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.”
