Now, fair warning: I am taking some liberties (again, I know) with certain characters. But I do need someone to be unpleasant... to put it mildly...

I'm also going to be inserting a few more OCs who don't appear in the series, so if any names are new to you, assume that I made them up. Just thought I'd give fair warning to avoid lots of questions.

Also, a certain section of this chapter may be unsettling to read. It's an interrogation. I've tried to avoid making it too overt. If you want to gloss over it, I'll understand.


Chapter Eleven

The Conspiracy in Motion

'The number of deaths in the slums is... troubling, your Divine Majesty. Disease is running rampant.'

Viceroy Kashurra observed the self-proclaimed God Emperor as the Senator spoke. It shouldn't have been the Senator's job to report such things, but Shabarra couldn't have cared less about the slums.

Kashurra's thoughts briefly drifted to Marci. If she had been here, she would have been incandescent with rage at what Shabarra had allowed to happen in the slums she had once called home.

Come to think of it, that would not have been the only thing which would have enraged her.

Outside, the sun was beginning to set. The light was rendered into multi-hued beams of gentle, soothing warmth by the stained glass windows rising behind the Solar Throne.

Nobody in this room was soothed, or paying any attention to the beauty of the stained glass.

Shabarra stroked the thin, neatly trimmed beard which adorned his face. He seemed to be bored. No, he was bored. 'Why is this relevant, Senator?'

The Senator gulped visibly. 'Divine Majesty, the slum-dwellers are blaming you.'

Shabarra turned his head slowly to Callardis, the Captain of his Sun Guard. 'Have the guards keep an eye on the slums, but tell them to keep their distance. I don't want to waste money training new recruits because our current guards have caught some sort of pox.'

'As you command, Majesty.' Callardis acknowledged.

'Disease in the slums means one thing: there are too many bodies down there, unwashed and unneeded here.' Shabarra announced. 'That can be remedied easily, in such a way that benefits us.'

'Your Majesty?' The Senator gulped again. Only last week, Shabarra had ordered one of his fellows executed for treason. The man's head was still stuck on a spike above the city gates, looking into the sun until it rotted away. 'The... the people of the slums are already angered by the actions of the slavers. Perhaps it would be better to...' his voice trailed away into silence as Shabarra fixed him with a narrow stare.

Shabarra was, as rulers went, weak. His rule was enforced by fear and loyalty—not that Kashurra saw it as true loyalty—was secured with gold and favours. If you supported Shabarra, you found yourself in a position of power, tenuous as it might be, with wealth and luxury at your fingertips. If you did not support him, you would be neglected.

And if you opposed him, you would be lucky to see the next sunrise with living eyes.

Fear had kept Shabarra on the Solar Throne. His ties to the royal family and therefore his supposed divinity had helped in the beginning, but Kashurra knew that sitting on a throne held with fear was like sitting on a chair made of sand. It was only a matter of time before it collapsed, and Shabarra had done a poor job of reinforcing his chair.

Fear bred anger. The people were growing angry with Shabarra. In response, he punished those who stepped out of line more harshly in an attempt to control them. But this just made them hate him. The poor especially loathed him.

It would only be a matter of time before that chair of sand crumbled, especially now. The tide was rising to claim Shabarra, and without help he would be swept away and swallowed by a sea of wrath and loathing. Yes, Shabarra had the support of many of the noble houses. But the less fortunate who made up the majority despised him. Even the minor houses were turning against him, and more than a few of the higher houses disagreed with his policies. He was unintentionally marshalling the army which would tear him down. The sea was growing stormier every day.

'Your Divine Majesty,' Kashurra spoke quietly but confidently. 'Perhaps it would be better not to send the slavers back into the slums for the time being.'

'What makes you say that, Viceroy?' Shabarra inquired. 'If we remove some bodies, they won't be stricken with plague. Therefore, fewer people will die. Well, at least fewer people in this city will die.'

'Indeed. But you would be asking the slavers to risk exposure to the plague. And if any slaves they sell die or infect their buyers, the slavers will lose money. They already provide this city with a generous amount of gold due to their trade, gold you will need to bolster your armies and defences.'

Though he did not see the same threat Kashurra did, Shabarra saw the wisdom in the logic. A larger army with good pay would surely stand and defend him from the dirty, ignorant masses if they dared to rise up.

Kashurra did nothing to clear this thought from the God-Emperor's mind. Let him think that his own people were his enemy. His paranoia played right into the Viceroy's hands.

The Imperium needed an army, just not in response to the threat Shabarra saw.

Shabarra continued to stroke the beard around his pale face. 'You're right, Viceroy. There are other cities the slavers can visit for trade.'

One of the first things Shabarra had done when he had taken the throne was allow the various slaving companies to re-enter the Imperium. It had ostensibly been done to bolster the economy, which had been wallowing prior to the coup. The poor had not liked it, being the target of the slavers from the start, but the Houses, minor and great, had not objected too strongly. The odd noble family had been against it, but they had been outweighed by the others in the Senate.

Shabarra had been allied with the slavers even before the coup. He had allowed them to raid villages and farms, covering the abductions with lies to protect them and himself, and they had provided the gold he had needed to bribe members of the Sun Guard and certain Senators, as well as hire mercenaries and assassins.

The coup had been ruthless and quick. But it had not been a complete success, for Princess Mirana had escaped in the chaos. Assisted by the utterly loyal Marci, she had slipped away and vanished.

Shabarra also considered it insulting that his cousin had died during the coup. He had dispatched him to capture Mirana and he had turned up dead, his ribcage smashed and his internal organs ruptured. The prevailing opinion was that he had run afoul of one of the still-loyal Sun Guard, who had probably attacked him with a mace.

Kashurra knew otherwise. The unlucky man had attacked Mirana, and Marci had defended her.

Shabarra nodded to Callardis, who banged the steel-shod butt of his long-handled labrys against the floor. 'Clear the room!'

The various Senators shuffled out until only a handful of men remained in the throne room, Kashurra among them. What they had to discuss was not permitted to leave the room. Even a whisper of their discussion could cost a man his tongue. Or his life.

'What news of the exile?' Shabarra directed this to his spymaster, Janulus—ruthless and cunning, it was his job to root out dissenters and potential rebels. Right now, he was Kashurra's biggest hurdle.

But at present, he was doing exactly what Kashurra needed him to do: look elsewhere, outside of Rasolir.

'Mirana was lured to Haupstadt, as promised. But she managed to escape Nikdo's trap.'

Shabarra scowled. 'How? Your elven contact assured us that Nikdo could deliver.'

'It's unclear, but according to my contacts within the Haupstadt Guard, Nikdo and his associates were all killed.'

'By a spoilt, pampered bitch?'

'Your Majesty, she was not alone.' Kashurra maintained his neutral expression as Janulus spoke. 'According to Gwanwyn she was accompanied by a woman, a mute apparently.'

'That overly-devoted simpleton is still alive?' Shabarra leaned back, perplexed now. 'I thought she was killed during the escape.' His expression now turned sour as he looked to Kashurra. 'You said that she was dead and that Mirana would likely die in the wilderness without her.'

'I had every reason to believe that, your Majesty.' Kashurra spoke evenly and smoothly. He was a good liar, one of the very best. 'She was reported dead by the soldiers you sent after them. They must have been mistaken.'

The truth was that Kashurra had known all along that the Princess and her handmaiden had survived and escaped. Janulus was not as skilled a spymaster as he thought he was—a good thing.

'That still doesn't explain how Mirana escaped the trap.' Callardis said gruffly.

'It wasn't luck.' Janulus stated. 'My guess would be that she has not been idle in her exile. She must have learned to fight. Maybe her handmaiden did too.'

Shabarra grimaced. 'The mute was trained before she ran.'

'Your Majesty?'

'The Princess suggested it, and of course, her ever-loving soft-hearted fool of a father had to obey his brat's every whim.' Shabarra growled. 'I saw her go into the barracks now and then, but I never expected anything to come it. She was weak, small and stupid, a runt of a girl, nothing more than a slum-rat able to evoke a spot of sympathy from the weak-hearted.'

Kashurra said nothing. He knew otherwise. Marci had always had a knack for using her fists to solve problems. When Mirana had suggested giving Marci some proper training, Kashurra had convinced the Emperor of the benefits. The man had loved his daughter, it had not been difficult. Knowing that his beloved child would have some extra protection had eased his misgivings.

Prior to the coup, Marci's instructor had stopped training her. This was not because of a lack of skill. It was the opposite. He'd had nothing left to teach her, and she had surpassed him. He had assured Kashurra that she had become the best hand-to-hand combatant in the Imperium.

Kashurra had seen proof. For one last test, Marci's instructor had set up a five-on-one fight: Marci versus five elite Sun Guard in hand-to-hand combat. She had taken all five down in less than fifteen seconds.

Marci did not need a weapon to kill. Her skill coupled with her extraordinary strength had rendered the attempted trap in Haupstadt a foregone conclusion: Nikdo's idiotic, undisciplined thugs had never stood a chance.

'My men are closing in on Gwanwyn as we speak, your Majesty.' Janulus assured Shabarra. 'He survived, and my men will question him and pick up the trail.'

'They had better.' Shabarra muttered darkly. 'If the people of the Imperium realise that the Princess still lives, our enemies will grow bold. They will rally around her and rise up.'

'I will ensure that does not happen, Divine Majesty.' Kashurra said firmly. 'If anybody speaks of the Princess, I will make sure that their words are dismissed as rumour.'

'And I will have dissenters quietly silenced.' Janulus added.

'Just deal with the Princess, Janulus.' Shabarra turned a fierce glower on his spymaster. 'Deal with her now, and make sure the solution is permanent. You are a good spymaster, Janulus, but nobody is irreplaceable.'

Janulus gave no outwards sign of fear other than a slight twitch. He knew to treat Shabarra like a shark. If he scented blood in the water, he would attack. 'It will be done, Divine Majesty.'

'If there are any witnesses, make sure they are dealt with too.'

'Of course, your Majesty.'

Kashurra was gambling that Mirana and Marci could protect themselves against Janulus' pet assassins. He had neglected to mention the rumours he had heard: a Dragon Knight had apparently joined them, though some said that the man was actually a monstrous creature of some kind.

Not what Kashurra had anticipated, but it worked in his favour. His plans were still in motion, rolling inexorably towards their completion.

It was only a matter of time.


'We cannot depose Shabarra! Not without greater support!'

'The Senate will not act. They're too scared of the man, and for good reason. A Senator gets hauled off to the cells or executed every month.'

'If we can get the army on our side—'

'And how would that look? Using soldiers to take Shabarra down by force?'

'We'd be seen as heroes!'

'No! We'd be just like him!'

'If we leave the Imperium leaderless it will be torn apart, within and without!'

She had reached the end of her tether. With a bright flare in her eyes and a burst of flame around her hands, Lina slammed her fists down on the table. Everybody turned to stare at her, some fearful, others indignant. Lina eyed each of them with her sunrise-hued eyes, still aglow with fiery power. Her clenched fists were starting to singe the table.

'I take it you have something to say, Lina?' Gavenus remarked, smiling gratefully at her. He seemed more at ease here, and perhaps rightly so. This richly appointed house was his home.

'Do I really have to tell you that this squabbling is getting us nowhere?' Lina grated. 'We need a plan, not an argument. We have been meeting for months and in all that time we have agreed on nothing!'

One of her co-conspirators scoffed. 'If you had your way, you'd burn the palace down!'

'At least something would get resolved!'

'You'll have to forgive Lina,' Gavenus stood and held up his hands placatingly. 'Her heart is in the right place. But like many of our younger allies, she is keen to act rather than talk.' He smiled at her. 'And you'll have to forgive us, dear Lina. With the exception of Marsian and Turlenas, we're politicians. Arguing is what we do best. And unlike you, we are scared.' He nodded towards her hands. 'I am particularly scared at the moment. I'm scared that you're going to set fire to my table—a nice table, I might add—and end up burning down this house around our ears. Something would be done, but it wouldn't help the cause.'

Lina realised that she had now left two scorch marks where her fists had been resting. She removed her hands and tried to calm down. 'Sorry, Senator.' She ran a hand through her fire-red hair, feeling the heat in the strands even with her fingers still smouldering.

Gavenus patted her shoulder, smiling good-naturedly. 'I can get another one.'

He turned back to the others. They all looked wary. Gathering like this was a huge risk. One word in the wrong ear and the Rasolir Guard would come crashing in, haul them all off to the cells, and they would lose their heads after a speedy sham trial—and beheading would be their fate if Shabarra felt merciful.

'Lina is right. We need to agree on a plan.' Gavenus declared.

'I concur.' They all looked to the door. Viceroy Kashurra removed his cloak as he entered the room.

'Nice of you to join us, Viceroy.' Marsian muttered dryly. 'Punctuality is, as ever, your greatest quality.'

'There's no need for that, Marsian.' Gavenus sounded less friendly now. 'You know as well as the rest of us that the Viceroy must appear to be loyal to Shabarra, and that means being at his side when needed. Let us be grateful that he has been released in time to join us. Come, Kashurra, what do you have for us?'

Kashurra approached the table, unconcerned and unsurprised by the smoking scorches. 'I have a solution.' He waited, carefully choosing his moment to speak. 'We have everything we need.'

'You seem to think that this is a simple matter, Viceroy.' Turlenas said. 'If it was, I would have simply killed the Grand Legate and Callardis, and then assumed command of the legions and taken the palace by force.'

'It is simple.' Kashurra stated firmly. 'What we need is a figurehead. We need somebody for the people to rally behind. They will be our army.'

'Shabarra will call in the legions and slaughter them.' Gavernus disagreed.

'No, Kashurra is onto something.' Lina argued. 'Shabarra can call in the legions, yes, but he'll be asking them to turn their swords on their families. Most of the people of this city hate Shabarra, and so do the people of the other provinces. He only controls us through fear. If he asks the soldiers to kill civilians, people they know and love, the chances are that they will turn on him. He'll have dug his own grave.'

'But who are they supposed to follow?'

Kashurra turned his head. He looked Lina right in the eye.

'Me?' Now Lina felt a stirring of doubt.

'Yes. For a time.'

Lina's skin paled, almost matching the small white marks on her face. 'I'm not even part of the Senate.'

'You are somebody the people will follow. You are young, passionate, driven, and you have a good heart. Your power will embolden them, and your courage will inspire them.' Kashurra assured her. 'And as I said, it will only be for a short time.' He turned to regard the roomful of conspirators, looking each man and woman in the eye. 'There is hope for us all. There is hope for the Imperium. I have heard the news myself, and confirmed it personally.' He waited a beat before announcing: 'The true heir lives. Princess Mirana is alive.'


It was a good thing that Gwanwyn's hideaway was not in the city. The screaming would have given them away.

Kalin examined his nails as Gwanwyn wailed. He did not look up as another tooth clattered to the wooden floor of the cabin. 'You're not the sort to let potential profits go, my elven friend.'

Gwanwyn struggled to speak through a mouthful of blood. 'I've told you everything!'

'A fingernail this time.'

One of his men dutifully took hold of one of Gwanwyn's fingers. 'Any finger in particular, Kalin?'

Kalin scraped a little speck of dirt from under his ring finger with his thumbnail. 'Ring finger.'

He did not react to the screams as his man set about his horrific task. There was a certain art to torture. Push too little, and the subject would say nothing. Push too hard, and they would say anything to make the pain end.

Gwanwyn had already lost a few of his teeth and a couple of toenails. He should have broken sooner. Kalin could tell that the man was terrified, and it was not just him and his men who inspired fear in the elf.

'Let's start again,' Kalin rested a hand on one of his weapons: a flail with a flanged head. A difficult weapon to master, potentially more of a danger to its wielder than its target. But Kalin was an artist when it came to the brutal potential of the weapon. 'You arranged the trap. Nikdo took the Princess and her servant prisoner, you agreed to bring the Princess to the Imperium and leave the servant in Nikdo's incapable hands. And you claim that Nikdo and his inept hirelings were all killed in a scuffle.'

'Yes,' Gwanwyn sobbed. 'The mute. She killed them. With her bare hands.'

'She's trained in hand-to-hand combat?'

'I don't know! She just killed them!'

Kalin found it hard to believe, but he was no fool. People could be surprising.

'What next?'

'She said she'd kill me if I talked!'

'My friend, she is far away from this place. I am here. And I don't intend to kill you just yet. People don't seem to realise that sometimes there are things worse than death.' He slowly turned and approached Gwanwyn, who was strapped to a chair.

Gwanwyn recoiled as Kalin positioned his scarred face right in front of his, a mere inch away. He could smell the blood in Gwanwyn's mouth. 'Tell me where they went, Gwanwyn. You can keep delaying until all of your teeth, your nails, your fingers are gone. But there will still be ways to make you hurt.' He spoke quietly, his voice cold and low. 'What would you like us to finish with? Your balls or your eyes?'

Gwanwyn choked on a sob, accidentally spraying Kalin with bloody spittle. Kalin did not react. 'I sent them to a shopkeeper in Magpie's roost.' The bleeding, ragged gums in his mouth caused him to slur his speech.

Kalin had developed a sense for this sort of thing. He was good at wheedling and prying information out of people, especially the ones he had tortured. 'And?'

'I... one of my contacts followed them. They left the city, but came back and got involved in the massacre.' Gwanwyn gagged, carefully turned his head and spat out a gobbet of blood. 'They ran into the forest afterwards, with the dragon-hybrid.'

'And as I said, you're not the sort to let things go, so what happened next?'

Gwanwyn's face was wet with tears and blood. 'One of my contacts... he saw the Princess and her servant in a village. They were buying supplies.'

'Food?'

'Yes, and... and furs, cloaks, wool jerkins, firewood...'

'Items you'd take to survive in the cold.' Kalin murmured. He leaned back, the light receding from the long scars running across both eyes, down his cheeks and vanishing under his collar. 'They're crossing the Broken Peaks. I suppose we had better give chase, my friends. Pack everything up, we move now.' He made to turn away, but stopped as if he had just remembered something. 'One more thing, Gwanwyn.'

Gwanwyn sobbed. He knew what was coming.

Kalin drew a broad-bladed short sword from his belt and inspected the edge before bringing it to rest against Gwanwyn's throat. 'Nothing personal, my friend. Nothing personal.'

The city guard would have one hell of a mess to clean up. But that was not Kalin's problem.

The Princess was, and he doubted that anybody would be around to clean up that mess. Mirana and anybody with her would die.


'We're here.'

Dyfed peered into the valley. It was a beautiful place, bathed in the glow of afternoon sun, clumps of wild flowers glowing in its light, the air filled with sweet birdsong.

It was also empty. Conspicuously empty.

He glanced over at Fymryn, whose lively sapphire eyes were fixed on a spot further down the valley. That spot was also empty.

'Fymryn, there's nothing here.'

'There is.' Fymryn insisted. 'Look. Can't you see it? There's a tower right there.'

Adara and Idwal were adjusting their packs, both of them sweaty and tired. It had been a long journey to this place.

Fymryn had not said how she knew of it. They had all assumed that she had found it in one of the more obscure legends she loved to explore.

She had still not mentioned the stranger. She simply was not sure how to explain it.

Dyfed followed Fymryn down into the valley, still uncertain. He trusted her, but her obsessions were liable to cause trouble. Before now she had only suffered admonishment from the elders and a few frights from creeps.

She was starting to worry him. Yes, he trusted her. He loved her. But he was worried all the same. That day she had returned from the Nightsilver Woods had been the first time she had turned up injured, and he could tell that she was not telling the truth, not entirely.

But he loved her. He trusted her.

Fymryn took a deep breath as she stopped. Slowly, she reached into her bag and gently withdrew one of the sacred lotuses. 'We're here. You'll be home soon, Mene. I swear it.'

Dyfed gasped as it happened. Before their eyes, shimmering seemingly out of the air itself, stood an edifice which defied all of Dyfed's expectations.

A tower of stone black as night, tall, stern and forbidding, now stood before them. This had to be what they sought.

Fymryn must have been truly blessed by Mene to have found such an impossible place.


Here it was.

Still clad in the body of the cowardly and foolish Captain Frühling, Terrorblade stepped into the cavern.

The stench of death and decay did not bother him. Such things were the fear of mortals.

Terrorblade felt no fear, for he was fear.

The grim red light of the stone bathed the cavern in a sinister glow. The ambulatory corpses saw him and started hissing, moaning and slavering for meat. Torn clothing whispered, bloodied mail rustled and rusted plate clanked. Exposed bones tapped on the cavern floor.

Terrorblade's eyes remained fixed on the stone, but it held no sway over him. Even the un-dead shied away as he came nearer. Even the dead felt the instinct to avoid him, a power they could not hope to comprehend or overcome.

Terrorblade looked upon the Direstone and felt a smile tug at the face of his vessel. 'It's true then.' Slowly, he reached down and drew the longsword. 'Such a rare thing. Such a beautiful thing.' Unaffected by the Direstone's power, he brought the pommel of the sword to rest against the stone. 'Don't worry, hungry ones. I just need a piece. Just one.'


This probably all came about from watching Valkyrie once too often, and maybe a few Robin Hood based films. Sections with Kashurra and Lina won't be very frequent, my focus is still predominately with Davion, Marci and Mirana, and plotting a rebellion carefully will take time, since neither Kashurra nor Lina want to end up making an appointment with the executioner's blade...