Dark Empress (38 page)

“Wait here. Pour yourself a glass of wine. I’ll get the prisoners underway and then be back.”

Without further pause, Samir strode to the door, opened it, and left the room, closing it behind him. Asima took a deep breath. Ghassan was supposed to be the more easily-malleable one…

She poured herself a glass of wine and listened to all the orders being shouted to the prisoners out on deck. Her next move would have to be a good one, but she was sure she could manage it. Samir would take her back.

Outside, the captain blinked in the bright light and spotted Ghassan leaning over the rail, staring down into the waves and waiting for the pirates to finish searching his men and be ready for him.

Samir strode over and leaned on the rail next to him.

“I am truly sorry that it’s all come to this, Ghassan.”

The taller brother grunted in reply.

“It was inevitable that one day we would meet and only one would leave. You must have known that; and you also knew that it was always going to be me… but that’s a good thing. If you’d won, you’d be obliged to send us all to Calphoris to be hanged. I, on the other hand, am in a position to be magnanimous. I have no wish to harm your men.”

“Apart from the two dozen you burned and crushed in the attack!”

“Ghassan, don’t be childish. That’s regrettable, but unfortunately inevitable in war, and it’s a war we’ve been in. Don’t pretend you’d have done anything different.”

The soldier grunted another answer.

“It doesn’t have to end like this, Ghassan. You can still come with us. I have thrown open an invitation to your men and I’m told that a few have accepted. Life at Lassos is good, brother. Better than a dishonourable dismissal from service and starving in a backstreet, for sure. Besides, I have an idea, and it involves you.”

Ghassan turned to Samir and the smaller brother was surprised to see that the look of indignation and anger had been replaced by one of gentle sadness.

“I can’t, Samir. You have to understand. I may not always agree with what I’m to do, but I took an oath when I joined up. The only way I can leave the service is honourably and I’m bound to go back and report, whatever they do to me. A part of me would like nothing more than to say ‘screw it all’ and abandon myself to life as a free man.”

He sighed.

“But that wouldn’t be me. That’s you, Samir. In a way, I envy you your freedom, even if it is a freedom from conscience, but that’s not my way. You understand?”

Samir furrowed his brows for a moment.

“I wish there was a way I could persuade you.”

“Perhaps some day,” Ghassan replied sadly. “But not today. Today I have to complete my duty and take my men home.”

Samir nodded his understanding.

“My offer will remain open should you ever wish to find me.”

He noted the pirates edging closer, waiting respectfully to take Ghassan to his men. With a sigh, he turned away but, as he did, Ghassan grasped his arm.

“Don’t take your eye off Asima, brother. Do not believe a word that falls from her mouth. She is not the girl we loved. She has changed immeasurably and, I think, would sell both you and I for animal food if it got her something she wanted. She came damn close to destroying my ship before you even turned up. She’ll play you and do the same to the Empress unless you keep her confined.”

Samir stopped and shook his head gently.

“I won’t lock her up, Ghassan; not yet. She’s not done anything to me yet. But I can see something in her that I don’t like. Would you care to tell me the truth about what happened?”

Ghassan shrugged.

“It makes no difference. Just don’t trust her. Get rid of her as soon as you can, for the sake of yourself, your ship, and your men.”

Samir watched sadly as his tall, proud brother turned and offered his hands, open and palms up, to the pirate captors. Shaking his head, Samir turned and re-entered his cabin, closing the door on his brother, the crew of the Wind of God and any hope, for now, of reconciliation.

Asima was huddled in her damp clothes by the table on a low bench, a goblet of strong wine clutched tightly in her hands. Samir nodded to himself and walked past her to retake his seat.

“Is there anything you would like to tell me, Asima?”

She blinked, caught by surprise and Samir was satisfied to notice her guard fall for just a fraction of a second. Asima may be good enough to hoodwink the straight-laced Ghassan for a time, but Samir could see how her façade was built and how to cause it to crack so that he could see past it to the real woman beneath. He was genuinely saddened to see what had become of his erstwhile friend.

“Oh it was horrible, Samir” she sobbed. “I was a captive in Pelasia where the prince hated me. I think it must have been him, when he became king, that persuaded the governor and the military to send me to exile with some unknown master.”

Samir’s expression remained straight and unreadable.

“Hmm. Well, rest assured that I have no intention of taking this ship anywhere near Velutio or even Calphoris.”

Asima gave a little sniffle and threw him a weak, mousey smile.

“Thank you, dear Samir. Will you leave me in M’Dahz alone or will you come back with me?”

The captain of the Empress gave a light laugh.

“M’Dahz?”

He stood, a smile plastered across his face.

“I’m not taking you to M’Dahz, Asima. The next few weeks are going to be a little hot for us around the coast. As soon as the crew of the Wind of God reach any town, you’d be amazed at the speed the news of our victory will spread. Every naval ship afloat, Imperial or Pelasian, along with half of the mercenary warships out there, will all be looking for me.”

He laughed.

“I just sank a legend, Asima. There will be nowhere safe for me for weeks.”

The woman by the table frowned.

“Then what do you intend?”

“Well, I shall have to take you back to Lassos and show you the delights of the pirate island, won’t I, Asima?”

She stared at him and he was heartened to see anger and astonishment battling for control of her expression.

“You what?” she screeched.

“Yes, I thought that might bring about an interesting reaction.”

Asima glared at him.

“I have no more intention of spending my life wallowing in the septic pit of a pirate hole than I do of accepting exile in Velutio. You save me from one hell only to deliver me somewhere worse?”

Samir’s smile was irritating her more than she could bear.

“Just drop me on an island somewhere with fishermen and I shall make my own way back, then.”

“Hardly, Asima. You are coming with me. You may be able to play Ghassan with your little games, but I am a match for you, Asima, and you know it. Accept the situation and make the best of it. I have my plans, do not worry.”

Asima fell silent, her glower almost burning into him.

Samir laughed out loud.

“Now are you going to be good, or shall I take Ghassan’s advice and have you manacled to the hull now and save a lot of time?”

Slowly, quietly, Asima’s breathing slowed and the fire in her eyes receded.

“Lassos then, for now. But be sure, Samir, that I am your passenger and not your prisoner.”

The captain nodded.

We shall see, Asima… we shall see.

In which Asima’s beliefs are shaken

Asima, still glowering after days on board, had settled into her solitary life, keeping herself away from the sweaty, coarse crew, and equally from Samir who seemed to have the uncanny ability to look straight into her mind. She had experimented, on the first day after Ghassan and his crew had been set adrift, with minor issues of rebellion and inconvenience.

The crew had seemed to be aware of her location and her activity at all times and the knife she had secreted in the dining hall had seen her escorted to Samir’s cabin, where he had firmly, but gently, removed it from her and confiscated it. Sailors had stepped up to block her passage to parts of the ship they thought she had no business in. She had tried tantrums, tears and even seduction, all to no avail. In the end, she had resigned herself to making do with her situation until her range of options expanded.

And now, days later, she had at least managed to drum up enough interest in this legendary island to sit in the bow and watch as the landmass approached.

Lassos made the mind reel.

Used to the mainland shores, with their brown dust, heat haze and low rocks, the pirate island seemed alien and strange to Asima. At first sight it had seemed as though a cloud had settled on the water, wearing a dark, shiny skullcap. Closer to, the island was only two miles across at most and consisted almost entirely of precipitous mountain in green and grey. The whole place was enveloped in a thick fog that settled on the water and rose to cover the lower half of the island.

Asima could quite understand that on a day with fog any heavier than this, the entire island could well become invisible and that settled a nagging worry in Asima. Her life had taught her many things, but one of the foremost tenets around which she now lived was a total denial of Gods, magic, fate and anything she could not see, touch or manipulate. Even the idea that something was beyond her control unnerved her, let alone something beyond her understanding. Yes, obviously the legends of this mysterious hidden and vanishing island had been borne from the thick enveloping fog that obscured the land unless one was actively seeking it.

And yet, something about the fog still unnerved her.

The ship slowed considerably as they neared the edge of the white blanket that shrouded their destination in damp silence and Asima saw the rocks for the first time.

Rising like jagged and broken fangs from the mist, the glistening black rocks took on a wicked, almost supernatural aspect. The first glimpse was impressive, but a truly breathtaking effect was afforded as the ship first entered the enveloping white. The cloying silence fell over the vessel, muting everything bar the occasional creak and groan of the ship and its rigging; even the crew worked silently. As the prow pushed into the eerie nothingness, it became evident that the reefs that surrounded Lassos were more than the occasional jagged spike. They thickened rapidly, creating a carpet of teeth rising from the dark water in an almost impassable pattern.

Asima drew a sharp breath. She’d had virtually no experience of sailing, despite having spent her entire life by the sea in one place or another, but a single glance at those reefs revealed no safe route between the shards. There was quite simply no hope of passing them, surely. She turned to examine the faces of the men on board. Each expression was one of intense concentration. She noted with fascination that few of the crew looked out at the rocks, keeping their attention locked on their work aboard.

Why would…

Asima blinked and touched her arm in disbelief. Surely this must be some kind of dream?

The closest rock, standing proud of the water, was now home to a figure in wet, grey, ragged robes. As she watched, stunned and vaguely frightened, the sleeves of the robe fell back and two thin, rubbery grey arms reached out imploringly toward the ship. The head rose slightly and two glistening eyes, reminding her of pools of water in the dark of the night, peered out from beneath the dripping hem.

Without intending to, Asima had taken two paces back, away from the railing.

Other figures swam into focus as she watched. One moment they weren’t there and the rocks were bare; the next, ragged, wet, grey figures pleaded with her to do something about their horrifying condition.

Her initial shock quickly faded, however. Others, with deeply superstitious minds, may be paralysed with fright, but Asima was made of sterner stuff. Putting aside the natural fear of the unknown, she concentrated on the important things. It was curious… she never saw a figure appear. If she looked at a rock and then looked away and back, there would be a figure on it. But if she concentrated on a rock, nothing happened while she watched.

They could, of course, be some sort of illusion, but that would have to be something that affected everyone, given the reactions of the other sailors, and such a thing was unheard of.

The ship creaked on slowly and, as she watched, Asima realised that there was a channel through the rocks; hidden, complex and almost too narrow to possibly fit a ship through. The rocks with their eerie occupants came closer and ever closer.

No. Not an illusion. It couldn’t be in her mind, since it was in everyone else’s. Also, given the fact that the figures cast shadows on the rocks and the lapping waves plastered their robes to their ankles, they were solid. They were real. The reefs of the dead, she’d heard them called. But the dead didn’t stand up or plead; the dead were lifeless husks returning slowly to the earth. So these were clearly something different that had never been encountered anywhere else and could not yet be adequately explained.