“And this shall be the plague wherewith the Lord will smite all the people who fought against Him; their flesh shall consume away while they stand upon their feet, and their eyes shall lose their color with their minds, and their tongues shall blacken inside their mouths.”
–Father Abraham, “The Holy Word”. 16 Months After.
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This trial was getting more treacherous by the day.
Moonlight tore through twisted branches above, falling onto an approaching group of sinners. Twenty were in their ranks – more than twice the size of the pack that attacked them the day before. Like the rest of their brethren, their skin had rotted through their indulgence in Sin, and their eyes revealed nothing but an empty, white glaze, reducing them to mere thralls for eternal evil. They marched and hissed, teeth clattering against the party in front.
Brother Ezekiel spit to them. No doubt that these attacks were the work of the Devil. The Chosen One’s aura radiated out, her divine energy drawing the sinners wherever they went. Leah Fenix screamed and cried as these demons closed in, and her father gargled inside his restraints. Another necessary condition to keep him from interfering.
Ezekiel pulled out his bo staff and bowed his head.
“The Lord is my shepherd,” he muttered. “I shall not want. He maketh me to live down in green pastures. He leadeth me besides the still waters. He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the path of righteousness for His name’s sake. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.” He narrowed his gaze onto the closest sinner. “Amen.”
The sinner raised its arms to attack, but Ezekiel’s staff gave him the better reach. He cleaved its head in two before it could land. Another moved within range, only to meet the same fate.
He pressed his advantage, moving through the flank of the sinners before they could cluster up together. Another trio fell safely against this tactic, but it was short-lived. Leah’s crying attracted them most, forcing Ezekiel back on a retreat. He slaughtered another pair with a grunt.
Liam spit out his gag. “Bloody hell, Ezekiel! Let us out.”
“Silence!” he ordered, his staff tearing through another sinner.
Ezekiel did not need assistance. He did not need to chase Liam for another day because he wanted to evade God’s judgment. The Lord was on his side, and no one else mattered but Him.
Only a few sinners remained. A crack resonated as his staff struck another skull. He watched as a fissure formed in the wood along the middle. With a grunt, Ezekiel tossed his damaged weapon aside and retreated another step. The sinners lunged in unison.
An Inquisitor’s duty was to combat Sin wherever it formed. For many occasions, this meant bludgeoning a member of their congregation until they repented for their heresy. After so many years and Beholders entering their community under different conditions, plenty chose to fight back rather than face judgment, believing in their hubris that they could understand more about righteousness than the Lord’s soldiers. Ezekiel trained his Brothers to employ many unarmed techniques, regardless of origin. Wrestling, jujitsu, Krav Maga, aikido. Whatever martial skill they had available became necessary to this end. Anything short of perfection put their community at risk.
Compared to that threat of heresy, these sinners were mere gnats to be plucked from his back. Ezekiel weaved in and out of their swings, redirecting their energy to send them tumbling down. As each floundered in place, he stomped his foot through their skulls. Blackened liquids exploded out.
“Oy, Ezekiel!” Liam shouted. “You missed one! Over here. Now!”
He turned around and gasped. A sinner had slipped through and was almost in reach of the Chosen One!
Teeth sunk into the leather armor of his thigh and feet, but Ezekiel ignored his attackers and drew his hand-crossbow, focusing on the demon in front. With a quick prayer for guidance, he launched the bolt. The sinner hissed as its ear was punctured.
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Ezekiel exhaled. His enemies still clawed into his legs, and a child-size sinner attempted to climb up his back, but with the most profound danger resolved, he had nothing more to fear. A few more well-placed kicks finished what he had started for those below, and he calmly thrust the one over his shoulder into the ground. Blood flowed free where its head struck a rock.
Only few injuries plagued Ezekiel, with the blood leaking from the waist and below. They would be easy to patch up. Thank you, my Lord. This confrontation would have gone far worse without His wisdom.
But Liam glared when Ezekiel marched back over. “They almost got her this time.”
“Yet they did not,” Ezekiel pointed out.
“Yeah, this time! What about the next? And the next? We’ll run through hundreds more hollows before the week ends, and it only takes one to spell my daughter’s end. Hell, if I didn’t manage to spit the gag out just now, she’d have died. You can’t keep dragging us around like this!”
Ezekiel smirked. “Would you prefer if we stopped marching altogether?”
His cheeks reddened. “At least let me out of these restraints.”
With a sigh, Ezekiel untied the rope that anchored Liam’s body against a nearby tree, though he kept the length that wrapped around his wrists lest he fight back again. Liam rushed over to his daughter and fell, his tied hands still able to stroke her hair. The Chosen One’s crying continued.
“There, there,” he said. “Daddy’s here again. No need to be afraid anymore.” He tried to inch forward, but Ezekiel gave the rope another firm tug, sending him back a foot.
“You will attempt to run again if I let you walk free,” he explained. “I cannot allow you to put your daughter in harm’s way.”
“And as I’ve told you before, the stress you’re putting her through will do that anyway. She needs rest!”
“She looks fine to me.”
Liam shook his head. “The fever’s getting worse. This chill is doing her no favors.”
Ezekiel closed in. He gently pressed the back of his palm against the Chosen One’s forehead. “I sense no more heat than normal.” He put his other palm against her parent’s head for comparison. No change.
Liam batted his hand away and scoffed. “The difference is more subtle than your kind is capable of sensing. Please, you have to trust me. You’re killing her.”
As if the Lord is so weak. Ezekiel grunted. “Get up.”
With no more words of protest, Liam rose to his feet. Ezekiel grabbed the mobile carrier for the Chosen One and slung it over his back, taking the supplies she needed with the other. Her cries dwindled as he zippered the fabric back into place.
He instinctively went for his bo staff, only to remember that it had splintered during the fight. Another tool that would be difficult to replace out here. His crossbow was down to five bolts, and his cudgel lacked the power that his staff projected. Like losing a limb, his strength was weakened.
But still, they could not falter.
“Move,” Ezekiel ordered, giving the rope a snap.
Liam lurched into a walk, and their march continued.
So much time, yet so little progress. They could not have covered more than ten miles in the past day. How many more would be on the horizon before they returned back home?
Too many. That much was certain. After leaving Pandemonium in flight, Liam had gone to great lengths to avoid Ezekiel and his Brothers, to the point where they had been forced to abandon their truck after it ran out of fuel. Brother Malachi initially protested against further chase, but Ezekiel reminded them of the power of faith. They followed the road from there on foot, using the tiniest of impressions in the dust for guidance. The Lord shined down on them, for enough rainy weather came to pass that filled the highways with mud. This gave them all the direction they needed, and it was not long before they found where Liam had escaped to.
Only for him to strike back. Father Abraham had been explicit. Leah Fenix mattered most, but her father was not to be harmed unless absolutely necessary. This kindness proved his Brothers’ undoing. They had indeed underestimated how difficult of an adversary he could be. Brother Isaac fell before anyone saw Liam coming, struck down by his rifle. Brothers Malachi and Lucius were defeated soon after.
Leaving Ezekiel alone to finish this holy mission.