by Rob J. Hayes
On her way back to the front of the building Jezzet found a number of bodies; servants, maids, soldiers, even a couple of folk who looked blooded; all dead, torn to shreds.
When she found the door they had entered through she found the yard was even worse than inside the mansion. Jez had seen fewer bodies on a battlefield. Corpses were strewn everywhere and where there weren't any dead people there was blood from one. She almost stepped on a head as she exited the building and after a moment realised it belonged to Green, half of one of his cheeks was missing but it was him, or at least it had been.
Two men stood in the centre of the yard with three horses. Thanquil and the Black Thorn were arguing by the sounds of it but neither of them had weapons drawn though Thorn was poking the Arbiter in the chest and pointing off towards the town. Thanquil was shaking his head in reply.
Jezzet approached. “Hell of a distraction, Thorn.” Not to mention an impressive feat, slaughtering an entire garrison.
“Huh?” Both men turned towards her at once. Thanquil smiled and the Black Thorn's face twitched into what Jez figured was a grin.
“Oh, this.” Thorn looked around the yard. “Weren't me, it were H'ost. Though I'll most likely get blame fer it.”
“Are you...” Thanquil asked.
Jez smiled. “I'm alright.”
“Did you...”
“I did.”
Thorn spat. “Did what?”
“Constance is dead.”
“Aye? So is H'ost. Tell her, Arbiter.”
Thanquil winced. “I killed him with a spoon.”
The Black Thorn rasped out a laugh and Jezzet couldn't help but join in. Couldn't have happened to a more deserving bastard.
“Horses?” she asked. The big brown one was staring at her with dull eyes. It took a step towards her and started nuzzling at her hand.
“Witch hunter's idea,” Thorn said. “Reckons we need ta make a quick getaway. Reckon he might be right.”
Jezzet nodded. “What about the others? I saw Green... or well his head but...”
“We're it, ain't no others.”
Well I'll miss Bones at least. Truth was she might even miss Swift; full of shit as he was Jez had come to like his stories.
She swung herself onto the horse, Jez had never liked the creatures but she knew how to ride one at least. Thanquil looked comfortable enough in a saddle but the Black Thorn kept fidgeting like someone had just tried to stick something up his arse. It was near full dark but the moon was high and bright and lanterns lit the town along the streets. They weren't the only people about; there were folk all over the roads, all looking like they were heading for the town gate. Jezzet spied a few bodies here and there, not to mention she could hear screams off in the distance.
“What the hell happened here?” Jezzet asked.
Thanquil sighed. “It's not our concern.”
The Black Thorn growled. “Aye. Reckon I might get blamed fer that too though.”
The Arbiter
It was two nights after Hostown when Jezzet asked the question. By then it already felt like they had been riding forever. Thanquil's rear alternated between numb and painful and it looked as though the others were faring even worse. The Black Thorn grumbled and moaned with every bounce. Thanquil had tried to tell him to move with the horse but more than once the sell-sword had complained of, 'crushing my stones.' Jez was more silent about the pain but he could see her wincing. They stopped from time to time, to water the horses and let them graze for a while.
Nobody had remarked on their leaving Hostown, so many of its residents were fleeing the chaos that the soldiers had been too hard pressed and confused to pay attention to three riders among a thousand.
None of the three knew the area as well as Swift but making it to the forest that bordered the Jorl had been easy enough, from here they needed to find a safe crossing and then ride south until they reached Chade. With such a diminished party the watches were harder at night as well, each them had to take a turn watching over the others and making sure they were not ambushed. It felt queer to trust the Black Thorn to keep him safe as he slept but Thanquil couldn't say he had much of a choice and so far Thorn had proved himself true.
“You said you'd explain it all if we both survived,” Jezzet said just as Thanquil had been contemplating sleep. They had no fire; they would not risk it in the forest with tales of bandits what they were but all three were sat in a circle among a copse of trees. Thanquil had his back to one, the Black Thorn leaned against another, standing watch but listening all the same. Jezzet sat cross-legged on the mossy green ground, staring at the Arbiter.
“I did...” Thanquil glanced at the Black Thorn, unsure how much of the truth he was willing to tell with the sell-sword listening in.
“There is a traitor in the Inquisition...” Thanquil started. From there he told them both almost everything; about how he was sent to Chade to deal with the witch in gaol, about how his true goal had been to find and question H'ost in connection with the traitor, about what H'ost had told him; that the traitor was an Inquisitor, a woman and that she had at least one accomplice. He told them about how H'ost had been trying to implant demons from the void into human bodies and that he feared the traitor might be doing the same to Arbiters. He left out only that the demons were bound to the Inquisition, sworn to serve and that the God-Emperor had been the one to send him on this mission.
By the end of the telling Thanquil found his jaw ached from talking. Jezzet refused to meet his eyes and the Black Thorn was staring at him with a look that might have been respect.
“So what's your plan now, Arbiter?” Jezzet asked.
The way Thanquil saw it he only had one option available to him. “I'm headed for Chade. There I'll take a boat back to Sarth. Find Arbiter Kessick. Follow him to the Inquisitor that has betrayed us and kill them both.”
The Black Thorn snorted. “Ya really gotta work on these plans o' yours, Arbiter. Why not jus' tell the rest o' ya Inquisitors 'bout this Kessick? Have them torture the truth out o' him.”
Thanquil winced. “I don't know who I can trust. If Kessick gets wind that they're coming for him he'll either turn up dead or fled and then I'm back to having nothing. I need him to lead me to the real traitor.”
“Do that then,” Thorn said. “Find out who it is an' tell the Inquisitors which one o' them is all bad an' naughty.”
“I can't just go accusing Arbiters and Inquisitors of heresy without proof, Black Thorn.”
“Why not?”
Thanquil had to stop himself from sighing. “I'm not exactly well liked in the Inquisition. They'd probably just try me for heresy instead. Most of them already believe I'm guilty.”
“Why?” asked Jezzet.
“It doesn't matter.” Truth was the last thing Thanquil wanted to talk about right now was his history, or his family.
Thanquil shrugged out of his Arbiter coat and started rolling the brown leather into as tight ball as it would go before shoving it into his pack. “It's too dangerous for me to be walking around as an Arbiter at the moment. Here. In Chade. In Sarth.” It was strange but he felt naked without his coat.
“I need your help,” Thanquil said. “Both of you. I...”
“Ya need my help ta do what?” Thorn asked.
“To do what you do best, Black Thorn. Kill Arbiters.”
The sell-sword laughed, Thanquil was becoming almost used to the harsh rasping noise by now. “No.”
“Um...” Somehow that was not the answer Thanquil had expected. Jezzet had yet to say anything; she just sat there in silence.
“Killin' you bastards is a risky business an' I ain't got no reason ta walk into ya midst an' risk my life like that. Strikes me I done far too much riskin' my neck recently an' fer fuck all in the way of reward.”
“What if I offered you a pardon...”
“Eh?”
“If you help me do this I'll make sure the Inquisition stop chasing you, Thorn. You'll never have to see an Arbite
r again; never have to worry when the next one might catch up with you.”
That seemed to peak his interest. “You could do that? Thought ya said they don't much like you.”
Thanquil grinned. “Accusing an Inquisitor of heresy and convincing them the Black Thorn isn't the heretic they think he is are two different things. Help me, Thorn and I'll get you your pardon, you'll never have to see me or another Arbiter again. I'll see you're paid as well. Two hundred gold coins in Sarth currency. More than enough for you to buy passage anywhere you might want to go and get set up there.”
“Earn a pardon by killin' Arbiters.” Thorn laughed again. “I'm in.”
As Thanquil opened his mouth to ask Jezzet she spoke first. “I'm in. I want the same deal as Thorn; two hundred gold bits and no Arbiters following me after we're done.”
“Done.”
“Might be we need ta come up with a real plan this time though,” Black Thorn said with a grin
Jezzet nodded, she was staring at the Arbiter though. “You almost look like a normal person without that coat on.”
Part 4 – Two's Company...
The Black Thorn
At least they were moving again, that was something, Betrim reckoned, but not very fast. When they'd hopped on the boat from Chade it had seemed it might be a quick journey. 'Strong winds.' The Captain had said, 'wouldn't surprise me if we made the trip in three weeks.' So far they'd been at sea for six weeks and for two of those they'd been sitting becalmed.
Fact was Betrim wasn't sure he liked the idea of arriving at Sarth any better than being stuck at sea. The seat of the Inquisition was no place for a man like him. All those witch hunters walking around looking for folk to burn, looking for the Black Thorn.
For the first three weeks of his time at sea Betrim had become fast friends with the railings, leaning over and retching even when he had nothing in his stomach. He'd only been out on the ocean twice before in his life; first when he left his home and sailed to the Five Kingdoms where he'd spent an entire winter freezing his stones off and second when he'd sailed from the Five Kingdoms to the wilds where he'd spent more than a decade murdering folk for money and avoiding witch hunters. Now he was sailing back to Sarth, back to the kingdom of his birth and he was not well pleased.
The crew seemed a likeable enough sort. In between his retching Betrim had made friends with a few of them. One such sailor, a man the rest called Olly the Nose on account of his massive hawk-like bill, had taken him to the bow and shoved a bottle of rum into his hand. The sailors called the rum Widow's Bounty and it was close to black in colour and stronger than any spirit Betrim had ever tasted. Soon after his retching had stopped and Betrim had settled into a drunken stupor for the remainder of the voyage. He counted himself lucky that the ship carried a more than healthy supply of the fiery rum.
The rest of the crew took to Betrim as well. They would drink and gamble and tell tales of women from every port. It seemed not a one of them made the connection with Thorn; the drunken seasick bastard with dark red hair and a burned face, and the Black Thorn; a murderous sell-sword on the run from the Inquisition and with a reputation darker than the rum they were drinking.
They'd been chased twice by ships that the Captain reckoned were pirates but neither had been able to keep pace with the Blue Gull even with only a slight breeze. They hadn't run across a single monster from the deep either, though the Arbiter insisted they existed and roamed the waters. Betrim was inclined to agree. He'd heard the stories; giant creatures with eight arms all with watery suckers that could pull a man's face off, hulking leviathans that could smash a ship to pieces with one flick of their tails, and the less said about the krakens the better. At times Betrim could swear he’d seen massive fish swimming below the surface of the deep blue, keeping easy pace with the boat. When he had pointed out the shapes sliding through the water to the Nose the man had laughed and said they were Sethwith; trained pets of merfolk that followed ships, waiting for any man who fell overboard so they could steal away the poor fellow to mate endlessly beneath the waves with mermaids. Betrim wasn't sure he believed in merfolk but he was damned sure he wasn't about to take a dip to find out.
There was a thud from the deck behind Betrim and he turned to find the Arbiter sat on the wood again rubbing yet another bruise from his sword arm. The Black Thorn laughed and a few of the sailors close by joined in.
“Ain't the point ya supposed ta be gettin' better, Ar... Thanquil.” It wasn't the first time Betrim had almost slipped up and called him, Arbiter and he was certain it wouldn't be the last. Truth was, even without the coat the man was a witch hunter through and through.
With a sigh and a glare in Betrim's direction the Arbiter picked himself off the deck, collected his sword and made ready for another beating. Jezzet Vel'urn stood on the balls of her feet, watching, waiting, sword in hand and eyes focused. They'd been practising every day since they set foot on the ship, blunted swords meant the Arbiter didn't sustain any mortal wounds but Betrim would have put money on him being black and blue under those leathers but at least he never complained.
At first the sailors had jeered and mocked the Arbiter for losing to a woman, some suggested they could show her how a real man uses a sword and one went so far as to make a grab for her breasts. Jez had broken the man's nose, twisted his arm and almost threw him overboard until the Captain roared his interruption. After that he'd decreed any man who tried to lay a hand on her would get five lashes and, if she wanted, Jezzet would be the one to swing the whip. The grin on her face said she'd be more than happy to do so.
The swords clashed, filling the air with the sweet song of metal on metal. The Arbiter was pushing the attack, driving Jezzet backwards. She blocked and parried, dodged and sometimes lashed out with her own blade. When the witch hunter was doing well she would call out encouragement, give him advice about movement and foot placement, when he should attack high or low, when to strike hard and when to feint. When the witch hunter was making mistakes she would beat him with her own sword, disarm him and then tell him where he went wrong while giving him stern looks.
All three of them shared a cabin but fact was Betrim rarely set foot in the room and only then to retrieve something from his pack. The rest of the time he preferred to spend up on deck, staring out at the sea with rum in his hand and in his stomach. The few times it had rained he went below deck and sat with the crew.
He still had dreams about that night at Hostown, some men might call them nightmares but the Black Thorn weren't the type of person to be unmanned by memories. All the same, it still made his spine shiver when he thought of how the shade had bit through the Boss' face, at how the Boss hadn't even screamed or shouted. Betrim had witnessed all sorts of carnage in his time but at Hostown... what those shades had done to folk... and the way the Arbiter had just ordered the creature to vanish.
Betrim took another swig of Widow's Bounty and sat back against the railing with his head swimming. The sky was bright blue, the sun was baking hot, there was only a single cloud in the sky and the wind was a nice gentle breeze, just enough to move the ship but not enough to stir the sea into chaos. If he forgot about the endless blue water below him and all the hidden dangers it held he was quite content. Not to mention that he hadn't had to kill anyone for somewhere close to seven weeks, Betrim wasn't sure how many days that was, numbers never being his strong point, but he reckoned it was some sort of record for him.
The Arbiter hit the deck again, shaking his wrist. Jezzet had twisted his sword from his grip with a simple flick of the wrist, it was a trick she liked to use and one he fell for every time. Betrim laughed and raised the bottle of rum to the Arbiter in salute before taking another gulp.
“You laugh, Thorn, but I don't see you stepping up to give Jez a challenge,” said the Arbiter from the deck.
Jezzet shot the witch hunter that stern look she used when he'd done wrong. “Get up and collect your sword, Thanquil. Else you won't be able to defend yourself when I attack
.”
“I ain't so stupid as to fight with Jezzet Vel'urn. Doubt she'd go as easy on me as she does you,” Betrim slurred with a raspy chuckle.
“You call this going easy...”
“Well ya still ain't got ya sword an' she hasn't started hittin' ya yet so yeah.” Truth was the Arbiter was getting better and that had something to do with Jezzet having all the patience in the world. Problem was all the time in the world wasn't about to turn the witch hunter into a swordsman. Some people just didn't have the feel for it and he was one of those folk.
The Nose swaggered over and sat down next to Betrim, took the bottle from him and gulped down a mouthful. “By the sea you go through this stuff faster 'an any man I ever known.”
“Aye. Tastes like shit an' burns like fire but better that 'an go back ta retchin'.”
“Got the truth of it there I reckon, Thorn.” The song of metal clashing against metal started up again. “Do those two do anythin' but fight an' fuck?”
Jezzet caught the Arbiter's sword on her own, stepped into him and twisted herself so that he was flipped onto his back by her hip. Then she shot an acidic glare at Betrim and the Nose.
“I reckon she might have heard ya, Nose.”
“Aye,” the Nose said with a grin. “I reckon so. Sorry, miss V'urn. Didn't mean nothin' by it. Knew a lass like you in a port once. Land's End it was, in Five Kingdoms. Don't remember her name but when she weren't fuckin' she was practising launchin' knives at folk. Used ta be able ta skewer a thrown apple at twenty paces. Cost a pretty penny she did but was worth it, the things she could do with...”
“You're comparing me to a whore?” Jezzet asked. Thanquil was still lying on the deck grinning like a fool. The Nose was looking worried and Betrim couldn't care less. The talk of whores had reminded him of Rose.
Might be the rum but Betrim was finding it hard to remember what she had looked like, what she smelled like, what she had felt like. He remembered she made his cock feel right good and that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever been inside, not a hard boast to be sure, but everything else was fading.
