Chapter 15 - Nobody Expects Her Eternal Majesty's Inquisition!
"While the Empire faces many enemies who reject the wise rule of Her Eternal Majesty, most can at least be reasoned with on some crude level. That can never be said for the Lands of the Dead, the clearest example of the dangers of necromancy. There necromancers rule over the living with indescribable cruelty as they feed their unending hunger with the flesh of the living. From raiding their neighbours for fresh ‘meat’ to feed into their horrific conversion Schema, to people farms in their own territory, the lich-kings that rule those unholy lands are the enemy of every living being. Fortunately for them well-nigh on impassable deserts and mountains separate the Lands of the Dead from the wrath of the Empire.”
Two Thousand Years of Empire by Jahangir Amini
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Simple fire hadn’t worked, neither had Ester’s Schema. Time to try something else.
“Daabru garmur’fa xëkera.” Green light flared around her and the wooden platform under the monstrosity shattered, a thousand shards of wood frozen momentarily in the air. Before the creature and its witch had time to fall to the ground the forest of splinters shuddered and, in a single convulsive moment, turned and speared inwards.
The witch didn’t even have time to scream as she was speared through from every angle. For a brief second Ester allowed herself to hope. Then a shape inside the pincushion of wooden shards moved. Spikes started to drop off it as the creature resumed its advance on her. It didn’t seem to be in any hurry, shedding the bits of wood as it went. Its movements were jolting, one moment it was still, the next it had come forward without seeming to cross the intervening space.
Without thinking Ester found herself scrabbling backwards along the ground, trying to create distance. The very idea of that thing touching her was terrifying.
She’d completely forgotten about the creature’s other slaves until a scream rang out over the crackling of flames, followed by a triumphant, booming shout.
“Saig gan cuvlug.” Ester snapped the spell, flinging a blazing ball of fire at the steadily advancing creature and then risked a glance back down the room.
She just had time to see a huge figure laying about itself with a ridiculously oversized sword, then fear drew her eyes back to the more immediate threat.
“Your magic cannot touch me little mageling.” If anything the monstrosity’s voice was sounding even more inhuman. Its gurgling rattle pushing it towards incomprehensibility, except she felt every word as clear as crystal in her head. “I am older than you can imagine and I’ve consumed far stronger than you.” It suddenly jerked forward and Ester let out a shriek, flinging herself backwards to get away from it.
It didn’t follow through though. Instead it turned towards the commotion across the chamber. Ester took the opportunity to scramble further away, until her back was against the wall. At least this one wasn’t on fire.
“It seems someone is trying to be a hero. Finding new slaves will be an irritation, but you’ll be reward enough.” Despite its words, there was something considering about its tone and it went still, staring towards the fighting. Ester found her eyes drawn there too. Anything was better than looking at the creature.
Her eyes widened as she recognised Sir Vitaly, his face twisted into a furious snarl, or possibly a delighted grin, she couldn’t tell. His oversized sword flashed down with vicious speed and cleaved halfway through a man with an axe in a spray of blood. Sir Vitaly placed his booted foot on the man’s chest and yanked the sword to parry a blow coming from his side with enough force to send the spiked club spinning out of his attacker’s hands.
It was a brutal, crude fight. Nothing like the accounts of combat that she’d read. Sir Vitaly’s sword was out of position from the parry, but instead of bringing it back he just lunged forward and smashed his forehead into his opponent’s face with a crunch that rang out across the room. A sudden kick sent him flying out of the way and then Sir Vitaly was advancing once more. He looked utterly demented. Never mind his grin, there was blood running down his face and arms and his head moved back and forth like a bull choosing where to charge.
As she watched, her mind was racing. She wanted to run, but she couldn’t. She had her duty. She hadn’t been able to touch the creature with magic though. No, that wasn’t true. She’d hurt it, just not much. There had to be a way, she was just doing things wrong. Or not powerful enough, but how?
More enslaved criminals threw themselves forward at Sir Vitaly with cries of rage.
“You will die for the master!” One slashed at him with a pair of daggers while another stuck out with a spear.
“Great Spirits, you scum don’t learn! I love it!” As he shouted, Sir Vitaly cut off the first criminal’s hand, before seeming to almost slide round the thrust of the other’s spear to smash his face with the pommel of his sword.
Ester couldn’t let the mad knight distract her. Simple fire hadn’t stopped the creature, so what would? Something had to.
It had clearly been Summoned, a Weiryin of some kind, but that didn’t tell her how to kill it. Physical attacks seemed to have done little. Although she thought her exploding Schema had at least cut it. But that had barely slowed it down and now it was gone. She couldn’t just make a new Schema on the spot, it had taken her hours.
“You cannot hurt our master! I’ll kill you!” A man thrust a spear at Sir Vitaly.
“Ha! Wrong!” With a laugh he parried the thrust, but the man was fast, pulling back and thrusting again. “Wrong again!” Sir Vitaly knocked the spear’s point down before bringing his sword sweeping up through his opponent’s belly.
A surge of excitement washed away the nausea Ester’s felt at the sight of the enslaved criminal’s guts spilling out. She had it! Maybe.
“Entertaining, but nothing of concern. He’ll keep.” The Weiryin turned away from Sir Vitaly and back to Ester in a sudden motion. Its blank white eyes fixing on her. “Time for dinner I think.” A maw appeared between the writhing tentacles, full of teeth that somehow danced around each other.
It moved forward, she couldn’t call it walking. She had nowhere to go, her back was against the wall. Ester bit down hard on her lip, hard enough to draw blood. The sudden burst of pain forced her mind back into focus. She had seconds left, less.
There! Her eyes landed on a knife, big enough to almost be a short sword, clutched in an unmoving hand, blackened by fire. She didn’t have time to think about what she’d done to the man.
Ester flung her hand out and demanded that reality cooperated. There was no need to speak for such a simple spell. The knife ripped out of the dead man’s hand, flying across the room to come to rest in the air between her and the Weiryin.
She didn’t give it time to mock her or try to knock it aside.
“Os’ellende’ai’tànga’ir, saig ai’exbal, kattreachd miowenalan’fa.” She reeled off the spell without hesitation, forcing every ounce of her magic behind the words. The world twisted and Weiryd flared around her, its eerie green battling the orange glow of the flames that were spreading around the room.
The knife erupted into blinding, white light. Ester couldn’t look directly at it. She could feel the heat radiating off it, even with a couple of yards of distance it was almost unbearable. She knew that without her will holding it together the knife would be melting into a puddle. Just holding the spell was a strain, her head was already starting to pound, warning her that she was overstraining herself.
“Pathetic.” The gurgle of the Weiryin’s voice ground at her confidence, but she held the knife in the air between them.
Without any warning the creature moved. There was no methodical advance this time. One moment it was in front of her, the next it was halfway past the knife. If she’d had to hold the weapon in her hands she’d have died there, but Ester could think faster than she could wield a blade.
A thought and the knife moved, slicing into one of the creature’s limbs. It jerked back and its bubbling shriek of pain and anger battered at Ester’s ears, threatening to break her control, but she held on, buoyed by the thrill of success.
It was a desperate battle against the rapidly growing pain in her head, but she wasn’t going to give in. She was a Mage, not some untrained apprentice. Her attack had hurt the Weiryin, she could see black liquid oozing from the limb, but if she showed weakness now she’d die.
The monster feinted towards her and she pulled the knife between them. Its instant retreat told her that it was at least somewhat scared of her spell.
She was so focused on the creature that she was only reminded of the rest of the room when Sir Vitaly’s voice boomed out.
“Ho there you ugly fucker, I’ve killed some nasty things, but you’re the ugliest yet! What kind of beastie even are you? Some kind of Weiryin?” Despite the situation his tone was more cheerful musing than fearful, but he kept a wary distance, stupidly large sword held out towards the creature point first.
The Weiryin glanced at him, back at Ester and then it moved. Blindingly quickly, leaping at him.
Almost as fast Ester sent the knife after it, taking advantage of the distraction and slashing into its back. Sir Vitaly was backpedalling frantically, just avoiding the creature’s swiping limbs and with a screech the creature whirled away from him, turning its attention back to Ester. No, to the knife in the air between them.
“Fucking hell. That thing’s faster than a sailor after a month at sea.” Ester had no idea what Sir Vitaly was on about, nor why he sounded so happy about it, and couldn’t spare the attention to try to work it out. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold the spell on the knife. Her brain felt like it was trying to melt out of her ears and she could see the light of the Weiryd getting worse around her, even if she couldn’t feel its effects on the world.
The creature didn’t seem inclined to risk turning its back on her again though. “Sir Vitaly can you kill it?” She gritted her teeth as she forced the words out.
“Doubt it, that sort of thing cheats horribly you know. Doesn’t want a fair fight at all. More Mage business. Try stabbing it some more with your magic knife.” The man actually sounded delighted. Was he mad?
“I will kill…” Ester cut the Weiryin’s words off with a thrust of the knife, forcing it to take a step back. Then another. There was black liquid pooling on the floor where it had been. Was it bleeding?
It feinted dodging around the knife and Ester had to yank it back into place between them. “This grows tedious.” She could hear the anger hissing out of its gurgling voice. “I will visit you later mageling.”
Ester made the knife jerk towards it again. This time, the creature feinted right and then, when Ester moved the knife to follow it sprang left, towards Sir Vitaly. He dove aside and she flung the knife after it slashing across the Weiryin’s back and then through another of its limbs. It screeched in pain and, rather than launch itself at Sir Vitaly, flickered towards the door to the chamber. It was slower than it had been, but it was still gone in moments, leaving a trail of black blood behind it.
Ester sagged back against the wall, feeling weak with relief. After a moment she released her spell and the knife fell to the floor, immediately flaring into a melting, burning puddle on the wooden boards. She tried to get up, but for some reason her limbs weren’t cooperating. In fact as the excitement left her body she felt as weak as a kitten. One that had just been given a severe beating.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Sir Vitaly stared after the Weiryin for a second, then turned to Ester, a big smile on his face. “Great Spirits, that would have been something to have beaten! Much too ugly to mount on my wall afterwards though, ha! Anyway I’d need a magic sword and you look like you need a rest.”
Ester opened her mouth to ask him what he was on about and found herself descending into a coughing fit instead. It really was smoky in there.
“An excellent point my lady.” Sir Vitaly managed to make a flourish of wiping his sword on a dead man’s tunic and then sheathing it and headed towards where Ester was sitting. It was getting hard to see him through the smoke and stinging in her eyes.
“W w what about the monster?” She managed to choke the words out. He shrugged.
“Not much chance I can catch that. I’m sure it’ll be back anyway. Now let’s get out of here, you’re far too much fun to leave behind!”
Ester coughed again, she really wanted to sleep, just a short nap. As she closed her eyes she felt big hands go around her and hoist her off the ground.
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Velthur Savate resisted the urge to put his head in his hands. He’d given the orders he needed to. The watch was being mobilised, messengers had been sent to the Mages in the city and the Great Houses had all been notified. There was nothing more that he could do for now. That meant that he had to deal with the girl in front of him.
Ester was somehow managing to look both sheepish and defiant at the same time. If he wasn’t so stressed with everything she’d managed to drop onto his plate, he might even have been impressed.
Frankly she looked like shit. Her face and dress were covered in soot, along with streaks of what he thought was probably blood. It wasn’t clear whether it was hers or someone else’s. Her dress was torn in various places and she smelt strongly of smoke.
His mood wasn’t improved by the gigantic man standing behind her. He was covered in blood too, far more than her in fact. Velthur was definitely sure it wasn’t Sir Vitaly’s though. Ridiculous and obnoxious as the knight was, he was a notoriously dangerous fighter. Regardless, the man seemed to have appointed himself as Ester’s protector for now, filling up a large part of Velthur’s office with a look of dumb satisfaction painted across his face.
Velthur had heard enough of her story, rasped out through her smoke-damaged throat, to mobilise the city, but now that he had a moment, he wanted a real explanation.
“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Ester recoiled at the anger in his tone.
“I…” Velthur cut her off.
“I gave you a direct order not to go to Clanis Edge, but you went anyway and when you did you almost got yourself killed, exactly like I said you would and now you’ve single-handedly plunged the city into chaos.”
She glanced down, her lips tightening. “I’m sorry, I had a plan.”
“Yes, what exactly was that plan? Walk in and blow things up?” He saw her fists clench, but she kept her voice level.
“No, I was pretending to be hiring thieves for a noble house.” She looked up with a scowl. “It would have worked too if that… creature hadn’t been there.”
Velthur stifled a groan, this could be worse than he’d thought. “Please tell me you didn’t use the name of a real noble house?”
“Of course not! I’m not stupid!” He couldn’t help noticing that her speech patterns were drifting back towards those of her birth.
“Really?” Great Spirits he could see why they’d sent her to Vass Karan! He was surprised she’d made it through the Academy alive. “You disobeyed a direct order, waltzed into the most dangerous part of the city with a plan that a child could see through and then almost got yourself killed fighting some Weiryin that definitely shouldn’t be in my city!”
“But, I…” Her scowl deepened. “Would you rather it hadn’t been found?” Velthur chose to ignore that and change tack.
“What about you Sir Vitaly? Care to explain how you got involved?” The man was a known fanatic, it was difficult to imagine him being involved with anything improper beyond seducing bored noblewomen, let alone the gangs of Clanis Edge, but Velthur had seen stranger things in his time.
“Ha!” The man grinned. He really did seem infuriatingly happy. “A good question my lord. As you know, I am one of the greatest fighters of the Empire and I pride myself on that.” A pity he didn’t pride himself on his modesty more. “In times of peace I find myself growing bored, so I visit the more insalubrious parts of the city for entertainment.”
“So, drugs? Women?” Velthur’s voice was utterly flat.
Sir Vitaly blinked and then burst into raucous laughter. “Hahahaha. My dear fellow, I get all the women I want and I’ve no need for drugs when there’s a good fight to be had. Nothing better! Ha! Now, the thing is, you don’t get that in the nice taverns. If you want a good fight you’ve got to go down to the bad parts of the city. The proper slums. The Riina, Clanis Edge you know.”
Velthur had known he’d regret asking. Going looking for fights was a crime of course, not that anyone would care about Sir Vitaly breaking some skulls in Clanis Edge. Him included if he was honest.
“So you were drinking in the tavern that Ester went to, the… Two Fighting Cocks?” Even he’d heard of that place, not that he’d be stupid enough to set foot in it. Unlike the two people in front of him. “That doesn’t explain how you ended up in some ganglord’s base fighting a Weiryin.”
“Well I didn’t know about the Weiryin, if I had I’d have been there much earlier of course! But no, as it was I saw young Ester looking out of place. She had a different face, so naturally I didn’t recognise her. Very cunning of her in fact. Why I remember when I infiltrated a…”
“Sir Vitaly, please.”
“Ha, yes a story for another time, of course. I was entirely fooled by her ruse, but a well-dressed young woman in a place like that… Well, she was either there on criminal business that needed to be stopped or in grave danger. So, when she was well nigh on dragged out by thuggish reprobates, there was only one thing I could do. Follow so that I could save her in the name of Her Eternal Majesty!”
“No doubt in the hope of a good scrap while you did it.”
“I thought you’d understand!” As the man broke into booming laughter Velthur shook his head. He really wished the man would fuck off out of Vass Karan to go and fight some bears or Republicans or whatever it was he normally did.
“So if you’re so desperate for a good fight, why aren’t you out looking for the Weiryin?” He mostly managed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
Sir Vitaly shrugged happily. “Not much I can do against that and young Ester needs looking after.”
“Do you not think she’s safe here?” It was both insulting and well outside the bounds of propriety! Sir Vitaly grinned as if he had no idea what he’d implied.
“I am sure she is, but she certainly knows how to make an evening entertaining for me, so a little bit of help until she’s back on her feet will hardly go amiss. Why today has been the most fu…”
He was cut off by a Watchman bursting into the room. “Commander Savate! There’s… there’s an Inquisitor.”
Velthur sighed. He really didn’t need another worry on his plate. “No doubt, I’d have been surprised if there wasn’t one in the city. I'm sure he’ll show himself soon enough. Now if you could…” To his surprise the Watchman interrupted him.
“No Commander, there’s an Inquisitor here!” The words sent ice through his veins, rapidly followed by a sense of relief. Maybe he could palm this shitshow off onto the man.
“When you say here…”
“He means here.” Another man stepped into Velthur’s office. He was dressed in relatively plain clothes, but slashed with the reds of House Plaute. His face matched his clothes, utterly nondescript with light brown hair. He’d have faded into any crowd in Vass Karan without the slightest bit of difficulty. There was certainly nothing about him to suggest that when he spoke it was with the full authority of the Throne.
“My Lord Inquisitor.” Velthur stood hurriedly and bowed low, followed a second later by Ester and Sir Vitaly. Even the boorish man looked impressed.
“Hmm.” The Inquisitor looked over them without any change in his facial expression and yet managed to somehow give off an air of faint disapproval. “The Commander of the Watch, your troublesome Mage and her knight in shining armour, all in one place. How convenient. I will be taking charge of the efforts to hunt down the Weiryin. I will require a full briefing from you and then I will want to speak with your Mage.”
Out of the corner of his eye Velthur saw Ester stir a slight frown on her soot-stained face. At least she kept quiet. Even she wasn’t foolish enough to talk back to an Inquisitor. He was about to bow low again and get to work for the Inquisitor, but then something made him hesitate. No one would be mad enough to impersonate an Inquisitor, it was an excellent way to die screaming, but still, he wouldn’t be doing his duty if he didn’t ask.
“My Lord Inquisitor, my apologies for asking, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask for your credentials.” He gave the man another bow for safety, carefully hiding his nervousness. He’d met Inquisitors before. It was inevitable in his role, but it was rare and when he did someone inevitably ended up suffering shortly afterwards.
“Of course.” The Inquisitor showed no sign of irritation, in fact his expression didn’t change in the slightest. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a wafer thin piece of metal, it could easily have been concealed in the palm of his hand, and set it down on Velthur’s desk.
“Ébair.” The Inquisitor gestured and an image sprung up above it. Seemingly real, perfectly rendered in three dimensions. Velthur ran his eyes over it. It was incredibly sharp, better than any Schema he’d seen outside Trevayn. A sword with a crown around the hilt and a mask split in two over its blade with the background of a black shield, letting off tendrils of shadow. It was the Inquisition’s crest, no doubt about it. Whether it was real… He’d only ever seen one before and this certainly looked the same. Ultimately anyone who could afford a Schema of that quality probably didn’t need to impersonate an Inquisitor.
“Thank you my Lord Inquisitor.” He bowed low once more and risked a glance at Ester. To his complete lack of surprise she was leaning forward, looking at the wafer of metal rather than at the image floating above it, her lips moving slightly with unspoken words. That girl was going to get herself killed and he certainly had no intention of getting between her and an inquisitor.
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Farzim Karimi took a seat opposite the Watch’s Mage. He was not a happy man. Commander Savate seemed competent enough, although he suspected there were some skeletons in that closet, but then he suspected that about everyone. The man was most likely within the acceptable bounds of corruption either way.
“So. Lady Mazar.” At least she looked nervous. It was rare for anyone not to when an Inquisitor spoke to them, but Mages were the most common exception. Fools, almost all of them. “You are the one that found the Weiryin. I want the full story, from the beginning. Leave nothing out.” He kept his tone matter of fact. She had ruined his current operation, but not deliberately. As long as she was loyal her greatest crime was being a pain in his backside and that, sadly, was not something that was within his remit.
“F f from the beginning?” He noted the slight stammer in her voice with a small measure of satisfaction. People should be scared of the Inquisition, otherwise there would be chaos, or worse, treason. “Of course my Lord Inquisitor.” She visibly gathered herself. “I was at a ball hosted by House Velia. There had been an incident at the docks previously where the House had been accused of being involved…”
Farzim made mental notes as she spoke. Just the first few sentences already told him a lot about her. She spoke like a Trevayn noble, almost. The few, small differences told him enough though. Commonborn, trying to blend in at the Academy and rise above her station. Admirable. To a point. Of course, by the end of her story he’d know more about her.
While she went on with her tale he could not stop his mind from drifting back to his ruined operation. He had spent almost three months infiltrating House Plaute. Posing as a servant, scouting their palace and getting to know people. They had been growing fat on trade with the Republic since the war had ended, but he was utterly sure that their links went well beyond legal trade. Beyond even the level of smuggling that was generally tolerated as long as it was kept discreet. Of course making an accusation like that against a Great House without evidence was dangerous. If he was right, then there would be no problem, but if he was wrong or they were able to conceal their actions then at best he would be recalled to Trevayn and his career would be over. At best.
So, months of careful work looking for hard proof that would allow him to act. Now all gone. The moment he had heard about a Weiryin loose in the city he had had to reveal himself, duty would allow nothing else.
Admittedly there had been a certain degree of satisfaction in seeing Count Plaute’s face when Farzim had walked into his office and demanded a coach to take him to the Watch headquarters before ordering him to send for Duke Marcni. No one ever expected it to be them that the Inquisition chose to investigate. However, that was thin gruel compared to the failure of his investigation.
Hopefully, while he was frantically covering up all the signs of his wrongdoing, Count Plaute would be sweating about the near miss he’d had.
As the girl trailed off Farzim nodded to her, keeping his face expressionless.
“Thank you Lady Mazar. So you managed to injure the Weiryin?”
“Yes My Lord Inquisitor.” She shuddered slightly, but he could still detect a hint of satisfaction in her voice. In line with what he would have expected. A young fool who thought that the world was a story. “It had lost at least two limbs and had severe cuts on its torso.”
“Mmm.” She wilted slightly under his expressionless gaze. “That will make hunting it down much easier.” It really was not all that impressive. Any Weiryin could be a significant threat, if mishandled, but this sounded very much like a Jabberast. Challenging to a freshly minted Mage with no combat training, but hardly a major threat when the correct forces were applied. Now, how to deal with her?
“Then we will be able to kill it?” She sounded so hopeful. In the end she was just another foolish girl. A head full of books and fantasies about adventure when she would be much better placed settling down and making something useful of herself.
“Yes, now that you have revealed it its days are severely limited.” She perked up at that. In the end stupidity was not a crime, she was clearly loyal to the Throne, even if she lacked common sense.
“Well that is good…” He cut her off. Loyal she might be, but some things needed to be nipped in the bud. A desire to prove oneself was all well and good, but it could be taken to dangerous extremes, especially for a young woman in her position.
“I would not look too satisfied with yourself if I were you. While things have likely turned out well, Her Eternal Majesty does not wish to be served by lucky incompetents. By your own account you very nearly died, or worse could have ended up a servant of the Weiryin.” This was the problem with Mages. They were so full of their own power and excitement at their abilities that they forgot to have even a modicum of common sense. “You disobeyed orders from Lord Savate in almost as flagrant a manner as you could.”
“But…” He drove on, staring her down as he spoke.
“You are extremely lucky that things turned out as they did. If you continue to be lucky then the Weiryin will rapidly be caught and put to death. In that case, you will escape any serious punishment for your disobedience. Politics will dictate that you are quietly thanked for your service to the Empire, but make no mistake disobedience is not tolerated. You are sailing close to the wind. Am I understood?"
For a moment she looked like she might try to protest again, then she looked down and nodded. “Yes My Lord Inquisitor.”
“Good. Now go and clean yourself up and try to get some sleep. I will expect you back on duty shortly.” Next he would have to interview that oaf Sir Vitaly. He was a good man in a fight by all accounts, but unlikely to have any insights worth considering on top of simply being irritating. Nevertheless he was the only other one to have seen the Weiryin and so duty called.