Dark Lightning

by Janet Woods

  She had planned her revenge for such a long time. Now the time had come she was afraid ... not of losing her life, but of Cynan realizing that Laek was alien to him and taking his temper out on him. Cynan had pride. He’d remember she was a Karshal, and his fury at being duped would bring out his latent cruelty. She must do it quickly, before he guessed what she was about. But what if she failed to thrust in the sword? Cynan would torture them to death, her son first, so she’d suffer everything he suffered before he put her to the torture, and more.

  She needed an alternative method to defeat Cynan, if she were to survive this attempt at assassination. She called to the resourceful Esbel to bring the medical chest to her side.

  ‘What lethal poison do we have? I need something slow acting that will give me time to use my father’s sword.

  Esbel’s eyes gleamed and she selected a small black sack. ‘If you administer this as I advise, he won’t see it coming.’

  Azarine reminded herself she was protected by Laek, Jon and Iago, who were totally loyal to her. If Cynan killed her first they would finish her quest.

  But would Jon and Iago be loyal if they knew about their birth?

  * * * *

  She’d found the pair herself, twin sons of a young Karshal peasant who’d been taken to the ice and left there to perish. She and Esbel had been sledging when they’d come across her footprints, and the tracks of a pack of gibber monkeys following her, waiting for the opportunity to bring them down.

  By the time Azarine had found the woman, she’d only had enough energy left to whisper the name of the man who’d impregnated her by force before she died. The deed had been carried out not long before Azarine had been subjected to Cynan’s attention.

  Although the infants with were alike, they had not been identical. Iago had been bigger than Jon, as though there had been a season between them in age, and she’d used that difference to save their lives.

  Nothing Azarine did could revive their mother, for her earlier power to heal was long gone, and couldn’t be revived. She’d taken the infants home and lied to Cynan, because the opportunity to use them against him, should she need to, was irresistible. Cynan would have condemned them to death.

  * * * *

  She gazed at them now, her heart overflowing with a mixture of affection and guilt. They were like two pet dogs, and just as disposable if it came to it. They were loyal to Laek, and would defend him unto death. She called to them.

  ‘Lady Mother?’

  They gazed at her, eyes filled with the affection they felt. She took their rough hands in hers and kissed each of them on the cheek as she lied, ‘I’ve always regarded you as my sons, and have been grateful for your support of Laek.’

  ‘I speak for us both when I say that Laek is like true kin to us. We will not let him down ... or you. Lady Mother.’

  ‘Thank you Jon. Whatever happens today, you need to remember first and foremost that I’m proud of you both. And second ... Lord Cynan is mine, and must die by my hand alone.’

  Iago’s expression reflected his worry. ‘Killing Cynan is not a task for a woman.’

  ‘Yet I must kill him, for I swore to on the blood of my family at the time of their slaughter. He will not be expecting it from me.’

  ‘There’s another of your family more fitted to the task. The Falcon.’

  ‘The Falcon must take back Karshal as his own, and he must do it before Servish gets wind of it and reunites with Cynan. The pair of them are two of a kind.’

  The trimarine floated against the quay, and one of the troopers tied her to the shore. The elite of the troopers; true-bloods every one, lined up on the quayside.

  There was no reception, which augured ill. It meant that Cynan was angry and suspicious. He would feel slighted by their late arrival and her appearance on the ship, especially after she left the city without his permission. Azarine waited until darkness fell, then whistled. Soon the sky was filled with troopers astride landflights.

  Cynan’s troopers were spread thin, with just a few on the battlements. They were relaxed, not expecting an attack. Azarine took her place at the head of the column, a small slim figure flanked by Laek, Jon and Iago. They began to March towards the manor, while the landflights flew silently to the battlements.

  * * * *

  Cynan couldn’t see much, for darkness had fallen, and although the moon dodged in and out of the cloud streamers it was in the dimmest of its stages. The town below him showed little light, and there were very few people in the taverns.

  The air was full of expectancy for by not being at the quay Cynan had displayed his displeasure as well as exercising his power. The Karshal princess would come before him, humbled and apologetic. He grinned, for he felt strong, and master of his own decisions without Yegan constantly advising him.

  He left the battlements, Desii in tow, and went to his chamber to wait. After a while Penn joined him, his face wearing a sly smile. ‘They are at the outer gates. Shall I call out the troopers to form an avenue of honor?’

  ‘There will be no avenue of honor. Send the troopers to the barracks as a sign of my displeasure. I will address the late comers tomorrow.’

  ‘And Laek and his companions?’

  ‘Bid them to wait in the banqueting hall.’

  Penn’s smile widened. ‘What about your woman?’

  Cynan had no intention of losing any more dignity in front of his brother. ‘Lady Azarine can wait on my pleasure too.’ Though he wouldn’t keep her waiting for long, he thought.

  The contingent of troopers was orderly as it made its way up through the outer walls. Cynan noted with pleasure that they marched as one with not a step out of place. There was silence when Penn went out, and ordered the troopers to disperse to the barracks.

  The new contingent of troopers began to mark time on the spot, their boots stamping in unison. What in Bane’s name were they up to?

  Penn returned, his face red and contorted with anger. ‘They refuse to obey any orders, and they are wearing another’s insignia.’

  Cynan shot to his feet. ‘Do they hold my lady and my son hostage?’

  ‘Your lady seems to be leading them, and Laek and his companions are protecting her. I told you not to keep the Karshal woman. I also told you she’d enchanted you. You wouldn’t listen. You must name me as your successor, Cynan.’

  ‘My son is my successor,’ Cynan said flatly.

  ‘He has too much Karshal blood in him to be trusted. My two sons would never betray you.’

  ‘Neither would mine? Why should he when he can have everything I’ve got without lifting a finger? You’ve always been envious of Laek, and so have they.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Azarine had turned Laek’s mind. Now she is leading him against you.’

  ‘Against her husband; the man who fathered her son? I doubt it. She has devised a theatrical show for my amusement.’ He smiled a little sadly. ‘I know I took her by force. But I’ve never regretted it, and I grew to love her as she has loved me for all these years.’

  Penn snorted. ‘Love weakens a man. How can you be sure you’re his father when Laek is Karshal through and through?’

  The noise of the stamping feet grew louder and Penn raised his voice. ‘His companions resemble you more than Laek does ... that pair of rejects Azarine found on the ice ... Jon and Iago.’

  Cynan backhanded Penn for voicing what he’d always thought. But there had been so many conquests before he’d settled down with Azarine, how was he to know how many he’d fathered? And although he felt like laughing at the suggestion that Azarine might be leading his own troops in a revolt against him, he did borrow from Penn’s caution.

  ‘Shut your mouth, Penn. Go out through the back way and raise the troopers from their barracks just in case. Bring your sons to me. They can prove how loyal they are by dying in my defence, if need be. When they’re assembled I’ll invite my lady and her escort in and see what they have to say for themselves.’

  Th
e stamping became louder and faster and the floor began to shake.

  Then it stopped.

  The sudden silence was unnerving.

  Desii drew his sword as the door slowly swung open. Beyond it, a pale blue mist thinned to reveal four figures. Dressed in black leather, they wore the insignia of a silver falcon.

  Azarine was at the front, her slight figure dwarfed by the three men who guarded her. Her eyes were a blaze of blue and her hair tumbled down her back. Her loveliness stunned him – weakened him.

  ‘My lady wife,’ he said, and with much sorrow as well as irony, for he knew he must surely kill her. ‘What is the meaning of this charade?’

  ‘Remember when you killed my family and violated my mother?’

  He inclined his head. ‘It was the spoils of war, as was my right. I spared you.’

  ‘As you say, except the war was undeclared. When you took my maidenhead from me that first night I swore to kill you with my own hands ... as is my right of revenge.’

  He laughed. ‘You think you have the resolve to kill me, my Azarine?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t.’

  ‘Then go ahead. But I beg you, satisfy my curiosity first. Those colors you’re wearing ... whose are they?’

  ‘They belong to Falcon Darkwater. She smiled broadly at him. ‘Do you remember my mother, Yvaine, and the child she carried inside her womb.’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘You allowed Esbel and me to attend to Yvaine on her deathbed, with that butcher, Servish guarding us.’

  Cynan spared the elvish woman a brief glance and was puzzled. ‘I did. It was an act of kindness from your conqueror, as was sparing your life. I was merciful. The unborn infant was put to the death by a thrust of a pike. It didn’t suffer.’

  How callous he was. She made a parody of a bow and mocked, ‘Cynan the conqueror, the all magnificent and the merciful one. You are a killer of those too helpless to fight back, women and those unborn – except the unborn that counted to you. I wouldn’t allow you to kill my brother,’ and she flung at him, ‘What a coward you are.’

  He leaned forward, cheeks reddening with fury and a curse darkening his breath. ‘Are you telling me the infant escaped death?’

  She smiled. ‘Aye, I am. His name is Falcon Darkwater and he has now come into his manhood. Falcon still bears the scar of the Arles weapon in his side. My mother lived long enough to give him blood memories, and I named him. We used magic on Servish, and we cut the child from my mother’s womb before sending him away to be healed, and reared by the ancients.’

  ‘Where is the boy now?’

  ‘Falcon is no longer a boy but a man. By now he would have retaken Karshal, while I am here to conquer Arles. As you sow ... then you shall reap.’

  Cynan’s glance went beyond her, to where Laek and his companions stood. It was as if the scales had fallen from his eyes. Laek had grown into a powerful man since last he’d seen him, and was a Karshal through and through. ‘Who fathered the upstart I brought up as my son?’

  ‘Lord Kavan, the legendary warrior prince,’ Laek said.

  Laughter trickled from Cynan. ‘Your whore of a mother picked a worthy sire for you, lad. I believe you did well in your training.’

  Laek inclined his head in acknowledgement.

  Pride flared through him as he gazed at Jon and Iago. They were easily matched against Penn’s sons. ‘And these two I brought up as my own?’

  ‘You fathered them, and you abandoned them and their Karshal mother, leaving them to starve. I made sure they got the upbringing they were entitled to. You would have had them killed had you known who they were so it was better to keep you as strangers. See how they’ve grown ... those boys you would have slaughtered as infants. Now they are men amongst men.’

  If the news of their origin came as a surprise to Jon and Iago they didn’t show it, though they exchanged a glance.

  Cynan sought to use the knowledge to his advantage as he scoffed, ‘Now you intend to set them against me ... my own sons. Blood is always loyal to blood.’

  The pair gave him pitying smiles. So did Azarine, his companion of eighteen seasons, the woman who’d begged on her knees for the babies lives to be spared, and who’d brought them up as her own. All this time the devious creature had been manipulating them, teaching them to hate him.

  ‘Their mother set them against you on her deathbed, Cynan. She was another Karshal woman with a grudge against you ... one who cursed your name, and she made me promise. I wanted you to know what you’ve lost, before I kill you.’

  Azarine was here to kill him? He laughed out loud at that. She was too soft to perform such an act, especially in cold blood. ‘Come, Azarine ... take your place by my side and we’ll forget this ever happened.’

  The sound of running feet brought Kadar and Grise, swords drawn. Grise shouted, ‘The troopers cannot be roused, Lord. Those who are awake ... ’ His gaze went to the silent tableau, then back to Cynan. ‘Lord Cynan ...?’

  ‘My lady has led a revolt against me. She informs me that she intends to kill me with her bare hands. What would you do with such a woman, Grise?’

  ‘I would take her to the dungeons and torture her to death. Then I’d take her body to Karshal and set it upon a spike in the walk of death.’

  ‘What about you, Kedar?’

  ‘The same, Lord, only I’d keep her alive until we got there. I’d kill everyone who had Karshal blood in them, and in front of her eyes before I plucked those same eyes from her head. Then I would torture her to death.’

  ‘You’re bloodthirsty, Kedar. Have you no mercy? Are you so scared of one Karshal woman that you wouldn’t give her a chance to achieve what she’d plotted for all this time?’ He swaggered forward, weaponless, ripping his shirt asunder, knowing he could snap her neck with his fingers in an instant. ‘Here I am, woman. Kill me if you can.’

  He saw uncertainty waver in her eyes, noticed how tightly she gripped the small sword she carried. It carried the Sabarin family crest, and bore a blue jewel at the base of the handle.’

  Laek stepped forward. ‘Lady, mother ... allow me––’

  ‘Enough, Laek! You have my instructions.’

  He stepped back.

  ‘Don’t keep me waiting, Azarine,’ Cynan mocked. ‘Come, kiss me farewell.’

  He had not expected her to step forward into his reach, and as he closed his arms around her he felt her body warm against his and remembered the many hours of enjoyment she’d given him. His head swam with desire as her eyes engaged and held his.

  Her smile was seductive as she whispered, ‘This is the end, Cynan. One of us is about to die.’

  ‘Ah ... but which one, Azarine? I can be merciful, and will accept Laek’s life in exchange for yours. Jon, Iago. I am your blood kin. Kill the Karshal usurper who took your place at my side and stole your birthright.’

  When Laek tossed them a grin and turned his back on them, the pair began to laugh.

  ‘But that’s not his destiny. You asked for one last kiss before we parted, husband,’ she said.

  Cynan’s eyes hooded slightly as he plucked the sword from her hand and threw it across the floor. He gripped the back of her neck and his mouth covered hers, but savagely. He’d not expected the blast of venom she spat into the back of his throat and nearly choked as reflex caused him to swallow. It coated his mouth with slime. It burned, and tasted vile.

  Poison, a woman’s weapon! He should have known she’d use something underhand.

  He loosened his grip, thrust her backwards and began to spit the choking venom out. The poison acted quickly and he fell to the floor; his back arching as all the sinews in his body began to spasm.

  Esbel took a bottle of liquid from her satchel and tipped the contents into Azarine’s mouth, removing a small sac at the same time. Azarine rinsed her mouth and spat the liquid out. She then upended a small vial of silver liquid, taking several drops under her tongue.

  Azarine had given him a lethal dose of eel v
enom, Cynan thought, and she had the antidote right there in her hand. He reached out for it, begging for his life.

  She dropped it to the floor near his hand, and then, when he reached out for it, she ground it under her heel and kicked the pieces in all directions.

  Esbel handed Azarine the sword.

  ‘This is my father’s weapon,’ she said. ‘I knew I’d never be able to match your strength, and so it has proved. A pity, since it would have been the less painful of the options.’

  The venom seemed to slide through his veins. It twisted into his lungs, coiling around his heart. Fire crawled into his head and his temples began to pound, as if the blood was being replaced with the venom. He inhaled his own breath, fouled by the poisonous fumes from the venom. By all the Gods ... how it burned! ‘If you’re going to kill me, finish it now, woman.’

  Desii’s mouth fell open. As a bodyguard he’d failed at the first test, and wasn’t sure what to do.

  Azarine watched her husband for a moment, more in curiosity than triumph. After a while she smiled at him and said, ‘Goodbye Cynan, take a long, long time before death comes to claim you.’

  She stabbed the sword into his stomach, and, using both hands, twisted it. The only satisfaction Cynan felt was to watch the color drain from Azarine’s face.

  Although he tried not to, Cynan whimpered when the pain engulfed him.

  Esbel gazed upon him with scorn. ‘The eels will hatch from the venom and they’ll eat you from the inside out. You will feel every bite. She turned to Laek. ‘We’ll be in Azarine’s quarters. Send word when the city is secure.’

  Desii had barely taken his first menacing step towards Azarine, when Jon stepped forward and engaged him. Soon the chamber rang with the sounds of battle.

  Lying in his own pain and vomit, Cynan writhed and called out for mercy. None was forthcoming. Laek had quickly downed his opponent, and the short battle was almost over. Laek came to gaze at him, his breathing barely elevated. He’d grown into a fine looking man.

  ‘Allow me to suffer a warrior’s death at your hand, Laek. I raised you as my son, and was proud of you. Grant me this last request.’