The Uloans drove their swords deep into the bodies of their foes, punching their weapons’ points through leather armor and piercing hearts and entrails. Screams of agony shattered the silence of the palace, which was suddenly no longer so far removed from the slaughter that was occurring in the city.
Once the initial shock of the Uloans’ sudden onslaught – as though they had materialized from the night itself – passed, the Matile soldiers retaliated, hacking and slashing in a frenzy of hatred and fear. Light from the Moon Stars reflected from spatters of blood and glinted in the glaze of dead men’s wide-open eyes.
For all its desperate heroism, the Matiles’ resistance had no chance for success. The first surge of the Uloans’ onslaught had decimated the ranks of the defenders. And their abrupt appearance, seemingly out of nowhere, had left the soldiers confused and disoriented, even as they fought grimly and hopelessly for their lives, as well as those of their rulers.
In the midst of the unequal battle, several of the invaders broke away and cut down the Matile who were guarding the gates to the palace. Some of the Uloans died before their grisly task was completed. But those who lived were sufficient in number to pull the gates open, allowing the jhumbis to lumber inside.
Only then did the Uloans raise their triumphal cry: “Retribution Time!”
And, as the islanders mercilessly drove the remaining defenders away from the walls, shadows followed them.
4
Issa blinked, unsure that she had heard Alemeyu correctly. She realized that she had. But she still couldn’t believe that the Emperor would ever have made such an admission.
“Alemeyu, you don’t have to ...”
The Emperor held up a hand to forestall her.
“There is nothing else to say,” Alemeyu told her. “I have always known that I am the reason I have never sired a child with you, or any of the others.”
Issa did not know how to respond to that admission. She looked at Alemeyu as though she had never seen him before. In his eyes, she could see the shadows of dead dreams and many years of self-recrimination.
“I know what others say about me beyond my presence,” Alemeyu continued. “My ears are everywhere.”
“I never spoke of the problem to anyone,” Issa said, still looking directly into Alemeyu’s eyes.
“But you knew the truth, just the same.”
Issa dropped her gaze.
“Yes,” she acknowledged. “I knew.”
After a moment of silence, Alemeyu spoke again.
“I would have put you aside once the talk became more than mere whispers that only the walls could hear,” he said.
Issa looked at him again, and a sharp retort sprang into her mind. Before she could give it voice, Alemeyu continued.
“It would have been for the good of the Empire,” he said.
Issa’s spark of anger faded as quickly as it had ignited, for she knew Alemeyu was only speaking the truth.
“For the good of the Empire,” she repeated dully, dutifully.
The Emperor rose from his throne then. He reached down, clasped both of Issa’s hands in his, and gently raised her to her feet. As he looked into her eyes, she could see that for a moment at least, that shadows that haunted him were gone.
“Issa,” he said softly. “No matter what happens now, I will never put you aside.”
Unshed tears stung the corners of Issa’s eyes as she smiled and squeezed Alemeyu’s hands. She opened her mouth to speak – but a sudden yowl from Makah stopped her.
The hair around the cheetah’s neck and shoulders bristled like a ruff. The great cat was still staring at the open entrance to the throne room. The soldiers who stood on guard did not appear to notice whatever it was that had disturbed Makah. A moment later, the cheetah bolted from the throne room. And a moment after that, a sudden commotion of battle reached the ears of Alemeyu and Issa.
The Emperor let go of Issa’s hands and called to the guards at the entrance.
“What is going on out there?” he demanded.
Amid the patter of rushing footsteps, one of the guards entered the chamber. He was trying, unsuccessfully, to compose his face into a mask that would hide his fear.
“The Uloans are here, Mesfin,” he said.
Alemeyu and Issa looked at each other. The shadows had returned to his eyes, and hers as well. Then the Emperor drew the Sword of Issuri from its gilded scabbard.
“Stand behind me,” he told Issa.
Then he turned to face the entrance, swordhilt gripped tightly in both hands, even as the guards moved into a defensive formation and the sounds of fighting drew nearer to their door.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Almovaar Comes
1
The Beit Amiya was dark and silent. No Vessels stood before the unheeding images of the Jagasti. Instead, in front of each statue, an Amiya’s mask lay face-down – a clear, if unspoken, reproach.
The Matile Mara Empire had been forsaken by its deities at a time when its people needed them most. No longer would the Amiyas be Vessels for the ashuma that had been passed down to them by the Jagasti since the day Etiya sang. The Vessels were now empty, waiting to be filled with the spiritual essence of a new deity.
In a courtyard outside the abandoned Beit Amiya, the Vessels gathered around the Seer Kyroun and Jass Gebrem. With the Vessels were the Almovaad Acolytes and Adepts: the Believers who had followed their Seer across the vastness of Cym Dinath and through the Sea of Storms. Now the new home that had been promised for the end of their long, dangerous journey was going up in flames. They could see long tongues of fire licking at the sky beyond them; they could hear the bizarre war-cries of the invaders and the hopeless wails of their victims; they could hear the crackling of flames and the occasional roar of
