“Trust in the Lord and his shepherds with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“In all thy ways acknowledge His Word, and He shall direct thy path.”
–Father Abraham, “The Holy Word”. 14 Months After.
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Another day. Another member added to their family, hungry for answers.
Brother Zion bowed low. “You honor me with my inclusion into your ranks, Brother Ezekiel.”
Ezekiel nodded. “The honor will be yours only if you earn it. There is no greater glory than serving as the Lord’s Inquisitor. He needs every warrior He can get.”
“Thank you.”
Ezekiel remained silent. In truth, he did not like the idea of including one such as Zion in his ranks. That he was a Brother now only went so far. Especially when his heretical ways weren’t far behind from that valley they had plucked him from. Even the baptized needed more time to internalize the Lord’s message. Of this truth, Ezekiel knew all too well.
But it could not be helped but to initiate this training. The Inquisitors were weakened after their attempt to capture Liam Fenix, and the Father had rendered his judgment. More would need to be trained to ensure that the congregation remained safe, and the more experienced ones could always use a refresher after so much time without a major conflict.
Ezekiel studied his Brothers. They watched back with empty stares, probing for anything but revealing nothing. Same as him.
He focused back on Zion. “As an Inquisitor, it will be your job to combat Sin directly, wherever it may form. You must study your tools intimately if you wish to render God’s judgment.”
He flipped open his cloak and drew the first. “The cudgel will be your most direct tool in this camp. The Devil can tempt even the most devout of heart, so you must always be vigilant against any signs of Sin within our congregation.” He tapped Zion on the shoulder. “A firm reminder of the damage our mortal shells can receive is often enough to make an Inquisition unnecessary. Your Brother or Sister will see the bruising and be reminded of their shame, and the Lord will remove that shame only if they become pure of heart again.”
Ezekiel pulled his next weapon out and gripped it with both hands. “The bo staff is needed for those who would dare to fight back. You must always treat this tool as an extension of your own body. Just as a hand can stroke with kindness, so too can it form a fist.” With a twirl of his wrists, he spun the staff around, hitting the open space near Zion’s head. “Never forget your own strength with this weapon, or it will result in your death or another’s.”
Last, he set the staff aside and took out their most complex tool. Light gleaned across the limb where it had been coated in pine tar. “And this is the crossbow. Mine is a simple hand crossbow, but we also carry larger ones that pack more force and medium-range repeaters that can fire in rapid succession. Very rarely should you need to use these weapons in camp. It is most effective against the Devil’s forces that would do us harm. With one pull of the trigger, God will smite your enemy as long as your aim and faith remain true. Sinners and heretics alike can be destroyed at a distance with this device.”
“…Would be easier with our guns,” someone muttered nearby.
The other Inquisitors fell hushed and averted their gaze while Ezekiel focused on his challenger. “Brother Jericho, did you just speak in error?”
“I did not,” Jericho said, his scarred brow in a hard slant. “You speak of arrows and sticks as if they’re divine weapons, but the crossbow is powerless against enemies with steel barricades and high-caliber rifles. We nearly lost more men when capturing Zion’s Enclave because of this handicap.”
“Need I remind you, Brother, that it was these arrows and sticks that felled your own heretical kindred.”
But Jericho merely folded his meaty arms. “With all due respect, Brother Ezekiel, your tactics defeated my old crew, not your weapons. Had we known that you had others in ambush, you would have never stood a chance.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You doubt God’s power?”
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“No. I merely understand warfare.”
“What point are you trying to make, Brother Jericho?”
He clenched a fist. “My point is that we could bring God’s judgment to so many others if we were more willing to use our guns. When all else is equal, the side with the greatest firepower wins, regardless of whom the Lord favors.”
Such heresy! The others leaked doubts as they considered his words, their thoughts bleeding into the open more freely. More than one murmured to their kindred, perhaps in agreement. Even Zion stared out, his lips a thin line as he pondered the possibility.
Ezekiel closed his eyes. A hot temper could only further strife, whereas a cool demeanor would squelch this Sin before it grew.
It was not his Brother’s fault. Jericho was also new to their congregation and had not bathed enough in God’s light to understand the truth that he had spent years learning. Ezekiel turned around and went for his tent, where the unholy weapons were kept locked up. Another moment, he had a pistol at the ready.
“Perhaps we can put your words to the test, Brother,” Ezekiel said, handing over the weapon.
Jericho took the pistol in hand. “What do you expect me to do with this?”
“Exactly as you remember. Holster it at your waist and then attempt to strike me down. I will protect myself with nothing other than my staff.”
He gulped. “That would be murder.”
Now, it was Ezekiel’s turn to remain unfazed. “There is no murder here. Let our fellow Brothers stand witness to the words I have spoken. If you are successful in striking me down, then God has chosen you, and you are innocent of all crimes. If I can disarm you before that happens, then God has chosen me, and you will seek repentance in your heart for questioning His power.”
The other Inquisitors looked from one to another without words. They no doubt questioned the wisdom of this exercise, but that was because they lacked the same faith as him. Ezekiel remained content with putting his fate in the hands of the Lord. No one else could interfere with His divine plan.
Jericho stood in place, his fingers near his gun.
Ezekiel began to pace backward. “I know that you have not forgotten what we did to you, Jericho. I can see it in your eyes. You still value the lives of the heretics that you once loved. I understand your feelings. They are natural, and I used to experience them for myself.” He stopped, now over fifteen feet away. “Go ahead and exercise this hatred against me. If you can. You have my permission.”
Again, Ezekiel closed his eyes and breathed deep. He was incapable of hearing the auditory voice of the Lord like Father Abraham, but He still found ways to speak through him. The muscles in Ezekiel’s limbs loosened, from his fingers and toes, to his hands and feet, to his knees and arms, to his shoulders and hip, and into his torso itself, settling in his heart before rising to his head. Cool and clear, like the soft wind around.
Ezekiel opened his eyes. “Let us begin.” He watched his Brother and waited for movement.
Jericho’s eyes twitched, his fury burning. He ripped the pistol from his waist and took aim.
Too slowly, of course. The instant Jericho moved his wrist, Brother Ezekiel launched into a charge, the Lord carrying his legs with a speed that none could match. By the time his Brother raised his pistol, Ezekiel was well within reach. With a mere twist of his staff, the unholy weapon tumbled to the ground.
Jericho’s anger melted into shock, but this lesson was not yet complete. Ezekiel advanced another pace and flipped his bo staff around, angling the other end behind his opponent’s legs. As Jericho began to slip, Ezekiel elbowed his chest. His Brother fell below, still crippled in bewilderment.
The remaining Inquisitors remained hushed, just as astonished by the display performed.
Ezekiel did not avert his gaze. “What is the lesson here?”
Jericho did nothing but lay on his back for a moment, the sun falling across his face.
Zion’s eyes widened. “He trusted in the weapon of a sinful world, and you – no, God Himself – brought him onto his knees for his hubris!”
Ezekiel held out his hand. “That is correct.” Jericho begrudgingly reached back. “The Beholding may have robbed us of our minds, but through the Lord’s grace, we were able to redesign these weapons for ourselves. The cudgel is simple but effective, the bo more refined and lethal, and the crossbow our pinnacle of success. Even with our bodies weakened by Sin, we are able to utilize this tool again by installing a mere lever at the base to compound our strength. That is an enhancement of old world technology, not a step backward.”
He held up the pistol. “Make no mistake, however. There is some wisdom in Brother Jericho’s words. These weapons are still kept in this camp because they are sometimes needed for defense. The Lord only protects those willing to protect themselves, and there have been enemies too dangerous for us to combat through faith alone. Then and only then do we use these unholy weapons of war. Against the Devil’s army itself.
“But we must also never forget that this only proves how much we still have to learn. Even our reliance on the staff and crossbow demonstrates our weakness compared to the Lord.” The polymer grip felt alien as Ezekiel activated the safety again. He holstered the pistol.
“God’s true warriors need no weapons.”