Free Heaven's Gate by Toby Bennett Page A

Purity could not be touched by such filth he assured himself, no matter how many monsters had gathered under the banners at Golifany the ideal they had fought for remained unsullied. He had to hold that as certain because, though these men could not know it, had probably never seen that bloody sunset, of all those monsters that had gathered, he held himself the worst.
     
    “Let’s have your answer, then. Will you give or must we take?”
    “Be warned ‘brother’! You call me brother and I accept it, for there is more truth there than you know. I am Captain Samuel Blake. I fought at the Citadel. I was first through the breach. I have no wish to harm my brethren, even those fallen to thievery. I shall not give up my horse and my business is too pressing for me to waste much more time in banter.”
     
    “Thievery he calls it!” The sergeant displays mock outrage. “Since when would a brother bulk at a contribution to the Church? Do you think we did not see your fine officer’s sword poking from your saddle? Do you think such things will soften us? At least we kept the blue past that worthless battle, ever since things have gone downhill. Used to be a time when we didn’t have to ask for alms, then cowards like you   left us to fight some last battle and deserted us. There’s been no ‘last battle for us has there lads?”
    “No, sir,” comes the loyal chorus.
    “I’m not impressed by some old battle that that sword may have been at, with or without you.   Instead I say you, be warned, you are no brother of mine and….” Blake’s hand moves faster than the eye, a blur of motion barely registered in the poor light, punctuated by a flash like lightening and a roll of thunder, “ …I am glad of that.” Blake’s voice echoes in the eerie silence that follows his gun’s blast. Even the music has stopped for the moment, just long enough for the sergeant’s body and its ruined head to slump onto the cobbled street. It takes a moment for the rest of the men to register that their leader has fallen to the rider’s bullet and not some divine display of wrath. After all, the stranger’s hands are empty, only the thin stream of smoke curling from the large caliber pistol on his hip gives any indication as to the source of the attack.
     
    “I would be loathe to see any more of my brothers hurt.” The rider seems to swell and become part of the shadows as he speaks; from somewhere in that darkness two eyes like dim coals ignite the fear in the heart of each man there, causing them to run like frightened children. Behind them the phantasm shrinks to a silver haired rider, left slightly weary by his exertions.
     
    “One more soul to answer for,” he whispers to his horse as he looks down at the dead brigand. “It didn’t have to be this way.” As he crosses himself, he is unsure whether he is speaking to the corpse or himself. It is always like this after he spends some of the energy he has stolen; just as the unholy essence gives him a terrible predatory drive, so its expenditure leaves him unfocused and dispirited. He is hollow now but far from empty! The hunger will build again soon, made all the more urgent by this latest loss but just for now neither his quest nor his need touch him. He lets the horse pick its way back into the well-lit streets of Limit and down to the train tracks. The only reason for his choice of direction the warm desert wind at his back.

  Chapter 4:
     
    “A Fly on the Wall”
     
    Olstop had once been a large city by the standards of the Bowl, the proximity of the Blue Snake meant that it was surrounded by tall trees and prime farm lands. Since its founding the city has marked the border between the old Thatcher Barony, so recently acquired by the Inquisition and the Carter family’s territories. The Carters were now almost certainly the richest clan in the Bowl, that is with their neighbour to the south gone. Olstop’s decline in size had come in spite of its good location