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

by Michael R. Hicks

  Reacting purely by instinct, Anin-Khan flicked his sword to his right, bringing up the flat of the blade as a shield in front of Keel-Tath, who was snuggled tightly in the bundle bound to her nurse’s chest. The child cried out, and he could sense a spike of fear and anger in her that he had never felt before from an infant.

  Whipping his head around toward the child, he saw a shrekka glance off his blade. It missed Keel-Tath by no more than a hair’s breadth before the whirring blades sliced into the nurse’s upper chest. With a wet gurgle, blood spewing from both the wound and her mouth, the nurse slid from her mount.

  “Ria-Ka’luhr!” It was all he had time to say before chaos exploded around him.

  * * *

  As the dying nurse fell toward the ground, Ulana-Tath dove from her own mount, her hands reaching for her helpless child. Taking hold of the bindings that held Keel-Tath to the dead nurse, Ulana-Tath’s talons sliced through the tough material. She pulled Keel-Tath to her armored breast just before Ulana-Tath slammed into the ground on her left side. A painful crunch told her that something, some ribs, perhaps, had broken, but she forced the pain aside. Fighting against the helpless, panicked feeling of having had the wind knocked from her lungs and the sudden agony of taking a breath, she struggled to her knees, cradling her daughter.

  Standing before her was one of the honorless ones who was on foot, his spear held at Ulana-Tath’s throat.

  “Mercy!” She would never have begged for her own life, but she would for that of her child. She had dropped her sword, and the warrior facing her would have killed her before she could draw her dagger. “I bear a child! You may have strayed from the Way, but even you would not let a child come to harm! I beg you!”

  The warrior’s expression softened in the moment before a charging magthep crushed him to the ground, the beast’s talons tearing into the his vitals as it stomped him.

  “Mistress!” The warrior, one of her own, who rode the beast slid quickly to the ground and reached for the child. In the heat of the moment, Ulana-Tath had forgotten the warrior’s name. “Take my mount and flee with your daughter!”

  She did not argue. Handing Keel-Tath to the warrior, Ulana-Tath leaped into the saddle. The warrior carefully handed her the bundle containing her precious daughter, whose mouth was open in a ceaseless scream. Then he handed her his sword.

  “Go!” He brutally slapped the magthep’s rump, sending it into a full gallop just before a spear emerged from his chest, driven by one of the honorless ones. He crumpled to the ground, his hands wrapped around the spear’s bloody shaft.

  Ulana-Tath snapped her attention to the desperate battle that had engulfed her companions. She saw that Ria-Ka’luhr was surrounded by Anin-Khan and several other warriors, of Keel-A’ar and the honorless ones alike, their blades flashing in the sun like the deadly silver fish that inhabited the Lo’ar River as they fought the acolyte and one another. It was clear that the Desh-Ka acolyte was trying to fight his way toward her to finish the task of killing her daughter. Ulana-Tath felt boundless shame that she had not heeded Anin-Khan’s warnings.

  For a brief moment, their eyes met, and he nodded.

  “Protect our mistress! Protect the child!” Anin-Khan’s shouted orders carried over the furious sounds of clashing steel and raging warriors who fought in a snarling melee that swept outward from where Anin-Khan fought to block Ria-Ka’luhr’s advance.

  Ironically, for just that moment, none of the warriors, hers or the honorless ones, had their attention focused on her. While she wanted to fight to help kill the treacherous Ria-Ka’luhr, she did the only thing she could.

  Savagely kicking the big magthep in the ribs, Ulana-Tath clung tightly to her daughter and fled. The magthep knocked down a pair of grappling warriors as she passed beyond the boundary of the swirling battle, just before another shrekka hurled by Ria-Ka’luhr found its mark in her back.

  * * *

  Anin-Khan fought as he had never fought before in his life. The Desh-Ka acolyte was a demon with his sword, holding his own against as many as six or eight other warriors trying to take him down.

  The acolyte’s only weakness, Anin-Khan had discovered, was that his skills at handling a magthep in combat were weak. Despite the acrobatics he had used when he had saved Ulana-Tath from the queen’s riders, he clearly had no experience in mounted combat.

  Having served as a mounted warrior for many campaigns in his younger years, Anin-Khan could make any trained magthep move in a coordinated display of lethal grace. Now, he constantly drove his magthep against that of Ria-Ka’luhr, shoving it off-balance before Anin-Khan whirled his own beast around to slap the acolyte’s mount again with the tail. Were not so many other warriors crowded in against the acolyte, inhibiting Anin-Khan’s own movements, he might have been able to kill Ria-Ka’luhr with his magthep.

  But there was no point in wishful thinking. There were too many others pressing in around them, and it was just as likely that Ria-Ka’luhr’s superior swordsmanship would have decided the issue in any case.

  Anin-Khan took a precious moment to glance back at where he heard Keel-Tath’s high-pitched cry. He saw Ulana-Tath mounting one of his warrior’s magtheps, just before the warrior was stricken by the spear of one of the honorless ones.

  He saw her gaze meet his own, and he nodded his obeisance to her, unable to make a formal salute of parting.

  Turning back to the warriors struggling to keep Ria-Ka’luhr at bay, he bellowed, “Protect our mistress! Protect the child!” Then he again drove his magthep into the fray, his sword seeking the young acolyte’s neck.

  But he was too late. With a cry of horror, he saw Ria-Ka’luhr pull a shrekka from the shoulder of an honorless one he had just killed. With only a brief glance in Ulana-Tath’s direction, the acolyte hurled the weapon in a smooth blur of motion.

  The weapon caught Ulana-Tath in the back, near the bottom edge of her backplate. Had it hit the leatherite that was her only protection where the backplate ended, she would have been killed instantly. As it was, the weapon raked a deep, bloody furrow through the flesh and bone across the back of her ribs, missing her spine by a finger’s breadth.

  Anin-Khan did not hear her cry out, but felt her pain in his blood and watched as she slumped forward, clinging to the saddle with one hand as she cradled Keel-Tath with the other.

  With a roar of fiery rage, the captain of the guard of the great city of Keel-A’ar redoubled his attack against his enemy.

  * * *

  Using all the skills he had been taught in a lifetime spent at the temple of the Desh-Ka, Ria-Ka’luhr fought off his attackers. The part of his mind that remained his own would have laughed aloud at the irony of the honorless ones wanting to take him. He was the product of what the queen had wanted the honorless ones to accomplish, and she had also ordered them to be killed. The word had simply not spread this far yet. But it would, soon enough.

  He cried out in solitary anguish as, one after another, the warriors of Keel-A’ar were stricken by his sword or claws. He even felt pity and remorse for the honorless ones, who were only being hastened to their inevitable demise by his flashing blade.

  Despite the chamber of madness in which he found himself, his joy had been absolute when he had thrown the shrekka that had been destined for the infant child and it had been deflected by Anin-Khan’s blade. The duality of his existence was destroying what little was left of his own rational mind, for he knew what his body was going to do, as if he could see into the mind of his other self. He could sense the thought process, the desired outcome, the risks, and all the other factors that went into making any decision or taking any action.

  And he was powerless to change any of it.

  More warriors went down around him. Only Anin-Khan seemed to be immune. Anin-Khan was more skilled, and also knew how to use his magthep as a weapon. Ria-Ka’luhr silently cheered him on, hoping Anin-Khan would send his mount into a leap to slash Ria-Ka’luhr with its talons and end this insufferable torment.<
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  But it was impossible. There were too many pressed in against Anin-Khan for him to maneuver.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Ulana-Tath riding away, the child clutched in her arms.

  He screamed in silence as he felt his free hand reach for a shrekka on the armor of an honorless one he had just killed.

  Mercifully, his eyes turned away from her as he threw it, and he did not have to see it strike home. For he knew it would. He never missed.

  Please, Anin-Khan, he begged in silence. Kill me…

  * * *

  Ignoring the blood that he coughed up from his pierced left lung, Anin-Khan fought on. Only he and two other warriors remained alive. The rest, his own warriors and the band of honorless ones, lay dead in the trampled and blood-soaked earth around him.

  They now fought Ria-Ka’luhr on foot. Several of the honorless ones had finally brought down the acolyte’s magthep, thinking that he would be more vulnerable on the ground.

  They had been quite wrong. The move had eliminated his only real weakness, and they had paid the price in blood for their mistake.

  Anin-Khan knew that he and the other two warriors would not be able to hold him much longer. While they had wounded Ria-Ka’luhr several times, his stamina and strength had barely diminished. If this was the power of a mere acolyte, Anin-Khan could not imagine how powerful a priest or priestess must truly be.

  All the more reason to see that this beast never joins the priesthood. Ignoring the agony burning in his chest, he lunged forward, timing his attack to coincide with the other two warriors.

  As he had before, Ria-Ka’luhr parried them with a series of deft strokes of his sword. This time, he exploited the failing strength of one of the other warriors. After deflecting the warrior’s sword downward, the acolyte landed a killing blow to the warrior’s throat with the outstretched talons of his free hand.

  Seizing the opportunity, both Anin-Khan and the remaining warrior attacked.

  But they had both been duped. Ria-Ka’luhr, with his talons still buried in his latest victim’s throat, smoothly pivoted, putting the warrior’s body between himself and Anin-Khan.

  Unable to stop his own momentum, Anin-Khan’s blade pierced the warrior’s back armor, finishing what Ria-Ka’luhr had begun. The thrust also momentarily immobilized Anin-Khan’s sword, leaving him completely open to attack.

  He instantly let go of his weapon and rolled to the ground just as the acolyte’s sword scythed through the air where his neck would have been.

  The remaining warrior made an overhand cut against the acolyte, who blocked it with the body he still held impaled on his talons. The blade was pinned by flesh and bone, and in that instant Ria-Ka’luhr took the warrior’s head with a ferocious slash with his sword.

  Anin-Khan snatched one of the many swords that lay strewn upon the ground as Ria-Ka’luhr yanked his talons free and turned to face him. The agony that filled the left side of Anin-Khan’s chest had become overwhelming, and he knew that his time had come.

  “May your wretched soul rot in the darkness of eternity!” Summoning his remaining strength, he lunged at Ria-Ka’luhr, thrusting his blade at the acolyte’s chest.

  Anin-Khan was surprised at the momentary look of sorrow he saw on Ria-Ka’luhr’s face before the younger warrior’s sword pierced his heart.

  * * *

  Ulana-Tath knew only pain and desperation as she rode the magthep up the steep switchbacks that led up the face of the plateau toward the Desh-Ka temple. She could not see it, but she knew that the wound in her back was a savage one. Ribs grated together where they had been sawn through, nearly blinding her with pain, and a rivulet of blood poured down her right thigh from a severed blood vessel. She coughed now and again, leaving a fine coating of blood on the magthep’s neck. Her vision was turning gray, the color leaching out of the world as the life drained from her. The armor she wore had saved her from instant death, but death was yet stalking her, close behind.

  She had let go of the magthep’s reins, for guiding the animal was hardly necessary along the narrow path. Instead, she used both hands to hold Keel-Tath, who had stopped screaming. With numb legs, Ulana-Tath urged the exhausted magthep onward with periodic kicks to its ribs.

  Keel-Tath’s tiny face peered out from the cloth cocoon, her beautiful silver-flecked eyes staring up at her mother.

  Glancing back, Ulana-Tath saw another magthep starting up the ancient trail. It was no more than a dark form slipping in and out of sight among the emerald trees. She did not need a priest’s powers of second sight to know who it was. She had sensed Anin-Khan’s final moments, and could only hope that the keepers of the Books of Time would record his valor as the fallen captain of the guard deserved.

  She thought, too, of her consort, the warrior who owned her heart. Kunan-Lohr. He still lived, still fought, but she knew through the senses of her blood that his time would soon be upon him. The Dark Queen would crush his body, but could not do so with his spirit. He had lived and would die with great honor, yet she wished that he could have been with her, that they could have shared the end of their Way, just as they had shared in living it.

  Knowing that Kunan-Lohr could only feel her emotions and not her thoughts, Ulana-Tath focused on her love for him, that he would know how much he meant to her now, near the end.

  May thy Way be long and glorious, my beloved. As the ancient words of parting ran through her head, she could feel her heart breaking.

  Turning her eyes away from the evil that pursued her, she looked up. She was more than halfway up the face of the plateau now, and could make out the shape of the low wall that stood along the edge of the temple, and the gate that led inside. That was her goal, the objective that consumed her conscious mind. For that gate meant safety for Keel-Tath. If she could just get the child over the threshold, the worn stone over which all must pass to enter the temple, her daughter would be safe.

  As she stared at the gate, willing the magthep forward, she saw the glint of sunlight on polished armor.

  A solitary figure stood just beyond the threshold, watching her.

  * * *

  Ayan-Dar clenched his fist in frustration as he watched the magthep that carried Ulana-Tath make its way up the trail. He wanted to help her, but could not interfere. It was maddening.

  He had been watching Kunan-Lohr’s battle with the queen’s forces until a short time ago, when he had sensed Keel-Tath’s distress. The child’s spiritual voice in his blood was preternaturally clear to him now. Risking T’ier-Kunai’s wrath, he had whisked himself to the edge of the confused battle that had erupted between the warriors escorting the child and a host of honorless ones.

  A bare breath had passed after he had appeared when T’ier-Kunai materialized at his side in the wake of a chill wind. Her eyes bored into his, and he could feel her sharply focused anger.

  “I already have one of our fold who must be disciplined for breaking our covenants.” She nodded her head toward Ria-Ka’luhr, who was completely surrounded by enemy warriors. “Do not shame yourself, as well.”

  “He is alive!” Ayan-Dar stood for a moment, transfixed at the sight of his long-lost acolyte. He had not heard, or had not recognized, his spiritual song for months, and had thought him dead.

  And yet fate had delivered him here, fighting to save the child, just as he would have himself if he had been able.

  T’ier-Kunai said nothing. Seeing that Ayan-Dar was rooted to the ground with shock at seeing Ria-Ka’luhr, she took his arm and whisked them both back to the temple.

  “He is alive,” Ayan-Dar said again. He looked down toward the forest.

  “So he is.” She, too, was shocked. But an explanation could wait until Ria-Ka’luhr’s return, assuming he survived the battle.

  But her shock had not overridden her anger at the priest, and friend, who stood beside her. “Ayan-Dar, you cannot continue to live on the edge of our Way. I understand the importance of all you have shown me, Ayan-Dar. I am not bl
ind. But our lives are governed by forces that even I cannot readily change.” She sighed. “As it is, Ria-Ka’luhr will find himself shackled to the Kal’ai-Il upon his return. If he returns.”

  Ayan-Dar gaped at her. “For helping to save the child’s life?”

  “No, you fool! For becoming involved at all!” T’ier-Kunai’s voice betrayed her growing fury. “To do what he has done was forbidden, just as I forbade you. I do not do this on a whim, Ayan-Dar. It is one of the principles that guides us. You know this every bit as well as I. Whatever happened to Ria-Ka’luhr in the course of his final quest, one place he should not be is where he is right now.” Seeing the older priest’s expression of disgust, she told him, her voice sharp, “Do not dare hold me in contempt. ”

  Turning away, Ayan-Dar said, “Of course, my priestess.”

  His voice held no sarcasm, but she knew that was an illusion. She stood there for a moment, deeply stung. “You wound me deeply with those words, old friend.”

  Then she walked away.

  Ayan-Dar turned, intending to call after her, to beg forgiveness for his thoughtlessness. But whether from pride or cowardice, the words never slipped from his tongue.

  Miserable and feeling great shame, he had stood there, alone for some time.

  At last, deciding that his disgrace in T’ier-Kunai’s eyes could only be made worse by small degree, he cast his second sight back to where the battle was being fought in the forest. Drawn to the terrified child’s spiritual song, he focused on her as her mother, whom he sensed must be badly wounded, raced toward the temple.

  * * *

  Ria-Ka’luhr whipped his magthep mercilessly, driving it up the trail in pursuit of Ulana-Tath. He was gaining rapidly, as her own beast had slowed considerably. He could tell that she was wounded, for she left a clear trail of blood on the trail. Looking up above to where her magthep plodded along on the next switchback, he could see that she was slumped forward in her saddle, no longer urging her mount forward. All of her remaining strength and will must be focused on simply holding onto her daughter, preventing the infant from falling to the ground.