The Price of Faith (42 page)

They took it in turns rushing to the house that would serve as their base but all made it without incident. Thanquil wasn't certain what he liked less; the general lack of folk out and about or that each and every building without fail sported its own lamp. Seemed passing strange to him but none of the others made a deal out of it so he decided to keep quiet.

Once they were all in and the door was closed and the windows shuttered they took a moment to relax. Tense would have been a welcome luxury Thanquil's nerves were so on edge. He patted the sword at his side but quickly stopped when he found both Anders and Jacob watching him. Henry moved to one of the windows and peered out through the shutters, watching the street for any activity.

“Fair ta say this is a little odd,” said Thorn. “Don't reckon I've ever a seen a town this deserted.”

Jacob shook his head, pointed to his ear and then pointed in the direction of the town centre.

“You can hear activity further in?” Thanquil asked.

The Templar nodded.

“I didn't hear anythin'.”

Thanquil looked at the tattoos around Jacob's head, around his ears. “His hearing is... better than most.”

“Well ain't that jus' a useful thing ta know. Wish he could fuckin' tell us without all the hand wavin'.”

Thanquil heard a whisper. Something close and far away at the same time. Something shrill and deep and... he could almost make out the words if only they were a little clearer.

Henry hissed from the window and held up one hand for silence while she tilted the shutters just enough to see out of with the other. “People coming,” she whispered.

“How many?” asked Anders.

“Well I don't got all your fancy numbers so I'm jus' gonna go with a fuck load.” She peered out of the window into the street and cursed. “Looks like they got your woman with 'em too,” she said.

“What?” Thanquil asked.

Henry grunted as his will locked onto hers and forced the truth out. “Jezzet Vel'urn is with 'em.”

For just a moment the words didn't make any sense to Thanquil. Then he realised he didn't care. He started towards the door. Thorn stepped into the way but again Thanquil found he didn't care. With a whispered blessing and a hardy shove he sent the Black Thorn sprawling. Henry and Anders were moving now to stop him but it was too late. Thanquil kicked the door open.

There were times, not many but a few, in Jezzet's life when the word
surprise
didn't quite cover it. This was one of those times. It was not the door slamming open as her, Kessick and their escort, who numbers were on the generous side of thirty, passed. Nor was it the door rebounding so hard against the building that it came off its hinges and collapsed so that the man had to kick it again to get it out of the way. Her surprise was laid solely at the feet of the fact that it was Thanquil standing there. She perhaps should have seen it coming considering she knew he was coming but somehow, or maybe it was his dramatic entrance onto the street, his appearance was a sudden shock and her heart, traitorous beast that it was, gave a lurch in her chest. Seeing him would have and should have been a happy sight if not for the scene Jez had just witnessed.

Your breath, Jez!

She spat, for perhaps the hundredth time in the last five minutes, and quickly wiped her hand across her mouth. Her breath likely still smelled strongly of vomit and she knew that shouldn't really matter given the current situation but there was a part of her, quite an insistent part, that didn't want her reunion with Thanquil to be marred by her breath stinking like that of a sour drunk's. Wasn't often that Jezzet Vel'urn lost her stomach over something other than bad food or too much drink, only once before in her life time to be exact, but what she had seen in that building with the red cross... she felt bile rising again and swallowed it down, instead focusing on Thanquil.

The Arbiter stepped down from the wooden porch and onto the dusty street. Kessick remained stone-faced but a couple of his demon entourage looked a little discomforted.
Of course that could just be the fact that there's a demon inside those meat shells, Jez.

“Thanquil,” Jez said. A damned stupid thing to say and none would agree with that more than Jezzet herself but sometimes her mouth worked quicker than her brain which at the moment was rebelling at the thought of working at all.

“Jez,” Thanquil said with a washed-out smile. He didn't look so good now that she thought about it. His face was lined, he looked a good five years older than the last she saw him, he had dark bags under both his eyes that leant him a slightly menacing air and his stubble had gone unmanaged and had blossomed into the beginnings of a curly black beard. Jezzet did not approve.

“Touching,” Kessick said in his voice like cracking ice. Jezzet might have swung for him but he was too far away with at least eight demon-possessed guards between them.

“Ain't it just,” said a familiar voice from inside the building Thanquil had emerged from. The voice was followed by a man she thought long dead and found herself more than a little happy to see it wasn't so.

The Black Thorn stepped into view and out through the doorway, stopping beside Thanquil and giving him a dark glare. “Reckon we might have ta have words 'bout ya knockin' me down jus' now.”  Despite his eye-patch, which Jez could only assume was not just for show, Thorn looked well. He stood a good foot taller than Thanquil and broader to boot, his head shaved and a full ginger beard covering much of his face and hiding much of his scarring. He wore a heavy black duster and Jez had no doubt it contained Thorn's usual compliment of sharp objects. He wasn't alone either.

One by one they exited the building. A big man, slightly taller than Thorn, with every inch of exposed skin covered in tattoos. A little woman who looked suspiciously like someone Jez had once thrown off a bridge. A blooded man who looked suspiciously like someone Jez had once thrown out a window. That appeared to be all of them.
Not exactly an army but five is better than one.

“Well,” said Thorn. “ Looks like we got ourselves a whole lot of reunions don't it.”

“I'm glad you're here,” Jez said and it was only half a lie. She was glad to see him, she just wish he hadn't come.

“Black Thorn,” said Kessick.

“Don't I know you,” said the blooded man.

“You took my fuckin' eye, Kessick.”

“What are you doing here, Jez?”

“Which one is Kessick?” asked Henry.

“You were a disappointment from the start, Thorn,” growled Kessick.

“I need a drink.”

“That whole business with Drake...”

“Oh, an' then there was that whole trickin' me into tryin' ta kill Drake Morrass.”

“Oh Drake,” the blooded man brightened up. “He sends his regards.”

“Enough!” shouted Thanquil his voice loud enough to silence everyone, or at least everyone but the tattooed man who was merrily humming away to himself while mad eyes darted around the assembled force arrayed against him.

“Kessick,” Thanquil continued. “I think you know why I'm here.”

“It's certainly not for the hospitality,” the blooded man mumbled.

“Yes. I knew you would be coming. Did Drake tell you I was here or did the Inquisition send you? I think it was Drake.”

Jez saw Thanquil touch something at his hip. “Little bit of both really. Doesn't matter now though. You won't get away again.”

The Black Thorn leaned a little towards Thanquil. “Not so certain this is a fight we can win.” Reinforcements were arriving for Kessick and many of them were bringing sharp, pointy friends, many of the others were bringing dull, blunt friends but all seemed just as dangerous.

“You can't win,” Kessick agreed. “But I would much rather this didn't end in a fight. I need more people like you, Arbiter Darkheart. People who believe in the cause. You know the Inquisition is weak, you of all people must have seen it.”

“I've heard this tune before, Kessick,” Thanquil said in a grave voice as dark as the bags under his eyes. “Inquisitor Heron tried to convince me to join you. I set her on fire.... twice.”

“Really?” asked Thorn. “Twice?”

Jezzet saw Thanquil shrug and grin and she couldn't help but follow suit it seemed so long since she had last seen him smile. “If a thing's worth doing,” Thanquil said, “might as well do it twice.”

Kessick flicked his gaze towards her. “Jezzet...”

She rubbed at her wrist as her mind tried to figure out what to say. She didn't trust Kessick, certainly didn't believe him but as more and more of his possessed warriors arrived the odds looked worse and worse for Thanquil. She didn't want him to die, didn't want him to suffer, not like...
Never thought I'd see a man's soul torn apart and burnt to ash before me.
She couldn't stand seeing that happen to Thanquil but then she didn't think she could sway him from his course even if she tried.

Everyone's watching you, Jez. Waiting on you. He's looking at you.

Jez met Thanquil's gaze and smiled. “Fuck it.”

Still wearing that same smile she kicked the demon to her right in the knee, forcing it to the ground, grabbed hold of the sword sheathed in its belt and stepped away drawing the sword free from its scabbard in time to leap backwards and take of the arm of another of the human-skin wearing beasts. She thought she heard Kessick curse and that just made her grin all the harder as another demon came for her.

Jez had always had a knack of inspiring chaos and it was safe to say what erupted into the streets of Absolution had no better description. Thanquil's crew scattered, fracturing away from each other to fight on their own. Thanquil started across the street towards Kessick, drawing his battered old sword to defend against the demons but she lost sight of him as the creatures came at her from all sides in a rush.

She charged one of the demons, a petite woman with a flat chest and only one shoe, ducking into a roll at the last second and dodging past the wild mace swing. Her sword took a chunk of leg out as she rolled, not enough to kill, certainly not enough to kill an immortal demon, but enough to drop it to the floor. She twisted and came up facing her pursuers only for her internal warning sense to inform her there was someone behind her. A nimble dodge to the left complete with a spin and she brought the sword down onto the man's ample skull. It didn't so much as cut as bludgeon, crushing a section of the skull into mushy white-pink, blood-squirting goo.

Good point, Jez. Time to find a better blade, something with an edge would be good.

Two more of the demons were on her and both with sharp objects of their own and neither looked any better than Jez's pointy piece of metal. She brushed away the first attack, taking a moment to marvel at the strength of the woman making it and parried the second, catching the blade one her own and redirecting it into the body of the first attacker who promptly let out a high-pitched wail of pain.

Good to know. You may not be able to kill them, Jez but you can sure as all the hells maim them and that's something you're known for.

Even before that crazy bitch spoke Henry could see in her face what was coming. That cruel smile that broke across some folk's faces when they were about to do violence and knew, even should the worst happen, that they were going to enjoy themselves. Henry saw it and knew it because it was a smile she herself had worn more than once. Not so much of late though. They were law folk now and violence had become much more sporadic. Violence on a scale of what was likely to ensue here though, that was simply unheard of. Last time Henry had been in a proper battle half of Hostown had ended up fleeing and the other half burning. That and half her crew had died including the Boss. She didn't much like the idea of that happening again. So she was ready as soon as she saw the smile on the Blademaster's face and before even the first drop of blood was spilled her twin daggers were in her hands and she was using the Arbiter's little strips of magic paper.

She'd seen battles before, heard of how they were supposed to go with organised troops and manoeuvres and such. The scene that spread out before her looked more like a brawl. Groups of people, folk on Kessick's side split off and came at the crew. Most of them went towards the Arbiter, not Thanquil, the silent one with the tattoos but each member of the crew got themselves their own fight to deal with and instead of doing the smart thing, sticking together and watching each other's backs, each member split up and chose to fight alone. Wasn't too much of a surprise, they were all reformed criminals after all. Order wasn't exactly any of their strong points.

The demons were fast and strong but Henry wasn't slow her own self and she had many years of experience in the sadistic art form of murdering folk. The first demon to reach her, a stone-faced skinny beggar of a man, died as would any unprepared fool thinking she was no more than the girl she looked. Henry ducked under his heavy swipe and used the man's own force as he overbalanced to gut him with one blade while the other she drove up through the base of his skull. The carcass dropped, leaking beautiful red that the dirty brown dusr lapped up quickly. Either the Arbiter's magic worked or these demons weren't near so un-killable as folk seemed to claim. Not like the demons at Hostown. Not like Hostown!

The next demon was different, an old man wrinkled from years beyond counting and dressed in the tatters of a robe, his long white beard trailed down near to his waist and his mouth contained only one tooth. Despite his appearance the man moved like wolf, loping towards Henry and springing at her covering an impossible distance. He took her unawares, maybe because of the way he looked and maybe because her reverie, and she barely turned his sword strike in time to stop being skewered. The blade slid along her leathers and cut a small slice into her side. She growled in pain and limped backwards, refusing to clutch at the bleeding wound but she could feel it growing wet. Not one kill in and she was already on the back foot.

The old man didn't let up his attack. He took two more loping steps left and leapt at her again raining blow after heavy blow down upon her. Henry gave ground, parrying blows where she could and dodging others. Her daggers were simply no match against the weighty sword the man used, at least not at this range. She timed her strike perfectly, waiting until the man was swinging and side-stepping the strike, leaping close and putting both blades into his chest again and again and again. Hot red blood spurted out over her clothing and hands and face. The old demon lunged at her again, but only managed to pull Henry's hat from her head as his quivering, bloody body toppled to the ground.