Between Darkness and Light (107 page)

At last he reached the High Table where the Emperor and Empress lay slumped in their ornate dining thrones.

Slipping his gun into the waistband of his trousers, he grasped Emperor Cheu'ko'h by the shoulder, pulling him upright till his head lolled against the padded seat back. Removing the ornate Imperial circlet, he set it on his own head, then, drawing his gun again, he placed it against the Emperor's temple and pulled the trigger. It was such a simple act, almost impersonal, he thought.

The body jerked briefly as the side of his head exploded in a spray of blood and brains. As he returned the gun to his holster, Shekkul tipped his head back and roared, “Long live Emperor K'hedduk!” His cry was echoed by the other nineteen members of his personal bodyguard.

K'hedduk allowed himself a small smile as he acknowledged their salute, aware that he wasn't Emperor yet.

He turned his attention to the Empress. Pulling her chair back from the table, he picked her up and slung her inert form over his shoulder.

“The food is to be destroyed,” he reminded them. “When you're done, cover it with the tablecloths. Bind the Sholan Ambassador and his two live guards well, strip them and put them in the serving pantry. They conceal weapons in their clothing. Then bring all the Courtiers still left alive to the throne room,” he ordered, turning his back on the carnage and walking toward the pillars into the room beyond where the two golden state thrones flanked a statue of the last true Emperor, Q'emgo'h.

Passing between the pillars behind the high table, he entered the dimly lit shrine of the throne room. Central to it, on the dais in front of the huge wall-hanging depicting the Royal Egg, its two halves open to display the flames of the sun, towered the immense golden statue of the long dead God-King, Emperor Q'emgo'h, considered the Founder of this post-Fall dynasty. But he was not interested in that.

He stopped at the edge of the red carpet and, in front of the thrones, lowered his burden to the ground, pulling her hands behind her back and binding them with the cord he'd brought with him for that purpose. Leaving her there, he turned to look at the throne of the Emperor.

The throne's gilded magnificence, even in this dim light, outshone that of the statue. The tall back was fashioned to resemble a sunburst, its rays reaching out a full six feet from the center. The rest was richly decorated with the carvings of beasts that had once roamed their world. Jewels glittered in their eye sockets, and the winged avian predators that formed the legs each held one enormous gold-flecked blue stone carved to represent an egg. On the seat was a cushion made from the tanned hide of the previous dynasty's Emperor. This was the Throne of Light.

Beside it, the much simpler and more modern throne meant for the Empress, paled into insignificance.

K'hedduk slowly mounted the steps. He'd waited and plotted for this, and now he was filled with a sense of his destiny and his place in history. Turning round, he lowered himself onto the cushion, stretching his arms along the ancient carved rests, savoring the moment. He, not his so worthy brother, was the one sitting on the Throne of Light, the pinnacle of power of their ancient Empire. Tomorrow, he'd have them skin Cheu'ko'h then preserve his hide—a new cushion for
his
new dynasty.

“Prisoners taken, Commander,” said Zoshur in his earpiece.

“Well done,” he said, then looked to his bodyguard. “Shekkul, deploy guards throughout the hall and immediate areas, the barracks unit is returning.”

Now all he had to do was wait for Zoshur to arrive and for his Court to awaken. He checked his watch. Less than half an hour left.

“Bring me the Enforcers.” It was time to deal with M'zzik.

 

The bound Enforcers were dragged into his presence and forced to kneel. Around them, the Courtiers were beginning to wake into a world of terrifying mutated armed males and the reek of blood.

“I should have known you had no intention of honoring our agreement,” hissed M'zzik, angrily pulling his arm free of the guard holding him. “I knew you never intended to take the throne for your brother!”

“Wisdom after the event is common,” said K'hedduk mildly. “Our positions are somewhat reversed now, aren't they? I am the one in charge. As for my brother, he's a weakling, ruled by his Generals. Not me. I have the same birthright
and
the nature to rule.”

M'zzik laughed. “Anyone can sit on the throne and claim to be Emperor, but you need more than that to rule here, K'hedduk!”

He pointed to where the Empress was being helped to sit up by those around her.

“Why do you think she still lives? With her as my wife, the Primes will be content enough. If they're not, I have your Enforcers, my guards, and the M'zullian twenty to ensure their loyalty.”

“How long do you think those nightmares you've created will follow you?” said M'zzik, staring pointedly at Zoshur. “Look at them, K'hedduk!”

Restructured by his gene therapy technique, they'd been recruited from the dregs of the cities outside. Tattoos on their faces and heads, the imagery bright and brutal, was worn as their own badge of arrogance.

Dressed in faded trousers, scuffed boots, and thick animal-hide jackets, so far they'd refused to wear anything else. They were the antithesis of the affluence and sophistication that typified the City inhabitants.

M'zzik was right, their loyalty would only last so long, which was why he needed to recall the implants now from what passed for the Prime space fleet, and contact those loyal to him on M' zull.

He signaled to Zoshur. “Take him out and kill him.”

“You'll not last a month, K'hedduk!” said M'zzik as he was dragged from the room. “How many of Kezule's offspring did you kill? He'll come looking for you, mark my words! Then your life will be worth nothing!”

K'hedduk felt a pang of fear which he quickly quashed. Kezule was a Warrior, he understood that in a coup, lives were lost. If he heard about it, he'd know better than to come back to challenge the Emperor who'd slaughtered so many of his top troops.

“I'll never marry you,” Zsh'eungee hissed angrily, struggling to her feet. “Where is my husband, your Emperor, and why do you dare to sit on his throne?”

K'hedduk ignored her and looked to where Lufsuh knelt. “The position of High Inquisitor is now vacant,” he said as the sound of M'zzik being shot carried through to the throne room. “If you're prepared to swear loyalty to me, you can have it.”

“I'll gratefully accept the position, and give you my allegiance, Emperor K'hedduk,” Lufsuh said, inclining his head respectfully.

K'hedduk gestured to Zoshur to cut him free. “Then your first act is to immediately conduct the service for my wedding to the Empress.”

Startled, Lufsuh rubbed his wrists and, getting to his feet, bowed. “As you wish, Majesty. I will need the Book.”

“Send one of your priests for it,” he ordered, getting up from the throne and coming down the steps toward him. “And use the old ceremony, from Q'emgo'h's time,
may His memory be revered for all time.
”

“I refuse!” said Zsh'eungee, tilting her chin up and staring at him.

K'hedduk's hand lashed out faster than a striking snake. His blow made her stagger and she'd have fallen had one of the Courtiers not leaped up to catch her.

“You will do as you're told,” said K'hedduk coldly. “Females will no longer be allowed to roam freely. They'll be confined to the homes of their husbands, and if of marriageable age and not decently married, put in a public harem. They have two purposes in life, to breed, and to give pleasure, nothing more.”

His gaze swept the Court. “Kneel!” he roared. “I am son to the late Emperor of M'zull, as Lufsuh can confirm. You are here to witness my ascension to the Throne of Light by the ancient right of my bloodline, and yours by marrying the Empress. You have heard my words, they are now law. See that you obey them.”

Zoshur kicked the nearest Courtier on the leg, forcing him to his knees.

“It shall be as you proclaim, Emperor K'hedduk,” he stuttered as the rest of the Court followed suit and echoed his words.

K'hedduk frowned and Zoshur kicked the terrified male again. “And the rest, you scum!” hissed his henchman.

K'hedduk winced and sighed to himself as the Court dutifully intoned the old litany.

“It shall be as you proclaim, Emperor K'hedduk,
May your memory be revered forever.”

 

The wedding was nothing but a formality proclaiming him the husband of Zsh'eungee; she had no say in the matter. When it was done, and he'd signed the gold-bound
Book of Destiny,
K' hedduk grasped her by the arm.

“The Court is now dismissed. Males only will gather here tomorrow as usual. We have much work to do. Celebrations for my coronation will be held in two weeks, on the day of the Spring Festival for La'shol.” He smiled toothily. “I intend my dynasty to be a fruitful one.”

Turning, he hauled Zsh'eungee with him toward the exit to the Royal apartments as his twenty guards fell in around him. He stopped beside Zoshur.

“Have this mess cleared up,” he said. “I don't care who you have to drag from their beds, but I want it cleared. Cut the heads off the bodies and have them displayed round the perimeter of the City courtyard, except for those of the two dead Sholans and Q'emgo'h—send those to the tanners and have them skinned and the hides preserved, complete with heads for the Sholans. Q'em-go'h's head place at the entrance to the Palace. Also roust the carpenters and others out of their beds and get them to open up the Royal Harem.” He would see to recalling the implants and contacting M'zull himself, when he was done with his new wife.

He stooped to caress Zsh'eungee's face and grinned up at them when she hissed and pulled herself away. “Just as well I like my females feisty! I want the harem ready for my wife tomorrow morning, Zoshur. At dawn, see that the Heralds are sent round the city to proclaim my ascension to the Throne of Light, and my marriage.”

“Yes, Emperor K'hedduk,” said Zoshur, pointing to several individuals. “Do as our Emperor commands,” he ordered. “What about the skinny aliens?”

“Lock the TeLaxaudin in their quarters and post guards outside.”

Once in the Royal apartments, he dragged Zsh'eungee toward the Emperor's bedroom where he knew her egg was sitting in its specially heated incubator.

Realizing what he planned, Zsh'eungee began to plead with him. “No, you can't! Please, not my egg!”

He laughed at her, clamping her firmly to his side with one arm. “You think I'll let that misbegotten egg survive?” he said, pulling out his pistol and aiming at the incubator. “Never fear, I'll give you more hatchlings, enough to found my new dynasty, ones worthy of ruling instead of those sand-colored drones Q'em-go'h gave you!”

His three shots, and Zsh'eungee's shriek, echoed around the room as the incubator and the egg exploded, sending bloody shards everywhere. Zoshur burst in with five of his followers, but when they saw the cause, they backed out hurriedly.

As her shriek turned into a high-pitched keening, K'hedduk hit her again.

“Be silent!” he hissed, tossing her, still bound, onto the bed. “You should be honored to be the mother of a line to equal that of Q'emgo'h Himself,
may ...
”

He bit his tongue on the rest of the words. Never again would he have to say them,
he
was now the Emperor, the divine God-King of the Primes.

“We'll start now.” Putting his gun on the night table, he began to undress.

“You're Brotherhood, supposed to protect me! How could you get taken in by drugged ale?” Ambassador Fingoh demanded from where he sat, hands and feet bound, on the floor of what was obviously a pantry.