Read Online Memory Hunted by Christopher Kincaid - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christopher Kincaid
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straightened and snapped a salute. "Oh yes, sir.
Thank you, sir." He turned on a heel and marched away.
Tredere began to walk. "We will need to work on discipline."
Balwar tucked the vellum back into his robes. He forced
himself to ignore the open space. Cities are much better than this. His breath
misted in the cold air. A thin layer of trampled snow blanketed the space between
the wooden barracks. "The Vatican is concerned about who these heretics are." Balwar
tucked his hands into his robes. "There have been too many of late."
"Like Tahd Valador?" The captain paused and placed his
hand behind his back.
Balwar cleared his throat. "Yes, well. That was internal
business."
"Surprised I’ve heard of the Hunter’s corruption out
here? We may be on the edges of the world, but we are not completely cut off. We’ve
heard about Luther and the Protestant heretics." Tredere tilted his head. "And you
think our problem involves them."
"Maybe. We don’t—"
"It involves demons, Inquisitor Tren."
"Men are the worst demons now."
Tredere nodded. "So I know, but do you know the history
of this place?"
"All Inquisitors do. So you think this is the work of
demons and not Protestants." Balwar touched the steel comfort of the pistols strapped
to his forearms.
Tredere angled toward the hewn log barracks with a stone
foundation. "Are the Protestants cruel men? Are they as focused on rooting out heretics
as we are?"
"Some. Some are mistaken men who need to return to the
Mother Church." Balwar frowned. "How could heretics root themselves out?"
Tredere stroked his chin. "So they don’t hunt demons.
Foxes, wolves, and the like?"
Balwar shook his head. "Why do you ask?"
The captain paused before the building’s door. "We have
to know our enemy. Demon or man." The man scanned the trees beyond the low palisade
that circled the camp. "This is their ground. Not ours—whatever the Church says.
Forgive me. I don’t mean to blaspheme. I am just an old soldier. The boys also know
the stories, Inquisitor. The way these heretics would strike us makes them think
of those stories. Kill and disappear. The heretics always know where to hit us."
"So they use only small groups to attack. The forest
acts like a city." Balwar stroked his crucifix. "We need to look where they are
not. Do you have maps?"
Balwar followed the captain to his cabin. The building
sat a little away from the barracks. It was a smaller but a little less roughhewn
than the rest of the camp. The plumed soldiers flanking the entrance held their
halberds at the same angle. They resembled breathing statues.
The interior of the cabin, despite being sparse, was
disarrayed. Maps scattered across the table that dominated the room. Lanterns rested
among the jumble. A simple cot stood off to the side. A small stone hearth on the
opposite wall gave a little warmth. The captain crossed to the table, yanked a map
from the pile, and unrolled it.
"Show me where the scouts were attacked," Balwar said.
The captain muttered something and jabbed a finger into
the vellum. "Here."
"What areas did the scouts cover?" Balwar asked.
The captain emptied a leather bag on the map. Pebbles
scattered. The man arranged them around the location of the camp. Balwar studied
the map and stroked his chin. He noted how the captain fingered the dagger at his
waist.
Strange that I feel threatened by the man, Balwar
thought. They were allies. No. He was just on edge. Cities were better than these
forests. Anything could happen out here.
Balwar tried to think of the map as a series of streets.
Streets that wound every which way. The pebbles seemed to form a pattern.
"Where were the most recent attacks?’
Tredere touched three pebbles. "Here, here, and here.
This is the most recent." The man’s hand returned to his dagger.
"No pattern." Balwar resisted the urge to flick one of
his pistols into his hand. Threat radiated from the captain. Balwar frowned. Could
it be because the Vatican sent me? Commanders
Thank you, sir." He turned on a heel and marched away.
Tredere began to walk. "We will need to work on discipline."
Balwar tucked the vellum back into his robes. He forced
himself to ignore the open space. Cities are much better than this. His breath
misted in the cold air. A thin layer of trampled snow blanketed the space between
the wooden barracks. "The Vatican is concerned about who these heretics are." Balwar
tucked his hands into his robes. "There have been too many of late."
"Like Tahd Valador?" The captain paused and placed his
hand behind his back.
Balwar cleared his throat. "Yes, well. That was internal
business."
"Surprised I’ve heard of the Hunter’s corruption out
here? We may be on the edges of the world, but we are not completely cut off. We’ve
heard about Luther and the Protestant heretics." Tredere tilted his head. "And you
think our problem involves them."
"Maybe. We don’t—"
"It involves demons, Inquisitor Tren."
"Men are the worst demons now."
Tredere nodded. "So I know, but do you know the history
of this place?"
"All Inquisitors do. So you think this is the work of
demons and not Protestants." Balwar touched the steel comfort of the pistols strapped
to his forearms.
Tredere angled toward the hewn log barracks with a stone
foundation. "Are the Protestants cruel men? Are they as focused on rooting out heretics
as we are?"
"Some. Some are mistaken men who need to return to the
Mother Church." Balwar frowned. "How could heretics root themselves out?"
Tredere stroked his chin. "So they don’t hunt demons.
Foxes, wolves, and the like?"
Balwar shook his head. "Why do you ask?"
The captain paused before the building’s door. "We have
to know our enemy. Demon or man." The man scanned the trees beyond the low palisade
that circled the camp. "This is their ground. Not ours—whatever the Church says.
Forgive me. I don’t mean to blaspheme. I am just an old soldier. The boys also know
the stories, Inquisitor. The way these heretics would strike us makes them think
of those stories. Kill and disappear. The heretics always know where to hit us."
"So they use only small groups to attack. The forest
acts like a city." Balwar stroked his crucifix. "We need to look where they are
not. Do you have maps?"
Balwar followed the captain to his cabin. The building
sat a little away from the barracks. It was a smaller but a little less roughhewn
than the rest of the camp. The plumed soldiers flanking the entrance held their
halberds at the same angle. They resembled breathing statues.
The interior of the cabin, despite being sparse, was
disarrayed. Maps scattered across the table that dominated the room. Lanterns rested
among the jumble. A simple cot stood off to the side. A small stone hearth on the
opposite wall gave a little warmth. The captain crossed to the table, yanked a map
from the pile, and unrolled it.
"Show me where the scouts were attacked," Balwar said.
The captain muttered something and jabbed a finger into
the vellum. "Here."
"What areas did the scouts cover?" Balwar asked.
The captain emptied a leather bag on the map. Pebbles
scattered. The man arranged them around the location of the camp. Balwar studied
the map and stroked his chin. He noted how the captain fingered the dagger at his
waist.
Strange that I feel threatened by the man, Balwar
thought. They were allies. No. He was just on edge. Cities were better than these
forests. Anything could happen out here.
Balwar tried to think of the map as a series of streets.
Streets that wound every which way. The pebbles seemed to form a pattern.
"Where were the most recent attacks?’
Tredere touched three pebbles. "Here, here, and here.
This is the most recent." The man’s hand returned to his dagger.
"No pattern." Balwar resisted the urge to flick one of
his pistols into his hand. Threat radiated from the captain. Balwar frowned. Could
it be because the Vatican sent me? Commanders
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