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Empire of Night Ch44
Serra stretched, reaching back to rub between her shoulders. Learning to shoot had been fun, but standing out in the cold hadn’t helped muscles stiff from long hours stooped over books.
“Struggling?” Jelese teased, shoving her.
Serra jabbed her sister with an elbow, glaring. “I’ll get by.”
“I hope so,” Hili said. “How would your man get along without you?”
“Stop that,” Mama snapped, glaring over her shoulder at them. “All of you. You’re not children anymore, or I thought you weren’t anyway.”
“Sorry, mama,” Jelese said.
“Sorry,” Hili agreed.
Serra sighed. “I’m sorry, mama.”
“Well,” their mother said. “Stop being sorry and start being better.”
“Yes, Mama,” they said in chorus, nodding.
“I’m glad we’ve got that out of the way,” Mama said. “On to more important business. I must say, I’m unconvinced by these Dyrantoro weapons.”
“They’re certainly easy to use,” Hili said.
“Ease of use won’t matter if they can’t kill a woman,” Jelese laughed.
“I’ve seen them employed on women,” Sera said. “They are frightfully effective.”
“If you say so,” Jelese said doubtfully. “I’d feel better with saber in hand.”
Serra sighed; she wouldn’t convince them. They would just have to see for themselves.
“They’re loud enough,” Hili complained, rubbing her ears. “My ears are still ringing.”
Jelese nodded. “Yes, do you know why Dyrantoro weapons cause such a cacophony?”
“I’m not sure,” Serra admitted. “I think Alex would be the better person to ask; he’s more familiar with the concepts than I am.”
“Asking a man to explain the function and use of weapons. What is the world coming to?” Jelese said, shaking her head.
“What do you mean by that?” Serra demanded, stopping and rounding on her sister.
Jelese took a surprised step backward and, as she regained her feet, fixed Serra with a glare. “Just what I said,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s a terribly unorthodox state of affairs.”
Serra’s jaw clenched, and her fists followed. She stepped toward her sister but was stopped by her mother’s hand clapping down on her shoulder. The older woman stepped around her, glaring at Jelese.
“If you were making such insinuations about my man, we wouldn’t be having an argument,” she said.
Jelese hung her head and turned to Serra. “I’m sorry, I was out of line.”
Serra sighed, uncurling her fists. “You’re forgiven; I hope you’ll give him the chance to impress you.”
“I suppose I’ll have to.”
She nodded. “Alright, Mama, why don’t we-”
“Serra!” She turned and saw Iiandere approaching from the palace.
She took a breath, bracing for trouble, but there was nothing for it. “Inquisitor, how may I help you?”
Iiandere stopped two paces away, nodding. “You remember the badge you identified for me?”
“I do,” Serra said, nodding.
“The lady you identified keeps her land just outside the capitol. I’m planning a raid, and I’d like your help.”
She pursed her lips, flicking her ears. “You’re expecting resistance then? You don’t think they’ll have fled?”
“Our assassin was insistent that her lady had nothing to do with it,” Iiandere said. “Not that her word means much, but it’s possible she’s telling the truth. Even if she isn’t, the capitol is closed; it’s likely word hasn’t spread that far yet.”
Serra nodded; it seemed to her they were as likely to storm an empty manor, but regardless, she would help if she could. “What do you need?”
“Your sword arm, for one. And your contacts, for another. The inquisition is busy assisting in enforcing her Magnificence’s dictates. I need to raise a force to assist me.”
Serra hummed to herself. “I see, Mama?”
“I can secure some women, but if we’re expecting a concerted resistance, entrenched within a walled manor, it won’t be enough,” Mama said.
“Perhaps we could employ Dyrantoro weapnry,” Jelese laughed.
“That’s a good idea,” Serra said. “Iiandere, perhaps we could ask Alex? He and Lisril are the only fighters we have who are familiar with Dyrantoro weapons, but I’m sure they would have an outsized impact.”
She frowned, shaking her head. “I suppose I can’t be too picky.”
“He’s probably still cleaning up; we can catch him if we hurry.”
They turned around, and she led the group back to Alex’s little firing range. As she’d expected, he and Lisril were still there, packing the material back into its cases.
“Lisril,” Serra called. “Alex.”
They looked up and stood, turning to face Serra and her group as they approached. “What’s up?” Alex asked, glancing around the group. “Where’s the party?”
Serra looked to Iiandere, and she flicked her ears. “Go on; it was your idea.”
“Alright,” Serra nodded. “Alex, we’re planning a raid in relation to Iiandere’s investigation, but we’re concerned about our ability to raise a force sufficient to the task. I’m sorry to ask you, but would you and Lisril be willing to lend us your experience with Dyrantoro weaponry?”
He glanced at Lisril, shrugging. “I’m willing.”
“Of course you are,” Lisril sighed, shaking her head.
“So,” Alex said. “What are we looking at?”
“A lady’s manorhouse,” Mama said. “A walled, armed encampment. Not a castle, but more than a match for a small force.”
He scratched his cheek, humming to himself. “I think I’ve got what we need; if you can arrange some carts to transport it.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Iiandere said. “Let’s hope you can live up to your boasts.”
He shrugged and turned to Lisril. “Help me get what I need together.”
------
Taaraiin Faragal rode beside the inquisitor at the head of their group. She’d gathered a hundred or so women to their cause, a token force, but each one a hardened warrior.
They were her friends from amongst the nobility, doughty and loyal, both to herself and the empress. She glanced at the inquisitor and then over her shoulder at her daughter, riding with Lisril and their fiancée. Alex was dressed in strange, human armor, which hugged his skin, and was somehow worse than the immodesty of his usual clothes, with a Dyrantoro weapon slung over his shoulder. Beyond them, at the back of the procession, a series of carts containing whatever it was Alex believed he needed to breach the compound.
“What’s your impression of him?”
Iiandere barely reacted to her question. “Lisril thinks he’s reliable, so he’ll get us results.”
Taaraiin waited, but it seemed that was all the inquisitor was interested in saying.
They rode on in silence until they came to a hill; riding up, the manor house came into view as they crested the mound. Iiandere pulled up on her reigns, bringing the group to a stop at her back.
“Lady Faragal, we’ll take two volunteers and ride to parlay. Hopefully, we won’t need to fight,” she said.
Taaraiin nodded and opened her mouth, thinking to call Serra. But she stopped herself. Her daughter was young and soon to be wed. It would be a crime to expose her to danger before she even exchanged her nuptials.
On the other hand, Taaraiin could hardly pass her over in favor of her sisters in front of her fiancé, no less.
“Lady Siele, Hette,” she called. “The inquisitor and I would be honored for you to join us in making parlay.”
The women road forward to join them.
“Very well,” Lady Siele, an aged but hard and stout woman, said. “Perhaps wisdom will win the day.”
“I doubt it,” Hette said, looking down on the manor.
“You know something I don’t?” Iiandere asked.
Lady Hette grunted. “That’s the manor of Lady Farsath; she’s proud and quick-tempered. Our presence will incense her.”
“We ought to try anyway,” Taaraiin said.
“Aye,” Iiandere nodded. “Who knows, reason may yet bear fruit.”
The inquisitor urged her horse into a trot and led the three of them down the hill toward the manor’s gates.
They stopped some hundred paces away, looking up toward the guard peering at them from over the gate. “Who goes there?” The woman cried. “Why have you brought that band on the hill with you?”
“We represent her Magnificence’s holy inquisition,” Iiandere cried. “We’ve come to speak with the lady of the manor.”
The woman turned, apparently to speak to someone they couldn’t see, before returning her attention back to them. “Wait there.”
They did, and presently a new woman poked her head up over the wall. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded.
Iiandere fished in her doublet, withdrawing an emblem of silver inlaid into an ivory backing. “This badge was found on the person of an assassin who attempted to murder the Empress. By order of the inquisition, I must demand you surrender yourself for questioning.”
The angry flush of the woman’s face was visible all the way from the ground. “I am a loyal servant of the empire and a member of parliament! How dare you ride up to my property like a common bandit and proceed to levy baseless accusations and issue demands?”
“Madam, resisting will only make things worse for you. If you are innocent as you say, surrender peaceably and clear your name,” Iiandere said.
“And allow the inquisition to drag my family name through the mud? I think not. If you want me to surrender, go to parliament and see if they’ll issue a warrant. Now begone, trouble my household no more.” The woman spun about and disappeared from their sight.
Iiandere sighed, shaking her head. “Then we take her by force.”
Taaraiin nodded, pulling up on her reigns and turning to ride back up the hill. Alex and Lisril met them as they returned. “I hope you can deliver on your boasts,” Iiandere said.
Alex looked past them, down at the manor house. “It won’t be a problem, Lisril; help me get it set up.”
The pink-skinned woman nodded slowly. “Are you sure this is necessary?”
He frowned, tilting his head. “How many are we expecting?”
“At least twenty,” Taaraiin supplied. “Perhaps as many as fifty or sixty.”
He turned to his wife. “Twenty would be bad enough if we were all properly armed, but….”
“Alright,” Lisril sighed. “Perhaps this can serve as a practical demonstration.”
He dismounted and, with the assistance of Lisril, gathered up the women to unload the carts. Taaraiin sighed, climbing down herself as the man went about his work. She wondered what he could possibly have in those crates that would allow them to overwhelm a manned and fortified position. But Lisril was a hero of the war and, even at her tender age, a deservedly respected cavalry commander, and she seemed to have faith.
The least Taaraiin could do was wait and see.
The women hauled the crates down to the ground and their contents out into the air. Indecipherable metal sheets twisted into the strangest of shapes. Alex directed them, and the women arranged the iron mongery as he instructed.
“Lisril,” he said. “Make sure they put it together correctly.”
She nodded, and Alex clapped her shoulder before turning to another crate, opening it up, and rummaging through its contents.
Taaraiin strolled up to Lisril as she directed the construction of the- whatever it was. “This- thing? How does it help us? What is it?”
Lisril glanced at her and sniffed. “Patience is a virtue, Ma’am.”
“And I shall endeavor to be patient. But that still leaves my question, what is this?”
“You won’t understand if I told you,” Lisril said. “But if you insist. It’s a ground attack fixed-wing drone with VTOL capabilities.”
Taaraiin stared; she did, indeed, not understand.
“Lisril!” Alex chose that moment to return. He tossed something to his wife, who caught it, and turned it over in her hands.
She shook her head. “Have you gone mad?”
“I didn’t think we were expecting noncombatants.”
She huffed a sigh shaking her head. “Talk to Iiandere.”
He threw up his arms and walked away, leaving them alone again.
“Your man seems somewhat disobedient,” Taaraiin commented.
Lisril glared at her. “Is he?” she demanded. “Well, perhaps a woman who comes crawling to a man to fight her battles for her should bite her tongue, before it gets cut out.”
“Are you calling me craven?” Taaraiin demanded, squaring up to the younger woman.
Lisril drew herself up, meeting Taaraiin’s eyes evenly. “Perhaps, I’m certainly calling you ungrateful.”
“Mama! Lisril!” Serra rushed up to them, laying a hand on each of their chests. “Why are you at each other's throats when we have an enemy hardly more than a thousand paces away?”
Taaraiin sighed, shaking her head. “You’re right.” She turned to Lisril, placing a hand over her heart. “I’m sorry, that was out of line.”
“Apology accepted,” Lisril nodded. “I should have been more prudent, also.”
Taaraiin turned back to the women assembling the Dyrantoro device. “You seem hesitant, unsure.”
“You would be, too, if you understood what we were about to unleash.”
Alex returned, putting a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “It’s fine; the alternative is getting us killed trying to break down the gate.”
She turned, kissing him. “I know you’re right, but they don’t understand. What did Iiandere say?”
“We’ll smoke them out into the open and then hit them in the courtyard. Once I’m out, you’ll crack the wall open, and we’ll go in.”
“Alright, seems sound,” Lisril said. “We’ll be ready for you soon.”
“Thanks, love you, Kitten.”
She caressed his cheek, smiling. “And I, you, Angel; I’m sorry I was short with you.”
“I’m sorry too; I shouldn’t have argued. Let’s get this done and go home.”
“I like the sound of that; go ahead and load it up,” Lisril said, handing him back the little cylinder she’d taken from him earlier.
He nodded, dragging a smaller crate over to them and loading more cylinders through a chute at the top as the women finished assembling his weapon.
Taaraiin surveyed the strange device, long and thin, with four protrusions stretching to the sides, two near the middle and two more at the back with a wide circular insert of many blades between each.
She had difficulty understanding how this tangle of metal was meant to help them. But at least she would soon know.
He backed away from his work, turning to Lisril. “We ready?”
She nodded, herding the women back and away from the device, and as they watched, the blades began to spin, lifting it straight into the air.
Taaraiin blinked, not quite believing what she was seeing. As she observed, the Dyrantoro weapon hovered in the air before them. Then, she detected an at first quiet sound of rushing air, and as it built in volume, a high-pitched squealing joined the cacophony.
She flattened her ears against the noise, watching the device at first creep forward and then shoot off all at once.
She whipped her head after the weapon, scanning the sky, and finally spotted it again, wheeling above the manor at incredible speed.
From this distance, it looked almost like an enormous bird of prey, except that no animal could move with such speed.
Presently, a cluster of shadows dropped from the device; she presumed those he’d loaded previously. As they landed on the building, plumes of smoke began to rise from the premises.
Taaraiin’s eyes widened as she realized what the earlier argument between them had meant. He’d put the manor to the torch, only they hadn’t even attempted to breach the walls.
The Dyrantoro weapon flew over their heads and turned, passing over the manor again, the smoke intensifying as it attacked a second time. Finally, the device roared overhead one last time before settling into a wide circle over the estate.
She watched more small silhouettes drop from the weapon, but this time, instead of smoke, she was met with the sound of thunder rolling across the countryside.
This went on for a minute or more before Alex stood. “I’m out; crack her open,” he said, turning to Lisril.
It drew Taaraiin’s attention from the burning manor, and she saw the woman holding what must have been a weapon, a long cylindrical- thing that she held atop her shoulder.
“Clear the area,” Lisril said, pointing.
The women gathered where she indicated, and once they were clear, the device gave a great belch of fire from its rear, and a few moments later, a great ball of flame consumed a section of the manor’s curtain wall, leaving behind a hole lit up by the conflagration within.
Taaraiin stared, hardly believing her eyes; not a woman spoke, stunned, all, then, Lisril gave a cry.
“Alex!”
Taaraiin looked and saw the man sprinting alone down the hill toward the breach. Lisril took off after him, and Taarraiin swore and rushed off after them herself.
They ought to have attacked as a unit, but what could she expect from a man?
They caught up to him quickly.
“Alex!” Lisril barked.
He glanced at his wife. “Stick close,” he said. “We’ll cover each other; the rest of you should guard our exit.”
Taaraiin opened her mouth to protest; two against Lady only knew how many defenders? It was madness. But before she could speak, a handful of women filled the gap in the wall, swords in hand.
Alex, however, didn’t even break stride. Instead, he lifted his weapon and, in a few short seconds, rendered what had been three women into a bloody pulp.
Taaraiin drew up short, but Alex ran onward, bursting through the hole and firing upon someone she couldn’t see.
As the other women overtook her, she shook herself free of her hesitation and charged through the gap. Bursting through into the courtyard.
She was greeted by a scene that seemed pulled directly from hell.
Smoke hung heavy in the air, the manorhouse consumed by a roaring fire. The screams of the dying filled her ears, and now that she was within the walls, her nose detected the acrid scent of burning flesh.
The destruction was horrendous; the earth itself pocked and pitted. She stepped forward, and her foot sank into what had once been a woman.
The pile of meat only recognizable as a person by the legs splayed out beneath it.
She ignored the gore, squinting through the smoke, and spotted Lisril, shoulder to shoulder with her husband, his silhouette towering over hers.
They had many women on the ground, and Lisril shouted something, her words indistinct against the roar of the conflagration.
Another voice joined hers, and Taaraiin cast about, spotting a group on the manor's doorstep, perhaps having sheltered inside, betting upon the flames rather than the mercies of the Dyrantoro weapon still wheeling above them.
They each held a crossbow, aim fixed on the pair, the lady of the manor at their head. She shouted again, too far for Taaraiin to hear what was said, but Alex turned and pointed up into the air.
Lady Farasath shouted again, but as she raised her bow to eye level, the sound of the Dyrantoro flying machine began to grow in volume.
Taaraiin looked up and saw the machine plunging toward the ground; turning her attention back to the manor, she watched the women scramble away, throwing themselves to the dirt as the weapon smashed into two of them who had been too slow.
Alex broke from Lisril, weapon trained on the women; one tried to stand and was torn to shreds in an instant.
She and the rest of their party stood stunned. But then, Lisril waved them over, pointing at the women at her feet and shouting against the flames.
Taaraiin steadied herself; there was yet work to be done, and she urged her fellows into action.
They bound the women hand and foot, laying them in a line outside the wall.
Then Taaraiin went looking for the inquisitor, who she found in the courtyard, staring at the burning manor. The younger woman shook her head. “This was a mistake, perhaps not asking for the help, but doing it this way.”
“We mitigated the risk to our women,” Taaraiin said.
“But what good is a pile of ash to my investigation?”
“We captured some of the women and the lady of the house,” it was hollow, Taaraiin knew. The real problem wasn’t the loss of information. “You couldn’t have known.”
Iiandere heaved a rib-creaking sigh. “There should be a well, buckets,” she said. “We need to contain this fire; perhaps we can save something.”
Taaraiin nodded. “I’ll organize the women; why don’t you check on the young couple?”
