Chapter XXVIII

Even in his time as a slave Kezib had often heard stories about beautiful weddings. He’d always heard that these were emotional times that left all in attendance weeping tears of joy. Now that he was about to finally make his marriage to Cilicia official, he was excited for what was to be the most wonderful day of his life. He couldn’t wait to see Cilicia’s joyous smile.

Oh, but the truth stung. His heart sank the moment he walked into old arena, now turned into a sanctuary. Not because of the painful memories of his battles there, but rather because as he entered that amphitheater there was not a single smiling face in sight.

He should have guessed at the sort of weddings his people typically performed the moment he found out that he was to be wed in a tunic made of burlap. The Inquisition cared nothing for luxury or beauty, even on such an important day.

Yashen stood at the end of the arena with a book in hand. She gestured to Kezib as he entered, “Step forward in faith and humility, Kezib.”

The former gladiator crossed the arena between the rows of guests. Only as he got closer did he realize just how few were in attendance. Each of them were inquisitors; the most morally upright in the True Way.

Soon Kezib stood before the Grand Inquisitor, who did not even once look him in the eye. “Call for your bride, as you have been instructed,” was all she said.

Kezib turned towards the entrance of the arena and called out, “Cilicia, please come and join me.”

The doors opened and there Cilicia stood. She wore a sack-cloth dress and no shoes. She smiled for a moment when she saw Kezib, but the smile fled her face as she looked upon the stern, serious guests. She sighed, and her fiancé could feel the defeat in that sigh, as she hurried down the aisle to stand beside him.

“Join hands,” Yashen said, and the two did as they were bid. “Kezib, do you take Cilicia to be your wife and mother of your children for time and all eternity, with a promise that together you will continue to follow the statutes and ordinances of the True Way, owing your loyalty and life only to the Inquisition? And do you dedicate this marriage to truth and righteousness before Sandalphon and all angels?”

“Yes, I swear it,” said Kezib.

Yashen turned next to the bride, “Cilicia, do you take Kezib to be your husband and father of your children for time and all eternity, with a promise that together you will continue to follow the statutes and ordinances of the True Way, owing your loyalty and life only to the Inquisition? And do you dedicate this marriage to truth and righteousness before Sandalphon and all angels?”

Kezib saw Cilicia open her mouth as if to speak, and then hesitate. Only then did he realize the disaster occurring right before his eyes. Cilicia wanted to be married to Kezib, but she could not honestly answer “Yes, I swear it,” as they had both been instructed to before even hearing the vows. For one thing, Cilicia was not a follower of the True Way, so she couldn’t claim to “continue” to follow it. Then there was the fact that she couldn’t swear that Kezib would be the father of her children because she couldn’t bear children. While Kezib had never worried about this, he also understood that the True Way always taught that the only legitimate reason for anyone to make love was in hopes of conceiving a child.

Cilicia either had to lie in front of an amphitheater full of people who’d been trained to know deception, or she had to tell the truth and be declared a heretic. Either way, this could not end well.

Cilicia stammered for a moment, then smiled and said, “I…I have a different vow I would swear.”

“Oh?” Yashen said, glancing nervously at the crowd as they began to murmur. The Grand Inquisitor shifted her feet uncomfortably.

Kezib felt sick as he understood in an instant what Yashen’s reaction meant. If it were truly up to the Grand Inquisitor she probably would have allowed them to marry however they wished, so long as there was a ceremony. But she was only Grand Inquisitor so long as she upheld the traditions of their people. Even the smallest deviation from the rites of the True Way could incite revolt against her, or even spur the wrath of Sandalphon himself.

“I take Kezib as my husband,” said Cilicia, her head proudly held high. “I swear to love only him, and to cherish him more than myself. Whether the path ahead of us is peaceful or dangerous I will never leave his side. I swear this because I am his and he is mine. We were meant to be together, chosen for each other long before we ever met. Therefore, even as the world changes around us, and even as we change with time, my love for him will never change. This promise I shall never break.”

Tears rose in Kezib's eyes. These were the most beautiful words she could have spoken, and yet they were the words which could easily condemn both of them.

Yashen cleared her throat. “Those are lovely vows,” she said. Another murmur through the crowd. Yashen was visibly shaken. “But I cannot pronounce you wed until you have sworn to the appropriate words. Your marriage must be dedicated to the True Way.”

“My marriage is dedicated to my husband,” Cilicia said.

Kezib hung his head. Yashen scratched the back of her neck and shifted her feet. “Cilicia…I can pronounce you both wed if you would only-“

The doors burst open again, interrupting whatever Yashen was about to say. “Grand Inquisitor!” a young man shouted as he entered the amphitheater. “Grand Inquisitor! An army marches this way under the banner of Lord Kenaz! Scouts believe they mean to attack us!”

“Sound the alarm!” Yashen shouted. “Everyone, prepare for the siege. Kezib, that includes you!”

“Yes, Grand Inquisitor!”

A battle. What a relief! Far less dangerous than this wedding had proven to be. As everyone else scrambled to leave the arena, Kezib gave Cilicia a brief kiss on her lips before running out the door to prepare for the onslaught.

. . .

Everything from there was a blur. The excitement flowing through Kezib's blood carried him right to the battlements on the city walls, fully armed and armored with barely a thought. In each hand he carried his curved blades, and under his blood red cassock he wore chain-mail.

He stood beside Yashen, along with many of the Inquisition's other witch-hunters. Each of them held either a crossbow or a longbow at the ready as a banner-bearer galloped towards the city gates.

“We understand there is a new Grand Inquisitor,” said the banner-bearer.

“I am she,” said Yashen.

“The army that approaches you is that of Lord Kenaz,” said the banner-bearer. “My lord has brought a force large enough to raze Nox to the ground, but he is not without understanding. He calls upon you to surrender. Dissolve the Inquisition and your lives will be spared.”

Yashen shook her head. “I already know what will happen if we surrender. Kenaz will take us all as prisoners of war, and then sell us back to the slavers. We will not have it. Tell your lord we refuse.”

The banner-bearer sighed, and Kezib could just barely hear him mutter, “I'd like to deliver some good news for once...” before he spurred his horse and rode away.

Yashen patted Kezib's shoulder. “Don't be afraid.”

“I'm not afraid,” said Kezib. “Not of them,” he wanted to say, but he held his tongue.

“I have a few tricks planned for them,” Yashen said as she took up her longbow. She turned to the others on the wall and shouted, “Lord Kenaz may have more soldiers than we do, but ours is a holy calling! We took this city in a matter of hours, with no siege equipment and few warriors. Sandalphon chose us to carry on his legacy. We are the righteous, and this day the wicked shall fall!”

. . .

Tassos stood in a sea of black armor and dark robes. Each acolyte of the Father silently practiced the chants they would need to slay angels when the Inquisition unleashed them. Each justicar prayed for the Father to help them defeat their enemies.

Up ahead the banner-bearer returned to Lord Kenaz, who sat astride an armored war-horse on the top of the nearest hill. Good news? No. Lord Kenaz shook his head as the banner-bearer spoke to him.

The gray-haired lord kicked his horse's ribs and trotted out in front of his soldiers. With a raspy voice he shouted to them, “The Grand Inquisitor has refused our offer of peace. Unless we do something this day the Inquisition will rise again. We cannot allow the Inquisition this rebirth! For centuries in their own land they tortured the innocent, and slew everyone who expressed an opinion that differed from their own. If they are not stopped here they will spread like the Gavish, and consume the West! Do what you must to protect this land and its people! Think of your wives, your husbands, your children; for it is their lives that this Inquisition threatens!

“Arx has long tried to show mercy to the Inquisition. Every king and queen of Arx has allowed them to practice their twisted faith, so long as they did not threaten us. Even the brutal Legate Atius tried to show some mercy when he sold their children into slavery rather than exterminating them. But, as we have learned, the Inquisition cannot be shown mercy. If even a single one of their people survives they will rise again to threaten future generations with their cruelty. Today we put a stop to it! The last vestiges of the Inquisition must be destroyed now! Slay them all; men, women, children, and all! This is the only way you will ensure the safety of future generations!”

Was such a command just? Even Tassos, who had long both committed and been the victim of heinous acts, felt a chill at these orders. Yet, he knew that in the eyes of the Father this must be just, because the justicars and the other acolytes cheered as Kenaz finished his speech.

“Siege towers, forward!”

There was a series of groans, followed by the grinding of gravel and the screeching of axles as Lord Kenaz's troops rolled forward the siege-towers.

“Cavalry, charge!”

Every mounted knight galloped at the city of Nox with a crossbow in hand. Tassos couldn't see them through the justicars in his way, but not long after they'd left his sight he heard the familiar snaps of bowstrings and the whistling of arrows. Both from below and above.

“Infantry, march!”

Boots slapped the damp dirt as the infantry began its trek to the city walls. Tassos walked with the ranks of justicars and acolytes, all the while the sounds of arrows drawing closer and closer.

Arrows zipped past Tassos. One found the heart of the acolyte standing immediately to his right. Another found the eye of a justicar in front of him. Still, they did not break ranks. Absolute discipline, even as death hailed down from above.

Those with the siege towers crashed into the walls and heaved the towers upright. Soldiers and justicars rushed up the ladders inside the towers. Witch hunters drew their blades and attacked them just as they got to the tops of those ladders. Only blood and death at the end of the tunnel.

The justicars in front of Tassos formed a line for the nearest ladder, and Tassos found himself at the end of that line, trying to keep his head down as arrows struck the ground all around him. He tripped and stumbled over arrows that had just buried their heads in the soil.

Each step brought him closer and closer to that ladder. Not a single soldier made it through yet. Not a single soldier who'd climbed the ladder made it to the top.

Now he found himself standing at the base of the ladder, gripping the blood-soaked rungs before his eyes. He stood upon the bodies of those who'd fallen as he took his first step in the ascent. Each rung was slippery with the remains of those who'd gone before him. Above him there hung one of the justicars, his leg caught on one of the rungs and his body limp.

Tassos could see the light pouring in at the top, and shadows of those above moving about. Was this why so many armies were made up of men so young? Men in such a hurry to make heroes of themselves that they followed orders even unto certain death?

Above he heard the soldiers yelp, and their shadows disappeared. When Tassos finally reached the top he discovered that those who'd been waiting for him there had fallen to the arrows the cavalry had loosed. He glanced back and forth, noting that now Lord Kenaz's soldiers fought the witch hunters on the battlements.

With a dagger in either hand Tassos joined the fray. The thin blade slipped between chain mail each time he crept up behind his enemies. With each witch hunter felled he felt something he'd not felt for years; satisfaction.

Was that the Grand Inquisitor standing on the battlements? She too had a long bow in hand and loosed arrow after arrow at Lord Kenaz's soldiers. The Grand Inquisitor herself. Without her the rest of the Inquisition would surely fall.

Staying so low he was nearly crawling, Tassos sneaked though the battle on the wall. More of Lord Kenaz's soldiers climbed the wall, whether it was by siege tower or grappling hook. More distractions. Good. Tassos could end this battle quickly. A loss of morale this great would crush the Inquisition's spirit.

Kill to save lives. By murdering one woman he would save more lives than he could ever count. One need not fight the entire beast, only cut off its head.

One of the witch-hunters bled out and fell limp onto Tassos. Tassos pushed the body off of him and pushed on. Last thing he needed was one of those bright red uniforms making him easier to spot. One of Lord Kenaz's soldiers collapsed in front of Tassos' feet, and he carefully stepped over the body, his eyes never leaving his target.

He was so close to her now, having slipped through the witch-hunters, using the carnage as his cover. Between the robes and the viscera all the world around him was a red cloud, with the Grand Inquisitor a black beacon in all that scarlet.

She still did not see him coming. Tassos made a run for it. His heart pounded with the beat of his feet as he rushed her. She was almost within reach.

But the sound of a blade passing through flesh and between bone stopped Tassos in his tracks. A sword slipped between his ribs. He turned to see a young witch-hunter with two curved blades and bright blonde hair. All the sound in the world was gone, and Tassos went numb. An all too familiar feeling. He was dying again.

He fell from the wall, down into the streets of Nox. Is not a dying man supposed to find comfort in the idea that he will see dead loved ones again soon? Tassos was not so blessed. He knew that soon he would wake up full of pain, and unsure where he was. There was no comfort for the man who could not truly die.