The Price of Faith

by Rob J. Hayes

  The dragon was faster.

  Its huge head lunged forward and its mouth snapped shut around the tail end of Thanquil’s coat. He heard the leather tear but Arbiter coats were made of sturdy stuff and the garment unfortunately held together. With a violent shake of its head the dragon threw Thanquil across the mustering yard.

  Air, rain and mud all passed before Thanquil’s eyes in a dizzying blur of motion accompanied by a crack of thunder so close it sounded like an explosion. Then he hit the ground and rolled to a stop, inhaling mud and attempting to cough it back up all in one motion. He retched up a mouthful of the foul brown muck and, with the back of his hand, wiped away the mud from his eyes just in time to see the dragon ignoring its prince again and lumbering towards him.

  Thanquil lurched to his feet. The mud may have broken his fall and stopped him from breaking anything but now he was covered in it, soaked in it. Miraculously he found he had kept hold of his sword and said a quick prayer of thanks to Volmar for what little good it would do him.

  The dragon skidded to a stop mere metres from Thanquil and again lunged at him with its mouth. Thanquil lurched to his right and impossibly sharp teeth snapped together around what had almost been his head. He thrust with his sword and the blade struck home. Sharpened, enchanted metal connected with wet, scaly hide and did what Thanquil could only describe as nothing.

  The beast launched itself onto its back legs and flapped its massive wings at him and the blast of air once again knocked Thanquil on his arse in the mud and the pouring rain. He was just about to struggle to his feet again when the dragons head appeared above him, staring down at him with its mouth open. Hot, rancid breath hit him and Thanquil gagged at the smell but then a part of him realised that bad breath was currently the very least of his problems.

  A roar tore into the mustering yard and Thanquil glimpsed another dark shape land on the battlements far behind the dragon peering down at him. The beast stopped and turned, craning its head around to look at the new arrival. Thanquil let himself hope the fort was under attack by another Dragon Prince. The alternative of having to fight two dragons when one was clearly enough to best him did not even warrant thinking about.

  Prince Naarsk’s dragon let out a challenging trumpet noise and the new dragon again answered with a roar. Without warning the beast that had almost killed Thanquil backed away from him, lowering its head in a posture that looked much like submission.

  Thanquil pushed himself to his feet, using his sword as a cane and peered through the pouring grey sheets. He saw Naarsk, holding both his witch and his daughter in his arms down on one knee with his head lowered. Thanquil knew there were only two people in all the Dragon Empire that could command such respect and obedience from a prince and he was all but certain the Dragon Empress hadn’t left the capital.

  The new dragon lowered its head and allowed its rider to dismount into the muck below. The newcomer was dressed in a suit of dragon bone mail with plate leggings and boots and wore a cape of the deepest scarlet though it was soaked through and dragged in the mud turning it a nasty brown colour at the hem. He was no taller than Thanquil, being a native to the empire, and his dark hair had a shock of grey running through it. He strode towards Thanquil, heedless of the mud sucking at his boots and stopped just a few feet away.

  “Arbiter Darkheart.”

  Thanquil gave the man a half-hearted smile and waited for another peal of thunder to subside. “Dragon Herald. I assume it wasn’t the weather that brought you to this neck of the woods… or jungle,” he shouted over the sound of the downpour.

  The current Dragon Herald was a man called Travine and he was the one man in all the empire who could command the princes with the empress’ voice. He was a hero of no small regard having quashed a rebellion back in his youth and was essentially the supreme commander of the combined forces of the empire. Though he was no prince and therefore had no dragon of his own it was not unheard of for him to borrow a prince’s dragon when the need arose. His current mount was a beast with green eyes and silver scales that glittered in the muted light.

  “The empress commands your attendance,” the Dragon Herald shouted in a clipped tone.

  Thanquil stood in the mud and pouring rain and found himself lost for words. “I… um… can’t. Not right now. She’s, uh, a very long way away and I have business here.”

  The Dragon Herald looked Thanquil up and down and then turned to Naarsk’s dragon, seemingly noticing for the first time that the beast had been trying to eat the Arbiter. “What is happening here?”

  Naarsk walked forwards through the rain, his wife and child behind him. “He is trying to kill my wife,” the prince shouted and his statement was punctuated by another blast of thunder.

  The Dragon Herald turned to Thanquil who simply shrugged. “She’s a witch.” Lightening streaked across the sky.

  The Herald turned back to Naarsk. “It is his right.”

  Naarsk’s jaw clenched so hard Thanquil thought his teeth were sure to snap. “She is my wife,” he screamed.

  The Dragon Herald stepped toward Naarsk and backhanded the prince across the face in an almost casual motion. “The empress herself gives the Inquisition right to operate in the empire. Would you disobey her, Prince Naarsk?”

  Thanquil felt the balance of power shift as the prince lowered his head in resignation. He allowed himself a smile of victory and stepped forward.

  “Then it is settled,” the Dragon Herald shouted, turning to Thanquil. “You will come with me to Soromo to attend the empress. Afterwards you may return to carry out your judgement.”

  “No!” Thanquil said, the smile slipping from his face. “I will carry out my judgement now. Whatever your empress wants can wait until I am finished. I’m sure it won’t take too long to fight my way through both dragon and prince to the witch and besides, Soromo is many weeks travel away. What harm could another day do.”

  The soaked Dragon Herald positioned himself between Thanquil and the witch. “My empress commands your presence, Arbiter,” he shouted in Thanquil's face. “For the trial of Jezzet Vel’urn.”

  “What?” Thanquil asked without thinking. The question was too broad, too unfocused and the Dragon Herald merely shook his head and grunted as though shaking off a dizzy spell.

  “Do not use your magic on me again, Arbiter,” the Dragon Herald warned in a thick voice that stemmed the next question before it formed. “You will come with me to Soromo now.” He gripped hold of Thanquil’s arm and began dragging him away. Before Thanquil knew what was happening he found himself standing before the great silver dragon the Herald had arrived upon. The beast was as large as a house and regarded him with calm, intelligent eyes. “Climb on,” the Herald ordered.

  Thanquil looked up at the big winged lizard with something akin to fear but a peal of thunder drowned out his curse.

  Part 2 – Law and Order

  Jezzet

  The city of Soromo, capital of the Dragon Empire, was a city like no other Jezzet Vel’urn had ever seen. Built upon the Emerald Sea, a lake in the mainland of the empire so large it was impossible to see from any one shore to the opposite no matter how clear the day, Soromo half-floated and was half-supported by giant stone pillars that ran deep below the turquoise water to the rocky bed below. That was the true marvel of Soromo, Jez decided; it was a city as large as any other she had been to but it was a floating city.

  It had taken her months to get accustomed to the strange sensation of living on what felt to her like a city-sized boat. Even the Empress’ palace and the richer districts built upon the stone pillars had a distinctive rise and fall when the waters were at their most turbulent. Jezzet had once asked how such a thing was possible and it had been explained to her that the pillars were actually formed from a strong inner core of hard, unyielding rock and thousands upon thousands of giant, buoyant stone rings, the city rested upon those rings and, as such, had a certain amount of leeway to cope with the waves of the Emerald Sea. Who had designed suc
h a thing and then who had subsequently built it was a question that left Jez’s head spinning.

  To say Jezzet was in awe of the city’s architecture would be a gross understatement but as she knew no other word to describe her amazement she settled with awe and simply tried not to think about it.

  The poorer districts of Soromo were no less wondrous. Built upon monstrously large wooden rafts multiple layers thick and treated to withstand the rigours of age and rot, the poorer districts were lashed together and secured by giant walkways that stretched out over open water and connected each district to its neighbours. These districts were built lower, able to carry less weight than their stone counterparts and surrounded the richer districts in concentric circles growing ever smaller as they spread outwards.

  Giant bridges of wood or stone able to support a host of people and all at least four carts abreast connected the separate districts allowing an easy, if a little constricted, method of travel. Boats were the other frequent method of travel: from small, passenger-laden gondolas to the larger pleasure barges to heavy cargo boats sitting low in the calm waters, wallowing from destination to destination. Boats were the key to transport in Soromo and they were heavily taxed by greedy officials eager to secure their own advancement by pulling in more money than their peers. Boats were also the key to many a merchant’s wealth and where there were merchants there was competition and where there was competition there was work for people like Jez.

  Of course Jezzet knew she didn’t need to work, the money Thanquil had left her was more than enough to sustain her for many months and many more but it was the Inquisition’s money and Jez didn’t like being beholden to anyone, least of all the same damned organisation that held Thanquil so tightly by the stones. There was ever work for folk with her particular skill set and especially so for folk willing to use those skills without scruples and scruples were something Jez had abandoned long ago. So it was that she found herself working, and not for the first times, for a fat merchant by the name of Gok.

  Guards were not strictly necessary on the cargo boats but then if merchant Gok was paranoid enough to hire guards as experienced as Jezzet Vel’urn, and she was not the only veteran on duty, then she supposed his cargo must be valuable indeed. Either way she was not of a mind to argue with her employer’s decision.

  A small, heavily-laden fishing skiff floated by at a leisurely pace. The fisher, a thin man baked dark brown by the sun, stared at Jez in open wonder even after she returned his gaze. She assessed his threat level in an instant and put it at non-existent before going back to scanning the jade-coloured waters ahead of them.

  “You cut a damned imposing figure up front like that, Vel’urn,” said Sally from behind. Big and brutish with a neck as thick as one of Jez’s thighs Sally never stopped smiling. He claimed to be Five Kingdoms born and bred and she could well believe it. Jez hadn’t spent long in the Five Kingdoms but she had seen how large the northerners grew over there and he certainly spoke like a Five Kingdomer, always referring to people by their family names.

  “Kind of the point ain’t it, Sal,” Jez said without turning to look at the big man. “Better to scare them off than fight them.”

  Sally chuckled. “Not sure I agree with that.”

  Me either, Jezzet thought.

  She glanced down at herself then and smiled. Sally was right about one thing and no mistake; she did make for an imposing figure with her right foot on the stumpy railing that surrounded the barge.

  Jezzet no longer wore leathers, long since having decided the merciless sun in the Dragon Empire was too hot and, as Thanquil had pointed out on multiple occasions, she didn’t need the protection. Instead Jez wore a set of flexible lightweight boots laced firmly around her ankles and calves, a simple pair of brown, cotton trousers than ended just below her knees and a bone-coloured linen shirt left sleeveless to bare her arms. Over it all she wore a light tabard dyed a dark, royal-blue that stretched from neck to calf on the front and back while being open at the sides. She belted the tabard at her waist with a red sash. The cloth merchant who had sold Jez the tabard had asked for her crest but she had been forced to admit she didn’t know it. The Vel’urn name was not truly hers but had belonged to her old master, she had decided to take the name after killing the old bastard to complete her Blademaster training. Jezzet completed her attire by tying her jet-black hair into a small tail with a red strip of cloth the same colour as her sash. It was rare she let her hair grow long enough that it needed tying back but recently she had been feeling the need for a change so she had allowed it to grow unmolested.

  Jezzet also carried her swords. She never felt complete without a blade at her side and these days she carried three. Her long sword, as always, was sheathed by her hip on her left side. She could wield the weapon as skilfully in either hand but drawing steel with her right felt as natural as drawing breath. Along her belt at her back she kept sheathed dual short swords. Slim and razor sharp she could draw both blades in an instant and Jez was more than comfortable dual wielding.

  Given everything Jezzet had no doubt she cut an imposing figure. Even as slim and beautiful as she was no one would mistake the danger inherent in her poise, her posture and her attitude. Though she might never admit it Jez took great pride in her appearance and she liked to appear dangerous.

  Another small vessel, this one a gondola carrying a couple bearing the marks of high birth down their arms, Jezzet had never been bothered to learn which tattoos denoted loyalty to which house, passed by the cargo barge. The gondolier pushed against the larger boat with a long pole to stop the two craft from bumping into each other and they passed without incident.

  Jezzet stifled a yawn.

  “Fancy a drink, Vel’urn?” Sally asked.

  She turned to find he had set up a small, square table on the crowded deck. Sal dwarfed his tiny chair, while Lei, the wiry, scarred veteran who barely said a word on a good day, dealt out cards. Jaeryn, the ever amiable leader of the little guard crew sauntered into view from behind a stack of securely lashed crates and sat at the table before motioning for Jez to join them. With a shrug she left her post at the bow and lounged in the one remaining chair. Sal grinned and passed her a frothy mug of something brown and alcoholic. Jez gulped down a mouthful without ceremony much to the big northerner’s obvious amusement.

  “In for a hand, Jezzet?” Jaeryn asked indicating the cards.

  Jez snorted. “Not after last time, lost half a job’s pay to that blatant cheat.” Lei simply shrugged in response so she continued. “Shouldn’t one of us be watching out at least?”

  “Captain will warn us before anyone gets close to board,” Jaeryn replied in his frustratingly non-chalant tone. “Besides, there’s no one will try for us this evening. Sun is long past waning, all the respectable pirates are abed resting up for a night full of debauchery.”

  Jez cocked an eyebrow. “What about all the unrespectable pirates?”

  Again Lei shrugged but it was Jaeryn who spoke. “Cei am, cha am.”

  Sally snorted and Jez spat over the side of the barge. It was a popular saying in Soromo and it meant: what will be, will be but Jez was never one to leave things to fate or the whim of the Gods.

  Somewhere high above a dragon let out a thunderous roar to announce its arrival. Sally jumped and commenced a wide-eyed staring into the sky but none of the others so much as acknowledged the noise. Lei and Jaeryn were native to Soromo and had grown up with dragons roaming the skies, Jez on the other hand was simply used to the monstrous beasts. A side effect of being a regular in the Dragon Empress’ court was that she had seen many dragons including the current matriarch and mother of them all.

  “What’s she like?” Sally asked after he was well and truly certain the dragon was now about to snatch the barge from the water and give its occupants the chewing of a lifetime.

  “Huh?”

  “The Empress. I hear she’s a wonder, her beauty only being matched by her temper.”

  Jez shrug
ged. All the members of the little guard crew knew of her regular access and enforced attendance to the Dragon Empress’ court and it was a fact they took great pride in; not many crews could claim such a thing nor could they claim they had one of the few remaining Blademasters in the world working for them. It gave the crew no small amount of renown and that, along with a reputation for getting the job done, kept them well supplied with work.

  “I suppose she’s pretty,” Jez replied at length, “very symmetrical but I reckon I’ve seen prettier. It ain’t her you want to worry about when a dark mood takes her though, it’s that bloody dragon of hers. I’ve seen some things,” like a man coming back from the dead after I put a dagger through his heart, “but when a winged lizard the size of a house gets angry it’s not something you want directed your way.”

  “Thought all Blademasters were fearless,” Jaeryn said with a toothy grin. Jez liked the little man but he wore altogether too much make-up around his eyes. Too much being any at all.

  “Only folk who are fearless are the foolish and the dead. Blademasters just know how to conquer fear, how to use it and not be ruled by it.”

  Lei made a derogatory motion with his hand and the others laughed. Jez leaned forward just a little and gave him a hard stare, her dark brown eyes boring into his jade greens.

  “Would you like me to give you a demonstration?”

  Lei coughed into his hands and decided his cards were more interesting, the others laughed again and this time Jezzet joined in.

  There weren’t many folk willing to challenge Jez these days. Even those who didn’t know of her skill with a sword sensed something about her that made them pause and think twice. Thanquil said it was all in the way she carried herself these days, something about projecting an air of danger. He said she was a different woman after Sarth last year, after killing Arbiter Kosh, and it was true to a point. Jez had completed her Blademaster training many years ago but it wasn’t until Sarth that she had truly embraced the teachings.