Dark Lightning (18 page)

‘My lady wife,’ he said, and with much sorrow as well as irony, for he knew he must surely kill her. ‘What is the meaning of this charade?’

‘Remember when you killed my family and violated my mother?’

He inclined his head. ‘It was the spoils of war, as was my right. I spared you.’

‘As you say, except the war was undeclared. When you took my maidenhead from me that first night I swore to kill you with my own hands ... as is my right of revenge.’

He laughed. ‘You think you have the resolve to kill me, my Azarine?’

‘I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t.’

‘Then go ahead. But I beg you, satisfy my curiosity first. Those colors you’re wearing ... whose are they?’

‘They belong to Falcon Darkwater. She smiled broadly at him. ‘Do you remember my mother, Yvaine, and the child she carried inside her womb.’

‘Aye.’

‘You allowed Esbel and me to attend to Yvaine on her deathbed, with that butcher, Servish guarding us.’

Cynan spared the elvish woman a brief glance and was puzzled. ‘I did. It was an act of kindness from your conqueror, as was sparing your life. I was merciful. The unborn infant was put to the death by a thrust of a pike. It didn’t suffer.’

How callous he was. She made a parody of a bow and mocked, ‘Cynan the conqueror, the all magnificent and the merciful one. You are a killer of those too helpless to fight back, women and those unborn – except the unborn that counted to you. I wouldn’t allow you to kill my brother,’ and she flung at him, ‘What a coward you are.’

He leaned forward, cheeks reddening with fury and a curse darkening his breath. ‘Are you telling me the infant escaped death?’

She smiled. ‘Aye, I am. His name is Falcon Darkwater and he has now come into his manhood. Falcon still bears the scar of the Arles weapon in his side. My mother lived long enough to give him blood memories, and I named him. We used magic on Servish, and we cut the child from my mother’s womb before sending him away to be healed, and reared by the ancients.’

‘Where is the boy now?’

‘Falcon is no longer a boy but a man. By now he would have retaken Karshal, while I am here to conquer Arles. As you sow ... then you shall reap.’

Cynan’s glance went beyond her, to where Laek and his companions stood. It was as if the scales had fallen from his eyes. Laek had grown into a powerful man since last he’d seen him, and was a Karshal through and through. ‘Who fathered the upstart I brought up as my son?’

‘Lord Kavan, the legendary warrior prince,’ Laek said.

Laughter trickled from Cynan. ‘Your whore of a mother picked a worthy sire for you, lad. I believe you did well in your training.’

Laek inclined his head in acknowledgement.

 Pride flared through him as he gazed at Jon and Iago. They were easily matched against Penn’s sons. ‘And these two I brought up as my own?’

‘You fathered them, and you abandoned them and their Karshal mother, leaving them to starve. I made sure they got the upbringing they were entitled to. You would have had them killed had you known who they were so it was better to keep you as strangers. See how they’ve grown ... those boys you would have slaughtered as infants. Now they are men amongst men.’

If the news of their origin came as a surprise to Jon and Iago they didn’t show it, though they exchanged a glance.

Cynan sought to use the knowledge to his advantage as he scoffed, ‘Now you intend to set them against me ... my own sons. Blood is always loyal to blood.’

The pair gave him pitying smiles. So did Azarine, his companion of eighteen seasons, the woman who’d begged on her knees for the babies lives to be spared, and who’d brought them up as her own. All this time the devious creature had been manipulating them, teaching them to hate him.

 ‘Their mother set them against you on her deathbed, Cynan. She was another Karshal woman with a grudge against you ... one who cursed your name, and she made me promise. I wanted you to know what you’ve lost, before I kill you.’

Azarine was here to kill him? He laughed out loud at that. She was too soft to perform such an act, especially in cold blood. ‘Come, Azarine ... take your place by my side and we’ll forget this ever happened.’

The sound of running feet brought Kadar and Grise, swords drawn. Grise shouted, ‘The troopers cannot be roused, Lord. Those who are awake ... ’ His gaze went to the silent tableau, then back to Cynan. ‘Lord Cynan ...?’

‘My lady has led a revolt against me. She informs me that she intends to kill me with her bare hands. What would you do with such a woman, Grise?’

‘I would take her to the dungeons and torture her to death. Then I’d take her body to Karshal and set it upon a spike in the walk of death.’

‘What about you, Kedar?’

‘The same, Lord, only I’d keep her alive until we got there. I’d kill everyone who had Karshal blood in them, and in front of her eyes before I plucked those same eyes from her head. Then I would torture her to death.’

‘You’re bloodthirsty, Kedar. Have you no mercy? Are you so scared of one Karshal woman that you wouldn’t give her a chance to achieve what she’d plotted for all this time?’ He swaggered forward, weaponless, ripping his shirt asunder, knowing he could snap her neck with his fingers in an instant. ‘Here I am, woman. Kill me if you can.’

He saw uncertainty waver in her eyes, noticed how tightly she gripped the small sword she carried. It carried the Sabarin family crest, and bore a blue jewel at the base of the handle.’

Laek stepped forward. ‘Lady, mother ... allow me––’

‘Enough, Laek! You have my instructions.’

He stepped back.

‘Don’t keep me waiting, Azarine,’ Cynan mocked. ‘Come, kiss me farewell.’

He had not expected her to step forward into his reach, and as he closed his arms around her he felt her body warm against his and remembered the many hours of enjoyment she’d given him. His head swam with desire as her eyes engaged and held his.

Her smile was seductive as she whispered, ‘This is the end, Cynan. One of us is about to die.’

‘Ah ... but which one, Azarine? I can be merciful, and will accept Laek’s life in exchange for yours. Jon, Iago. I am your blood kin. Kill the Karshal usurper who took your place at my side and stole your birthright.’

When Laek tossed them a grin and turned his back on them, the pair began to laugh.

‘But that’s not his destiny. You asked for one last kiss before we parted, husband,’ she said.

Cynan’s eyes hooded slightly as he plucked the sword from her hand and threw it across the floor. He gripped the back of her neck and his mouth covered hers, but savagely. He’d not expected the blast of venom she spat into the back of his throat and nearly choked as reflex caused him to swallow. It coated his mouth with slime. It burned, and tasted vile.

Poison, a woman’s weapon! He should have known she’d use something underhand.

He loosened his grip, thrust her backwards and began to spit the choking venom out. The poison acted quickly and he fell to the floor; his back arching as all the sinews in his body began to spasm.

Esbel took a bottle of liquid from her satchel and tipped the contents into Azarine’s mouth, removing a small sac at the same time. Azarine rinsed her mouth and spat the liquid out. She then upended a small vial of silver liquid, taking several drops under her tongue.

Azarine had given him a lethal dose of eel venom, Cynan thought, and she had the antidote right there in her hand. He reached out for it, begging for his life.

She dropped it to the floor near his hand, and then, when he reached out for it, she ground it under her heel and kicked the pieces in all directions.

Esbel handed Azarine the sword.

‘This is my father’s weapon,’ she said. ‘I knew I’d never be able to match your strength, and so it has proved. A pity, since it would have been the less painful of the options.’

The venom seemed to slide through his veins. It twisted into his lungs, coiling around his heart. Fire crawled into his head and his temples began to pound, as if the blood was being replaced with the venom. He inhaled his own breath, fouled by the poisonous fumes from the venom. By all the Gods ... how it burned! ‘If you’re going to kill me, finish it now, woman.’

Desii’s mouth fell open. As a bodyguard he’d failed at the first test, and wasn’t sure what to do.

 Azarine watched her husband for a moment, more in curiosity than triumph. After a while she smiled at him and said, ‘Goodbye Cynan, take a long, long time before death comes to claim you.’

She stabbed the sword into his stomach, and, using both hands, twisted it. The only satisfaction Cynan felt was to watch the color drain from Azarine’s face.

Although he tried not to, Cynan whimpered when the pain engulfed him.

 Esbel gazed upon him with scorn. ‘The eels will hatch from the venom and they’ll eat you from the inside out. You will feel every bite. She turned to Laek. ‘We’ll be in Azarine’s quarters. Send word when the city is secure.’  

Desii had barely taken his first menacing step towards Azarine, when Jon stepped forward and engaged him. Soon the chamber rang with the sounds of battle.

Lying in his own pain and vomit, Cynan writhed and called out for mercy. None was forthcoming. Laek had quickly downed his opponent, and the short battle was almost over. Laek came to gaze at him, his breathing barely elevated. He’d grown into a fine looking man.

‘Allow me to suffer a warrior’s death at your hand, Laek. I raised you as my son, and was proud of you. Grant me this last request.’

‘A minitix ago you would have taken my life without compunction,’ Laek said. ‘You are to endure pain until the very end, as befits a coward. I take no joy in it.’

Cynan could feel the eels hatching inside him and he suffered the pain of them attacking his gut with their needle like teeth. He screamed when one slithered across his vision and began to tear at the gelatinous orb.

There was compassion in Laek’s expression now and Cynan sensed he’d give him the quick end he’d asked for. If that happened he’d find the energy to snatch the sword from Laek’s hand and slit his throat with it. But Jon and Iago joined him, and Iago placed a restraining arm on his sword arm. Beyond them, Desii, Grise and Kadar were twitching in their death throes.

 As if he’d remembered what Cynan had done to his mother, Laek sheathed his sword, and turned and walked away.

 Cynan slithered painfully across the floor when Penn came in. The coward had been hiding somewhere.

‘Fetch me some antidote to the eel venom, Penn.’

‘No such antidote is known. You’ll just have to suffer.’

Penn gazed at the body of his sons with sorrow and regret, then at his brother with rage roiling in the depths of his eyes.

Penn crouched to take the diadem from Cynan’s head and set it on his own.’

Taking the little dagger from his sleeve, Cynan lashed out at Penn with the last vestige of his strength. He scored a deep cut along the length of his brother’s arm and their blood mingled. Before he lost his sight, Cynan caught a glimpse of a small dark creature with curved needle-like teeth burrowing into Penn’s wound. His brother screamed.

 It was a long time before Cynan died. Being in the dark made dying worse, for he had nothing to distract him from the pain except for Penn’s screams, which matched his own. He wished he had eyes through which to watch his brother suffer the same painful death for his treachery.

* * * *

By morning, those who’d opposed the Karshal force were dead. Their bodies were taken into the manor grounds, and fires set.

A string of followers came from different directions ... the sisters carrying medicines and salves with which to treat the wounded.

Only the lives of a few Arles were expended. Most were glad to see the cruel regime of Cynan brought to an end. A governor had been appointed and a council formed.

The triumphant force set sail for Karshal, accompanied by a flotilla of troopers on landflights.  It was a stirring sight.

Before she died, Falcon Darkwater’s mother had imprinted on his brain a memory map of Karshal. The city hadn’t changed much. Under the memories Falcon could detect a layer of her terror, her torment and her pain.

Yvaine had found the strength to stay alive long enough to place him in safe hands, though his own heart had begun to falter as she’d gradually weakened from loss of blood. She’d fed him her strength gradually, allowing it to sap her own. She was on her last few minitix when he was snatched from her womb and dragged into the light of a savage world before he was ready.

He would always feel his mother’s pain. Falcon placed his hand against his scar and experienced the heat from it. He took a moment to kneel before the pike still standing outside the city wall. His first breath had been taken here, at the expense of his mother’s last.

His breath was a continuance of the last one she’d expended, making them one. He paid homage to the woman who’d given him life. ‘Yvaine, my Lady Mother, may your soul rest easy with that of my sire, Sabarin, and my two slain brothers. I will pray that their collective wisdom will guide me in the task ahead.’

For a moment he thought he felt the gentle caress of fingers through his hair and her kiss, warm and loving against his forehead. He grinned at being so fanciful, for it could quite easily have been the breeze ruffling through his hair. But he remembered the support and the wonders revealed to him in his ritual time with the ancients and preferred to experience his mother’s touch as the truth. He found a little warm niche inside himself where the tender scrap of love would be kept warm and nurtured until the rest of his life.

His small army of troopers found the city was unguarded, except for a man shuffling to close the gates after them as they passed through. He took no notice of them and Falcon saw that his eyelids were stitched together.

Falcon placed a hand on his arm. ‘Who did that to your eyes?’

‘Servish ordered it.’

‘What did you do to deserve it?’

‘I saw him kill a young girl for the entertainment of his troopers. He cut her breast so she bled, then sent her out for the bats to attack. When I complained he sewed up my eyelids and said he would mete out the same punishment to my wife and child if I mentioned it again.’