questions?” Thorn asked. “No more whining?” he looked at Rilly. “Good. ‘Cos I happen ta know jus’ where we can find Carlston Barrow.”

Thanquil hung back with Rilly at Thorn’s request. Carlston kept guards and the Black Thorn’s cunning plan was to simply take them by surprise and, as he was quick to point out, Arbiters were not entirely inconspicuous. Though as far as Thanquil could see, neither was a tall, one-eyed, heavily scarred Black Thorn.

“Got a hole in ya coat,” Rilly said. She was leaning against the wall of the boat, the Very Same, in a way that was eerily reminiscent of Thorn.

Thanquil looked down at the bottom of his Arbiter coat. She wasn’t wrong. He shrugged. “Dragon bite.”

Rilly snorted. Thanquil ignored her. The Very Same was a fat bottomed craft better suited to transport of people or cattle. It had plenty of cabins varying from cupboard-sized to inn-sized and held regular bare knuckle fist fights. It was also one of Carlston Barrows most popular places and where he conducted much of his business. He was a loaner and a fixer and a bookie and a hundred other things as well. He was extremely well connected and had a small army of tough, violence-inclined bodyguards all willing, able and more than willing to kill or maim on his command. Despite this the Black Thorn had not seemed particularly troubled.

“You an’ Thorn go a ways back?” Rilly asked staring at him from her section of wall. They were waiting in one of the cupboard-sized cabins until one of Thorn’s crew came to give them the good news.

“We… we fought against each other for a while, then fought with each other for a while longer. I was the one who sent him after Kessick. Just assumed he’d run off back to the wilds afterwards.”

Rilly spat. “’Stead Kessick beat ‘im, ripped his eye out an’ kept ‘im prisoner at your Inquisition.”

“That certainly seems…”

“An’ you jus’ left ‘im there,” she snorted. “Fuckin’ witch hunters.”

Thanquil shot her a sidelong grin. “You’re almost like a little Henry.”

Rilly’s expression darkened even further. “I’m taller than her.”

A brooding silence settled over the cupboard as they waited for word and Thanquil almost started to fear Thorn’s plan had failed, that the rest of the crew were dead and he would be stuck in the cupboard with the angry little woman for even longer. Then the door opened to the moustached face of Six-Cities Ben.

“Were you two getting’ friendly in here?” he asked.

“Fuck off,” Rilly said bashing into Ben’s arm as she barged past him. He only laughed in return.

“Believe it or not, Arbiter, she’s usually very cheerful.”

The room was carnage. Carlston Barrow had his own cabin on the Very Same and he had it decked out with a wealth of finery. Most of that finery, from the desk to the paintings to the rug to the devilishly pretty whore in the corner, was now speckled, or in some cases covered, with blood. Four bodies lay on the floor inside the room and another one lay outside with a steadily seeping red wound on her back. Carlston himself seemed uninjured for the most part unless one counted unconsciousness as a form of injury. He was an ageing man, round but thick with long disused muscle, with a healthy colour to his skin and reek of smoke about him even when unconscious.

“Taking them by surprise seemed to work,” Thanquil mused as he stepped over the body of a tall, slim man with hair tied into a tight warrior’s tail.

The Black Thorn rasped out a laugh. “Aye, didn’t work so we resorted to aggressive negotiation. Reckon it did the trick.”

Henry sucked at her teeth. “’Cept fer Anders almost stabbin’ me.”

Anders was busy uncorking a bottle from one of the wall cabinets. “Almost, my dear, almost. You will note that I managed to avoid such a costly and messy mistake.”

“Well in that case, all is forgiven. Come over here an’ fuck me,” Henry spat with a venomous stare.

Anders tutted. “I would love to, my lady, but we have company.”

The Black Thorn sighed. “I preferred it when they were fuckin’.” He looked at Thanquil. “Ya ready ta find out what this piece o’ shit knows?”

“Thanquil glanced down at the prone form of Carlston slumped over his wooden desk. “He needs to be awake.”

Thorn reach out and slapped the man across the face with a free fingered hand. Carlston groaned in response and his eyelids began to open. “Done,” Thorn said with a grin.

“Carlston,” Thorn said to the man as he started to come around. “Hey, cunt. Remember me? Remember her?” He pointed towards Henry as she stood, grinning from ear to ear with her twin daggers glinting in the lantern light. “You tried to have us killed.”

A terrified realisation passed across Carlston’s eyes and beads of sweat sprang forth all over his plump face. “You killed them all!”

Thorn looked around the room at the five dead bodies. “Yeah, we did. An’ none o’ Drake’s boys’ll be comin’ ta save ya neither. See Drake knows somethin’ ‘bout ya, he knows ya been workin’ fer Kessick. Jus’ so happens I’m lookin’ fer that fuck so hows ‘bout ya tell me where I can find him an’ we’ll make this quick.”

Carlston’s eyes went hard. “You’ll get nothing from me, Black Thorn.” He spat at Thorn, a tiny amount of spittle hitting the sell-sword on his scarred cheek.

“No…” Thorn started.

“He’s a bookie,” said Six-Cities Ben quickly his voice all excitement. “Ask him if he wants ta bet on that.”

Thorn sighed and looked back towards Ben. “I was fuckin’ gettin’ ta that.” He turned back to Carlston. “Wanna bet on that?”

Thorn looked at Thanquil. Carlston looked at Thanquil. Thanquil smiled.

“Aye,” rasped Thorn. “This here is Arbiter Darkheart. Reckon he might pry the truth from ya.”

Thanquil stared at the terrified man. “Where is Kessick?”

His compulsion locked onto Carlston’s will and tore the truth from his lips. “Absolution.”

Thanquil looked at Thorn. “Um…”

“That it?” asked Rilly.

“Well I…” Thanquil began.

“Bloody useful havin’ one of these witch hunters around, ain’t it,” Six-Cities Ben said with a grin. “Absolution’s a fair ways away but we can catch a boat to Port Loyal an’ travel north from there. Pick us up some horses maybe.”

“Absolution is a place,” Thanquil decided.

“Aye,” said Thorn. “Ol’ town in D’roan territory. Used ta be a loggin’ village but tales o’ ghosts scared folk away. Pretty much a deserted void these days. Or at least it was.”

Thanquil walked around the other side of the table to where Calrston Barrow sat sweating into his bright red silk shirt.

“How do we know that fuck told the truth?” Thanquil heard Rilly ask.

“You work for Kessick?” Thanquil asked the man.

Carlston groaned as the truth was forced from him. “Yes.”

“What do you do for Kessick?”

“I provide him with people.” His face was almost as red as his shirt.

“People with the potential?”

“Yes.”

Thanquil leaned in close. “What is Kessick doing with those people?”

Carlston’s eyes focused on Thanquil and he struggled and strained to keep the truth in. “He’s putting demons in them.”

Thanquil was vaguely aware of another argument taking place around him but he ignored it all. He pulled his pistol from his belt, pointed at Carlston Barrow’s face and pulled the trigger.

Click.

The hammer of the pistol struck metal but there was no spark. Thanquil looked at the little gun and realised he hadn’t replaced the black powder after his swim in the ocean. “Huh,” he grunted, flipped the pistol over in his hand and struck Carlston in the face with the stock. The plump man tumbled over in his chair and hit the floor, already unconscious again from the blow. Thanquil raised the pistol and hit the man again and again and again, he kept hitting until the only thing left of Carlston Barrow’s face was a messy pulp of brain, blood and bone. Only then did he stop, breathing heavily and spattered with the dead man’s gore.

When Thanquil looked up he found every one of the Black Thorn’s crew staring at him in shocked silence. Anders’ mouth was ajar and Rilly had a short sword in her hand. Slowly, Henry edged around the table and looked down at the mess Thanquil had made of Carlston’s face.

“Yup. We’re not gettin’ the bounty on him no more.”

Jezzet

Jez wouldn’t exactly call herself a connoisseur of caves but she’d been inside a few and this one was particularly pretty. It was the water, she decided, the water and the way the sunlight from outside bounced off of the water sending rippling blue waves of light across the ceiling of the cave, lighting up all the fangs of rock that hung down, growing towards them all.

Peaceful, Jez. Despite all the water. Makes a nice change.

She felt something light brush against her leg and looked down. Rhi was there. She was rarely far from Jez these days. The spider stared at her, stared at everything. Benefit of having eyes on every side of your head. Slowly it put a big, hairy appendage on her leg, then another and another and started climbing. Jez went back to looking out across the cave. Didn’t take long before Rhi was sitting on her shoulder, surprisingly light for her size, no heavier than a cat really. The spider rubbed her fangs together and the strange clicking noise filled Jez’s ears.

Something dark slipped through the calm, crystal water below them. The lagoon in the cave was filled with dark shapes that whipped through the water at alarming speeds promising painful death to anyone fool enough to test the waters. They weren’t large enough to attack a boat but that didn’t make them any less frightening. Jez wondered what they looked like but none of them had come close enough to the surface to be seen.

They had sailed into the cave two days ago on Drake’s orders. The captain himself had steered them unerringly to the opening in the cliff side as though he had been here many times. They proceeded to drop anchor and wait though as yet Drake had not seen fit to explain to her just why they were waiting here. Shouldn’t be surprised, Jez. Pretty bastard has more secrets than teeth and he’s got a full set of those.

With the Fortune still and lazy there wasn’t much to do, for any of them, and boredom soon set in. The pirates drank and sang and gambled and traded stories, most of which Jez would wager were on the lie side of truth, and Jez joined in where possible. Time with the crew was preferable to time with Drake. Jezzet hated herself for it but she couldn’t help but be attracted to the bastard and so she decided limiting her exposure to him was the best for all concerned or at least the best for her and the best for Thanquil. When she saw the Arbiter again she intended to be telling the truth when she claimed she’d never fucked Drake. He didn’t make it easy for her though, always finding time catch her alone, playing on her love of a good fight and all his suggestive stares.

Rhi chittered on her shoulder.

“Never seen her take to anyone quite like that,” Drake said from behind. He always seems to appear whenever you think of him, Jez. “Maybe it’s because you’re both such dangerous ladies.”

Jez snorted. Rhi chittered.

“Reckon she’ll be right sad to see ya leave when you go.”

“Where did she come from?” Jez asked avoiding the subject. “Never seen a spider her size before.”

“Island just off the coast of the forgotten empire.”

Jez turned her head to glance at Drake but got a face full of spider leg instead. Rhi chittered but didn’t move. “Never heard of a forgotten empire,” Jez said.

“That’d be because it’s been forgotten,” Drake replied, she could hear the smile on his voice. “Used to be the far south down past the Dragon Empire was a thriving kingdom, or so I hear. Thousand years ago or some such it was an empire to rival Sarth and rich with the gold it produced too. All sorts of folk went there; merchants, pirates, princes, even Arbiters; reckon if anyone knows most about the lost empire it’s the Inquisition.

“Rumour has it one day the entire empire went quiet. Dead as the night. Cities gone, ports vanished and no one knowing why. No one coming out of the forest.”

“Forest.”

“Whole empire was surrounded by it. Giant trees taller than the tallest buildings. Some folk say the empire’s cities were built in and around those trees. Entire populations living hundreds of feet above the ground. ‘Till it all went dead.

“Nobody goes in ever comes out again these days. Folk go looking for lost treasure or ancient civilisations and such but none ever return. Most folk don’t even know it ever existed now, hence, forgotten empire.”

“And Rhi?” Jez prompted.

Drake chuckled. “Island off the coast of the far south. Saw some… things on the beach. Zothus decided to lead a party ashore and check it out. Took eight men with him in the skiff. He’s the only one came back and he brought her with him though she were a fair bit smaller back then and not nearly so cuddly.”

Jezzet turned to face the captain, as she did so Rhi leapt from her shoulder, springing a good ten feet up and away onto the rigging where she quickly skittered out of sight. Jez leaned back against the fore rail of the ship and sucked at her teeth. “What are we doing here, Drake? Not that getting arse over head drunk with the crew each night isn’t fun. Far as I can tell with you there’s always a plan and this…”

“Aye, always a plan, Jezzet Vel’urn, and this is part of it. ‘Bout ready to come to an end though.” He pointed off toward the back end of the cave.

It was dark in the rear, surrounded by cold, hard rock but Jez could make out a small flickering light that looked an awful lot like a lantern. It seemed as though there was a small landing area back there, solid ground amidst the lagoon of treacherous water and a group of folk were loading themselves into a skiff.

“Taking on passengers?” Jez asked her voice betraying her curiosity.

Drake shrugged. “Unloading one as it happens. You ready to leave?”

Jez felt something clench up inside. She’d been on the Fortune for over a month and she wasn’t entirely sure she did want to leave. Despite everything she’d found she actually enjoyed the pirate’s life.

Time to leave, Jez. Time to go find Thanquil.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Not we,” Drake said with a sad smile. “Just you, luv.”

Jez refused the feeling that welled up inside of her and resolutely denied its existence.

“So this’d pretty much be your last chance. Reckon we got time for me to…”

“Who are they?” she asked quickly. “On the boat.”

“They work for a trusted partner of mine, she’s down there on the boat too. Goes by the name of Rose. Reckon you met her brother, before his very timely and more than welcome demise. They’ll be taking you the rest of the way.”

“Rest of the way?”

Drake was silent for a little longer than a moment, just long enough for Jez to realise something wasn’t right.

“Reckon we’ll be taking those weapons of yours now, Jezzet.”

She turned to look at Drake and found Zothus and a host of pirates, the very same crew she had spent the last month pirating with, and the same crew who tried to rape you, Jez, advancing up the deck toward them. Her long sword slid cleanly from its scabbard into her right hand and her left hand found the hilt of one of her short swords still buckled in the small of her back. She dropped into a battle ready crouch.

Never trust a pirate, Jez. Least of all Drake fucking Morrass.

“Can’t fight us all, Jezzet,” Drake said. Some of the pirates had weapons to hand but their captain was empty handed as though he knew Jez wouldn’t attack. She edged a step toward him. Best defence is stabbing someone in the face. They don’t tend to fight back after that.

“Alright,” Drake said holding up his hands. “Maybe you could fight us all. Hell, maybe you’d even win, beat us back long enough to make a break for shore…”

“At the very least I’d take you down with me,” she spat.

The pirate captain nodded. “Sounds fun. Doubt you’d survive the swim though, nasty things in the waters round here.”

“I could steal a boat.”

“Aye, that might work.” Drake looked around at his gathered pirates. “We should probably make it easy for ya. Lower one of the skiffs.”

“What?” Jez edged her foot closer again, Drake was well within striking distance.

“You want to leave, run away, never see us again, then go,” Drake said. “We ain’t going to stop ya.”

“Eh?” This came from Zothus standing behind his captain.

Drake glanced back at his first mate. “She won’t.”

Jez snorted. “The hells I won’t.”

“If ya do I can all but guarantee you’ll never see that Arbiter of yours again. Don’t reckon he has much hope of surviving without you.”

Jez uncoiled with the speed of a viper strike. She leapt at Drake, leading with her long sword while her left hand slid the short sword from its sheath. The pirate captain barely flinched. The long sword found his neck and the short sword his balls and they both pressed so close that a drop of blood sprang free from his neck and ran down the length of the blade. Jez stared at him across her sword and Drake just smiled back. She had an overwhelming urge to stab him and for the first time since she’d met him it completely blotted out the urge to fuck him.

“Where is Thanquil?” she asked well aware of Drake’s crew taking up positions around her.

“Couldn’t say exactly. Not really sure. Can tell you where he’ll be though, same place you’re going.” Drake slowly raised a hand and put two fingers against the blade of Jez’s long sword. He attempted to push the blade away, Jez resisted keeping it firmly in place.

“I’m sure you remember an Arbiter by the name of Kessick,” Drake said.

Hard pressed to forget that one. Just being near him made my skin crawl.

“Aye, you remember him. Well he ain’t exactly an Arbiter no more.”

“Kessick’s alive?” Jez asked. What happened to Thorn?

“Aye. Seems he beat the Black Thorn, killed him too, I reckon. Shame really, I always quite liked that Arbiter-murdering bastard. So Kessick survived and ran, came to the wilds and took up where his master left off.”

“Inquisitor Heron…” Jez said.

“Aye, that same heretic your Arbiter put down back in Sarth. Whatever it were she was doing Kessick is now in charge.”

“And why do you care?”

Drake grinned and flinched as the tip of Jez’s blade dug a little further into his neck. “Me an’ Kessick have a history. Suffice to say he wants me dead and the feeling is more than mutual.”

“So go and kill him.”

Drake snorted. “So easy. Kessick’d see me coming half the wilds away and most of my power and influence tends to be located around the water being a pirate an’ all. ‘Sides, Kessick has his own army these days. He’d kill me ‘fore I even got close. Better, I reckon, send a witch hunter to kill a witch hunter.

“One of my men should have made contact already, told your Arbiter that Kessick is still alive and where to find him. So what d’you reckon, Jezzet Vel’urn? Ya think Arbiter Thanquil Darkheart will just let it be? Or do you think he’ll go after Kessick?”

Jez could feel herself trembling with anger. “Thanquil will kill the heretic.”

“Aye, he’ll try.”

Jez spat on the deck of the Fortune and pulled her swords back from Drake. “Tell me where to find them.”

“I’ll do better,” Drake said grinning again. “I’m going to deliver you right to Kessick as a hostage. No better way to get you close to him, right? And how could he refuse? No better peace making present from Drake Morrass than the lover of the Arbiter being sent to kill him.”

“He’ll keep me close,” Jez said finally getting to the root of Drake’s plan.

“Guarded but close. Ready to use you soon as your Arbiter turns up. All you have to do…”

“Is bide my time and strike at the right moment.”

Drake took a deep breath and sighed out with smug grin, his golden tooth standing out amongst the set of white chompers. “All part of the plan.”

Jez brought her knee up between his legs as hard as she could and was rewarded with the sight of Drake Morrass collapsing in a whining heap of pain, curling up to protect his most vulnerable parts. She threw her weapons down on the deck beside him. “That part of the plan too?”

Thanquil

Sleep didn’t come easily to Thanquil these days, or more, it came too easily but it was something he avoided wherever possible. Before leaving Fortune’s Rest he had purchased himself a new pack, some paper and an ink well, expensive luxuries aboard the pirate pleasure house but he deemed them necessary. Now he had a new sleepless charm on his arm, one of more sturdy design than the scrap of bandage, and he guessed it had been roughly four days since he had last slept. It was taking its toll and worse, staying awake was no longer keeping the dreams at bay, they came to him awake or asleep, day or night.

“Ya ain’t lookin’ so well, Thanquil,” Thorn said from across the cabin of False Hope. The others were asleep, some snoring, some quiet. Rilly occasionally thrashed and muttered high-pitched words. Even aboard a transport ship and in a locked cabin the Black Thorn’s crew kept a watch and Thorn had volunteered to be first.

“You’re looking a little ragged yourself, Thorn.”

“Beat-up, frayed around the edges an’ well-used, sure. But you ain’t lookin’ well. Don’t reckon I’ve seen ya sleep since we met an’ ya been talkin’ ta yaself when ya think no one can hear.”

Thanquil wasn’t sure what was more worrying; that others had overheard him talking to himself or that he didn’t remember doing it. His left hand brushed against the sword hanging on his hip. Covered by protective and suppressive charms the blade may be but he could still hear the voice of the demon within.

“I’m fine, Thorn…”

“Then there’s that whole thing with Carlston… Cracked him like a bad egg.”

Thanquil snorted quietly so as not to wake any of the others, bad enough he was having this conversation but the last thing he needed was for any of the others to hear it. “Are you more concerned that I killed him or that you lost out on the bounty, I wonder.”

“S’lot a money ya cost us there an’ no mistake but that ain’t the issue here…”

“And the Black Thorn turned to bounty hunter,” Thanquil interrupted. “Never thought I’d see that day. You were the most feared name in all the wilds if I remember right.”

“Still am,” Thorn said with a nod. “Jus’ mostly feared by the other side these days. Folk I used ta run with run scared an’ folk who used to chase me buy me drinks. Truth is people like me don’t last forever in the game so I decided ta change the rules, play at bein’ the hunter not the hunted. Better money on this side of the law too. ‘Least when Arbiters don’t go ‘round beatin’ the marks ta bloody pulp.”

“You’re not going to let that go.”

The Black Thorn sucked at his teeth, it looked as though he was missing a couple since the last time Thanquil had seen him. Thanquil himself was missing just one tooth from his whole set and it was Thorn who had knocked it out back in Sarth after finding out Thanquil had lied to him, manipulated him to gain his support in dealing with the three heretics within the Inquisition.

“Truth is I’m worried ‘bout ya, Thanquil. We’re goin’ after Kessick with or without ya an’ safe ta say I’d rather it’d be with but can’t have ya loosin’ it an’ goin’ all crazy. It ain’t jus’ ‘bout killin’ that bastard took my eye. I got a crew ta look out fer an’ I got no intentions of loosin’ any of ‘em.”

Thanquil was dreaming. His vision doubled up and he saw both the cabin inside False Hope and an old warehouse back in Chade. It was the same warehouse he had purchased over a year ago and he already knew what was coming.

He staggered into the warehouse through a rotting doorway housing a collection of nailed together planks that didn’t fit the frame. He was wounded, a dozen different little injuries most given to him by the guards of Chade but two, including the most serious, were presents from the Black Thorn. They had run into each other in Lord Xho’s mansion and had fought. Thanquil had seen the mess Thorn had made of Lord Colth but now he knew the Black Thorn hadn’t been the culprit. It had been one of Drake Morrass’ assassins that had mutilated the fat lord, someone at the ball.

Thanquil stumbled and fell through an old crate rotted through and smelling of death. He rolled onto his back and pulled a charm from his coat pocket, a sleepless charm but he was already wearing one.

The Black Thorn was staring at him curiously from the other side of the cabin. “You alright there, Thanquil?”

Thanquil nodded as he stumbled to his feet and limped towards another of the rotten crates. His pack was hidden inside and it had medical supplies that he needed, bandages and ointment to treat the wounds the guards had given him, the wounds the Black Thorn had given him.

“I’m fine,” Thanquil announced though he was far from certain he believed it. “Just tired.”

“Right,” the Black Thorn said as Thanquil set about treating his wounds in the warehouse, cleaning the angry flesh and wrapping bandages around the tender spots. “I need ta know you’ll follow orders, Thanquil, do as ya told. Good?”

Thanquil snorted. “An Arbiter following the orders of the Black Thorn.” In the warehouse Thanquil called out Jezzet’s name, checking to make certain she wasn’t nearby. He had a task to perform and she couldn’t see it, couldn’t see what Thanquil was about to do. He didn’t want to have to kill her after all. “You’re in charge, Thorn. I never was very good at the planning anyway.”

Thanquil pulled out a blank chip of wood and his ink pot and carefully drew three symbols onto the chip. Then he placed the ink pot back in his bag and stood, swaying from the blood loss. Then, with only a moment’s hesitation, he snapped the wood chip in half and dropped both halves to the floor where they burst into heat-less blue flame.

The Black Thorn looked confused. Then came the clinking of chains.

Thorn was on his feet instantly, looking aghast at Thanquil with his axe in his five-fingered hand and a dagger in its three-fingered counterpart. He shouted a word and the others began to wake up. A moment later Thanquil realised he was no longer dreaming. The room grew cold and dark, the flickering lantern light seemingly giving off less and less light and Thanquil saw his breath mist in front of his face.

The others were quick to rise and started to do so just as the demon began to form in between the halves of the broken rune. It started as a patch of darkness among the darkness and then it began to take shape, a terrible spiked form, a head almost as large as a fully grown man. Thanquil felt the sword at his hip grow heavy.

“What the fuck is that?” Rilly screamed as the demon’s eyes flickered to life.

Still Thanquil found himself rooted to the spot, caught between the dream and the present. Then the demon spoke.

“I am revealed, Arbiter Darkheart,” a cold grating noise like steel on ice, just the right pitch to break him from his trance.

“Go back to the void,” he ordered the demon as he advanced upon it.

The face of the demon tilted in the approximation of a bow. “We obey,” it said around a mouth full of teeth and maddening white light and then it faded back to nothing. Light and warmth returned to the cabin and Thanquil found himself confronted by six very angry, very confused, very armed bounty hunters.

“What the fuck was that?”

“You can control those things?”

“Bloody hells!”

“Fuckin’ witch hunters.”

Only Henry and the Honin, Suzku didn’t immediately start shouting at Thanquil. He wasn’t even sure who had said what let alone how to answer their questions.

“Yes,” Thanquil said to no one and everyone. “That was a demon.”

“Reckon I figured that out,” Henry said in a quiet, dangerous voice. “Seem ta remember one bitin’ the face off the Boss. Seem ta remember a few o’ them tore apart an entire garrison an’ then started on the townsfolk o’ Hostown.”

“Aye,” the Black Thorn chimed in. “An’ I seem ta remember getting’ blamed fer the whole fuckin’ mess. You sayin’ it were you that summoned them things?”

“No,” Thanquil said quickly. “H’ost summoned the demons in Hostown.”

“Reckon I remember you orderin’ one ta fuck off back then too,” Thorn said accusingly.

Thanquil winced. “Yeah.”

“Well,” Thorn said taking a step forward and towering over Thanquil. “Reckon it might be ‘bout time ya told us exactly what the fuck jus’ happened an’ hows ‘bout ya leave the lies out of it.”

So Thanquil told them. A group of bounty hunters barely more than criminals themselves and most of whom he didn’t know and he told them all the Inquisition’s dirtiest little secret. He told them how the first demon had been summoned by Volmar and the God had subsequently bound all the inhabitants of the void to serve the Inquisition. He told them that the demons were primarily used to deliver messages from the Inquisition to their Arbiters out in the field and he told them that Kessick was implanting demons into the bodies of people with the potential. He told them almost everything but he left out the part about him carrying around Myorzo and his orders should all other avenues fail.

His audience remained rapt throughout Thanquil’s entire telling, even though it contained some of the history of the Inquisition, with only minor interruptions most commonly in the form of a colourful curse uttered by Rilly. The Black Thorn remained silent for the entire time but his one eye never moved from staring at Thanquil and his face was set into an ugly, grim mask.

“Fuckin’ hypocrites,” Rilly spat once Thanquil had finished.

“Eh?” Thorn grunted.

“It means they don’t practice what they preach, boss,” Anders replied. “The Arbiters murder people for consorting with demons but they themselves are no better.”

“We are better,” Thanquil argued. “The demons are bound to us, they gain nothing by following our orders as they have no choice but to.” It sounded a flimsy argument even to his ears.

“I don’t get it,” Ben said. He had wedged himself into one of the corners of the room and stood with a heavy steel mace held out in front of him with both hands as if its very presence could ward off the demon should it come back. “All this magic and demons stuff makes no damned sense to me. If you can order demons around can’t ya just order them that Kessick… uh…”

“Summons,” Pern filled in.

“Right. Them that Kessick summons you could just… un…summon.”

Thanquil shook his head. “It seems to work differently once a demon is possessing a body. They are no longer ruled by the same ties that bind them.”

“The chains?” Rilly asked. “The ones Volmar made.”

“Yes.”

“We still doin’ this, Thorn?” Henry asked in a quiet voice. “Seems ta me it’s all a bit out of our field of expertise. We ain’t witch hunters, jus’ bounty hunters. Don’t know the first damned thing ‘bout killin’ demons an’ judgin’ from what I seen of ‘em so far I’d rather it stay that way.

“We fought folk from all over the wilds an’ there ain’t a single one of us ain’t got more than a few murders ta our name, even Anders over there but demons, witch hunters, Gods an’ magic. Not a one of us signed up fer that. I seen what these demons can do well as you an’ I ain’t lookin’ ta die in a fight can’t be won.”

The little murderess took a deep breath and sighed it out. “That being said… You’re in charge, Thorn an’ we made a deal, you an’ I. You helped me kill that little prick, Swift,” she paused and gave a tiny nod to Suzku, “an’ I’m ta help ya kill Kessick. Comes down ta it choice is yours. Can’t speak fer the others but I’ll follow ya lead.”

The Black Thorn scratched at the burned side of his face then eyed each member of his crew in turn. “Henry makes a good point. Seems we been chasin’ after Kessick without full knowledge of what we might be goin’ up against. Demons an’ plenty of ‘em by the sounds an’ fuck knows what else. Now I’m still goin’.” He swung his gaze to Thanquil. “Made a bargain a while back an’ can’t expect Thanquil ta live up ta his side if I don’t make good on mine. Also, wouldn’t mind payin’ Kessick back a little after all he’s done ta me.

“Ya all got the choice so it’s time ta make it now ya’ve seen what we’re fightin’. Henry’s said her piece an’ Anders is comin’ too.”

“Wait. What? I never agreed…”

Thorn silenced Anders with a stare. “What would Drake want ya ta do?”

Anders snorted. “Who gives a shit what Drake wants, these…”

“Wisest thing I’ve ever heard ya say,” Thorn cut him off. “Ya still comin’. Ben?”

Ben looked far from convinced. “I dunno, boss. Demons and all. I’m simple folk, don’t know the first thing ‘bout fighting any of this. You didn’t see what that Arbiter chasing you did back in Chade ‘fore I took him down.”

“I ain’t forcin’ you, Ben.”

“No? Chances of death’d be fairly high wouldn’t ya say?”

“High to certain, I reckon.”

“Aye, and what would Joan say if I left you to go it alone.”

“Reckon he’d call ya a coward an’ likely worse.”

Ben sucked at his teeth. “Reckon I’m coming back ta haunt you if I die.”

“Sounds fair,” Thorn replied with a grin. “Suzku?”

“I’m in.”

“Outstandin’. Ril?”

The young woman paced back and forth in the little cabin with a frown as deep as the ocean. “I don’t trust ‘em. Don’t trust him,” she nodded at Thanquil. “These things is people possessed by demons with who knows what sort o’ supernatural magics. How we supposed ta fight against that?”

“I can help,” Thanquil put in. “I can create runes to enchant weapons that will purge the demons.”

“An’ we’re jus’ supposed ta trust ya?”

Thorn stepped forward putting himself between Rilly and Thanquil. “Ya supposed ta trust me.”

Rilly took a step forward and stared up at Thorn. “An’ what if I don’t?”

“Uh, then I’d be very sad, I reckon.”

Silence held for a few seconds before Rilly let out a wordless shout of fury and stormed towards the door, wrenching it open and slamming it behind her with equal force. Thorn stood still for a moment before turning round to face the others. “Reckon that was a no then?” he asked.

Anders shrugged, Ben laughed and Suzku was silent. Thanquil decided to keep out of the discussion.

“You’re a right fuckin’ idiot sometimes, Thorn,” Henry said already making for the door. “I’ll speak ta her. Bring her back. Ain’t like she got anywhere else ta go right now being where we are an all.”

Henry left the same way Rilly had only without the dramatics leaving a room full of confused men.

“So, uh, now what, boss?” Anders asked.

The Black Thorn sucked loudly on his teeth. “Might as well get some sleep if ya can. Still got a few days ‘fore we reach land. ‘Til then do as ya like.”

Thanquil turned to go back to the section of wall he’d been sitting against but Thorn grabbed hold of his arm. “What the hell happened earlier?” he asked. “Looked like ya was in some sort of, uh, trance.”

Thanquil snorted out a laugh. “I think I was, half awake and half a dream.”

“Ya usin’ one o’ them sleepless charms?”

Thanquil nodded.

“Then take it off an’ sleep. No good ta anyone like ya are right now.”

“It won’t help, I…”

“Weren’t a suggestion. Call it an order an’ get some fuckin’ sleep. Be at Port Loyal soon enough an’ can’t have you runnin’ around summonin’ demons everywhere.”

Thanquil nodded, retreating to his section of wall and doing as he was told. He removed the sleepless charm and for the first time in almost a week he slept. He slept and he dreamed of demons.

Jezzet

Rose purred. Like a cat. A really flirtatious, annoying cat. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Rose only flirted with the men of the group, Jez had been known to do some of that herself in her time, but Rose flirted with the men and the women including Jezzet. Probably flirts with the horses too.

“Are you sure?” Rose asked a faint smile on her lips and her eyes all over Jezzet.

“Pretty sure,” Jez replied firmly.

“Not even once?” she pressed.

“Reckon I would have remembered it, don’t you?”

Rose purred again. “Oh, you’d have remembered it.”

“Do you mind if we change the subject?” Jez asked in a way that suggested it was anything but a request.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“You’re making everyone uncomfortable. Hells, even the trees are uncomfortable,” Jez said. The trees rustled in response.

Rose let out a dramatic sigh. “Suit yourself, I think you’ll find most of our entourage are a little disappointed though. I believe they were listening intently.”

“Aye, I bet they were.”

Rose was an extremely attractive woman in a dark, sultry fashion. She curved in all the right places and wore a tight suit of riding leathers that did nothing to hide the fact. Her face had fine, symmetrical features with full, pouting lips and her hair was, annoyingly, just as dark as Jez’s only a damn sight longer. All of the men in their group vied for her attention, competing with each other and showing off wherever possible. Most of the women seemed to be more on the jealous side, sulking and shooting her dark glares when they thought she wasn’t looking. Jez saw through to the real Rose though, saw though to the woman who was aware of everyone around her and wore the attraction people had to her as a weapon. She also saw through to the daggers Rose kept hidden in and around her attire and if her departed brother was anything to go by it was likely she knew how to use them.

They were walking their horses through a small woodland on the south side of D’roan’s province. Jez remembered the place well. A few months after she had won her freedom by killing Catherine she had camped just north of the woodland with D’roan and his army. There had been a small skirmish, the remnants of an old bandit warband had misjudged D’roan’s force in the dark and had attacked. They had caught the army off guard and done no small amount of damage but once the soldiers got themselves organised they routed the bandits and slaughtered them all. Jez had stood by D’roan and saved his life, cutting down four men and scaring off another three. Afterwards she and the lord who’s life she had saved showed the same amount of vigour with each other as they had on the battlefield.

Jez hated to think of those days. D’roan had kept her prisoner and raped her and after she had won her freedom she stayed with him of her own volition. The very thought of who she used to be was enough to make her angry these days and right now angry was the last thing she needed.

“What about with Thorn?” Rose asked.

Jez sighed and looked at the woman. Rose winked back at her. “No.”

“You’re definitely missing out there. You should see the size of him.”

“Didn’t he kill you brother?”

“Oh yes. I made certain to thank him for that time and again though the pleasure was all mine.”

Jez was acutely aware that they were once again the centre of all thirty members of their escort’s attention. Still, she couldn’t help but laugh at Rose’s blatant innuendo.

“So why work for Drake?” she asked the woman.

“With Drake,” Rose corrected. “I work with our good captain. Chade belongs to me, not him, but as long as our interests and ambitions align I see no reason not to give him his own reins. He’s very skilled at getting what he wants and certainly not without his own talents.”

“Exactly how does delivering me to Kessick align with your interests?” Jez asked pointedly.

Rose shrugged and flicked her head so her night-black, hair rippled. “He asks me for a favour and I, in turn, ask him for one of equal value. Besides, I had some spare time and I couldn’t pass up the offer to meet you and enjoy your company.”

“Right,” Jez said with a snort. “Hope I live up to your expectations.”

Rose pouted and sighed. “You’ve been a little dour so far.”

Jez glanced sidelong at Rose.

“Just like that,” the woman said smiling.

“Didn’t think there were any knew me out here. Last time I passed this way no one had ever heard of me and now I have the magistrate of Chade looking forward to my company.”

Rose laughed a deep, throaty chuckle. “Everyone has heard of you these days, Jezzet Vel’urn. The Blademaster. The woman who killed the Bloody Angel and took Deadeye’s deadeye in the same duel. Not to mention killing her in the seat of her power. The Black Thorn may have got all the credit for the slaughter at Hostown but everyone is well aware of your part in the play. D’roan loves to boast about how many times he had you. Truly that man is insufferable.”

“You have no idea.”

“He’s close by,” Rose said her voice icy cold all of a sudden. “I’m certain Drake wouldn’t mind if we made a short detour to visit D’roan.”

Jez spat. “And why would we want to do that?”

Rose grinned, all white teeth and wide as a wolf. “We could kill him.”

Jez studied the woman and quickly came to the conclusion she was serious. Starting to see why Drake put her in charge of Chade. I’ve met less ruthless laughing dogs.

“I think I’d be just as happy never seeing D’roan ever again. Let him boast if he thinks he has something to brag about. Thanquil is being led to Kessick so the faster I get there the better. And what do you mean, dour?”

“Well like this,” Rose said with a pouty sulk. “I expected it to be a constant thrill with you around. Adventures and daring escapades. I admit, I’m a little disappointed.”

Jez ducked her head under a low-hanging tree branch. “So sorry to disappoint. I would have thought you got all the excitement you could want ruling Chade and keeping all the backstabbing in check.”

“Hmmm? I think Chade might have changed a little since your last visit, Jezzet. I keep everyone in a tight line, more dull that way but there’s no dissent and a lot more order. My back remains largely un-stabbed.”

“How did you manage that?”

“By removing the competition. By the time of my brother’s demise, and that came about not a moment too soon, he owned half of the city and Drake owned the other half. I, being the sole inheritor of my brother’s vast fortune, took control after our mutual friend, Drake gave me his own half. Hence, no more back stabbing and no more council. Just me in charge of everything.”

Jez snorted. “Sounds dull.”

“Yes,” Rose agreed. “It really is. Much like whoring only far less honest.”

Jez could agree with that sentiment. Whoring was perhaps the only honest profession left in the wilds and it was also one of the very few she refused to take part in. Sex was used for fun and for negotiating her way out of potentially deadly situations but never for money.

“So why didn’t you screw Drake when you had the chance?” Rose asked her voice the very tone of innocence. “I assure you, it’s an experience.”

Jez wriggled, feeling uncomfortable in her skin. “Because I’m with Thanquil.”

“The Arbiter?” Rose said looking around. “I don’t see him.”

Neither do I. Jez rubbed at the wooden ring on her finger.

“What makes him so special?”

Jez remained silent her thoughts turning inward to Thanquil. She missed him like she’d miss a part of herself. He kept her on the straight and narrow, protected her more from herself than from anyone else and yet, whenever she was with him she could feel the danger like a coiled snake in the darkness waiting to strike. He excited and comforted and protected and scared her and he knew just how to make her…

“Oh I see,” Rose said with a grin that stretched from ear to ear and made her somewhere just short of radiant. “You love him.”

“What?”

“It’s a strange feeling, is it not? Indescribable and yet so warm and welcoming and thrilling and… I felt that once.”

“Really?” Jez asked a little too quickly, eager to move the conversation away from her and her own feelings. She wasn’t certain she was ready to admit how she felt to herself let alone anyone else.

“Mhmmm. There was a boy, Fey, back in Bittersprings. He was young and vigorous and had a wicked tongue.” Rose winked at Jez. “He started off buying time with me every so often, once a week or so, whenever he could afford it. Soon he started robbing folk coming to visit the springs just so he had enough money to pay for me. There was a time he would come every day and sometimes we didn’t even fuck, just enjoyed each other’s company and talked and he would hold me.”

“What happened?” Jez asked surprising herself by genuinely caring.

“My mother happened. Killed Fey in the street. Gutted him like a fish. She tried to make it look an accident, a simply robbery gone wrong for the thief but the woman trained me and I knew her work well enough to see her hand in it. There was nothing I could do, she had the magistrate by his shrivelled balls and nobody cared over one dead gutter rat never did anything for anyone but me… I miss him sometimes, even now. Is that how it is with your Arbiter?”

Jezzet didn’t answer. She stared out into the thinning forest lit by rays of bright afternoon sunlight and remembered a time being attacked in a forest just like this. A time when she had been forced to fight for her life and all other considerations were forgotten. She desperately wished someone would attack them right now.

Thanquil

Rilly chewed noisily on a leg of chicken, or at least something that looked like a leg of chicken. Thanquil had yet to see one of the birds here in the wilds but, judging by the rest of the continent’s wildlife, he assumed they had something like chickens but much, much larger. The size of the animals here always startled him, the largest thing that lived back in Sarth was the domesticated cart horse and, large as they were, even they paled in comparison to some of the beasts that roamed wild in the wilds.

“So what d’ya do ta them?” the little woman said around a mouthful of roasted meat. Shreds of half-chewed chicken hit the table.

“Nothing. I just let them go. No sense in murdering folk who have done nothing to warrant it.”

“I’m certain they were very grateful for that,” Anders chimed in from the other side of the table. He had two empty tankards beside him and third swaying about in his hand and Thanquil knew for a fact he had emptied his hip flask at least twice earlier in the day. “After all it was only their children who were evil, the parents were just innocent bystanders in the whole affair.”

“I judged them to be innocent of their children’s heresy.”

“How benevolent. Did they thank you?”

“Reckon he did right thing,” Rilly said waving half the chicken leg at Anders. “Least he has the intestinal fortitude ta actually do somethin’.”

Anders snorted into his beer sending a wave of dark foam lapping over the edge of the pewter tankard. “My dear I have met a great many murderers in my time…”

“Ya are gettin’ on in years.”

“And I have never met a murderer quite so abhorrent as a righteous murderer. That being said, you’re a wonderful person and a joy to be in the company off. Please don’t burn me.”

Thanquil couldn’t help but laugh. The Black Thorn had left him in the company of Anders and Rilly in the dubious location of the local tavern while the other members of the bounty hunter crew turned in a long standing bounty on a notorious murderer and rapist who went by the name of the Wilds’ Slasher. In was neither an original name nor one the culprit had earned but one she had given to herself, carving the letters into her victims in a crude scrawl. While the crew had no proof that they had completed the bounty it was apparently common knowledge that Thorn had caught up with the Wilds’ Slasher just outside of Foundhaven and a short chase later the murderer had suffered extreme, pronounced internal and external haemorrhaging; Anders’ words which Thanquil took to meaning the Black Thorn had stuck an axe in her.

They were now just a few weeks travel from Absolution and from Kessick and already Thanquil could feel his gut churning. He was unsure of the heretic’s forces, unsure of whether their little band could get close enough to deal a killing blow and unsure whether he had the courage and will power to go through with Inquisitor Vance’s plan should he be unable to kill Kessick. The plan had more ifs, buts and maybes than a sinking ship had fleeing rats but there was too much at stake should he fail. A few heretics inside the Inquisition was one thing but Kessick was forming an army of demons in human form and should he ever lose control, Thanquil had no doubt that army would sweep across the world causing untold destruction. Only the Inquisition was able to deal with such a threat and, while they had the tools, Thanquil was no longer certain the council of Inquisitors had the fortitude for such a fight.

“You know, I think we could do business together, you and I,” Anders slurred at Thanquil from the other side of the table. His eyes were lidded but bright as though feverish and he pointed a four-fingered hand at Thanquil, the little finger ending in a small stump.

Thanquil simply narrowed his eyes in response causing the drunkard to grin. “I’ve been watching you, my good man, and I’ve noticed you like to…” he lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, “take things that aren’t yours. I too am fairly proficient in that particular field of procurement. Perhaps we might collaborate?”

Rilly sucked at her teeth then spat a small bone onto the table. “Thorn might not understand ya when ya throw around ya fancy vocabulary like that, Anders but I sure as fuck do an’ Thorn said no attention.”

Anders simpered. “My dear with a face as droll as yours and a mouth as eloquent as a chamber pot you draw all the attention we could ever not require.”

“Fuck you.”

“My point entirely. Besides what the boss does not know… hmmm?”

Thanquil shook his head. “I’m not sure why I’d want to participate in such an exercise, Anders,” he paused. “I have this feeling I’ve met you before.”

The drunkard paled. “Well we have just spent no small amount of time locked together in close quarters on a ship in a cabin the size of an outhouse. Besides, I’ve heard all us blooded folk look the same. Strong bone structure in the face, I believe. Now generally one partakes in the art of lifting to attain things that are not, in the strictest sense, theirs. The advancement of one’s monetary stockpile is also something of an incentive.

“I myself am well able to spend an inordinate amount of money in a miraculously short period of time.” He leaned across the table and lowered his voice even further. “The expenditure of money is something of a speciality of mine.”

“That’s why Thorn don’t let ya nowhere near the coffers,” Rilly said with a smug grin.

Anders nodded drunkenly. “And the boss is quite right to insist on such a precaution. However it does leave me with the awkward need to fund a very expensive habit I have spent a considerable amount of time nurturing.”

Rilly sent a withering glance at Thanquil. “Anders has a habit of getting himself beat up.”

The drunkard snorted. “And far worse. I have suffered more injuries since meeting the boss than in the entire previous years of my life combined. Many of them doled out by this little vixen right here.”

Rilly stuck out her tongue. “Shouldn’t try ta touch me when I’m sleepin’.”

“You don’t tend to complain when you’re awake, quite the opposite in fact, why should the tenuous matter of your consciousness make any difference?” Rilly opened her mouth to reply but Anders forged on. “Besides, that was not the habit to which I was referring. Drink, my good girl. Alcohol.”

“Wouldn’t mind a couple more my own self,” Rilly agreed.

“Precisely. You’re far more agreeable when drunk. As, I assure you, am I.”

Thanquil laughed and fished a silver bit out of his pocket. He set the coin spinning on the wooden table. “Knock yourselves out.”

Anders grinned wide and scooped the coin into his hand. “Oh I intend to try.”

Both Rilly and Anders turned out to be excellent drinking partners but unlike the little woman Thanquil did not try to match Anders drink for drink. He was happy to get drunk and sincerely hoped that in doing so he could stave off the demon dreams but he had no intention of getting so inebriated he lost control. An Arbiter not in control was a disaster waiting to happen, especially one currently under the subversive influence of a demonic sword and Thanquil had no doubt he was under the blade’s influence to some degree. His dreams were proof of that. He doubted the drinking would work but at least it was fun to try.

The three traded stories, quips and in Anders’ and Rilly’s case meaningful glances. The relationship there was obvious if not obtrusive and only seemed strange in that Anders’ looked to be at least twice Rilly’s age. Not that Thanquil had cause to comment; Jezzet was was only slightly older than half of his age even if it didn’t look that way. His faith and Volmar’s magic made him age more slowly as it did all Arbiters.

By the time the Black Thorn and the rest of his crew returned Rilly was sat in Anders’ lap whispering in his ear and giving the occasional wriggle. Anders in turn seemed to be doing his level best to ignore the little woman and carry on telling a story about how he had once escaped the siege of Fairweather, a small port settlement in the pirate isles, by hiding himself in a chest.

“…I made certain to bury myself under a pile of ladies’ dresses of course. Quite why the pirates decided to take that chest I’m unaware but I have to say I’m glad they did. I much prefer surviving to burning alive in a raised town. Gave them the fright of their lives when they opened the chest aboard their ship though, let me tell you.”

Anders quieted as Thorn sat down at the table but Rilly paid them no attention, proceeding to chew on the drunkard’s ear. Ben pulled up a chair with a laugh and Henry sat down next to Thanquil shooting him a meaningful shrug in the direction of the others. Thanquil returned the shrug in kind and Henry grinned at him. He couldn’t help but marvel at the change in the woman from the angry little ball of hate and murder who had once professed to hating witch hunters and who had also once tried to stab Jezzet on a bridge over the river Jorl. The Honin did not sit, Suzku took up position behind Henry and she gave him the barest smile from underneath her hat.

A quiet murmur spread throughout the tavern and plenty of gazes turned towards them. It seemed the folk of Farpoint were not unaware of the Black Thorn’s presence in their town.

“You two done?” Thorn asked.

Anders only cleared his throat but Rilly looked over her shoulder at her boss. “For you, Thorn, anything,” she slurred and disentangled herself from Anders lap walking around the table to the Black Thorn. The big man grabbed her by the shoulder and forced her down onto the chair next to him. She pouted but said nothing else.

“Left ya here ta stop ‘em gettin’ into trouble, Thanquil,” Thorn said with a grin. Thanquil merely waved his own tankard at the man in response. “Right ya are then. Wouldn’t mind me a drink too.”

“My treat,” said Six-Cities Ben and jumped up, sauntering towards an overweight barmaid with a face like a pig’s arse.

“Good news an’ bad,” the Black Thorn said. “Ain’t far ta Absolution an’ from here out it’s a straight ride. Pick up supplies we need fer the trip tomorrow mornin’ an’ we’ll be gone by sun up. That’d be the good news. Bad is I managed ta have a word with a man been through Absolution jus’ a month back. Says there’s hundreds o’ town folk these days, many as there’s ever been, likely more. He also says that ain’t none of ‘em right. Creepy, he called ‘em. Unnaturally quiet an’ a few of ‘em damned crazy ta boot. They sound possessed ta you?”

Thanquil nodded slowly. “Could be.”

“Well seven of us against a fuckin’ army don’t strike me as the best of odds, Thanquil. Reckon we might need a plan once we get there an’ I seem ta remember yours tend ta involve suicide.”

Thanquil snorted. “We all survived Hostown.”

“The Boss didn’t,” Henry said from underneath her hat, the giant royal blue feather bobbing as she spoke.

“He was dead before we arrived at Hostown, he just hadn’t figured it out yet. No one died in Sarth either.”

Thorn tapped the eye patch covering his left eye.

“But you’re not dead!” Thanquil pointed out.

“All the same. Reckon we might approach this one with a bit more subtlety than ya known fer, Thanquil.”

Ben hurried back to the table not carrying any drinks but with a grave look on his face. “Commotion on the main street in town. Man in robes ignoring the guards. Sounds like a chance to make some money, boss.”

Thorn nodded and sniffed loudly. “Might be. Reckon we can find time. Might as well check it out.” He turned to look at Thanquil. “Towns like this ain’t real large, pretty much one dirt road an’ a few buildings. Also happens the guards ain’t real used ta dealin’ with problems. Folk like us can make a fair bit of bits helpin’ out when trouble starts.”

Thanquil nodded, joining the others as they stood and made for the door to the tavern. “I seem to remember a time when you were the one starting that trouble.”

Thorn snorted. “‘Cos you witch hunters never cause any bloody trouble.”

The main street of Farpoint was just as Thorn had said, a dirt road a little bigger than the other dirt roads and more frequently travelled. The buildings either side were squat, ugly things made of hard wood and held together by rusted nails and a vigilant disregard for safety and maintenance. Unlike most places Thanquil had been to in the wilds Farpoint did not sport walls; D’roan kept his province free from bandits in return for extortionate taxes and though folk weren’t happy about it, they paid all the same. Better to pay than to risk the lord’s wrath and find out that those same men paid to protect you were the ones robbing you blind.

Folk crowded out onto the porches of their houses and shops and the local whore house. Thanquil and Thorn’s crew were not the first to make their way out of the inn and had to jostle for space on the tavern’s porch though the sight of Thorn and Suzku towering over everyone made most folk slink away to find more crowded spots.

The night was bright, lit by an uncountable number of stars and a moon that seemed as large as the sun. Pointless lanterns hung from each doorway and provided little to no extra light but folk hung them out all the same. Insects buzzed toward the light and Thanquil supposed that might be one reason for them.

In the centre of the street, walking slowly, calmly and non-threatening was a single figure as tall as Thorn and dressed in long, voluminous black robes, their face hidden completely in shadow. All around the figure armed guards danced, threatening with their weapons and ordering the person to halt and state their business or turn around and leave. The figure remained silent and did not stop.

“I don’t understand why the guards are so threatened,” Thanquil said.

“People don’t much like the unknown, Arbiter,” Six-Cities Ben said loudly. Thanquil suspected he did so that those nearby would know a witch hunter was around. Might be the knowledge would calm some folk but Thanquil also suspected it would only make matters worse.

“People don’t like folk in robes neither,” said Henry. “Makes ‘em nervous.”

The robed figure continued on, heading straight down the street as if the whole town hadn’t gathered to watch. One of the guards, either one more brave or more foolish darted forward in front of the figure, waving a rusty-looking short sword. The guard looked up into the hood of the robed figured and skidded to a halt, dropping his sword and scrabbling away as fast as he could. The brave, foolish guard didn’t stop scrabbling away until he was long out of sight and all the while the robed figure kept on walking.

As Thanquil and the Black Thorn’s crew watched an imperial looking man wearing a faded uniform of the D’roan family colours walked out of the whore house and fixed his stare on the walking robe.

“Guard cap’n,” Henry said with a sneer in her voice.

Thanquil looked down at the little murderess. “He’s inspiring me with confidence already.”

Henry set to laughing and Thorn spoke over her. “Useless bastard might try ta fight, might just ask fer volunteers. Either way reckon we’re ‘bout ta make some bits. Robed fella walks like he knows what he’s about.”

“How can ya be sure it’s a he,” Rilly slurred squinting at the figure in the road. “Could be a fuckin’ lass fer all you know.”

Thorn didn’t even spare the drunken woman a glance. “Only woman I ever seen that big died in Hostown an’ if Deadeye’s come back from the grave I reckon we all best believe hell is followin’ her.”

“Halt!” shouted the guard captain without actually getting close to the robed figure. “I said HALT!”

Thanquil noticed one of the man’s shoes was unlaced and he had a smear of red from a woman’s lips across his cheek. His nose was straight as a knife edge, a testament to his lack of experience as far as Thanquil was concerned, and his hair was thinning and oiled back across his head. An old sword, likely only drawn for ceremony, rattled in it’s scabbard at his side and the belt from which it hung was unfastened.

“I put two silver bits on the robe,” Thanquil said.

The Black Thorn rasped out a chuckle. The robed man stopped walking and looked directly at them.

“Good,” said the guard captain nodding and glancing around at the assembled townsfolk. “I hereby order ya to state your business.”

The robed man lifted a single hand and pointed towards the Black Thorn’s crew. Thorn silently took a step sideways, the finger followed him.

“Friend of ours?” Six-Cities Ben asked.

Thorn snorted. “Reckon every friend I got is on this side of the finger.”

“Enemy then?”

“Got a fair few of ‘em. Most wouldn’t bother with the pointin’ ‘less there was a blade flyin’ my way.”

“This one’s colours are maddening,” said Suzku from behind. “I see a swirling maelstrom of emotion with no end and no restraint.”

There was a moment’s silence. “That right there was some philosophical shit,” Rilly slurred.

The guard captain looked their way. “The inn? Well that’s alright then. We don’t like trouble in these parts so as long…”

The robed figure ignored the captain and changed direction towards the Black Thorn. The captain, clearly misjudging the situation, then made the greatest and very last mistake of his life; he grabbed hold of the robed figure’s arm. In an flash the robed man twisted his arm, spun the guard captain around and punched. There was a sickening crack as fist connected with neck and the body of the guard captain slumped to the dusty street, his head distinctly more horizontal than was healthy.

Thanquil heard the Black Thorn sigh. “Oh shit.”

After the moment of shock passed three more guards charged the robed man. The first to reach him came from behind, running with his sword held in front of him like a spear. The robed man calmly flowed to one side, leaving a foot behind for an instant to trip the guard, sending him crashing to the ground next to his lifeless captain.

The second guardsman came on with a wood axe and swung it as though he were using it for its intended purpose. The robed figure caught the shaft of the axe mid-swing, plucked it from the guard’s grasp and span, completing the spin by cleanly lopping of the axe owner’s head with his own axe.

Thorn let out a low whistle. Thanquil glanced his way. “What? Ain’t easy takin’ off a head with just the one blow is all.”

The third guard faltered in his charge and turned it into a tactical retreat. The robed man stepped toward the first man, still struggling in the dirt, took hold of one leg and with an audible grunt swung the man twenty feet in the air and another thirty feet towards the inn. There was a scream cut off by a dull thud as the man hit the building, another thud and the sound of something heavy rolling down the awning of the porch. Eventually the body of the guard dropped from above and hit the ground just in front of the crew.

“Right then,” Thorn said calmly stepping over the broken body of the guard and into the street. The rest of his crew hesitated only a moment before following. Thanquil, unsure of how to act followed dumbly, his mind still trying to comprehend the strength of the robed figure.

“Demon, ya reckon?” Thorn rasped as his crew fanned out around the robed man.

A chilling cackle emanated from within the hood of the robed figure and slowly the hands rose and pulled it back. The man’s face was covered in tattoos, scrawling ink work flowing over his skin in trails of scripture. His jaw was slightly lopsided, his eyes were dark and reflected no light and a shock of white hair ran across the right side of his head, a stark contrast to the brown. A strange familiarity tugged at Thanquil.

“It’s him,” said Six-Cities Ben his voice colder than ice. “That’s the fuck killed Joan.”

“Aye,” Rilly slurred from beside Thanquil. “Killed my da’ too.”

The Black Thorn moved to stand in front of Rilly and looked back at Thanquil. “He’s one of yours. Witch hunter like you.”

“Beth’d never have let him go,” Ben said. “He must have killed her.”

“Reckon you can talk ta him?” Thorn continued ignoring Ben. “Maybe convince him of the benefits of surrendering.”

“Uh…”

“What the fuck?” Rilly shouted. “Ya gonna talk ta him? Ain’t you famous fer killin’ the likes o’ them?”

“Infamous,” Anders announced to the crew and was soundly ignored.

“Rilly,” the Black Thorn started, turning to face the little woman. “Would you please jus’ shut the fuck up fer once. Truth is I’d really rather not get us all killed tryin’ ta fight this bastard ‘specially not when we ain’t exactly at full strength.”

“Eh?”

“Well fer a start you’re as pissed as Anders ‘cept I don’t care if he dies…”

“Thanks boss.”

“‘Sides. He’s intolerable sober so we put up with it. You look ‘bout ready ta drop. So if we can find a way out of this one without a considerable amount of bloody violence reckon we’re gonna take it. Good?”

“Not good,” this came from Six-Cities Ben. “He killed Joan. My brother, your friend. Ya reckon I’m just gonna let that drop? Reckon you might be cracked, Thorn.”

Thanquil noticed the bounty hunter had his heavy iron mace held loose and ready in his hand. He looked like he knew how to use it as well. Thanquil also noticed Henry standing behind Ben with daggers drawn and hat tipped back to give her a proper view.

“Reckon ya might want ta back down, Ben,” Thorn said in a voice as dark as his name as Henry crept into stabbing distance. “‘Fore one of me does somethin’ you can’t live with.”

Ben frowned. “Huh?”

“I think he was threatening to hurt you, old boy,” Anders said cheerily into his hip flask.

Ben stood a moment longer before relaxing a little, spitting into the dirt street. “Fine. Have ya Arbiter speak his piece but I don’t reckon this is like to be over ‘til that murderous bastard is lying face down in a pool of his own red.”

Thorn nodded. “Not sayin’ I entirely disagree with you on that point.”

Thanquil let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and noticed the tattooed man was watching them with an amused smile.

“Off ya go then, Thanquil,” the Black Thorn said. “Try not ta piss him off, eh.”

Thanquil started forward and found a big hand on his shoulder, not holding him back just letting him know Suzku was there. He glanced back at the Honin but the man was staring intently at the tattooed figure in the street.

“He is unstable.”

Thanquil waited for Suzku to say more but the stoic-mouthed Honin said not another word. After a few seconds Thanquil nodded and continued forward. As he approached he couldn’t shake the feeling he had seen the tattooed man before, he looked eerily familiar or maybe just eerie. The tattoos certainly leant him a menacing air that set Thanquil’s teeth itching.

He stopped a few meters from the man and looked hard. The tattooed man stared back evenly, not blinking, not saying a word, just watching. It wasn’t just the man that looked familiar, his tattoos looked familiar, the scripture looked almost the same as that used in charm formation.

The man nodded once toward Thanquil and made to walk past him. Realisation hit Thanquil like a mailed fist holding bitter memories. “Jacob?”

The tattooed man stopped and again he looked at Thanquil. Deep eyes that had once been blue now contained only infinite darkness. Again the man nodded.

“It’s me, Thanquil. Arbiter Darkheart.”

Another nod and a smile that showed more than a few missing teeth.

“What are you doing here?” Thanquil asked and revelled in the joy of his impotent compulsion.

Jacob Lee shrugged and pointed one finger towards the Black Thorn. Thanquil glanced back at the bounty hunter and his crew.

“There must have been a mistake,” Thanquil protested. “The Black Thorn is to be left alone, avoided actually, if at all possible. Regardless, he’s helping me…”

“You’re helping us,” he heard Anders mumble.

“I could use your help too, Jacob.”

“What’s he sayin’, Thanquil?” Thorn shouted.

“Not much. I know him. He’s… an old friend.”

A mumble ran through the people of the town as they milled it over and decided they were less than pleased at having two Arbiters around, especially as one had just murdered their town guard. One of them, a man, shouted some insult about witch hunters.

Thanquil turned around to see a middle-aged man with a dirty-looking ponytail reaching down to pick up a stone that was bordering on being classed a boulder. Thanquil wasted no time in pulling his pistol from his belt and pointing it, rather threateningly, at the man.

“My suggestion would be to put down the rock, turn around and walk away,” Thanquil said in the most commanding voice he could.

The man faltered, half way to standing with the rock held loosely in his hand. He gave it bit of thought and then decided Thanquil was likely not the type to make idle threats. Either that or he was reasonably terrified by the homicidal, tattooed man standing just behind Thanquil.

After giving the rest of the gathered crowd a good eyeing Thanquil turned back to Jacob to find the man watching him through his dark eyes with a curious expression on his face. Thanquil couldn’t tell if it meant Jacob was impressed or was thinking of punching a hole through him and then everyone else in town as well.

With a deep breath Thanquil continued. “I think it might be best if we move off a ways, Jacob. We have a lot to talk about.”

Jacob laughed. Deep and honest and terrifying. Then he opened his mouth to show Thanquil the red stump that had obviously once been a tongue but now looked small and sad.

“Ah… Um… Well, I guess I have a lot to talk about and you get to listen.”

Again Jacob pointed at the Black Thorn. Thanquil shook his head slowly. “First we talk… I talk. Then you can decide whether or not you still want to kill Thorn.” Thanquil started walking back down the main street with Jacob reluctantly following. He couldn’t help but wonder what he’d do if Jacob still decided he’d rather have the Black Thorn dead.

Once they were a good ways out of the town, with Thorn’s crew keeping a respectful but watchful distance, Thanquil couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer. He stepped close to Jacob and stared long and hard at the Arbiter’s tattoos. They curled around the contours of his face, crawled over his bones and wrapped around each other in concentric patterns. It would have been a master stroke of a charm had it not been written on a man’s skin and… It dawned on Thanquil in a flash.

“They’re blessings,” he said already knowing he was right. Jacob nodded all the same. “By Volmar’s balls. They turned you into a Templar.”

Jacob laughed, shrugged and eventually shook his head.

“What happened?” Thanquil asked.

Jacob ran a finger across his face and then rolled up the sleeves of his robe to show yet more tattoos all over his hands and arms. Thanquil got the idea, the tattoos likely covered every bit of Jacob’s skin. The Templar then pointed a finger at his head, then held up both hands as if he were holding onto something then jerked them apart and away from each other violently.

“Uh…”

Jacob made the motion again.

“Your, uh, head snapped? Your mind snapped? Mind broke?”

Jacob nodded and again indicated his tattoos before making the mind breaking motion.

“But you survived,” Thanquil said walking around Jacob and inspecting the tattoos he could see. “The blessings are active all the time whether you wish it or not?”

Jacob nodded.

Thanquil was known to be one of the Inquisition’s most accomplished Arbiters when it came to blessings and curses but even he could only weave four or five together at once. From the looks of things Jacob was imbued with the augments from hundreds of blessings. He had always been one of the strongest Arbiters in the Inquisition but now… Now he had been turned into a Templar.

Thanquil whistled through his teeth and marvelled at the ingenuity of those involved in the experiment. The Templars had once been the mailed fist of the Inquisition. Back before the world had been scoured of the warlocks and necromancers, back before the Drurr had been decimated and driven underground, Volmar had created the Inquisition and brought together people with the potential, teaching them his faith and his magic. He formed the ranks of the Arbiters as scouts and commanders, and he formed the Templars as their troops to command. The constant drain on their potential had robbed the Templars from using any true magic but the power and abilities they gained from those blessings made them perfect foot soldiers.

Only once the Inquisition’s competition was battered, beaten, broken or exterminated the Templars served no purpose. They became relics too powerful to let go and yet too costly to maintain. Thanquil was no stranger to history tomes and he knew the last Templar had died over two thousand years ago. Over time the descriptions of how to create the warriors had been forgotten and lost but clearly there were some within the Inquisition who were keen to rediscover just how to create such powerful tools. Thanquil couldn’t help but wonder whether the God Emperor knew of the attempt and knew of Jacob.

“Someone sent you here?” Thanquil asked. “Sent you after Thorn? The Black Thorn.”

Jacob nodded.

“Who?”

Predictable silence.

“The council?”

Jacob held up a single finger.

“An Inquisitor?”

Jacob nodded.

That made things difficult with a side helping of unfortunate. Thanquil didn’t have the authority to overrule an Inquisitor’s order out here or anywhere. He may have given his word to pardon the Black Thorn but right now he had no way of holding up his end of the bargain. Not to mention he counted Thorn as a friend and would really rather not see the man tried by the Inquisition. He may have been responsible for the deaths of six Arbiters but the Black Thorn was most certainly not a heretic.

“Jacob, listen to me. The Black Thorn is not a heretic.”

Jacob shrugged.

“You have no reason to hunt him. He’s actually helping me, helping the Inquisition.”

Again Jacob shrugged, focused his eyes on Thorn waiting in the distance and started towards him. Thanquil quickly stepped into the Templar’s way.

“Jacob stop,” Thanquil was walking backwards as he spoke, well aware that he did not want to try and stop the Templar physically. “This is bigger and more important than any orders from an Inquisitor. Did you hear what happened last year between myself and Inquisitor Heron?”

Jacob nodded but kept walking.

Thanquil held up a hand. “Jacob listen to me…”

The Templar’s own hand moved so quick Thanquil didn’t have time to react. Jacob grabbed hold of his wrist and twisted. There was nothing Thanquil could do but twist with it to stop his wrist from shattering. He found himself on his knees with his scarred hand held above him, his shoulder straining in its socket and he was feeling somewhere close to all the pain in the world. Jacob looked down on him with dark, heartless eyes.

Thanquil had to admit the Templar was gentle. He was in no doubt, having already witnessed the man’s strength, that Jacob could likely twist his arm from his body should he want but instead he just held him there. Thanquil managed to put out his other hand to stop Thorn’s almost certainly suicidal attempt at rescue. Then he gripped hold of his right shoulder to brace it against the strain.

“Inquisitor Heron was working with two Arbiters,” Thanquil hissed through gritted teeth. “Kosh is dead but Kessick survived and he’s here, building an army to finish what Heron started. He’s using demons to possess people, to turn them into warriors to fight the Inquisition.”

Jacob let go and Thanquil drew his hand away, cradling it against he chest. He looked up to find the Templar staring down through narrowed eyes.

“It’s the truth,” Thanquil pushed himself back to his feet and stumbled backwards a step out of Jacob’s reach. Not that it would likely matter given how fast the man could move. “The Black Thorn is helping me to find and kill Kessick and put an end to this madness once and for all.

“Jacob, I need his help to do this and I could use yours also but I need you to promise you won’t try to kill Thorn.” Thanquil swallowed and took a deep breath. “Please.”

Jacob was silent. He stood straight as a pole with his head cocked slightly to one side as if listening for some distant sound. After some time he frowned and sighed then looked at Thanquil and nodded.

The easy part was done, now all he needed to do was convince Thorn to accept a superhuman Templar with a mission to kill him. Thanquil ran through a number of arguments in his head as they approached Thorn’s little bounty hunter crew and none of them tended to end well. He could feel his hands shaking in his pockets.

“Ya convince him of the benefits of not attackin’ me?” asked Thorn as they approached.

Thanquil took a moment to survey the crew and noticed Henry was missing. Thorn stood with his axe in hand and a grim look on his one-eyed face, Anders sipped nervously from a hip flask while playing with the hilt of his own rapier, Suzku appeared to be as calm and content as ever with not a hint of an expression crossing his face and both Rilly and Six-Cities Ben looked about ready to pop, both carried weapons and Thanquil could tell both were willing to use them.

“He’s agreed to join us until Kessick is dealt with,” Thanquil said, his left hand closing around a stolen key though he had no idea to which lock it fit.

“Fuck that,” shouted Ben. “Reckon I might just gut the cunt right now.”

If Jacob was worried he did not show it.

Thorn nodded, ignoring Ben. “Reckon we might take him up that offer. Seems he knows his way around a fight and we could use some more of that.”

“WHAT?” screamed Rilly. “That’s my da’s killer! There ain’t no fuckin’ way I’m crewin’ up with him.”

The little woman started forwards short sword in hand but Thorn caught her, span her around and pushed her down into the dust. “Don’t reckon I’m ‘bout ta let ya get yaself killed, Ril.”

“I won’t. We can take him, all o’ us together.”

“Aye,” Ben put in. “I already beat him once. Gave him that scar on the side of his head. Woulda killed him but Beth wanted to do it slow.”

Thorn turned a harsh eye on Ben. “Last time ya had a small fuckin’ army helpin’ ya out an’ that Arbiter still killed half of ya including ya brother. Safe ta say he can fuckin’ take ya an’ I reckon that’s a man I want on my side when we come up against Kessick.”

Rilly surged back onto her feet and spat at Thorn, a thick glob of spittle hitting his duster. “You’ll be doin’ it without me.”

“Or me,” put in Ben.

Thorn took a deep breath and nodded. “Reckon that might be fer the best. Reckon he’s worth more than the two of ya an’ I reckon ya could both do with a spell here in Farpoint ta cool off an’ remember who the fuck is in charge. Ya still here when we get back then we’ll welcome ya. If not then not. ‘Til then, ya both fired.”

Ben spat and stalked away but Rilly opened her mouth to protest.

“I said ya bloody fired ya dumb girl. Now fuck off.”

Thanquil saw the tell tale shimmer of tears in Rilly’s eyes just before she turned and fled back towards the town. He let out a slow breath and turned to find Jacob observing the scene with almost as much expression as Suzku. He heard a scuff of boot in dirt behind him and found Henry not a few paces away, both daggers in hand. The Templar spared her a glance and no more.

“Jus’ makin’ sure, Arbiter,” Henry said with a wink. “Didn’t know which way he’d blow.” She indicated Jacob.

The Black Thorn sniffed loudly and approached Jacob standing up just an inch or two taller and well within striking distance he met the Templar’s eyes and gave a nod. Jacob stared on in silence. “Ya comin’ with us ya follow my lead,” Thorn said in a voice as cold as the grave. “Good?”

Jacob blinked but made no other move.

“After we deal with Kessick if ya still reckon I need killin’ we’ll settle accounts then.” Thorn turned away. “Assumin’ we both make it,” he said under his breath. “Thanquil, a word.”

They walked off a fair distance into the dark, well out of earshot and barely within visual. They were both silent and Thanquil took the time to wonder what sort of potential mess he had just created.

“Ya reckon he’s ta be trusted?” Thorn asked stopping and looking up into the sky and the bright, flickering starlight.

Thanquil shrugged. “To the job. We’re probably better off trusting him than fighting him.”

The Black Thorn looked down at him. “Good ta know we’re in this together.”

“You sent her away on purpose.”

Thorn nodded and went back to regarding the sky as though it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. “Got a bad feelin’ ‘bout this one, Thanquil. The kinda feelin’ that suggests some of us ain’t gonna make it, maybe most of us. Girl’s been through more than enough already, don’t need a nasty case of death addin’ ta her troubles. Reckon she’s better off here, safer off here. On the off chance any of us make she’ll be waitin’. Can’t say as I know ‘bout Ben though. Reckon he’ll look after the girl.”

Thanquil decided to fill the silence before the subject turned to himself. Last thing he wanted to think about, let alone talk about, was his own troubles. “So why are you doing this? Is it just about vengeance?”

Again Thorn glanced at him from his one eye. “Sounded an awful lot like a question to me.”

He wasn’t wrong. Thanquil smiled a weak smile and tried not to think about why his compulsion was waning.

“Ain’t gonna lie; the idea of givin’ Kessick back a little ain’t unappealin’ but it also ain’t the only reason. Drake Morrass wants the bastard dead too. Says Kessick is bad fer the wilds, like a wound gone ta fester. As a rule I tend not ta but in this case I agree with Morrass. Taken an awful lot from the wilds in my days an’ now I reckon I’ll give a little back by gettin’ all murderous on the bastard took my eye.

“What about you, Thanquil, ya jus’ here on orders?”

Thorn produced a small hip flask from his duster and unscrewed the top before taking a swig and handing it to Thanquil. Half way to his mouth Thanquil paused, hearing a whisper as if from a distance, some dark and terrifying voice just out of earshot. He patted the sword by his side and took a deep gulp from the flask. As he handed it back he caught a glimpse of Jacob in the distance staring his way, his head once again cocked to the side as if listening.

“I was tasked with rooting out the heresy within the Inquisition. With Kessick surviving, I failed. I don’t like failing. Also he took your eye.”

“Aye,” Thorn said with a grin and swig before passing the flask back again. “He did that.”

Jezzet

Absolution. As ugly a deserted dustball as Jez had ever seen and she’d seen more than her fair share. Low wooden walls ringed the settlement but they were lazy and poorly spaced. At places even a full grown man could likely fit through the gaps, other places Jezzet wagered she could get a horse through. Not hers though, the beast had taken lame not a day back and now she rode behind Rose, the woman’s perfume forever in her nose and Jez did not like the way she wriggled up against her. Some women went for that sort of thing but Jez was definitely not one of them.

No patrols walked the walls of Absolution and no smoke drifted upwards from within. No travellers, merchants or workers came and went and the only small signs of life were the birds that cawed at them from their own guard positions high up. One solitary figure sat at a table outside the main gate but he looked to be dozing in the afternoon sun as Rose’s not so little entourage trotted up.

A real fortress. How will Thanquil ever find his way in?

“Looks deserted,” said on of Rose’s guards.

The magistrate of Chade tutted and pouted at the man. “Looks can be deceiving. Kessick is here, hiding from his enemies and biding his time. Building his forces.”

“Enemies,” Jez mused. “He seems to have a lot of them.”

“Don’t we all. If there’s one thing I’ve noticed about getting older, it’s that you always pick up more enemies… and more wrinkles.”

Jez snorted. “Speak for yourself.”

They stopped in front of the man at his table and waited. He wore a slightly conical straw hat that obscured his face from view but Jez could see his stark white hair bound in a warrior’s tale and flowing down his back over his mud-coloured cloak. Nearby, within easy reach, was an old sword, its scabbard battered and scarred with heavy use. Jezzet got that tingling sensation she often did when faced with a warrior, the type of feeling that the man was dangerous and she felt the need to test just how dangerous.

The Sword of the North had once told her that Blademasters were born, not just trained and he had been one to prove it, challenging everyone and anyone just to test his own abilities. At the time Jezzet hadn’t understood. She had thought him mad and terrifyingly so. Now things were different, she had leashed her own fear and understood his drive though she was still certain beyond a shadow of a doubt she was not yet his equal.

Yet.

Rose slid down from the horse, leaving Jez alone atop the creature, and approached the man with a wary caution. “We’ve come to treat with Kessick. I bring a gift, from Drake Morrass.”

Slowly, very slowly the man reached up with his left hand, extended a single finger and pushed up the brim of his strange, straw hat just enough to reveal an eye. He was old, white haired and had a face weathered with age and scarred with the same sort of use as his sword. He wore a neatly trimmed goatee of white whiskers and chewed lethargically on a small brown stick. He rolled a lazy brown eye over each member of the group and then shrugged, lowering his hand and letting his hat drop back down to cover his face.

Rose struck a pose and sighed. “So we’ll just… go on in?”

Silence.

“Good. Nice to meet you.”

Rose waved forward the group and started walking through the gate into Absolution. Inside was a ghost town. Jez had been to more shitty little wilds settlements than she cared to count and all looked the same. Absolution looked just like them only empty. Squat buildings built from wood, wind blasted and somewhere between disrepair and derelict. Dusty streets usually slick with mud and animal droppings only these were missing all but the dust and of that it had more than enough. Signs above shop entrances or inns swung on rusty hinges and the dark doorways looked anything but welcoming. It wasn’t the first ghost town Jez had seen but it was damn sure close to being the eeriest.

She suddenly felt the need to not be astride the horse and slid from its back, walking over to Rose quickly. The magistrate for once did not look to be in good humour and Jezzet couldn’t say she blamed her. There was a feeling this town gave off and it was not a pleasant one, almost like insects crawling over skin. Jez shuddered.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Rose said scanning the buildings for any sign of life, “but I am sorely glad I’m not you.”

“Huh?”

“I’m just dropping you off and getting the fuck out of here,” Rose turned an apologetic glance Jez’s way. “You have to stay.”

“Thanks for the sympathy.”

“Sure thing, hun.”

“Have you noticed we’re being watched?” Jez asked spying a gleaming set of eyes peering out from an upstairs window.

“I wondered what that feeling was,” Rose said with a shaky voice. “I was hoping it was just you staring at my arse again.”

Jez snorted. “It ain’t worth a second glance.”

Rose stopped and turned to face Jezzet. “Men have paid good money to get their hands on this arse and I’ve never once had a complaint.”

Jez had that feeling all over now. That feeling she got when she was surrounded and in for a whole heap of trouble. “Just saying mine’s better. Not so well ridden.”

“Well ridden?”

“Now ain’t really the time, ladies,” said one of the men, a burly guard by the name of Nolan.

The group were huddling together, horses and people all as frightened as each other and not a one of them had actually seen the source of their fear but all knew they were more than a little surrounded.

“Perhaps we should surrender?” Jez asked.

Rose looked at her and nodded. “Someone put her in chains,” she said to the men before raising her voice. “We’re not here to fight. I bring a gift and a message from Drake Morrass. He wants a truce with you, Kessick.”

Jez scowled as Nolan slapped manacles in place around her wrists. The big man shrugged and apologised but fastened them tight all the same. Jez considered strangling him with the chain but decided it would serve no purpose.

“You come in peace but bring a group of warriors into my town,” a voice deep with base rang out into the square. Jezzet recognised the voice from long ago, she had met its owner.

“They’re not for you,” shouted Rose, looking around trying to find the source of the voice. “Just for the journey. For protection.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “How many of them are there? In case this thing goes south.”

“Enough,” Jez replied in a similar whisper. “Too many.”

Rose sighed. “Normally two of my favourite words.” She raised her voice. “Just here to make a delivery and then we’re leaving… well most of us are anyways.”

“What makes you think any of you will be leaving?” The voice came from their left, a man standing in a dark doorway his eyes reflecting none of the bright afternoon light and his hands hovering above the hilts of two long swords sheathed at his hip.

“You Kessick?” Rose asked, waving at her guards to keep their own weapons down.

“Aye.”

“No he isn’t,” Jezzet put in quickly. “Can’t say who that is but I’ve met Kessick and it ain’t him.”

Rose turned a simpering pout on the man in the doorway. “Sorry friend but I’m here to see your boss. Not really interested in the hired help. Run along and fetch him now please.”

The man stepped out of the doorway and then stepped aside. The next figure stepped into view and that was one Jez did recognise. Kessick had not changed at all, he was still short, of a height with her, and stocky, his steel grey hair was cropped short and he had the face of a man who had never known laughter. Every bit of him seemed hard, sharp angles and long, taught features. He carried no weapons but Jezzet got the distinct feeling it was because the man simply didn’t need any. He even still wore the coat of an Arbiter though Jez knew full well he had long since had his name stricken from the Inquisition’s records.

“You I remember,” Kessick said in a voice like grated sand that tugged on all of her nerves. “You named yourself Jezzet Vel’urn and claimed to be an employee of H’ost. You killed Arbiter Kosh.”

Jezzet sniffed. “Twice.”

Rose shot her a look. “How do you kill a man twice?”

“The first time didn’t take so I tried again.”

Jez didn’t have to look around to know that Kessick’s forces had started to leak into the street, her finely tuned senses were warning her that violence was likely imminent. She touched Rose’s arm and nodded behind them. The magistrate turned and Jez saw the colour drain from her face.

“You wanted excitement and tough scrapes,” Jez said with a forced grin. “Stick with me long enough and one or the other are bound to turn up.”

She heard one of Rose’s entourage whispering quick prayers to a God that she couldn’t name nor did she care to. An acrid smell filled the air and Jezzet got the impression that one of their hardened guards had pissed him or herself. She decided to satisfy her curiosity and looked around. The street had filled with men, women and, in a few cases, children. There were hundreds of them and more arriving, gliding silently from open doorways and surrounding the small group.

“I would suggest laying down your weapons,” Jez said to the group. “Might be Kessick will feel gracious… though I doubt it.”

“I ain’t goin’ out without a fight,” Nolan growled out through a tight mouth. “Take as many of the fuckers with us as we can.”

Jezzet laughed. “That would be none. You can’t kill them.”

“Huh?”

She had that same feeling, the feeling she’d had around Kosh in Sarth and the feeling she had when Thanquil had summoned the demon back in Chade though she had never told him she had bore witness to the scene. The folk that had them surrounded now might look like villagers, merchants, slaves, beggars or sell-swords but that was only on the outside. Each one of them was a demon wearing human skin and it would take more than cold steel to kill them.

“You know more than you’re letting on?” Rose asked, a pair of throwing knives having appeared in her right hand.

“I do,” Jezzet admitted. “But telling you would serve no purpose. You wanted to treat with Kessick, Rose. Now’s your chance.”

Rose hesitated for a moment then grabbed hold of Jez’s chains and started forward, dragging the Blademaster behind her and out of their circle of guards into the open.

“Kessick,” the magistrate shouted. “Drake Morrass wishes for peace between you. He says he’s leaving the wilds for good and you’re welcome to them. And he’s instructed me to give you this.” Rose gave the chains a hard tug and Jez stumbled forwards. A moment later she felt a boot kick into the back on her legs and she went down onto her knees in the dust. “A gift.”

Been called worse, Jez. There was that time Thanquil called you a…

“What need have I for a Blademaster who’s blade works for my enemies?” Kessick asked. “I have no interest in vengeance for either Kosh or Heron. Your master’s gift is as worthless as your lives. I suspect he knew that when he sent you to me.”

“Sorry about this,” Rose whispered before raising her voice. “Arbiter Thanquil Darkheart knows you are still alive, Kessick.”

“Does he?”

“The Inquisition has sent him to kill you,” Rose continued her hand firmly on Jezzet’s shoulder as if to keep her grounded. Jez briefly considered breaking the woman’s wrist and regaining her feet but she had taken an insidious liking to her and didn’t feel much like hurting her. Though she also didn’t feel much like being handed over to Kessick in chains but she still seemed to be going through with that.

“A hostage to dissuade the Arbiter then?” Kessick’s mouth moved to form the words but the rest of his face remained as still as though it were carved from rock. Jezzet got the feeling there was not a bit of humour in the man. “What makes you think I would need her when I have an army at my command?”

Rose squeezed Jez’s shoulder. Actually she squeezed and rubbed it. Any more and we’ll have to call it a massage.

“H’ost had an army, far larger than this band of scary miscreants,” Rose said. “The way I hear it Arbiter Darkheart tortured the man to death inside his own fort and then set his entire town to the slaughter.”

“I heard it was the Black Thorn,” said one of Rose’s men.

“I heard is was her in chains,” said another.

Jez glanced back at them and gave her very best predator’s grin before turning her own attention back to Kessick.

“Keep her or don’t,” Rose continued. “Choice is yours. Either way Drake’s gone, never to return.”

“And you?” Kessick asked.

“Oh I’m still here. Looking after Chade, free city, open to anyone and everyone.”

Kessick considered that for a time and all the while more of his people moved to surround the group. Eventually he seemed to make up his mind and pointed to her. “Bring her,” he ground out and a woman of an age with Jezzet and wearing a faded yellow dress ripped off above her knees moved forward to obey.

Rose gripped hold of both of Jezzet’s shoulders and put her mouth so close to her ear Jez could feel her breath. “Good luck.”

The woman in the yellow dress grabbed Jez under her right arm and hauled her to her feet. Stronger than she looks. Stronger than she should be.

“We’ll just be going then,” Rose announced with a shallow bow.

Jezzet saw Kessick hand something to the man with two swords before turning back towards Rose’s group. “Test them all,” he said. “Kill any that aren’t compatible.” He started to turn away and stopped. “Let the woman go. An ally in Chade could be useful.”

Jez heard shouts of protest from behind but she didn’t have time to turn around. The woman in the faded yellow dress was dragging her along behind Kessick. As she was pushed inside a solid stone building she heard the shouts of protest change to screams of pain.

Thanquil

He had never seen a demon in its full monstrous form and this one was most definitely a sight to behold. Thanquil stared up at it and his mind refused to calculate its size but somewhere to close to REALLY big seemed an apt description. Its hulking form was a mass of shifting, spiky darkness and its head was… well Thanquil would have placed a bet on it being able to swallow an elephant whole. Behind its teeth a bright white light shone from within and its eyes were two blazing yellow lights as blinding as the sun.

Then there were the chains, the ties that bound the creature to the Inquisition. Gigantic black links of metal as dark as the creature itself, wrapped around the beast constricting it, binding it. Thanquil had never seen the chains before but he saw them now and wondered at their construction and at the creature who could have made them. He wondered at the power of Volmar.

He could feel the creature’s anger, like a blazing forge the heat of it washed over him in waves that blotted out all other thought. For thousands of years both the demon and all its brethren had been made slaves to the creature that had defeated it and they were none too happy about the injustice. They wanted nothing so more than to be free. The demon knew it couldn’t kill its tormentor, Volmar was too powerful and beyond the beast’s reach, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t kill Volmar’s servants. The demons wanted to be free and they wanted the Inquisition to pay for the thousands of years of enforced servitude.

The demon screamed, a primal bellow containing emotions he didn’t understand and couldn’t make sense of but the shear force of it felt as though his soul were being ripped from his body.

He heard the chains.

Thanquil’s eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright, drawing his pistol and…

BANG!

Something exploded in a shower of blood, bone and feathers.

Thorn rolled onto his feet, axe in one five-fingered hand, knife in the three-fingered hand and one eye squinting against the darkness. Thanquil heard the others rousing in similar haste. He was drenched in a cold sweat and breathing in quick, heavy gulps of air. Jacob stood by a stark white tree spattered with drops of blood.

“What the fuck was that?” Thorn asked into the darkness.

“Uhh…” Thanquil began but lacked words.

“A raven,” answered Suzku sitting cross legged on the ground behind Thanquil and watching Jacob with wary eyes. “The Arbiter got it.”

“Aye?” Thorn said. “Why?”

Suzku shrugged. Thanquil still couldn’t find his tongue. The dream still lingered too heavily in his mind. The sight of the demon, the sound of the chains, the sight of the demon.

“Perhaps it was a heretical raven?” suggested Anders already sipping from his flask.

“Is that… Is that possible?” asked Henry, she crossed in front of Thanquil and moved to sit beside Suzku, grinning at the big Honin.

“Well I don’t reckon Thanquil’s gonna be questionin’ it none ta find out,” said Thorn. “Might as well change shifts seein’ as we’re all up.”

Thanquil slowly lowered his pistol and tucked it back into his belt deciding that it was probably best to leave it unloaded until he needed it. He stood up and stretched. “I’ll take a watch.”

“I’ll stay up also,” said Suzku his eyes back on Jacob who returned the stare in kind.

Thorn looked at them both. “You two jus’ been sat there starin’ at each other all night?”

Suzku shrugged. “Occasionally one of us blinks… not often though.”

Thanquil patted the sword at his side, the feel of Myorzo still at his hip both comforting and terrifying. He picked a direction and started walking out into the night.

“Don’t go too far, Arbiter,” Henry said from behind. “Wouldn’t want ya gettin’ lost an’ victimised by a bunch of heretical laughing dogs.”

He grunted an affirmative and continued on his course only stopping once he was out of sight of the others. His hand was shaking in his pocket so bad he had to keep it clenched to stop the trembling and that just made the old burn scars ache.

Anders stepped up beside Thanquil reached into his trousers and pulled out his cock. A loud, dramatic sigh later and he was releasing a steady stream of urine. “No sense being modest all the way out here in the wilds, Arbiter.”

Thanquil looked away. “Some of us have more to be modest about than others.”

The drunkard laughed. “You know why I first learned to pick pockets, Arbiter?”

Thanquil had a bad feeling about this conversation. He didn’t think he’d stolen anything from any of the crew members lately but he was not always aware he had stolen anything until it turned up in his possession.

“Boredom for the most part,” Anders continued heedless of Thanquil’s fairly obvious discomfort. “Taught myself simply for lack of anything fun to do. There might have been some attention seeking as well. My father was… is a fairly hard man. Did I tell you he tried to have me executed recently?”

That was a story Thanquil had heard from three different angles and none of them seemed to match up.

“I failed a lot at first, more than I succeeded and I was caught and punished, by my father, accordingly. He was maybe a little light on the punishment back then but only because he hadn’t actually gotten to know me yet, otherwise I don’t doubt I’d be missing a hand and not just a finger.” Anders waved his maimed hand at Thanquil, lost control of his stream and almost pissed on Thanquil’s boots before quickly taking hold of his cock again and redirecting the flow. “It wasn’t until I was cut off from the family funds that I actually found a legitimate use for this skill I’d learned. After all when one is bit-less and in desperate need of liquid fortification, one must find means from somewhere.”

Anders finished pissing, shook his cock and slipped it back inside his trousers. Thanquil sighed.

“I quickly learned a number of useful little pointers during those days. Chief among them that many people, particularly those paranoid about losing something, have a habit of regularly checking it’s still there. They were always the best marks because you could always tell they had something of value to steal… except for that one time I ended up finding a mouse in a man’s pocket…” Anders seemed to run out of words.

“My point is, Arbiter; I’m wondering what a witch hunter, especially one who should already know such a thing, is so damned worried about losing.” Thanquil turned to find Anders watching him without the usually drunken haze. “What is it you keep wrapped in bandages beneath your coat, Arbiter?”

“None of your concern,” Thanquil said turning away but Anders nimbly dodged back in front of him.

“Ah, but, if you’ll humour me, I think it is my concern. I think it’s all of our concerns.” He waved back in the direction of the crew. “But I’m willing to just let it be my concern. Either that or I could tell the boss about my concerns.”

Thanquil stared a hole through the man and silently wished, for once, he was taller than someone. “It’s a sword forged by Volmar to imprison the first and most powerful demon ever summoned from the void. It holds the demon within the blade and the damned thing won’t stop whispering to me and giving me nightmares.”

Anders looked more than a little taken aback and even more sceptical. “Why do you have it?” he asked in a voice that suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced Thanquil wasn’t making fun of him.

“I wish I knew. It was entrusted to me by an Inquisitor who’s instructions were somewhere between vague and non-existent.”

“Hmmm,” Anders grunted.

“Hmmm,” Thanquil agreed. “And I was really hoping for some sort of helpful insight from you.”

“Well you know what they say, Arbiter. A problem shared is somebody else’s problem.”

Thanquil let the awkward silence stretch out into eternity. Staring at Anders until the drunk decided the short bit of darkness between them was not nearly enough.

“Well I’ll let you get back to touching your evil sword,” Anders said stepping backwards. “Just a few days to Absolution though, Arbiter. Hope you’re ready for… whatever it is you’re planning.”

Thanquil watched Anders walk away until the man disappeared into the darkness. The truth was he had no idea what to do when he reached Absolution. He just knew he had to deal with Kessick so he could finally continue his search for Jezzet.

Part 5 – The Ties that Bind

Jezzet

Jezzet’s eyes flicked open and she reached for a sword that wasn’t there. It was an ingrained reflex she knew she would never rid herself of and one she did not want to rid herself of. It had, in fact, saved her life on more than one occasion. Also very useful to give voracious Arbiters a scare.

She saw bars and her heart gave the beat equivalent of a sigh. Why does everyone feel the need to lock me up? I haven’t committed any crimes in at least… a few weeks. Gaol cells had become a regular occurrence in her life, she seemed to find herself inspecting a new one every six months or so though in truth one tended to look much like another and none were the most luxurious of accommodations.

Her left wrist ached like she’d been stabbed and if anyone knew what being stabbed felt like it was Jez. Thanquil had once tried counting her scars but the Arbiter had never been known for his patience and had soon given up, finding other ways to occupy himself and her instead. She rubbed at her wrist idly and froze.

There was a scar on the inside of her left wrist. It was an old scar. It’s your oldest scar, Jez. Your very first wound. But today it felt different, the skin was raised, puckered and angry to the touch. It almost felt as though the scar was new, a couple of weeks by the feel of it. Jez rubbed at it some more and gave it a closer inspection. The flesh of the scar was knitted but it was new. Either she had been unconscious for a few weeks or there was something unnatural at play.

The charm!

Jez poked at her wrist, wincing at the pain and feeling through the flesh. It was her first scar because Yuri had wanted to make certain he could use her body without the consequences. He had had a charm sewn into her flesh to ward against pregnancy.

The flood of relief that coursed through Jez when her probing fingers touched against the tiny wooden charm came out as a wild giggle that echoed in her small cell and she collapsed back onto the straw that coated the floor.

She noticed a small rat sat by a tiny hole in the wall. The little creature was sat on its hind legs watching her with plenty of nervous nose twitching. She smiled at it. The rat ran away.

Can’t say it feels good to know the bastard has been poking around inside my body but at least he didn’t take the charm. Now Jez thought about it the idea that she had been cut open made her feel more than a little violated. She didn’t even remember falling asleep. One moment she had been happily gulping down a cup of water and then… Drugged, Jez. Bastards drugged you. At least they finally got around to taking off the chains though. No matter how bad things get there’s always something to be thankful for. That had been one of Catherine’s favourite sayings and it was safe to say the bitch had known full well just how bad things could get.

Stretching, and giving her wrist a further good rubbing, Jez rolled onto her feet and took a damned close look at her bars. Sturdy set of rusted irons. She gave them a good shaking all the same, hoping but not believing that one might shake free and provide her with the freedom she needed to go in search of her captor and give his throat the slitting of a lifetime.

The bars didn’t budge an inch so Jez gave the rest of her cell a similarly close inspection. From what she had already gleamed the gaol was one of the few stone buildings in the entire town. Built like most wilds shit-holes, Absolution was cobbled together from whatever the original residence could scavenge, steal or barter. There were a good few buildings with more than one story but Jez wouldn’t bet her life on the stairs being what most sane people would consider safe. Most of the buildings sported only the one floor and most of those sported only one or two rooms. Absolution was built for folk who lived hard and were not opposed to leaving when that living got too hard. Jez wondered how many of those original inhabitants were still living here now but with demons inside of them.

Jez heard the door to the gaol swing open. If they’ve come to cut me open again kill the first one through the bars, Jez. She waited, every muscle relaxed but ready to spring into action at the slightest command.

Nolan walked into view, a broad sword on his hip and a vacant expression on his face. His leather armour was torn and bloody but he didn’t appear to be wounded.

“Nolan,” Jez said rushing forward and gripping the bars. “What happened to Rose?”

The big soldier stared at her blankly. Kessick walked into view. He stopped just short of the bars, just short of being within nose breaking distance.

“He can understand you but he hasn’t learned to form our words yet,” Kessick said in a monotone voice. “It can be disorientating at first but they learn eventually.”

Jez took an involuntary step back from the bars, readying herself for a fight. “What do you mean?”

Kessick looked confused for a moment. “You fought Arbiter Kosh, you know what he was. Yes, you do.”

“A demon?” Jez asked.

“Yes. Arbiter Darkheart told you about them? Yes, he explained it all to you didn’t he. Only two of your group were compatible. This one was one of them.”

“What about Rose?”

“The woman. Drake’s sacrifice. She didn’t realise he sent her here to die. She was not compatible.”

“You killed her?”

Kessick shook his head. “Drake wants her dead, that alone is reason enough for me to want her alive. I sent her on her way. She might get back to her city though I think you know a woman alone in this place can experience many tragedies. Yes, you do. Still, I suspect that one will survive.”

“What about me?” Jez asked. “Are you going to put a demon in me?” She looked down at her wrist. “Have you done it already?”

“No,” Kessick ground out with a single shake of his head. “There is not a bit of potential in you Jezzet Vel’urn. Perhaps that is why Arbiter Darkheart finds you so fascinating.”

In her head Jez let out a sigh of relief, the idea of sharing her body with a demon was not entirely pleasing, after all, she had seen one and they looked far from pleasant bed fellows. “I choose to believe it’s because he loves me.”

“What you choose to believe and the truth are two very different things. I will show you.” Kessick motioned to the cell door and Nolan pulled out a key, fitted it to the lock, turned it and a moment later the bars swung open. Jez walked calmly, cautiously forward until she was at the doorway, then she sprang.

She passed Nolan before he could react and swung a fist at Kessick followed by another. The ex-Arbiter turned both strikes aside as though Jez were nothing but a slow, weak child. She felt a large hand grip her neck from behind and then she was flying backwards through the air to crash onto the floor of her cell, rolling in the straw and flowing back onto her feet with nothing but a new bruise to show for her efforts.

The door to the cell did not close but Nolan moved in to block her way, standing as still as stone, his deeply wrinkled face a blank slate.

“You had to try, I understand,” said Kessick, his hands in his coat pockets in such a way that reminded Jez of Thanquil. “Please do not try again. It would be unwise. Now come.”

Jez walked cautiously to the cell door and waited for Nolan to move, the big man took his time but eventually stepped aside. Jezzet followed Kessick out of the gaol and onto the main thoroughfare of Absolution bathed in the soft, waning light of a wilds late afternoon. There was a breezy chill in the air and Jez knew what that meant. Storm’s coming. Though the lack of clouds claimed otherwise.

The streets were busy with folk going about their business but that business was definitely not what most folk would consider normal. Men, women and children dressed in rags or armour, fine silk clothing or aprons, shifts or robes, some were even about naked with all their bodies on display, they were busy in the central square of Absolution building siege engines or smithing weapons or mixing ingredients into what looked suspiciously like Thanquil’s black powder, the same substance he used to fire that deadly little pistol of his. Here were peasants and nobility, warriors and beggars, children and the elderly and all were gearing up for a war.

“Intending on using those?” Jez nodded towards the war machines.

Kessick turned back and glanced at her then continued walking. “The wilds will not submit without a fight and it must submit to me.”

“You’ll need more than a few hundred people in your army if you want to take the wilds.”

“Who said anything about people?”

Jezzet spat into the dusty street.

“I want to explain myself to you, Jezzet,” Kessick said his voice approaching what some might consider earnest.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to convince Arbiter Darkheart to join me.”

She snorted. “I ain’t ever really had much of a say with him when it comes to the killing of heretics.”

“Then you will have to be persuasive,” Kessick’s voice ground her nerves to dust. “First I must give you a history lesson Jezzet Vel’urn.”

Jez groaned and noticed two more of Kessick’s demon-possessed troops, a young woman with hair the colour of dying embers and a grizzled veteran with only one arm, had joined them. She felt more than a little prisoner even out of her cell. Seems you’ve been a prisoner a lot of late, Jez. Might be time to break for freedom soon.

“Thousands of years ago the world was ruled by the Drurr,” Kessick started his lesson heedless of Jezzet’s reluctance to come anywhere close to caring. “They spread all the way from the wilds to Sarth to the Five Kingdoms and to the Dragon Empire though none had such names at the time. Humanity was weak, powerless against the magics the Drurr wielded. Little more than animals the humans were used as slaves and cattle.

“We were not freed from the Drurr by your Gods or even by Volmar, as many would have you believe. We were freed by the Dread Lords.”

“Who?”

Kessick looked back at Jez, giving her a long, pointed stare. “There were seven of them, I’m afraid I do not know their specifics, such details are long lost. They learned the secrets of magic, dark magic. The type of power people these days do not even know exists. They wielded sorcery and necromancy and they went to war with the Drurr for the sake of their people.”

“They won then,” Jez said pointing out the obvious.

“They lost.”

“Oh… didn’t see that one coming.”

“This was before they became known as the Dread Lords. They threw an army at the Drurr and backed it with apocalyptic magics and they lost. Their army was slaughtered to a man but they escaped unharmed.

“Years later they returned to the homeland of the Drurr, to the land south of the Five Kingdoms.”

“You mean the Land of the Dead?”

“Yes. They returned with the knowledge of immortality. Once hidden inside their enemy’s capital city they completed the ritual to turn themselves into liches, necromancers that have cast off their mortal shells and become the very thing they seek to control; the dead. But the Dread Lords did not bind their essence to an object, they all bound their essence to the land itself. They created the Land of the Dead and over night they won a war their enemy did not even know they were fighting.

“Legions of the dead rose from their graves and slaughtered the Drurr, men, women and children and every one that died rose and continued the slaughter. A plague of death swept the Drurr homeland and left living death behind it.

“Then the Dread Lords reached the limit of their power, as strong as they were their influence could reach only so far. It stopped south of the land now known as the Five Kingdoms. But the Dread Lords were not satisfied. Power corrupts and they were corrupted to the souls. They began to marshal their forces, if their power could not stretch beyond the Land of the Dead then their monsters could.

“Then came Volmar. A beacon of light in the darkest of times. A living God sent from on high to save us from the very weapon that had saved us from the Drurr. Volmar rallied the burgeoning kingdoms of man to his banner and taught those he could how to use his magic.

“Volmar took the fight to the Dread Lords and he won. Then he created the Inquisition to hunt down the remaining Drurr, to purify the remaining users of dark magic and to protect the world in his stead when the Dread Lords returned and he knew they would.”

“Fascinating,” Jez said rolling her eyes.

Kessick span around and the back of his hand connected with Jez’s face. She found herself on her hands and knees in the dust, spitting blood wandering how she got there. Bastard is so fast. That and he hits like a bear. Jez rolled her tongue around her mouth and felt one of her teeth move. She’d never lost a tooth before, not since the little ones she had as a child anyway, but it looked like she might lost this one. She spat out another mouthful of blood. Her lip was well and truly split and she reckoned it would be swelling and leaving a colourful bruise any time soon.

Might be best not to piss him off again, Jez. With that thought in mind she pushed herself to her feet, swaying only slightly as the world gave a little wobble.

Kessick was treating her to a blank stare. Once he was satisfied she was suitably cowed he turned and resumed walking. “The Dread Lords are returning, Jezzet. Already their power is beginning to effect the world, the Land of the Dead swarms with walking corpses and soon the Dread Lords will walk in this world again. The demons have shown me that and they have shown me that we are not ready.”

“Thanquil told me about this part,” Jezzet said. “Your dead boss said something similar. Darkness coming and the Inquisition being too weak to fight it.”

Kessick didn’t stop, didn’t slow, just kept on walking. “Inquisitor Heron was a puppet. I needed the help of someone higher up in the Inquisition and I chose her.”

“You chose her?”

“Did Arbiter Darkheart ever tell you he was sent to find Volmar’s sword as a gift for the God-Emperor?”

“Yes. Lost for somewhere near forever and he found it out in the Land of the Dead.”

“Well he wasn’t the only one sent to look for it. He found Volmar’s blade and I found something else. I found Myorzo, the demon blade. The demon inside the sword showed me the truth and I gave the sword to Inquisitor Heron so it could show her. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to play second place to an Arbiter so I let her think she was in charge. The outcome is what’s important after all.”

Kessick stopped outside a two-story wooden building with shuttered windows and an old rusty sign showing a big, red X. He turned to look at Jezzet. “The Inquisition is weak. It is full of powerless cowards who wish only to further themselves and do not care to see the whole picture. They do not know what is coming and they will not be ready to face it. But I will. By the time the Dread Lords rise the Inquisition will be gone and I will have an army of demons at my command. I will send the lichs back to their oblivion and then I will rebuild the Inquisition stronger than ever before.” For the first time Kessick’s voice betrayed emotion and Jez saw the fire of self-righteous zeal lit in his eyes. It didn’t matter whether he was right or not, Kessick believed he was and he would do anything, sacrifice anything to achieve his goals. It scared her.

Nothing worse than those who do evil but believe they’re doing good, Jez.

Kessick was staring at her, his eyes flicking back and forth searching her face. “You do not believe me. No, I see it. Come.”

He opened the door to the building marked with the red X and walked inside, his entourage nudging Jezzet along behind him. She rubbed at the scar on her wrist and followed the ex-Arbiter into the dingy building. It smelled of dust and sweat and blood, three things Jezzet knew all too well. The walls were warped and stained dark with years of neglect, the floor was covered in dust and mud brought in from the street and never cleaned. A stairway led up to the first floor but Kessick ignored it, heading down a short corridor and through a bent doorway sitting at a slight angle. Jez followed him inside and froze.

In the room, strapped to a solid wooden table, possibly the most solid construction Jez had seen since arriving in Absolution, was a man she recognised. He was one of Rose’s guards, a big mouthed, big nosed, balding veteran who went by the name of Rabb and who never missed an opportunity to leer at either Jez or Rose. Now he was strapped down tight and his face was a horrible motley of red, blue and black. Looks like he took a real beating from someone who really enjoyed it.

Jez sucked at her teeth. “What are you doing to him?”

Kessick regarded Rabb for a moment then turned to Jez. “He has potential. I’m going to put a demon inside of him.”

Jez took a step backwards and bumped into the man who had once been Nolan staring down at her through dead, pitiless eyes. “So why the fuck am I here? You said I’ve got no potential.”

“You don’t,” Kessick said in his gravel voice. “But I want you to witness it all the same. I want Arbiter Darkheart to join me, Jezzet and I want you to convince him. This,” he pointed at Rabb, “is to provide you with motivation. If you cannot convince Arbiter Darkheart to join me, I will force his cooperation.”

Thanquil

Absolution. Strange name for a town located in the wilds, a place where most folk didn’t know the meaning of the word and those that did wanted none of it. Stranger still that Kessick had chosen to make it his home. It didn’t look like much but then places rarely did out in the wilds. Thanquil had spent a fair portion of his life within the glorious city of Sarth, white marble everywhere and thousands upon thousands of slaves to clean it everyday. Sarth put on a pretty face but under the skin it was rotten. In the wilds towns didn’t even bother with the pretty faces and Absolution was no different.

“How ever will we get in,” Thanquil said staring at the walls.

Thorn sniffed loudly from beside him. “Reckon there’s probably a…”

“No,” interrupted Henry tilting back her hat and giving Thorn a glare.

“What?”

“Ya were gonna suggest sewers. Ya always suggest sewers. What is it with you an’ fuckin’ sewers?”

Thorn looked a little indignant. “S’Good way ta get into a place. No one ever checks the sewers.”

“That’s ‘cos they’re full of other folk’s shit. Bad enough smellin’ of ya own from time ta time but willingly smellin’ of someone else’s shit?”

“Never seemed ta bother ya before…”

Henry spat. “Always fuckin’ bothered me jus’ when we was on the other side of the law didn’t have much of a damned choice. Now I reckon we’re above crawlin’ through sewers. Don’t ever reckon the Hangman went on his hands an’ knees through shit, nor the Saint.”

Thorn snorted. “Ya might be surprised what the Saint got up ta in his day. Try askin’ Ben when we get back to Farpoint.”

“I believe you may have meant to say if we get back to Farpoint, boss.” Everyone turned and gave Anders a silent, meaningful stare. “Just putting things into perspective. Six of us, army of demons, little to no chance of survival. As a gambler those… are exactly the sorts of odds I like to play… of course that might explain my extraordinary lack of monetary gain over the years.”

Silence.

“So no sewers then?” Anders said with over-active joy.

Henry shook her head. “Sometimes I wish Drake’d kept him, ya know?”

The Black Thorn shrugged. “So the walls then?”

“Pick an abandoned-looking section… looks like there’s plenty to choose from, slip in through the gaps and take a look around town,” Thanquil said. “Scout out the area, find out where Kessick is holed up and kill the bastard.”

“Ya make it sound so easy,” Henry said. “Thought we weren’t lettin’ him do any of the plannin’ these days on account of none of us wantin’ ta die.”

Thanquil glared at the little murderess but Henry only grinned back at him.

“Aye,” Thorn grunted. “As a rule I’d say that’s a fairly safe one but I don’t reckon he’s wrong about it. Best we do this with some degree of stealth. Killin’ Kessick when he ain’t expectin’ it seems the best way ‘bout it.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to assassinating anyone,” the Honin said, it had been so long since the last occasion Thanquil had almost forgotten how his voice sounded.

“Aye,” Henry agreed. “Seem ta remember us being done with that sort of work. “

Thanquil decided to opt out of the argument. Assassination wasn’t in an Arbiter’s dictionary, they preferred to call it righteous judgement.

Thorn gave Henry a hard stare. “I seem ta remember a time when ya wasn’t above a little spot of murder.”

Henry gave Thorn a hard stare right back. “I seem ta remember a time when you was the same way. Also seem ta remember us both deciding it might be time fer a change.”

“We ain’t assassinating no one,” Thorn growled. “Things go right we won’t be doing no killin’ at all. All we do is get Thanquil in an’ let him deal with his Inquisition’s heretic. A grand case of doing fuck all an’ Kessick gets dead out of it an’ maybe then my eye, the one that ain’t fuckin’ there no more, can stop itchin’. Good?”

Thanquil watched Henry grind her teeth, her jaw clenching hard, but eventually she nodded. Suzku nodded as though he had never had a problem with it in the first place and Anders just grinned.

“All set then,” Thorn said. “We’ll wait a spell for darkness then slip in quiet, do the job an’ slip out jus’ as quiet.”

Darkness came sooner than Thanquil would have liked. He didn’t feel ready for it, for what was to come. He wasn’t sure why he was so hesitant, maybe because he knew something the others didn’t. He patted the sword hanging from his hip. Might be because he knew how it was likely to end.

They stole up to the wall in silence, moving from shadow to shadow in short dashes. They had brought only what they thought they would need and left the rest out of the way with their horses. All six members of the crew were well armed and ready, all except Jacob who carried no weapons and, judging by his extravagant hand gestures, did not believe he would need any. They flattened up against the wall and waited. After Thorn was of the opinion no one had seen them he waved Henry through one of the larger gaps in the wall. She ducked through and was gone. A few very long seconds later and she reappeared, gave a quick nod and ducked through again. Thanquil followed her in.

Within the town walls Absolution looked a sad, sorry place. Squat buildings complete with an odour of rot and stagnant dust. They were behind a large wooden building, judging by the outdoor oven Thanquil guessed it to be a bakers though he doubted they’d find any fresh loaves on sale.

Thorn came through the wall last and looked about before waving them into an alley that ran alongside the bakery. They wouldn’t stop there, they were looking for somewhere more central, somewhere with easier access to the small town.

Henry reached the mouth of the alleyway and stopped. For a while she stood motionless before turning her head slightly to speak to Thorn. “Reckon we might have a little problem here.”

She stepped out into the street and Thorn went with her. Thanquil and the others, each one of them sporting their own version of confusion, followed. The street was dimly lit, each building had its own lantern shuttered against the breeze and burning away merrily. In the middle of the street stood a single figure, a man dressed in mud brown cloak over stained leathers with a white warrior’s tail of hair and a strangely conical straw hat obscuring his face. In the man’s left hand was a slightly curved scabbard that Thanquil thought looked oddly familiar.

“He doesn’t look much like a problem,” Anders said peering at the man. “We have him somewhat outnumbered.”

Suzku stepped forward away from the crew and further into the street. “You should go,” he said quietly. “This is not your fight.”

Thanquil saw the set of the big man’s jaw and the way his hand hovered near his sword, which sat in a slightly curved scabbard, and realised he was looking at fear. It was possibly the first emotion Thanquil had seen Suzku show and it was not a reassuring one.

“Ain’t the way we do things these days, Suzku,” Thorn said stepping up beside the Honin. “Ya part of the crew an’ that means we look out fer each other. Don’t let the others go off an’ fight alone. ‘Sides, can’t let him warn Kessick we’re here.”

The man with the straw hat hadn’t moved at all. Thanquil was fairly certain a statue would have given away more intent.

“He won’t warn anyone,” Suzku assured Thorn. “And respectfully I find I must leave your crew.”

“Eh?”

“This fight is mine and mine alone. What little honour I have left demands it.”

The last thing Thorn looked was pleased. His jaw muscles writhed like snakes in a bag. He grabbed hold of Suzku’s shoulder and turned the Honin, treating him to a one-eyed stare. “Ya gotta do this alone then alright but don’t think ya get ta jus’ leave afterwards. Still part of the crew. Soon as ya done here ya catch us up. Good?”

Suzku nodded.

Thorn took a quick look at the man with the straw hat, let go of Suzku’s shoulder and stalked away. The others followed, Thanquil with them. Only Henry stayed behind with Suzku, she said something to him, too quiet for Thanquil to hear, then hurried to catch up with the others.

Thanquil found himself beside Jacob. He looked up at the Templar. “What do you think that was about?”

Jacob chuckled and shrugged. He had a wild grin on his face that scared Thanquil far more than an old man with sword and a strange hat.

They ducked into another alley and Thorn waved to halt. “We may have hit a stroke of luck there,” Thanquil said breathing a sigh of relief.

“Why’s that?” Henry asked from behind her voice as dark and dangerous as it used to be.

“The street was deserted apart from the one man. I’d say it could have been worse.”

The little woman pushed past him and up to Thorn.

“Don’t reckon this town is too big,” Thorn said quietly. “Cross this street an’ find a buildin’ to call home on the next, I think.”

“Don’t want ta try the main street,” Henry replied. “Should be somewhere near the centre. Reckon that’s where we’re like ta find Kessick.”

“S’where we’re like ta find more folk too. Best we stick between outskirts an’ centre, I reckon. Least ‘til we know where we’re goin’.”

Henry nodded. Thorn nodded back. Anders nodded at Thanquil. Thanquil shrugged back. Jacob stood tall and silent and watchful.

“Let’s move,” Thorn growled and he was away, sprinting across the bare stretch of street. The others followed at similar speeds and they ducked into another alley. Still they saw no people.

“Startin’ ta get a real bad feelin’ ‘bout this whole deserted issue,” Henry said.

“Could be we’re getting lucky,” Thanquil replied.

Anders snorted. “Luck is a cheap whore. You pay her for the privilege and she gives your cock a nasty rash.”

Thanquil looked at the man then looked at his crotch.

“Don’t you worry, my good man. I assure you it cleared right up after a few months.”

“That one,” Thorn said pointing at a building to their right.

Henry grunted her agreement, looked both ways out of the alley into the street and slipped out of cover, dashed across a muddy porch and up to the doorway of the the target building. She tried the handle and then disappeared from view as she darted inside. A few tense moment’s later her hand popped out and waved them all in.

They took it in turns rushing to the house that would serve as their base but all made it without incident. Thanquil wasn’t certain what he liked less; the general lack of folk out and about or that each and every building without fail sported its own lamp. Seemed passing strange to him but none of the others made a deal out of it so he decided to keep quiet.

Once they were all in and the door was closed and the windows shuttered they took a moment to relax. Tense would have been a welcome luxury Thanquil’s nerves were so on edge. He patted the sword at his side but quickly stopped when he found both Anders and Jacob watching him. Henry moved to one of the windows and peered out through the shutters, watching the street for any activity.

“Fair ta say this is a little odd,” said Thorn. “Don’t reckon I’ve ever a seen a town this deserted.”

Jacob shook his head, pointed to his ear and then pointed in the direction of the town centre.

“You can hear activity further in?” Thanquil asked.

The Templar nodded.

“I didn’t hear anythin’.”

Thanquil looked at the tattoos around Jacob’s head, around his ears. “His hearing is… better than most.”

“Well ain’t that jus’ a useful thing ta know. Wish he could fuckin’ tell us without all the hand wavin’.”

Thanquil heard a whisper. Something close and far away at the same time. Something shrill and deep and… he could almost make out the words if only they were a little clearer.

Henry hissed from the window and held up one hand for silence while she tilted the shutters just enough to see out of with the other. “People coming,” she whispered.

“How many?” asked Anders.

“Well I don’t got all your fancy numbers so I’m jus’ gonna go with a fuck load.” She peered out of the window into the street and cursed. “Looks like they got your woman with ‘em too,” she said.

“What?” Thanquil asked.

Henry grunted as his will locked onto hers and forced the truth out. “Jezzet Vel’urn is with ‘em.”

For just a moment the words didn’t make any sense to Thanquil. Then he realised he didn’t care. He started towards the door. Thorn stepped into the way but again Thanquil found he didn’t care. With a whispered blessing and a hardy shove he sent the Black Thorn sprawling. Henry and Anders were moving now to stop him but it was too late. Thanquil kicked the door open.

Jezzet

There were times, not many but a few, in Jezzet’s life when the word surprise didn’t quite cover it. This was one of those times. It was not the door slamming open as her, Kessick and their escort, who numbers were on the generous side of thirty, passed. Nor was it the door rebounding so hard against the building that it came off its hinges and collapsed so that the man had to kick it again to get it out of the way. Her surprise was laid solely at the feet of the fact that it was Thanquil standing there. She perhaps should have seen it coming considering she knew he was coming but somehow, or maybe it was his dramatic entrance onto the street, his appearance was a sudden shock and her heart, traitorous beast that it was, gave a lurch in her chest. Seeing him would have and should have been a happy sight if not for the scene Jez had just witnessed.

Your breath, Jez!

She spat, for perhaps the hundredth time in the last five minutes, and quickly wiped her hand across her mouth. Her breath likely still smelled strongly of vomit and she knew that shouldn’t really matter given the current situation but there was a part of her, quite an insistent part, that didn’t want her reunion with Thanquil to be marred by her breath stinking like that of a sour drunk’s. Wasn’t often that Jezzet Vel’urn lost her stomach over something other than bad food or too much drink, only once before in her life time to be exact, but what she had seen in that building with the red cross… she felt bile rising again and swallowed it down, instead focusing on Thanquil.

The Arbiter stepped down from the wooden porch and onto the dusty street. Kessick remained stone-faced but a couple of his demon entourage looked a little discomforted. Of course that could just be the fact that there’s a demon inside those meat shells, Jez.

“Thanquil,” Jez said. A damned stupid thing to say and none would agree with that more than Jezzet herself but sometimes her mouth worked quicker than her brain which at the moment was rebelling at the thought of working at all.

“Jez,” Thanquil said with a washed-out smile. He didn’t look so good now that she thought about it. His face was lined, he looked a good five years older than the last she saw him, he had dark bags under both his eyes that leant him a slightly menacing air and his stubble had gone unmanaged and had blossomed into the beginnings of a curly black beard. Jezzet did not approve.

“Touching,” Kessick said in his voice like cracking ice. Jezzet might have swung for him but he was too far away with at least eight demon-possessed guards between them.

“Ain’t it just,” said a familiar voice from inside the building Thanquil had emerged from. The voice was followed by a man she thought long dead and found herself more than a little happy to see it wasn’t so.

The Black Thorn stepped into view and out through the doorway, stopping beside Thanquil and giving him a dark glare. “Reckon we might have ta have words ‘bout ya knockin’ me down jus’ now.” Despite his eye-patch, which Jez could only assume was not just for show, Thorn looked well. He stood a good foot taller than Thanquil and broader to boot, his head shaved and a full ginger beard covering much of his face and hiding much of his scarring. He wore a heavy black duster and Jez had no doubt it contained Thorn’s usual compliment of sharp objects. He wasn’t alone either.

One by one they exited the building. A big man, slightly taller than Thorn, with every inch of exposed skin covered in tattoos. A little woman who looked suspiciously like someone Jez had once thrown off a bridge. A blooded man who looked suspiciously like someone Jez had once thrown out a window. That appeared to be all of them. Not exactly an army but five is better than one.

“Well,” said Thorn. “ Looks like we got ourselves a whole lot of reunions don’t it.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jez said and it was only half a lie. She was glad to see him, she just wish he hadn’t come.

“Black Thorn,” said Kessick.

“Don’t I know you,” said the blooded man.

“You took my fuckin’ eye, Kessick.”

“What are you doing here, Jez?”

“Which one is Kessick?” asked Henry.

“You were a disappointment from the start, Thorn,” growled Kessick.

“I need a drink.”

“That whole business with Drake…”

“Oh, an’ then there was that whole trickin’ me into tryin’ ta kill Drake Morrass.”

“Oh Drake,” the blooded man brightened up. “He sends his regards.”

“Enough!” shouted Thanquil his voice loud enough to silence everyone, or at least everyone but the tattooed man who was merrily humming away to himself while mad eyes darted around the assembled force arrayed against him.

“Kessick,” Thanquil continued. “I think you know why I’m here.”

“It’s certainly not for the hospitality,” the blooded man mumbled.

“Yes. I knew you would be coming. Did Drake tell you I was here or did the Inquisition send you? I think it was Drake.”

Jez saw Thanquil touch something at his hip. “Little bit of both really. Doesn’t matter now though. You won’t get away again.”

The Black Thorn leaned a little towards Thanquil. “Not so certain this is a fight we can win.” Reinforcements were arriving for Kessick and many of them were bringing sharp, pointy friends, many of the others were bringing dull, blunt friends but all seemed just as dangerous.

“You can’t win,” Kessick agreed. “But I would much rather this didn’t end in a fight. I need more people like you, Arbiter Darkheart. People who believe in the cause. You know the Inquisition is weak, you of all people must have seen it.”

“I’ve heard this tune before, Kessick,” Thanquil said in a grave voice as dark as the bags under his eyes. “Inquisitor Heron tried to convince me to join you. I set her on fire…. twice.”

“Really?” asked Thorn. “Twice?”

Jezzet saw Thanquil shrug and grin and she couldn’t help but follow suit it seemed so long since she had last seen him smile. “If a thing’s worth doing,” Thanquil said, “might as well do it twice.”

Kessick flicked his gaze towards her. “Jezzet…”

She rubbed at her wrist as her mind tried to figure out what to say. She didn’t trust Kessick, certainly didn’t believe him but as more and more of his possessed warriors arrived the odds looked worse and worse for Thanquil. She didn’t want him to die, didn’t want him to suffer, not like… Never thought I’d see a man’s soul torn apart and burnt to ash before me. She couldn’t stand seeing that happen to Thanquil but then she didn’t think she could sway him from his course even if she tried.

Everyone’s watching you, Jez. Waiting on you. He’s looking at you.

Jez met Thanquil’s gaze and smiled. “Fuck it.”

Still wearing that same smile she kicked the demon to her right in the knee, forcing it to the ground, grabbed hold of the sword sheathed in its belt and stepped away drawing the sword free from its scabbard in time to leap backwards and take of the arm of another of the human-skin wearing beasts. She thought she heard Kessick curse and that just made her grin all the harder as another demon came for her.

Jez had always had a knack of inspiring chaos and it was safe to say what erupted into the streets of Absolution had no better description. Thanquil’s crew scattered, fracturing away from each other to fight on their own. Thanquil started across the street towards Kessick, drawing his battered old sword to defend against the demons but she lost sight of him as the creatures came at her from all sides in a rush.

She charged one of the demons, a petite woman with a flat chest and only one shoe, ducking into a roll at the last second and dodging past the wild mace swing. Her sword took a chunk of leg out as she rolled, not enough to kill, certainly not enough to kill an immortal demon, but enough to drop it to the floor. She twisted and came up facing her pursuers only for her internal warning sense to inform her there was someone behind her. A nimble dodge to the left complete with a spin and she brought the sword down onto the man’s ample skull. It didn’t so much as cut as bludgeon, crushing a section of the skull into mushy white-pink, blood-squirting goo.

Good point, Jez. Time to find a better blade, something with an edge would be good.

Two more of the demons were on her and both with sharp objects of their own and neither looked any better than Jez’s pointy piece of metal. She brushed away the first attack, taking a moment to marvel at the strength of the woman making it and parried the second, catching the blade one her own and redirecting it into the body of the first attacker who promptly let out a high-pitched wail of pain.

Good to know. You may not be able to kill them, Jez but you can sure as all the hells maim them and that’s something you’re known for.

Henry

Even before that crazy bitch spoke Henry could see in her face what was coming. That cruel smile that broke across some folk’s faces when they were about to do violence and knew, even should the worst happen, that they were going to enjoy themselves. Henry saw it and knew it because it was a smile she herself had worn more than once. Not so much of late though. They were law folk now and violence had become much more sporadic. Violence on a scale of what was likely to ensue here though, that was simply unheard of. Last time Henry had been in a proper battle half of Hostown had ended up fleeing and the other half burning. That and half her crew had died including the Boss. She didn’t much like the idea of that happening again. So she was ready as soon as she saw the smile on the Blademaster’s face and before even the first drop of blood was spilled her twin daggers were in her hands and she was using the Arbiter’s little strips of magic paper.

She’d seen battles before, heard of how they were supposed to go with organised troops and manoeuvres and such. The scene that spread out before her looked more like a brawl. Groups of people, folk on Kessick’s side split off and came at the crew. Most of them went towards the Arbiter, not Thanquil, the silent one with the tattoos but each member of the crew got themselves their own fight to deal with and instead of doing the smart thing, sticking together and watching each other’s backs, each member split up and chose to fight alone. Wasn’t too much of a surprise, they were all reformed criminals after all. Order wasn’t exactly any of their strong points.

The demons were fast and strong but Henry wasn’t slow her own self and she had many years of experience in the sadistic art form of murdering folk. The first demon to reach her, a stone-faced skinny beggar of a man, died as would any unprepared fool thinking she was no more than the girl she looked. Henry ducked under his heavy swipe and used the man’s own force as he overbalanced to gut him with one blade while the other she drove up through the base of his skull. The carcass dropped, leaking beautiful red that the dirty brown dusr lapped up quickly. Either the Arbiter’s magic worked or these demons weren’t near so un-killable as folk seemed to claim. Not like the demons at Hostown. Not like Hostown!

The next demon was different, an old man wrinkled from years beyond counting and dressed in the tatters of a robe, his long white beard trailed down near to his waist and his mouth contained only one tooth. Despite his appearance the man moved like wolf, loping towards Henry and springing at her covering an impossible distance. He took her unawares, maybe because of the way he looked and maybe because her reverie, and she barely turned his sword strike in time to stop being skewered. The blade slid along her leathers and cut a small slice into her side. She growled in pain and limped backwards, refusing to clutch at the bleeding wound but she could feel it growing wet. Not one kill in and she was already on the back foot.

The old man didn’t let up his attack. He took two more loping steps left and leapt at her again raining blow after heavy blow down upon her. Henry gave ground, parrying blows where she could and dodging others. Her daggers were simply no match against the weighty sword the man used, at least not at this range. She timed her strike perfectly, waiting until the man was swinging and side-stepping the strike, leaping close and putting both blades into his chest again and again and again. Hot red blood spurted out over her clothing and hands and face. The old demon lunged at her again, but only managed to pull Henry’s hat from her head as his quivering, bloody body toppled to the ground.

Two down. Henry marked off the kills in her head. After all this was done she’d wait until Anders boasted about his own body count and upstage him by mentioning hers, making sure it sounded off-hand. Of course she would need more than two to properly humiliate the fool but judging by the demons pouring into the square she would have the chance for plenty more.

This time three of them came at her. Two men and woman, all of middle age, the woman in a blue shift and the men in fancy suits, they looked similar; brothers maybe even twins and they attacked her in unison as the woman attempted to get around behind her. Henry feinted towards the men then turned, ran at the woman and attacked, knocking away the bitch’s feeble counter with ease and gutting her like a fisherman to his catch. More red watered the earth turning dust to sticky mud.

The two men came on, ignoring their fallen comrade as if she were nothing but dead meat to begin with. Henry glanced around the battlefield. Plenty of demons surrounding the Arbiter, not Thanquil, the other one but he seemed to be holding his own. Anders was nowhere in sight, likely long gone and hiding in a cupboard. Thorn was nearby, grunting and grinning in equal measure with more than a few bodies littering the ground though as Henry watched one of those stood back up and came at the Black Thorn again. No sight of Suzku either and that worried her most. Something about the big Honin made her comfortable, made her feel stronger, made her feel less inclined to kill. She liked it. She liked him. Most of all she liked herself when he was around.

Her foot bumped against a wooden porch and she almost tripped. She’d barely even noticed she was retreating. The twins didn’t miss a beat, they took her moment of confusion to attack. Coming at her from two sides, one attacking high, the other low. She stepped into the attack of the demon to her right, blocking with both daggers and pushing as hard as she could. The demon pushed back harder and before Henry could recover punched her in the face. She felt her nose break, cartilage snap and pop and pain, so much pain she couldn’t help but gasp and that brought about a whole other set of problems. She swallowed blood, red and beautiful and streaming from her nose into her open, gasping mouth. Metallic, sticky and crimson as the prettiest of sun rises.

She felt more than saw the sword coming. Her vision was swimming with colours that she couldn’t name and pain blurred even those but she knew something was coming. Years of being an murderer had given a warning that screamed at her when she was about to die. She dropped to her knee and felt the blade skim her head, likely took a few hairs with it. Then she pushed back onto her feet and stumbled away, hit the wooden porch again and tumbled into the building, rolling back onto her feet and facing the gaping doorway.

A figured blurred out the torch light from outside. Henry couldn’t see it clearly through the blood and pain, didn’t really care to. She flung her knife at what was most likely its head and heard a dull thud. The blurred figured slumped to the floor by the wall and one behind it roared in anger. Henry threw her other dagger. The figure rushed her. First she was off her feet, then the whole world slammed into her back driving the air from her lungs in a bloody gasp. The demon slashed at her with claws the seemed made of metal, one tore bloody strips out of her chest and the other hit the side of her head, felt like it tore her left ear off but Henry wasn’t in any position to look for a mirror to find out. She reached up, quick as a snake and grabbed hold of the demon’s head with both hands, finding the eye sockets and pushing her thumbs in as hard as she could. The demon tore at her arms but Henry didn’t let go, ignoring the searing pain and pushing, pushing, pushing.

Another fist hit her in the side of the head. She saw it coming, last ditch attempt by the demon to dislodge her. It worked. She fell away and scrabbled to safety. As far away from the raging creature as possible, up against a wall and she watched it. It slammed into one wall, then staggered back and slammed into the other. Its face was a crimson mess, even in the dark of the building Henry could tell that, and it gripped its head with both hands, screaming and thrashing. Finally it staggered backwards out into the street and away from the building, a mixture of walking, stumbling and collapsing only to regain its feet and start again.

Henry waited, she wasn’t certain how long. The pain in her arms, her chest, her belly and her head were a constant pulsing throb that she couldn’t ignore. Gingerly she reached up and touched a hand to the left side of her head. Her ear wobbled. Didn’t really seem like a good sign, a wobbling ear, especially not with how much it was hurting.

“Get up,” she said to herself her voice shaking like a tree in a storm. “GET UP!” This time she screamed at herself.

There were folk counting on her. Thorn, Suzku, hell, even Anders. She couldn’t just sit in a corner and cry, hoping the demons would pass her by like they had in Hostown. Like she had in Hostown.

She wiped tears away from her eyes only to realise her hands and arms were soaked in blood, hers and the demons. Something about that seemed to lend her strength. The sight of blood always had, something regal about blood, something primal, beautiful. Henry forced herself to her feet, blocked out her pain and picked up her daggers, one from the floor, one from the demon’s face. She stepped back out onto the street, took a quick look around the battlefield and went in search of her crew.

Anders

Anders leapt backwards then lunged with his rapier scoring a searing gash across the man’s ribs and releasing a yell of triumph that would have cowed even the manliest of sparring partners. If the sparring partner facing him now felt anything, either pain or pleasure or even mild discomfort, he showed it not at all. He ignored the bloody wound, already closing by the looks of it, and came at Anders with axe swinging. Anders, knowing that an axe against a rapier spelled a bad match up in his direction fell back, giving ground yet again.

The problem was, Anders lamented, he simply wasn’t much of a fighter. He’d caused his fair share of death and possibly another man’s fair share as well, but he was never very good at the actual killing. Barring a couple of accidental murders, his assassination of Farin Colth at the behest of Drake and a few guards or criminals, the distinction between the two here in the wilds often left him confused, he didn’t really have many kills to his quite infamous name.

Another of the demons joined the fray, this one an astonishingly beautiful woman with fine features, firebrand hair and a single exposed breast. Anders tripped, tumbled away from her and then scampered away from the man with the axe. It was strange but even amidst the chaos and bloodshed he still found the site of a pale, exposed breast arousing. Reminded him of Rilly. Reminded him of Henry.

He regained his feet and met his opponents head on just like his father had claimed a real man should. Of course the big man complete with axe and beautiful woman complete with short sword did nothing to bolster his courage.

A faint to the left and a dodge to the right and Anders laid another slash across the man’s ribs and again it didn’t seem to phase the brute. Hopping backwards Anders caught a glimpse of the Black Thorn hacking away in the midst of four men at once. It was a sight to behold and one Anders truly hoped he never had chance to be beholding again but it was the bloody axe that caught his eye and the faint golden glow it had. It could of course have just been a trick of the light but it sparked off a memory in Anders drunken mind and he shoved a hand into his pocket, bringing out a strip of paper.

With a short prayer to his father’s Gods Anders sliced the paper in two with his rapier and was rewarded with his own glowing weapon.

“I’d say we’re on more of an equal footing now, ay? Still fancy your chances?” he taunted.

Neither demon responded with anything more than a feverish attack that, despite his glowing sword of someone else’s righteous glory, had him once again falling back which, he knew quite well, was another word for retreating, which in turn was another word for fleeing and that was something he was more than accomplished at.

The beautiful woman tripped on her own tattered dress and despite Anders first instinct to help her up, and steal her purse, he pressed the dubious advantage by launching himself in a frenzied and quite possibly suicidal attack on the man with the axe. One inch-perfect dodge, complete with wordless cry of terror, later and he was inside the man’s reach with a foot of steel lodged at an impressive angle through the demon’s abdomen. He was rewarded with a roar of pain. Anders was just about to congratulate himself on a job well done when the man stopped roaring and looked down upon him with all the fury of hell in his eyes. With a girlish squeak of terror Anders withdrew his blade from the man’s gut and instead thrust it up through his neck and into his head. The demon teetered for a moment, a ghastly breath escaping from his lips, before toppling sideways wrenching Anders sword from his hand.

The other problem, Anders had to admit, was that he was thoroughly alone. He had always been much better with a crowd of folk who liked or at the very least tolerated him. They lent him courage and he in turn strove to be better in their presence. Here, on his own and in only his own presence, he was well aware that he was a close-to-useless drunkard with a distinct dual loyalty issue regarding his employers. With a heavy sigh he reached down to pry his rapier free. Unfortunately the beautiful woman-demon thing had other ideas and, disregarding her need for a sword, chose that moment to slam into Anders tackling him to the ground.

They wrestled there for a while amidst the dust and dirt and each moment was a terrifying lifetime for Anders. She was without a doubt stronger and faster but Anders had grown up with a lifetime of surprise wrestling encounters and, while he hadn’t enjoyed a single one of them, he had learned how best to defend himself. With a variety of twists, turns, pushes, locks and one cheeky handful of breast he dislodged himself from the woman and scampered away looking for his rapier. The demon, not to be outdone, came at him again long before he found his sword.

Discretion, Drake had once told Anders while blind drunk on a type of rum as black as tar, is without a fucking doubt the better fucking part of valour. It was a lesson Anders took to heart and it had saved his life on more than one occasion. This, he fervently hoped, was one of those occasions. With that in mind he turned tail and ran.

He sprinted past blood and violence and bodies and bodies rising once again to join in with the blood and violence. He spotted a friendly-looking doorway, one that stood open and inviting, and turned for it. Anders wasn’t entirely certain why he thought the building would be safe but then he was acting more on instinct than anything else and instinct told him four walls and a roof would inevitably be safer than no walls and no roof. Anders’ instincts had a habit of leading him into trouble and they did not disappoint.

He skidded to a halt in the hallway of the dilapidated shack and slammed the door shut just in time to hit the screaming, but beautiful, demon-woman in the face with the sturdy slab of timber. Then he turned to find himself confronted by yet another woman, this one considerably less beautiful and considerably more armed. A long sword to be precise and a sharp-looking one at that.

“Ah…” Anders said holding up a couple of placating hands. “Now my dear I wonder if…”

The woman leapt at him snarling, long sword swinging. Anders threw himself sideways into a face full of moulding wall and slithered away into the nearest room well-aware the creature behind him was hot on his heels. He made it half-way across the room before something loud shattered across the back of his head causing him to topple and crash to the floor taking a table with him.

Despite wanting to do nothing more than hold his head and weep for a while Anders knew such vain indulgence would likely cause his probably unavoidable death so he rolled onto his back and wiped away the blood from his face. Blood that tasted suspiciously like wine. He licked his lips.

“Did you just throw a wine jug at me?” he asked the oncoming demon.

She didn’t answer just leapt atop him, grabbed hold of his neck and drove her sword into his chest.

Anders Brekovich knew one thing, if he was going to die it was going to be the best damned death scene any man had ever given anywhere and he didn’t care if the only ones to see it were the demonic woman who had murdered him and the small grasshopper perched on the nearby window ledge. With that in mind he gave a wail of pain and suffering the likes of which would have moved the hearts of statues. He flung out his arms and cried out the unfairness of it all and finally expelled his last breath. Only to take another.

In fairness to the demon-woman; ugly, scarred, brutish, stub-nosed beast that she was, she looked just as confused as Anders. She lifted her sword up a little to find it lodged in something inside of his jacket. Their eyes met as both of them realised she had stabbed his hip flask. He grinned. Something dark and angry hit the demon, tackling her off of Anders and both her and the raging whirlwind of blades scrabbled on the floor for a moment before that same whirlwind gained the advantage, straddled the demon and started stabbing. It took Anders a moment of laying on the floor dumbfounded to realise Henry had just saved his life again and she was busy checking the insides of the demon for valuables. She of course found only blood and plenty of it. She was in fact dripping in gore before the attack had begun and if anything she was now a little less bloody.

As soon as the demon stopped twitching Henry was up. Her hat long since lost, her face a crimson mask, her left ear missing and her two dark eyes feverish bright and somewhere between intense and causing Anders’ bowels to loosen. She extended him a bloody hand. He didn’t hesitate in taking it.

“I believe a thank you is in order,” Anders said. “It’s possible you may have just saved my life, my lady.”

Henry nodded at the doorway to the room and then to the window and Anders noticed another three demons, two skinny men and one very beautiful, broken-nosed woman, closing in on them.

“Don’t reckon it’s worth the thankin’ ‘til it’s a fact, Anders,” Henry said reversing the grip on her daggers and readying herself to pounce.

“Then how about an apology,” he said giving her his infamous and well-prepared smile. She ignored it. “I’m sorry about that whole incident with my losing your trust.”

The demons were closing slowly now, wary of Henry and her glowing daggers. “What incident?” she asked. “Ya mean the whole, you workin’ fer Drake fuckin’ Morrass thing?”

Anders picked up a broken chair leg, it wasn’t much of a weapon but he supposed cracking a skull was much like cracking an egg only involving more swings. “Precisely that. I’m sorry.”

Henry snorted. “Ya want ta be sorry, stop fuckin’ workin’ fer him.”

“One doesn’t simply leave the employment of Drake Morrass, my dear. One is usually let go… from a great height.”

“Coward.”

“I never claimed to be otherwise.”

“Ya ready fer this?”

“No.”

“Good enough.” Henry led the charge and Anders followed.

Suzku

They hadn’t moved. Neither Pern nor master Kochin. He had yet to see the old master’s face but Pern didn’t need to see it, he knew its every line, every wrinkle, every scar and every expression. Master Kochin had been old even when Pern was a child, the clan’s longest surviving Haarin, never lost a client, never failed the clan. Kochin was everything that embodied the Haarin and he was here to kill Pern.

There didn’t really seem like much to say. Pern knew the day would come when a Haarin from his clan caught up to him. He had truly hoped it would be somebody, anybody else but the world worked in its own ways and no amount of hoping would change that. Kochin was Haarin, Pern was Honin. They would fight. One would die. Likely that one would be Pern but he hoped otherwise.

The sounds of fighting started, metal clashed against metal, shouting, screaming, even an explosion or two. Still neither Pern nor Kochin moved. It was a nice night, a slight chill in the air and the lanterns did their best to ward off the darkness. Stars winked in and out of existence overhead and still the two of them faced each other from across the street, no more than ten paces between them.

Action through inaction was part of the Haarin training. Battles should be won with a single stroke of the blade and in that discipline stillness was as important as movement. Pern ran through a hundred moves in his head, then thought about a different stance and went through a hundred more. It was possible Kochin was doing the same, likely he was doing the same.

Pern had never known his father. None of the Haarin did. They were taken as children, given names by the clan elders and raised by the entire clan to be the next generation of Haarin. He had never known his father but in his weak times, in his flights of fancy he had imagined he was sired by Kochin. The strong hands, the steady, even stance and that sky-blue aura the colour of the deepest control. Any Haarin would have been proud to be sired by Kochin and Pern was no different.

Another scream in the distance, this one sounded almost like Henry, and Pern’s eyes flicked away just for a moment.

“It is time to fulfil your contract, Honin,” master Kochin’s voice was rich and deep and accented by his many, many years out in the wilds. He had served no fewer than four contracts. Most Haarin only manage two at best. Pern had not completed his first, he had barely even started it before helping to kill the man he was sworn to protect.

“Has the clan given a contract to Kessick?” Pern asked.

Master Kochin slowly raised a gnarled hand and with the butt of his sword raised his hat an inch. Pern saw a deep green eye set in a wrinkled old face glaring at him from underneath the straw hat. “Kessick came to us. He requested no contract. He told us you were with the Black Thorn and that the Black Thorn would come to him.”

“Then should you kill me,” Pern said slowly. “I would ask you to visit the same fate upon Kessick.”

Silence. It stretched on for so long Pern almost began to think the old master Haarin would not answer. “It is not my place. I am Haarin.”

Pern clenched his jaw. For the first time in his life he felt the inactivity grate upon him. His friends were fighting, maybe dying. The Black Thorn and Anders. Henry. His teeth ground against one another and he drew his sword, a slow motion, letting the blade fully clear the scabbard before taking the hilt in both hands, the point of the blade dropping to the ground and slightly to the right.

Still master Kochin did not draw his sword.

“If you will not kill Kessick then I will have to kill you,” Pern said through gritted teeth. A dirty red had begun to seep into his own aura. Had Kochin been able to see it he would have been disgusted. Haarin had no need for emotion, especially not anger.

“There is only one way this can end, Honin. Should you best me, so long as even one Haarin from our clan draws breath they will hunt you.”

Suzku frowned. “Then I see two ways this can end.”

Master Kochin took his sword away from his hat and let it drop back down to obscure his face. “You would destroy your own clan over this?”

“I have seen the type of people our clan protects. I myself was ordered to protect the most evil man I have ever known…”

“It is not a Haarin’s place to judge their client.”

Pern straightened his back to its full height. “I am Honin. I can judge as I please.”

Again that crushing silence. Even now, after a year of being Honin, master Kochin’s disappointment cut Pern to the bone. He focused, attempting to bury his feelings the way Haarin were taught. It was no good, he couldn’t rid himself of them, he couldn’t find that sense of peace he had once had by knowing that he was doing right just by serving his clan.

Ash and embers drifted across the street. Somewhere something was burning, likely a building, possible the whole town. Pern wasn’t about to look to find out. Taking his eyes off an opponent as deadly as master Kochin was to invite death.

Pern tilted his sword a little and drew his left foot back an inch, still trying to decide how best to attack. Master Kochin himself had once said: Sometimes the best way to win is not to do something the opponent does not to expect, but to do something they do, just do it better than they expect. Wiser words may rarely have been spoken but Pern still found himself lost amongst a sea of possibilities. Kochin was by far the most dangerous opponent he had ever faced and now Pern was Honin he would not hesitate to deal the killing blow to his former student.

Pern edged his right foot forward. Kochin charged.

For a man of considerable years the old master Haarin moved like lightning. He covered the distance between them in moments and still Pern was frozen by indecision. He heard Kochin’s sword slide from its sheath and saw the tilt of the man’s left foot and he acted.

Pern stepped to his left, went down to one knee and struck. His sword moved upwards and outwards from his right hand in a deadly arc. He felt Kochin’s sword prick his chest, a white hot lance of pain for an instant and then it was gone.

Pern stood on shaky legs and took a deep, ragged breath. He reached into his pocket with his left hand and pulled out a dirty yellow cloth. With exaggerated care he wiped the blood from his blade, making certain the sword was spotless. He pocketed the cloth and slowly re-sheathed his sword. Pern sighed, the ghost of a smile on his lips, and collapsed next to the body of his of old master, their blood mixing in the dust.

Jacob

For so long the world had been silent. Jacob had heard no music since that day in Chade, since waking up without a tongue. Now was different. Now the whole band was in attendance and they were making such a din Jacob could hear nothing else. Drums, pipes, lutes, whistles, fiddles, flutes and even a harp and a raucous tune they played. Some might consider the mess of notes and sounds to be nothing but noise but Jacob could hear past the chaos to the order within. It dragged him along like a leaf in a current and he was happy and more than happy to go with the flow. He let it pull him, push him, twist him and move him, and his partners, so many partners, were brutally introduced to the joy and terror of his dance.

A young woman, barely old enough to bleed, reached for him eager to join his jig. Jacob caught her wrist, spun her around and snapped her arm with a punch then threw her into the merry onlookers. Her screams only added to the rhythm of the dance.

Another woman, this one older with flesh that spoke of recent child birth and hips that suggested it was the latest of many. She joined in the dance and brought cold steel with her. A man as well, old and pox-scarred and with teeth like knives. Jacob was not opposed to multiple partners. The music was loud and the night was alive and the more the merrier. He spun around the man’s axe and under the woman’s sword and gave her a fist like thunder to her gut. He counted four broken ribs. As she collapsed Jacob plucked the steel from her hand, planted in the man’s face and danced away from the resulting blood. Behind the woman he took hold of her chin and wrenched backwards both hearing and feeling the snap of her neck.

More partners and more entered the floor and Jacob danced with them all. Demons they may be and both stronger and faster than they looked but he was beyond them. Their bones broke like sticks and they bled red the same as any other. His blessings burned with power and with each new partner Jacob felt himself grow stronger.

He turned aside a sword with the flat of his palm and directed the strike into the path of another. He shattered a man’s jaw like glass with an elbow. He picked up the body of a child, soulless and dead with the demon inside, and threw it to the crowd. He dropped, rolled in the dust and came up in a torrent of blows, each to the beat of a drum, and scattered bodies. Yet they kept coming, drawn to his power like a moths drawn towards a flame and he would burn them.

Faster and faster the tempo spun and faster and faster Jacob danced. He was a blur. A flash. Lightning that struck again and again and again. He caught a stray leg, a demon wearing the face of a man as big as a bear, and twisted. The bones shattered and the demon went down face first but Jacob did not let go, he jumped on the demon’s back and pulled. Flesh tore and the leg came free in a torrent of blood and screaming. Jacob span away using the leg as a mace.

A man found purchase on his arm, two long claws attempting to tear into skin. Jacob stepped close, butting the man in the head three times until both their faces were bloody. He stepped back and then forward and then to the side in a strange waltz, the man’s body hanging limp in his arms. The music changed again, all instruments but the fiddle fading to silence. Jacob shoved his hand in the man’s mouth, grabbed hold of his bottom jaw and tore it free, burying the shard of bone in his next partner’s eye.

His next partner was a surprise, so eager to join in they hit him from behind. Metal punctured skin and Jacob gasped in pain. They both went down, rolling in the dust and blood and bodies but Jacob was up first. He grabbed hold of his partners arm, a woman with eyes of the deepest blue, and heaved. The shell took flight, a rag doll spinning in the air for a moment then two and then another before crashing to the ground in a heap. Jacob pulled the dagger from his side and the drums took up the beat once again, each clash a stab and each lull a death.

For a moment the music slowed. The harp played a sad note and across the street Jacob saw her. The woman who had started the fight, the woman Thanquil knew. Even if he had still had his tongue Jacob would have been struck dumb by the sight of her. She danced to a beat all of her own. Her moves were water and her sword strokes were fire. She was an artist painting in shades of death and all of life was her canvass. For that moment Jacob stood still, awed by her grace and he wanted nothing more than to dance with her. But she was not his partner, she would never be. Jacob was blessed, it was beyond his fate to die and he knew that she was a fight he could not win.

A soldier wielding a pair of knives stepped into Jacob’s view and the music was back, rushing in like a tsunami and Jacob crashed down upon the man. He was a whirlwind of blows each one smashing bone and pulverising flesh. He tossed the soldiers head to the ground and for just a moment the other demons gave pause. Just for a moment.

The Black Thorn

Weren’t much got the blood pumping like a good fight, except maybe a good fuck but it didn’t look like that was in the offing so Betrim was more than happy to take the fight. Truth was it had been a long time since he’d been in a proper scrape like this and no mistake. He was beaten and bloody and his chances looked slim but he’d given better than he’d got and if the bastards really wanted to take him down he’d damned sure take a few more of them with him.

A fat drop of blood ran down from the gash on his forehead, pooled at the end of his scarred nose and dropped to dust. The demons were coming for him before the next drop had chance to form. Four of them and each one armed with a sword. Thee men and a woman and all looked like they had once been soldiers or guards or maybe even bounty hunters like him. He flicked out his left hand and another dagger flew into the throat of the woman. Truth was he was fast running short of pointy objects to throw and they weren’t really having much of an effect, save the obvious distraction of the victim having to remove a length of metal from their body.

He stepped into the first attack, his axe deflecting the sword and then stepped back into the next, giving it similar treatment then ducked around the third of his enemies and took out a chunk of leg with the business end of his axe. When he had first chopped the rune in two he had half expected his weapon to burst into flames but it didn’t, just glowed a little, almost like lantern light on gold only the glow seemed to come from within the blade.

He danced back a few steps, almost tripping over the body of one of his previous opponents. Damned woman stank like a brothel, stale sweat and stale sex and stale blood. Not the most enticing of aromas and no mistake. Truth was there was a time the Black Thorn might have found it appealing. Truth was such times were long past.

The woman was there, leaping at him, short sword glinting in the fire light. Seemed one of the nearby buildings was well and truly ablaze, no doubt Betrim would find himself blamed for that. The Black Thorn laughed as he stepped aside from the blow and planted his axe in the woman’s throat right next to the dagger. Damned near took her head clean off what with the momentum and all. He plucked the sword from her hand as her corpse fell to the ground and readied himself for the next three demons. He didn’t much like playing with swords but sometimes needs must and right now his musts were starting to get real needy.

The three demon-men closed slowly, taking their sweet time. They took so long Betrim almost started to wonder whether their plan was to let him bleed to death. He had a fair few cuts though none of them felt much like threatening his life.

“Don’t tell me I’ve gone an’ got ya all scared,” he rasped out. “Thought it’d take more than the likes of me ta scare a demon.”

One of the men, the one with the big nose, turned his head and then trotted off. The others kept on closing. Betrim tried to keep an eye on them all, hard work given he only had the one of them.

Both remaining demons charged him. He gave a quick thought to the possible outcomes of his first instinct then ignored the advice his brain offered and charged them both right back. He blocked the attack from the right demon with his new sword, then parried the attack from the left demon with his axe. Then he shoved his new sword into the left demon’s face and planted his axe between the eyes of the right demon.

The left demon stumbled away screaming and clawing at the shard of steel sticking out of his its mouth. The right demon toppled, dead and looking every part of it. Betrim bent down, pulled his axe from between the demon’s eyes with a grunt and then launched it at the wounded demon. The blade buried itself in the creatures chest and it went down with a groan and thud. Betrim grinned at his job well done, well aware just how gruesome that made him look and not caring a drop.

Something sharp and painful and more than a little unwelcome found a new home in the meat of his left thigh. Thorn spun around to find a little girl, couldn’t be no more than six years, growling at him. He looked down at his leg.

“A spear? A fuckin’ spear?” he roared. Truth was it would likely have planted itself up his arse but it seemed to be twisted up with his coat. Never before had he been so glad of the over-priced duster. Not that he’d paid for it. Just so happened it was a gift from Rose and he wasn’t overly pleased with the damage.

He took hold of the spear and snapped it with his other hand, wrenched the head out of his leg, an act that required no small amount of not passing out, and pulled the girl close before planting the metallic end of the spear in the top of her skull.

Now Betrim was no stranger to dealing with the dead and he knew that sometimes the usual act of killing a person left them a little more alive than he liked. It was because of this that he wasn’t entirely surprised when the girl dropped to the floor and thrashed around like a fish on land instead of doing the natural thing and expiring. He also knew that his axe would finish off the girl for good and all but it was over there and he was over here and he had a different idea. He stepped on the girl’s thrashing back, raised up a big, metal-shod boot and stamped on her head. It crunched and burst much like a melon might given the same treatment. The girl stopped moving for good and all.

Betrim lifted up his boot, now sticky with red and pink and grey, and took a stumbling step backwards. He’d seen many things in his life and done many more and some of them far worse that that. Still, for some reason he found it a right struggle to keep down his last meal but he managed it. Just.

He looked around for his axe and found it just where he had left it. He wandered over with a speed much like a stroll and pulled it free. “Reckon I might stick ta you in the future,” he said to it with a grin.

It was a strange time to realise but he noticed there was no one else trying to kill him. Nearby he could see a right fight taking place; more demons than he could count were pouring in to take down the Arbiter with the tattoos. Seemed the demon who had cut and run from the Black Thorn was over there too. Something about that felt a little disgruntling. Almost like Betrim Thorn wasn’t scary enough so the demon had to seek death elsewhere. A body flew out from the circle and crunched to the ground and two more demons rushed in to take its place.

He glimpsed the Arbiter then. Jacob was spinning and striking and dodging and blocking and even as Betrim watched he saw two demons jump onto the man’s back and drag him down to the ground. More piled on and more and they all became a writhing mess of flesh and wild, savage attacks.

It didn’t look good for the poor bastard. So many demons and the Arbiter was down and he had no one else to help him. The Black Thorn was perhaps the only one near enough to help. Betrim shrugged and kept scanning the street.

Backed up against a building and keeping each other covered he spotted Henry and Anders. Neither of the two looked to be in a particularly good state and Henry the Red was earning every bit of her name. A whole group of demon-people, looked to be at least seven of them, were prowling nearby, readying to go in for the kill and making something of a game of it. That didn’t hold too well with the Black Thorn.

Kessick was over the other side of the street, directing his minions with frantic gestures and frantic orders. Thorn reckoned he could get a good run at the bastard, he had a few guards, probably the best of his lot, but the Black Thorn didn’t fear a good fight. The decision was made before he had chance to think it through and he wasn’t sure whether he’d pick any different given an age of procrastinating. He readied his axe, set a wild grin to his face, roared out something wordless and full of what most folk would consider anger, and charged to the aid of his crew.

Jezzet

Jez had never lived an easy life. For as long as she could remember she had fought, scrapped, clawed and fucked for every minute of her often painful existence and now was no exception. She blocked, slashed, parried, growled, locked, punched, stabbed, dodged, kicked and screamed for every moment and every moment she became more and more the woman Yuri Vel’urn had told her she would be.

Years and years ago now Jezzet had killed her old master as all Blademasters must, her final test and greatest challenge; to kill the man she had come to trust with her life, the man who had taught her all she knew. It was not a clean kill. She had given him a fatal wound and he had smiled at her and told her. Blademaster I might have been but mine was a wasted life chasing nothing but my own desires and my next treasure but you, Jezzet, you will be great and greater than great. Your name will be… He had died then but Jez had got the idea. She had always thought it folly; the ramblings of an old, dying man but in Sarth when she had shed her fear and her inhibitions she had realised Yuri was right. Only she lacked a purpose.

The Blademasters of old had followed causes, aligned themselves with great kings and queens or fought on the side of rebellion to help those couldn’t help themselves. Jezzet Vel’urn had never had a purpose. At least not until she met Thanquil. She might not believe in his God or his Inquisition but that didn’t matter. She believed in him and that made him her cause.

Jez gained herself a second blade; wasn’t too hard, there were swords a plenty in the street now. She parried an attack with one and took the man’s arm off, just below the elbow, with the other and flowed into her next attack, striking two demons at once. She knew her blades could not kill the creatures but they were a damned sight less dangerous when they had no arms. Or no eyes, Jez, reckon you’re pretty good at taking those out these days.

She whirled away from a wild swing and hamstrung a woman in the process, skipping backwards and glancing around to gain her bearings. At first she had tried for Kessick but that soon became a hopeless endeavour. There were simply too many demon-people protecting him. Now she looked for Thanquil, to help him, to protect him, and just to be near him again.

Close to the burning building she found him. Beset by four demons and looking far the worse for it Jez could see Thanquil struggling towards Kessick, fending off harrying attacks meant to cripple not kill. He was far, maybe too far and there was a small host between them but Jez could feel the fire of battle in her veins and Blademasters were not so easily deterred. Last thing I’d call this is easy, Jez.

She stepped close to a woman-demon and locked its sword with her own only to step away a moment later taking the creature’s hand off at the wrist. Then she turned and started away from them all, away from Thanquil. A quick faint to her right and Jez cut to her left, breaking into a sprint and skirting the chasing demons. A man stepped into her way, big and burly and with more beard than face. Jez leapt at him, brushed his axe away and hit him full in the chest. They both went down rolling in the dust; him scrabbling for purchase, her poking one of her swords in his chest. Easier to leave it there, Jez. She grabbed the dagger sheathed on his belt, pulled it free, flowed back onto her feet and was running again. Her pursuers had gained but she was still ahead and closing in on Thanquil fast. One of the demons brought down a hammer blow on the Arbiter, he blocked but the attack forced him to his knees and another of the creatures closed in from behind. Then Jez caught them.

She barrelled into the demon behind Thanquil at full speed and sent the creature tumbling away. With no time to waste and no sense for safety Jezzet vaulted over Thanquil and kicked the second demon in the face. The Arbiter surged to his feet and turned and he and Jezzet stood back to back, weapons drawn and ready and facing down their enemies. Wasn’t too long before they were surrounded and more than a little outnumbered.

“Good timing,” Thanquil said. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

Jez found herself smiling. “Had to leave it ‘til the last moment. I like to make an entrance.”

He laughed but only for a moment. “I’m sorry, Jez.”

“Eh?”

“For not believing you. About Drake. I’m sorry.”

Jez’s heart gave a flutter. “Now might not be the best moment for this,” she said unable to stop smiling.

“Maybe,” he said slipping something into her hand. It turned out to be a slip of paper and she wasted no time in slicing it in two with her sword which took on a distinctive golden glow. “But I can’t be sure we’ll get another so now will have to do.”

She should have told him then how she felt. She wanted to tell him, wanted to say the words but her throat tightened and refused to give voice to her thoughts so she settled for thinking it instead. I love you.

“I need you to watch my back,” Thanquil said and Jez noticed the demons had backed off a little.

“Always,” she managed to croak.

She felt his back disappear, took it to mean he was walking away and she glanced back at him.

“I can’t be certain how they’ll react,” he said as he took hold of something in his coat and pulled it free. A moment later a whole mess of paper fluttered to the ground behind him. The demons backed away further, giving ground before him, around him. Jez followed slowly, keeping distance and keeping watch, glancing back at him whenever she could. Then she saw what he carried, a sword black as night that looked like it had crawled up out of hell itself. The blade was uneven, jagged and hard to focus on. Looks like a demon, Jez. Looks like a demon blade.

“Thanquil…” she started to say something, not really sure what and not really sure why but it felt like she should give voice to some sort of thought. Kessick interrupted her.

“Now where did you get that, Arbiter Darkheart?”

“Took it from your master’s smoking corpse,” she heard Thanquil say with a voice colder than she’d heard before. “I was thinking of leaving it in yours.”

Silence rushed in to fill the gap, or at least as silent as a battlefield could get where fighting was still very much taking place somewhere nearby. The blazing building to her right decided on that moment to collapse in a gout of flame that quickly set two neighbouring adobes on fire. The demons were closing in behind Thanquil so Jez kept close by, protecting him as she had decided she would.

“I see,” grated Kessick and Jez heard the sing of steel leaving scabbard as he said it. She glanced back to see both men just a few paces from each other and both with swords in hand. Jezzet had done her best to teach Thanquil how to fight but he was far from a master and she was far from certain he could best Kessick but if he had brought that sword here than she supposed he must have a plan and she trusted him enough to believe he could see it through. Of course that didn’t mean she wouldn’t take the chance to give Kessick a good stabbing should the opportunity present itself and she sorely hoped it did.

Jez saw Thanquil move out of the corner of her eye, preparing to strike but Kessick stepped backwards, hand held out in front of him. “Wait! I should wait if I were you, Arbiter. Kill me and Jezzet Vel’urn dies too.”

“What?” Jezzet and Thanquil said in unison.

“Our fates are bound. If I die, so does she…”

Kessick continued but Jez didn’t hear him, didn’t hear anything over the blood rushing in her own ears and the deafening beating of her heart. The charm! She looked down at her left wrist, at the fresh scar along the precise line of the old one. The scar first made to sew an anti-pregnancy charm into her wrist, and she knew what had to be done.

Jez dropped her sword and without so much as a thought drew her dagger across her left wrist. She gasped at the pain and gritted her teeth. Yuri had inflicted far worse injuries on her during her training, she would endure. Not deep enough, Jez. She drew back the dagger and stabbed it into her wrist, the pain driving her to her knees and flooding her eyes with tears so the world became a blurred mess of colour and agony. She cut into the flesh beneath the skin and dug with the point until it hit something solid and she sent a prayer to any God would listen that it wasn’t bone. Throwing down the dagger she thrust her fingers into her open, bleeding wrist and cried out. There, Jez. That’s it! Her fingers brushed the charm and the world went black.

Thanquil

Thanquil opened his eyes to darkness. Only it wasn’t darkness. It was black and it was endless but it wasn’t as though he couldn’t see. He saw his arm stretched out in front of him, he saw Myorzo in his hand and he saw the business end sticking into Kessick’s chest. He also saw Kessick; pale and with a face of confusion and pain but Kessick nonetheless, his own hand still outstretched but no blade present.

Thanquil looked around, glancing first left and then right. He could definitely see but the problem was there was nothing to see.

“Help me,” breathed Kessick softly.

Thanquil turned back to the man. “Why?”

Kessick fixed him with a cold stare. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

A laugh sounded in the nothingness. Loud and heartless and strangely familiar. It echoed around and around until Thanquil could not tell where it came from. Then, from behind Kessick stepped Thanquil’s mirror image.

“Or maybe I was,” said Kessick.

Thanquil’s doppelgänger took two steps until he was between the two and looked at them both. He looked younger than Thanquil but only because he also looked healthier. No black bags under the eyes, no scraggly beard left uncut for too long, no wounds from the fight.

“Help me,” pleaded Kessick.

“Why?” asked Thanquil’s mirror.

“We had a deal!”

Thanquil laughed, the other Thanquil. “Our contract in no way states I must save your life and it is null and void upon your death. Tell me, why would I need you,” the other Thanquil looked at Thanquil, “when I have him.”

Kessick opened his mouth to protest but nothing came out. Like dust on a breeze he simply faded away until there was nothing left.

Thanquil dropped Myorzo and backed away from himself. Glancing around with wild eyes. “Where are we? Am I? Is this the void?”

The other Thanquil looked at him like a wise man might look upon a foolish child only with far less compassion. “Not quite. This is you, Thanquil Darkheart. We’re inside you.”

“And you’re…”

“The demon, Myorzo,” the way the demon spat the word Thanquil was far from certain that was its real name.

Ignoring the irony of the question Thanquil asked it anyway. “Why do you feel so familiar?”

Myorzo smiled. “Because you are me.”

“No!”

“No?”

“That’s not true!”

“Are you sure? Your God has an incarnation. A piece of himself born in mortal form. Are you so sure I can’t do the same.”

Thanquil stared down himself and wondered if his face always looked so smug. “You’re lying.”

A room began to build itself around them. Four walls layered upon each other brick by brick and a roof of straw growing into existence faster and faster until they were inside a building, inside a room. A hearth sprang to life in one of the walls though it provided no heat and a chair grew out of the floor. Part of one wall fell away to reveal a window though no light shone in from outside. Stray straw dropped from the roof and formed into a mattress on the floor in front of the hearth.

“Do you remember this place?” the demon asked.

Thanquil nodded. “This was my home. Before…”

Two figures faded into life on top of the mattress both naked and writhing, thrusting, grunting and groaning in pain and ecstasy. Thanquil’s parents.

“Thane and Isa Fisher,” said the demon in Thanquil’s own voice. “She was barren, you know.”

Thanquil saw his mother claw at his father’s back and gasp. “There a point to this?” he asked himself.

“This was the first time we met,” said Myorzo. “I was here at your conception. They wanted a child so badly and Volmar would not answer their prayers so they called on other powers. And I answered.”

Thanquil grimaced as both his parents shuddered in climax. He turned away from the scene. “And what was the price?”

“You were. Both the price and the payment. I gave them you. I gave them myself.”

He might have struck at the demon had he thought it would do any good.

“It isn’t the only time we’ve met,” continued Myorzo. “Hundreds of times since then I’ve come to you. Keeping an eye on you.”

“How?” Thanquil asked. “You were inside the sword.”

Myorzo laughed. “You think in such small terms. I was there, I was here. I am in many places all at once. Just like your God.”

The demon stepped up beside Thanquil. “Would you like to see what Kessick saw?”

“No.” But it was too late. His old home and his parents faded away and a wall began to build itself beneath his feet. A giant wall. It stretched out as far as the eye could see in both directions and higher and higher it grew with Thanquil and his mirror standing at the top watching the world shrink beneath them.

Figures down below began to move. Hundreds of them. Thousands of them. Tens of thousands. A sea of movement down below. A dead sea. Dead bodies writhed together, surging towards the wall and throwing themselves at it, hacking at it with picks and hammers and arms ending in bloodied stumps. Climbing upon each other in an attempt to reach the top.

“Nothing grows in the land of the dead,” said Myorzo in Thanquil’s ear.

“Nothing lives in the land of the dead.”Thanquil completed the saying.

“You’ve been there, you’ve seen the dead walk.”

“Never seen an army of the dead,” Thanquil mused as at the chaos below him.

“One of many,” said Myorzo. “One of seven and each one bent on flooding the world with death.”

“The Dread Lords…”

“Are returning,” the demon finished for him. “ This is what I showed to Kessick. He saw it and he knew action was needed. He knew your God could not be trusted to help you.”

Again Thanquil turned away from the image. “He was wrong.”

Myorzo stepped in front of Thanquil, his face a picture of rage and Thanquil realised he could look quite scary when angry. “Why do you cling to him?” Myorzo demanded. “Why do you believe in him?”

Thanquil opened his mouth to reply but the demon cut him off.

“Do you even know what your God truly is? Do you know he and I come from the same place?”

Thanquil refused to let anything show on his face but even so the demon smiled at him. “You didn’t. Your God comes from the world you call the void just as I do. We are one and the same he and I.”

Belief was a tricky thing, hard to explain and harder to keep. If anything faith was even trickier. “It doesn’t matter,” Thanquil said to the demon. “Though it does make sense. I believe in Volmar’s teachings, in his ideals and I have faith that his plan for us is the right course. It doesn’t matter to me if he is a God or a demon. It’s him I believe in. Not the word we give to define him.”

“You would defy me?” asked the demon.

Thanquil looked himself in the eye. “Yes.”

The wall vanished into the nothing, fading to black and in front of Thanquil an image of Jezzet appeared. She was on her knees, her eyes flooded with tears and her wrist dripping with blood, her own fingers digging into the wound.

He felt his throat close and choked back his own tears at the image. He had been desperately trying not to think of her. He failed. Hot, wet tears rolled salty tracks down his cheeks and into his beard. “Is she… dead?” he asked.

“Not yet,” the demon walked up to Jezzet and looked at her closely. “Time isn’t exactly on track here. But she’s going to die. In your words; demon magic is the power to change fate. Kessick used that power to change hers, linked it to his own. The moment he dies, so does she. You can’t change that.”

“Oh…”

“But I can,” the demon looked up at Thanquil from behind the image of Jezzet and smiled. “I can stop her from dying.”

Thanquil didn’t bother to wipe the tears from his eyes. “And the price?”

“No different to that I gave to your parents. You. I want your service, your…”

“No,” Thanquil said almost choking on his words. He closed his eyes, forced the tears to stop and when he opened them the image of Jezzet was gone. “No,” he said again.

“Huh…” said his mirror image looking confused for the first time.

Thanquil looked the demon in the eye. “I’m going to give you what you want most, Myorzo. I’m going to set you free.”

The demon stood, watching Thanquil carefully. “You can’t.”

“I can.”

“The chains were forged by Volmar himself. Only he…”

“I am Volmar’s will,” Thanquil all but shouted before he could reign in his emotions. He walked over towards the discarded demon blade and looked down upon it.

“And for that you want the life of Jezzet Vel’urn?”

Thanquil let out a ragged breath. “No. For that I want you to leave. You and all your brethren. I’m going to set you all free, shatter the chains and break the ties that bind you to the Inquisition and in return I want you all to leave this world and never return.”

He knelt down and picked up the demon blade, taking it in both hands and waiting for the demon’s answer. The creature seemed to take forever to decide and when Thanquil turned he found his own face staring at him from only a few paces away.

“I agree to the terms of the contract,” Myorzo said in Thanquil’s voice.

The demon blade shattered.

Thanquil

The demon blade shattered. Kessick, slack-mouthed and vacant-eyed, toppled. Myorzo’s dark presence rushed out of the sword in a black fog. The building behind them burned bright yellow, ash drifting into the air. Thanquil turned from the scene just in time to see Jezzet hit the ground. She didn’t move.

He ran to her, collapsing onto his knees by her body, and slowly reached out to touch her. Her only wound was her bleeding wrist, self inflicted and far from fatal. Thanquil had almost expected to see a stab wound just where he had killed Kessick but there was nothing. She was whole. Her eyes were open wide staring blankly into the sky but the light had already gone. Jez had already gone. There was nothing left but a body.

The world grew blurry again and Thanquil felt the tears come, choked them back and knelt by her. Her clothes were tatty, a mere step above rags, her hair was a mess; longer than she liked it, and she was spotted everywhere with other’s blood. It seemed wrong somehow, not a death deserving of a Blademaster, not a death deserving of Jezzet Vel’urn. She still wore his ring. The little wooden charm he had made for her in Sarth. He remembered the way she liked to play with it, rub at it with her thumb whenever she was nervous.

Thanquil heard voices, close by and raised, and he blocked them out. He shut out the whole world and just knelt by her. A traitorous part of him kept imagining she would suck in a deep breath and sit up and it would all be a cruel final joke played by the demon but she didn’t, no matter how much he watched her, no matter how many tears he shed she didn’t get up.

More shouting. A mote of ash landed on Jezzet’s face just below her left eye marring her skin, covering the small scar she had there. He reached out with a shaky hand and wiped it away but it only smudged, made things worse and her skin felt cold. Thanquil couldn’t help himself, he gave her shoulder a shake. Jezzet’s head lolled to the side but still she didn’t get up.

Something hard and fast hit him in the face, slapped his cheek and stung. He barely felt the pain he was too busy feeling tired and numb.

It came again, tried to hit him again and he caught it. Turned out to be a hand and a wrist connected to a thin, bloody arm with oozing wounds. Thanquil looked up into Henry’s eyes and for just a moment the little woman looked scared, a flicker of fear soon replaced with her more familiar anger. She wrenched free her hand and turned Thanquil away from Jezzet’s body. He didn’t stop her. It wasn’t like any of it mattered any more.

“You an’ Thorn had a deal,” she said to him her fierce face spotted red and brown.

“She’s dead.”

Henry nodded, her face a picture of compassion if not for the permanent sneer created by the scar on her lip. “Thorn’ll be too if ya don’t do somethin’. You had a deal. Kessick’s life fer a pardon. That fucker is dead. Time ya lived up ta your end.”

Thanquil frowned and looked up.

“There,” she pointed and he followed her finger.

The Black Thorn and Jacob Lee were facing each other over a stretch of street crowded with bodies. Thorn held an axe in one hand and his other was cradled against his chest. Blood ran down his face from a cut up on his scalp and he was shouting something. Jacob Lee limped slowly towards Thorn, a dagger sticking from his left leg and three deep gouges cut across his face. It seemed a miracle the wounds had not hit his eyes but both seemed intact.

“Do somethin’,” Henry said to him her voice quiet but strict.

Thanquil nodded slowly and wiped away the tears from his eyes on his coat sleeve. “Look after her,” he said to Henry and pushed himself to his feet.

He crossed the distance to the two slowly, each step an effort greater than the last. His limbs felt leaden. His eyes struggled to focus. His mind screamed at him to go back to Jezzet unless she should wake and he not be there but he forced it to silence. There were bodies everywhere, so many of them, some with wounds, some without. True to it’s word the demon had taken all its brethren with it when it had left. They had vacated the human bodies and left nothing but empty shells behind. Empty shells like Jezzet.

The two were still a fair distance apart; Jacob limping faster with each step and the Black Thorn backing away, screaming at the Templar to stay back. Thanquil put himself between them.

“Stop,” he said his voice barely more than a defeated whisper.

Jacob took another step.

“Stop, Jacob. Please.”

Another step.

“The Black Thorn isn’t to be harmed. I’ve pardoned him.”

Jacob took another step so he was within arms reach of Thanquil and then stopped. Staring down at the smaller man. He shook his head.

Thanquil nodded. “It’s an order, Jacob. The Black Thorn is not to be harmed.” He sniffed and forced back fresh tears. “I’ve already lost too much today. I’m not about to lose the only friend I have left.”

Jacob turned his gaze from Thanquil to the Black Thorn and back again. Then he struck.

Jacob’s hand took Thanquil around the throat and the Templar gasped. Thanquil had been ready for him, he wove together as many curses as he could. A person had five senses and there was a curse for each one, Thanquil used them all and it had just the effect he wanted. For a man so used to having his senses augmented Jacob didn’t know how to function when all of them were taken from him at once. His pupils dilated, his skin prickled and his mouth worked absently. It wouldn’t last for long but it didn’t need to.

Thanquil pulled his pistol from his belt, put the barrel underneath Jacob’s chin and…

BANG!

Jacob’s head snapped back and gore spattered Thanquil in the face. The Templar teetered for a moment and toppled backwards hitting the ground with a dull thud and a puff of dust. Thanquil stood for a moment watching blood leak into the dirt from the hole in Jacob’s head. He dropped his pistol, turned and stumbled back to Jezzet’s body, collapsing onto the ground next to her. She still hadn’t moved.

“She’s dead,” he said again more to himself than to anyone else.

He didn’t know how long he knelt there by her body. It might have been minutes, might have been hours. Pictures and noises passed him by in a blur. At some point someone closed Jezzet’s eyes. Her beautiful brown eyes gone forever.

“Thanquil,” a harsh voice deep and rough.

“She’s dead.”

“Aye,” the voice said and then paused as though admitting such a thing was hard work. “Reckon we should do somethin’ ‘bout that.”

Thanquil looked up at Thorn. He looked sad, his one eye wet despite the dry heat of the street.

“Dunno what your folk do with the dead,” Thorn continued in a thick voice. “Got enough of ‘em lyin’ ‘round here an’ no mistake. Too many fer us to deal with ‘em all so most we’re jus’ gonna leave. Took that bastard’s head off, jus’ ta make sure. Some folk we don’t want comin’ back.”

“Coming back,” Thanquil echoed looking at Jezzet.

“They don’t come back like that, Thanquil,” Thorn said. “But I reckon ya know that.”

Thanquil sniffed. His nose was running.

“We can bury her or we can build a pyre. Reckon this whole town’ll be nowt but ash soon enough. Storm passed us by without so much as a drop.”

Thanquil nodded to Thorn’s words though he barely heard them. “I don’t think she’d want burying,” he said. “All that earth on top of her. Being ash seems more free. Floating on the wind. Though being burned hurts.”

“Reckon I know that jus’ as well as you, might be even a bit better but she ain’t gonna feel it.”

“A pyre then,” Thanquil said. “She’d like that more. I think.”

Thorn moved away and Thanquil went back to his vigil. He wouldn’t leave her alone like this. He couldn’t. He would wait with her until she was gone. All of her gone.

By the time Thorn came back the sky was starting to brighten, a dim light revealing the true horror that had been wrought the night before. Burning buildings, dead bodies and bit’s of bodies and so much blood. The smell was anything but pleasant and the sight was somehow even worse. Jezzet’s body was the worst of all. Her skin was pale and lifeless and she looked so… dead.

He carried her to the pyre and he couldn’t remember her being so heavy. Each step was torture but he endured it. He placed her down on the pile of tinder and arranged her arms and legs, wiped at her face and made the smudging of ash even worse, and pulled strands of her black hair away from her face.

“You wanna?” Thorn said holding a lit torch.

Thanquil nodded and took the torch. He felt he should be crying again but simply didn’t feel like he had anything left. With only a moment’s hesitation he lit the pyre and stood back and waited. Thorn waited with him.

It didn’t take long for the dry wood to catch and the fire to start roaring. It didn’t take long before the flames licked at Jezzet and began to consume her body. Her hair, her clothes, her skin. Thanquil took a step backwards away from the heat but he didn’t look away. Just stared at the funeral of the woman he loved with firelight dancing in his eyes.

“The others…” he said after the pyre collapsed in on itself, Jezzet’s form no longer distinguishable.

“Got ‘em tendin’ ta Suzku as best they can. Everyone’s pretty bad but he’s on… He’s on death’s door. Don’t know if he’ll make it through.”

Thanquil nodded. He was numb all the way through. “So where do we go from here, I wonder,” he said.

“We’ll Double time it back ta Farpoint, might be we can find some sort of healer fer Suzku. From there we’ll make our way ta Chade. Reckon we can find ya a boat back ta Sarth there… If that’s what ya want.”

Thanquil couldn’t have what he wanted. She was gone. He turned to look at his friend, just about the only one he had left. “Let’s go.”

Betrim

Relief, maybe, or happiness, a little bit of nervous anticipation. Those were what the sight of Chade’s walls brought on these days. Betrim had never really called anywhere home, except his family’s ranch back before he’d ran away, but Chade was definitely starting to feel a lot like one. Especially now that Rose was in charge. The very thought of their reunion after a good few months apart threatened to bring a grin to his face so Betrim quickly turned his mind to darker thoughts. Last thing the good folk of Chade needed was to see his ugly face smiling and making it a whole lot worse.

The journey back to the free city from Absolution had been anything but enjoyable. Truth is it was about a month of long days, long faces and short tempers. Ben and Rilly had been waiting for them back at Farpoint. They had bitched and moaned about wanting to make certain the Arbiter was dead but Betrim assured them nobody came back from a death like that. A hole through the head, followed by decapitation and finally cremation. The story of his demise had done wonders to endear the two to Thanquil some as well.

Henry and Anders, both beaten and bloody, recovered quick enough though Henry’s loss of ear gave her a slightly ghoulish appearance, that and she wouldn’t stop picking at the scab. Her arms would bear some nasty scars for the rest of her days but there weren’t a member in the crew didn’t have a few scars. Anders came out of Absolution surprisingly well off. The blooded drunk had made a habit of picking up permanent injuries wherever he went, and he was happy to talk about them all day long, but this time he was for the most part unharmed. He seemed a touch more focused too though still a raging alcoholic and a right pain in the arse when sober.

Suzku was a worry and no mistake. The Honin wouldn’t talk about his fight other than to say the old man had been a Haarin from his old clan and that there would be more of them. Truth was he was damned lucky Henry had been so determined to look for him. Took a lot of bandages and a little bit of Thanquil’s magic to keep the bastard alive but survive he did and he looked like he might make a full recovery in time. He was already back to his daily morning training sessions. Betrim reckoned he’d never seen Henry so worried about another person as she was about Suzku and though they’d make a damned strange pair, a pair he reckoned they’d make.

Most of Betrim’s own concern was taken up worrying about Thanquil. His friend switched between morose and catatonic. He would sit astride his horse for days on end saying nothing and showing not even the least bit of emotion. Then they’d hit a town and he’d match Anders drink for drink, a fool’s errand that Betrim reckoned was fairly close to suicide. More than once he’d had to drag the unconscious Arbiter away from a tavern.

Betrim had seen it before many a time. Some folk got so consumed by grief they just switched off, stopped caring. It was almost as though they had nothing left any more and Thanquil was very close to fitting into that category. In Betrim’s experience folk either came around and snapped out of it one day or got themselves killed pretty quick. He hoped, and would have prayed if he had believed in any of the Gods, that his friend did not fall into the latter.

The sun was just about beginning to show itself when they set eyes on the walls of Chade and it was low and dim by the time they reached the gate of the Old Town quarter. Wasn’t but a year ago the city was a war zone, gangs of armed thugs on the streets and the good folk locking themselves indoors and hoping no one came for them. Things had changed a little since then and most of that was thanks to the city’s new magistrate, Rose.

The walls were scrubbed of filth and patched up where needed so the whole city looked new from the outside. The gates had been replaced, all three of them, with hard wood from the Red Forest banded by steel and new machines of war Betrim couldn’t name were being built atop the walls. Rose claimed they were precautionary measures to ward against the threat of attack but Betrim had developed a good ear for when that woman was lying. He just didn’t care enough about the subject to press her for the truth.

Rose had been steadily replacing the guards as well. Those that now manned the walls, patrolled the streets and dolled out the justice were no longer the thugs and mercenaries usually seen in the wilds, they were soldiers; well-trained and well-disciplined and loyal only to the new magistrate. For a few months the city gaol had been full and then some but these days Chade was probably the most lawful place in all the wilds. The change sat well with Betrim’s own change in profession though at times left his crew a little short on work but the life of a bounty hunter meant lots of travel so travel they did. Still seemed a little strange to Betrim at times that, as far as he knew, in all the history of the wilds never had there been a bigger bounty than his and now he hunted folk for the theirs.

As they walked their weary horses up to the gate a few of the soldiers on duty came close. They checked in with most folk as they entered these days but once they realised who the crew was they waved them all through with winks and, in one case, an applause. Betrim wasn’t sure what he’d done to earn a clapping but he wasn’t about to turn one down, he’d certainly received far colder welcomes in his time.

The streets were as clean as he’d left them and about as busy with folk too. The light of the morning might be dim but it was enough to work by and plenty of people agreed. The Old Town quarter, famous for being the poor quarter of Chade, no longer looked like the run-down collection of hovels it had until recently been. New houses, built of stone and not wood, were springing up all over and carpenters and masons were already hard at work to meet the demand.

A number of people started trailing the crew as they walked their horses along the dusty streets. Rose had plans to turn the old quarter to hobbled roads but seemed that was one improvement she hadn’t managed to make a reality just yet.

“This doesn’t seem normal,” Thanquil said looking up and around and mostly at the folk following them.

Henry snorted. “Ya might be surprised, Arbiter. Thorn here is a hero didn’t ya know?”

Betrim sighed. “Reckon they’ve heard yet?”

“Words are air and the wind travels fast in the wilds,” Suzku said still wincing with every step his horse made.

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Anders agreed. “You have a wonderful way with words, my good man.”

“Fancy way o’ sayin’ yes if ya ask me,” Rilly said with a sneer that reminded Betrim uncomfortably of the woman Henry had once been. The little woman was far less scary than she wanted to be though.

“A hero…” Thanquil said. Betrim had noticed the Arbiter had gone back to being careful not to ask questions. It was a change he approved of.

“Best ya don’t ask,” Betrim rasped. “Most of it ain’t exactly true anyways.”

“I ever tell you how Chade is one of my six cities?” asked Six-Cities Ben.

Henry spat. “Any of us ever ask?”

“No.”

“Reckon there might be a reason fer that?”

Ben grinned, seemed they were all in good humour to be back in Chade. “Suit yourselves.”

“Get yaselves ta the Bastard’s End. Reckon we’ve earned a bit of rest. I’ll go check in with the magistrate,” Betrim said already steering his horse away.

“Give her a check in from me,” called Ben from behind.

“My people told me a hero had arrived in my fair city and now I see they were right,” Rose said gliding out of her chair and over to Betrim. She was wearing a red silk dress that showed off plenty of cleavage. Already Betrim was imagining how easy it would be to get her out of the garment.

“Seems a right strange time when a man like me can be called a hero. Weren’t but a short ways back same folk were callin’ me somethin’ a damn sight worse.”

Rose stepped into his arms and tilted her head back. She smelled of flowers and fruit and it got his pulse to racing being so close to her. He leaned down a little and kissed her and she kissed him right back. Betrim also thought it was a strange time that a man like him might be able to call a woman like Rose his wife, not that most folk knew it.

Rose let out a rumbling purring noise from her throat and pulled away a little, resting her head on Betrim’s chest. “But you are a hero. You killed H’ost before he could unleash that army of his on the wilds.”

“I was there fer a fact,” Betrim argued. “Also got the blame fer slaughtering half the bloody city.”

“You waltzed into Sarth, killed an Inquisitor and came back from the dead to return here to us.”

“Don’t reckon I’ve ever done any waltzing in my life an’ I didn’t kill no Inquisitors either. Jus’ got myself good an’ stabbed by an evil Arbiter an’ lost a perfectly good eye in the process then got nursed back ta health an’ ran away the first chance I got.”

“Mhm,” Rose mumbled. “One man’s rubbish is another’s treasure. You freed the slaves in Solantis and started a rebellion.”

“Funny how slaves ain’t exactly free everywhere I tread ain’t it? An’ rebellions ain’t usually well received by most. Lots of good folk die in rebellions.”

“Lots of good folk die every day. Rebellions are exciting. You killed my brother, the tyrant of Chade and freed the people from his evil machinations.”

Betrim couldn’t even spell machinations and he certainly didn’t know what it meant. “Reckon my part in his death was motivated by less than honourable purposes.”

“The why is less important than the act. And now, just recently, you have killed the kidnapper Kessick and raised his city to the ground.”

“They pinnin’ this on me too are they?” he asked. Seemed the majority of the Black Thorn’s recent accolades belonged to others, most of them Thanquil, and yet he was the one bearing the weight of the consequences.

“People from all over are calling you the Guardian of the Wilds.”

Betrim growled. “That your doin’?”

“Yes,” she smiled up at him and he found he couldn’t blame her, not when she looked so damned beautiful. “The blooded are terrified you’ll come for them next. The outlaws run and hide at the mere mention of your name and the law folk are all worried in case you go back to your old ways.”

“Right,” said Thorn. “Heroes meant ta get everyone shittin’ themselves are they?”

She nuzzled into his chest. “Sometimes. This time.” She started absently picking at the laces to his trousers and truth was he didn’t feel much like stopping her. It had been a while and then some and her desk was looking like a right fine place for a proper reunion.

“Did Jezzet kill him?” she asked. “Kessick.”

Even wrapped in a distracting concoction of her perfume and his desire the oddness of the question made it through the haze and struck him as more than a little odd. He gripped her by the shoulders and pushed her away, held her at arm’s length. “How do ya know ‘bout Jezzet?”

Rose looked up at him and frowned. “I delivered her to Kessick,” she said slowly.

“At Drake’s order?” he could feel some of that desire being replaced by anger. It would not be the first time they had argued about Drake, wouldn’t be the first time it had come to blows either though Betrim had never once hit her back.

“At his request.”

“Drake don’t make requests.”

“And I don’t take orders.”

Betrim let Rose go and turned away, stalked over to the window and gave it his very best one-eyed glare. “Jezzet was a friend of mine.”

Rose didn’t say anything for a while. Letting Betrim simmer a little, he reckoned.

“I’m sorry, Betrim. I liked her…”

“Reckon I need a favour,” he interrupted her. “Need ya ta organise a boat ta Sarth soon as ya can. Fastest one ya can find.”

He felt her hand at his back and she stepped into view beside him. Damned woman could move silent as a ghost when she wanted. “I’m sorry. Didn’t realise you’d want to flee all the way to Sarth.”

He looked down at her. “Ain’t fer me. Reckon it might be best we get Thanquil on a boat soon as possible. He finds out ya had anythin’ ta do with Jez’s death an’ I reckon he might try ta kill ya. Not sure I could stop him.”

A smile played at the corner of her mouth. “Are you protecting me?”

Betrim took a deep breath and sighed it out. “Well I promised to didn’t I?”

She took his hand then, so small but with a grip like iron when she wanted it, and he let her lead him over to the desk.

Betrim stood looking at the Road Well-Travelled with Thanquil beside him. The Arbiter had used his time back in civilisation well. He had shaved off his mess of a beard, bought some new clothing and even given his coat a clean. Truth was he was starting to look more like a witch hunter and less like a drunken beggar. Still had that haunted look about him though, almost like he could see her ghost everywhere he went.

“Two days,” Thanquil said. “Anyone would think you wanted rid of me, Thorn.”

“Ya could stay,” Betrim suggested already knowing the answer. “Bloody useful person ta have in a crew, I reckon. All ya gotta do is trade huntin’ heretics fer outlaws.”

Thanquil gave Betrim a humourless smile. “Thanks.”

“Had ta make the offer.” Ya goin’ back ta the Inquisition?”

Thanquil nodded and went back to watching the sailors load the sleek, little ship. “My actions have consequences and I have to face them.”

Betrim took his turn to nod. “What’ll they do ta ya?”

“Well I killed an Inquisitor and they slapped me on the wrist so now I’ve crippled their lines of communication for all time… I expect they’ll promote me.”

Betrim laughed. “Reckon you’ll ever make it back here?”

He saw Thanquil’s head drop. “I hope not.”

“Well if ya do, drop in, say hello.”

“Thank you, Thorn.”

The sailors finished loading the cargo and the captain waved down at them, eager to leave but ordered to stay until the Arbiter was ready.

“Good luck, eh?”

Thanquil nodded and started towards the ship. He stopped after a few paces and glanced backwards. “If you see Drake Morrass… Tell him to run.”

Betrim smiled sheepishly and nodded. He watched his friend board the little vessel. Part of him hoped he would see the man again and part of him was scared he might.

The Arbiter

The imperial palace of the God Emperor of Sarth looked smaller than Thanquil remembered, smaller and dimmer but then he shouldn’t be surprised; the whole world seemed a dimmer place these days.

His journey back to Sarth had been mostly uneventful; no pirates, no monstrous sea serpents, one very wet storm. They made good time. He reported to the Inquisition straight away and the council of Inquisitors wasted no time in demanding his accounting. Two months after their communications with all their Arbiters had been cut and still they were left wondering why. So Thanquil made his report and made no apologies and spared no one the truth. The Grand Inquisitor himself did not seem best pleased upon learning of the involvement of his son in delivering the demon blade to Thanquil. Still, the Inquisitors did not kill him, nor torture him, nor confine him; they did, however, order him not to leave Sarth until their judgement on the consequences of his actions be decided.

It was just two days after his arrival in the city of sun the God Emperor sent for him. A familiar-looking young man with a full, and very neatly trimmed, beard came looking for Thanquil and this time he did not look like he was willing to wait while Thanquil bathed. Not that Thanquil cared about making himself more presentable.

The palace still gleamed but the light seemed to have gone out of it. The corridors were no less ostentatious than before but Thanquil barely noticed the finery. The armoured guards watched him with wary eyes, full of suspicion as was their job, and he ignored them all with equal measure. Even the God Emperor’s meeting chamber seemed a smaller place. Even the God Emperor himself seemed smaller, less the titan that Thanquil remembered and more a man like any other.

“Thank you for coming, Arbiter Darkheart,” the God Emperor said as Thanquil entered and the bearded young man left, closing the door behind him.

Thanquil glanced around the austere room with it’s redundant fireplace, marble floors and row upon row of bookshelves. No guards, he noticed. Here the God Emperor felt safe.

“I didn’t really feel like I had much of a choice,” Thanquil said walking over to the emperor’s desk of runes, flicking a few aside and blatantly pocketing a rune of judgement.

“You of all people have choice, Arbiter Darkheart.”

Thanquil snorted out a laugh. “You know about that?”

“I have heard about your report. No need to repeat it.”

For that Thanquil was glad, he had repeated his story far too many times in the past two days and the end was still much like a knife in his chest. It had taken him a long time to admit to himself that he had sacrificed Jezzet’s life for the Inquisition and admitting it to others always brought the pain right back.

“I wasn’t intending to do so.”

“I should thank you,” the God Emperor of Sarth said in earnest, a warm smile on his handsome features. His short blond hair and trimmed blond goatee framed his face perfectly.

“Go ahead.”

“Thank you.”

Thanquil glared at the man. “Suddenly it all seems worth it.”

“Careful, Arbiter Darkheart.” The God Emperor adopted a stern expression. “My good will only extends so far.”

Thanquil always had had a habit of pushing people’s good will to its limits. “What will the Inquisition do now?” he asked.

The God Emperor’s face softened again. “We will cope. Volmar never intended the chains to be permanent but it was the only way he could find to control the demons.”

“What are you?” Thanquil asked.

“You’ve asked that before. It doesn’t matter what I am, only what you believe…”

“I’ve accepted you’re Volmar reborn. The demon told me you come from the void.”

“Ah,” grunted the God Emperor. “I am not Volmar only… a part of him. His avatar on this world.”

“And that isn’t an answer to my question,” Thanquil said unrelenting.

The God Emperor took a deep breath and stood, he towered over Thanquil even more so than most folk but it took more than a man wearing big boots to intimidate him. “Volmar does come from the void.”

“So he’s a demon?”

“No,” said the God Emperor. “He is something else.”

“And you’re a part of him?”

“Yes.”

Thanquil wasn’t certain whether that made it more or less likely that he was part of Myorzo. He was even less certain that he wanted to know one way or the other.

“The demon showed me the same thing he showed to Kessick,” Thanquil said. “An image of an army of the dead. The Dread Lords rising and sweeping across the world like a plague. The demon said it was coming soon.”

The God Emperor was silent for a while. He looked to be mulling over the information. “Demons lie, Arbiter Darkheart. They will often spin half truths in order to convince people to sign their contracts. But… I will have the claim looked into. Just in case.

“But this is the reason the Inquisition was created; to safeguard against the return of the Dread Lords. If they do return we will be ready.”

Thanquil nodded but he was far from convinced. “I need to call in a favour,” he said.

The God Emperor frowned. “You presume to think I owe you a favour?”

“I presume to think you owe me more than one,” Thanquil said back quickly.

The God Emperor looked far from impressed.

“I want you to pardon the Black Thorn,” Thanquil said. “The Inquisition sent a Templar to kill him. He is no heretic. He helped me kill Heron and he helped me kill Kessick. He has done more of a service to the Inquisition than most Arbiters and I promised him a pardon for his past crimes. I can’t deliver on that promise but you can.”

The God Emperor nodded. “Done. I half expected you to demand a pardon for yourself.”

Thanquil snorted. “All I’ve done, I’ve done at your request, in your service. Do I need a pardon for carrying out Volmar’s will?”

Silence erupted into the room. Once Thanquil might have felt awkward, might have sweated and shook and looked about for something to steal. Now he found he just didn’t care. The Inquisition would do with him what they would and there was no sense in worrying about it. He wasn’t even certain he deserved a pardon. He wasn’t even certain he wanted one.

“Go,” the God Emperor ordered. “We will speak again soon.”

Thanquil turned. “I can’t wait,” he mumbled and started for the doors stopping just as he reached out to open them.

“Inquisitor Vance told me I have no future. He said it was almost as if I existed outside of fate. The demon told me that the power to change fate is demon magic.” He looked back at the God Emperor. “Who did this to me? The demon or Volmar?”

“Does it matter?” the God Emperor asked.

“Yes.”

The God Emperor was silent for a while. “I cannot answer for what the demon may or may not have done but I can tell you Volmar is no demon. He does not have the power to rip someone out of fate’s path.”

Without another word Thanquil pushed open the door and walked out. He found Inquisitor Hironous Vance waiting for him. The man was as neat as ever, immaculate white coat over pressed brown robes and his handsome face an expressionless mask.

“Arbiter Darkheart,” the Inquisitor said.

“Vance,” Thanquil said right back.

The Inquisitor cleared his throat. If the nearby guards found Thanquil’s lack of respect amusing they did not show it.

“The council have made their decision,” Inquisitor Vance announced.

“And they send you to deliver my verdict?”

“They were undecided about how you should be dealt with. I convinced them.”

Thanquil said nothing, just stared a hole through the man.

“The Inquisition is… worried there may be more… insidious elements within its ranks,” Inquisitor Vance said. “You are perhaps the one Arbiter beyond suspicion. Your loyalty is unquestionable.”

Thanquil couldn’t stop the frown appearing on his face. If the demon was telling the truth his loyalty was anything but unquestionable.

“They are placing you in the sole position of hunting down these insidious elements. You will report directly to the God Emperor and to myself.”

Thanquil found his mouth was open and no sound was coming out.

“Not the verdict you were expecting?” the Inquisitor asked.

“Uh…”

“I understand with your recent loss you may want some time to… recover.”

That snapped Thanquil’s mind back into focus. Brought the pain right back as well. “What do know about what I’ve lost?”

The Inquisitor frowned at the dark tone of Thanquil’s voice. “Take your time to come to terms with it, Arbiter. When you’re ready, I have a task for you.”

“What is it you want me to do, Vance?” Thanquil asked.

“If you need to wait…”

The last thing Thanquil felt he needed to do was wait. If the Inquisition wanted him to hunt down his fellow Arbiters then so be it. He’d do their dirty work for them.

“What is it you want me to do, Inquisitor Vance?”

Epilogue

Making port in Sarth had always been danger for Drake. The Fortune would be boarded and probably scuttled on sight and he had a price on his head that almost made it worth turning himself in. Sometimes, however, needs must and he had an important meeting to make. So here he was in Sarth, in the holy empire of Sarth. Not many folk knew it was also the kingdom and city of his birth and that was, for the most part, because he had killed nearly all those that did know it.

The Bearded Muscle was a dimly lit, strong smelling, beer stained tavern of no small ill repute but damn if they didn’t serve some of the best ale he’d ever tasted. He sat with his feet up on the table in the centre of the room, rocking back on his chair’s hind legs and sipping at the wonderful beverage. There were no other customers in today. The tavern was closed. His own men stood guard outside and two sat with the owner of the tavern down in the cellar. He was alone and thoroughly enjoying his drink.

He was forced to congratulate himself on his latest endeavour. Not only had he helped to facilitate a change in the ruling system of an entire empire but, in what was the most complex plan he had ever woven together, he had done exactly as he had been asked. He had killed Kessick, installed a new influential hero in the wilds, consolidated his own power in no less than three of the largest cities in the wilds and saved the Inquisition in the process. He may have done none of the actual leg work but it had all been his plan. His only regret in the whole situation was the death of Jezzet Vel’urn. He had liked the woman, truth be told, but more than that he had really wanted to get between her legs. Sometimes everything did not go his way, not often but from time to time.

He took another sip and stretched out his arms as though to embrace the entire, empty, tavern. Of course he hadn’t actually planned it all himself, not this time. The Oracle had their own fair share of responsibility in this one not that they’d ever own up to it. Drake worked behind the scenes, manipulating folk to carry out his will and the Oracle advised. Drake had long ago discovered it was bloody useful having an Oracle on your side. Knowing the future was a good way to stack the deck and Drake never played without being certain of winning.

The door opened and in walked the Oracle. Drake grinned, took his big boots off the table and rocked the chair onto all four feet. He stood, repositioned his sabre and pulled his blue patchwork coat into position. Appearances were a big part of the reputation and he had one hell of a reputation to maintain.

The Oracle looked at Drake and broke into a smile. “Good to see you again, brother.” He pulled his own white coat into position.

“Aye, usually is,” Drake said. He crossed the room in three long strides and embraced his younger sibling. “Good to see you too, Inquisitor.”

“You have another one of those,” Hironous Vance asked pointing to the mug of beer.

“Aye, behind the bar.”

Hironous collected the mug and sat down with Drake at the table in the centre of the room. “Everything went as planned, I hear.”

Drake grinned. “Just about. Ya could have told me about Jezzet.”

Hironous shrugged. “Fate is a tricky thing where Arbiter Darkheart is involved.”

“I hear he doesn’t like me much.”

“I’d stay out of his way if I were you. Regardless I have him busy for now.”

Drake took a big swig and leaned forward. “Right then. Done what ya wanted. Inquisition saved. Council scared of their own bloody shadows.”

“Indeed. It won’t be long before I can start rebuilding the council with my own people.”

Drake ran a hand through his hair and leaned back on his chair. “Reckon it might be time we get to my part of the deal then.”

Hironous nodded. “The pirates.”

Drake grinned, his single golden tooth glinting in the dim tavern light. “Aye.”