The Price of Faith (37 page)

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 lifeless 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 main 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.

Only once the Inquisition's competition was battered, beaten, broken or exterminated the Templars served no purpose. They became relics too powerful to let go and yet too costly to maintain. Thanquil was no stranger to history tomes and he knew the last Templar had died over two thousand years ago. Over time the descriptions of how to create the warriors had been forgotten and lost but clearly there were some within the Inquisition who were keen to rediscover just how to create such powerful tools. Thanquil couldn't help but wonder whether the God Emperor knew of the attempt and knew of Jacob.

“Someone sent you here?” Thanquil asked. “Sent you after Thorn? The Black Thorn.”

Jacob nodded.

“Who?”

Predictable silence.

“The council?”

Jacob held up a single finger.

“An Inquisitor?”

Jacob nodded.

That made things difficult with a side helping of unfortunate. Thanquil didn't have the authority to overrule an Inquisitor's order out here or anywhere. He may have given his word to pardon the Black Thorn but right now he had no way of holding up his end of the bargain. Not to mention he counted Thorn as a friend and would really rather not see the man tried by the Inquisition. He may have been responsible for the deaths of six Arbiters but the Black Thorn was most certainly not a heretic.

“Jacob, listen to me. The Black Thorn is not a heretic.”

Jacob shrugged.

“You have no reason to hunt him. He's actually helping me, helping the Inquisition.”

Again Jacob shrugged, focused his eyes on Thorn waiting in the distance and started towards him. Thanquil quickly stepped into the Templar's way.

“Jacob stop,” Thanquil was walking backwards as he spoke, well aware that he did not want to try and stop the Templar physically. “This is bigger and more important than any orders from an Inquisitor. Did you hear what happened last year between myself and Inquisitor Heron?”

Jacob nodded but kept walking.

Thanquil held up a hand. “Jacob listen to me...”

The Templar's own hand moved so quick Thanquil didn't have time to react. Jacob grabbed hold of his wrist and twisted. There was nothing Thanquil could do but twist with it to stop his wrist from shattering. He found himself on his knees with his scarred hand held above him, his shoulder straining in its socket and he was feeling somewhere close to all the pain in the world. Jacob looked down on him with dark, heartless eyes.

Thanquil had to admit the Templar was gentle. He was in no doubt, having already witnessed the man's strength, that Jacob could likely twist his arm from his body should he want but instead he just held him there. Thanquil managed to put out his other hand to stop Thorn's almost certainly suicidal attempt at rescue. Then he gripped hold of his right shoulder to brace it against the strain.