The Heresy Within

by Rob J. Hayes

  Arbiter Kosh's eyes flicked open.

  Wha...

  The Arbiter's knee crashed into Jez's crotch and she realised the scream of pain was her own. Then there was a foot on her belly. Kosh grunted as he pushed and Jez found herself crashing against the far wall and dropping to the floor, winded and whimpering in pain.

  “Never been through that before.” Jez looked up at his words, still gasping for air. Kosh rolled from the bed and stretched, the dagger still lodged in his chest.

  It should be right through his heart

  “It told me death might hurt but I never thought... who are you?” Kosh took hold of the dagger and pulled. The blade slipped out of his skin with a small squirt of blood and the wound sealed itself closed. After just a moment only a thin red line remained to prove there had been any wound at all.

  Jezzet didn't answer. She gathered her legs underneath her and made ready to move.

  A Blademaster without a blade...

  Kosh dropped the dagger and moved towards his discarded clothing. “So? Who are you? Why did you kill me?”

  As the Arbiter knelt down to take hold of one of his scythes Jez made her move. She leapt towards the small dresser, shoved her hand behind it and pulled out her sword.

  “Your dagger couldn't kill me, what makes you think your...”

  As Jez drew her sword from its scabbard two small slips of paper floated to the floor.

  “Huh,” Kosh grunted, he was staring at her sword. It took Jez a moment to realise why. The steel blade was glowing. It wasn't much of a glow; just a slight sparkle along the metal but it was unmistakable.

  Kosh snatched up one of his scythes and ran. A moment later he crashed through the window, glass, wood and all. Jezzet was already moving when she heard the thud of the Arbiter hitting the ground outside. She looked out the window to see the dead man running up the street away from the whore house. Jez looked at her sword again and she remembered Thanquil handing it to her and saying, 'You're going to need this.'

  He would have told me if he had known...

  Jezzet leapt out the window and for a brief moment she was falling then she hit the ground, rolled to a stop and sent a silent thank to the Gods that the building wasn't any taller. Then she turned and started sprinting after the fleeing Arbiter.

  Not for the first time in her life Jezzet was glad of having small breasts. She'd seen big women try to run and it looked a painful and dangerous affair. Fact was she'd much prefer to be fully clothed but she knew if she'd have wasted the time she'd have lost Kosh. The Arbiter was in front of her but not by much; she was quicker than him and gaining. He turned a corner and was lost from sight, two seconds later Jezzet turned the same corner and saw him again, still running. There weren't many people on the streets but those there were stared and pointed and shouted, Jezzet tried her best to ignore them all though all she wanted to do was cover herself, cover her scars.

  She was just a few paces behind Kosh when he slid to a halt and span around, his scythe cutting through the air towards her. Jezzet had no time to stop; she leapt to her left, trying to avoid the razor sharp blade. The weapon's edge passed by her arm, she felt the air rush past but the blade itself missed. Jez rolled again and came up in a half crouch facing the Arbiter.

  Kosh stood facing her; naked as the day he was born with only a single scythe as his protection. Jez crouched, just as naked and holding her glowing sword in one hand. All around them people stared.

  “Who are you?” Kosh asked again. “Why are you trying to kill me? You're no Arbiter.”

  His eyes on her made Jez's skin crawl. You need to end this before reinforcements arrive, Jez.

  She sprang at him slashing her sword at his face. The Arbiter raised his scythe and the blades sang as they clashed together. He was already moving, trying to get on Jezzet's left side, trying to get on her weak side. Jezzet was already moving too, attacking.

  A high slash, a low jab, a leap to the left, feint further left then slash at the right. Each attack was blocked by singing steel. Then the Arbiter attacked. He came on hard and fast, his scythe slashing first one way then the other, Jezzet dodged each time. Dangerous things scythes; even when blocked the blade could hit you and up close they were deadly.

  Kosh was muttering something as he attacked, the same way Thanquil did. Blessings! Explains why he's so fast. And he was fast; each attack flew at her and each one was followed by another just as quick, just as deadly. Jezzet danced and dodged, ducked and weaved, blocked and fell back but what she needed to do was attack. She didn't know much about runes but she knew the magic affecting her sword wouldn't last forever.

  The blade of the scythe angled towards her head, she blocked with her sword even as she leapt to her right. The scythe crushed through her defence and passed within an inch of her neck. Jezzet found herself shaking. Again Kosh was moving, trying to get on her left side.

  The Arbiter was still talking, still muttering, still saying something but his wasn't the only voice. There were others, a lot of others. Jez risked a glance and found people all around her, lots of them all standing and staring and talking and staring. Before she could stop herself she found she was covering her scars with her left arm even while trying to defend against the Arbiter with the sword in her right.

  Too many people, too many eyes. She couldn't cover the scars on her back, not even all the ones on her chest, let alone her arms and her legs and they were all staring at her. Her movements had become sluggish, slow. She blocked another attack from the scythe and staggered from the impact. The Arbiter pushed and Jez found herself falling, she landed hard on the cold stone ground and grunted in pain then rolled away just as the scythe cut through the air where her head had been a moment before. She scrambled to her feet and backed away. The Arbiter came on smiling.

  He smiles like the Sword of the North; like he knows he's already won.

  She still remembered everything that man had said, 'Whores fuck their way out of fights, not Blademasters. We're not chosen, not trained. We're born. Some people are born to be Blademasters, born to be the shades of death and until you let go of that fear you'll never be one of us.'

  Jezzet felt the heat rising in her. She dodged another slash from the scythe. She wasn't sure what made her more angry; that the Sword of the North had said that to her, that she hadn't done anything about it, that he was right, or that she was about to lose her life to the naked man she'd just fucked and killed.

  Jez took her left hand away from her chest and gripped hold of her sword in both hands. The next attack came and she brushed it aside and answered with two lightning fast slashes of her own. Kosh blocked one and stumbled away from the other, surprise showing in his eyes. Jezzet gave him no time to recover, she pushed the attack, slashing here, jabbing there. Dodging to the side and cutting at the Arbiter, not giving him a moment to collect himself.

  Kosh started whispering under his breath again. He dodged away from Jez then back in close with near inhuman speed. The scythe flew towards her face. Jezzet caught the blade on her own, twisted it and pushed. The shock on the Arbiter's face was a beautiful thing to see as he found the flats of both his own scythe and Jezzet's glowing sword pushed up against his naked chest. Jezzet shifted the grip on her sword and span away. There was a spray of blood and a scream and Kosh's scythe bounced off the stone ground, his hand still attached.

  The Arbiter was clutching at the bloody stump of his right arm with his left. Jezzet danced around and thrust her sword up underneath his left armpit. She knew the exact placement of the sword, her old master had made her memorise all the vulnerable locations on a person's body. The blade slid through flesh and for the second time that night the Arbiter's heart was pierced. She gave the blade a twist and then pulled it out in a gush of wet, red blood. Kosh's body slumped to the floor and gave a final twitch.

  “My name is Jezzet Vel'urn. Thanquil Darkheart sent me to kill you,” she told the corpse but it was too late. No sense in talking to a dead man.

&
nbsp; Jez looked down at herself, naked and spattered with blood she looked half a demon herself. Lots of blood, none of it mine though, it's never mine.

  All around her people were still watching, still whispering, still staring but she ignored them all. Let them look, let them see what a shade of death looks like.

  Men clad all in white and armed with spears surrounded her, ten of them. One of them said something but Jezzet didn't hear him, couldn't hear him over the roaring in her ears demanding for more blood. The ten men started to close in around her as one, edging their way forwards with spears lowered.

  Jezzet grinned. They think to take down a shade of death with just ten men? They should have brought an army.

  The Black Thorn

  Betrim staggered over to the body. He was dripping sweat despite the coolness of the evening. It weren't a bad shot, he had to congratulate himself. Head pounding, arm shaking, and a moving target but he still managed to hit it square. Fact was it were a damned good shot.

  He put his foot on the Arbiter's back and reached down to pull his axe free. It had bitten deep, severed the spine by the looks of things and Betrim had to wrench to pull the thing out. Drops of blood came free with the axe and the Black Thorn felt them spatter his face.

  “Best make sure ta finish ya off,” he said to the corpse as he rolled it over to get a in a clean chop at the Arbiter's neck. Betrim couldn't wait to see the look on Thanquil's face as the Black Thorn dropped Kessick's head at his feet.

  The face staring back at him was young, smooth skinned with a dusting of hair on the top lip. Almost reminded Betrim of Green if truth be told. One thing was for sure though, the body was not Kessick. The Black Thorn had killed the wrong Arbiter.

  A hand grabbed Betrim by the shoulder and wrenched him to his feet, a moment later a fist connected with his face turning his vision a bright, blinding white. He hit the floor still blind and scrambled away, moaning with the pain. He pushed himself to his feet just as the light began to dim and his vision returned. A man stood over the body of the dead boy, staring at Betrim with cold, icy eyes.

  “Kessss.... aarrgh.” Betrim near screamed at the pain in his face. Didn't take much of a feel with his hand to realise his jaw was broken. Seemed Kessick had one hell of a punch to him. Still, the Black Thorn had suffered far worse and come out kicking. It wasn't like a broken jaw could make him any less pretty, might be it even improved his looks.

  Kessick just stood there watching Betrim, no Arbiter coat, seemed he'd given it to the dead boy and had no intention of taking it back. The Black Thorn tightened his grip on his axe and made ready to attack. Kessick held no weapons but an Arbiter was never easy prey, he might have any number of magical tricks hidden away.

  “I've had a feeling of late I was being followed. Never thought it would turn out to be the Black Thorn,” Kessick said in a cool, emotionless voice.

  Betrim might have grinned but he already knew how much that would hurt with a broken jaw. “'Ookin' 'a 'ake it 'even,” he managed with a lot of wincing.

  The Black Thorn was a good foot taller than Kessick; he had the reach and the weight advantage and was armed. He started forwards.

  “I don't think I'm a random target,” Kessick said, still standing over the body of the dead boy. “Someone sent you. Was it Arbiter Darkheart?”

  That made Betrim pause. He might have asked a question himself but his jaw didn't feel up to it.

  “Yes. I think it was. I had heard he was back. He was the one that killed H'ost wasn't he? And the woman, the one who told me H'ost was dead, also one of his?”

  The Black Thorn didn't like how much this Arbiter seemed to know. He loosened his grip on his axe a little and charged.

  Kessick didn't move, he just waited while Betrim charged him, waited as the axe fell towards his skull. At the last moment the Arbiter moved with inhuman speed, grabbing hold of the Black Thorn's wrist and twisting with such force that Betrim roared in pain despite the broken jaw. The axe clattered to the floor and Betrim received a heavy push in the back that sent him stumbling over the dead body on the floor.

  “I wasn't finished, Black Thorn,” Kessick said in a reproachful tone. “So you and the woman are working for Arbiter Darkheart. Are there any more or is it just the three of you?”

  Betrim made no move, nor did he answer, just stared at the Arbiter in mute anger.

  “Yes. Just the three of you. Not the most dangerous force ever assembled. So if you're here to kill me... He sent the woman to kill Kosh didn't he? You do know about Kosh? Yes. I think you do.”

  It didn't make sense to Betrim. He wasn't answering any of Kessick's questions but the man seemed to know the truth anyway. His axe was on the floor at the Arbiter's feet. He drew the dagger; the blade Thanquil had given him as payment, ‘enchanted’ he said. Might be that was just what was needed to kill the bastard.

  “So that would mean Arbiter Darkheart himself has gone to confront Inquisitor Heron,” Kessick concluded. “I wonder if she'll kill him or if he'll join us.”

  Betrim whipped his left hand out and a throwing knife flew at Kessick. The Arbiter made no move to dodge and the knife buried itself in his left leg. The Black Thorn was only a second behind the knife, his enchanted dagger whipped at Kessick three times. The first Kessick ducked, the second cut a scratch into his arm but the third the Arbiter caught.

  Kessick had hold of Betrim's right hand, the dagger tip just inches from the Arbiter's heart. The Black Thorn punched at the man's face with his three fingered left hand but Kessick didn't even flinch. Betrim thrust his head towards the man face. A hand shot up and grabbed the Black Thorn by the throat. Squeezing, choking him.

  Arbiter Kessick twisted Betrim's right hand around until the dagger was between them. The bastard was so damned strong the Black Thorn couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

  “That's a very nice dagger,” Kessick said, his voice as flat and cold as his eyes. Then his hand was gone from Betrim's throat and the blade was gone from Betrim's hand. The Black Thorn felt the dagger go in and out, in and out, in and out, in...

  Kessick let go and Betrim stumbled backwards, tripped over the body at his feet and hit the floor hard, his head cracked against the stone and his vision went white again. It cleared into a fuzzy haze and Thorn looked at his chest. Blood was seeping into his leathers, the dagger stood up, proud and silver but it didn't hurt. Fact was he didn't feel much, just... numb.

  Thorn coughed and felt blood on his face. He was staring at the sky, at the stars, at the moon, at the endless black above him. Then Kessick was there, standing over him, looking down at him in the same way he had looked at the boy, the boy he'd killed... or had Betrim killed him. It was getting hard to remember.

  The Black Thorn coughed again and tried to move, tried to get away from the Arbiter but his limbs were so heavy, they just twitched at his commands. “Fuck.” Betrim tried to say but all that came out was a cough and more blood.

  “You are an impressive man, Black Thorn. To still be clinging to life after that. Most would just die, give up, but not you. You like living, don't you? Yes. Yes, you do. Pity really. I'm wondering though, just how much pain will it take before the Black Thorn does give up?”

  The last thing Betrim saw was Kessick's fingers reaching into his eye socket.

  The Arbiter

  On the ship, during the voyage to Sarth, Jezzet had beaten the hell out of Thanquil every day with a blunted sword and every day he had gone to bed wondering if it was an exercise in futility. Now, though, he was glad and more than glad that he'd gone through the ordeal. Thanquil was certain Inquisitor Heron would have cut him in two more than once if Jez hadn't been training him.

  He blocked a savage downward cut, stepped back and then stepped forwards again, closing the distance between himself and the Inquisitor. Their blades met with a hiss of steel on steel and a shower of sparks. Two enchanted swords each driven by the augmented strength of a blessing seemed to make for an impressive display. Thanquil just wished he wasn
't the one fighting so he could have enjoyed the spectacle.

  The Inquisitor wrenched both swords to the side then slapped Thanquil in the face. Something stuck to his cheek, something small and paper; a charm. Thanquil found he couldn't remember the words to any of the blessings. He tore the charm away with a stinging scrape but too late the words come back. Inquisitor Heron was already upon him; her speed inhuman, her strength overpowering. He blocked as best he could but her blows sent him reeling first one way then the other. He started whispering the blessings again and they were back on level footing. Although Thanquil's actual footing appeared to be in a flowerbed full of red and white roses.

  Inquisitor Heron whispered something to her sword and then drove the point into the earth below their feet. Thanquil readied himself for the effect. Magic could do many things; Thanquil had seen it make the earth shake, he had forced the sky to open up and rain, he'd seen apparitions and illusions and he'd seen fire burst into life from nothing. What he'd never seen was plants bending to a person's will.

  Something thin and wiry crawled up his ankle and held fast, sharp points poking into his skin. The flowers beneath him had coiled their way around his legs, holding him. He tried to free himself but the plants seemed unusually strong and then the Inquisitor was there and her sword was flying towards him.

  Thanquil barely had time to think; he reversed his own sword and thrust it downwards towards his right leg. Hot, wet pain sprang forth on his ankle but he was free. He stepped into the Inquisitor's attack with his free leg, twisting his other ankle. Her sword skimmed his left side, opening a shallow wound near his ribs but he was inside her guard. A crazy thought sprang into Thanquil's mind, 'What would the Black Thorn do? He would butt the woman with his head' and so that's what Thanquil did.

  Inquisitor Heron staggered backwards with a scream of pain and put a hand to her face, blood dripped between her fingers onto the earth below. Blood dipped from her blade as well but that was Thanquil's. He put a hand to his side where her sword had scored him, it hurt like hell but it wasn't too serious, at least not for now. His ankle, however, was more serious; it screamed as he tried to put weight on it and Thanquil found himself wishing he knew more about medicinal charms.