In Her Name: The First Empress: Book 01 - From Chaos Born (29 page)

But he was too late. With a cry of horror, he saw Ria-Ka’luhr pull a
shrekka
from the shoulder of an honorless one he had just killed. With only a brief glance in Ulana-Tath’s direction, the acolyte hurled the weapon in a smooth blur of motion.

The weapon caught Ulana-Tath in the back, near the bottom edge of her backplate. Had it hit the leatherite that was her only protection where the backplate ended, she would have been killed instantly. As it was, the weapon raked a deep, bloody furrow through the flesh and bone across the back of her ribs, missing her spine by a finger’s breadth.
 

Anin-Khan did not hear her cry out, but felt her pain in his blood and watched as she slumped forward, clinging to the saddle with one hand as she cradled Keel-Tath with the other.

With a roar of fiery rage, the captain of the guard of the great city of Keel-A’ar redoubled his attack against his enemy.

* * *

Using all the skills he had been taught in a lifetime spent at the temple of the Desh-Ka, Ria-Ka’luhr fought off his attackers. The part of his mind that remained his own would have laughed aloud at the irony of the honorless ones wanting to take him. He was the product of what the queen had wanted the honorless ones to accomplish, and she had also ordered them to be killed. The word had simply not spread this far yet. But it would, soon enough.

He cried out in solitary anguish as, one after another, the warriors of Keel-A’ar were stricken by his sword or claws. He even felt pity and remorse for the honorless ones, who were only being hastened to their inevitable demise by his flashing blade.

Despite the chamber of madness in which he found himself, his joy had been absolute when he had thrown the
shrekka
that had been destined for the infant child and it had been deflected by Anin-Khan’s blade. The duality of his existence was destroying what little was left of his own rational mind, for he knew what his body was going to do, as if he could see into the mind of his other self. He could sense the thought process, the desired outcome, the risks, and all the other factors that went into making any decision or taking any action.
 

And he was powerless to change any of it.

More warriors went down around him. Only Anin-Khan seemed to be immune. Anin-Khan was more skilled, and also knew how to use his
magthep
as a weapon. Ria-Ka’luhr silently cheered him on, hoping Anin-Khan would send his mount into a leap to slash Ria-Ka’luhr with its talons and end this insufferable torment.

But it was impossible. There were too many pressed in against Anin-Khan for him to maneuver.
 

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Ulana-Tath riding away, the child clutched in her arms.
 

He screamed in silence as he felt his free hand reach for a
shrekka
on the armor of an honorless one he had just killed.
 

Mercifully, his eyes turned away from her as he threw it, and he did not have to see it strike home. For he knew it would. He never missed.

Please, Anin-Khan
, he begged in silence.
Kill me…

* * *

Ignoring the blood that he coughed up from his pierced left lung, Anin-Khan fought on. Only he and two other warriors remained alive. The rest, his own warriors and the band of honorless ones, lay dead in the trampled and blood-soaked earth around him.

They now fought Ria-Ka’luhr on foot. Several of the honorless ones had finally brought down the acolyte’s
magthep
, thinking that he would be more vulnerable on the ground.

They had been quite wrong. The move had eliminated his only real weakness, and they had paid the price in blood for their mistake.
 

Anin-Khan knew that he and the other two warriors would not be able to hold him much longer. While they had wounded Ria-Ka’luhr several times, his stamina and strength had barely diminished. If this was the power of a mere acolyte, Anin-Khan could not imagine how powerful a priest or priestess must truly be.

All the more reason to see that this beast never joins the priesthood
. Ignoring the agony burning in his chest, he lunged forward, timing his attack to coincide with the other two warriors.
 

As he had before, Ria-Ka’luhr parried them with a series of deft strokes of his sword. This time, he exploited the failing strength of one of the other warriors. After deflecting the warrior’s sword downward, the acolyte landed a killing blow to the warrior’s throat with the outstretched talons of his free hand.

Seizing the opportunity, both Anin-Khan and the remaining warrior attacked.

But they had both been duped. Ria-Ka’luhr, with his talons still buried in his latest victim’s throat, smoothly pivoted, putting the warrior’s body between himself and Anin-Khan.
 

Unable to stop his own momentum, Anin-Khan’s blade pierced the warrior’s back armor, finishing what Ria-Ka’luhr had begun. The thrust also momentarily immobilized Anin-Khan’s sword, leaving him completely open to attack.

He instantly let go of his weapon and rolled to the ground just as the acolyte’s sword scythed through the air where his neck would have been.
 

The remaining warrior made an overhand cut against the acolyte, who blocked it with the body he still held impaled on his talons. The blade was pinned by flesh and bone, and in that instant Ria-Ka’luhr took the warrior’s head with a ferocious slash with his sword.
 

Anin-Khan snatched one of the many swords that lay strewn upon the ground as Ria-Ka’luhr yanked his talons free and turned to face him. The agony that filled the left side of Anin-Khan’s chest had become overwhelming, and he knew that his time had come.
 

“May your wretched soul rot in the darkness of eternity!” Summoning his remaining strength, he lunged at Ria-Ka’luhr, thrusting his blade at the acolyte’s chest.
 

Anin-Khan was surprised at the momentary look of sorrow he saw on Ria-Ka’luhr’s face before the younger warrior’s sword pierced his heart.

* * *

Ulana-Tath knew only pain and desperation as she rode the
magthep
up the steep switchbacks that led up the face of the plateau toward the Desh-Ka temple. She could not see it, but she knew that the wound in her back was a savage one. Ribs grated together where they had been sawn through, nearly blinding her with pain, and a rivulet of blood poured down her right thigh from a severed blood vessel. She coughed now and again, leaving a fine coating of blood on the
magthep’s
neck. Her vision was turning gray, the color leaching out of the world as the life drained from her. The armor she wore had saved her from instant death, but death was yet stalking her, close behind.
 

She had let go of the
magthep’s
reins, for guiding the animal was hardly necessary along the narrow path. Instead, she used both hands to hold Keel-Tath, who had stopped screaming. With numb legs, Ulana-Tath urged the exhausted
magthep
onward with periodic kicks to its ribs.
 

Keel-Tath’s tiny face peered out from the cloth cocoon, her beautiful silver-flecked eyes staring up at her mother.
 

Glancing back, Ulana-Tath saw another
magthep
starting up the ancient trail. It was no more than a dark form slipping in and out of sight among the emerald trees. She did not need a priest’s powers of second sight to know who it was. She had sensed Anin-Khan’s final moments, and could only hope that the keepers of the Books of Time would record his valor as the fallen captain of the guard deserved.

She thought, too, of her consort, the warrior who owned her heart. Kunan-Lohr. He still lived, still fought, but she knew through the senses of her blood that his time would soon be upon him. The Dark Queen would crush his body, but could not do so with his spirit. He had lived and would die with great honor, yet she wished that he could have been with her, that they could have shared the end of their Way, just as they had shared in living it.
 

Knowing that Kunan-Lohr could only feel her emotions and not her thoughts, Ulana-Tath focused on her love for him, that he would know how much he meant to her now, near the end.
 

May thy Way be long and glorious, my beloved.
As the ancient words of parting ran through her head, she could feel her heart breaking.

Turning her eyes away from the evil that pursued her, she looked up. She was more than halfway up the face of the plateau now, and could make out the shape of the low wall that stood along the edge of the temple, and the gate that led inside. That was her goal, the objective that consumed her conscious mind. For that gate meant safety for Keel-Tath. If she could just get the child over the threshold, the worn stone over which all must pass to enter the temple, her daughter would be safe.

As she stared at the gate, willing the
magthep
forward, she saw the glint of sunlight on polished armor.
 

A solitary figure stood just beyond the threshold, watching her.

* * *

Ayan-Dar clenched his fist in frustration as he watched the
magthep
that carried Ulana-Tath make its way up the trail. He wanted to help her, but could not interfere. It was maddening.
 

He had been watching Kunan-Lohr’s battle with the queen’s forces until a short time ago, when he had sensed Keel-Tath’s distress. The child’s spiritual voice in his blood was preternaturally clear to him now. Risking T’ier-Kunai’s wrath, he had whisked himself to the edge of the confused battle that had erupted between the warriors escorting the child and a host of honorless ones.

A bare breath had passed after he had appeared when T’ier-Kunai materialized at his side in the wake of a chill wind. Her eyes bored into his, and he could feel her sharply focused anger.
 

“I already have one of our fold who must be disciplined for breaking our covenants.” She nodded her head toward Ria-Ka’luhr, who was completely surrounded by enemy warriors. “Do not shame yourself, as well.”

“He is alive!” Ayan-Dar stood for a moment, transfixed at the sight of his long-lost acolyte. He had not heard, or had not recognized, his spiritual song for months, and had thought him dead.
 

And yet fate had delivered him here, fighting to save the child, just as he would have himself if he had been able.

T’ier-Kunai said nothing. Seeing that Ayan-Dar was rooted to the ground with shock at seeing Ria-Ka’luhr, she took his arm and whisked them both back to the temple.

“He is alive,” Ayan-Dar said again. He looked down toward the forest.

“So he is.” She, too, was shocked. But an explanation could wait until Ria-Ka’luhr’s return, assuming he survived the battle.
 

But her shock had not overridden her anger at the priest, and friend, who stood beside her. “Ayan-Dar, you cannot continue to live on the edge of our Way. I understand the importance of all you have shown me, Ayan-Dar. I am not blind. But our lives are governed by forces that even I cannot readily change.” She sighed. “As it is, Ria-Ka’luhr will find himself shackled to the
Kal’ai-Il
upon his return. If he returns.”

Ayan-Dar gaped at her. “For helping to save the child’s life?”

“No, you fool! For becoming involved at all!” T’ier-Kunai’s voice betrayed her growing fury. “To do what he has done was forbidden, just as I forbade you. I do not do this on a whim, Ayan-Dar. It is one of the principles that guides us. You know this every bit as well as I. Whatever happened to Ria-Ka’luhr in the course of his final quest, one place he should not be is where he is right now.” Seeing the older priest’s expression of disgust, she told him, her voice sharp, “Do not dare hold me in contempt. ”

Turning away, Ayan-Dar said, “Of course, my priestess.”
 

His voice held no sarcasm, but she knew that was an illusion. She stood there for a moment, deeply stung. “You wound me deeply with those words, old friend.”
 

Then she walked away.

Ayan-Dar turned, intending to call after her, to beg forgiveness for his thoughtlessness. But whether from pride or cowardice, the words never slipped from his tongue.
 

Miserable and feeling great shame, he had stood there, alone for some time.
 

At last, deciding that his disgrace in T’ier-Kunai’s eyes could only be made worse by small degree, he cast his second sight back to where the battle was being fought in the forest. Drawn to the terrified child’s spiritual song, he focused on her as her mother, whom he sensed must be badly wounded, raced toward the temple.

* * *

Ria-Ka’luhr whipped his
magthep
mercilessly, driving it up the trail in pursuit of Ulana-Tath. He was gaining rapidly, as her own beast had slowed considerably. He could tell that she was wounded, for she left a clear trail of blood on the trail. Looking up above to where her
magthep
plodded along on the next switchback, he could see that she was slumped forward in her saddle, no longer urging her mount forward. All of her remaining strength and will must be focused on simply holding onto her daughter, preventing the infant from falling to the ground.

However the Dark Queen was doing it, his emotions now matched what those who knew him might expect. He was radiating intense compassion and fear, not for himself, but for the welfare of the mistress of Keel-A’ar and her child.
 

The sliver of his soul that survived railed at this travesty, but could do nothing about it. Instead, he continued to bless Anin-Khan and the others for their noble sacrifice, and urged Ulana-Tath to ride faster. She was so close to safety now, but his evil alter ego would catch her if she did not quicken her pace.

Beware, mistress! Death comes behind you…

* * *

The world was nearly dark now. Ulana-Tath was breathing rapidly, panting as her heart and lungs sought to get enough oxygen to her brain and extremities to survive. The flow of blood from the vein cut by Ria-Ka’luhr’s
shrekka
had slowed to a trickle now, for her body had little blood left to give.