Darkness Weaves (26 page)

On through the ranks of the Thovnosians, Kane led his men in an irresistible wedge. The streets and the rubble of the walls were choked with fallen bodies as the Thovnosians fought valiantly to repel the invaders. But they were relentlessly crushed against the smoking ruins and the corpses of their comrades, Sensing victory, the rebels stored over the windrows of dead and began a three-headed invasion of the city itself.

For hours fierce fighting raged, but Thovnosten now was doomed. Her defenses were annihilated, and thousands of the enemy were pouring into her streets. No organized resistance could be thrown against the raiders, and the small pockets of defenders were cut down to a man. Soon the fighting ebbed, to be replaced by waves of looting and rapine.

The rebels ran from house to house--killing all who could not flee, seizing what they wanted, and setting fire to the rest. The smoke-filled streets of the Imperial capital echoed with the shrieks of tortured women, the wails of children, the screams of the injured and dying. It was a dream become reality for the pirates and cutthroats recruited by Kane--as all men returned to their true state of bestiality and reveled in the mad glory of rape and pillage.

Racing through the orgy of rape and unbridled destruction, Kane led a strong force of raiders to the Imperial palace. Here the resistance was still organized, and the fighting was fierce and unyielding. Another band of rebels led by Imel quickly joined them at the beleaguered walls. If the Thovnosian renegade felt any remorse over the sack of his native capital, he failed to show it.

"Where's Alremas?" Kane shouted.

"Working his way around from behind," came Imel's answer. "He should get here in ten or twenty minutes." Kane felt bitterness that his enemy seemed invulnerable in these affairs. "Look, you know your way around here. When we break through, take some men and capture M'Cori. Remember--bring her to me unharmed. I'll handle the resistance until Alremas can bring up his reserve."

Imel nodded and returned to his men. Sending a party under Arbas to mock up mantlets and battering rams from the wreckage, Kane began the assault on the stronghold. The defense from the palace walls was rugged and determined--but rebel archers kept the defenders pinned down effectively, until the improvised battering rang could drive its way through the main gate. With Kane in the 1ead, the rebels poured through the palace gardens and courts, into the halls themselves. The palace guard fought valiantly, but they were steadily driven back by Kane's superior force.

"Kane!" A haggard figure in armor suddenly loomed before Kane. Netisten Maril had watched his Empire crumble about him--and now after hours of furious fighting in a vain effort to blunt the rebel drive, he had returned to defend his palace. "By Horment, at least I'll have the satisfaction of sending your black soul down to the Seventh Hell!"
"There have been many who have tried!" sneered Kane. "And Lord Tloluvin now watches over them all!"

With a bull-like bellow of rage, Maril rushed upon Kane. The Emperor was a powerful man, and he fought driven by an insane fury. Here at last was the man who had brought about the ruin of his vast Empire. If victory had eluded the Emperor, at least vengeance was within his grasp. Kane gave ground slowly under Maril's violent attack, stopping blow after blow with his sword--smashing at the Emperor's shield with his axe. Recklessly Maril avoided the flashing battle-axe in Kane's left hand and pressed his attack in a storm of steel lightning and thunderous clangour. Berserk strength guided his furious swordplay.

A sudden twist of Maril's longer blade caught Kane in his right arm--gashing painfully through the partially healed wound he carried there. The cutlass clattered from Kane's grasp, and he now faced Maril with one arm useless. A red lust to kill overwhelmed Kane's senses. Ignoring the pain, Kane carefully circled Maril, watching for an opening. His axe wove a glittering pattern as he snarled defiance.

But Maril was too reckless in his eagerness to finish his hated enemy. One slip was all Kane needed. Kane feinted with the heavy axe and recoiled as Maril's blade swept wildly past his head. For an instant the Emperor was overextended with the impetus of his decapitating stroke. With blinding speed, Kane's axe swung out and clove through Maril's cuirass and ribcage. His eye still brimming with hatred, Netisten Maril crumpled to the floor and died in a rush of blood at Kane's feet.

"Well, you've killed him," observed Arbas, who had been watching the duel with great interest. "Efrel, I think, will not be amused. And to make things perfect, I see our friend, Alremas, has broken through just in time to witness the Emperor's last stand. I'm sure he won't waste time telling Efrel who killed him. Kane, maybe we should take our time about getting back to Pellin."

Kane cursed and examined his badly wounded arm. "Screw her! I'll talk to Efrel! I wasn't about to let Maril kill me just to satisfy her whim! I've handed Efrel the Imperial throne--and if Imel comes through with M'Cori, she should be happy enough."

Imel, in the meantime, had fought his way to M'Cori's chambers. There the renegade and his men finally cut down the last of those who had been stationed on guard and forced an entrance into her rooms. The rebels fell upon the screaming servant girls, then swaggered into M'Cori's presence.

M'Cori fought down her gnawing terror and rose defiantly to meet the grinning intruders. Thoughts of suicide had raced through her mind, but the idea was too repulsive. While there was life, there was hope--and until she knew that Lages was slain, she refused to relinquish all hope.

Savouring her beauty, Imel cursed Efrel for reserving M'Cori for her own uses. The girl would make a nice prize for the sorceress's most valued servant. "Come along quietly, and I promise you won't be harmed," he told his blond captive. He smiled reassuringly. "You're an honored prisoner, after all. We're to escort you to the Empress at Prisarte."

"Nothing is lower than a renegade!" spat M'Cori.

"Better a victorious renegade than a defeated patriot," Imel shrugged. He ordered her bound, then led her back to Kane. There would be less principled girls elsewhere in the plundered city.

Meanwhile in the red chaos of the streets, Lages still carried on a desperate resistance. Separating from his uncle early in the battle to meet the multiple rebel attack, Lages had been bypassed by the main thrust of the invaders. As a result of this chance, he and a ragged band of Imperial soldiers still roamed the riot-filled streets, cutting down scattered looters. Knowing that the Imperial capital was lost, Lages fought on without thought of escape, intending to die amidst the ashes of his city.

Then a messenger reached him with word of the palace's fall, of the Emperor's death and M'Cori's capture. At this news Lages broke into a suicidal frenzy, howling for his men to follow him in an impossible attempt to rescue M'Cori. But his weary soldiers held him back, convinced him that it would be senseless to throw all their lives away in a hopeless attack against Kane and his army of marauders.

At last Lages realized the hopelessness of the situation. He gave orders to spread the word for all loyalists to join him, then grudgingly retreated with his battle-worn band. Picking up stragglers as they passed, he moved out of the burning city and into the hills of Thovnos, where he could organize guerrilla resistance to the Empire's conquerors.

And thus fell the Thovnosian Empire, in ashes and blood--at the hand of the man who had indirectly been responsible for its creation.

Throughout the city of Prisarte, there was wild celebration among the victorious rebels. The tension of battle broke loose into jubilant hysteria. Captured gold and wine flowed freely, as drunken revelry and raucous gaiety prevailed.

Within the black fortress of Dan-Legeh, the atmosphere was otherwise. Efrel was in a towering rage. For an hour she had shrieked and cursed insanely at Kane. His crushing defeat of the Thovnosian Empire meant nothing to her in this state of madness. All the sorceress knew was that Kane had slain her enemy himself. His colossal stupidity had forever destroyed her long-cherished dream of vengeance. For months she had been kept alive through her hatred for the man who had shamed and mutilated her--and now Netisten Maril was beyond even her revenge.

Oxfors Alremas watched smugly as Kane stoically withstood Efrel's endless tirade. At times she could only utter a shrill, incoherent shriek of impassioned rage. Never had Alremas seen her in such wrath. He judged with satisfaction that he no longer would have to worry about Kane. With his rival's fall from favor, he should be able to convince Efrel that Kane was too dangerous to have around. Then it was just a matter of legal murder.
Kane gave up all efforts to reason with the sorceress. Realizing that she was beyond rationality, he braced himself and waited for her anger to slacken. It took some time, but finally her tirade ceased.

Before she could begin again, Kane rushed to speak: "In every particular but this, I have fulfilled your every command. When before this have you had any reason to criticize me or my methods? And despite what some lying tongues say, I only meant to disarm Maril. The fool refused to surrender--he all but threw himself against my axe. So how am I to blame for his death? Forget this one whim of vengeance. Haven't I delivered the Empire into your hands? I have accomplished everything else I agreed to perform in your service. And remember, you still have M'Cori to work your revenge upon."

A strange light came into Efrel's eye. Her attention seemed no longer fixed on Kane, but on some secret thought. "Yes, but another was responsible for her capture," she hissed.

"May I point out a slight dissimilarity between capturing a teenage girl and subduing a seasoned warrior? Anyway, it was all carried out according to any orders."

Kane added shrewdly: "Lages is still on the loose--and with an army of sorts under his command. Until he and his guerrillas are destroyed, you will always have that threat hanging over you. Perhaps you feel that another should deal with Lages."

Efrel snarled in frustration, "No, damn you! I still want you to root out the last shreds of Imperial resistance. When you have accomplished this, you may then claim your reward. Now get out of my sight--before I treat you to the fate I had reserved for Maril!"

"Thank you for your benevolence," said Kane dryly--trying to mask his feelings. "I assure you that Lages will straightway be delivered to you for this pleasure."

He hastily left the council room, his face taut with cold anger. Arbas was waiting around outside. "I wasn't sure you'd come out of that with your hide intact!" he began. "You know, you could hear her howls all over this fortress. Damn! I've never heard anyone in such a rage!"

Kane grunted and walked on in silence. "Let's go where we can talk," he finally muttered.

"Any alehouse should do for that. There's too much noise and drunkenness for spying tonight. Anyway," the assassin added reflectively, "it's a good occasion to get drunk, if nothing else."

So they eventually found their way to a bustling tavern, where crowds of battle-weary soldiers mixed drink and women in loud celebration. Picking their way to a relatively deserted corner of the room, they took up mugs of ale and sat down. Arbas eyed the dancing girls calculatingly, but there was real concern beneath his festive air.

"I think you know what I have to say," Kane began in a low voice. "I never intended to leave that madwoman in control of the new Empire. I had hoped to bide my time until the choice moment. Now it looks as though I'm going to have to move faster than I'd planned."

He frowned, remembering Alremas's supercilious smile during his ordeal with Efrel. "Anyway, there's no other course left to me. Alremas looked at me like I was an old friend with a fatal disease. This war has depleted Efrel's strength as much as the Empire's. I can count on enough men to do the job. The mercenaries from outside the Empire will follow me--as will most of those who were in on this for motives of pure gain. Imel will side with me, I know. Efrel can only count on the Pellinites to support her claim to rule."

The assassin sipped his beer thoughtfully. "You figure you can swing enough support, then? I mean, you'll be up against all of Pellin--and Efrel's sorcery."

"I think so. I intend a coup d'état, not a conquest. We'll strike fast and secretly. By the time anyone knows what's going on, it will be too late to do anything. Besides, we've got M'Cori--and unless I'm mistaken, she's going to bring us some more help."

"What do you mean?" Arbas asked, belching and refilling their mugs.

"Lages is holed up somewhere on Thovnos with quite a few men. We can make use of their swords. When I offer him a chance to save M'Cori from Efrel, I'm certain the fool will join us. Afterward, something can happen to him."

Kane's eyes looked beyond the room. "I almost had this place in my grasp once before. I don't mean to let it slip away again."

Far beneath the revelry of the night outside, smoky yellow flames from the great oil lamps gave light to a shadowy scene of bizarre antithesis. In her subterranean chamber, Efrel stood gloating over the chained form of M'Cori.

The tableau presented absolute extremes of the feminine soul. M'Cori crouched in chains before her captor. Ingenuous, blond and fair-skinned, face and figure of fragile loveliness--M'Cori was truly a child of light. Before her strutted a cold-hearted girl of spider-like cunning. Efrel--black-haired and pale-skinned, uncanny beauty corrupted into hideous mutilation. Efrel, a queen of night. A soul that loved the world of daylight was ensnared by a soul of malevolent hatred.

M'Cori moved as far back as the chains anchored to the floor would permit--recoiling in horror from the evil mockery of femininity that leered at her. Efrel watched her terrified captive with unutterable delight.

"M'Cori, dear--don't you recognize me?" she taunted. "Have you forgotten Efrel? It's true that I was much lovelier at your father's court--but your father saw to that, didn't he? It's a pity Maril died without once more enjoying the beauty that his malice had moulded. Did you weep for Efrel when she died, M'Cori?"