by Rob J. Hayes
Jezzet glanced around her to make sure no one was coming for her. How did he know?
“There's another one too. Uh... another woman... armed I mean. There'sh lots of women. She's very, very tall.”
Just then Jezzet heard a bang. It was muffled but it sounded all too familiar to her ears. A moment later a guard burst through the door Thanquil had used just a short while back. He looked around the ball room with panicked eyes. Jezzet noticed the music had stopped, as had all the chatter.
“There's an Arbiter upstairs fighting the Black Thorn!”
Fuck! Now would be the time for that distraction he needed, Jez.
A murmur ran through the crowd of gathered fancy folk and guards started moving towards the door.
“An Arbiter ish here?” She heard Anders say.
Think, Jez. A distraction...
“The Arbiter arrived with a woman didn't he?”
“She was around here somewhere.”
“A pretty little thing. I talked to her.”
“She was wearing a blue dress I think.”
Anders looked at her. “Your dressh ish blue.”
“That's her there.”
“By the window.”
“Guards! Over there.”
“JEZZET!” Jez knew that voice anywhere. Masculine but also feminine. She caught a glimpse of Constance towering above the crowd, pushing her way through.
“That'sh her. The tall one.”
Jezzet found herself calm despite the weight of so many pairs of eyes, despite the angry giant of a woman bearing down on her wanting her head, despite the guards watching, wondering whether they should make a grab for her.
“I'm sorry, Anders,” Jez said and despite the dangerous feeling she got off him she found she meant it.
“Wha...” Jezzet grabbed hold off his suit by both hands and pushed him backwards hard. His feet stumbled as he tried to keep himself upright but Jez kept pushing and then she threw her whole weight against him.
There was a loud crash as the window shattered and then they were out in open air and falling, falling, falling. Jezzet held onto Anders and held herself close.
His body hit the floor with an unhealthy, sickening thud. Jezzet rolled off the man and gasped for air. It had been a good twenty foot drop and even with a soft body to take the impact it had winded her.
A face appeared at the window above her. A large, red, angry face. Constance roared at Jezzet in fury and for a moment Jez thought the bitch would follow her out the window but she thought better of it. It was a miracle Jez survived and she was about half the size of Constance.
“I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, WHORE!” Constance screamed out the window but Jezzet was already running, or trying to. Her dress caught in her legs and she stumbled.
With no regard for the finery of the fabric Jezzet ripped through the bottom half of the dress to free her legs and drew her sword from the strapping on her right thigh. She risked a glance back towards the body of Anders. He wasn't moving, didn't look to be breathing but he was bleeding and it didn't surprise her.
Best distraction I could do, Thanquil and it only cost one life. Good luck.
Jez ran; she had no idea where she was running to but she ran all the same. Gravel path, green hedge and stone wall all passed by her in a blurry haze but she didn't slow even for a moment. Two guards stepped out in front of her, didn't look to be after her, just out on patrol.
The first man died before his sword was out of its scabbard. A deep red rend of flesh where his face used to be. The second man drew his sword and slashed at her in one motion. Jezzet caught the blade on her own and, with an easy flick of her wrist, her blade was inside the man's guard. She stepped forward and thrust at the same time and her sword went straight through the man's neck. She pulled it free with a spray of blood that soaked into the remnants of her blue dress and then she started running again.
A Blademaster never wounds, he used to say, always kills. Never leave an enemy alive, don't give them chance for revenge. Strange for that thought to pop into her head now but Jezzet knew why. She'd made that mistake with Constance. This entire misadventure had happened because she left Constance alive, wounded but alive.
Jezzet pulled up, panting from the exertion of running. The estate was huge, she felt like she'd been running for an age. She could hear shouts from behind her somewhere, from inside the manor, from everywhere. She looked around.
Thirty foot walls on every side. How the fuck do I get out? Damned Arbiter didn't tell me this part of his fucking plan.
In the distance she saw a figure sprint across a small section of grass and then disappear into the ground. When the figure didn't reappear Jezzet knew what she'd seen. A tunnel!
She was right, a tunnel. Her last chance of surviving this death-trap. She just had to hope it led out and whoever had gone in first wasn't waiting for her.
Jezzet jumped into the hole. Her stupid sandals lost purchase and she went down onto her hands and knees in the dark. Then the smell hit her and she fought to stop herself from retching.
Great. Another fucking sewer!
The Arbiter
By the time Thanquil stumbled through the door to the old warehouse he was bleeding from a dozen different places. He was sure most were only small cuts but the stab wound on his leg given to him by the Black Thorn did not feel so minor. Neither did the nick taken out of his left ear for that matter, never had he known a wound to hurt so much.
Thanquil had given worse than he had received but it turned out fighting somewhere close to twenty well-armed guardsmen was as difficult as it sounded. He'd injured at least six of them and killed two. It was unfortunate but unavoidable.
After the fighting he'd fled and discovered that running away on an injured leg with a host of guards chasing you was about as difficult as that sounded. Thanquil had run chanting a mixture of speed and endurance blessings and he thanked Volmar he was able to do so. Mixing blessings was difficult, only one in fifty Arbiters ever mastered the skill and he was glad he'd taken the time and made the effort.
Now his chanting had finished though and Thanquil found himself weak, beyond tired, bloodied and in pain, angry and more than a little confused. Why had the Black Thorn killed Lord Colth and why the hell could he not have waited another hour so Thanquil could have interrogated the fat Lord first.
He stumbled, tried to catch himself on one of the old crates and went straight through the rotten wood. He found himself sprawled on the floor amidst a pile of splinters and something that smelled like it might have been alive once. His breathing was heavy and he was contemplating passing out but even as his eyes began to close Thanquil knew he didn't have time for sleep. There were too many things to do, not least of which was getting out of the city before the guard caught up to him. He was certain his position as an Arbiter of the Inquisition wouldn't save him if the remaining council members decided he was responsible for Colth's gruesome death.
Reaching into his coat pocket Thanquil pulled out a small wad of papers and leafed through until he found the correct one. Each slip of paper had a different symbol on it; each charm had a different effect. Thanquil bared his left arm and slapped the paper onto his skin, it stuck there as if glued and he knew it would hurt like hell when it came time to tear it off, taking with it all the hairs beneath it.
His eyes snapped open and his vision cleared a little. The sleepless charm was a dangerous one if used for too long. A person could die of exhaustion easily enough and there were other perils; prolonged use had been known to cause a variety of symptoms including hallucinations.
Struggling to his feet Thanquil limped towards the crate where he'd stowed his pack. He reached inside, pulled out the heavy sack and dumped it on the dusty floor along with his coat and the brown shirt he'd been wearing, now stained with red blood.
From his pack he pulled a rough-spun wool tunic, his leathers and the small stash of medical supplies; little more than some ointment and a few bandages. He'd never been too compe
tent at the medical studies part of his training. Thanquil set about dressing his wounds. His leg first, he cleaned the angry flesh and then wrapped the bandage around his trousers. Then his left arm where he'd taken two small cuts, followed by his right where he'd taken another. His ear he cleaned as best he could but left un-bandaged, it would do for now. He pulled the tunic over his head and sat down, resting for a short time. There was one other thing he needed to do, something unpleasant and something he had to do alone.
“Jezzet,” Thanquil called out. There was no answer. “Jezzet, are you here?” Still no answer. Good.
Thanquil pulled the box with the ink pot from his bag and a blank chip of wood. Paper wouldn't do for this rune, it couldn't hold enough power. He drew the correct symbols onto the chip with painstaking accuracy. Three runes; one for each of the seals Volmar used. When he was done he stowed the ink pot back in his pack, stood up and paused. Such an inscription was draining and combined with the loss of blood his head felt too light, his vision swam in front of his eyes. If not for the sleepless charm Thanquil knew he'd have passed out then.
He waited until his vision cleared, took a deep breath and hesitated. It wasn't that he was scared. Arbiter Thanquil Darkheart was scared of a number of things but this was not one of them. It was just... making contact with the void was ever a harrowing experience. The creatures there were not meant to be seen by human eyes, heard with human ears.
Thanquil snapped the chip of wood in half and dropped both pieces. Both were consumed in a low blue fire, one either side of Thanquil.
Chade was a hot place and the warehouse was no exception but it started to grow cold, icy almost. Thanquil could see his breath misting in front of his face, could feel the bumps rippling across his skin. It grew darker too, the warehouse had not been well lit but light from the moon shone in through holes in the roof, only not any more. An unnatural dark descended upon the interior of the building.
Then came the clinking of chains. Thanquil had never seen the chains but he heard them every time. They sounded great heavy things of thick metal, and he knew they were, but of what metal he could not say. Volmar had never shared the secrets of how he bound them.
The face appeared out of the darkness or formed from the darkness, he wasn't sure which. It was a vast thing almost as big as Thanquil himself. It was hard to see but he could just about make it out. A darker patch of darkness among the black, it almost looked as if it absorbed the light around it. Two dots of yellow flame flickered to life in that face as the thing opened its eyes and looked upon Thanquil. When it opened its mouth it drew in a deep breath, possibly its first breath in this realm for thousands of years, and the room grew colder still as it sucked the very warmth from the world. Here was a thing not meant for this world. Here was a demon.
Thanquil stood his ground and wiped away the cold sweat from his forehead. Every time the face of the demon moved the rattling of chains accompanied it. Thanquil stared at the monster, it was the biggest he'd ever seen, most appeared to be almost human in size but this one... With a face so big Thanquil couldn't imagine how big the body might be.
“Arbiter Darkheart,” the demon said, its voice felt like ants in Thanquil's veins and he had the sudden urge to tear his own ears from his head. A shudder ran through him starting at the top of his head and ending in his feet.
“I have a message for the Grand Inquisitor,” Thanquil shouted into the roaring darkness.
“Of course,” the demon replied, its inhuman voice dripping with poisonous scorn, “we serve, as always.”
Thousands of years ago Volmar had bound the demons from the void, bound them to serve the Inquisition. Nobody knew how he did it, it was a secret the God took to his grave but the binding still stood firm. The demons still served, though grudgingly.
“I have interrogated the prisoner. She is a witch.” Thanquil spoke his message.
“Are you sure?” the demon asked. It made Thanquil pause. No demon had ever asked him a question before; they were bound to serve not to question.
“She is a witch!” Thanquil insisted. The demon did not reply, its great yellow eyes flickered at him, its mouth took another cold breath and Thanquil shivered. “The council of Chade allowed her to escape before I could carry out my judgement. I will pursue the witch into the wilds, find her and purge her.”
The demon let forth a cruel noise that sounded something like laughter. “Is there anything else, Arbiter Darkheart?”
Thanquil thought about telling the Inquisition about the ball, telling them that he was being hunted for the murder of one of the council, telling them that he was falsely accused. He knew they wouldn't care though. They would expect him to clean up his own mess.
“No,” he said into the face of the demon.
“Good,” it replied, its eyes burning brighter for a moment then the face seemed to turn, the great flaming eyes saw something in the room Thanquil did not. “You are watched, Arbiter.”
As the giant face faded into the darkness with another sickening laugh, the light returned to the warehouse and Thanquil heard the noise. A quiet scrambling that he might have dismissed as a rat but the demon had known better. Thanquil started towards the noise and it turned into a crash as one of the crates collapsed under the weight of whoever it was.
It was going for the exit. Thanquil limped over towards the door as fast as he could even as he heard more scrambling and another crash. A small figure darted out from between two old crates and made for the door at a sprint. Thanquil reached out and grabbed the child by the clothing on their back and dragged them away before throwing them against a barrel.
The child was a boy, no more than nine years old by Thanquil's guess. He looked afraid and more than afraid as he pushed his back up against a barrel shaking all over, eyes wide and dark and fearful.
“I didn't see nothin'. Nothin'. Jus' let me go, please. I won't tell nobody ya 'ere. I didn't see nothin'.”
Thanquil stared at the cringing boy with his knees drawn up to his chest and his watery eyes looking around for an escape route. He wore little more than rags; his hair was long, uncut and dirty. His teeth stunted and crooked and his hands were covered in grime. This boy was one of the homeless for sure. Somehow he'd managed to evade the slavers all this time, an impressive feat. A boy like this would not be predisposed towards telling the truth. With a sigh Thanquil knew what he had to do.
“What did you see, boy?” Thanquil asked. He hated asking questions.
“You was talkin' ta somethin'. Somethin' dark with fire fer eyes.” The boy clasped a hand over his mouth and started weeping. It wouldn't help him, it couldn't. Not now. Nothing could help him.
The poor lad had unfortunately stumbled onto the Inquisition's dirty secret and the worst thing about it was that it was Thanquil's fault. He should have checked the warehouse more thoroughly before summoning the demon. It was his fault but the boy had to pay the price.
“I'm sorry,” Thanquil said to the boy. He pulled his metal ball thrower from his belt, cocked the hammer, levelled the barrel at the boy's head and pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The BladeMaster
Can't say I expected that. Jez thought as she stared at the Arbiter. Thanquil was stood over the body, his ball shooting device forgotten in his hand. His coat was discarded on the floor and he wore a pale tunic with fresh blood stains in a couple of places. Even from behind he looked tired, shaky, resigned.
You probably look worse yourself, Jez. At least he doesn't look and smell like he just crawled through a sewer... again.
She walked up behind the Arbiter on silent feet. He didn't look surprised when she appeared at his side. Didn't look much of anything apart from tired and sick. She looked down at the boy amidst the ruin of an old barrel. Definitely dead. They don't get much deader.
Arbiter Thanquil Darkheart dropped the device he'd used to kill the boy and stumbled away to collapse against a beam of wood close to his back pack. He looked like he might be throwing up
pretty soon, or crying, or both. She wouldn't blame him for that but Jezzet had long ago stopped getting so worked up over killing, life in the wilds did that to you.
“Reckon he probably deserved it,” Jezzet said as she bent over to pick up the Arbiter's killing device and deposited it over by his pack.
The Arbiter let out a noise somewhere between a snort and a sob. “He didn't.”
“Oh.” Was all Jezzet could think to say in reply.
The Arbiter seemed to notice her for the first time. “Did you... see...”
“I arrived late it seems. Saw you shoot a boy in the face. Don't know why. Not sure I want to know.”
“You look...” the Arbiter started to say and then stopped. “You made it out.”
Jezzet nodded. “Just about. Whatever you did in there caused a mighty ruckus. Found a sewer entrance. Hence the...” She pointed at her once blue dress. It was ripped in more places than she cared to count, spattered with blood and covered with waste. Her hands, feet and knees looked little better. Scraped in places, covered in shit in others.
Jez pulled her own pack from its hiding spot and dragged it over to the water barrel. She pulled the remains of the blue dress over her head and discarded it on the floor. Her sandals were long since lost down in the sewer. She pulled off her undergarments; they were soiled beyond saving as well. Funny how crawling through a sewer tends to cover you in shit. I think I should stay away from them in the future.
Jezzet knew the Arbiter was watching but she didn't care. Truth was she liked it. People had been watching her all night when she looked pretty but this one watched her even now, naked and covered in shit.
How long has it been, Jez? Weeks? Months? By all the Gods I'd like a good fuck. So what if he'd just killed a boy. Jez had fucked people who had done worse. She'd done worse herself. After the night she'd had she needed it and she was pretty sure he did too. It'd get his mind off the boy, off whatever happened at the ball. We both need it.
