In Her Name: The First Empress: Book 01 - From Chaos Born (10 page)

“One question.” The disembodied voice came from somewhere above him, echoing in the space under the barbican. It was a female voice, and sounded quite old to Ayan-Dar’s ears.

He tried to cast his second sight beyond the stone and metal, to glean something about what lay on the other side of the gate, but again his efforts were thwarted. “One question is all I ask. If…”

“Enter, priest.”

Snapping his mouth shut, Ayan-Dar stood there, waiting for the gate to open. But it remained shut, and there was no sound of gears or chains.

Another silly test
, he thought. Tightening his grip on his sword, he stepped forward, right into the gate. He felt a chill as his flesh momentarily merged with the metal, which was as thick as he stood tall. Moving through it was like walking through cold water. In three long strides he was through, his body emerging from the metal on the far side.

He found himself in a courtyard of sorts, with two rows of warriors lining a path from the gate to a squat, windowless construct at the center of the fortress.
 

The warriors at first looked like any other, but upon closer inspection, he saw that there were some significant differences. The horn that formed the ridge over the eyes was more pronounced, and the fangs were larger, bulging behind the lips. Their talons were half again as long as those found on their kin outside the walls, glittering obsidian razors wrapped tightly around the hilts of their weapons. All those that he saw were huge males, taller than himself by a full head. Their bodies were thick and powerful, with heavy bones wrapped in powerful muscles. Their hair was braided, but in three braids, not the seven demanded by the Way. Their armor was angular, serpentine, and made of a more primitive metal than his own, but far thicker. While the added weight would be an impediment, he suspected that the physical strength of the warriors would more than make up for it.

He had seen images of his ancestors from the First Age, and they looked much like this. It was as if these warriors were from an earlier period in their evolutionary history, as if time had stood still in Ka’i-Nur while the rest of the Kreela beyond these walls had moved forward.
 

Perhaps, he considered, that was not far from the truth. And T’ier-Kunai had not been exaggerating when she had warned him of the potential threat from the warriors here. They were indeed formidable. He did not want to think of what a potential threat they could be if they had still possessed their Crystal of Souls, and the warriors standing before him had been priests.

A female in maroon robes stood halfway to the building that lay in the center of the courtyard. She was clearly a keeper, and was flanked by two massive warriors who made the others look like undernourished weaklings.
 

He began to walk toward her, moving slowly to make it plain that he offered no threat. He only used the senses of his body now, for to use anything else, even his second sight, could antagonize his hosts. T’ier-Kunai had warned him that the Ka’i-Nur harbored unabashed animosity toward their brothers and sisters in the other six orders, and would bristle at the slightest possible offense.

As he walked toward the waiting keeper, he could not banish the sense of oppression made upon him by the fortress itself. It was uniformly bleak, without a shred of color or embellishment. Everything was made of the same black stone, polished smooth. Even the cobbles over which he walked were ebony. Every surface was smooth as glass, like black mirrors. The air within the fortress walls was unbearably hot, between the direct sun burning down and what was reflected from the stone around him.
 

The rest must be below ground
, he surmised. That would make a great deal of sense, considering the terrible conditions of heat and cold here at the surface. Underground, they could keep the temperature stable at a comfortable level.
 

Looking at the fierce, scarred faces of the warriors he passed, he doubted that comfort was high on the list of priorities for the dwellers of Ka’i-Nur.

He came to stand a few steps in front of the keeper and her escorts, who glared at him. The keeper, he could clearly see, was ancient, and he suspected hers was the voice that had spoken to him at the gate. Those of his race typically did not suffer atrophy with age, remaining in their prime until very near the end, when their bodies suddenly began to shut down. Of course, among the warrior caste, few ever lived to die of old age.

Among the non-warrior castes, there were some few whose bodies did begin to show signs of aging. By that time, they were very, very old, indeed.

Before he could say anything, she turned and shuffled slowly toward the entrance to the structure.
 

He followed her, remaining silent, and the two guardians fell into step beside him.

As they passed through the great arch that led into the mysterious structure, the desiccating heat fell away behind them. The air inside was cool and pleasantly humid, with the scent of a clear mountain spring. The walls around him, still of the same black stone, glowed to provide light in the same fashion that was found outside the walls of this unfathomable fortress.
 

The large atrium, which was guarded by six warriors, led to a spiral staircase in the center that was large enough to easily hold two tens of warriors standing shoulder to shoulder. In fact, the stairs appeared to be the sole reason for the building. While there were several alcoves evenly spaced around the perimeter of the building’s interior, the rest of the space was devoted to the stairway that led below.

As they descended, he noted that the stairs were well-maintained. In so old a place as this, the steps should have been well-worn, the stone eroded away by countless footfalls over the ages. But these steps could have been from newly hewn stone.

They still have builders, then
, he thought. While not surprising, the confirmation might prove useful. So very little was known about this place.

Ayan-Dar counted seventy-three levels past which they walked, spiraling down ever-deeper into the earth. He could gain no insight into what might have been on each level, for there were only closed metal doors beyond the circular landings. On some levels, he heard muffled voices. On others, sounds that could have been metal upon metal, or the hiss of strange machines.
 

The only sounds of which he could be certain were those made by the footfalls of himself and his escorts. The four of them were the only souls in the entire massive shaft through which the stairway descended. None of the other inhabitants of this underground city were to be seen.

At last, they reached the bottom level, where the stairway ended. Here, things were different. The black stone of the stairway gave way to beautiful red granite floor and walls that glittered with swirls of minerals, all of it polished to a high sheen. Sconces held torches that burned brightly, for the walls and ceiling here were bereft of the glow found on the other levels.

A single door faced the steps. It was ancient wood, twice as tall as Ayan-Dar and just as wide. On one side were four massive metal hinges that had clearly been forged by hammer and anvil long, long ago. On the opposite side was an iron ring, as large around as his head, hanging from a massive iron plate set into the door.

His two guards took up position on either side of the door. Then, to his amazement, the keeper, this ancient female, took hold of the massive ring on the door in one hand and gave a gentle tug. Without any evident machinery or pulleys to move it, the door, which Ayan-Dar could now see was as thick as the length of his arm, swung open smoothly.
 

Without a look back, the keeper entered, and Ayan-Dar followed.

But as he saw what lay beyond the door, he stopped and stared.

Before him lay a vast cavern, the far end of which was so distant that he could not see it. The entire city of Keel-A’ar could have easily fit inside, with much room to spare. The floor was level, made of the same granite as in the atrium behind him, covered with a maze of walls and pillars that rose twice the height of the walls surrounding the fortress, and yet only reached halfway to the mist-shrouded ceiling above. Every surface he could see, even the threshold where he now stood, was covered in writing, tiny script etched into the stone.
 

These, then, the words that had been so carefully preserved since the dawning age of their civilization, were the Books of Time that he sought.
 

He looked down at the script that covered the granite at his feet, but could not read it. It was in an ancient tongue that had probably died out in the fury of the upheavals of the First or Second Ages. That was the fate of many of the ancient tongues that had once been spoken. Yet, here they still lived, written and preserved for future ages.

Among the walls and columns moved a small army of keepers in maroon robes. While the ancient words were preserved in stone, the ability to both interpret them and index the information lay in the minds of the keepers. They were not only the scribes of the countless words here, but were also the living indexes of the vast repositories of information that made up the history of their race.
 

The ancient keeper who had been his guide had paused and was regarding him with a severe expression.
 

Reluctantly focusing his attention on her and the twisting stairway that led toward the main level below, he stepped toward her.

She turned around and began the long descent to the main floor.

When they arrived, a group of keepers was waiting. They stood in a semicircle, their hands clasped in the billowing sleeves of their robes. All eyes were fixed on Ayan-Dar.

The ancient keeper stopped, then turned to face him. “One question.”
 

Ayan-Dar chose his words carefully. “What say the Books of Time of a female child, born in the shadow of a Great Eclipse, who has both white hair and talons of scarlet?”

The ancient keeper’s eyes widened as she let out a slow breath. The others showed no reaction.

She knows something
, Ayan-Dar thought, his expectation of disappointment turning to excitement.

After a long moment, the ancient keeper spoke. “The child of which you speak was foretold by the oracle Anuir-Ruhal’te before the Final Annihilation in the Second Age. Come.”

She led him past the other keepers on a trek through the maze. The walls and columns he had seen from above had lacked any true sense of scale. Here, walking among them, they were titanic. And everywhere, on every flat or curved surface, was tiny writing in many tongues. Some of it was clearly rooted in the language in common use today. Others were only strange glyphs at whose meaning he could not even guess.

At last, she came to a stop before one of the great columns. Without a word, she levitated from the ground, taking him with her.
 

As they rose higher and higher, Ayan-Dar gawked at the immensity of the cavern and the wealth of information that must be stored here.

When they reached the top, the keeper stepped from the thin air upon which they were standing onto the solid granite surface of the column.
 

Ayan-Dar followed right behind.

Looking down, the keepers toiling below were no larger than tiny mites in his eyes, and the top of the column was so high that it was shrouded in the mist that concealed the ceiling of the gigantic chamber.

Kneeling on the hard, wet stone, the keeper ran her hands over the etchings until she found the one she sought.

Slowly, she read the words that were formed in an angular script that dated back nearly three hundred thousand cycles:

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.

Ayan-Dar knelt beside the ancient keeper, his heart racing. He wanted to reach out and run his fingers over the ancient words, but knew that to do so was forbidden.
 

The keeper was looking at him closely. “You have seen the child of which Anuir-Ruhal’te spoke.” It was not a question.
 

He did not want to admit the truth, but he was honor-bound to do so. “I have, mistress. In the city of Keel-A’ar.”

“Thus, do you have the answer to your question, priest of the Desh-Ka. Now, it is time for you to leave this place.” She stepped out into the open air that surrounded the column, and was held there as if she were standing on an invisible platform suspended high above the floor. She gestured for him to join her.

Ayan-Dar stepped out into space, where his foot found…nothing.
 

He was not caught entirely by surprise. All along, he had expected some form of treachery. As he fell forward, he tucked his chest in toward his legs and twisted to his right. This gave his left arm just enough extension that he was able to grasp the edge of the column, his talons digging into the polished stone as he uncoiled his body smoothly to face against the mountainous slab.
 

With a quiet grunt of effort, he lifted himself far enough that he could swing a leg over the top of the column before rolling his body to relative safety.
 

Calmly and gracefully regaining his feet, he turned to face the keeper, whose face betrayed disappointment. “I thought you were finished with your silly tests.”

“This is no test, priest. The child of white hair and crimson talons shall not be allowed to live to fulfill the prophecy. One of our own is destined to rule over all. She shall restore the Ka’i-Nur to their rightful place, to be first among the seven bloodlines, as was the way in ancient times.”

Glancing down, Ayan-Dar could see a brace of warriors rising along the face of the column. He had not used his powers to will himself away from this place, or simply to control his descent to the floor below when he had stepped off the column. He had not been willing to test himself in this accursed place unless he truly had to. It appeared that the time to do so would soon be upon him.