‘Well, you’ve got the church of Soel backing you now. Ain’t no need for one mercenary when you got paladins guarding you. I just figured you wouldn’t want me sticking around with their kind guarding you. I know you said you’d pay me proper when we got to your family, but you really don’t hafta, a few coins will see me good and there’s some fellas in town I can sign–’
‘No.’ Syline’s heel clacked against the cobblestones. ‘No, Thelonious, I’m not just throwing you away, just because they’ve said they’ll protect me. I promised you, you’d receive full payment when you got me home, and I intend to see it through. Unless’ – her moment of stroppy bravado faltered, as a different thought occurred to her – ‘unless you want to go?’ she asked, nerves creeping into her tone.
Thelonious faltered in turn, why’d he expected any different? She was a sweet girl and, he liked to fancy, he probably made her feel safe after the brawls they’d been through so far.
‘You sure?’
Syline nodded and surprised him by stepping in to give him a hug around the barrel of his chest. Her head didn’t even reach his shoulders. ‘You’re my bodyguard, Thelonious, and you’re my friend.’
Awkwardly, not wanting to spook her, knowing she could be skittish with touch, Thelonious returned the hug with one arm around her shoulders.
‘That means a lot, Syl. Alright, I’ll be seeing you through all the way home, knee-scuffers be damned.’
She looked up beaming, pulling away slightly from the hug as she did, and he immediately released her.
‘Good. Now why don’t we go find somewhere to eat? I don’t know about you but I’m starving. Did you find somewhere to spend the night?’
‘I did, but not sure it’s somewhere you want to be getting dinner,’ he said, rubbing the back of his head.
‘Well, then let’s do something fancy. I don’t feel like I’ve had a real meal since this all started, come on my treat, I’ve got enough to spare.’ She grinned, a little twinkle of cheekiness entering her eye. ‘Besides, I bet those “knee-scuffers” will hate having to serve you their best wine.’
Thelonious laughed heartily; the word sounded so unnatural coming from her lips.
‘Ah.’ He sighed, grinning down at her as they began to walk. ‘You’re the best.’
Chapter 11
Syline rose early that day, brought from her bed by the clamour of the church bells, which rang the moment the sun crested the horizon. She watched, bemused, as many of the congregation took up morning stretches in the courtyard, a practice that supposedly helped with flexibility and staved off the effects of ageing. To her, it looked like a lot of people dancing very slowly. After that, still yawning, whilst everyone else seemed wide awake, she hobbled her way to the refectory of the cathedral. She was treated to a breakfast of fresh fruit, squeezed juice and honey drizzled porridge. Some of the priests threw amused glances in her direction, seeing how drowsy the Russen girl still seemed. Most did not however as they seemed consumed by a solemnity that her antics could not abate.
The morning meal did help, but as she got her things together, she still couldn’t fight a lingering fatigue. She’d slept the best she had since departing; it was the first time she’d been in a real bed since her runaway. Maybe that was it. She knew she was finally safe, and so the frantic, nervous energy that had kept her going was finally starting to fade away, leaving her exhausted in its passing. She wondered if she might even fall asleep on the ride home when they did leave. For now, she was safe, so she was curious to explore this city some more. Gathering her things, her spell-book included which she had no intent on leaving where the priests could find it, she made for the entrance of the cathedral. She found Thelonious waiting for her by it, inclining his head, his expression grim.
Behind him, the way was blocked by a crowd of priests and worshippers. All were here to spectate on what was taking place in front of the church. Two great bonfires had been built, huge piles of kindling and logs, above which two bodies were strung up. One of them was little more than a burned-out husk, the kindling crackling and the flames still roaring. The flames were oddly yellow and white, powered by the holy oils thrown into the flames to burn even a devil’s skin. The second person still lived though and, as Thelonious and Syline pushed their way through the crowd to get a better idea of what was happening, they could hear her charges being read. In relief at her own feeling of safety, Syline had almost forgotten all about this terrible act the paladin Leoric had told her was coming.
‘Amberly Penzare,’ began a large man, dressed in breastplate over a priest’s robes, ‘you are hereby charged with heresy against our Lord Soel, the Glorious Dawn, the corruption of children to the ways of Hell, and consorting with devils. You were given the chance to repent. The chance to save your soul in the eyes of our lord. To redeem yourself. Yet, you refused. As is tradition, you will be given the chance to have your last words before your execution. Do you have anything to say?’
All eyes turned to the woman on the pyre. She was a beauty: half-elven with white hair and bluish skin. She wore white robes for the execution, glowing like a ghost in the bright light of the sun. Syline felt a pang of sympathy for the girl, moving with Thelonious towards the front of the crowd. Thelonious got jostled a lot along the way. The burned corpse had horns and wings. It’d been the devil she was consorting with and the people around them probably thought Thelonious was here to mourn its passing. He grimaced at the sight of the fellow, devil or no. Forcing their way forward, they found themselves standing beside a priest Syline recognised. Leoric. He was watching the proceedings with a stiff lip, his hands white knuckled at his side. He did not look at Syline as she arrived beside him.
‘I was only doing what I had to do to save those children! I did nothing wrong. Even if he was a half devil, saving those children was the only reason Laes was there as well! You all care more about preserving your perfect image than actually doing good! If that’s what Soel is for, then he’s not any god I wish to worship. I killed demons and saved lives. How is that evil? If you and Soel want to betray me for saving lives, then you can all go to hell with me!’
Now that pang of sympathy in Syline’s heart turned into full blown anger. She sympathised all too much with the woman. She too was being hunted, having her life threatened just for trying to do what she thought was the right thing at the time. This girl was suffering it even more so. As far as Syline could gather, she’d worked with a half-devil to save some children from demons and the church had condemned them both. It seemed all too ridiculous to her. All too cruel. She made a snap decision. It was what an adventurer would do, what a hero should do. Everything she knew of what was right was telling her that she shouldn’t let this girl die. Even if what the girl had done was wrong in the eyes of the church, Syline’s gut told her she was good. Worthy of saving.
All at once, the fatigue and exhaustion that had gripped her since waking, was gone. It was time to act again. Her body and mind aligned in purpose and new strength flooded her limbs.
‘You have to help her!’ she said, turning to grip Leoric’s wrist. The man reacted as if stung, ripping his arm away. He glanced in her direction, as if only then recognising her. His eyes were puffy, bloodshot.
‘What?’ he demanded. ‘Are you mad? You’ve heard her crimes; you’ve heard her refuse to repent. She wrote her own death warrant; I can’t save her. Not from this. I can’t betray the church.’
‘You’re her father,’ Syline replied, her voice low, horrified. ‘You’re meant to protect her.’
His hand slid to the sword at his side unconsciously. He turned his gaze to her in a ferocious glare, but tears slid freely down the crags of his aged features.
‘Not from this! I can’t save her, I’d be betraying everything, everyone. Not from this.’ His voice was strangled, forcing each word.
Syline’s mind was made up in that instant. Already the wheels were turning in her head, plotting how she’d pull this off. The thought that she was giving up her own safety, her own trip home was only a distant scream from the rational part of her mind which was forced down into the depths by the mad focus that had come with her renewed energy. She pulled the spell-book from her satchel, flicking rapidly to one of the pages she had marked as an interesting spell.
‘Thelonious go get her off that pyre. We’re saving her.’
‘We’re what?!’ Thelonious exclaimed.
‘You’re what?!’ Leoric echoed in a low hiss, his hand snatching her wrist. ‘Don’t be stupid, girl! There’s no coming back from this and this isn’t your fight.’
Syline glared back at him, fighting down the burst of fear that welled up in her breast as he grabbed her.
‘No,’ she hissed, ‘it’s yours. But you’re running from it, so I’m fighting it for you.’
Pain and hope warred in the man’s eyes as he stared down at her and whispered, ‘If you do this, I’ll have to stop you.’
His hand was on his sword. Syline saw it trembling, but he made no move to draw the weapon. He was gripping it like it was the only sure port in a storm, the only thing keeping him steady.
Syline blinked up at him slowly, some part of her mind clicked into place.
‘Not if you’re unconscious. Thelonious, hit him.’
She saw realisation, and with it, gratitude, flare in the man’s eyes a second before Thelonious’s fist rocketed over her shoulder. She thought she heard Leoric begin to say something as his legs turned to jelly beneath him and he hit the floor in a daze. He hadn’t even tried to dodge.
People in the crowd screamed as they saw the hellblooded attack the priest, but the pair truly had their attention when Syline stepped out of the crowd, casting the spell she had picked. It was only after the last word had left her lips that she realised what a terrible idea this was, but now it was already too late to turn back. Two guards went to step in her way, she finished the spell that wracked them with a nauseating sickness, pulling on their sense of balance. One stumbled two steps forward, then violently brought up his lunch. As the second attempted to charge at Syline, he felt the spell overtaking him. Drunkenly, his body leaned to the right as he ran, and he only came halfway to reaching her before he had toppled over onto his side, clutching his gut and trying not to copy his comrade’s vomiting.
‘The heathen’s allies have come to save her! The hells and their cults are coming for us!’ someone in the crowd, likely a priest, cried.
