Dark Lightning

by Janet Woods

  ‘A minitix ago you would have taken my life without compunction,’ Laek said. ‘You are to endure pain until the very end, as befits a coward. I take no joy in it.’

  Cynan could feel the eels hatching inside him and he suffered the pain of them attacking his gut with their needle like teeth. He screamed when one slithered across his vision and began to tear at the gelatinous orb.

  There was compassion in Laek’s expression now and Cynan sensed he’d give him the quick end he’d asked for. If that happened he’d find the energy to snatch the sword from Laek’s hand and slit his throat with it. But Jon and Iago joined him, and Iago placed a restraining arm on his sword arm. Beyond them, Desii, Grise and Kadar were twitching in their death throes.

  As if he’d remembered what Cynan had done to his mother, Laek sheathed his sword, and turned and walked away.

  Cynan slithered painfully across the floor when Penn came in. The coward had been hiding somewhere.

  ‘Fetch me some antidote to the eel venom, Penn.’

  ‘No such antidote is known. You’ll just have to suffer.’

  Penn gazed at the body of his sons with sorrow and regret, then at his brother with rage roiling in the depths of his eyes.

  Penn crouched to take the diadem from Cynan’s head and set it on his own.’

  Taking the little dagger from his sleeve, Cynan lashed out at Penn with the last vestige of his strength. He scored a deep cut along the length of his brother’s arm and their blood mingled. Before he lost his sight, Cynan caught a glimpse of a small dark creature with curved needle-like teeth burrowing into Penn’s wound. His brother screamed.

  It was a long time before Cynan died. Being in the dark made dying worse, for he had nothing to distract him from the pain except for Penn’s screams, which matched his own. He wished he had eyes through which to watch his brother suffer the same painful death for his treachery.

  * * * *

  By morning, those who’d opposed the Karshal force were dead. Their bodies were taken into the manor grounds, and fires set.

  A string of followers came from different directions ... the sisters carrying medicines and salves with which to treat the wounded.

  Only the lives of a few Arles were expended. Most were glad to see the cruel regime of Cynan brought to an end. A governor had been appointed and a council formed.

  The triumphant force set sail for Karshal, accompanied by a flotilla of troopers on landflights. It was a stirring sight.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Before she died, Falcon Darkwater’s mother had imprinted on his brain a memory map of Karshal. The city hadn’t changed much. Under the memories Falcon could detect a layer of her terror, her torment and her pain.

  Yvaine had found the strength to stay alive long enough to place him in safe hands, though his own heart had begun to falter as she’d gradually weakened from loss of blood. She’d fed him her strength gradually, allowing it to sap her own. She was on her last few minitix when he was snatched from her womb and dragged into the light of a savage world before he was ready.

  He would always feel his mother’s pain. Falcon placed his hand against his scar and experienced the heat from it. He took a moment to kneel before the pike still standing outside the city wall. His first breath had been taken here, at the expense of his mother’s last.

  His breath was a continuance of the last one she’d expended, making them one. He paid homage to the woman who’d given him life. ‘Yvaine, my Lady Mother, may your soul rest easy with that of my sire, Sabarin, and my two slain brothers. I will pray that their collective wisdom will guide me in the task ahead.’

  For a moment he thought he felt the gentle caress of fingers through his hair and her kiss, warm and loving against his forehead. He grinned at being so fanciful, for it could quite easily have been the breeze ruffling through his hair. But he remembered the support and the wonders revealed to him in his ritual time with the ancients and preferred to experience his mother’s touch as the truth. He found a little warm niche inside himself where the tender scrap of love would be kept warm and nurtured until the rest of his life.

  His small army of troopers found the city was unguarded, except for a man shuffling to close the gates after them as they passed through. He took no notice of them and Falcon saw that his eyelids were stitched together.

  Falcon placed a hand on his arm. ‘Who did that to your eyes?’

  ‘Servish ordered it.’

  ‘What did you do to deserve it?’

  ‘I saw him kill a young girl for the entertainment of his troopers. He cut her breast so she bled, then sent her out for the bats to attack. When I complained he sewed up my eyelids and said he would mete out the same punishment to my wife and child if I mentioned it again.’

  ‘You are mentioning it to me.’

  ‘Severish killed them anyway. Besides, you have brought an army with you, Sire, which is why I opened the gates to let you through. There is nothing as noisy as stealth to those without sight, and one of them called you Lord Falcon.’

  Falcon chuckled. ‘I will remember to tell them to be noisier in future so they won’t be noticed.

  ‘There are some who have the jade peregrine amulet and I am one of them. There have been rumours of late that Lord Sabarin’s son will liberate the city and set us free from tyranny. I’ve been waiting for you. We’ve been waiting for you ... especially those of us who are truebloods.’

  ‘What is your name?’

  ‘Gaspar.’

  ‘Take my hand, Gaspar.’

  The pressure revealed a faint blue pulse. The man shrugged. I cannot see it, but I can feel its warmth. Would that I could look on your face, Lord.’

  ‘You might be able to if we remove the stitches.’ He beckoned to a trooper. See if you can find a pair of the followers in the market place.’

  The trooper was back within a few minitix with a couple of nondescript-looking sisters. It didn’t take them long to remove the stitches. His eyes had become infected. She washed them, and then poured a few drops of liquid from a small bottle into his eyes. Cupping her hands over his eyes, she said a meditation then rose to her feet.

  ‘How much do I owe you, follower?’

  ‘Owe us? We put no price on a man’s sight, Falcon Darkwater.’

  ‘How do you know my name?’

  She gazed at him through darkling eyes that held all the wisdom on the ages, and she shrugged. ‘Where does one hear anything but in the market place? Did you really think you could return to Karshal unnoticed?’

  ‘I had not given it much thought. So Servish will be on alert.’

  ‘Servish has more enemies than friends. The troopers that serve him have no discipline and no eagerness inform him of anything that might test his temper. I can almost guarantee that you may go about your quest without being hindered.’

  ‘Do you know of a young woman called Jynx?’

  She hesitated.

  He placed his hand on her arm. ‘I mean her no harm, sister.’

  ‘There is one in the city who does, and he’s as crafty as a fox.’

  Fear plucked at him. ‘That will be a man named Emrys. Does he know Jynx is in Karshal?’

  ‘He suspects she is. He has a face and mind that changes with the wind and his tongue is forked. He cannot be trusted because his allegiance belongs to nobody but himself. Jynx is kept hidden from him and she cannot leave the tower because the door is kept concealed from her.’

  ‘Is she well?’

  ‘Aye.’ The woman smiled. ‘Jynx is restless though, like a butterfly dancing on the wall to try and capture the warmth of sunbeam that shines there. She is curious about everything and craves adventure.’

  He smiled at the apt description and handed her a coin. ‘Would you buy Jynx something pretty from a stall. The choice is yours.’

  ‘There is a bard who sells poems. He decorates the parchment with flowers. Just the thing for a young woman to enjoy.’

  ‘Buy a red ribbon to tie around it if
you would.’

  ‘I’ll escort you back to the market, Gaspar told her, looking around him with a smile of delight. ‘I’ll spread the word that Karshal is liberated.’

  ‘You can join me tomorrow if you would, Gaspar,’ the sister said. ‘There will be many casualties.’

  ‘I don’t want any unnecessary bloodshed,’ Falcon said. ‘Servish will be arrested, and tried.’

  The other sister snorted. ‘Times have changed since you received your memories Lord Falcon. Whether you like it or not, the Karshal will take their revenge on those Arles who have enslaved them. People have been forced to learn ways to survive that is alien to their nature. They will exact revenge on those who have killed their loved ones and those who have stolen their homes and livelihoods.’

  ‘We must direct their minds to the future, and their energies must be turned to rebuilding the schools and the city.

  Yet they will bay for blood, especially from the people of Arles who seemed to kill for enjoyment, Falcon thought. There had been bodies on the pikes at the entrance to the city ... though none had contained life. All were awaiting the attention of the bats, no doubt.

  And what more proof did he need than Gaspar, whose eyes had seen too much and whose family had been slaughtered on Servish’s orders for little more reason than spite? He hardened his heart where Servish was concerned. Let the sword fall where it may.

  They’d entered the city before night fell, his troopers dispersing to various strategic points. Force of arms would be used sparingly, and only if resistance was encountered, he hoped.

  Falcon had been tempted to visit Jynx at the temple, but the chimera building was at its weakest at night, when most of those contained within the tenuously shifting walls slept. With regret, he put the thought of seeing her to one side. He would contact her when this was over. In the meantime he must confront Servish and try to alter his way of thinking.

  Falcon went to the palace with one personal guard, an experienced trooper who was older than himself and who’d attached himself to his guard. Falcon suspected Thornwall might be one of the ancients, but he had fast reflexes and the ability to foreshadow and react. Thornwall was sinewy and lithe and they’d enjoyed many training bouts together, during which time Falcon had come to realize he had a lot to learn about combat. His nature was not aggressive enough.

  Entering the palace unchallenged, the pair took long, silent strides through the filthy corridors, past the snoring drunks and dead animals, the swinging movement of his cloak leaving a flurry of dust behind him.

  Falcon burned with the anger he felt inside him at the desecration of such a beautiful building. How could a city of educated people who enjoyed the creative arts allow themselves to stoop so low? He found the answer within himself. The tutors had been driven out of the city, the places of learning denied to them. Falcon intended to show Servish no mercy, though he would get a fair trial to answer to the excesses he’d be accused of. Eventually, the city would be restored.

  Swiftly, he searched the rooms, but to no avail. He shook a trooper awake. ‘I’m Falcon Darkwater. Where’s Servish?’

  The trooper gazed at him through red eyes and mumbled drunkenly before closing them again, ‘Out whoring, where else?’

  Falcon went into the town centre. His troopers had made themselves busy cleaning up the opposition and the ground was littered with bodies. Servish’s army were now chained together by the ankles and were being shuffled away towards a hastily erected stockade.’

  Roused from their beds many of the townsfolk lined the streets, flares lit, some looking bewildered as to what was going on, others exchanging gossip.

  Falcon mounted the fountain in the public square. ‘My name is Falcon Darkwater. My father was Lord Sabarin, my mother Yvaine.’

  A murmur went through the crowd then an old man called out, ‘Yvaine died along with her husband and sons.’

  ‘My sister is Lady Azarine. She cut me from my mother’s womb and I was raised by the ancients.’

  ‘And where is Azarine now? She deserted us to wed Lord Cynan and she gave him a son.’

  Grumbles went through his audience and Falcon held up a hand. ‘My sister doesn’t deserve your condemnation. She was young and had no real choice in the matter. As for her son ... Prince Laek is the result of an implant. He is a true-blood through and through because his blood is mixed with that of Lord Kavan, the legendary warrior lord. The prince is with my sister now and they have gone to Arles, where Prince Laek acts as her bodyguard. Azarine intends to kill Cynan, so to avenge the wrong he did to her family and to herself all those seasons ago. Thus, she has sworn an oath on our family’s blood.’

  ‘How can one woman defeat a warrior like Cynan?’

  ‘It’s written in her destiny.’

  Cheers rang to the sky.

  He waited until they died down, then said, ‘I’m looking for Servish. He will be fairly tried and sentenced.’

  The crowd parted and a man swaggered forward. He was past his prime but nevertheless he was powerful and well-muscled. His face was puffy, pitted and raddled. Taking a swig from the pipkin he carried, he roared. ‘What in Bane’s name if going on here, and who wants me?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘And you might be ...?’

  ‘Lord Falcon of Karshal ... son of Savarin and brother to Azarine.’

  ‘He was cut from his mother’s womb and spirited away to be raised by the ancients,’ someone shouted out.

  ‘I’ve reclaimed my city, Servish. You’re under arrest, and you and your troopers will be tried for your crimes against the people.’

  Realization dawned in his eyes. ‘I knew that the watcher witch and her mistress were up to no good. They used enchantment. Wait till Cynan and his adviser Yegan learns of this. Lord Cynan will be incensed by being tricked.’

  ‘By now Cynan will be vanquished and Yegan disgraced. Arles will be under martial law while a council of true-bloods and a head of state is appointed.’

  Servish swore and hurled his pipkin aside. It exploded against a wall, showering pottery shards and wine about. He was lightning fast as he drew his sword.

  Thornwall was quicker. One stroke of his sword sent Servish’s weapon sliding across the cobbles with his hand still attached. His dagger followed after in a blaze of sharply honed polished metal, and sliced into Servish’s heart.

  So much for a fair trial, Falcon thought, and grimaced. He supposed it was as fair as any trial Servish had ever been involved in.

  * * * *

  Swamped in their brown cloaks and cowls, two followers turned away and hurried up an alley when fighting broke out. The sisters were as quiet as cats, but fast for women who had left their youth behind. Emrys had followed them before and had missed finding their destination. He was curious as to where they went because they were protecting Jynx.

  Emrys followed after them. He’d heard enough to know his mission to kill Remy and Jynx was compromised. The moment of relief he found in him came as a surprise. Now he’d wait until his father arrived in the city and would seek his advice on the matter.

  With both Servish and Cynan dead the safety of his own family would be compromised. He would still look for Jynx, not only for her own protection but to see how much involvement she had with the true-bloods. He might be able to use her as a bargaining tool.

  He came out of his reverie to find that his prey had disappeared. ‘Impossible,’ he murmured, since he’d barely blinked and they wouldn’t have had time to get away. He quickly scanned the alley. There were no doorways and windows, no trapdoors or stairs ... just a wall made of bricks, with posters pasted to it.

  Emrys placed his hand against an advertisement of a circus. There was a young woman depicted on a trapeze. It was the sort of thing Jynx would do. In fact, she looked like Jynx with her hair softly glowing.

  The wall was warm, and vibrated slightly against his palm. He pushed harder. For a moment he thought the wall was going to give, as though it lived inside a pliant skin. A
ferocious growl came from behind him when he was about to apply pressure.

  He spun round and there was Jynx’s wolf, all bristling menace. Where Wulf was, Jynx wouldn’t be far behind.

  ‘Enough Wulf. You know who I am since we’ve met on many occasions before. Where’s my sister, Jynx, hiding?’

  The dog subsided to the ground, watching him through intense silver eyes as he growled softly in his throat. He’d never win this animal round; he’d have to kill it.

  Gradually pulling out his sword Emrys tried to edge round him. Wulf suddenly lunged from his haunches and snapped. He bit a chunk from the blade of his sword.

  Emrys jumped back, exclaiming, ‘Blood of Bane! The beast has jaws of granite.’

  A whistle came and the beast bounded off down the alley. Emrys followed him. When he turned the corner the wolf had gone. A young man leaned casually against the wall. His hair was unkempt.’

  Emrys asked him, ‘Have you seen a wolf hereabouts?’

  The man’s eyes gleamed and he shook his head.

  ‘But he came out of this alley, he must have passed you.’

  Giving a shrug the man sauntered off.

  Emrys had gone but a few steps when he remembered the young man’s eyes gleaming. There had been something odd about him. He turned and went back. The alley was empty.

  He inspected the alleyway again, brick by brick. Nothing. Tilting his head up he gazed above him and saw only the night sky. The moon was in its third phase and the sky was shimmering in front of it ... like the heat mirages in the desert.

  A half-forgotten tale about the chimera created by the followers filled his mind. But surely that was folklore for the gullible. Yet he’d never seen the moon waver like that before.

  He loosened a cobble from the lane and threw it with all his strength. He saw a spark of light when it hit the wall. Then the cobble bounced back and struck him hard on the temple. Emrys collapsed.

  Laughter was born to him on the wind and for a moment Emrys saw the youth standing there. But no ... it was Jynx’s wolf. The alleyway revolved around him as he muttered. ‘My head’s cracked. Fetch a healer.’