The Heresy Within (53 page)

“I've had a feeling of late I was being followed. Never thought it would turn out to be the Black Thorn,” Kessick said in a cool, emotionless voice.

Betrim might have grinned but he already knew how much that would hurt with a broken jaw. “'Ookin' 'a 'ake it 'even,” he managed with a lot of wincing.

The Black Thorn was a good foot taller than Kessick; he had the reach and the weight advantage and was armed. He started forwards.

“I don't think I'm a random target,” Kessick said, still standing over the body of the dead boy. “Someone sent you. Was it Arbiter Darkheart?”

That made Betrim pause. He might have asked a question himself but his jaw didn't feel up to it.

“Yes. I think it was. I had heard he was back. He was the one that killed H'ost wasn't he? And the woman, the one who told me H'ost was dead, also one of his?”

The Black Thorn didn't like how much this Arbiter seemed to know. He loosened his grip on his axe a little and charged.

Kessick didn't move, he just waited while Betrim charged him, waited as the axe fell towards his skull. At the last moment the Arbiter moved with inhuman speed, grabbing hold of the Black Thorn's wrist and twisting with such force that Betrim roared in pain despite the broken jaw. The axe clattered to the floor and Betrim received a heavy push in the back that sent him stumbling over the dead body on the floor.

“I wasn't finished, Black Thorn,” Kessick said in a reproachful tone. “So you and the woman are working for Arbiter Darkheart. Are there any more or is it just the three of you?”

Betrim made no move, nor did he answer, just stared at the Arbiter in mute anger.

“Yes. Just the three of you. Not the most dangerous force ever assembled. So if you're here to kill me... He sent the woman to kill Kosh didn't he? You do know about Kosh? Yes. I think you do.”

It didn't make sense to Betrim. He wasn't answering any of Kessick's questions but the man seemed to know the truth anyway. His axe was on the floor at the Arbiter's feet. He drew the dagger; the blade Thanquil had given him as payment, ‘
enchanted
’ he said. Might be that was just what was needed to kill the bastard.

“So that would mean Arbiter Darkheart himself has gone to confront Inquisitor Heron,” Kessick concluded. “I wonder if she'll kill him or if he'll join us.”

Betrim whipped his left hand out and a throwing knife flew at Kessick. The Arbiter made no move to dodge and the knife buried itself in his left leg. The Black Thorn was only a second behind the knife, his enchanted dagger whipped at Kessick three times. The first Kessick ducked, the second cut a scratch into his arm but the third the Arbiter caught.

Kessick had hold of Betrim's right hand, the dagger tip just inches from the Arbiter's heart. The Black Thorn punched at the man's face with his three fingered left hand but Kessick didn't even flinch. Betrim thrust his head towards the man face. A hand shot up and grabbed the Black Thorn by the throat. Squeezing, choking him.

Arbiter Kessick twisted Betrim's right hand around until the dagger was between them. The bastard was so damned strong the Black Thorn couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

“That's a very nice dagger,” Kessick said, his voice as flat and cold as his eyes. Then his hand was gone from Betrim's throat and the blade was gone from Betrim's hand. The Black Thorn felt the dagger go in and out, in and out, in and out, in...

Kessick let go and Betrim stumbled backwards, tripped over the body at his feet and hit the floor hard, his head cracked against the stone and his vision went white again. It cleared into a fuzzy haze and Thorn looked at his chest. Blood was seeping into his leathers, the dagger stood up, proud and silver but it didn't hurt. Fact was he didn't feel much, just... numb.

Thorn coughed and felt blood on his face. He was staring at the sky, at the stars, at the moon, at the endless black above him. Then Kessick was there, standing over him, looking down at him in the same way he had looked at the boy, the boy he'd killed... or had Betrim killed him. It was getting hard to remember.

The Black Thorn coughed again and tried to move, tried to get away from the Arbiter but his limbs were so heavy, they just twitched at his commands. “Fuck.” Betrim tried to say but all that came out was a cough and more blood.

“You are an impressive man, Black Thorn. To still be clinging to life after that. Most would just die, give up, but not you. You like living, don't you? Yes. Yes, you do. Pity really. I'm wondering though, just how much pain will it take before the Black Thorn does give up?”

The last thing Betrim saw was Kessick's fingers reaching into his eye socket.

On the ship, during the voyage to Sarth, Jezzet had beaten the hell out of Thanquil every day with a blunted sword and every day he had gone to bed wondering if it was an exercise in futility. Now, though, he was glad and more than glad that he'd gone through the ordeal. Thanquil was certain Inquisitor Heron would have cut him in two more than once if Jez hadn't been training him.

He blocked a savage downward cut, stepped back and then stepped forwards again, closing the distance between himself and the Inquisitor. Their blades met with a hiss of steel on steel and a shower of sparks. Two enchanted swords each driven by the augmented strength of a blessing seemed to make for an impressive display. Thanquil just wished he wasn't the one fighting so he could have enjoyed the spectacle.

The Inquisitor wrenched both swords to the side then slapped Thanquil in the face. Something stuck to his cheek, something small and paper; a charm. Thanquil found he couldn't remember the words to any of the blessings. He tore the charm away with a stinging scrape but too late the words come back. Inquisitor Heron was already upon him; her speed inhuman, her strength overpowering. He blocked as best he could but her blows sent him reeling first one way then the other. He started whispering the blessings again and they were back on level footing. Although Thanquil's actual footing appeared to be in a flowerbed full of red and white roses.

Inquisitor Heron whispered something to her sword and then drove the point into the earth below their feet. Thanquil readied himself for the effect. Magic could do many things; Thanquil had seen it make the earth shake, he had forced the sky to open up and rain, he'd seen apparitions and illusions and he'd seen fire burst into life from nothing. What he'd never seen was plants bending to a person's will.

Something thin and wiry crawled up his ankle and held fast, sharp points poking into his skin. The flowers beneath him had coiled their way around his legs, holding him. He tried to free himself but the plants seemed unusually strong and then the Inquisitor was there and her sword was flying towards him.

Thanquil barely had time to think; he reversed his own sword and thrust it downwards towards his right leg. Hot, wet pain sprang forth on his ankle but he was free. He stepped into the Inquisitor's attack with his free leg, twisting his other ankle. Her sword skimmed his left side, opening a shallow wound near his ribs but he was inside her guard. A crazy thought sprang into Thanquil's mind, '
What would the Black Thorn do?
He would butt the woman with his head
' and so that's what Thanquil did.

Inquisitor Heron staggered backwards with a scream of pain and put a hand to her face, blood dripped between her fingers onto the earth below. Blood dipped from her blade as well but that was Thanquil's. He put a hand to his side where her sword had scored him, it hurt like hell but it wasn't too serious, at least not for now. His ankle, however, was more serious; it screamed as he tried to put weight on it and Thanquil found himself wishing he knew more about medicinal charms.

He cut away the remaining plants restraining him and limped towards the Inquisitor. She was staring at the blood in her hand, as she looked up at Thanquil he could see her nose was bent, broken, her small mouth and delicate, pointed chin were stained red, her eyes held all the fury of a raging fire. If Thanquil hadn't been trying to kill her he would have liked very much to run away from those eyes.

The Inquisitor dug a hand into a pocket of her coat and pulled out a small chip of wood. She snapped it between thumb and fingers and threw the two pieces of wood at Thanquil. He crouched down ready to spring into action and waited. Nothing happened. Slowly he shifted his weight from his bad ankle to his good one, breathing heavily from the tension. Sucking air into his lungs and out like a bellows.

Inquisitor Heron pointed her long, black, serrated sword at Thanquil and he wheezed in a breath, waiting for the rune to take effect. The way the light caught her sword made it look as if the colouring on the surface of the metal was shifting, moving. A swirling darkness within the blade. She charged.

Thanquil sucked in another breath, panicking. There was no air; he was suffocating out in the open. He dropped to one knee, gasping. His limbs felt so heavy, so slow, almost like the whole world was pressing in around him, on top of him, crushing him.

The Inquisitor's first swing sent Thanquil's sword spinning out of his hand into the darkness of the night, her second almost took off his left arm but he managed to stumble backwards just in time, not fast enough to stop a new cut opening. Her third attack would have skewered him but Thanquil stepped around it and close to her again. He put both hands on her chest and with his last breath whispered a blessing of strength and pushed. The Inquisitor flew away from him into the unnatural darkness waiting behind. Thanquil stumbled backwards, looking for his sword. There in the distance he saw a glint of light on metal and crawled towards it, when he'd fallen to his hands and knees he wasn't sure.

All of a sudden he could breathe again. Cool, crisp air rushed into his lungs making him cough and sputter but he was glad of it. Life flooded back into his limbs. The world no longer closed in around him, crushing him. He looked back at the rune on the earth behind him, powerful magic and far beyond his own capabilities. He had the sinking feeling he was over-matched in this fight. Still he crawled over to his sword and stood, blade in hand ready to face the Inquisitor's next attack.

She was nowhere to be seen. Darkness closed in thick around the Arbiter and he glanced first one way then the other but the Inquisitor seemed to be nowhere. He looked up, thick black-grey clouds had gathered, arraying themselves above to shut out all light and even the hanging lanterns only seemed to illuminate small patches of the darkness.

“I'm disappointed, Thanquil.” The voice echoed from behind him. Thanquil spun around and squinted into the darkness but saw nothing. He whispered a blessing of sight and there she was, no more than twenty paces away staring at him as if the darkness was as bright as a summer’s day. A sad smile graced her face but it only made her look like a ghoul with the crimson mask of blood running from her nose.

“They told me you excelled with runes and charms and blessings but here you are falling for child's tricks and relying on brute force.” Her voice floated out of the darkness at him.

Thanquil might have laughed at her calling that rune a child's trick. He hadn't even known it was possible to do such a thing. He wasn't even sure what it had done but he'd be damned if he was falling for it a second time.

He was preparing for an attack of his own when he noticed the chip out of his sword. An enchanted blade with a charm that should mean the edge never dulled, the blade would never break but there it was; a small chip of metal missing.

“What in Volmar's name is your sword made from?” Thanquil called out.

Inquisitor Heron laughed a warm, merry sound that might have made Thanquil smile had the two of them not been trying to kill each other. “You've noticed that have you?”

A knife flew out of the darkness towards Thanquil. He raised his sword to deflect it away and broke the paper rune wrapped around the knife. Before he knew it both his sword and his entire right arm had burst into flame.

With a yell Thanquil dropped his sword and fell backwards. He started rolling on the ground, trying to put the fire out but succeeded only in lighting more of his coat on fire. He struggled out of the burning leather and scrambled away. His right hand was a mass of pain, red-black skin and blood and blisters so Thanquil scooped up his sword in his left and stood, trying to find the Inquisitor in the darkness. He glanced back at his coat once, still burning away. All his carefully prepared charms and runes were in the pockets of that coat. All of his runes!

He lurched into a sprint, not caring where he ran as long as it was away from the coat.

BOOM!

The world turned upside down and inside out as the explosive runes inside the coat activated all at once. Thanquil found himself rolling to a stop on the grassy earth, his eyes wet with tears from the pain in his hand. Smoke and dust filled the air, bits of earth and mud rained down from above and his ears were a cacophony of ringing. The Arbiter tried pushing himself to his feet but his left leg collapsed under him, a small circle of metal embedded in the flesh of his calf. It took him a moment to realise it was one of the buttons from his coat. He pushed himself to his feet again, this time putting most of his weight on his right leg and looked around for the Inquisitor.

Where he had run from was a giant, burning crater in the earth, bright from the flames. Not ten paces from the crater Thanquil saw the Inquisitor. She was limping towards him with eyes full of fury. The left side of her face was blackened and bloody, her hair was all but gone; burned away by the explosion. Her left ear was missing; nothing more than a bloody, burnt stump of flesh. Blood ran down her left arm and dripped onto the earth, soaking into the soil. She may have been caught in the blast but Thanquil could tell she was far from finished and the look in her eyes told him she was done playing with him.

Thanquil raised his sword, ready to fight. The blade was spotted black from where the fire had engulfed it and it looked near as battered as he did. His left leg still couldn't support his weight but he couldn't risk ripping the button out.