*
Over a hundred years had passed since the Priest Caste had carefully dedicated this most sacred place to the Hidden Ones, the unknown and most ancient shadows of the Serat parthenon of Gods. Over a hundred years had passed since they had burnt the bitter-smelling incense, and recited their holiest of chants. It had been over a hundred years since they had slaughtered the especially selected sacrificial victim, and from the bleeding body of the young mother, laid the still-warm body of the still-born female child into the very centre of the place of power. Over a hundred years had passed since the place of power had been left to the two mouldering corpses, and the lurking shadows that were the Hidden Ones. It had been over a hundred years since the place of power had been closed, in sacred expectation of the certain and future rising of the Serat nation.…
*
“Come here!”
They attempted to resist, but the two short words were an absolute command, and the men found their will swiftly evaporating like morning mist in the face of the scorching sun. Their bodies moved like puppets caught on invisible strings, as inch by inch they shuffled slowly towards the ethereal figure hanging entangled in the flaring streams of transcendent light billowing up from the ground.
“Where is the seed of Andur?” the figure whispered, her voice echoing around the smooth walls of the chamber, and off the palely glowing stalactites that hung suspended from the damply glistening ceiling.
Uhmar opened his mouth, but no sound would come out.
“Where?” she demanded, effortlessly turning in the mid-air to stare fully at the two soldiers.
Kunek’s arms dropped heavily to his sides as he gazed at the radiantly beautiful woman hanging in the air before him. Pale and slim she was, with unbound bountiful long locks of the palest blond hair, and with eyes of the clearest hazel. Naked as the day she was born, the woman hung seemingly entrapped in the light that arched and spiralled up from the ground below. Her hands moved gracefully across her body, echoing the pattern of the spiralling lights playing across her skin, and revealing the pale perfection of her body. Unconsciously Kunek’s body responded to the nearness and obvious sexual pull of the woman, and he groaned with sudden and overwhelming need. Licking dry lips, he turned his head with difficulty away from the woman to see if Uhmar was similarly affected. The other soldier too seemed in similar torment. Perspiration stood out upon his brow and the force of his desire was clearly evident.
“So that’s the Thakur Warleader,” whispered Uhmar hoarsely, speaking the words with obvious difficulty, “I wonder if she’s what Lord Aran expects?”
Kunek grimaced as he tried to shake his head.
Finally he was able to reply, “She is so beautiful, I don’t think she’s quite like anyone expected…”
“Where is he?” the woman demanded again, but the two guardsmen could only stare silently upwards.
Imperiously she held out one hand and flicked a finger at Uhmar, the startled soldier could only yelp in surprise as he felt the currents of air move about him, and steadily lift him up and carry him across to where the faintly glowing woman hung suspended above the node.
“I asked you where he was,” she whispered, one pale hand reaching out to gently stroke the rough beard on Uhmar’s face.
The guardsman shook his head, whilst trying to ignore the waves of desire flooding his body. Inadvertently he groaned, and the woman smiled gently, drawing him ever closer
“Where is he?” she murmured, her gaze an invitation to otherworldly bliss.
Despairingly, Uhmar closed his eyes, and tried to turn his head away. He knew he had failed when he felt the invisible flows of air tugging him ever closer, drawing the hapless guardsman up fully against the woman. The sword dropped from Uhmar’s nerveless hand to clatter uselessly upon the ground as the woman stared lustfully at him. He felt cold lips caress his own dry ones, and a low voice murmur, “Where is the seed of Andur? I feel him close…”
“I…will…not…yield…” he breathed, however his lips were silenced as flows of air tightened around his mouth and throat. Immediately his desire grew, as the Warleader languorously trailed a pale hand across his body, raising fire wherever she touched.
Dimly Uhmar thought of his comrades caught beyond the incandescent barrier and moved to speak, to somehow warn them, but could only groan painfully as waves of urgent desire again flooded his body. He felt a sudden release, and realised to his shame, that his body had finally betrayed him. The shame of yielding to her was the last dying thought in his mind as the cords of air encircling this throat finally drew darkness in upon him.
“I think you are not so strong,” she murmured against Uhmar’s now cold lips, then in one sudden movement, opened her arms and let the lifeless body of the guardsman drop heavily and like a sack of grain, to the ground below.
His limbs like lead, Kunek had had no choice but to look on in horrified fascination all through Uhmar’s brief but deadly encounter. He had tried in vain to break the Warleader’s force of will upon himself, but her inhuman power had held him frozen immobile to the spot. Kunek’s fertile mind was already inventing all sorts of imaginative ways of dying when suddenly the woman spoke.
“You are not my enemy, yet you too profane this place with your presence. Why are you here?” she stated quietly.
For one amazed moment Kunek thought the woman was addressing him, then he heard the sound of light footsteps behind, and suddenly the figure of the Thakurian Scout walked up to stand beside him where Uhmar had last stood.
“Se-Taanata,” he said addressing her, “I came to see if the cycles had truly turned. I came to see if it were true that the Serat nation was again rising?”
The woman turned to regard her fellow countryman intently. Kunek saw the dark-haired Thakurian stare at the naked form of the blond Warleader. “You do not look like any Thakurian I’ve ever known. How can the Serat nation be reborn from a half-breed?” he stated bluntly.
Lines of fury passed across Se-Taanata’s face, eventually she calmed but her voice was like ice. “Many have thought so,” she hissed, “And died for their presumption.”
The Scout inclined his head, “Aye, my brother was one of those killed. I just wanted to know if he died for nothing.”
“You dare!” she spat angrily.
“I am a Thakurian,” he stated, “I have the right to dare…”
“You have no right,” she howled, “No right at all!”
Her pale, beautiful face was flushed with fury, “How can you doubt me?” she raged, “I was the only one with the power to rouse the gHulam from their Long Sleep. I was the only one to reawaken their commanders held also in the sleep that is no sleep. I was the only one with power to achieve all that.”
“The ancient stories tell that the Serat rise is as natural as the turning of the cycles,” the Scout stated coldly. “In all my life I have heard no word of unnatural power being employed to aid the rise…besides many of the gHulam still sleep. If the Serat are indeed rising, why do some gHulam still sleep?” he insisted. “The old stories say that the natural waking of the gHulam is the first indication of the true rise of the Serat.”
“The old tales lie,” she hissed, “You are foolish to believe such lies.”
“Then there is no true turn of the cycles,” he said bluntly, “And you are a usurper.”
“The only truth here is that you, disbeliever, will die,” she hissed, drawing back one hand as if to inflict a blow.
“I don’t think so!” shouted Kunek, after finally and painfully forcing his limbs and voice free of her hold.
“You!” Se-Taanata screamed, tuning distracted to the guardsman, “Shall die as your companion died…”
“Fine then,” Kunek shouted back, “Kill me…” he taunted furiously in a desperate attempt to break the woman’s concentration.
“Then die!” she screamed, flinging out one hand towards the two men.
Immediately Kunek and the Scout felt themselves picked up by the consta
nt flows of air and light, and flung back towards the far wall of the chamber. There was a sudden and awful thud as their bodies hit the stone wall, then an overpowering silence as the Warleader turned disdainfully away.
Lying on the cold floor, Kunek felt the painful ruin of his chest and the spreading numbness, and knew his life was seeping away. Silently battling the pain, he watched the enclosing darkness with a rare courage born from acceptance.
“Oh damn…” muttered Kunek, turning stiffly and painfully towards the shattered body of the Scout, “I had rather hoped she was bluffing…”
The Scout grinned wryly, whilst coughing up blood, “Friend…” he stated, “Your problem is that you don’t know Thakurian women…they never bluff…”
*
Meanwhile, Aran and the mages had been waiting impatiently, held back by the crippling power of the barrier. They had all drawn back away from its immediate influence, when suddenly, the Thakurian Scout, momentarily forgotten by his warders, had roughly pushed past the others, and thrown himself through the luminescent bubble-like barrier. The guarding wolves were a split second behind him; however as soon as they hit the barrier, the Entity-touched animals were immediately hurled back towards the others. With singed fur and bruises forming where they had fallen, the wolves yelped and panted out their puzzlement and pain.
*
“I told you we couldn't trust him,” growled Darven wrathfully as he watched the swiftly disappearing back of the Scout. “We should have killed him days ago…a no-good waste of our precious supplies.”
Aran shrugged in bitter resignation, “What’s done is done Darven, there’s no way we can stop him now.”
“I am sorry we failed you,” whined Halffang, after furiously licking its singed fur. “The human never tried to escape until now…we were lax in our guarding.”
“By Andur!” shouted Aran angrily, suddenly thumping his hand against the rock wall, “I feel so damn useless! Good men are probably dying out there and what am I doing? Nothing…held back by my own magepower.”
“As we all are,” soothed Drayden, “There is little we can do except wait, and hope that those who have gone on before are able to distract the Warleader’s influence away from maintaining this barrier.”
“Do you think there is another way through to the node?” asked Hela, trying to diffuse the anger of the group.
Ash shook his head, “The node lies ahead…I feel its presence as surely as I know my own children.”
Furiously Aran walked away from the others, his back stiff with unresolved anger and frustration. He felt inadequate to the task ahead and was already harbouring feelings of guilt about the almost certain deaths of the two guardsmen. Frustrated, he hammered his fists against the wall, so deep in his rage that he did not notice the bruises and cuts he so carelessly inflicted upon himself.
Alissa turned towards Aran but Darven held out a hand to stop her.
“Leave him my lady there is nothing you can do…”
Alissa turned furiously to the Wolf Leader, “Let me through…he’s injuring himself.”
“No,” Darven growled, “This is the Warriormage rage again…he needs to work it out himself.”
Alissa frowned, “Then why are you not affected? You are a Warriormage also, what makes you so different?” Alissa’s gaze hardened, “Are you implying that your king is lesser a man for not being able to control this rage. By Andur, Wolf Leader, I thought you were a cold fish, but now I have proof you possess no emotion.”
Darven’s face grew still at her accusations, and he immediately turned away, his back stiff with anger.
“Lady,” Bennek said gently, appearing at her side after a low and hurried conversation with Hela, “Do not accuse Wolf Leader Darven so. He meant no disrespect to Lord Aran…it’s just we suspect that Lord Aran feels that he alone bears the responsibility of …”
“Enough!” yelled Aran heatedly, “I will not be talked about behind my back.”
He walked back into the group, his face white with suppressed anger, “For your information I do bear the responsibility of each one of your lives,” he growled, “So leave it be and let me alone.”
He turned to Alissa and his face softened a little, “Alissa I know you think only of my welfare, but Darven did not deserve your harsh words…”
Alissa stood still her face wooden, finally she nodded and turning to the Wolf Leader sighed heavily, “I am sorry Darven, forgive me…my temper will be the ruin of me one day.”
Darven turned and inclined his head, “Very well then. It is forgotten,” he said abruptly.
“My Lord Aran!” Guardsman Gunthred suddenly cried, “The barrier, it’s fading!”
“What?” Aran forgot his anger to turn and see the iridescent barrier crack and fade away, until there was only a glimmer of its power left.
“Well then what are we waiting for?” stated Drayden as he picked up his pack, “I’m going through.”
For one frozen moment they saw the Earthmage flinch as he passed through the remnants of the barrier, then once on the other side he turned and waved them all through.
With the High Earthmage already safely through the ward, the group needed no second urging, and as one they hurried forward through the space where the barrier had lately stood. Barely had the last wolf slipped past when there was a whispering noise, and they looked back to see the bubble snap back into place.
“Well there’s no going back now,” muttered Trenny under his breath.
“Did you ever think there would be?” replied Genn in a low whisper.
“Come on,” growled Aran, the anger still simmering in his belly, “Let’s see an end to all this.”
*
There was no other route for the group to follow, except onwards and downwards. All saw the transition of the walls from the smooth white granite to the undressed stone of the mountains, but nobody felt at all like commenting on the fact that they were now beyond the walls of Erie.
“There’s brightness up ahead,” said Darven unnecessarily.
“I don’t think its sunlight,” replied Drayden, “The hue’s not right.”
Bini looked up, and shivered uncontrollably, he did not like Erie and this tunnel suited him even less.
“Let’s go on and get out of here,” he said in a low pained voice, “I yearn for the sun and wind.”
“Aye,” muttered Aran, “This is as far as we go…”
*
The first thing Aran saw when they came to the opening of the great chamber was the unnaturally still body of Guardsman Uhmar lying on the ground in the centre of the circular chamber. His gaze slewed around and he saw two more bodies thrown hard up against the near wall.
“Genn…”
“I see them…” the Healermage said abruptly, “I'll check if they're still alive.”
“Uhmar’s not,” said Aran stretching his awareness out, “The other two are, but not for long I warrant. Take whoever you require, I want them both Healed.”
The mage dipped his head, and gathering up Theaua and Hela, hurried over to the mortally injured men.
*
“I don’t know why you bother,” said a clear and amused voice from above.
Aran and the others looked up to see the radiantly naked figure of the Thakurian Warleader caught in the vortexes of light and air streaming up from the node.
Aran inclined his head coldly, “Se-Taanata.”
The woman smiled, “Greetings kinsman, I would have been along and introduced myself sooner, but as you can see I've been a mite distracted.”
She pointed languorously at the bodies littering the floor of the chamber. “They became more of a nuisance really,” she added, “That’s why I had to kill them, but it helped to relieve the boredom.” She sighed dramatically, “It gets so boring here all alone, but I don’t mind the solitude really, it helps me think.” She paused to survey the small group before her, “Since you've brought guests, you must introduce them.”
“I’m
certain you know us,” snapped Alissa, rapidly tiring of the cloyingly-sweet voice of the blond woman. “Really Se-Taanata,” she added cuttingly, “Won’t you catch your death of cold hanging up there like that…don’t you have anything to wear?”
The Warleader giggled insanely, “It does so distract the men, my dear. You ought to try it; in fact I've not seen one look away since you've come in…even my kinsman Arantur lusts after me.”
She twisted herself around in the flows and vortices until she was floating a bare few feet above the ground, flaunting her perfect figure to the embarrassed guardsmen and mages.
Aran’s eyes grew flinty, “You lie…you disgust me, and furthermore I am not your kinsman.”
Se-Taanata smiled again, “Oh yes you are…in fact, I have more right to that cold and distant throne you seem so fond of than you could ever claim to have.” She turned and her eyes blazed, “Your throne is my birthright, and my armies are already ensuring that the Serat nation will arise anew upon the ashes of your people.”
His face hard with suppressed anger, Aran stated coldly, “You lie, my armies will never submit.”
“You think so? She laughed, “Already they have suffered a great defeat at the hands of my gHulam. I have seen them fleeing the field in chaos and dishonour. It will be an easy thing for me to take your throne, since there will be none left alive to prevent me taking what is rightfully mine.”
“You have no right to my throne!” Aran shouted, “You are not my kinswoman.”
Warriormage: Book Three of the 'Riothamus' trilogy Page 24