Empty Horizon

by A. C. Cobble

  “Let’s head to the harem quarters then,” suggested Amelie. “If we’re quick, we should find the Red Lord there.”

  “Let’s do it,” agreed Rhys.

  The rogue set off down the hallway, following the directions Lady Avril had given, and the rest of the party followed.

  The doors were shut, and no staff was visible. Ben assumed they’d all hidden when the attack started. The guest wing of the emperor’s palace was extravagant. It reminded Ben of King Argren’s keep in Whitehall. Ostentatious wealth displayed liberally. The emperor was making a point to his guests. Just like the spike-covered hilltop the palace sat on, the entire design was to give the impression of power. Apparently, the Red Lord wasn’t buying it.

  At a few doors, they found armored guards nervously standing watch, soldiers of visitors who had no dog in the fight. Their leaders would remain out of sight until the conflict was all but settled. Then, Ben was sure, they’d emerge and help the victors finish off whatever was left of the losers. The arms men stared at them as they jogged by but made no move to interfere. A handful of bodies marked the rooms where someone did try to interfere.

  They slowed as they approached the center section of the palace. There, four wings came together to meet in a barrel-shaped core. According to O’ecca, the center was open throughout all four floors of the palace. Down the hallway, they could hear the sounds of clashing steel, shouts, and the familiar clamor of battle.

  “Pass through quickly. Engage only as needed,” advised Rhys.

  “Where have I heard that before?” retorted Amelie.

  They saw a circular balcony in front of them that overlooked the atrium. The noise of battle was coming from below.

  “Maybe we’ll get lucky,” offered Ben. “It sounds like they’re all down on the bottom floor.”

  Just then, half a dozen of the emperor’s men backed into view, furiously defending against a group of the Red Lord’s soldiers.

  O’ecca charged.

  “Damnit,” snarled Rhys. “Follow her!”

  Ben and Rhys ran after the lithe girl, spreading out on her flanks.

  She smashed into the Red Lord’s men with fury. They were entirely focused on the emperor’s men in front of them and were completely taken by surprise. Leaping into the air and spinning, O’ecca whirled her naginata around and chopped through two men before they saw her. The first man’s head flew off, and the second caught the blade of the spear on the side of his skull. A third man stumbled away from her but wasn’t quick enough to avoid the long reach of the thrusting spear. It punched through the armor covering his chest and found vital organs. O’ecca twisted her wrist and yanked the weapon loose. The man slumped down.

  Ben and Rhys joined the fight.

  Ben swung a brutal overhand attack at one man. The blade slashed through a raised arm and buried in the man’s shoulder. Ben kicked him and jerked his blade free.

  The man flailed back, not yet dead, but with a severed arm and gaping wound in his shoulder, he wouldn’t survive much longer.

  One of the Red Lord’s men charged, looping powerful swipes with his short sword. A foolish choice of weapon, thought Ben, as he used the extra reach of his longsword and rammed it into the man’s eye.

  Another of the Red Lord’s soldiers advanced, but one of the emperor’s men recovered and wrapped an arm around the soldier’s head. He plunged his short sword into the soldier’s side and rode the body to the floor. He then leapt up, backing slowly away from Ben.

  The skirmish was already over. A squad of the Red Lord’s men lay dead on the floor.

  “We have no fight with you,” Ben told the emperor’s man.

  The man glanced around at the fallen Red Lord’s men and nodded. “Thank you for your help.”

  He and his party turned and dashed off around the balcony.

  “Let’s go find the Red Lord,” said Rhys, shaking sticky blood off his blade.

  Four floors below them, the battle raged on. Ben spared a moment and looked down. Several hundred men, wearing the thick armor common in Ooswam, surged back and forth across the marble floor. It was slick with blood, and the men scrambled and slipped. Neither side appeared to have an advantage in the ugly fight.

  “Evenly matched,” muttered Ben. “That could go down to the last man.”

  Beside him, O’ecca advised, “If one of the sides loses their leader, they’ll stop fighting. That’s why we have to hurry.”

  “Won’t the emperor execute them for treason or whatever you call it here?”

  O’ecca started to make her way around the balcony and Ben followed.

  “They’ll be taken as prisoners of the emperor,” she explained. “He’ll sell them as indentured servants to another lord or use them himself. They’ll be paid a little, and after a few years, they’ll be allowed to return to their families. It’s common in Ooswam to prevent internal skirmishes from turning into full-scale battles. Let the men have a chance at a normal life, and they no longer fight after their lord falls.”

  Ben grunted. It sounded reasonable.

  The next hall was barred by an iron gate with silver filigree work. It would have been beautiful if it wasn’t smashed open. Scores of dead men, both the emperor’s and the Red Lord’s, lay strewn like refuse on the floor. Ben’s companions stepped over them and entered.

  Open spaces for pleasure lined the main walkway. Thin, silk curtains hung between different areas, separating the space and diffusing the light from the windows. Water pipes for smoking, countless decanters of wine, low couches, soft tapestries, plush carpets, and overstuffed pillows decorated the room. The place smelled like perfumed oils, sex, and the sharp tang of blood.

  “He must have quite the harem,” muttered Rhys appreciatively.

  “I’m told it is hundreds of women,” responded O’ecca.

  “If Chesson had survived, you could have ruled this place one day,” jested Ben.

  O’ecca didn’t smile at his joke.

  Amelie punched him in the shoulder and he dropped his grin. Too early, he thought. Maybe they’d appreciate it later.

  The kept moving deeper into the room and passed the body of one of the concubines. She was dressed in a flimsy robe and little else. Her skull was caved in. A dozen paces past her lay one of the Red Lord’s men, a delicate silver knife was buried in his back. The concubine had been a loyal one.

  A shout drew their attention and they hurried across the room to where the bright light of day shone through an open door. As they approached, they could hear a man raging at someone.

  “You said you’d be with him!” boomed the man’s voice. “You said you were his favorite and that he was wrapped around your finger.”

  “I am his favorite,” snapped a young woman’s voice. “You were supposed to attack this evening. You’re three bells early. I was going to bring him to you, but his men took him when the alarm bells went off. It doesn’t matter how good my plan is if you can’t stick to it.”

  They heard the smack of flesh striking flesh. Ben winced. He was certain the girl had just tasted the back of the man’s hand.

  “Look,” whispered Amelie.

  In her grip was the small mirror Jasper had given her. It displayed a patio with a score of men on it and one woman who’d fallen to the tile floor. A huge man in bulky red lacquered armor dominated the scene. He was standing over the girl. Through the door, Ben heard him admonishing her.

  “I didn’t pay you to make a plan. I paid you to have the emperor in the throne room today.”

  The Red Lord drew his huge two-handed sword and towered over the frightened girl.

  “I think your usefulness to me is at an end.”

  “He’s distracted,” hissed Rhys. “Now is the time.”

  Ben and his friends padded to the door and rushed out into the sunlight.

  The Red Lord had his sword raised above his head and was about to bring it down on the girl. He looked up in surprise as they charged him. His men spun and barely drew steel before B
en’s companions arrived.

  Ben singled a man out and drew back his sword. The man responded, raising his blade in defense, but Ben ducked low and rammed a shoulder into the man’s midsection, sending him flying back.

  A second man jumped at Ben, evidently thinking Ben’s longsword would be fouled by the first. Instead, he found himself furiously parrying Ben’s attack as it whipped toward his face.

  The butt of O’ecca’s naginata crunched into one man’s nose. Then she dropped to a knee, spinning the spear to sweep the legs out from another of the Red Lord’s men.

  Amelie jumped on him, stabbing down with her rapier at the gap in his armor between his breastplate and leggings.

  Rhys danced between two men, lashing his longsword like a whip, slicing through their lacquer armor as if it was paper.

  “That one!” shouted the Red Lord, holding his two-handed sword in one hand and pointing at Rhys with the other.

  His soldiers converged on Rhys. Ben sprinted across the patio to his friend’s aid. Amelie and O’ecca were left facing the Red Lord.

  “Let me do this,” said O’ecca.

  Amelie nodded and backed away, her rapier held ready, but even if she wanted to attack, the thin blade was no match for the Red Lord’s massive two-handed sword.

  Ben tore his eyes away from Amelie and O’ecca as he fell onto the backs of the Red Lord’s men. Three of them turned to face him, but a crackle of energy snapped in front of his eyes. All three men fell back, dancing like marionettes. The men around Rhys dropped as well, but Ben heard the Red Lord laughing. He turned and saw the man was still upright and unharmed by Towaal’s lightning attack.

  “He’s hardened his will,” the mage explained calmly.

  “I thought that was useless, a fairy tale,” cackled the Red Lord. “I learned it anyway, though. The Dirhadji are good for something other than smuggling slaves. I’ve never been so glad I disregarded my own instincts. I’m immune to you, mage.”

  The big man hefted his sword.

  “Tell me, can your will protect you from steel?”

  “You have to worry about me first,” declared O’ecca, moving to confront the red-armored man.

  “And us,” said Ben.

  “No, Ben,” instructed O’ecca. “Let me do this.”

  Ben frowned and moved to help her, but Amelie blocked him.

  “I know what she went through. That man killed her family. Let her do this.”

  The Red Lord stomped toward O’ecca, a smile splitting his face, clearly unconcerned about a slim girl who couldn’t be more than a third his mass.

  She was ready for him. Her naginata twirled in front of her, and she jumped at him, stabbing with the heavy blade of her spear.

  The Red Lord stumbled back in surprise, the tip of the spear striking his armor but not with enough force to penetrate and damage him. He slashed a powerful blow in response, but O’ecca easily ducked under it, wisely avoiding parrying his huge weapon.

  “You’re quick, girl. I’ll give you that,” he acknowledged. “Doesn’t do you any good if you don’t have the power to get through a man’s armor. Your brothers were quick too.”

  O’ecca didn’t respond with words. She leapt at him again, feinting at his face and then stabbing at his leg. He shuffled out of the way. Her spear missed him by a finger-length. The Red Lord’s face swelled with rage and he stormed at her, slashing rapid downward blows. She danced back, letting his blade swing by, catching nothing but air.

  Ben gripped his longsword tightly. The Red Lord was relying on his size, the length of his sword, and his heavy armor, but he was fast too. He moved the two-handed blade with the ease a lesser man would swing a short sword. When O’ecca attacked him, he was quick to step out of reach or turn his blade to defense. The two-hander was long enough to limit O’ecca’s normal reach advantage.

  “We have to stop this,” muttered Ben. “She needs our help.”

  “She needs to do it on her own,” responded Amelie. “He might be bigger and stronger, but she’s faster. Look.”

  As Amelie spoke, O’ecca jabbed with her naginata and caught the Red Lord on the side of the head. It dazed him but wasn’t a strong enough blow to break his skull.

  He blinked his eyes and raised his sword. Blood flowed down his face and his lips twisted into a bestial snarl. He swung at her and she scurried back. Anger painting his face, he attacked again and again. She didn’t meet his blows. She didn’t attempt to strike him either. She kept retreating and letting his swings sail by.

  The concubine he’d been about to kill when they arrived started to scoot away toward the door.

  Amelie saw her and walked over. She kicked the toe of her boot into the woman’s stomach. The soft-bodied concubine flipped over onto her side and groaned.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Amelie snapped at her.

  The Red Lord stopped, glared at O’ecca, and howled a battle cry. He charged, clearly ready to end the fight.

  O’ecca didn’t run. Instead, a heartbeat before he reached her, she crouched and dropped the butt of her naginata to the stone floor, setting it against her foot. The arms-length blade was pointed directly at the Red Lord’s chest.

  He tried to knock it aside with his sword, but he was coming too fast, and the tip was already past his guard. The blade of O’ecca’s naginata slammed into the Red Lord’s chest. He was skewered by the force of his own charge.

  Her feet slid back across the tiles, pushed by the big man’s momentum, but two hand-lengths of steel disappeared into his armor before he stopped. His sword clattered to the tiles and he staggered back, gripping the haft of the naginata in his hands. Blood dripped from the man’s mouth, and he stared disbelieving at O’ecca.

  Like a tall tree, the big man swayed, then fell.

  O’ecca strode to his body and grabbed her spear. She tore it from the Red Lord’s corpse and spit on him.

  “Well done,” said Amelie. “You can’t fill the hole in your heart left by your family, but at least you have closure now. At least they have justice.”

  O’ecca nodded, tears filling her eyes. “They have justice.”

  “Let’s go,” said Rhys quietly. “We need to let the men fighting below know the Red Lord is dead, and we still have much to discuss with the emperor if we can find him.”

  “You think they’ll just believe us?” asked Ben. “We need a symbol to show he’s dead.”

  “We could bring his head,” suggested Rhys. “Want to cut it off?”

  Ben stared at him.

  The rogue sighed. “Why do I have to do everything myself?”

  Ben looked away as Rhys chopped down with his longsword, severing the Red Lord’s head.

  Amelie grabbed the traitorous concubine and dragged her to her feet. “You’re coming with us too.”

  They ran back through the harem and to the circular chamber where the fiercest fighting was taking place.

  “The Red Lord is dead!” bellowed Rhys, leaning over the balustrade, brandishing the Red Lord’s severed head.

  The men continued to fight below. There were half as many as before, but as Ben watched, fresh soldiers poured in. Without knowing where the emperor or the Red Lord was, the men must be converging where the fighting was most intense. The blood-slick marble floor below them was turning into a charnel house.

  “Towaal, can you help?” asked Rhys.

  She nodded.

  “The Red Lord is dead!” called Rhys again. This time, the sound seemed to shake the palace. Rhys slung the head down from the balcony to the thickest contingent of the Red Lord’s men.

  13

  Just Rewards

  They sat in a quiet study, waiting to meet the emperor. They’d seen him, briefly, after the battle for the compound. He was an older man with a long, white mustache and a slow, measured gait. His shoulders had been slumped, evidently feeling the weight of the death of his only son and the traitorous attack by the Red Lord.

  News of how the fight stopped and their role
in procuring the Red Lord’s head had spread quickly throughout the palace. So far, there had been no discussion about their role in Chesson’s death. Ben hoped they would be gone by the time the emperor began putting that timeline together.

  They’d been told that the emperor was eager to meet them to thank them for stopping the coup. Ben was glad. It should make convincing the man to help them that much easier. He hoped to use the opportunity to warn him about the demons and also ask for his assistance in Alcott.

  “How many men do you think we can request?” asked Ben. “If we play on his gratitude, we might be able to acquire a decent number of them. I know he’ll want to keep plenty here, but a few companies could make a big difference.”

  “I’m not sure he’ll be open to that, Ben,” replied Amelie.

  “We deserve some reward,” argued Ben. “Surely, he’ll want to thank us for saving his realm. His men were surprised and losing the battle. I heard only a tiny fraction of his forces are stationed near the palace. If it hadn’t been for us, his guard wouldn’t have been enough. We stopped the Red Lord, and with our help, Crai roused the emperor’s men from their barracks around the city.”

  “The gratitude of powerful lords isn’t always the same as small-town farmers and brewers,” cautioned Towaal. “Be careful when asking for his resources. Do not assume he’ll readily assist us.”

  “Even Lord Jason agreed to help us a little,” protested Ben. “The emperor is not a strong ruler if he can’t acknowledge our assistance.”

  “Start with a boat,” advised Rhys. “See how he reacts to that request. After that, maybe we can ask for more. Towaal and Amelie are right. It’s never wise to make assumptions about how a powerful man will assist a weaker.”

  Ben sat back on a comfortable couch and frowned.

  Time passed and he began to fidget. He was sure the emperor had a lot to do after fending off a coup. The man also had to prepare for the demons if O’ecca had already warned him, but they didn’t need much of his time. They’d been sitting there for bells. Ben stood and began to pace back and forth across the room.