“Perhaps not,” Tara-Khan told him, uncertain. He gripped the handle of the sword even tighter.
The corridor was wide enough to accommodate a full cohort of warriors standing shoulder to shoulder, and was half again as high. While light reached its mouth from the crystal windows in the throne room, it was also lit along its length. But no torches were in evidence. The walls themselves, and even the floor, glowed with a soft light that fully illuminated its length.
“How far does this go?” Drakh-Nur asked quietly. To everyone’s surprise, the giant’s voice did not echo from the stone walls, but fell upon their ears as if they were standing in an open field. The perspective of the tunnel narrowed to a dark point in the distance. “I cannot see the end.”
They walked onward in tense silence. After a time, the entrance to the throne room had shrunk to a size smaller than Tara-Khan’s thumb on his outstretched arm. Yet the opposite end of the corridor seemed no closer.
“It is alive, growing.” The trio of warriors turned to look at Shar-El’nai, one of the builders who had accompanied them. She had knelt and put her hands to the floor. “I can feel it. It is like nothing I have ever known.”
Tara-Khan and Ka’i-Lohr exchanged an uneasy look. Shar-El’nai was one of the temple elders, and had been born long before the last war between the Settlements. In her own way, she had been as responsible for the victory against the Settlements as had Ayan-Dar and the others of the priesthood, for she had guided the builders in the massive preparations for the temple’s defense.
She remained there, still as a statue, for several long moments as the others stood silent around her. At last, she blinked her eyes and sat back. She had difficulty standing, as if the many pendants that hung in rows from her collar weighed her down, and Drakh-Nur gently helped her to her feet.
“What is it?” Tara-Khan asked.
Before she could answer, the stone on either side of them began to change as if it were made of putty. It drew away from them, as if some unseen hand was pulling a string attached to the other side. Then a small hole appeared in the center of the deformation, and all at once, at breathtaking speed, the hole irised open into a doorway. While not as immense as the portal to the throne room, it was nonetheless as tall as five warriors standing head to toe, and nearly as wide. A similar doorway formed on the opposite side in perfect synchrony.
In but a few breaths, the stone on each side had solidified into graceful arched portals, and the corridors beyond grew and lengthened as they watched, mouths agape in wonder.
“More!” One of the others pointed farther down the main corridor, to where other portals were opening at irregular intervals as far as they could see.
Stepping to the portal on the right that had opened nearest them, Shar-El’nai placed her hands upon the stone and closed her eyes. She took in a deep breath and held it. “It is a canvas,” she finally breathed.
“Look,” Drakh-Nur whispered.
The stone around Shar-El’nai’s hands began to change color, from a satin white to a shimmering gold. Slender tendrils of gold filament grew from the spot in the form of an elegant vine, twisting and intertwining. The vine continued to grow until it had spread across the stones that framed the arch. Then buds formed along its length, finally blossoming into flowers of brilliant crimson.
The others of the party stood rooted to the floor, staring in awe at the ancient builder’s handiwork. It was breathtakingly beautiful.
“Oh,” Drakh-Nur sighed. “It is a tor-kal’an vine.”
The others turned to regard him with looks of disbelief.
“And how would you know that?” Ka’i-Lohr asked. “I have never seen you show the slightest interest in plants or flowers.”
“I saw one in bloom, just as this one is, when I was very young,” he explained, his eyes still riveted on the arch. “They are extremely rare, and found only deep in the Great Wastelands.”
“If you saw one in bloom, then you were fortunate, indeed,” said El-Lu’an, one of the keepers of the Books of Time who had accompanied them. “Theirs are among the most beautiful flowers to behold but, as Drakh-Nur said, they are rare to the point of being mythical. Few take root, and then grow very slowly for nearly two hundred cycles. Then, after a hard rain at the proper time, they explode into bloom for a single day to spread their seed, after which they wither and die.”
“This one shall never die,” Shar-El’nai whispered as she stepped back from the stone, gazing upon her handiwork. “For as long as this palace stands, it shall bloom each day and be reborn, an offer of thanks to the child who saved us.”
“Mistress,” Tara-Khan asked her, “which way should we go? Where do these new portals lead, or should we stay here and continue along the main corridor? What can you tell us of this place?”
Shaking her head slowly, she said, “I can tell you little of use, young warrior. Beyond what I can see with my own eyes and touch with my body, as I did the stone here, I am blind. I have tried, but looking deeper into the workings of this place is akin to staring into the noonday sun. It is simply overwhelming to my senses.”
Ka’i-Lohr gestured to her creation. “You said that it was a canvas. What did you mean?”
“What you see around us is the foundation upon which we may build,” she told him. “As great as is this structure, it is yet nothing but plain thread of a great tapestry yet to be woven.”
“Have we anything to fear?” Ka’i-Lohr asked.
“No,” Shar-El’nai said, a smile of wonder on her ancient face. “We have nothing to fear but rapture.”
Frowning, Tara-Khan reluctantly sheathed his sword.
“Which way?” Drakh-Nur asked quietly. All turned toward Tara-Khan.
“Through there.” He nodded toward the portal now wreathed by the golden tor-kal’an vine. “Shar-El’nai has blessed it with her touch. We must take that as a good omen.”
“And one path of which we know nothing is just as good as another,” Ka’i-Lohr added quietly.
Together, they moved down the new corridor, which, many lengths farther on, was still growing.
***
Unlike the main corridor, the offshoot they had chosen to follow began to bend and twist, gradually descending from the level of what they had come to think of as the throne room. At one point, Ka’i-Lohr quipped that it was mimicking the revered builder’s creation, but the only response was nervous looks.
“Wait,” Shar-El’nai said, bringing the party to a halt. She knelt down on creaking knees and touched the white stone floor.
“What is it?” Tara-Khan asked.
“Feel it,” she said.
Everyone did as she instructed. Tara-Khan knelt down and touched the stone. Instead of the smooth cool surface he expected, the stone was warm and gave slightly under his touch, as if it were very firm flesh. Taking his dagger from its sheath, he probed at the malleable stone. The tip met solid resistance. Drawing back his hand, he made a short stab at the rock, and the tip of the blade sparked.
“Drakh-Nur,” Ka’i-Lohr said, “strike the floor with your hammer.”
“Do not,” Shar-El’nai warned as Drakh-Nur raised his war hammer. “The stone lives, much as does the metal of your blades. It is a living thing, in which we now reside. It must be respected.”
“What would happen?” Ka’i-Lohr asked. Drakh-Nur lowered his weapon, a look of obvious disappointment on his face.
“I do not know,” the elder said, “but I would not care to find out. Remember that we are in the house of Keel-Tath. It is unlike any other creation I have ever known, and we shall not sully it out of mere curiosity. It offers us hospitality by comforting our feet. That is why it is soft beneath our tread.”
“Just on its own?” Tara-Khan looked around. “Or is someone manipulating it?”
“I do not know,” she told him as Drakh-Nur helped her up. “Nothing like this has existed since the end of the Second Age, and perhaps even the First. But I suspect we draw closer to understanding, in
some small part.”
Tara-Khan looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“If I am right, you will soon know. Lead us onward.”
With a grunt of frustration, Tara-Khan continued on. The change in the floor was in a way disturbing, for he had no idea how such a thing was possible without a builder making it so. But he had to admit that he felt no fatigue, despite the distance they had already covered. The floor was proving quite therapeutic to his tired feet. Even Shar-El’nai, whom he had expected would have to be carried by Drakh-Nur by now, was keeping up with his pace. But the elder’s speed, he suspected, was driven far more by whatever mystery lay ahead of them. His hand reflexively clutched the handle of his sword as they descended ever deeper.
After more twists and turns, they found their way forward blocked.
“It’s a dead end,” Ka’i-Lohr said, frowning as he looked around the circular vestibule in which they found themselves. Unlike the other grand structures of the palace, it was just large enough for their small party, a domed ceiling high overhead.
Shar-El’nai favored him with an impish smile. “It is as I thought. Stand fast, brothers and sisters.”
“What do you…”
Ka’i-Lohr’s words were cut off by a yelp of surprise as the floor fell away beneath them.
***
“The other priesthoods must attack us soon,” Sian-Al’ai said. The throne room was a scene of calm now. The pain of the wounded had been salved, although it would be some time before they were all completely healed, and the younglings were asleep on the hard floor, having succumbed to exhaustion. “We will not be able to stand against them when they come.”
Dara-Kol and Sian-Al’ai knelt at Keel-Tath’s side, while the others of the Ima’il-Kush priesthood stood guard around them. “What would you have me do?”
Sian-Al’ai looked into Dara-Kol’s eyes a long moment before she answered. “I would take Keel-Tath to our temple.”
Drawing back, Dara-Kol said, “No! She is safer here!”
“You do not understand,” Sian-Al’ai told her. “She must go to our temple in any event. Remember the prophecy: if Keel-Tath is to fulfill her destiny, she must touch all the Crystals of Souls. She already has the powers of the Desh-Ka. I now offer her ours, as well.”
“But your temple will fall under attack at any time, if it has not already.”
Sian-Al’ai nodded. “It has not yet, or I would sense it. But you are right. The priesthoods now arrayed against us easily have the strength to attack there and here. That is why, as soon as Keel-Tath is able to travel to our temple and absorb the powers of our crystal, I would bring our people here, that we may form a combined defense.”
“You would leave your temple defenseless?”
Shrugging, Sian-Al’ai said, “The buildings can be rebuilt, and just as you witnessed at the Desh-Ka temple, no weapon can destroy the vessel that contains the crystal. But the robed ones and younglings are in great peril. I fear that the madness that has gripped the other high priests and priestesses may lead them to harm those we are all sworn to protect above all.”
“Even if I agreed to let you take her,” Dara-Kol said, “I would not…”
“It is not for you to decide, my First.”
They both looked down to see that Keel-Tath’s eyes were open and clear. She reached out and took Dara-Kol’s hand. “We both know there is no choice.”
“But you are yet so weak,” Dara-Kol protested, gently running her other hand over Keel-Tath’s braids.
“The healers’ work is nearly done,” Keel-Tath said. A moment later, her body began to shudder.
The eldest of the healers and an assistant had been kneeling close by, awaiting this moment. Dara-Kol and Sian-Al’ai stepped back to give them room. They helped Keel-Tath to her knees and leaned her forward. Keel-Tath gagged several times, then opened her mouth wide as a mass of healing gel oozed out into the healer’s cupped palms. Normally the gel was a vibrant blue and purple, like a living bruise, but this one was pale, sickly in appearance. The pulsing mass split in the middle, and the elder’s assistant retrieved her symbiont, which immediately sank into her flesh.
Taking in deep breaths, Keel-Tath sat back.
“The worst is healed, mistress,” the elder healer warned, “but the symbionts are yet exhausted. You will need another session before we can return you to full health.”
“I understand,” Keel-Tath managed. “Rest, then tend to the others.”
The healers bowed and saluted before making their way to where the wounded lay.
Sian-Al’ai stiffened, her eyes flying wide. The others of the Ima’il-Kush standing guard displayed similar reactions. “The attack upon our temple is come,” she whispered, having sensed the battle lust of her priests and priestesses, along with the fear and quiet determination of the robed ones.
“Then let us waste no time.” Keel-Tath got to her feet, but nearly fell before Dara-Kol grabbed her arm to steady her.
“You are not ready, mistress!”
“My weapons,” Keel-Tath grated, fighting to stay upright. “Now.”
Dara-Kol strapped the belt that held Keel-Tath’s fighting sword and dagger around her waist, then took the far larger sword that had belonged to Keel-Tath’s father, the sword that Dara-Kol had kept safe from Syr-Nagath, and strapped it to Keel-Tath’s back. Sian-Al’ai fitted three shrekkas to the armor of Keel-Tath’s left shoulder.
“What of Tara-Khan, Ka’i-Lohr and Drakh-Nur?” Keel-Tath asked.
“I sent them and the others who are able to explore this place in hopes of finding food and water,” Dara-Kol told her.
“They must take care,” Keel-Tath whispered.
“Mistress, we have so many questions…”
“And absolutely no time,” Sian-Al’ai interrupted. “If we are going, we must go now, before the temple is overrun. The others of my order will remain here.”
“You would take her with only yourself for protection?” Dara-Kol protested.
“Would you leave the Desh-Ka with no defense?” Sian-Al’ai countered.
“Enough!” Stepping forward, Keel-Tath took Dara-Kol’s arms in the way of greeting and parting of warriors, her trembling hands gripping her First’s forearms. “This is as it must be. Care for those I leave in your charge.”
Dara-Kol nodded.
They let go of one another, and Keel-Tath took her place beside Sian-Al’ai, who placed a hand on Keel-Tath’s shoulder.
“Have faith,” Keel-Tath said just before Sian-Al’ai whisked them both away.
“I shall, mistress,” Dara-Kol whispered to the now empty air before her. “I forever shall.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“You could have warned us!” Tara-Khan complained as the floor of the vestibule, which turned out to be an elevator, continued to fall with dizzying speed. Everyone crowded toward the center, away from the walls that whisked by.
“I was unsure until the last moment,” Shar-El’nai responded, but the mischievous glint in her eye told another story. “Fear not, brave warrior. You are safe here.” She stepped toward the edge of the platform and put her hand out.
“No!” Drakh-Nur lunged toward her, but not before the elder mistress’s hand brushed the stone that flew past.
Everyone gaped as she leaned against the moving wall. No harm came to her. Even her robes were unruffled.
“I have never seen such a thing,” Ka’i-Lohr muttered.
“Few but the elders of the ancient orders have,” Shar-El’nai told him as she stepped back from the wall, satisfied with her demonstration. “Such conveyances serve to reach the chambers containing the Books of Time in the temples, which are buried deep for protection.” Two keepers of the Books of Time nodded agreement, although their eyes were wide in awe as the lift continued its descent. “They are as ancient as the temples themselves.”
“Are any as deep as this?” Tara-Khan looked up. The top of the shaft was a dark pinpoint high above them now.
Th
e shade of good humor faded from Shar-El’nai’s face. “No,” she admitted.
The descent continued for quite some time. Then, in but a few breaths, the lift came to a stop. There was no sensation of doing so, no heaviness to the body or change in air pressure, just as there had been no change when the lift had plunged from the upper level.
Tara-Khan and the others found themselves standing before five arched portals, arrayed at equal intervals around the lift shaft. Unlike the palace above, which was uniformly white, the walls here were gray stone, smooth as glass. The stone lintels framing the archways were a shimmering granite, mostly green with golden flecks, with ornately carved words in a script dating back to the First Age.
Shar-El’nai stepped forward and placed her hands gently against one of the archways and gave a small gasp.
Tara-Khan moved up beside her. “What is it?”
“This is not newly created, as is the palace above,” she said softly. “This is ancient, older than even the temples.” She turned to look up at him, her silver-flecked eyes gleaming in the glow from the walls around them. “This dates from a time before Anuir-Ruhal’te.”
“Which doorway should we take?” Ka’i-Lohr said, his voice tinged with impatience. “We cannot tarry overlong before we must turn back.”
Tara-Khan looked to Shar-El’nai, who shook her head, then to the other keepers, who did the same. He had expected them to take the lead now, but they hung back, fearful expressions on their faces.
Each of the five doorways was identical, and all were dark beyond the threshold. Tara-Khan looked from one to another. With a growl of frustration, he chose the one Shar-El’nai had touched and strode forward.
One of the keepers lunged forward and grabbed his arm. “Beware, Tara-Khan,” he said.
“Of what?" he snapped. “What have I to fear from a collection of dusty old books?”
“Perhaps nothing,” the keeper said, releasing Tara-Khan’s arm. “Just…beware. The Books of Time are precious and may be defended.”
Mistress Of The Ages (In Her Name, Book 9) Page 9