The Inquisitor

Shawn looked down at the rune in his hand, understanding rolling over him. The pig had been some kind of creature of fire. And when he had killed it with this rune, he’d gained a rune of fire. This man hadn’t been killed, but he looked pretty close. And he’d stolen the man’s runes of earth and energy. Likely his two specialties.

“Hey!” A guard was jogging over from his post on a nearby corner, hand on the pommel of his sword. “What did you do to him?”

Shawn raised his hands, sputtering. “No-I didn’t- I didn’t mean to! Really!”

The guard leapt onto the stage, a feat that looked impossible for a man in full chainmail. “Turn around, hands behind your back. The captain’ll know what to do with ya.”

Shawn complied, feeling the guard grabbing his wrists roughly.

“What’s this?” He lifted Shawn’s right hand, examining it. “What does this mark…”

The blood drained from the guard’s face and he stumbled backwards. “The…the prophecy…”

Then he bolted down the street, yelling for reinforcements.

“What?” said Shawn, examining the back of his hand himself. There, emblazoned in black on the back of his hand, was the Rune of Hunger. “I’m the prophecy?”

A larger company of guards was clanking into the square, quickly scattering the few civilians that hadn’t fled. Four raised crossbows and pointed them at Shawn, and the two others drew spears. “Stay where you are!” barked the man in the center. “You will come with us.”

Shawn clammed up before the large crossbows, and slowly walked towards them. His hands were tied behind his back and they marched with him in the center down street after street, moving farther and farther into the city. Not a single guard lowered their crossbow the entire time.

Finally, they reached a dark gate, which rose before them. Taking him inside, they opened a cell door and brought him in. A dank stairway lowered into the ground, and Shawn could hear the skitter of rats and the dripping of water. They descended one flight and came to an empty cell. They shoved him inside and slammed the door, leaving his hands bound.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“The Inquisitor will come to see you later. I suggest you get some sleep before then,” the same guard said, gruffly. Then they left, leaving Shawn in darkness.

The Inquisitor? What kind of Dark Ages style trouble have I gotten myself into? And what did he say earlier about me being part of that prophecy? He wriggled his hands, attempting to twist free, but the rope was too tight and all he got was some chafed wrists. I guess the only thing to do is to wait for this Inquisitor guy.

Shawn sat in the dark for what seemed like hours, and it may very well have been. He had no way of gauging the time, and he may have fallen asleep at some point. Suddenly, light spilled across the entryway, blinding his eyes momentarily. A tall silhouette loomed in the doorway, reaching for the lock on his cell. The clank of keys in the lock mechanism echoed, and the door creaked open.

“You are accused of practicing Dark Runes. This kind of magic is forbidden. Do you understand your accusation?” The man’s voice was high and creaky, reminding Shawn of some old grandpa. But evil.

“I swear, I don’t know what a dark rune is! Why am I here?”

“Show me your hand.”

Shawn slowly lifted his hand, showing his wrist to the man. The Inquisitor continued, saying, “That is the mark of the dark. Some believe the prophecy blindly, hoping and praying for salvation. I do not. I put my faith in logic. And I intend to test this foretelling.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Fear was starting to creep into Shawn’s voice.

“‘The one will appear, with power to strengthen

the one must be feared, when shadows do lengthen.

When the Prince and the Jester no further do trust,

the one must save all, lest dark turn to dust.’”

The Inquisitor recited the lines in rhythm, almost like an incantation. “Now, you appear, when ‘shadows lengthen,’ otherwise known as Fall. So…tell me. Who are you?”

Shawn felt fear bubbling up in his chest, but he answered. “I’m nobody! I’m just…Shawn. Shawn Dennen.” Something told him not to tell the Inquisitor that he wasn’t from this world.

“Shawn… Well, Shawn, you are what is called a symbol. Those that believe in that idiotic prophecy may see you as a symbol of change.” He stood up now and turned halfway to the door.

“And I intend to crush that change. You will be executed tomorrow at dawn. It is, of course, nothing personal, but the prince needs stability, now more than ever.” The Inquisitor spun all the way and left the cell, his footsteps echoing on the stone, and his final words echoing in Shawn’s ears.