Chapter XIV

Among the granite rubble and dust of the old watch-tower Yashen practiced sword techniques at Sandalphon's instruction. The only sword available to her was one that had been abandoned in that old tower long ago. Surprisingly, it was still in good condition. Well, no holes in the upper floors, at least. And the walls seemed sturdy enough.

“You are not strong enough to lift a shield or wear heavy armor into battle,” Sandalphon told her. “Therefore you must be constantly light on your feet and quick with your hands. Keep your blade sharp, and aim always for the tiny weaknesses in your enemy's armor. Do not block with your sword, and do not catch the enemy's edge on your own. If you must, deflect the enemy's sword away with the flat of your blade.”

All the while Yashen practiced the kata that Sandalphon had taught her, getting her muscles used to the weight of a weapon, and her hand used to the feeling of a sword.

“The truth is...” Sandalphon continued, “You may never be a great warrior yourself, but you must be ready to fight if you are ever threatened. Your bodyguards may prove to be insufficient to keep you safe.”

Yashen nodded along with Sandalphon's words, but then screamed as two men in justicar armor ran up the stairs into the room they were in and ran right past Sandalphon, their grey-steel swords brandished high.

“Fight back!” Sandalphon shouted at her. He did not rush to her defense? Why? She panicked.

Yashen fled from them at first, running around the room. In their heavy armor they could not keep up with her nimble steps, but she knew she could not flee for long in such a small room. As soon as she saw an opening she leaped at one of the two justicars and stabbed at his face. When the justicar deflected her sword with the flat of his own she drew her dagger with her other hand and stabbed him in the temple with all of her might.

One justicar fell dead, but the other ran his sword through Yashen's chest. The blade slipped easily between her ribs and pierced her lung. She couldn't breathe, and her world was spinning around her.

As she fell she stared up at Sandalphon with questioning eyes.

Why?

Why had he not jumped in to save her?

Why, even now, did he not do anything to either help or avenge her?

But the second her head hit the ground she awoke in a bedroll within the watch-tower. Sandalphon still stood over her, but there were no justicars in the room.

Yashen rubbed her tired eyes. “That...that was just a dream?”

“Of course. I would never let you come to real harm,” said Sandalphon. “Did you already forget the dream you brewed for yourself? Or that nearly all of your training has been done this way?”

“I suppose I did,” said Yashen. “The dreams are...vivid, to say the least.” She had to marvel at her own craft for a moment. She knew she brewed dreams that people enjoyed, but had no idea she was brewing such intense experiences.

“Good,” said Sandalphon. “Vivid dreams are the next best thing to experience. If we continue in this fashion you will have a lifetime of training within a few years. As for now, though, I have a mission for you.”

“A mission?” Yashen said, jerking herself to her feet. “Am I truly ready for that? I was slain in that last dream! Surely I am not ready to face true danger!”

“For this you are ready. Others have already scouted this place for me. We can protect you through this one with little to no effort,” said Sandalphon.

“I trust you,” said Yashen, partially to prove it to herself. “Where are we going?”

“A slave owner's vineyard. To the house of a man who not only pollutes the West with vile drink, but who does so on the backs of slaves, your people! This man must be punished for what he's done, and his slaves set free.”

“Word of this is sure to bring more back to the True Way!”

“A blow to the tyranny that holds your people. A victory to give your people hope and help them overcome the fear that grips them. Those are their only true chains, their fear. We will give them a reason to overcome their weakness.”

“It's a beautiful plan!” said Yashen, enthralled by the thrill of it all. The very idea of doing big things and doing anything at all that mattered was just so new to Yashen. A slave lived a life of futility, knowing that there was no escape and that nothing that they did mattered. This, above all else, was the worst part to being a slave in her eyes.

Suffering for a cause, to create some good in the world? That was not so terrifying. Losing any and all sense of purpose while she suffered? Nothing felt worse than that. She would matter. She would not let her suffering be in vain. “When do we leave?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight?” the Dream Merchant repeated. “But...that's so sudden...”

“Is it any more terrifying when it is a surprise?”

“Well...yes!”

“Why? You do not need to prepare anything for this one. There is no more planning, no more plotting to be done. I have already taken care of that. You just need to be ready to be a leader to those people once their cages have been broken. You just have to be there to ensure the story spreads, for you will be a symbol to them.”

“Why can't you be the symbol to them?” Yashen regretted the question the moment it left her lips. Had she not, just a moment ago, been marveling at the idea of giving her life to something that mattered? Of being important?

“I am,” said Sandalphon. “But you are the stronger symbol, for you are a symbol they can relate to. Someone who understands them, and who can truly lead them,” said Sandalphon. “But fear not, for until they are strong enough to stand on their own I will be their sword and their shield. As I will be for you this night.”

Yashen gave a nervous smile at the sound of Sandalphon's words. They were a slight comfort to all of her fears and doubts. She'd learned by now to subdue both, but if she was being at all honest with herself she knew she was far from truly overcoming them.

Yashen picked up her sword in its sheathe from the ground. “Then let's get to it.”

“There is one more detail, a small way in which you will have help being the symbol they need,” Sandalphon turned his head towards the open window. “You may enter.”

The angel who'd been standing watch like a gargoyle on the roof at the top of the watch-tower climbed down the wall and in the window. In his hand he held the familiar black cassock, with the gray embroidery in the collar and sleeves.

The uniform of the Grand Inquisitor. She'd never actually seen it before, but she'd listened to the stories. Yashen felt the rough material in her hands as she gazed upon this symbol of the line of leaders she'd heard so much about as a girl. The historical and mythical stories which had brought her hope even in her darkest days felt suddenly more real than they'd ever been, now that she was to truly become like one of the heroes of her people.

As Yashen donned the uniform Sandalphon spoke to her. “I will make you swear no oath. This is far too important even for an oath. Even oaths imply that there is an alternative. No, there is no alternative to staying on the right path from this point forward. There will be no excuse for failure, or even for wavering morality. You must not falter, you must not fall, you must not allow any temptation to overtake you. Yes, this is far too important to swear to, that is why I only presented you with this when I was absolutely sure that you are ready to set foot on this path, and that you will not stray. I have full faith and trust in you, just as you have in me.”

Yashen glanced at her reflection in the window nearby. Seeing it with her own eyes it was everything she always imagined as a girl. She had become just like those whose stories had kept her faith alive when all the world wanted to break her. Back then the heroes of her people seemed so far away. Now, finally, they were real. Yashen only stopped staring to protect her mind from turning to vanity.

“Now,” Sandalphon looked her in the eye. “We shall begin.”

Yashen left the watch-tower with Sandalphon and the other three angels. No sooner had they entered the cool night air than all of the angels transformed into a cloud of diamond dust that surrounded her, like her very own starlit sky. A single stream of sparkling dust extended forward to point out the direction she was to travel. Yashen crept through the woods, staying close to clusters of trees and bushes.

Within an hour, Yashen's surroundings had changed from forest to fields of grapevines. Up ahead of her she could see the master's house, and off to one side the guard house. Beside the guard house, undoubtedly, would be the slave pens; a fenced in area in a pit where the slaves slept in tiny cells. During the night a covering of wood was stretched over the pens, both to keep slaves in and to keep wolves out.

Yashen kept her head low and used the grapevines all around her as cover as she approached the guard house. Her hands shook, but she heard Sandalphon whisper to her, “Only two guards are on watch tonight, and one of those two is derelict in his duties for love of wine.” Yashen had to smile at this. Her enemies' sins were also their weaknesses, the very reason why she would triumph over them.

The sound of footsteps nearby. Yashen crouched down and listened as the guard passed. She quieted her breathing as best as she could and kept her hand on the hilt of her sword. The diamond dust that had surrounded her fell flat against the ground. Yashen didn't know what that meant, and even felt a little nervous about it, but she chose to trust Sandalphon in this.

The guard's shuffling feet passed by and soon the sound faded into the distance. She was safe. As soon as Yashen got up to move again the dust followed her. Exhilaration bubbled up inside of her. She faced horrible danger here. Sure, she had protectors with her, but that didn't guarantee her survival. At any given moment this mission could go horribly wrong. Her mind wandered back to every slave she'd ever seen flayed alive, or stretched on a wrack until their bodies tore in two.

But for the first time in her life even this fear did not give her pause. All it did was make the experience more exciting.

As she crept beside the guard house Yashen could hear the snoring of a dozen men inside. Sandalphon whispered to her, “One of the men inside will have the key to the slave pens. Retrieve it.”

Yashen sneaked around to the front of the guard house and slowly pushed the door open. Just when it was open a crack, however, the dust that had been following her flew inside. What followed was a series of screams and the sounds of a fight. Blades shattered against the angel's bodies, and Yashen could hear the angels tear the guards inside limb from limb. She winced as she heard flesh tear, bones break, and blood spill.

“Oh, gods! Somebody help me!” one of the guards shrieked, just before he was silenced. Yashen did not dare open the door any wider. Another guard crawled frantically for the door, she could just barely see him through the crack. He was almost there when suddenly he was yanked from view, leaving a trail of nail marks on the wooden floor.

A chill crawled over her skin and her gut churned. For all of the ways she'd romanticized the Inquisition and this entire mission she'd never really thought about the other side of it all. The very fact that everything that made the Inquisition what it was had to be bought with blood.

In her peripheral vision she saw a shadow hurrying towards her. In a flash she drew her sword and ran the approaching guard through the gut. No sooner had the guard fallen dead than Sandalphon and the other angels exited the guard house.

Sandalphon said to her, “You've done well. Now, go inside and get the key to the slave pens.”

Yashen glanced at the door, but then pulled her eyes away from the gory mess inside. “Why can't you get it?” she asked, covering her eyes.

“Because this is a lesson for you. You must learn to have the stomach for what must be done. Do not fear the dead, they cannot harm you.”

“I...I'm n-n-not afraid,” Yashen stammered.

“Is it pity, then?” Sandalphon asked. Yashen cringed, hoping he would not punish her. “Any excuse you can give to not go in there and find the key with your own two hands is only a sinful one. These men helped keep your people in slavery. They mocked, beat, raped, and even killed your people. They deserve no pity, and you will give them none. Now, do your duty, Grand Inquisitor!”

Yashen sighed and nodded. A part of her always knew that this was coming, it just always seemed so far away whenever she thought about it. She braced herself and walked into the guard house. The whole room was painted with gore, and she did all she could to keep her eyes off of some of the more horrible sights before her. Pockets. She just needed to look for pockets. Yashen closed her eyes most of the way so that she would just barely see everything in that room, and she felt around through the pockets of the dead with her hands.

When she felt coins in her fingers Sandalphon said, “The dead don't need their money. Take it.”

Yashen pocketed the money she found in that corpse's pocket and moved on to the next one. The pocket was wet and sticky, and whatever it was wet with was warm. Yashen cringed and shivered, but searched through the pocket anyway. A few more coins. No key. Behind her she could hear one of the angels walking around the room and gathering something, but she dare not look up to discover what it was, lest she see something so horrible that she would never get the image out of her mind.

Next pocket. Yashen reached for the pocket in the dark and accidentally touched a lifeless hand. The hand was still warm, but totally limp. Yashen recoiled in revulsion and shook her hand, as if trying to get the sickening feeling off of her skin. She drew her sword and moved the hand aside with the blade, only to find out that the hand wasn't actually attached to its owner anymore. She rooted through the pockets for a few seconds, and found the key.

“Please...” the apparently not dead guard whispered. Yashen jumped back and pointed her sword at him “Don't leave me like this...”

Yashen stared at the mangled man on the ground. No hands. No legs. He was alive. Why? How? Yashen couldn't speak. She choked on the words struggling to climb up her throat, and looked to Sandalphon for guidance.

“There is always a chance for redemption,” said Sandalphon. “This one was fortunate to survive the fray with his head, so we will allow him to live. One day he may find his way into the light.”

“I don't want to live like this!” the wounded guard cried weakly. “Please, just kill me...be merciful.”

“Show no pity,” said Sandalphon.

“Mercy...please! You have a sword, use it!”

“If you kill him now there is no hope for his soul,” said Sandalphon. “He will never find redemption if he dies now. No pity! Do not give him what he wants, give him what he needs.”

“Please...” the wounded guard sobbed as Yashen turned back to face him. He already knew her answer before she could speak.

“I'm sorry,” she said. She looked away and tried to ignore his pleas as she left the guard house with the key in hand.

“Good work,” said Sandalphon. The other angels had gathered weapons from the bodies of the guards, apparently, and held them in a bundle held together with belts.

With all of the guards either dead, dying, or severely wounded Yashen had nothing to fear any more. She walked openly in the light of the moon to the pit where the slaves were kept, the four angels following her. The angels lifted off the wooden covering which kept out the wolves, revealing the cells underneath.

The slaves were snoring inside. Through the space between the bars she could see them piled on top of each other, with only dirty and ragged sheets shielding their bodies from the night air. Even cattle were not so mistreated.

As Yashen unlocked the gate the slaves stirred, apparently awoken by the noise.

“Who's there?” one of the slaves called out.

Yashen was silent. She hesitated to find the right words. Who was she to them? A rescuer? A friend?

“The Grand Inquisitor,” she heard herself say before thinking about the words.

“Grand Inquisitor?” one of the slaves said in disbelief. “There hasn't been a Grand Inquisitor since-”

The slave was interrupted by Sandalphon's reverberating voice, which brought all the slaves to their feet in an instant. “The Inquisition is hereby reborn. Those brave enough to follow the True Way are welcome to join its ranks. Before you stands Yashen, your new Grand Inquisitor. She will lead you and you will follow. This is my will.” One of the other angels came forward and dropped the weapons they'd gathered into a heap in front of the slaves.

Yashen pointed her sword at the pile of weapons. “Arm yourselves. Your freedom will be bought with the blood of your enemies. Only once the blasphemers who shackled you lie dead will you be free to follow the True Way.” The slaves merely stared at the pile of weapons for a moment, hesitating. Yashen was reminded again of how many slave rebellions had been so brutally put down. Surely, these slaves had seen enough of their own fed to rats to fear the fate that may await them if they rose up. Yashen looked to Sandalphon, expecting him to say more to motivate them. He was silent. This was her burden.

No, this was her opportunity. “I was once a slave like you. They called me 'The Dream Merchant.' I was afraid, but I learned that the masters are not as powerful as they would have you believe. All they have over you is your fear, and that comes from within you. You are the ones truly holding your own leashes. All you need do is let go of your own leash and take hold, instead, of your destiny!”

The slaves all erupted into a triumphant roar. Apparently, the masters in the house had heard the noise, as light shone through the windows. The slaves all grabbed the weapons before them; maces, short swords, whips, flails, and rushed out of the cage towards the masters' house.

The owner of the vineyard peered out his front door, saw the slaves charging at his home, and slammed the door shut again. This only protected him for a few moments, though. Slaves broke open the front door with their maces. Other slaves shattered the windows and climbed in. From where she stood, Yashen heard the slaves howling and cheering as they tore through the masters' house. She could hear the screams from inside as the master and his whole family were massacred. It wasn't long at all before the screams stopped and the slaves emerged from the house, carrying whatever valuables they could find. One slave presented the head of the master, held up by his hair. Other slaves took the lamps from inside the house and smashed them against the outside walls. With triumphant howling all around her, Yashen watched as the masters' house went up in a blaze and smoke shrouded the sky.

All around her the slaves shouted with glee.

“Freedom!”

“Death to oppressors!”

“No more lashes!”

“Long live the Inquisition!”

“Hail the Grand Inquisitor!”

“Praise Sandalphon!”