The Heresy Within

by Rob J. Hayes

  Thanquil heard the Black Thorn spit from somewhere behind him. “Don't reckon that's like ta happen. Reckon I'll let Big Mouth kill ya.”

  Turning his head Thanquil gave the Black Thorn a withering look. The big, scarred man stared back impassively. One hand rested on his axe but he was making no move to use it. Jezzet was nowhere to be seen. Thanquil let out a sigh.

  Big Mouth laughed. “We'll be taking you too, Black Thorn. Bounty on each of ya.”

  “Oh,” the Black Thorn said and took a couple of steps forward so he was standing next to Thanquil. “Reckon that's wise? Three on three makes for even odds.”

  “Way I see it, your witch hunter's not worth one. What are you doing crewing with one of them anyways?”

  The Black Thorn glanced at Thanquil and then back to Big Mouth. “Ya know, I've been askin' myself the same question.”

  “I don't see Jezzet,” Thanquil said in a quiet voice, not much more than a whisper.

  “Aye,” the Black Thorn responded. “Gone with Swift ta fetch the magistrate. Reckon someone's been paid off. Don't see any guards about. Where's Bones?”

  “Your Boss sent him to find Henry. What about the youth that was with you.”

  “Green? Fuck I thought he was with you. Weren't in the whore house. Any chance we can pay ya off, Big Mouth?”

  “Sure. Ya worth five thousand a piece, you an' the witch hunter both. Reckon you can afford that?”

  The Black Thorn glanced down at Thanquil again. Thanquil could only laugh in response.

  “Don't suppose ya take an I owe you?” the Black Thorn shouted back.

  Big Mouth laughed and the Grinner next to him just grinned some more. The sun was just beginning to poke over the top of the small stone houses that surrounded them. Thanquil could hear the Boss fighting somewhere to his right but he dared not look, he knew his own fight would continue any moment. Truth was all he wanted was to finish his night's sleep.

  Thanquil had been sound asleep when the Boss had burst into his room in the inn. Jezzet had sprung from the bed with sword drawn before Thanquil had even opened his eyes. All the big southerner had said was, 'Time ta go. Hunters on us.' Jezzet had cursed and started looking for her boots while Thanquil had rolled from the bed and pulled his coat on not understanding what was happening.

  “How'd ya find us anyways, Big Mouth?” the Black Thorn called. It occurred to Thanquil he might be delaying the fighting, stalling for time, and giving the others a chance to arrive.

  “Chance. Luck. Just got back from Eagles' Nest. My fixer told me about a bounty on yourself an' the witch hunter, just so happens he also told me you was in town.”

  “News travels fast. I was hopin' we might have beaten the bounty notices.”

  Big Mouth laughed again, a loud abrasive noise that a drowning cat would have taken offence at. “Notices went out on birds, Black Thorn. Every hunter between here and Rockies is looking for ya. Lucky for me, I'm the one that found you.”

  “Lucky?” the Black Thorn rasped out his own laugh. “Seems ta me ya used to travel with sturdier lads. Who's that one beside ya? What's ya name boy? Chuckles?”

  “Fuck you, my names...”

  “An' where's the Saint?” the Black Thorn interrupted the Grinner.

  “Oh he's around, Black Thorn, don't you worry. Went ta look for you as it happens.”

  The Black Thorn spat. “That'd make him the lucky one then.” He looked down at Thanquil again. “I got Big Mouth, you take Chuckles. Feel free ta get yaself killed.”

  Thanquil almost spat himself. The Black Thorn unhooked his axe from his belt with his right hand and a dagger appeared in the left hand, he stole a quick glance at the Boss, gestured to Big Mouth and then stalked forwards. A few moments later the two met with the all too familiar sound of metal clashing against metal.

  Then the Grinner was there in front of Thanquil with his wide grin filling his face. It was an unpleasant sight given that man had thick moist lips, an ugly boil jutting out from his weak chin and pale blond whiskers that sprouted from the sides of his jaw. To call him ugly would have been an insult to ugly people everywhere. He bashed his sword twice against his shield.

  “My name is Barry, Barry the...”

  “I really don't care.” Thanquil darted forwards with a burst of blessing augmented speed and jabbed at the Grinner with his sword. The attack was deflected with the small wooden shield but by the time the Grinner had recovered from the shock his grin was long gone and Thanquil had danced to his right and aimed a low slash at the man's legs.

  The Grinner parried with his own sword and turned to face Thanquil. Another jab at his face and the Arbiter danced right again. He remembered his old arms master telling him the best way to defeat a foe with a shield was to make the shield useless, always attack from the sword arm side; don't give the enemy a chance to block.

  It didn't take long for the Grinner to figure out the tactic and with a roar he charged at the Arbiter. The shield hit Thanquil square in the chest and the man's sword came in over the top. He just managed to parry the sword as he went over backwards.

  The ground slammed into Thanquil's arse with a loud grunt of pain. A moment later he was scrambling to get away as the Grinner came at him again, shield up, sword attacking around its wooden edges.

  Thanquil had never been that good with a sword but he had beaten people more skilled than him before. The trick, he found, to it was to cheat.

  As the Grinner came on Thanquil kicked at the ground beneath him sending a screen of dust at his ugly assailant.

  “Argh, what the fuck?” the Grinner whined. Thanquil danced to his right and jabbed. The attack was blocked but Thanquil could see the man trying to rub at his eyes.

  “What's your name?” Thanquil shouted at the Grinner. He felt the compulsion lock onto the man's will, felt the rush of heady pleasure as it subverted his will, and forced him to think of nothing but the answer.

  “Barry the...” Thanquil danced right and jabbed again.

  “How old are you?”

  “I don't know...” Again he danced right and jabbed.

  “Where are you from?

  “Korral...” Dance right. Jab.

  “What's your name?”

  “Barry...” Dance right. Jab.

  “How old are you?”

  “I don't...” Dance right. Jab. This time there was no block, no parry. Thanquil's sword point sunk deep into the Grinner's chest, past his ribs and into his lung.

  The scream of pain turned into a coughing foam of blood but Thanquil wasted no time. He pulled his ball shooting device from his belt, flipped it so he was holding the barrel end and cracked the butt down onto the Grinner's skull with a burst of blessed strength. He felt, heard and saw the man's skull crack open like a rotten egg.

  The Grinner went down with a heavy thud and moved no more. Thick red blood oozed from the cracked, caved in skull. Heavy drops of red dripped from the butt of the ball shooter. Thanquil stared at it for a moment then wiped it on the Grinner's clothing.

  Looking up he saw the Black Thorn still trading blows with Big Mouth. Neither seemed to hold an advantage, both were attacking, blocking, parrying, dodging away. The Black Thorn wore an ugly grin on his face, horrifically mirrored and enlarged on Big Mouth's features.

  Thanquil took quick aim with his ball thrower. The merchant's words came back to him, 'Accurate up to ten paces'. He judged the two men to be fifteen paces away at the very least.

  BANG!

  Big Mouth screamed and stumbled a step as the metal ball plunged into his arm. A moment later the Black Thorn's axe took off the lower half of his jaw in a spray of blood. Big Mouth hit the ground heavy and Thorn buried his axe deep in the man's chest. The body twitched once and was still. The Black Thorn put one foot on the corpse and pulled his axe free and then buried it in the man's neck, severing the head from the body.

  Thanquil walked over to Thorn and the body of the bounty hunter. The Black Thorn was bent over staring at the corpse. As T
hanquil watched he stood up straight, spat at the lifeless Big Mouth and kicked some dust over him.

  “More of a burial than the bastard deserves.”

  Thanquil almost asked how the Black Thorn had known Big Mouth but he caught himself. Using the compulsion so much on the Grinner had left him flushed, almost euphoric. He wanted to keep using it, needed to feel the rush again. He could feel his hands shaking and buried them in the pockets of his coat.

  The Black Thorn was staring at him, that all too familiar blank, expressionless look on his face. “Good shot,” he growled as he walked off.

  Thanquil nodded once in reply. At fifteen paces it was blind luck he hadn't hit the Black Thorn instead of Big Mouth but the sell-sword didn't need to know that.

  The Boss limped over towards them through the dust in the road. He still held his axe in his right hand, his left was held across his chest and his breathing looked hard, laboured and painful. “Good work,” the southerner wheezed at them.

  The Black Thorn nodded. “You did in Little Harry. Boy was near as strong as Bones as I hear it.”

  The Boss nodded. “You ain't wrong, Thorn.”

  “We missed all the fun?” Swift's voice called out across the street. Jezzet strode along beside him, her face as concerned as Swift's was unconcerned, though he carried his bow, already strung, in his left hand.

  “Where the fuck were ya?” the Boss asked with a cough.

  “Oh ya know. Breakfast with the magistrate.” Swift grinned.

  “You alright?” Jezzet asked Thanquil. He nodded once in reply. Truth was he didn't trust himself to speak lest questions start spewing forth.

  “Right,” the Boss said and looked around. “Where is he?”

  “Not coming. Nor any of his guards.” Swift sounded as cheerful as always. “Ya got me ma' ta thank fer that. Seems she's got the ol' man by his stones. Still, reckon it might be best ta get gone quicker rather than not.”

  The Boss coughed and near doubled over holding his chest. When he stood back up straight, a dark grimace made his face even darker. “We get ourselves ta the main gate. Bones, Henry an' Green can meet us there. Swift, you're leadin' the way from here. We cross the Jorl first chance we get. Good?”

  “Aye.”

  “Good.”

  There was a dull thud and the Boss went to one knee and then collapsed on the ground among the dust. A red feathered arrow sprouted out of his broad back just below his right shoulder blade. Thanquil was still looking for the source of the arrow when he heard Swift's bowstring thrum.

  The BladeMaster

  They could hear the Jorl long before they could see it. Its thunder echoed across the plains for miles. Always seemed odd to Jez that water could have a sound but there was no denying the noise of the mighty river Jorl, its voice was as loud and as angry as all the Gods combined.

  It was four days after Bittersprings when they reached the river. It shouldn't have taken four days but the Boss was slowing them down. At the gates of Bittersprings the big man had collapsed for the third time so Jez had un-shouldered her pack and set to treating the wound.

  Two of his ribs were cracked, she was certain of that. Seemed he'd taken a staff hit to the chest. That wasn't so bad in itself, given time cracked ribs healed, hurt like hell but they healed all the same. The arrow wound in his back was a different matter altogether. It was in a dangerous position, too dangerous to push through so Jezzet had to cut it out. It had gone deep too and, though it hadn't hit any vital spots, the Boss was getting weaker.

  At first he'd seemed alright; shaken and injured, in pain and in need of rest but able to go on. They waited an hour at the gates until Bones turned up with Henry and Green appeared. Henry seemed to be caught between part anger and part fear though Jez couldn't decide whether the little woman was angrier with the man who'd shot the Boss or Jezzet for patching him up.

  The archer was one of the bounty hunters. Betrim identified him as the Saint, Little Harry's big brother. No doubt he had feathered the Boss to take revenge for the southerner gutting his little brother. He'd paid for his vengeance though; Swift's first arrow took the Saint in his gut, the second went straight through his face. Again Swift had proved he was as fast as his name suggested.

  About ten paces from the bridge Bones put the Boss down. The giant has been half carrying, half dragging him for two days now. Strong as he is there's a limit even to that one's strength. As if to punctuate her thought Bones sat down next to the Boss and his eyelids drooped closed.

  “We need to rest,” Jezzet said as she approached the Boss, intending to have a look at his wound. Might be the dressings could do with changing.

  “What the fuck do you know?” Henry spat at her, stepping in between Jez and the Boss. Jezzet stopped and stared at the smaller woman. Henry just stared on back.

  There's murder in that one's eyes, Jez. Even more than usual. She backed away from Henry and moved to join the Arbiter.

  Thanquil was stood a good two paces back from the edge of the cliff side that dropped into the Jorl, he was leaning forwards and craning his neck to try and see over the edge. Jezzet moved up beside him and gave him a very slight nudge in the back. The Arbiter near jumped out of his skin and hurried back a few more paces.

  “You alright?” she asked him, grinning.

  He laughed. “Not any more. That is a very big river.”

  Only half a mile across here I'd say. This is where the Jorl is slimmest.

  “Scared of a little water?” she teased with a smile.

  “Can't say as I blame you,” the Black Thorn put in. He edged only slightly closer to the cliff side than Thanquil had. “There's... things in that water, ain't right. Drownin' don't strike me as a good way ta go either. Better 'an burnin', I reckon, but still I could think of better ways ta die.”

  In bed, drunk and being fucked sounds good to me.

  “How about it, Arbiter? How would you like to die?” Jezzet asked.

  “That sounds half a threat, Jez. Truth is I'd rather not die at all but given the choice... with a bottle of wine and a woman atop me.”

  Jezzet grinned but it was the Black Thorn who spoke first. “Ya know what, Arbiter. I'm startin' ta like the way you think.”

  “Did I ever tell any of you about the time I swam the Jorl?” Swift said. He was stood right at the edge of the cliff side staring down at the waters.

  Liar. No one swims the Jorl. I've seen men try, seen those same men die.

  “I was still a boy,” Swift continued heedless that no one seemed to care, “no older 'an Green is now.”

  “Fuck you, Swift.” Green had been brooding in sullen, hostile silence ever since Bittersprings. When he did talk he was always confrontational, always spoiling for a fight. Jezzet didn't know why and didn't much care to know.

  “Walked down the river on this very cliff side, passed this very bridge. Took me near a month an' I was set upon by bandits at least five times, I killed them all of course but that's another story. When I made to the very start of the Jorl where the Toyne and the Whitewash come together I slipped out of all my clothes save my undergarments, I could go fishing with my cock if truth be told but I didn't feel much like having fish nibblin' away down there.”

  “They'd have ta find it first, Swift,” Thorn said.

  “Wouldn't be too hard, Black Thorn. It's the big thing attached ta the giant stones; think yours but... well actually yours might not be the best of examples. Think Green's but ten times the size. So I stripped down an' plunged into the Jorl. Cold waters the Jorl, despite the heat 'round here. Cold an' fast an' dangerous but not near so fast nor so dangerous as Swift. Took me near a week ta swim the length. I dived off waterfalls, dodged round the rocks that cause the water ta turn white. Even had ta fight off one of those bloody water lizards. Longer than Bones is tall it was, with more teeth than he has bones an' it was easily twice as angry as Henry on one of her bad days.

  “The beast dragged me down right ta the bottom of the Jorl an' there we fought
an' wrestled; it with its teeth an' claws an' me with nothin' but my hands... an' a bloody great rock I picked off the bottom. Crushed its skull with that rock I did an' ate well that night I don't mind saying.

  “Finished my swim not ten miles from this spot, just down river,” he gave a vague wave in the direction the Jorl was flowing. “Then I had a good two hundred foot climb on solid cliff, just like this one, 'fore I made it out. Girls of Bittersprings were so impressed I had five of 'em in my bed that night.” Swift winked at Jezzet as he said the last.

  “Ya know,” said Bones from the ground, still sat beside the Boss. “I half expected that one ta end with you makin' off with a mermaid.”

  “A mermaid...” Swift mused. “I like that, reckon I can work it in fer my next tellin'.”

  The Boss started to push himself to his feet and almost collapsed until Bones caught him and helped him the rest of the way up. His eyes were sunken, his flesh clammy and he swayed on his feet even with Bones there. “Check the bridge, Swift. We follow you across.”

  Swift looked at the bridge then turned to Jezzet. “If I should fall an' die. Think of me when ya with the witch hunter.”

  Jez saw Thanquil flush red but she just gave Swift a blank stare. “I'd rather think of Henry.”

  Swift grinned. “Now there's a thought.” With that he turned and started across the bridge. For all his boasting and bravado he went slow, testing each wooden plank before putting his weight upon it.

  It was a good hour before Swift made it all the way across the bridge. Jez could just about make him out waving the all clear from the other side. By then the Boss didn't even look strong enough to stand, let alone walk a half mile across a swaying collection of wooden planks held together by fraying rope. Neither did he look up for giving any more orders.

  “Bones, take the Boss across,” Thorn said. “We'll move across in two's. After you, me an' the Arbiter will cross, then Henry an' Jez. Green, you watch the rear, come across last.”