Colin Tabor - The Fall of Ossard

Vassini led the man to their seats. All the while the Benefice glanced about the table challenging anyone to disrespect him now.

They arrived to stand before their chairs. One of the priests called, “All stand for the righteous, Inquisitor Anton and Benefice Vassini.”

Hesitantly, but led by Lord Liberigo, we did.

Benefice Vassini and the Inquisitor nodded in acknowledgement before taking their seats. That done we all followed.

Lord Liberigo cleared his throat. “Benefice Vassini, would you care to handle proceedings?”

The Benefice gave a wry smile. “To cope with this time of great crisis, something I might add foreseen by the Church, we have requested and received the services of the Holy Inquisition. I present to you Inquisitor Anton of the Expeditia Puritanica.

The man gave a curt nod, but didn’t speak.

The Benefice, a little flustered, continued, “Immediately after his arrival this morning we took Inquisitor Anton to the ritual site at his own request. He has already begun his investigation and convened this meeting, and thus I give him to you to speak.”

And all eyes went to the Inquisitor.

He seemed distant, as if he hadn’t been listening. Instead he sat there looking at the centre of the table as though staring at something only he could see.

Was he searching the celestial?

I forced myself to relax, my vision growing clearer as it jumped to a new level. Everything fell into shades of blue and black, the only exception being the flaring soul-lights of those who sat about me.

I looked to the same spot as the Inquisitor, and there it was; some kind of beast.

It hunkered down snarling and snapping. Jagged lines, something akin to horns and barbs, showed through its bright glare. With its every move it sent showers of black sparks spraying off of its horrid brilliance. It let out a deep and rumbling growl as it focussed its bitterness on the Inquisitor.

He showed no fear.

A straining sensation made my newfound perception falter and fall out of that world and back into ours.

In the real world, all those about the table still waited for him to speak, yet he made no effort.

Just as Benefice Vassini turned to prompt him, the Inquisitor’s eyes found focus and his hard voice rang out. “This city is doomed.” And after a deep pause he added, “The taint of many things haunts the streets of your city, a city that needs to be reborn to be saved. It is my grave duty to tell you that much birthing blood will flow before it may yet rise again.”

And silence followed.

“The agents of the Horned God walk here and do so almost freely. In their company are many who would smash the glory of Krienta. I can taste forbidden cults, cabalists, the wicked Sisterhood, and even the basest of magics, Green Witchery. This city is damned in many ways, but worst of all because it has chosen to be.”

He then turned to stare at me, and I knew that my truth was revealed. “How can you hope to save the city when you’re so blind to the problem and its enemies?”

Lord Liberigo and Benefice Vassini, both in their own ways responsible for the state of the city, sat stunned at the Inquisitor’s easy damning. Angered by such words, Lord Liberigo replied, “If those before you are so ignorant, why don’t you explain the problem and how to fix it? We need solutions, not theatrics!”

The Inquisitor, cold and calm, gave him his answer. “Only an army of butchers can clean this place.” Then he resumed his silence.

We joined him, stunned and mute.

At first I wondered if he was mad. Then the thought arose, cold and clammy, trying to lift itself out of a chill sea of stinking brine; what if his words were true?

A deep corruption had taken root in the city. Pedro had even said as much, it infesting the highest levels. As hideous as it sounded, perhaps we did need an army of butchers.

As I considered his words others recovered. Kurgar was the first and simply laughed. “You can’t be serious! The city is beset by nothing more than a gang of kidnappers, perhaps with links to some cult or other. We’re probably up against twenty men, not some dark army!”

“Silence!” The Inquisitor bellowed, and his voice roared backed by angels.

Thoughts of laughter died.

He began afresh. “I fight a war, a war to keep my people and my Church safe from corruption. While you consider yourself Heletian, of Krienta, or part of the Heletian League, you will listen to me and do what I say.

“Some of you believe that all that is happening in this incestuous city is the usual good business against an unfortunate backdrop of a little kidnapping. In truth, some of you wouldn’t care if the missing children were just being sold into slavery, and are only marginally more concerned that they’re being used to feed ritual magic.

“This is wrong, and I have come to correct your thinking.

“There are more factions sitting around this table than you know, and if we work together we can all get out of this what we need. There will be hard work ahead and much of it unpleasant, but you must believe me when I tell you that the situation is desperate.”

Lord Liberigo interrupted the Inquisitor. “I assure you that I take the threat seriously, but what is the threat, what is happening to our city?”

Inquisitor Anton looked at the assembled faces, his gaze lingering on me. He stood and said, “I wage a war against the servants of the Horned God. You all know this, it is after all what the Inquisition is for, but do you have any idea of what it means?”

He let a silence settle, and then continued, “It means that I right what is wrong. I don’t do it for one poor soul, but for all our people. It sounds noble and I suppose is, but in its doing I am tasked with terrible deeds. I have orphaned children because their parents succumbed to heresy, but that’s not the worst of my judgements, I have also razed villages and even once a whole town.

“Because of my work I am marked for damnation by a hundred different gods, all aspects of the same dark power. You see, I am the one sacrificing all, not the ones I judge, and I do it so the rest of you may live on through salvation.

“You all have a chance at an afterlife. It’s your reward for the hard existence we lead here, but I will never see those heavenly fields, walk those olive groves, or see us dine together in a golden vineyard while relishing divine wine. My reward for fighting heresy in this life is damnation in the next. I shall be a plaything of the pits, the bitch-slave of dark powers, yet I would not change a thing. It is my penance.”

His eyes came to rest on me as he continued, “If it means burning the high ladies of every Heletian city for witchery, I will, even if I have to build the pyres and light the fires myself. But on occasion some types of evil can be found to work towards good.” His eyes shifted to Kurgar. “Then there are times when we all need to work together regardless of where we come from or who we think our real enemies are.

“Tell me of the people waving and burning oleander. They speak of Saint Santana, protector of children, an unknown to me. They also speak of her lady, one Juvela Liberigo.”

The Benefice answered, “We’d not heard of Saint Santana either, not until yesterday. A lone Heletite began preaching of her in Market Square. Amidst the fear of the kidnappings he’s found it easy to gather believers.”

“And what was this so-called Heletite doing for his flock?”

Vassini answered, “Selling relics and amulets.”

“And where is he now?”

“Dead,” the Benefice said curtly.

Surprised looks passed about the table.

“I see, and how did that come to pass?”

“He killed himself last night.”

“I see. How convenient. Has word spread of our Heletite’s death?”