The genoth howled in rage and hunger, and he could hear the beast’s diamond-hard claws scrabbling up the steps close behind him.
It had been one small measure of good fortune that the beast had been released below him, that it did not block his path to freedom.
Or so he had thought until his second sight revealed the mass of Ka’i-Nur warriors gathering above him. While he could only guess at their nature, he assumed these to be drawn from the same ranks as those T’ier-Kunai and the others now fought on the surface. If they were as formidable as the sensations from his companions indicated, his chances of survival were slim. He could probably kill the genoth, but there was no escape in the direction from which he had come. And above was the legion of warriors that was now pouring forth to engage T’ier-Kunai and the others, and which could easily overwhelm him as the genoth drove him toward the surface.
Some might have considered themselves trapped, but Ayan-Dar knew from long experience that was only a state of mind.
Sensing a group of warriors on the second level, just below the surface, who must have been waiting for him, he slowed his pace slightly, allowing the genoth to close the distance. It roared as it caught sight of him, the fury of its deep voice plain as a spoken word.
Ayan-Dar had not seen the full extent of the beast, only its snout and front claws as it tore up the stairs behind him, but he did not need his second sight to tell him that it was huge. The massive stairway shuddered at the beast’s movement, and its roar was deafening.
Slowing just a bit, he was able to get a good look at the beast. The head, like the rest of the creature’s body, was covered in thick scales that were as tough as armor. The head was enormous, and the jaws with their rows of needle-like teeth were large enough to swallow a magthep whole. The two horns at the top of the head were as long as Ayan-Dar stood tall, and the yellow eyes were fixed on him, its prey. He did not need to see the rest of its great body, with six powerful legs and feet boasting talons as long as his arm, or the whipping tail with its diamond-hard tip.
What shocked him was the thick metal band that he glimpsed around the beast’s long, curving neck. It must have been raised here as a hatchling, for he could not conceive of an adult beast ever being captured alive by any means. And raising a genoth in captivity was nothing short of an act of madness.
It lunged for him, snapping its jaws a hands-breadth from his heel as he again kicked away from the outside railing of the stairway. Making sure he did not let himself get far from the beast’s snapping teeth and fetid breath, he propelled himself upward.
The genoth, sensing it was gaining on its prey, sprinted toward him, opening its deadly jaws.
* * *
In the great courtyard, the priests and priestesses of the Desh-Ka stood in a line facing the oncoming crimson warriors of the Ka’i-Nur who poured from the entrance to the great stairway.
“Three hundred, do you think?” One of the priests speculated idly.
“Three hundred and thirty-eight, by my count.” Sal’ah-Umir now stood with them, supported by one of the others, who had cauterized the stump of his leg with a controlled burst of energy. The healers could grow him a new one, assuming he survived.
“There are more within,” T’ier-Kunai observed.
“They must be waiting for Ayan-Dar.”
“Then we must deal quickly with these,” T’ier-Kunai told them, “now that we have a better appreciation of what we face.”
The enemy warriors had cleared the entrance and were organizing themselves into a series of cohorts, rather than simply swarming at the Desh-Ka.
That will make things somewhat simpler, T’ier-Kunai thought.
As if hearing her unspoken words, the Ka’i-Nur opened fire with their energy weapons in a massive barrage, the searing white light reflecting off the polished black stone of the inner walls and cobblestones.
All seven of the Desh-Ka raised their hands, and a curving shield of cyan lightning crackled into existence before them. The energy of the enemy’s weapons thundered against it, and the very ground shook. The shield shimmered for a moment, as if weakened by the assault. Then it grew even brighter and began to expand.
The stone of the fortress walls nearest the battle began to glow from the enormous heat. The polished stone turned red, then white hot before oozing toward the ground like lava.
The wind began to howl as the clash of energy heated the air, and a superheated column rose swiftly, drawing cooler air behind it to fill the vacuum. In moments the entire fortress was swept by a gale that threatened to knock the combatants off their feet. Above the fortress, a huge cloud bloomed, quickly turning dark as water condensed from the surrounding air.
The Ka’i-Nur advanced, firing constantly. The warriors of the Desh-Ka reached deep within themselves, into their spirits, drawing out every last bit of energy to hurl against the enemy.
The cyan shield grew until it towered over the Ka’i-Nur. T’ier-Kunai’s face contorted with concentration as she sought to control it, to bend the combined energy of herself and her companions to her will. The wall of energy they were projecting was no longer a shield, but a great hammer with which she would destroy their enemies.
Too late, the Ka’i-Nur realized what was going to happen. Many of them broke and ran, trying to escape as the gracefully curved wall of lightning rolled over upon them like a giant wave breaking upon a beach.
Watching with her mind as much as her eyes, T’ier-Kunai gave the great wall one final push, and it fell upon the enemy formation. Shattering like glass, it fragmented into a million bolts of lightning that incinerated everything in its path. The sound shook the very foundations of the ancient fortress.
When the last of the lightning had flickered out of existence, there was only white hot stone in the fortress square where the Ka’i-Nur warriors had stood.
* * *
Ayan-Dar sensed the destruction of the enemy warriors on the surface, but also sensed something else: the warriors who had been laying in wait for him were now charging down the stairway, fleeing from T’ier-Kunai and the others.
Better to be vaporized or eaten? The question was more than academic now as he again darted away from the genoth’s snapping jaws.
In a way, the retreat of the warriors above him made things easier. Their panic might make them forget, if only for a moment, what was coming up the stairway.
Of course, there was always the pleasant possibility that the warriors might flee into one of the chambers above him, but he could not count on that.
Keeping the genoth as close behind him as he dared, he flew up the stairway toward the descending warriors. He could hear them now, their heavy footfalls on the stone audible above the mad scrabbling behind him.
The beast roared again, and Ayan-Dar heard and sensed the warriors above him come to a shuddering stop.
Despite the perils of his own situation, a fierce grin came to his lips as he imagined their predicament. To face the mad beast coming up from below, or die at the hands of the Desh-Ka who waited outside?
As he suspected, they chose to face the genoth. With the weapons they had, they could kill it, even if some of their number died in the process. For by now they knew the futility of facing the companions of his order.
All Ayan-Dar had to do was survive the coming encounter.
The warriors were suddenly there, and he did the genoth a small favor by blasting the first rank with a bolt of energy. He wasn’t trying to kill them, just sow further confusion.
A handful of the crimson-clad warriors went down. Others, unable to stop in time in their headlong rush down the curving stairway, sprawled over the top of their fallen comrades.
Drawing his sword, Ayan-Dar leaped over the heads of those warriors still standing, slashing and stabbing to add a greater measure of confusion and mayhem.
Behind him, the genoth tore straight into the mass of warriors, trampling some and tearing others to bits in its massive jaws. The Ka’i-Nur fired their energy weapo
ns at it, but in these close quarters the massive release of energy killed half their number while only wounding, and further angering, the genoth.
Ayan-Dar winced as some of the reflected energy seared his lower legs, but he ignored the pain. With a few more leaps, he reached the top level, where T’ier-Kunai and the others awaited him.
After he had sheathed his sword, they greeted as the long-acquainted warriors they were, clasping forearms.
T’ier-Kunai’s expression on her badly burned face was grim as she spoke above the echoing roar of the beast below, still savaging its victims. “I hope you found the answer you sought, and that it was worth the price all have had to pay.”
“I have, my priestess.” He clasped her arm even tighter, a look of anguish on his face. “But I fear this is only a small glimpse of what is yet to come.”
CHAPTER NINE
“I beg of you, summon the other orders. Call for a conclave.” Ayan-Dar stood in the temple’s central hall, which was now filled with the members of the Desh-Ka priesthood, while the acolytes went about their duties outside.
T’ier-Kunai, the burns on her body now gone after being tended by the healers, sat in the chair at the front of the great room, presiding over the assembly that Ayan-Dar had requested.
Two weeks had passed since the battle with the Ka’i-Nur. Two weeks that the Desh-Ka warriors had been prepared for an attack. But the dark fortress had remained silent as a tomb. T’ier-Kunai had posted two of the priesthood outside the fortress to provide warning should the Ka’i-Nur march out. While those sentinels remained, the unpleasant duty rotating among members of the priesthood, she had allowed the temple to resume its normal routine.
Once the imminent threat had passed, Ayan-Dar had begun begging her every day for an assembly to discuss the conclave, and she had finally given in.
“A conclave has not been called since before the other orders departed for the Settlements, thousands of cycles ago,” one of the priestesses observed. “And that was for something that had never occurred before in our history, Ayan-Dar.”
“As is this!” The old priest fought to restrain his frustration. He paced in front of his peers, trying to find the right words to convince them, and through them, T’ier-Kunai. “In fact, I believe the event of which we speak here is even more momentous. I believe this child is the key to the future of our race…”
One of the other priests interrupted. “Ayan-Dar, think of what you ask. All you have is a few lines of verse from a prophecy from the end of the Second Age, from a time when we cannot divine the difference between fact and legend.” He gestured toward a male in maroon robes, the master of the temple’s Books of Time. “Is this not true?”
“Such may be said,” the keeper answered quietly. He was very old, although not so old, Ayan-Dar suspected, as the now-toeless old crone who fulfilled the same role at the temple of the Ka’i-Nur. “But it is also true that all that has ever been written in the Books of Time was originally based on fact, or something that was known or believed at the time to be such. Much of it we can repeat or recreate, but much has also been lost from those long-ago times before the Final Annihilation in the Second Age. Many of the ancient storehouses of knowledge were destroyed in the great devastation that swept our world in that terrible upheaval. Even the Books of Time held by the Ka’i-Nur are not complete. They contain far more information than is available elsewhere, but great gaps exist. In many cases, we have fragments of what once was, pieces of some larger puzzle, but we do not know how the completed puzzle was intended to appear to the beholder.”
“But is it not also true,” Ayan-Dar countered, “that every prophecy known to have been made by Anuir-Ruhal’te, the oracle who gave us the words that I believe speak of the child born in Keel-A’ar, came true?”
The keeper inclined his head. “Yes, that is so. Anuir-Ruhal’te was of the Ka’i-Nur, but her history is well-known among the keepers of all the orders. She predicted the Final Annihilation of her own age, and many things that came to pass long after. Only the Ka’i-Nur had complete records of her words, but of the other prophecies of which we know, all have indeed come to pass.”
“But cannot a prophecy be interpreted many ways to fit an event, or an individual?” Another priestess, one of those who had gone on the expedition to Ka’i-Nur, asked.
The keeper slowly shook his head. “For many, such may be said, but not for those made by Anuir-Ruhal’te. While they did not contain dates or names, the words of her prophecies were so well-chosen that it was quite clear when they came to pass. Keepers in later ages recorded this fact, marveling at her singular vision.” He looked over the gathered members of the Desh-Ka priesthood. “There have been many prophets and oracles throughout our history, who have said a great many things. Some of these things have come to pass, perhaps by sheer chance, and many have not. While I do not know how it could be, it is my belief that Anuir-Ruhal’te truly had visions of the future.”
“And when was the last such fulfillment of her prophecies noted?” T’ier-Kunai asked.
“In the middle of the Third Age, nearly one hundred and fifty thousand cycles ago. It was a prediction of the great war that laid waste to the eastern half of T’lar-Gol and the famine that followed. She predicted the start of the war to the day based upon the timing of the moon cycles from the preceding Great Eclipse.” He shook his head. “Such has been the accuracy of her visions, those of which we know.”
As Ayan-Dar opened his mouth to speak, T’ier-Kunai raised her hand to silence him. “Are there any more such visions from this oracle?”
The keeper nodded, his expression turning grim. “There is no way for us to know if there are others still held by the Ka’i-Nur. But there is one other prophecy that we know, that clearly has not yet come to pass. It is believed to be Anuir-Ruhal’te’s final vision before she died, for even the fragmentary records of the time not possessed by the Ka’i-Nur speak of her passing. She herself was a keeper, perhaps the greatest who has ever lived.”
Closing his eyes, he reached deep within the storehouse of his mind, recalling the verse of the prophecy that was among the first elements of knowledge he had indexed as a young keeper:
Of muted spirit, soulless born,
in suffering prideful made;
mantled in the Way of Light,
trusting but the blade.
Should this one come in hate or love,
it matters not in time;
For he shall find another,
and these two hearts they shall entwine.
The Way of sorrows countless told,
shall in love give life anew;
The Curse once born of faith betray’d,
shall forever be removed.
Shall return Her love and grace,
long lost in dark despair;
Mercy shall She show the host,
born of heathen hair.
Glory shall it be to Her,
in hist’ry’s endless pages;
Mother to your hearts and souls,
Mistress of the Ages.
The gathered warriors were silent for a time, trying to understand the meaning behind the words spoken by the keeper.
“Mistress of the Ages,” Ayan-Dar said softly. “It is she.”
“Please, Ayan-Dar.” T’ier-Kunai’s voice betrayed her frustration. “You leap to conclusions.” Turning to the keeper, she asked, “How far apart in time were the two prophecies written?”
“I do not know.” The keeper shook his head, then looked to Ayan-Dar.
“The keeper of the Ka’i-Nur did not say, and even had I thought to ask, she would not have told me.” Ayan-Dar shrugged. “All I was permitted was a single question.”
The keeper gave a low growl of disgust. “The Books of Time are for all the Kreela. Truly they have strayed from the Way.”
“And paid the price.” The others who had gone with T’ier-Kunai nodded grimly at her words. While the Ka’i-Nur lived on, it would be long before their wounds were
healed.
And then, T’ier-Kunai feared, they would have their revenge, if we are not vigilant. “Keeper, are these prophecies related?”
He made an apologetic gesture with his hands. “As you know, priestess, our caste records and recites information of the past for the benefit of all, but we do not interpret it. To do so would violate the integrity of the Books of Time by injecting our own bias. It is up to you and the peers to make of it what you will. This is as it has always been, and so shall it always be.”
“It is not mere coincidence.” Ayan-Dar gestured toward the southeast. “The child that was born in Keel-A’ar to Kunan-Lohr and Ulana-Tath is an exact match of the child described in the prophecy related to me by the keeper of Ka’i-Nur. The child has hair white as the snow on the mountain peaks and talons the color of blood. She was born under the dark light of a Great Eclipse. A child with such traits has never been recorded in all our history.”
The keeper nodded his agreement. “Based on our stored knowledge, and accepting that it is not complete beyond the end of the Second Age, this is so.”
“Not of one blood, but of seven,” Ayan-Dar quoted from the verse he believe spoke of Keel-Tath. “She will unite the race, do you not see?”
“And then put a curse upon us?” One of the other priests, a giant among them, spoke in a deep voice that echoed across the chamber. “I would perhaps agree with you that the first prophecy speaks of this child, Ayan-Dar. But I must also say that I am deeply troubled by the words of the second vision. As you all know, I am not one who delves deeply into the way of words,” that drew a chorus of grins and fangs bared in ironic humor, “but I would say that based on the second prophecy, which speaks of this curse and The Way of sorrows countless told, letting this child fulfill any destiny beyond being cloistered in a temple may be unwise.”
To Ayan-Dar’s dismay, many of his peers seemed to agree. “Every great age in our history has been preceded by darkness,” he told them. “And the unification of our race would, I am sure, be no exception.
In Her Name: The First Empress: Book 01 - From Chaos Born Page 11