III. The King on High
The stone floor held the same chill as the night itself, but the only movement was a forked tongue flicking out to taste the air.
She was a hunter of rats and a killer of men, and her patience was as cold as her blood. She tested the air again and felt the subtle vibrations of approaching footsteps. The door to the king's bedchamber opened soundlessly, and five shadows slipped inside.
Hood flaring, she reared up behind the would-be assassins, blocking their only exit. Tonight, she was more than a mere cobra; she was a protector of kings.
The dance of steel and scales that followed was quick, but not deadly.
Cassandra smiled through the darkness as her cobra subdued the intruders, dodging short swords and booted feet with equal alacrity, fangs snapping only inches away from fragile human flesh. Terrified, the men finally threw their weapons down.
The unmistakable sound of a sword leaving its sheath rang through the room, and a torch guttered to life.
"You have them?" Mathayus asked from beside the wall sconce. Neither he nor his sorceress had been asleep--instead, a pair of bolsters lay on the bed in their place, while the king and his consort waited in the shadowed corners.
The sorceress had foreseen the midnight attack, and the sacred guardian had come to her call. "My pet knows her business, my lord. She will not strike unless the traitors move."
The king glared at the intruders, all of whom wore the crimson trappings of the red guard. "Damned shame."
* * *
The entire court had been woken in the middle of the night, from the youngest pages to the captain of the palace guard. The five assassins were held, manacled, by men loyal to the new king.
Seated on the throne, Mathayus asked, "What does the law declare the penalty for treason to be?"
The king's sorceress answered him in a velvet voice. "Traitors are to be disemboweled alongside their wives and children, their heads displayed on pikes at the city walls."
Mathayus rose slowly, drawing his scimitar. He made his way down the steps to stand at Cassandra's side. "That is the old law. My law is kinder." At his nod, the guards pushed the traitors to their knees as the king came to stand before them. "Your families will be kept safe."
Five times, the sword rose, and five times it fell. When the king's justice was carried out, he passed the bloodied weapon to his captain, who cleaned it on one of the headless bodies' scarlet wraps before handing it back with a bow.
The throne room door thundered open.
Two armored guards entered, dragging a young man, cursing and spitting, into the king's presence. The boy couldn't be more than a few years older than the urchin who'd helped Mathayus take the throne, but it was to his credit that both guards wore black eyes, and at least one of the pair's noses looked broken.
"We found this lurking by your bedchamber, my lord." They shoved the boy in front of them.
The youth tried to stand, slipped on the bloody floor, then regained his footing. He stared at Mathayus with pure hatred in his eyes. "Give me a sword!" he demanded.
"Why?" the king asked.
"It is my right! You slew my brother, Akkadian. It is my right, by the law, to avenge him!"
"Who are you, boy?"
"I am Thomid. My brother was Thorak, once captain of the red guard. Trusted friend of Memnon, the true king of Gomorrah!"
Mathayus strode back to Cassandra. "Recite the prophecy, Sorceress."
She was pale, and she seemed to have shrunk in on herself. Her wide eyes couldn't seem to tear away from the corpses or the blood. "...My lord?"
"Recite!" he roared.
She blinked rapidly, as though driving away a terrible sight. Then, slowly, she began:
By tolling bell and thunder swell,
a flaming star falls from the sky.
By full moon's glow in house of Scorpio,
kneeling men bow to the king on high.
When she was done, the color had come back to her face, but her hands still shook.
"I am the true king." Mathayus' voice was low, but somehow carried throughout the entire, vast throne room. "The gods themselves have decreed it. The blood of the scorpion runs through my veins."
Thomid spat at his feet. "The scorpion is a bug that cannot decide whether to be a spider or a crab. Which are you, Scorpion King?"
The king nodded to the guard captain. The grizzled old warrior stepped forward and tossed his own sword to the young man. Thomid hefted the weapon, testing its balance and swing, and eyed Mathayus with anticipation.
"No..." It was just a whisper, but it, too, echoed around the chamber. Cassandra's eyes were focused far away.
"Sorceress?" Mathayus murmured. "What do you see?"
"I see blood," she replied. "The waters have all turned to blood. The sky is weeping crimson tears."
The king shook his head, frowning in confusion, but Cassandra fled from the throne room, from the blood and bodies, from the king's justice.