Forged In Flame (In Her Name: The First Empress, Book 2) (7 page)

“Did she provide any details?”

“No, although she hinted that such meetings have taken place with the leaders of the other orders here on the Homeworld, and possibly with those among the Settlements, as well.” She pinned him with her gaze. “Has she met with the Desh-Ka?”

Ayan-Dar told her, “No, she has not. T’ier-Kunai would have informed me of such a thing.” He slammed his fist on the table, rattling the plates and mugs from one end to the other. “What can Syr-Nagath possibly hope to gain, and why would the priesthoods agree to meet with her? The orders will not involve themselves in outside affairs.”

Li’an-Salir’s eyes shifted to Keel-Tath. “The priesthoods know of the prophecy, of course. Everyone has since the doom of Keel-A’ar. Even the honorless ones have heard of the child with white hair and scarlet talons, the one who shall unite us all. Most do not believe, but some do.” Her eyes turned back to Ayan-Dar. “Perhaps Syr-Nagath is trying to convince the priesthoods that the prophecy is indeed true, and they may believe it, or fear the possibility, just enough to be willing to entertain whatever it is she has to say. The priesthoods would have much to lose if our kind, here and among the Settlements, were united under a single banner.”

“Especially if it were hers,” Ayan-Dar countered. “I can only believe that she aspires to destroy the priesthoods herself, and the Way along with it.”

“Yes, but she was clearly not the one foretold by Anuir-Ruhal’te’s prophecy. The priesthoods believe that Syr-Nagath is no more than one of the leaders who have arisen over the ages to unite the Homeworld and do battle with the Settlements, only for all to fall to ruin once again. They see in her no long-term threat to the stability of the Way. I know for certain that is how the Nyur-A’il see her, and I have heard indirectly that the Ana’il-Rukh, your counterparts on beleaguered Uhr-Gol, believe the same.”

“As do the Desh-Ka,” Ayan-Dar said, his mouth turning down into a fierce grimace. “None are pleased with Syr-Nagath’s conduct of her war or her atrocities, but until or unless she makes a direct transgression against one who bears the collar, they are content to do nothing, to say nothing. They think she is just another great warrior, that this is just another rise that will eventually lead to yet another fall. But never before have they held counsel with such leaders as you have described, and I cannot see anything good coming of it.” He took a drink from the large mug of ale, then set it back down. “Long have I counseled for the priesthoods to become involved in the lives of those who live beyond the temples, those we guide to the Way as we have done for ages past, but not in this fashion, not by treating with a monster. I wanted our powers to be used to break us from the endless rise and fall of civilization, yes, but to take our people higher, to where they deserve to be.” He looked at Keel-Tath. “But if the priesthoods should choose to take the counsel of the Dark Queen, all may be lost.”

As Keel-Tath sat there, listening, the fire in her blood again began to burn. But this was not the uncontrolled flame that raged through her earlier when her body went through its change. This was a cold fury that wrapped itself around her heart, a fury that she held close and quiet, that she did not wish the others of her bloodline, Ayan-Dar most of all, to sense. She did not know if she could hide it, but she would try. The Dark Queen, of course, was her enemy, and had been since the day she was born. But now the priesthoods, too, seemed to be aligning against her. She felt as if she was falling into the sea beyond the walls of the city, into the maws of the terrible creatures that lurked beneath the waves.

“Then what hope have I?” Her words fell into the silence, and the elders all turned to look at her. “What was the point of my even being born, or the prophecy by a long-dead oracle, if the most powerful of our kind, the priesthoods, would see me dead?”

“That is not what was said, child,” Ayan-Dar told her. 

“But that is what you fear, is it not? If the orders listen to the words of the Dark Queen, if they come to believe that I could change the Way itself, would they not do anything to stop the fulfillment of the prophecy? And how better to do that than to kill me?”

Ayan-Dar opened his mouth to say something, then slowly closed it.

“You cannot deny her the truth,” Li’an-Salir said quietly. 

“I will let no harm come to you,” Ayan-Dar vowed, shaking off the armored gauntlet from his hand. “Before the eyes of all who witness this, I swear. Take off your gauntlets. Draw your dagger.”

Unsure what the old priest was thinking, Keel-Tath did as he ordered. After removing her gauntlets, she drew her dagger from its scabbard and held it, point toward the ceiling.

Holding his hand to one side of the blade, he said, “Take my hand, the blade in between us. Then draw it across our palms, that we may share our blood.”

“Drakash,” Keel-Tath whispered, her eyes wide with surprise. It was an ancient ritual that dated back to the earliest times of the Desh-Ka, a physical and spiritual bond between two warriors of the order. It was never done with a warrior before they had completed their seventh and final Challenge. She did not wish to think of how T’ier-Kunai would react to what her mentor was doing now, but part of her no longer cared.

Holding out her free hand, she clasped Ayan-Dar’s, then pulled the blade down, twisting it so the edge sliced through the skin and into the flesh beneath. His fingers closed around her hand, pressing their palms together. She felt a tingling in the wound that quickly spread up her arm, to her shoulder, then down into her chest. In but a few moments, the sensation had spread throughout her body as her eyes remained fixed on his. In that flicker of time, she felt as if she truly knew him, all of him, as if she had shared his very soul. 

“It is done,” he said after what to her seemed like a very long time. He slowly let go her hand, and she stared at the long cut across her palm and the blood that seeped from the wound. “Bind it with a clean cloth and let it heal on its own. You are not a priestess, but you are bound by blood now to the Desh-Ka. They cannot now forsake you.”

“They may not be able to forsake her,” Li’an-Salir said, “but can they protect her? The Desh-Ka are the most powerful, but could they stand against the might of the other orders and Syr-Nagath’s hordes, should such a terrible day ever come?”

“We will not have to. The priesthoods will not fight one another. They never have in all the millennia since they were established.”

“Except for the Desh-Ka and the Ka’i-Nur. Do not think that there is anyone alive who has not heard that tale. And I fear that is but a taste of things yet to come.”

“That was different,” Ayan-Dar huffed. “They tried to kill me without cause and T’ier-Kunai intervened, as was her right. Besides, the Ka’i-Nur are not truly a priesthood, nor have they been since their crystal was destroyed at the end of the Second Age. None of their warriors have worn the sigil of their priesthood in nearly two hundred thousand years.”

“Do not fall prey to your own assumptions, great priest.” Li’an-Salir looked at Keel-Tath. “I do not know what the future holds for you, child, and I myself am not sure if I believe in the prophecy. But you may know this, just as surely as you now bear Ayan-Dar’s blood in your veins: as long as I am mistress of Ku’ar-Amir, you will be welcome here.”

CHAPTER SIX

Living Metal

That night, Li’an-Salir herself had shown Ayan-Dar and Keel-Tath to their quarters. They were high in one of the towers of the mistress’s personal domain, the keep, and looked out over the plaza toward the sea. 

Keel-Tath stood on the balcony, watching and listening to the waves beyond the promenade as the stars twinkled above her in a black sky, bereft now of the Great Moon, which had set. She remembered little of the day after the counsel of war had finally come to its grim conclusion. It seemed now like the world was caught in the gears of a great machine that would, if left unchecked, grind them all into dust. The engine behind the machine was Syr-Nagath, but the greatest gears, beyond even the Dark Queen’s legions, were the priesthoods. Blinded by their own pride and the faith that what had been for ages past would be yet for ages to come, they could not see the truth of what the Dark Queen was doing. Keel-A’ar should have been their warning, a clear and vicious departure from the true Way, but they stood by and did nothing.

“They see, but they do not heed.” She spoke into the night, her words carried away by the light breeze. “No one can stop the coming darkness.”

“You can.”

Startled, she turned to see Ayan-Dar standing behind her. 

“You still see the world through the eyes of a young warrior,” he told her as he moved up beside her, putting his hand on the rail next to hers, “not as what you someday will become. There will come a day when the Dark Queen is no more, and the name of Keel-Tath will be hailed by every soul under the heavens.”

“You are right, my priest. I cannot see these things.” She looked down. “I wish we had not come here. This was to be my free time, my very first. Instead of happiness, I feel as if death will stalk me at every turn once we leave this place.”

“I am sorry, my child. You must believe that I did not know these things would come to pass when I brought you here. All I expected when we came to the city gate was a warm meal, some ale, and a comfortable place to sleep.” He sighed. “But you must also not cloak yourself in fear or regret. Knowledge is often the best weapon in any battle, as are allies. Li’an-Salir is a very powerful ally, and was quite taken with you. More than that, while she is still conflicted, I think she believes in you, in the prophecy.”

“I wish I did,” Keel-Tath whispered. She took hold of her braids and held them before her eyes, the white hair now nearly black in the moonless night. “What if I am nothing more than an aberration, a freak?” Releasing her hair, she held out her hands, looking at them with a sense of loathing. “And what of the healer who died? Everyone says that all these things are impossible. What other horrors await me?”

“These things are not horrors, they are gifts.” Ayan-Dar took her chin in his hand and turned her to face him. “And I hope that there are many more, because these things, these aberrations, will give you the power you need to change the Way itself. If what I believe is true, there will come a time when nothing, not even the combined might of the priesthoods, will stand against your will. But for that to ever happen, you must believe.”

“Why must I? Because all the other prophecies of Anuir-Ruhal’te have come to pass, and so must this one?” She shook her head. “Ancient inscriptions on a pillar of stone are not enough for me. And even if I did believe, how will that stop the Dark Queen or the priesthoods, should she sway them with her guile, from sending me to the funeral pyre?”

“I will not let that happen.”

“But you cannot prevent it!” She put her hands on his broad chest, her palms on the cyan rune of the Desh-Ka that even without the light of the moon seemed to glow in the darkness. “As powerful as you are, my priest, you cannot stand against the other priesthoods or Syr-Nagath’s armies.”

“I would whisk you away to safety, just as I brought you here.”

“For how long? And what is the point? Even those who believe in the prophecy will not follow a warrior who does not stand and fight. I cannot unite our people if I run and cower in fear.” She wrapped her arms around him, and he pulled her close. “All I would ask of you is that when the time comes, do not let her take me. Even if you must plunge your sword into my breast, do not let the Dark Queen have my soul.”

“On my life and my honor,” he said softly, “it will be as you say.”

***

The next morning, Li’an-Salir had them dine with her for the first meal of the day in her private chambers. It was a time of reminiscing of long ago adventures, and the mistress of the city and Ayan-Dar even managed to make Keel-Tath smile with the tales of their exploits, some of which, Keel-Tath suspected, might even have been true. There was no mention of the Dark Queen or the war. 

When they finished, Li’an-Salir took them on a grand tour of the harbor, showing the young warrior the source of the ancient kingdom’s prosperity. 

“These ships!” Keel-Tath exclaimed as they walked along the piers. “Some are huge! How can they float upon the water and not sink?”

“If you place an empty dish, even if it is made of metal, into water, does it sink?”

Keel-Tath thought about that. “No, mistress. Not if it is right-side up.”

“With the ships, it is the same. They are large and heavy, but they rest upon the water in the exact same way as the dish.”

“These ones, what are they for? They are so much larger than the others.” There were seven vessels in the harbor that were much alike, but enormous even compared to the other large ships. She measured one of them by pacing the distance as they walked, and was stunned to find that it was over five hundred paces long. All of the ships carried sails, some with square rigging, while others, smaller and far more sleek, had triangular sails. The hulls were painted in bright greens and reds, with large runes along the prow and stern proclaiming they hailed from Ku’ar-Amir.

“These ships hunt the larger creatures of the deep for their meat and oil. Come, look and see.”

She led her two guests to a shelter along the pier that was as long as one of the ships and nearly as wide. Keel-Tath, unable to help herself, recoiled from the smell. 

Li’an-Salir laughed. “Yes, it takes some getting used to. But here, look.” 

Keel-Tath’s mouth dropped open in wonder. An enormous creature took up most of the space under the shelter, and an army of robed ones were busy carving it up. Blood ran in torrents into sluices set into the pier that channeled it away. Not a drop, she saw, fell into the water of the harbor, for that would attract unwanted attention.

The head of the thing was not dissimilar from that of a
genoth
, a terrible dragon that inhabited the Great Wastelands, although it was far, far larger. This creature could have quite easily swallowed the largest
genoth
that ever lived, and some of its teeth were as big as a
magthep
stood tall. The eyes, two on each side of the smooth black body, were as big as she was. The skin was covered in thick armored scales, and she could see where several enormous harpoons had been driven through to strike the creature’s vital organs.