In Her Name: The First Empress: Book 01 - From Chaos Born (18 page)

For a time, she drove them back with sheer ferocity. She drew blood from two of them before a third stabbed her in the back. The blade of his sword pierced the flesh of her hip and ground against the bone.

With a sharp cry, she gripped the blade in the talons of her free hand and turned, pulling free, just as one of the other warriors struck low, slicing deep into the muscle of her thigh. She realized they were not trying for a single killing stroke. They only sought to weaken her until she could no longer defend herself. Then she, and her daughter soon thereafter, would die.

“No!” Her cry was not one of physical pain, but of anguish at the knowledge that she had failed her daughter, her precious child.
 

She held her sword, raised in defiance, as the queen’s riders moved in for the kill.

Such was her surprise when the head of one of them fell from his shoulders to land at his feet after a
shrekka
passed through his neck. A look of shock was frozen on his face as the body, blood pumping from the stump between the shoulders, collapsed on top of the severed head.

The other three warriors of the queen looked up in time to see an unknown warrior dashing toward them astride a
magthep
, a black cape billowing behind him. Two
shrekkas
flew from his hand in a blur. A warrior knocked one of the weapons from the air with his sword. The second
shrekka
slashed through another warrior’s breastplate, opening up his chest as if he had been cleaved with an axe.

The two surviving warriors moved toward the newcomer, swords at the ready. They had dismissed Ulana-Tath as a threat, which proved unwise. As they stepped past her, she lashed out with her sword, amputating the leg of one, just below the knee. With a quick reverse, she stabbed her blade deep into the thigh of the other.

The screams of both warriors were quickly silenced by the newcomer, who made an impossible leap from the charging
magthep
, somersaulting in the air. Still airborne, he took the head from one warrior with a lightning swift stroke of his sword before stabbing the other through the heart, the tip of the blade’s living metal easily penetrating the breastplate. Then his feet came to rest lightly upon the ground.

Ulana-Tath had never seen such a thing.
 

Pulling the blade free from the second warrior in a smooth motion, the newcomer stood for a moment before Ulana-Tath, blood dripping from the tip of his sword.
 

Looking at him, she could see the outline of the rune of the Desh-Ka against the black of his breastplate, and he wore a black metal collar with gold trim. He was obviously Desh-Ka, but the outlined rune and lack of a sigil on the collar at his throat told her he was an acolyte, and not yet a priest.

For a moment, he stared at her with an unreadable expression, his hand tight upon the handle of his sword, and she feared that he had come to finish what the queen’s riders had begun.
 

He turned at the sound of approaching riders, and three warriors rounded the turn behind them, their
magtheps
at a full run.
 

The acolyte tensed before she shouted, “No, wait! They are with me!” It was her First and two of the others. They were all who had survived the brief but brutal encounter with the other warriors sent by the queen.

The acolyte blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and his expression changed to one of deep concern. Flicking the blood from the blade, he sheathed his sword and knelt by her side as the three warriors rode toward them.

“I would thank you, acolyte of the Desh-Ka,” Ulana-Tath said as she lowered her sword, “if I but knew your name.” Unlike the priests, the acolytes did not have their names inscribed in pendants below their collars.

“I am Ria-Ka’luhr,” he told her. A brief agonized expression passed over his face. Then it was gone. “And I would ask that you never thank me for this, mistress of Keel-A’ar.”

* * *

After binding her wounds and tending to the three other warriors, Ria-Ka’luhr helped Ulana-Tath into the saddle of his mount, then nimbly sprang up to sit behind her.

“How did you come upon us?” She gratefully leaned back against him, overcome now with exhaustion and relief. In the distance, she could see the dark forms of warriors on the way from Keel-A’ar. Anin-Khan, captain of the guard, had wasted no time in sending a relief party.
 

Ria-Ka’luhr was silent for a moment. “I was not far from here, returning to the temple from a long quest, when I sensed that you were in peril.” It was the truth, in part. What he did not tell her was that he had not only sensed her spiritual song, but had been overcome with another powerful vision, no doubt the will of the Dark Queen. The vision showed him plunging his sword into her chest. But it was not time. Not yet.
 

“I thought that members of the priesthood were not to become involved in affairs beyond the temple.”

He bared in his fangs in humor. “I am not yet a priest, my mistress. No doubt the elders will look upon my act as one of foolish intransigence, but such can easily be overlooked when the idiocy of youth is taken into consideration.” After a pause, he went on, “Those warriors were clearly not acting honorably, and I could not bring myself to stay my hand.”

“My thanks to you, Ria-Ka’luhr. You will always be welcome in the city of Keel-A’ar.”

The part of him that was still his silently cried,
You will not think that for much longer, my mistress
.

“Ulana-Tath!” Anin-Khan, leading two tens of warriors from the city, called to her as he reined his mount alongside her. The swords and
shrekkas
of his warriors were at the ready, and they looked at Ria-Ka’luhr with undisguised suspicion.

“Sheath your weapons,” she commanded them, and they did so instantly. “I owe him my life.”

Anin-Khan lowered his head, and she could sense the shame that filled his heart. “We rode as soon as we saw you, my mistress, but we could not…”

“Do not trouble your heart, captain of the guard.” She reached over to grip his arm. “Never have I been so relieved as I was to see you riding toward me.”

Anin-Khan grunted, casting an eye at the Desh-Ka acolyte. “I thank you, acolyte of the Desh-Ka, for protecting my mistress.”

Ria-Ka’luhr only bowed his head in acknowledgement.
 

“If I may ask, mistress, why have you returned home? And where is our master, Kunan-Lohr?”

“The Dark Queen has betrayed us,” she told Anin-Khan in a voice that trembled with rage. “She sent those riders to kill my daughter, to slaughter all the children of our creche.”

“But why?” Anin-Khan could not hide his shock, and the other warriors that formed a protective ring around their mistress gaped in astonishment. “Why would anyone, let alone the queen, do such a thing?”

“We do not know. But we must protect our children. She will know those riders failed, and she will send more, legions, if she must.” She thought of Kunan-Lohr, who must soon be reaching the queen’s encampment in the east. She could sense him, feel his pride, his anger. His love. “Our master rides to break the covenant of honor with the queen. But she will not let him simply depart with our legions, or whatever may be left of them after she has bled them against the enemy.”

The older warrior was silent for a moment, wondering at the fate that awaited his master. “I should die at his side.”

“If you are to die, Anin-Khan, let it be defending our city and our children. Kunan-Lohr entrusted you with protecting that which we all hold most dear. You will honor him far more by protecting Keel-A’ar than falling at his side in a glorious but hopeless battle.”

“As always, mistress, you speak the truth. Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive, my captain,” she told him as they passed through the gate to the city, the sunlight glinting from the warriors arrayed on the battlements above. “Just keep our children safe.”

Behind her, Ria-Ka’luhr said nothing.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Kunan-Lohr had always taken great risks in battle, for without great risk, there could be no great victory. Yet every battle he had fought, be it his blade against another’s in ritual combat or leading his city’s legions, had been well-considered, the risks weighed and balanced against what could be lost and what could be gained. Honor, of course, had always been the common and most important factor.

This time, he knew, things would be different. While breaking a covenant of honor was not unheard of, it was very rare. The reason was simple: few had been the times when one in authority had acted with such dishonor that his or her vassals were so aggrieved that they considered breaking the covenant that bound them. The sense of honor that drove them was trained into them from early childhood by the priests and priestesses of the
kazhas
. Those who acted with dishonor were ostracized from society at best, and, at worst, had their hair shaved, dooming them to eternal spiritual darkness.
 

That was the fate that he would have wished upon the Dark Queen for her outrageous plot against his child. Yet, he knew that would not come to pass, at least by his hand.
 

The three legions he had led from Keel-A’ar had been bled dearly, for he could sense many missing voices in the song that echoed in his blood. The challenge that lay before him was to extract the survivors from among the other legions that remained loyal to the queen. He hoped that eventually, when word of her deed came to light, they would turn upon her, but that would not help him now.
 

He had a plan that he hoped would work, but the first obstacle was getting word to Eil’an-Kuhr at the queen’s encampment, telling her that he was breaking the covenant of honor with the queen. Even though he had given his Sign of Authority to Ulana-Tath, according to tradition, any object readily associated with its owner would do. He held his dagger, which had a wicked curved blade and had a handle made from a polished
genoth
bone. It had been handed down through his paternal side for over twenty generations. He had never known his father, for he had died shortly after Kunan-Lohr had been born. The heirloom had been left with the wardresses of his creche, who had given it to the priest of the
kazha
near the city. The priest there had presented it to Kunan-Lohr when he had survived his seventh and final Challenge.

“Take this.” He held the dagger out to Dara-Kol, the eldest of the three young warriors who had come with him. Like her two companions, she was draped in the dark blue robes of the builder caste. They had no choice but to leave behind their armor, for its shape would have given away the disguise. They still carried their weapons, tied close to their bodies under the loose robes. “Eil’an-Kuhr will accept this as a Sign of Authority and act on the instructions I have given you.”

Dara-Kol nodded in understanding as she accepted the dagger, bowing her head. “Yes, Lord.”

Kunan-Lohr nodded, then sat back to consider their situation. They were in a small village near the front, hidden in the abandoned remains of an old storehouse. It had been no small feat to come this close to the front, near enough that they could hear the riot of battle in the distance. There were many warriors along the roads, but not all of them moving to or from the battle. Some were clearly posted as sentinels, screening the warriors who passed toward the battlefield.
 

No doubt, he thought, they were looking for him. He had to give Syr-Nagath credit: she was not one to take chances. In case her riders failed to kill him, she hoped to snare him as he returned to the front, ignorant of her treachery.

The sheer size of her army had worked in their favor. There were now half a million warriors stretched north and south from her encampment, with thousands more arriving every day. And this was only a fraction of the total strength bound to her. Millions more were spread across the face of T’lar-Gol, awaiting her call.
 

Finding one warrior among such a number, even one as distinguished as Kunan-Lohr, was not an easy task, particularly when such a warrior did not wish to be found.
 

But this village was as far as he dared go. For beyond this place would be enough warriors honor-bound to the queen who would recognize him no matter how he tried to disguise himself. He knew that some of them already sensed his presence, but their abilities were not so attuned that they could tell exactly where he was. If they had, his gambit would have already failed.

The three warriors with him were all young, and not likely to be recognized as coming from Keel-A’ar. But they could not simply march into the encampment and straight to Eil’an-Kuhr without risk of being caught. That, they could not afford. The stakes were far too high.

He had been stumped on how to get his messengers past the queen’s guards until Dara-Kol had made a radical suggestion. “Could we not dress in robes as one of the non-warrior castes and simply walk in?”

Kunan-Lohr had looked at her with frustration. It was such a ridiculous idea. He was just opening his mouth to gently chide her when he realized that her suggestion was, in fact, an elegant solution. “I believe, child, that your suggestion has some merit.” He smiled. “Should we survive this, you will be Anin-Khan’s subaltern.”
 

“Yes, my lord!” The young warrior bowed her head and saluted, and he could sense her bursting with pride.

He gave her a toothy grin. “Do not thank me. He is a fierce taskmaster, entirely unlike myself.”

The three young warriors allowed themselves a brief moment of mirth before he went on. “Then let it be so. There are many stocks of clothing to be found in an encampment as large as this has become. Fetch what you require and return.”

That had been last night, and the three had ventured out into a torrential storm. They had returned in the early morning with the dark blue robes of builders.

“Why did you choose the robes of builders?” Kunan-Lohr could not mask his concern as he fingered the fabric they had produced from a satchel, along with several thick cuts of meat and leather bags containing ale. He was worried because builders were almost never seen near a battle unless it was a city under siege, where they worked closely with the warriors to build and repair defensive works.