Dark Empress (49 page)

Samir’s head rose from the rock behind which he had sheltered, his eyes wide. This, of course, was why all good warships had very careful and well-trained artillery masters. Novices playing around with liquid fire pots was clearly a bad idea.

He’d stolen them from the armoury in the port in the middle of the night, with considerably more ease than he’d expected, given the laxness of the guards. An hour’s journey through the dark streets had been unobserved as the cart rattled up the slope toward the west with its heavy load of explosive pots.

The donkey and cart had managed the slope well, bringing Samir and his ammunition within ten yards of the wall. Manhandling the heavy earthenware pots, however, each more than two feet in diameter and packed with deadly combustible material, from the cart to the tower was a whole different matter.

He’d originally intended to perform his miracle breakout in middle of the night, but had seriously underestimated the time it would take to get the three great pots up to the base of the tower.

On the other hand, he was forced to admit as he watched chunks of stone rain down over the port and splash into the sea, he may had overestimated the quantity of explosives he needed just a tad.

His head ringing like the inside of a bell and his ears making a horrible whining noise, Samir peered into the smoke and dust to assess the damage.

He had assumed that if he placed the pots far enough apart they would detonate in a chain, as per his fuses. What he hadn’t counted on was that the force of the first blast was enough to detonate the other two instantly. Consequently, the explosion that was supposed to be contained and sensible and to produce a hole in the tower’s lower wall large enough to climb through had, in fact, obliterated a portion of the foundations on the eastern side and blown much of the lower wall on that side out and over the bay and the port district. The exact damage was hard to assess, given the huge cloud of grey dust and the falling fragments.

His breath caught as he realised that there was more than a vague possibility that his reckless actions had actually killed Ghassan and others along with him. Probably not, though. From what his sources had told him last night, the lower levels were mostly given over to storage, the prisoners being kept in cells at the centre of the tower where there were no windows. It was possible that he’d caught one or more guards in the blast, but he was hopeful that wasn’t the case. The night shift of guards was a ‘skeleton staff’ and they would mostly be on patrol at the top.

Samir shook his head, his ears still throbbing and whining. It was no good panicking about it now.

Taking a deep breath, he tied a scarf around his lower face for protection against the dust and left his shelter as the last of the debris rolled down the slope from the ruined wall. While he climbed the scree as fast as he could manage, taking care to avoid the chunks of masonry that were still sliding down toward the town below, he peered, blinking, through the grey cloud and picked out as much detail as he could.

Relief flooded over him as he closed on the structure and the cloud began to dissipate. The damage was not as bad as he’d initially believed. The tower was still structurally sound. The hole that had produced so much falling rubble was perhaps fifteen feet in each direction. It revealed the lowest floor and a little of the one above and had done considerable damage to the interior walls on this side, but not enough to penetrate higher into the tower. Unless anyone happened to be in the ruined lower storeroom or the outer chambers of the next floor up, they would be fine. They may spend the rest of their life with whistling ears if Samir’s were anything to go by, but that could hardly be helped.

Reaching the bottom of the tower, Samir gingerly pulled at the edge of the aperture. Stone fell away under his grip, but the core was sound. Taking another deep breath, he clambered across the ruinous threshold and into the storeroom. Stopping for a moment to get his bearings, he tried to superimpose the mental map he had constructed from the information he’d gathered last night over the building around him. Nodding, he calculated both the quickest and the safest route to the prison area on the third level and weighed them for a moment before shrugging and deciding on speed over safety. It wouldn’t even be the first stupid thing he’d done this morning, he grinned.

Gritting his teeth, he grasped the ruined wall and began to climb the mangled stonework toward the open floor above. The climb was difficult and dangerous, as illustrated amply by the amount of stonework that came away in his hands and skittered off down the slope. Still, Samir was lithe and determined and, in a little more than a minute, he stepped gingerly onto the flagged floor of the second level. There was an ominous creak as he put his weight down and he quickly hurried away from the ruined edge and toward the middle of the tower.

The town walls and their towers were mostly of Pelasian construction and relatively recent, given that the original walls of M’Dahz were already ruinous when Ma’ahd invaded and had to be rebuilt for his new conquest. The Pelasians loved symmetry in everything they did and so the huge drum tower that marked the northwestern end of the town walls was five floors in height and organised like the spokes of a wheel. A central spiral stairwell opened on each floor into a circular inner corridor with rooms off it. At intervals, however, passageways led between the rooms to another outer corridor that circled at the edge and from which doors led inward to more rooms.

Slowly and, he hoped, quietly, Samir drew his sword. Listening at the door was a waste of time in the circumstances and steadying himself, he flung the door open and jumped inside. The stair well had escaped the blast, even at the lower levels, and fresh, clean air blew down from above. There was no sign of movement and Samir began to leap up the stairs, two at a time.

The next level’s door stood open and Samir approached with caution. Ducking his head round the door, he quickly drew himself back, but not before having noted in the flash of an eye what lay beyond. This was most definitely the prison level. The doors leading off the inner corridor were heavy and iron banded, each with a grille at face height and a locking bar across the outside, all lit only by oil lamps burning on ledges at intervals in the corridor.

The guard he’d seen just inside the door had worn an expression of utter confusion and shock. His helmet lay on the floor alongside his sword, while he stood with his head at an angle, poking at his ear with a gloved finger.

Samir smiled; Ha’Rish was working hard to help him today. Without delay, the pirate captain strode into the circular corridor, stepped up behind the guard, raised his sword above the man and brought the pommel down hard on his skull. There was a crack and a groan and the man sank to the floor, his eyes rolling up into his head.

For a moment, Samir considered shouting out Ghassan’s name in an effort to identify which cell he needed, but the futility of that struck him immediately: there was no hope of anyone hearing anything in here. His own hearing had gone and he’d been outside the tower in the open air, let alone trapped inside with the explosion ringing echoes around the hall.

Instead, he ran to the nearest door and peered into the grille. Speed was now of the essence. As soon as the town guard realised what had just happened, this place would be flooded with uniforms and he had to get Ghassan out of the tower before then.

The first cell appeared to be empty. Despite his urgency, Samir spent a moment casting his eyes left and right to be sure there was no figure lurking in the darkness, his vision largely impeded by the low, dancing light, the shadow cast by his own body, and the dim conditions within. Shaking his head, he moved on to the next door. Careful peering around within revealed finally a thin old man hunched over by the far wall.

This was ridiculous! He could search for half an hour and still not find his brother. Samir stopped and scratched his head as he pondered. A moment passed as the whining in his ear continued to insist on his thoughts and then he slapped his forehead in irritation at his own short-sightedness. The solution was simple. Returning to the first door with a determined expression, Samir drew back the locking bar and threw the door open.

“Let’s give them a crowd of escaped criminals to keep them busy” he said to himself as he rushed to the old man’s cell, grinning, and slid the bar, swinging open the portal.

On he rushed from cell to cell, throwing back bars and opening doors, taking only the briefest glimpse within as he did so. Behind him, prisoners emerged, blinking, into the lamp light, some clearly having spent years inside; others more recent additions to the captive population.

He was so surprised when Ghassan appeared at one of the doors and reached out to him that he was already moving on to the next door. He stopped, turning, and grinned at his brother. The taller sibling was dirty but had not been mistreated, his leg wound now tended and bound, along with the bite wound on his hand.

Ghassan grasped him by the forearms and said something, his lips moving rapidly, excitement clear on his face. Samir shrugged and pointed to his ears. Ghassan laughed and mimicked the gesture before pointing at the stairwell. The smaller brother nodded and, leaving the half dozen confused prisoners milling about in the hallway, Samir led Ghassan back round the curved wall to the door.

As the pair dashed out into the cool stairwell, slowed only a little by the taller brother’s limp, Ghassan initially turned upwards, there having been no exit at the lower levels prior to the explosion. Samir grasped him by the wrist, pointing at shadows cast on the wall. Though neither of them could hear a thing, the shade puppets moving against the torchlight from above clearly announced the approach of the tower’s guards from the higher levels.

The two men moved down the stairs to the next level as fast as they could. Samir had considered leaving the stairs on the ground floor, but the destruction of the store’s contents would make it slow and difficult to pick their way out. Ghassan blinked in astonishment as they reached the lower level and stepped out into the light admitted by the enormous gaping hole in the outer wall. The taller brother frowned, pointed at the huge opening and then at Samir, a question in his expression. Samir grinned and nodded as he beckoned and ran over to the edge.

Once again the floor creaked alarmingly as the pair approached the hole, and he slowed as he reached the drop. Ghassan’s wounds seemed hardly to hamper his movement at all as the pair made light work of climbing out onto the ruined wall and down to ground level, the taller brother slipping only once as his bad leg gave way. As they alighted on the scree, he mimed a question over their next move to Samir.

The smaller brother beckoned once again and led his sibling over to a small knot of scrub bushes. There was no hope of the two men escaping down the scree without being spotted and guards from the port area would even now be approaching the bottom of the slope. There was nowhere they could safely go, and nowhere to hide, but Samir had counted on this being the case. As he and Ghassan disappeared into the cover of the greenery, he reached down to a small bag hidden under leaves and withdrew two neatly folded guard tunics and cloaks. Helmets, chainmail and gloves sat ready next to the bag.

Ghassan grinned and quickly began to don his uniform as his brother did the same.

No matter what the rest of the day might hold, even amid a hundred enemies and with a horrible whistling in his ears, it was good to be working with Samir. His smaller brother was a force of nature and it seemed there was just no stopping him.

Ghassan couldn’t help but smile.

In which brothers escape

The brothers looked at one another, took a deep breath, and strode out from behind the ruined wall of the tower where they had been lurking as they watched the guards approaching up the scree bank. Ghassan kept his head slightly lowered, shaking it as if to clear his hearing. In fact his hearing was returning slowly; he could make out noise from the men as they climbed. Samir strode boldly out next to him, squaring his shoulders.

“Ha’Rish watch over me now.”

Ghassan smiled at his brother, not entirely sure of what he’d just said, but aware of the feeling behind it from the tenseness in Samir’s expression.

“You!”

One of the unit of town guard climbing the slope and wearing a commander’s uniform pointed at the pair of them as he reached the top and came to a halt before them.

“What the hell happened here?”

Ghassan furrowed his brow and pointed to his ears. Samir caught the gesture out of the corner of his eye and took the lead.

“SOMEONE BLEW UP THE TOWER!” he shouted in an exaggerated fashion.

“Lower your voice” replied the commander, grimacing at him.

“WHAT, SIR?”

The commander turned to a lesser officer next to him.

“These two need to see a medic about their hearing. They must have been too close to the blast. Have someone help them back down.”

The junior nodded and waved at the brothers, pointing down the slope.

“Cavis… help these two back to the barracks and get the company medic to check their ears.”

A young guard saluted and ran forward to the two dusty men. He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it and shook his head, instead gesturing down the slope with his thumb.

Samir nodded and began to move slowly and carefully down the gravelly slope, trying not to slide and lose his footing as they followed the young soldier. Moments passed as they moved ever closer to the town and further away from the unit of guards.

Somewhere around half-way down the slope, Samir risked a look about him to check the situation. The guards had converged with three other units coming up the slope and along the wall. Any minute now the real problem would become apparent to them and then the fugitive pair would become very highly sought-after. The young guard, Cavis, was several yards ahead of them.