Empire of the Saviours (Chronicles of/Cosmic Warlord 1) (16 page)

Quick as thought, Samnir had lanced his spear forward at the Saint’s eye, but Azual had seen it coming and cloven through the spear’s haft. It may have reduced the Hero’s reach, but the soldier had managed to flip the loose end up off the floor with his foot and then had two shorter poles to use as weapons, which he did with terrible effect, twirling and slashing without let-up. Samnir had battered Azual back to the edge of the rampart, and the Saint had looked to be in real jeopardy. Then Azual had deliberately stepped forward and taken the spearhead deep in the arm just so that he could wrest the weapon from Samnir. Although the wound was deep and the blade had notched the bone, it would not be fatal to one who healed as quickly as the Saint.

Samnir had then been left with a single length of wood, which he used as a short staff to fend off Azual’s attacks almost casually. Every time the Saint swiped with his blazing sword, one end of the staff would deflect it at a shallow angle, and the other end of the staff would deliver a debilitating blow to Azual’s arms, legs or torso. The Saint had already been thwacked in the same place on the arm where the spear had struck, all but incapacitating it; in the ribs, making it hard to breathe; and on one of his thighs, slowing him down considerably. Now the staff came down on the top of the forearm of Azual’s hand which held his precious sword. The Saint only just managed to hang onto his weapon.

Azual retreated, knowing that if Samnir was forced to go on the offensive, the Saint would have a far better chance of meeting the staff head on – rather than obliquely – with the edge of his sun-metal blade. The staff wouldn’t last more than a few seconds. But the Hero refused to be drawn and instead rolled his shoulders and his head on his neck as if warming up for a sparring match. The man was mocking him again!

Azual realised that, unlike Samnir, he really hadn’t been putting enough time into his martial training in the last few years. He’d come to rely far too much on the fickle and corrupting magic he drew periodically from the People – see how it had betrayed and deserted him just when he most needed it. He should have known better than to trust too much in such tainted power. There was always a price to be paid. He just hoped he would not be paying the ultimate price in the next few moments.

Azual studied Samnir more closely. Weight balanced on feet spaced not too far apart, relaxed shoulders for fluidity and speed of movement, a vague and confident half-smile and a steely, unblinking, unforgiving gaze. Azual had to concede that, incredibly, he appeared to be outmatched by this man because the initial injuries the Saint had received had all but rendered his superior strength and height impotent. And Samnir was a veteran of campaigns against the behemoth barbarians in the east, and hadn’t he served as one of the elite guards of the Great Saviour himself? Yes. The man was more than familiar with the fighting styles and limitations of the Saints, not to mention the blessed Saviours themselves! Ageing he might be, but the Hero’s experience easily compensated for that.

Azual lowered his sword slightly. ‘It appears I underestimated you, Hero. You have taught me a valuable lesson.’ The Saint dared take his eyes off Samnir, although he watched him out of the corner of his eye. He moved his sword into the hand of his wounded arm so that he could close his free hand over the bleeding wound.

Samnir watched with shrewd eyes. ‘Why do you pause, Saint? Surely you are not going to tell me you have seen the error of your ways.’

‘Indeed, I am not.’ Azual smiled, letting blood gather in the now cupped hand over his wound. He summoned energy from his core and it slowly rose within him. It was reluctant to answer the call, for his core would be dangerously lessened by its use. If he drew too much, it would likely kill him. Even drawing a lesser amount, he risked losing himself, becoming insane with a need for life energy using any means necessary. He would then be a monster and a threat to all those around him. But the sacrifice had to be made, for he knew he could not afford to look weak in front of the men. The story would spread all too quickly; some of the things Samnir had said would get repeated, and then all the People would begin to see the Saints and perhaps even the Saviours themselves differently. The defiance would grow and grow. It had to be ended here and now, before it began to spread like a plague. Yes, the defiance and the plague in Godsend were the same thing. Perhaps he should raze the place to the ground before it was too late. No, Jillan had already escaped Godsend, and he was the source and focus of both problems. Azual could not afford to destroy the communities in his region too freely, as they were ultimately the source of his own strength. ‘No, but I am intrigued as to why you would help the boy. Why put aside your oaths and faith and throw away your life for a young murderer?’

Samnir hesitated, as Azual knew he would, for he had asked the question at the heart of things: he had found Samnir’s sacred heart and spoken directly to it. No individual could deny their sacred heart. ‘I-I …’ the Hero stammered, wrong-footed. ‘The boy was innocent.’

‘He murdered … Karl. Did you not know?’

‘It was an accident. Jillan was bullied by Praxis. The other students turned on Jillan, no doubt, because of it.’

‘Such mitigating circumstances would have been taken into account when I came to hear the trial, if you’d but done your duty and held the boy in lieu of my authority. But no, you blasphemously took it upon yourself to usurp me as the Saviours-appointed judge of this region. In so doing, you have both condemned yourself and put the boy at greater risk. Yes, Samnir, do you really think that a boy so young will survive the wilds alone? Or is it more likely that he will be taken by the pagans or some other Chaos creature? Even if he survives, you have made him a fugitive guilty of refusing to submit to the law of the Saviours. Do you not see what you have done, and how the all-knowing and all-powerful Saviours find a way to punish the likes of you and the boy regardless? The Empire of the Saviours is all-encompassing and eternal, such that those who are tainted and guilty inevitably condemn and punish themselves by their very own actions. People are victims of themselves, Hero.’ Azual trickled power from his core into the handful of blood that he held. The blood began to quicken and move, alive to his will.

A few of the nearby Heroes were nodding as they listened. One fell to his knees and began to pray. Samnir’s eyes flicked towards them but hardened as they returned to the Saint. ‘Fine rhetoric, holy one, and always persuasive to fanatics, the weak of mind and those who have never known any different, but you forget I have seen—’

Yet Azual was not about to let Samnir infect those present with any more of this plague of defiance. He threw his blood into the air in one swift motion and blew the mist towards Samnir. Realising what was happening, the Hero roared and lunged forward, blinking against the blood entering his eyes and expelling breath through mouth and nose so that it could not immediately enter his airways.

Azual staggered back, teetering on the edge of the rampart. One of his knees buckled – the life energy lost from his core already taking its toll – but that chanced to save him from a vicious swipe from the Hero’s staff. He only had to survive the assault for a few moments more. His thoughts began to muddle and it took the last of his wherewithal to command the blood landing on Samnir’s skin and getting inside his body to intermingle with the Hero’s own blood and disrupt his life energy.

Samnir smashed his staff down on the Saint’s shoulder and prepared to heave the other’s huge frame off the rampart and down to the cobbles far below. But here the Hero lost control of his body and mind. He fell on top of the Saint, losing his grip on the world around him.

The watching Heroes bounded up the stairs and dragged Samnir off their beloved Saint. Azual was too groggy and delirious to refuse their help. ‘The sun-metal tube in my tunic!’ he croaked. ‘Quickly!’

They obeyed him without hesitation.

‘Roll his sleeve up!’

Azual plunged the thin hollow tube of sun-metal into one of Samnir’s veins and moaned with relief and desire as blood arced through the air. The sun-metal would keep the puncture open and the blood running as long as he needed. He let it rain into his mouth, as if he were drinking one of the fine wines of the east, and swallowed so desperately that any would have thought he’d been wandering the parched eastern deserts for weeks. The magic in Azual’s blood latched onto the taint and life energy in Samnir and began to drain it from him. Within seconds, Azual was feeling stronger and more like his old self, yet he continued the purge, drinking more and more, until an ecstasy of power washed through him and there was only just enough left in Samnir to keep him alive. For the Hero must live: to suffer the waking nightmare and punishment of being trapped and helpless in a body no longer under his control and to provide the Saint with whatever information he possessed.

The Heroes of Godsend had backed away from Azual, a look of horror on many of their faces. Of course, they had never witnessed the Saint bestowing the sacred communion on one of the People before, so could not understand its mysteries and wonder. They had experienced it themselves when coming of age, but the memory of it had been largely erased from their simple minds by the Saint.

Azual debated with himself as to whether he should remove all memory of the encounter with Samnir from the minds of the men – but there were a dozen of them, so it would be quite some undertaking, and Azual had decided to be far more cautious from now on about how he expended his power. The boy and his magicks were still at large and there was also the matter of the plague – he might need all the power he could muster far sooner than he liked. Instead, he called Captain Hamir to him and spoke in a voice loud enough for all to hear.

‘Do not fear, for the traitor among you has now been purged from your number. The good name and honour of the Heroes of Godsend is restored by my word and gift. I do not blame you for the escape of the boy and your failure to find him subsequently.’

The Captain covered his uncertainty with a low bow. ‘Holy one, our oaths and thanks are ever yours.’

Azual nodded magnanimously. ‘That is well, Captain. Some of the things that you have seen and heard here today are beyond the ken of you and your men. You will banish these things from your minds and lips, lest your simple understanding were to misconstrue what occurred and serve to unnerve the People. There were magicks in play that could not be seen with the normal eye and which you cannot even begin to imagine. Samnir’s soul was tightly bound by dark and cruel pagan magicks. I had to risk myself in order to
save
him, for that is my holy duty and the will of the Saviours. We do this to safeguard the good People of the Empire for all eternity. Do you understand, Captain?’

Azual’s eye shone down on the Captain’s face, and forced him to kneel. The Hero’s own eyes became vacant as he chanted, ‘Sacrifice and duty safeguard the People against the Chaos!’ All of his men followed his lead, ignoring the discomfort of the stone against their knees and repeating the line from the Book of Saviours that had been ingrained in them all their lives.

‘Very well. I am satisfied,’ Saint Azual said gently. ‘I will take that as a vow from all of you never to speak of these events. Of course, should you utter a word of it, I
will
know and I will be greatly saddened, do you all understand?’

‘Yes, holy one!’ they chanted, a mixture of passion, fervour and fear across all their faces.

‘You may rise now. Captain, have this blasphemer chained in the Gathering Place as a warning to the inhabitants of Godsend to be more vigilant when it comes to the pernicious influence of the Chaos. Let the People pity him or throw food as they wish, for that may suffice to feed him, if his body still knows the instinct for survival. And have a bucket of clean water thrown over him once a week so that all waste is washed away. Show him some mercy, Captain, in the name of the Saviours, for we must punish to teach, but we do not wish to be cruel lest we create martyrs of the corrupt and ill-deserving. Now, take me to my temple, for I must pray and replenish myself.’

Azual strode through Godsend, Heroes trotting to either side of him to keep the ardent congregation of People back. Minister Praxis jumped and waved for the Saint’s attention, but Azual had no time for the pompous prig. In fact the man was a liability – and if there had been any remoter town than Godsend, he’d have sent him there.
Maybe I should establish a temple at the foot of the mountains for people such as this
, Azual mused,
or better yet
… He waved the Minister through the cordon of Heroes.

‘Holy one, you have come to us in our hour of need! We are beset—’

‘Be silent!’ the Saint said out loud and in the Minister’s mind simultaneously.

The Minister flinched but did as he was commanded.
Shame. I would have enjoyed seeing his tongue removed
.

‘Minister,’ Azual continued, not breaking step and no longer deigning to look upon the man, ‘you are to be rewarded. Now you may speak.’

The Minister smiled modestly. ‘Holy one, I am but your humble servant, vigilant at all times and—’

‘And zealous when it comes to instilling a devotion to the Saviours in the People, yes?’

‘Of course, it is important to—’

‘To instil a fear of the pagans in them? To have them see monsters lurking in every shadow? To wonder always if their neighbours have succumbed to some corrupting temptation or magic? To interpret everyday greetings and actions in such terms just to be on the safe side?’

The Minister’s face became guarded. ‘Well, I …’

‘Tell me, Minister, is it not blasphemous to suggest that the Saviours cannot completely safeguard the People from the pagans? Surely if the People fear the pagans too much, then they cannot have true faith in the eternal Saviours. Surely, their faith is nothing more than empty desperation and lip-service. You agree, of course, with the holy representative of the Saviours, do you not?’

The Minister hesitated and then bowed his head in shame. ‘Of course, holy one.’