‘Getting a wagon would be useful,’ said Assata, looking at the prone figure of the princess laid out on the floor. ‘And finding someone who can treat wounds,’ she added, her gaze moving to Og’s arm.
The wagon trundled through the Kuthenian countryside. Outside, Simba took his turn driving the horses. Inside, there was the most impressive collection of glares and glowers Grim had ever seen. Gurin Fuckaxe wore his default expression, which was a mightily miserable grimace. Og, his arm finally bandaged up, was in too much pain to sleep, leaving him in a foul mood. Assata stared daggers at their captive, her fingers twitching, as if—left to their own accord—they would grab the girl’s neck and not let go. But the blackest looks of all, Grim was surprised to note, came from Princess Borte herself.
Unconscious, Borte had been agreeable company. Petite, with long black hair, she had not looked much different to a human child to Grim’s eyes, and he had developed some sympathy towards her, abducted from her home in the dead of night. Conscious, she had a bit more to say for herself.
‘So, let me get this right,’ she said, her voice dripping with contempt. ‘Kidnapping me and taking me to the Dark Lord is somehow going to be a victory for the slaves of the Empire?’
‘A war with the Dark Lord will hasten the demise of your evil empire and the emancipation of my people,’ Assata retorted.
‘Your people aren’t going to be helped by some hapless slave rebellion,’ said Borte. ‘That will just result in their massacre. Who has the money and the weapons, you fool? The end of slavery will come when the Emperor is persuaded of its merit. And it so happens, I was making good progress on that front. Those attendants in my room you threatened to skewer with your sword were slaves I had freed. What will my father and the other leading men of the Empire do when they find out that the Resistance was behind this? Start treating their slaves better? If you had any sense at all, you would end this idiocy and release me.’
Assata laughed, though there was no humour in it. ‘We’ll be waiting forever if we sit and wait for the Kuthenians to end their evil institution. Slavery will end with the blood of innocents, the same way it was born. You think your father indulging you, by freeing a few house slaves, is the start of something more? You’re naïve to the world, princess, and naïve to think you can persuade me to release you.’
Borte rolled her eyes. ‘And as for you,’ she said, turning her attention to Og-Grim-Dog and Gurin. ‘You’ve kidnapped me because the Dark Lord ordered you to? If he wants a war so bad, why doesn’t he send an army to Kuthenia, instead of an ogre and a dwarf? Does he even have an army?’
Grim recalled their attempts to train the menials. Not much of one, he admitted to himself.
‘I’m afraid he’s dropped you in it. My father’s generals won’t be forgiving when they catch up to us.’
‘It’s not just a war he wants,’ Gurin murmured in response. ‘It’s the throne. He intends to marry you when we bring you to him.’
That piece of news held her tongue for a while. She stared at them then, a mixture of incredulity and apprehension on her face. Grim felt more than a little embarrassed and had to look away.
‘You think you can cross half the Kuthenian Empire with me, and not get caught?’ she asked finally, rallying. ‘The Imperial Army will catch up to us in a day or two, if not hours. And I won’t be sorry to see you get justice when they do.’
But for all Princess Borte’s confidence, the days went by and there was no sign of any chasing soldiers. They left the wagon behind, walking from one settlement to the next during the night, aided by the Resistance. As each day passed, Borte got a little bit quieter. For whatever reason, the Emperor’s forces didn’t come.
The days turned into weeks and when they crossed the Kuthenian border, it was without incident. Borte didn’t say a word.
Good News and Bad News
By the time the tall, finger-like spires of Fell Towers came into view, winter had long past given up its hold over Gal’azu—even of this remote spot. Colour had appeared in the hills and the woods and the meadows, where there had been none before.
On their approach to the tall gates of the stronghold, Grim could see there had been other changes. Sheev’s had grown—it had outdoor seating now, currently full of menials. In addition, a new building had been erected next door. Grim read the signage—Discount Dungeon Supplies: Depot.
He saw Assata and Gurin looking in the same direction with interest, no doubt enticed by the thought of browsing the weapon racks. But they had business with the Dark Lord first.
A helmeted figure appeared above them. ‘Password?’ it shouted down.
‘Heinous,’ Simba shouted up.
‘That hasn’t been the password for some time,’ the menial responded doubtfully.
‘We’ve been away on the Dark Lord’s business for months,’ Simba responded. ‘We’ve just got back.’
Two more menials emerged, and a conversation ensued, not loud enough to carry down to the five figures waiting down below.
‘They’re going to refuse us entry,’ said Grim, excited at the prospect of progress in the menials’ ability to guard Fell Towers.
‘I’ll wager they don’t,’ said Dog.
‘Alright then. Give us a moment,’ came a voice.
The gates to Fell Towers swung open.
The Dark Lord was in his element.
‘You have done well, henchmen,’ he said grandiosely, once they had recounted their adventures in Kuthenia. ‘The Kuthenian Empire has taken a blow to its very heart, in a place where they felt most safe. And soon I will deliver a second blow,’ he added, striding forwards to where Princess Borte had been told to kneel, her hands bound. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. ‘For soon I will marry this beauty and lay claim to the Jade Throne for myself.’
‘You will not,’ said Borte, wrenching her head backwards. ‘Because marriage requires consent, and I would never consent to marry a halfwit like you in a thousand years.’
‘Oh, she’s a hot-headed little minx, isn’t she?’ said the Dark Lord with glee, looking about the throne room. ‘It makes me want to have the ceremony immediately!’
‘Great, the sooner I can cut your throat while you sleep,’ said Borte.
‘But no,’ he said, ignoring the comment. ‘I can wait for my pleasure. The wedding will take place a month from now. I want it to be the grandest occasion Fell Towers has ever seen!’
Behind the Dark Lord, at her place by his throne, Lilith cleared her throat. She kept her face neutral, but Grim could still detect an air of disapproval.
‘My Lord, perhaps it would be wiser not to wait a full month for the ceremony? Surely that will hold back our plans, and give our enemies more time to attempt a rescue? Once the marriage is done, and you impregnate Her Royal Highness, her value to the Emperor will diminish and Kuthenia will be more likely to accept a fait accompli.’
Princess Borte made an unpleasant barfing sound.
‘Pah, what do I care? I want this war with Kuthenia, remember? And I want my wedding to the Dark Lady to be perfect, too. I am decided on it. Wro’Kuburni’-Dy-Hrath’Simbowa, please escort my future wife to the basement, where I have a cell prepared for her.’