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Authors: Rob J. Hayes

Tags: #Fantasy

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BOOK: The Price of Faith
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Thanquil snorted. “More understanding towards a witch? You speak as though you don’t even understand how your magic works. As though you don’t understand the evil you let loose into this world.”

Thanquil had long ago discovered he had an innate ability to push people, to anger them and to drive them towards emotional outbursts. It seemed the witch was not immune.

“Evil?” she shouted. The woman had been walking towards the door but now she turned back towards Thanquil, her face twisted into a mask of righteous indignation. “I have done nothing but good for these people.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes! I use my magic to heal wounds, to stimulate the growth of crops, to keep the forest predators from entering the villages.” She took a step toward him and Thanquil could almost see the power radiating from her. Borrowed power. Deep inside one of the pockets of his coat he felt the warmth of a potential-detecting gemstone as it reacted to the power even from this distance. To say she was powerful would be a gross understatement and Thanquil was no longer certain he doubted her claim that he was not her match.

“Through me more children are born in the surrounding villages than ever before and more are surviving their first years. I help these people…”

“What about those in Colmere? Those that were injured or died from the fire at the inn?” Thanquil threw the question as an accusation and almost smiled as the witch paled and lost her momentum. He pressed the advantage. “You set the fire to kill me and instead you killed those people you claim to help.”

“I didn’t intend to kill you I just needed you to…”

“That only makes it worse,” Thanquil hissed at her. “You injured those people for nothing. You killed those people for nothing.”

“No, not for nothing. I…”

“There is never a good reason to kill innocents,” Thanquil shouted her down and immediately realised he had said the wrong thing.

The witch’s eyes snapped up to meet his own and he saw the clarity and focus had returned. She hissed out an alien word and a thunderclap rocked the room pulsing out from the woman and sending the chairs, the table and any other loose object flying towards the walls. Unfortunately Thanquil happened to be one of those loose objects. He flew backwards, hit one of the bed posts and span in mid-air before the far wall rushed up to meet him. He hit it at an awkward angle and excruciating pain flared to life in his left shoulder. Another pulse of force hit him and flattened him against the wall, holding him there as the witch advanced on him.

“How dare you?” she hissed, her eyes aflame with hatred. “You accuse me of killing innocents. My son was innocent, you people killed him. My first daughter was innocent and you took her and taught her to hate me and then sent her after me. Your Inquisition forced me to kill one of my daughters to save the other and
you
accuse
me
of harming innocents?”

The witch spat and the phlegm rushed at Thanquil, propelled by the same force holding him against the wall. It hit not a foot to the side of Thanquil’s head and splintered the wood where it hit such was its force.

Thanquil slowly, painfully curled up the fingers of his right hand into his coat sleeve looking for one of the pockets hidden there. He could still speak, despite the crushing force on his chest, but no blessing or curse would help him here.

“Do you even know where this magic you’re using comes from?” Thanquil shouted against the force crushing him. He laboured to suck down another breath of air before continuing. “Runes and charms may use your power alone but this… Who are you calling on to power this? What are you calling on?”

The witch took a step towards him and the force pushing Thanquil against the wall increased. The air around her crackled with energy and huge tears rolled from her rage-filled eyes.

“This is why…” Thanquil started but the witch took another step forward and again the pressure increased. It felt as though his ribs were buckling under the force and he was certain his chest would cave in at any second. In any case Thanquil knew he wouldn’t survive if she came any close and the look on the witch’s face told him she knew it too. His fingers brushed against the rune hidden up his sleeve.

“This… is why… we hunt you,” he said between the most painful breaths he had ever experienced. “You don’t care… where… the magic comes from.”

The witch said nothing. She just stared at him, silently judging.

“Do you think… this sort of magic… is harmless? You call… on other beings… more powerful than you… to come… to your aid… to lend you their magic… But you don’t… you don’t care… what they do… through you… You act… as a conduit… for their power… to affect this world. You think… you use that magic… to help others… but through you… those beings… can cause… so much damage.”

“And how are you any different?” she screamed at him but came no closer. “You Arbiters call on that thrice-damned God of yours for power. How is he any different?”

“Because he is!” Thanquil screamed back though it hurt more than ever to do so. He heard a muted pounding noise and knew it came from guards trying to get into the room but the magic force holding him in place, crushing him, expanded from the witch in all directions and held the door tight. “I have… never seen… Volmar corrupt a child… take away… a boy’s morals… and leave him… a shell of hated… and pain… I have never… seen Volmar… twist an animal… into a grotesque… and have it… attack its masters… I have never…”

The witch spoke with a lowered voice but her words carried to him nonetheless and her left foot lifted just slightly, ready to take the final step towards him. “Just because you have never seen a thing does not mean it is not so. How can you know Volmar is this force for good you claim him to be.”

Thanquil’s fingers closed around the rune and he braced himself for what was to come, sucking in a final breath. “Because I have faith.”

A profound sadness filled the witch’s eyes and her left leg started forwards. Thanquil snapped the rune in his right hand between thumb and fore fingers and everything changed. A pulse of magic burst forth from the rune but there was no kinetic force involved in the magic, it was purely a neutralising blast, dispelling the magic that held in him place.

The witch gasped and dropped to her knees as the power pulsing from her was abruptly cut off and Thanquil crashed to the floor in a heap. With no time to waste he pushed himself to his feet and his left hand whipped inside his coat pocket, pulling out the paper thin throwing knife.

The door to the room burst open and a Dragon Knight, fully armoured and sword drawn, charged in followed by another and another. Thanquil let go of the knife, dropped to his knees and held up his hands in the most submissive manner possible. The first knight charged him and raised his sword to attack.

“Stop!” the witch shouted. Thanquil couldn’t see her behind the three Dragon Knights but he could hear the tremble in her voice. She slowly walked into view and looked down upon him. “Do not kill him. Prince Naarsk will decide his fate.”

Thanquil snorted out a laugh. “A wise choice. The…”

He never finished the sentence as a dragon-bone hilt connected with the side of his head.

Thanquil

“Stop fiddling with it,” Kosh said giving Thanquil a friendly shove shoulder to shoulder.

“Easy for you to say,” Thanquil complained. “It hurts.”

“So stop poking it.”

Thanquil gave his swollen nose one last squeeze and winced at the pain before dropping his hands and giving Kosh a shove back. The bigger boy, despite being almost a year younger, didn’t budge an inch. Thanquil had quickly learned that fighting Kosh was akin to head-butting a stone wall; messy, painful and ultimately pointless. He was taller than Thanquil, broader and well-muscled despite his young age, he also seemed to have a natural feel for combat and was as happy facing two or even three foes as most of the initiates were fighting one.

Despite Thanquil’s name and the stigma that came attached to it Kosh had quickly befriended him and the two had become near inseparable. Just five years into their training and both had already outdistanced those of the same age as themselves; Kosh excelling in combat, even against the older boys, and Thanquil proving himself to be almost on par with some of the recent graduates when it came to blessings and curses.

Their quick progression through the initiate training did nothing to bolster Thanquil’s popularity amongst the others though. Kosh could get away with the attention due to his good looks, boyish charm and his ability to knock the heads of any who took exception. Thanquil had none of those desirable attributes and the instructors' constant use of the name Arbiter Yellon had given him never let anyone forget that he was a Darkheart and therefore not to be trusted.

The other initiates would only leave off their taunting and bullying so long as Kosh was around and only then because they were scared of the damage he could, and would, do but Kosh couldn’t be around all the time and Thanquil’s ardent refusal to back down from a fight only served to antagonise the others.

The constant bullying was in fact why his nose was currently well and truly broken. In an attempt to gain some respect and develop the ability to defend himself Thanquil had of late been taking sparring lessons from Kosh, unfortunately the beatings he received in those lessons were turning out to be worse than those the other initiates could ever hand out. Kosh was nothing if not a harsh tutor but it didn’t matter how many injuries his friend gave him, to Thanquil there was a principal to uphold and that was the real reason he was willing to suffer through the pain.

Of course there was something even more unfortunate than the broken nose, the two black eyes, the bloody lip, the ringing in his ears, the sore and twisted wrist and the pronounced limp that came from a leg that until recently was feeling very dead; the sun had only risen an hour ago and both he and Kosh had to get back to the initiate dormitory, perform their daily duties of cleaning the communal waste area and then they had a full day of training ahead of them. Kosh made no issue of it, he was built for physical endurance and seemed to have boundless energy, Thanquil was not so silent on the issue, he was beyond tired and that made him grumpy.

“What training do you think they’ll give us today?” he asked the bigger boy as they walked, or while Kosh walked and Thanquil limped. “Reciting passages from the book of hells from memory while standing on one leg and juggling bees?”

“I’m hoping for combat training,” Kosh replied and Thanquil saw his friend crack a cheeky grin. “I could use a challenge after this morning.”

“Wonderful. You continue joking, I’m in real pain here.”

“Broken nose ain’t real pain,” Kosh said with a snort. “You want to try a dislocated shoulder, now that fucking hurts!”

Thanquil grit his teeth at his friend’s use of the profanity. It wasn’t that he had any real issue with the word, only Kosh liked to use it a lot. “Well then I hope I’ll never have to experience it.”

They rushed through the city as fast as Thanquil’s limp would allow. Taking a five minute break to dive beneath the clear blue waters of the Brooklowe canal, it was not the deepest, nor the most empty but it was the cleanest and the wash did them both the world of good, wiping away the exertion sweat from the morning and much of the drying blood on Thanquil’s face. It was not technically legal to swim in the canal but then neither was it legal to arrest an Arbiter or an initiate of the Inquisition and no guard would have the stones to march the boys up to the Inquisition itself to complain of so trivial a matter. So the men on watch grumbled but did nothing and Thanquil and Kosh made sure not to overstay their welcome. By the time they reached the Sarth training compound they were as ready as they would ever be to clean the waste rooms.

After a gruelling hour and another quick wash they lined up with the other initiates of their group in the meeting yard and waited for the instructors. Thanquil was safe from physical bullying here and not just because Kosh was with him, if the instructors witnessed an attack then all the initiates involved would be punished, including himself.

As always Jacob was the first to the yard and scowled at the others as they arrived late. The older boy had taken it upon himself to organise the other initiates and no one was about to stand up to him. He was, in fact, the only one of them who could give Kosh a fair fight and had, on occasion, beaten him. On top of his dominating strength and martial skill Jacob was more than well versed in rune and charm lore and had even mastered some of the most basic of sorceries. He was also noticeably lacking in skill when it came to bestowing blesses and curses and that gave Thanquil cause to grin. A minor victory it may be but Inquisitor Heron herself had spoken to Thanquil during her tour last week and she had said that small victories can defeat even the largest of men.

“Initiate Jacob,” said Kosh as they arrived.

“Kosh,” said Jacob with a smirk.

The two boys, widely accepted as the two most promising of the group’s initiates, faced off against each other standing chest to chest, nose to nose and postured for all they were worth. Kosh, despite being two years Jacob’s junior was taller than the older boy but Jacob was bulkier. Thanquil watched in silence with a half-smile at the foolishness of it all.

“Darkheart,” Thanquil heard his name said and sighed at the voice.

Beck was the group’s only girl and also Thanquil’s least favourite person in his entire world. She hated him, that much was clear, and he had never figured out why. It didn’t help that she was passing beautiful with a mesmerising pair of breasts that seemed to grow bigger every day. It also didn’t help that the other boys trailed behind her ready to jump to her every word.

Thanquil turned with an insult ready on his lips but his treacherous voice died in his throat when he saw her. She was wearing her golden blonde hair down today and it framed her face perfectly, drawing attention to her sapphire blue eyes. Her plain brown tunic, though the same issue as the boys, may have hid her cleavage but it did nothing to hide the fact that it was there. Thanquil couldn’t help but stare and Beck couldn’t help but notice.

BOOK: The Price of Faith
6.23Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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