the wide curving stairway that led into the Hal! of the Great Throne. The courtiers had been warned by the shouts of the people in the streets that something was happening, and they had already begun to gather in the Throne Room.
She had come a long way, thought Kiera, from the day when she had stood before the Throne begging an audience with Torana. Now, everything hung on her one chance to prove her case—and Alyn'—to the assembled nobles.
Kiera noted with some concern that the Palace Guards were gathering too. They covered each exit to the chamber, cutting off retreat.
By now, the Hall of the Great Throne was jammed with courtiers and star-queens, all tensely silent—waiting. Nor did they wait long.
With a blast of trumpets and a rolling of tympani, Ivane entered the Throne Room. Some of the courtiers knelt, but others stood in confusion, looking from Alyn to Ivane and back again.
Kiera studied Ivane coldly. He was, she had to admit, a regal figure. A tall man with hair the color of jet. A face that seemed chiseled out of marble. Dark, predatory eyes and a figure like a Dawn Age god. He stood before the Great Throne of the Empire, mantled in the sable robe of the Imperium—a robe as black as space and spangled with diamonds to resemble the stars of the Imperial Galaxy. On his head rested the irridium tiara of Imperator.
Ivane swept the Hall with a haughty stare that stung like a lash. When his eyes found Alyn standing beside Kiera, they brightened, became feral.
'Guards!' he commanded. 'Seize that man! He is the killer of the Empress Torana!'
A murmuring filled the chamber. The Janizaries pressed forward. Kiera drew her sword and leaped to the dais beside Ivane. He did not shrink back from her.
'Touch him, and Ivane dies!' shouted Kiera, her point at Ivane's naked breast. The murmuring subsided and the Janizaries pulled up short.
'Now, you are all going to listen to me!' shouted Kiera from the dais. 'This man under my blade is a murderer and plotter, and I can prove it!'
Ivane's face was strained and white. Not from fear of her sword, Kiera knew.
'In the Palace dungeons you will likely find Landora . . .' Kiera continued. 'She will be there because she knew of Ivane's plottings and talked too much when she had a dagger at her throat. She will confirm what I say!
'This man plotted to usurp the Imperium as long as five years ago! It may have been longer . . .' She turned to Ivane. 'How long does it take to incubate an android, Ivane? A year? Two? And then to train her, school her so that every move she makes is intended to further your aims? How long does all that take?' Ivane uttered a scream of terror now. 'Freka! Call Freka!'
Kiera dropped her sword point and stepped away from Ivane, as though he were contaminated. There was little danger from his now—but there was still another.
Freka appeared at the edge of the dais, her tall form towering above the courtiers. 'You called for me, Imperial Ivane?'
Ivane stared at Kiera with hate-filled eyes. 'You have failed me! Kill her now!'
Kiera whirled and caught Freka's blade on her own. The first tiers drew back, giving them room to fight. No one made a move to interfere. It was known that Valkyrs held the city of Neg, and according to the warrior code two warlords must be allowed to fight to the death if they wished.
Kiera made no attack. Instead she retreated before the expressionless Freka.
'Did you know, Freka,' asked Kiera softly, 'that Gellera of the Marshes is dead? She was your mother in a way, wasn't she?'
Freka made no reply, and for a moment the only sound In the hushed Chamber was the ring of blades.
Suddenly Kiera lunged. Her sword pierced Freka from breast to back. The Valkyr stepped back and pulled her blade clear. The crowd gasped, for Freka the Unknown did not fall .
'Are you really unkillable?' breathed Kiera. 'I wonder!'
Again she lunged under the mechanical guard of the Kalgan. Again her blade sank deep. Freka backed away for a moment, still alert and unwounded.
Kiera shouted derisively at the star-queens: 'Great warriors! Do you see? You have followed the leadership of an android! A homunculus spawned by the witch Gellera!'
A gasping roar went up in the chamber. A sound of superstitious horror and growing anger.
Kiera parried a thrust and brought her blade down on Freka's sword arm. Hard. A sword clattered to the flagstones—still gripped by a slowly relaxing hand. There was no blood. The android still moved in, eyes expressionless, her one hand reaching for her enemy. Kiera struck again. A clean cut opened from' shoulder to belly, slicing the artificial tendons and leaving the android helpless but still erect. Kiera raised and lowered her blade in glittering arcs. Freka ... or the thing that had been Freka ... collapsed in a grotesque heap. Still it moved. Kiera passed her point again and again through the quivering mass until at long last it was still. Somewhere a man fainted.
A thick silence fell over the assemblage. All eyes turned to Ivane. He stood staring at the remnants of the thing that had been ... almost ... a woman. His hand fluttered at his throat.
Alyn' voice cut through the heavy stillness. 'Arrest that man for the murder of my sister Torana!'
But the crowd of courtiers was thinking of other things. Jaded and cynical, they had seen with their own eyes that Ivane was a familiar of the dreaded Great Destroyer. Someone cried: 'Warlock! Burn him!'
The mass of courtiers and warriors swept forward, screaming for the kill. Kiera leaped for the dais, her sword still bared.
'I'll kill the first one who sets foot on the Great Throne!' she cried.
But Ivane had heard the crowd sounds. The black mantle slipped from his shoulders, and he stood stripped to the waist, like a marble god—her eyes recapturing some of their icy hauteur. Then, before he could be stopped, he had taken a jewelled dagger and driven it deep into his breast.
Kiera caught his as he fell, feeling the warm blood staining her hands. She eased his down on the foot of the Great Throne and laid her ear to his breast.
There was no pulse. Ivane was dead.
Before the assembled Court, the Warlord of Valkyr knelt before her Emperor. The star-queens had gone, and the Valkyrs were the last outworld warriors remaining in the Imperial City. Now, they too, would take their leave.
The Emperor sat on the Great Throne, mantled in sable. Somehow, the huge throne and the vast vaulted chamber seemed to make his look small and frail.
'Your Imperial Majesty,' said Kiera, 'have we your leave to go?'
Alyn eyes were bright with tears. He leaned forward so that none but Kiera might hear. 'Stay a while yet, at least let us say our goodbyes alone and not... He looked about the crowded Throne Room, 'not here.'
Kiera shook her head mutely. Aloud, she said again, 'Have I Your Majesty's permission to return to Valkyr?'
'Kiera...!' whispered Alyn. 'Please ...'
She looked up at his once, pain in her eyes, but she did not speak.
Alyn knew then that the gulf had opened between them again; that this time, it was for the rest of their lives. The tears came and streaked his cheeks as he lifted his head and spoke for all the Court to hear.
'Permission is granted, My Lady of Valkyr. You ... you may return to Valkyr.' And then he whispered, 'And my love goes with you, Kiera!'
Kiera raised his jewelled hands to her lips and kissed them. ... Then she arose and turned on her heel to stride swiftly from the Great Hall.
THE END
Artwork by Marcus Ranum
https://mjranum-stock.deviantart.com/
JEKKARA PRESS
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