Forged In Flame (In Her Name: The First Empress, Book 2) (18 page)

Reaching into her belt pouch, Dara-Kol extracted a small crystal vial that was stoppered at one end. The instant she opened it, the
magtheps
brayed in terror and nearly trampled one another in their rush to get away. Some of them tore down the slope they had used to get to the top of the knoll, while others simply leaped from the rock to the grass below. As a herd, they tore across the sand and back into the grass, fleeing to the south at a breakneck gallop.

As Dara-Kol recapped the vial and returned it to her pouch, Keel-Tath, as surprised as the others, asked, “What was that?” She had gotten a slight whiff of it, a stink so vile that it brought tears to her eyes.

“
Genoth
piss. Every animal is terrified by it, except other
genoths
, of course.” 

Ri’al-Char’rah, still staring wide-eyed after the
magtheps
, which continued to race through the grass, asked, “And how do other
genoths
react?”

“To them it is the scent of a challenger.” She shivered. “They will attack instantly, with unbridled ferocity.”

“Perhaps you should walk a bit farther ahead of us, then,” Ri’al-Char’rah quipped. “Just in case any spills.”

“I will not ask how you procured it,” Drakh-Nur added.

The others gave up a nervous laugh that died out all too soon. The sun was going down and darkness was falling rapidly. 

Looking back in the direction of their pursuers, Dara-Kol said, “We will stay here until dawn, but light no fires. The beasts of the night here on the edge of the wastelands prefer to hunt in the grass, and this spot is more easily defended. Two of us will remain awake at all times. I will take the first watch.”

“And I with you,” Keel-Tath said. 

Dara-Kol bowed her head. “Let us see how our friends and their
magtheps
fare in the night.”

***

Even though the others were supposed to rest while Dara-Kol and Keel-Tath stood watch, all seven companions, weapons drawn, looked over the tops of the broken stones into the black sea of grass to the east. There was little to see, but there was more than enough to hear. The darker it became, the louder was the chorus of the beasts that prowled beyond the rocky knoll. Growls and chirps, hisses and grunts flowed around them as if they were an island in a river of bestial ghosts that flowed out of the wastelands into the grasslands of the vale. Dara-Kol had carefully spread two drops of the precious
genoth
piss at strategic points around their perimeter to help ward off the smaller creatures, and all hoped on the lives of their ancestors that no
genoths
would come.

“How are we to survive a trek to the Western Sea,” Keel-Tath whispered as something large — how large she did not want to know — swept past on their left, “if there are so many things that can kill us?”

“There are so many here because there is much for them to eat. With the people gone from the vale, prey species have multiplied, and so have the predators from the deserts. Once we leave here and head farther into the wastelands, there will be far fewer, although some that we may yet encounter are more dangerous than these.”

Keel-Tath turned to look at her, catching Dara-Kol’s profile in the soft moonlight. “How do you know so much of these things?”

“She has spent more time in the Great Wastelands than anyone who is not of the Ka’i-Nur,” Drakh-Nur said quietly. “Ironic, is it not, that I, whose blood is of that ancient sect, have never set foot in these accursed lands.”

“For a long time after your parents were killed and Keel-A’ar destroyed,” Dara-Kol went on, “the desert wastes were my refuge. The only people of all T’lar-Gol who were not hunting me were the Ka’i-Nur, who care not for the affairs of outsiders. I did not return across the vale for several years.”

“It is a miracle that you survived,” Keel-Tath told her, her voice filled with wonder.

“It was my destiny, mistress. There were many times when I was near death, times when I wanted to die to end my misery and loneliness. But your father’s sword and my promise to him, and your young voice in my blood, always renewed my purpose, my determination. I knew that it could not have all been for naught.”

Just then a cacophony of growls and shrieks erupted in the east. While distant, the screams of warriors could clearly be heard, along with the panicked braying of
magtheps
. A deeper sound, a low grunt-grunt-grunt that sent shivers down Keel-Tath’s spine, joined in, followed by even more screams and the sounds of a pitched battle being fought.

“The fools did not make camp and set up a perimeter!” Ba’dur-Khan was aghast. 

“How can you tell?” Keel-Tath wanted to know.

“From the sounds, mistress. They are much closer than when last we caught sight of the enemy column. They are still perhaps half a league or more away, which makes me think they did not bother to stop when darkness fell.”

“Much to their dismay, it would seem.” Dara-Kol whispered.

Fires sprang to life, pinpricks of light in the distance as the enemy warriors lit torches to fend off their attackers. The light illuminated the humped and spiny backs of the attacking predators like the backs of fish in the nighttime sea as they converged on the queen’s minions. Some warriors must have tried to light the grass on fire, but it was a fruitless effort. The grass was green and lush, and it would take a great deal more flame and a whipping wind to keep any fire alight.

Keel-Tath could only imagine the carnage, for the battle was too far away to make out any details. Then again, from the sounds, it was not a battle, but a feast. At first she had been overjoyed that the beasts were attacking their pursuers. But after a while, her feelings changed. “I pity them,” she whispered.

She felt a hand on her arm and looked over to see Lihan-Hagir staring at her with a tortured gaze. He shook his head slowly.

“Do not spare your pity for them, mistress,” Ba’dur-Khan told her bitterly. “They certainly would not spare any for you, let alone the likes of us.”

“I am not them,” Keel-Tath told him. “The evil is with Syr-Nagath, who commands their honor. The Way as they understand it is clear enough, and what choice have they but to follow? They are like children, younglings who have not yet opened their eyes to the world.” She paused, wondering about her future. “But someday they shall.”

“And on that day you may pity them, mistress,” Dara-Kol told her. “On the day they pledge their honor and their lives to you, pity them. But here, now, never forget they are the enemy. You cannot afford pity, mistress. You must be cold and brutal as the beasts that even now feast on their flesh.”

Keel-Tath was thankful for the darkness, that the others could not see the black streaks of mourning on her cheeks as the screams went on, well into the night.

***

As dawn broke over the mountains of Kui’mar-Gol, there was no sign of their pursuers. The grassy sea where the queen’s warriors had been attacked was a trampled, scarlet mess, but the warriors were gone. 

“They will not give up so easily,” Drakh-Nur observed.

Ri’al-Char’rah gaped at him. “That was easy? You must tell me then what you think would be hard.” 

“He is right,” Dara-Kol said. “More warriors will come, and this time they will bring a scout who knows the ways of these lands. But we will have a good head start, and it will be much more difficult for them to track us as we go farther west.”

With a final look at the scene of carnage from the night before, the group shouldered their packs of provisions and followed Dara-Kol. 

Ahead of them the light-colored sand and scrub of the boundary with the vale gave way to rock that was a brooding gray, with spires and spines that rose like the serrated teeth of some of the sea creatures painted in the great hall of Ku’ar-Amir. The landscape was full of them, as far as they could see.

“Beware the edges of the spires,” Dara-Kol warned. “They are sharp as broken glass.”

Keel-Tath could see now why Dara-Kol said it would be hard to track them. They left no footprints, for everything was rock. 

“Why is there no sand or dirt?” She asked.

“The rains wash it all away, down to the sea.”

“What rain?” Ri’al-Char’rah looked at the sky. “This is a desert.”

“Most of the time, yes,” Dara-Kol said. “But sometimes great storms sweep in from the sea. When those come, you had best have a high cave in which to hide.”

“What if something already lives in it?” Ri’al-Char’rah asked.

“You kill it, or it kills you.”

Keel-Tath looked at the bleak landscape around her. Other than the sky, it was utterly devoid of color. It was a land of texture, of elevation rising and falling, of deep culverts and steep hills, but no great mountains other than the volcanoes in the far distance. “Is it all like this?”

“Not all,” Dara-Kol told her. She glanced toward the volcanoes. “Some is worse.”

“I thought it was supposed to be hot,” Ba’dur-Khan observed.

Glancing back at the rising sun, Dara-Kol frowned. “It will be.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Into The Great Wastelands

Time was measured in careful steps through the perilous forest of sharp-edged rock as they made their way through the inferno that the Great Wastelands had become as the sun neared its zenith. Their black armor absorbed the heat, and would have been unbearable to wear without the thermal qualities of the leatherite and gauzy undergarments. Han-Ukha’i, whose white robes reflected some of the sun’s heat, was more fortunate, but she, too, suffered.

As they reached the crest of another of the endless ridges that made up the landscape, Keel-Tath paused to take a breath and adjust the heavy satchel on her back. She had never been so hot in her life. The air above the rocky ground shimmered with heat, and the soles of her feet, even protected by her sandals, felt like they had been plunged into scalding water.

“We must travel by day,” Dara-Kol had explained when they set off, “because we are less likely to encounter predators. We can survive the heat if we have enough water, but we cannot survive being eaten.”

That brought a round of nervous laughter, but none of them were laughing now. Every step was an effort of will, and every encounter with the rock was painful. The spires and rock shards were like oven-hot knives.

As Dara-Kol led them down the other side of the hill, she stopped. In the side of the next crest, well above the erosion lines of the gully where water reached during the rains, were a series of enormous round bulges, each as large as the great hall in Sura’an-Desai’s village. “It is a hive of
churr-kamekh
,” she said softly. “They are small, the largest no longer than the palm of your hand, but they have a potent sting. When provoked or disturbed, the entire hive attacks.”

“There must be millions of them in there.” Ri’al-Char’rah’s fear was palpable.

Nodding, Dara-Kol told her, “They are the only creatures of the wasteland that can kill an adult
genoth
. The only defense against them is fire.”

“Let us steer well clear, then,” Keel-Tath said, trying to swallow her own fear. The hive was much closer than she would have preferred.

“Now, yes. But when our water runs low, we will have to find a hive.”

“What?” The others spoke in unison, turning to gape at her.

“At the base of the hive are chambers the
churr-kamekh
use to store water from the rains. The hive walls are very strong, but thin enough to puncture with a blade.”

“So, you just march up to one of those things and poke a hole in it to drink and fill your water skin?” Drakh-Nur shook his head in admiration. “You amaze me.”

Dara-Kol grinned, but the expression did not reach her eyes. “It is not quite so easy as that. Approaching and departing from the hive takes a very long time. If they sense the vibration of footfalls that near the hive, they instantly attack.”

Keel-Tath shivered at the thought. “There are no other sources of water?”

“None that you would dare to go after. Come. We will give this nest a wide berth. When we need water, we will try to find a smaller nest.”

The day wore on, until at last the sun settled toward the horizon and the terrible heat began to subside. 

Dara-Kol found a spot near the top of one of the ridges that put a sheer wall at their back and would be more easily defensible. “We will camp here for the night.”

With a collective groan, her six companions shrugged off their burdens and collapsed to the still-hot rocky ground. 

Ba’dur-Khan passed around a water bag. Keel-Tath took a swig from it and had to force herself to swallow the water, which was piping hot.

“Eat quickly, then pack away the dried meat in your satchels. The predators will not smell it in there, for I cured the hides with the ground-up bodies of
churr-kamekh
, which will mask the scent. But we must leave nothing out that could attract unwanted attention.”

“What of ourselves?” Ri’al-Char’rah made a show of smelling herself, then wrinkling her nose.

“We are a curiosity to them, not natural prey. Unless it is an animal that has already feasted on our flesh and developed a taste for it, they will not hunt us if we do not violate their ways.”

After they ate, they watched the sun set. It was a show of crimson and orange, as if the magenta-hued sky itself were on fire. And above, the stars came out just before the Great Moon rose over the eastern horizon. 

Despite her exhaustion and the alienness of their surroundings, Keel-Tath felt strangely at peace. 

“It is beautiful in its own way, is it not?” Dara-Kol said, sitting down beside her.

“Did you know,” Keel-Tath told her, pointing at the moon, “that once, long ago, our people lived there?”

“I have heard tales of such, mistress, but I was not sure if they were anything more than legends.”

“It is true. While in the temple, the disciples are required to learn from the Books of Time, even more than in the
kazhas
, I am told. I spent many hours with the keepers, listening to them recite histories and things we otherwise would not know. While I loved my time in the arena training, waiting for the day when I could truly blood my sword, I enjoyed learning of things past nearly as much.” She sighed. “One day we shall return there, not to rebuild what once was, but to make something new, something beautiful that will bring glory to all our kind. Someday.”