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

by Michael R. Hicks

  The two surviving warriors moved toward the newcomer, swords at the ready. They had dismissed Ulana-Tath as a threat, which proved unwise. As they stepped past her, she lashed out with her sword, amputating the leg of one, just below the knee. With a quick reverse, she stabbed her blade deep into the thigh of the other.

  The screams of both warriors were quickly silenced by the newcomer, who made an impossible leap from the charging magthep, somersaulting in the air. Still airborne, he took the head from one warrior with a lightning swift stroke of his sword before stabbing the other through the heart, the tip of the blade’s living metal easily penetrating the breastplate. Then his feet came to rest lightly upon the ground.

  Ulana-Tath had never seen such a thing.

  Pulling the blade free from the second warrior in a smooth motion, the newcomer stood for a moment before Ulana-Tath, blood dripping from the tip of his sword.

  Looking at him, she could see the outline of the rune of the Desh-Ka against the black of his breastplate, and he wore a black metal collar with gold trim. He was obviously Desh-Ka, but the outlined rune and lack of a sigil on the collar at his throat told her he was an acolyte, and not yet a priest.

  For a moment, he stared at her with an unreadable expression, his hand tight upon the handle of his sword, and she feared that he had come to finish what the queen’s riders had begun.

  He turned at the sound of approaching riders, and three warriors rounded the turn behind them, their magtheps at a full run.

  The acolyte tensed before she shouted, “No, wait! They are with me!” It was her First and two of the others. They were all who had survived the brief but brutal encounter with the other warriors sent by the queen.

  The acolyte blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and his expression changed to one of deep concern. Flicking the blood from the blade, he sheathed his sword and knelt by her side as the three warriors rode toward them.

  “I would thank you, acolyte of the Desh-Ka,” Ulana-Tath said as she lowered her sword, “if I but knew your name.” Unlike the priests, the acolytes did not have their names inscribed in pendants below their collars.

  “I am Ria-Ka’luhr,” he told her. A brief agonized expression passed over his face. Then it was gone. “And I would ask that you never thank me for this, mistress of Keel-A’ar.”

  * * *

  After binding her wounds and tending to the three other warriors, Ria-Ka’luhr helped Ulana-Tath into the saddle of his mount, then nimbly sprang up to sit behind her.

  “How did you come upon us?” She gratefully leaned back against him, overcome now with exhaustion and relief. In the distance, she could see the dark forms of warriors on the way from Keel-A’ar. Anin-Khan, captain of the guard, had wasted no time in sending a relief party.

  Ria-Ka’luhr was silent for a moment. “I was not far from here, returning to the temple from a long quest, when I sensed that you were in peril.” It was the truth, in part. What he did not tell her was that he had not only sensed her spiritual song, but had been overcome with another powerful vision, no doubt the will of the Dark Queen. The vision showed him plunging his sword into her chest. But it was not time. Not yet.

  “I thought that members of the priesthood were not to become involved in affairs beyond the temple.”

  He bared in his fangs in humor. “I am not yet a priest, my mistress. No doubt the elders will look upon my act as one of foolish intransigence, but such can easily be overlooked when the idiocy of youth is taken into consideration.” After a pause, he went on, “Those warriors were clearly not acting honorably, and I could not bring myself to stay my hand.”

  “My thanks to you, Ria-Ka’luhr. You will always be welcome in the city of Keel-A’ar.”

  The part of him that was still his silently cried, You will not think that for much longer, my mistress.

  “Ulana-Tath!” Anin-Khan, leading two tens of warriors from the city, called to her as he reined his mount alongside her. The swords and shrekkas of his warriors were at the ready, and they looked at Ria-Ka’luhr with undisguised suspicion.

  “Sheath your weapons,” she commanded them, and they did so instantly. “I owe him my life.”

  Anin-Khan lowered his head, and she could sense the shame that filled his heart. “We rode as soon as we saw you, my mistress, but we could not…”

  “Do not trouble your heart, captain of the guard.” She reached over to grip his arm. “Never have I been so relieved as I was to see you riding toward me.”

  Anin-Khan grunted, casting an eye at the Desh-Ka acolyte. “I thank you, acolyte of the Desh-Ka, for protecting my mistress.”

  Ria-Ka’luhr only bowed his head in acknowledgement.

  “If I may ask, mistress, why have you returned home? And where is our master, Kunan-Lohr?”

  “The Dark Queen has betrayed us,” she told Anin-Khan in a voice that trembled with rage. “She sent those riders to kill my daughter, to slaughter all the children of our creche.”

  “But why?” Anin-Khan could not hide his shock, and the other warriors that formed a protective ring around their mistress gaped in astonishment. “Why would anyone, let alone the queen, do such a thing?”

  “We do not know. But we must protect our children. She will know those riders failed, and she will send more, legions, if she must.” She thought of Kunan-Lohr, who must soon be reaching the queen’s encampment in the east. She could sense him, feel his pride, his anger. His love. “Our master rides to break the covenant of honor with the queen. But she will not let him simply depart with our legions, or whatever may be left of them after she has bled them against the enemy.”

  The older warrior was silent for a moment, wondering at the fate that awaited his master. “I should die at his side.”

  “If you are to die, Anin-Khan, let it be defending our city and our children. Kunan-Lohr entrusted you with protecting that which we all hold most dear. You will honor him far more by protecting Keel-A’ar than falling at his side in a glorious but hopeless battle.”

  “As always, mistress, you speak the truth. Forgive me.”

  “There is nothing to forgive, my captain,” she told him as they passed through the gate to the city, the sunlight glinting from the warriors arrayed on the battlements above. “Just keep our children safe.”

  Behind her, Ria-Ka’luhr said nothing.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Kunan-Lohr had always taken great risks in battle, for without great risk, there could be no great victory. Yet every battle he had fought, be it his blade against another’s in ritual combat or leading his city’s legions, had been well-considered, the risks weighed and balanced against what could be lost and what could be gained. Honor, of course, had always been the common and most important factor.

  This time, he knew, things would be different. While breaking a covenant of honor was not unheard of, it was very rare. The reason was simple: few had been the times when one in authority had acted with such dishonor that his or her vassals were so aggrieved that they considered breaking the covenant that bound them. The sense of honor that drove them was trained into them from early childhood by the priests and priestesses of the kazhas. Those who acted with dishonor were ostracized from society at best, and, at worst, had their hair shaved, dooming them to eternal spiritual darkness.

  That was the fate that he would have wished upon the Dark Queen for her outrageous plot against his child. Yet, he knew that would not come to pass, at least by his hand.

  The three legions he had led from Keel-A’ar had been bled dearly, for he could sense many missing voices in the song that echoed in his blood. The challenge that lay before him was to extract the survivors from among the other legions that remained loyal to the queen. He hoped that eventually, when word of her deed came to light, they would turn upon her, but that would not help him now.

  He had a plan that he hoped would work, but the first obstacle was getting word to Eil’an-Kuhr at the queen’s encampment, telling her that he was breaking the covenant of
honor with the queen. Even though he had given his Sign of Authority to Ulana-Tath, according to tradition, any object readily associated with its owner would do. He held his dagger, which had a wicked curved blade and had a handle made from a polished genoth bone. It had been handed down through his paternal side for over twenty generations. He had never known his father, for he had died shortly after Kunan-Lohr had been born. The heirloom had been left with the wardresses of his creche, who had given it to the priest of the kazha near the city. The priest there had presented it to Kunan-Lohr when he had survived his seventh and final Challenge.

  “Take this.” He held the dagger out to Dara-Kol, the eldest of the three young warriors who had come with him. Like her two companions, she was draped in the dark blue robes of the builder caste. They had no choice but to leave behind their armor, for its shape would have given away the disguise. They still carried their weapons, tied close to their bodies under the loose robes. “Eil’an-Kuhr will accept this as a Sign of Authority and act on the instructions I have given you.”

  Dara-Kol nodded in understanding as she accepted the dagger, bowing her head. “Yes, Lord.”

  Kunan-Lohr nodded, then sat back to consider their situation. They were in a small village near the front, hidden in the abandoned remains of an old storehouse. It had been no small feat to come this close to the front, near enough that they could hear the riot of battle in the distance. There were many warriors along the roads, but not all of them moving to or from the battle. Some were clearly posted as sentinels, screening the warriors who passed toward the battlefield.

  No doubt, he thought, they were looking for him. He had to give Syr-Nagath credit: she was not one to take chances. In case her riders failed to kill him, she hoped to snare him as he returned to the front, ignorant of her treachery.

  The sheer size of her army had worked in their favor. There were now half a million warriors stretched north and south from her encampment, with thousands more arriving every day. And this was only a fraction of the total strength bound to her. Millions more were spread across the face of T’lar-Gol, awaiting her call.

  Finding one warrior among such a number, even one as distinguished as Kunan-Lohr, was not an easy task, particularly when such a warrior did not wish to be found.

  But this village was as far as he dared go. For beyond this place would be enough warriors honor-bound to the queen who would recognize him no matter how he tried to disguise himself. He knew that some of them already sensed his presence, but their abilities were not so attuned that they could tell exactly where he was. If they had, his gambit would have already failed.

  The three warriors with him were all young, and not likely to be recognized as coming from Keel-A’ar. But they could not simply march into the encampment and straight to Eil’an-Kuhr without risk of being caught. That, they could not afford. The stakes were far too high.

  He had been stumped on how to get his messengers past the queen’s guards until Dara-Kol had made a radical suggestion. “Could we not dress in robes as one of the non-warrior castes and simply walk in?”

  Kunan-Lohr had looked at her with frustration. It was such a ridiculous idea. He was just opening his mouth to gently chide her when he realized that her suggestion was, in fact, an elegant solution. “I believe, child, that your suggestion has some merit.” He smiled. “Should we survive this, you will be Anin-Khan’s subaltern.”

  “Yes, my lord!” The young warrior bowed her head and saluted, and he could sense her bursting with pride.

  He gave her a toothy grin. “Do not thank me. He is a fierce taskmaster, entirely unlike myself.”

  The three young warriors allowed themselves a brief moment of mirth before he went on. “Then let it be so. There are many stocks of clothing to be found in an encampment as large as this has become. Fetch what you require and return.”

  That had been last night, and the three had ventured out into a torrential storm. They had returned in the early morning with the dark blue robes of builders.

  “Why did you choose the robes of builders?” Kunan-Lohr could not mask his concern as he fingered the fabric they had produced from a satchel, along with several thick cuts of meat and leather bags containing ale. He was worried because builders were almost never seen near a battle unless it was a city under siege, where they worked closely with the warriors to build and repair defensive works.

  “My lord, the roads are filled with them!” Dara-Kol’s exclamation was muffled by the meat that filled her mouth. It had been two days since any of them had eaten. They had pilfered the food from unobservant warriors, but would not eat any before they had served it to Kunan-Lohr. “We heard that many were already here, and hundreds more arrived this night alone. Hundreds, perhaps thousands more are coming.”

  Kunan-Lohr stared at them, unable to believe what he was hearing.

  “We saw them, my lord.” The middle of the three, a strong young male who favored the spear as his principle weapon, gestured emphatically. “We made no mistake.” He glanced at Dara-Kol. “But the ones we saw were…”

  “Different.” Dara-Kol finished the sentence for him. “We saw some of them in the light of the fires where food was being prepared. Their faces were strange in a way I have never seen.”

  “None of us have seen such.” The third warrior, another young male, shook his head. “It is difficult to describe, my lord. But I think they looked like the images of the ancient ones, before the end of the Second Age, that the keepers of the Books of Time from the Desh-Ka temple once showed us.”

  The others nodded in agreement as they cut strips of meat with their talons and hungrily shoved them in their mouths.

  Kunan-Lohr sat back, the raw meat in his hand forgotten. “Are you sure?”

  “That they were different, yes, my lord,” Dara-Kol answered. “The other builders did not seem to wish to have anything to do with them. And the warriors seemed to be afraid of them.”

  “They were terrified,” the spear carrier corrected. “The warriors watched these builders with fear in their eyes. It was plain to see. But why?”

  “Because they are Ka’i-Nur.” The name of the ancient order sent a chill down his spine. He had never had any dealings with them himself, but had heard stories from those who had. None of them were pleasant, and the stories were so fantastic that Kunan-Lohr had never truly believed them.

  The three young ones looked at him with blank expressions.

  “You know of the six ancient orders, among which are the Desh-Ka,” he explained. “But there has always been a seventh, the Ka’i-Nur, which is not often mentioned. They have kept to themselves for millennia in a fortress deep in the Great Wastelands.”

  “But why do they come here?” Dara-Kol asked.

  “That, child, I would like you to find out, if you can.” He leaned forward. “You must, at all costs, deliver my commands to war captain Eil’an-Kuhr.” The three nodded. “And if you can, find out what you might about these builders from Ka’i-Nur and why they are here. But do not stray from the first task. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, my lord.” The three answered as one.

  “And under no circumstances try to mix into a group of the Ka’i-Nur builders. They will know instantly you are not one of their own.”

  “How, my lord?” The eldest asked. “Because we do not look like them?”

  “And because you are not of their bloodline. Did you sense any of them?”

  All three of the young warriors shook their heads.

  “Nor would they sense you, which would immediately set them on their guard and give you away. So you must find a group of builders from one of the other six bloodlines, who look as we do, and among whom you can disguise yourselves.”

  “It shall be as you say, my lord.”

  Kunan-Lohr nodded, satisfied. The four of them ate in silence. When they finished, it was time.

  “You must go now.” Kunan-Lohr stood up and gripped each of the three warriors in turn by the forearms. “The r
ain still falls, which will make it easier for you to blend in with a passing group of builders.” With great pride in his voice, he added, “May thy Way be long and glorious, warriors of Keel-A’ar.”

  They knelt and saluted him before once again heading out into the pouring rain. Above, a flash of lightning seared the sky.

  * * *

  Eil’an-Kuhr stood at the rear of the great battle line. The pelting rain dripped from the ridges over her eyes as she kept close watch on the segment of the line for which Keel-A’ar was responsible. The battlefield was a quagmire of rain and blood, and the warriors fought to keep their footing as much as they fought the enemy. The rain, an unwelcome nuisance, had run under her armor, giving her a chill as it flushed out the blood from the minor wounds she had suffered so far this day. She would eventually seek to be treated by a healer, but that could wait.

  She had been fighting for hours throughout the morning since the day’s battle had begun. She normally fought in the line, but the opposing warriors had redoubled their attacks against her sector. She had been forced to form a reserve, and led them to plug breaches in the line where the enemy threatened to break through. Above the incessant fall of the rain, she could hear the roar of hundreds of thousands of voices and the ring of steel upon steel. War cries and the screams of the injured and the dying.

  To her and the others of her kind, the sound was like music. To fight was what she had been born to do.

  The battle now stretched up and down much of the eastern seaboard of T’lar-Gol, with neither side able to gain an advantage that was decisive enough to force the other side to accept an honorable surrender. The opposing army had gained reinforcements from the northern and southern reaches of the continent, even as the Dark Queen poured more of her own warriors into the fray. It was a battle the likes of which had not been witnessed since the last attack on the Homeworld by the Settlements.