Dark Empress

by S. J. A. Turney

  And it was with a happy smile and an easy pace that she and the God-King rounded the octagon and came face-to-face with the couple in the shadowed doorway. The God-King was so startled that he almost cried out for the guards, one of which would be patrolling the wall top nearby.

  Asima allowed her face to slip into the practiced look of horrified disbelief at the sight of Sh’a’lah, the King’s second wife, locked in the embrace of one of the black, white and gold-clad Royal Guard.

  The God-King’s face was everything that Asima had hoped. If she picked apart his expression, she could find horror, anger, betrayal, disbelief and sadness though, as she watched, the proportions of those emotions changed in a split second from heavy disbelief to extraordinary anger.

  The couple, tightly held, took a second to notice the God-King. Sh’a’lah had been so involved in their kiss that she had been making strange squeaking noises. As the full knowledge of what had befallen them spread across her face, the second most powerful woman in the harem, five years older than Asima and a born princess in her own right, fell to her knees, her forehead touching the floor, abasing herself before her master.

  It was impossible in that frantic moment to identify the soldier’s expression, as most of his face was hidden in shadow and they only saw a flash of his eyes and a brief blur of his skin before he turned and ran, silently, into the shadows of the orchard.

  The God-King, despite his fury, ignored the soldier as he ran and, instead, turned his gaze downward to glare angrily at the woman on the floor.

  “Sh’a’lah?”

  The woman made whimpering noises but no identifiable words came out. She would be terrified beyond her wits’ end. The penalty for adultery among the God-King’s women was to be crushed to death. There would be no trial, no alternative, and no hope of reprieve.

  A small part of Asima that was still the girl that had played jump-rope and raced around the roofs of M’Dahz with the brothers felt sorry for Sh’a’lah and the fate she now faced…

  … but the part of her that mattered mentally ticked a box on a chart and shuffled names on a list.

  She held her silence, maintained her look of shock and horror, and stepped back, disassociating herself from events as the God-King grasped his second wife’s wrist and hauled her to her feet, his face white with rage. Instead, she thought deeply about what she would need to do now, once the God-King had brought the guards and had the woman detained.

  It had taken Asima three months to find a guard who was greedy and amoral enough to consider enticing the queen and playing the gigolo with her. It was a dangerous task and she had been paying the soldier a small fortune each week for his continued help and his silence. Of course, she had left nothing with him that could be proof of her complicity if he had spoken of her requests, but it was better that he hadn’t, for otherwise plans would not have been brought to fruition and this would never have occurred tonight.

  There would be two or three days of chaos in the harem and the palace as the King raged. Sh’a’lah would be repeatedly interrogated and tortured until her nails were gone, her fingers broken, her nose slit and all manner of horrible acts perpetrated. She would be able to say no more than that the guard had wooed her and she had accepted his attentions, for that was exactly what had happened.

  The gentle manoeuvring and prodding that had come from Asima would be forgotten as mere generalities in harem life. She had been careful to be as subtle as a woman could be. No… no trace would lead back to her.

  The only loose end left would be the young guard who had courted her, but that was hardly a worry for Asima. During their last meeting tonight to finalise the arrangements, she had taken the opportunity to slip him a cup of wine laced with a lethal but slow-acting poison. He would first notice the cramps in an hour or so and would then be dead within minutes. She had practiced dosage and timing on a variety of animals in the gardens over the past three weeks and was satisfied that the guard would never have the opportunity to tell anyone what had happened. Of course, he wouldn’t anyway, for he would then be staring death in the face alongside Sh’a’lah, but this way was more sure.

  As an additional touch, she had left the vial of poison in his room. When the body was found it would be assumed he had taken his own life after realising what he had done.

  In the aftermath, a week or so from now, the order in the harem would change drastically. Far from everyone moving one place closer to the most favoured position, around a dozen of those wives above her, those who were known to be close to Sh’a’lah and would now be tarnished by her failure, would fall from favour. That would be enough, given Asima’s recent good favour and the gifts and surprises she had in store, to push her into the top few of the God-King’s chosen. Within a month she would now be taken to wife. Of that she was certain.

  She allowed her thoughts to return to the present.

  Guards were now rushing through the trees and across the grass to their master’s calls. Sh’a’lah sagged in his grasp, broken and hopeless. Sad in a way, as she’d always been nice to Asima and so perky and full of life. Not for long, though.

  The next challenge would be to deal with the sixty-three year old favourite, Keshia.

  Tonight Asima would move on to her new project.

  In which Asima’s world changes once more

  Asima woke to commotion and instantly settled into an evil mood. She needed her rest. It had been five days since Sh’a’lah had been executed and things had only just begun to settle down in the harem after the tremendous shake up that had resulted. Asima needed her sleep, in the name of all that was sensible. Gritting her teeth, she pulled the satin pillow over her head and pressed its smooth, cold exterior over her head, squeezing her eyes tight and willing sleep to come back in what was clearly a futile gesture.

  Almost two minutes she lay there, the noise (and what noise it was) muffled by the pillow, but far from silenced. Finally, an expression of indignant anger on her face, she hauled herself out from beneath the lustrous, expensive covers and crossed the room to her robe, which she threw on furiously. Someone would pay for this, possibly even with skin and hair!

  Growling like some predatory wildcat, Asima strode to the door of her room and was about to throw it open and demand silence of the chattering creatures obviously filling the corridor outside, when suddenly some sixth sense made her stop and take her hand from the latch.

  That was not excited chatter or happy conversation. What was going on out in the corridor, though she could not make out the words, was evidently shocked and panicked babbling. In a moment of awareness of her vulnerability, she slipped the second additional lock shut and backed away from the door.

  Why so many in the corridor outside her apartments? The answer was clear as it dropped into her thoughts. With her current high position, she had managed to acquire rooms away from most of the others and with one of the few external windows. There was no reason for other girls to be anywhere near her apartment, but the corridor outside also held two more windows that faced north, over the cliff and the walls far below and out to sea.

  What had happened? Had one of the girls in despair thrown herself from the window? It had happened before and more than once from this very corridor. The fall was invariably fatal from here. Her heart in her throat, Asima rushed back through her ornate rooms, past the bed, so recently disturbed, and into her day room, where the window looked out over the sea in a breathtaking panorama. There were crimson drapes, heavily backed, to cut out the light when necessary, but Asima never bothered closing them. She slept in a different room and was not in the day room when she sought darkness.

  Wondering what sight, grisly or exciting, awaited her, she crossed to the window and cast her glance immediately downwards. The moonlight was bright and illuminated everything below and before her.

  The ground outside the harem wall continued level for only a few feet and then fell away precipitously, becoming rocks and jagged cliffs and ending twenty feet above the water
in a ledge upon which the walls strode around the bluff. There was activity on the parapet; perhaps someone had thrown themselves off after all?

  Asima, her interest piqued, glanced right along the wall to see the faces of several of the lesser concubines projecting from the windows. They were not looking down. With a strange, sinking feeling, Asima turned her head and followed the direction of their gaze.

  She must have been blind not to notice it immediately.

  The open sea beyond the walls was dotted with vessels, some ablaze, others gradually sinking to a watery grave. As she watched in shock, a ball of burning mass shot up from one of the haraq warships and gracefully arced out over the sea, its reflection in the black waves eerie even at this distance, before it came down, smashing through sails and rigging on board an identical ship.

  What the hell was going on?

  It registered in mere moments that all of the vessels involved in the huge and vicious naval engagement below were Pelasian, with the traditional black sails. From here she would have no hope of identifying the flags on board, but some of them must be the royal fleet based here at Akkad. It was unrealistic to believe such a fight would occur below the city without the royal fleet being involved.

  And that meant Pelasians attacking Akkad.

  Which meant only one thing: civil war.

  What was it with the men ruling this world? All Asima wanted was a happy and rich life of peace and plenty and every time she managed to find a niche and start decorating it the way she liked, some mindless ruler attacked and wiped everything out.

  She growled. First satrap Ma’ahd at M’Dahz and now someone else here. The Empire was known to have well and truly collapsed nearly two decades ago, but why did Pelasia feel the need to follow suit.

  “No!” Asima barked to herself. She was not having this. Not again. She was damned if she’d spent so much time and effort hauling herself up the ladder only to have the wall moved away as she neared the top. She had dishonoured, destroyed and downright murdered over a dozen people to get where she was now… She paused and frowned as she realised how bad this sounded when she said it flatly. There were extenuating circumstances.

  “Besides,” she said to herself soothingly, “that’s how the game is played. I just play better than most.”

  Setting her jaw, she examined herself in the mirror and, tutting irritably, lit the lamps to give herself a clearer view. Could be worse; her hair, long and straight and dark, stayed relatively neat no matter how disturbed her night was and a few quick strokes with the brush and two or three of her golden pins would soon make her look divine once more.

  A servant eunuch had laid out her clothes for the morning and, since she had a lunchtime engagement with the God-king, they were among her best and most enticing. That would be fine and, as for the making up? Well, Asima had the practice down to such an art these days that she could accomplish a better look than most professionals in a mere couple of minutes.

  She set to work with a vengeance and, within five minutes, was ready, giving herself a last critical look in the mirror. Yes, that would do. She had to be prepared for anything but, whatever happened tonight, she had to look divine enough to come out on top of the situation.

  Smiling wickedly, she paused at the door and sprayed herself with a light burst of perfumed oil fragranced with musk, poppy and jasmine.

  And then she was out. It gave her a small feeling of satisfaction to note the baffled and amazed expressions on the faces of her lessers as she swept regally past them in the corridor, perfectly attired and made up, and smelling of heady nights in the harem gardens. Perhaps the thing that astounded them the most would be that they panicked and wailed as they watched what could be the end of everything, while Asima maintained her usual calm composure. She knew some of the younger girls had spread a rumour that she wasn’t entirely human and she had done nothing to discourage the talk. A little mystery and fear all added to her power.

  Leaving the gaggle of hysterical women behind her, Asima strode along the corridor, down the two flights of stairs and out from the hall, through the decorative archway and into the central courtyard.

  As she approached the main exit of the harem in its dark, recessed tunnel, one of the eunuch doormen, armed with a long, curved knife, stepped in front of the door. He looked distinctly unsure of his situation and had to glare at his companion guard and motion before the other eunuch joined him. Asima came to a halt a few feet from them and folded her arms defiantly.

  “A thousand pardons, lady Asima, but you know the rules.”

  Asima laughed with absolutely no humour.

  “Get out of my way, you pointless, poisonous half-man!”

  The eunuch stayed where he was, a shocked expression spreading across his face. Asima sighed.

  “In case you were unaware, we are being attacked by a force of traitors by sea and therefore almost certainly by land as well. If Akkad is about to fall I will stand by the side of my God-King and face it with him.”

  The humourless smile returned.

  “If you do not step aside, I will take your knives and use them to remove any parts of you that still protrude.”

  The guards, likely awed by her reputation as much as her ferocity, shared a look and wisely turned the gate key before stepping aside.

  Delaying for a moment, she took the time to give the guards a good hard stare before striding away into the night. The trick was in paying attention and devoting time to the details. That one last glance would stay with the guards for years and add to her reputation, so long as there was a future for her reputation to carry into.

  The gardens were strangely quiet and yet busy. As Asima strode with purpose along the direct path to the royal residence, she saw small groups of servants and guards going quickly and resolutely about their business in a worried silence. And yet, despite the flurries of activity everywhere, the only noises she could hear came from outside the walls: crashes and bangs out to sea and what sounded like vicious fighting in the city beyond the palace gate.

  Without paying to too much attention to what was happening close around her, Asima set her sights on the building ahead and made for the entrance. As she approached, the door opened and three servants rushed off toward the public palace, carrying bundles of something.

  For a moment, Asima wondered whether she had been premature. Perhaps the God-King was in one of the palaces rather than his residence, tending to affairs. Perhaps, given his strength and abilities, he was armoured already and helping defend the palace.

  No. The guards would not allow him to put himself in danger. He would be in the safest place in Akkad.

  Striding purposefully, Asima pulled open the door to the residence of the God-King. The entrance hall was filled from side to side with heavily armed and armoured soldiers of the royal guard, archers positioned on the balconies above. The guard were clearly taking no chances of the enemy reaching their master.

  As she walked toward the line of steel and bronze, she glanced into the side chambers and noted with satisfaction archers and soldiers positioned at all the windows. The building was well defended. Behind her she heard movement and, glancing back over her shoulder, she noted with approval the four guards lifting the heavy beams that would fall into grooves and bar the door in a moment.

  Hardly premature. Just in time, in fact.

  The captain in command of the guard gave a military half-bow as he recognised the royal concubine approaching and, with a curt command, the soldiers parted to allow her through. She glared at the captain and he was taken aback, blinking for a moment before recovering himself and straightening.

  “Ma’am?”

  “You just let me through without a single question?”

  The captain cleared his throat, aware that somehow he was now treading a fine line.

  “Ma’am? You are concubine and favoured of the God-King.”

  Asima growled.

  “We are being attacked by Pelasians, captain. No one should be trusted
.”

  The captain was crestfallen as Asima swept past, awash with annoyance, and made for the stairs. Behind her the guards closed ranks once more. Asima chided herself as she climbed. It had been petty, but it made her feel better. When events beyond one’s control threatened, it was always satisfying to make someone feel less than oneself. In a strange way it passed a small amount of control back.

  At the top of the stairs, she noted with satisfaction the second line of soldiers guarding the entrance to the main apartment complex. The men parted once more to allow her in and she wondered briefly whether to repeat her admonishment, but decided against it.

  Opening the door, she stepped inside and Bashi, the God-King’s chief manservant greeted her in the corridor.

  “Lady Asima? I am surprised to see you here?”

  Asima bowed her head. Bashi had a great deal of power and influence and, should tonight turn out well, she would need to remain on his good side.

  “Master Bashi. As soon as I discovered what was happening I rushed to my Lord to be by his side and to offer him support and comfort should he require.”

  Bashi nodded.

  “This is good. The master is tense, my lady. Please attend just a moment.”

  Asima stood in the entrance chamber and examined her nails as she heard Bashi enter the apartment and announce her. She also heard the strain and slight sound of relief in the God-King’s voice when he asked the servant to admit her. By the time Bashi returned, she was already walking toward the main room. He smiled and passed her to go about his business.

  The God-King, resplendent in his plain black, with the circlet on his brow and his jewelled sword slung at his side, smiled at her, though there was a sadness and a hollowness to that smile.

  “Asima, I am grateful you came. Surprised, but grateful.”

  He reached his hands out to her.