The Price of Faith

by Rob J. Hayes

  Thanquil heard voices, close by and raised, and he blocked them out. He shut out the whole world and just knelt by her. A traitorous part of him kept imagining she would suck in a deep breath and sit up and it would all be a cruel final joke played by the demon but she didn't, no matter how much he watched her, no matter how many tears he shed she didn't get up.

  More shouting. A mote of ash landed on Jezzet's face just below her left eye marring her skin, covering the small scar she had there. He reached out with a shaky hand and wiped it away but it only smudged, made things worse and her skin felt cold. Thanquil couldn't help himself, he gave her shoulder a shake. Jezzet's head lolled to the side but still she didn't get up.

  Something hard and fast hit him in the face, slapped his cheek and stung. He barely felt the pain he was too busy feeling tired and numb.

  It came again, tried to hit him again and he caught it. Turned out to be a hand and a wrist connected to a thin, bloody arm with oozing wounds. Thanquil looked up into Henry's eyes and for just a moment the little woman looked scared, a flicker of fear soon replaced with her more familiar anger. She wrenched free her hand and turned Thanquil away from Jezzet's body. He didn't stop her. It wasn't like any of it mattered any more.

  “You an' Thorn had a deal,” she said to him her fierce face spotted red and brown.

  “She's dead.”

  Henry nodded, her face a picture of compassion if not for the permanent sneer created by the scar on her lip. “Thorn'll be too if ya don't do somethin'. You had a deal. Kessick's life fer a pardon. That fucker is dead. Time ya lived up ta your end.”

  Thanquil frowned and looked up.

  “There,” she pointed and he followed her finger.

  The Black Thorn and Jacob Lee were facing each other over a stretch of street crowded with bodies. Thorn held an axe in one hand and his other was cradled against his chest. Blood ran down his face from a cut up on his scalp and he was shouting something. Jacob Lee limped slowly towards Thorn, a dagger sticking from his left leg and three deep gouges cut across his face. It seemed a miracle the wounds had not hit his eyes but both seemed intact.

  “Do somethin',” Henry said to him her voice quiet but strict.

  Thanquil nodded slowly and wiped away the tears from his eyes on his coat sleeve. “Look after her,” he said to Henry and pushed himself to his feet.

  He crossed the distance to the two slowly, each step an effort greater than the last. His limbs felt leaden. His eyes struggled to focus. His mind screamed at him to go back to Jezzet unless she should wake and he not be there but he forced it to silence. There were bodies everywhere, so many of them, some with wounds, some without. True to it's word the demon had taken all its brethren with it when it had left. They had vacated the human bodies and left nothing but empty shells behind. Empty shells like Jezzet.

  The two were still a fair distance apart; Jacob limping faster with each step and the Black Thorn backing away, screaming at the Templar to stay back. Thanquil put himself between them.

  “Stop,” he said his voice barely more than a defeated whisper.

  Jacob took another step.

  “Stop, Jacob. Please.”

  Another step.

  “The Black Thorn isn't to be harmed. I've pardoned him.”

  Jacob took another step so he was within arms reach of Thanquil and then stopped. Staring down at the smaller man. He shook his head.

  Thanquil nodded. “It's an order, Jacob. The Black Thorn is not to be harmed.” He sniffed and forced back fresh tears. “I've already lost too much today. I'm not about to lose the only friend I have left.”

  Jacob turned his gaze from Thanquil to the Black Thorn and back again. Then he struck.

  Jacob's hand took Thanquil around the throat and the Templar gasped. Thanquil had been ready for him, he wove together as many curses as he could. A person had five senses and there was a curse for each one, Thanquil used them all and it had just the effect he wanted. For a man so used to having his senses augmented Jacob didn't know how to function when all of them were taken from him at once. His pupils dilated, his skin prickled and his mouth worked absently. It wouldn't last for long but it didn't need to.

  Thanquil pulled his pistol from his belt, put the barrel underneath Jacob's chin and...

  BANG!

  Jacob's head snapped back and gore spattered Thanquil in the face. The Templar teetered for a moment and toppled backwards hitting the ground with a dull thud and a puff of dust. Thanquil stood for a moment watching blood leak into the dirt from the hole in Jacob's head. He dropped his pistol, turned and stumbled back to Jezzet's body, collapsing onto the ground next to her. She still hadn't moved.

  “She's dead,” he said again more to himself than to anyone else.

  He didn't know how long he knelt there by her body. It might have been minutes, might have been hours. Pictures and noises passed him by in a blur. At some point someone closed Jezzet's eyes. Her beautiful brown eyes gone forever.

  “Thanquil,” a harsh voice deep and rough.

  “She's dead.”

  “Aye,” the voice said and then paused as though admitting such a thing was hard work. “Reckon we should do somethin' 'bout that.”

  Thanquil looked up at Thorn. He looked sad, his one eye wet despite the dry heat of the street.

  “Dunno what your folk do with the dead,” Thorn continued in a thick voice. “Got enough of 'em lyin' 'round here an' no mistake. Too many fer us to deal with 'em all so most we're jus' gonna leave. Took that bastard's head off, jus' ta make sure. Some folk we don't want comin' back.”

  “Coming back,” Thanquil echoed looking at Jezzet.

  “They don't come back like that, Thanquil,” Thorn said. “But I reckon ya know that.”

  Thanquil sniffed. His nose was running.

  “We can bury her or we can build a pyre. Reckon this whole town'll be nowt but ash soon enough. Storm passed us by without so much as a drop.”

  Thanquil nodded to Thorn's words though he barely heard them. “I don't think she'd want burying,” he said. “All that earth on top of her. Being ash seems more free. Floating on the wind. Though being burned hurts.”

  “Reckon I know that jus' as well as you, might be even a bit better but she ain't gonna feel it.”

  “A pyre then,” Thanquil said. “She'd like that more. I think.”

  Thorn moved away and Thanquil went back to his vigil. He wouldn't leave her alone like this. He couldn't. He would wait with her until she was gone. All of her gone.

  By the time Thorn came back the sky was starting to brighten, a dim light revealing the true horror that had been wrought the night before. Burning buildings, dead bodies and bit's of bodies and so much blood. The smell was anything but pleasant and the sight was somehow even worse. Jezzet's body was the worst of all. Her skin was pale and lifeless and she looked so... dead.

  He carried her to the pyre and he couldn't remember her being so heavy. Each step was torture but he endured it. He placed her down on the pile of tinder and arranged her arms and legs, wiped at her face and made the smudging of ash even worse, and pulled strands of her black hair away from her face.

  “You wanna?” Thorn said holding a lit torch.

  Thanquil nodded and took the torch. He felt he should be crying again but simply didn't feel like he had anything left. With only a moment's hesitation he lit the pyre and stood back and waited. Thorn waited with him.

  It didn't take long for the dry wood to catch and the fire to start roaring. It didn't take long before the flames licked at Jezzet and began to consume her body. Her hair, her clothes, her skin. Thanquil took a step backwards away from the heat but he didn't look away. Just stared at the funeral of the woman he loved with firelight dancing in his eyes.

  “The others...” he said after the pyre collapsed in on itself, Jezzet's form no longer distinguishable.

  “Got 'em tendin' ta Suzku as best they can. Everyone's pretty bad but he's on... He's on death's door. Don't know if he'll
make it through.”

  Thanquil nodded. He was numb all the way through. “So where do we go from here, I wonder,” he said.

  “We'll Double time it back ta Farpoint, might be we can find some sort of healer fer Suzku. From there we'll make our way ta Chade. Reckon we can find ya a boat back ta Sarth there... If that's what ya want.”

  Thanquil couldn't have what he wanted. She was gone. He turned to look at his friend, just about the only one he had left. “Let's go.”

  Betrim

  Relief, maybe, or happiness, a little bit of nervous anticipation. Those were what the sight of Chade's walls brought on these days. Betrim had never really called anywhere home, except his family's ranch back before he'd ran away, but Chade was definitely starting to feel a lot like one. Especially now that Rose was in charge. The very thought of their reunion after a good few months apart threatened to bring a grin to his face so Betrim quickly turned his mind to darker thoughts. Last thing the good folk of Chade needed was to see his ugly face smiling and making it a whole lot worse.

  The journey back to the free city from Absolution had been anything but enjoyable. Truth is it was about a month of long days, long faces and short tempers. Ben and Rilly had been waiting for them back at Farpoint. They had bitched and moaned about wanting to make certain the Arbiter was dead but Betrim assured them nobody came back from a death like that. A hole through the head, followed by decapitation and finally cremation. The story of his demise had done wonders to endear the two to Thanquil some as well.

  Henry and Anders, both beaten and bloody, recovered quick enough though Henry's loss of ear gave her a slightly ghoulish appearance, that and she wouldn't stop picking at the scab. Her arms would bear some nasty scars for the rest of her days but there weren't a member in the crew didn't have a few scars. Anders came out of Absolution surprisingly well off. The blooded drunk had made a habit of picking up permanent injuries wherever he went, and he was happy to talk about them all day long, but this time he was for the most part unharmed. He seemed a touch more focused too though still a raging alcoholic and a right pain in the arse when sober.

  Suzku was a worry and no mistake. The Honin wouldn't talk about his fight other than to say the old man had been a Haarin from his old clan and that there would be more of them. Truth was he was damned lucky Henry had been so determined to look for him. Took a lot of bandages and a little bit of Thanquil's magic to keep the bastard alive but survive he did and he looked like he might make a full recovery in time. He was already back to his daily morning training sessions. Betrim reckoned he'd never seen Henry so worried about another person as she was about Suzku and though they'd make a damned strange pair, a pair he reckoned they'd make.

  Most of Betrim's own concern was taken up worrying about Thanquil. His friend switched between morose and catatonic. He would sit astride his horse for days on end saying nothing and showing not even the least bit of emotion. Then they'd hit a town and he'd match Anders drink for drink, a fool's errand that Betrim reckoned was fairly close to suicide. More than once he'd had to drag the unconscious Arbiter away from a tavern.

  Betrim had seen it before many a time. Some folk got so consumed by grief they just switched off, stopped caring. It was almost as though they had nothing left any more and Thanquil was very close to fitting into that category. In Betrim's experience folk either came around and snapped out of it one day or got themselves killed pretty quick. He hoped, and would have prayed if he had believed in any of the Gods, that his friend did not fall into the latter.

  The sun was just about beginning to show itself when they set eyes on the walls of Chade and it was low and dim by the time they reached the gate of the Old Town quarter. Wasn't but a year ago the city was a war zone, gangs of armed thugs on the streets and the good folk locking themselves indoors and hoping no one came for them. Things had changed a little since then and most of that was thanks to the city's new magistrate, Rose.

  The walls were scrubbed of filth and patched up where needed so the whole city looked new from the outside. The gates had been replaced, all three of them, with hard wood from the Red Forest banded by steel and new machines of war Betrim couldn't name were being built atop the walls. Rose claimed they were precautionary measures to ward against the threat of attack but Betrim had developed a good ear for when that woman was lying. He just didn't care enough about the subject to press her for the truth.

  Rose had been steadily replacing the guards as well. Those that now manned the walls, patrolled the streets and dolled out the justice were no longer the thugs and mercenaries usually seen in the wilds, they were soldiers; well-trained and well-disciplined and loyal only to the new magistrate. For a few months the city gaol had been full and then some but these days Chade was probably the most lawful place in all the wilds. The change sat well with Betrim's own change in profession though at times left his crew a little short on work but the life of a bounty hunter meant lots of travel so travel they did. Still seemed a little strange to Betrim at times that, as far as he knew, in all the history of the wilds never had there been a bigger bounty than his and now he hunted folk for the theirs.

  As they walked their weary horses up to the gate a few of the soldiers on duty came close. They checked in with most folk as they entered these days but once they realised who the crew was they waved them all through with winks and, in one case, an applause. Betrim wasn't sure what he'd done to earn a clapping but he wasn't about to turn one down, he'd certainly received far colder welcomes in his time.

  The streets were as clean as he'd left them and about as busy with folk too. The light of the morning might be dim but it was enough to work by and plenty of people agreed. The Old Town quarter, famous for being the poor quarter of Chade, no longer looked like the run-down collection of hovels it had until recently been. New houses, built of stone and not wood, were springing up all over and carpenters and masons were already hard at work to meet the demand.

  A number of people started trailing the crew as they walked their horses along the dusty streets. Rose had plans to turn the old quarter to hobbled roads but seemed that was one improvement she hadn't managed to make a reality just yet.

  “This doesn't seem normal,” Thanquil said looking up and around and mostly at the folk following them.

  Henry snorted. “Ya might be surprised, Arbiter. Thorn here is a hero didn't ya know?”

  Betrim sighed. “Reckon they've heard yet?”

  “Words are air and the wind travels fast in the wilds,” Suzku said still wincing with every step his horse made.

  “Couldn't have put it better myself,” Anders agreed. “You have a wonderful way with words, my good man.”

  “Fancy way o' sayin' yes if ya ask me,” Rilly said with a sneer that reminded Betrim uncomfortably of the woman Henry had once been. The little woman was far less scary than she wanted to be though.

  “A hero...” Thanquil said. Betrim had noticed the Arbiter had gone back to being careful not to ask questions. It was a change he approved of.

  “Best ya don't ask,” Betrim rasped. “Most of it ain't exactly true anyways.”

  “I ever tell you how Chade is one of my six cities?” asked Six-Cities Ben.

  Henry spat. “Any of us ever ask?”

  “No.”

  “Reckon there might be a reason fer that?”

  Ben grinned, seemed they were all in good humour to be back in Chade. “Suit yourselves.”

  “Get yaselves ta the Bastard's End. Reckon we've earned a bit of rest. I'll go check in with the magistrate,” Betrim said already steering his horse away.

  “Give her a check in from me,” called Ben from behind.

  “My people told me a hero had arrived in my fair city and now I see they were right,” Rose said gliding out of her chair and over to Betrim. She was wearing a red silk dress that showed off plenty of cleavage. Already Betrim was imagining how easy it would be to get her out of the garment.

  “Seems a right strange time when a man lik
e me can be called a hero. Weren't but a short ways back same folk were callin' me somethin' a damn sight worse.”

  Rose stepped into his arms and tilted her head back. She smelled of flowers and fruit and it got his pulse to racing being so close to her. He leaned down a little and kissed her and she kissed him right back. Betrim also thought it was a strange time that a man like him might be able to call a woman like Rose his wife, not that most folk knew it.

  Rose let out a rumbling purring noise from her throat and pulled away a little, resting her head on Betrim's chest. “But you are a hero. You killed H'ost before he could unleash that army of his on the wilds.”

  “I was there fer a fact,” Betrim argued. “Also got the blame fer slaughtering half the bloody city.”

  “You waltzed into Sarth, killed an Inquisitor and came back from the dead to return here to us.”

  “Don't reckon I've ever done any waltzing in my life an' I didn't kill no Inquisitors either. Jus' got myself good an' stabbed by an evil Arbiter an' lost a perfectly good eye in the process then got nursed back ta health an' ran away the first chance I got.”

  “Mhm,” Rose mumbled. “One man's rubbish is another's treasure. You freed the slaves in Solantis and started a rebellion.”

  “Funny how slaves ain't exactly free everywhere I tread ain't it? An' rebellions ain't usually well received by most. Lots of good folk die in rebellions.”

  “Lots of good folk die every day. Rebellions are exciting. You killed my brother, the tyrant of Chade and freed the people from his evil machinations.”

  Betrim couldn't even spell machinations and he certainly didn't know what it meant. “Reckon my part in his death was motivated by less than honourable purposes.”

  “The why is less important than the act. And now, just recently, you have killed the kidnapper Kessick and raised his city to the ground.”