Book 7, Chapter 13: Having Stared Into The Abyss
Alone, out of the bath and more or less dry, wrapped in an annoyingly fluffy towel and sitting in front of the vanity, I hesitated. A mirror. I needed to look. But I couldn’t. I rarely gazed at myself, into myself, because . . . I couldn’t look into the face of the girl I’d stolen.
Before, that was before I knew that she’d died prior to me becoming. Not simply assuming this body, this girl, but becoming me. And with gods, portents, magic, the unfathomable, you never knew just quite what the mirror would reveal.
Closed my eyes, lifted my face, took a deep breath. I wanted – needed – to know who I was and if I could see it, and if I liked what I saw.
Pushing down on the wooden top, almost enough to lift myself up, I tensed. And opened my eyes.
Wide, almond-shaped whites surrounding lavender irises speckled with, I’d never noticed before, a smattering of gold flecks. Long, curved and black eyelashes. Smooth, smooth olive skin, lighter now that I’d been indoors so long, a little nose, and full and pouty, pink lips. I was cute, pretty even, beautiful in the right dress perhaps, but now a darkness hung over my eyes. A little bit too much knowledge.
When I’d first arrived here and was forced to fight, I fought a sorcerer who’d laid waste to my army, killing four good men in front of me, many more in an attack. I killed him without hesitation and with no remorse. Yet after that, I killed a wizardess – she was attacking us – but she begged and pleaded, desperate to live, and I well remember her.
Not so much the soldiers from yesterday. They, too, were attacking me, with killing, or worse, their aim, despite their orders. I only felt bad for them in that they were overmatched. But why should I feel bad about that? I didn’t want them to maim, kill, or capture me, and they spent their lives trying to. It was their choice to attack.
Although I suppose this planet hasn’t yet tested out, and found wanting, the Nuremburg defense.
Still, I didn’t know why today’s killing was better than when I used magic. Magic just didn’t seem fair, the men had no defense against it, but the only times I invoked such intense power was to kill was in self-defense. It seemed to me that was moral.
And yet, I asked myself, would it have been worse, morally worse, for me to use magic from the beginning? I could have melted their weapons when they walked into the valley. Or targeted Otholos and whoever was near him. That would merely have been proactive. Yet that course of action seemed like a nuclear defense system. Most nations believe such systems are actually offensive, providing a first strike capability, suggesting the proactive choice is the less moral one.
I didn’t really know and there was no changing the past. But now, if I had my powers now, I’d decidedly use them to stop this siege from continuing. I’d vaporize a few nuns, for sure. Though that would result in a large portion of the city becoming molten.
Enough time spent on could-haves and would-haves. Real problems faced me.
The hidden one being the danger in assuming the deity title as a ruler. If things went wrong, and you couldn’t fix it, well, they’d kill you. It’s perfectly reasonable to believe gods should be able to fix problems, after all. Mayan god-kings ran into exactly this issue on the Yucatan peninsula. Despite the jungle, and the abundant rainfall, water is scarce. The peninsula is made of limestone. Water has carved tunnel after tunnel, and so it drains away quickly, too quickly for human uses like agriculture and bathing.
But the Mayans were industrious, building complex aqueducts and storage, some even in those underground cave systems. Despite this, when global weather patterns changed, rainfall decreased by more than two thirds in the area, their crops began to fail and the people were hungry. The god-kings and priests sacrificed and sacrificed to their gods, and while perhaps maing these blood-thirsty gods happy, they held no appeal to the climate. It was obvious to all how little the lofty claims of the nobles and priesthood meant, and the commoners rose up and massacred them all, destroyed their homes, then moved away from the drought-stricken region.
My problems weren’t weather related, at least not yet. We – the Laemacians and I – had real enemies on our doorstep, so it should remain easy for me to keep the focus on them. But, you never know. The noble houses likely had their own plans. Maybe there’d be others like Cresida who wanted to know why I couldn’t give them children. Killed by wishful women wanting to be mothers. Did not see that coming.
Yet more honestly, the military would be on my side. Not the nobles. Three of those generals fell to their knees without me even asking. Only one had scars and had certainly been at the battle. He, the men he likely saved by organizing their salvage, regrouping, and retreat, clearly had spoken to the others. They were well aware my kingdom had defeated them and that it was I who did so. They likely believed they needed me to survive this battle.
At least until Serce returned. Then it depended on how much they feared me and what they thought of Serce’s leadership. From what I’d seen of the man, he delegated. If they sided with Serce, then I was in for a hell of a fight and a lot more moral decisions.
Backing up, I moved the beauty-case closer. The colorful pastes and dusts, even some perfumes, were stored in glass jars, and these were housed in a very fine, mahogany box. It’s doors opened up and down and the entire thing unfolded like a tacklebox. Pulling out a dark red color, I leaned closer to the mirror.
And in my eyes, I saw it. Rage. Ever so hidden. Along with a touch of sorrow. Perhaps it was the sorrow leading, dragging the rage along with it, as those two were often friends. My body was too young to display these, but there they were.
Rage and sorrow and so, so much violence.
Opening the jar, I began applying make-up to my face. Dark, dark red, a strip along my eyes. Then, several small dots on and under my cheeks. I thought about drawing black lines to my chin, but that seemed too much like emulating a beard, and I didn’t.
“Ma’am? Perhaps a lady-in-waiting should be doing your make-up?”
“This is war paint, Mest.” I took out a dark metallic blue color, and I was hoping against hope that it was copper-based and not arsenic or worse, and painted a strip under my red mask.
“Ah. In that case, very well done. Also,” she held up a bundle, “we found you a proper set of armor.”
“Oh?” Closing the jar, I put it away and closed the box. If Brin were here, I’d look better, exotic, even pretty. All I could manage was dangerous and deadly. Or maybe alien and off-putting, since I’d be leading, and war-paint was strange on a young girl.
“It seems the traitor Otholos did not destroy your family’s belongings but had them stored. No one was entirely sure who this armor belonged to, but probably a young man. Let’s get the gambeson on you and see how it fits, my lady. And I apologize for the decorative nature of this ceremonial armor.”
“Ceremonial? Mest, I may use it.”
“Only in the sense that it has unneeded adornments, my lady. The quality of the steel is excellent. Beyond anything I’ve touched up until now.”
“That works even better, thank you.”
After a time, I was again looking into the mirror, but now fully armored. Heavier than my perseidian chain, these were steel rings with gold-links running in V-shape patterns on my front and back, and around the trim of the outfit. Made for a man, to accentuate their upper body, but pretty enough on me, though they’d tear off in battle. “This is oddly well fitting.”
“As you say, ma’am.”
“A little tight on the breasts,” I pulled and pulled at it, “but I’ll take its protection. Also, Mest, you’ve seen me move. I’m going to need two curved swords – pick out ones that will suit my body and fighting style. If they only have steel, go with shorter blades so they’re lighter. If you can find some perseidian iron, longer blades.”
“It will be done.”
“And a bunch of throwing knives and, well, might as well get me a bow. If it’s desperate, I might have to climb a tower and loose a bunch of arrows.”
“I will find you these items.”
“And a plasma rifle in the 40-watt range.”
“Pardon me?”
“Sorry, dumb joke. Please take one of the soldiers with you, just in case someone doubts your authority. Preferably take a lieutenant or captain or whatever ranked officer is around. What rank do you and your team have?” While I bathed, she’d rounded up her compatriots. People who’d been trained, since childhood, to defend the emperor. I now had guards I could trust, raised to protect my person. As long as, I guess, they didn’t go back to protecting Serce once he arrived. Not that it would matter if I wanted him dead. There wouldn’t be enough soldiers to stop me.
“We are considered our own regiment, not under military command, but the emperor himself. We answer only to you, my lady.”
“That works. I like that.” If I had to order the deaths of nobles or generals, I guess I had Mest and her group. Though, holy crap, it seemed like I was not just on a dark path, but speed running it.
***
When all was said and done, I had on a fine dark grey suit of armor, with a golden V on my front and back, two exceptionally sharp swords, a bunch of throwing daggers running along my belt, a fine longbow, and not enough arrows. I’d straighten out the arrow situation as needed, later. Proceeding down the hallway to the generals, soldiers going in the other direction gave us a wide berth. Mind you, I was preceded and followed first by my personal assassin-bodyguards, then by large soldiers.
Back in the war room and, after the honorifics, the generals introduced themselves. Their assistants stood behind them, backs against the wall, keeping their gazes on the table.
The tall blond one spoke first, arms behind his back and emotionally flat, “Very nice to see you cleaned up, Your Majesty. I am Sasan, and here to serve.”
The rest introduced themselves too, and, because I was terrible at names, I attached them to their distinguishing features: Brown-haired Dareb, Black-haired Mazdak, Scarred Sostram, and Old Man Abtin.
“Excellent. Nice to meet you all. Now, updates if you would, please. How badly is the city compromised?”
Sasan then continued, “We’ve managed to push them back from the palace. We’re still investigating how they got in, or why they failed to capture the harem, there are mixed accounts on this, but it was excellent luck for us. A tactical mistake on their part as we captured the entire regiment and destroyed most of an archer regiment inside the palace walls. The problem is, we don’t have the facilities to hold this many men right now, nor the irons. They are therefore lined up inside against the palace itself, outside the harem.”
Mest stepped forward and spat out, “Mixed accounts?”
The general paused, looking from me to her, “Excuse me? If your opinion is needed, it shall be asked.”
Without emotion Mest backed up, resuming her place by the wall.
Slowly, I clasped my hands together. “Apologies, General. The Lady Mestamir,” I nodded in her direction, “helped me hold the hallway against the regiment.”
Leaning forward, mouth slightly agape, he asked, “Am I to believe you personally held an entire regiment of soldiers and fought them to a standstill?”
I gave him a pretty smile. “You are getting your information from the soldiers who recaptured the harem, aren’t you?”
“Yes, well, from their messengers. It appears the attackers were so taken by the women, they dropped their weapons in a mad rush of lust.”
I burst out laughing, needing to hold onto the table, and couldn’t stop. My eyes became wet, and I wheezed for the lack of air, but the image was too much, “Forgive me, oh!” Squeezing my eyes shut, I howled, barely managing to contain myself, “The thought of battling sex-crazed soldiers tossing their weapons aside to race into the harem is perfect,” I wiped my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Oh my god. Oh god, that would have been lovely.” Oiled up men, bulging with muscles and tearing off their belts, swords and daggers falling to the sides, nothing but speedos underneath, charging for the women! I nearly fell over cackling. “It would have,” I wiped my eyes, “it would have been a lot easier!”
Mest again stepped forward, face as neutral as anger would let her and eyebrows furrowed, saying, “The Empress is being generous. She held the hallway. I merely . . . delivered instructions.”
Taking a step back, Sasan’s face was drained of color. “You singlehandedly held off an entire regiment of skirmishers?”
The older general, Abtin, stepped to the table, “God-Empress Cayce handled herself without peer in the throne room. And was already soaked in the blood of the enemy before entering. I believe her.”
Holding my hand up, finally getting myself together, I said, “Tienseon was in contact with the enemy. They’d come to, ah, convince me to go with them. If I let them pass, gods, I was worried for the women and girls.”
“Why did they attack then?” asked Sasan.
“Obviously because Empress Cayce refused to surrender,” folding her arms, Mest was losing her patience.
Dareb, General Brown-hair in my mind, asked, “They spent an entire regiment at the mere chance of you being a turncoat? I cannot understand the reasoning here.”
Trying and failing to wipe the mirth off my face, for it had been a while since I found anything funny, I wondered what to tell them. Obviously not the truth! I’d wake up hogtied and on my way to the Temple.
But then, I realized, who cares what they think? “It doesn’t matter. I’m gladdened the palace is secure. As to how they got in, Tienseon let them in. Or gave them access. I don’t know the full details, but an emissary from the nun’s army, excuse me, the enemy, had reached out to me about, uhm, volunteering my person to them. Tienseon failed to take my resistance into her calculations. None of that matters any longer as the woman is dead. Please continue, General.”
The black-haired general, Mazdak, spoke before Sasan could, “Yes, but how-”
Scared General, Sorstram was his name, shook his head quietly, looking at the table, ‘No, no, no,’ and that seemed enough to convince Mazdak to drop that line of questioning.
But Sasan wanted answers, “Why do they want you, specifically, ma’am?”
“A question I intend to put to them. Enough comedy. Let’s drop this line of inquiry for now. Tell me where the enemy is, what they are holding, what our response has been.”
Sorstram pointed at the map, running his finger along the city behind the palace, “They’ve been held at the Old City Walls. These are smaller, less fortified, but sturdy nonetheless. It means the enemy controls some twenty percent of the city, however. Fortunately, they hold no towers, for no towers are left. Those fell against their siege weapons.”
“Ma’am,” said Mazdak, “we were only to hold until the emperor returned. Excuse me, Your Majesty, the usurper. His missives indicated that he should be arriving on the morrow.”
“We can call him Serce if you like. Just so I fully understand what you’re saying, Serce took the majority of the forces out to the field, despite an army at the gates, leaving us . . . not well protected?”
“That’s accurate,” said Sasan. “Ah, Serce as my lady names him, believed capturing the mage was our best option. At the time, we didn’t know the enemy had a second army going after the mage.”
General Dareb of the brown hair stepped forward, “Many apologies, ma’am, we were unprepared against their siege weapons. Once the mages had gone-”
“Hold that thought,” I said, “we’ll come back to it. First, tell me how large the enemy force is facing us.”
“Roughly fifty thousand.”
“That’s nearly the same size as their second army. And earlier you said we had twenty thousand. Serce isn’t stupid, but these odds do not favor us. Why did you believe you could hold against more than double your number?”
“Ma’am,” said the scared general, hesitating, but then looking at me, “we did not account for their weaponry.”
“Ah, yes, the catapults.” I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. War had changed the moment I eliminated the mages and these guys hadn’t caught up yet. Well, it made sense. Laemacia had been a very powerful nation, used to winning battles, and had no reason to change. Though you’d think losing half of their young men would marshal up some innovation. At least Serce had his army creating fortifications and obstacles in the field. “How large is Serce’s army?”
“Fifty thousand. Not enough against both. With luck, he will have defeated their second army and will be returning shortly.” The man paused, suddenly going white. “That, ah, will cause additional problems, but I’m sure we shall overcome.”
“And if they don’t come,” the older general immediately said, “it will be the enemy returning and we will be outnumbered five to one.”
“Do we have contingencies for that?” No one said anything. I let my frustration show, “Of course you don’t. Gentlemen, you are generals! Tell me you have plans! Make preparations!” I wondered, then, are these men new to being generals? I likely killed most of Otholos’ as they would have been near him. Sorstram was at the battle, but I didn’t know what rank he was there.
“Ma’am, we have sent messengers to our other cities. At least two armies will be on the march for us by now.”
“Will they?” asked Mazdek. “After Empress Cayce here defeated Otholos, we’ve been severely drained of military capacity.”
I slammed my hand on the table, “Focus! I don’t care about other cities! Where are you allocating troops? Where do you expect attack?”
“My lady, couldn’t you just blast them all?” Mazdak gestured to the scared general, “Sorstram here has told us about your power and-”
“Mest, remove him.” As Mest walked up and rather gently took his arm, I looked him in the eye, saying, “You are demoted to captain. Out.” I then waited until they’d left the room. Crossed my arms, paused, uncrossed them, tapped the map. “I want real strategies. They will attack soon.” Then I looked directly at Sorstram, “Do not expect magical or mythological help. Or Serce’s army returning. We are on our own here. Now, gentlemen, if you please. Focus.”
Sasan took the lead. “We have only so much time. They must be moving their siege weapons into range, and I fear the old walls will not hold long. We should be expecting them to avoid the harem, they’d count on us shoring it up. Were I them, I’d attack here,” he pointed to an area on the map midway between the palace and the northernmost tower. The city followed a valley, with a river running nearby, and a creek running through. It was roughly egg- shaped, with the palace near the large end. The old wall ran directly behind the palace, to towers on either side, dissecting the egg at its widest point. “And on the other side of the palace, near the tower. If their army returns, I’d expect them to include additional fronts on the main city wall.
“Naturally,” he continued, “we have archers on the towers, on the new city wall, but the old wall isn’t suitable. There are no wall-walks. We are therefore setting up semi-circular barricades on each of the expected attack points.”
“Thank you. Excellent. What are our chances of counter attacking?”
“My lady,” said the white-haired Abtin, “with our lower numbers, it’s in our favor to defend.”
“Attacking, ma’am,” interjected General Dareb, “costs perhaps three times as many souls as defending.”
“Yes, thank you, General. However, the enemy will therefore not be expecting attacks. We may be able to harass them.” The men’s faces betrayed their disapproval, but I knew better from history. Alexander, again. But these were his technologies, so it made sense I kept thinking of his escapades. At the siege of Mallian, he grew impatient and, not waiting for his troops to catch up, leapt into the enemy’s citadel and began slaughtering their soldiers. None could face him and they soon brought archers. An arrow took him in the lung, he collapsed and was near death when his men caught up, fought off the defenders, and brought him back to his camp.
I always believed that killed him, though not immediately, by exposing his lungs to the air. He passed from a lung infection some three years later.
Regardless, it seemed to me that I could pull it off. It would be better with plate mail, that’s for sure, but if I could get my troops engaging their ranged, I could definitely cause some chaos. I was finally beginning to understand Alexander. For I, too, was growing impatient.
The generals continued explaining, and I nodded when they paused, thinking about my own strategies. I had some ideas these guys couldn’t think of and when they concluded speaking, I’d share. And I knew how to stall the nuns. All I had to do was promise immortality.
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