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Chapter 5

Hidden in the tall grass, the tiger waited and watched.

The gods had blessed Javed with an abundance of demon bone in Kanok, because in the brief moment they had allowed him to bear one of their sanctified black-steel blades he had harvested enough demon to manifest and maintain the tiger pattern a thousand times over. The gods would not have given him such a bounteous gift if they’d not intended for him to use it up in their service.

The tiger form was quick, but more importantly, could move unseen from town to town, even while Inquisitors relentlessly searched the countryside for the troublesome priest who had been spreading illegal mass-printed scriptures from the liberated press of Kanok. By day Javed ran and by night he preached to the secret faithful and anyone else who would heed his words. By the time the Law learned of his presence in a specific place and came looking for him, he had already moved on to the next location.

He went without sleep for days at a time. Sleep brought him no rest, just time for bad dreams and regret. Javed was sustained by magic, faith, and the tearful thanks of the believers he visited. Run and preach and run and preach, Javed had repeated that process for weeks by the time he had been informed that the Sons of the Black Sword had been seen openly marching north from the Capitol, flying the banner of the red hook and black sword.

It was a sign.

The gods didn’t speak to Javed directly, for he was but a priest, not a prophet. Yet he knew that his place was among the Sons of the Black Sword. The end of the age was upon them. The last decisive battle was at hand. The prophecy said the Voice would have need of her Keeper of Names, for the priest was one of the six whose presence was required at the final reckoning. Thera surely hated him still, and it was likely she would have him killed on sight—and rightfully so—but that was a risk he would have to take. Javed would present himself before Thera for judgment and the Forgotten’s will would be done. If she executed him, then that meant his duty was fulfilled, and at last he could rest.

Javed had been pursuing the Sons ever since.

The tiger form was swift, and could cover an incredible amount of ground. After following their trail for several days, he finally caught up to the Sons in the forests of southern Vadal.

It was odd, seeing the forces of the Law setting up camp alongside the rebellious followers of the gods. The two armies should have been mortal enemies, but here they were, cooperating as if the Law hadn’t been brutally silencing the faithful for centuries. Javed knew that obligation well, for Witch Hunter Javed had slit a multitude of faithful throats.

But now Protectors and Inquisitors were bedding down only a few hundred yards from where the brazenly religious were saying their prayers out loud. What was going on here? Javed had heard rumors about a demon attack on the Capitol, and he had seen the columns of refugees proving that at least some of the tales were true. Believer and persecutor—Javed had been both—the two groups that inhabited this camp must have hated each other as much as Javed hated himself, but fear had united them against a greater menace.

It was a miracle that the gods could even use demons to further their great work.

After spotting the banner he searched for, the tiger stalked through the undergrowth unseen. Deer sensed him and fled. The prey animals were as nervous as Javed was, for in a moment he’d present himself to the prophet Thera, and then she would do with him as she wished. Service, exile, or death, regardless of her decision there would be no protest from his lips.

The Sons had posted many guards, and though they were extremely wary, they were no match for the tiger’s stealth, so Javed slipped between them easily.

Near Thera’s tent, he paused, feeling as if he was being watched.

“I told you all I sensed magic coming. If that cat’s natural, I’m the Chief Judge,” a man whispered from farther inside the camp. There was a metallic click as a Fortress rod was cocked and the man shouted, “Stop where you are, shape-shifter, or I’ll blow a hole in you big enough to watch the sunrise through.”

Four wizards who had been waiting in the space between worlds appeared all around Javed, with bits of demon already clutched in their fists, ready to immolate him.

It was good to see that Thera had learned her lesson since he had captured her, and improved her security. The tiger held perfectly still.

“Thanks for the warning, Master Gutch, but we’ve been tracking him too,” a young female wizard said, before addressing the intruder with authority. “Nobody gets close to the prophet without us knowing. Show your real face so we can see if we’ve caught us an outsider assassin, or if your master is Devedas and he has violated our agreement to not spy on the Sons.”

“Either way he answers I should just shoot him and be done with it. But you heard the wizard, tiger. Undo your spell.”

Javed let the pattern fade and melted back into his true form. Slowly, he rose from a crouch and spread his open hands wide to show he had no weapon or magic ready. He must have been quite the sight, with his clothing little better than filthy rags, his hair and beard long and unkempt, and his body coated in dirt from the harsh journey.

The man with the Fortress weapon walked out into the forest a bit to see better. He was huge and rotund, and dressed in the finest of robes and enough gold chains and rings to suit a banker, but the deadly rod he had pointed at Javed’s chest never wavered as he got closer. There were several workers behind him, all armed with rods or spears. If he did anything to provoke him, he’d be dead in the span of a few heartbeats, for even a tiger couldn’t outrun a bullet.

“From the looks of this scrubby miscreant I’d say we caught a beggar, but beggars don’t carry ten pounds of demon bone in their packs. Take that off and throw it on the ground.”

So the big man could sense magic. “I’d rather not,” Javed stated calmly. “There are things in this bag far more precious than demon bone and I’d hate to damage them.”

“Shows what you know, stranger. Going rate per pound, very few things are worth more bank notes than demon bone. Well, at least not yet taking into account the adjustment in cost given the rapid increase in supply as a result of Ashok killing so damned many of the things in the Capitol, but we’re not here to talk economics.” He aimed the rod at Javed’s face and his voice went cold. “I said drop the pack.”

What a strange man. “This pack contains a collection of the gods’ holy scriptures, compiled by me as commanded by Mother Dawn. Their words are far more precious than anything that can be bought with mere bank notes.”

That was when the wizard girl recognized him. “You!”

“You know this fool, Laxmi?”

“I do.” And she seemed even more prepared to strike him down with her magic as she said that.

“It’s Keeper Javed.” One of the other wizards remembered him as well. “He assisted Keeper Keta.”

That wizard looked somewhat familiar to Javed, and then he realized the last time they’d met he’d been no mighty magic user, but rather a drooling simpleton, capable of nothing more complex than mucking out the horse stalls.

“I see that the slaves freed from the House of Assassins have finally reclaimed their minds from the fog. It is good that the Forgotten has healed you.”

“We’ve been truly blessed,” that wizard responded.

“Enough!” Laxmi shouted. “Not another word out of you, murderer.”

Javed nodded politely. At least one of the wizards knew who he really was, or rather had been.

“I’m going to get Thera. Don’t listen to the honeyed words that come from this filth. He’s a killer and a liar. If he tries to talk before I return, shoot him, stab him, and burn him to ash.” Laxmi ran off between the trees.

“Oh, well now I’m really curious!” Gutch shouted after her, “You can’t leave me in suspense like that, girl.” He turned back to Javed. “Can you believe that? That’s downright unfair to establish such an air of mystery without any resolution. So who are you now?”

“Laxmi said—”

Gutch cut that wizard off. “Oh, this intruder can go ahead and talk freely to me if he wants. Laxmi’s your boss. She’s not the boss of me. I’m an independent associate of the Sons, bit outside the old chain of command, you know.”

But as directed by the prophet’s maid, Javed said nothing.

“Alright then, I suppose the threat of gruesome fiery death at the hands of angry wizards will cause a man to bite his tongue. Not me. I’m a dedicated conversationalist even in the most tumultuous of situations. But anyways, give me that pack so I may search it for danger or valuables.” Gutch let the end of his Fortress rod swing downward menacingly. “Or I’ll shoot your cock off. I won’t ask again.”

Javed took the strap off his shoulder and tossed the pack to Gutch, who caught it with one hand. He backed away, should Javed try anything foolhardy, before checking inside.

“Well, I’ll be…This book’s bound in real demon hide. Is that Keta’s book? The one he was always writing casteless names in?”

Javed had been one of the few entrusted with the location where Keta would hide the genealogy should the Creator’s Cove ever be threatened. Javed had retrieved the sacred book during his traveling ministry and kept it safe. If Thera killed him tonight, then at least the precious book would be placed in worthy hands of her choosing, and not left to rot away, hidden in a hole in the rock.

“I saw Keta scribble in this thing whenever we found casteless outcasts hiding in the woods, and then when we met those who ran the barges of the Nansakar he interviewed them about who their fathers and grandfathers were and wrote the answers in here. A curious little man…I wonder what its purpose is?”

For generations the Keepers before him had recorded births and traced lineages with these sacred tomes. As those Keepers had found direct descendants of Ramrowan in distant houses, they had guided those heirs to new homes, to take wives and make sure Ramrowan’s line would never die out. It was said even Mother Dawn herself had used the book to move her children about Lok in order to keep that blessed bloodline strong. But Javed said nothing.

A few minutes later, a group of people approached through the forest. Since it was growing dark, some of them were carrying torches. Thera Vane was in the lead, hood up, eyes cold.

She was a beautiful and strong daughter of the warrior caste. When he had first begun spying on her band he had thought Thera was just another false prophet, a charlatan like all the others who had come before her, but she was so much more than that. This was the vessel chosen by the gods to bear their holy Voice. He went to his knees and bowed his head.

“Javed Zarger.” The fury was apparent in her voice.

“Hello, Prophet.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’ve come to serve you.”

He knew most of the Sons behind her. These men had considered him family once. He had broken bread with them. He’d tended their loved ones while they were sick. He had even officiated the wedding ceremony of one of them. In this moment of what should have been joyous reunion, there was obvious confusion on their faces about their prophet’s angry reaction to their beloved priest’s return.

The Inquisition had taught him how to read the emotions of a crowd, in order to better manipulate them. Javed realized that she’d not yet told the Sons of his transgressions. For whatever reason, she had spared his name from ridicule and hate. They didn’t know him as Javed the traitorous witch hunter, but as Javed the priest and friend. Her mercy toward his reputation shouldn’t have mattered so much to him, but for some reason, it did.

“I thought you were dead in Kanok, until your books started showing up everywhere.”

“Please forgive me for my absence, Prophet. I continued to serve the Forgotten as best as I could. While we were separated I recorded all the words of Keta and Ratul, and then I sent them out into the world.”

“I bet that flood of propaganda’s irritated some Inquisitors,” Gutch quipped, but Thera glared at him, and the big man wisely closed his mouth. Outside the chain of command or not, Thera was in charge here, and she was clearly very angry.

“There are no more Inquisitors in Kanok. I saw to that. Thakoor Venketesh has become a true and faithful servant of the gods. It’s a safe haven now for the faithful, where the religious may pray openly and not be punished for it.”

“That’s soon to be the Law everywhere now. I’ve made a deal with Maharaja Devedas: the Sons’ help for the Law’s clemency. Religion is no longer illegal in any house.”

That couldn’t be. “The Law has changed?”

“Only because I held its feet to the fire.”

“It’s a miracle!” Javed cried.

Thera looked around and found that most of her people were agreeing with that. “The ink’s still wet. Don’t get your hopes up. We’re on our way to Vadal City to make sure the deal sticks.”

Truly, to accomplish so much in so little time, the gods had chosen their servants well. “For the faithful to come so far is a gift. I can die happy.”

“As long as you die,” Thera snapped.

The Sons shared confused glances over that, baffled by their’ prophet’s unexpected wrath toward their beloved priest, and who could blame them? If she’d spared his name, they had no idea of his crimes.

“Wait!” Javed shouted. “She’s not wrong. I have come to beg for forgiveness, for I do not deny that I deserve death for my sins.”

“Do you really think a confession will help you now?” Thera demanded.

“I don’t care about what happens to me, but if you’re going to execute me in front of the Sons, my confession will help you. If you kill me and they can’t discern the reason, it’ll shake their faith. These men have followed you through so much, Thera, not just because they’ve heard the Voice, but because of who you’ve shown yourself to be to them. They trust you with their lives. Don’t throw that away over scum like me! Let them know who I really am, so if you decide to spill my blood on the ground, they’ll know it was a righteous execution.”

“What’s he talking about?” asked Ongud, the cavalry officer. “Why would you kill one of our priests?”

“Javed’s a—” Then Thera stopped herself from revealing his true nature in front of so many witnesses. “No…I’ll not let you manipulate me again, Javed. You’ll not get some public spectacle to crush their spirits. Laxmi, keep that demon ready to strike him down and remain here. The rest of you return to camp. Now.”

The Sons were confused, but obediently did as they were told, and began walking away, with many glances sent back over their shoulders.

Another of Thera’s men approached, having arrived late, surely curious what all the commotion was about. Javed recognized Toramana, once chieftain of the fearsome swamp folk who had given the Sons shelter through the winter, and now one of Thera’s commanders. The savage was a proud man, a true believer, a strong leader, and a loving father.

And Javed had murdered one of his sons in cold blood.

Surely the gods had brought Toramana here to make Javed fully appreciate the suffering he had caused.

“What’s going on?” Toramana asked when he saw Javed there on his knees. “The priest returns?”

Thera glanced back and grimaced when she saw it was the chief. “Saltwater…You at least deserve the truth.”

“I don’t understand. The new fat priest told us Javed took up a black-steel blade in the name of the Forgotten and fought demons with it. Why are we not celebrating?”

“A crime’s been done, and I’m not talking about the Law.”

Gutch also remained there and sat his bulk on a fallen tree, giving no indication that he intended to go anywhere. Thera looked toward him and frowned.

“Oh, don’t mind the presence of little old me, Lady Vane. I don’t believe in priests or any of that godly nonsense. I’m just here to supply you with more guns.”

“Fine. If Javed tries anything, please shoot him dead.”

Gutch looked toward Laxmi. “It appears our young wizard friend there is practically seething with murderous intent, and is likely faster than I am, but I’ll gladly blast him after she sets him on fire or whatever other violence it is she intends.”

When it was just the five of them, Thera turned back to her ragged prisoner. “You wanted to make a confession?” She pointed at Toramana. “Make your confession to him. The Chief can decide how you die.”

Toramana had ruled a village far from civilization. In the swamp, he had been the Law. It wasn’t the first time he’d decided an offender’s fate, but he had clearly not been expecting to do so tonight. “You know I live to serve, Prophet, but what’s this all about?”

There would be no hiding from what he’d done, so Javed spoke clearly. “Great offense has been given, Chief. I was a senior witch hunter, sent to spy on the rebellion. I was your secret enemy until the Mother of Dawn appeared to me in the desert and ordered me to repair the damage I’d caused. Since then I have been true and faithful, but before that conversion, I did many terrible things to your people.”

Toramana stared at Javed, speechless.

“I spent my life hunting the faithful and killing them whenever possible. I committed acts of torture, arson, and a great many assassinations on behalf of the Law. Then I was sent to infiltrate this rebellion by Grand Inquisitor Omand. I was told to become trusted and indispensable. By killing the assassins who were hunting the faithful in the snow, I became a hero to the survivors. That was calculated. I served the Creator’s Cove, doing whatever needed doing, tirelessly working so the people would come to trust me and rely on me. When the Grand Inquisitor needed the rebellion to be quiet for a time, I poisoned the Cove’s water supply to keep everyone sick.”

“That plague was your doing as well?” Thera asked, surprised.

Javed nodded. “The Voice showing you how to heal them was my first indication that you might be something more than a fraud. All witch hunters are masters of poisons. That was a potent one.”

“Many people died before Thera cured them, though,” Toramana spat. “You are a monster!”

“Yes. And I felt nothing as I carried the bodies of those I’d murdered onto the pyres I built using the wood I gathered because the gods had not yet taught me the pains of guilt or shame. I did my obligation, unquestioningly. Then I lied to Keta in order to become his friend, so he would trust me and name me a priest, all while I reported to the Inquisition your every move in secret via magic. These communications were discovered once, which is why I murdered Parth and Rawal.”

“My son…” Toramana blinked a few times, and then reached for the axe at his belt.

Thera placed one gentle hand on Toramana’s arm and shook her head. “Let him finish the story first, Chief, so we can finally have the whole truth.”

“He stuffed his body in a hole.” Toramana was blinking rapidly, but he did not draw the axe yet. “That was my boy.”

It was difficult to see such profound sadness on a man’s face, but Javed met Toramana’s gaze. “I make no excuse. My obligation was an evil one. I began to understand how wrong I had been when I heard the Voice for the first time myself. Then at the battle of the aqueduct, the Grand Inquisitor decided that the rebellion was no longer of use to him, so my Order captured Thera in the hopes that we would be able to rip the Voice from her head and get some use from it. I was transporting her to the Capitol to be interrogated and then dissected when Mother Dawn appeared to me in her giant many-armed form and commanded that I help the prophet instead.”

“The Mother has appeared to many of us.” Toramana’s eyes were filled with tears. “She told my people to help the prophet too. You are not special!”

“You are right, there’s nothing special about me. Your people were chosen because you pleased the gods with your courage and will to survive. I was chosen because I was all they had left. I was told they still needed a priest to carry on their work, and with wise Keta dead, I, a worm, lower than fish, would have to do. I know now what I have done is wrong. I’ve been trying to make amends ever since.”

“It’s not enough.”

“I doubt it will ever be enough, and I will spend eternity suffering for my evil. I have seen hell once before. Not the ocean. That is a false hell. I speak of Naraka, endless torment for those who give offense to the gods. That’s likely where I am going now.”

Toramana stalked toward him, pulling out his axe. “Are there no more crimes? Is that the end of your story, then?”

“It is. I have changed. I am a true believer in the gods, so I accept whatever fate you bestow on me, Prophet.”

“Don’t look at me,” Thera said. “This is Toramana’s decision now.”

What other decision could a grieving father make concerning the murderer of his son? Javed bowed his head. He would meet his end with resigned acceptance.

* * *

“I thought a tiger killed my boy. That’s an honorable death for a hunter. Tigers are dangerous foes. They’re kings of the forest. Witch hunters can take the shape of tigers, but they are only kings of lies. Look at me. Look at me.”

Javed did so. The chief towered over him, axe at his shoulder.

“Wait!” A thin man in orange robes was running toward them through the forest. “You must not kill him!” He tripped over a root and fell hard, but quickly got back up and staggered in their direction, desperate. “You need him! The priest needs to be alive!”

“Your Fortress monk seems rather riled up,” Gutch remarked nonchalantly.

“Hold, Chief,” Thera cautioned, and it was a testament to the barbarian’s faith that he didn’t simply split Javed’s skull anyway. “What is it, Lama Taksha?”

The stranger was casteless thin and had a shaved head except for an odd topknot of hair. He was out of breath from his run and had scraped his forehead when he’d fallen. Heedless of the blood dripping into his eye he asked, “This is your Keeper of Names?”

“The fake one,” Thera said. “Keta was the real Keeper.”

“But Ram Ashok says Keta is dead. If this one was appointed by Keta, then he is the Keeper of Names.” He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand. “You must not kill him! The priest must be present at the end or else.”

“Or else what?” Laxmi asked. It was plain the wizard girl really wanted to kill him, and Javed suspected it was because she was afraid of him. “Why do you need this assassin?”

“I don’t know, but this is on all the writings. Every prophecy embedded in metal. Every Guru agrees the six can all die there, or afterward, for by those who live in their vision will the next age be shaped, but they must all be present. Guru Dondrub thinks that if all the pieces are not there, then the demons will win and mankind will be hunted to death soon after.”

“What about you?” Thera demanded. “You’re some kind of priest. You take the book.”

“The calling is different. I’m of the workshop, servitors of mighty Ramrowan’s legacy, preparers of the Avatara’s return. I’m no Keeper of Names. There’s only one Keeper of Names at a time. Just as there is only one Voice. Or one Forgotten’s Warrior, or the King, or the Mask. And the last Keeper chooses his successor. Please, you must believe me. We are almost at the Great City of Man where all will be decided.”

“The Voice pronounced the same thing once,” Javed recalled. “Check the Testimony of Ratul. It was the third prophecy of Thera’s that he recorded.”

Toramana kicked Javed in the stomach so hard it curled his body around the boot, and he collapsed, retching and heaving.

“Evil will be silent when the faithful talk, Witch Hunter. Do you really expect us to believe the words you wrote, that conveniently say we’re supposed to let you live?”

Thera swore under her breath, before saying, “Sadly, the bastard’s not lying. I know the one he’s talking about. It’s from the same manifestation that declared the Voice has to be sacrificed at the end…Damn it.”

The foreigner begged, “The danger is too great, Voice. Gods old and new have spoken. You must spare this Keeper. If you take your revenge now on him, the demons triumph. All our homes, gone. All our temples, razed. All our kin, dead. In your land and then in mine. Lost forever.”

Javed could tell that Thera was torn. She herself was not a convert. She was a slave. Yet she knew her master was real, and though the Voice’s proclamations could be confusing, they were never, ever wrong.

“Oceans.” Thera took a deep breath, held it for a long time, and then exhaled angrily.

“No…” Toramana said slowly.

“We can’t risk it. We’ve got to spare him for now, Chief.”

“After what he confessed, you expect me to let him live?” Toramana was livid. “He killed my boy, Thera!”

“And a great many others, and I tended them and tried to comfort them as they withered away, crying tears of blood from what I thought was a natural plague, not some witch hunter trick. And he’ll pay for all of them soon enough. Their blood cries from the ground for vengeance, Toramana! I want him dead too, but we’re not far from Vadal City, and the demons won’t be far behind.”

“You said it was my decision to make!”

“I did…” She eyed the axe in his hand, then slowly nodded. “And it still is…Now I’m asking you to make the best decision for our people. We’re both leaders. You know it’s not about our desires, but what our people need. Let Javed live for now. Then after the last battle, he’s all yours.”

Wincing against the pain—Toramana was an incredibly strong man and had a kick like a horse—Javed struggled back to his knees and managed to gasp, “I’ll do whatever you want. Imprison me and kill me when your tasks are done, as the Forgotten wills it.”

Toramana paced back and forth, before growling at him. “The Keeper’s obligation is to write down the prophecies and put the names in his book. What hand do you use to write with?”

“My right.”

“Hold out your left.”

Javed did so without hesitation.

“Wait!”

But the chief was done listening to Thera, and his axe was very sharp.

Javed’s left hand went spinning off into the forest. Blood spurted from the stump.

“Oceans!” Gutch jumped from his log.

The pain was beyond comprehension, yet Javed did not scream. He didn’t so much as cry out. He simply brought the stump close to his chest and tried to squeeze shut the severed artery with his other hand.

“Take the rest of my limbs if you need them,” he gasped. “It’s a small price to pay to prove I’m telling the truth.”

“The one limb will do…for now.” Toramana simply turned and walked away.

Gutch shook his head in wonder. “No wonder they banned religion. You people are insane.”

The world was getting very dark, but in his heart, Javed praised the Forgotten. He had come here believing his life would be spared, and it had been, because his work was not yet done.

“Looks like that hurts,” Thera told Javed, then she snapped at the foreigner, “Hurry and help me tie this off before the gods are out another prophecy.”

“Pinch the big bleeder,” the wizard girl said completely without pity as the demon bone in her hand glowed brighter. “I’ll cauterize the rest.”

Javed passed out…until the fire woke him back up.


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