Arc 1: Chapter 2: Red Rain
I cannot say how long that moment lasted, as the novice and I stared at one another. It can’t have been longer than seconds, but it felt like time froze. The acolyte was young. A boy, I think, though it could be hard to tell with priests. His white robes weren’t yet darkened by red dye, and his head was encircled by a band of copper rather than gold. His pale face, made sheet-white by horror, stared at me in frozen shock.
I should have killed him. I tensed to do it, fingers tightening around the shallow bend in my weapon’s haft. A sudden dash, or even a throw of the axe, and the acolyte would be silenced. He wouldn’t be faster than me in those layered robes. I could stop him with a spellcant, just long enough to cut him down. The words formed on my lips. If I spoke, I knew I’d have to do the rest.
I hesitated. And, like a spell breaking, the acolyte ran.
I watched him run, telling myself all the while to stop him. Then, cursing myself for a fool, I ran the opposite way.
***
The bells began to toll before I made it even a block from the cathedral.
I crouched in an alley as armored soldiers poured through the street beyond, rain pattering off their armor. Vinhithe had come alive like a kicked beehive, armored guardsmen emerging from barracks and towers across the settlement to scour the streets for whoever had beheaded their bishop. The streets had been emptied of the townsfolk, leaving the cobblestone paths of every block clear for ranks of poleaxe bearing foot troops or mounted cavalry.
As the one who’d done the beheading, I was inclined not to satisfy them. The gates would be closed, and every wall and tower manned, which left me a rat scurrying in a maze riddled with packs of vengeful cats. High above, the bells of the cathedral struck mournful tones across the streets. The sky rumbled forth an echoing peel of thunder. I turned my eyes up to the clouds, sullen. “Didn’t you want this?” I muttered. The sky didn’t answer, and I hadn’t expected it to. When the patrol had moved down the street and vanished into another block, I dashed across to the opposite alley, boots splattering through puddles with every step. I poised my axe on my shoulder, held in a tense grip.
“There!” Someone called from a window. I expected an archer, and flinched. But it was just an old man peering out of a third floor window, pointing with a gnarled finger. “He’s there!”