A Rising Darkness

by Nikki Dorakis

  “We need a stimulant,” Karyn said, “But how do we get him to drink it? He’s unconscious.”

  “Which is why Medran assassins favour it.” I told her.

  “There is a “but” in your voice, t’pahq. You are being devious!”

  “As you say . . . but if we could get a stimulant directly into his blood by some means . . .”

  Karyn’s face lit up. “Then we could fight the Bane and the Sage in the same way. I will send for Orrin. He will have the antidote for the Sage already prepared.” She suddenly looked stricken again. “But if we cut him the flow of blood will force the medicine out; and we don’t have anything stimulating.”

  “Oh but I think we do.”

  I left Karyn and returned to where Jae’nt crouched beside the stricken archer. Dthor had arrived with Polo trotting behind him like a dutiful pup and was doing his level best to reassure the fretting prince that there was no way he could have anticipated either the attack or the fact that Tariq would have been there. Commander Zarin arrived with the kings a short while later.

  Zarin stood over his son watching the slow, shallow rise and fall of the young man’s chest. His face was set in a grim, unreadable mask. If he was in any way concerned or anxious for his youngest son he gave no sign. He moved suddenly as if making to leave and stopped abruptly as his eye fell on the silver penanula Jae’nt was turning over and over in his hand.

  Zarin leaned down and took the pin inspecting it closely. He handed it back to the prince without a word and then headed to where the brothers stood by the door. I could not be certain, but I thought I saw him scowl at Jae’nt just before he turned his back and began talking with his sons.

  I turned my attention to the kings, filling in the details that Dthor had missed and reassuring them that I had already issued orders to double the guards and I had also initiated four-man patrols to move between the guard posts. Overkill, perhaps, as Keelan said, but at least we could now be reasonably certain that no other would-be assassins could get so close again. And while the kings engaged Dthor in discussions about security and strategy for recommencing the march on the capital, Medravia, I conscripted Polo to fetch Aarin with the instruction that he should bring his brew with him.

  The Kendirith arrived with Orrin and the pair went immediately into the dispensary where Karyn waited.

  Karyn frowned. She was not entirely convinced that the Kendirith concoction, as she called it, would work. It was certainly stimulating from what she could tell from sampling it, but it would need to be made considerably stronger and we still had to find a method of delivering it.

  I suggested that we create a tincture from a pure distillate of porter or from the Morlan liquor, hocheeka. We could warm the alcohol to speed the extraction process.

  Karyn nodded. “That would work. Let’s get started. We are running short of time.”

  We worked steadily and quickly, I prepared the tincture of Aarin’s brew while Karyn laboured to produce a similar preparation from Orrin’s antidote. Two sectas later we had had the medicine ready.

  “This could kill him of course,” Karyn said as we decanted the liquid into a small flask.

  Indeed it could. I had to agree. But the young man would most definitely die if we did nothing. With our antidote, even untried as it was, he at least had a chance of life.

  “How do we get it into him? We can’t cut him. We’ve already discounted that.”

  “Snake fang.” I answered.

  Karyn looked mystified, convinced I had just invented a new kind of expletive to express frustration. I reached into my belt pouch and produced the battle glove Markos had made for me. The poison sacs, though long since devoid of toxin had been well maintained and could be filled with the tincture. This in turn could be injected into a vein in the same manner that the king snake used.

  Karyn gaped at me. “You know, t’pahq, even if I did not believe in wizards before I met you, I would now. No-one but a wizard could have thought of that!”

  “Oh. I don’t know, Karyn. Given a couple of lunations I’m sure you would have come up with it.”

  She gave me harsh look and then smiled. “Remind me to kill you in the morning.”

  Jae’nt and the kings looked on doubtfully as Karyn and I prepared to deliver our “cure”. Even I was in doubt; nothing like this had ever been attempted before and there was every chance that we would speed Tariq’s demise. Nevertheless, we could not just sit idly by and watch a young life dwindle to nothing.

  With a tourniquet tied around the young man’s upper arm we waited for the blood vessels to become suitably engorged and once they were I filled the venom sac with the tincture and then carefully inserted the fang into the vein. I glanced at Karyn who took a deep breath and then nodded. I squeezed the venom sac gently as she released the strap on Tariq’s arm.

  Scarcely had the tincture entered the archer’s bloodstream and he convulsed violently. He writhed and jerked and then suddenly lay still. There was no sign of breath.

  Jaen’t looked on horrified.

  “I am sorry, Jae’nt, Commander Zarin. It was the best we could do.”

  “No!” Jae’nt shouted. He grabbed Tariq by the shoulders and shook him violently. “No!” he yelled into the archer’s face. “You will NOT fall. You will not! Do you hear me, you worthless piece of carrion! You will not leave me. I will not lose you—not to this. Fight, you whore-son!” And he slapped the fallen man in the face, pounding on the archer’s chest so ferociously that it discoloured the paling skin.

  I placed my hand on the prince’s shoulder. “Jae’nt. My prince, he is . . .”

  “Breathing,” Karyn said gaping at us. “By Morgul! He is breathing again.”

  We all stood silently by the bed watching as the archer’s breathing became stronger and more regular and moments later his eyelids began to twitch and his eyes flicked open. He gave a week smile.

  “Shovaqi,” he croaked. “You did not let me fall.”

  Jae’nt slapped the man in the face again. “You—you—petach,” he raged, “You scared me half to death. What in Zoar’s name were you thinking leaping in like a badly loosed arrow?”

  Tariq gave another smile, this one stronger than the last. “Good. I am pleased you fear for me. And for your information, shovaqi, my mother is of noble birth and not as you suggested.” Tariq gave another smile and then winced, putting his hand to his jaw. “So—little prince—you had to wait for me to be near death before you could land a good solid blow on me. We shall have to have a re-match when I am on my feet once more. You struck me while I was helpless and now there is a grudge to settle.”

  Satisfied that all was as it should be the Kings left the area with their guards and Dthor and I made ready to return to our tent. Jae’nt remained behind talking with Tariq, the pair arguing about who owed a life to whom and whether or not Jae’nt was coward for striking a defenceless man.

  “War brothers in the making.” Dthor chuckled, “I would wager good coin on it.”

  I remained silent. I did not wish to contemplate further entanglements between Morlan and Zetan—the relationship between Aenar and Kylos had caused enough of a stir. Of course, it was clear to anyone who had eyes that there was more to their partnership than one defending the other in battle. Keelan’s address at the banquet, however, did much to quench the flames of scandal. Nevertheless, should a similar thing occur between the Prince Royal of Zetaria and the Morlan titan the outcome would, like as not, be much less favourable. I became more convinced of this as I passed the remaining titans and their father just in time to overhear the end of their discourse.

  “I asked how long,” Zarin growled, “and you, boy, will answer me.”

  Tyrel turned his face away from his father, making it clear that whatever the question referred to it would not be answered by him and as each of the brothers did likewise Zarin became more noticeably angered.

  “Is there a problem, Commander Zarin?” I asked, joining the group.

  “N
o, nothing, Ez’n. It is a family matter.” The commander was blunt almost to the point of rudeness.

  “I see. Well, I will leave you to it. This is a difficult time for everyone but I am sure Tariq will make a swift recovery.”

  “Indeed,” Zarin replied with an even more obvious lack of warmth.

  I left them then, taking Dthor’s shield arm as we walked away and pausing once more at the sound of Zarin’s raised and very angry voice.

  “I find out there has been any . . . .” Zarin’s voice trailed off, “I will take this to the Priests of the m’rgaerdjinn.”

  Tyrel turned back to his father. “Those rat turds have no authority here. We are not in Morla now.” Tyrel was now as aroused as his father. “Besides, if it is done, it is done, father. It cannot be undone. Leave it be!”

  Zarin’s hand moved with the speed of a lightning strike and he caught his son under the jaw knocking him to the ground. “Do NOT presume . . .”

  “Commander Zarin!” I turned fully and stalked back towards the Morlan evading Dthor’s grasp as he attempted to stop me.

  “What?!” The soldier bellowed as he rounded on me. His eyes burned with an almost insane fury that only abated when he realised who had called his name. His manner changed abruptly.

  “Ez’n, this is a family matter.”

  I scowled at the man. “That is as may be, Commander, but regardless of the nature of your dispute with your son, NONE may strike a member of the White Guard.” I turned to Tyrel. “Get up. All of you return to your tents.”

  “I have not finished.” Zarin scowled.

  “Yes you have, Commander. To strike a member of the Kyr-Garrin is to strike me. To strike me is an assault on King Janir. I will make an allowance for you not knowing that on this occasion. I will not be so accommodating if such an assault is repeated.”

  The man grunted and stalked off and I returned to where my consort stood waiting.

  “Well, that went well,” he said sarcastically, “You certainly know how to do things diplomatically, little dragon.”

  “Speaking of which, my Lord Consort, I believe we have a prisoner to interview.”

  The interrogation proved less than fruitful; the man was delirious and barely coherent. What we did manage to get from him was that there was a scout group ensconced less than ten cords from our position.

  With this knowledge to hand I dispatched Orrin and two other kayetim on reconnaissance to ascertain the strength of force; the prisoner either would not or could not give the number of men in the group.

  I had no doubt that if the number was manageable Orrin and his contingent eliminate the group quickly and effectively—hopefully before they realised their men were missing. That being said, it was more than likely that the scouts knew where we were and had sent the neutralised pair to carry out a guerrilla strike to sow the seeds of unease amongst our fighting force. In any event, the scout group would have to be dealt with one way or another before they could report back to their masters and compromise our position any further.

  Given the state of the veldt I thought it unlikely that the Legion could move in any viable number to mount an effective attack any more than we could but, as Dthor pointed out, even the mightiest warrior would eventually fall prey to repeated small cuts as surely as he would to critical strike.

  †

  CHAPTER 31

  AN ANCESTOR’S MADNESS

  DAWN OF the following day broke to the sound of thunder and the clatter of rain on the canvass roof of our marquee signalling the beginning of the third settan of rain. I lay for a moment staring up at the pale canvass watching as it lightened slowly with the rising sun. At this rate our march would be stymied yet further. Even should the rains cease this very day it would be at least another settan before we could move again; the veldt would be a treacherous swamp for several days until it drained. And I remembered vaguely from my childhood that the trade caravans were often delayed for several settans after the spring rain. This did not bode well for us. I shifted slightly and stared briefly at one of the guttering lamps. This delay was not only putting a strain on the supplies it was also putting a strain on my ability to maintain the glamour on Janir; the longer the link was in place, to more risk there was that it would kill me and the king as well.

  Beside me Dthor stirred, the movement providing a welcome distraction from my morbid thoughts. I shifted my position pulling the blankets and skins up over my shoulders and climbed on top of Dthor to draw extra warmth from him. He stirred, opened his eyes and smiled down at me, winding his arms around me as he rolled and reversed our positions.

  “I had this dream,” the soldier whispered to me, “I dreamed that I would awaken and make love to the most beautiful man the Great God placed on the face of this world.” He shifted slightly and stroked my thigh gently. “Has this dream come true?”

  “If you truly believe that I am that man, Lord Consort, I think it is about to.”

  I lay sprawled on Dthor’s chest listening to the soft whisper of his breathing as he dozed beneath me. The soft sound of scratching on the canvass curtain of our bed chamber brought me fully awake and in response to my call Aarin appeared.

  “You pardon, Master, but Orrin and his men have returned and are waiting without. I thought you would like to know.”

  “Thank you Aarin. Please make the men comfortable. I will be out shortly.”

  Much as I had predicted the kayetim had slaughtered the scouts in pretty short order and none, so far as the assassins could tell had been absent from the camp.

  “We waited for several sectas, t’pahq,” Orrin said as he took the tea Aarin offered, “No-one returned to the camp. Oh, and we have ‘acquired’ their weapons and placed them in the armoury.”

  I thanked the men leaving them to finish their drinks and returned to the bed chamber to wash and dress. The kings would need to know of this.

  In the War Council tent the Generals and Kings were restless. Janir paced like a caged beast. If he’d had a tail he would have lashed it. “How long will this cursed rain last?” he demanded of no-one in particular, though his gaze ultimately fell on me.

  “From what little I remember, Majesty, “it is likely to be at least another two settans.”

  Keelan rose and poured himself a goblet of wine. He watered it generously. “Well, on the bright side—if there is one—it means that if we cannot march, neither can the Black Legion.”

  “No, Sire, but they can spend the time building fortifications around Medravia,” Korlaq stated.

  And much as I disliked the man I had to agree. All the time we were stranded on the veldt, the Legionnaires would not be idle. If they had anything at all resembling military leadership they would be constructing ballistae, catapults and, possibly, another Eye of Zoar.

  “I am certain that it is your optimism that keeps you so cheerful and encouraging, Ez’n!” Janir quipped as he settled at the table. He scanned the gathered Council slowly. “Well, my lords, it would appear that there is little to be done until the weather breaks and we have discussed and reviewed our battle plans beyond any form of reason. I suggest we adjourn until the weather breaks.”

  There was little by way of resistance to the suggestion. I surmised that the Council were as glad as any that the march was stayed, and happier still that the seemingly interminable War Council meetings had finally been suspended until circumstances were more propitious.

  When all the generals were gone and Keelan alone remained Janir motioned to me and Dthor to join them in the withdrawing area where Jalin was setting out refreshments and a fresh samovar of Rubyspike.

  “And what of these scouts your kayetim disposed of?” Keelan enquired.

  I shrugged. There was not much more I could tell them, other than what I had already disclosed. The ten men had been executed in the typically efficient way of the kayet. I had despatched another group of kayetim to scour an area five cords from our location to ensure that there were no other groups in the vicinity who might
be intent on paying us similar visits. Other than that, there was little else to be done. Should any more scouts be discovered they would be summarily dealt with by the assassins or, failing that if the numbers were too great we would send a proper fighting force to deal with them. As Dthor rightly observed, we could do far more damage with a number of small surgical strikes than attempting a full head-on confrontation with a major force.

  “And how is young Tariq?” Janir asked as Jalin poured the tea and served us. “None the worse for his brush with death, I trust?”

  I set my jaw and relaxed it again. I knew that tone of Janir’s and I knew full well that this was no idle enquiry. “He is now fully recovered, Highness, and I am sure is much better for your asking.” I responded.

  “I hear he and Jae’nt have become close.” Keelan observed, his tone carefully studied and well measured.

  “Each has saved the life of the other, Majesty. It is understandable that a soldier’s bond should be so strongly formed by such an event.” I replied equally carefully. I did not intend to be drawn into any speculation by either of the monarchs.

  Keelan smirked. It appeared that Zarin, far from satisfied following the altercation with his sons and with me when Tariq lie wounded, had approached Keelan requesting that Tariq at least be recalled to the Morlan ranks.

  “Is this anything to do with the cloak pin Tariq’s brothers gave Jae’nt?” I asked.

  “Probably,” Keelan snorted, “Zarin is one of my best, but he is a consummate bigot and certainly did not approve of his sons presenting the Prince Royal with a token that effectively makes him part of the family. Zarin sees it as diluting the bloodline.”