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Arc 7: Chapter 6: Penitents
I stared at the scene with a dull sense of helplessness. More people were gathering around, having noticed what was happening.
Lucienne crawled on her hands toward Eilidh, and when she saw the injury her cheerful face turned sad. Tam had approached too, and he dropped to his knees next to the woman with a gasping exhalation.
“Damn it,” someone said from right next to me. Falstaff. He looked at the dying woman with undisguised frustration.
“She’s fading,” one of the women kneeling next to Eilidh said. I recognized her as the one who’d threatened Kross before, the one wearing a powdered black wig. Only, the wig had fallen off to reveal shortly cropped hair just as dark.
The speaker was a vampire, like Catrin. No… not quite like Cat. This one wasn’t a half breed. Her ghostly eyes stared at the dying woman intently, but turned to the Keeper as she spoke. “She still has years on her contract.”
Falstaff nodded, but said nothing. He looked at Eilidh, who stared back with wide eyes. Again she tried to say something. Lucienne hushed her and brushed her hair back, like a concerned mother.
When I realized what they meant, I felt cold.
The Keeper knelt next to the dying woman. “I know you’re not the one who made this deal, Eilidh. I know it isn’t fair, but I’m still owed. You understand?”
Eilidh mumbled something incoherent. The Keeper sighed.
“It’s not so bad,” one of the others said, smiling with inhumanly sharp teeth. “You’ll be young and strong forever. One of us, truly this time.”
I saw fear in Eilidh’s dimming gaze. Fear of those around her, or of the end fast approaching? I couldn’t tell, and she could not tell us.
This is wrong. I need to stop this.
There were too many of them, even after the losses they’d taken. They would rip me apart.
Even still… this was wrong. I gripped my axe tighter and took a step forward. A hand gripped my arm. Kross.
“Let go of me.”
“They’ll kill you,” he said in a tired voice. “This isn’t worth it. They will save her.”
“This isn’t saving her.” She’d still die, and something else would wear her corpse. It was just as likely that one of the restless ghosts or hidden devils in the inn would use the body as the woman’s own soul, and even if it was her…
It wasn’t right to trap her like that, to make her live out an uncertain eternity hungry and cold. Lost.
Kross’s voice became caustic. “Fine. Then after you’re done freeing her, maybe you should hunt down your Ergothi friend and give her the same courtesy, since this is so distasteful to you.”
That made me pause. Was this the same? It didn’t feel the same. Cat had been born as she was, never known anything else.
And yet… it didn’t change anything. She was still damned, still locked out of the Halls of the Dead and denied either rest or salvation.
I’d done this same thing to Penric. Let him persist in death, when part of me had known the right choice was to put him to rest. It had been a selfish choice. I’d needed his loyalty, his experience and skillset to complement my lance. ŖãΝọΒЁⱾ
In my moment of doubt, it became too late. The vampire sunk her fangs into Eilidh’s neck.
And not just her. Others had pressed forward, all of them denizens of the inn. Their eyes shone and their bared teeth were sharp. They took Eilidh’s arms, her wrists, even tore at her bodice to expose more flesh. Those ravening mouths, some still bloody from the fight, opened wide.
And all the while I battled with myself. Stop this. This is your duty, your sacred vow, to protect people like her from monsters like them.
Eilidh’s eyes went wide. Was she struggling, or did I imagine that?
Stop this. Save her.
They are saving her.
No, they’re damning her.
Eilidh went still and closed her eyes. I could barely see her through the press of bodies. She wasn’t the only meal the Backroad had made of this bloodbath, either. Other formerly disguised predators were feeding on the dead or dying across the taproom, some to heal from injuries and others simply because their instincts compelled them.
Damn it. Damn it all.
I made myself watch. I made myself burn the scene into my mind. Whatever happened, I’d never let myself forget this. That I’d allowed it.
“Falstaff.” When the man looked at me, I lowered my voice into a quieter tone. “Are you doing this to save her, or to keep her in your debt?”
The Keeper’s eyes narrowed. They still held that infernal glow. “This is none of your business, Alder Knight.”
Fire flickered along my right arm in a brief, violent conflagration. The Keeper of the Backroad Inn flinched. Some of those who hadn’t joined the impromptu feast hissed at me and went on guard. Kross stepped away from me, putting distance between us.
“Earlier,” I said, “Eilidh defended all of you. She scolded me for treating you all like monsters, like enemies.”
I pointed at the scene with my axe. “Should I not see you that way?” I couldn’t quite mask the note of pleading that entered my voice.
Falstaff stared at me without blinking for a long while before he spoke. “She’d have been bound to the inn after death anyway. I didn’t write this place’s rules. I know what I’d have chosen… you’re free to ask her after she wakes back up.”
“No.”
We turned and saw Saska limping towards us. She favored one leg and clutched at her right arm, but looked well for someone who’d been practically on top of an explosive ball of solid iron barely ten minutes before. She looked directly at me.
“The Keeper is the inn’s custodian, but I care for the wayward souls bound to it. Eilidh will be hungry and confused when she wakes, and it will be… unsafe to let her near guests for some time. You will not confuse her.”
Her voice was soft, but firm. “My partner was correct. This is none of your concern, paladin. Besides, we have other troubles to attend to.”
She turned to Kross, who still stood slightly apart from the rest of us. The false knight’s expression turned grim.
“I should kill you,” Falstaff spat with sudden anger.
“It will accomplish little,” Kross replied tiredly. “And you’ve lost enough tonight. For what it’s worth, I did not realize my pursuers were so close. I thought I could ride the inn to its next location, or perhaps go through one of the passages you guard before they realized I’d been here. This shrine is a nexus, yes?”
The Keeper wasn’t mollified. “You brought danger here. Some of my own people are dead. Guests have died. This will be a blow to my authority for decades, you bastard.”
“He knows more than he is telling, and that gives him power.” Saska watched the crowfriar with a contemplative expression. “He knows our ways well.”
“There will be more of them,” Kross said quickly. “They are not afraid of the Wend, and once they have your scent they will be able to find you no matter where you are. They were made for this very thing.”
“Who are they?” I asked. “What are they?”
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“They are you.”
I stared at him, nonplussed. “Come again?”
Kross took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment before answering. “They are the Knights Penitent.”
A long silence fell. The vampires were done feeding on Eilidh and things had quieted around us, so some others had heard Kross’s statement. I felt the sudden tension in the room like a spike.
“They were disbanded a century ago,” I said. “The Church struck that order from the Annals. They’re anathema.”
“A century is a long time,” Kross noted dryly. “You’re right, of course, but times have changed. The Penitents have returned, albeit with some… modification.”
In a flash I understood. “Unbelievable… this is the fucking Priory again, isn’t it? These are Inquisition soldiers.”
“They are criminals,” Kross said. “Murderers, traitors, deserters, thieves, and rapists. They were condemned to die, and yet like many mortals faced with death they feared what might happen to their souls. So they gave themselves to the Red Priors.”
Falstaff knelt by one of the dead intruders. He touched the corpse’s black armor and his eyes widened. “This is Orkaelin iron.”
Kross nodded. “They are not quite so fearsome as Scorchknights, but the technique to prepare them is similar. They do not feel pain… or more precisely, they feel so much pain at all times that any further injury is meaningless. They are given no rest or comfort until they die. They are strong and fast, and given heightened reflexes. As you’ve seen, it makes them fierce opponents.”
They are you. I suddenly understood what he meant. Just like I’d given myself to the Choir in penance for failing my duties in Seydis and allowing an abgrüdai demon to dupe me, these men had given themselves to the Priory of the Arda. The priests used infernal alchemy to enhance them, creating berserker shock troops with no regard for their own lives.
And they were hunting Kross, who was truly the Vicar in charge of the infernal missionaries in Urn. Which didn’t make any sense, because it was obvious these soldiers were made using techniques the monks of Hell had shared with the Priory.
Saska stepped closer to me. “We will have answers to this, but first we must secure the inn’s safety. Something is preventing us from moving it still, and I can sense these hunters remain nearby.”
She paused a moment, almost hesitant. “Will you help us, Ser Knight?”
Again I glanced to where Eilidh lay. She might wake, or she might not. I knew what they’d done to her wasn’t a sure bet. There were usually more steps involved. It could vary from region to region, monster to monster.
One of the vampires kneeling next to her looked to be praying, which rankled me. What God would look kindly on this?
I needed answers from Kross. Why was he here, and why did the Inquisition seem to be trying to kill him? Chances were the denizens of the Backroad would tear him to pieces before I could find out, so I had to stick around and keep the bastard alive… at least until he told me what I wanted to know.
The false knight caught my gaze, and pressed his lips into a tight line. He knew all this too. His only safety lay in keeping what he knew close to his chest until there more assurances.
“I’ll help,” I told Saska begrudgingly.
The Penitents had gotten into the stable. They’d slaughtered the handful of chimera there, with one exception. I found an agitated Morgause circling the building. She had blood on her hooves and around her mouth.
Saska scanned the woods while I calmed the scadumare. We’d left Kross inside due to his injuries, which I worried about. Saska assured me he wouldn’t be harmed, as the Keeper wanted answers to this mess as well. Even still, I fretted that the angry mob inside would kill him before I had a chance for interrogation.
“He used you all like a living shield,” I said to the madame. “If I were your people, I’d be out for blood.”
“They have enough to slake them for a time,” she said in her odd accent, looking distracted. “For now, let us discover how these iron jackals have tied us to these woods.”
“I’m still not sure I understand how this place works,” I admitted. It seemed like a good time to catch up. “How does the inn travel about? How does it admit people from all over the land every night? Are there multiple entrances, like with the patron doors?”
I knew there were a number of exits from the inn’s back rooms that led to the dominions of various individuals, the true benefactors behind the Keeper’s operation.
“The inn rarely changes position more than once each day.” Saska reached out and stroked Morgause’s neck as she spoke. “Many of those guests you see remain for a number of nights, resting and consorting with one another before choosing a time and place to exit. It is similar for some of my girls; they come and go with the seasons, with only a few residing as permanent residents. Not all are bound by contracts. The inn itself is only ever in one location.”
I absorbed the ramifications of that. “It could be used to move anywhere… days or weeks of travel in just one or two nights.”
Saska gave me a pointed look. “I know what you’re thinking, and no; we do not allow ourselves to be a transport for soldiers. Mercenaries and assassins do occasionally use the inn to meet and plan, but we are very strict about avoiding complicity in such conflicts. Anyone who seeks to abuse our hospitality often finds themselves regretting it.”
I nodded slowly. Even still, if I could reach Osheim faster it might be worth waiting to see where the inn landed next. Trouble was, it could put me even further away. I understood why Kross had thought to use it to elude his pursuers.
“How could someone keep it in place?” I asked. “Theoretically.”
Saska considered. Morgause purred and nudged her, and she went back to admiring the beast. “We use the Wend, but I imagine you’ve guessed that. The inn itself is a… how do you humans say? A phantasm. A spell.”
Most phantasms were short lived. One that persisted and seemed so real as the Backroad Inn only existed under rare circumstances, and needed a constant influx of will to maintain. However, I knew the Wending Roads were made almost entirely of phantasm. The rules there were different, more fluid.
That was probably the trick of it — the inn existed in both realms, fading in and out. Was it simultaneous? No, not quite.
“That’s it.” I made my realization aloud. “You keep the inn inside the Wend during the day, so it doesn’t burn off. Then at night you pull it back out into the world after it’s… charged, I guess.”
Wild phantasms were always stronger and more persistent at night. Many faerie castles and certain supernatural entities worked the same way. The inn used the same phenomenon to maintain its permanency.
Which left the problem of why the Keeper couldn’t pull us into the Wend now. I scanned the woods, casting out with my spiritual senses. “Someone else is working their will on us. Whoever they are, they’re strong.”
I met Saska’s eyes. “The Priory has clerics who can wield the Auratic Arts, and they’ve been researching new techniques for years. My guess is that one or more of them has locked this area with some kind of anchor.”
Saska nodded. “My thought as well, Ser Knight. We must find and break it. It will be easy to spot, yes?”
“Something strong enough to do this? It’ll probably look similar to an auratic war banner. Have you seen one of those?”
Saska’s expression darkened. “I have seen its like. It will be guarded. My nose is better at seeking the living than constructs of sorcery.”
“I’ll take the lead, if you’ll cover me.”
We forged out into the snowy woods. It was dark, a cloudless night, but we both had night vision. Saska was what she was — whatever that might have been — and the golden magic in my eyes lit my path. I didn’t risk creating more light, wanting to maintain as much stealth as possible.
I left my chimera behind. While the mount would have given me an advantage, she wasn’t equipped for war and I feared losing her to archers. Saska followed me for about a hundred paces before vanishing. Something told me she remained nearby.
Every fifty paces or so, I cast out with my aura. Like dropping a stone into water and reading subtle disturbances in those expanding ripples. Lias had once told me that bats use a similar method to navigate the dark. Some wild beasts had even evolved to use their aura to do exactly what I did. Humans don’t have a monopoly on magic.
The woods felt strange. Charged. Both quiet and deafeningly loud, like the silence itself was a shout.
It happened quickly, without warning. I’d been walking for more than fifteen minutes, and all the sudden I felt a sharp tug in my chest. I stopped. Reading spiritual energies is more an art than a science, a task layered with abstraction and metaphor.
I felt the same pull I had inside the inn just before the Knights Penitent had appeared. A sense of… it still wasn’t easy to place. Not revulsion, like with many Things of Darkness.
I was so busy struggling to understand the strange feeling that it came as a mild surprise when I realized they’d surrounded me. I looked up, and they were just there. They stood between the trees, more than half a dozen of them, all clad in black iron and all masked. They watched me in eerie silence.
I slowly rotated my head, trying to watch all of them at once. My hand tightened on Faen Orgis, the gnarled wood creaking softly under my grip. But the Penitents didn’t attack. They just watched. They were still, like statues. They blended with the night, their shapes vague and difficult to pick out even with my dark vision.
I turned to see one standing not twenty paces away. He crouched on the root of a particularly huge tree, staring slightly down at me. A long, cross headed spear hung from the convict soldier’s hand.
Their labored breathing filled the silence, a subtle and disconcerting ambience.
I fought down my immediate panic and tried to get more of a read on them. They exuded no sense of power themselves — whatever I felt came from within, and didn’t read like some pressure the Penitents themselves exuded. It didn’t mean they weren’t capable of using Art. I’d not seen them doing it back at the inn, but it would be foolish to assume.
“Well? What are you waiting for?”
I regretted speaking immediately. My nerves had gotten the better of me, and it was obvious in my voice. These conscripts hadn’t been particularly hard to kill, but something about them set my teeth on edge. They frightened me.
A Penitent to my left moved. I caught movement in the corner of my vision and turned to see him lifting a barbed javelin over his head, preparing it to throw. I bared my teeth, taking my axe in both hands as my foot shifted through the snow. Every one of the Penitents stirred.
“No.”
I froze at the sound of that voice. It filled the wintering woods like a whisper of wind. Soft, sad, musical in inflection.
“This is not right. You should not be here.”
That voice didn’t come from any of the Penitents. This presence wasn’t as hard to place.
“Show yourself.” I poured my will into my voice, making it a command. Every one of the Penitents reacted, shivering at once. I felt the hidden presence react in an unseen flinch, and put more power into my next attempt.
“Show yourself. I command thee, spirit.” 𝓃ℴ𝓋𝓹𝓊𝓫.𝒸𝓸𝓂
And just like that, wings of moonlight and silvered feather brushed the frozen branches as the angel revealed itself.
