The Dark Lord

cloaked like the others, her breath a faint white puff in the deep cold of the desert night, stood watching Thyatis in silence. One camel remained, kneeling on the slope, reins clutched in the figure's hand.

Thyatis felt like a fool, at a loss for words after envisioning this moment for so long.

'You look wretched,' the woman said at last, her voice tinged with a smoky rasp.

'I...' Thyatis stumbled into silence again, her thoughts a wild jumble. She felt dizzy again, fear churning in her stomach. Unable to stand, she squatted on the sand, one hand out to support herself. 'I should go back... with them.'

'To Rome?' Shirin settled beside her. Her voice was soft. 'To the Emperor?'

'They are my men,' Thyatis said, head down. She was having trouble breathing. 'They'll think I've—'

'Betrayed them,' the Khazar woman said, stretching her hand out, a black shadow creeping across faintly gleaming sand. 'Penelope told me about the device. You've done your duty by the Order, keeping the telecast from those men. From your Emperor.'

Thyatis coughed hoarsely. Smoke bit at her lungs. 'Those two are my responsibility. They are my command. I can't abandon them in this wasteland.' Dizziness whirled away, leaving her head feeling empty and drained.

Shirin caught her shoulders, easing Thyatis back onto the sand. Gentle fingers pressed against the Roman woman's forehead, her throat, her hands. 'You're far too cold! You've been hurt,' Shirin said. 'Are you bleeding?'

Thyatis shook her head weakly, staring up at the stars. In the chill air, she could smell Shirin very clearly—a subtle mix of sweat and crisp linen and roses. She was very tired and a cold sea of sleep lapped around her legs. 'I... I don't think so. There's just so much...'

Grunting, Shirin hooked her fingers into the leather straps holding the clamshell halves of the Roman lorica together. Digging her feet into the sand, the Khazar woman dragged Thyatis to the kneeling camel. Grimacing, her own muscles complaining at the heavy weight, Shirin rolled the Roman onto the camel's back, drawing a honk of outrage. Disgusted, the beast rose on ungainly legs. Shirin danced around the splayed feet, avoiding a kick, keeping Thyatis from falling.

The Roman woman oofed in pain, the high-cantled saddle digging into her stomach. A moment later, the camel began ambling down the slope in a swaying gait. Shirin ran alongside, one hand wrapped in the lead. Thyatis squirmed weakly, then fell still in exhaustion.

Later, the ground leveled out. Shirin could see the others far ahead, a sparse line of humped silhouettes against a slowly brightening eastern horizon. Wind ruffled her cloak, drawing the veil away from the Khazar's face. They passed scattered black stones, pitted and scored with dimpled cavities.

'You cannot go back to his service,' Shirin said gently, seeing Thyatis had woken from her daze. 'You balanced two masters for a long time, but in the end, you must choose between the Empire and the Island.'

The Roman woman groaned, then pushed herself up, swinging one leg forward over the saddle. Her face was flushed with blood from hanging upside down, tangled hair in disarray, her armor dented and stained with smoke. Shirin laughed, watching her rub grime away from bloodshot eyes.

'What?' Thyatis tried to glare, but lacked the energy for more than a befuddled stare.

'I missed you.' Shirin put her hand on Thyatis' sandal, slim fingers wrapping around her toes. 'All smelly and disheveled, stinking of iron and blood.' The Khazar woman smiled up at her friend.

'Like old times,' Thyatis croaked. If anything, she was looking worse, staring at Shirin with empty, hollow eyes. 'Shi—you should know—your children... your children are—'

'They are dead,' Shirin said, squeezing Thyatis' foot. 'I know. I found their bodies.'

'You... you did?' Thyatis' eyes widened, a pale streak of tears oozing down her cheek. 'How? I looked and looked in the ruins...'

Shirin nodded, leaning her head against the camel's flank. The creature was warm, gut rumbling with digestion, hide smelling of tamarisk and broken shale. 'The cook... the Duchess' cook told me where to find them. But everything was gone, all burned houses and naked trees and ash. I had to... dig. But I did and laid them to rest afterwards.' She looked up at the sky, starlight gleaming on her face. 'They are with the sky-father now, in peace and plenty.'

'Shi—I...' Thyatis stopped, coughing, then cleared her throat. She switched the camel on the top of its head, making the creature grumble and slow to a halt. The Roman woman slid down, landing heavily. Shirin caught Thyatis with a hand on her elbow, keeping her from falling on her face.

'You should stay on the camel,' Shirin said with asperity. 'You might not have been cut, but you're certainly bruised within an inch of your life.'

'No,' Thyatis said, standing away from the Khazar woman. She squared her shoulders, chin rising. 'There's more. I... I was responsible for them, for the blast. We fought on the mountaintop...' Thyatis' voice trailed away, then she rallied. 'I was too slow, Shirin, and all those people were killed. Your children were killed, because I looked away at the wrong moment.'

Shirin stared at the Roman, lips twisting into a surprised grimace, then settling into a tight, hard line. 'What are you talking about?' Her eyes glittered, even in the encompassing darkness. Thyatis took an involuntary step back, licking her lips.

'The Duchess sent me—sent us—to murder Prince Maxian. He was hiding out in a villa on the slopes of Vesuvius. I nearly had him in the crater—my knife was at his throat!' Thyatis' voice slewed into a harsh growl. 'But it wasn't enough. The mountain erupted. I think... I think he did something, disturbed something, and Vesuvius just... blew apart.'

Shirin stood silent and Thyatis waited. After awhile, she sat down, still waiting, but too tired to stand. The eastern sky brightened steadily, shading from deep blue to pink and then a pearl white. Finally, Shirin stirred, shaking the cowl of her djellabah back. She faced the sun, long hair a wavy cloud behind her head, and she breathed deep, holding her arms wide. The dawn wind was dropping, reduced to gusts and zephyrs scudding across the barren plain.

'This prince... what was his name?'

Thyatis looked up, startled at the grim determination in the woman's voice. 'Maxian Atreus, the younger brother of Emperor Galen.'

Shirin nodded to herself, fine white teeth biting her lower lip. 'A wizard? A sorcerer?'

'Yes.' Thyatis watched her friend with growing puzzlement. 'Shi—I'm sorry.'

The Khazar woman stepped to the Roman and held out her hands, an expression of deep and abiding grief making her cheeks hollow and her eyes dark pits smudged with pain. Thyatis took them and stood, leaning heavily on the slighter woman. Shirin held her close, face pressed against leather and iron, raven-dark hair tickling Thyatis' nose. The Roman woman sighed, overcome by enormous relief, and then staggered, barely able to stand. Again, Shirin caught her and put Thyatis' hands against the camel for support.

'Tell me one thing,' Shirin said, voice suddenly cold. 'Did you have any idea what would happen on the mountaintop?'

Thyatis looked sideways, meeting the Khazar woman's eyes, shaking her head. 'We all thought we would die at the prince's hands, or those of his servants. I didn't think he...' Her voice failed, her attention focused on something very far away. She resumed, voice faint. 'No one knew how powerful he was or what he would do to live.'

—|—

The sun was a hot pink spark on the eastern horizon as Vladimir and Nicholas wearily climbed the low hill, pushing their way through prickly scrub. Sand dragged at their feet, making every step an effort. Reaching the hollow, Vladimir collapsed to his knees and laid down, panting. A cold mist rose from the lake, making the air damp and chill. The Walach luxuriated in the temperature, knowing too well the sun would soon be full in the sky, burning away the fog and hammering the land with unrelenting heat.

'Where...' Nicholas started coughing again, a raw rasping sound. After the spasm passed, he managed to croak, 'where is the telecast?'

'There—' Vladimir rolled over, outflung arm indicating the section of sand where he'd buried the bronze disc. He stopped, staring. '—it is.'

Hastily excavated sand made an untidy pile around an empty hole. Vladimir closed his eyes, feeling the earth tilt under him. When he opened them again the hole remained. Nicholas knelt beside him, face white with fury as