A Rising Darkness

by Nikki Dorakis

  I was about halfway through adding the supplementary clauses and codicils Janir had requested when the study door crashed open striking the credenza behind it and dislodging several of Anubis’ statues. Jae’nt burst through the door accompanied by two of his cohort and with Faedron and another guard hot on their heels and closely followed by the household servants.

  “Who in the Nine Hells do you think you are to have me confined?” Jae’nt demanded brandishing the order like a sword. He gestured to his companions. “And these are the sons of Senators, members of the Inner Court.”

  I rose and walked slowly and deliberately around my desk, freezing Faedron and the other guard with a gesture. “I might ask who in the Nine Hells you think you are that you may break into my home with your lackeys like marauders, Prince Jae’nt. And,” I added as I drew level with him, “stinking of cheap ale like common tosspots from the lower city.”

  “Easy words from a Medran catamite.” It was Thaze, the son of a lesser Senator who spoke and before I could even form words to speak Faedron had crossed the room seized the young man by the throat, drawn his dagger and rammed it into the soldier’s mouth.

  “Say the word, Ez’n and I will cut out his tongue and feed it to him!” Faedron was white with rage, the tendons in his neck standing out like harp strings.

  Jae’nt and his companion went to move but came up short when they found themselves facing the drawn sword of Faedron’s companion. Jae’nt smirked. “Put up your weapon, soldier and you may live to see the sunrise.”

  I turned to the prince making a small swatting gesture. “Enough!” My mind flexed and Jae’nt and his companion were pushed off their feet. They stumbled back on to the couch by the ingle. “I suggest you neither move nor threaten my guards again.” I told the pair. I walked slowly over to Faedron and put my hand on his arm. “Sheath your knife, Corporal.”

  The corporal’s arm tensed. “I will sheath it in his filthy throat,” he hissed fury dripping from his every word. Blood began to dribble from the corners of the young soldier’s mouth and a patch of wetness appeared through the front of his tunic. Faedron was shaking, his white-knuckled grip cutting off his victim’s breath. I knew in that moment that at my word he would skewer the cadet to the door post. The young man’s legs began to buckle and his eyes rolled wildly upwards. “Faedron. Let him go.”

  The sound of his name seemed to sober the corporal instantly and he released his grip as if he had been burned, fury fading to be replaced almost at once by a cool military detachment as he watched the private collapse into the puddle of his own urine. The corporal sheathed his weapon and stood to attention his hand ready on his sword. I turned to the Prince and his other companion. “See to your friend,” I told them and as Alna came forward with a mop and pail I put my hand up. Taking the cleaning materials from her I handed the mop to Jae’nt.

  “You cannot expect me to . . .” The prince’s voice trailed off as he found himself looking down the length of my ceremonial wand.

  “Do not push me further.” I warned him. I turned to Faedron’s brother-at-arms, a soldier probably of twenty cycles, maybe a little more. “What is your name?”

  “Malek, if it please you, Ez’n.”

  “Go and fetch the Provost and tell him to bring a contingent.” I turned to the third member of Jae’nt’s group. “And who might you be?” I demanded.

  “I am called Allyn, Lord Ez’n, Allyn ibid-Zayin.” The young man answered.

  “The son of Senator Tariq Zayin?”

  “Yes, Lord Ez’n,” the young man was scarcely looking at me, focused as he was on Jae’nt as he cleared up his comrade’s excrement.

  “You are a disgrace to your family and to your House.” I told him coolly

  “Yes, Lord Ez’n.”

  “I do not require that you agree with me, soldier. Be silent.”

  Jae’nt had just finished his cleaning duty and thrust the mop back at Alna when Aenar and four royal infantrymen arrived.

  “At your command, Ez’n.” Aenar saluted, his quick eyes taking in the scene even as he dropped his hand from his breast plate. His gaze rested for a moment or two on Thaze who was leaning heavily on Allyn’s shoulder.

  “No doubt Malek has made you aware of the events,” I said gesturing roughly in the direction of the miscreants.

  “Yes, Ez’n-Kyr.”

  “Then perhaps you can explain to me, Provost, how three men of the Royal House have appeared in my rooms as common drunken louts threatening and insulting The Crown despite being confined to barracks for a full lunation.”

  Thaze and Allyn let out low gasps and Jae’nt set his jaw so hard that the muscles in his face stood out. If the severity of their actions had been lost on them at the outset, the time it had taken to get Aenar and his cohort to the apartments had allowed the effects of the ale to wear off somewhat bringing an uncomfortable clarity with the ensuing sobriety.

  Glancing from me to the trio and back to me, it was clear that Aenar was searching my face for a hint that I was merely making a point, or for a clue that he could pick up on to allow the situation to be resolved without recourse to the Royal Guard’s Codex which would require the three to be publicly flogged. Finding no such trace the sergeant took a deep breath. “I am afraid I cannot explain this, Lord Ez’n.”

  “Then perhaps Commander Garrick and his Deputy, Idril will be able to explain it. Summon them.”

  Aenar shifted uncomfortably. He had seen me angry on a number of occasions, but he had never seen me in a rage. And it had to be said that my temper was becoming much exercised. “Lord Ez’n, the Commander is at his home near Koris, and Deputy Idril is . . . is elsewhere.” I rounded on the sergeant with such ferocity that he took a step back.

  “I did not ask where they were, Provost. I asked for them to be summoned here.” I snapped. To Faedron, “Send a rider to Koris,” I told him in curt, clipped tones. “And I do not care if you have to wake the entire Royal Guard to search every brothel and bath house in the city and its suburbs. I want Idril here within the secta.”

  Faedron saluted and almost ran from the apartments, pleased I guessed to be out of my presence. I turned my attention to the Prince and his friends, pointing at the puddle of blood by Thaze’s feet. “And I suggest you stop your companion from bleeding all over my study like a rough-ridden boy-whore.”

  “If your guard had not been quite so knife-happy it would not be necessary.”

  I turned to Jae’nt and stalked up to him. “If your lackey had not been so loose with his tongue it would still be intact, Prince Jae’nt. Now see to it before you end up wielding the mop again.”

  “And what will I use for bandage?”

  “You are supposedly a soldier. Do as you would in the field and use your tunic.”

  “You cannot be serious!” The prince took a step towards me only to find his way blocked by Aenar and two of his squad.

  I moved the men aside stepping up to Jae’nt. “Do not presume to tell me what I can or cannot be.”

  “I am Prince Royal of Zetaria,” Jae’nt stormed, leaning over me.

  I put my hand on his chest moving him back more with the force of my will than anything else. “And I am The Crown,” I answered, my voice a low menacing hiss. “Now, see to your friend.” I turned away beckoning Aarin forward. “Tea.” I said. To Aenar. “Attend me.”

  I left the Prince in the custody of Aenar’s men and repaired to my withdrawing room where Aarin had set up a flacon of wine before bringing cakes and a pot of ruby spike.

  When Aarin had finished serving the drinks and Aenar and I were finally alone I motioned the sergeant to the chair beside me. “Do you think they are now sufficiently frightened, Aenar?”

  The veteran relaxed visibly. “I do not know about them, Ez’n, but I am more than sufficiently frightened.” He nodded his thanks, taking the goblet of wine I held out to him. “What would you have done with them now, Ez’n?”

  I set my own goblet aside and thought for a moment. W
hat would I have done with them? From the purely legal perspective I should have them publicly flogged at the very least. The political ramifications of flogging the Prince Royal and the sons of two Senators as if they were common thugs and footpads were unthinkable but then the consequences of inaction were just as unappealing.

  Aenar frowned at me. “Thaze should be flogged and have his tongue torn out, Ez’n.”

  I knew this. “But what good would that do? It would not unsay the insult; it would change nothing and would probably cause a rift between Crown and at least part of the Senate at a politically sensitive time.” I paused to order my thoughts, taking a long slow drink from my wine. A sudden though struck me. “Aenar send a runner to the Senators’ homes and summon them.”

  Garrick stood before me looking for all the world as if he would like nothing better than to hoist my head on a pike over the main gate. Beside him the two Senators shuffled uncomfortably glancing alternately from me to their delinquent sons.

  “I am at a loss, Ez’n, “the Commander said in conciliatory tones so lacking in sincerity as to be insulting.

  “Really? And why is that?

  “The Provost should . . .” Garrick began but I cut him off almost before the words were out of his mouth.

  “No, Commander Garrick. You will not shrug this from your shoulders that easily. “You and you alone are responsible for the discipline or lack thereof in the Royal House. And where, pray tell, is Deputy Idril?” This as Aenar’s runner appeared breathlessly in the doorway.

  “With respect, Ez’n . . .” The young man’s voice trailed away as he stood shaking in the doorway.

  “With respect?” I prompted.

  “Deputy Idril says he is . . . otherwise occupied.”

  “I see.” I answered coolly, reaching to pick up my wine. I walked slowly over to the soldier and handed it to him. “Drink,” I said calmly. “Now, tell me,” I said taking the goblet from the soldier’s shaking hand. “where exactly is Deputy Idril otherwise occupied?”

  “With respect Ez’n he is at the Moon’s Mask.”

  I turned a stone-splitting stare on Garrick. “Go and get your Deputy.”

  “Lord Ez’n?”

  I inclined my head slightly. “Is there something unclear about the order, Commander Garrick? If Idril is not here within half a secta you will be stripped of your rank and spend the next settan in the stocks, your Deputy’s genitals will decorate my battle stave in the forthcoming campaign and he will spend the rest of his degenerate life serving as a eunuch in the Moon’s Mask or some other equally insalubrious fleshpot. Do not make me repeat my instruction.”

  I turned my attention to Jae’nt and his companions. “I see now the root of your flagrant disregard for orders.” I told them. I turned to Aenar. “Take them back to the barracks and this time make sure they remain there.”

  “At once, Ez’n.” Aenar paused indicating Thaze. “And this one?”

  “Ah yes! You.” I stepped up to the young soldier grabbing him by his braid and pulling his face down towards mine. “If you ever presume to speak in my presence again I will tear out your tongue myself and feed it to my dogs.” I released my hold and turned back to Aenar. “I believe he has paid for his over-indulgence, Sergeant. Take him back as well and see to it he is taken to a healer. I doubt that his tongue will be loose for some time to come.”

  As the guards closed around Jae’nt and his companions and escorted them from the room I turned to the Senators.

  “Do not mistake my tolerance for weakness, gentlemen.” I warned the men as they relaxed. “Should anything similar occur it will not be your sons alone who find themselves in chains.”

  “But surely, Lord Meriq, you cannot mean to hold us responsible for the misconduct of our sons?” Senator Kourbis said suavely. “Thaze is his own . . .”

  “Man?” I ventured, cutting the Senator short.

  “Exactly.” The Senator rejoined smoothly.

  “In point of fact, Senator, he is not.” I said equally smoothly, “He is untried and ungirdled and is therefore quite clearly not his own man. While he is ungirdled he is your responsibility whether he is in the ranks or not. And rest assured, Senators, should your sons ever fall foul of me again both of you will pay for it.”

  “In my capacity as a Senator I must object most vehemently, Ez’n.” Kourbis said sourly.

  “Indeed?” I responded turning to pick up my wine. “Forgive me Senator, but somehow I cannot seem to care. But do you suppose that your vehemence will be in any way diminished when you are objecting in your new capacity as a dispossessed exile?”

  I rounded on the Senator so suddenly that the man jumped back stumbled over a footstool. “Your ungirdled, drunken and ill-mannered son broke into my chambers, defamed me and slandered The Crown and you dare to object to my clemency? Your son is fortunate to be still in possession of his tongue and his skin. And you . . . Senators . . .” I spat the title like a ritual curse, “are fortunate to be still in possession of your titles and your properties. Do not delude yourselves. All you have now you have only by my goodwill for as long as it pleases me to exercise it.”

  The men exchanged troubled glances before bending knee and making an abject apology. I waited for them to look up at me.

  “I will consider your apologies as I will consider what sanctions I may still take. I suggest that when you speak to your sons you counsel them to try neither my patience nor tolerance any further. Now I think you should both leave before those virtues are completely exhausted.”

  Dismissing the Senators I rose and refilled my goblet and just as I raised it to my lips Garrick arrived with a very flustered and unhappy Deputy Idril. I took a generous mouthful of wine setting the goblet aside with a short sigh. It was going to be a long night.

  The king set aside the treaty and smiled. I heaved a sigh of relief. At least the revisions he had requested were to his liking. He was still concerned about the blank space and, I had to admit, so was I.

  It would be an easy matter to simply re-write the pages and close up the text, but the more I considered this option the less appropriate the action seemed. Anubis had left the space deliberately, and the more I stared at the blank parchment the more it seemed that the space was waiting for exactly the right words to be written into it. I could not explain the feeling, but as Anubis had always counselled me, when in doubt, wait. And so wait I would and trust to Fate that when the time was right the space would be filled as it should be.

  “Of course—” Janir paused as he set to stacking the treaty pages in the portfolio, “you should have executed the Zayin boy and that loin leech, Kourbis.”

  “Which loin leech?” I asked flatly.

  Janir smiled and handed me the Treaty. “Both,” he replied with a light chuckle, “It would have been expedient.”

  “But not very constructive at this time,” I observed. “Anyway,” I added as an afterthought, “a son like Thaze generally plays only from the deck his father deals. And while the Senator is worrying about his goods and chattels he will have little mind for anything else.” I gave Janir a mischievous look, “And besides, Sire, what should I have done with the Prince?”

  “You should have had Aenar flog him. I would have.”

  “Well, you could still order it so, my king.”

  Janir laughed and rang for a servant. “Tea,” he said as the youth appeared. “True. But I have other plans for Jae’nt, Meriq.”

  “And what might those be, Sire?”

  Janir smiled again, secretively this time. “My own.”

  “I see.” I said quietly.

  “Oh, I am almost certain you do not, Ez’n.” Janir smiled, served the tea and handed me a cup.

  †

  CHAPTER 7

  THE FIRST RULE

  MID-WINTER announced its passing with a vicious snow storm. For ten days the icy wind whipped the hand-sized snowflakes into a frenzy and drove ice crystals through the air like assassin’s darts with such ferocity that the bl
izzard would strip a man’s skin in moments if he was left unprotected. The cold was so bitter that even with the main fire and auxiliary braziers the apartments still felt chill in places. Shutters closed against the biting wind seemed to offer little protection from the gnawing cold even with thick woollen curtains drawn across them.

  Out in the corridors I could hear the guards moving and stamping their feet in defence against the severity of the weather. Even with the firebowls the men seemed to be suffering with the freezing weather. And following the death of a young javelineer who had been found frozen at his post, Janir ordered guards away from the sentry boxes and had them stationed inside the palace and gatehouses to conduct their watches from the safety of the indoors.

  I leaned back in Anubis’ large chair by the ingle cradling the bowl of stew Aarin had brought in for me and savouring both the aroma and the warmth of the stoneware against my hands. I became aware of Iannos and Jalin hovering just on the out edge of my vision. I turned to look at the youths.

  “The snow has abated, Master,” Iannos told me bowing slightly. “We need to fetch more wood and charcoal from the outer stores.”

  “And we are running low on oil for the lamps . . .” Jalin said.

  “. . . and lightsticks,” Iannos finished.

  I nodded, rising to peer through the arrow slit in the shutter. As the boys said, the snow had stopped but the wind was still whipping ice shards around and tearing icicles from their roots under the eaves. “Very well,” I said, taking Iannos by the arm, “Be swift and be careful.”

  “Yes, Master,” the boys said in chorus.

  By the time the servants returned with the various stores the wind had dropped and the sky was clearing allowing the rising moons and a few stars to show through. Sounds began to filter up from the courtyard below as the Lightmen ventured forth and began to light the courtyard torches and light globes. I pushed open the shutters, watching as the men moved around keeping one eye on the sky lest the clouds close in again and bring more snow. But the clouds were dispersing leaving a clear but slowly darkening sky. In the distant north the Iron Mountains began to glow deep crimson and gold as the crystals in the rock captured and reflected the last rays of the sun, reminding me that even in this bitter weather the Morlans would have begun their march and by the first burgeoning of spring the red and gold of King Keelan’s army would be spreading over the northern plains like a lava floe.