“Go,” he whispered, giving Sar-Ula’an a gentle shove down the steps.
Alone now, Tara-Khan stood facing the great beast. An iron chain, forged of huge links but far too small for so large a beast, constricted its neck as if it had been put on the beast when it was much younger and had never been changed. The scales of its flanks were crisscrossed with slashes and gouges, further testimony to its torment. Genoths were long-lived, and this one must have seen at least a century of cycles, most or all of them trapped in this horrible place. He wondered at the madness of the Ka’i-Nur at harnessing such a creature, and shied away from wondering about their purpose for doing so.
The beast paused near the landing onto which the bulk of the Ka’i-Nur had fled, retreating through the doorways that surrounded the stairway shaft. It sniffed the air and rumbled. Putting its snout to the floor, its tongue darted out, sampling the blood that had pooled on the steps.
Then it turned its full attention on him.
“Leave now,” Tara-Khan said, “and you shall live. I have no quarrel with you this day.”
The beast, of course, paid no heed. Fixing him with its eyes, it began to stalk slowly forward. It took its time, clearly wary of being lured into a trap.
“You are a fool, Desh-Ka.”
Looking up, he saw an ancient withered face peering down at him from the level above. Clad in maroon robes, the keeper was flanked by a pair of huge Ka’i-Nur warriors, larger than the others he had thus far encountered.
“Such words from one whose life I could take with but a thought,” he told her, daring to take his attention for just a moment from the advancing genoth.
“You will not.” She leaned further over the railing. “You wear your status as an honorless one like a shield, but I know what lies beneath. I know who you are…Tara-Khan.”
“And what of it?" he shot back, edging down the steps as the beast continued to approach. If anything, it was even more wary now.
“The ships of your white haired mistress die in the heavens above, even as our own mistress approaches with half a legion of our best warriors. I know what you seek here, young fool, but you shall not have it. You shall not! You and your honorless companions shall die in a fountain of blood.”
The warriors flanking her brought up long, heavy spears tipped with blades of living steel and hurled them not at him, but at the genoth. They penetrated its armored hide just behind the shoulders, driving deep into the muscle. The beast reared up, roaring in rage and pain.
Tara-Khan knew that he could easily avoid the beast, but his people still making their way down the steps would be unable to stand against it. He could also kill it, but after witnessing the cruelty writ upon its very body, he realized he had a third alternative.
As the beast swiped at him with one of its immense claws, he winked out of existence. Reappearing upon the beast’s back, he took hold of the edges of a pair of its scales, some of which were as large as his breast plate. With a final glare at the ancient keeper, and before the genoth could try and throw him off, he willed himself to the great courtyard of the fortress on the surface, just in front of the still open gate…taking the genoth with him.
The beast froze, confused by the sudden change of surroundings. Its eyes irised shut and it turned away from the sun that was rising over the fortress walls, the sandstorm having died away.
Throwing all his might into a single slash of his sword, the edge of the living metal blade cut through the pitted and corroded chain around the beast’s neck. It gasped for breath, as if able to truly fill its lungs for the first time. Sheathing his sword, he took hold of the two spears, one in each hand, and using the strength of his powers wrenched them from the genoth’s flesh before leaping upward, well clear of the beast.
The thing screamed in pain and lashed out blindly. Finding no opponent, it found itself staring out the gate at the endless desert that lay at the foot of the volcano upon which the fortress stood.
Tara-Khan drifted upward to the top of the inner wall, where he watched the beast in silence. He wondered if it still remembered from whence it came.
As if in answer, the beast took a final look around the empty courtyard. Its gaze found him and it stared at him for a long moment before it dashed through the gate, free at last.
Before he returned to join his companions as they continued deeper into the heart of Ka’i-Nur, he looked up to the sky, where five great crimson streaks of fire arced over the horizon toward the fortress. They were ships entering the atmosphere, drawn from the tremendous space battle that still raged above. The words of the keeper echoed in his mind: our own mistress approaches with half a legion of our best warriors.
Syr-Nagath was coming. He could only pray that Keel-Tath was, too.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“I shall lead the first wave,” Syr-Nagath told her First, who stood beside her in the warship’s ventral compartment, which was designed to allow the warriors to leave the ship en masse.
The First bowed and saluted, then assisted Syr-Nagath with the flying apparatus that would allow her to sail through the air and land without injury.
She grimaced as the device was attached to her armor, chafing that she could not whisk herself through space as did those of the priesthoods, that she did not have the abilities she deserved as the high priestess of the Ka’i-Nur. For a moment, she even wished that Ulan-Samir, the high priest of the Nyur-Ai’l who had been her unwilling pawn until Tara-Khan killed him, were here to take her where she wished to go.
But no, she decided. Better to lead her warriors in this fashion than to be carried about like a crippled animal.
The outside air shrieked against the hull as the great ship slid into the atmosphere, but she felt not even the slightest vibration through her feet. Her flagship and each of the other four ships trailing behind carried a full cohort of nearly five hundred warriors, all of them Ka’i-Nur, but only a token portion of them wore the silver armor and had advanced weapons. While they were devastating on the ground, the weapons had proven too powerful to be used aboard ships, and the armor was too cumbersome in the often narrow confines of passageways and compartments. She had also discovered that, given the choice, her warriors preferred traditional armor and weapons, which let them showcase their martial skills against their opponents, rather than simply blasting them to atoms. In short, it made combat far more enjoyable.
It was a sentiment that Syr-Nagath understood, for she lived for drawing blood with sword and claw, dagger and shrekka. As her First finished attaching the flying harness, she pierced her palms with her talons and brought her hands to her face just so she could smell the scent of her own blood. Flicking out her tongue for a taste, a shiver of ecstasy ran down her spine at the thought of the mayhem that awaited her.
“Our time approaches,” the First said, nodding to a crystal display upon the wall that showed a three dimensional map of the terrain below and the incoming ships above. The flagship was to pass directly over Ka’i-Nur and drop Syr-Nagath and her warriors into the courtyard, while the other four ships were to land and have their warriors standing by in case Syr-Nagath needed them.
“Let it be so.”
The hundreds of warriors in the compartment, standing in perfectly ordered ranks, crashed their left fist to their right breast and bellowed, “Ka’i-Nur!”
A few brief moments later, the sides of the ship irised open. Syr-Nagath rejoiced in the sight of the Homeworld below. The magenta sky, the white-capped mountains and fertile valleys in the distance, and even the Great Wastelands that lay directly below, all belonged to her. Not only that, but the entirety of the Settlement worlds were also hers. Never since the First Age had a single warrior been able to make such a claim. Once Keel-Tath’s warships were wiped from the skies and this ridiculous attack upon Ka’i-Nur put down, the entire Kreelan race would kneel before Syr-Nagath. Even if she failed to gain the power of the Crystal of Souls, she would still be the most powerful her kind had known in hundreds of millennia.
But the Homeworld and Settlements were only the beginning. She planned to extend her reach far, far beyond what any of her forebears had ever considered. A handful of star systems were a paltry holding. The entire galaxy would one day be hers.
The ship slowed, then came to a halt above the obsidian edifice, and Syr-Nagath leaped into the air, followed by the warriors of the cohort. Long had it been since she had indulged in such an act. Adrenaline raced through her body as she plunged toward the earth like a flying predator, which was exactly what she was. The smile vanished as she saw the bodies of the warriors in the vast courtyard.
Arrowing for the entry portal, she came to a graceful landing, the other warriors swooping down to land beside her. She frowned at the thick layer of sand that crunched beneath her sandals, wondering from where it had come. With a practiced motion she released her flying apparatus and drew her sword. “With me,” she called to the nearest warriors, who quickly formed up in a wedge formation behind her and followed her to the main door of the portal.
Moving inside, she was furious at the carnage she found, and her rage grew with every step she took down the great stairway. Bodies, hundreds of them, were strewn over the steps and on the landings at each level. While the small body of an honorless one could be found here and there, the vast majority were Ka’i-Nur, and not just warriors: many robed ones had also been slain, just as the keeper aboard her flagship had said.
Shivering with rage, she led her warriors deeper, already thinking of ways she could torture those responsible, inflicting the greatest possible pain while keeping them alive indefinitely.
“Stop,” she growled, holding up her free hand. Her warriors instantly froze. Kneeling down, she looked at the steps just before her. They had been transformed into a smooth, curving ramp. The surface glittered. Running a finger over it, she found that it was so glossy smooth that it was slick, just like ice whose surface had just begun to melt. Just ahead, the railing was gone. “They are using builders,” she whispered to herself, conceding a small bit of admiration to the attackers. Getting back to her feet, she moved over to where the massive central column stood. “Beware,” she told the others. “This is a trap. The steps are gone and the floor is slick. If you lose your footing,” she gestured toward the edge of the stairway and the missing railing, “you will fall to your doom.” To her First, she said, “Send out a pair of warriors at each level. I would have builders attend us.”
“We shall do our best to find some,” the First whispered uneasily. When Syr-Nagath threw a scathing look, the First added, “Recall, mistress, that you took away all but a handful of the builders to create the fleet…”
“Find them!” Syr-Nagath shrieked, slashing the First’s face with her talons.
“At once, mistress.” The First, blood pouring from the deep gashes in his cheek, got to his feet and, summoning a pair of warriors, raced up the stairs to the landing above to begin the search.
Growling in disgust, she sheathed her sword. The floor nearest the column was still passable. Gripping the stone of the column with her talons, she edged downward to the next section where the steps again could be found. Her warriors followed close behind.
She cursed the ingenuity of the honorless ones. Until her imbecile of a First found some builders to repair the stairway, the rate of her advance would be reduced to a crawl.
***
“You realize that what you propose has never been done.”
Keel-Tath looked up at Sian-Al’ai, who was staring at her with unabashed concern.
“I have already done many things that have never been done, great priestess,” she said softly. “All I know is that if I do not do this thing, all may be lost.”
The others around her wore guarded expressions, but Keel-Tath could sense one common emotion in the Bloodsong: fear. It was not fear of death, she knew, but fear for her. That she might fail in what she intended.
“There must be another way,” Dara-Kol pleaded. “We could summon other ships to take us off, then pursue Syr-Nagath.”
“That was never an option,” Keel-Tath told her. “We would arrive too late. Her ships have nearly reached Ka’i-Nur, and once they secure the fortress, we will never stand a chance.”
They all glanced up at a chorus of muffled voices, screams and shouts, that echoed through the corridors of the great ship. Enemy warriors, most of them not born of Ka’i-Nur, fortunately, had boarded, and her own warriors were fighting a pitched battle to buy her time. While they fought valiantly, it was clear from what she had seen with her second sight that they would not hold much longer. The boarders had no interest in surrendering their honor, even though her warriors had asked it of them. Fear of Syr-Nagath prevented them from doing so.
Then they must perish, Keel-Tath thought, saddened. She had gathered her closest companions and as many warriors as she dared to spare from the ship’s defense near one of the main airlocks. Closing her eyes, she saw the Homeworld, watched as Syr-Nagath’s ships sailed over the ancient fortress atop the volcano. Hundreds of tiny figures fell from the lead ship, while the other ships moved off to land.
“It is time,” she whispered, opening her eyes and looking at those who stood before her. “Remember: you must get to the portal as fast as you can. Dive for the earth, as your very life depends on it.”
“We shall,” Ka’i-Lohr pledged. His eyes locked with hers for a long moment, but for once the smile was absent from his face. He was deeply worried.
“May thy Way be long and glorious, my mistress,” Dara-Kol whispered.
“And thee, Dara-Kol.” Kneeling down, Keel-Tath put both hands against the soft stone of the deck. Closing her eyes, she focused on the hulk of her flagship, which was slowly tumbling, helpless. She saw the ship, saw its essence as might a builder, down to every atom and beyond. Then she imagined Ka’i-Nur, picturing it in her mind. Summoning all the power within her, she willed the ship from here to there. Her body shivered and grew hot, her skin and flesh burning, her bones molten steel as she bent the universe to her will. The ship, like a great stone, resisted…resisted…and then finally broke away. Sailing now, light as a feather, through the space that was not space, she hurled it toward its final port of call.
“Now,” Keel-Tath said before leaping through a portal in the hull that had just irised open. Sian-Al’ai followed, using her natural powers to control her fall, while the others used flying wings.
Syr-Nagath’s flagship, which was just entering its landing cycle beside the other ships near the base of the volcano, opened fire on the hulk that hung motionless in the air. Gouts of flame and debris erupted from the hits that tore through the living metal of the hull.
Keel-Tath reached for the ship with her mind. The ship moved, rapidly gaining speed. Another enemy salvo slammed into it, then another, as the hulk flew ever faster, angling down toward Syr-Nagath’s ship.
The other enemy ships began to open fire as the shipmasters and shipmistresses saw the nature of their doom. Syr-Nagath’s flagship aborted its landing and struggled away from the Homeworld’s embrace. The warriors of the other ships had already disembarked, and their orderly ranks came apart as Keel-Tath’s stricken flagship flew toward them. Most tried to get back to their ships, but were left behind as the vessels began to lift. The other warriors simply ran for their lives.
All in vain. Just as Keel-Tath’s warriors began to land in the courtyard, opening a pitched battle with the warriors Syr-Nagath had left on the surface, the hulk of the flagship slammed into two of Syr-Nagath’s ships. A blinding flash lit the sky, temporarily blinding those fighting in the fortress, as the three ships exploded as one. The other two ships trying to lift were caught in the titanic fireball, adding their own explosions to the temporary sun that burned bright over the Great Wastelands. Despite the frantic efforts of its crew, Syr-Nagath’s flagship was swatted from the sky by the shockwave. Rolling and tumbling, it slammed into a deep cleft in the desert and exploded.
Keel-Tath saw the tremendous wave of le
thal energy that would vaporize not only the enemy warriors, but hers, as well. Forcing time to a standstill, she formed a shield on that side of the fortress out of the air itself, compressing it until it was, for the briefest moment, as dense as the heart of a star. Allowing time to again move forward, slowly, she watched in her mind’s eye as the blast wave reached for the fortress, the devastating energy and heat diverted to the sides and overhead. Stout as the ancient walls were, they would have been blasted to shards by such a tremendous force.
Sure now that those within the fortress would survive, she let time resume its march. Turning to Sian-Al’ai, who stared at her with openmouthed awe, Keel-Tath drew her sword. Together, the two of them went through the closest enemy warriors like a genoth through a herd of hobbled meat animals. The killing held no honor or glory for them. It was simply necessary.
Dara-Kol, Ka’i-Lohr, and Drakh-Nur rushed to Keel-Tath’s side, but they were hard pressed to keep up with her as she slaughtered her enemies.
As she whirled, slashed, and stabbed, Keel-Tath began to feel stronger, as if killing her enemies added to her power. It was something she had not felt before, and the sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying. In a moment of clarity, she suddenly saw herself as Syr-Nagath, a spirit of limitless evil endowed with equally limitless power.
Yanking her blood soaked blade from her latest victim, she stood at the center of the raging battle, utterly confused.
“Mistress?” Dara-Kol took her by the arm, her voice tinged with concern. Behind them, Drakh-Nur roared as he slammed his war hammer down on the head of one of his kin, one of his enemies. “Mistress?”
Keel-Tath stared at her, and it took her a moment to even recognize the blood streaked face staring back at her. “The crystal,” she whispered as realization dawned. “The Ka’i-Nur Crystal of Souls. It calls to me.”
Mistress Of The Ages (In Her Name, Book 9) Page 30