Chapter 16
Yokigs lifeless body slid off the altar and onto the cobblestone below. Blood covered the bishop's white robes, the spear still in his hands. The bishop looked into the sky at the growing darkness, spreading like blood from a wound, above him.
"Fear not my flock" He yelled in an attempt to calm the restless crowd. The bishop pointed toward the subdued giant on the ground in front of the altar. "Bring him here!"
The kingsmen roughly pulled the giant to his feet, the guards behind him held their swords aloft, poking into Redbeards back.
Dresmael stood awaiting her death, trembling like the scared girl she was. The kingsmen held tightly to the ropes that tied her hands behind her back.
They led Redbeard toward the altar. With each step the giant looked around, hastily trying to find an escape route; his mind preparing to take the first opportunity that came to break out of his bindings again. Redbeard struggled against the new constraints that bound him, the guard behind him took notice and pressed the end of his blade into the giant's flesh, causing Redbeard to howl in pain.
"Don't try anything funny!" The guard ordered.
Redbeard growled, but his animalistic sound went unheeded. He looked up at the now blackened sky, his eyes watering. Finally, the giant let loose a tear and cried out into the heavens, but nothing came to save him.
They pushed him behind the altar and kicked the back of his knees, forcing the giant to the ground. They slid a noose around his neck, and then another, and forced his head down onto the granite slab, two guardsmen pulling his head into submission, yanking the ropes that bound him from both sides.
The bishop looked into the sky again. "It looks like the one god is pleased" The bishop said in jest.
The crowd laughed, their fear of the heavens being transmuted into reassurance of their One Gods power from the bishops words.
"He smiles down on us from the heavens above; He watches as we bring down vengeance upon his enemies." The bishop turned his focus to Redbeard. "Rejoyce, my flock, for we are doing the One Gods work!" The bishop grinned, his teeth stained red with the remains of Yokigs blood.
The executioner, reinvigorated by the bishop's speech, readied his axe and took his place beside the altar.
The darkness above slowly turned, reaching its black hands from the sky as it enveloped all who surrounded the altar. It curled and twisted in the air like a monstrous tornado of black, its eye eventually finding its mark, Yokigs body.
The force of this supernatural specticle created a huge gust of wind, causing every onlooker to cower in fear. The bishop hid his face behind his bloodied sleeves.
"Do it, do it now!" The bishop screamed at his executioner, over the strong winds howl.
The guards struggled to keep a tight hold on the prisoners' ropes. The executioner held his axe to Redbeards neck, aiming the blade so that his strike would find its mark. He lifted his axe up to deal the killing blow.
The dark fingers dissipate, ascending back into the darkened heavens above.
The executioner let his axe fall, but before it reached the giant's skin it was deflected; his arm severed from his body. The weapon he once held clattering harmlessly on the ground below.
A dark blade pierced the executioner's heart, causing his soul to seep from his body and his hulking figure to fall into a lifeless heap of bones and flesh upon the ground. Behind the fallen body stood Yokig, his sword now pointed in the bishop's direction. A warning of who he planned to kill next. His eyes as black as the sky above.
Yokig felt searing pain coarse through his entire body as his wounds closed up, scabbed over, getting replaced with new skin in a matter of seconds. He could feel his heartbeat again, he felt alive and he felt more powerful than he had ever been before in his life. But he couldn't dwell on that now, he had a mission to accomplish, he came back with a purpose that he planned to fulfill. He held the black sword in his hands, a gift from death himself; a reward for twenty years of grueling training in the Black Isles for this moment he found himself in now.
The guards around him released Redbeards ropes and withdrew their swords from their sheaths. Let them come, Yokig thought to himself. I will kill anyone who gets in the way.
The first guard rushed towards the boy and jabbed. Yokig sidestepped the kingsmen's steel and, with a quick motion, separated the man's head from his body.
The second kingsmens swung wildly at the boy, but Yokig used his dark blade to stop the blade mid-swing, kicking the guard to the ground, plunging his sword into the man's chest and giving it a hard, but satisfying, twist. The guard beneath the blade writhing in pain for a few moments before his body fell limp.
The final guard ran up behind the boy, his sword aimed for Yokigs heart. Yokig swung his sword around, under his arm; thrusting the sword into the man's neck and stepping away from the kingsmans blow.
The bishop grabbed a sword off the ground clutched Dresmaels bindings, holding the sword to her neck. The bishop's hand trembled, holding the steel inches away from the girls jugular.
Yokig lunged forward to save her, determined to not let the bishop harm a single hair on her head. He felt energized by his love for Dresmael and was set on making the bishop pay for everythings he had done.
"Stop, or I'll slice her throat open!" The bishop hissed.
Yokig came to a sudden halt, his sword aimed at the monstrous man standing in front him. The crowd tightened in around them, stepping over the dead bodys on the ground to get a better look.
"You were dead! I killed you myself!" The bishop snarled. "How? How is this possible!"
"Let her go!" Yokig tried to keep his voice calm, his heart beating so fast he felt like it would explode from his newly healed chest.
"No!" The bishop tightened his grip on Dresmael, bringing the blade closer to her neck cutting her slightly. Dresmael screamed out in pain from the wound. "Quiet girl!"
"Let her go!" Yokigs blood was starting to boil. The bishop held in his hands the one person he cared the most about, the person he came back from death to save, the person he gave his soul away for. And now he was powerless to stop the insane clergyman from slicing her open.
"Stay where you are!" The bishop backed away slowly, keeping his hostage in front of him as he attempted to use the situation to his advantage to flee. "And drop your sword!"
Yokig had to keep himself from lunging forward, he couldn't stand it. The bishop pressed the steel harder into Dresmaels neck. He had no choice but to comply. The sword dropped from his hands and clambered onto the stone below.
A boy in a mask pushed his way through the crowd, clutching a rock the size of his small fist. With as much strength as his little body could muster, the masked boy launched the rock at the bishop from behind.
A direct hit!
Yokig was sure this was the same boy from before. The bishop fell to the ground clutching his head, screaming in pain. The sword that he once held so tightly crashed to the stone below him. Dresmael ran to Yokigs side as the boy picked his blade back up.
The crowd grew even more restless, their thirst for blood unquenched. They pushed the boy in the mask to the ground and swarmed around him, taking turns beating the child, kicking him in his frail body and spitting in his face. The boy cried out with each blow before falling silent, the crowd still unsatisfied.
They turned their deadly attention back to the boy king and his friends. Dresmael and Yokig started to back up towards the altar, the angry mob closing in on them.
Redbeard, his hands still tied behind his back, positioned himself in front of the children. Yokig knew what the giant wanted him to do and with a quick slash he freed the giant from his restraints.
Yokig looked for the bishop but only caught a glimpse of the horrible man running through the crowd towards the doors of the cathedral. A mass of rioters wielding stones and sticks stood in his way.
Yokig didn't want to hurt any of these innocent people, he knew that they were brainwashed by a corrupt clergy and that was why they acted this way towards who they were told was an enemy to their church, to their one god. But they were in his way and the bishop needed to be defeated.
He freed Dresmael and held his sword up, waiting for the rampaging mob to reach him.
Redbeard held his fist high, reading himself for the brawl that lay ahead.
Dremael glanced at Yokig. "No mercy," she mouthed, holding her hands in the air as if ready to cast a spell.
As The mob reached the group, Yokig saw through the corner of his eye a man in a black mask emerge from the sea of flesh; and then, another masked person appeared, and another, until ten masked women and men surrounded the boy king, their backs to the travelers, their swords and spellbooks ready for the imminent confrontation.
The Brotherhood of Endeloin had arrived.
"Get that son-of-a-bitch!" A brotherhood member yelled at Yokig. "We'll deal with these lunatics!"
"To the Boy King!" All the members of the brotherhood screamed in unison as they hacked and slashed through the wall of rioters, fighting to protect the boy king and his friends while holding onto their own lives.
Yokig, Dresmael and Redbeard, slashed, bashed and cast their way through the bodies of flesh that stood in between them and the cathedral.
The fervor of Dresmael shocked Yokig. Between kills, he caught glimpses of her as she whispered spells under her breath; her targets dropping like flies as if she were snatching the life right out of them.
Redbeards furocity was also nothing to snicker at; with one swipe of his arm he sent rioters flying through the air, like a mad titan destroying his opponents with each devastating blow.
The bishop reached the doors of the cathedral and locked himself behind them, shutting himself inside. In front of his fortress two rows of ten armed kingsmen formed, ready to defend the monster within its walls with their lives.
The travelers made quick work of the sheeple in front of them and soon emerged from the ocean of bodies , victorious. They struggled to catch their breath, but still there wasn't any time to fully recover. The kingsmen were now in front of them and, to get past them, they would have to keep fighting; pushing beyond the collective tiredness they felt from their most recent altercation.
The guards remained at the door, their ranks unbreaking, their swords drawn and their shields up. Yokig met Dresmaels eyes, the girl on his side panting and preparing herself for another battle. He turned to Redbeard, the giant kept his fist in the air and gave Yokig a nod that seemed to suggest that he was ready, before turning his focus back on the kingsmen in front of him.
Yokig and his small group of travelers charged into the small army, the boy aiming his weapon at the first guards heart. But the guard blocked the boys blow with his shield and lunged forward, swinging his sword towards Yokigs neck. The boy ducked unter the gaurds arm, dodging the strike. Behind Yokig, another guard held his spear high and thrust it down at the stooping boy. Yokig rolled on the ground, barely escaping the attack and sprang back up to his feet.
The guard with the sword swung down on Yokig causing the boy to reflexively lift his own sword up to defect the blow.
The sound of metal scraping across metal defend his ears.
Yokig swung his elbow, hitting the guard in the face, sending the man's helmet flying across the cobblestone. Behind the man, the guard with the spear charged forward aiming his weapon at Yokigs head.
Yokig decapitated the helmetless guard in front of him and stepped to the side to avoid the second guard's oncoming attempt on his life. Yokig plunged his black steel into the guards chest, through his armor and into the man's heart.
Dresmael, by this time, had already killed three guards herself and was using her magick to lift the corpse of a guard up as a human shield, catching the guard in front of hers sword before flinging the corpse away to disarm her opponent while using her spell to pull the life out of the enemy, bringing her body count to four.
Yokig didn't have time to celebrate, three new kingsmen surrounded him, blocking his view of the girl. They launched themselves at the boy in a coordinated attack against him, their swords drawn as they leaped through the air.
Yokig positioned himself under one of the men and stabbed the guard in the chest as the man flew, defenseless, through the air. With a quick motion he flung the body off his sword and into another kingsman, knocking the guard down. The third kingsman landed on the ground, his weapon missing its mark and clanging onto the stone below. Yokig made quick work of the guards error and separated the guards head from his body in one fluid motion. The guard that remained alive was pinned to the ground under the body of his fallen comrade, struggling to work himself free before Yokig finished him. The boy brought his sword down, loosening the man's soul from his mortal vessel.
Redbeard stood above a mound of bodies, each kingsman reduced to a pile of broken bones and limp bodies around his feet. He held a kingsman up by his neck and snapped it with a hard squeeze.
"How many?" Yokig yelled at the beast. Two more guards aiming for the boy, their intent to kill.
Redbeards face and arms bled from his wounds but the giant grinned, his teeth soaked with blood, the swords of his enemies sticking out of his massive back.
"Six!" The giant replied. Redbeard grabbed a charging guard and flung the man to the ground by his arm proceeding to stomp his face into the ground. "Seven," The giant corrected.
Yokig swung his sword at an attacking guards knee, cutting the man's leg clean off. The kingman fell to the ground, while Yokig plunged his steel into the guards comrades neck, pulling it out to dispatch the legless soldier on the ground.
"Same!" He exclaimed to the bloodied giant.
Dresmael effortlessly destroyed the last two men, snatching their souls out and sending them to the black isles.
"Hurry, before more of these bastards show up!" She cried, pointing to the doors of the church. They quickly ascended the stairs, stepping over the bodies of the fallen men.
Dresmael placed her hands on the door and mumbled a low chant to herself. Yokig could hear the large bolt of wood on the other side of the door drop to the ground and the doors swung open.
"After them!" A voice shouted behind the group. Another small army had appeared to avenge the deaths of their men. They ran through the sea corpses that lay in the way.
Redbeard pushed the children behind him. "Go, and close the doors behind you!" The giant ordered.
Yokig immediately realized Redbeards plan. The giant was going to sacrifice himself so that they could finish what had to be done.
"Redbeard, no!" Yokig yelled at the giant, desperately trying to reason with him. The boy brought his sword up, bracing himself for the upcoming attack, sweat pouring down his forehead, stinging his eyes; the tiny drops of salty water making their way down his chin, dropping to the ground below. He didn't want this, he didn't want any of this. He wanted Redbeard to live, not just for him, but for his wife.
"Yokig, Go!" The giant roared, his fist held high.
Yokigs eyes started to tear up but he knew the giant was right. The kingsmen would keep coming, and if they killed them, more would keep showing up; until, eventually the boy and his friends were dead and their mission to kill the bishop and then the Pope King remained incomplete. But behind the locked door of the church there was nobody except the bishop, who was the real enemy. Yokig and Dresmael ran inside the cathedral, shutting the wooden doors behind them. They heaved the bolt back into place, locking themselves inside. Yokig was amazed at the weight of the wooden beam; but, with Dresmaels remaining magick and his newfound strength, they managed to place it between the doors and through the rings on either side of them.
Yokig fell to his knees and allowed himself a few moments to mourn the giant's sacrifice. Behind the wooden door sounds of clanging and metal against metal haunted the children, like a nightmare from which they couldn't escape. They heard Redbeards cries, and the shouting and eventually nothing as the giant was slain. The kingsmen pounded on the door, trying to force it open, but their attempts were wasted against the doors' immovable bulk. Dresmael came to his side and gently held the boy's face in her soft hands, lifting his eyes up to meet hers.
"This might be my last chance," she whispered softly to Yokig, pressing her lips against his. Yokig accepted her warmth and heaved his arms around her waist as they kissed each other passionately. Yokigs spirits instantly lifted, he felt reinvigorated; her kiss made him feel like he could do anything, like he could move a mountain.
She pulled away and refocused on their mission. "Now let's go kill this piece of shit!" Dresmael seemed determined. Had she felt what he felt? Renewed and alive from their impassioned kiss.
Yokig jumped to his feet and followed the girl into the main sanctuary.
The bishop sat in a high velvet chair on the sanctuaries podium, waiting for the children to enter.
Yokig scanned the space and from the look of things he saw nothing, they were alone with the monster at last.
"I know how you feel right now." The bishop called out to the children from his makeshift throne. "I can imagine it is the same feeling I felt when I shoved that spear into your back and killed you."
The bishop smirked at the memory in his head, as if he were proud of the fact that he killed an innocent young boy. "It was a sense of..." The bishop paused, "Vindication."
Yokig, his sword drawn, walked quickly down the row of pews, Dresmael tailing not far behind him. He wanted to get this over with. He wanted the bishop dead, now more than anything. He knew that whatever the bishop said right now was poison; a desperate attempt to save his own life. As he moved forward he thought about Redbeard, who died to give him this chance at the cost of never seeing his wife in this life again. He thought of Blackpaw and the way this monster brutally murdered her in front of his friends and himself. He knew that once he removed the bishop's head from his body he would feel vindicated, yes, but he also knew that all the power the clergyman held over the citizens of that city would dissipate. They would have no more reason to fight; no more reason to pretend to be who they are not. They would be able to express themselves however they wanted, unhindered by his or the New Religions tyranny.
Dresmael finally crumbled to the ground, her extensive use of her magic catching up with her. Her head barely missed the wooden pew beside her.
Yokig stopped and lifted the girl into a wooden seat. "I'll take care of this." He whispered in her ear.
"You really care for that girl, boy with dreams?" The bishop snarled from his seat. "As soon as I kill you again, you need not worry; I'll make her death quick and painless. And then you can both rot in the hell you came from, together."
"Shut up!" Yokig yelled at the top of his lungs.
The sound of the bishop's laugh echoed through the entire chamber.
"Repent of your sins boy, and maybe the one god will have compassion for you and will forgive you of that sin!"
Yokig reached the podium, gripping his weapon tightly.
"Fuck your god!" The boy raised his weapon above his head, preparing for the final blow, his foot on the podium's first step.
"Well that's unfortunate." The bishop clapped his hands and three priest appeared from out of the shadows, stepping in front of the boy, blocking him from his target. Each clumsy carrying swords and shields in their shaking hands.
"You look tired boy. I see it. Enough so that it won't be a problem for my children to finish you off and send you back to the afterlife." The bishop leaned back in his chair. "Kill him!"
The clergymen charged forward. The bishop was right, all of his previous fights had worn him down. He struggled even now to keep his steel aloft. But the bishop underestimated him; he didn't take into account Yokigs will to live, his will to fight for the people he loved. It was this will that gave Yokig strength to keep pushing forward.
The priests were clearly untrained. The first priest lunged at Yokig, his blade aimed for the boy's chest. But, his movement was so slow, so predictable, all Yokig needed to do to dodge it was to simply step out of the way. The priest, missing his mark, skidded to the ground. Yokig felt bad for the clergymen so he knocked the priest out with a swift kick. His fellow priests were just as bad. Yokig swiped his foot under the second man's leg, toppling the clergyman to the ground and disarming him with another swift kick. The final priest's sword clattered to the ground as he turned and ran out of the sanctuary and into the shadows from where he originally came, realizing that his brethren and himself were far outmatched by the boy king; even when the boy was clearly exhausted.
Yokig focused back on the bishop, for the first time the bishop's cold exterior crumbled, revealing a frightened man who knew that his time had come. The boy king kicked the bishop square in the chest, knocking the bishop and the chair to the ground. He trained his sword on the bishop's throat. The monster frantically scrambled back to avoid the blade.
"Please, please, I beg of you!" The bishop stammered, his hands raised up in a desperate attempt to defend himself and his face from Yokigs steel. "Have mercy!"
"Why?" Yokigs voice remained stone cold. "Where was your mercy when you killed Blackpaw? Huh? Where was your mercy when you led me and my friends through the streets, announcing us as heathens to be shamed and put to death? Where was your mercy when you stabbed me in the back?"
"Please, my King, I beg of you. I'm just a weak old man, I didn't know any better, I was only doing what I was taught was right!" The bishop continued to beg.
"Bullshit!" Yokig ran his sword through the bishops flesh, piercing his jugular like a hot knife through butter. "Fuck mercy!" The boy screamed as the monster in front of him crumbled to the ground, bleeding to death, clutching his gaping neck with his old hands until all the red liquid, and his life, drained out of his body.
Yokig collapsed to the floor, his sword finally dropping from his grip. He couldn't help but burst out into laughter as all of the tension and anger he felt floodied out of him, releasing itself from his body. He ran his hands through his hair, wiping the beads of sweat from his face. As he lay back, he let his newfound sense of elation take over his entire body.
The boy knew that this was just a small victory in a war that had just begun, but he rejoiced in his victory nonetheless.
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The doors to the church swung open, the crowd of people, intermingled with armed kingsmen, waited at the steps for the bishop to come out and announce that the heathens locked inside were finally dead.
Redbeards lifeless body lay in front of them, his features mangled from the beating they had given him.
From the depths of the cathedral appeared the boy, struggling to drag a body behind him. As he stepped outside and onto the steps he grimaced at Redbeards corpse. After a moment of silence, he threw the body in his hands, in front of the spectators gathered there. They let out an audible gasp. The body that now lay before them was the bishops, the red drained out of his skin, his body limp and unmoving.
"The time of the New Religion is near its end!" Yokig addressed the spectators standing before him. "Follow me and I'll offer you peace and lead you to freedom without the constraints of tyranny. Together, we will bring down the established order and we will destroy the Pope King and his hold on Abahlon! Together, we will take back what once was ours, our dignity, our equality, our strength, and our power. Together we will reunite the two worlds as one, once more!"
The cobblestone street filled with the clatter of steel apon stone, the people knew in their hearts that the boy was right. It was a truth they had long since suppressed within themselves. They knew, each woman, man and child in the square, that they needed the New Religion to end, they needed freedom.
"All hail the Boy King!" Someone in the sea of faces chanted, the crowd slowly joining in.
"All hail the Boy King!" They exclaimed in unison as each man, woman, soldier and child fell to their knees in front of the boy.
Yokig victoriously held his black sword high above his head, stretching it towards the blackened heavens.
This, he thought to himself, is only the beginning.