In Her Name: The First Empress: Book 01 - From Chaos Born (24 page)

“May thy Way be long and glorious,” he told them. He reached down to take a pair of rocks, smeared with his own blood, that he had set aside. “Let us begin!” He flung one rock as far as he could upstream, the other as far as he could downstream.

The warriors in the two lines beside the swimmers did the same. After the front rank of warriors had thrown their rocks, they turned and ran to the back of the line to pick up more. The next pair of warriors quickly stepped forward to throw theirs before they, too, ran back to the end of the line. It was the same technique they often used in battle when facing an organized opponent, with each rank rotating to the rear after a short time fighting the enemy. In this way, they could fight for hours without becoming exhausted.

Plumes of water shot up where the blood-stained rocks landed in the river. In mere moments, the surface of the river up- and downstream from where the swimmers waited was churned into a froth as the predatory fish went into a feeding frenzy, drawn by the scent of blood.

“
Go!
”

At Kunan-Lohr’s shouted command, the four swimmers, arms outstretched before them, leaped into the water, the ropes trailing out behind them. A third line of warriors rushed forward with yet more rocks to add to the confusion of the ravenous fish.

Dara-Kol swam for her life. Her heart hammered in her chest as she kicked her legs and drove her arms into the water as she had been taught at her
kazha
when she was a child. She had not grown up in Keel-A’ar itself, but in a small village in the mountains of Kui’mar-Gol that owed its allegiance to the master of the city. Near her home was a lake that the priest had told her had once been a crater made by an ancient weapon, that over time had filled with rain water. It was inhabited by small aquatic creatures, but none of them were dangerous, let alone deadly. She had spent much of her youth in and near that lake, but knew that after this terror, she would never again willingly take to water.

Breathe
, she admonished herself. She had been holding her breath in fear, but realized that her muscles needed as much oxygen as her lungs could provide. Turning her face to the side, she blew out, then sucked in a great lungful of air before turning her face back into the water as the priest had once taught her.
 

She could see in glimpses to the side that the other three warriors were falling behind her. She did not know if that was bad or good. She was tempted to slow down, as she felt terribly exposed swimming alone. Swimming together, perhaps the fish would not be so bold.

The warrior who was farthest upstream from her let loose a piercing cry of pain. He floundered for a moment, then went down. A few seconds later his head broke the surface, and Dara-Kol caught sight of a glittering shape the length of her forearm firmly attached to his throat, blood spurting from the wound. In the instant just before she forced her face back under the water with the next stroke, even more glittering shapes swarmed over the warrior. The water around him heaved and turned crimson.

No safety in numbers, then
. She drove herself forward, kicking even harder, pulling with all her might with every stroke of her arms.
 

She felt something brush one of her legs. Then she swept her hand across what felt like a set of prickly spines. It took all her will not to scream in the water. She forced herself to breath, to kick, to stroke.
 

Something else, much larger than the other things, thudded into her side and bounced off. She moaned, fighting off the panic. She had no idea how far she was from the shore, and was too terrified to look.
 

There was another scream behind her, but she was not sure who it was. It no longer mattered. Each time her face broke the surface for a breath, she saw a snapshot of horror. Screams and shouts. A torn and bloodied hand rising from boiling, bloody water. A silvery horror leaping from the water, a hunk of flesh clutched in its mouth.

Kick. Stroke. Breathe. That was her existence in a time that dragged on forever. Her arms and legs, already on the ragged edge of exhaustion from the journey along the mountain trail, were burning like fire. She gritted her teeth as she willed her body onward.
Do…not…stop.

Something nipped at her leg and she screamed. Before she could stop herself, she inhaled some water and began to gag.
 

More silver flashes appeared in the water around her. The sleek fish sliced through the water, their wide mouths open to reveal rows of teeth as sharp as her dagger. They were so close that she could see their soulless black eyes.
 

The fish streamed past her, drawn by the sound and scent of the feast that lay behind her, the sacrifice of the other warriors giving her one final chance.

Holding her breath, fighting against her gag reflex, she shot forward. If she did not reach the opposite side of the river in the next few seconds, it would not matter, because…

There!
Her leading arm slammed down on something hard and unyielding. Rocks. Clawing at them with her talons, she dragged herself forward as she fought to get her feet under her. Choking and coughing, she heaved herself out of the water just as a silver arrow rippled across the surface in her direction. With a cry, she yanked her feet clear and rolled away from the water’s edge. The spiny dorsal fin of the fish twitched as it turned away, disappointed.

Dara-Kol vomited, but only a little water came forth. She lay there for what to her seemed a long time, shivering with cold and fear.
 

She at last became aware of a sound that she finally understood were cheers from the warriors across the river. Getting to her knees, barely able to control the shaking of her body, she turned to face them.

Kunan-Lohr stood next to the water, an unmistakable look of pride on his face. To her amazement, he knelt and saluted her. The other warriors instantly did likewise, their cheers falling into reverent silence.

She returned the salute, her master’s honor warming her. Then, with trembling hands, she began to pull the rope toward her.

Such was the surprise of all when after only a few pulls the tattered end emerged from the water. Dara-Kol felt a spear of ice through her heart.
 

The fish had bitten the rope clean in two.

* * *

“No.” Eil’an-Kuhr had spoken in a whisper, but her voice carried far into the tightly packed ranks of warriors behind her. She stared at the bit of rope Dara-Kol held up, a sick look on her face. The warrior who had been holding the other end of the rope quickly reeled it in, then held the tattered end in her hand.

“Stand fast, Dara-Kol!” Kunan-Lohr called across the river, which was still seething with fish snapping at the last scraps of the other three warriors. Turning to Eil’an-Kuhr, he spoke so that all could hear. “The rope’s parting is an inconvenience. Getting a warrior to the far side was the most important task. I need a warrior who can cast a spear to the far side!”

While most warriors preferred swords, some used spears or even exotic weapons, such as the
grakh’ta
whip. A brace of warriors carrying spears moved forward, the others parting to allow them to pass.
 

But as they saluted Kunan-Lohr, another warrior came forth. He was smaller than the others, but the other spear carriers immediately stepped to the side.

“My spear can easily reach the far side, my lord.” His companions nodded emphatically.
 

Kunan-Lohr recognized him as one of the young warriors who had gone with Dara-Kol disguised as a builder. “Even with a rope attached?” Kunan-Lohr gestured for the warrior holding the end of the rope to come forward.
 

“I can only try, my lord.” The warrior took the rope and carefully knotted it around the shaft of his spear. He hefted the weapon, then moved the knot farther forward to improve the balance.

A cry of warning went up from the rear of the column, which was still trapped on the narrow confines of the mountain trail behind them.

“The queen’s warriors will soon be upon us.” Kunan-Lohr nodded to the young warrior, then stepped out of the way. “We must hurry.”

The warrior stood still for a moment, looking across the water. Dara-Kol was on her feet, standing ready to seize the rope. The far side was nothing but rock, with no surface into which the tip of the spear could sink.
 

The warrior stepped back several paces. Then, after taking a deep breath, he bolted toward the water, one arm held out before him, his spear arm held cocked by his head. A few paces before the water’s edge, he cast the spear forward with all his might, releasing it as momentum carried his body forward. He rolled on the rock and would have gone straight into the river had Kunan-Lohr and Eil’an-Kuhr not grabbed him.

The spear, with the rope trailing behind it, sailed up and over the water. On the far side, Dara-Kol stood as if she expected to capture it by letting it pierce her body.

With a metallic clang, the spear hit the rock on the far side a hands-breadth from Dara-Kol’s foot. She snatched it and pulled the rope taut to keep it out of the deadly water.
 

Again the warriors cheered, but their revelry was short-lived as the unmistakable sound of battle broke out at the rear of the column.

They had run out of time.

* * *

Dara-Kol slid free the rope that had been knotted around the spear and quickly tied it off in a large metal eye that had been sunk into a stone pillar that had long been used to support this end of the bridge. She would use this rope to pull across the others, but did not want to risk letting it slip back into the water.
 

One of the warriors on the far side gestured that the other ropes were ready, secured to the end of the first, and she began to haul them over. Her arms were a blur as she pulled hand over hand, hoping that the dreaded fish would ignore the ropes. They were heavy, and she could not keep them dipping into the river.
 

While the surface of the water twitched and sets of spiny fins emerged, the beasts left the ropes alone.

“Tie the thick one off at the bottom!”
 

She nodded understanding at the warrior’s shouted words and did as he commanded. Taking the thick rope, which was actually two that had quickly been twisted together to form the foot rope, she secured it to a metal eye near the base of the pillar.
 

On the opposite side, the warrior tested the knot for strength. Then a ten of warriors pulled on the foot rope, taking out the slack before the warrior tied a complex knot to hold it.

“Now the upper rope!”
 

Dara-Kol took the end of the remaining rope she had hauled over and secured it to another metal eye set at chest height and offset to the left. This rope would help the warriors keep their balance. Normally there would be a third rope on the right side, lattice strands from the foot rope to the hand ropes, and the foot rope would be far thicker, but there was no time now for finesse.

The warrior on the far side threaded the upper rope through the matching eye on that side, and the warriors behind him again pulled it tight before he tied it off.
 

The rope bridge would be treacherous to use, she knew, but at least it was strong. Made of a material similar to the black undergarments they all wore, a strand as big around as her smallest finger could support a ten of warriors easily over this distance. The rope they were using now was twice as thick, and the double-stranded foot rope was as big around as her wrist.
 

No, the rope would not break, and would hold as much weight as they chose to put on it.
 

The greatest danger they faced would be the simple, terrible fate of slipping and falling into the river.

* * *

Kunan-Lohr wasted no time. As soon as the final knot was tied off, he ordered, “Move across!”

The warrior who had thrown the spear and tied the knots was the first in line. He carried with him, bound in a satchel on his back, Dara-Kol’s armor and weapons. It was a perilous load to bear across the flimsy bridge as it bounced and swayed, but he kept his balance and made it across without incident.
 

As the warrior handed a grateful Dara-Kol her things, more warriors began following him across at a close interval. The rope bowed dangerously close to the water, and in the middle of the river actually dipped below the surface when one of the warriors lost his footing and nearly fell.

“Keep going.” Kunan-Lohr moved the warriors along as the sound of battle behind them grew louder. “Quickly! Quickly!”

One of the warriors on the bridge screamed as she lost her footing and fell. She managed to grab onto the foot rope, but the lower half of her body was in the water. The fish wasted no time in attacking, and the warrior shrieked as the ferocious creatures tore into her.

“Cut her loose!” Kunan-Lohr bellowed to the warriors now standing, paralyzed with fear, on either side of her on the bridge. His greatest fear now was not the fish, but that a hapless warrior such as this one would accidentally cut the foot or hand ropes with her talons.

Without hesitation, two warriors drew their swords and slashed at their fallen comrade’s forearms, severing them before flicking the amputated hands from the rope. The warrior disappeared into the churning, bloody water with a sickening gurgle.

Hardening his heart, Kunan-Lohr turned to the warriors who stood around him on the shore, transfixed by the horrid spectacle. “Keep moving.”

* * *

At the rear of the column, still on the winding, deadly trail, Eil’an-Kuhr led the warriors of Keel-A’ar in a ferocious battle with the forces the queen had sent in pursuit. At first she had thought it had been only a cohort of warriors. Then she had caught sight of the dense column of warriors flowing in their direction, much farther back on the trail.

“Inform our master that an entire legion is behind us,” she told a young warrior, who saluted before turning to run as fast as he could past his fellow warriors to reach Kunan-Lohr.