The Dead God's Due (The Eye of the Lion Saga Book 1)

by Matt Gilbert

  The guard chuckled aloud. “Because he is already dead.”

  Kariana blinked in surprise, then nodded. “Good. I thought it was tomorrow.”

  The guard nodded sagely. “That’s the way of executions, Empress. Surprise often means less trouble.”

  It was good news, but she was surprised to find herself still wary of opening the door. Perhaps the truth of it was that her fear of the Southlander was simply a convenient excuse to avoid the real issue. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, ignoring the guard’s quizzical look, and opened the door.

  It was difficult to think of the hallway as a prison. The four doors into the cells were solid enough, and had slots at eye and hand level, but otherwise, it was simply a brick hallway. It was a bit utilitarian, but then, so was the rest of House Noril. Polished brass lamps illuminated several paintings lining the walls, the centerpiece a portrait of Noril.

  She realized with chagrin that she was too short to see through the top slot. She hesitated, trying to decide if she could bear the indignity of being on her knees again this day, peeping through the slots like a lovesick schoolgirl.

  Aiul spared her that, at least. He called out from the far end of the hallway, his voice tired, defeated. “Why are you here?”

  Kariana stammered a moment, unable to find words. She clutched at the note in her pocket again, trying to draw some strength from it. She stepped quickly to the door of his cell and knelt at the lower slot, only to find herself staring at his crotch. Maralena’s taunts flickered like gadflies in her mind, and she sighed in frustration, struggling against tears. Her voice cracked with strain as she choked out, “I got your letter. I came like you asked.”

  “I sent no letter.”

  Kariana blinked at hot tears, glad now that it was not his eyes on the other side. A trick, then, and a cruel one. “Is that true? Someone else sent it, or did you do it just to hurt me by denying it?”

  Aiul sighed and settled to the floor on the other side. He looked out at her, his green eyes not angry or cold, but simply sad. “No. It wasn’t me. Why would I ask you to come here, Kariana? We are at war, now.”

  Kariana couldn’t contain her grief. A sob burst from her, and she lay her head against the door for support. “Must it be so?” she choked. “Why can’t we just forget about everything? Tasinal, Amrath, Aswan, all of them, they fought one another like beasts at times, and they got past things. Why can’t we?”

  Aiul slammed a fist against the door. It was solid enough that she didn’t even feel the blow, but the sound was enough to make her spring back in shock. When she looked through the slot again, he had bowed his head and covered his eyes with his hand. “Too much has passed.”

  “It wasn’t me, Aiul! I swear it! It wasn’t!”

  Aiul lowered his hand and stared at her, considering. “You swore before Mei you would kill us both.”

  “But it was just words! You said it yourself, I was out of my head! I didn’t mean it!”

  “And someone just happened to attack Lara just after that.” He snorted in derision, but he seemed less certain, for all his display.

  Kariana wanted to scream the truth at him. She opened her mouth, fully intending to do so. Yes! Someone willing to frame me with her crime because she so disapproves of her son marrying a commoner!

  She closed her mouth so fast her teeth clicked as they came together. The truth would undo any progress she had made with him. He would never believe her. He would accuse her of being a monster to try to turn him against his own mother. Better to seem stupid. At least it was what was expected of her, so it would ring true. “Yes.”

  Aiul shook his head sadly. “I don’t believe you. I want to, I really do, for what we had long ago. But I can’t. Do you understand?”

  Kariana laid her head against the door again and wept softly. “I won’t accept it!”

  Aiul chuckled sadly, and his eyes softened. “What was it that cocky bastard Prandil told Maralena? ‘You can retreat into self delusion at will’?”

  Kariana giggled through her tears. “It’s all I have. I’d be dead if I just accepted things.”

  Aiul shook his head, smiling. “Yes, Kariana, I think you would.”

  Kariana snorted in amusement. “I know.” She looked at him again, not trying to hide her emotion anymore. “Will you at least try to believe me?”

  Aiul’s features grew strained. He sighed again, and swallowed hard. “You are empress, Kariana. You have much power, as you are just beginning to see. If it is as you say, you can use that power to find the real culprit. Have your man Caelwen bring him to me with his proof. We both know that statue would rather be buried alive than frame an innocent man. Do that, and I’ll bend a knee to you before all Nihlos.”

  “That’s not my demand. It was the elders. I just want you to believe me. And one other thing.”

  Aiul raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

  Kariana took a deep breath. “I want you to tell me the truth.”

  “What truth?”

  “That you loved me then, and you still do. Don’t you dare mock Caelwen for his ‘duty and honor’ when you stand on the same ceremony.”

  Aiul turned away quickly, but not before she caught the trapped look in his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes you do. I’ve taken plenty of men to my bed. I know the difference between one doing his duty and one who wants to be there. It came back to you, just like it came back to me.”

  Aiul slammed his fist against the door again, but this time she didn’t flinch. He stared off at nothing, refusing to meet her gaze, his jaw clenched. “I’m married!”

  “I’m not asking you to leave her. I’m not asking you to be with me. I’m just want to hear you say it.”

  Aiul said nothing for long moments, and when he spoke, his voice was husky with emotion. “Prove your truth to me. Then we’ll talk of mine.”

  Lara stood at the door to the prison, trembling in rage and humiliation. How stupid could they be? It was a prison! It was designed for voices to carry! Or perhaps they had grown so bold they no longer cared if the guard heard. If it hadn’t been for her ‘anonymous’ friend, there would be nothing to fear, would there?

  It was true. All true. What a fool she had been!

  The guard laid a hand on her shoulder. “I think you should come back some other time, madam. This can’t end well.”

  Lara ground her teeth in fury, but her face gave no sign. She nodded. “I guess you’re right.” She eyed the heavy candlestick that hung by the door. “Could you help me with my bag? I’m feeling a little dizzy. It’s the pregnancy.”

  The guard nodded in sympathy, and bent to pick up her bag. In a flash, Lara snatched the candlestick from the wall and crashed it against his head, sending him to the ground in a heap. The candle, still lit, flew across the room, bounced off the wall, and spun furiously on the stone floor before settling.

  Lara bent to retrieve his keys. There was a lot of blood. Was he breathing? She decided she didn’t much care. One murder, two, or three? What did it matter? She unlocked the door and stepped into the hallway, clutching the candlestick like a lifeline. She imagined how it would feel as it crashed into Tasinalta’s skull, the sound it would make, like an overripe melon being dropped on the floor.

  She smiled darkly as she closed the door behind her. No guards would be interrupting this dance.

  She wanted Tasinalta all to herself.

  Kariana knew something was wrong as soon as she heard the door open. She didn’t know what, precisely, but it was bad. No one should be here. Suddenly, she regretted ditching Caelwen. Someone had forged the letter from Aiul. Perhaps it was a trap.

  Aiul’s eyes cut toward the door, but the angle was wrong for him. He could see nothing of the entrance. “Who is it?”

  Oh, no! No! No!

  He could see the look on her face, she was certain of it. His eyes grew wide, alarmed. “Who is it?”

  Lara, dressed in a simple nightgow
n, her belly large with child, held the candlestick high, like a headsman’s axe. She wore a cruel, sidelong smile, and her eyes glittered with madness, malice and murder. “Your man gave you up, whore! Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

  Kariana blinked in shock and confusion. “Find out what?”

  Aiul pounded vainly against the door. “Lara! It’s not what you think!”

  Lara chuckled without humor. “You don’t even know what I think.”

  It would have been nice to talk, to work things out, but Lara was apparently in no mood. Without warning, she rushed Kariana, swinging the candlestick like a mace. Kariana threw up her hands to shield her head, a little too late to fully block the blow, but enough to blunt it. Pain ripped through her hands, her forearms. It poured on the crown of her skull and rolled down her face like molten lead, hot, heavy, liquid. She noted with a slight detachment that, as much as it hurt, it was all very confusing. Attacking first definitely has enormous advantages.

  Aiul was screaming something, but it was muffled. She couldn’t be certain what, and did it matter? This had in fact all been a trap, hadn’t it? The two of them cooked it up together. Get her here, then have the pregnant woman finish the job and claim she was mad with raging hormones or something. Probably, Narelki would even defend her against the charges. Such irony.

  Lara seemed to be moving in slow motion, spittle flying from her lips as she screamed incoherently, no words, just sounds of blind fury. Her face was so contorted with rage that she looked demonic. Or maybe that’s just the blow to my head. The candlestick was gone. Kariana felt hands tightening around her throat, and motion, and heard a clunking sound. Oh, that would be your head impacting against the floor, fool.

  She wondered how it was going to feel to die. It would have been nice to fight back, but her body wasn’t cooperating very well. Even if it had, she was outmatched. Lara was no old woman or soft little spy from House Prosin. She was half again Kariana’s size, and hard, a commoner who likely had to fight often as a child. She’s probably killed dozens.

  It was instinct rather than thought that sent her hand snaking into her blouse once again for Sadrik’s dagger. Black spots danced before her eyes as the last of her breath burned out in her veins. Her hands seemed to act of their own accord, clumsy, with the dagger blade pointing in the wrong direction as she brought it to Lara’s throat. Lara leered down at her, triumphant, spittle still dripping from her mouth, now a ravenous maw.

  Fine. I can adapt. With the last of her strength, Kariana hammered the butt of the dagger into the bridge of Lara’s nose, once, twice, three times. I must remember to thank Sadrik again for this. It’s the most useful gift I’ve ever received.

  Her vision had faded to full black by now, but the hands around her throat fell away. Kariana sucked in air in great gasps, blind. She had no idea where Lara was, no idea if her vision would even return.

  Kariana shivered in blind fear, waiting for the next blow.

  It all happened so quickly that Aiul could barely follow things. Lara was out of her head, raving. She hit Kariana with a candlestick and then started choking her. Kariana hit Lara with something. They were both reeling now, both bleeding. It didn’t look too bad, though.

  Aiul kicked at the door with all his might, but it was useless. “Stop it, both of you!”

  Lara groaned in pain and struggled to her feet. She wiped the blood from her lips with the back of her hand and growled like a dog.

  Kariana was clearly having difficulty seeing, and she was gasping and heaving, trying to catch her breath. She turned toward the sound of Lara’s voice and slashed the air with a small knife. Where had that come from?

  Aiul pounded his fist against the door again. “Don’t do this! It’s madness!”

  They circled one another, slowly, Kariana trying to buy time while her vision and breath returned. Lara seemed to sense this, and charged headlong into a vicious slash. The knife cut through her thigh, drawing a river of blood, but Lara didn’t seem to notice. She hit Kariana with her full weight and bore the tiny woman to the floor beneath her, one hand reaching for the knife, the other scrambling across Kariana’s face, fingers clawing at eyes like a crab pinching its prey.

  Kariana bit at Lara’s hand, and somehow managed to wriggle out from beneath her. It was both hands for both women now as they fought over the weapon, screaming, rolling about the floor, hissing, spitting. Sometimes, Lara had control of the knife, at other times, Kariana. Blood flew each time the weapon changed hands. The floor grew slick with it, and the air reeked of copper and sweat.

  Aiul screamed at them to stop, over and over, his voice growing ever more ragged, but it was useless. He had no part in this play. He was simply a captive audience. His words, like theirs, lost all sense of meaning, became nothing but sounds expressing fear, rage, and denial, a song of conflict, struggle, and loss.

  They all sang, all danced to the savage tune. Aiul hammered himself against the door over and over, his shoulders, his feet, his fists, his head. There was blood here now, too, inside, as he grew more frantic. He felt his own bones crack under the impact. Flame filled his throat, his heart, his mind, but he had no power to change this.

  So much pain, and yet he was numb when the moment came. Their struggles, their flailing and rolling on the floor, was like casting a die. It tumbled. They tumbled. Over and over. Six. Two. Five. One.

  Kariana. Lara. Kariana. Lara. Lara.

  Kariana was on top when the die came to rest. Aiul could no longer move or scream. He simply watched as she raised the wicked blade high over head and plunged it into Lara’s chest.

  He could have understood this. He truly could have. Kariana was in stark, raving terror, mortal fear. Lara had tried to murder her. It was only natural that she defend herself. He could have forgiven the first stab. Even the second. They were terrible wounds, and to his eye, likely mortal, but there was a chance. If nothing else, perhaps he could save their child.

  But he could not forgive the third, or the fourth. Or the twentieth. Lara was long dead, and his child as well, both punctured over and over, and still Kariana stabbed at them.

  Numb. He knew the pain was there. He could find it, if he focused, agony of body and of soul, yet he was distracted. There was a noise in his mind, in his ears, an odd sound that he couldn’t place. It grew louder and more insistent, drawing his attention away from his misery.

  For all the world, it sounded like crows.

  Caelwen ground his teeth in impotent fury as the slave from House Noril fumbled with the prison door key. Kariana was still screaming, struggling with someone. He could wait no longer. He snatched the key from the slave and shoved him aside. “Give me that, idiot!”

  The slave staggered backward and tripped over the corpse of the prison guard. He raised a hand from the floor to find it covered in sticky, congealed blood, and began to wail in horror.

  “Shut up with that mewling!” Caelwen shouted as he turned the key in the lock and swung the door open. “Go and tell my men I’ve found her and to come at once!”

  The slave was only too happy to beat a hasty retreat. Caelwen looked about for a doorstop, found none, and settled for dragging the dead guard into position. He had no intention of being locked in, and this fellow could hardly complain. Caelwen drew his sword and charged into the hallway.

  He didn’t get far before he realized that, whatever had passed here, it was over. Tasinalta was the victor, but she was severely wounded herself. There was blood everywhere, and Tasinalta was still stabbing at her victim. He felt his gut twist in horror as he recognized Lara.

  He slowed to a walk as he approached her, and put his sword back in its scabbard. Tasinalta looked up at him with mad eyes, barely recognizing him, but she slowed and then stopped her arm. Her hair and face were crusted with drying blood. Pink foam bubbled from her lips and ran down her chin.

  Caelwen reach out a hand. “Empress, let me help you.”

  Tasinalta’s eyes narrowed in fear and hatred. “Ass
assins!” she shrieked. “Assassins everywhere!”

  She sprung toward him without warning, stabbing at him with the dagger, but his mail turned her blows well enough. He grabbed her flailing arms and pinned them to her sides. “Enough! You are safe now!”

  She seemed not to hear him. She was struggling so violently, she was certain injure herself. Caelwen felt he had little choice. He brought his fist up in a swift strike to her jaw, and she immediately collapsed. Choice or no, he had to admit, it was hardly unpleasant.

  “Mei. What have you done now?”

  Epilogue: Not Fire

  Sadrik struck a sinister pose in the full length mirror, considering the visual effects. He was pleased with the robe, a red and black silk affair. Power colors, surely. He brushed at a stray hair on his brow, careful to maintain his expression. Yes, it was just the right look, a mix of contempt and detachment. It came naturally to him, but given that he was performing, he wanted to be certain.

  It had been a very eventful season, one full of heart stopping moments. His idiot cousin seemed determined to get herself killed, and then who would they tap for the job? He had barely managed to escape that fate the last time a cousin had kicked off. He had no intention of being placed in that situation again, not if he could help it.

  It had taken some outright groveling to convince Ariano to spare Kariana. Fortunately, she had shown some mettle, even if she was an idiot. The elder Meites had bought his pleadings that she could be trained into something more, and had relented. Sadrik was considerably less convinced of his position than he had let on, but what other choice did he have? Kariana had to survive, and he would have to help her out of self interest.

  He chuckled to himself, remembering their earlier conversation.

  “You mentioned friends who fix problems,” she had said. He had smiled and agreed to serve as her go-between. No need for her to know the truth. She couldn’t be trusted with it.