The Wrath and the Dawn(110)
The power raged through him, searing into his bones. From atop its throne of mottled stones, the book’s silver light pulsed brighter than a star.
Jahandar gasped and dropped the blade as the power collected in his chest, visceral in its magnificence. The ground beneath his feet trembled.
He began to laugh.
Holding his bloodstained arms up to the sky, he muttered the ancient words and watched the clouds churn at his behest. Reveled as they bowed to his whims.
The book’s pages fluttered. His wind-whipped beard coiled about his throat.
There would never be cause to disappoint anyone ever again.
Tonight, he would prove his worth, once and for all.
He would rescue his daughter. And save a kingdom.
For he was Jahandar the Great.
Jahandar the All-Powerful.
Jahandar . . . the King of Kings.
? ? ?
The first of the raindrops started to fall.
And Tariq ignored his growing sense of disquiet.
He stood shrouded in darkness, with his back against a wall of discolored mortar and stone. The palace gate was in the distance over his shoulder. It stretched high, constructed of solid wood bound in black iron. Armed sentries were positioned above and below, standing watch from torchlit battlements.
He exhaled, trying to release the tension from his body.
Trying to silence the doubt.
“He really didn’t tell you how he plans to breach the gate?” Rahim tugged the hood of his brown rida’ lower onto his brow.
“For the last time, he said he would create a diversion.”
“And you trust him?”
“No,” Tariq admitted. “But if he fails, I am no worse off than before.”
“Actually, that’s false. You have yet to be accused of sedition by association.”
“Jahandar-effendi would not betray us. In that, I trust him implicitly.”
“I wish I possessed your particular brand of optimism,” Rahim grumbled.
“And what brand would that be?”
“Idiotic.”
“Better idiotic than ineffectual.”
“Better alive than dead.”
“Run home, Rahim-jan,” Tariq said. “I can hear your mother calling.”
“Insufferable ass.”
Tariq grinned, but his chest felt tight.
The hired soldiers standing in the shadows behind Rahim stayed silent, awaiting Tariq’s direction.
If only he knew it himself.
He sighed. This would likely prove to be a fool’s errand. After all, Jahandar al-Khayzuran did not have a history of reliability. Lost in his grief, he’d failed to be a father to his children following the death of their mother. Then he’d failed his king in his post as an advisor and been demoted for it. And he’d failed Shahrzad when he allowed her to risk her life for revenge.
Nevertheless, Tariq had to try.
The rain fell harder. It was beginning to drip in steady streams from the low-hanging eave above, seeping through his cloak onto his skin.
Rahim edged away from the nearest trickle. “Do you—”
A flash of light flew across the sky, followed by a boom of thunder.
“One thing’s for certain; this storm is not helping matters,” Rahim said.
Tariq leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
Rahim cursed at the next crack of thunder. It was loud enough to rattle Tariq’s teeth.
People were beginning to stir in the streets. Lamps were being lit in windows across the way.
“Tariq!” Rahim warned sharply.
Tariq spun his head in the direction of the palace and watched in horror as a bolt of lightning struck one of the marbled turrets. It severed the stone into flaming pieces that crashed to the ground with earthshaking thuds.
The guards at the gates shouted in alarm.
“Merciful God,” Rahim breathed.
Another flash of white light struck nearby, catching a building on fire. The roar of the resounding thunder jolted Tariq to his very bones.
Now rain pummeled from the heavens in a side-sweeping deluge.
The first of the screams commenced when the next bolt of lightning tore through the roof of a home, sending charred matter and bits of burning rubble into the sky.
The home promptly burst into flame.
And the cries of panic grew louder.
Another blistering flash struck the palace, cleaving more marble from its side. Tariq pushed off the wall.
Rahim seized him by the shoulder. “What are you doing?”