~ Naz ~

Progress From Hatred

"You! Boy! Stop staring at that cart and get into the circle!"

Naz snapped to attention.

"Sorry, master!" he said, as he raised his sword and shield and ran forward into the training circle, suppressing a flinch of despair as he saw his opponent. Templeton, he thought, of course it had to be Templeton.

"Begin!"

Before he could even think about attacking Naz was forced to raise his shield, the hard impact of Templeton's assault jarring and painful. He struggled to bring his own sword up to get into a position to counter, but Templeton's boot was already driving into his side, sending him off-balance. He staggered, then cried out as he felt a hard impact against his head and fell to the ground.

"Up!"

Naz spat sand as he pushed himself up, retrieved his sword from where it lay, then straightened as he faced Templeton once more. The other boy's face was serious, his sword and shield raised in a perfect stance.

"Begin!"

This time Naz launched himself forward, but Templeton wasn't there when he struck. Naz whirled around to try to meet the attack, but too slow—he gasped out as he felt the impact of Templeton's sword against his arm.

"Enough!"

Naz breathed a sigh of relief, then stumbled out of the circle as the next two boys stepped in. He sheathed his wooden training sword and was just unbuckling his shield when, once more, he felt a heavy impact against his shoulder. He turned to see Templeton grinning at him.

"Hope I didn't hurt you, Naz," said Templeton. Naz shook his head.

"No, it just pinched a little. It's okay."

"Put up more of a fight next time." The way Templeton said it, it was like a demand—as if Naz had lost so badly on purpose. "They don't let weaklings be knights."

Naz smiled weakly and nodded.

"I should practise more," he said, but Templeton had already lost interest and was watching the next fight. Naz slunk off to a quiet corner of the courtyard and was soon lost in thought, the sounds of battle fading away as he guiltily let his imagination soar.

"Naz, keep up!"

Naz blinked and shook his head and trotted after Gail. The market wasn't busy, just a couple of dozen people, but to Naz it seemed crowded.

"You're so vacant," she said, the hint of a frown on her face. "Concentrate, would you? I want to get back before that storm gets here."

"Sorry."

"If I could carry the flour by myself I would've just—oh."

Gail and Naz both stopped as they heard the shouts ahead, saw the temple guards dragging a protesting man across the market.

"It was just a song!" he was crying out, his voice high and desperate. "Please! I won't again, I won't!"

The guards paid no attention to his cries, and soon they had dragged him away, out of sight and out of earshot.

"Come on," Gail said, as Naz continued to stare after them.

"Sorry," he said.

"Just stare and apologise, that's all you do," Gail muttered. "That'll keep you out of trouble but it makes you really boring."

"Sorry," Naz repeated absently, staring at a water pump as they walked across the market, at the way all the different parts worked together, at the flow of the water—but what if the water wasn't water, he thought, what if it was fire, liquid fire, and it flowed out and spread across the ground and curled up in spiral pillars, to light the clouds and bring them to life, as great fire-birds flying across the sky, and behind them—

"—useless, I said, you've got one thing to do and you can't even do that, just HOLD this!"

Naz stared at Gail, then down at the large sack she was holding, then up at her scowling face, and he put out his arms to take the sack.

"Useless, dull, stupid little boy," Gail muttered, as she hefted the second sack. She pushed past Naz and he followed after her, already lost once more in his thoughts, completely unaware of her angry muttering as they made their way back to the temple.

"—and to flout those who seek to rise above the devoted ones of which we hope to be counted as part of all and not the few there is no place for those who hold the demon's will as it must curse and warp and bend the nature of man so we will not repeat the mistakes of the past there will come a time of ruin but Pyre will stand strong and protect the ones who hold his name up high and listen well to past echoes—"

Naz chanted along with the rest of the congregation—this was the seventh prayer, one of the longest, but he'd repeated it so many times in his life that he could go through it automatically now, leaving his mind free to wander through fantastic, forbidden pathways for the six-hundred and seventy-three seconds it took to recite the entire thing. Currently Naz was thinking about kittens, kittens that were the size of houses, who reached up into the sky and batted down clouds to form into huge balls, which they'd roll over the dull grey earth, and everywhere the cloud-balls touched would be painted in bright, wonderful colours—

"Boy."

—and maybe the kittens weren't just playing, they were building something, some kind of majestic structure, they were pushing the cloud-balls together—and, yes, of course, the cloud balls weren't just painting what they touched in amazing colours, they were bursting with colours themselves, in giving they also took, and so the kittens were—

"BOY!"

Naz suddenly became aware of the silence around himself, became aware that he was still chanting the prayer though everyone else had stopped—for how long, he thought, as he looked around at the others, who were all staring at him, and then up at the priest's angry face, and then behind him to see—horror of horrors—one of the cardinals.

"Don't be too hard on him, Father," the cardinal said. He smiled at Naz. "It's good to see one so devoted. I get rather caught up in these prayers myself, at times."

In response Naz dropped his gaze, his cheeks burning.

"Now then," said the cardinal, as he made his way to the front of the church, long stave tap-tap-tapping as he walked. "I'd like to talk to you—to all of you—about ... hmm ... shall we call it 'laxness'? Neglect of attention, is what I'm talking about." He stopped at the altar, made the sign of the crossed sticks, then turned to smile at the dozens of sons and daughters of Pyre gathered there. "I am Cardinal Traugott. May Pyre light your paths."

"And remove that which would obstruct you," Naz and the others chorused in reply.

"These are dark times, my children," said Cardinal Traugott. "Darker than many of you may think." He paused, then a playful glint came into his blue eyes. "Why do we follow the teachings of Pyre?"

"To stop the rise of demons," Naz chorused, along with the rest of the church.

"To stop the rise of demons," the cardinal repeated, each word precise. He nodded to himself, as if considering this phrase, then he looked up, his expression bright. "What is a demon? What does a demon look like? Can anyone here tell me?"

There was silence from those assembled. The cardinal looked around, eyes wide as if searching, then he nodded, a pleased smile on his face.

"Good!" he said. "I can see all of you have paid splendid attention to your lessons. For that is the most insidious thing about demons, that their forms be many and varied, that it is not enough to say 'this is what a demon looks like'. Pyre—no, let's be precise, what came BEFORE Pyre—was once destroyed by assumption. And so we can never assume to know what a demon is, what a demon looks like, what a demon sounds like. That is why we have the inquisition, to make sure that what we believe to be true IS true. I myself have been questioned by the inquisition, many times, and I'm glad of it. Yes, they can seem scary with their big black cloaks and their big black hats—but then truth can often be frightening. And perhaps it is right that the inquisition should inspire fear, for if you, the innocent, should fear them so, just think how a demon might feel about them! Yes, just as the Holy Knights defend our physical borders, so too do the Holy Inquisitors defend a far more important border, that which stands between our innocent souls and those unholy demons that seek to corrupt us."

The cardinal fell silent, pacing in front of the altar, shaking his head slowly before once more looking up at those assembled.

"But I digress," he said, his tone mild. "Being up here brings back memories, it's been far too long since I've had the opportunity to preach a sermon. I have a reason for being here, and that reason is not a pleasant one. I do not mean to scare you by telling you this, my children, but the simple fact of it is this: there are demons among us. In this very room, right now."

In Pyre it was considered impolite to make any noise at all when anyone of importance was speaking, and impoliteness almost invariably meant a visit by the inquisition. This was why the cardinal's words were met not with tense, fearful whispering, but rather tense, fearful silence.

"As I said," the cardinal continued, "my intention is not to scare you, although I would not blame you if fear is the principle emotion you feel at this time. Certainly for all of us, demons must cause a great deal of fear. But you must always remember, my children, that we are stronger than they are. They may be legion and they may hide amongst us, but we ... yes, we, you and I, you! And you! And you!" Cardinal Traugott pointed his stave at three random, startled, immediately terrified members of the congregation. "All of us here! We are all immensely powerful because we have faith, because we believe in the teachings of Pyre, because we follow his words and his example. And the demons may outnumber us ten to one but I say this to you now, my children, ANY ONE OF US IS MORE POWERFUL THAN TWENTY DEMONS!"

Naz felt a surge inside himself at the cardinal's words, a great powerful complex mix of pride and fear.

"But," the cardinal continued, his manner now calm, "that is only true while we have faith. If we lose faith, we lose strength. If we lose strength, that is when the demons can overcome us. Still, I feel immensely reassured when I look at you young people. I can see by your faces that your faith is strong."

Naz felt a sense of relief that he knew was shared by the others gathered there.

"And thus you will have nothing to fear when questioned."

Naz felt his chest tighten as the cardinal nodded to the priest—he became suddenly aware that a half-dozen members of the inquisition had silently entered the church and were now moving amongst the congregation. Naz held his breath as one of them passed close by—a woman, he guessed, though their faces were hidden beneath blank black masks, and their bodies beneath bulky black robes. He couldn't help but shiver as she reached for a girl sitting in the row in front of him.

"Have faith, my children!" the cardinal said, as the six orphans that had been selected for questioning were silently escorted out. "As long as you have faith you need not be scared of anything!"

As the cardinal left, he glanced at Naz and smiled at him in a friendly way. In response Naz looked away, disgusted at himself. I don't have faith, he was thinking. There can't be any room for it inside me, with all this fear.