by Rob J. Hayes
Opening her eyes Jez’s spirits sank even further. She felt wet because she was wet. She was lying on the floor in a good inch of stale, reeking, standing water. Three stone walls surrounded her and on the fourth side were steel bars, slick with some sort of green substance. A constant and nauseating dripping sound seemed to permeate her very being and threatened to drive her to despair.
Jez let out a loud sigh and ordered her body up. It didn’t respond. A horrifying thought occurred to her and Jezzet quickly thrust her hand down her underclothes and felt between her legs. She sighed again in relief.
“Well at least they didn’t rape you while you were out, Jez.”
“Do you always talk to yourself?” came a familiar voice from somewhere in the gloom.
Normally Jezzet would have been up in a shot, ready to face whatever and whoever was there but her body was sluggish and unresponsive. With more effort than she knew she had she pushed herself up onto her knees and then onto her feet. The entire left side of her body was soaked and her hair was plastered across her face. She moved it from her eyes and peered into the darkness beyond her cell.
There was little light down here in the dungeon. She knew, in fact, that she was currently underwater and the only thing that kept the water out was the sturdy design of her cage and a complex system of pumps that managed to remove all but the one inch of water she was currently standing in. There was no bed in her cell and only a small, floating wooden bucket for waste.
You’ve been in worse prisons. A sentiment she knew was true but then she’d been in better too.
“Looks like you fought back,” the voice said again and Jezzet gave a groan as she recognised the owner. “I opted not to take a beating. Reckon I came out better off.”
Past her own bars and a little to the left Jez could just about make out a figure leaning against bars of his own. That the bastard clearly had better night vision than her only served to make her more angry.
“They at least tell you why you’re here, Drake?” Jezzet asked, turning around and leaning her back against her bars with a painful moan. “All I got was you’re under arrest and here, have a free beating.”
Drake chuckled and let out a sigh. “Aye. It seems the empress is the jealous type, Jezzet and she ain’t too fond of our burgeoning relationship.”
“What relationship?”
“Well she has this idea in her head that me an’ you are fucking.”
Jez groaned again. Some of the feeling was starting to slip back into her body and along with the dull ache came a roaring fire of anger that the crazy little bitch could actually think she’d cheat on Thanquil with Drake. “Where the hell did she get such an idea?”
“Hideo Rurin told her,” Drake said, “apparently he had some sort of proof.”
“What proof?”
Again Drake chuckled. “My confession.”
Part 3 – Part of the Plan
Thanquil
Thanquil all but fell from the dragon when it touched down with a bump on the upper tier of the palace of the Dragon Empress. He slid from its back and dropped the six feet to the ground where his legs promptly buckled and he found himself kneeling on the stone landing platform praying to Volmar he never had cause to ride a dragon ever again. His one and only consolation was at least it was not yet raining though somewhat fittingly the storm that he had started back at Fort Tallon had followed them all the way here and was threatening to engulf the city in its violent, wet rage.
There was a man waiting for them on the landing platform; he was young and skinny with hands too big for his arms and an unfortunate slant to his face that made him seem permanently spooked by the entire world. The Dragon Prince Yun was a sickly man given to frequent periods of illness and a variety of unfortunate disorders including a facial tick. He was exempt from the constant warring of the other princes on account of his illnesses and so took up permanent residence in the palace of Soromo, the only Dragon Prince afforded such a luxury.
It was prince Yun’s dragon who had been tasked with carrying the Herald to fetch Thanquil and while he was thankful of the speedy flight back to the capital city he was not altogether pleased by the journey itself; terrifying ordeal only began to describe the experience. But Thanquil was here now and he found himself with a pressing need to see Jezzet right away.
“Thank you, prince Yun,” Thanquil said as he forced himself to his feet and struggled to stop his knees from buckling. The Dragon Herald Travine slid down from the dragon’s back and moved to stand behind Thanquil.
“I wonder if it understands me,” Thanquil continued motioning towards the dragon.
“He is not an it, and he understands you just fine,” Yun said with an affronted tone and a twitch that bordered on looking painful.
“I apologise,” Thanquil said before turning to the dragon. “Thank you.”
The beast responded with silence and a penetrating gaze that almost had Thanquil dropping his own eyes to the ground. Then the dragon looked away and took a few small steps forward to rest its head on the ground in front of prince Yun. The prince met the dragon half way and embraced the creature’s massive, square head.
Thanquil felt a hand on his shoulder and was gently steered away by the Dragon Herald. “It is unusual for a dragon to be so far parted from its prince.” It was the only explanation the Herald offered as he pushed Thanquil toward the stairs that led down from the balcony.
“I wish to see Jezzet Vel’urn immediately,” Thanquil said with all the conviction he could muster. He had not dared ask the Herald what her charges might be while riding on the back of the dragon and after what he calculated to be a full day’s travel he was still none the wiser. The suspense was frustrating to say the very least.
“The Empress wishes to see you first.”
Thanquil felt his jaw clench with the anger that bubbled up from deep down. “I don’t give a damn what your empress wants. You will take me to Jezzet now…”
“Or what?” the Herald asked, still walking ahead of Thanquil and not even bothering to look behind to check whether the Arbiter was still following. “You would do well to acquiesce to her demands, Arbiter. She holds your woman’s life in her hands and she does not respond well to threats, insults or coercion. Do not attempt to use your magic on her.”
Thanquil was well aware that threats, insult and coercion counted for roughly all of the tools at an Arbiters disposal and as the empress was royalty she was exempt from any form of suspicion or interrogation by an agent of the Inquisition. Only an Inquisitor would be allowed to question the little ruler and that would likely start a war neither Sarth nor the Inquisition could afford. The Dragon Empire’s armies were fractured, each faction following a Dragon Prince but should their empress be threatened they would galvanise in a moment and that was a force no other kingdom in the known world could hope to stand against.
“This best be quick,” Thanquil growled determined to have the last word as a petty victory.
“It will take as long as she wants it to take,” the Herald replied in annoyingly neutral tone.
“And how long will that be, I wonder.”
“Cei am, cha am.”
Thanquil ground his teeth but said nothing more, only followed the Herald in silence through the dark corridors.
There was something about being encased in stone on a floating city that worried Thanquil. Boats he could cope with, though he never liked to be surrounded by so much water under any circumstances, but the idea of a floating city was beyond the pale. He had lived here for almost six months with frequent trips into the nearby settlements but he had never quite managed to find his legs. He was forever imagining the city was swaying from side to side and found he could never walk in a straight line.
Even before he had left on his most recent witch hunt, even before his most recent argument with Jezzet, he had decided it was time to move on, time to move away from this cursed city. Jez’s arrest only confirmed that it was indeed time to leave. Both of them had
always wanted to see a dragon but now that they had Thanquil found he would rather have left them as creatures of legend and fanciful tavern talk. The reality of the beasts were that they were loud, smelly, worryingly intelligent and dangerous on a scale he had never before witnessed. It was sheer luck he had survived his encounter with Prince Naarsk’s dragon long enough for the Herald to arrive and he knew it.
They arrived at the great hall doors, little more than sheets of paper truth be told and Thanquil knew first hand just how little privacy they truly afforded, and the Herald turned to him with an odd expression.
“She is hurting, Arbiter. I would advise… caution and tolerance.”
Almost, Thanquil asked the Dragon Herald Travine about Jezzet’s crime. They had travelled a long way together and all that time they had spoken little. Thanquil had been far too scared to ask the question lest the Herald take offence to the subversion of his will and throw the Arbiter from the back of the dragon. They had been quite high up and Thanquil had never quite managed to master the art of flapping his arms fast enough to fly.
The Herald slid the screen door open and stepped through and Thanquil followed the man into the massive hall. He counted sixteen Dragon Knights and with their training that was likely enough to kill him sixteen times over should he say the wrong word. Four stood by the screen door, watching, waiting and alert. The other twelve stood close to the dais and the dragon bone throne. The empress sat upon the throne, rigid and harsh, wearing the bulky robes of her office and an expressionless mask as unreadable as stone. Behind her lounged her dragon, the matriarch, and Thanquil couldn’t help but be awed by its size. It seemed so long ago but it was barely a day since he had fought with Naarsk’s dragon and almost died. This dragon was easily half again as big as Naarsk’s and, Thanquil assumed, half again as dangerous.
He stopped before the dais, a good distance and a dozen Dragon Knights between him and the little empress. He did not bow, nor kneel, to do so would be inappropriate. Thanquil was an Arbiter, a representative of the Inquisition, he answered only to the council and to Volmar and this empress was surely neither.
He waited, his gaze levelled firmly at the girl on the throne, and said not a word though the suspense was a grating, painstaking pit in his stomach. He could feel his hand trembling in his pocket and then it closed around something small and wooden, too small to be a rune and made of sturdier wood. He realised then it was a single lat and though he did not remember stealing it from the Herald it bolstered his resolve and calmed his nerves in a way that only two things ever could; thieving and Jezzet.
“I have summoned you, Arbiter Darkheart,” the empress said eventually when it became clear Thanquil had no intention of speaking first.
“I had noticed, Empress, and you provided such an excellent escort though for a Herald he does seem a little laconic.”
A painful silence erupted into the great hall as all waited for the empress’ reply. “The Blademaster Jezzet Vel’urn has been arrested.”
Thanquil shook his head. “About that…”
“On the charge of having a carnal relationship of my own paramour.”
Thanquil couldn’t help the bark of laughter that burst from his lips and he couldn’t help but notice the tensing of two nearby Dragon Knights.
“That’s… She didn’t… It’s not true.”
The Dragon Empress opened her mouth to speak but Thanquil cut her off, taking a step forward despite the deadly force dedicated to preserving the girl’s life, and raising his voice a notch. “Release her at once. You have no right to hold her. The charges are false and, even if they were not, if sleeping with Drake Morrass is a crime you’ll have to arrest half the Pirate Isles. Release her.”
The dragon behind the empress stirred and let out a growl, dark eyes fixing on Thanquil and boring into his own. “You dare to order me?” the empress shouted.
Thanquil was about to raise his own voice and shout back when he caught the Herald’s minute shake of his head. It dawned on him then that attempting to strong-arm the empress might be a bad idea. Unfortunately diplomacy was not one of the Inquisition’s teachings because there could be no negotiation with heretics. However, given that the empress was neither a heretic nor, judging by Thanquil’s brief knowledge, entirely sane, he decided perhaps negotiating with the woman might be more fruitful than getting himself executed.
He took a deep breath and steadied himself, tearing his eyes away and looking towards the floor. “I apologise, empress. I did not mean… I simply find this accusation hard to believe. I assume you have proof.”
“Drake confessed.”
“He’s lying,” Thanquil all but shouted before forcing himself to calm once again. He refused to even accept the possibility that the accusation could be truth. “Allow me to help in the investigation, empress.”
“How?”
“I’ll interrogate Drake Morrass myself. He will not be able to lie to an Arbiter.”
“And what of Jezzet Vel’urn?”
Thanquil ground his teeth. He had never asked Jezzet anything, not once in all the time he had known her had he used his compulsion on her. The very idea of dominating her will in such a fashion was beyond detestable to him, it was a violation of everything they had shared and everything they were to each other. Taking another deep breath he steadied himself.
“I will interrogate Drake Morrass and, if need be, Jezzet also.”
Jezzet
For five days now Jezzet had been locked down in the dungeon with the permanently wet floor and the constant dripping of water. In those five days, and apart from the occasional servant bringing them some of the most meagre rations she had ever survived on, her only company had come from a small snake no longer than her forearm, that seemed as comfortable slipping its way through the dank water on the floor as a bird would flapping its way through the sky, and of course Drake Morrass.
Not that he’s bad company. Easy to talk to and even easier to look at.
The pirate captain did not act as though he were locked up in a watery dungeon awaiting the callous whim of a woman he had scorned, he seemed to enjoy the time, always laughing and happy to relate some of his more colourful stories to Jezzet in order to keep them both company.
I doubt the little empress has heard these stories, too brutally truthful for her fragile little ears. Jezzet had already decided to place the blame for this little escapade solely on the shoulders of the Dragon Empress Rei Chiyo though she was well aware it would more deservedly rest with Drake.
He had yet to explain why he had admitted to a crime that had never taken place and why he had implicated Jez in that same crime. Fucked a lot of men but fairly certain I’d remember Drake Morrass between my legs.
Drake both irritated and fascinated Jez. His self-assuredness frustrated her and attracted her in equal measure and his enthusiastic aloofness made her crave to know more. There were times when Jez caught herself staring at the imprisoned captain and imagining what he might look like without the armour, without the clothing. He’s managed to seduce an empress, possibly the most powerful ruler in the known world. He must be good… Jez mentally shook herself and tore her eyes away, lapsing into a brooding sulk.
“I gotta admit, I’m enjoying this time we’re spending together, Jezzet,” Drake announced into the gloomy, wet prison. “You’re a little cold at times but good company all the same. Shame we’re in different cells though.”
Jez rolled her eyes at him. His implication was worryingly close to her own thoughts but she had already noticed, much to her annoyance, that Drake had an unerring sense of what she was thinking.
“Even when you’re sulking, you’re right pleasant company,” the pirate continued. “Definitely more pleasant than that other one.”
Jezzet waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t. Eventually she stood, wincing from the bruising and the possibly broken rib that the Dragon Knights had afflicted upon her even after she had surrendered. She was soaked to the bone from the standin
g water on the cold, stone floor and miserable to boot and despite it all, or perhaps because of it, Drake provided the only distraction. Not to mention you’re curious to know what he’s talking about, Jez.
“Other one?” she asked, approaching the bars.
Drake was leaning with his back against the bars of his own cell, watching her over his shoulder, his single golden tooth catching the dim light and broadcasting his smile.
“The other Blademaster.”
Now Jez’s attention was well and truly peaked. In all her life she had met just two other Blademasters and one of those was Yuri and she knew for a fact that he was well and truly dead. That left only one. “The Sword of the North?”
“That’s the one. Interesting fellow, very intense and not nearly so pretty as yourself.” Drake wasn’t even looking her way now, he was staring back into his cell.
The bastard thinks he’s got you, Jez. Just ignore him.
“When did you meet him?” she asked.
Jezzet had met the Sword of the North just once and she had never been quite so terrified. The man was like death given form. Jez was good with a sword, with any blade, she was beyond good and she knew it. The Sword of the North was better. He had challenged her to a fight to determine which one of them was the best. Instead of accepting the duel Jez had declined and fucked him. As soon as it was over she had fled, jumping on the first ship away from the Five Kingdoms and praying to all the nameless Gods she never had cause to meet the man again.
“Very scary man, that one. He has,” Drake paused as if searching for the right word, “a feeling about him. Makes you think he could kill ya anytime he wants and it’s only his own restraint that’s stopping him. Little bit like yours, truth be told.”
Jez was damned certain she wasn’t anything like the Sword of the North and she opened her mouth to say so.
“This is starting to become something of a habit, Jez.” Her heart sped up at the sound of Thanquil’s voice and a flood of emotion swelled through her, far too many different feelings to make sense of but she was fairly certain both joy and embarrassment were in there somewhere.