Forged In Flame (In Her Name: The First Empress, Book 2) (11 page)

Gnawing on the piece of meat that would be all he had for his evening meal, the young warrior looked out into the trees. The wind was coming up, the breeze rustling the tree tops high above. The broad leafed plants that were clustered around the bases of the trees waved in the breeze, making the shadows dance in the moonlight.

One of the shadows seemed darker than the others, and he peered more closely at it. There were many beasts in the forest these days, a common occurrence when so many warriors were drawn away to war in distant lands, and they were often a greater threat to travelers than the bands of honorless ones. But the dark thing he watched was not in the shape of any beast that he had ever seen, and it was growing larger. 

It was then that he noticed other such shadows gliding from tree to tree, all heading toward the encampment.

He reached for his sword and opened his mouth to give warning, but the whirling blades of a shrekka, the whistling sound of its passage masked by the wind, took his head from his body before he could raise the alarm.

***

Keel-Tath struggled up from a warm and pleasant emptiness. She heard a voice calling her name, over and over. Something incredibly foul assaulted her nose, and she vaulted from the emptiness to see Han-Ukha’i’s face, just above hers. She was frightened, and in the background Keel-Tath heard shouts and screams, metal crashing against metal with lethal force. The sounds of battle.

“Keel-Tath! Wake up!” Han-Ukha’i cradled Keel-Tath’s head with one hand and helped lift her into a sitting position. “We are under attack!”

Though she was still groggy and her body was still on fire with pain, Keel-Tath did not need the experience of a seasoned warrior to know that there was a fierce fight going on in the forest to the south of the encampment. The cohort led by Shil-Wular was nearly five hundred strong, and it sounded like all of them must be at arms. 

The flaps of the tent opening flew back, and one of their guards, the largest and strongest, stepped inside, his sword drawn but not bloodied. “A large group of honorless ones has set upon us. We—” 

Han-Ukha’i screamed as the tip of a sword exploded from the guard’s breastplate, right over his heart. Mouth still open, his jaw hanging slack, he toppled forward at their feet.

In the doorway stood a shadowy figure, a female warrior draped in a dark cloak that shrouded her face. She put a foot on the dead warrior’s back and pulled free her sword before stepping inside. Two more warriors, similarly cloaked, appeared beside her. 

“We mean you no harm, mistress,” the first warrior said, stepping forward and taking a knee on the animal hides on which Keel-Tath had been sleeping. “But we have little time. I beg you to let us bear you away from here.”

At first, Keel-Tath thought the warrior was speaking to Han-Ukha’i. Then Keel-Tath realized that the warrior’s entreaty was directed at her. 

Before she could answer, one side of the tent fell in as a group of warriors outside, grappling with their claws, crashed into it.

The two warriors accompanying the cloaked stranger dashed forward and plucked Keel-Tath from her bed, while the first one took Han-Ukha’i by the arm and pulled her away, dragging her from the tent just before it collapsed. The lantern suspended from the center pole fell to the floor and tipped over, and flames quickly began to spread beneath the pile of warriors who struggled to kill one another.

“Healer, you may leave or come with us, as is your will,” the lead warrior said as she removed a wicked looking axe from her belt and with a deft stroke parted the chain binding Keel-Tath’s feet. “But your company would be most welcome, for we have no healer of our own to care for our mistress.” 

Han-Ukha’i did not hesitate. She knelt before Keel-Tath, who was thoroughly confused, and bowed her head. Loud enough to be heard over the roar of the battle that was taking place around them, Han-Ukha’i said, “I pledge my honor to your service, mistress.” Then, standing, she said to the warrior, “Lead me.”

A ring of cloaked warriors, perhaps two dozen by Keel-Tath’s count, closed in around them to form a solid wall of swords. Most of Shil-Wular’s warriors had been drawn deeper into the forest on the southern side of the encampment, so resistance on the northern side was weak. Keel-Tath’s rescuers (she thought of them as such, although she knew nothing of their intentions other than they wanted to take her from the Dark Queen) quickly fought their way through and crossed the road. Not far into the trees were more warriors holding
magtheps
at the ready. 

The cloaked warrior took one, a large beast that stomped its taloned feet. “Our mistress shall ride with me,” she called to those around her. She mounted the beast and reached down to help Keel-Tath into the saddle, the two warriors who had carried her lifting her up. Keel-Tath cried out in pain as the warriors put their hands on her torn flesh, and nearly passed out as she straddled the
magthep’s
broad back. The mysterious warrior, sitting behind her, gently wrapped one arm around Keel-Tath’s naked torso, holding her steady. “I am so sorry, my mistress,” the woman whispered, her voice hoarse. “We shall tend your wounds properly and remove your shackles as soon as we are clear.”

The warrior kicked her
magthep
to a full run, heading deeper into the forest north of the road, with Han-Ukha’i and a guard of two dozen warriors right behind.

CHAPTER NINE

The Tale Of Dara-Kol

Keel-Tath’s eyes fluttered open. She was lying on her side on a soft warm bed of animal hides, with one of them wrapped around her as a blanket. The light in this place, wherever she was, was little more than a soft glow. The walls were of carved stone that bore a mosaic, but she could not tell what it was. The stone of the walls was cracked and crumbling, and most of the tiles were missing. Turning her head slowly, she looked up toward the ceiling, which disappeared into darkness. She could make out the vague form of arches supported by columns, but little more.

Taking a deeper breath, she noticed that there was no pain. Looking at her hands, the terrible cuts made by the manacles were gone, as was her torn skin and flesh from being dragged behind Shil-Wular’s
magthep
. Her skin was smooth and unmarred, bearing only the scars she had carried with her as she left the temple. She also noticed that she wore a black undergarment now. Someone had dressed her as she slept. And next to her was a neatly arranged pile of leatherite and metal armor, along with a trio of shrekkas, and a long dagger. They were not her weapons, and the armor was worn and dented.

“You are awake.”

A shadow approached and knelt beside her. Keel-Tath had expected it to be Han-Ukha’i, but it was not. It was the cloaked warrior who had taken her from Shil-Wular, and Keel-Tath wondered what had become of the healer.

As if reading her mind, the warrior said, “Han-Ukha’i is asleep. Healing you taxed her greatly, but she is well. She only needs rest and food, which she will have.” The warrior was holding a plate of neatly cut meat, some fruit, and other food that she set down on the hides next to Keel-Tath. “You, too, must eat and regain your strength.”

Curiosity outweighed Keel-Tath’s sudden ravenous hunger. “Who are you, warrior?”

The warrior pulled back the hood that shadowed her face. She must once have been very beautiful, but now was badly scarred, and Keel-Tath could tell that no healer had ever tended the wounds. Half of the warrior’s left ear was missing, and an ugly weal, a burn scar, crept up her neck from beneath her breast plate. 

“My name is Dara-Kol,” the warrior said. “I served your father, my lord and master Kunan-Lohr, and now do I pledge my honor to serve you, his daughter.” She bowed her head and rendered the ritual salute.

Keel-Tath gasped as a sudden burst of emotions — relief, joy, love, and anguish, all jumbled together — flooded into her blood from Dara-Kol. Her mind reeled at what Dara-Kol had said. She reached out with one hand, lifting Dara-Kol’s chin until their eyes met. “You served my father?”

“Yes, my mistress. I was young then, not much older than you are now.” 

“But I thought that the Dark Queen had hunted down all who hailed from Keel-A’ar, all who had served my father or mother.”

“She did.” There was no mistaking the hateful bitterness in Dara-Kol’s voice. “There could be other survivors, but the last of whom I heard tell was killed seven years ago.”

“Then how…how did you survive? And how did you know to rescue me?”

“I will tell you these things, but first I have something for you.” From the folds of her cloak she produced a sheathed sword. She drew it partway out of the scabbard, and Keel-Tath could see that the blade was long and graceful, the handle beautifully ornate. The only swords of such beauty that she had ever seen had belonged to the priests and priestesses of the temple. It could only be from a high warrior. “This was your father’s sword. His last command to me was that I should deliver it to your hands.”

As Keel-Tath took the weapon, she could see, even in this light, the mourning marks under Dara-Kol’s eyes. “You waited for me all this time?”

Dara-Kol nodded. “You were the most precious thing to your father and mother, the pride of Keel-A’ar. Just before he was taken at the end of the battle of Dur-Anai, he gave me this and bade me to get it to you.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “Leaving him to die was the most difficult thing I have ever done, my mistress. Since that day have I wandered T’lar-Gol, from the Eastern to the Western Seas, even the Great Wastelands, staying one step ahead of those who hunted me, of those who would give your father’s sword to the Dark Queen. All that I did, I did for him, and for you, even though I knew I might never see you, that you might never know I existed.”

“You have done my parents, and me, great honor, Dara-Kol. I can never thank you for what you have done, what you have suffered in my name.” Keel-Tath set down the sword beside her, but did not let her hand stray from it. Touching the smooth, gleaming scabbard was the first and only connection she had with her parents since they had died. “I wish I was worthy of it, but I am not my father or mother.”

“You are worthy, my mistress! You are young, yes, but how many would have done what you did, forsaking the temple of the Desh-Ka to walk into the hands of the Dark Queen? How many blooded warriors would have such courage?” She shook her head. “I can feel your strength in the song of your blood. I follow you for who you are and what you shall become, Keel-Tath. I follow you for the sake of the future, not for what is done and gone.”

Keel-Tath sighed. “You have heard the prophecy of Anuir-Ruhal’te, then.”

“Of course. I doubt there is any soul alive on this world or among the Settlements who has not heard those blessed words.” She cocked her head. “You do not believe?”

Laughing with bitter irony, Keel-Tath said, “Why should I? Here am I, an exile from the Desh-Ka, wanted by the Dark Queen, with no power, no army, and no reasonable chance of living for long.” She looked pointedly at Dara-Kol. “Am I mistaken?”

“You must judge for yourself, mistress.” Dara-Kol moved the stack of armor next to Keel-Tath. “Come. Dress and then I will show you something.”

Keel-Tath did so, slipping on the leatherite that covered most of her body. It was tight in some places, loose in others, the poor fit a completely alien experience after the perfect craftsmanship of the armorers at the temple. The same, she found, was true for the metal armor, particularly the breast and back plates, which were not quite big enough.

Dara-Kol bowed her head. “My apologies, mistress.”

“It is nothing.” Keel-Tath picked up her father’s sword and held it for a moment. It was a heavy weapon, not crafted to her hand and one that she could not wield easily.

“I have chosen another for you that would be more suited to battle,” Dara-Kol said. “But you do not need it right now. You would honor me if you wore his.”

Keel-Tath nodded, extending a hand to Dara-Kol, who helped Keel-Tath to her feet. The young warrior swayed as blood momentarily rushed from her head. “I am fine,” she said, waving away Dara-Kol’s hand. After a moment, the dizziness passed.

After a moment’s consideration, she decided not to strap the sword to her waist belt, for the tip of the scabbard would have dragged on the floor. Instead, she strapped it over her back, the glittering handle showing above her shoulder.

“There,” she said, the weapon’s weight a welcome burden. “That will do.”

Dara-Kol led her from the chamber into a corridor that was as wide as a dozen warriors standing shoulder to shoulder. It was dark, save for a handful of torches that marched away in one direction. The most distant of them was but a pinprick of light. In the opposite direction, the corridor quickly vanished into darkness. They turned to follow the light of the torches.

“Tell me, what is this place?”

“It does not have a name, for it is so old the tongue is unknown to us. I think it may date back as far as the First Age. Perhaps a keeper of the Books of Time could tell us what the markings mean,” she gestured to strange glyphs lining the walls, now faded to near illegibility, “but no keeper will ever see this.”

“Why?”

“Because it is known only to the honorless ones. It has been a sanctuary since ages past, its secret never betrayed. It can only be found by those who have been here before, or brought by another.” Her voice lowered. “And once a warrior has lost her honor, it is gone forever. There is no returning to the Way. And so the secret has remained.”

Keel-Tath stopped in mid-stride and put a restraining hand on Dara-Kol’s arm, turning her so they faced one another. “And who is anyone to say that you are without honor?” She stepped closer. “I do not believe in my heart that I am to fulfill Anuir-Ruhal’te’s prophecy. But if someday I rise to become more than a simple warrior, to be like my mother and father, perhaps, the world will know that you have never strayed from the Way.” Shaking her head angrily, she went on, “It is the Dark Queen who is honorless, and the priesthoods who let her rampage across our world.”