by Rob J. Hayes
“My treat,” said Six-Cities Ben and jumped up, sauntering towards an overweight barmaid with a face like a pig's arse.
“Good news an' bad,” the Black Thorn said. “Ain't far ta Absolution an' from here out it's a straight ride. Pick up supplies we need fer the trip tomorrow mornin' an' we'll be gone by sun up. That'd be the good news. Bad is I managed ta have a word with a man been through Absolution jus' a month back. Says there's hundreds o' town folk these days, many as there's ever been, likely more. He also says that ain't none of 'em right. Creepy, he called 'em. Unnaturally quiet an' a few of 'em damned crazy ta boot. They sound possessed ta you?”
Thanquil nodded slowly. “Could be.”
“Well seven of us against a fuckin' army don't strike me as the best of odds, Thanquil. Reckon we might need a plan once we get there an' I seem ta remember yours tend ta involve suicide.”
Thanquil snorted. “We all survived Hostown.”
“The Boss didn't,” Henry said from underneath her hat, the giant royal blue feather bobbing as she spoke.
“He was dead before we arrived at Hostown, he just hadn't figured it out yet. No one died in Sarth either.”
Thorn tapped the eye patch covering his left eye.
“But you're not dead!” Thanquil pointed out.
“All the same. Reckon we might approach this one with a bit more subtlety than ya known fer, Thanquil.”
Ben hurried back to the table not carrying any drinks but with a grave look on his face. “Commotion on the main street in town. Man in robes ignoring the guards. Sounds like a chance to make some money, boss.”
Thorn nodded and sniffed loudly. “Might be. Reckon we can find time. Might as well check it out.” He turned to look at Thanquil. “Towns like this ain't real large, pretty much one dirt road an' a few buildings. Also happens the guards ain't real used ta dealin' with problems. Folk like us can make a fair bit of bits helpin' out when trouble starts.”
Thanquil nodded, joining the others as they stood and made for the door to the tavern. “I seem to remember a time when you were the one starting that trouble.”
Thorn snorted. “'Cos you witch hunters never cause any bloody trouble.”
The main street of Farpoint was just as Thorn had said, a dirt road a little bigger than the other dirt roads and more frequently travelled. The buildings either side were squat, ugly things made of hard wood and held together by rusted nails and a vigilant disregard for safety and maintenance. Unlike most places Thanquil had been to in the wilds Farpoint did not sport walls; D'roan kept his province free from bandits in return for extortionate taxes and though folk weren't happy about it, they paid all the same. Better to pay than to risk the lord's wrath and find out that those same men paid to protect you were the ones robbing you blind.
Folk crowded out onto the porches of their houses and shops and the local whore house. Thanquil and Thorn's crew were not the first to make their way out of the inn and had to jostle for space on the tavern's porch though the sight of Thorn and Suzku towering over everyone made most folk slink away to find more crowded spots.
The night was bright, lit by an uncountable number of stars and a moon that seemed as large as the sun. Pointless lanterns hung from each doorway and provided little to no extra light but folk hung them out all the same. Insects buzzed toward the light and Thanquil supposed that might be one reason for them.
In the centre of the street, walking slowly, calmly and non-threatening was a single figure as tall as Thorn and dressed in long, voluminous black robes, their face hidden completely in shadow. All around the figure armed guards danced, threatening with their weapons and ordering the person to halt and state their business or turn around and leave. The figure remained silent and did not stop.
“I don't understand why the guards are so threatened,” Thanquil said.
“People don't much like the unknown, Arbiter,” Six-Cities Ben said loudly. Thanquil suspected he did so that those nearby would know a witch hunter was around. Might be the knowledge would calm some folk but Thanquil also suspected it would only make matters worse.
“People don't like folk in robes neither,” said Henry. “Makes 'em nervous.”
The robed figure continued on, heading straight down the street as if the whole town hadn't gathered to watch. One of the guards, either one more brave or more foolish darted forward in front of the figure, waving a rusty-looking short sword. The guard looked up into the hood of the robed figured and skidded to a halt, dropping his sword and scrabbling away as fast as he could. The brave, foolish guard didn't stop scrabbling away until he was long out of sight and all the while the robed figure kept on walking.
As Thanquil and the Black Thorn's crew watched an imperial looking man wearing a faded uniform of the D'roan family colours walked out of the whore house and fixed his stare on the walking robe.
“Guard cap'n,” Henry said with a sneer in her voice.
Thanquil looked down at the little murderess. “He's inspiring me with confidence already.”
Henry set to laughing and Thorn spoke over her. “Useless bastard might try ta fight, might just ask fer volunteers. Either way reckon we're 'bout ta make some bits. Robed fella walks like he knows what he's about.”
“How can ya be sure it's a he,” Rilly slurred squinting at the figure in the road. “Could be a fuckin' lass fer all you know.”
Thorn didn't even spare the drunken woman a glance. “Only woman I ever seen that big died in Hostown an' if Deadeye's come back from the grave I reckon we all best believe hell is followin' her.”
“Halt!” shouted the guard captain without actually getting close to the robed figure. “I said HALT!”
Thanquil noticed one of the man's shoes was unlaced and he had a smear of red from a woman's lips across his cheek. His nose was straight as a knife edge, a testament to his lack of experience as far as Thanquil was concerned, and his hair was thinning and oiled back across his head. An old sword, likely only drawn for ceremony, rattled in it's scabbard at his side and the belt from which it hung was unfastened.
“I put two silver bits on the robe,” Thanquil said.
The Black Thorn rasped out a chuckle. The robed man stopped walking and looked directly at them.
“Good,” said the guard captain nodding and glancing around at the assembled townsfolk. “I hereby order ya to state your business.”
The robed man lifted a single hand and pointed towards the Black Thorn's crew. Thorn silently took a step sideways, the finger followed him.
“Friend of ours?” Six-Cities Ben asked.
Thorn snorted. “Reckon every friend I got is on this side of the finger.”
“Enemy then?”
“Got a fair few of 'em. Most wouldn't bother with the pointin' 'less there was a blade flyin' my way.”
“This one's colours are maddening,” said Suzku from behind. “I see a swirling maelstrom of emotion with no end and no restraint.”
There was a moment's silence. “That right there was some philosophical shit,” Rilly slurred.
The guard captain looked their way. “The inn? Well that's alright then. We don't like trouble in these parts so as long...”
The robed figure ignored the captain and changed direction towards the Black Thorn. The captain, clearly misjudging the situation, then made the greatest and very last mistake of his life; he grabbed hold of the robed figure's arm. In an flash the robed man twisted his arm, spun the guard captain around and punched. There was a sickening crack as fist connected with neck and the body of the guard captain slumped to the dusty street, his head distinctly more horizontal than was healthy.
Thanquil heard the Black Thorn sigh. “Oh shit.”
After the moment of shock passed three more guards charged the robed man. The first to reach him came from behind, running with his sword held in front of him like a spear. The robed man calmly flowed to one side, leaving a foot behind for an instant to trip the guard, sending him crashing to the ground next to his lifeles
s captain.
The second guardsman came on with a wood axe and swung it as though he were using it for its intended purpose. The robed figure caught the shaft of the axe mid-swing, plucked it from the guard's grasp and span, completing the spin by cleanly lopping of the axe owner's head with his own axe.
Thorn let out a low whistle. Thanquil glanced his way. “What? Ain't easy takin' off a head with just the one blow is all.”
The third guard faltered in his charge and turned it into a tactical retreat. The robed man stepped toward the first man, still struggling in the dirt, took hold of one leg and with an audible grunt swung the man twenty feet in the air and another thirty feet towards the inn. There was a scream cut off by a dull thud as the man hit the building, another thud and the sound of something heavy rolling down the awning of the porch. Eventually the body of the guard dropped from above and hit the ground just in front of the crew.
“Right then,” Thorn said calmly stepping over the broken body of the guard and into the street. The rest of his crew hesitated only a moment before following. Thanquil, unsure of how to act followed dumbly, his mind still trying to comprehend the strength of the robed figure.
“Demon, ya reckon?” Thorn rasped as his crew fanned out around the robed man.
A chilling cackle emanated from within the hood of the robed figure and slowly the hands rose and pulled it back. The man's face was covered in tattoos, scrawling ink work flowing over his skin in trails of scripture. His jaw was slightly lopsided, his eyes were dark and reflected no light and a shock of white hair ran across the right side of his head, a stark contrast to the brown. A strange familiarity tugged at Thanquil.
“It's him,” said Six-Cities Ben his voice colder than ice. “That's the fuck killed Joan.”
“Aye,” Rilly slurred from beside Thanquil. “Killed my da' too.”
The Black Thorn moved to stand in front of Rilly and looked back at Thanquil. “He's one of yours. Witch hunter like you.”
“Beth'd never have let him go,” Ben said. “He must have killed her.”
“Reckon you can talk ta him?” Thorn continued ignoring Ben. “Maybe convince him of the benefits of surrendering.”
“Uh...”
“What the fuck?” Rilly shouted. “Ya gonna talk ta him? Ain't you famous fer killin' the likes o' them?”
“Infamous,” Anders announced to the crew and was soundly ignored.
“Rilly,” the Black Thorn started, turning to face the little woman. “Would you please jus' shut the fuck up fer once. Truth is I'd really rather not get us all killed tryin' ta fight this bastard 'specially not when we ain't exactly at full strength.”
“Eh?”
“Well fer a start you're as pissed as Anders 'cept I don't care if he dies...”
“Thanks boss.”
“'Sides. He's intolerable sober so we put up with it. You look 'bout ready ta drop. So if we can find a way out of this one without a considerable amount of bloody violence reckon we're gonna take it. Good?”
“Not good,” this came from Six-Cities Ben. “He killed Joan. My brother, your friend. Ya reckon I'm just gonna let that drop? Reckon you might be cracked, Thorn.”
Thanquil noticed the bounty hunter had his heavy iron mace held loose and ready in his hand. He looked like he knew how to use it as well. Thanquil also noticed Henry standing behind Ben with daggers drawn and hat tipped back to give her a proper view.
“Reckon ya might want ta back down, Ben,” Thorn said in a voice as dark as his name as Henry crept into stabbing distance. “'Fore one of me does somethin' you can't live with.”
Ben frowned. “Huh?”
“I think he was threatening to hurt you, old boy,” Anders said cheerily into his hip flask.
Ben stood a moment longer before relaxing a little, spitting into the dirt street. “Fine. Have ya Arbiter speak his piece but I don't reckon this is like to be over 'til that murderous bastard is lying face down in a pool of his own red.”
Thorn nodded. “Not sayin' I entirely disagree with you on that point.”
Thanquil let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding and noticed the tattooed man was watching them with an amused smile.
“Off ya go then, Thanquil,” the Black Thorn said. “Try not ta piss him off, eh.”
Thanquil started forward and found a big hand on his shoulder, not holding him back just letting him know Suzku was there. He glanced back at the Honin but the man was staring intently at the tattooed figure in the street.
“He is unstable.”
Thanquil waited for Suzku to say more but the stoic-mouthed Honin said not another word. After a few seconds Thanquil nodded and continued forward. As he approached he couldn't shake the feeling he had seen the tattooed man before, he looked eerily familiar or maybe just eerie. The tattoos certainly leant him a menacing air that set Thanquil's teeth itching.
He stopped a few meters from the man and looked hard. The tattooed man stared back evenly, not blinking, not saying a word, just watching. It wasn't just the man that looked familiar, his tattoos looked familiar, the scripture looked almost the same as that used in charm formation.
The man nodded once toward Thanquil and made to walk past him. Realisation hit Thanquil like a mailed fist holding bitter memories. “Jacob?”
The tattooed man stopped and again he looked at Thanquil. Deep eyes that had once been blue now contained only infinite darkness. Again the man nodded.
“It's me, Thanquil. Arbiter Darkheart.”
Another nod and a smile that showed more than a few missing teeth.
“What are you doing here?” Thanquil asked and revelled in the joy of his impotent compulsion.
Jacob Lee shrugged and pointed one finger towards the Black Thorn. Thanquil glanced back at the bounty hunter and his crew.
“There must have been a mistake,” Thanquil protested. “The Black Thorn is to be left alone, avoided actually, if at all possible. Regardless, he's helping me...”
“You're helping us,” he heard Anders mumble.
“I could use your help too, Jacob.”
“What's he sayin', Thanquil?” Thorn shouted.
“Not much. I know him. He's... an old friend.”
A mumble ran through the people of the town as they milled it over and decided they were less than pleased at having two Arbiters around, especially as one had just murdered their town guard. One of them, a man, shouted some insult about witch hunters.
Thanquil turned around to see a middle-aged man with a dirty-looking ponytail reaching down to pick up a stone that was bordering on being classed a boulder. Thanquil wasted no time in pulling his pistol from his belt and pointing it, rather threateningly, at the man.
“My suggestion would be to put down the rock, turn around and walk away,” Thanquil said in the most commanding voice he could.
The man faltered, half way to standing with the rock held loosely in his hand. He gave it bit of thought and then decided Thanquil was likely not the type to make idle threats. Either that or he was reasonably terrified by the homicidal, tattooed man standing just behind Thanquil.
After giving the rest of the gathered crowd a good eyeing Thanquil turned back to Jacob to find the man watching him through his dark eyes with a curious expression on his face. Thanquil couldn't tell if it meant Jacob was impressed or was thinking of punching a hole through him and then everyone else in town as well.
With a deep breath Thanquil continued. “I think it might be best if we move off a ways, Jacob. We have a lot to talk about.”
Jacob laughed. Deep and honest and terrifying. Then he opened his mouth to show Thanquil the red stump that had obviously once been a tongue but now looked small and sad.
“Ah... Um... Well, I guess I have a lot to talk about and you get to listen.”
Again Jacob pointed at the Black Thorn. Thanquil shook his head slowly. “First we talk... I talk. Then you can decide whether or not you still want to kill Thorn.” Thanquil started walking back down the m
ain street with Jacob reluctantly following. He couldn't help but wonder what he'd do if Jacob still decided he'd rather have the Black Thorn dead.
Once they were a good ways out of the town, with Thorn's crew keeping a respectful but watchful distance, Thanquil couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. He stepped close to Jacob and stared long and hard at the Arbiter's tattoos. They curled around the contours of his face, crawled over his bones and wrapped around each other in concentric patterns. It would have been a master stroke of a charm had it not been written on a man's skin and... It dawned on Thanquil in a flash.
“They're blessings,” he said already knowing he was right. Jacob nodded all the same. “By Volmar's balls. They turned you into a Templar.”
Jacob laughed, shrugged and eventually shook his head.
“What happened?” Thanquil asked.
Jacob ran a finger across his face and then rolled up the sleeves of his robe to show yet more tattoos all over his hands and arms. Thanquil got the idea, the tattoos likely covered every bit of Jacob's skin. The Templar then pointed a finger at his head, then held up both hands as if he were holding onto something then jerked them apart and away from each other violently.
“Uh...”
Jacob made the motion again.
“Your, uh, head snapped? Your mind snapped? Mind broke?”
Jacob nodded and again indicated his tattoos before making the mind breaking motion.
“But you survived,” Thanquil said walking around Jacob and inspecting the tattoos he could see. “The blessings are active all the time whether you wish it or not?”
Jacob nodded.
Thanquil was known to be one of the Inquisition's most accomplished Arbiters when it came to blessings and curses but even he could only weave four or five together at once. From the looks of things Jacob was imbued with the augments from hundreds of blessings. He had always been one of the strongest Arbiters in the Inquisition but now... Now he had been turned into a Templar.
Thanquil whistled through his teeth and marvelled at the ingenuity of those involved in the experiment. The Templars had once been the mailed fist of the Inquisition. Back before the world had been scoured of the warlocks and necromancers, back before the Drurr had been decimated and driven underground, Volmar had created the Inquisition and brought together people with the potential, teaching them his faith and his magic. He formed the ranks of the Arbiters as scouts and commanders, and he formed the Templars as their troops to command. The constant drain on their potential had robbed the Templars from using any true magic but the power and abilities they gained from those blessings made them perfect foot soldiers.