Chapter XXXII

Kezib awoke to the feeling of Cilicia's long, slender fingers stroking his sore shoulder. Her fingertips traced between the muscles, a touch which both hurt and soothed at the same time.

“How did you sleep?” Cilicia asked. “Like a baby?”

Kezib smirked. “Waking up every three hours screaming? No, I slept fine.”

Cilicia giggled, but there was sadness in her eyes.

“What's wrong?”

“You're going off to battle again today,” Cilicia said. “When the Inquisition defeated the slavers I hoped I'd never have to worry about you again. Now...”

“It's just as before?” Kezib asked.

“Yes...yes it is,” said Cilicia, wiping a tear from her eye. “All that's changed is that now you're fighting in a much larger arena.”

Kezib sighed. “That's not all that's changed, honestly.” He bit his lip as he searched for the right words. “When I was a gladiator I used to be able to tell myself, 'It's just a performance.' The fact that so many people watched on and cheered when I slew my enemies...well, it helped me believe it wasn't real. That it was some sort of play and I was just a player on the stage.”

“We all do what we have to do to escape,” said Cilicia.

“Absolutely,” said Kezib. “In the moment I would convince myself that I wasn't really killing sons, daughters, husbands, wives, and parents; it was all a show. But now...with no audience and no applause I cannot escape reality. Every moment I must face the truth of what I'm doing. The blood on my hands is real, it always has been. Now I can't pretend otherwise.” Kezib sat up and pulled Cilicia into his embrace. She rested her head against his bare chest and he caressed her soft hair. His body shook, and tears dripped from his eyes as he kissed the top of her head. “The day will come when I won't have to fight anymore. You're not going to lose me, Cil. Some day we'll have a family all our own.”

“I hope so,” said Cilicia.

Kezib held her scarred face in both of his hands and looked her in the eye. “I'm going to be alright love. Everything's going to be alright.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I have faith.”

“In the True Way?”

“In us.” Kezib kissed Cilicia's lips gently and ran his thumbs along her cheeks.

It was a calmness, a serenity he could find no other place than in Cilicia's embrace. Her every kiss breathed new life into him when he felt like dying. The warmth of her body fought off the chill of fear. When he was with her, and only when he was with her, he felt peace.

But that peace shattered with a knock on the door. “Kezib! Wake up! The enemy army is on its way!”

Kezib groaned before climbing out of bed and dressing himself. “I'm coming,” he said. Cilicia covered herself up with the blankets. Chain-mail over his under-armor, then the blood-red cassock over the chain-mail. With curved blades at his belt Kezib was ready for battle. Ready to be an angel of death to the enemies of the Inquisition.

He opened the door to see Yashen standing there, a crutch in hand and a splint on her right leg. Bandages encircled Yashen's head. She looked over Kezib's shoulder and said, “I don't believe this...”

“I'm sorry I wasn't up sooner,” said Kezib. “I'll try harder next-”

“You spent the night in Cilicia's bed yet again?”

“We had a wedding ceremony, Yashen,” said Kezib, frowning at her. “What more do you want?”

“The ceremony was not complete!” Yashen stamped her good foot on the ground. “You are not husband and wife until I pronounce you! And you will address me as 'Grand Inquisitor.' Remember your place.”

He'd had enough. Every man has a breaking point, the point where he's been pushed too far and the only reasonable response is anger. “Why does it matter?” Kezib shouted. “Why in the Void does it matter? Heavens below! Why? WHY? Tell me, Grand Inquisitor, why does it matter? We had a ceremony! Ahe swore herself to me! Isn't that enough? Is it truly all about your stupid technicalities?”

“Traditions, Kezib,” Yashen said, holding up a hand to try to quiet him. “Tradition holds us together as a people.”

“The Void with your damned traditions!” Kezib shouted.

Yashen glanced around nervously, checking to see if anyone was around to hear this. “They're your traditions too,” she said in a low voice.

“Yeah? Well...not anymore!”

Yashen looked up at him in shock. “What are you saying?”

“I'm done!” Kezib yelled, standing with his toes almost touching Yashen's. The heat of his breath graced her face. “I want nothing more to do with your Void-damned Inquisition! I hate it! And I hate you!”

“No...” Yashen nearly whispered.

“You all can take your 'True Way' and sod yourselves with it all you want, but I'm not getting buggered anymore!”

“Oh, please no...” Yashen said, holding her head with both hands. “No no no no!” Yashen shook her head back and forth. “Kezib, you can't do this to me! I fell off the wall and broke my leg yesterday, hit my head too! Please, I can't lead them! They need you! Without you to lead them Lord Kenaz will slaughter us all! We'll all die! Even the children!”

Kezib placed a hand on Yashen's shoulder. “I wouldn't abandon you all at a time like this. Don't worry. I'll fight in this battle, but once this battle is over Cilicia and I are leaving. I'll be gone, never to return.”

“We can work this out!” said Yashen. “All she has to do is say the words I told her and I'll wed you both!”

“We're heretics, Yashen,” said Kezib. “Both of us. I didn't think I was one, but it's become apparent to me that I don't really believe what the Inquisition teaches. It won't be safe for us to stay.”

“We don't care what you believe!” Yashen said. “You can stay here, even as a heretic, so long as you keep your beliefs quiet!”

“What kind of life is that?” Kezib asked. “To have to keep quiet all the time about the things that really matter to me? To have to live a lie? No. After this battle is over Cilicia and I are leaving.” Kezib turned back to Cilicia, gave her a fierce good-bye kiss, and turned back to Yashen. “And if anything happens to her while I'm gone I'll skin every damn one of you!”

Though Kezib had successfully walked away with his head held high, he soon found, as he hurried through the city streets, that he couldn't stop his hands from shaking. He'd just stood up to the Grand Inquisitor, even threatened her. He was certain there would be consequences for that decision soon enough.

But no time for that now. He had a battle to fight.

At the battlements he saw them; hundreds of soldiers under Lord Kenaz's command advanced on the city of Nox. Crossbow bolts and arrows flew through the air and zipped past him just as he arrived, and the archers on the wall with him returned fire. Once more, soldiers covering their heads with shields rolled forth the battering ram.

The shields would do plenty to protect them from the arrows, but arrows weren't the only way to stop them. Kezib turned to the witch hunters waiting patiently by the cauldrons on the battlements. “Oil!” he shouted.

The witch hunters pushed over three cauldrons of boiling hot oil and tossed torches down with it. It spilled over the shields and splashed up onto the soldiers down below. The heat was so intense that the soldiers yelped and let go of the battering ram. Then the torches caught the oil and set the enemy ablaze. Those unfortunate souls close to the battering ram panicked. They ran, flailed to put out the fires melting the flesh from their bones.

The enemy archers rushed to the blaze in front of the gates and held out the tips of their arrows into the flaming pitch. Once their arrows were lit they loosed them directly at the wooden city gate. It was barely repaired from the previous day's attack. The gate caught fire in seconds.

“Damn it!” Kezib muttered. “Get someone down there to put out that fire! If they break through they'll overwhelm us!”

Immediately men and women rushed down to heap bucket after bucket of water and sand onto the burning gate. All the while Lord Kenaz's troops fell back to let the fire burn away the oil. The longer the fire burned, the more smoke filled the air. Soon those on the battlements could not see the enemy army anymore.

Kezib squinted, trying to spot the enemy and see what they were up to now. Snap! He dropped to his knees just before a volley of flaming arrows hissed through the veil of smoke and over his head. Many of the others on the battlements were not so lucky. One right next to Kezib took a flaming arrow in the chest and threw himself from the wall in panic.

“Get down! They're firing blind!” shouted Kezib.

Another volley of burning arrows whipped through the thick, black smoke and landed inside the city. A few of the arrows hit rooftops.

“Oh, schyte!” Kezib knew that if the fires inside the city were left unchecked the walls intended to protect the people would keep them from salvation. Kezib turned to the other archers on the wall, “Return fire! Loose volley after volley of arrows back at them! I don't care if we're firing blind, just do it!” As the archers on the wall scrambled to follow Kezib's orders he turned to those below. “Get those fires out! Hurry!”

A sharp pain in Kezib's back, followed by intense heat. He fell forward, right to the edge of the wall. But held his balance.

He'd been hit! Kezib fell on the wall and rolled frantically. The arrow snapped, leaving its head within his flesh, and the fire spread across his cassock. No matter how much Kezib rolled the fire kept spreading, and he was sure it would consume him.

In desperation, Kezib tore off his burning cassock and tossed it over the battlements.

Knowing he was safe from the flames, for now, Kezib breathed a sigh of relief. “Send angels through to attack their archers!” he called out to the witch-hunters. Only a few of those still standing had taken the marks which allowed them to call upon angels for help. Those few stood and exposed the tattoos on their forearms. Angels appeared in the air and flew through the smoke to attack the enemy soldiers.

Hundreds of voices chanting in unison in the distance, followed by a sound like shattering glass. Kezib winced.

Amidst all of the other sounds; hissing arrows, screaming soldiers, the roaring flames, the panic, and all of the other chaos Kezib heard another sound that he could not quite place at first. He brought his body low to listen more carefully. A tapping sound? No. Not tapping. Hacking. An ax cutting wood. Many axes, actually.

“They're about to break through!” He shouted just as he heard the gate crumble in splinters and cinders.

A cloud of red rushed to the gate to repel the enemy as they broke through. The first few of Lord Kenaz's soldiers to enter the city swung their great axes and cut down those who'd rushed them.

Just behind them, inching their way in, were the pike-men, who impaled those whom their comrades had missed. Marching together, in perfect step, the enemy soldiers pushed their way through the broken gate and into the entrance of the city.

Kezib took stones from the top of the battlements and hurled them down upon the advancing soldiers. The stones broke on the enemy helmets, but blood poured through the helmets' masks. The soldiers' bodies fell flat.

Other witch-hunters followed suit, and the stones crushed the skulls of those who'd broken through.

The pike-men reached up with their weapons and caught the feet of those witch hunters closest to the edge with the hooks. The witch-hunters had almost no time to react before the pike-men below yanked them down off of the battlements by their feet.

Too many of them were inside the walls for Kezib to continue to defend from there. Knowing that, Kezib ran to the stairs and rushed down, nearly stumbling on the way. His feet slid on the marble street.

The enemy soldiers didn't even see him coming before he was upon them with two curved blades. He diced through them with frantic slashes and stabs.

Every swing jostled the arrowhead lodged in his back and sent jolts of pain throughout his body. He had to endure it, though. If these people got through they would surely kill everyone.

Even Cilicia.

A pike came Kezib's way.

Parried.

An ax swung at his head.

Ducked, and then he beheaded the wielder with an upward stroke. The blade slipped between the soldier's neck-guard and helmet, and the blood painted those standing behind.

More witch-hunters came to join him in the fray. Soon even the bodies from both sides made entrance into the city difficult. The scent of voided bowels and viscera soon filled the air, making Kezib gag. The smell was all too familiar to him from his days as a gladiator, but it was never this strong before.

Kezib beheaded a pike-man, sheathed the sword in his left hand, and took the pike. With just his left arm he stabbed and hacked at the enemy soldiers with the pike. Still, the arrowhead in his back cut at his muscles and scraped his bones. Each thrust was as if he'd been shot again and again. Warm blood trickled down his back, and then turned cold as it soaked his under-armor. A tingling crept into Kezib's fingertips, and along his spine.

An enemy pike found its way to his chest, but he turned his body just in time for the blow to only glance him and slide off to his right side.

He brought his own pike down hard on the enemy pike-man's head in return, crushing his helmet.

Too much.

In agony he let go of the pike and let it drop. His left arm was too exhausted for much more, and so it hung by his side as he attacked enemy after enemy with the blade in his right hand.

One of the enemy soldiers threw his shoulder into Kezib's chest, knocking the wind out of him. Kezib fell flat on his back. He could swear he felt the arrowhead go even deeper.

Kezib's whole world was spinning, blurry; yet even in that state he could see the enemy soldier standing over him with his ax raised over his head. Kezib couldn't lift his sword to defend himself, and even if he could he doubted it would stop such a heavy weapon.

Just as the soldier's arms began to fall, however, a glimmering blade sliced him cleanly in two. Some of the red spray filled Kezib's mouth with the taste of copper, a taste that wouldn't go away for days.

The angels. They'd returned from fighting the archers on the other side of the wall just in time to help repel those who'd made it through.

With their blade-like wings, the angels cut through the ranks of soldiers still coming through the gate. Pikes and axes glanced off of the angels' bodies or simply broke against them.

With every slash, every swing, the angels pushed them further and further back. Their feet dragged with them the bodies of those who'd already fallen, until they'd forced the enemy back out of the city's entrance and blocked the entry with the corpses of their fallen comrades.

Seeing all of this, Kezib allowed himself to relax for just a moment. He'd been so sure that they'd lost the battle that he had barely taken a moment to truly breathe.

But that moment of relaxation soon proved to cost Kezib more than he anticipated. Exhausted as he was, he lost consciousness there on the ground.