The First Stain

by Dakota Rayne et al.

  Kurt pulled apart the white robe covering his body. Ancient scars painted a violent tableau across his pale chest. How many times had he sacrificed himself in service to Cre’?

  A memory flashed across his mind’s eye—

  Everything hurts, but I aim my pistol at Bellum’s heart, and pull the trigger—

  Kurt tasted the memory, nodding appreciatively. He’d spent centuries hunting Bellum, but had never successfully purified the demonic eugenicist. More memories, some his own, others not, fluttered through his disorientation. Kurt pored through them before searching for the soul he—

  Kurt stumbled, righting himself. A voice thundered to the surface. Demanding, confused.

  Ah yes; the body he had linked with. His son’s.

  The hell’s going on? Where am I?

  “There you are, Pax,” he said. “You’re inside your body . . . which is inside mine.” Kurt would do his best to ease Pax into their symbiotic relationship, but this part never went well despite all the practice he had.

  Who are you? The voice in Kurt’s head was a shout, echoing off the worn canyons of his mind.

  “My name’s Kurt. I’m your father. Thought that was made rather clear when we spoke in the Conventus.”

  Liar!

  Kurt was astonished to see his right arm splinter into two, a ghostly hand reaching for his throat. He mentally flexed, willing Pax’s body back inside his own before his son could throttle him.

  It usually took a great deal of time for a new Judge to physically manifest oneself, but Pax was already learning to walk before he could crawl.

  He sensed Pax’s incredulity, though it treaded waters of terror. What’ve ye done to me?

  Kurt sighed. “First off: ‘ye done to me’? By the Chain, Pax. I was hoping your mother would have done a better job of guiding your vernacular than that.”

  Eat shit, dandy! And never talk about my Ma like that.

  Kurt understood the protectiveness. She’d been important to him as well. “I’m sorry, Son.”

  And never call me that! If you are who you say you are, then you abandoned us. Just let me outta here so I can kick your ass proper-like.

  “Would that I could . . . Pax,” Kurt said. “But we’re linked now, bodies and souls.”

  The hell we are. Pax’s body burst forth from Kurt and spun to look at his jailer. The man claiming to be his father did somewhat resemble Pax, though he bore a haggard yoke that bowed the man’s every feature. Pax looked down at himself to see that he was wearing his typical duster, hat, and other weathered clothing. Everything minus his weapons. He looked into Kurt’s weathered eyes, then swung a fist at his face—

  And missed as his hand went clean through. Pax’s forward momentum threw him back inside the man’s body.

  Kurt patted his chest. “Crawl first, Pax, then we can walk together.”

  His son started cursing again, but was interrupted by a red-hot light emanating from a nearby corpse. Mastus!

  Kurt felt grief shatter Pax’s soul. It hurt him too; that his own son felt more for this man than his own father, but he couldn’t blame Pax. Kurt had been too busy being dead to be there for his family. The best he could manage was to hide his wife and son in a corner of Cre’ furthest from the Inquisition and the Judges Nil had corrupted. Clearly his best hadn’t been good enough.

  That what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?

  “I haven’t slept for a long time, Pax.” Kurt looked about himself. Judging by the vaguely familiar yet slightly-altered tabards of noble Houses, new weapons of war, and architectural trends he’d anticipated, Kurt had been gone for a few decades. “I’ve had nothing but time to regret what I did to you and your mother. I loved my wife very much. And you.”

  You can claim sorrow all you want, but you're still imprisoning me.

  “Not imprisoned, no. Augmented. Made stronger, faster. Quicker to heal, yes. But all for the greater good, Pax”

  You can take that Inquisitorial propaganda and shove it. Now take me to Mastus.

  Kurt walked the few steps it took to stand over the corpse lying face up. The Arch-Inquisitor had a rictus grip on a searing loop of chain. Kurt spared his old friend a weak smile. He remembered Mastus’ remarkable understanding of causal analysis when he was but a mere Initiate, and how he’d lost that eye as an Inquisitor. As Arch-Inquisitor, he’d made the ultimate sacrifice in order to send Pax into the Conventus—corrupted as it was by Nil—to find and rescue Kurt.

  Mastus dangled me in that fresh hell like bait on a lure, didn’t he?

  Kurt’s smile faded. “He did, yes.” But that was Mastus through and through—he never let anything go to waste. “Pax, I know you have many questions. But for now, I need you to prepare yourself.”

  For what? You already left me to rot, and I nearly died saving you from a sea of nightmares. What else could you do to make my life any worse?

  So he was starting to think of Kurt as his father? That was a start. “Not what I’m going to do to you, Pax. To us. Get used to sharing the metaphysical burden from hereon.”

  Just let me out of here! I didn't ask for any of this, and I sure as shit don’t trust you with whatever it is you got planned.

  Kurt winced at Pax’s words as he crouched before Mastus’ body. This wasn’t the first time he’d had this kind of conversation with a newly-linked Judge, but Pax’s words were cutting right to the quick. He did his best to ignore the man’s continued accusations as he pried open Mastus’ fingers. Kurt could feel the heat rising off each link of chain in the dead man’s hand before even touching them. Pax’s tirade tapered away, sensing Kurt’s apprehension.

  What’re you doing?

  Bracing himself, Kurt hissed as he clutched the burning symbol of the Inquisition and placed it around his neck, gasping as the red-hot links of chain branded his chest.

  Both men screamed in tandem.

  “Nil’s left tit!” Kurt clenched his teeth against a pain he’d endured more times than he could recall.

  Pax wailed on, the physical pain amplified by his confusion.

  Pax didn’t deserve to be visited by any of his father’s sins, but here he was, taking over another of his progeny. All for the greater good. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

  A shudder washed over Kurt as the searing chains settled deeper into his raw flesh. “This chain, it’s a reminder: my pain is yours. Your suffering, mine. We are linked unto death.” He exhaled, the heat lessening, but still hot enough to remind Kurt it was there.

  Then I choose death! Better than being stuck with you the rest of my life.

  “If either of us dies, we both go back to the red sea. To what the Conventus has become since Nil poisoned it.”

  Kurt could sense the bitterness washing over Pax as he spoke. Chased you across Cre’ thinking it was my call to make. Hell, even learned to let you go after a time, be my own man. Turns out I never had any choice in the matter. Both you and Mastus saw to that. Now you’re saying I die, I go back to whatever the Conventus has become?

  “Yes, yes that’s correct. Though it wasn’t always that way. Long ago, the Conventus had been a place where all your blood relations . . .” Kurt cleared his throat, “a place where your extended family and I could slumber when not serving as Judges.”

  Family? An uncomfortable silence stretched out. Kurt knew what question came next. How many families have you left behind?

  “It’s complicated, Pax,” Kurt said. “Just know that I’ve made generations of mistakes.”

  Call me a mistake again and I’ll put a fucking bullet in our brain, Kurt. We’ll drown in that damnable sea, and I’ll be smilin’ all the way down.

  “It’s not like that.” Kurt sighed. “Pax, the Conventus is where many of your ancestors reside. A few are my children, their children, and so on. But a Judge can only bond with the soul and body of a blood relative. Judges were summoned from the Conventus for millennia; fighting, dying, and in between it all. . . having families of thei
r own.

  “It was encouraged, matter of fact. The Inquisition would take in and train a Judges’ most promising offspring so that when they fell, the Inquisition could choose a strong and capable blood relative for the subsequent Judge to link with.” Kurt had come to despise the cannibalistic ways of the Conventus, but knew there was no other way to keep Nil at bay. He just wished he hadn’t smothered his fellow Judges through sheer force of will time and again to return in their stead. He’d been ruthlessly controlling for centuries now and he knew it. “Something must have changed in my absence. Something Mastus kept from you and I both.”

  All those years ago, when he came to White Well. That was no coincidence. What Bellum said to me . . .

  Images of a young boy—Tamlin—flashed through Kurt’s mind. In a matter of moments, Kurt sifted through Pax’s entire life with practiced ease, arriving back at the current moment. “Bellum was a deceiver of the highest order, but in this case, he was telling you the truth. Tamlin was of our blood. I can trace his lineage based on appearance alone. But that doesn’t matter now.”

  Kurt took a moment to consider Tamlin’s demise. So this was how far Nil’s influence had spread? No wonder Mastus had sought Pax out; all the Judges’ known progeny were being assassinated one by one. Taking Kurt’s remaining son into the Inquisition was the only way to protect one of the final links to the Judges from breaking. And if the Judges disappeared entirely, Nil would subsume Cre’ without resistance.

  Kurt looked at Mastus once more. The man had been playing the long game this entire time. “He must have tracked you down somehow. I’m sorry, Pax. I thought I could fix things all on my own. . . . That I wouldn’t have need of you in the years to come, so I tried to hide you from the Inquisition. I refused to deliver you to the slaughter once I realized what the Conventus had become.”

  Then what happened to the Judges and the Conventus? We were always told it was a place of peace, where the Judges rested until summoned.

  Kurt winced as he adjusted the chain, blanching at the smell of singed chest hair. “It was. At least, that was until Nil corrupted it.” Something, an oppressive wind, blew from out of nowhere, its foul weight causing Kurt’s thoughts to slow, as though he were being sucked back into the sea he’d only just escaped.

  It’s Nil. She’s coming isn’t She?

  “No, not Nil. Not yet,” Kurt said. “Her servants. You’ve already met one of them.”

  The leviathan that tried to swallow me back in the Conventus.

  “Yes, well, that ‘leviathan’ you’re referring to is my daughter. My first daughter, and your ancient sister.” The vile winds withered, returning the monastery to its stale benchmark. “Pax, listen. There will be time for accusations and explanations later on. For now, however, we need to be about our business, and soon.”

  No sooner than Kurt had spoken, an ornate set of double doors in the recesses of the monastery burst forth. A woman clad in the robes of an Arch-Inquisitor led a procession of white-robed acolytes toward Kurt. Imperious, she marched around the altar and throne to stand before him; the former Arch-Inquisitor’s body lay between the two. “Inquisitor Kurt.”

  He gave a slight bow. “Arch-Inquisitor—”

  D’Nai.

  “D’Nai,” Kurt finished. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  She nodded. “Good. Pax is with you. The chain linking both Judges is intact.” She took a moment to consider the husk of a man on the floor. “As was his wish, I am to finish the ritual Mastus began,” D’Nai said, voice cracking. She recovered quickly. “We begin immediately.”

  The Arch-Inquisitor gestured for her acolytes to acquire the relics atop the altar. “Get them their tools.” The acolytes obliged, ascending the shallow steps leading to the relics, making symbolic gestures as each appropriated their assigned item. It appeared little had changed in Kurt’s absence. A thought as comforting as it was disconcerting.

  Tell her to get me outta here! Mastus was an Arch-Inquisitor. If he could shove me into your body, she can get me out.

  Kurt winced as he readjusted the chain. “Bonded body and soul, Pax.”

  What gives you the right, huh? What gives you the right to smother me just so you can come back and fuck things up all over again? Think you’re going to make a difference, that just because Daddy’s back—

  “Silence!” Kurt’s voice echoed off the walls of the monastery. “We get ready for what’s coming. If we survive, you and I can have words. Until then, listen to me, dammit! I’m trying to save your life, believe it or not.” Kurt ignored the looks from D’Nai and her ilk. He exhaled, steadying himself. He’d survived in the Conventus for those last few tortuous decades. He wouldn’t falter now. “We must hurry if we're to save the Judges . . . and Nil.”

  What’d you just say?

  D’Nai took a step toward Kurt. “Watch your tongue, Judge. This may be my first day on the job, but I’ll not have heresy uttered in my presence.”

  Kurt ignored the Arch-Inquisitor, considering instead what was worth telling his son, but realized it was only a matter of time before he discovered the lies the Inquisition had hidden even from itself. “It’s time you heard the truth, Pax.” Kurt looked at D’Nai. “All of you. Roughly four thousand years ago, my daughter, Valia, and I were missionaries for the Order of Sol; an order dedicated to the worship of Nil. The goddess of light. We were far to the north of Cre’ in a land so cold that the moisture in the air would freeze and fall to the ground in wonderful geometries. The locals called it snow.

  “One day, as we were traveling between villages clinging to polytheistic deities the Order wished to see replaced, we were assaulted by what would later be called a demon. The first demon, in fact. All missionaries in the Order of Sol were trained for combat as the locals in some areas were quite hostile toward our claims that all gods were but a manifestation of Nil.”

  Kurt recalled how terrified he’d been that day. How the demon’s skin steamed as each snowflake came into contact with it. “Valia and I slayed the demon—by the skin of our teeth, mind you—and collected ourselves as best we could, trying to reconcile what we’d just endured. It was then that She spoke. Nil, She spoke directly to us. Claimed that we would be the first of Her Judges, and that we were to ensure that the Order of Sol was prepared for what She claimed was coming.”

  Pax’s astonishment mirrored the look on D’Nai’s face. “That’s enough, Kurt!”

  Kurt disregarded D’Nai’s command. A Judge had greater authority than that of an Arch-Inquisitor. He’d written that law himself. “You ever wonder why there’s no god to protect Cre’? Why, despite all the pagans’ prayers, no god of light has come to ward off the misery swallowing our world?” Kurt spoke louder, uncaring if the acolytes heard him, “Nil was our goddess of light. She was the one we prayed and gave thanks to. The goddess the people of Cre’ have been hoping for never left. You just don’t realize how much she’s changed.” Or, Kurt considered, how warped the things we believe in can become over time.

  Pax didn’t respond right away. Neither did anyone in the monastery. She’s gone dark though. Why would Nil leave us?

  Kurt touched the chain hanging around his neck. “Life is cyclical, Pax. All things come, and they go. Light gives way to dark, and then to light once more. Nil is the same, as She is a reflection of life’s revolutionary nature. She knew Her light was waning, that the darkness She’d held back for so long was on the ascendent. Nil’s last gift to us was the Judges; warriors capable of keeping Her darkness from swallowing the world She loved so much. It was Nil who created the Conventus; a place of refuge and respite. A place supposedly free from the cancer consuming Her.”

  “This is apostasy, Kurt.”

  “No, D’Nai. This is our history. One that has been censured from the annals of the Inquisition. We Judges saw to that ourselves. We couldn’t let the common people that inherited such a dark future know that it was a product of Nil’s auto-defilement.” Kurt sighed. “There were purges, of c
ourse. Those that refused to believe She had left us in the dark. We instituted reeducation camps, utilized torture and execution to make examples of those who refused to accept the new order of things. But we could no longer call ourselves the Order of Sol. To do so felt wrong. It was then that we founded the Inquisition.

  “The purges continued. But many left voluntarily, seeking out and dwelling within the Terminator that had begun to strangle the world. The Inquisition labelled them zealots, and began referring to them as the ‘Cultists of Nil.’” Kurt shook his head. “They’ve prayed to their dark goddess ever since. Prayed that Nil bless them with Her light once more, enduring Her shadow all the while. They’ve become a twisted thing in the centuries since their inception, but perhaps they have the right of it?” Kurt looked at a romanticized painting along the wall depicting the Inquisition’s endless war against demons, darkness, and the like. “I’ve spent thousands of years trying to find a way to bring Her back to the light, and at such great cost to my fellow Judges. To my family.”

  “Enough.” D’Nai took a deep breath, exhaling. “We’ll sort the truth from your lies later.”

  Kurt nodded, but spoke softly. “Once there is time, D’Nai, read the documents Mastus has left in your care. All will be made clear then.”

  She ignored him, a scowl cemented on her face as she beckoned the acolytes forth. “Let’s be on with this. Time is short.”

  Father’s a Judge. Inquisition doesn’t know its shit from its oatmeal, and Nil was the goddess of light. Why should I fight any longer? What’s left to fight for?

  “Pax, I’ve seen what’s in your heart. I know you’ve lost your faith in the Inquisition, but there is still hope. The Judges who’ve been corrupted, they can be saved, but I can’t do it alone. Fight alongside me. We can bring them back from the darkness. I know you have no reason to trust me, and I deserve that, but I swear to you, they can be saved.” Kurt paused, whispering beneath his breath, “We can reverse what Nil’s become as well. I know of a way, but I need your help. I can’t do this alone. Please, Pax, trust me. Just this once.”