Chapter XXXIII

“It's time, Dario,” said Akhert, his voice echoing in the former justicar's mind. “Defeat the enemies of freedom. Save your sister. You have all the weapons you need.”

“Thank you, Akhert,” Dario said aloud. He stood with the Rahmit and twelve Akhs just at the start of a hole in the floor of one of the houses in Nox. Below him, along the path, was Akhert's army, stretched our for what seemed like miles. “Can they understand me?” Dario asked.

“They will,” said Akhert.

Dario cleared his throat and began to speak. “When I was a child my father sold my sister into slavery. To this day I still feel the cold tears that ran down my cheeks as I watched the slavers take her away in chains, knowing I might never see her again. For years after that I spent my time worrying about how much she suffered at the slavers' hands.

“Centuries ago your ancestors were kicked out of their homeland simply because they desired to be free. They were persecuted, tormented, and even murdered for their way of life.”

The Rahmit all shifted their stances, some nodding their heads. Clearly, these seemingly inhuman creatures understood.

“Now we stand ready for battle. A battle against a force of slavery and intolerance. A victory here cannot undo the wrong which was done to us. It will not bring your loved ones back from the dead, neither will it give my sister back the years that were stolen from her. What it will do is prevent atrocities like that from ever happening again!”

Dario drew his black sword and held it aloft. His new suit of armor, black as night, shimmered in the light of Emylas' torch. “Up there is an army of fanatics! People who consider freedom and tolerance sinful! They will not rest until everyone in the world who disagrees with their twisted view of life is slain. This army already all but destroyed their own homeland years ago. Now they rise again to do more wrong. We must act now to put a stop to it!

“Lord Akhert has promised you all immortality, not in exchange for a service, but rather because he loves you. All of you. Just as he loves me. Therefore we need not fear death. Judgment will never fall upon us for our sins.

“So, take arms, my friends! Come with me to put an end to the evil of the Inquisition once and for all! This is our chance to show the world that we do not take its insults lightly! We will show all of Erets that our lives matter! We will show them the courage of our hearts and the strength of our souls!”

The Rahmit all made some sort of strange clicking sound with their tongues. Dario was confused when he heard it, until Akhert told him, “It's applause, Dario. They believe in you. Now, lead them to victory.”

Dario turned back towards the hole in the ground where he and this underworld army were to emerge and nodded his head. There was no turning back from this point. From this moment on he would leave behind everything he knew for good in hopes that the future he created would be better. “March!” he commanded.

. . .

“Sandalphon, my master, please speak to me.”

Diamond dust gathered in the air in Yashen's room until it formed the body of the archangel. “What is it, my faithful servant?”

Yashen bowed her head and sighed. “He's leaving us. The one the witch-hunters look up to. Our greatest warrior wishes to leave us as soon as the battle is over.”

“You will find someone new to lead them once he is gone.”

“That's not the part that worries me,” said Yashen. “The reason he was leaving is...well, he found our traditions to be far too restraining. He loves a woman-”

“A believer in the True Way?”

“...No.”

“Already he is mistaken,” said Sandalphon. “We will spare heretics who keep their lies to themselves, but we cannot have anything to do with them beyond that. Mercy is all they deserve, not love.”

“Can I truly ask him to live up to those standards, though?” Yashen asked, kneeling before the archangel. “He was not raised in the True Way, adapting to it is hard for him. Maybe...maybe if he marries her he can change her heart in time and she will no longer be a heretic. We could save her soul this way!”

Sandalphon pointed a finger at Yashen. “Your own words reveal why we cannot have any part of heretics. It is just as likely she will change his heart as it is that he will change hers. After that it won't be long before the disease spreads throughout our society and many souls are forfeit.”

“We cannot bend even a little?” Yashen asked. “I've seen them together. Their love is good and pure and kind. Can we truly call it sinful?”

“No matter how good they may be together they will set a poor example for others,” said Sandalphon. “They will lead others astray.”

“Are the traditions truly so important?” The moment the words escaped Yashen's lips she desperately wished they had not. She lowered her head, not daring to look up into Sandalphon's eyes.

The archangel stood straight, his shoulders pulled back and his knees locked. Yashen could feel the rage radiating off of him. “The God who died in sorrow over the sins of humanity was holy. I, who led your people out of slavery and slew your enemies so that you could live, am holy. I ask that you be the same. If you compromise your principles now your people will become as terrible as your enemies. It won't happen overnight, it will happen by inches over generations.”

Yashen lowered her head further and stared at the ground in shame.

Sandalphon continued. “That's what happened to the last Inquisition. They gave up on the traditions one by one. They made deals for convenience's sake. They even performed a wedding ceremony for two unbelievers; Queen Mahla and Grand Duke Sahar. You've heard this name, yes? Sahar?”

A chill went through Yashen's blood. She'd heard more than enough stories about the wickedness of that man who had nearly caused the end of Erets. His cruelty was legendary.

Sandalphon nodded. “The Inquisition made him King of Arx for a time, something that would have never happened if they had held to their traditions. Not long after that they fell under attack from the Digan Empire and Legate Atius' legions.” Sandalphon's brow furrowed. “The Grand Inquisitor fled in fear. The very leader of the Inquisition gave in to fear and ran away! That is why I allowed your fathers to be taken. I forsook the Inquisition because it had already forsaken me. No more! We draw a line and say that we will not cross it!”

“I understand, master,” said Yashen. “I'm sorry I questioned you.”

“You are forgiven.” Sandalphons' face softened and he knelt down in front of Yashen. With a hand on her shoulder he said, “As I have spoke time and again there is always a chance for repentance. Just remember this conversation next time doubt creeps into your mind. And remember that doubt is a sin which must be purged.”

“Yes, master.”

Sandalphon pushed himself to his feet again. “As for Kezib, he is a powerful ally, but a dangerous enemy. Once the battle is over take him prisoner, give him one last chance to recant his heresy. If he still refuses to remain with the Inquisition then you must execute him, along with his blasphemous lover.”

Yashen's jaw dropped. She was about to tell him just how appalled she was at such a plan, but remembered his words only moments ago and so chose to remain silent.

“Stay in the True Way,” Sandalphon said, pointing a finger at Yashen's face again. “Stay with it, lest my armies forsake you as I forsook your fathers.”

“...Yes...master...”

“Now, get some rest. The enemy will resume its siege in the-”

Sandalphon's words were cut off by the sound of screams from outside of Yashen's home. Both of them looked up towards the door and listened. Definitely the sounds of a battle.

“A night attack?” Yashen asked.

“Too far inside the walls to be the Arxians,” said Sandalphon. “And Lord Kenaz wouldn't be so foolish as to push his soldiers to the point of exhaustion.”

Yashen walked over to the door and slowly pushed it open just enough so that she could see what was happening outside.

Was she dreaming? She had to be. Bizarre creatures, looking only somewhat human, crept through Nox's streets. They had gray skin, no hair, big ears, and no eyes. Each held a weapon made of some sort of black metal in their hands. Men and women clad in their sleeping clothes ran out into the streets with weapons in hand to fight them, but the creatures' blades cut them down.

Then, marching with the creatures, were men covered from head to toe in black armor wielding two-handed swords. Strangely, the men had helmets over their heads which included no eye-holes. Yashen looked on as one of these men broke through a window with his fist and yanked the inquisitor hiding inside out into the streets before plunging the sword into her chest.

“This can't be...” Yashen said.

“Act, Grand Inquisitor!” Sandalphon commanded. “Do not fail to act!”

. . .

All around Dario the Rahmit and Akhs stormed the streets. Night was the perfect time to attack. Most of the Inquisition slept, and the Rahmit were used to the darkness. Witch-hunters responded to the screams of their comrades and ran to their aid, only for the Rahmit to ambush them.

Dario marched with the Akhs, “Find my sister!” he commanded them. “Cilicia. Her name is Cilicia.”

“Cilicia,” one of the Akhs called out in a deep voice.

“Cilicia,” another repeated, and all of them began to spread out.

A witch hunter leaped from hiding and drove a dagger between the plates of one of the Akhs' armor. The Akh, in turn, cut the witch-hunter in half with its great sword. Not a single drop of blood poured from the hole in the Akh's breastplate.

Another witch-hunter attacked one of the Akhs with a mace, landing a strong blow against its chest-plate. An echo met the crash.

The Akh, unfazed by the attack, seized the witch-hunter by the throat, lifted him off of the ground, and ran the blade through his gut.

“Cilicia.”

“Cilicia.”

“Cilicia.”

Behind him Dario heard footsteps approaching. Footsteps at a full run. An enemy. Dario spun around and beheaded the witch-hunter coming up behind him. The enemy fell into a heap of red on the marble.

“Cilicia!” Dario called out. “It's me! Dario!” He hadn't seen her in so long. He didn't know if he'd recognize her when he did see her. Still, with any luck she would respond to the sound of her name.

Of course, calling out to her also drew attention to him. More witch-hunters coming his way.

He readied himself for their charge, as did the Akhs near him. Once they drew near he sprung into action, spilling their blood.

Each stroke of his sword seemed as easy as the stroke of a paintbrush. The black metal, “tenebrium,” cut through the chain-mail so easily, and chipped any weapon or shield that got in its way. Dario wasn't sure how it was that the Rahmit had forged such a unique metal as tenebrium was, but he was glad that they had.

Up ahead he saw the enemy retreating, getting as far out of the way as they could. They were frightened. Good. This would make the battle all the easier.

“Cilicia!” Dario shouted. “I'm here to rescue you! Please, come out!”

“Weapons down!” came a shout from above.

When Dario looked up witch hunters had lined the rooftops around him. Each had a crossbow aimed at him and the Akhs with him. Amongst them stood a woman clad in a black cassock with bandages on her head and a split on her leg. She held in her hand a long sword, and her left forearm was exposed. He recognized her. The woman who murdered Evalina's grandfather. The one whom he'd chased into the woods, only to have her summon angels to fight him.

“Did you not hear me?” said the Grand Inquisitor. “I said weapons down! Now! We'll shoot if you don't disarm.”

Dario sneered at her. “A cold-blooded murderer has become the leader of the Inquisition, hmmm? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Your order boasts righteousness and murders the innocent all the time.”

“Kill them!” The Grand Inquisitor shouted.

With dozens of snaps the crossbows loosed their bolts. Dario took cover behind one of the Akhs. Bolts bounced off their black armor. Only a few actually pierced the armor, though the Akhs were unaffected.

Dario stepped out from behind the Akh and called out, “After them!”

Rahmit filled the street and, with their long, bony fingers, started climbing up the walls towards the Grand Inquisitor and her minions. The Grand Inquisitor held up the mark on her arm and three angels appeared to defend her, just as the witch-hunters rushed to the edges of the roof to fight off the advancing Rahmit.

All three of the angels flew down to fight the Akhs surrounding Dario. One swung his wing at one of the Akhs and cut deep, only for his wing to get stuck partway through. As the angel stared at the Akh with confusion, the Akh smashed the angel's side with its black sword. The angel yanked its wing back out of the Akh and stared in confusion, obviously wondering why the Akh hadn't died, and why no blood poured from the wound.

No time to answer these questions. The Akhs all attacked the three angels who'd come to fight them. They exchanged blows, back and forth. An angel smashed in an Akh's breastplate. That same Akh then, in turn, cut a deep gash in the angel.

The Rahmit fell one after another when the witch hunters stabbed them as they tried to climb, but one finally broke the cycle when she grabbed one of the witch hunters by the foot and threw him from the rooftop. With that gap, more Rahmit gathered on the roof and soon threw all of the witch hunters from the roof.

The Grand Inquisitor was trapped, surrounded. She looked panicked, and pointed her sword at the Rahmit surrounding her.

“Stay back!” she yelled. “Sandalphon! Please help me!”

The archangel with ten horns appeared before her and attacked the Rahmit. With but a single swing of his wing he sliced through ten of them. Then with the second another twelve died.

“Get me up to that roof!” Dario commanded the Akhs. He couldn't leave the Rahmit to such a massacre. Two Akhs lifted him up on their shoulders and carried him over to the roof.

“You there! Angel! Face me!” he called out. “The rest of you, stand back! No one may interfere with this duel!” The Rahmit obeyed and climbed down off of the roof.

The Rahmit pulled away from the archangel.

Sandalphon turned to Dario. “Foolish. Very foolish. No demon or wicked angel has ever stood up to me and lived. What makes you think a mortal can succeed where they failed?”

“If that's true, why hesitate?” Dario said, holding up his tenebrium sword. “Go on now. Show them all you don't feel fear.”

The angel's feet simply left the rooftop and his body sailed toward Dario, his left wing ready to cut Dario in two. There would be far too much force behind this blow for Dario to block, and the wing was far too large for him to dodge. Surely the archangel thought he had him.

Dario took his sword in two hands and swung with all his might at the wing which cut the air at him. The tenebrium blade cut deep into Sandalphon's left wing. Sandalphon groaned in pain and shock. Dario smirked. Seemed this angel was not used to the idea that anything could actually hurt him. Easy to have courage and declare fear a sin when nothing can hurt you.

The other wing sliced at Dario's back. Dario spun and pierced the right wing. With his sword embedded deep within the crystal, Dario wrenched the blade with all of his might, cutting the wing down to the base.

Sandalphon recoiled from Dario, both of his wings falling limp by his side. Diamond feathers fell from his wings and pierced the rooftop. His eyes were wide, and his hands shook.

Dario laughed. “Is that terror I see on your face? Has the holy archangel himself become a sinner too?”

Sandalphon said nothing, but merely stared at the former justicar with wide, glowing eyes.

Dario inched towards Sandalphon, and Sandalphon inched away. “How much of what you told these poor people was really a lie?” Dario asked in a mocking tone. “How much of the True Way is really a sham? Oh, how I wish more inquisitors were here to see this.”

Sandalphon's face turned from fear to a smile, though his trembling hands betrayed the farce. “There are no inquisitors here to see this. The Grand Inquisitor took her opportunity and fled. I'm not afraid of you, boy. I just wanted to give her the opportunity to get away.”

Dario glanced around the rooftop. He was right, the Grand Inquisitor had fled already. No matter. They'd catch her. Right now Dario had something, someone, far more important to deal with.

“If you are not afraid then strike me down,” said Dario, beating a fist on his chest. “Come now. You said it yourself, a mere mortal stands no chance.”

Sandalphon clenched his fists and threw himself at Dario again. Dario ran his sword through Sandalphon's chest.

That was a mistake.

Sandalphon twisted his body, robbing Dario of his blade, and punched Dario in the side. His armor plates cracked and caved in on his right side and he fell skidding across the roof.

Broken ribs. Perhaps a punctured lung. Yet Dario could feel Akhert healing the injuries already. Nonetheless, Dario was on his face, one of the worst places for one wearing armor to be.

Sandalphon rushed Dario while he was still on the ground, with Dario's own black blade in hand. Instinctively, Dario raised both of his legs and kicked Sandalphon in the chest.

But instead of pushing Sandalphon away, this pushed Dario right off the rooftop.

He fell free for a moment, certain that a crushing death awaited him at the bottom.

Four gauntleted hands caught him just below the roof. A third pair of hands gave him one of the Akh's swords and the other two tossed him back up onto the roof again. Dario pushed himself to his feet and prepared himself for Sandalphon's next attack.

The archangel lunged at him again, stabbing wildly. Dario deflected each strike with the flat of his blade.

His feet slid on the roof's tiles with each strike. After one of Sandalphon's failed strikes Dario threw his shoulder into the archangel.

Another mistake. The archangel did not budge, and Dario's shoulder-plate caved in. The injury would heal soon enough, but the bent plate restricted Dario's movement.

The blade cut at Dario's neck. He caught the blade on the cross-guard of his sword and pushed it up and over his head.

An opening.

He took it.

Dario's blade pierced Sandalphon's shoulder. Dario didn't waste any time. He forced all of his weight down on the blade and severed Sandalphon's arm.

The archangel's other hand still held his own sword and he stabbed Dario through the stomach. There was a horrible grinding as the blade cut the steel of Dario's armor, followed by the sound of Dario's wet guts, and the grinding again as the blade came out the other side.

“He thinks he's won.” said Akhert to Dario. “Finish this!”

Dario doubled over the blade in his stomach, howling in pain and despair.

Sandalphon smiled.

The ploy had worked.

Dario swung his sword with whatever strength he could muster at Sandalhpon's neck. Sandalphon saw it coming and tried to pull away, but he failed to let go of the sword lodged in Dario's gut. The blade chopped through Sandalphon's neck, and the archangel's head fell from his body.

While the deceased archangel's body crumpled and slid off of the rooftop, Dario pulled the blade from his own stomach. Each inch was agony, and blood and bile flowed from the wound like a gushing stream. But once the blade was out Akhert, again, sealed up Dario's wounds and healed his injuries.

Dario gasped for breath on the rooftop, holding the blade covered in his own blood in one hand and the blade that fell Sandalphon with the other.

He'd done it.

He'd defeated the archangel who led the Inquisition. Without their patron the Inquisition would never rise again, and the True Way would soon be no more.

Between deep breaths, Dario said to those around him. “Find the Grand Inquisitor!”