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

by Hicks, Michael R.

  She cried out in fear, but Ayan-Dar held her tight.

  “Courage, daughter,” he whispered as the thing fell, impossibly fast, toward them. With it came heat so intense she felt as if her face was burning, and a deafening roar that made the battle outside seem like it had been nothing more than the sound of gentle ocean waves. She closed her eyes and held onto Ayan-Dar, awaiting the death that she knew must be upon them.

  But it never came. She blinked, and the heat, the sound, was gone. Upon the stone pillar sat an enormous crystal in the shape of a tear drop. It shimmered and blazed with cyan, as if it contained the lightning from a thousand storms, and she could feel her skin prickling from its ethereal energy.

  It was one of the seven Crystals of Souls, she realized. Each of the six ancient orders had such a crystal, which was the source of the powers wielded by the priesthoods. The Ka’i-Nur had once had such a crystal, but it had been lost long ago, near the end of the Second Age.

  Above her, the sun shone through the circular opening through which the crystal had come. She wondered how that could be, because the sun had nearly set when she and the others had been whisked here to the temple. But there was no mistaking it for what it was, and it made her wonder even more about the mysteries of this place. The sun’s rays formed a bright circle upon the sand that steadily moved, even as she watched, toward the pillar and the crystal.

  “You remember…the prophecy?”

  She turned to look at Ayan-Dar. “Of course,” she said softly. “How could I not?”

  “Say it.”

  The words came to her as naturally as breathing, so many times had she repeated them in her mind. For a long time she had hated them, had hated Anuir-Ruhal’te for ever uttering them. They had condemned her to a fate she had never wanted, and had led to the ruin of her world. But in the end, here as she huddled inside this strange place with the man who had raised her to become a warrior and more, she knew that Anuir-Ruhal’te was her distant mother, and the words she had spoken so long ago may as well have been Keel-Tath’s name.

  Long dormant seed shall great fruit bear,

  Crimson talons, snow-white hair.

  In sun’s light, yet dark of heaven,

  Not of one blood, but of seven.

  Souls of crystal, shall she wield,

  From Chaos born, our future’s shield.

  The rays of the sun touched the crystal and it sparked, flared cyan. She could feel heat again, but this time it was even stronger, and grew more intense as the sun moved to shine full upon the crystal.

  “You have my blood,” Ayan-Dar wheezed. “The crystal will…know you. When it shines on you…you will burn.” He took in a ragged breath. “Be not afraid…as the pain takes you. You must…lay your hands upon it.”

  She did not know all the details of the ceremony by which an acolyte became a priest, but she knew that what he asked could not be done. “It is forbidden to touch the Crystal of Souls!”

  “Not for you, child of Anuir-Ruhal’te.” With those words, his life began to slip away. His body went limp, and she lowered him to the dais. “You must…touch it, or all is lost.”

  “No,” she cried, holding tight to his hand. “Ayan-Dar, stay with me! Do not leave me!”

  His eye blinked open to look up at her. He had a tortured expression on his face. “Ria-Ka’luhr…he will…”

  And then he was gone.

  She stared down at him, feeling as if her world had been destroyed. She gently closed his eye and kissed him on the forehead, her heart a cold, dead stone in her chest.

  Above her, the sun rose to its peak, shining down full upon the ancient Crystal of Souls of the Desh-Ka, which flared and sparked. For just a moment, the shimmering orb seemed to absorb the sun’s light, sucking it into an infinite depth, before exploding in blazing rays of cyan.

  Struggling to her feet, she looked into the blue fire, wondering if she was already blind. But no, she could see the crystal still, a bright teardrop at the center of the universe. Her skin smoldered, then burned as she moved closer to the light, and she bit down on her tongue to keep from screaming from the agony wrought by the cyan fire. She had been born out of the flame of her father’s dying city, and in flames would she die. Ayan-Dar had promised that it would not be so, but her faith faltered as the lightning glare of the crystal consumed her. She raised her hands, groping forward as her flesh melted away from her fingers, her hands, then her arms, leaving nothing but charred bone.

  Then she was blind as her face and eyes were burned away, and with one final lunge before she died, Keel-Tath did what none had ever done in all the ages past: with the charred remains of her talons she touched the Crystal of Souls.

  ***

  She was standing in the center of Anuir-Ruhal’te’s great burial chamber. But it was not the time-worn ruin she had seen after Dara-Kol had taken her from the clutches of Shil-Wular. It was as it had been when new, near the end of the Second Age. Instead of her armor, she wore a simple white robe. At a distance, it might have been mistaken for the robe of a healer, but it was cut in a different fashion, fitting more closely to her body, and she wore no black undergarment. The fabric was cool and comfortable against her skin, but she could not help but feel naked without leatherite and metal.

  Looking down at her hands, she saw that they were unmarred, save for the scar on her palm where Ayan-Dar had shared blood with her. The thought brought a great sadness upon her, for she remembered then that he had died in her arms. It seemed now so very long ago.

  “Grieve that he is parted from you,” a disembodied voice said with great gentleness, “but rejoice that he has joined the ranks of the Ancient Ones, the warriors of the spirit.”

  Turning around she saw Anuir-Ruhal’te standing behind her. Looking at her was like gazing into a mirror, seeing herself as she would look when fully mature. Keel-Tath gestured with her hands, looking down at her body. “I…I do not understand. I am…” She forced out the words. “I died.”

  The ancient oracle, her far distant mother, nodded. “All who are touched by the light of any of the seven Crystals of Souls die. Those who survive are changed by it, born again and given the powers passed down through the ages from when the crystals were forged at the height of the First Age.” She smiled and stepped closer, putting a hand to Keel-Tath’s cheek. “A small few have been foolish enough to touch the crystals, and for them it was the touch of Death from which there was no awakening. But for you, it was as it must be. And this is only the beginning.”

  Keel-Tath did not care for the sound of that. “What does that mean?”

  “Your birth was no accident, child. The seeds of your coming were sown by my own hand, and you would have been born far earlier — in my lifetime — had not those who lived in fear, those who nearly destroyed our kind, tried to put an end to it. They would have succeeded, save that I spread the seed far and wide, carefully concealing it in the bloodlines so that none, not even the healers, would recognize it until it bore fruit. To create that seed was my life’s purpose, and the result greatly pleases me.”

  Keel-Tath stared at her. “So the war, the Final Annihilation of the Second Age, was fought because of you?”

  “No,” Anuir-Ruhal’te said, “it was fought because of you. Or, rather, the seed that would someday become you. You see, beloved, you are the only one who can touch the crystals and survive. And by touching them, their essence infuses your body and spirit. The priests and priestesses who are touched by their light are only endowed with gifts such as the crystals see fit to bestow. But you will have all they have to give.” She paused, gazing deep into Keel-Tath’s eyes to make sure she understood. “This frightened the great powers of my time. What began the war was the knowledge that the child I sought to bring into the world would be able to harness the power of all seven Crystals of Souls. They could not bear the thought that a single individual could wield so much power.”

  “Perhaps they were right,” Keel-Tath whispered, mentally reeling from what Anui
r-Ruhal’te, or her ghost, was telling her. “If one such as the Dark Queen held such terrible power, how long could it be before the light from the very stars went out?”

  “She will never have it,” Anuir-Ruhal’te assured her. “This is a power only you may wield. It is part of you, in your very blood. The crystals will recognize you, and no other, for what you are.”

  “But why? What need was there to do such a thing?”

  “I did it because our race was dying, child. Fewer children were born with each generation, and after all our achievements we were falling into ruin, into chaos. Some did not believe the final ending was upon us. Others did, and were content, or even joyful, that it was so. While lust for battle is in our very blood and bone, battle without honor is for the feral creatures of the land and sea, not our kind. Yet that is what they would have had. But some, like me, sought salvation for our kind.” She lowered her head. “While we had hopes for the distant future, that you would someday be born, we had failed the people of our own time, and the weapons of those who opposed us rained fire down upon the worlds.”

  “You and the others like you were the old gods,” Keel-Tath whispered. “Those who fell, who were claimed false in the eyes of the people.”

  Looking up, the marks of mourning running down her face, Anuir-Ruhal’te nodded. “We took upon ourselves the power of gods that we might save our people. We succeeded in part, for our species lived on, after a fashion. But we failed to take our people higher, to a greater state of being in the Universe. That, child, will be your task. You know us through the Books of Time as the old gods, the fallen, yes. You shall be the new god, the one god who will see our people through to their ultimate redemption.”

  “And how am I to do this?” Keel-Tath was afraid she knew what the answer must be.

  “Those few of us who survived the fires of that last great war formed the priesthoods to safeguard the crystals. Alas, the message of their true purpose was lost over the ages, for they have long since forgotten that they were to preserve them for you. The priesthoods took a path that was not foreseen, and the only way you can accomplish what you must will be with fire, by force.” She looked at Keel-Tath, her eyes wells of sorrow. “Each of the other six crystals must you touch, and then…then you will have power such as even we Ancient Ones could never have conceived.”

  “But mistress, there are only five other crystals. The one for the Ka’i-Nur no longer exists.”

  At that, Anuir-Ruhal’te smiled. “It exists, my child. But it was hidden, for among all the Crystals of Souls, it is in some ways the most powerful, the most terrible, for it will reopen the gateway between the spirits of the living and the dead. When it is time, you will find it, I have no doubt.” She stepped closer, taking Keel-Tath’s hand. “There is an afterlife, child. There is a paradise, and there is endless darkness. Once you have the power of all seven crystals within you, you will not be bound by life or death, just as you will not be bound by space and time. And when you are ready, you will be able to take our people where we could not.”

  With one last squeeze of Keel-Tath’s hand, Anuir-Ruhal’te turned and began to walk away, and the light in the ancient crypt began to dim. “I must go to them now,” she said. “It is time.”

  “Wait!” Keel-Tath called after her distant ancestor, and began to follow after her. She had so many questions that needed to be answered. “Mistress, please wait!”

  But the oracle, her distant mother, was fading quickly as darkness claimed the crypt. Looking at her hand, Keel-Tath saw that she was holding the shard of the crystal heart that she had taken from the crypt before she had destroyed it. The blue glow was fading. With a final bright pulse, the light went out, and the world was cast into darkness.

  ***

  She awoke upon the cold stone of the dais in the coliseum. Blinking her eyes clear, she turned her head and saw Ayan-Dar laying beside her. Biting back a cry of grief, she reached over to touch him and found his body still warm. He was gone from this life, but she remembered Anuir-Ruhal’te’s words about the Crystal of Souls held by the Ka’i-Nur: it will reopen the gateway between the spirits of the living and the dead. Perhaps she would see her mentor again one day, along with her mother and father, and all the others whom she had lost.

  It was a heartening thought until she realized that it must have been nothing more than a dream. It must have been.

  Propping herself up on her elbows, her body still tingling and sluggish, something fell from her hand to clatter onto the stone.

  It was the crystal shard.

  She had no recollection of removing it from her pouch, but then she realized that her pouch and everything else she wore that was not metal had been turned to powdery ash, and even the metal plate of her armor was charred and melted along the edges. The only things that had been left untouched were her weapons.

  Carefully picking up the crystal, she looked at it, hoping to see some trace of the blue glow, but there was none.

  With it still held in her hand, she knelt beside Ayan-Dar, wishing she could speak to him again, wishing that he could give her words of wisdom to help illuminate the path she must follow. She glanced at the door through which they had come, one of seven that ringed the great arena, terrified of what lay beyond. She was not afraid of the war among the priesthood, or even the Dark Queen. She was terrified of what she herself must become, and even what she might be now.

  She did not feel any different, except that the pain she had felt from the inquisition was gone. Her body seemed the same, so far as she could tell.

  The only difference she could sense with any certainty was the song of her kin in her blood. It was there, to be sure, but was not the chaotic maelstrom it had been when she entered the coliseum with Ayan-Dar. It was steady and measured, a harmony of millions of voices at peace. She did not know if that was some strange effect of this place, or if what had transpired here had wrought some greater change upon the world outside.

  She also wondered where Ria-Ka’luhr had disappeared to. He had been with her when they passed through the doorway, but only Ayan-Dar had appeared on the other side.

  Steeling herself for what must be done, she kissed Ayan-Dar’s forehead, then picked up her father’s sword and stood. Brushing the ash from her body, she strode toward the doorway, forcing herself to be strong. Whatever powers the Crystal of Souls might have given her, courage was not among them. For that, she had to look to herself.

  Pausing just a moment at the door, she wondered if it would even open, for it could only do so for one of the priesthood. But if what Anuir-Ruhal’te had said to her in the dream were true…

  Reaching out with her hand, she touched the door, and it swung open wide. Beyond lay nothing but darkness.

  Taking a deep breath, her father’s sword in hand, she stepped through into the unknown.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Darkness Falls

  The temple lay in smoldering ruin. Save for the massive domed coliseum, the buildings of the temple had been razed by fire or blasted into rubble by the massive energies unleashed by the priests and priestesses as they fought. Even the great Kal’ai-Il had been damaged, two of the massive pillars shorn off. Bodies and parts of bodies were strewn everywhere, although for some of the fallen, all that remained was a sword or a piece of burned and twisted armor. Billowing clouds of smoke drifted away from the plateau to smother the sunset. What the great ships that sailed between the stars had been unable to do in the final battle of the last great war, the priests and priestesses had managed to do themselves.

  Keel-Tath, gazing with unbelieving eyes at what had once been her home, was sickened by the slaughter. The song of her kin in her blood, so peaceful and placid within the confines of the coliseum, was filled with anger and rage, bloodlust and pain. And so many were silent, the echoes of their melodies gone forever unto death.

  She stood there, trying to come to grips with what had happened in the time she had been in the coliseum, as the door behind her slid si
lently closed. One thing was painfully clear, however: the battle was over, and there was no question who emerged victorious.

  “Yield, Keel-Tath, in the name of the conclave of the priesthoods.” It was T’ier-Kunai’s First, Alena-Khan. Her armor was charred and still smoking in several places, and her left arm hung limp at her side, dripping blood. In a wide semicircle around the doorway stood what was left of the Desh-Ka, swords still drawn. So few, Keel-Tath thought, her heart aching. Those who had stood with Ayan-Dar were gone, dead. “There need be no more bloodshed. Enough have died on your account.”

  Kneeling before them were Dara-Kol and Drakh-Nur, beaten and bloodied. Tara-Khan lay on the ground, bleeding badly from a sword wound in his chest below his heart. Ka’i-Lohr sat next to him, dazed, a deep gash across his forehead.

  “I yielded to them, mistress,” Dara-Kol said in a rasping voice as Keel-Tath rushed to kneel beside Tara-Khan. “We could not hold against them, and I did not want to die without knowing you would return to us.”

  Drakh-Nur looked up at her with tortured eyes, and bobbed his head. “As did I.” He glanced at the young warrior beside him who lay dying. “Tara-Khan would not,” he rumbled. “I am shamed, mistress.”

  “The only shame is what the Dark Queen has wrought upon us all,” Keel-Tath told him bitterly. “Tara-Khan,” she whispered, putting a hand to his face. His eyes flickered open. He managed to raise a hand, and she took it. His grip was so weak, and she could feel his life slipping away as he bled out upon the ground. Looking up at Alena-Khan, she said, “Summon a healer!”

  “He raised his sword to defend you,” the priestess said. “Let him die with honor.”

  “No,” Keel-Tath whispered, turning back to Tara-Khan. “I have seen enough death this day.” Letting go his hand, she tore at the fastenings of his armor to reveal the wound, which was as long as the width of her hand, the blood foaming from air seeping from the ruptured lung. From the blood seeping out beneath him, she knew the sword had thrust all the way through his body. “Please,” she whispered desperately, putting her hands over the bleeding flesh. “Please let this work.” She had no healing gel, no skills in the healing art, nothing but desperate hope that the powers the Crystal of Souls had given her could be used for something other than destruction. Squeezing her eyes shut, she concentrated on his body, the flutter of his heart, the shallow gasping of his lungs, the warmth of the blood that covered her hands.