This post is chapter fifty-one of my not-previously-published epic fantasy novel Broken Rule, which I'm serializing here on Steemit.
The story so far:
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50
In Lorne's opinion, the second invasion of Kubara had been far preferable to the first. Everyone seemed to have forgotten that Lorne was convalescing in the tiny attic room of the house that had served as Benedek's temporary palace. The healers and servants stopped coming by, so Lorne was forced to get out of bed and get food from the kitchen himself. He was still hurt and bruised in places, but nowhere near as badly as he had been after his fall at Thornwood. By comparison, it was quite relaxing, although he was at a loss as to what to do with all of his free time.
He was slicing some bacon to prepare for breakfast when he heard a voice behind him. “You're a hard man to find, Lorne Barrowman.”
He turned, and was shocked to see a familiar face. “Faber? What are you doing here?”
“The Heart of the Black Circle dispatched me here when we learned that you had trouble with your mission. We felt that waiting for messages to travel back and forth from Old Harbor would be too slow. I'm here to represent the Heart so we can see and act more quickly and effectively, and hopefully it's not too late for that.”
Finally, a chance to resolve the issue that had been hanging over Lorne's head. “I failed in my mission at Thornwood. Furthermore, when I encountered the target again, I revealed my identity to him, and once again failed to deliver the message. I await my punishment.”
“Lorne, we haven't got time for those trivialities. It's this new empress that's the problem. She could be a direct threat to Old Harbor.”
Trivialities? Failing his mission was trivial? Tarnishing the Black Circle's reputation for certainty and efficacy was trivial? Lorne didn't like what he was hearing, but it was not his place to question a member of the Heart. He wasn't Eyes, but he felt that he should contribute what he knew. “From what I've overheard, she intends to conquer the entire world.”
“That's what the Eyes said before they stopped filing reports. From what I've seen myself, she seems to have the army to do it. Everyone here seems fanatically loyal. I don't understand it, but we need to stop it.”
“I failed my last mission. When I attempted to act against the mad priest, I failed again. I am unreliable.”
“Whether you're unreliable or not, you're what I've got. This isn't Old Harbor, Lorne, and it would take weeks for anyone else to get here, even if we could get a message back. The two of us are the only representatives of the Black Circle here. We don't have the luxury of choice. We're the best men for the job, even if we should want better. It's been decades since I've acted as the Hand. Do you think I'm likely to be any better than you?”
“It's not for me to judge.”
“Then quit complaining and get with it.”
Lorne smiled, remembering his last meeting with Faber, when life seemed to hold so much more promise. “You said I was allowed to complain, so long as I did what was necessary.”
Faber smiled, too. “So I did. You probably won't find this part so amusing.” He produced one of the Liatian branding irons. “Heat up the stove.”
With their brands in place, everyone in Kubara assumed that Lorne and Faber were fellow loyal subjects of Empress Danijela. They had to do a few things to keep up appearances, of course. Attendance was mandatory at the huge gatherings to worship the demon-goddess that took place every day at sunrise, although the newly formed clergy still seemed to be finding their way. Some days they would gather to sing old hymns that simply had the Most Holy's name excised in favor of Natasza's, other days they would have blood sacrifices, and on others they would witness people subjecting themselves to grueling physical ordeals intended to demonstrate devotion to their new deity. Lorne had to struggle to keep his composure when his old friend Bishop Vasili led the services. The old man would shout himself hoarse informing the assembled masses about their moral duty to crush anyone that opposed the Liatian empire, and that the entire world must be forced to worship the demon-goddess.
In contrast to the chaos of the new religion, the military operations of the Liatian Empire moved like clockwork. The construction of the central temple proceeded at a blistering pace, and huge forges and foundries had been built throughout the city to turn anything and everything into weapons of war. The market squares that had been the hallmark of the city for thousands of years had been turned into training grounds where the empress's legions drilled day and night. Soon the armies would be dispatched to add to Danijela's empire.
The greatest risk to Lorne and Faber's disguises would be openly disobeying an order. To those who received their brands after being inducted into the new order the conventional way, disobedience was the gravest crime. The most minor infraction would be treated with scorn and shunning, and outright disobedience was a quick route to mob justice. Both Lorne and Faber had affected disabilities to avoid being inducted into the fighting or laboring classes. Faber, the better actor of the two, feigned blindness. Lorne claimed to have suffered a leg injury that prevented him from bending his knee. He bound his right leg with bandages and splints under his pants so that he would never accidentally reveal the truth and be caught in the lie.
Faber had been working hard to concoct a plan that would allow them to assassinate the empress, but her unconventional rule made things difficult. On one hand, she maintained almost absolute privacy, hidden away in a large mansion behind dozens and dozens of guards. On the other hand, she ate the same food as any other citizen, prepared at the large community kitchens that had been set up to serve the newly minted soldiers on the training fields and the workers who were constructing the palace or producing arms for the legions. Security was too tight to get a knife into her back, and her food was so anonymous that it was impossible to introduce poison into it.
The only time she was predictably alone was while she prepared herself for her daily speech to new arrivals to the city. Squads of armed men had been dispatched to the farms, villages, and towns in the surrounding countryside to bring the commoners to the city to be inducted as subjects of the empire. She would speak, the people would feel the power of the demon-goddess Natasza, and they would be branded and given orders by the overseers. Unfortunately, Lorne and Faber were limited in their ability to observe her there, for fear of being subjected to whatever was turning people into her devoted followers.
Faber determined that their best opportunity to strike would be the day the new temple was put into use. Built on the site of the old palace, the new structure was dominated by a huge amphitheater, large enough for thousands to be addressed by the empress or preached to by the band of priests that had put themselves forward as the arbiters of Natasza's will. The empress or the priests would speak from a large balcony, which connected to the part of the temple that served as Danijela's palace. Construction was far enough along that the empress was nearly ready to move in. It would take time for the guards to establish new routines when she did, a time of disarray and confusion that could be exploited. It would be their best chance to act, perhaps their only chance.
After several nights of amateur tailoring, Faber had managed to create uniforms for himself and Lorne. There would be an influx of new guards from other areas of the city when the new part of the temple was open. Wearing their counterfeit uniforms and dropping the pretense of their disabilities, Faber and Lorne could easily pass as soldiers. Lorne worried that the officers in charge of temple security would be suspicious when two extra men showed up, but Faber assured him that few men in history had ever lamented having too many men under their command. Furthermore, Faber produced a rather convincing forged letter vouching for their identity, should they come under any scrutiny. Lorne marveled at Faber's skill and ingenuity. He must have been an especially effective Hand before he had been elevated to the Heart of the Black Circle.
Faber had been correct in his assessment of how the guards would treat them. Furthermore, Faber was quick to offer several suggestions that would substantially increase security, although he was careful not to give anyone any ideas which might impede the plan. With his new ideas, natural charisma, and confident, authoritative voice, Faber became quite popular among the guards in less than a week. On the day of the temple opening, Danijela's door guards didn't even think to question Faber when he told them that they had been reassigned and that he and Lorne would take over their duty. Once they were out of earshot, Faber opened the door to Danijela's private chamber and ushered Lorne inside. Lorne's heart started beating furiously. If anything was going to go wrong, now was the time.
In her opulently decorated chamber, Danijela sat on an ornate stool in front of a large mirror, brushing her hair. She startled when Faber and Lorne entered, but Faber said, “We'll escort you to address the people in five minutes, Empress.”
Reassured, she turned back to her mirror to continue brushing, but Lorne had begun creeping up on her the moment she took her attention off of him. From behind he clamped his left hand over Danijela's mouth and sunk his knife into her back. He pulled it out and plunged it in again and again. Preparing for this moment for days, he had given the blade a wickedly sharp edge and felt little resistance as it went in. She struggled for a moment, but then fell limp. Lorne let her fall to the floor. Faber smiled at him from across the room, but something else caught Lorne's eye. The air seemed to twist and warp and there was another woman standing in the room where none had been before. Lorne blinked rapidly, suspecting that something had gone wrong with his eyes. The woman's appearance seemed to change from moment to moment. Her hair, her dress, the shape of her body, and even her face seemed to be as inconstant as quicksilver.
“What have you done?” the shapeshifting woman asked, seemingly out of genuine confusion. Lorne's mind raced. Another woman in the room wasn't part of the plan. The empress was supposed to be alone. But did it matter? For the first time since he had come to Tarkannan, the target had suffered exactly the fate he had intended. It was foolish to be distracted now. Whether there was another woman or not wouldn't matter to his escape.
Natasza looked at Faber and cocked her head in consternation. Then a smile of understanding spread across her face. “Very amusing. You have altered your appearance in order to act against me. Only loyal subjects are supposed to have that brand. Bold, but ultimately useless.” She changed her form as she spoke, and the woman who finished the sentence was a perfect copy of Danijela from the timbre of her voice to the way she held her body. Something had changed in Faber as well. He dropped to his knees and began sobbing an apology. Magic. It was the only explanation. And if it could take Faber so quickly and easily, Lorne had no expectation that he would be able to hold out against it any longer. He needed to get out.
The woman hadn't screamed or called out. She was speaking in a normal voice, concentrating on Faber. No guards would be rushing to her rescue. The original escape plan was still sound. Lorne sprinted through the door, down the hall, and around a corner as quickly as he could. No matter what magic this woman wielded, she couldn't follow Lorne if she couldn't see where he went.
Lorne ripped off his false uniform and revealed the rough work tunic underneath. He stashed his disguise in an alcove that he and Faber had scouted previously and grabbed the broom they had stashed there. Affecting his limp once again, Lorne moved through the palace corridors with maddening slowness, sweeping as he went. With a combination of inward determination and outward apathy, he made his way down to the ground floor of the palace and out the servant's exit, without a question or second glance from anyone.
That night, Lorne went down to the river docks. He travelled covertly, periodically ducking into alleyways or doubling back on himself in order to avoid any pursuit, but no one seemed to be looking for him. He quietly untethered a small rowboat and pushed himself out into the river. He still knew next to nothing about traveling on the water, but he knew that the current would take him away from Kubara, and that was where he needed to be.
He had finally executed a mission flawlessly, but the situation seemed more dire than ever. The Liatian Empire was a threat to Old Harbor, Faber had been right about that, but Lorne and Faber's actions had done nothing to reduce that threat. How could he possibly proceed? Killing the first Danijela had been difficult, and this new one had magical powers. And if what he had seen while he was fleeing was any indication, she likely had ensnared Faber in whatever spell made her subjects so unquestioningly loyal. Faber knew all the tricks, and Lorne had no idea how he would be able to outwit him. With these dark thoughts for company, Lorne floated down the Redwater River to whatever lay downstream.