Dark Empress

by S. J. A. Turney

  Some muscle or cord had been severed, Samir realised as he desperately swung with his curved blade. The strength left his leg instantly and he collapsed like a sack of grain, the blade spinning out of his hand and bouncing along the boards between the legs of the attackers. He watched with dismay as the curved weapon came to a halt perhaps a foot out of reach among the stamping feet.

  He stared at it as he crumpled, his head hitting the deck, hard. A foot, perhaps, but it might as well be a league. Out of reach.

  He tried pushing himself up, but his head exploded in shards of white light and he realised through the heavy pulsing of his blood as it pounded round his brain, that the deck beneath his head was slick with dark blood that was pouring from his own skull.

  He flailed and tried to raise the short sword in his left hand, but there was so little strength there and no coordination in his head. The blade wobbled for a moment before it toppled from his grasp and fell to the floor.

  He realised he’d fallen back again only as the board hit the cracked area at the back of his skull and his vision blurred.

  He’d always wondered how it happened? When Ha’Rish turned her masked face to you and your soul went with her, did you see the Goddess? He squinted through the shattered fragments of white light and the growing fug deep in his brain, trying to see whether Ha’Rish had come for him personally.

  Perhaps not, he sighed, as his vision briefly swam into focus long enough to identify a heavy-set man with a blue whorled pattern tattooed on his face as the pirate raised a straight and wide sword in both hands, point down, to drive it through Samir’s chest and finish him at last.

  Given the rather insistent pain, it might be a blessing. Samir let his limbs loosen and fall to the deck as he watched the glinting point of the sword descend.

  Somehow, superimposed over the falling blade, he finally saw the masked face of Ha’Rish.

  She wasn’t as beautiful, even in her death-masked image, as he’d expected. In fact, she might very well be said to be quite ugly.

  Samir sighed as the blackness descended. At least she could have been pretty…

  Saja grasped Samir by the shoulders, a sudden panic descending on him as the crew of the Redemption swept around him and began to push the desperate pirate crew back. The Sea Witch and the Retribution were moments away, their own boarding ramps already raised and ready to help. In mere moments, the whole attack had overturned. The two commanders’ attack had begun something that simply could not be stopped, even by sheer weight of numbers, and the news that their sister ship and Saja’s old vessel were bearing down to help them had lent renewed vigour to the attack.

  The news had, however, had a somewhat different effect on the pirates. Their earlier resolution lost, panic had set in. There would be no hope for them. If they surrendered, only a gibbet and a very public death awaited but, if they stayed here they would only be carved to pieces by the three victorious crews.

  And so they had broken, some diving overboard, others trying to find somewhere to hide from the now overwhelming enemy force.

  Saja frowned at Samir’s still form. Only a moment ago as he’d swept aside the last pirate who’d been intent on finishing the job, he’d seen Samir, eyes open and smiling. And then suddenly he’d gone limp and slumped.

  With breath held, heart thumping in his throat, he leaned down to Samir’s chest and put his ear to the man’s tunic.

  A voice from above spoke in a leaden, hollow tone.

  “Well?”

  Saja looked up and his ebony face burst into a wide, toothy grin.

  “He’ll be alright, captain Ghassan. So long as that head’s bound quickly. He’s a survivor, your brother.”

  The tall first officer brushed the ever present curl of black hair from his eyes and sighed with relief.

  “Close, Saja. Too close for you two mad bastards!”

  In which Retribution is the watchword

  The governor’s flagship was a magnificent vessel. Ghassan could hardly take his eyes from the thing as he was greeted at the top of the rope ladder and gestured toward the main deck by a deferential sailor. Waving aside the man, he turned and helped Saja bring his wounded and bandaged brother up the last section, master Culin below adding support as he pushed Samir toward the top.

  The governor stood on the command platform with a number of important looking personages and Samir shook his head gently as he reached the deck and planted his wobbly legs as firmly as he could on the timber, accepting Ghassan’s offered arm for support.

  Saja and Culin took up positions in surreptitiously supportive places around the young captain who had, against all odds and despite the innumerable immense obstacles, brought a fleet of vicious pirates to battle against one another until the only ones that remained afloat flew the flag of the Empire. The four men waited a moment until the windswept head of captain Faerus appeared over the edge of the deck.

  “I see no one feels the need to help me aboard, just because I didn’t have the idiot bad sense to try and personally tackle an entire crew of howling lunatics.”

  He grinned as Culin reached down and grasped his hand, hauling him aboard.

  The five men, the leaders of the pirate rebellion, stood for a moment, recovering, before following the beckoning form of the second officer aboard the Pride of Calphoris.

  The climb up the stairs to the command deck was easier, though still a little delicate, given the condition of three of the five men. Ghassan still winced occasionally as movements pulled the stitches in his back, Saja was criss-crossed with minor cuts and abrasions and Samir… The doctor on board the Redemption had been typically sarcastic, but had begun work on stitching and binding the various wounds before the captain had even been given a sedative; a testament to how bad he considered Samir’s condition.

  That had been almost five hours ago and the doctor had been quite vocal in his refusal to let Samir out of his sight, even at the governor’s request until, Ghassan had given him a direct order to his quarters.

  While the doctor had worked, the crews of the three ships had swept the site of the battle, noting the locations of the various sunken wrecks mostly from the flotsam and jetsam and the bobbing, bloated bodies that had not yet been pulled down as they lay draped over random spars of wood or shattered pieces of broken deck.

  The saddest had been the site of Orin’s ship, the Revenge. No sign had been found of any survivors in the area, but the pieces of charred timber and the various unpleasant things the searchers did locate had told a horrible story.

  Still, Orin had fought, like all of them, for what he believed to be right and it was partially through his sacrifice that the five remaining leaders reached the top of the stairs and crossed the command deck of the massive, outsized daram to the waiting officers opposite.

  Marshal Tythias and Commodore Jaral, standing to one side of the governor, bore unreadable expressions and Ghassan realised he was having a little difficulty meeting the gaze of his old captain, even in Jaral’s new exalted role as commander of the navy. The presence of a clearly very important Pelasian Satrap, dressed in his elegant black robes, and sporting numerous marks of rank and decorations, was more of a surprise. Ghassan recognised some of the markings that identified the officer as the commander of the Pelasian royal fleet.

  “All five of you?” the governor asked in surprise. “I thought I saw one of your ships disappear in a fireball. I was expecting only four.”

  Samir nodded wearily, wincing at the pain in his head.

  “I beg a slight change in the contract, governor.”

  The man frowned suspiciously.

  “One does not usually change the conditions of a deal after it is done, captain Samir.”

  “I’m aware of that, Excellency, but there are… circumstances.”

  He glanced along the line.

  “Captain Orin, as you astutely noted, is no longer with us, having given his life for the cause. However, we were very fortunate to have, as a last-minute ally, mas
ter Culin of the Lassos council.”

  “Culin?” the governor snapped. “The man is wanted on a hundred different charges! Piracy is merely somewhere on the list. This is hardly what I agreed to!”

  The target of his bile stepped out from the line and bowed slightly to the governor.

  “With respect, your Excellency, you will find upon investigation, that more than half of those charges are erroneous or at least inflated.”

  As the governor glared at him, he cast a mischievous smile back.

  “Indeed, if you give me a couple of days, I think you’ll find that my charge sheet is almost clear!”

  “What?”

  Culin grinned.

  “Come now, governor. You must be aware of just how many people I have among your people. If I’d wished, I could have cleared my name years ago. But I would rather it were done in a legitimate manner.”

  The governor glared at him and then turned the look on Samir.

  “You could do far worse, governor. Master Culin truly is a master, of many things. I think you would find him a serious asset in the admiralty. Certainly I’d rather have him working for me than against me…”

  The governor’s glare refused to shift and Samir sighed and withdrew a folded and worn sheet of parchment from his tunic.

  “And this particular item was not part of our agreement, but I will proffer it as an extra incentive to accept the change in terms.”

  The governor reached out and accepted the parchment, his scowl remaining deep as he unfolded it and read the neat script on the inner surface.

  “What is this? A list of names? Who are these people?”

  Samir’s grin became darkly mischievous.

  “Those are all the people I slipped aboard your ships over the last few years. You may want to honourably discharge them all, since they’ve done you no harm and served as well as any other sailor.”

  Next to him, Ghassan blinked.

  “You really did have men on board their ships? I assumed that was a lie to goad the council into action?” he asked, his voice hovering somewhere between astonishment and anger. “Not sure I’d have gone along with this if I’d known that.”

  Samir laughed quietly.

  “I like to have a cushion to fall back on, Ghassan. You know that. There was always the possibility that the governor would not accept my offer, and I had to be prepared.”

  Ghassan stared at his brother helplessly as Samir turned back to the governor.

  “Straight deal time, governor. You accept the five of us with amnesty into your service and I give you a guaranteed end to the pirate island.”

  The governor turned and whispered something into the ear of Marshal Tythias. The two men, along with Commodore Jaral retreated a few paces and then fell into a brief whispered discussion while the Pelasian admiral watched them, an unreadable expression on his face. After a long minute, the three officers turned and strode back across to them.

  “Very well. The deal is this: Samir, Ghassan, Saja and Faerus will be pardoned entirely and accepted into the Imperial navy at the rank of Captain, with their own commands, as per your original request. Our offer with respect to master Culin is on different terms, however. We offer an amnesty for all his crimes to date, but without Imperial naval enlistment and on the understanding that he ‘disappears’ as far as we are concerned.”

  Samir shook his head.

  “That’s…”

  He was cut off mid-sentence as the Pelasian admiral gestured at Culin.

  “In that case, I would like to offer a position to this man. The Pelasian navy is more than aware of Culin’s accomplishments. I think we can use you?”

  Culin shrugged.

  “How’s the weather in Pelasia.”

  “Hot” the man replied with a tight smile. “Always hot.”

  Samir looked back and forth between the two until Culin gave a small nod.

  “Looks like you have a deal, governor, though I think you’ve let a major asset slip your fingers there. Be very wary of the Pelasian navy now.”

  The governor nodded.

  “Then only one thing remains.”

  His eyes rose to the mist on the horizon and the black rock of Lassos’ peak rising from the centre. Samir nodded and turned to his brother.

  “Ghassan?”

  Fishing in his tunic, the taller brother retrieved the bronze disk with its grizzly needle and displayed it openly to the men before them.

  “And I have your word this is what you said it was?”

  Samir nodded.

  “The dead man’s compass. Since the Hart’s Heart took the other one to the bottom of the sea a few hours ago, this is the last. Moreover, I have taken extra steps to cutting off any future hope of navigating the reefs. You need have no more fear of the pirate island, governor. This is an end of it.”

  He turned and nodded at Ghassan and the tall captain strode across to the rail nearby. With a curious smile, he changed his grip on the bronze compass and, nestling it in an underarm position, cast it with all his might out into the sea, where it hit the surface, skimmed three times and then disappeared with a plop, sinking to a watery grave.

  The governor nodded as Ghassan returned to the group.

  “Then our business is complete, captain Samir. Welcome to the Imperial navy. I believe Commodore Jaral has had rather a large cask of some corrosive liquid stored below deck in order to celebrate… I have it on authority that there are rites of passage to endure that defy official terms. I presume you are in no rush to return to your ships?”

  Samir glanced back and forth between his friends and noted their grins.

  “I think we can spare some time to carouse with our fellow officers, Excellency.”

  Epilogue

  The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon as Ghassan and Samir rested on the side rail of the Imperial flagship and stared out across the glittering sea. Ghassan had been careful with the drink below, aware at all times of the gaze of Commodore Jaral, and not entirely sure of where he now stood with his former captain, Still, he was back in a position of command and, even if Jaral still held misgivings, Ghassan would soon put them to one side and make his name a noble one again.

  Life was suddenly a sea of possibilities. He smiled at the smaller captain by his side. Samir also had partaken only of a couple of drinks, the thumping of the blood in his wounded skull making him light-headed and fuzzy after only a few mouthfuls.

  “You did it, Samir. You redeemed both of us.”

  Samir nodded, wincing.

  “More than that, Ghassan, I think, but it wasn’t just me. I may have been the central peg that held things together, but this was the work of several of us, including the governor and Culin and Saja… but most of all, I agree, it was the sons of Nadia.”

  Smiling, he raised his cup to the darkening sky.

  “Mother and uncle Faraj wherever you may be. Your boys have made you proud at last.”

  Ghassan raised his own cup and took a quick sip.

  “It seems like a thousand years since mother died and I lost all hope. And it was you. It was always you, with your ‘things will be better’, that kept me going. Through everything. Everything we lost and so many times we met as enemies, but you never lost sight of that, did you? Everything ‘being better’ was always your goal.”

  Samir smiled.

  “After what we went through, I think we deserve a little of everything being better, don’t you?”

  Ghassan laughed quietly.

  “It’s to be hoped we never go to war against Pelasia again. I’d hate to come up against a navy with Culin behind it!”

  Samir laughed a genuine laugh and the two fell silent, watching the light fade in the west, taking with it the old world and bringing the possibility of the new.

  The desert nomads have a saying.

  “When something is broken it should never be discarded. So long as the pieces remain, the whole can be remade.“

  * * *

  Karo was, a
nd he’d be the first to admit it, not a nice man. He’d never been one and piracy had been a natural course for him. After years of fighting in the pits in Calphoris to harden himself, he’d turned to mugging folk as a way to make ends meet. He’d discovered how much he liked to kill that very way, when a mugging went wrong and he’d been forced to dispatch the target. It had been messy and gratuitous. And he’d enjoyed it so much that he’d repeated it the next time; and the next.

  Only when the heat from the authorities had become just too much had he had to flee the streets and make for the port where he began the long journey that would lead to him, more than a decade later, being the commander of a boarding party aboard the pirate vessel Diamond Devil. He’d had an illustrious career serving under captain Corun and everything had been rosy until the last couple of days. Then that damned Samir and his treacherous friends had come back and brought disaster with them.

  Corun had dithered when the fleet suddenly started attacking itself and it had taken the first officer’s presence of mind to persuade him to turn and chase down the Hart’s Heart and the Dark Princess in the hope of killing Samir and getting back to Lassos. And then everything had gone wrong. Somehow, despite being in the favourable position, things had gone so damn badly wrong that he’d had to stop in the middle of scalping some bastard from the Empress and jump into the sea to avoid capture and death following the sudden and surprise arrival of the Sea Witch and Faerus’ damn ship.