Free Chaos Unleashed by Drew Karpyshyn

didn’t reply, leaving Keegan to bring the conversation back to the original topic.
    “So the farm is abandoned?”
    “Not by choice,” was Jerrod’s grim response.
    Something in his tone prevented Keegan from asking any more questions. Scythe either sensed it, too, or she simply didn’t care to press for more information. As they drew closer, however, the explanation became clear: Someone had razed the place to the ground.
    The charred remnants of a crop field marked the outer edge of the property. A handful of animal corpses—a cow, two pigs, and several chickens—lay rotting slowly in the cool winter air, their throats slit. The burned-out frame of what had once been a small wooden barn in the corner looked ready to collapse at any moment. The farmhouse had fared better, but only barely: The stone walls were scorched completely black, and the thatch roof had been burned completely away.
    “Bandits?” Keegan wondered aloud as they continued moving forward.
    Jerrod shook his head and pointed to the farthest edge of the property, where five tall wooden stakes jutted up from the ground. Around each was a pile of ash and spent charcoal. Strapped to the stakes by twisted metal wire were shapes that had once been human. Now they were almost unrecognizable: black, shapeless lumps of flesh and bone twisted by the intense heat that had taken their lives.
    “I’ve seen this before,” the monk explained. “Yasmin has declared a Purge.”
    They had stopped on the edge of the farm, Jerrod bringing them to the very edge of the slaughter but not taking them any farther.
    “Why would the Order execute people out here in the middle of nowhere?” Keegan asked, still not piecing it all together.
    “Don’t be so dense,” Scythe answered, though there was no real venom in her voice. “The family must have been harboring a Chaos user. Probably trying to hide a relative from the Inquisitors.”
    “So the Order burned them alive?” Keegan exclaimed, his stomach rising.
    “There is only one sentence for heresy,” Jerrod reminded him. “Anyone here would be guilty by mere association.”
    Almost against his will, Keegan’s eyes focused on the charred remains lashed to the stakes. It was difficult to say for sure, but some of the figures looked smaller than the others.
    “Even the Order wouldn’t execute children,” the young wizard muttered, hoping it was true.
    “The children would be spared,” Jerrod agreed, much to Keegan’s relief. “The young ones, at least. But any over the age of twelve would have to renounce their parents and watch them burn, or suffer the same fate.”
    “That’s barbaric,” Keegan muttered.
    “It’s no worse than what we’ve done,” Scythe countered. “How many innocent victims have we left in our wake?”
    Keegan didn’t like to think about what had happened at Ferlhame. Hundreds had died the night he’d awakened the dragon; of course he felt some sense of responsibility and guilt for what had happened. But this wasn’t the same thing.
    “There’s a difference between accidentally causing harm in the heat of the moment and cold-blooded murder.”
    “The victims are dead either way,” Scythe said with an indifferent shrug.
    “We are not like the Order!” Keegan insisted. “We’re trying to save the world.”
    “So are they,” Jerrod reminded him. “Though they walk the wrong path.”
    “They’re the
enemy
!”
    “No,” the monk said. “Daemron is our enemy. Do not lose sight of that. The Order is merely an obstacle in the way of what must be done to stop the Slayer’s return.”
    “They’re trying to kill us!” Keegan reminded them both.
    “They are merely following their beliefs with pure conviction,” Jerrod offered. “And we do the same. In truth, there is little difference between us. In other circumstances, their efforts would be almost admirable.”
    Keegan couldn’t think of an immediate response, so he looked over to Scythe for support. In the past,