Inquisitor

A novel inspired by the videogame.

Johan Juston

I.

inter came much sooner than usual that year. The moon of Teantelia, measuring time with age-long accuracy, was still high in the sky, but the sides of the Moonshine Mountains were covered with snow already. Shepherds and herdsmen, whose lives were for the most part of year wedded to the wild country of bloodthirsty beasts, rocky peaks and frequent storms up there, were slowly returning to the lowlands. Only for winter they moved to sparsely populated regions in the foothills to stall herds of their lords in small, miserable villages and towns, and to survive the most heaviest of frosts there that often caused the death even of the large black bears. They bided their time mostly in taverns, drinking and boasting with stories in which there wasnt a single speck of truth. Such a time was at hand just now and the town of Werthem was slowly coming to life. It was an abhorrent backwater hole, sink of the deepest human dirt ever to see the light of the world. Walled with stockade, it concealed within the shapeless clusters of old houses that in their misery reminded of ruins crumbling away. From a completely different direction than the hillsmen with their herds were coming to the town, a priest on a calm spotted hack entered Werthem on one autumn evening. Slushy snow and mud was splashing all around when he was riding through the stockade gate. He wagged his hand to the soldiers on guard and blessed the men viewing him bewildered. When they recognized a scarlet cloak with black trimming in the twilight, they bowed deeply and with their heads humbly down they let the rider through. When he faded back in the mazy streets and they were sure he couldnt hear them,

they exchanged a few grumbling comments. Worries mixed with displeasure in them, for an inquisitor has just come to the town. I would expect them to send someone else, uttered one of them and spit down from the wall. Yeah, someone a bit older, agreed the other and cast a glance to the dark behind to make sure that no one listened to them. Fine times are ahead of us, with lords from the south sending inquisitors to us. I heard that they waste no time they just charge someone and torture him until he confesses himself and says even what he doesnt know! The other guard nodded, but made no comment to it. It was wise to keep quiet about such things. Instead he turned his eyes to a nearby hill, on which gallows from the recent execution loomed darkly against the grey sky. The guard would swear even at that distance that the hanged were smiling at him scornfully. That little bitch is to blame, he said finally. We should have let her hang a long time ago and it would have been solved! The priest was slowly riding through the streets, carefully viewing his surroundings. He didnt like this town at all. It smelled of mildew and excrement and most of all it reminded him of a lair full of fornication and sin as portrayed by illustrations in liturgical books. He shook his shoulders in an effort to get rid of the cold and the unpleasant feeling that fell on him. Trueat Glatzburg, a large town in the south, from where the priest came and where he had attended seminary, were slums as well. But not even there reigned such misery and poverty as here, far in the north of the Realm. Hic sunt leones, he whispered quietly, but chided himself

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for such an ironic remark immediately. After all, he thought to himself, I was entrusted with a case and I have to investigate it even if my path would lead me to hell itself! He was riding through the town at his own pace, all lost and depressed, until he got out of the dark curved streets eventually and stopped at a large square, lined with stone burgess houses. It was the most imposing part of the town, where the wealthiest townsmen and noblemen lived, but despite that it brought an impression of severe poverty. Instead of paving, a deep layer of mud was covering the square across which a few belated walkers toiled. Where would I find the office of the local sheriff, my good man? asked the priest to one of the men passing by. The man addressed looked up and stepped back fearfully when he realized who stood in front of him. But fear prevented him from turning his back on the rider and running away. He pointed his shaky hand to one of the crumbling houses instead. There, Father, he stuttered and turned his eyes aside so that he didnt have to look upon the scarlet cloak of the Inquisitor again, since it was the symbol of torture and death. Thank you, my good man, the priest answered and made himself smile kindly. He spurred his horse and crossed the square in the given direction. He got down in front of the sheriffs office and watched with dislike his high shoes vanishing ankle-deep in a black mud. He tried to clean them on the stone steps leading to the gate, but to no success. Sin is hard to wash off once it takes to the soul, the priest thought while striking the gate with a rusty knocker several times. He earned a spatter of wet snow for it that fell from the roof down on his shoulders and quickly seeped into the scarlet cloth of his cloak. What the hell do you want? snarled the voice of a gatekeeper from behind the door. When he opened gruffly, a foul

breath soaked with cheap liquor hit the priests nose. An older soldier in a dirty uniform of a royal guard stood in front of him and waddled from side to side noticeably. With a blank stare he dully eyed the priest and was trying to grasp who he was. As soon as a flash of understanding passed through his drunken mind, he immediately bent at the waist as if cut and bowed down to the ground. Forgive me, Your Honour, I ahem The priest stopped him uncompromisingly with his raised hand. Im going to see Sheriff Olek, soldier. Lead me to him. Now! Of course, sir, as you wish. Follow meahemthis way, responded the soldier in a choked voice. His throat was empty as if strangled with a hangmans rope. Actually, he wasnt that far from it. A single word from the man in front of him would suffice. The sheriffs office was as repulsive as the whole town. Narrow stone corridors and rooms without windows were shrouded with evening gloom that only here and there was dispelled with the shimmering of a few torches. The soldier was leading the Inquisitor through a long passage to the stairs rising up to the first floor. On their way, they passed an entrance cloaked in dark leading to the underground dungeon from where a womans muffled sobbing, full of pain and desperation, sounded. The priest turned to the soldier questioningly, but he moved his sight away and smiled nervously. The towns dungeon, he said eventually shrugging his shoulders and set forth again. The priest gave the dark corridor one last thoughtful look and followed the gatekeeper. He shuddered a bit at the idea that he would have to visit those places soon. At least that was what his directions said. To come, investigate and punish. Hard was the life of an in-

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quisitorial investigator. But it was also his holy mission and the priest honoured it and loved it. They made it to the first floor meanwhile, where the soldier stopped at a massive wooden door. He knocked on it firmly and stepped aside when the sheriffs gruff voice spoke up from behind it. The priest entered determinedly, but in doing so he managed to throw a scrutinizing look at the gatekeeper, guaranteeing him a sleepless night. The inside of the room felt comfortable because of a heartening warmth radiating from a large fireplace. Sheriff Olek jumped up from the table so quickly that he nearly knocked over a heavy chair he was sitting on. He was a thin and sinewy man who had experienced measles in the childhood that had left many tiny scars behind. His eyes shone feverishly and his lower lip trembled slightly when he spoke. Your Honour, we werent expecting you so soon! My journey passed more quickly than I thought, answered the Inquisitor. Is that a problem for you? Nono, not at all, no problem, Your Honour. We just werent expecting you so early. The priest nodded his head and pointed to the door where he had left the drunken soldier. That probably explains why your soldiers are drinking on duty, am I right? he asked. The sheriff turned red and his hands started to shake. Im sorry, Your Honour. I will enquire into it immediately and the guilty will be punished! The Inquisitor gave a conciliatory nod. I think that twenty days of sharp penal servitude will be enough for him. The sheriff muttered something indecipherable and motioned the young man to have a seat. Here it is, he thought to himself. We have an inquisitor on our shoulders and heads will start to fall in no time!

Allow me to introduce myself to you first, said the priest. My name is Maxmilian Conti. Im an investigator of the Holy Office and I was sent by the inquisitorial curia at Glatzburg to investigate localahemevents. I believe you have received my accompanying documents already, havent you? Yes, Your Honour, I have, nodded the sheriff. He was slowly gathering his lost peace. He was expecting someone else, someone older. More experienced. But the priest in front of him looked young, so young. It seems they have sent here a priest that only recently got out of seminary, he thought. But better be cautiousa young inquisitor can hang people as quickly as an old and trained one! We detained the accused woman two weeks ago, Father, he said. During her stay here, she has tried to summon devils and to seduce our guards several times. Shes a downright imp, you can bet on that! The priest knit his brows disapprovingly. Thank you for your conclusions, sir, but if you allow that is what I am here for. Ahemof course, Father. Would you like to interrogate that slut right now? asked the sheriff. I will have the torture chamber prepared for you. The priests throat constricted at that idea for a moment. He knew that he would probably have to do so, but he was subconsciously putting it off until the very latest. His hand instinctively clutched the beads that were hanging around his neckas usual when he had to make a decision as fast as possible and was seeking a blessing for his choice. Yes, I will see the accused right now, he said eventually. I will interrogate her later on, however, he added immediately. He felt tired after the journey, his whole body ached and he didnt want to jeopardize the investigation with an eventual restlessness of his mind. They left the sheriffs workroom and from the ground floor

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they descended a narrow set of stone stairs down to the underground dungeon that served as the towns jail. The foul stench of excrements and vomit hit Maxmilians nose so sharply that he pulled back for a moment. This way, Father, urged the sheriff. We are almost there. His eyes glared maliciously at that. Maxmilian suppressed his urge to throw up and made himself walk on. He had never experienced such a disgusting thing before. From somewhere in the dimness of the long prison corridor, a womans muffled cries and moans echoed. Maxmilian surmised that they were coming from the last cell, whose door was ajar and the keys were hanging from the lock. He sent an enquiring look at the sheriff who was walking beside him and was trying to sidetrack trickles of excrements. Shes back there, that little vixen, Father! said the sheriff loudly and the resonance of his words flew off in all directions. From some of the closest cells sounds of bodies shoving away were heard, as the prisoners were trying to get as far away as possible from the light shed by sheriffs lantern. Before they reached the end of the corridor, a fat guard rushed out of the opened cell and fastened his trousers with haste. When he noticed Maxmilian and sheriff, he froze and stared at them unable to move. What was that guard doing in that cell? asked Maxmilian angrily. Are you not familiar with the archiepiscopal decree on treating the accused? Do you know what the punishment for its violation is? Death, thought the sheriff. As for the most of other offences against clerical regulations and laws. Thats just how it worked those days. She was trying to summon a devil, Father! blurted the fat guard out and his sweaty greasy cheeks were trembling like

hideous red ulcers. I had to prevent her from that, or else she would have possessed all of us here! Maxmilian, disgusted, silenced him with a wave of his hand. Wait for me here, I will see the accused! The sheriff eyed him questioningly. Are you sure you want to enter her cell, Father? A hint of doubt flashed in his voice. Maxmilian glimpsed at him and hoped that his look was more persuasive than doubts that were shaking him in this abhorrent place. I am absolutely sureleave the door open and wait for me here! Sheriff Olek shrugged his shoulders and stepped aside along with the guard. The soldier was hastily tucking his dirty sweaty shirt in the trousers. Stand by me, my Lord, thought Maxmilian and entered the cell. Oppressive gloom dominated the small vault, but he discerned a crouched girl in its corner nevertheless. When she noticed him, she clasped her hands around her legs and nestled up. Her naked body was covered with dirt that mixed with crimson blotches in many places. Her hair was matted in several clots and blood was flowing from an open wound on her temple. Maxmilian stopped short as if turned to a stone. He wasnt ready for this. Not for this. He was expecting an old woman possessed by the devil with her eyes blazing, or a charming beauty lying with demons at nights. But he was not expecting a battered girl, hardly to be called a woman, that was dishonoured a moment ago by that disgusting bloke wearing the uniform of a royal guard. But the devil has thousands of shapes, Maxmilian reminded himself of the lecturing of his masters, and tried to get any hasty conclusions out of his head. He didnt succeed completely though.

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He made a few steps towards the girl to be able to look in her face. She gave out a few alarmed sounds and tried to move off. Do not be afraid, I wont do you any harm, said the priest labouring for his voice not to tremble. Tell me, are you Miriam Flanders? She looked at him fearfully and Maxmilian barely saw the face of a girl in hersso much was it beaten-up. A lip half torn off was revealing her tiny teeth smeared with dry blood. She looked as if sneering at something repulsive. Her eyes were contused and her cheeks were blue from the beating and the cold. She looked into his eyes for a moment, but then her sight slid down to the scarlet cloak of the Inquisitor and her expression changed. Maxmilian couldnt tell how because he had never looked into eyes like hers. He stepped aside. The girl started to produce silent sounds, garbled by injured lips. She was swaying from side to side at that and wringing her hands mounted with heavy chains to the wall of the cell. Maxmilian shook his head astonishingly. The girl in front of him, that was supposed to consort with devil, was praying. Is everything all right, Father? asked the sheriff who had just appeared in the cell. You look rather pale! Maxmilian looked away from the girl, drew a deep breath and with a hardly concealed anger he inveighed against the sheriff. No one will enter her cell anymore, do you understand? Not you, nor that overweight guard, nor anyone else until I say otherwise. That girl was probably defiled and abused many times and I intend to find out what is going on here! I thought you were here to let her burn to death, Father, said the sheriff shrugging his shoulders. But as you wishI will let no one near her. Maxmilian nodded shortly and left the cell. He hurried

across a cold cobble-stone to the staircase that took him out of that disgusting hole. The sheriff was watching him with a mild sneer that was slowly growing larger. Such a sucker, he thought. Who does he think he is?

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II.

axmilian stood with his face turned towards the dark night sky from which heavy rain with snow was falling. The chill was penetrating to the marrow of the young priests bones, but he didnt turn away. He needed to feel pain so that he didnt have to think about what he had just experienced. At what repulsive place was he? Everything he had learnt and had been expecting didnt fit this filthy hollow at all. Where was a human possessed by dark forces, frenetically chanting forbidden prayers of the devil? And where was the justice embodied by the Realm and God? It didnt make sense. Maxmilian needed to find his lost peace. This was his first case and suddenly he didnt know what to do. He longed to confess and to consult someone experienced who would be able to give sense to all this. He looked about the night town and seeing the church of the local abbey nearby he headed for it. A view of a sacred building alone raised a sense of safety in Maxmilian. Walls of the abbey shrouded in dark stood for the frontiers between the surrounding sinful world and the holy ground where everything abided by the secular laws of the Lord. Only there could a torn soul find rest and mercy. That was why Maxmilian made for it by the nearest way, counting every step. That was the reason he had entered the seminary all those years ago. The church of Ultherst knew answers to his questions and was able to grant him peace in his soul he hadnt been able to find for such a long time. It gave him a new name, future and firm confidence about anything he was able to think of. He knew that his service to God would expose him as an inquisitorial investigator to many trials, but he

had never expected it would be so during his very first case. Of course, hed stood face to face with heretics several times already, but they had never had the face of a battered girl. He hadnt realized to what situations he might get during his mission and what things he would have to overcome. Where was the truth? How deep below the surface of the corrupt world was it hiding from the sights of Gods servants? The monumental architecture of the church emerged from the darkness in front of Maxmilian and the young priest made towards a building of a not too large abbey standing in its close neighbourhood. He had to talk to the local abbot, notify him of his arrival and ask him for a cell for his stay here, in this sinful lair of heretics and outcasts. But most of all he needed to confess and find his lost peace. Most windows of the abbey were darkened, but a dim light was coming to the street out of one of them despite its closed shutters. Thence Maxmilian knocked at the door and waited. A young deacon, an overgrown boy with pockmarked face and sunken cheeks, came to let him in. He had deep circles under his eyes from a long-lasting fatigue. He cast a blank look at Maxmilian that promptly filled with surprise though. He lost his speech entirely and only opened his mouth idly several times. Eventually he dived for Maxmilians hand and kissed it dearly. Your Honour, what a happiness for our community that a legate of the Holy Inquisition favoured us with his presence. My name is Thomas and with all my heart I welcome you on the holy ground of the Werthems abbey! Stand up, boy, bid Maxmilian to the deacon and had to take him by his arm for him to stand up actually. He looked in his face, but the young man avoided his sight and with the downcast eyes he was looking in vain for salvation at the tips of his shoes.

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Let the abbot kindly know that the envoy of the Glatzburgs inquisitorial curia arrived and that he wishes to talk to him, said Maxmilian. Deacons old brown frock swept mud from the door yard as he bowed down respectfully, and he invited Maxmilian to follow him. At the court he summoned another deacon and let him see to Maxmilians horse. The priest was led across a muddy courtyard and taken up to the first floor of the stone building of the abbey. The deacon apologized to the young priest in a spacious hall with windows opening to the yard, left him waiting and set out to look for the abbot. Maxmilian, left alone, was mindlessly walking across the hall drowning in the dark. For a reason past comprehension an uneasy feeling of fears and doubts was still staying with him even though he was already standing on the sacred ground, which was something that had never happened to him before. He considered devoting a short time to prayers and to look for strength and comfort in them at first, but he made himself inspect the dark hall instead. His steps resounded across the stone paving and an echo whispered in distant corners. He was slowly passing by a series of statues of saint prophets that were standing around the perimeter of the hall, trying to distinguish features of their faces in the dark of the night. He was always fascinated by their expressions reflecting sufferings all of them had gone through in their earthly lives. Every time he felt as if they were trying to tell him something and their blank stares were looking at him with a silent message. But here, at the Werthems abbey, he didnt have that feeling. The statues of saints were sort of looking through him somewhere out to the yard. Maxmilian shivered with a sudden sense of cold and he rather stepped back from the statues. He looked about for a light, but didnt find anything. Therefore he approached the windows

through which at least a bit of pale night light was leaking into the room. An idea of standing surrounded by the murk shadows of statues horrified him for a reason only God would know. He glimpsed a motion at the yard below. A shape shrouded with dark was slowly creeping along the back wing of the abbey, coming to a halt at a small side entrance. Maxmilian wasnt paying much attention to it at first, for he considered it one of the parishioners, but then his curiosity prevailed and he leant closer to see better. Through the glass of a poor quality, the outlines of the figure were feathered in picturesque shapes. Yet he had a feeling that he had seen the face of the night-time visitor at the moment the door opened and the light of a small lantern escaped. It was the face of Sheriff Olek. Maxmilian instinctively drew a few steps back. The person that let the sheriff in looked nervously out of the door and for a moment stood still in the torrent of rain and snow. When the person made sure there was no one around, the door closed hastily and the muddy yard felt silent again. Maxmilian waited for a while and then dared to looked into the yard again. It was completely empty though. He stepped back from the window and started to walk about the room without purpose. He listened now and then to see if the sounds of the approaching steps couldnt be heard. Time trudged. He wasnt sure about who he had seen down there. But if it was Sheriff Olek, it was extremely suspicious why he was visiting the abbey so late. And what Maxmilian couldnt grasp at all was why it took so long for the abbot to receive him. He was slowly getting a feeling that nothing in this town was as it should be. He tried to calm down with a short prayer to the Mother of God, but he wasnt able to concentrate on the text even though he knew it by heart. He was too busy waiting for anything that even such a simple liturgical text was beyond his powers. Maxmilian was tense and

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that was making him nervous and unconcentrated. It might have taken forever before the sounds of nearing steps resounded in the corridor. Light poured into the room and dispelled the night shadows instantly. Your Honour, the abbot in a sage green frock was wringing his hands while closing in to Maxmilian in a hasty pace. Please, forgive me that undignified delay you were exposed to. We were not expecting you in the middle of the night! That is all right, brother, replied Maxmilian and examined the abbot shortly. He was an unusually tall man with deep settled eyes that cast a sharp and penetrating look. In the light of the lantern he was carrying, his eyes were glinting feverishly like a pair of black diamonds. The tunic, he had on, was imperceptibly damp on his shoulders and its bottom hems were stained with several droplets of a fresh mud, as if the abbot had run in from outside a moment ago. I wrested you from your sleep, didnt I? asked Maxmilian. Exactly, smiled the abbot kindly, revealing thus a row of yellowish teeth, blackened with caries here and there. We older people need to rest more than anything else, he added conciliatory. Maxmilian was at a loss for words suddenly. Originally, he came here to talk to the abbot about the situation in town and to find peace and support in him. But that man was lying to him in his eyes and as far as Maxmilian could judge, he was very good at that. Unless he had his bedroom somewhere under the sky, of course. We received your accompanying documents several days ago already, but we were expecting you to be delayed because of the weather, said the abbot and cast a glance at Maxmilian. The young priest remained silent though. It seems winter came unusually early this year, added the abbot with a slight hesitation. He was probably unsettled by

Maxmilians silence. Yes, winter came very early, said Maxmilian finally while trying to think up quickly how to act. Direct manners he had become accustomed to during his stay in the seminary prompted him to ask the abbot openly and let him explain everything. There surely was a reason why things looked different from what they should look like. That man has been in the service of the Lord for at least three times longer than me, realized Maxmilian. Why do I have doubts about his behaviour then? Father Maxmilian, interrupted the abbot his thoughts, would you like to talk about the mission that brings you here now, or would you rather wait until morning? I have had your cell and a warm supper prepared for you. After allbetter to sleep on it, they say, dont they? Yes, you are right, agreed Maxmilian after a short hesitation. He definitely wasnt in the mood to open a debate about that miserable creature down in the towns prison. He needed to think over his next steps, and for that night prayers were the best. The abbot led him through the dark corridors of the old abbey to the wing where the dormitory was situated. In the last cell in the row, Maxmilian found everything he needed bed, meal and a prayer bench. Will you join me for the morning service, Father? asked the abbot while turning to leave. It would be a great honour for me, should you do so. But of course, replied Maxmilian swiftly. I will do so gladlyalong with your brothers and novices. The abbot cleared his throat slightly. Im sorry, but except for my two deacons there is no one else here. The rest of our brothers are visiting the surrounding mountain villages now, giving extreme unctions to those who will probably not live to see the spring.

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Maxmilian shuddered. You give extreme unctions here before death actually comes? The abbot cast a thoughtful look at Maxmilian. Death takes a bitter toll in these parts, Father. Im sure you will learn that for yourself soon. His voice had something urgent in it. And surely you would not want the departed to have to wait until spring because of the snow before their souls could set off on the last journey, would you? That would be barbarous! Maxmilian had nothing to add to that. He actually didnt marvel at itthis region was beginning to give him the creeps with its roughness and odd customs. I wish you a good night then, Father, took the abbot his leave. You are alone in this wing, thus there should be nothing to disturb you at night. And dont forget to eat somean empty stomach brings bad dreams! With these words he went away and left Maxmilian alone. An ominous smile appeared on his face while leaving, but it was impossible for Maxmilian to see it. The young priest was examining his room for a short time, but then hunger sounded in his stomach and so he got down to the prepared meal. It tasted strange, he clearly felt the flavour of a spice in it that he had never tasted before. But he soon ceased to give heed to it attributing it to the local cuisine that was probably as specific at Werthem as was the whole region. And that was why he didnt even realize that the wooden spoon dropped out of his hand and his body inertly toppled on the bed. His eyes turned heavenwards looking blankly to the ceiling. The door of his cell creaked on its hinges and two figures entered the room. It was the abbot and the sheriff, both in long black cloaks. They were standing above lifeless Maxmilian like two vultures above a carcass. What shall we do with him? asked Sheriff Olek. That snooper came early. If they had sent old Kilian or Revor we

would have had at least one more week before one of those old farts got here. It is too late to do something about that, brother, said the abbot. We just have to deal with it, and I mean right now! Olek paled imperceptibly. I hope you do not want to kill him, Stefan? We would have ropes around our necks sooner than you could confess your sins! No, I do not intend to do anything like that, you fool. I rather plan to settle things so that our young inquisitor would learn by himself that his job can be a pleasure as well. Or even an obsession! The sheriff looked at the abbot, frowning. But the abbot was waiting patiently until a wide, evil smile found place on the sheriffs face. Thats a great idea, Stefan. Im looking forward to him fucking that little bitch nicely tomorrow! The abbot bent down to Maxmilian and lifted his legs up on the bed. He caressed his smoothly shaved face with his rough callused hand and smiled unseemly. Dont worry, my friend, you will wake up as a brand new man tomorrow! He kissed the priest on his cheek then and from his neck he took the beads, concealing them swiftly under his cloak. This should be enough for uslets go! They left Maxmilians cell and headed through the silent abbey for the dungeon under the Werthems church.

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III.

wild storm raged over Werthem that night. Heavy wet snow was falling on soaked thatched roofs and was getting into houses through every possible interstice. Severe wind was pounding the loose shutters against the walls and was howlingly wailing in chimneys from which it was tearing dense clouds of soot, throwing them through fireplaces into rooms. It was one of those nights people would swear that they saw demons romping about the skies, and therefore they rather cowered home in their beds in fear. If they just knew how close to the truth their talking would be that night!

Maxmilian had a dream. It had to be a dream because something like that could never happen in the real life. In the middle of the night, when in feverish sleep he was tossing about in his bed, a foul spirit entered his room. He felt its presence from the very moment its ethereal shadowy body squeezed under the door of his cell in the form of a steam mist. It was slowly gliding towards Maxmilians bed while taking a shape. Two rags of mist turned to a pair of slender hands with a translucent face between them, framed with thick crimps falling down to the bare bosom. The demon crept up to Maxmilians bed, slipping under his blanket that started to swell with full curves of the demons female body. Maxmilian uttered a silent groan from his dream. Fornication is the most common sin of all men. And he who succumbs to it, be it only once, is lost forever! The demon stroked Maxmilians hot cheek. My poor little boy, you are so much worried with your doubts, arent you? You dont know if what you do in the

service for that Lord of yours is right or not. I am not surprisedthats just Him. He wont show you a way or give you a sign, but at the same time He wants you to find what is what and not hesitate once. And when you do, He threatens you with an eternal damnation. You know what? It is not that horrible to be damned forever. Because then you can do things you have only dreamt about before. And that is why I am hereI will make you happy. I will enter you, become part of your soul and will never leave you in doubts again! The demon stroked Maxmilians face once more, her ethereal lips drew near to kiss the young priest and a long, forked snakes tongue left her mouth. I wouldnt do that, Afaeala! spoke a silent voice that was burning and freezing at the same time. It was a voice that was used to give commands and hear no protests. The demon of fornication turned to see the owner of that voice and her face turned to an expression of pure hatred. Azrael! she shouted in spite. Yes, it is me. And you better get down from that priest because he doesnt belong to you! The demon grinned. Well, that is where you are wrong, you ugly bastard. I was summoned because of him. Therefore he belongs to me and I shall do with him whatever I like! I dont think so, Afaeala. I have other plans for that one! Go to hell, Azrael. Find someone else with whom you will play those crazy games of yours. This one is mine. And by the wayyou have no business here, if Im not mistaken. Your time hasnt come yet because the thirteenth victim is yet to be found. Azrael reared up in all of his horrifying mightiness and his gaze was filled with anger. Im fed up with this gabble. Who are you to tell me what

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I shall and shall not do? Get lost to wherever you have come from, Afaeala, you lousy wretch. Do you think that your lust is a key to all the gates? There are things you have never dreamt about. You are but a speck in a great game that has been played for a thousand of years, and now is the time for the grand finale, in which there is no place for you though. And if I ever find you or any other succubus meddling in my affairs, I will turn your lives into true hell! Afaeala howled in rage and her face changed to that of a hideous wrinkled hag. From her half-opened mouth, a long, disgusting tongue shot towards Azrael, twisting defiantly like a venomous snake. The succubus hovered indecisively in the air for a while before her shapes started to dissolve and she left as she came. Maxmilian tossed about in his bed several times. Azrael sent his piercing look towards him and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Its time to wake up, my friend. Now, in the midst of a godless night, it is necessary to commence that which is to come. Open your eyes, Maxmilian. Open your eyes! Maxmilians eyes became fully opened abruptly and a choked cry found its way through his throat. Is someone here? he called loudly and sat up. His head spun around as if in fever. He touched his forehead and wiped off it the cold sweat that was running down his face and neck. Is someone here? he asked again, but he was already sure that he was the only one in the cell. Eyes, once accustomed to darkness, soon found a lantern and after a moments effort Maxmilian lit it. A flickering flame set a swarm of wild shadows dancing on the walls that reminded Maxmilian of a terrible dream that he had had and that had wrested him

from his sleep. He shuddered at the memory of a weird creature hanging above his bed and with his hand he found the beads hanging around his neck. He was afraid he wouldnt find them there, but they were at their place. He gripped them firmly. Then he rose up, found a prayer book among his things and left his cell. What trials do I have to face in this accursed town, asked Maxmilian to himself when heading through the empty corridors of the abbey towards the cathedral. He needed to find his lost peace, strengthen his faith again and clean his mind of sinful dreams and memories that had agitated it. He longed to rest in prayers and stay so until the dawn that would surely bring light even to the events around here. For a moment he had a feeling he got lost completely, but in the end he found the corridor leading to the church. As he was slowly coming near a small entrance to the vestry, he caught sounds from the inside. He got stiff hence, listening breathlessly. He didnt have the least mood to meet anyone of the inhabitants of the abbey at this godless hour, let alone the abbot himself. He soon became sure that his ears werent deceiving hima strange sound was coming from somewhere in the church, accompanied by a short painful moaning. At first, Maxmilian wanted to turn back and return to his cell, but uncanny circumstances of that evening made him to silently step near the door and open it a crack. He felt a familiar, sacred smell of incense and old unventilated space that filled every tabernacle of God. The nave was shrouded in dark, only in front of the altar there was a circle of dim light illuminating a horrible scene. Deacon Thomas was kneeling in front of the altar. He was fully naked and gripping a long belt in his hands with which he was slashing his back with all his might. He had to be doing this for a long time already because his back was just one

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huge bloody scar from which currents of blood were streaming down on the marble floor. Maxmilian didnt see Thomass face, but he was convinced that it was tightened with tremendous pain. God, forgive me my sins! the deacon was sobbing, repeating this sentence over and over with each crack of the belt. Maxmilian was watching the whole scene with an unspeakable horror in his eyes, but at the same time he was so fascinated by it that he couldnt pull himself away. What must be the acts that led the young deacon to such a self-torment? Maxmilian wasnt able to imagine them. Naturally, he had also been in doubts in the course of the seminary and he had also been looking for forgiveness in the sight of God, but he would never had done something so dreadful. He slowly closed the door and silently retreated to his cell. He was sure he wouldnt be able to close his eyes for the rest of the night. And doubts were moving his mind more than ever before.

IV.

he dawn was to bring relief to Maxmilians soul, according to his expectations, but it didnt happen so. His whole body was numb from the lack of sleep and several hours of long prayers to which he had devoted himself in his cell. At other times he had a feeling that God was talking to him during his prayers, but it wasnt such this time. All the more sullen was Maxmilian. At least Im quite sure about what to do today. Or, in any case, in what order, he was comforting himself. I have to discuss that girl with the abbot, find the terms of her guilt and interrogate her then. Abbot Stefan came to wake him up when the pitch dark reigned still out there. The life of monks started before daybreak and ended after sunset. The abbot looked well-rested and was smiling. I hope you slept well, Your Honour, he said. Better than ever before, Maxmilian gave him a cold smile and stepped out to the abbot waiting in the corridor. He was looking at him stealthily. Are you feeling all right, Father? he asked while they were walking towards the church. You are somewhat pale! Its the weather, brother. It is very cold today, answered Maxmilian. Oh, yes, its that storm from yesterday. I could swear I saw demons dancing in the skies, Father! said the abbot and a frail sneer flashed across his lips. They reached the church, where the regular morning service was to take place. Maxmilian was waiting tensely to see the traces of blood on the floor in front of the altar. But there was no reminder of the yesterdays event and Maxmilian was

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thus looking around to see Deacon Thomas somewhere. But he could only see the other deacon that had put his horse to the stable last night. Deacon Thomas will not join us for the service? asked Maxmilian therefore. He was closely watching to find a hint of anything in the abbots reply. Im afraid that Thomas yielded to a disease and is lying abed, answered the abbot and looked to Maxmilians eyes with calm. Maybe Im just too suspicious, admonished Maxmilian himself. Why would the abbot have to know about everything that happens in the abbey? As soon as the morning service was over, Maxmilian headed with the abbot to the mess where after a short prayer they ate some oatmeal. They were the only ones sitting at a long table for twenty persons. An uncomfortable unrest dropped onto Maxmilian at that. After the meal, they departed for the abbots private cabinet. So, how can I be of service to you, Your Honour? asked the abbot, wiping his greasy lips with his hand. His eyes were looking piercingly at Maxmilian when doing so. I would need you to describe all circumstances regarding that girl, Miriam Flanders, said Maxmilian. The record says that she was charged with heresydirectly by youfor her godless crimes, committed on the sacred ground of the local cathedral. It is said there were lots of witnesses there because it all took place during the vespers. Is that so? The abbot nodded his head sadly. Yes, Your Honour, it is as you have just said. Poor girl. I knew her as a little newborn already, I baptized her myself right at that place where she gave herself to the demons in the sight of all fourteen years later. How did that happen? asked Maxmilian. He was storing the abbots every word carefully in his memory.

I was currently saying vespers when Miriam entered the cathedral. I expected her to sit somewhere at the back because she came late, but she marched directly under the pulpit and took her cloak off. She stood there all naked with her mind possessed by demons and began to shout that I was the devil and that I should take her and do whatever I want to with her. It was a veilless diabolic lusciousness to which she exposed me in front of the whole town. That is why I called the guards in immediately and had her put in jail. Everyone who was there will surely confirm this to youand almost the whole town was in! Maxmilian nodded his head trying to imagine that young trembling girl doing what the abbot had just said. But if the whole town had seen it Do you have any idea why the girl did that? he asked. Why? laughed the abbot grimly. Because shes a heretic, Father. Its because of people like her that our realm was thrown down to the state it is in. Only because of misbelievers and apostates who deal with demons, the Lords face turned away from us and left us in the claws of hells angels and their minions. With God above my head, only by death of those heathens can we purify our realm again! The abbot wiped away saliva that flew out of his mouth during his speech and smiled kindly at Maxmilian. We are lucky there are servants such as you, Father. I believe that you will investigate the whole matter and by setting the stake on fire you will grant Werthem at least some of the peace that had reigned here before the Scourges of God befell us. Yes, that is what I intend to do, said Maxmilian. And above all that first part, he added to himself. He was thinking for a while whether he should ask the abbot another question, but then he decided against it. He rose up to leave instead. Will you interrogate that sinner? asked the abbot.

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Maxmilian turned back to him. Of course, I have to find out if your charge is based on truth. Especially when the capital punishment looms above her head! The abbot turned short at first, but then he smiled imperceptibly. In that case, I wish you good luck, Father. You shall see that questioning her wont be so fruitless in the end as you could think. Maxmilian left the building of the abbey and almost heaved a sigh of relief at that. He had a feeling that if he had taken lodgings in some verminous tavern he would had done much better. But on the other hand, he said to himself, it is expected from me to investigate the situation at Werthem and I feel that it somehow relates to the abbey. Therefore I will stay there until the investigation ends. The morning was veiled with thick fog, as was the rest of that day. It stopped raining, but it became palpably colder. Maxmilian was strolling through the town and in the faint daylight he could finally see the misery of Werthem well. Many houses were deserted and their knocked out or shuttered windows stared into the streets like blind leprous beggars. That was surely the result of a severe plague that had hit the Realm of Ultherst several years ago. Moreover, the whole northern side of Werthem was burnt and razed to the ground as a sad recollection of the Night of falling stars when fire had been raining from the skies instead of water, changing the face of the Realm beyond recognition. How many Scourges of God will come, asked Maxmilian to himself, before order will be restored to Ultherst and everything will return to its original state? But even after that things wont be the same as before. When the priest took a view of the whole town, he headed for the sheriffs office. The entrance guard was greeting

him with deep bows from afar and as far as the young priest could tell he was even sober. Or at least more sober than the previous day. He took him to Sheriff Olek immediately. But not even by day was the office more appealing than the last evening. I think I mentioned yesterday a disciplinary punishment for drunkenness on duty, sheriff! said Maxmilian reproachfully upon entering the sheriffs musty workroom. The air there smelled of thick tobacco smoke and sweat. I had to postpone his punishment, Your Honour, said the sheriff in an apologetic tone and Maxmilian would swear that he was inspecting him with curiosity. Another numerous group of herdsmen arrived to the town yesterday and my men are simply not able to manage them. A skirmish broke out in the southern district at night and we had a hard time to scatter them. So you were on duty last night? asked Maxmilian. Yes, Your Honour. We beat those grooms as much as they could take. Why do you ask? Maxmilian shook his head and changed the subject of their conversation. I would like to interrogate that girl, Miriam Flanders, today. Sheriff Olek laughed, but immediately turned serious again. Of course, Your Honourthe rack and the torture chamber are prepared already! Maxmilian put on an indeterminate look and let the sheriff take him to the underground, where the torture chamber was situated. He didnt have a pleasant feeling about it. Even though he had witnessed the use of the torture law repeatedly before and had also assisted the investigator several times, he preferred more humane methods. And on the top of it, this was the first time when he himself was supposed to decide on the procedure during the interrogation. He hated thatespe-

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cially at the prospect of using the torture law against that girl down in the dungeon. Faith requires sacrifice though, as it was said in the Holy Scripture. When they entered, that disgusting smell of death and suffering that could be found in every prison hit him in the nose again. A hundred times could Maxmilian reason to himself that prisoners deserve that for their sins, but once he stepped inside he saw only misery before his eyes. He always had to shield himself with faith to be able to perform that for which he had been chosen. It was the same today. So, what do you think about that? asked the sheriff, after Maxmilians eyes skimmed across a spacious underground room. In vain was he thinking if it was a hint of pride he caught in the sheriffs voice. It probably was because he was smiling openly. I know that we dont have as much as you are used to, he said as if apologetically, but I do believe that it will be enough for you to reachahema truthful testimony! Maxmilian nodded shortly and looked around uneasily. Most tools and pieces of equipment were covered with rust and dried blood. The few torture tools hereheaded by a rackwere created in a primitive way and were looking useless, but Maxmilian knew that they fulfilled their purpose as well as those made by masters of this repulsive craft. Shall we fetch that bitch? asked one of the rackers assistants. Maxmilian flipped his eyes at him, but then just waved his hand in approval. Its a human sink, this town, he reminded himself the sad fact. But it still has hopes for redemption! When the varlets dragged in the girl tossing around, Maxmilian ordered the sheriff to sit her down onto a small wooden bench. She was frightened and clearly out of herself. Maxmilian had to restrain himself so that he didnt start to regret her.

Are you Miriam Flanders? opened Maxmilian his questioning. He tried for his voice to sound firm and decisive, but with his sight he encouraged the girl to answer him on her own and willingly. He didnt want to have her tortured. The girl turned her evasive eyes to him and leant her head slightly aside as when a little child examines someone curiously. Maxmilian had a feeling she wanted to talk, but before she managed to open her mouth, the sheriff hit her in her face with his fist. Speak, you damned whore! Maxmilian twitched as if it was him who was hit. He stepped in the sheriffs way and pushed him aside. I think I will hear her out alone for a start, sheriff! he said uncompromisingly. His voice was cracking with anger. As you wish, Your Honour, said the sheriff and looked at the terrified girl with a sly smile. He licked his lips. If you needed to lend a hand, just call, he added. Dont forget that shes the devils mistress! Maxmilian waited patiently until the door behind the sheriff and his varlets closed and turned back to the girl. She was cowering on the ground in terror. Fourteen years, Maxmilian remembered. This girl is fourteen years old! Dont be afraid, Miriam, no one will do you any harm, he spoke to her trying for his voice to sound casual. Miriam looked around bewildered and Maxmilian felt the biggest fool suddenly. What was that girl supposed to think after being dragged to the torture chamber for an inquisitorial interrogation? All I want is to hear from you what really happened, he said. I talked to Abbot Stefan who He didnt finish the sentence. At the mention of the abbots name, the girl produced an animal scream from her throat and began to pound with her tiny fists against the cold floor.

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Sharp edges of bricks soon tore her skin and blood glistened in her wounds. For a moment, Maxmilian being shocked watched the girl thrashing around and then stepped to her. He wanted to take her by the shoulders in an effort to calm her. But Miriam yanked up unexpectedly and hit Maxmilian hard in his face. She had to do so in a tremendous hatred because the power of the stroke threw the young priest back and knocked him down. Before he managed to get up, Miriam jumped at one of the tables and picked a big knife from it. He will never have me again, she cried out. He will never take me as he took my brother. Never, you hear me? Never! Hold on, Miriam, said Maxmilian with a constricted throat. Fear for his own life was fighting with a desire to learn as much as possible from the girl. Calm down and tell me everythingI want to hear the truth from you. What happened? What happened to your brother? Their eyes met for a short moment and Maxmilian wished to be able to say with that single look everything that was on his heart. Varlets and the sheriff broke into the room at that instant though. The girl looked around fearfully and then in a sudden rush of fear pressed the knife against her chest. But the rackers varlet disarmed her easily and bashed her with a wooden staff in her face, knocking her down. There, he began to kick her brutally, taking her breath away, after which he hefted her and shackled her to the bench of the rack. He ripped off what was left from her dirty clothes of her at that and along with sheriff they amused themselves looking at the girls futile attempts to cover her nudity. That was fairly careless, Your Honour, said the sheriff and threw a suspicious glance over at Maxmilian. I thought that your private interrogation would takeahema different direction. Maxmilian shook his head with disapproval, but there was

nothing to say in his defence. He broke a rule by which someone with an arm, who could in case of necessity interfere in the defence of an inquisitor, should be present at the interrogation at any time. I better stay here and keep an eye on everything, said the sheriff and sent a vicious smile towards the girl. He slapped her cruelly over her outstretched thighs. Look at that body, Father. Shes only fourteen years old but she can have a bang with demons already! Maxmilian purpled in rage. You dare too much, you wretch! You make lecherous talks in the presence of a priest and in the course of an inquisitorial interrogation on the top of it. One more word and Ill have you whipped! The sheriff pulled back frowning. He was evidently surprised by the Inquisitors dismissive reaction. Maxmilian approached the chained girl and covered her naked body with his cloak. He caressed her matted hair and wiped blood from her face. Miriam, tell me what happened then. Where is your brother and why should anyone take himand you as well? The girl tossed around in shackles and threw a look full of suffering at Maxmilian. She hesitated for a while, as if pondering what all should she say to the man with the scarlet cloak. My brother she whispered silently in the end. Yes, what happened to your brother? What does he have to do with this? asked Maxmilian tensed. He he was they took him away! Where did they take him, Miriam? To hell, Father! sobbed the girl and started to shake all over. They came for him and took him away, right in front of my eyes! Sheriff Olek laughed. Well, wasnt I saying that? Shes a sister to a sinner who had sold his soul to devils which took

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him then. And they will take this bitch just as well! When saying so, he turned the wheel of the rack, ropes tightened and joints in the girls body cracked slightly. Miriam cried out in pain. Stop that right now! shouted Maxmilian at Olek who let the wheel go with an apologetic smile. Maxmilian turned back to the girl again. Did you see who was taking your brother away, Miriam? Did you see him? Could you say who that was? The girl said nothing for a moment, rapt in her own pain, but eventually she whispered silently: Yes, I saw them. Wolves in sheeps clothing! So who was that, Miriam? Who took your brother away? Her sad eyes stared at him like on a salvation. If I tell you that, Father, they will kill me. You will kill me. You will tie me to the stake and let me burn as a witch! I would never do that, Miriamif you are innocent! said Maxmilian. A sob full of horror escaped her throat. It doesnt matter if Im innocent. If I tell that, you will burn me alive. I know that! Dont be afraid, Miriamif you tell me the whole truth, I will not allow anything to happen to you. I swear by everything sacred to me! Her look rested on Maxmilians scarlet cloak. She hesitated for the last time and then whispered: It was Abbot Stefan. It was he who took my brother away. Hes not a human being but a beast in a mans body! Sheriff Olek started to laugh loudly with tears pouring from his eyes. I cant believe my own ears, Your Honour. That witch dares to accuse our Father Stefan of heresy! She doesnt know what to whisper to you to save that skinny neck of hers. Soon, she will claim that it was Archbishop Lauren-

cius himself who took her brother away! By the way, no one kidnapped her brotherhe was murdered by some rogues that broke into their house a few weeks go. Maxmilian looked at the girl whose eyes were full of tears. She was shaking her head disapprovingly. Abbot Stefan and his minions took himI was at that, she sobbed. They took us bothto the hell beneath the church, from where all of them had come. They left him in there and tortured me for several days. They possessed me again and again. They are not human beings but demons in mens bodies. I beseech you, Father, you must trust me! Maxmilian nodded his head sombrely. Her accusation was more than serious, but it could also fit in all those weird events the priest had witnessed since his arrival. Someone lied to him and Maxmilian wasnt a bit sure who did. The girl might have been telling the truth, but she could be crazy as well, or possessed even. And so could Abbot Stefan and Sheriff Olek. The girl was hanging on Maxmilians lips, waiting for his words. But at the very moment the priest began to rise, she turned her look painfully away and started to cry heartbreakingly. She knew the Inquisitor didnt believe her. I will have to investigate that, Maxmilian told her. You pronounced a very serious accusation pertaining to the highest representative of the Holy Church in this town. Nevertheless, that which I promised to you, holds true still. If you have spoken the truth, no one will do you any harm! You dont believe me, the girl was sobbing soundlessly. I knew that. You will let me burn. You are the same as them. You are devil in a mans body! The sheriff started to laugh. Can you see that, Father? Here we are againshe accused you of heresy. Leave her to me and I will make her recant those sickening lies!

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But Maxmilian prevented him from that. Do not forget that my restriction on approaching the accused holds still. He who will not obey itthough led by a noble thought to make her talk truth by violencewill be hung in the cage from the towns walls for the whole week. Is that clear to you, sheriff? After that without glancing back he walked out and didnt stop until standing in front of the sheriffs office and feeling the cold of the coming winter on his face. So this was my first interrogation, smiled Maxmilian grievously. I acted like the biggest fool under the sun and made possibly all the mistakes an investigator can make! But there is something I learnt after all Ahemforgive me, Your Honour, are you all right? the voice of a guard broke in. He turned to him and looked at him blankly. The guard became uncertain and started to look around nervously. He wasnt sure if he hadnt commited an offence when addressing an inquisitor without being prompted. Tell me, soldier, asked Maxmilian, were you on duty last night? I certainly was, Your Honour, agreed the soldier. And did you have to deal with any incidents during your duty? Any what? wondered the soldier shaking his head uncomprehendingly. Maxmilian sighed. Did anything happen last night? Was there a brawl somewhere? Oh, a brawl, grinned the soldier, revealing thus his teeth, most of which were missing. There was a brawl in the southern district last night. It had sparkled in the Hadrians tavern and before we got there, the whole street was full of it! And tell me, soldier, was Sheriff Olek there? Of course he wasfrom the beginning to the end. He sees to everything that happens in the town! Maxmilian shook his head, thanked him and headed

across the muddy square for the town. If he had turned back, he would had seen Sheriff Olek quietly closing a window in the first floor.

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V.

axmilian had an unfortunate feeling that the whole case had started to get too complicated. If everything involved that accused girl only, it wouldnt be such a big problem perhaps. He would find out if the accused was possessed by impure powers and if so, he would send her to the stake. If not, he would discharge her. But now there was much more that weighed Maxmilian. Everything would be much easier if he admitted that he had been wrong yesterday and that it hadnt been Sheriff Olek who he had seen entering the abbey through the back entrance last night. After all, the soldier confirmed that he had been in the southern district the whole night. But what about Abbot Stefan? His behaviour has also been mighty suspicious since the very first moment. He said that Maxmilian had woken him up with his arrival, while his tunic was damp from rain as if he had just taken off his cloak. And now that accusation raised by Miriam Flanders. She claimed her brother had been taken by a devil in the abbots body. Nevertheless, Maxmilian had to take into account as well that it could have been her who liedshe could have been possessed by an unclean spirit! And if Sheriff Olek said that her brother had been killed during a housebreaking, he surely rests peacefully in his grave now. Maxmilian stopped in the middle of a street. Of course if what Sheriff Olek claimed was true, to conduct an exhumation of Flanderss corpse would suffice. By examining his body, Maxmilian would obtain a convincing proof about the way of his death and would shed a new light on the case. Maxmilian looked around the street and realized that he

had unintentionally stepped into the way of a large cart drawn by a pair of horses. His owner wanted to shout something at Maxmilian, but he thought better of it immediately when he realized who was standing in front of him. He started to turn around with an apology to find another way, but Maxmilian halted him. Come here, my good man! With fear in his eyes, the man drew the ribbons and looked at Maxmilian timidly. Your Honour, Im so sorry, I didnt notice you I didnt want to Its all right, Maxmilian waved his hand. Rather take me to your cemeteryif you have time, of course. The man swallowed idly, but motioned the priest to get up eventually. Its way out of the town, Your Honour. We probably wont arrive there before the dark! Well, it will have to do, shrugged Maxmilian. And tell me where to find the gravedigger there. The road to the cemetery trailed over several hills and was rutted to a great extent, which was a sad effect of times a few years back when the plague had been raging heresimilarly to other parts of the Realm. The cart owner drove his geldings as quickly as possible, despite that it was slowly getting dark when they reached the cemetery. It was situated in a small valley enclosed with low rocky hills a few miles beyond the town. This was the nearest ground suitable for a cemetery because the whole town and its surroundings stood in the middle of a stony region where graving to the groundas was usual at Ultherstwas impossible. Maxmilian jumped down off the cart and wished its owner a pleasant journey back. He intended to stay and find out how

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the brother of the accused girl had died actually. He headed along a narrow pathway among graves for a small stony lodge of the gravedigger standing on the top of one of low mounds. Werthem had a long and rather violent history behind, reflected in the size of the cemetery. Even members of the noble family that had founded the town several centuries ago had been buried in its ground and the cemetery has since been constantly growing ever larger. The oldest tomb stones with faded letterings and ornaments in decay mixed with tombs of people who had died not so long ago. Mist was always present in the valley, crawling in shreds around graves like a veil of death enshrouding its kingdom. Maxmilian didnt like cemeteries, just as he didnt like death. Even though he was reconciled with it and knew that sooner or later the Lord takes everyone to Him, he didnt like it. Because death brought suffering and that went against Maxmilians creed. If it wasnt a just punishment, of course. Divine providence had many forms and Maxmilian was proud that he as an inquisitor had become her disperser. The Holy Inquisition was summoned by the Lord Himself to perform divine justice and everyone convicted of heresy deserved to pay for sins committed. Heretics were therefore very lucky when the Inquisition searched them out and helped them to purify their souls from the eternal damnation with an execution. The church was a mediator between the Lord and His sheep, just as the Holy Inquisition was a mediator between sin and redemption. The light was on in the ground-floor house of the gravedigger and thus Maxmilian knocked resolutely on the rough door. A man changed almost beyond recognition due to the excess of alcohol came to open for him. Instead of a nose, he had a cracked red ulcer interwoven with an abundance of violescent veins. From under a hairy eyebrow sunken eyes were looking at Maxmilian, giving an impression that someone had

pushed them back deep into the skull by force. Skinny figure was waggling from side to side in a futile attempt to stand still. What do you wish? said a croaky voice. Are you a gravedigger, my good man? asked Maxmilian trying to keep down his distaste. That is soand who are you? Maxmilian stood staring at the man inapprehensively for a moment because since he has begun to wear the scarlet cloak he wasnt used to answer this question much. My name is Maxmilian Conti and I am an inquisitorial investigator, he introduced himself eventually. And so what? asked the man. If someone died you will have to wait until tomorrow before I dig a grave for you! The man was about to close the door which inflamed Maxmilian a bit. He wasnt used to people behaving like this to him. I need to ask you something, he said. About what? Im not here to answer anything. Thats what you priests are good at. I want to ask you if you buried the brother of the girl accused of heresy a few weeks ago. You mean Milton Flanders? Yes, I did bury him. He had a very sad fatehe was killed right in his own bedroom. At least, that is what people were saying. And did you see his corpse? asked Maxmilian. The man blinked at him in a quickly waning light. Listen, if I was to look at every dead body I bury, I wouldnt close my eyes for the rest of my life any more! So did you or did you not see it? asked Maxmilian again. Didnt, grunted the man as if suspecting it would mean impending troubles for him. So take your shovel, my good man, and show me where his grave is! said Maxmilian and gave the gravedigger a cheerless smile.

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VI.

n a murky underground cell somewhere deep beneath the Werthems abbey sat Abbot Stefan in a stony chair thrumming nervously on the cold armrest with his fingers. The whole situation was getting too complicated for him to stay calm. And there is so little we miss, he thought. All that remains is to find an appropriate thirteenth victim! Upon hearing footsteps closing in from the staircase, he mastered his nervousness and waited for the arrival of a visitor he was expecting. It was Sheriff Olek. Displeasure and anger emanated from the expression of his face. He left for the cemetery, he said shortly after sitting down next to the abbot. I dont know his intentions but I dont like it at all. How so he acts absolutely normal? Didnt we perform that ritual correctly? Maybe we made a mistake somewhere We made no mistake and you know it well, snapped the abbot. He too was ill-tempered that their dark scheme didnt half work as they had imagined. By all appearances, the Inquisitors soul should have been devoured by a demon of urge and vicious lust which should have completely influenced the course of the interrogation of Miriam Flanders. The priest, torn by longing and remorses should have had the girl burnt right after he would have fornicated with her influenced by the succubus. With that he would have violated his holy oath of celibacy and to get rid of the only witness he should have as presumed found the girl guilty of association with devil and had her burnt. But as it seemed, the demon of urge had no power over Maxmilian at all. Someone has to stand by his side, the abbot thought, but

it definitely isnt God. That old bungler had scanty power in Werthem and his time was almost up! So what are we going to do? asked the sheriff biting his lower lip excitedly. We cant possibly let that damned snooper find out the truth! I dont intend to let that happen under any circumstances, answered the abbot back. I wont allow anyone to pry in my business before I become the Chosen one! Olek looked at him askance and shuddered slightly when he beheld the mad glance in his eyes. He doubted sometimes if he had done the right thing banding together with this man. But what the abbot was offering to him was just impossible to refuse. So what are we going to do? asked the sheriff uncertainly. If we kill him, troubles will ariseinvestigation, arrests, torturing a lot of unwelcome attention. You are right, said the abbot, but only in case our dear Maxmilian would be killed by the hand of a wilful murderer. The sheriff knit his brows. So how do you imagine we will put him away? You said he was currently at the cemetery, right? The abbot laughed grimly and a monstrous idea flashed in his eyes. In that case, we will take care that he ends up in one of the many graves. Eh, and how do you want to arrange for that? asked the sheriff nervously. When the abbot set his eyes on him, he shuddered in revulsion. Dark powers have spread to all the places these times, havent they?! said the abbot. The sheriff understood. It was giving him the creeps but he didnt say a thing. After that, both of them left the room to prepare for the forthcoming ritual.

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The whole discussion was overheard from a distance by two beings. One of them was Afaeala, on whose disgusting old womans face a malicious smile was spreading. When the abbot and sheriff left, she started to laugh cruelly. You see, Azrael? Your fosterling will sweat like hell tonight. And it wont be as pleasurable as what I wanted to offer him. I would even bet my soul he will never come back from the Werthems cemetery. And if he will, he definitely wont be alive! Azrael wasnt answering but rather contemplating his options. It was absolutely unthinkable to leave the cursed grounds of the desecrated abbey until the ritual. But he needed to save Maxmilianat whatever cost. For so long was he waiting for his opportunity and he didnt intend to waste it because of aimless plans of a few lunatic minions of infernal powers. Therefore he flew his mind away across the night countryside, searching. He needed an ally for this night, even though he would stand on the other side. He was wandering aimlessly through the dark for a long time until he heard a rider galloping in the chill of the night. He looked in that direction and had to smile for his luck. Strange deals will be sealed tonight, he said and glanced at Afaeala ominously. She flounced and tried to escape but in the end she was bound to submit to Azraels will. Shortly after that, she was flying with foul words on her lips over the night landscape towards the lonely rider.

VII.

hen the shovel hit the wooden lid of the coffin, the old gravedigger straightened up with a silent curse, stretching his strained back. It got utterly dark in the meantime and the gloomy scene on the Werthems cemetery was illuminated only by the light coming from a small lantern Maxmilian lit up. Done, whimpered the gravedigger, clambering hard out of the unearthed grave. Maxmilian raised the lantern to see better down there. At the bottom of the grave, a coffin lid loomed black. Tell me, my good man, who was Milton Flanders? he asked to postpone the moment when he would descend into the grave and dishonour the sacred peace of the dead by opening his coffin. The old gravedigger shrugged. He was an orphan. Since the death of his parents, he was living with his older sister in a house in the town preparing to enter the seminary. He was a very pious young boyand so was his sister. Maxmilian found this news interesting. He wasnt aware this was the state of affairs. He believed he had been a violent rebellious young man that had been struck by a fate he had deserved. And which of your priests guided him during his preparations to enter the seminary? he asked. I would like to talk to him. The gravedigger shrugged his shoulders impassively. If you need to know that, Your Honour, it was Father Stefan. A chill ran along Maxmilians spine at that name. For a moment, he wanted to ask if he hadnt misheard. So Abbot Stefan was preparing young Milton Flanders for the entrance

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to the seminary. What a strange coincidence, he realized. Could it be that during that time some disparities between the abbot and Miriam occured that would lead to the girls belief of the abbots bad nature? But that alone would not explain that mad behaviour of the young girl. Unless but there will be time to ponder things after Ill have looked at how Milton Flanders died. With a great self-renunciation, Maxmilian jumped down into the open grave. He took the shovel from the gravedigger and stuck it under the coffin lid. Then, with a single push of the handle, he lifted it off and looked into the open coffin, his breath held. It was empty. That coffin is empty, said Maxmilian to the gravedigger. There was a relief in his voice. The old man looked down in disbelief and frowned. Thats not possible, Your Honour. I was burying the coffin myself and I can swear before the Mother of God that the grave has been closed ever since! Maxmilian put the coffin lid back to its original place and climbed up. The empty grave of Milton Flanders explained much. Maxmilian just wasnt sure about what exactly. First of all, it means that the body of Milton Flanders wasnt put to the grave, Maxmilian realized the simple truth. But why would someone steal a dead body? Of course, since the times of the Scourges of God, the Holy Inquisition has encountered many godless deeds about which it was better not to even think, but in this case it was definitely something else. It might for instance be that Milton Flanders isnt dead at all! The priest was pulled from his thoughts by the old gravedigger nervously looking around. Forgive me, Your Honour, but I have a feeling there is someone here. I heard some strange noises, said the old man. Maxmilian looked around the dark but saw nothing.

It was just an illusion, my good man. Who would go to the cemetery at such an unholy hour? A muffled sound came from somewhere in the dark at that moment, as if a stone slab was moving across the floor. And the sound of footsteps closing in was heard right after that. They sounded weird, as if someone limped dragging one leg behind. Cold sweat poured over Maxmilian and chill ran along his back. There really was someone at the cemetery. Who is there? called the gravedigger in a shaky voice, instinctively gripping the handle of his shovel, his old-age knuckles whitening. But there was no answer. Instead, the cemetery revived with groaning and roaring that mixed with the sounds of dirt being thrown away. The dead were getting out of their graves. A being entered the illuminated circle and it couldnt be a living person in any case. Grey cadaverous skin and decomposing meat fell apart at many places, revealing disgusting whity bones. The rotten remnants of clothing were hanging down in shreds from the deformed body and the face was a mixture of terror and dread. A pair of empty eye sockets was looking coldly at Maxmilian from it. The being produced a grim rattling sound and with outstretched claws set forth towards Maxmilian in a swaying movement. Father of all saints, protect us from this terrible evil! whispered the priest, unable to move. He was just watching horrified the figure of the animated corpse coming near, followed by many others. The gravedigger next to him tried to run away screaming and he almost bumped to one of the dead bodies that had just emerged on the other side. Maxmilian knelt down in horror and clasped his hands feverishly for a prayer. With his fingers he gripped the beads of his rosary. God Almighty, forgive us our sins and dont let us fall. Repel

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this frightful evil from us and put the dead back to the eternal rest! Dead bodies around the priest staggered as if struck by an invisible force. They suddenly stopped attending to the priest and their empty faces turned towards the gravedigger. One of the corpses jumped at his throat and the old man managed only to cry in terror before the icily cold claws pressed around his neck. A nasty crack sounded and the smell of blood could be felt in the night dark, spraying from the torn throat of the gravedigger down onto the sacred ground of the Werthems cemetery. Unable to move a muscle, Maxmilian watched the gruesome scenery of animated corpses ripping the gravediggers body to pieces. That look crippled the priest so much that the words of prayer vanished from his lips. Fear sentenced him to death as quickly as a holy tribunal sentences a heretic. The corpses stopped concerning themselves in the gravediggers body and slowly looked up at the priest who watched them frozen. They rose up and were closing to Maxmilian in a tight circle. Their claws were aimed at his constricted throat. Their heinous guttural sounds were interrupted by the thundering of hooves that suddenly resounded at the cemetery, coming quickly close. The thundering was joined by a deep male voice singing a liturgical combat tune of crusaders. The circle of corpses burst open from one side when the mass of undead beings was hit by the chest of a great warhorse carrying a knight in white and red colours. He struck his long sword left and right to make his way up to Maxmilian. By the Holy Father and His righteous wrathbegone, devils, to hell! shouted the knight, rearing his horse threateningly. The corpses turned his way and several of them tried to pull him down from the saddle. But instead of that, their cut

claws fell to the ground. The knight turned his horse skilfully in the direction of the nearest attackers and rode towards them. With his sword flashing he rode through the corpses like an angel of divine wrath and sent three of them to the ground, cut in half. The detached trunks were still beating around with their claws though. Die, you beasts coming in the hour of the dark! shouted the knight again and rode through the battleground once more leaving several fallen corpses in his wake. The horse was breathing heavily as the smell of dead bodies was entering his nostrils, but the rider tended it apparently well and didnt allow it to surrender to fear. Maxmilian was watching the whole fight breathlessly. Never before had he seen a paladin of the regular order of the Brotherhood of the Righteous fighting and only now he understood how fearful tool of divine justice he was. Suddenly, something burrowed deep into Maxmilians calf and the priest felt a stinging pain. He twitched and found out in horror that one of the undercut corpses grasped him tightly around his ankle. He tried to break away, but the corpse gripped him even more and the second claw was trying to get to his throat. With a violent punch, he hit the body in the face, his knuckles cracking. The head unhinged in an unnatural angle but the claws didnt let him go. In the sudden rush of panic he reached for his throat and gripped the rosary firmly. He hit the corpse in its empty face again with all of his force. A rattle sounded and the trunk toppled inertly to the ground. Maxmilian crossed himself and said silently: Lord, forgive us our sins! Upon raising his sight, he saw the knight dismounting from his horse. Dead bodies were scattered around the cemetery, tossing about in vain efforts to stand up on the stumps

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of cut limbs. The paladin slashed his sword left and right several times, but then he pitched the sword firmly to the ground and knelt down on one knee. Plumes of steam were coming from his mouth as he was breathing hardly. Come, Fatherjoin me in my prayer for the peace of these dead that were summoned from their graves to do the will of hell itself! Maxmilian wrested himself from the crippling grip of fear and hastily knelt down in front of the knights sword symbolizing the cross. Their shared prayer was soon rising up towards the dark sky. Our Father, forgive us our sins as well as sins of those who went astray and left the flock of Yours and the sight of the Shepherd, setting forward through the darkness towards the eternal damnation. Oh, our Lord, do not let your sheep wander and show them back to the light of forgiveness. In the name of our Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen! Bodies of the dead flounced for the last time and then turned rigid as their impure souls found the lost peace once again. The paladin stood up, cleaned his sword, kissed its hilt and sheathed it. Then he turned to Maxmilian still kneeling. Rise up, Father, there is no danger left around. Maxmilian stood up even though his legs were trembling still. He raised his hand towards the paladin, embarrassed. He hesitated but accepted it eventually and wrung it. Several months ago, the highest tribunal of the Holy Office had accused the leaders of the knightly order of the Brotherhood of the Righteous of heresy. And even though the trial hasnt started yet because the knights had appealed to the king, an animosity between the church and the knightly order erupted, deepening more with each passing day. But Maxmilian had

no doubts that deeds this man had just accomplished were led by ideas no less noble than was the soul of this knight. My name is Frederick de Glavieraux, Father, introduced the knight himself to interrupt the hushed silence. May I ask what an investigator of the Holy Inquisition does at such a God forgotten place in such a dark hour? Im investigating a crime here, answered Maxmilian shortly. Yes, he was investigating a crime and had just decided in what direction he would aim his search. He turned to the knight. I know that relations between the church and your order are not quite friendly these days, he said. Nevertheless, on account of the service you rendered I would consider it a great honour if you joined me for tonight and helped me to solve a case to which these circumstances probably pertain. He motioned his hand to the corpses scattered around the open grave of Milton Flanders at that. The knight considered that for a moment and then nodded. I originally intended to chase the demon that had crossed my path a while ago but when I see what dark powers encompass this land, I agree. Where are we heading? To Werthem, said Maxmilian. Im about to ask Abbot Stefan a few unpleasant questions regarding Milton Flanders. Deacon Thomas was praying, kneeling in front of the altar of the Werthems cathedral. There were several hours left until the dawn and he knew that at this unholy time no one would disturb him here. Abbot Stefan surely practices his abhorrent rituals somewhere in the underground dungeon and there is no one else in the abbey. That is why Thomas devoted himself fully to prayers in which he asked God for forgiveness. There was so much of what blackened Thomass soul that he almost didnt believe in his salvation any more. He was

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sincerely regretting his sins he had committed with Father Stefan and other heretics during rituals, invoking dark powers and demons. There was blood of sacrificed animals on his hands, imbuing altar in the underground crypt down there beneath the abbey. He had thought that with that he would gain power he had never dreamt of before. That he would become someone great. But when Father Stefan had begun to prepare the Ritual of Invocation, gathering human sacrifices for this purpose, the last remnants of faith had driven Thomas to dire remorses and he had started to ask God heartily for forgiveness. He knew that he would have to redeem his sins by self-torment and he didnt hesitate to do so. For many times already, he had willingly flagellated himself as the sign of repentance and he intended to continue in that for as long until he gets the absolution. Thomas was wrapped up in his prayers so deeply that he didnt notice a small side door leading to the abbey opening silently. The figures of the abbot and the second deacon appeared in it. They were walking directly to Thomas. My dearest brother, said Abbot Stefan conciliating, when he stopped a step from kneeling Thomas, who winced terrified and with horror in his eyes was viewing the new arrivals. His heart began to thump wildly. I can see that your faith is stronger than everything I offered to you, spoke the abbot again and smiled kindly. An evil flame blazed up in his deep-set eyes though. I forgive me, Father! blurted the young deacon, throwing himself at his feet. I couldnt I wasnt able to bear that burden, Father. I committed a sin because I am weak, so weak. I wish so much to be as strong as you are! Abbot Stefan stroked the clean-shaven head of the young novice compassionately. You are not weak at all, Thomas. Quite on the contraryyour faith is much stronger than I

was able to realize. And thats all right! Thomas looked at the abbot confused. He didnt know how to interpret his words. He was glaring at him for a while until his eyes widened in horror. No, Father, thats not how it is. I was just I would never Do not whimper, you weakling! laughed the abbot cruelly. You proved that your faith is much stronger than the thirst for your own life. How often have you been flagellating yourself, tell me? And how many prayers have you gabbled off for Him to take you to His place when its all over here? Thomas was left kneeling breathlessly on the cold floor, saying nothing. So you see, you fool. You have spared me my work! He turned to the other novice and nodded his head slightly. The young man raised a heavy wooden hammer and hit Thomas in the back of his neck. He dropped down soundlessly and remained there laying in silence. Excellent, smiled the abbot. We have found the thirteenth victim. Gather our brothers, for tonight we shall perform the Ritual of Invocation!

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VIII.

ounding on the town gate yanked the guards out of sleepiness. Gruffly, they climbed up to the stockade gallery and looked to the dark below with their torches lit. Open the gate, now! spoke the paladin from the saddle of his horse and pounded again. The emissaries of God that bear no delay are coming! Guards at the gallery cursed silently and paled notably upon seeing that unusual couple. Inquisitor and paladin, side by side. They moved the massive bars away hastily and let the arrivals in. The paladin cast a questioning glance at Maxmilian. Where are we going now, Father? The Inquisitor contemplated that and made up his mind eventually. To the southern district at first. We have to find the Hadrians tavern. The paladin raised his eyebrows but didnt ask. He knew that the paths of the Lord are inscrutable and they lead even through disreputable parts of uninviting holes such as the town of Werthem. The southern district was a place full of taverns, brothels and empty ruinous houses. Over the winter, many of them were occupied by shepherds and herdsmen coming to the town to survive the frosts, and it wasnt any different this year. Despite the late night hour, the yellowish lights of lanterns were shining through closed shutters and loud yells with drunkard singing were heard. Maxmilian was looking at that place of sin with a considerable displeasure, thinking about how many of those people were ever at a confession.

They rode through a maze of twisty streets before they got to the place they were looking for. They recognized it unerringly, for there were several culprits from the previous evening chained at strong wooden poles sunk to the ground. They had mockery metal masks with donkey ears put on their headsan often used tool of the torture law exercised by royal soldiers. The trespassers themselves werent much amused though because the bottom edges of masks were fitted with sharp teeth that rasped their necks and nape to blood at every movement. Maxmilian approached one of them who tried to unshackle, terrified. He thought that the presence of an inquisitor would just make his suffering worse. Tell me, my good man, is this the Hadrians tavern? asked Maxmilian pointing to the corner house with a sign in the shape of a pitcher. The man nodded hastily moaning in pain as the mask burrowed in his throat. Excellent, went Maxmilian on. If I assume correctly, you are one of the offenders of the yesterdays riot, am I right? The eyes under the mask wandered from the Inquisitor to the paladin and the man fidgeted nervously. Speak, you scoundrel, or I will have your punishment prolonged by three days! barked Frederick out at the convict, used to receive all answers promptly. Maxmilian waved his hand at him so that he left the questioning to him alone, and turned back to the man. Do not fear anything, my good man, he said. If you answer my few questions truthfully, I will waive your penalty by the end of tonight, all right? The man nodded his head. Ask your questions, Father. Im all veracious! In that case tell me, do you know Sheriff Olek? asked Maxmilian. Yes, I know him wellwho wouldnt know him in this

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town? answered the man. And did you see the sheriff last night when the skirmish broke out in the Hadrians tavern? The man was thinking back for a while and then shook his head. No, I dont remember him being here. He arrived only when it was all over and put this thing on my head! I thought as much, said Maxmilian in a low voice and his forehead became covered with wrinkles of outrage over the lie that the sheriff and his men cast directly in his eyes. He swiftly turned towards the sheriffs office, followed by Frederick. The time has come to learn the truth, said Maxmilian to himself inwardly. No one else shall lie in my eyes in this accursed town! Fired with just anger, Maxmilian set forth towards his destination by the nearest road, arriving there within a short time. Now he knew that it had been Sheriff Olek who had entered the abbey secretly last night. And he was also sure that it had been Abbot Stefan who had opened the door for himthat damp tunic he had had under his cloak had proved him guilty. They had most certainly been discussing how to get rid of Maxmilian or how to lead him astray. And todays attack at the cemetery had no doubt been their abominable doing as well. Now he knew that Miriam Flanders had been telling him the truth. Abbot Stefan has to be questioned on the rack this very day, along with Sheriff Olek. Upon arriving to the sheriffs office, Maxmilian started to pound on the door and hasnt stopped until it opened. A soldier that came to open the door for them was looking at them frightened. Is Sheriff Olek in? asked Maxmilian sharply. The soldier shook his head dismissively. He is not, Your Honourhe left to check on the prisoners in the southern district.

I bet he did, snarled Frederick. We were just at that place and no one has seen the sheriff there since yesterday. The soldier paled even more and his hands started to shake. But he did say he was going there! Maxmilian spun around without saying another word and set out through the night town towards the abbey. Frederick wanted to say something more to the soldier, but because he didnt have a clue as to what was going on in this matter, he decided to get on his horse again and follow Maxmilian instead. Father, could you explain to me what is the matter here? asked the knight after he had caught up with the Inquisitor. The matter is, said Maxmilian, that Abbot Stefan and Sheriff Olek lied in my eyes. And their lies have much to do with Miriam and Milton Flanders which is exactly what I need to find out now! Thats the girl charged of heresy, right? asked Frederick. Maxmilian nodded. Im not sure at all if her guilt is that serious, he said. I rather think that Abbot Stefan and Sheriff Olek are entangled in the whole case. And if so, I will draw consequences of it! In the meantime, they arrived at the church, next to which the building of the abbey was cowering in the nights darkness. It started to snow heavily and the weighty damp snow was clinging to their long coats. Maxmilian grabbed the knocker and battered at the door. He repeated that several times over but with no response whatsoever. Break that door down, Frederick! ordered Maxmilian. Quickly, the lives of innocent people are probably at stake! He made a few steps aside to give place to the paladin. He looked at him surprised but then sensed the urgency of the situation and spurred his horse on. Its hooves thudded several times against the door and the cracking of the bar was

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heard from the inside. The door flew open eventually and Maxmilian ran inward in a hurry. What are we looking for, Father? asked Frederick. We are looking for Milton Flanders, answered Maxmilian. He will be somewhere beneath the churchjust as his sister said! They crossed the muddy courtyard of the abbey and through the small side entrance walked into the silence of the church. The building was drowned in darkness disturbed only by the light of a few candles Maxmilian lit during the morning service. The air smelled of a shrill scent of incense the young priest couldnt place. If we are looking for a crypt entrance, it will be somewhere in the sacristy, said Frederick and Maxmilian nodded approvingly. They were searching that place for a moment before they managed to find a small door set deep into the enclosure wall of the church. When Maxmilian opened it, a sharp pungent smell hit both men in their noses. From the depths of the underground, a distant ritual chanting sounded that definitely didnt belong to the liturgical tunes of the Holy Church. Frederick gripped the hilt of his sword but didnt draw it. He was on the sacred ground and the regular rules prohibited him from using a weapon here. We have to go down, said Maxmilian. We have to find out whats happening here! With those words he began to descend a steep circular stair. He immediately recognized that this part of the abbey had been built much sooner than the church itself. Originally, a crypt had probably been situated here belonging to a rotunda founded in the early days of the Realm by the first missionaries that had come to the wild foothills of the Moonshine Mountains to spread the word of God. But it was also possible that these spaces had served entirely different purposes

formerly and were found only after the tabernacle of the Holy Church had been erected here. The walls were built from rough hewn stones, covered with a thick layer of dateless webs. But those were rubbed down at many places which indicated a frequent usage of this steep staircase. It opened into a small room with a low vaulted ceiling and a stone sarcophagus in its center, covered with strange runes. It looks like a pagan crypt, said Frederick. Maxmilian agreed with him, encircling the sarcophagus and inspecting it casually. Then he headed through the only corridor onwards for the depths of the underground, followed closely by Frederick. His hand was still laid on the hilt of his sword making it apparent how much was he fighting the regular rules that didnt allow him to defile a sacred place by using a weapon. A twisty corridor led both servants of God into a larger room from which more corridors branched out in four directions. It seemed that the underground beneath the abbey was a maze of secret passages. The air smelled of a hundred years old mustiness and dampness penetrated by the scent of that strange incense. Which way to go now? asked Frederick. Maxmilian looked into all four corridors indecisively at first but after that he listened to the echo of that loathsome ritual chant. Then he pointed at one of the corridors. That vile chanting is coming from here, he said. Lets see who dares to desecrate this venerable place with such disgraceful songs! The corridor they had taken led them soon into a large circular hall with a high arched ceiling supported by several massive columns. The room was lit by many candles sticking out of weird archaic candle-holders, illuminating the monstrosity around. Maxmilian stopped short on the halls

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threshold watching in disbelief the scene taking place there. It was like a nightmare from which it was unable to wake up. A great stone altar was situated in the middle of the room, decorated with many ornaments and pagan runes among which a large pentagram of the fallen archangel Azrael stood out. At the demonic altar, Abbot Stefan, Sheriff Olek and a few other men were standing. Many bowls were already hiding their contents and judging by the red colour, Maxmilian suspected they were full of some entrails. Human entrails, as he realized in horror a moment later. Shackles embedded in rock, in which thirteen men in total were imprisoned, were placed along the perimeter of the room. They were naked and from their miserable state it was possible to judge the suffering they had gone through. Most of them had their heads shaven and Maxmilian recognized in them the priests about which Abbot Stefan claimed that they had gone out to give the unctions to the people from the mountain villages. Among them were also Deacon Thomas and another young man almost still a childwho was trying exhausted to clasp his hands for prayer. It was Milton Flanders. They were the only ones still alive. The others had their throats cut and their bellies eviscerated. Their chests were opened in places through which their hearts were removedthose that were in the ceremonial bowls on the altar now. Oh, dark archangel Azrael, commander of infernal armies and master of misery, set your eyes upon your servants and have pleasure of looking at the heart of another victim we bring to you. Let it open the twelfth gate of hell for you, thus bringing you closer to the world awaiting your arrival! pronounced Abbot Stefan and the other men in black coats started to chant a song in an unknown language. Maxmilian was only guessing that it was the language of The Forbidden Scripture in which demons and their earthbound minions spoke.

When they finished their chanting, they all turned to Thomas and approached him slowly. Sheriff Olek was carrying a stone bowl and the abbot was holding a large curved knife smeared with drying blood. The deacon tossed about in chains and a scared shriek came out of his throat. Maybe he wanted to beg for his life, but fear possessed his mind so much that he wasnt capable of a single word. The abbot slowly raised his knife for the lethal blow. Enough! shouted Maxmilian bursting into the room, followed by Frederick. The group of men remained standing aghast. None of them was able to react in any way to the unexpected incursion of intruders. Put that knife down, now! commanded Maxmilian in a firm voice and threw a glare full of disgust and hate at the abbot. Frederick took his stand next to Maxmilian, straddling widely, ready to intervene at any time. Ah, so our inquisitor is safe and sound, said the abbot, slowly tilting down the blade of the ceremonial knife. I didnt anticipate it would be so difficult to get rid of you! Im glad to hear that, snarled Maxmilian, keeping his eyes on the abbot. The horrors of that day revolted in him and he was looking in the abbots fiery eyes with an uncontrollable rage. And you have even brought some assistance along, smiled the abbot glancing at Frederick who showed his teeth wrathfully at him. Save your gabble for the tribunal, Father! he said cheerlessly. The abbot shook his head disapprovingly though. Do not think you can achieve anything here, you fools. Your God has no power whatsoever at this place. The only one who decides on life and death here is me. Behold! With those words he hinted to his fellow men around and

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they turned to face Frederick. Self-confidence and determination melted away in Maxmilian suddenly. For the first time in his life, he saw impure powers hidden deep in men taking possession of them. Demons were crawling out to the surface of their souls, taking control over the bodies of mortal men. Across the faces of men cloaked in dark, shadows were running and changing their shapes and features beyond recognition. Their eyes bulged enormously and their foreheads arched, fat swollen tongues crept out of their mouths and their jaws pushed forward unnaturally. Skin on their faces stretched to its limits, getting covered with moist ulcers. Long crooked claws dashed out of their hands and their bodies started to move with an incredible speed. My Lord, forgive me, for I have sinned! shouted Frederick and drew his sword. Abbot Stefan laughed and motioned to his minions who dashed towards the paladin. He didnt hesitate and slashed at the young deacon attacking his throat. With one mighty blow of his sword he cut the demons arm in the shoulder. But Maxmilian was watching in horror how not a single drop of blood flew out of the wound and the demon in humans body continued his attack unhindered in an effort to knock the paladin down. Frederick fended off his attack and with a swift lunge pinked another closing assailant. But he, without paying heed to his injury, seized Fredericks throat with both hands pulling himself closer to him, thus driving the paladins sword even deeper into his body. With that he made it impossible for Frederick to free his weapon. The rest of the attackers swooped on the paladin like a pack of wolves on an exhausted prey, knocking him down. The knight was fighting for every inch to be able to get up again, but he had no chance against such a number of demonic assailants. His charges were getting slower and slower until the hands of the demon in the body of Sheriff Olek clenched his throat even-

tually, choking him for as long until Fredericks face purpled and his body stiffened in the agony of death. Maxmilian stood above that horrible scene absent-minded. He was unable to move, let alone to come to Fredericks aid. Abbot Stefan was openly amused by that. Well, my young friend, this small dispute was solved and we can go on now. You will be watching to finally understand into what you have actually started to poke your nose. Why werent you satisfied with that little bitch? We seized her, prepared evidence and all you had to do was to sign the sentence of death. You would have surely been commended for that and your shining career could have started. But instead of that, you began to stick your nose into things around, thus bringing your own doom upon yourself. I just dont understand you people sometimes! Maxmilian was finally able to break away from the arms of fear. He raised his eyes menacingly. Drop that knife and release your prisoners, Stefan. Then you will come with meyou and your minionsto answer for your deeds. I hereby charge you of the godlessness and put you under the inquisitorial arrest! The abbot started to laugh and motioned to Sheriff Olek whose malformed demonic face returned to its original shape in the meantime. The sheriff reached out and knocked Maxmilian down to the ground. Along with others he started to kick him cruelly as much as the cracking of ribs was heard. Enough! said the abbot after a while. I want him to be conscious and watch us finishing the ritual. Come, the time is highthe day will break soon! The men gathered at the altar again and Maxmilian was with terror in his eyes watching them stepping to Deacon Thomas. The ceremonial knife dived in his throat and a disgusting guggle sounded as the blood started to run from the

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open wound into the ceremonial bowl. Subsequently, the bones cracked when the abbot ripped Thomass heart out of his chest and removed the rest of his entrails. The body of the young deacon collapsed to the ground and stiffened. You cant do that shouted Maxmilian spitefully and tried to get up. The pain in his ribs threw him back to the ground though. The men started to chant demonic verses again meanwhile and took hold of the thirteenth bowl. No, you cant kill Milton! wheezed Maxmilian and with the utmost efforts he managed to lean against the wall. But he was unable to make a single step. To you, oh, dark archangel Azrael, commander of infernal armies and master of misery, we bring this last sacrifice. Let his heart open the last gate of hell for you and you enter our world that awaits you! No! shouted Maxmilian watching helplessly as the body of Milton Flanders flounced for the last time and stiffened after the abbot cut the heart out of it while he was still alive. His last prayer remained unfinished. Tears of injustice spurted from Maxmilians eyes. God, how could you allow this?! he said thickly. How can you watch what is happening here and do nothing in the defence of those who believe in you? This is not fairso where had you gone that you didnt put a stop to this? But God wasnt answering. Instead of that, Azrael entered the room through the thirteen open gates and materialized in the middle of the hall. Horror, that drifted through the crypt at that, made the abbot and his minions fall on their knees. Master, you have come! whispered the abbot as if he hadnt hoped for that at all. You are really here! Yes, I am here. At last! said Azrael and inspected the room. The abbot cowered to the very ground under his sight, for the look of the fallen archangel burnt with its dread. Only

after a while he dared to rise up slowly. Here I stand, my master, he wheezed in expectation. Take my body and make me an immortal instrument of your vengeance for the thousand-year long imprisonment of the Prince of Darkness! The abbot ripped his clothing dramatically, exposing his bony chest to Azrael in a torturous expectation. But nothing happened. Im sorry, but you are no good to me, said Azrael. You are but a wretch driven by visceral lust and hunger for power that you shall never have! You cant do that! howled the abbot. I did everything as was written in the Ritual of Invocation. You must enter me! Dont make me laugh, said Azrael scornfully. That ritual just opened a path to this world for me. Now I can do whatever I want and incarnate myself in anyone I like. And you wont be that for sure, you wretch! But there is no one else here! shrieked the abbot. Only my soul is ready to embrace your greatness! You are wrong, said Azrael and turned to Maxmilian who was watching the whole scene without a word. He is hereexactly as I wanted to! Maxmilian managed only to exhale in disbelief before Azrael launched towards him, penetrating deep into his soul. The body of the young priest flounced violently, collapsed to the ground and gripped in agony, arched in an unnatural curve until the joints cracked. Then it shook vehemently a few times and eventually returned back to the original position where it stiffened. The abbot watched that unable to make a move. He couldnt understand what had just happened. Maxmilian moved on the ground, coughing several times. Where where am I? he asked in a low voice and stood

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up slowly. He didnt feel any pain suddenly. He looked around and saw the work of destruction done by the abbot and his demonic companions that were standing around nervously and didnt know what to do. A horrible realization flashed up in his eyes. He felt a wave of uncontrollable rage building up inside. He saw the corpse of knight Frederick with his throat torn. He saw young Deacon Thomas hanging inertly in shackles with a hole in his chest. He saw young Milton Flanders that had been kidnapped and in this abhorrent crypt sacrificed as an animal by a mad abbot. And he saw his sister, Miriam Flanders, that had been many times over beaten and raped by these infernal henchmen instead of receiving help and protection. A scorching wrath started to burn in Maxmilians heart. Yield to it, Maxmilian. Turn yourself into a tool of revenge! whispered Azrael to him from the depths of his soul. This is what you were waiting forkill them all. I will help you, it wont be difficult at all. But Maxmilian shook his head and clenched his fists defiantly. He heard that voice inside, he heard himself saying: Kill them! He didnt have the right to do anything like that though. From where had come that other him that was prompting him to do something so terrible? To silence that unknown voice inside, Maxmilian bit his lips until the blood spurted. He didnt kill, he judged! And you dont mind what they did to all those thirteen good men? said Azrael. You know well that they were chosen for their purity and firm belief. You will allow their murderers to escape unpunished? Maxmilian held his head desperately and covered his ears. No, I wont do that, he shouted. If I did, I would be the same as them. I will judge them justly and by the law! And whose law is that? laughed Azrael. Of your God

and your superiorsand where were they when that horrible atrocity was taking place here? What did they do to prevent it? Maxmilian roared in a desperate voice in which anger and hate were breaking. Men around him were watching him dumbfounded. They might have not even realized that he was about to pronounce a judgment on them. Do it! ordered Azrael and with a thought alone he possessed Maxmilians body. In a single leap, he dashed for the paladins sword, raising it up. You were found guilty on all counts of the indictment, he said grimly in the direction of the surprised men crowding around the abbot. And your punishment is... death!

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IX.

axmilian was sitting in a small cell of the Werthems abbey, his head concealed in his palms. He was trying not to think about anything but it was impossible. Even in his prayers he couldnt find peace. He was thinking about how much his life had changed in the past few weeks. Sometimes he had a feeling that it was just a bad dream, a nightmare from which he would wake up soon. But it wasnt so. Everything was for real. It all happened. Only he didnt know what that all was. He couldnt remember what had happened down in the crypt. He couldnt recall what had been going on before he came to his mind in the middle of a room full of dead people, with a blood-stained sword in one hand and the abbots head in the other. He dreaded of what he had done. He dreaded of the blood on his scarlet robe and of the thought that he had been unable to control his acts. Had he? He wasnt sure about that. Maybe he had done exactly what he had wanted to. But he didnt know for sure. There was that second voice there. His hidden self. The door of his cell opened and an elderly man in the scarlet robe of an inquisitorial investigator entered. Maxmilian turned his eyes to him. It is time, brother, said the Inquisitor and led Maxmilian out of the cell. They were walking through the corridors towards the hall where the holy tribunal of the northern diocese has been sitting for the third day. It was also called the Tribunal of Death because after those several months of the duration of the Holy Inquisition it had the highest count of convicted heretics on its list. When they entered, several tens of faces turned to Max-

milian. All inquisitors of the Glatzburg curia were gathered here. No one was missing, not even the most direful procurator of all, Father Welfhar. It showed evidence of the importance that was attributed to the trial with Miriam Flanders. Or with Maxmilian Conti? The young Inquisitor wasnt able to tell. The holy tribunal has assembled today for the last time to pass sentence in the case of Miriam Flanders, pronounced Father Theodorick, the highest judge of the holy tribunal in the Glatzburgs diocese. Maxmilian Conti, step forward in front of your equal and hear what the tribunal decided on! Maxmilian did so, kneeling down at a small prayer-bench standing alone in the middle of the room directly in front of a long table at which several tens of inquisitors were sitting. So this is how everyone charged of heresy feels, realized Maxmilian and shuddered. The judge continued. The tribunal has once again thoroughly considered all conditions recounted and based on them it has decided as followsbrother Maxmilian Conti with his self-sacrificing and relentless investigation shed light on all circumstances of the case of Miriam Flanders and found her guilty of heresy. As her punishment he proposed the death of burning at the stake alive which was approved by the tribunal in its entirety. As far as Abbot Stefan and Sheriff Olek are concerned, the factors of their deaths were not fully ascertained. Since their bodies were not found, their case is considered closed and their charge is relinquished. Father George, appointed by the Bishop of Hillbrandt, will take charge of the Werthems abbey with an immediate effect. Maxmilian stunned raised his eyes and his mouth opened in mute astonishment. He hadnt charged Miriam Flanders in his testimony at all, let alone to sentence her to the burning to death. She was innocent!

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But the gaze of brother Theodorick made Maxmilian keep silent. And when the sitting of the tribunal was over, Theodorick summoned Maxmilian to his office. Everything is as it should be, said Theorodick strictly. That girl is a heretic and deserves death by the law. After all, we oblige her that waywe will purify her tainted soul of a sin. Wont we? Maxmilian shook his head. But it wasnt her blame at allAbbot Stefan drove her to that! There is no evidence for this statement, Maxmilian. And beside thatshe did what she did, and people have to be assured that she will be punished for that. People have to be assured? smiled Maxmilian cheerlessly. And what about the investigatorhe doesnt have to be assured? Because I am not! Thats why we, your regular brothers, are hereto grant you the lost assurance, Maxmilian, said Theodorick. You did exceptionally wellit was your first case, after all. Be glad it ended like this. And what about Abbot Stefan and the others? Their bodies were found, werent they? Maxmilian, it is better to leave some things as they are, said Theodorick. But thats concealing evidence, objected Maxmilian. Its against the law and its unjust! Unjust? smiled Theodorick. My son, justice is only an instrument, not necessarily an objective, do you understand? It is a tool that we as well as they can use. And in case that it could harm us more than them we have to use this tool carefully, or it will become the instrument of our doom. Maxmilian, we are standing on the threshold of a new era now. Old laws are falling and new ones are born. We have to strengthen the faith in people before it vanishes completely

and the Realm will be devoured by infidels. We cannot allow ruptures in the church itself. Our enemy must always stand out there and never inside, do you understand?! Maxmilian understood that but it made him distempered. He was clearly realizing how his illusions and ideas, acquired in the seminary, were slowly turning to dust. And if it was the case, what sense was there in abiding to all of that? What was the meaning of believing in the justice and the infallibility of the churchly laws? Were all instruments adjusted to the goal? He was confused about that and his head ached. You see, Max, nothing is black and white onlyneither good, nor evil, said Azrael silently, settled down in the deepest corner of his soul. But I promise that before Im through with you, we will visit the very bottoms of both sides!

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X.

eople have been crowding round the stake since the very morning. Nobody wanted to miss a spectacle that didnt take place at Werthem so often. Of course, there had been several heretics burnt at the stake here already but no case had drawn the attention of the whole inquisitorial tribunal so far. Only now, right at the beginning of the winter. In the middle of the place stood a stake surrounded with dry brushwood and straw. At the robust stake, Miriam Flanders was to be tied soon to be burnt to death alive. Inquisitors of the holy tribunal were sitting in ostentatious chairs on a low wooden platform coated with red drapery and their faces emanated nothing but strictness. Several tens of royal soldiers were keeping an eye on a peaceful passage of the prison cart to the stake. Maxmilian was, according to the rules, sitting separated from the tribunal so that everyone could see that it was him who had investigated this crime and who had signed the sentence. He wanted to throw up. Here she comes! sounded somewhere from the crowd and people started to cry in ecstasy. They were like animals, ready to swoop down on their weakest mate that wasnt able to defend against them anymore. Soldiers were pushing the inflamed crowd back to keep people in sufficient distance so that the cart with Miriam Flanders could pass up to the stake. Kill that witch! the people shouted throwing mud and excrements at the chained girl. But soldiers intervened and drove the crowd away so that Miriam didnt come to any harm. It was important she was alive and walked to the stake conscious if possible. The cart reached the place and the ex-

ecutioner hidden under a hood took the girl over from the soldiers. While heading to the stake, he was almost carrying her, for she was unable to move. In those three weeks that had passed since those fateful events, her health condition had bettered but her mind was totally somewhere out of her body. Maxmilian was wondering if she would recall him at all. To hell, even if she didnt recall, I will remember this for the rest of my life! cursed Maxmilian and Azrael in his soul smiled mischievously. After the executioner tied the girl to the stake, Maxmilian rose up to finish the ceremony. The ground was swaying strangely beneath him when he was nearing to the girl whose sight was wandering around. She was smiling absently. Miriam Flanders, you were found guilty of the association with devil. For your sins you deserve the utmost punishment through which your soul will be purified of its sins. Do you want to say anything more to your guilt? The girl was paying him no heed, watching snowflakes falling down from the overcast sky. She probably didnt even have a clue where she was and what would happen next. Miriam Flanders, continued Maxmilian in that awful show, during the investigation you were persistently and unyieldingly refusing to confess to your sins. Do you want to do so now, in front of us all? I promise to you that if you do so voluntarily and confess to your sins you will be mercifully strangled to death with a rope before getting burnt. A wave of disappointment followed by an anticipation ran through the crowd. Maxmilian was hanging on her lips begging God that she nodded at least. But the girl did nothing. The crowd roared, thrilled. They wanted to see her pain, her suffering. That was why they came here. They all would deserve to stand at the stake instead of her, thought Maxmilian. May God be merciful to your soul! he said then and took

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a lit torch from the executioner. He approached the stake and with a slight hesitation dived the torch into the pile of brushwood. Flames burst to the sky immediately and people started to cry in excitement. The girl raised her head suddenly and the shadow of madness vanished from her face for a moment. She looked up at Maxmilian and their eyes met. I know you, whispered the girl. You are the devil!

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