In Her Name: The First Empress: Book 01 - From Chaos Born

by Michael R. Hicks

  “My lord!” He looked around a moment, confused. He had sensed the alarm of his master and mistress and had come at once. Now, he found that the priest was gone, and there was no threat that he could see.

  “Your sense of timing is without fault, as always.” Kunan-Lohr had known Anin-Khan since childhood, and they had both become warriors in the kazha of the Desh-Ka that lay in the forest not many leagues distant. “The priest of the Desh-Ka…suggested that we put a guard on our daughter, Keel-Tath. She could be in danger.”

  Anin-Khan’s face twisted into disbelief before settling into an expression of outrage. “Not while I live and breathe, my lord.”

  “Then I will ask you to see to it, captain of the guard. Choose only your most trusted and capable warriors, those you can spare from their duty defending the city.”

  “It shall be done.” Anin-Khan saluted, then turned to the six warriors who had accompanied him, quietly laying out his orders to form a guard on the master’s daughter.

  “Come, my love.” With a caress of Keel-Tath’s cheek, Kunan-Lohr led Ulana-Tath from the creche.

  As they made their way silently along the streets to the citadel, he worried over not only the priest’s words of warning, but the timing of the strange affair. He and Ulana-Tath had no choice but to return to the East, where war awaited them, leaving their daughter behind.

  He felt Ulana-Tath’s hand on his arm as fear took root deep inside him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  T’ier-Kunai stared out the crystal window that overlooked the arenas that were at the center of the Desh-Ka temple. It was a physical arrangement that mirrored the importance of the arenas in their lives, which was itself a reflection of what her race held dear. The thrill of battle, the carnage of war.

  As high priestess, her quarters had the benefit of such a view, although by any other measure they were the same as those of the other members of the priesthood here. The stone walls glowed, casting light into the chamber where she spent the few hours each day that she was not out and about in the temple. Here is where she slept on the thick bed of animal hides on the floor, or sat at the ancient wooden desk, preparing correspondence with ink and parchment. Aside from that and a few savored trophies from long-ago battles, the room was bare.

  Those who chose the life of the priesthood and could survive its many trials were not tempted by or interested in material things. Their lives were dedicated to purifying the spirit as they perfected the art of war.

  “The Ka’i-Nur do not welcome visitors, least of all from among the other orders.” She turned to face Ayan-Dar, who had materialized, unbidden, in her quarters, to announce his latest self-appointed mission. Anyone else would have taken it for what his appearance had been, a serious breach of etiquette, but T’ier-Kunai had only sighed in resignation. She made allowance for the old priest’s eccentricities, but she hoped that he understood that not everyone would be so tolerant. And she would not be high priestess forever, in a position to indulge him so. She frowned. “What could possibly tempt you into going there, Ayan-Dar?”

  He bared his fangs in a toothy grin. “Another of my fool’s errands, priestess.” At her stern look, his smile faded quickly. “T’ier-Kunai, I have come simply to inform you that I am going, that in case I should not return, you will know what has become of me. I do not seek your leave or approval, not because I do not wish it, but because if something does go wrong, you will stand above reproach in the eyes of the peers.”

  “I will not be shackled to the Kal’ai-Il if you start a war, you mean.”

  Ayan-Dar made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “The Ka’i-Nur are bound to their fortress and have not strayed from it for many thousands of cycles. You have told me this yourself, high priestess. No. The worst they may do is kill me. They will not come seeking battle with the host of the Desh-Ka.”

  At that, T’ier-Kunai stepped closer, placing a hand on his breastplate over the cyan rune of their order, her eyes filled with concern for her old mentor. “Have you ever been there, Ayan-Dar? Have you ever seen them?”

  Slowly, he shook his head. “I know only what you have told me, and what I have learned from the other keepers of the Books of Time since my return from Keel-A’ar.” He paused, and she could sense a deep foreboding within him. “More important is what I have not learned, and that is why I feel compelled to visit Ka’i-Nur. If there are answers to my questions, they will be found there.”

  “After the Crystal of Souls bound to their order disappeared, they lost the powers such as we possess.” She leaned closer. “But they are not to be underestimated. And dying is not the worst fate that could await you there. There is dark knowledge in that place from the early ages that is best left undisturbed.”

  “That is exactly why I must go.”

  “And you will not tell me of what you seek?”

  “I dare not, T’ier-Kunai.” His voice was a whisper now, his body tense, as if he was reflexively preparing for an enemy to attack. “All I can tell you is that this may be what I have been looking for.”

  “A means to unbalance the Way, to destroy the equilibrium that has maintained our civilization for the last three hundred thousand cycles?” Her incredulity was mixed with disgust at the thought. “You would cast aside all that we are and plunge us into an abyss from which there would be no return. You are mad, old friend.”

  “I know we have spoken of this many times before,” he replied, and she could easily sense his frustration. “I know that you and the others consider my thoughts as heresy, and that you only indulge them because of my past glories, that you tolerate my quests because you believe they are in vain. I also know that I am not the first such heretic.” He shrugged. “Many have come before me over the ages, and many of their names are inscribed in the stone walls of each Kal'ai-Il that stands brooding in every city and kazha across the Homeworld and the Settlements. And like those unfortunate seekers, I have a vision of something greater for our kind than simply maintaining an endless balance that leads us precisely nowhere.”

  He watched the acolytes and their mentors in the arenas as they sparred. Then he said, “Many, especially those of the ancient orders such as ours, would resist such change. Their positions have been assured throughout history as protectors of the Homeworld against the Settlements, with the orders that live among the stars doing the same, in their turn. The orders also preserve the Way, the priests and priestesses teaching all the young in the kazhas. And no single order is sufficiently powerful that it could ever overcome the others, or so we have always assumed.” He turned back to her. “No high priest or priestess has ever tested the theory since the murky times during the terrible upheavals early in the First Age. Every night that I look up and see the stars, T’ier-Kunai, I see an infinite domain that would be ours for the taking if we would just reach out and take it in our hands. We could be masters of the cosmos.”

  “We already are,” she told him crossly. “We attained the stars long ago and founded the Settlements.” She gestured at the stump of his arm. “Or have you forgotten?”

  “I do not speak of a handful of worlds that constantly war with one another! Think of the riches, by any measure, that are to be found beyond the narrow realm to which we have confined ourselves. The challenges to face and conquer, perhaps even races not our own against whom we could prove our mettle in war.”

  “And this, every great leader who has arisen has sought.” T'ier-Kunai gestured toward the east. “Even now, Syr-Nagath follows the same path that you describe…”

  “No! She follows the same path as have all who have come before her, a path that will eventually lead to the next fall. What I speak of would take us beyond collapse.” He gently placed his hand on her arm. “Imagine no more falls. Imagine if we rose as high as our spirit and will could take us, limited by nothing but the number of the stars.”

  She could only offer him an indulgent smile. “It is a great dream. But it is still a dream. For it to become a reality, the ancient orders
would either have to be united or be destroyed, which would lead to a war such as we have not seen since the end of the Second Age. As high priestess, even if I believed in your dream, that is something I simply could not allow.” Placing a hand over his and giving it a gentle squeeze, she said, “Go now on your foolish quest. But heed my words about the Ka’i-Nur. Keep your wits about you, and your sword at the ready.”

  “Always, my priestess.” With a breath of cold wind, he was gone.

  T’ier-Kunai shivered, but not from the chill air of his passage. Even the thought of Ka’i-Nur left her heart cold with dread.

  * * *

  Ayan-Dar stood on the ancient road that wound through the Great Wastelands like the discarded skin of one of the great reptiles that dwelled here. Far beyond the white-tipped peaks of the Kui’mar-Gol mountains, this dangerous land was one of extremes. Blistering hot in the day, all year round, and deathly cold at night, an unprepared traveler would be doomed to burn or freeze to death.

  Assuming of course, he was not first taken by a genoth and torn limb from limb.

  Dark gray rock, razor-sharp, rose from the earth like gigantic teeth in a maw that spanned the horizon. There were no emerald trees, no ferns or lichens, no streams or pools of water. There were only the titanic gray knives of rock that seemed to bleed even the magenta sky of its color.

  The formations were broken only by a single promontory, a long-dead volcano, atop which squatted the temple of Ka’i-Nur. Hewn of black stone from within the remains of the ancient caldera, the temple was the dark master of the bleak landscape. Nothing could be seen beyond the great wall that had been built to enclose the temple. No spires or domes, turrets or poles from which banners might fly protruded above the defensive works. Ayan-Dar had a sudden vision of there being nothing behind the massive walls but black doom.

  His hand clenching the handle of his sword, he strode forward along the road, his second sight cast around him to keep watch for the unexpected.

  While he might have considered materializing inside the temple itself, T’ier-Kunai had told him that to do so was impossible. Some unknown force protected the fortress from that particular power. She had once visited here during the last war with the Settlements, the same war in which he had lost his arm and eye. She was young then, but even so a very powerful priestess. The high priest had sent her to seek the support of the Ka’i-Nur against the invading armies from the Settlements, which were on the verge of defeating the defenders of the Homeworld.

  T’ier-Kunai had never told him what had happened to her there in the short time she had spent behind those looming walls, but she had vowed that she would never go back, and would never send another. Her mission, such as it was, had failed, the Ka’i-Nur refusing to send aid.

  Fortunately, the tide finally turned against the invaders, who in the end were destroyed.

  As he approached the fortress, Ayan-Dar could discern nothing within. Even his second sight seemed blind beyond the black stone ramparts. He found it difficult to believe that not a single inhabitant of this malignant fortress carried blood of the Desh-Ka in their veins, but their spiritual voices were silent in his blood.

  The dry gravel crunched under his feet as he made his way closer to the fortress, climbing the winding switchback in the road that led toward the massive gate, more foreboding by far than even the main gate of Keel-A’ar.

  The sun blazed down on him, the heat so intense that the air shimmered above the worn cobbles of the road. He ignored the discomfort, focusing instead on the gate that now loomed above him. While the fortress walls were smooth and bare, the metal of the gates had been cast with intricate scenes of death, no doubt as a final warning to any souls foolish enough to seek entry.

  He was certain that he had been closely watched since his arrival, and was no doubt being observed by many curious and hostile sets of eyes now.

  And so, standing before the grisly tableaux that adorned the gate, he looked up toward where he suspected covered murder holes must be and grinned. “Greetings to the great warriors of Ka’i-Nur, and the keepers of the Books of Time whom they protect. I am Ayan-Dar of the Desh-Ka, and have come to…”

  A spinning circular blade nearly as big around as he was tall sailed from the wall on his right from a slot thinner than his palm. Flying through the air at incredible speed, it hit him at waist level…and passed right through as his body momentarily merged with the passing metal. It disappeared into a slot on the far side of the entrance with a heavy thunk.

  Ayan-Dar was impressed with the engineering of such a weapon, but disappointed that they had bothered using something so primitive against a priest of the Desh-Ka.

  He looked up as small ports in the barbican over his head hissed open. Hundreds of small, wriggling creatures poured out, falling toward him.

  The deadly spines and tail stinger of the churr-kamekh, a denizen of the wastelands that was just as deadly in its way as the giant genoth, were easily recognized. The stinger was as sharp and hard as a crystal needle, and the tail was strong enough to thrust it through metal and leatherite armor. Worse, the small beasts, about the size of his palm, attacked their prey in packs. It was not unknown for a hive to bring down a small genoth that was unwary enough to stray too close to the misshapen mounds the churr-kamekh inhabited.

  He gave the Ka’i-Nur credit: it was an extremely effective way to dissuade unwanted visitors. The deadly little creatures were quite fast, and this many could easily kill an entire cohort of warriors in but a few moments. Had he been a warrior caught in such a trap, his only option for survival would have been to run.

  But he was far more than a mere warrior, and it would take something a great deal more threatening than a pack of wasteland vermin or a spinning blade to kill him or make him flee.

  Raising his hand above his head, lightning crackled from his palm. It did not shoot out in bolts as when he had killed the honorless ones on the hilltop some weeks before, but was cast as a net that spanned the space under the barbican.

  The churr-kamekh squealed as they hit the web of tiny but intense electrical discharges. Their dark gray segmented bodies vaporized in bright flashes, sizzling and popping as they were reduced to a rain of white ash.

  When they were gone, Ayan-Dar closed his palm and the electrical display ceased.

  Lowering his arm to his side, his hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword. “I am happy I could assist you with your churr-kamekh infestation, but that is not why I have come.” He could not help but smile as he imagined how difficult it must have been to collect the creatures. They could not be bred in captivity, but had to be caught in the wild. He suspected that replacing them would be a most dangerous task. “Could we please dispense with these games? I have come here only to ask the keepers of the Books of Time a single question. Then I will take my leave of your gracious hospitality.” He made no attempt to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

  “One question.” The disembodied voice came from somewhere above him, echoing in the space under the barbican. It was a female voice, and sounded quite old to Ayan-Dar’s ears.

  He tried to cast his second sight beyond the stone and metal, to glean something about what lay on the other side of the gate, but again his efforts were thwarted. “One question is all I ask. If…”

  “Enter, priest.”

  Snapping his mouth shut, Ayan-Dar stood there, waiting for the gate to open. But it remained shut, and there was no sound of gears or chains.

  Another silly test, he thought. Tightening his grip on his sword, he stepped forward, right into the gate. He felt a chill as his flesh momentarily merged with the metal, which was as thick as he stood tall. Moving through it was like walking through cold water. In three long strides he was through, his body emerging from the metal on the far side.

  He found himself in a courtyard of sorts, with two rows of warriors lining a path from the gate to a squat, windowless construct at the center of the fortress.

  The warriors at first looked like any
other, but upon closer inspection, he saw that there were some significant differences. The horn that formed the ridge over the eyes was more pronounced, and the fangs were larger, bulging behind the lips. Their talons were half again as long as those found on their kin outside the walls, glittering obsidian razors wrapped tightly around the hilts of their weapons. All those that he saw were huge males, taller than himself by a full head. Their bodies were thick and powerful, with heavy bones wrapped in powerful muscles. Their hair was braided, but in three braids, not the seven demanded by the Way. Their armor was angular, serpentine, and made of a more primitive metal than his own, but far thicker. While the added weight would be an impediment, he suspected that the physical strength of the warriors would more than make up for it.

  He had seen images of his ancestors from the First Age, and they looked much like this. It was as if these warriors were from an earlier period in their evolutionary history, as if time had stood still in Ka’i-Nur while the rest of the Kreela beyond these walls had moved forward.

  Perhaps, he considered, that was not far from the truth. And T’ier-Kunai had not been exaggerating when she had warned him of the potential threat from the warriors here. They were indeed formidable. He did not want to think of what a potential threat they could be if they had still possessed their Crystal of Souls, and the warriors standing before him had been priests.

  A female in maroon robes stood halfway to the building that lay in the center of the courtyard. She was clearly a keeper, and was flanked by two massive warriors who made the others look like undernourished weaklings.

  He began to walk toward her, moving slowly to make it plain that he offered no threat. He only used the senses of his body now, for to use anything else, even his second sight, could antagonize his hosts. T’ier-Kunai had warned him that the Ka’i-Nur harbored unabashed animosity toward their brothers and sisters in the other six orders, and would bristle at the slightest possible offense.

  As he walked toward the waiting keeper, he could not banish the sense of oppression made upon him by the fortress itself. It was uniformly bleak, without a shred of color or embellishment. Everything was made of the same black stone, polished smooth. Even the cobbles over which he walked were ebony. Every surface was smooth as glass, like black mirrors. The air within the fortress walls was unbearably hot, between the direct sun burning down and what was reflected from the stone around him.