Imperial Black

by David Bishop

  Spatchcock and Flintlock ducked into a darkened doorway, eluding another squad of Imperials still searching the citadel's ground level for them. The pair waited until the soldiers' footsteps faded out of earshot. "It's all clear," Spatchcock decided. Flintlock was already creeping towards the battered gateway. "Where the hell are you going?"

  "Away from here," Flintlock replied. "We've done all we can. We're out of our depth here, Spatch."

  "Saving your own skin and never mind about the consequences, is that it?"

  "If you say so - are you coming?"

  Spatchcock grabbed the Brit's collar and hauled him back to the doorway. "What about Dante?"

  "What about him?"

  "He's saved our worthless hides more times than I can remember. Don't you think we should do the same for him?"

  "With what? We haven't got any weapons. He's got the Crest and Mai."

  "We can use this," Spatchcock insisted, tapping the side of his head.

  "Dandruff? Lice?"

  "Our brains, you fool! We've outwitted some of the richest and most important people in the Empire before now, we can outsmart Ivanov too."

  "Ivanov the Terrible? The Butcher of Rudinshtein? I don't think so," Flintlock muttered, pulling his collar free of Spatchcock's grasp. A moment later he gasped in dismay as a grubby hand closed around his crotch. "I say, there's no need for that, old boy. I was simply expressing an opinion."

  "Good," Spatchcock replied grimly, squeezing a little tighter. "Then you'll be volunteering to help me rescue Dante?"

  "Yes, of course," Flintlock squeaked.

  "That's better." Spatchcock released his grip. "After you, your lordship."

  The blond Brit muttered curses under his breath as he led the way towards the nearest staircase.

  "I'm not a patient man," Ivanov warned. "What do you know about the vortex, Dante? Is it why your father, Dmitri Romanov, visited the citadel during the war?"

  The general is a borderline psychotic with sadomasochistic tendencies, the Crest observed. He will carry out his threat to murder the Mukari unless you say what he wants to hear, and he will enjoy the experience.

  "I never knew about this place during the war," Dante replied quietly. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I was a minor part of the Romanov campaign at best: cannon fodder for the Tsar's forces. Why else do you think my so-called family abandoned me in Rudinshtein at the end?"

  "If you never knew about the citadel, what are you doing here now?" Ivanov pressed his knife closer to the Mukari's neck, his eyes blazing with hatred.

  "I was sent here by an anti-Tsar organisation to secure the citadel and its secret. Like you, they thought it was a weapon, but they knew no more than that."

  "Why should I believe you?" the general demanded.

  "I would not risk that child's life by lying," Dante said.

  Ivanov gestured at the vortex. "What about this doorway to another universe? What is its significance?"

  "I have seen something similar once before, on the Romanov gulag at Samovar, before the war. Prisoners were sent to that planet as slave labour. When they were too weak to work, the inmates were sent through the gateway as raw genetic material for those on the other side."

  "Raw material... for what?"

  Dante hesitated fleetingly and the general pulled back the knife, ready to kill the Mukari with his next movement.

  "Raw material for what?"

  "Beyond that vortex is another universe where technology like my Crest is commonplace. It was introduced to improve evolution, but instead the technology began transforming the people into creatures more cybernetic than organic. Their society split into two factions, one siding with the technology, one against it. The Romanovs discovered these gateways and forged an alliance with the anti-technology faction. Dmitri sent untainted genetic material to help them preserve their humanity, they gave him Crest technology." Dante's head sagged forward listlessly. "That's it. That's everything I know," he admitted.

  Ivanov looked at the vortex with renewed interest. "Your father must have been coming here in the hope of obtaining more Crests with which to arm his troops. Now I control this gateway, I can acquire a Weapons Crest of my own. My men could become the ultimate warriors, unbeatable in any battle. The Imperial Black would soon rival the Tsar himself as the most powerful force in the Empire!"

  You humans never fail to disappoint, the Crest sighed. One sniff of power and it goes directly to your heads.

  "Ivanov was well on his way to madness before this," Dante muttered.

  The general smiled at his captive. "Thank you, young Nikolai, a most informative little speech. For once, I believe you were telling the truth."

  "I was," Dante insisted. "Now let the girl go, she's no threat to you."

  "If only I could believe that," Ivanov replied. "Alas, I cannot suffer a goddess to live, lest her disciples rise up and try to reclaim this weapon as their own." His knife whipped through the air, a flash of blood accompanying the movement. The general stepped back and admired his handiwork. A red line crossed the Mukari's throat where Ivanov's blade had been. For a second Dante thought it was merely a flesh wound, until he saw the distress on the girl's face. The Enforcer released her body and she sank to the floor, her elaborate headdress falling off.

  Ivanov held up his knife, smiling joyfully at its crimson edge. "The goddess is dead! Long live the new god of the Forbidden Citadel!"

  SIXTEEN

  "A multitude of hounds signals death for the hare."

  - Russian proverb

  "Asphyxiation is when oxygen is stopped from reaching the human brain. If asphyxia is not treated or prevented within a few minutes, it leads to loss of consciousness, irreversible brain damage and, subsequently, to death. The shorter the period of oxygen deprivation, the better the prognosis for recovery."

  - Extract from The Imperial Heath Guide,

  2671 edition

  Mai opened her eyes to find Spatchcock crouched over her, his cheeks flushed red and his expression filled with concern. "I think she's coming round," he told Flintlock, who was standing nearby.

  "I don't see why you got to give her the kiss of life," the Brit protested. "I've got as much wind-power in my lungs as you, Spatch."

  "You gave me the kiss of life?" Mai asked, horrified.

  "Don't worry, I didn't slip you the tongue," Spatchcock replied. "Much." He patted Mai on the shoulder. "You've some nasty marks on your neck, but you're lucky whoever was strangling you didn't finish the job."

  "It was my brother," she gasped.

  "Your brother. You mean..."

  "Rai. He's alive," Mai said weakly. "He's the Enforcer."

  "Crikey," Flintlock exclaimed.

  Spatchcock helped Mai to her feet. "We can't stay here long," he said. "Imperials are everywhere, most of the monks are dead and we can't find Dante."

  "The throne room," she whispered. "He'll be in the throne room. That's where Ivanov was going, that's where Nikolai will be."

  "She's probably right," Flintlock agreed. "He's got a nose for danger."

  "Then it's up to us to get him out of trouble," Spatchcock vowed.

  Dante shook himself free of the guards and crossed the throne room to crouch by the Mukari, cradling the dying girl in his arms. Ivanov shook his head, telling the Enforcer to stand guard over them. Then the general summoned the other soldiers to his side. "I want this building secured and a command post set up in the next room. Find and execute any civilians still alive on the premises. Nobody is to get in or out of the citadel without my express permission."

  "Yes, sir!" the soldiers saluted in unison. All but one of them hurried from the throne room. The Imperial who remained behind bore a sergeant's insignia on his uniform. "Sir, when will you be contacting the Tsar?"

  "Contacting the Tsar?"

  "Yes, to tell him what we've discovered here."

  Ivanov smiled thinly. "Sergeant, what makes you think I have any intention of contacting the Tsar? The fate of what I have disco
vered here is for me to decide, not some armchair general sat in his palace above Saint Petersburg."

  "But, sir, you must see that-"

  A single thrust of the dagger Ivanov was holding silenced the sergeant. The Imperial sank to his knees, then toppled sideways, quite dead.

  Ivanov looked down at the corpse dispassionately, discarding his dagger. "Enforcer, have someone remove this carcass. I don't want the blood of that fool staining the floorboards of my throne room."

  "Yes, sir!"

  The general cast a withering glance at Dante. "Keep an eye on the prisoner. He's not as weak and pitiful as he looks. I am going to review the situation elsewhere within the citadel."

  "Yes, sir," the Enforcer replied, calling for a soldier to remove the sergeant's body. Ivanov strode out into the corridor, not noticing Khumbu's broken body stirring in the corner. The old monk groaned in pain, his weak sounds attracting the Enforcer's attention.

  Dante leaned closer to the Mukari, hugging the girl to his chest, rocking her gently back and forth. "It's alright, everything's going to be alright," he whispered tenderly.

  "Do not grieve for me," she said. "Everything happened as I had foreseen it. But now I see beyond the darkness. There will come another, Nikolai."

  "Who? Who is it?" But the Mukari had died, her pupils rolling back into her head. Dante shut both eyes, then kissed her forehead. "She's gone."

  I am detecting a sudden surge of energy from the gateway, the Crest said urgently. Whatever was holding it in check is gone. The vortex is unravelling.

  Dante twisted his head to look at the unearthly shape where the tapestry had been. Flashes of energy sparked around the globe, snaking out to the edge of the bridge. "The Mukari must have been controlling it with her Crest. Now she's dead, her Crest is dying too, and the vortex is destabilising."

  Perhaps, but the Mukari's Crest is still fully active.

  "How is that possible?" Dante wondered. "You've told me before that when I die, you'll cease to function too."

  Yes, but I also told you the Mukari's Crest has significant differences to the way I function. It must be able to maintain an existence without her as host.

  Dante's eyes narrowed. "But that's impossible, unless..." He glanced at the Enforcer, but Rai was still focused on Khumbu in the corner. Dante eased up the dead girl's left sleeve to expose her upper arm - there was no Crest symbol visible on the skin. He checked the other arm, but it was also unmarked.

  Her death could have triggered the subcutaneous defence mechanism.

  "Maybe," Dante agreed. "But I think she was never bonded with the Crest. At least, not in the same way as you and me." He noticed the Mukari's fallen headdress lying on the floor nearby, forgotten amidst the violence. "Maybe her Crest was housed within something she wore as the living goddess."

  Pain coursed through Khumbu's frail body as consciousness replaced the dark. One of my legs and both arms are broken, the old monk realised. Something is making it hard to breathe. He tried to sit up and fresh stabs of pain made him cry out in agony. It felt as if knives were shifting inside his chest, their edges gnawing at his core. No, not knives, he decided. They must be broken ribs, the jagged ends piercing my internal organs. Death could not be far away. Already he could feel a cold numbness consuming his legs.

  "Still with us, old man?" a voice asked.

  "Who are you?" Khumbu rasped weakly.

  "I was once a native of these mountains. I believed in goddesses and sacred things like you, until the general taught me to honour only that which you can touch and see and feel."

  "What a hollow, empty life you must lead," the monk said. He could feel movement on the other side of the throne room, but was doing his best to distract the figure crouched beside him. If I keep my tormentor busy, perhaps the others can still escape, he thought. "Have you no faith, nothing to believe in?"

  "I believe in the general, his words, his orders. He knows best."

  Khumbu smiled. "Too much belief can be as bad as having too little. You must not blind yourself to the wrongs you do. I know that better than anyone." The monk felt a hand closing around his neck. "I am dying already. Killing me will make no difference, except to stain your soul with another life stolen away."

  "I have no soul to stain."

  "Then you are truly lost," Khumbu whispered with his last breath.

  The Enforcer straightened up again, having crushed the life from the old monk. "See what happens to all those who challenge the general, Dante?" But when he swung round to confront the prisoner, only the Mukari's lifeless body remained. It began to glow from within, a blazing white light that flooded the throne room. When that faded, the Mukari's body was gone. Beyond her, the vortex bubbled angrily, errant strands of energy escaping from its slowly expanding outer shell. The Enforcer cursed under his breath and called for help. But it was the person he least expected who entered the throne room.

  "You should have killed me when you had the chance," Mai snarled.

  Spatchcock watched a unit of Imperials race past, then closed the door. Flintlock was already dragging a piece of furniture across to blockade the entrance. Spatchcock helped him finish the job. Dante stood nearby, staring at the Mukari's headdress in his hands, the girl's blood a red smear across his top.

  "You did all you could," Spatchcock said.

  "I wish that was true," he replied, "but my gut tells me otherwise. Crest, have you finished analysing this?"

  You were correct. It houses the other Crest I detected. That's how each Mukari was able to pass on her abilities to her successor. That's how she controlled the vortex, kept all that power in check.

  "What's going to happen now she's dead?"

  Left unattended, the vortex will continue to expand, consuming everything in its path. Its hunger will grow exponentially - the more the vortex swallows, the more it wants. In less than an hour it will have consumed the throne room, this floor of the building and then the entire citadel. By sunset most of the mountain will be gone. Unless we find a way to stop it, the vortex will continue expanding until it devours the entire planet: all within a matter of days. When it tries to swallow the sun, that will create a black hole, a cannibal star sucking in solar systems as a child swallows soup.

  "What does the Crest have to say?" Flintlock inquired.

  Dante smiled grimly. "We're up to our asses in trouble."

  "Business as usual, then."

  "Not quite." Dante quickly relayed the Crest's doom-laden assessment of events.

  The Brit scratched his head thoughtfully. "This is probably a stupid idea," he began, "but why doesn't your Crest bond with the Mukari's Crest? Between them they should be capable of finding a way out of this mess, right?" Dante and Spatchcock looked at Flintlock, then at each other, then back at the exiled aristocrat. "I said it was probably a stupid idea," he protested.

  "Flintlock, you're a genius!" Dante said warmly.

  "I am?"

  "Maybe not a genius," Spatchcock hastily interjected, "but you have your moments, your lordship." Flintlock smiled, a quiet pride evident on his features.

  The Enforcer lumbered across the throne room towards Mai, shouting for reinforcements. She somersaulted over him, delivering a swift kick to back of his neck as he passed underneath, sending the bulky figure sprawling to the floor. By the time he was back on his feet, Mai had grabbed up Ivanov's dagger from the floor. A handful of Imperials appeared in the door but the Enforcer sent them to search for Dante. "This bitch is mine," he snarled.

  Mai danced inside another clumsy lunge, rapidly stabbing her brother three times in the chest plate, before escaping from his grasping gauntlets once more. "That exo-skeleton is slowing you down," she said. "You would do better without it."

  "This exo-skeleton will be your downfall," Rai promised. "It deflects your blows with ease, even when not switched on. Now, when I activate it..." He pushed the hidden control button, but the suit did not respond. He glanced down at the button and noticed three stabs marks in the mecha
nism, disabling the controls. Mai leapt at him with a flying drop kick, the impact sending him stumbling backwards.

  "I wasn't stabbing you," she smiled. "I was disabling the exo-skeleton."

  "Very well," Rai muttered, tearing off the body armour panel by panel. "Throw aside your weapon and we shall see who is the superior warrior, sister."

  Mai embedded the knife in the floor, then adopted a martial arts stance, ready to parry his next attack. "Take your best shot, brother."

  "Crest, what's the best way to establish a link between you and the Mukari's Crest?" Dante asked, still holding the dead girl's headdress in his hands.

  It was in close proximity to her brain, so I suggest you do the same.

  "Put this on my head?" Dante looked doubtfully at the tiara, with its attached headdress encrusted with stones of crimson and black. "I doubt it'll fit."

  All Crests adjust to suit whomever they bond with. I certainly had to.

  Dante shrugged. "Maybe, but I'll look ridiculous."

  This from a man recently chased through a floating brothel by a dozen enraged Kabuki porn actors while wearing little more than a prostitute's sequinned g-string bearing the legend "Get it here".

  "Good point," Dante conceded. He turned to Spatchcock and Flintlock. "Do either of you two want to give me a hand putting this on?"

  "If you insist," Flintlock sighed, taking hold of the headdress. He eased the elaborate collection of fabrics, gemstones and finery on to Dante's head. "There you go - pretty as a picture."

  Spatchcock whispered for them to be quiet. The heavy footfalls of Imperials could be heard passing outside the room. Dante held the headdress close as possible to his skull. "Crest, are you ready to make contact?"