Dark Empress

by S. J. A. Turney

  And there were Pelasians among the fleet too. It was all coming together; she couldn’t quite see how, yet, but conditions were falling into place. And when she finally achieved her goals and left Prince Ashar’s corpse to the jackals while she sat on the veranda of the palace in Akkad, she would make the world pay for what it had put her through in recent years.

  She smiled.

  Oh yes. Streets would run with the blood of those who had got in her way.

  Five minutes of musing relaxed her a little and she began to become impatient for news. Samir and Ghassan surely would be brief with the council. And then they’d come here and she’d see how the next small step in her plan fell into place.

  Irritably, she stood, glancing at the pirate guard, wondering whether he would come and restrain her if she moved out of sight. He merely watched with scant interest. Of course, she could hardly escape from here.

  Stretching her legs, she began to explore her cell. This was some sort of storeroom. From what she understood, the master of this house had been one of the council who had passed on recently. After his death, it appeared that the house had remained empty. A quick look at the dusty surfaces told her that no one had bothered tending to the interior, though the lack of valuables, decoration and useful items suggested that other island occupants had been through here like locusts, taking anything of value.

  Arching her eyebrow in interest, she began to open and close cupboards and drawers.

  Junk. The room was full, but full of junk; trinkets, knickknacks and miscellaneous rubbish. Every door she opened or drawer she pulled on revealed more of the pointless accumulations of a lifetime hoarding. She sighed. Not even anything that could keep her entertained while she waited. At least there could have been…

  Her thoughts fell into silence as she opened a deep drawer at waist height in a tall cabinet and the next piece of her scheme fell into place. Asima smiled as she carefully and delicately picked up the hand-held torsion bow that lay abandoned amid the junk. It was loaded with a narrow, needle-like iron bolt, just under four inches long, which was exceedingly lucky, given that there was no supply of ammunition with it. She frowned at it and shrugged; she’d not a lot of experience with missile weapons, but she’d handled one of these before and it was nice and simple.

  Taking a quick glance around the doorframe, she saw the pirate guard, still watching the room with a bored gaze. He couldn’t see the cupboard around the corner and she smiled as she picked up the weapon, being careful to keep it angled so that the ammunition stayed in place. Just to be sure, she put her finger on the bolt and slid it back and forth a little. It was free and unjammed. A flick removed the catch that prevented misfires. Nodding to herself, she held it carefully in position behind her back and then returned to her seat, making sure she kept her front to the guard. He paid hardly any attention to her, merely looking up briefly as she reappeared from around the corner.

  Slowly, ever so carefully, she manoeuvred the bow from behind her back so that it rested on her knees under the table. Every movement was kept tightly controlled and masked by innocent actions such as a scratch, a glance around or a yawn.

  By the time she heard the activity at the front door, the weapon was securely held in both hands beneath the table. This next move required subtlety. She dropped her head dejectedly, apparently resigned to her fate and broken by captivity. Of course Samir wouldn’t fall for that for a second, but it might distract him from what was really going on. With someone as sharp as Samir, it was a matter of throwing enough signals and suspicious activity at him that he didn’t know which way to turn. Samir was sharp enough, but the iron bolt on her knee was sharper still and so was Asima’s aim.

  “Faerus and Orin will be here any time now with the most trusted senior members of their crews. The next few days will be a time that both the council and the governor will remember for many years.”

  Samir’s voice was light and betrayed a little excitement as he entered the front room of the house, helping Ghassan as he went. The taller brother was staggering wearily. Not a shock after what she’d done to him, but it still surprised and irked her that what was undoubtedly a killing blow seemed to have done such little to him. Next time the opportunity came her way, she would make it slower and considerably more certain. He may survive a single blow, but see how long he lasted with no skin.

  “I’ll wait here, Samir” her attempted victim said in a tired voice. “I’ll have a drink while we wait, but I just don’t have the patience or energy to deal with Asima right now.

  Samir nodded.

  “I’ll only be a few minutes, then we can get down to planning.” He turned to one of the other crewmen in the room. “Jabir? Can you break out the drinks? I’ll have one in a minute when I return.”

  Asima’s fingers tensed on the trigger as Samir strode toward the doorway. His face was a strangely unreadable expression. There seemed to be mixed hope, anger, irritation, desire and humour in roughly equal amounts. Despite some heavy competition, it won out as his most irritating look of all time.

  “Asima…” he began as he turned and closed the door, leaving the two of them alone in the room.

  She raised her eyes very slowly until her gaze met his. Her steely dark eyes held his as he squared his shoulders.

  “As I’ve said, and I’m considered a man of my word, I will not harm you, despite everything you have done. When our business here is concluded, we will go our separate ways and, Gods willing, our paths will never cross again. I am bound by the promise I made when I took you back from Pelasia to try and help you achieve your goal.”

  Asima shrugged.

  “You are a liar, Samir. You veer wildly between vowing to help me on my path back to power and stealing me away whenever I get close, in order to save your precious ‘innocents’. Innocents are merely criminals that haven’t been caught yet, Samir. A man in your position should know that. Everyone is disposable… no exceptions.”

  Samir shrugged.

  “There are innocents, in relative grades, I’ll admit, but I know they exist. You, however, Asima, are unable to recognise them, since I now realise that you were never one yourself, even when we were carefree children. Ghassan believes that you have become this person because the world turned its back on you. I personally believe that you were always this person, but it took certain events to trigger your release from the prison of youth.”

  “Enough talk, Samir. I recognise that I have a struggle ahead of me, but it will be considerably easier without you standing in the way.”

  Purposefully and smoothly, like the most professional Pelasian assassin, she stood, the chair sliding back and toppling behind her as she brought the hand bow up in a graceful arc and pulled the trigger to release the bolt at neck level. It was a speedy, smooth, bold, and deadly accurate move, the weapon aimed precisely for the centre of the throat.

  Unfortunately for Asima the result was a metallic click, a sad little ‘twang’ and the bolt rolled off the groove and fell to the floor. She stared in anger at the bow and then up at Samir’s grinning face.

  No… that was his most irritating look of all time.

  “I see you found the bow. Good. I would have hated to have gone to such lengths with no appreciable result.”

  “Why?” she demanded angrily.

  “To appease BelaPraxis, and to settle the matter in Ghassan’s mind. Your tongue is more twisted than any serpent’s and no word that slips from it can be trusted, but your choices; your actions, even, tell us what your heart contains, and yours, Asima my dear, contains only black emptiness.”

  She cast the useless, sabotaged weapon aside and crossed her arms defiantly as Samir strode toward her.

  “And now that you’ve eased your conscience, you can drop you’re the charade of your vow to help me and have me killed instead. At least have the balls to do it yourself and don’t leave the job to one of your underlings.”

  Samir smiled that vulture smile again as he came close, face to face with
her and a yard away.

  “Hardly, Asima. I keep my promises.”

  With a snort, she turned her back on him.

  “Good,” Samir said with relief. “That makes it easier”.

  His blow to the back of Asima’s head was surprisingly gentle, but accurate and strong enough to knock the consciousness from her. Samir’s only concession to his feelings was to let her fall heavily and painfully to the floor without catching her.

  “Sleep well. All our worlds are about to change.”

  In which the order is given

  Samir opened the door just as the runner tried to knock on it, causing him to lose his balance and stagger a little. The young sailor was out of breath and quite red faced and Samir waited patiently for him to regain his feet and take a deep breath. The lad looked up to see Samir waiting with his arms crossed, the tall, pale and gaunt figure of his brother at his shoulder and a collection of powerful men gathered in the background.

  “Captain Samir…”

  “The very same. Take your time… I’m sure there’s nothing pressing?”

  He smiled at the young man who flushed.

  “Sorry sir. The council wants to see you. They’ve called an emergency meeting for all captains.”

  “Now, I presume?”

  “Yes, sir. Just the captains and their first officers.”

  “Very well. We’ll be along presently.”

  “Yessir. I think…”

  His voice trailed off as Samir shut the door on him and turned to the other occupants of the room. Quite a crowd had built up over the afternoon and into the early evening, with the eight men from the Empress having been joined by Faerus, Orin and their senior sailors.

  “Are we all prepared? We all know what to do?”

  Faerus nodded, scratching his chin.

  “Still not all that sure I like it Samir, but you’re absolutely right that it has to be done.”

  Orin, a stocky, barrel-chested northerner with a forked beard and a surprisingly quiet and gentle voice, shook his head.

  “I still wonder whether we could have done more.” He sighed. “But yes… we know what to do and we’re ready.”

  “Then for the sake of Lassos and our continued survival let’s go and do battle. You’d best head down to the council. I’ll meet you there in a minute; just a few quick things to attend to here.”

  The two captains nodded and made for the door, both stopping in the entrance to grasp Samir by the forearm in the age old gesture of comradeship. As they left, taking their men with them, Samir glanced around the room at the remaining occupants and then closed the door.

  “This is a dangerous course we’ve embarked on, gentlemen, and into unknown waters. We all know we can trust Faerus and Orin implicitly. I have other allies unrevealed as yet that will change the way today unfolds. Then there’s the Governor; we have no idea yet what he has decided to do, so he is a random element in the game. And finally, the council are almost entirely untrustworthy and have only their own safety and glory in mind. I have no doubt that they would sell out or drown any resident of Lassos without a moment’s thought if they deemed it necessary. Today is an important day.”

  He turned to Ghassan.

  “Are you up to this?”

  Ghassan laughed quietly.

  “Unless you’re expecting me to leap from ship to ship and head boarding parties, I can cope with standing on the command deck and watching what happens.”

  “I had just a little more than that in mind. See, I have no first officer and it would be unthinkable to go to battle in that position. It might be a bit strange for you, being used to commanding a ship yourself, but if you could cope with it, I would really appreciate having you at my side?”

  Ghassan answered with a grin.

  “Samir, I’m not sure I could ever keep up with you, but I’d be honoured to take the post, yes.”

  He sighed and shook his head, still laughing.

  “It seems ridiculous in a way, since it’s only weeks since I was a commissioned naval officer and now here I am, taking on the role of first officer with the most notorious pirate vessel on the sea, and fighting alongside Faerus and Orin, both of whom I’ve engaged in battle in the past. Strange how things turn out, isn’t it?”

  Samir smiled.

  “I told you long ago, by the south gate stairs in M’Dahz, the day ma died… remember?”

  Ghassan, suddenly taken aback by the memory of that horrible day, gave a sad little laugh.

  “You told me things would be better. It’s been long decades and finally things seem to be getting better, as you said. I just hope that’s not just for today. I want things to stay better now. Do you think that’s too much to hope for?”

  Samir laughed.

  “You’ve survived an invasion, repeated massacres and two decades of sea battles with pirates. You made it out of prison in an exploding tower; you’ve been knifed twice… once supposedly fatally, and here you are standing tall and about to lead a ship to war with me. I think that, despite everything we’ve been through, we’ve both got a lot to be thankful for, don’t you?”

  Ghassan continued to smile sadly and Samir turned to the other sailors.

  “Mannius? Can you sort out Asima for me? Make sure she’s carefully bound when you move her. She shouldn’t wake up for a while yet, but you know how dangerous she is, and I don’t want any harm to come to her. Once you’ve got her ready, take three of these lads and move her out of here. Ghassan and I need to go attend the meeting, but we’ll meet you at the ship shortly.”

  The thin, wiry man nodded as he holstered the knife he’d been idly playing with.

  “We’ll be there and ready, cap’n.”

  Samir nodded and turned to the tall, heavy set man next to the door with a scowl moulded permanently to his features.

  “Duro? You and Rashad need to take care of the other thing. You’ll find the tools and the paint in the room back there. Make sure that Faerus and Orin have taken theirs. If not, you’ll have to deliver theirs before you start work.”

  “What are you up to now, Samir?” Ghassan frowned.

  “Oh just a little surprise. Nothing important. Shall we go?”

  Ghassan continued to peer at him through narrowed eyes and finally sighed, shrugged, and opened the door.

  “After you, my captain.”

  “Thank you.”

  As the room became a hive of activity behind them, Samir and Ghassan stood straight and began to stride down the sloping road in the warm, purple dusk light toward the council chamber at the first bend. The noble scene was only slightly marred by the fact that Ghassan winced and gasped with every other step and quickly began to lean on Samir for support once again.

  “Don’t worry. When we get on board, all you have to do is lean on the command deck rail and shout commands.”

  Ghassan nodded.

  “I shall be grateful to stay still for a while. I think all this movement may have torn a stitch or two. Your doctor’s going to be furious with me.”

  The two walked on in silence, each contemplating the coming day with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Slowly they approached the council hall, the great, peeling colonnade towering above them as they closed on the doorway.

  “You’re sure they’ll go for it? You’ve sent everyone off ready as though they’d already announced their intention to go to war.”

  Samir shrugged.

  “I can’t see as they really have any other choice. Besides, whether they say yes or no, we’ll still have to get underway, so best to be prepared. Are you ready for this? We might not be over popular tonight.”

  Ghassan answered with a nod.

  “In we go.”

  The entrance hall was empty as usual, though the door to the main chamber was already open and the commotion within could be heard as far out as the colonnade. Dozens of raised voices argued a dozen different points, each trying to be heard over the others. Samir smiled as he and Ghassan entered and took up position
leaning against the door and closing it with a loud click.

  The room fell silent at the noise and a number of faces turned to them.

  “Good evening, gentlemen” Samir said with a tight smile.

  There were a number of growls and low-voiced threats from the assembled group, but the banging of a knife pommel on the central table brought the silence to bear once more.

  “Captain Samir… present yourself and your brother before the council.”

  The crowd parted, allowing the pair room to face the hawk-like figure of master Halcar, who frowned at them.

  “The council has concluded its deliberations, captain Samir, and come to a decision as to the best course of action for Lassos and its occupants.”

  Samir nodded but remained silent.

  Someone nearby said in low tones “I’s gonna slit yer throat, real slow, Samir…”

  Ghassan’s head whipped around, but in the press of people, the source of the voice remained unknown. The comment was ignored by the mass and the council.

  “Whatever your motive, captain Samir,” Halcar went on “you have betrayed the people of Lassos and we do not tolerate betrayal in any circumstances. You have put us in an awkward position, even though some of our number believe that this time was inevitable. The judgement of this council is that war must be prosecuted. The twelve ships of Lassos will sally forth at dawn when the mist is thickest and will engage the fleet of the governor. Your unique position, with traitors on board the enemy ships, makes you irreplaceable. Therefore, you will lead the way out of the reefs and into position.”