Forged In Flame (In Her Name: The First Empress, Book 2)

by Hicks, Michael R.

  He bowed his head, exhausted, disgusted with, and horrified by the world.

  T’ier-Kunai kissed him gently on the head before she rose and departed, leaving the old priest alone with his broken heart.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  In Chains

  Pain. Blinding, mind-numbing pain. Keel-Tath’s body was torn with agony as the guards hauled her into one of the tents of the camp and threw her onto a thin pile of animal skins. She curled into a fetal position and lay there, shaking uncontrollably. She caught sight of her body and squeezed her eyes shut. She was covered in blood, for the skin had been flayed from much of her body after being dragged behind the camp leader’s magthep, and the metal cuffs around her wrists had cut her to the bone. The smell of her own blood and smoke from the camp’s fires filled her nose. She tried to spit the dirt from her mouth, but vomited instead, nearly choking on her own bile.

  “See that she does not die.” It was the camp leader’s voice. “But you are to do nothing for her pain. We will be departing within the hour.”

  Then there were heavy footsteps leaving the tent.

  A moment later, Keel-Tath felt gentle hands caress her face. She opened her eyes to see a healer kneeling next to her. But what shocked Keel-Tath, even in her misery, was what she saw in the healer’s eyes. Fear.

  “I am Han-Ukha’i,” she said in a soft voice. She leaned down to whisper in Keel-Tath’s ear. “I will take away as much of the pain as I can, but they must not know. Do you understand?”

  With a series of uneven jerks of her head, Keel-Tath nodded.

  Han-Ukha’i produced her healing gel, drawing it out from the flesh of her arm, and made to place it over Keel-Tath’s wrists.

  “No.” Keel-Tath drew her hands away, moaning at the pain. She knew that some of the bones must have been crushed by the metal cuffs. “You must…not.”

  “Child, it will not hurt you. You know this to be true.”

  “You do not understand,” Keel-Tath rasped. “If it touches me, you will die.”

  That gave Han-Ukha’i pause. “You are right,” she said after a moment’s contemplation. “I do not understand.”

  “If…if you put the symbiont on me, it will bind to me.” Keel-Tath closed her eyes. “I will not have the death of another healer on my soul.”

  “That is impossible, child.”

  Keel-Tath opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on the healer. “Everything about me is impossible.”

  Han-Ukha’i said nothing for several moments as she stared at Keel-Tath. Then she slowly nodded.

  “I do not understand, but perhaps I do not need to.” Setting the swirling mass of the symbiont in the folds of her white robe, she carefully pinched off a piece of it. Kneading the piece with her hands, she spread the gel into a thin layer that was large enough to cover one of Keel-Tath’s hands.

  “Please, you must not.” Keel-Tath tried to draw away again, but Han-Ukha’i took a firm grip on one of Keel-Tath’s forearms.

  “Trust me.”

  Keel-Tath watched in morbid fascination as Han-Ukha’i placed the gel over the bleeding wreck that was Keel-Tath’s right hand.

  The effect was instant: Keel-Tath sighed in relief as the gel merged with her torn flesh and bone, numbing the pain as it began to repair the damage.

  But she did not get the same flashes of images, of incomprehensible information, that she had when the healer in Ku’ar-Amir had examined her.

  As if reading her mind, Han-Ukha’i said, “We often use small parts of the symbiont for the healing of minor wounds or guarding against new diseases. Parts taken from the whole,” she pinched off another piece, “are not bound to us, but become part of the host. Part of you.” She smiled as she flattened the second piece out and put it over Keel-Tath’s other wrist.

  Keel-Tath sighed in relief as the second piece of gel merged with her body, but the sensation was not limited to her wrists. The fiery agony of her ravaged skin was dissipating, and after a few moments was reduced to a dull throb.

  “Remember,” Han-Ukha’i cautioned her in a whisper. “You must pretend the pain still fills you should the warriors come.”

  “Thank you for your kindness.” Keel-Tath reached out, carefully and slowly, to take one of the healer’s hands in her own. “Why are you afraid?” She had never seen a healer with fear in her eyes.

  Han-Ukha’i flicked a glance at the entrance to the tent. “Because if you die, the Dark Queen promised to torture and kill me, then do to the place of my birth what she did to yours.” She looked back into Keel-Tath’s eyes. “Even for what I have done, easing your pain, she will probably have me killed. But to do what she asks is not part of our Way.”

  “Then why does no one challenge her?”

  “Many have. All have died by her hand in the arena. Few come to challenge her now, for the warriors have come to believe that she is invincible.”

  “And what of warriors like the leader of this camp, the one who dragged me? How can he hold a healer, one of the most precious of our kind, under threat of death? That is against everything held by the Way!”

  Han-Ukha’i clasped her hand over Keel-Tath’s mouth. “Quietly, child! The only noise you should make above a whisper is a groan of pain.”

  As Han-Ukha’i took her hand away, Keel-Tath reached down and jabbed her talons into the raw exposed meat of her thighs. She screamed.

  One of the guards poked his head in. At the sight of Keel-Tath writhing in pain, he nodded in satisfaction, ignoring Han-Ukha’i’s frigid glare.

  “I do not want to sound…as if I am faking.” Keel-Tath panted the words as she slowly recovered from the searing pain that still radiated from her thighs. “You did not answer my question.”

  With another look toward the entrance, Han-Ukha’i leaned down and spoke softly. “Most warriors bind their honor to her according to the Way once they are defeated in battle. They know nothing else. But some, like Shil-Wular, the warrior who leads this group, are bound directly to Syr-Nagath. How, I do not know. But they can sense her will, and are compelled to obey. The Dark Queen now ravages Uhr-Gol, yet she makes Shil-Wular and the others like him dance like puppets. I have known him for many years. He was once a great and honorable warrior. Now…” She shook her head, a look of great sadness on her face. Leaning closer, her lips brushing Keel-Tath’s ear, she said, “And she knows things that she could not possibly know. Shil-Wular had the warriors up and gathered around the base of the trail long before any of the scouts could have seen you. Through her, he knew you were coming.”

  That stunned Keel-Tath into silence. She understood now why Ayan-Dar so feared the Dark Queen. She also knew that she was truly doomed. Any shred of hope she may have had for survival, let alone escape, was gone.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she curled against Han-Ukha’i’s legs and waited for what she knew would come.

  ***

  Keel-Tath staggered through the darkness behind the magthep ridden by Shil-Wular, the cuffs around her ankles and wrists cutting deeper with every step she had taken since the group had broken camp and set off to the east. Shil-Wular had shown her a small mercy by keeping the pace slow, but it was a march of agony for her. Even with frequent tending by Han-Ukha’i, the pain was excruciating. Many times she had wanted to collapse, to force them to either carry her or kill her, but Shil-Wular had forced the healer to strengthen her body just enough to go on.

  Finally, Keel-Tath had simply refused to get up again. The pain and exhaustion were overwhelming, and her only wish was to die. Shil-Wular, sitting astride his magthep, looked down at her for a moment. Then he reached out and grabbed Han-Ukha’i by the hair, nearly pulling her from the ground. He drew his sword and held it to her braids as she struggled in vain to free herself. “Get up and walk or I will cut off her hair.”

  Defeated, Keel-Tath struggled back to her feet. Despite the blinding pain, she could not let Han-Ukha’i come to harm. That any warrior would threaten harm to one of the robed castes was something out of a ter
rible dream. Such things simply were not done, even among the honorless ones.

  Without another word, Shil-Wular released Han-Ukha’i and turned away, yanking on the rope bound to Keel-Tath’s wrist chain.

  Together, captive and healer followed their master.

  Long hours had passed since then, Keel-Tath’s bloody footprints staining the road for the leagues that they traveled. She had endured pain and privation, for that was part of the Way, and even more a part of temple life. But she had never endured unceasing agony such as this. The flayed skin of her body was crusted over, but cracked and bled with every movement. The soles of her feet were raw, and she could again see the white of bone showing through the torn flesh of her wrists and ankles. Han-Ukha’i tried to get Keel-Tath to eat, but she could hold nothing down but a little water and a few sips of ale.

  Keel-Tath stumbled and fell. With a growl of irritation, Shil-Wular reined his magthep to a halt.

  Han-Ukha’i knelt down beside her and placed her hand on Keel-Tath’s forehead. “You must stop now, Shil-Wular, or you will kill her, despite all I can do. Then you can explain that to your queen.”

  “Hold your tongue, or I will cut it out.” Shil-Wular looked around, a scowl on his face. It was dark, but the night vision of their kind was good, and the Great Moon hung directly overhead. “Move off the road.” He gestured to the southern side and a nearby clearing among the trees. “We will make camp there.”

  Turning to the four warriors who acted as the guard for Keel-Tath and had been walking behind her on the long journey, Han-Ukha’i said, “Carry her. She must not take another step.”

  With a glance up at Shil-Wular, who nodded, they did as the healer asked. Keel-Tath moaned as they lifted her from the dirt of the road. She could tell, however, that they were trying to be gentle. No amount of gentleness could make carrying her anything less than another torment, but she was grateful that they at least tried. They clearly feared Shil-Wular, but they had also retained some sense of honor.

  They took her into a small tent near the center of the camp and set her down on a bed of animal skins. Then the warriors bowed to Han-Ukha’i and left to take up their guard posts outside.

  Han-Ukha’i produced a small glass vial and held it to Keel-Tath’s lips. “Drink this, child. It will send you into a deep, dreamless sleep that will help your body mend itself in the time we have until dawn.”

  “You do not look well.” Keel-Tath could see, even in the flickering light of the lantern the warriors had hung in the center of the tent, that Han-Ukha’i was haggard, as if the flesh were hanging off her bones.

  “Using the healing gel as I must is very taxing. It replenishes itself from my body, and I have not been able to sustain it properly.”

  Keel-Tath reached out a bloody hand, and Han-Ukha’i took it. “I wish your sacrifice was not in vain,” she whispered after drinking the potion.

  “Hush,” Han-Ukha’i told her. “Sleep now.”

  Keel-Tath closed her eyes and was instantly fast asleep.

  ***

  The warriors of Shil-Wular’s cohort busied themselves with the familiar tasks of setting up camp. Most were relieved when he gave orders to set up a full encampment, for that meant that they would be staying here longer than a day, no doubt to allow the captive and the healer accompanying her to recover enough to continue the long journey to the coast of the Eastern Sea. While there was more work involved in setting up the tents and basic defensive works, they looked forward to a few nights of comfortable sleep.

  Divided into work parties, they unlashed gear and supplies from the magtheps used as pack animals and set to their tasks. Other warriors set out to a perimeter guard beyond the light of the campfires, around which yet more warriors began to prepare the evening meal.

  Unseen shadows moved in the foliage at the base of the trees as the warriors on guard moved to take up their positions. There were only a dozen around the entire camp, for the only threat here was from bands of honorless ones, most of whom had the sense to give wide berth to a body of the queen’s warriors as large as this.

  One of the guards, a young warrior from a village not far from here, found a comfortable spot beside a tree that was as big around as he stood tall. He was relieved to be away from the camp, relieved to be as far away as he could from Shil-Wular. He had known the cohort’s leader for most of his life, and had always looked up to him with the greatest respect. But after he had returned from a meeting with the Dark Queen several months ago, he had been different, as if his soul had been torn from his body. He was no more than a shell, bound to her will and whim, without conscience or caring for the Way or anything — or anyone — else. Shil-Wular terrified him.

  Gnawing on the piece of meat that would be all he had for his evening meal, the young warrior looked out into the trees. The wind was coming up, the breeze rustling the tree tops high above. The broad leafed plants that were clustered around the bases of the trees waved in the breeze, making the shadows dance in the moonlight.

  One of the shadows seemed darker than the others, and he peered more closely at it. There were many beasts in the forest these days, a common occurrence when so many warriors were drawn away to war in distant lands, and they were often a greater threat to travelers than the bands of honorless ones. But the dark thing he watched was not in the shape of any beast that he had ever seen, and it was growing larger.

  It was then that he noticed other such shadows gliding from tree to tree, all heading toward the encampment.

  He reached for his sword and opened his mouth to give warning, but the whirling blades of a shrekka, the whistling sound of its passage masked by the wind, took his head from his body before he could raise the alarm.

  ***

  Keel-Tath struggled up from a warm and pleasant emptiness. She heard a voice calling her name, over and over. Something incredibly foul assaulted her nose, and she vaulted from the emptiness to see Han-Ukha’i’s face, just above hers. She was frightened, and in the background Keel-Tath heard shouts and screams, metal crashing against metal with lethal force. The sounds of battle.

  “Keel-Tath! Wake up!” Han-Ukha’i cradled Keel-Tath’s head with one hand and helped lift her into a sitting position. “We are under attack!”

  Though she was still groggy and her body was still on fire with pain, Keel-Tath did not need the experience of a seasoned warrior to know that there was a fierce fight going on in the forest to the south of the encampment. The cohort led by Shil-Wular was nearly five hundred strong, and it sounded like all of them must be at arms.

  The flaps of the tent opening flew back, and one of their guards, the largest and strongest, stepped inside, his sword drawn but not bloodied. “A large group of honorless ones has set upon us. We—”

  Han-Ukha’i screamed as the tip of a sword exploded from the guard’s breastplate, right over his heart. Mouth still open, his jaw hanging slack, he toppled forward at their feet.

  In the doorway stood a shadowy figure, a female warrior draped in a dark cloak that shrouded her face. She put a foot on the dead warrior’s back and pulled free her sword before stepping inside. Two more warriors, similarly cloaked, appeared beside her.

  “We mean you no harm, mistress,” the first warrior said, stepping forward and taking a knee on the animal hides on which Keel-Tath had been sleeping. “But we have little time. I beg you to let us bear you away from here.”

  At first, Keel-Tath thought the warrior was speaking to Han-Ukha’i. Then Keel-Tath realized that the warrior’s entreaty was directed at her.

  Before she could answer, one side of the tent fell in as a group of warriors outside, grappling with their claws, crashed into it.

  The two warriors accompanying the cloaked stranger dashed forward and plucked Keel-Tath from her bed, while the first one took Han-Ukha’i by the arm and pulled her away, dragging her from the tent just before it collapsed. The lantern suspended from the center pole fell to the floor and tipped over, and flames quickly began to spread be
neath the pile of warriors who struggled to kill one another.

  “Healer, you may leave or come with us, as is your will,” the lead warrior said as she removed a wicked looking axe from her belt and with a deft stroke parted the chain binding Keel-Tath’s feet. “But your company would be most welcome, for we have no healer of our own to care for our mistress.”

  Han-Ukha’i did not hesitate. She knelt before Keel-Tath, who was thoroughly confused, and bowed her head. Loud enough to be heard over the roar of the battle that was taking place around them, Han-Ukha’i said, “I pledge my honor to your service, mistress.” Then, standing, she said to the warrior, “Lead me.”

  A ring of cloaked warriors, perhaps two dozen by Keel-Tath’s count, closed in around them to form a solid wall of swords. Most of Shil-Wular’s warriors had been drawn deeper into the forest on the southern side of the encampment, so resistance on the northern side was weak. Keel-Tath’s rescuers (she thought of them as such, although she knew nothing of their intentions other than they wanted to take her from the Dark Queen) quickly fought their way through and crossed the road. Not far into the trees were more warriors holding magtheps at the ready.

  The cloaked warrior took one, a large beast that stomped its taloned feet. “Our mistress shall ride with me,” she called to those around her. She mounted the beast and reached down to help Keel-Tath into the saddle, the two warriors who had carried her lifting her up. Keel-Tath cried out in pain as the warriors put their hands on her torn flesh, and nearly passed out as she straddled the magthep’s broad back. The mysterious warrior, sitting behind her, gently wrapped one arm around Keel-Tath’s naked torso, holding her steady. “I am so sorry, my mistress,” the woman whispered, her voice hoarse. “We shall tend your wounds properly and remove your shackles as soon as we are clear.”

  The warrior kicked her magthep to a full run, heading deeper into the forest north of the road, with Han-Ukha’i and a guard of two dozen warriors right behind.

  CHAPTER NINE