Dark Empress (56 page)

Samir pulled the scarf down a little to wipe his itchy nose. Why, in the name of Ha’Rish’s fourth face, would people ever join the cavalry? Were these people numb from the waist down? Riding a horse was like spending hour after hour seated upon a bag of broken furniture. Still, that was about to end. It had been difficult and complicated waylaying and incapacitating one of the soldiers and taking his place in the escort; more difficult even than replacing the hired teamsters from the staging post with trusted men from the underbelly of M’Dahz.

He’d been hovering, even after everything she had done, on just leaving Asima to the fates to deal with. But he just had to know. He’d asked of her motives for returning to Pelasia and, though she had clearly spoken of ambition and revenge, he’d expected that anyway. What had clinched it for him, and Asima probably hadn’t even been aware of it, was the slight sneer that crept into her expression when she said it and the deeply wicked and, frankly, evil look that welled up in her eyes as she spoke the words.

Whatever schemes she had laid out, and Samir was sure she’d planned ahead for this, they would be at the expense of innocent people including King Ashar, the legitimate ruler of Pelasia and the man who had stabilised the realm and brought peace and reparations with the Empire. No. Whatever she was planning, she had to be stopped.

He smiled as he remembered the conversation he’s overheard between Asima and his friend the ‘soothsayer’. It had been elaborate as a ruse; possibly overly-so, but as events unfolded in the coming days and Samir put his plan into action, it would be so much more helpful to have Asima going along with things, believing it to be in her own interest, rather than struggling against him every inch of the way.

‘You will achieve your destiny, but you must not fight it.’

Samir smiled as he remembered the look on Tiana’s face as she’d said that. So much furrowed concentration it looked like she was about to implode. What an actress! She was so wasted in the gambling pits when she could be on the stage.

With a smile, he let his horse drop back slightly, allowing the carriage to roll on into the night slightly ahead. Watching the baggage cart rumble past with its additional cargo of eight sleeping men, he grinned and nodded to the driver who touched his forelock in response.

Three more to deal with, then, or possibly just two, and the rearguard was the easiest. Allowing the cart to trundle on ahead, he watched the horseman at the rear catching up with him. As the two closed, the moonlight illuminating them, Samir was amused at the look of quiet incomprehension on the other man’s face.

“What’s up?” the soldier asked quietly.

“Lady in the coach asked if I’d give you this.”

The man frowned as the two converged and Samir reached into his tunic. The soldier watched with interest as the hand came out and reached toward him. Samir smiled as he turned the slow movement into a powerful punch that hit the man square in the face. The rider, stunned by the force of the blow as well as the shock, lurched back in his saddle, only the hand gripping the reins preventing him from toppling over backwards.

Samir smiled as he reached across and prised the fingers from the leather strap. The man, still stunned in the moment, opened his eyes wide as he was suddenly completely detached from the horse and slid gracelessly backwards and disappeared with a thump and a squawk in the night.

‘That did not go as well as planned’, Samir grumbled to himself as he grasped the reins of the riderless horse and trotted forward again. The blow was supposed to knock the man out and Samir had been damn lucky he’d been stunned enough not to bellow out a warning to the others. There was silence now, so the fall had either winded him or rendered him unconscious. Now he could have used Ghassan and those amazing little talents he seemed to have picked up.

Taking a deep breath, he trotted quietly up to the supply wagon and tied the reins of the riderless horse to the leash that connected all the spare horses to the cart. Nodding again at the teamster, he made a ‘V’ sign with his hand and rode on to the carriage. On the far side, opposite where he’d been riding, another of the soldiers sat ahorse, his gaze locked on the moonlit horizon.

Smiling, Samir rode alongside, nodding professionally at his peer. The horseman raised an eyebrow.

“Bored?”

“Hardly,” Samir smiled quietly. “Terribly sorry…”

As the man frowned Samir’s free hand came down behind him, knife gripped tightly, pommel downward. The heavy, carved ivory knob connected with the back of the soldier’s head and he slid from the horse with a sigh, his eyes rolling up into his head. That was more how it was supposed to go.

Narrowing his eyes, he gazed out forward. The rider out front playing vanguard was perhaps a quarter of a mile ahead, paying attention to his surroundings in these sands that sometimes hid bandits. He wouldn’t be looking back often, though. His job was to keep the way ahead clear while the two men with the carriage played close guard. Samir turned and nodded to the man leading the supply cart.

With a grin, the man reached around and unhooked the strap that kept the spare horses tethered to the cart. Stepping as quietly as possible onto the edge of the seat, the driver leapt, landing squarely on one of the unused steeds. With a smile, he began to usher the horses forward toward the carriage. Samir nodded again and then came alongside the carriage and nodded to that driver.

Moments later the carriage and almost a dozen horses veered off to the right, carving a new path toward the coast through the open rocky lands. Samir glanced back over his shoulder. The scout leading the way was little more than a dot in the distant grey, while the unmanned supply cart trundled on with its sleeping cargo, beginning to change direction as the oxen plodded along on their own route.

Samir grinned.

They would probably be early. So long as Ghassan was on time, anyway.

In which old tricks are useful

The Dark Empress slipped away from the jetty amid cries of distress and bellows of rage from the reserve port guard who were even now making their way down to the waterfront to find their compatriots largely unconscious or incapacitated. From where Ghassan stood on the command deck he could make out more and more figures appearing from between buildings and rushing around the port. The town guard were now fully alerted and ever more reinforcements were being drafted into the harbour area. Ghassan smiled. They weren’t the worry, unless they were superhuman swimmers.

He glanced away to his right as the Empress began to turn under the power of her determined oarsmen. They were the worry: the four Imperial daram docked further along the waterfront. Even now he could see their crews scrambling around on deck like a colony of ants, rushing to get the vessels underway and in pursuit of their escaping prize. He knew two of those ships well; knew their captains and some of the crew. They were good men and very capable sailors. Any pirate worth his salt would be soiling his trousers at the sight of those four beginning to burst into life.

Ghassan nodded with satisfaction.

Of course, he wasn’t a pirate… not as such. But then he could hardly claim to be a naval officer these days. What he was was an interested third party with a good, objective viewpoint. A smile slid into a grin. And, of course, because he was neither soldier not pirate, he was bound by no rules.

He staggered slightly as he tried to keep his gaze locked on those ships while the Empress completed her swing around and the reverse rowing stopped. Like one of those wind-up Pelasian toy birds, everything fell mechanically in to place; this crew were every bit as good as those of the Wind of God had been. The oars were repositioned once again and the ship drifted to a stop before beginning, very slowly, to pick up forward momentum. Staggering again, he looked down. The wound in his thigh, though it had been expertly dealt with, still weakened him and if he turned sharply or unexpectedly on that leg, he momentarily lost the strength in it.

Righting himself, he turned toward the stern to keep his eyes on the port as the Empress began finally to come straight and head out toward open sea. The commotion on the dock was immense. He watched tensely as artillery was cranked and loaded on the towers marking the seaward end of the port walls, where they gave way to the lower and non-defensive harbour wall. These catapults were a new defensive measure against invasion since Imperial control had once more been asserted and it was they that were the first hurdle to overcome. Nothing for it but to pray and row. There was nothing they could have done with the artillery given their time and resources, but the pirates had two things on their side: firstly surprise; the Empress would hopefully be out of range before they were ready to fire; and secondly, even if that wasn’t the case, the artillerists would have drilled for this moment, but would never yet have had the opportunity to fire a live shot in a combat situation. Their crews were trained but green and inexperienced and Ghassan knew just how hard it was to operate artillery effectively for the first time.

He nodded as he judged the distance. One tower might…

He held his breath as there was a distant ‘twang’ and a dull thud. A rock the size of a wine cask hurtled through the air from the nearest tower, followed almost instantaneously by a second from the other side of the port.

The near shot was clearly very badly aimed and not only fell some six hundred yards short of the target, but also around three ship-widths off to starboard. The other tower was far out of range and clearly no threat as the missile from there disappeared with a distant splash.

Grimacing, Ghassan turned back to the Imperial ships. They were already getting underway and, having been docked with their stern to land, as was the traditional way of the navy, they had no intricate manoeuvring to perform before they made for sea. There were times that any good captain had to rely on the abilities of others and when he himself had no bearing on the outcome of events… Ghassan hated those times.

Two of the four ships were already slipping from the jetty, with the others already moving. They would be very close on the Empress’ tail, or possibly even ahead of her. Even now, though he couldn’t see it, he knew damn well that the artillery crews on all four ships would be loading and priming their own fire throwers and catapults, though they wouldn’t begin to use them until they were clear of the harbour.

There was the sound of pounding feet and Ghassan turned to see one of the men, someone he vaguely recognised, running toward him.

“Yes?”

“Sir, Ursa wants permission to unfurl the sails.”

Ghassan shook his head.

“Tell mister Ursa the sails stay furled for now. Oar power only until I give the order.”

“Sir?”

“Just tell him.”

The man shrugged and ran off. Ghassan turned back to the four daram sliding through the water straight out to sea on an intercept course. He couldn’t tell just yet…

He was still concentrating on the four ships and frowning into the night when he heard more boot steps. Without turning, he cleared his throat.

“No sails, mister Ursa.”

“We’ve got to catch the little wind there is to get out ahead! Look at that… the enemy ships have unfurled their sails. We’re going to lose the lead we have in minutes!”

Ghassan smiled enigmatically.

“I may not be Samir, Ursa, but I have commanded a daram for years and I do know what I’m doing. I’m rather hoping that they match our speed or even outpace us, but I want to be ready to slow to a halt any minute.”

Turning, he unleashed what Ursa considered to be a mad grin.

“Here’s your next job: we’re angling toward the centre of the harbour to head out to sea. Before we turn, keep a sharp eye out. If everything is going according to plan and the Gods are smiling on us tonight, you’ll spot a rowing boat. When you do, we need to stop and take its crew aboard. If it’s not there, then we’re in trouble and we might have a hell of a fight on our hands.”

Ursa narrowed his eyes.

“You’re almost as irritating as your brother, sir!”

Ghassan laughed.

“Why thank you. Now keep an eye out.”

Ursa nodded and peered off into the darkness, the sea sparkling and reflecting flashes of moonlight here in the harbour where the waves were low and the water remarkably still. The two men stood watching in a strange silence, while all about them was chaos; the roaring and grunting of the oarsmen as they heaved to bring the ship toward the centre of the harbour, the distant shouts and cries on board the enemy vessels, the commotion on the docks and the towers. It was almost unreal, standing calmly in the middle of this, particularly for Ursa, apparently, who appeared so taut he could snap at any moment.

Moments slid past with the dark water as the five vessels converged on the entrance to the harbour. Ursa ground his teeth.

“They’re going to get there first and be able to block us in!”

“Faith, Ursa… faith” Ghassan replied. “Without faith, even Gods fail.”

The big, bald pirate glowered at him and mumbled something that sounded unflattering under his breath.

“There!” Ghassan called.

The first officer blinked. Damn it, this man’s eyesight was good. It took a moment peering into the dark waters for the burly man to pick out the shape of the boat bobbing around in the darkness.