Forged In Flame (In Her Name: The First Empress, Book 2) (29 page)

“Can you hear me? Are you well?”

“Yes,” she rasped as he helped her to a sitting position. Her body was shaking as if she had been stricken with a terrible fever, and her core felt cold as ice. “I am sorry.” 

“What happened?” Tara-Khan asked.

“I saw…I saw another vision.”

“What did you see?”

Feeling the heat of the mourning marks below her eyes, she whispered, “You do not wish to know.”

“Visions,” Tara-Khan muttered, shaking his head. “Can you climb down, or need I carry you?”

Shaking free of Ka’i-Lohr, she forced herself to her feet and pushed past Tara-Khan to reach for the rope ladder. “I can make my own way.” 

By the time she made her way down the ladder to the deck, she had recovered from the vision, which she knew was another of Anuir-Ruhal’te’s memories that the crystal shard had somehow buried in her mind. 

“For what do you mourn, child?” Dara-Kol asked, seeing the black under Keel-Tath’s eyes.

“The past and the future,” Keel-Tath answered as Ka’i-Lohr and Tara-Khan came up behind her. “I would speak no more of it.”

Dara-Kol bowed her head, but there was no concealing her worry. “As you command, mistress.”

Wan-Kuta’i called them to the side rail. “This boat,” she pointed down at a longboat with ten warriors holding oars that stood alongside, “will take you to Li’an-Salir. As soon as I can, I will send Sher-Ai’an and his warriors to shore where they will await your command.” She looked at Keel-Tath for a long moment. “I did not believe the prophecy before, and I am still not sure if I do. Perhaps I am simply not ready to accept as truth what I have seen with my own eyes. Sailors are known to be stubborn.” She smiled. “But know this: should you ever wish to take to sea again, you will always be welcome aboard any ship I command.” 

With that, she held out her hands, and Keel-Tath gripped her forearms. “We owe you our lives,” Keel-Tath told her softly. “It is a debt I can never repay.”

“You do not need to, mistress.” She nodded to the rope ladder draped over the side of the ship. “Go now, and seek the counsel of Li’an-Salir.”

Releasing Wan-Kuta’i’s arms, Keel-Tath clambered down the ladder, followed by Dara-Kol, Drakh-Nur, and Han-Ukha’i. 

“May we accompany you, mistress?”

Keel-Tath looked up to see Ka’i-Lohr and Tara-Khan leaning out over the side rail. She glanced at Wan-Kuta’i, who nodded. 

“I will second them to you, if you would have them,” Wan-Kuta’i said. 

That brought a smile to Keel-Tath’s face. “You simply wish to be rid of them, great ship mistress!” She called. “But yes, I will take them.” 

Ka’i-Lohr and Tara-Khan wasted no time in climbing down the ladder and jumping into the boat. 

“Sher-Ai’an!” Keel-Tath called up.

“Yes, mistress?” He stood beside Wan-Kuta’i.

“Second your two best warriors to Wan-Kuta’i until we can return these two to her care.”

“As you command, mistress! And we shall find you once we reach shore.”

She nodded. “Very well. Until then!”

As the rowers pushed away from the ship and headed toward shore, driving the boat through the water with quick, powerful strokes of the oars, the entire ship’s crew, lining the side rail, bowed their heads and saluted her. 

A vague sense of sadness overcame her as she returned the honor. In her heart she knew that she would never see the ship again.

***

The mood in Li’an-Salir’s great hall was one of gloom, if not despair. Keel-Tath and her companions sat at the great mistress’s table and ate as guests, silent while Li’an-Salir conferred with her senior warriors. None of what was said was good news.

“Syr-Nagath’s forces have taken the plains and control the roads north of the Swords of Night,” one of them was saying, using the tip of his sword to point to where the isthmus of Ku’ar-Amir joined with the mainland. Keel-Tath did not recognize the name, but could see on the hand-drawn map tall, rocky spires much like those that were found around the capital, but packed in much closer together. “We can hold the passes, but we are cut off from the northern kingdoms.”

One of the others grunted. “More like they are cut off from us. The Dark Queen will make short work of the kingdoms of the plains, although the ones in the northern mountains will give her more trouble. But she wanted to cut us off first.”

“The question is,” yet another said between mouthfuls of raw meat that he ground between his teeth, “where her main force will attack first. Against the northern kingdoms, or here?”

“She will attack the north first,” the first warrior said, tapping the center of the island continent with his sword. “Once she has their allegiance, even our entire army may not be able to hold the Swords. And then she will have their fleets, as well. We will hammer many of their ships to the bottom, but weight of numbers, especially in the builders at her beck and call, will eventually turn the battle against us.” He shrugged, as if the final outcome was inevitable.

The others nodded, and Li’an-Salir looked as if she had swallowed a mug full of bile.

“No.” Keel-Tath gave a start, as if the word that had slipped from her lips had burned her. Li’an-Salir and the great warriors around the table turned to stare at her. “She will come here first, mistress,” she said to Li’an-Salir, trying to ignore the bemused looks on the faces of the others. 

“And why is that?” Li’an-Salir inclined her head for Keel-Tath to continue.

“Because I am here.” 

Several of the senior warriors began to murmur and cast disbelieving glances at her, but Li’an-Salir waved them to silence. “Syr-Nagath cannot know you are here, child.”

“My respects, mistress.” Tara-Khan bowed his head before he went on, “Warriors of the queen saw her board our ship on the western shores of T’lar-Gol, so Syr-Nagath knows we offered her sanctuary.”

“But she must think that your ship sank with her own,” the warrior who had been noisily chewing his dinner said. “And by all accounts yours would have, save for the young mistress here.” He nodded at Keel-Tath, not unkindly. “But to build her conquest of our continent around the mere possibility that you survived to come here, child, seems most unlikely.”

“She will know.” She looked at the faces around her, her gaze lingering on Dara-Kol, Drakh-Nur, and Han-Ukha’i, who nodded, as if knowing what she was about to say. Their expressions were dark with memories of the disaster in the Great Wastelands. “Syr-Nagath has learned how to bind others to her will using some sort of dark magic upon the braids of their hair, and it cannot be discovered until the one so bound is dead.” Han-Ukha’i nodded her agreement. “One of our companions was bound to her in this way, and he betrayed us to her warriors and killed two of our number before his treachery was discovered.”

“But he was an honorless one, was he not?” One of the others of the council asked, his eyes on Dara-Kol and Drakh-Nur. “What can be expected of one fallen from the Way?” 

Keel-Tath could feel the song in Drakh-Nur’s blood turn cold as ice, and Dara-Kol laid her hand on his arm to stay him from drawing his sword. Dara-Kol’s anger was no less intense, but was far better controlled. “No,” Keel-Tath said. “He was not without honor. He came to me honorless, but pledged himself to me as did many others. His honor was mine when he tried to kill us. He never would have done so were he not under the queen’s control.”

Even Li’an-Salir regarded her with a pained expression. “Keel-Tath,” she said softly, “there is no redemption for one who has fallen from grace.”

“As did I from the Desh-Ka?” Keel-Tath stood, clenching her hands into fists as anger surged through her blood. Drakh-Nur and Dara-Kol rose beside her, hands on their swords. On either side of her, Ka’i-Lohr and Tara-Khan simply gaped as she went on. “I was dishonored, cast out for speaking the truth and sent naked to the Dark Queen’s host to be chained like an animal, yet you would seat me and my companions at your table.” She looked every warrior in the eyes before returning her gaze to Li’an-Salir. “I thank you for your hospitality, mistress, but I would not be mocked. Think what you may, but the hundreds of tortured souls who pledged their honor to me, who died in my name, deserve their honored place in the Afterlife just as much as any who sit around this table.”

She bowed her head and saluted before whirling around and storming out of the great hall. Neither Dara-Kol nor Drakh-Nur bothered to salute before they followed her out. 

Han-Ukha’i paused just long enough to say, “She speaks the truth about the Dark Queen’s magic, mistress. Ignore her words at your peril.” With a bow of her head and a salute, she, too, turned and left the hall, her white robes billowing behind her.

***

Keel-Tath looked up from the fire at the knock on the door. 

Li’an-Salir had given them quarters in her keep, but after the insult they had suffered in the great hall, they had taken a room in the city, not far from the docks. She had not even bothered returning to the keep, for they had nothing but their weapons, armor, and clothing they wore. Come morning, she intended to try and find a ship to take them away, but to where she had no idea. The only places left for her to go were the great ice caps at the poles of the world, and she doubted any ship flying Ku’ar-Amir’s banner would take her anywhere. All of them were awaiting word on where the Dark Queen would strike so they could sortie to meet her fleet in battle.

They had managed to find Sher-Ai’an among the thousands of warriors preparing for the coming battle, and he had been shocked when she released him from her service. 

“I would not have you live in dishonor among the people here,” she had told him, silencing his arguments to remain hers. “Besides, those who defend the city have greater need of your warriors than do I. When the Dark Queen comes, my life is forfeit in any case.”

She had wanted to tear her eyes out as he and his warriors knelt before her and saluted as she turned away. 

Drakh-Nur and Dara-Kol drew their swords and moved to either side of the door. Dara-Kol wrenched it open to reveal the forms of Ka’i-Lohr and Tara-Khan, shadows against the dark of night outside. 

“Leave before I cut you in half, younglings.” Drakh-Nur rumbled, his tone as threatening as his words.

“Forgive us.” Ka’i-Lohr bowed his head, and even Tara-Khan, an uncomfortable expression on his face, managed a nod of respect. “Mistress,” he called to her, “may we enter?”

Keel-Tath was in a foul, dark mood, but there was no harm in accepting their company. “Let them in.”

Dara-Kol and Drakh-Nur sheathed their swords as they ushered the young warriors inside. Drakh-Nur took a quick look around outside before he closed the door behind them.

Gesturing to some cushions on the floor, Keel-Tath bade them sit. The room had a table and chairs, but Drakh-Nur had piled them all in a corner. They reclined now on cushions and rugs instead of animal hides, as was their custom in T’lar-Gol.

Unaccustomed to such arrangements, Ka’i-Lohr and Tara-Khan seated themselves.

An awkward silence stretched on as Keel-Tath and her fellow outcasts regarded the two young warriors.

“It took us some time to find you,” Ka’i-Lohr finally said. 

“We did not care to be easily found,” Dara-Kol told him.

Silence again.

Drawing a deep breath, Tara-Khan looked up at her and spoke. “We came to pledge our honor to you.”

Keel-Tath blinked. “How can you? You are bound to Wan-Kuta’i.”

“We asked to be released from her service,” Ka’i-Lohr told her. “She was greatly upset by what happened in the war council meeting, and gave us leave to pledge ourselves to you as a balm to the insult you suffered.”

“You realize,” she told him, “that there is likely only one ending for me and those bound to me, and it will not be pleasant.”

Ka’i-Lohr shrugged. “We will all die someday. Some are able to choose the manner of their death, some are not. I choose to die in your company.”

She nodded. Ka’i-Lohr’s motivation was simple enough. She was also aware of how he looked at her, and could feel his attraction toward her in the song of his blood. She was of age now, and could not deny a certain attraction toward him, as well. She set the emotions aside. There might be time to explore such feelings later, assuming any of them survived the coming days. “I accept your honor, Ka’i-Lohr.” 

Then she turned to Tara-Khan, who looked at her, perplexed. 

“Am I unfit for your service, mistress?” 

She had to suppress a smile at the bewildered hurt in his voice. “I will accept your honor, if you will explain why you pledge it.” At his blank look, she went on. “From when first we met you have treated me with disdain bordering on contempt. I believe you are a capable warrior, perhaps even better than me.” She smiled, to let him know she meant no insult. But the smile faded as she went on. “But why would I have one such as you serving in my name?”

“Because, mistress,” he told her, “I believe.”

“You believe what?”

He looked at her as if she was a dullard. “In the prophecy of Anuir-Ruhal’te, mistress, and that it is your destiny to fulfill it.”

Keel-Tath stared at him, knowing he was telling the truth, but unable to believe what she was hearing.

“He has believed since he first set eyes on you,” Ka’i-Lohr said. “On the voyage over, when our ships were sent to try and find you after you escaped from the Dark Queen, you were all he thought about, all he would speak of. And when we saw you at the river’s edge…” He shrugged. “You owned his soul.”

Holding her gaze, Tara-Khan nodded. “It is as he says.”

While Tara-Khan had an uncanny ability to irritate her, she was touched by his words. “I accept your honor, warrior.” 

He bowed his head, deeply this time, and saluted.

As she returned the honor, horns, deep and melancholy, began blowing somewhere outside. The signal was followed by shouts and footsteps as warriors, thousands of them, burst from their lodgings and raced toward the docks and the ships waiting there.

“What is it?” Keel-Tath asked as Drakh-Nur and Dara-Kol again rose to stand by the door, on guard.

“The horns call the ships to battle,” Ka’i-Lohr told her, his voice grave. “The Dark Queen’s fleet approaches.”