Энтони Райан - Queen of Fire

The Empressʼs face twitched again, all humour faded, and when she spoke her voice was flat, emotion vanished by the coldest logic. “He has a singer with him, doesnʼt he? I can hear her. Her song is strong, but dark. Stained by too much innocent blood. But I expect you know how that feels.”

She stepped closer, the framed fabric dropping from her hand, raising blood-smeared fingers to caress Revaʼs face. “It has been over a century since I enjoyed a woman,” she continued in the same empty voice. “A sweet girl from some northern town, the family newly risen to the red. Raised in indulgence, she found fascination in extremity, taking wicked delight in my many tales of murder. I doubt she found her own so delightful, though I made it quick.”

Feel nothing! Revaʼs cheek bunched under the Empressʼs touch, provoking a treacherous tremble in her flesh, the shackles taut between her wrists.

“But,” the Empress said, tracing a fingertip along Revaʼs chin, “since my return I find there is scant allure in any flesh, and all that once gave me joy is now but a dim remembrance. I didnʼt understand it before, the Allyʼs need. But now it becomes clear, endless years of awareness uncoloured by feeling, save the hunger for it to end. Worse than any death.”

Unable to bear it any longer, Reva jerked her face away from the Empressʼs touch, her cheek stinging as if she had been slapped. “You should kill me,” she grated. “Here and now. If you are wise, you will not allow the slightest chance I might loose these chains.”

She heard Lieza take an involuntary step backwards, her breath now coming in ragged, panicky gasps.

“And where would be the entertainment in that?” the Empress asked, her voice regaining some expression. “My people do love their spectacles so, and theyʼll find plenty to bay at in you, Iʼm sure…”

Abruptly, the Empress fell silent, all expression fading from her face as she raised it, turning towards the western wall. Just for a second a spasm of naked anger crossed her face, the elegant features drawn in frustrated rage, but then softening as she hissed a soft breath. “It appears, little sister,” she said to Reva, “I have an admiral to execute. Your queen clings stubbornly to her head after all. Still, Iʼve no doubt sheʼll provide as much entertainment as you, in time.”

She turned to the guards, “Return my little sister to Varulek, and give him this one too.” She flicked a hand at Lieza. “They are to be confined together, Iʼm keen to provide my new sister with all comforts, in between spectacles. Tell him I think the tale of Jarvek and Livella would make for a fine introduction. The crowd always do appreciate the classics.”

She moved away, casting a final command over her shoulder, softly spoken but dark with intent, “And tell the overseers in the vaults to finish preparing my new general.”

He clawed at the cord, fingers digging into his flesh as he sought to gain enough purchase to snap it. The red-armoured man laughed and drove another kick into his belly, forcing the air from his body, the cord stifling an involuntary shout. “No more now,” the man cautioned with a grin, looming closer. “She doesnʼt want you damaged.”

He placed a booted foot on Frentisʼs chest and forced him to the floor, his two companions coming forward with shackles. “She said to tell you,” the man with the cord went on, pressing harder with his boot, “you can choose which one of your friends gets to live. Just one though.”

Frentis tried to kick out at the man crouching at his feet, but he dodged the flailing foot, catching his ankles and bearing down with a crushing weight. The other one had already taken hold of his arms, pulling them over his head and snapping a manacle over his right wrist.

“Canʼt think why she wants you so badly,” the grinning man said, eyes tracking over Frentisʼs prostrate form with calm disinterest. “When she could have any one of u—”

A sudden crash of breaking glass and the grinning man appeared to have grown a crossbow bolt from his temple, head swivelling as his lips slackened to mumble gibberish before he collapsed facedown on the floor. The window opposite exploded as Illian propelled herself through it feet-first, landing astride Lemeraʼs corpse with sword drawn. She flicked a cut at the man holding Frentisʼs arms, leaving a deep wound on his forehead as he dodged away with a remarkable swiftness. His companion avoided her next blow altogether, rolling and coming to his feet with sword drawn in a perfect backward somersault. However, they had both been obliged to release their hold on Frentis.

He came to his knees in a whirl, the chain manacled to his wrist blurring like a whip as it caught the man nearest him about the legs. He jerked it tight, bearing his enemy to the floor, then leapt, bringing both feet down on his head, the neck snapping with a crack. Frentis claimed the manʼs sword and turned to find Illian engaged in a desperate struggle with the other, her sword moving in frantic swipes as he drove her back, her face a picture of frustration whilst the red-armoured man wore the same maddening grin as his fallen comrade. Frentis whipped his chain at him, causing him to dance aside with a speed that would have shamed even a Kuritai, but leaving enough room for Illian to thrust at his neck. He parried the blow with consummate ease but had no counter for the stroke Frentis delivered to his leg, the blade sinking deep enough to grind on the bone. The man swore, but his face betrayed no anger, just amusement and even admiration, inclining his head at Frentis in appreciation even as Illianʼs sword point pierced his throat.

“Brother!” she rushed to his side, eyes scanning him for injury.

“Iʼm unhurt.” He moved to the corpse of the man with the broken neck, finding a key for the manacles tucked into his boot. “You were guarding my room?”

“We take turns. Thereʼs a comfortable ledge on the roof outside.”

His gaze went to Lemera, framed on the bedsheets in a spreading blossom of dark blood. I choose to die free…

“I know you didnʼt break your oath, brother,” Illian said, following his gaze. “She told me she found comfort sleeping at your side.”

Frentis hauled on his shirt and trews and reached for his boots. “Whatʼs happening outside?”

“All quiet. I had no notion of any alarm until I heard the struggle.” She went to the first man she had killed, crouching to extract her bolt from his skull with a grinding squelch. “What are they?”

“Theyʼre called Arisai. And Iʼve little doubt there are more.” He retrieved his sword and rushed to the window, eyes tracking across the empty streets below to the walls where the sentries strolled on the parapet. Nothing, no indication of any threat. You did remember to check the sewers… His eyes went to an iron-covered drain in the cobbled street below. Waiting. Commanded to ensure they fulfilled their Empressʼs mission above all else.

He shuddered at the realisation he would now be shackled and his people facing slaughter but for her warning, a warning he knew had been no mistake. She wanted them to fail. He glanced back at the silent room of corpses. And they donʼt know they have.

“Fetch Draker, Lekran and Master Rensial,” he told Illian, going back inside. “And Tekrav. Be quiet but quick.”

He hung between Lekran and Rensial, head slumped, the chains on his ankles rattling on the cobbles as they bore him towards the iron drain cover in the shadow of the townʼs main warehouse. Unlike Lekran and Rensial, Drakerʼs red-enamelled breastplate didnʼt quite cover his frame, obliging him to keep to the shadows as he followed. Frentis was certain the Arisai would be watching carefully, his albeit brief experience convincing him of the dangers of underestimating their abilities whilst also giving a clue to a potential weakness. The way they smile. They take joy from battle, from killing, and joy can make us overeager.