Soulblade: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Romance (A Dance of Fire and Shadow Book 4)
Soulblade: Chapter 17

THE WIDE DUSTY SPACE of the garrison compound between the Taskana Tower and the outer gate is littered with blood-soaked bodies. Palace guards lie sprawled in the dust where they fell, their corpses gaudy in the purple robes of their station overlaid with glittering plate and mail. They lie entangled with the bodies of the invading dark-clad Serpents whose broad leather harnesses and steel-banded helms mark their allegiance to the crime-lords. There must still be fifty heavily-armed fighters still hacking ferociously at each other on the bloody ground.

And blocking our passage to the gate.

I push Shan’domir behind me, hoping to shield him between my blade and the wall until a route out of here finally opens across the intervening space. Within seconds I’m fending off two enormous Serpent thugs armed with swords and daggers. In between each thrust and parry, I try to scan what is happening around the perimeter of the compound, hoping to work out what has gone so horribly wrong.

Or maybe waiting it out was part of Nilan’s plan?

A grunt of pain from behind reminds me that Shan’domir is weakened from thirst and starvation and repeated floggings and needs more of my attention than I have been giving him since we became caught up in this battle.

I turn to fight off the guard who has just stabbed him, only to cut him down and replace myself face to face with another heavily-armed Serpent running toward us and wielding a long curved sword. The incredible speed and agility of my new adversary’s movements catch me off-balance and I know that to reach Shan’domir in time to save him from this new attack. I am going to need that extra fraction of a second I don’t have––

The slaver catches sight of Shan’domir’s face in the guttering torchlight. He bows his head and falls to his knees.

“Master! You are alive! What are your orders?”

“Tari? Get on your feet, man, and tell me what in all the hells is going on out here!” Shan’domir leans back against the wall, clutching a bloody arm.

Tari springs upright with the startling agility of the Nishan and turns, pointing to the palace.

“There was a part of the Serpent’s attack plan that I did not know about until it happened, Master. They used fire-powder on the gate that connects the garrison to the residential wing where the Khalim holds court.”

A growl of alarm comes from Shan’domir as he stares at the blackened wreckage of the gate. “They have gone in there to sack the entire palace and steal everything they can replace––”

Farhaz cuts his way through the line of Serpents and bows to Shan’domir.

“Master, the Serpents have breached the palace––”

“I can see that! Get your people in there and wipe them out before we have a civil war on our hands!”

“Yes, Master.” Farhaz bows again and gives a series of shrill whistles to the black-clad assassins pouring in through the outer gate to slaughter the Serpents still remaining in the compound. I see Nilan locate the Captain of the Guard and remove the silk mask from her face. Her words are drowned by the screams of the wounded but I can understand the message well enough. She is telling him that Nishan reinforcements have arrived to save them all from certain death at the hands of the dreaded Serpent clan. The bloodied captain gives an appreciative nod and turns to bark a series of orders at the remaining prison guards. The defensive lines re-form, guards and Nishan fighting side by side, pushing the Serpents back against the outer wall.

I take advantage of the brief respite to quickly bind the bloody cut on Shan’domir’s arm.

“Let me tell Nilan to get you and the other two prisoners out of here while I go and help Farhaz and the others to clear the Serpents out of the palace.”

“No!” Shan’domir makes a painful effort to straighten his back. “There will be politics as well as blades at play in there and my people need me.”

The Master of the Assassins may be damaged but he seems determined to assert his authority now he is back with his faithful Nishan followers. I can see that any attempt at arguing with him is pointless.

“Fine. If you can stay on your feet, I’ll try to do a better job of watching your back than I did just now.”

He eases the two freed Nishan forward. “Tell Nilan to evacuate these two before they drop from exhaustion. I know the layout of this place better than anyone except Falina and we haven’t found her yet.

There is no need to tell Nilan anything. As soon as I catch her eye she runs over to join us and Shan’domir is pushing the two half-dead prisoners into her arms. She drags them across to the outer gate as I follow Shan’domir and Farhaz through the smoke-blackened ruins of the inner security gate and into the palace.

We have to step over more bodies as we encounter fierce fighting in every corner. Fragmented groups of Serpents are clashing with the Khalim’s personal guard, looting and destroying as they advance. I can see why the Nishan had been trying so hard to destroy this syndicate before they gained enough power to fulfil the ambitions of their ruthless clan chieftain.

Shan’domir is leaning heavily on Farhaz for support now, directing him unerringly toward the throne room. But there is something in the pattern here that doesn’t quite fit, like a missing piece on a Tican board… until finally it drops into place in my mind.

Slavers!

“Shan’domir, would the Serpents get an exalted price from their remaining wealthy clients in Rapathia if they were selling women from the royal harem?”

He turns to face me and the look of alarm on his face tells me all I need to know.

“This way!” He turns down a wide marble passageway on our right. “Go straight ahead, through the door at the end there. I am not moving fast enough.” He waves Farhaz to go with me and when I glance behind I see that the women of his bodyguard are following.

Farhaz gives the heavy carved door a mighty kick and it flies open to reveal a luxuriously feminine room, artistically draped in gauzy fabrics of gold and rose. Long couches are arranged around the walls, and the scent of sandalwood mingles strangely with the tang of blood and death that flows out to greet us. A dozen or so Serpents are trying to force their way past the remaining palace guards and both sides are losing fighters fast.

But what draws my eye is the slender figure at the heart of the fray, a captured sword in each hand and her blood-soaked servant’s drabs doing little to disguise the deadly Nishan skill with which she dispatches the raiders.

“Falina!” I run to her and shield her back, having noticed that the palace guards seem confused by her presence and are keeping well clear of her. She looks round, a grin of recognition and delight on her grubby face.

“Ariel! Nilan’s hawk-message said you were bringing Zandar to rescue the Master. Is Shan’domir safe?”

“A little weakened by savage treatment in the Taskana, but he will be in here at any moment.” Even as I say it, the Master of Assassins himself makes it through the doorway, flanked by two of his willowy bodyguards and followed by more Nishan reinforcements.

The fighting is almost over. Falina takes advantage of the respite and runs across to him, denied even the opportunity to bow before he sweeps her up in his usual bear-hug, apparently oblivious to the aroma of horse-dung she carries with her.

“Falina! My beautiful spy! I was afraid you had been caught between these warring factions…” He sets her down, leaning once more on his bodyguards as he catches his breath. “Hmm. It may be a few days before I can move like that with impunity again.”

Falina surveys her filthy, bloody, muck-clearing rags, a broad grin spreading across her face.

“Master, I shall always remember this as the day you called me beautiful, even as I emerged from cleaning out the palace stables!”

Shan’domir drapes an arm around her shoulders.

“Nishan training, my dear. It is the inner loyalty and finely honed skill that is the beauty, not the outer trappings of either wealth or poverty. Now, let us go and evaluate the current state of this palace.”

I follow them back down the corridor and into the throne room. More bodies, stretched out in crimson pools on the smooth marble floor. One of them is the Khalim himself, lying in his own blood at the foot of his gilded throne.

The corpse currently occupying the throne is, according to Shan’domir, the erstwhile head of the Serpent clan. It seems he had enjoyed only a brief moment upon the High Seat of Annubia before an assassin’s blade put an abrupt end to his bid for wealth and power.

“What happens now?” I don’t have Shan’domir’s political astuteness and experience but even I can tell this is a precarious moment for Annubia, especially in the aftermath of a devastating war.

The Master of the Nishan tips the resident corpse unceremoniously onto the floor and drops heavily onto the vacated throne.

“This is not a statement of my intent, you understand. I just need to sit down before I collapse.”

Farhaz steps forward. “Master, we must get you back to the healer at the safe house.”

“Soon. Once we have announced a replacement ruler who can command the military––before the country descends into the kind of chaos that usually follows a deadly coup like this one. Falina? Which wife or daughter will hold the respect of the military commanders? You have had plenty of time to get to know them all.”

The experienced palace spy answers without hesitation.

“Ralinna. Strong, wise, thoughtful. Carries her authority without arrogance. And one of the seven with Nissanda’s lineage.”

“Good. Go replace her.” He catches her eye as she looks once again at the disreputable state of her servant’s drabs. “On the other hand, maybe send one of the others. She may not appreciate our Nishan inner values of courage in quite the way we do.”

I watch, astounded, as the transfer of power is negotiated. Ralinna is brought in and escorted to the throne even before all the bodies have been removed. Then the army commanders are invited to pay their respects to the new ruler, who immediately ensures they are kept well occupied by ordering them to prepare a magnificent state funeral for her late father.

Shan’domir is hastily pardoned and asked to leave before his presence raises too many questions among the gaggle of court advisers who are cautiously emerging from their hiding places. Then we retreat to the farmhouse on the outskirts of the city while Shan’domir tries to reassure me that he is leaving a strong network of experienced Nishan warriors inside the palace to protect the new Queen.

IT FEELS LIKE ANOTHER world as we relax with clean clothes and clean bodies, gathered around the table under the sheltering arches of the courtyard, our blood-soaked gear thankfully handed over to the servants. After spending most of the night fighting, everyone is too agitated to sleep in spite of the tiredness. Dawn is already lighting the walls in soft shades of grey, competing with the lanterns that cast an orange glow on carafes of wine being passed around.

Shan’domir is duly stitched and bandaged, his matted hair washed and coiled and his habitual large persona almost back in place––provided the rest of us ignore the dark shadows under his eyes and the gaunt hollowness under his cheekbones.

In spite of our success, I feel somewhat subdued. Another victory that led to the very brink of disaster. I want to believe that the arbitrary repairs made to Annubia’s governance will hold, but it seems a wild hope.

“Shan’domir, is this transfer of power really going to work? It seems impossible that you could simply choose a new Queen and assume that everything will naturally fall into place.”

He leans back in his chair and takes another long pull from his wineglass.

“No. Of course it will not settle naturally, not without a strong hand behind it. In fact, it will need many hands. It is not a simple matter at all. But Falina has been providing us with details of the inner workings of the Khalim’s court since the day she joined his entourage. Not only does she know all the wives and daughters of the harem, but also the military commanders, court advisers, even the cooks and the poison-tasters. We are even now infiltrating our own people into many more positions within the palace to ensure that the new Queen remains alive long enough to establish her power in her own right. It will take a while before some of the traditionalists will accept a woman on the throne.”

“Did the Khalim have no sons?”

“Several. But they were all sent away as infants and placed anonymously with the families of farmers or traders. Nishan spies tracked them, but I think no others know of their current locations.”

“Why would the Khalim do that?”

Shan’domir gives a careless shrug. “Probably because he murdered his father to gain power, and from then on lived in fear that his own son would do the same to him. Seven of the wives and daughters are of Nissanda’s lineage, including your friend Nem. Those he kept safe, hoping they would become weapons, and yet he feared them.”

“Am I now permitted to say that I think Annubia will be a great deal better off without him?”

“Help yourself. Although I think the tradition of speaking of the ruler with respect will continue in this land, so you may wish to keep your comments within the sealed association of the Nishan. However, I am an optimist! I believe our new Queen will survive long enough to reinstate many of the fine laws her grandfather laid down, that brought prestige and prosperity to the great land of Annubia!”

He raises his glass for yet another toast to the country’s future, and none of the exhausted warriors are complaining about an excuse to drink more wine.