Dark Empress (55 page)

Ghassan made a single gesture with his hand and watched the groups with him burst into silent life. The first ran quietly along behind the piles of crates and barrels until they reached the end wall of the port.

Here the wall rose up behind warehouses, to nowhere near the height of the town walls, but high enough and with a walkway. The guard that patrolled the top would be looking outward if he were paying attention at all. Likely he was now somewhere further inland, gazing toward the rising flames. Inside the perimeter, the first harbour was framed by the port wall and the jetty, the high sides of the Empress reaching up from the dark, glassy surface within.

The first group, silent and swift, crossed the space between the crates and the shore and disappeared into the black water with hardly a splash. Ghassan bit his lip, his heart pounding as he turned to the other two groups. The men at the near end had taken position in the cover of the barrels, close to the end of the jetty and just outside the circle of orange light cast by the brazier.

The third group, only eight men, but hand-picked by their companions for their abilities, remained with Ghassan at the centre.

He’d have liked, given the opportunity, to have gone with one of the main assault groups, but, no... He was in command and it was the job of a captain to direct and guide and from here he could continue to monitor what was going on until they were certain enough of the success of the plan that he could rush in and join them.

He turned his gaze back to the group in the water and watched, anxiously, as they slid through the black until they reached the ship. They disappeared from view at this angle as they moved along the far side of the hull and Ghassan took a deep breath, counting almost silently.

“One… two… three… four… five… six…”

Turning, he gestured with his thumb at the group near the jetty.

“Go!”

With a roar, the main party of pirates rushed out from their cover toward the two men by the brazier who reacted more professionally than Ghassan had expected, bellowing warnings and commands to the men behind and on board. Perhaps the officer had been prepared for something like this? If that was the case then Ghassan had to hope he’d out-thought the man.

As the raiders bore down on the jetty and Ghassan prepared for the next step, he almost laughed as he saw Tain, seated on a cleat, pull a rope by his feet until it tightened. The coils he’d been carefully manoeuvring with his foot straightened at the ankles of the two men by the brazier and, with a squawk, the officer and his companion were swept from their feet, the former landing on his back on the jetty, while the latter disappeared into the water with a splash.

With a wave to the small group beside him, Ghassan climbed to the top of the pile of crates. From their slightly elevated position, they had a better view of what was happening on deck.

The soaking pirates who had swum across and climbed the ship’s side using the well-designed hand holds Samir had had carved for situations just like this finally reached the rail at their side and began to clamber over, just as most of the soldiers on board had rushed over to the jetty side to aid their comrades below.

“Now!”

Beside Ghassan, the men of his third party began to swing their slingshots and bolas and let the missiles fly at any target aboard that presented itself. Several men standing at the jetty-side rail were caught unawares as the small stones pounded them. One man, unfortunate indeed, was the recipient of a thrown bolas that caught him at the knees, tying up his legs just as a small, smooth stone caught him a glancing blow on the forehead. Unconscious even as he fell, the guard toppled over the rail, alongside several of his companions. The men variously fell to the jetty with a thud or disappeared with a splash.

The distraction of the main charge was enough. The men who’d swum across and climbed the far side were now spreading out on the deck and disappearing into the doorways. It would all be over in a few minutes. Then would begin the difficult part: getting away from the dock intact.

With a nod of satisfaction, he noted that the assault group on the jetty had reached the far end, downing or pushing into the water anyone who resisted. Two men on board began to lower the boarding ramp as the others dealt with the remaining defenders.

Turning to his missile troops, Ghassan grinned.

“Alright lads. Let’s fetch the oars and get on board.”

As they dropped down from the higher crates and rushed to collect the piles of long oars from the side of the building where they’d been stacked, Ghassan looked up when someone shouted his name. With a smile, he recognised Ursa and a number of men rushing down the main thoroughfare of the port and making for the Empress.

“Glad you could join us, mister Ursa.”

“Well, sir. You know how hard it is to leave a comfy fireside and come out in the cold.”

Ghassan laughed as the escaped pirates began to swarm across the jetty and up to the ship, preparing to get her underway. Ursa stopped amid the commotion and addressed his commander.

“Hope you’ve got something up your sleeve still? There are four navy vessels in port and they’re all as fast as us. We’re not away free yet…”

Ghassan smiled.

“We’ll see, mister Ursa.”

In which paths diverge

The carriage rattled slowly and uncomfortably along the track toward Pelasia. Despite the fact that this was the closest she had managed to regaining what she had lost, Asima sat brooding and seething in the rickety vehicle. The encounter with that uncanny bitch at the staging post a couple of hours ago had sent her into a deep sense of disgruntlement and every time she tried to calm her mind or sleep, visions of that unholy ragged desert witch and her keen insights insisted themselves once more upon her thoughts.

“To hell with her.”

Many years ago, as an ‘innocent’ girl, she had travelled this very road in just such a coach with vapid, pointless companions on the way to Akkad. Strangely, that time she had been a virtual slave with an uncertain future and yet she had been relatively at peace. Now, while she was an adult with a sense of purpose, her destiny in her own capable hands and travelling on her own, something gnawed at the edges of her consciousness and made her unsettled. With a sigh she sat back heavily.

Ridiculously, this carriage was so old and dreadful that it was entirely possible it was the same damn coach she’d been sent in that first time.

Everything would be better when she got to Pelasia.

Another deep sigh and she realised that she was staring angrily at the empty seat opposite her. Reaching to her side, she pulled back the black curtain to see one of the cavalrymen riding alongside on escort duty.

The man, armoured lightly for a desert ride, wore his scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face, preventing the cloying sand and dust kicked up by horse and carriage from choking him. He paid no attention to the carriage and for some reason that annoyed Asima more than anything.

“How long until we reach the border, soldier?”

The man turned and raised his eyebrows.

“Should be just before dawn, ma’am” he replied, his voice muffled a little by the scarf.

Asima frowned and grumbled.

“Mind if I ask a personal question, miss?”

Asima shrugged and said nothing.

“Well,” he went on, “we spent the last couple of decades pretty much at war with Pelasia. They’re weird and have strange Gods and their noblemen are all… well, that way inclined, if you know what I mean.”

Asima furrowed her brow.

“And?”

“Well I was wondering why an Imperial lady such as you would want to go there. ‘Specially since the sarge tells me that you’re exiled from the place and you could get done over if you get found.”

Asima narrowed her eyes and wrinkled her lip.

“Outspoken, aren’t you, soldier?”

The cavalryman shrugged.

“Just interested ma’am.”

Asima took a breath of tepid night air.

“A combination of ambition and revenge” she answered darkly.

The soldier’s brow furrowed.

“Ma’am?”

Glowering at the outspoken guard, Asima retreated into the darkness of the carriage and let the curtain fall back into place.

Prince Ashar would hang from the city walls for rejecting and banishing her and putting her through all of this. Her first stop would be the coastal town of Jeresh, where the satrap was a man of at least sixty years and of delicate enough health that he rarely ever visited Akkad and had remained absent throughout the troubles. Only two years ago the man’s wife had died and it was said that he would take no other.

That would change.

What aging lord wouldn’t want such a stunning young woman on his arm?

And once she was with him, that satrap and his son would be the only two people that stood between her and a veritable kingdom of her own. A sizeable army and navy were centred on Jeresh and the satrap was extremely wealthy.

The timing would have to be careful, though. The son would have to die first… perhaps some sort of hunting accident? Hunting accidents happened all the time. Or possibly he would be attacked by brigands on one of his visits throughout their demesne. It would have to be something she could organise that would happen away from the city, in order to keep herself high above suspicion. Also, it couldn’t happen for at least a year after she managed to wed the satrap. Arranging the incident and then disposing of those who could link back to her would be fun; just like the old days of the harem. She was good at that sort of planning.

And then, of course, the old man, already shaken by the loss of his wife and failing to find succour in the arms of his new bride, would be heartbroken at the death of his only son and heir. He would pine away and die in his sleep. Probably in his sleep. Perhaps it would be better if it happened in public?

She realised in the dark carriage that she was smiling for the first time since leaving M’Dahz. She was starting to get her life back in order. Half a year would be enough for her to insist herself upon the aging satrap. Married within the year and sole heir to his demesne, its wealth, title and military within two. That was the way to do things.

Then, of course, she would have to expand. A failed coup just did not bear thinking about. When she went for Ashar’s head, it would have to be with certainty that she would succeed. The second step would require another powerful satrap. Perhaps a young and naïve one next; one with either money and influence or with military power. Didn’t matter too much, so long as she was assured of being the one in control. Then, with the resources of two large and powerful demesnes, she would be able to buy or frighten a number of others into her cause.

It would take a while… could even take a decade, but her own rather tight timeline was worked to a five year plan and she would try to stick to that.

She sat back, the tiredness finally beginning to settle over her, now that the thoughts of that old crow woman had been washed away by the plans of her future. As she closed her eyes and began to drift, she floated on through her future, picturing the day her army escorted her into Ashar’s chamber and he stood before her, contrite and helpless. Would she bother with the immense satisfaction of executing the man herself or would that be beneath her?

Yes, she’d have to have him dealt with by her men. It would be unseemly to dirty her hands when she was about to grip the crown with them.

Of course she would be the power behind the throne, with her as-yet-unnamed naïve consort as the true King of Pelasia; but only for a year. Long enough to change the laws and become lawfully an equal ruling partner. Then she’d have to find a way to get rid of him, but that would be easy.

“Nice and easy” she said quietly, smiling in her half-doze.

And then? Then she would have to turn the power of Pelasia to her own goals. That horrible island of pirates would already have been dealt with by the governor at M’Dahz or his superior at Calphoris. But Samir and Ghassan would be free. She was in no doubt that Samir would already be out somewhere and probably with Ghassan.

Was there no regret even deep down that she would have to deal with them?

She raised an eyebrow.

No… no regret. They had become an itch that she would have to scratch sooner or later. Not only would they both be harbouring a grudge against her after the events in M’Dahz, but also they knew enough about her that they’d inevitably find a way some day to try and take her on.

No. When she had the unlimited power of the ‘God-Queen’, she would demand both their heads of the Imperial governors. For certain, the authorities would not be happy with such a demand from a foreign power, but then one was a pirate and the other a traitor, and they would be hard put to find a reason to help them at risk of angering such a powerful neighbour as Pelasia.

Ghassan and Samir swinging out over the parapet above the sea at Akkad, creaking as they dangled in the wind. Perhaps…

Sleep swept over Asima like a comforting blanket, her smile one of sheer contentment as she ruled her dream-kingdom, drafting dream-laws and wreaking revenge on her dream-enemies.

The curtain lifted gently and two dark eyes sparkled as they gazed in on the sleeping occupant. The drape fell once more, masking the gentle snore that melded so perfectly with the rumble of carriage wheels on stony ground.