Mike Wild - Engines of the Apocalypse

" Please ," Kali implored.

"Not until I know ."

So, that's it , Kali thought. With four words DeZantez had declared her independence, but shattered her hopes that she would act on the injustice that was happening here. The fact of the matter was there was no evidence of injustice, and until there was, the Sword of Dawn was bound by her oath to the Faith.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," McCain said. "What is your verdict?"

Kali swallowed, waiting for the word that she knew was going to come.

"Guilty."

"Guilty."

"Guilty."

One after the other, the jury members stood and delivered the same verdict, and Kali was powerless to do anything about it. DeZantez remained stony-faced during the delivery, even when McCain delivered his sentence.

"The Eyes of the Lord have witnessed your crime. The sentence is death."

"No," Kali said quietly.

McCain nodded to DeZantez. "Prepare the gibbet."

Kali struggled against the grip of the guards that now surrounded her. She had been fully aware that the gibbet was the Final Faith's preferred method of punishment — had been fleetingly aware of it hanging outside as she had been led into the church — but had refused to acknowledge its presence until now. Things all of a sudden became very unreal and she felt a dreamlike coldness ripple through her body. As she watched DeZantez exit the church and found herself being hauled after her into the sunlight, Kali realised that her holiday had finally come to an end here, far out in the backwoods, among strangers who intended to burn her. She felt suddenly, desperately lonely and yearned for Slowhand, Merrit Moon, anyone who could say no, don't do this, this is wrong. But all of her friends were far, far away, thinking other thoughts, and all they would know of her death would be that she never returned home. She was alone and, worse, about to die for a crime she would never dream of committing.

Well, hells, she wasn't going without a fight.

Kali drove her elbows into the stomachs of the goons holding her and slammed her fists into their faces as they doubled over. The pair staggered backwards and she dropped to a crouch, swinging herself around her hands and kicking out, knocking their legs from under them. The guards fell on their backs in a clatter of armour and, as they struggled to pick themselves up, Kali punched both in the face, knocking them cold. She sprang upright, twisting to face Randus McCain. The Overseer swallowed and backed up against the church wall before her less than happy gaze.

Then, Gabriella DeZantez casually walked in front of her, between them.

The Enlightened One had both blades unsheathed and assumed a low, defensive stance. One blade was thrust forward, wavering slightly as if tempting Kali to make a move, the other held back and unwavering, ready to follow through. DeZantez was, in short, prepared for a swift and deadly double strike.

DeZantez spoke one word, but it was enough.

"Don't."

Kali slumped, her battle tension reluctantly leaving her body, and the guards once more took her. DeZantez sheathed her blades and returned to the duty McCain had given her. Kali stared at the Overseer as he watched DeZantez manipulate the chains that lowered the gibbet from its hanging position on the side of the church, then open the front of the cage. The look of abject terror he had exhibited moments before had been replaced by a twisted smile, and he wiped a small amount of drool from his mouth as he turned to his guards.

"Strip her," he said.

Strip me? Kali thought.

"Get your farking hands off!" She shouted as the bodyguards began to tear at her bodysuit. Thankfully, she saw DeZantez move forward, at last seeming willing to intervene. Instead of halting their actions, however, she regarded Kali steadily.

"It's better this way," she said. "Trust me, when the naphtha comes, you will not wish it to first burn your clothes."

Naphtha . Perversely, the word made Kali feel even colder than she had before, and she stared at the pipes that ran from the side of the church into the top of the gibbet cage, at the spark ready to ready ignite the substance as it poured onto the victim within. Well, nightmare as this was, she sure as hells wasn't going to entertain McCain more than he already would be.

"He isn't concerned about how easily I die," she said, with disgust. "Let me remain as I am."

DeZantez hesitated, then nodded to the bodyguards. They bundled her into the gibbet, slamming and locking the cage behind her.

"It's your choice," DeZantez said, turning away.

Kali stared after her and, as she did, became aware of McCain laughing.

"What did you expect?" He said. "That the Enlightened One would balk at the horror of what is about to happen to you, force me to release you from my custody?" He shook his head. "The gibbet is an everyday occurrence, girl, don't you understand? Your enlightened friend here has burned countless sinners in her career. Have you not, Miss DeZantez?"

DeZantez stared at Kali, still emotionless, and nodded.

"This might seem like the ultimate horror to you," McCain continued. "But it is her job ."

Kali grabbed the bars of the gibbet. They were rough beneath her grip, coated with a substance that once had been the flesh of 'sinners' but was now only a permanently caked layer, as hard as coral.

"McCain," she said. "You do this and I promise you I will regret it."

McCain smiled. "I like a sense of humour. But I equally dislike modesty. Raise the gibbet, Sister DeZantez."

Gabriella DeZantez paused for a second but then turned a wheel on the wall of the church.

Kali felt the cage floor shift beneath her and sway and creak as it was lifted well off the ground. The climb brought her within the full glare of the sun and she blinked and prickled in the brightness and heat. It was nothing, though, compared with what was to come, and she stared down at McCain, DeZantez and the goons, swallowing dryly as they were joined by the jury, filing slowly out of the church to witness what was to come. Any hope she might have had for a last minute reprieve or hint of compassion was instantly dashed as she saw their upturned faces; vengeful and convinced of her guilt. Suddenly she appreciated the awful reality of the situation she was in. To her this was a waking nightmare, but such was the iron rule of the Faith here in the sticks that to these people, as McCain had said, it was just an everyday occurrence. A normal way to die.

"The taps, Miss DeZantez," McCain ordered.

"No…" Kali said softly to herself, clenching her fists around the rough bars.

She began to struggle as she watched DeZantez turn the taps on the wall of the church and they vented steam. Drops of moisture fell to the ground. The pipes above her hissed, shook and gurgled as the naphtha entered them and began to build up pressure inside. It would take seconds for the lethal substance to travel their length and Kali was suddenly overwhelmed by how close to death she was. She had never been afraid of dying — had faced it many times — but to have it occur like this was somehow tainted and wrong, and filled her with despair and fury.

She renewed her struggle against the bars, rocking the cage violently on its chains. The pipes groaned under the strain of the protest she unleashed and, for a moment, Kali thought that was the way out. If she could only dislodge the pipes, she would escape this after all. But then she saw that the pipes were flexing with her, joined at various points along their length by some rubbery substance that could presumably withstand the heat of the naphtha.

"Really, Miss Hooper," McCain said, "do you not think that all who have died before you have not tried the same…"