"Shapurashi!" Someone cried out his name. He opened his eyes.
"Calm yourselves," he said.
That only seemed to make it worse. "Calm ourselves?" demanded a nobleman. "While the city burns down around us?"
"The city still stands."
"It won't for much longer, if this keeps up!" Gaumashta stood ponderously. "What of your friend Hatugali? He is in the Palace, he leads Enmer-Galila's guards. Why has he not done anything?"
"I do not know. The plan was to have him lead the Palace Guards out the gate during the uprising and then bring them over to our side. But Ithkaan spiked that plan. Since then I have not heard anything from him."
That did nothing to reassure them. Yet again Shapurashi found himself wondering what he'd gotten himself into. What seemed so simple when they first began had turned into a complicated mess. The held the city, but did not hold the Palace, which meant they held nothing. The city without the palace was like a body without its head.
He turned his attention back the debate. "There's an easy solution to this mess," Gaumashta was saying. "The Royal Estates still grow fields of shamma. No shipment of the Tears has entered Kedaj since the uprising..."
"Say no more!" Nashurensi declared, rising up.
But Gaumashta would not be deterred. "We should dispense rations out to the addicts among the poor, as Enmer-Galila did. They are driven mad by their cravings. This will satisfy them and free up men to take the Palace..."
"Outrageous!" Nashurensi shouted. "The Tears are an abomination before the gods! They turn honest men and women into degenerates! Enmer-Galila damned himself by using this demon plant to enslave the poorest among us, would you follow him into the Pit by the same road?"
"Would you see the city burn down when the mob rises again?" Gaumashta shot back.
"Only when this poison is purged from the bodies of our folk, will Kedaj return to greatness!" Nashurensi declared. "My priests work among them now, calling our people back to the righteous path..."
"They've been doing a piss-poor job of it then!" Gaumashta looked like a portly seller of spices, but as a young man he'd led caravans across the desert, with all the dangers that entailed. No man here would call him soft.
"Blasphemer..." Nashurensi reddened.
"I hate the Tears as much as any man," Gaumashta said, cutting of the incipient tirade. “It makes our men weak and useless as workers. But we must live in the world as it is. Until the Palace is ours and Enmer-Galila hangs heels high at the Lion Gate, we have won nothing. Pacify the mob for now, and Lord Sargonaddon can pull away the men warding the Quarter of the Goat. We then have a chance to take the Palace..."
"Shapurashi!" The High Priest of Sagosh turned to the man he'd crowned as king only two weeks before. "Do not do this! Or the curse of Sagosh will fall on you as well!"
"The temple does not speak for us all!" said Gaumashta. "You are King! Act like it!"
Both men arguing. Men he needed. Whichever way he chose, he would lose an ally. Their unity would be gone. Which way to go? Shapurashi opened his mouth to say...he wasn't sure what, and would never find out. For at that moment a servant entered the room.
"My lord, the northerner begs for an audience."
"Eh?" Shapurashi looked at the man.
"Segovac the Eburrean. He asks to speak with you at once, on a matter of great import. He says his god has sent him a new vision."
"Then show him in at once!" Shapurashi could barely keep the relief out of his voice. Sagosh had not heard his prayers, but perhaps the god of this outlander sage was paying attention.
The door opened and Segovac entered the room. "Lord Shapurashi," he declared. "I have had a vision! Victory is at hand, but you must strike now!"
The rebel leaders looked the foreigner, muttering to one another. This was certainly a change, the foreigner had never spoken so clearly in the past. "Are you certain?" Shapurashi asked, glaring at the others and silencing them for the moment.
Segovac turned slightly so that the others in the room could hear him speak. "This morning, while I was at prayer, the gods of my people appearing in all their glory, standing before my form. Mine own head was filled with visions of the future! The walls of the Palace broken, you carried through them with the light of Heaven shining down and clearing your path! The false King Enmer-Galila kneeling at your feet, begging for mercy even as his men renounce their loyalty, for they will see the righteousness of your cause! I have seen it and know it for the truth. But only if you strike now! Gather all your men and assemble them at the Palace gates. Batter then down and charge your way in. The Palace will be yours and you will be King!"
The others spoke at once. Most did not sound convinced. "If we pull our men away," said Sargonaddon, “the Tear Drinkers will have the city at their mercy, along with every thief, murderer and rapist looking for a chance to run wild! We are barely keeping order as it is!"
"And how do we know this is true?" asked Gaumashta. "Your god is not our god. We could assault the gate and fail and lose half our men in the process."
"What else did you see?" asked Shapurashi.
Segovac took a breath. "The gods in their wisdom have shown me one other thing. Hatugali, your ally, has not forgotten his oath to you. He will move against the King tonight. Whether or not he will succeed, they did not say, but one thing is certain; he will pull men away from the gates. It will be weakly defended. Now is your chance!"
More argument followed. "This is glorious news!" said Nashurensi. We must gather our men."
"But we have not heard from Hatugali himself," said Sargonaddon. "How do we know if he will truly do as this foreigner says? Besides, if he succeeds, then the problem will solve itself, at no cost to us..."
"If he succeeds, said Gaumashta. "We don't know how many of the Palace guards will join him in this plot. It may not be enough and we would lose the opportunity..."
"Great King!" Segovac turned to Shapurashi. "The Gods in their wisdom have shown the path to victory. But I am just a man. You are the true ruler of Kedaj. Prove yourself worthy! Lead your men! This chance will come but once, if you fail to take it, then you will walk a path that will lead failure and death! Choose now. Fate spreads her legs for you, victory belongs to the man with the strength to master her!"
It was a crude exhortation...but it worked. Shapurashi stood. "I believe you, my friend."
"My lord," said Sargonaddon, protesting.
But Shapurashi held up his hand, ending all dissent. "We are promised victory," he said, "if we have the strength and daring to take it. I will not squat here a moment longer while the city falls to pieces around us, even as Enmer-Galila feasts in the Palace. Gather our men, all of them, at the city gate. We attack tonight and one way or another this ends! Will you stand with me friends? For Kedaj? For victory!"
"I will!" shouted Nashurensi.
"As will !" said Gaumashta.
Sargonaddon looked torn. But then he nodded. "I've come this far," he said. "I will follow you to the end."
One by one the rebel leader stood and pledged themselves to the attack. Tonight it would end...one way or another.
And a smile crossed 'Segovac's' face.
The Palace guards assembled in their barracks and received their orders for murder.
Doors opened, and one by one squads went out, fanning through the Palace quarters. The sun was setting and the red light from the west gave the shadows a particularly lurid character suited to the moment. They split into two groups, one lot headed in the great pyramid, the other towards the House of the Women. A pair of eunuchs standing guard there perked up as the soldiers approached. "What is this?" one of them called. "Halt!"
The guards did not stop. One of the eunuchs, possessing more bravery than sense, stepped in their path. "This is the House of the Women! Stand aside, for only the King may pass..."
The guards didn't stop. One drew his sword and cut the eunuch down with a single slash that laid open his throat. The other eunuch turned and ran, shouting
in alarm, his cries cut short as a hurled spear took him between the shoulder blades. He fell face down. The guard whose spear it was walked past the body and yanked it free without even breaking stride.
They entered the main entrance hall. A fountain bubbled in the center, cooling the place during the heat of the day. Four great shafts cut in the ceiling let in wide beams of light that fell on the pool. Flowers blossomed in pots along the walls.
Two women sat by the pool soaking their feet in the water, while a small pack of children splashed about, playing a game. All looked up and saw the guards. They saw the bloody sword and spear. The women screamed, each grabbing a child and running deeper into the Pyramid. The remaining children in the pool began to wail.
"You know what do," said one of the soldiers. "Leaving nothing alive."
The guards fanned out through pyramid. Within moments screams and cries for mercy echoed through the halls. Two of the guards waded into the pool, drew their swords and began to slash.
Similar scenes played in the great pyramid. Hatugali led the way, his men splitting into teams of three and spreading through all levels. A list had been compiled, the names on it marked for death. Men and women of high rank, tied to the royal house by blood or long-standing loyalty. With them were individuals of great wealth, owners of great estates which the plotters desired to take for themselves. His men worked quickly and efficiently. No torture of victims to find their valuables, no dragging of noble-born maidens or their serving wenches into back rooms for a bit of fun. Hatugali made it clear, this had to be done quickly. No delays would be tolerated. Kill now and enjoy the spoils later, at their leisure.
Lugalzaeer met him in the Hall of Praise which led to the throne room. Images of gods and demons looked down on them, wreathed in shadow beyond the few torches and lamps guttering in their sconces. The servants had been in the middle of lighting them when the killing began and half were still cold and dark, leaving the palace gloomy.
"The King is in the throne room," said the young lord, a sword in his hand. "Drunk as usual. His servants fled when the screaming began."
"Have you killed Ithoshaara?" asked Hatugali.
"Not yet."
"You two, go with with him" Hatugali signaled to a pair of his men. "Good hunting."
Lugalzaeer headed down a passageway, intent on killing his rival. Hatugali continued on, passed through open unguarded doors and headed into the throne room. His footsteps echoed off the ceiling and pillars, even as faint screams and shouts drifted from the rest of the palace.
Enmer-Galila was slumped on his throne. The red sunset sky was visible in the window above it, a few stars winking in the sky. The King held a cup in one hand. The other was on the hilt of the gray sword propped against an arm of the throne itself. He looked up, eyes blood shot and unfocused. "Hatugali," he said. "Come to kill me?"
"What do you think?"
Enmer-Galila laughed. "I thought you were a snake in human form. Knew you'd stab me in the back if the moment came. Should have killed you when this cursed revolt started."
"You should have. But you didn't." Hatugali raised his blade. "Come down from there. Let's get this over with."
Enmer-Galila laughed again. "Power belongs to the strong," he said. "I took it from old Gul-Shurrazin. Shapurashi takes it from me. One day someone will take it from him. It might be you who kills him as well."
"Don't make me come up there," said Hatugali. "It will be painful for you."
"Can't have that," said Enmer-Galila. He drained what wine was left in his cup and tossed it aside, the picked up the gray sword and drew it clear from the scabbard. "Kill me if you can!"
The King came down from the throne, sword in hand. He charged at Hatugali, letting out a wordless cry, the sword raised high. He got perhaps halfway there, then tripped over his feet and fell face down on the floor. The gray sword flew from his fingers and slid across the floor.
Hatugali came over. The King struggled to rise. He came to his knees, one hand pushing against the floor, the other reaching for a dagger thrust through his belt. Hatugali chopped down with his blade, striking the back of Enmer-Galila's neck. The head fell free, bouncing off the floor, while the body dropped down, blood gushing out.
"He died as he lived," Hatugali said. "Drunk and stupid." He wiped his sword clean on the Kings silk robes and readied to sheath it, then paused. He dropped the blade over the body and walked over to where the gray sword had ended up. Hatugali picked up the weapon, marveling at its lightness, at the whorls and spiral patterns embedded in the metal. Not just a weapon, it was a work of art. And it was his.
He went to the throne and picked up the scabbard, swapping it with the empty one at his waist. He sheathed the gray blade and left the throne room, walking past Enmer-Galila's corpse without a second look.
Hatugali entered the Hall of the Gods, just in time to see two of his men hurl someone to the floor. Lugalzaeer kicked the fellow savagely, his face a mask of cruel joy. "Stand him up!" he shouted.
The guards grabbed the groaning fellow by the arms and hauled him upright. It was Prince Ithoshaara, his face a mass of welts, one eye purple and pulped. The other was wide with fear as Lugalzaeer bent close to him.
"Look!" Lugalzaeer said. "Look well! My face is the last thing you will ever see!" He whipped out a dagger and stabbed it into the Princes groin. Ithoshaara screamed in pain, then screamed again as Lugalzaeer dragged the blade upwards, cutting a path up through his belly and disemboweling him. Blood and chunks of guts spilled out. And Lugalzaeer laughed, glowing with hateful joy.
"Amateur," Hatugali muttered. He waited until Lugalzaeer was done. It didn't take long, the guards dropping Ithoshaara to the ground, the Prince curling up and dying as his blood pooled out on the floor.
Lugalzaeer let out a great sigh, bloody from hand to shoulder. "That," he declared, "was exquisite."
He turned to Hatugali. "Is it done on your end?" he asked.
"The King is dead."
"And you have his sword."
Hatugali placed a hand on the hilt. "Spoils of war."
"So be it." Lugalzaeer looked down at himself. "Damn it all. This was my favorite shirt..."
"Sir!" One of the guards came running up. "Word has come from the gates. The rebels are gathering for an assault!"
"What?" Hatugali and Lugalzaeer spoke at the same time. "Now?" Lugalzaeer added.
"The sentries have sent a runner," said the guard. “They are massing in the square, just beyond arrow range. Hundreds...thousands even."
"Perfect timing!" said Lugalzaeer with a laugh. "They attack from without just as we're finishing up here! I can approach Shapurashi and name a price! Fate spreads her legs for us this night."
"Assuming he doesn't shoot you down the moment your head sticks above the wall."
"When I stand before him with Enmer-Galila's head in my hands, he will embrace me as a brother...assuming there is anything left of his head?"
"No, you won't have any problems there."
Lugalzaeer turned to the guard. "Go back to the gate and tell them to raise a banner of truce. Tell them Lugalzaeer begs an audience with Shapurashi, the rightful King of Kedaj. I will be there as soon as I change into something more presentable..." Lugalzaeer staggered for a moment, placing a hand against the wall to steady himself.
"Are you all right?" asked Hatugali.
"Fine...just a bit lightheaded for a moment." Lugalzaeer straightened. "Go now," he told the guard. The soldier turned and left.
"Only one thing left," Lugalzaeer said, rubbing the side of his head, his temple suddenly throbbing.
"Ithkaan," said Hatugali.
"Make sure that barbarian has done the deed. Then take his head. Even the mighty Azaran won't survive that."
"I'll see to it." Hatugali hesitated a moment. "Are you sure nothing is wrong?"
Lugalzaeer smiled. "I've never felt better."
The guard crossed the wide courtyard between the great pyramid and the wall surrounding the
Palace quarter. Dusk was almost gone, and shadows covered everything. Screams still sounded from the Palace, though their numbers were starting to diminish. On the other side of the wall the light of countless torches could be seen.
He reached the wall, but instead of heading into the gate house, slipped into a patch of shadow darker than the rest. He looked about, making sure no one was watching. His face and body glimmered for a moment, the guards rough features replaced by those of Lugalzaeer. He stripped off the leather armor on his torso. Beneath was a silk shirt similar to that worn by the real Lugalzaeer.
He entered the gatehouse. Only a pair of sentries were on duty at the top, the rest pulled away for the killings in the Palace. They saluted as Lugalzaeer reached the top of the left side tower. "My lord!" one said.
"How many are out there?" he asked.
"Thousands, my lord."
He looked over the parapet. The far side of the square before the Palace gates was filling with armed men, the torch light glinting off their spears and swords. Far too many to count, Shapurashi must have pulled every man sworn to him. It was too perfect...
"Raise a banner of truce," he told the guard. "And pass me your bow and arrow."
Azaran moved through the palace, one step at a time, one foot in front of another. The passages seemed darker than usual. The people he met were running, many in states of terror, more than a few bloodstained. Many fled from him as soon as he came into their line of sight, for any man walking about this night with a weapon was to be feared.
He held the sword in his right hand, a sliver of metal that was an extension of his arm, and thus paid little mind. The pink fog of his existence thickened, and reverberating through it were the words of the woman who ruled him. Kill Ithkaan...Kill Ithkaan...KILL ITHKAAN...
Kill Ithkaan. At the moment nothing in the world seemed more important. Each step took his closer to this goal. Each breath was done towards this great purpose. Ithkaan had to die...he did not ask why, in his present state Azaran could not imagine asking such a question. SHE demanded it. SHE would be obeyed.
Fires of Mastery (The Tale of Azaran Book 3) Page 18
