Imperial Black

by David Bishop

  - Extract from Nikolai Dante: A Character

  Assassination, various contributors

  Dante got within a metre of the cave and dived the rest of the way, throwing the Huntsman 5000 in front of him. He narrowly escaped being crushed by a massive section of the shattered ice bridge as it thundered into the ground where he had been standing moments before. Spatchcock and Flintlock helped Dante to his feet while Mai watched the spectacle outside, both hands over her ears to block out the deafening sound.

  The avalanche continued, the area beyond the cliff's overhang resembling a waterfall of snow and ice. The utter whiteness was broken by bodies flying past, the familiar all-black uniforms leaving little doubt of their origins. Most terrifying of all was the noise, as if the mountains themselves were roaring, threatening to crush them alive. Wave upon wave of debris kept hurtling past until, finally, the sound and fury abated.

  Dante smiled bleakly. "That was a demonstration of why we keep Flintlock around. He has a particularly strong sense of self-preservation."

  "Dante's right," Spatchcock added. "If there's danger nearby, chances are his lordship is already running in opposite direction."

  "I resent that remark," Flintlock protested.

  "You resemble that remark, more like."

  "Now see here, you vile little guttersnipe. I am a lord of the Britannic realm and I am not to be addressed with such crass insensitivity!"

  "Former lord of the realm," Spatchcock reminded him. "What did you do to be deported from own your country, exactly?"

  Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Mai pressed a hand against the wall of snow and ice that covered its entrance. Dante joined her, extending a cyborganic sword from his left fist and plunging it as far as he could into the mass of solid white. "Crest, can you analyse how deep this wall of snow and ice is?"

  At least twenty metres. Unfortunately, you were near the bottom of the mountain when the avalanche happened.

  "I'm not complaining. It gave us enough time to get out of the way. The Imperials weren't so lucky."

  True, but the snow and ice stopped when it reached the bottom of the mountain. Everything that fell from above accumulated outside your impromptu shelter. It will be weeks before the debris melts and you will never dig your way out.

  "According to the Crest, the good news is we survived the avalanche," Dante told the others.

  "And the bad news?" Flintlock asked warily.

  "We'll starve to death before a thaw enables us to escape," Mai replied.

  Spatchcock picked up the discarded rifle. "Can't you shoot a way out?"

  "It's a rifle, not a cannon," Dante said. "The weight of snow would fill any hole the bullets created." He withdrew his cyborganic sword from the white wall. "Maybe those soldiers we saw were lucky. At least they died quickly."

  Further up the tor, Ivanov was assessing his losses. More than half his regiment was still crossing the ice bridge when it shattered beneath the avalanche. Fortunately, the Enforcer had reached this side of the chasm before the avalanche hit. But close to seven hundred members of the Imperial Black had been taken in less than a minute, the greatest single loss of life in regimental history.

  "Most of the men are in shock," the Enforcer told Ivanov. "They have lost comrades, brothers-in-arms. They need time to mourn."

  "They are soldiers in the Imperial Black, they will do their duty," the general retorted. "Don't tell me what my men need!"

  "Forgive me, sir. I did not mean to second guess you, I merely-"

  "Stop," Ivanov commanded. "There is nothing to forgive, major. You were thinking of the men, as any good second-in-command should." The general rested a hand on his second in command's shoulder. "Night is almost upon us, we can go no further tonight. Tell the men to make camp as best they can. Once that is established, you and I will go among them, giving what comfort we can. If a regiment's officers do not support the rank and file at such a time, we do not deserve their support in battle."

  "Yes, sir." The major hesitated before speaking again. "Sir, how do you rate our chances of success after so grievous a loss?"

  "We still have over three hundred men. I believe they are more than enough to deal with whatever awaits us."

  "I know the men will follow you into hell if they have to," the Enforcer agreed. "But that avalanche... it was almost as if the mountain was guarding its secrets."

  Ivanov snorted derisively. "Superstitious nonsense! In the morning we will press on. I do not believe an entire fortress can remain hidden from us, no matter what mystical force may conceal its location. The Imperial Black shall prevail!"

  Spatchcock was failing to start a fire, much to Flintlock's chagrin. "What's the point of doing that?" the Brit asked despairingly. "Even if you manage to get that puny pile of twigs and moss to burn, we haven't any fuel to feed the fire. Besides, where is the smoke going to go? Had you thought about that?"

  "If you've got a better idea for keeping us warm then spit it out, your lordship," Spatchcock hissed back.

  "I didn't say I had a better idea, I was merely-"

  "Pissing all over mine!"

  "Could the two of you be quiet for more than a minute?" Mai pleaded, her face drained of colour. She was pacing back and forth in the cramped cave, fingertips urgently massaging her temples. "My head feels like it's about to split open and listening to the pair of you is not helping!"

  One big, happy family, the Crest observed pithily.

  "Don't you start," Mai snarled at Dante.

  "Hey, I didn't say anything," he protested.

  "Well, try not to think so loud," she replied. "Better yet, try not to think at all. That shouldn't be hard for someone like you."

  Charming.

  "You said it," Dante agreed. He was sat with his back against a rock wall. "Strange, it must be dark outside, but it's still light in here."

  The rocks are rich with a luminescent ore, the Crest explained.

  Mai stopped pacing to glare at Dante. "Have you any idea how annoying it is to be constantly bombarded with the know-it-all comments from your Crest?" The beautiful Himalayan swayed slightly on her feet. "Just shut up, will you? Just-" Mai's eyes rolled back into her head.

  "Bojemoi!" Dante dived forward as her legs crumpled, catching her lithe body in his arms as she fell. He eased her gently to the ground.

  "Is it the same as before?" Spatchcock asked.

  All the symptoms appear the same.

  "We need to know what's causing this," Dante said. He pressed one hand against Mai's cold, clammy forehead. "Nothing's happening. I can't-"

  Dante blinked, but when he opened his eyes the surroundings were different. Spatchcock, Flintlock and the cave were gone. Mai was still lying in front of him, but now she was a young girl, perhaps five years old, lying on a floor of broad, black-stained wooden beams. Around them wafted scents of cinnamon and hot butter. She opened her eyes and smiled. "Hello. Who are you?"

  "My name's Nikolai. Nikolai Dante."

  The child giggled. "You're silly."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "You look so pale," the girl replied. "Don't you ever go out in the sun?"

  Dante took his hand away from Mai's forehead. Beneath where his palm had rested was a third eye, red against black. The girl was dressed in a simple white robe that made her bronzed skin tone even more apparent. She was right, the difference in their pigmentation was noticeable - his pale pink, her skin the rich brown typical of those raised in the Himalayas.

  Mai gestured at the room around them. "This is my new home. If I pass my last test, the monks will make me the Mukari."

  "The Mukari?"

  The girl giggled. "Goddess of the mountains. Don't you know anything?"

  Apparently not.

  "Crest?" Dante glanced around the red and gold chamber. "Is that you?"

  I am a Crest, but not the one with which you are bonded.

  "I don't understand. What is this place? Where am I?"

  "In my room," Mai replied, playfu
lly punching him in the arm. But her face was changing: cheekbones became more prominent, while the rest of her body blossomed into that of a young woman. "Nikolai, what's happening to me?"

  "You're getting older," he realised. "You're becoming a woman..."

  The girl screamed, clutching at her abdomen, face contorting with pain. "It hurts," she gasped through gritted teeth. "Make it stop - please!"

  "I can't. It's called growing pains."

  Mai grabbed his hand, her fingernails digging into the skin. "Don't let them take me. Don't let them touch me!" A pool of blood appeared on the floor, seeping out from beneath her.

  A door was shoved open behind Dante, and three men in saffron robes burst into the room. All were blind, their eye sockets hollow, yet they stared accusingly at Mai on the floor.

  "She is bleeding," one of the monks announced.

  "The goddess has left this earthly vessel," another intoned.

  The monk who had opened the door regarded the girl coldly. "Her time is passed. She is nothing to us now - less than nothing. Her mind must be emptied. She must be cast out forever. She must be purified before the next Mukari can be chosen."

  "Purified," the other monks echoed.

  The three monks advanced on Mai. "Let the cleansing begin," their leader said. The trio walked though Dante as if he was a phantom.

  "Don't let them do this Nikolai," Mai pleaded. "Not again."

  Dante flailed at the holy men without effect. The monks surrounded Mai, trapping her in the centre of the room, their lips muttering a language Dante could not recognise. As the trio touched the screaming Mai, she faded to nothing.

  So it was for her. So it is for all the Mukari and has ever been thus.

  "What did they do to her?" Dante demanded.

  What they believed was necessary.

  "Who are you? Show yourself!"

  "Show yourself!" Dante shouted, his hands bunched into fists. Spatchcock was holding him back from attacking the wall of ice and snow. He stopped fighting and let his anger subside.

  "Who were you shouting at?" Spatchcock asked. "You were ranting and raving at thin air. His lordship got in the way and you nearly knocked him out cold."

  Dante saw the blond Brit sprawled on the rocky floor of the cave, one hand clasped over a bloody nose. "Flintlock, I'm sorry. I didn't realise..."

  The supine figure acknowledged the apology. "I'll survive - just."

  Mai stirred on the ground, her eyes fluttering open. Dante crouched beside her, resting one of his hands atop hers. "Don't worry. You passed out again."

  She winced. "The closer we get to the citadel, the closer my headaches appear too."

  "I saw inside your mind again," Dante said.

  "I know," Mai nodded. "I saw what you did this time, as if I was watching everything through your eyes. Thank you for trying to defend me."

  "For all the good it did."

  "But you tried." She stroked the side of Dante's face. "That means more than you know."

  He noticed the others watching them, so Dante recounted what he had witnessed. Afterwards Spatchcock looked at Mai with a new respect. "You were some sort of living goddess?"

  "The Mukari, yes. It's a religious tradition that stretches back many, many centuries in this part of Asia."

  Dante had been thinking about the vision's implications. "Crest, the gaps in Mai's memory - could they be man-made?"

  Psychic blocks to stop her recalling her time as this goddess? It's possible. But that would require telepaths of unusual strength and ability, to say the least.

  "That might also explain the headaches," Flintlock observed after the Crest's words had been relayed. "They could be a defence mechanism, to stop Mai from returning to the citadel or even from trying to remember her childhood."

  The others looked at Flintlock, all equally surprised.

  He folded his arms sulkily. "I'm not a complete moron, you know."

  "There's still one thing I don't get," Spatchcock said. "If that wasn't your Crest in the vision, whose was it?"

  "One of the other Romanov Crest's, I guess, but what would they be doing here?" Dante shrugged. "Crest, can you identify others like you?"

  Of course. Each of my kind has a specific signature, like a fingerprint. I know all the other Romanov Crests as you would know your own siblings.

  "So, which one of my noble family is nearby?"

  The Crest in Mai's vision was not one I recognised. It was distinctly different from all the Romanov Crests, and much more powerful. Whoever is bonded with it possesses a weapon of formidable force.

  "That must be the secret hidden inside the citadel," Mai realised. "The Mukari must be bonded with a Crest - that's what makes her a living goddess."

  "But how is it transferred from one Mukari to the next?" Spatchcock asked.

  "Good question," Dante agreed. "The Romanov Crests bond with their host for life. When the host dies, the Crest does too. This Crest must be different."

  "There's only one problem with all of this," Flintlock pointed out testily. "We may know what the citadel's secret weapon is, but we're still trapped in this bloody cave, aren't we?"

  Dante blew between his hands before rubbing them together. "We're exhausted too, we need to get some sleep."

  "How?" Flintlock protested. "We'll freeze."

  "Then we'll have to sleep together, share our body warmth." Dante regarded his three companions in the cave. "I'll bunk down with Mai. Flintlock, you can snuggle up with-"

  "Never!" the Brit protested. "I'd rather freeze to death than spend a night in the arms of this vile, repugnant and malodorous streak of urine!"

  Spatchcock smiled. "Is he talking about me?"

  "Yes, and not even behind your back," Dante replied. "Fine, if you two want to become human ice blocks, be my guest. Mai, you're welcome to choose another sleeping partner if you want."

  She looked at the three men in turn before pointing at a grinning Dante. "But remember," she warned, "if I feel your hands wandering anywhere they shouldn't in the night, you'll lose all sense of touch before morning. Permanently."

  "Fine by me," he agreed hurriedly, already unrolling the bedding from their few possessions. Dante let Mai get between the blankets first, then clambered in behind her, pressing against her back. He wrapped one arm around her in a hug, trying to still the sudden warmth in his groin. After much grumbling and griping from both men, Flintlock and Spatchcock agreed to share bedding for the night. They settled down together, the Brit insisting he face away from Spatchcock to avoid death by suffocation.

  Dante closed his eyes and left himself drift off, trying not to inhale the sweet scent of the woman pressing against him. Within minutes he could hear snoring from the other side of the cave, and Mai's breathing settled into a deep, steady rhythm. Despite his best intentions, Dante could not help wondering what it would be like to know her better. Perhaps when this mission was over...

  "I suggest you put that rifle to one side," Mai whispered, surprising him.

  "I though you were asleep."

  "I was, until you starting digging that thing into my back. I'll never get any rest while that's in here with us."

  "The Huntsman 5000 is over there," Dante said sheepishly, pointing at the nearby weapon.

  Mai sighed. "Then what's sticking into my-" Her words stopped abruptly. Dante could feel her squirming away, but the bedding kept them locked together. "It's no good, we'll have to turn over. That's safer for both of us."

  Dante reluctantly did as he was told. Soon Mai was curled into his back, her thighs pressing against the back of his legs, her breath warming his neck, her breasts creating two circles of warmth either side of his spine. Fuoco, this is going to be a long night, he thought.

  Concentrate on the sound of Flintlock snoring instead, the Crest suggested. You often say his voice could put anyone into a coma. Perhaps his snoring will have the same effect?

  Dante gasped as a hand closed around his groin. "Tell your Crest I'm trying to get some
sleep too," Mai whispered. "If he doesn't shut up, I'll squeeze what I'm holding until your eyes pop out. Is that clear?"

  "Understood," Dante squeaked quietly.

  Dante snapped awake to find the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. His eyes searched the cave, but could see no obvious cause. Spatchcock and Flintlock were engaged in a mutual snoring contest nearby, while Mai was lying beside him, her face serene and beautiful in sleep. I must have turned over during the night, Dante realised. Temptation got the better of him and he leaned closer to steal a kiss. To Dante's surprise Mai responded warmly, her lips moving against his, her tongue sliding into his mouth. One of her hands slid across his body. Slowly her eyes opened and she smiled.

  "I thought you hated me," Dante whispered. "You wanted to murder me."

  "I changed my mind," she responded with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Mai kissed him again, her hand now sliding down his chest.

  "You should always give someone a second chance," Dante agreed, his hands slowly, deliciously exploring her body. "I like to think that-" He stopped abruptly.

  Mai paused, her face displaying confusion. "What's wrong, Nikolai?"

  He hushed her with a finger over the lips, before craning his head to look at Spatchcock and Flintlock. The two men were watching them intently, lascivious expressions on their faces.

  "I say, don't stop on our account," Flintlock exclaimed.

  "That's right," Spatchcock urged. "Nothing I like better than a good peep show. Warm the cockles of my heart, and the heart of my-"