Brave Men Die: Part 3

by Dan Adams

  To find a name, as was his specific task given to him by the Emperor of Kyzantium, meant that he had to infiltrate the Church and expose them for what they were: hypocrites. And that was bound to be impossible.

  He stood up again, scattering the pages across his desk in his nervous haste. Chase sighed, the wait was getting to him, and he collected the loose pages and neatly stacked them carefully in the top drawer of the desk before locking it and hiding the key on the underside of the drawer below it. He sat back down, drummed his fingers against the wood and stared down the looks of Abe and Pete who were sitting in the office with him. Chase sensed his restlessness was impacting their own states of mind and he inwardly promised if they got out of this alive he would make it up to them.

  If this went according to plan, he would be bringing down the Church of the One God, an institution that had existed in the Kyzantine Empire for centuries. He would expose their greatest secret, a crime punishable by death as decreed by the Emperor and the One God’s will. Chase smiled at the irony of it. However, if this didn’t go right, then they would find his body floating face down in the sewer somewhere.

  This was the kind of information that got people killed.

  Chase had thought about this long and hard before he had approached Patric. What if they threatened Alina and Rachel? What if they used his wife and daughter to force him to be silent, just kept it contained until they could arrange for him to have an accident.

  He wouldn’t let that happen. Chase couldn’t. He would act before they could rally against him. That was all there was to it.

  Patric had organised for him to get into the palace unseen, where he would be able to meet with the Emperor alone and without prying ears. He’d mapped out a route to a small hovel in the slums of the capital where his contact would meet him and from there they would go in the disguise of tradesmen. Patric had vouched for the confidante, had complete faith in the man’s ability to move unseen through the town.

  Patric’s reassurances led to more questions, and Chase wondered exactly how the young man had risen in the court when so many others had failed and been crushed by the existing power brokers. His mysterious web of eyes and ears must have had something to do with it, but Chase knew that someone would be watching him. You couldn’t cause a ripple in the pond without people noticing.

  Chase was uneasy about the whole thing. Of late the Church had been pressing their message harder. Or maybe it was just grating against him now that he knew. Maybe their daily pestering had always been so hypocritical, so conflicting. Only the other day a group of clergymen had actually accosted him and his entourage in the street demanding that he publicly pledge his allegiance to the Church like the other citizens were doing. He conceded when the armed soldiers supporting the bishops moved toward him, Abe and Hugh and the three quickly dropped to a knee and with heads facing the floor, swore allegiance to the Church, as the first bishop chanted the One God’s prayer and the other splashed water over the congregation gathered at their feet.

  That was the first time Chase had actually felt dirty after walking the streets of the city, even the slums where he was headed tonight. Despite the filth of the streets, despite the poverty and the destitution, he didn’t get the same feeling of grime coating his skin and his soul. He cringed at the memory and rubbed at the spot where the water had touched the back of his hand in another attempt to remove it.

  Dagenham just felt tainted to him now. The corruption, the political and religious backstabbing. Everyone had their own agenda and none of it was for the betterment of the Empire. He wanted out. He just wanted to go back to Alina and protect Redisberg from a Murukan threat that his own countrymen had provoked under the false pretences of the Church. All he could do now was warn the Emperor of the threat presented by the majority of his own counsel and go home and protect his people.

  There was a double-knock on the door, a slight pause, and another double-tap. The time had come. Abe and Pete were on their feet the moment the first sound of movement was heard on the other side of the door. Abe had served as his personal guard for near on twenty years. The scars on the man’s face were a reminder of all that they had survived. Pete was almost the opposite, a quiet youth, he had proven himself in the rankings and had challenged for the role when Hector had retired to raise the swarm of bastards he had sired across the width of the Empire. To look at him, he appeared kind and gentle but Chase had seen him destroy adversaries with a ferocity that burned deep inside his soul. Both men fell in behind him as Chase moved impatiently through the tavern, the collar of his jacket pulled up covering his neck and the bottom of his jaw.

  It had been a simple decision to increase the number of guards that accompanied him. With the knowledge that he possessed he was certain people were going to want him dead. He didn’t need Patric to advise him on any such thing, despite the younger man’s good intentions. After the incident in the street, the gall of the bishops to approach him in public, he wouldn’t put it past them to do anything.

  Todd and Grant had moved on ahead, never out of sight and a strong presence. Abe and Pete flanked him in unison, aware that their charge was now the most attractive target in a city, where any citizen could prove deadly and a Church fanatic could be disguised as a common peddler on the streets. They were all armed and alert. Tonight something was going to happen — there was no doubt about it. Tonight the Empire would change, Chase just hoped that he was still alive to see it.

  Chase had left the map upstairs so as not to implicate the maker or Patric if he was caught, along with all the documentation of what he believed the Church to be doing. He firmly believed that he could convince the Emperor of what he had learnt without it and they could travel in an armed convoy back to the tavern to retrieve it then. It was too valuable to fall into the wrong hands. Chase just hoped that the Emperor wasn’t too under the sway of the Church and that he would see reason.

  He’d sent Ben back to Redisberg that morning with the same information, to safeguard it in the event of something happening. He’d left at dawn amongst the workers that were going out of the city headed to the fields and the merchants who were travelling to the next city. Ben had confided that he’d managed to be hired as a caravan guard and he’d slip away when he was able once it had arrived in the next town. Chase trusted Ben to arrive safely and give the information to Alina for safe-keeping. She would know how to use it as insurance against any threat targeting their family and Alina would find a way to get that information to her sister.

  Chase had memorised Patric’s instructions to navigate the slums and find his contact. Not one step was without purpose, he was steady and without hesitation. He mentally ticked off the instructions as he passed each landmark that the map indicated, unforgettable and distinctive.

  He didn’t turn and look back when he heard someone shout ‘stop’ accompanied by the light footsteps of a youthful thief. He kept his focus and pressed on, determined to get this done tonight. By dawn the Emperor would know everything.

  Todd and Grant had stopped at the entrance to the alley where he was supposed to meet Patric’s contact. Their backs were pressed against the stone walls, hands were on the hilts of their blades as they scanned the area for signs of trouble. Grizzled looks of determination marked them as the veterans they were. All of them had their reservations about everything that had unfolded so far. Chase silently prayed that everything would work out for the best and he could get his men home.

  Todd nodded his head, indicating that it was all clear and Chase led Abe and Pete cautiously into the alley. He shortened his stride with ease, adjusting for the shadows and the darkness and the unexpected. With his hands by his sides, Chase hoped to give the impression of calm to belay the nervousness that he felt creeping into his body.

  The shadows were long. Chase could make out the silhouette of a man leaning against the wall. The three men continued forward at their reduced pace, Chase didn’t want to scare the man but even at ten metres away, the informant
had made no move to greet him. The sense of dread filled his body as Chase drew close enough to see the man had been impaled and nailed to the wall, his lifeless form erect only from the spikes driven into his upper chest. The blood that oozed from the wounds was still fresh implying it only happened recently and the man was alive when he was killed.

  ‘Lord DeVile, I can’t say I’m pleased to see you here. I’d hoped that it was only your brother-in-law who was conspiring against the Empire.’ The voice came from the darkness and Chase’s eyes darted into the void looking for the source.

  Eventually a man stepped forward out of the blackness of the alley and half-entered the light. The shadows clung to his face, concealing his identity. What Chase could make out was ordinary. Whoever he was, he wouldn’t be remembered and that suggested he was dangerous.

  And more importantly, it suggested he had performed the atrocity on the wall.

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met …’ Chase stated coldly, never taking his eyes from the butcher.

  ‘We haven’t. But I certainly know a lot about you.’

  The threat was implied. Abe and Pete were bristling behind him, edging slightly forward, waiting for an opportunity.

  ‘So does my wife, but I know her name. Who are you?’

  The corner of the man’s mouth twisted up in a harsh smile, as he rocked on the balls of his feet. ‘Xavier Roth.’

  The man was a butcher. Roth had tortured women and children, had taken prisoners and broken them down until they confessed. Not only was he extremely good at his job, more sickening was the fact he enjoyed it. Chase’s stomach dropped.

  ‘Why are you here, Roth?’

  ‘You know, business.’ Roth indicated the impaled body, with the shrug of his shoulders and a flick of the head.

  Pete and Abe drew their weapons instinctively, any pretence that this was going to end well over. Chase could hear the sound of Todd and Grant drawing theirs reactively but then nothing else. No shouts, no sounds of them running down the alley toward them. Now he didn’t know whether they had heard the ambush or if they were reacting to their own threat.

  ‘So where did your orders come from Roth? The archbishop? The Emperor?’

  ‘The orders were mine.’

  The man who stepped from the shadows was old, with a greying trimmed beard and dressed nondescript.

  ‘And you are?’ Chase inquired.

  ‘Nathan Rawson.’

  The name meant nothing. He wasn’t a Kyzantine power broker. He certainly wasn’t a bishop. Or a native, the accent didn’t sit right but he was fluent. Chase hadn’t heard of him at the palace or on the streets in the last month. But one thing Chase did know was that if Xavier Roth took orders from this man — it meant he was high up on the pecking order.

  Despite the anonymity, Nathan Rawson was a player, and a dangerous one at that.

  ‘This will go much easier for you if you lower your weapons,’ Roth started.

  ‘There are five of us and only two of you,’ Abe threatened, taking a step forward.

  The alley was silent bar the sound of the five men breathing and the constant rhythm of the contact’s blood hitting the puddle on the ground. The three men stared at Roth as he stood there, waiting, his head tilted slightly to the left as he stared back at Chase.

  ‘That’s not quite true.’ Roth smiled and clicked his fingers.

  The sound of commotion came from behind them. Chase and Abe turned around. Pete stayed focused on the threat at the front, barely holding back from launching at the butcher. Four men dragged the bodies of Grant and Todd down the alley, dumping them unceremoniously where Roth indicated. Chase was in shock, he hadn’t even heard them defend themselves. And he knew his men, neither of them would have gone quietly.

  He spun violently to accuse Roth and Rawson of murder and stopped when another ten men appeared behind him. In the light he could see the markings that each of them wore — the Voice of God. These were the Church’s most brutal servants. It was this group that managed to get the witnesses to change their statements. It was these men that got confessions; that made all the problems go away. It was these men who answered to Roth. Now Chase was one of their problems. And so was Patric. He hoped his brother-in-law had managed to slip away. It was too late to warn him now.

  Rawson stepped further forward into the light. What Chase finally noticed about the man was his eyes — cold and grey, they were devoid of any emotion. And despite being surrounded by the clergy’s Inquisitors, he wore no marking of the Church. Which meant he was either so far above it or so engrained in it, that there would be no touching him. The man himself might not even exist.

  ‘Let my men go, Rawson.’ Chase went straight for the man calling the shots, ignoring Roth. The sadistic fuck wouldn’t spare anyone if he was given the choice.

  Rawson was silent. Roth tisked and a cruel smile formed on his thin lips. ‘Where is all the information you gathered? Is it all in your office at the Stony Feather?’

  ‘Where else would it be?’ Chase demanded in anger, his rage building as the image of their bodies flashed in his mind.

  ‘You didn’t send copies with your man who left this morning for Redisberg? You didn’t give a copy to your brother-in-law? Patric has been interfering with a lot of things of late.’

  Chase was stunned that Roth had already thought that far ahead.

  ‘It doesn’t matter Lord DeVile. My men have already intercepted your rider, they will be raiding the tavern as we speak and I’ll deal with Patric personally as soon as I’m finished here. Any information that you have gathered that implies anything other than what the Church has already reported will be destroyed.’

  ‘So the Church was behind Derrick’s murder?’

  ‘No, of course not. Let’s not play games here, you discovered something more damning, something that the Church has feared for centuries.’

  Chase was right, he felt some satisfaction in that.

  ‘That Rayn’s supporters were never completely eliminated.’

  ‘That is correct, Lord DeVile. But if that information was to get out, I’d be out of a job, so I can’t let that happen.’

  ‘And you think I’m just going to stand here and let that happen?’

  Roth smiled again. ‘No. I like a little resistance.’

  Chase was sick with realisation that there was a hard truth in what the butcher had said.

  Chase drew his blade within seconds and stepped forward beside Abe and Pete. The younger man was already charging when three bolts thundered through the air. Pete was launched back as one took him through the eye, his legs flailing through the air. Abe just sunk to his knees as he feebly clawed at the end that protruded from his throat.

  His own arm felt heavy, like he was having trouble maintaining his grip on his weapon. He looked down and saw that he hadn’t been fast enough to dodge out of the way, the bolt had slammed into his shoulder. The pain slowly crept into his muscles as he choked back the scream that he wanted to hurl at them.

  Taking the blade in his left hand, he stepped forward to engage with the Inquisitors. But Roth was faster than he looked for a man that appeared in the decline of life, and had plunged the dagger into his abdomen. Surprised, Chase couldn’t do anything but groan and collapse forward onto Roth’s strong frame as his life ebbed away. His last thoughts were of Alina, combing her long blonde hair in the mirror and smiling back at him.

  Roth twisted the blade with sadistic glee as Chase gargled the blood in his throat and slumped forward dead. Yanking the blade out, he let the body fall and it hit the ground with a thud. Roth knelt down and wiped the dagger clean on Chase’s shirt.

  Roth stood up and ordered the waiting men. ‘Dump his body in an alley at the whore district and make it look like he was mugged. The others,’ indicating the four guards, ‘dispose of them so they will never be found. In the morning the report will come across the Emperor’s desk that Lord DeVile was mugged and killed after visiting a brothel unattended by his re
tinue of personal guards. In their shame, they have fled the city. See to it that it happens that way.’

  The closest Inquisitors nodded and started dragging the bodies away. Roth turned to the impaled informant hammered into the wall as two men went to remove the body. He was about to order them to destroy the body when Rawson interrupted.

  ‘Leave him. He will serve as a warning to those who knew who he worked for and for those who knew who he was meeting with.’

  Roth turned to the older man who had ordered the execution. He nodded, and indicated for his men to move on. The two men silently accepted the instructions and moved to help dispose of the other bodies.

  Roth stood there amongst the bloodshed, satisfied at how the work was progressing. First he would need to deal with Patric, then ensure that the rider had met with an unfortunate end and all the evidence was destroyed at the tavern. Then this particular thread would be finished and he could go on to hunt down the chapter of exiled casters who had returned for the Church.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Volans’ chest heaved up and down and his hammer weighed heavily in his hand. The veins bulged between the muscles in his arm as he watched the last of the butchery. The Nails were tearing apart the small convoy of supply wagons and their escort.

  Hydrus came and stood beside him, blood dripping from his blade and beard, sweat dripping down his face. Volans nodded and turned his eyes back to the vision in front of him, watching the men mop up the rest of them.

  No matter where he looked, Volans’ eyes were drawn to one figure, one man who moved with fluid grace, his blade sliced through the air around him and carved up the enemy flesh.

  ‘What are you staring at?’ Hydrus queried.

  Volans didn’t take his eyes from the slaughter, but raised his hand and pointed at Castor and replied, ‘I’ve never seen anyone move that fast.’

  Hydrus jaw dropped, his eyes locked on his corporal’s movements. ‘Shit, I can’t follow the blade.’