S. Turney - Interregnum

Again, he made a motion with his finger and one of his men ducked around the doorway for a split second. When he stepped back he held up his hand, all fingers spread. With a nod, Ashar ducked round and disappeared into the doorway, the other two entering silently behind him. Five guardsmen stood on the ground floor, sharing a flask of something and leaning on the rail of the great staircase. Two of them collapsed instantly clutching their throats; Ashar had made no such promise about taking prisoners.

Not a sound escaped from their victims as they were systematically and quietly dispatched. The last body had not even hit the floor before they were up the stairs and into doorway of the dining room. The sight that greeted Ashar assured him that the meal had gone down well. Perhaps too well. Not a single figure exhibited a sign of life in the room. It had been a slaughter; a mass poisoning on an unprecedented scale. With merely a shrug, he gestured for one of his men to check the room thoroughly while he and the other continued on along the corridors.

Athas worried about the young man in his charge. Darius had said nothing throughout their spasmodic journey across the island, ducking from shadow to shadow. He hadn’t been waiting for signals and had been moving at pace like a man possessed. And now they were standing at the bottom of the servants’ staircase in the Peacock Palace, listening carefully. There were definitely sounds up there… likely the Sergeant was preparing to dine. The meal had been taken through to the rest of the men first, as the Sergeant had sneered at the broth and demanded something special. Well, looking at the glint in Darius’ eyes, he was damn well going to get it.

Athas laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder and he didn’t flinch.

“Listen to me, lad…” the dark-skinned giant whispered quietly. “You killed your first man tonight and that should take something out of you. You should feel something about it and it worries me that you don’t seem to care. Killing coldly is not healthy; look at Kiva. Do you really want to become like him?”

Darius turned to face the sergeant and Athas’ fears grew as he saw the look on the boy’s face. “This isn’t murder; it isn’t even killing. This is cleansing. Don’t worry about me Athas; I’m quite in control.”

Before the sergeant could reply, the lad had started moving lithely up the spiral staircase, curving round to the right as he climbed. Muttering unhappily under his breath, Athas followed close.

Darius slowed as they reach the upper levels. This staircase was a private one for the slaves and servants working in the kitchens below to deliver food directly to the Imperial apartments on the top floor and with any luck the guardsmen didn’t know about it. Athas remembered the couple of times he’d actually been admitted to the apartments in the old days. The door was disguised from the inside as part of the wall’s decoration. The Emperor Basianus had had the door hidden for aesthetic reasons, but that might work to their advantage now.

The staircase came out onto a narrow landing with shelves of stone built into the wall on either side, beneath which stood old bronze braziers. Here the stone shelves would be kept constantly warm and dishes could be left while the rest of the meal was brought up from below. Then, when the entire meal was ready and stored in the warming corridor, the servants could knock and approach the apartment with a full spread. Darius had stopped and was looking about himself vacantly.

“The wall ahead is a door,” whispered Athas. “One good push and it should pivot open if it’s still in good repair.”

Darius nodded and stepped up to the blank wall with the burly sergeant at his side. There were at least four voices within. Darius put his shoulder against the wall, but the sergeant’s hand came down heavily on his shoulder yet again in restraint.

“Shh. Listen.”

The voices were not clear, muffled as they were by such a thick and heavy door, but the guard sergeant was recognisable, and several other guards were present.

“…figures moving on the roofs and no answer to our signals from the Water Gate…”

Athas ground his teeth. “Someone’s fucked up. We’d best get back down to where we can help.”

Darius shook his head as he listened. There was the muted sound of heavy booted footsteps leaving the room. “They’ve all gone bar two. I’m not leaving yet.”

Athas made to pull Darius back by his shoulder, but the lad wrenched away from him and slammed his shoulder into the door. There was a creak and a groan from the aging construction. “Help me!” he demanded.

The big dark mercenary growled in frustration, but bent forward and added his shoulder’s weight to the lad’s. The door swung ponderously open, but the speed of their entry and the noise it caused had attracted far too much attention. The guard sergeant and his companion were already in the middle of the room and moving on the door with their weapons ready. The leader sneered at them. “So the boy brings me one of the missing islanders, eh? That’ll save time; I can punish you now and relax a little tomorrow.”

Darius shuffled out of the doorway and danced sideways to cut off the exit to the rest of the apartment as Athas walked slowly and purposefully out into the room and dropped his sword point first to the floor and leaned it against the wall next to the door. The big man growled gently as he examined the sergeant.

“I’ve been trying to convince myself that you all deserve a chance to surrender, but Darius was right. You are a shifty piece of shit. You have no idea what’s going on, but you assume that you’re in control of it. You’re not.”

The other guard made a lunge for Athas, his blade held out in a very artistic fashion, as though he were engaged in a sport or display. The big sergeant pivoted, kicking the man’s wrist hard and the blade skittered away across the floor. He smiled as he stepped in toward the man.

“I’m not an islander, you pointless ass.”

The guardsman put his fists up to ward off the blow of the big mercenary, but Athas knocked them aside and, reaching out to grasp the man’s head, wrenched it around with a crunch, so that the entire head was reversed and the suddenly sightless eyes stared out above the man’s spine. Ignoring the body as it fell to the floor next to him, the big man’s smile grew wider.

“So, would you like to surrender?”

The guard sergeant’s eyes widened as the big mercenary drew himself up before him and the young man with the hateful eyes stepped slowly but inexorably towards him from the other doorway.

“I submit to your charge,” the man said, reversing his sword and pointing the hilt to Athas. The big man grinned.

“Ah well, you see I accept your surrender, but I don’t think Darius does, so I can’t really help you. If I were you I’d turn that blade around, cos I don’t think he much cares whether you’re armed or not.”

As Athas leaned back and folded his arms, the sergeant hurriedly flipped his sword over and gripped the hilt tight, just as Darius was on him. From the start, Athas had been aware that the lad had a good physique and handled his blade like a professional, but had been sceptical about his actual swordsmanship. After all, how good could someone be with only ministers and farmers to train him? Athas’ own sword was in reach and in a fraction of a second he could grip it, lift it and land a blow on the guard officer, but as he watched Darius come in for the first strike, he relaxed and settled back against the wall.

The young man stepped in and swung his own blade wide. The blow was slow; ponderous, and the sergeant easily raised his own sword to block it, smiling. However, Darius was lithe and prepared and the manoeuvre had been designed to elicit that very reaction. As the sergeant’s blade struck his own, Darius was already spinning back on his heel in the opposite direction. The connection of the two blades had knocked his back and he allowed his arms to join the momentum and carry it back the other way, picking up speed as he pivoted. To his credit, the sergeant saw it coming and managed to struggle his sword back in the way of the unexpected attack, but the effect this time was much different. The blow slammed his own blade into his side flat-first and jolted his arm badly, so that he shook and his arm hung limply for a moment, forcing him to maintain his grip with difficulty. Darius stepped back.