An Emperor's Fury: The Frayed Rope

by Paul Heisel

  Somehow she had avoided the full force of the lightning strike. Her hands were white hot and she was fighting the two monks, expertly blocking their attacks. They were working in concert, though, wearing her down with feints and using space to their advantage. She backed away so they couldn’t get behind her. Feln ran. The noise of him running made the monks turn and Pearl took full advantage. She lunged forward, shooting out a small bolt of lightning that caught the monk in the shoulder. The other whirled his sword and missed a dodging Pearl, slicing part of her robe along the arm. She retreated as Feln arrived, now it was even numbers. Feln engaged the closest monk, hammering blows with the Dragonfly blade. Each attack was blocked, but the monk was slow in reacting. The katana slipped by and slashed the monk deep and he doubled over, sword dropping to the floor. A second quick slash ended his life.

  Pearl had her hands white hot again, the magic blocked the sword attacks. She went on the offensive, spinning and raining down blows with her hands. Now all her opponent could do was block the magic. She punched the man’s chest and he went rigid, stunned, and the white-hot lightning seared into the flesh, bone, and blood. The monk toppled over, a smoking hole left in his chest. Her fists returned to normal and Pearl kneeled, out of breath. This was the first time he had seen her tire.

  “The other two,” Feln said as he hauled her to her feet.

  “If their smart they’ll pretend they’re dead,” Pearl hollered. “Stay down! Pretend you’re dead and I won’t kill you. I ripped his heart out with my bare hand and I’ll do the same to you!”

  “Let’s get out of here.” Feln wiped his katana and sheathed it.

  “You didn’t have to kill them,” Pearl said. “The Furies.”

  “I did what I had to do. Don’t push it.” Feln clenched his jaw and grabbed her arm, pulling her forward. She was off balance and stumbled into him, and they both went down with a crash. Scrambling, they found their feet and searched for signs of the two remaining monks. There was no movement. If they were alive, they were pretending to be dead.

  #

  The Grand Master and Akuka fled in the catacombs underneath the church, a wall of ice at the entry to the crypt sealing out the others. Leading the way, the Grand Master made turns in the darkness without thinking. He found a sconce, pulled it, opened a secret door and slipped through it. Even if they smashed though the ice, they wouldn’t find their way here. They would end up underneath the offices, stuck between Kara’s forces and those he left to defend the great hall. Kara’s arrogance and aggression had taken him off guard, and he was determined not to let her take this monastery. That was secondary, though, as what remained was to ensure the wealth of the Yokai family would never be compromised.

  Without a magical key and knowledge of the intricate defenses, no one from the Malurrion side of the vault could enter. It was ancient magic, created long ago by the predecessors of the Furies, that couldn’t be broken by physical means. Even if they breached the door they would only find empty passageways. Even if they dug out the entire area, they wouldn’t find the real tunnel masked by the magic. The location beneath the middle of the lake would never be found. The indestructible door had to be opened with the magic key, and lacking the key, it was only accessible from Ashimo by transporting. Only one painting was in existence; a solitary representation of the vault had been painted with just enough detail for a person to establish a connection from Pyndira. The best thing for him to do would be to make sure the key stayed hidden in a predetermined spot. Others from his family, if they ever came to Sabrin, would know where to find it. Knowing that he did this yesterday as a precaution was a relief. It was probably the only smart thing he had done in a while.

  Left in the chaos was a crumbling Accord of the Hand with divided leadership. They would be ripped apart by this civil war. Kara used Furies to upset the balance of power, a ploy worthy of any of the Most Favoreds of Pyndira. He was certain she sent out teams to destroy his protectors, the Dragonmasters, and the soldiers. His only hope was his forces has fought hard enough to inflict losses such that Kara would be weakened and his army surrounding the monastery could take them prisoner. Time was running short, though. Kara would sweep the rest of the monastery, destroying anyone who wouldn’t join her or surrender. Now it was a matter of finding a safe place until all of this played out. He remembered what Feln told him – his quarters had been visited and the guards killed. Whoever did it was probably looking for the entrance to the Accord of the Hand’s vaults. It too was hidden, but not secured by magic, and would prove difficult for anyone to find. It was an appreciable amount of wealth, but a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of what the Yokai family vault contained.

  “We’ll go to my quarters,” the Grand Master said. “I’m sure they have been through it already. After discovering nothing is there, they will have moved on looking for the entrance to the vaults.”

  “Is that the safest place?”

  “For now, we need time for this conflict to conclude. If Kara survives, she will find us and she may kill us out of spite. As long as we control the army, we have a chance to come out of this with our lives.”

  “Will the army remain loyal to you? Faced with dozens of Furies, they may surrender.”

  “I don’t know what will happen,” he answered. “With so much confusion they may surrender or follow orders from whoever appears to be in charge.”

  “We should flee then. Why don’t we go into the vault and transport to Ashimo,” Akuka said. “Your belt might have enough magic to get us both there. We can leave this mess behind.”

  “I thought about that,” the Grand Master said. “But I’ve hidden the only key, so it’s impassable. You know what I’m responsible for. And I’ve failed. I’ve been outmaneuvered by a collection of Furies. No offense intended, of course. You will always be my friend, Akuka. You were my friend before you were my Fury.”

  “If that isn’t an option, then we can get out of the monastery and transport back home through my connection. There’s no sense in staying here, your life has great worth. If you’re never found, they will assume you're dead, consumed by the fires. You can leave this behind. In time, our family will return and reclaim what is ours.”

  Returning to Pyndira would be a dream compared to what was happening here. Montishari Gatôn considered. Yes, there would be no shame in returning to Ashimo with the knowledge their wealth was safe. Once he was back home, he could always return to the vault if he needed to, but he wouldn’t have the key to open the door, so going back into the monastery would be impossible. Perhaps he should have kept the key and fled to Ashimo. Disheartened, the Grand Master led the way to his quarters. Once they were on familiar ground, Akuka led the way.

  The double doors to his quarters were open, and just as Feln said, the two guards were dead. Both had been incinerated. The doors were open, one off the hinges, the other askew and burned. Nothing so bad that couldn’t be repaired with hard work, he thought. It smelled terrible here. Akuka encased the bodies in ice and the smell dissipated. The Grand Master walked into the room, pulling his robe closer as the air chilled him. The intruders went through his quarters and left his possessions littered about the floor. He sat on a chair, resting his weary legs.

  “I can seal the door,” Akuka said.

  “No, Kara will simply use one of her Furies to melt the ice. Come, sit down. We’ll rest a moment, then we’ll find our way out of here. If we have to transport back to Ashimo for safety sake, I can always return to regain control of the Accord of the Hand at another time. I’m not giving up yet, though it would be good to go home.”

  Akuka bowed. “Let’s not wait. Grab what you need and let’s go.”

  “Except for my belt, I have all I need. I don’t need to take anything back, not now. My belt is in the closet.”

  “Are you sure about the location of your belt?” asked a voice. Stepping from the closet was Djaa. His normally close cropped hair had grown longer since the war with Borgard, and he had the begin
nings of a fuller beard. He was wearing simple robes and had weapons at his waist.

  “Stay where you are,” Akuka said.

  “I’ll go where I want.”

  Akuka sent forth a thin ray of frost directed right at Djaa’s chest. Halfway to him the frost scattered, as if it had hit an invisible wall, showering the room with shards of ice. Two men, twins, appeared next to Djaa. Both were bald and had identical red claws tattooed along the side of their neck, up their cheek and around their eyes. It looked as if the claw was grasping their head. The twins had brown impassive eyes with an arrogant calmness, bushy eyebrows, and hard facial features. They were broad-shouldered, tall, but not as tall as Akuka. They carried an array of weapons on stout weapons belts.

  “Not going to take all that wealth with you?” Djaa asked.

  “The wealth of the Accord of the Hand is not mine for the taking,” the Grand Master responded. “You know Kara is killing everyone she finds. Unless you’re in league with her, I’m sure you’ll suffer the same fate, as will we. I suggest we take the time we have and flee.”

  “She has been a useful tool, a good distraction,” Djaa said. “Where is the key to the door that is down the secret passageway?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Take them.”

  The twin Furies blinked. Akuka pulled the Grand Master aside and blasted the room with cold, turning his fists blue and encasing them in ice. Among the frost hovering in the room, he could see that the twins were quick and already upon him with swords brandished. They became visible, slicing at him with medium length curved blades. Akuka blocked the first attack and sent the twin sprawling with a blast of ice, but the Fury deflected much of the attack with an invisible shield. A stinging sensation came to his shoulder, then he felt his ribs crack from an unseen force. The other twin hacked at him, and he tried to fend off the blows but couldn’t. Both slashed him and with only one arm and depleted magic, Akuka didn’t last long. He crumpled to the floor, dead, blood spilling at his master’s feet.

  #

  Though the Grand Master’s instincts told him to run, he couldn’t make his feet move. He watched as his friend Akuka died a horrible death at the hands of two Furies. He couldn’t fight them, that wasn’t an option, even if he was younger and quicker, he couldn’t defeat these two. They were master swordsmen, could use their magic, and worked together. The twins came to his side and grabbed his arms. Their grip was iron. Without any effort, they forced him forward, closer to Djaa.

  “Where is the key?” Djaa asked.

  When he didn’t respond, a twin landed a punch to his midsection. The air rushed from his lungs and he gasped to breathe, but the muscles wouldn’t work. The pain was intense. They pushed him to his knees and disrobed him. He felt the icy cold of the room when the remainder of his clothing was torn from him. Stripped naked, he was on his knees gulping for air. The Grand Master knew he was dead. They wouldn’t bother torturing him for the key. He smiled. At least they wouldn’t get into the vault. No key, no vault.

  The twin hit him again. He doubled over to the floor. “You’re not smiling now.”

  “Where is the key?” the other asked.

  “Where is it?” Djaa spat, striking the Grand Master across the face.

  The Grand Master crumpled to the floor. The twin kicked him with heavy boots, collapsing a lung.

  “No key,” the Grand Master said, spitting blood.

  “There is a door. It requires a key. Give it to us now.”

  “No key.”

  Another kick sent him sprawling.

  The Grand Master crawled away, dragging himself along the cold floor through remnants of the melting ice. His hands and knees went numb as he made his way to his desk. He pulled himself up, his breathing labored. He opened a secret panel in the desk, a small drawer, and took out a black lacquered box that fit snuggly in his hand. He lifted it up, presenting it to them, and he removed the lid to show them what was inside. The interior was decorated with padded red felt. In the middle was a silver object.

  “The key!” Djaa put his hand out.

  The Grand Master grabbed the silver object, a tube, and pulled it apart. Inside was a dried black root. He took the poison and shoved in his mouth, chewing furiously. By the time the Furies arrived to stop him, the Grand Master of the Accord of the Hand was dead, a stream of foam bubbling from his mouth.

  #

  Striding into the closet and opening the secret panel with the peg, Djaa contemplated the locked door once again. Magic was at work and they didn’t have the key. The Grand Master took his own life rather than let the twin Furies torture the key’s location out of him. The Furies already tried their magic on the lock with no success, and the idea that they could tunnel to find the vault was preposterous. It would take decades or more with no guarantee they would find it. They would be better served to search all of Sabrin for the missing key. It was a matter, though, of predicting what the key might look like. Lantern in hand, he scooted to the door and stopped short of it. The keyhole was normal, so he presumed the key would look normal. What they needed to do was question the Grand Master’s staff and find one of them who knew what the key looked like. It would be difficult as Kara had killed many of those defending the monastery. Though he didn’t want to, he would have to give this task over to Kara for completion and trust she would do as they told her. He had no time left, as he was to begin a new journey in Pyndira. Before he departed Malurrion, he had to make sure Kara wouldn’t do anything to damage the door or the lock. When the twins suggested they bash the lock, Djaa was grateful they listened to his advice not to. The last thing they needed was to break the lock and forever seal it. It would be best to search the monastery and the surrounding areas for the key.

  He walked back to the Grand Master’s quarters, shut the secret door, and secured it. The room was shambles and the dead bodies of the Grand Master and his Fury protector were undisturbed. He reflected; the Grand Master was a loyal member of the Yokai family, the rulers of Ashimo. His understanding of Pyndira politics and geography was limited, a good reason for him to keep his mouth shut. Gauging by the resources his new family dedicated to this effort, the fortune they sought must be substantial. In time, their family would rule over the Accord of the Hand and transform it into what it should have become. He wouldn’t be a part of it, though, despite being the perfect person to take command. Technically he was the highest-ranking Season and in this time of chaos would be considered the Grand Master by default, this of course after the numerous deaths were explained and the conspiracy discredited. The army would be a challenge to manage as well. It wasn’t his concern, not now, not ever again. When he left this place, he figured he wouldn’t return to Malurrion except under extreme circumstances. This would be left for Kara, their pawn, to manage.

  “Kitasu, Mitasu,” he called as he closed the closet.

  The twin Furies arrived through the damaged double doors.

  “Once things settle down, we can begin questioning the Grand Master’s staff. One of them will know the key we’re searching for.”

  “You’ve done well Djaa,” Kitasu said. Though the twins were identical in looks, their voices were slightly different. “I fear Kara has done her part in this too well. Fighting continues and more die. The others must be putting up considerable resistance.”

  “Caleth,” Djaa muttered. “He survived Kara’s assassins and came prepared for trouble.”

  “These Furies that Kara was secretly training must be brought back to Pyndira. Besides finding the key, Kara will need to make that happen. All of those Furies need to be enlightened.”

  Djaa nodded. “It will be done.”

  “Your Grand Master mentioned a belt,” Mitasu said. “Did you find it?”

  “In the closet. Hanging on a peg.”

  Kitasu opened the doors, strode inside, and pulled the belt of the Favored One from where it was hanging. He inspected it while holding it up, then handed it to his brother.
Mitasu rolled it up around his hand, then passed it to Djaa.

  “I already have one,” he said. “Our master presented me with my Favored One belt when I agreed to take on this undertaking.”

  “Take it back to him as a spoil of this conflict…” Kitasu started.

  “…he’ll appreciate the gesture,” Mitasu finished.

  “What do you want me to tell Kara about the vault? She knows nothing about the Yokai family fortune that lies behind that magically locked door. What do we tell her?”

  “I’m willing to take a chance on her,” Kitasu said. “Tell her what you need to, but also tell her if she strays one iota from what we ask, that she will not find glory, only death. Make her swear loyalty to you and bind her to your belt. That doesn’t prevent her from doing something stupid, but it will keep her from betraying you consciously. Make her willingly swear loyalty and bind her. She'll never know.”

  “It will be done,” Djaa said. “I will make her search for the key. It will be her lifelong pursuit. When she finds it, she will send word to us.”

  “Let’s hope for your sake it doesn’t take a lifetime to find it,” Mitasu said. “As soon as Ashimo learns about this, and they will find out, they’ll begin removing the more valuable assets as a precaution. Then they’ll send monks to further infiltrate the Accord of the Hand, and over time, they will try to install a new Grand Master to replace Kara.”

  “Why even have access from this side?” Djaa asked.

  “Maybe at one time they preferred Malurrion to Pyndira. It’s possible, though I don’t know why they would prefer this dead place to Pyndira. Knowing the answer to that question doesn’t help us open it, so don’t dwell on it.” Kitasu turned to his twin brother. “We have to return home.”