Dark Empress

by S. J. A. Turney

  Samir watched with interest as his brother burst into activity. Reaching up to the young guard above him, one hand went over the mouth, preventing any cry for help, while the other reached round and clamped on the side of the guard’s neck. As the young man’s arms flailed, Ghassan rolled over, pinning his victim beneath him while he maintained his hold. As Samir slithered down the last of the slope, his brow furrowed. Ghassan was pressing into the young man’s neck in a very precise manner and holding him tight now as he struggled. Cavis’ eyes widened a moment and slowly he went limp until he sagged beneath his assailant.

  Sighing, Ghassan rolled away from the boy, patted him on the cheek in a friendly fashion, and stood, tenderly touching a few grazes from his controlled fall.

  “You’ve picked up some interesting tricks” Samir noted as the brothers gave Cavis a last glance to make sure his chest was rising and falling safely before disappearing around the wall and into an alley. Just as they vanished from sight, the warning blast rang out from the tower above and the top of the slope blossomed with sudden activity.

  Ghassan shrugged as they strode along the narrow alley.

  “One of my old marine sergeants used to fight in the pits in Rilva. He knew all sorts of fascinating things. Most of them are deadly, but this one just renders someone unconscious for a while.”

  Samir nodded, impressed.

  “So what now?” Ghassan asked. “I presume you’ve planned beyond this, since we’re both wanted men, trapped in M’Dahz with no way out?”

  “I’ve the bare bones of a plan. Sadly, I need you to put a bit of meat on them.”

  He stopped and turned to Ghassan.

  “You see, I need to go take care of something, so I’m going to have to leave it in your capable hands.”

  Ghassan frowned.

  “Last time you did that, I left to join the army and you abandoned me and became a criminal.”

  The smaller man laughed and grasped his sibling’s shoulder.

  “Ah, but now we’re both criminals, my brother. The problem is that I have a much grander plan than you could know, but the timing is running very tight and I need to go now or I’ll miss my opportunity. I will be back for you… or rather, I hope you’ll be back for me.”

  Ghassan frowned.

  “Alright. What’s your plan, then?”

  “There’s a tavern in the docks called the Laughing Mermaid. Remember it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Only around a small portion of my crew will have been on board the Empress when they impounded her. The rest I told to go ashore, realising that Asima was going to turn us in. The ones who stayed behind volunteered to maintain the fiction that the ship was occupied.”

  Samir squared his shoulders.

  “I’m sorry to land you with the big job, but there’s no one else I could trust to do it. You need to go find my crew and gather them together. Then get them to help you break the rest of the men out of the stockade in the port; they may have volunteered, but that doesn’t mean we should leave them to rot.”

  Ghassan whistled through his teeth.

  “Good grief. And then you’ll join us?”

  “Not exactly. Then comes the hard bit: you’ll have to lead my crew down to the secure dock, take on the town guard and cut out the Empress and get safely away out to sea. That’s going to be the tough bit, particularly since I presume you’ll try to do it with the minimum possible casualties.”

  “That’s a tall order, Samir. I’m not convinced we could achieve that together, let alone me on my own.”

  “Yes you can, Ghassan. When you meet at the Mermaid, speak to my first officer, a man called Ursa, and make sure he still has my bag. There’s something in there we can’t afford to lose.”

  “Anything else?” Ghassan asked in exasperation.

  “Just this: Once you’re out of port and safe, head for Pelasian waters. Right on the border, about six miles away, is a coastal village called Khediv. Anchor offshore and wait for me there. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”

  Ghassan narrowed his eyes.

  “Don’t you think it might be handy for me to have at least a clue as to your plan? What are you up to, Samir?”

  The smaller brother laughed and scratched his head.

  “Just saving the world, Ghassan. Can you do all this? And meet me at Khediv?”

  The taller man brushed his errant curl from his forehead and nodded.

  “I’ll manage somehow, so long as your crew don’t try to kill me on sight. I can’t imagine I’m their favourite person.”

  “You’d be surprised, Ghassan. Speak to Ursa. Go safe and be lucky and I’ll see you hopefully tomorrow morning.”

  His brother furrowed his brow once again and then shrugged and sighed.

  “Alright. Get going on your mysterious errand and we’ll see you at the border.”

  He watched with a mixed sense of gratitude and worry as Samir ran off through the tangled streets up the slope of M’Dahz, removing his guard uniform and discarding it as he ran. It would be awful to have finally reconciled his differences with Samir only to lose him once again. The little devil was too secretive and devious for his own good, sometimes. With a smile, Ghassan turned and made for the port at a quick walk, removing the guard cloak and tunic as he went.

  As he descended the widening street toward the port he was relieved to note that the gate remained wide open as usual although now, rather than being guarded by two bored men, half a dozen soldiers stood alert, eyeing up everyone who entered or left the port. Presumably they were mostly on the lookout for Samir; they wouldn’t know of Ghassan’s escape yet and probably didn’t have his description. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry.

  Ducking into a shadowed alleyway that hadn’t yet been graced with the dawn light, Ghassan looked up and down the street. It was still early and there were few enough people around that he would be observed as he entered the port just enough that he might raise questions. His attire, condition and grazes might attract just too much attention. With a smile, he turned and jogged down the dark passage.

  Sure enough, it met another tiny alley, too narrow for animals or vehicles. Clean washing hung on lines at the rear of residences. If he remembered this area correctly…

  Yes, there it was: the rear entrance of the stables that fronted onto Khaz Gharda Street, and just inside the gate stood a huge stone trough, half full of water. Later it would be filled for the horses. Grinning, Ghassan pulled himself easily up and over the low wall, grunting at the pain in his leg as he dropped to the stone within. Removing the chain mail and gloves, along with his tunic, breeches and boots, he dropped them one after the other onto the floor beside the trough until he was standing naked. He grinned. That would give the stable master a shock if he came out now.

  As quickly as he could, he climbed into the trough, immersing himself in the cold water that had chilled overnight and was yet to see warming sunlight. There was barely enough water to cover him but, ignoring the goosebumps that rose on his skin, he quickly washed himself down as best he could to remove the odour of the jail cell and sweat and plastered his unruly hair back down to his scalp.

  Shivering, he climbed back out into the early sunlight, paused for a moment as he decided what to do with his armour and finally, shrugging, left it where it lay and climbed, naked, over the wall and back into the narrow alley. Minutes later, he was in the back yard of a house, selecting unremarkable garments of an average quality, and dressing as speedily as he could.

  By the time he returned to the main road, there were noticeably more people about. With a frown, he perused the population. The best way… yes, there was his ticket into the port unmolested.

  Down the street came a teamster with a cartload of bags and sacks, partially covered with a thick blanket. The donkey pulling the cart rolled its eyes in a bad tempered fashion and snorted. Ghassan chuckled.

  “I know how you feel.”

  Waiting for just the right moment, he walked out of
the alleyway just as the cart rolled past and ambled quietly along on the opposite side of the street, keeping pace with the carter. Slowly, they rolled on toward the port and, after a few tense minutes, Ghassan let the carter pull slightly ahead. As the donkey reached the gate, guards stepped across to block passage. The man reined his beast in and the wheels rolled slowly to a halt, while the soldiers on duty began to go through the cart’s load, prodding with the buts of their spears.

  Keeping his expression carefully neutral, Ghassan walked calmly on past the activity and through the open archway into the port district with only the most cursory of glances from one of the free guards.

  He smiled. Being totally unremarkable was always the best way to remain unnoticed.

  Now to find the Laughing Mermaid.

  In which Ghassan instils order

  The tavern was noisy, smelly, and absolutely full of life, exactly as Ghassan remembered it from the many times he had passed by during his youth as well as the more recent occasions when the Wind of God was docked here. However, despite his familiarity with the building, he had never before set foot inside it.

  The interior was murky, reeking of the root cultivated by the desert nomads that was burned and smoked in clay pipes, mixed with the smell of sweat and that curious salty odour that only a lifetime sailor could cultivate. Squinting, Ghassan cast his gaze left and right. The tavern population seemed to polarise, with certain types gathering in small groups. There were several likely-looking groups that could represent the crew of the Empress and for a moment the fugitive officer chided himself for not asking more detail of his brother.

  Through the crowds, as he clicked his tongue irritably, he spotted a heavy-set man with a design of whorls and spines tattooed across his scalp. Smiling, he realised that was probably why Samir had directed him to the first officer. Ghassan remembered that scalp from his brief time on board. Ursa was rather hard to miss.

  Taking a deep breath, the tall man straightened and strode across the room, coming to a halt before the group who were spread across four tables at one end of the room. He almost laughed when the whole bunch fell silent, to a man, as he approached them. It was like something from an old comedy tale.

  “Ursa, yes? I’m sure I remember you.”

  The big man turned an angry face on him and his eyes flashed dangerously.

  “Only if you’d like me to shout out your name, captain.”

  Ghassan nodded.

  “Agreed. Indiscreet of me. My apologies. I’m here at the request of my brother.”

  Ursa nodded.

  “He warned me. You’re to help us cut out the Empress and meet him later?”

  “Yes, but more than that” Ghassan said, gesturing at a chair and raising his eyebrow.

  The big first officer nodded and, as they sat, Ghassan noted with a mix of humour and discomfort the unpleasant looks many of the pirates were directing at him. He couldn’t entirely blame them, of course. He had been their most ardent adversary for many years and, were the roles reversed, he might well have tried to kill them by now.

  “My brother is unwilling to leave even a part of his crew, and I tend to agree. We’re to free your shipmates and then take the ship. But before we make any sort of move, I need to be sure that you’re with me and I have a feeling some of you are struggling with that?”

  Ursa shrugged.

  “You’re no one’s favourite here. Can’t say as I’d have time for you myself if it weren’t for the law having been laid down by the boss; he threatened to gut anyone who laid a finger on you. Most of the lads would never dream of disobeying the cap’n, but there might be the odd man who thinks it would be worth it just to watch you bleed out.”

  Ghassan nodded and turned to smile at the other men, who were still glowering at him.

  “Anyone here have an issue with taking orders from me in your captain’s absence?”

  There was a tight silence, though the level of apprehension around the table increased noticeably.

  “Let me put it another way: I release every man here from their oath to my brother. I can’t do anything with a crew that are only with me because they’ve been told to be. So… given that you’re all free to knife me, with Ursa as a witness to my promise, who wants a go?”

  Smiling, he pushed his seat back from the table, remaining firmly in it.

  There was an uncomfortable pause as two men opposite him looked at one another and shuffled in their seat. The threat of displeasing Samir apparently still held them back. He smiled.

  “No one at all?”

  Ursa, next to him, leaned close for a moment.

  “Don’t do this, sir. The cap’n will kill me if I let the men hurt you.”

  Ghassan smiled and nodded.

  “I’ll take my chances, Ursa. You take yours.”

  Noting the man opposite who was almost out of his seat, his knuckles whitening on the seat arms with strain, Ghassan sized him up. These men were brutal and dangerous, but they would be honourable at some level, or Samir wouldn’t have them. It would be a shame to hurt them, but an example was worth a thousand speeches.

  “Well?”

  He took a preparatory breath as the man launched himself from the seat, pushing the table out of the way as he rose. Ghassan continued to sit and smile.

  Stepping closer, the man clenched his fists and leapt in. Ghassan, having apparently goaded the biggest of the opposition and therefore most likely the slowest, waited until the first swing came. Lunging forward out of his chair, he rose immediately in front of his target, so close he was already inside the man’s swinging arm.

  Ducking his head as he rose, he jabbed out with both hands. His left, formed into a shape resembling a dog’s paw, jabbed hard into the inner elbow of the swinging limb, his aim accurate. Simultaneously, his other hand homed in on the man’s free arm, which was reaching toward the sheathed dagger at his waist. Ghassan’s thumb and forefinger shaped into a pincer, he grasped the man’s wrist on the inside, just up from the heel of the hand, and squeezed hard.

  As the man stumbled forward, blinking, his right arm dead from the elbow down and his left hand frozen in a claw of pain, Ghassan sighed and stepped back.

  “I’ve always accorded myself a man of principle and honour and, as such I need everyone here to be completely open with me and I’ll extend you the same courtesy.”

  He smiled as he gently pushed his assailant back upright.

  “This man was going for his knife with the plain intent to kill. At least he’s let me know where he stands with this… or rather, where he falls…”

  Still smiling warmly, he took a single step forward to stand inches from the nose of the stunned attacker, who was staring at his own lifeless hands in astonishment. Tilting his head to one side, Ghassan reached out and tapped the man in the temple with his forefinger. With a sigh, the large pirate folded, his eyes rolling upwards as he collapsed to the floor.

  “See…” Ghassan said, stepping back away from the shuddering heap, “I don’t really want to hurt any of you but I’m going to need every man tonight, and I can’t have anyone with me who isn’t totally committed to the goal. Anyone else have any issue?”

  He held his smile as he looked around the assembled stunned faces. Ursa blinked at him.

  “How the hell did you do that?”

  Ghassan turned to him.

  “I’m a man of hidden talents, Ursa. Now, shall we get on with this?”

  With a nod, the heavy-set, tattooed man sank into his seat and pulled it up to the table. Ghassan nodded to himself and returned to his own seat, pulling it forward next to the unconscious form of his victim, and leaning with his elbows on the table conspiratorially.

  “I’ve no idea what your captain’s grand plan is, but I am with him now, entirely. My duty is done and I am committed to helping get your crew and your ship out. I don’t want to have to perform any more demonstrations so, if anyone is still unsure, leave the tavern now.

  He waited for a moment. There
was silence and a great number of meaningful looks were exchanged, but nobody stood.

  “Good. This is going to be hard enough if we’re all reading from the same scroll, if you get my drift. Now… are we safe enough to talk here, so long as we keep our voices down?”

  Ursa nodded.

  “Lot of friends of the Empress here, sir, so no problem as long as you’re quiet.”

  “Good. The way I see it, we’ve two distinct goals here, and they each have their problems. Firstly, we’ve got to get your shipmates out of the stockade, and secondly we’ve got to get on board the Empress and get her underway before anyone raises the alarm.”

  The man across the table next to the recently vacated seat, who had clearly been verging on attacking Ghassan himself, leaned back, his brow furrowed.

  “I’ve been in that stockade, drunk and detained. There’s no easy way in or out. There’s a compound with three huts for the port guard: guard house, armament store, and bunk house. The compound’s walled and patrolled, with only one gate. The stockade is inside that, and has its own permanent guard. I’m not even going to go into how hard it’ll be to get the Empress out…”

  Ursa nodded.

  “I helped the cap’n get the big liquid fire pots from the store, but that was easy. The ammunition store backs onto the perimeter wall. The stockade’s inside, though; much more difficult.”

  Ghassan frowned.

  “There are only eight guards in the compound at night on a normal night. Given the current situation with them looking for myself and my brother, I would expect them to double the guard, and they’ll be more alert than usual. So we’re looking at perhaps sixteen guards.”