“It’s fine, really. I’m often guilty of the same sin,” Aiul told him. Open the damned gate, fool, before this comes apart!
The sergeant shrugged and waved to the two men handling the gate. “Let them pass.”
Aiul felt relief wash over him like a warm shower. We made it.
“Hey!” another of the guards called out, as Aiul and the Southlanders approached. “Have you guys been down in the fires?”
The sergeant held up a hand to halt them. “Just a moment, sir.” Aiul felt his stomach sink as he saw one of the Southlanders quickly pocket a dark hand.
They stopped, and the sergeant looked them over more carefully. Mei, he senses something. By this time, the rest of the guards had grown interested as well and were pushing forward to have a look. “Lower your hoods,” the sergeant ordered, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Aiul waved a hand imperiously. “the Empress commanded these men remain hooded. If she hears of you countermanding her order—!”
The sergeant was having none of it. He stepped forward and reached for Sandilianus’s hood.
“Sword! Sword!!” one of the guards shouted, but he was far too late to warn anyone. Sandilianus’s blade cleaved the sergeant’s neck, sending the man’s head tumbling to the ground. It bounced, then rolled over the side of the walkway and into the chaos below as the sergeant’s body collapsed. Mei, what must the fellow it landed on think?
It was almost too quick for Aiul to follow. The Southlanders moved with the speed and surety of lions striking at deer, and with similar results. The remaining four guards reached for weapons, only to be cut down before ever clearing their scabbards.
Aiul stared at the dead men on the walkway before him, knowing that he should feel some pity for them, some remorse at having a hand in their deaths, but he could find not a drop of it in his soul. They stood between him and Kariana. He was glad that they were dead.
“Follow me,” he told the Southlanders. “She is within.”
The grand ballroom lay inside the secure area of the palace, just outside the kitchens. They saw plenty of servants hauling trays laden with roasted meat and steaming bread, but not a single guard until they turned the last corner.
Only two guards stood watch outside the massive ballroom doors, both with the same sullen, inattentive attitude displayed by their counterparts at the main gate, one busy cleaning beneath his nails with a dagger, the other with closed eyes, as if he had mastered sleeping while standing up. The music and laughter from within were loud, even with the doors closed, a point in Aiul’s and the Southlanders’ favor.
Aiul looked up and up to the top of the doors, noting how they curved inward as they rose toward the dark ceiling some twenty feet above. They were almost pointed at the very top. Little things seem so much more important when you suspect you’re about to die. Or when you don’t want to think too much about what you’ve done, or are about to do. “This is it,” he said softly.
Both guards snapped to attention at the sound of his voice. Aiul and the Southlanders kept moving forward.
“Stop!”, one shouted.
“What is this?” the other cried.
The Southlanders shrugged out of their cloaks and drew weapons. Aye. The time for subtly has passed.
“Just stand aside,” Aiul said, pleading with them. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”
The guard with the dagger in hand, eyes wide, threw his weapon at Sandilianus. The Southlander blocked it with his shield and charged forward to deliver a quick thrust with his short sword to the hapless guard’s chest. The guard gasped and slowly slid to the floor as his partner fled down a side hallway toward the kitchen, shouting for help.
Aiul would have let him flee, but the Southlanders were in control. One near the back of the group unslung his crossbow and put a bolt in the back of the guard’s skull, sending him down and skidding over the marble, leaving a trail of red.
Sandilianus stared hard at Aiul, his face taut, his eyes cold and wary. “It does have to be this way,” he insisted. “Do you have the stomach for this, or do my men go in alone? I would not blame you if you stayed. You are no warrior.”
Aiul grimaced, feeling close to vomiting, and shook his head vehemently. “This is my fight as much as yours.”
Sandilianus gave Aiul a curt nod, then spoke to his men. “Once we enter, we bar the door against reinforcements. Kill no one who does not offer battle, but those that do, finish quickly.” He turned to Aiul. “At your signal.”
Aiul waved an arm at the door. “Now seems as good a time as any.”
Sandilianus thrust the doors open wide on a scene of pure debauchery. The ballroom had once been considerably more austere, and host to many regal parties, but it, like everything in Nihlos, had devolved over time. Kariana had modified it to her own tastes. The smoky, patterned marble was original but the lush carpets and throw pillows were new, most occupied by one or more entangled naked bodies. The walls were decked with rich tapestries made by Nihlos’s finest artisans, depicting scenes much like the one they decorated. Alongside the racy images hung Kariana’s favorite toys, many and varied whips, cuffs, and razors. About the room, candelabras cast warm, flickering light and released pleasing scents to fill air already thick with ‘herbal’ smoke. Bars, for serving various intoxicants, circled the centerpiece of the room, a great, heated bath that currently held at least a dozen revelers in its steaming waters. At the far end of the room, an enormous bed, beneath a mirrored ceiling, sat on a dais where a throne might have been, under a more mundane ruler. Kariana, herself, lay on the great bed, naked, cooing and smiling at several well-built, equally naked suitors who teased her with feathers and tempted her with grapes.
The Southlanders’ entrance shattered the bliss and reverie like a brickbat hurled through a stained glass window. Screams and curses vied for supremacy with confused mumbling. Naked, drugged revelers struggled to disentangle themselves and rally against the threat as the Southlanders charged into the room.
Kariana’s pushed the men away from her and sat up on the bed, eyes bulging as she sighted Aiul amongst the Southlanders. “Aiul! What are you doing?” she shrieked.
“What I must, Kariana!”
One of her partners grabbed her and hurled her over the side of the bed, shouting, “Assassins!” From across the room, Aiul saw a hand rise from behind the bed to grab a pull cord from the wall and desperately jerk it, setting an alarm bell ringing.
Most of the room’s occupants were in no condition to fight and fled to cower against the walls or hide beneath furniture or pillows. A few were at just the right level of intoxication to be foolhardy and lunged for their weapons.
The majority of the naked warriors were cut down before they could bring a weapon to bear, as the Southlanders took possession of the room. Four of the defenders managed a few, halfhearted swings before going down, one even being fortunate enough to put a huge gash on Sandilianus’s forehead.
And then it was done. The Southlanders still stood poised for battle, sweat trickling over their rippling muscles, eyes darting back and forth looking for more enemies. The corpses of the fallen Nihlosians twitched in death spasms. Some cowering revelers whimpered and begged for mercy. Others stared about in confusion, absently wiping away blood that had been splashed on them during the battle. A few were struggling to clothe themselves, as if their nudity were the most pressing concern of all. Behind the great bed, Kariana’s lover still jerked at the bell cord in furious spasms, the ringing seeming much louder to Aiul now that the battle was over and the musicians had quit the stage to cower in the far corner of the room. Kariana herself stared at him in shock, seemingly unable to believe what was happening.
Sandilianus wiped blood from his eyes, then turned to Aiul and pounded his fist against his chest. “By the grace of Ilaweh, we are victorious,” he announced. He waved a hand toward the bed. “Your prize, doctor.”
Aiul stood a moment, uncertain of what he should do. He had never really expected to su
cceed, and now that he was here, the doctor pleaded with him to preserve life, to have mercy. But the husband would not hear of it, and the jagged thing could not even understand what the doctor proposed, much less agree. Aiul hefted the mace and stepped forward. There could be only one conclusion, now, he knew.
Kariana seemed to suddenly understand as he approached her. She drew a dagger from her robes and brandished it at him. “Don’t do this, Aiul!” she shouted, her voice high and trembling, but defiant nonetheless.
“Lara might have begged similarly,” he replied. “Had I not been there!”
“It wasn’t me!”
“Own your sins, bitch! You’ll be accounting for them soon!”
“There are things you don’t know! Things I can’t tell you! Damn you, Aiul, I love you!”
Aiul’s temples throbbed as if the jagged thing were bashing the inside of his skull with a hammer. Her arrogance was inconceivable! How could she lie to his face now, when she had told him exactly what she intended to do not a day before? How could she be such a monster as to claim to love him? She would do anything to save her miserable skin. “Save your lies for Elgar!”
Kariana’s ears perked up as the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the room. “I offered you everything! And you bring enemies into my home to murder me! Elgar take you, monster!”
“’Ware reinforcements!” shouted one of the Southlanders, and the immense double doors shuddered with a heavy impact. The Southlanders stood ready, waiting for the door to give way.
Aiul turned, distracted for only a moment, but that was all Kariana needed. She lunged at him with her knife, aiming for his throat, but he spun at the last moment, and caught the blade in his shoulder instead, not a lethal blow, but enough to stagger him briefly.
Kariana ducked behind the bed and twisted a wall sconce. With a whoosh of inrushing air, a concealed section of wall slid back, and she darted into the darkness beyond.
Aiul cursed silently, torn between giving chase and making a final stand with the Southlanders. He should have expected something like this. Tasinal would have taken care of his own just as Amrath had.
Sandilianus spared him the decision. “Go after her!” he shouted. “We will hold them as long as we can!”
Something large and heavy, likely a battering ram, struck the doors again, and debris imploded inward. It would hold another blow or two, perhaps three, but no more.
Aiul nodded and leaped over the bed to follow Kariana.
The passage was cramped, musty, and dark, and the ceiling was quite low, forcing him to stoop as he entered. Some fifty feet ahead, he could see Kariana’s silhouette, stumbling and cursing as she fled, and beyond her, a dim light. It was impossible to judge the distance, but he was certain that it was an egress leading to the palace, one he could not allow her to reach.
It took him a moment and a few painful collisions of his head against the ceiling, but he quickly adopted a shambling, lurching stance that allowed him to make better time. Kariana was less adaptable. She cursed and stumbled along, keeping her left hand low and against the stone wall, as if she feared becoming lost.
Aiul gradually closed the distance, until, at last, he could hear her panting almost as loud as his own. She spared a look back at him as he neared, and did her best to quicken her pace as he approached, but she was hampered by her cautious gait, still keeping her hand against the wall.
He reached toward her, as he struggled to close the last few feet between them, and suddenly, Kariana lurched to a stop, her body straining forward and tacking to the left with her momentum. Her hand grasped a small, innocuous lever that protruded from the cold, wet stone, and she hauled on it with all her weight. A sharp click echoed through the passageway.
Aiul felt the wispy, ethereal surge of powerful sorcery wash over him, almost a sound, not quite a breeze, and the tunnel before him melted and twisted in the current. The stone gathered and massed like a wave of liquid rock, its base rising and pushing him backward as it crested and curled over, threatening to crash down upon him and crush him as easy as an ocean wave might shatter a sandcastle.
Aiul fell to the ground and gritted his teeth, steeling himself against an impact that never came. The flow of sorcery trickled off into the ether, leaving in its wake an impassable barrier of stone.
Behind him, he heard the muffled sound of a pitched battle, steel ringing against steel, and men crying out in rage and pain. He looked back to see that another barrier, like the one before him, had erected itself to block his retreat.
He sat there in his newly formed prison, silent but for panting. He could hear Kariana gasping on the other side as well.
“Idiot,” she said in a dull, emotionless voice. ”Didn’t you think I would have an escape plan?”
“Don’t strain your arm patting yourself on the back,” Aiul replied. “Tasinal had an escape plan. Your possession of it is just an accident of birth.”
Kariana snorted. “Touché. I’m a stupid whore, a fool ruining Nihlos, a murderess, a child. But I beat you.”
Aiul sighed in the darkness. So close. So very close. He listened to the distant sounds of battle, wondering how long the Southlanders would hold out. At least, he imagined, they would make a nice reckoning of themselves before they fell, and that was all they had asked for.
“It’s not over,” he told her, his words mechanical, his muscles feeling leaden as numbness began to creep over him.
“No,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “It never even started, did it?” To Aiul’s surprise, she began sobbing softly.
Aiul closed his eyes, awaiting the inevitable.
Well after midnight, Kariana sat alone in her room, trying to find a way to live with what had passed and what had to be done about it. She considered sending for Sadrik but decided against it. She had been through quite enough abuse for one day.
The guards had taken Aiul away in chains. Only one of the Southlanders had survived. There was blood and gore all over the ballroom. She had to admit, it would have been a fine show had she not been the target. Perhaps instead of orgies, she would prefer gladiators, at least on occasion. We might even be able to combine the two.
There was no question about how this must be resolved. She could not allow an assassin to strike at her and live. Both Aiul and the surviving Southlander would have to die in a very public manner. There was no way around it. It was what Nihlos would demand.
And did it even matter? He felt nothing for her. He wanted her dead. The thought of it was like a sharp piece of rusty metal stabbed into her gut and twisted. She could almost taste it, a mouthful of copper and sand. She loved him. She hated him.
And none of it mattered, because she had no choices left to her, and no tears left to cry.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and a familiar voice called out. “Kariana? Are you okay?”
Kariana sat bolt upright in her bed. It was Marissa! That treacherous bitch! Mei, she will hear the screaming inside my head. Can I lie that well?
She decided that, while she could lie just fine, she had no desire to do so. She pulled her pillow over her head and refused to answer, but Marissa was persistent and opened the door. Kariana cursed herself for being so stupid. Mei, you just survived an assassination attempt! What does it take to make you lock your door, fool?
Marissa cracked the door just far enough to fit her head, and peeked around it. “Kariana?”
Kariana pulled the pillow over her eyes, not wanting to see Marissa’s face. It hurt too much. It was the same as if she were dead. All of her friends, anyone she trusted, anyone she actually gave a damn about, all dead or soon to be. “I don’t want to talk to anyone.”
“Oh, honey, you can talk to me,” Marissa cooed. Kariana heard footsteps approaching, and suppressed a shudder. What a monster Marissa was. What a cold, mechanical thing, to feign friendship like this for so long.
I will not look at her. Which would have been fine, except Marissa had always been a touch
er. The bed sank slightly as Marissa sat next to Kariana and began stroking her hair.
It was such an ordinary thing. It had brought her great comfort before, yet now, it was as if Marissa were rubbing shit into her hair. Her touch was repulsive beyond anything Kariana had ever known. It was all she could do not to retch.
“It will be okay,” Marissa said. “Everything will be ok.”
Kariana was no longer listening to her. Two voices in her head were drowning out everything else with their dispute.
Her old voice, the one she knew so well, was saying, It will be done soon enough. Just let it happen. It’s easy.
But now there was a new voice, an angry, shrill, cruel voice in her head as well. It’s unbearable! Do something! That voice was tired of the blame and the accusation and was ready to deserve some of the hatred directed at her.
I can’t! Sadrik said not to!
Fuck Sadrik! He doesn’t tell me what to do! This is all Marissa’s fault! She can’t get away with it!
“I have something for you,” Marissa said. “Do you want some water with it?”
Kariana nodded. She could feel the cold, hardness of Sadrik’s dagger against her breast. My one friend.
Now! the new voice screamed. Now! Now! Now!
Kariana let the pillow fall to the floor, and reached beneath her robe to clutch her blade. She watched as Marissa returned, a familiar small package in one hand, a glass of water in the other.
Marissa smiled and sat beside her again. “There you go. Hiding behind that pillow is no good. This will make you feel lots better,”
Kariana leaned in as if to take the glass and pulled the dagger from her robes. Marissa regarded her warmly as Kariana lunged forward and buried her blade into Marissa’s sizable belly.
Marissa’s smile vanished; her lips formed a perfect circle of shock. She blinked several times and moaned softly as her hands fluttered toward the blade. Kariana snatched the weapon back, and Marissa slid off the side of the bed, clutching at her wound.
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