Mistress Of The Ages (In Her Name, Book 9) (33 page)

So, they had fled. But why? He searched with his second sight in hopes of finding them or whatever had spooked them, but to no avail. They were gone. He could have tracked them, but if they were mounted and had fled into the desert it could take him hours to find them, and that was time he did not have.

With a sigh of frustration, he again closed his eyes and focused on the next gathering of honorless ones before willing himself there.

While the location was different, the situation was the same: those who had lived here had fled earlier this same day. This band of honorless ones had found shelter in a deep alcove halfway up the face of the cliff that bounded the river on the northern side. Like at the first encampment, the fires had been doused. Below, along a stretch of sandy bank, were crude pens to keep their animals, magtheps and meat beasts, which were a closely related cousin to the ubiquitous magthep. He followed the tracks that led from the pens up a steep and twisting cleft in the rock that took him to the top. From there, he could see leagues in every direction, but of the honorless ones there was no sign.

With a sinking feeling, he moved on to the next encampment. Then the next, and the next. They were the same: the honorless ones had disappeared.

By the time the sun had set, he had visited all but the last of the places where he had known honorless ones to be. Every one of them was deserted. Despondent, he had debated visiting the last of the locations on his mental map, but duty and desperation drove him onward.
 

He willed himself there, fully expecting the same depressing sight. What he found was something altogether unexpected.

“Greetings,” came an old and tired voice.
 

In the light of the rising Great Moon, Tara-Khan saw a robed one, an armorer, lying on a bed of ragged hides spread out on the ground beside a fire that was no more than glowing embers.
 

The encampment was in a hollow carved out by the river in ages past, an eddy of still water around which a small oasis of grass and trees had grown. The honorless ones here had built simple lean-to shelters for themselves and had used braided rope to create pens for their livestock. But the pens were empty, and he could neither see nor sense anyone else about.

“Come,” the armorer said, gesturing with one hand. “Be not afraid.”

“I am not afraid, ancient one,” Tara-Khan said, approaching his host and kneeling beside him. The extremely resilient fabric of the armorer’s robes was threadbare and torn, bearing witness to the difficulty he must have faced in life. “My name is Tara-Khan.”

“And mine is Nai-Shureen.” With an effort, he propped himself up. “Your name is known to me, as is your face. It is you I saw in the water.”

Tara-Khan leaned closer. “You saw me…in the water?”

The old one nodded. “I was standing there,” he pointed to the bank of the pool, “drawing water when I saw your face staring up at me, and I heard your words, or perhaps your thoughts.”

“And what thoughts were those?”

“That we must go to Ka’i-Nur to make war upon the Dark Queen, as your sworn swords in the cause of Keel-Tath.”

Thunderstruck, Tara-Khan asked, “And so everyone simply packed up and left?”
The same must have happened at the other encampments
, he thought, amazed.

“Of course. Why would you think otherwise?” He stared at Tara-Khan for a long moment. “I was not the only one who saw the vision and heard the call. And while I fell from grace long ago, I was once honorable and honored. None among us are bound to any others, but I served as an elder here since I first found this place, long before you were born.” His mouth hardened. “When I told them to go, they went, warriors and robed ones all.”

“Why did you not go with them?”
 

Nai-Shureen shook his head slowly. “I am too frail to journey beyond this place, and certainly not fit for a war party. I will await their return after your victory.”

“I wish I was that certain we will win,” Tara-Khan said. “More likely it is nothing but a fool’s errand that will leave us all dead.”

“Then they will have died with honor for the most worthy of causes. You have no idea how much that means to us.”

Tara-Khan turned his head so that Nai-Shureen could see his severed braid. “I beg to differ, elder, but I know quite well. More, in fact, than you will ever know.”

“Perhaps so, warrior. But my hopes rest upon you.” He drew his robes tighter around his shoulders and shivered. The temperature was dropping quickly as the heat of the day gave way to the deep chill of night. “You must go and await them.”

“I cannot leave you here alone.” Already he could hear the cries of the wild creatures that called the Great Wastelands home, although fortunately absent was the trumpeting of a genoth.
 

“I am not fit for battle with the Ka’i-Nur,” Nai-Shureen protested, “but I am not helpless.” He reached into the folds of his hide bed and pulled out a wicked short sword. “I will use it upon myself if need be.”

Tara-Khan bowed his head. “If that is your wish. But if this is to be your last night, I will not let you die cold.” Getting up, he gathered dry wood, cutting and splitting it with his sword, to keep the fire burning bright throughout the night, piling it beside Nai-Shureen. Then, setting a few of the logs in the stone ringed pit, he set them alight with a flickering web of cyan fire from his fingers.

“You have the powers of a priest,” Nai-Shureen whispered in awe. “Only the Desh-Ka can do such a thing.”

“Your eyes do not deceive you,” Tara-Khan told him as the flames took hold, their light and warmth peeling back the darkness and cold of the night.

“Never in my life have I met a priest.”

“And you still have not,” Tara-Khan told him quietly. “As you said, I have the power, but I do not wear a collar or a sigil, and I never will.”
If Keel-Tath cannot be bound to a single order, then neither can her consort
, Tara-Khan told himself.
Someday, I will stand at your side, my love. Someday soon
.
 

“Perhaps not, but you have a chance to regain your honor, as shall those who follow you.” He smiled. “Much would I give to see that day. Had I anything left to give.”

Tara-Khan knelt down and put his hand on the old armorer’s shoulder. “I hope to see you again when all is said and done.”

“Go with grace and glory, great warrior,” Nai-Shureen replied in a solemn voice.

With a nod, Tara-Khan stood and looked toward where he knew Ka’i-Nur to be. Closing his eyes, he called into his mind’s view the canyon near the ancient fortress where he now hoped the separate clans of honorless ones would be gathering.

Nai-Shureen watched with wide eyes as Tara-Khan vanished, then turned back to the fire as the creatures of the darkness drew closer.

***

“We are nearly there.” Sar-Ula’an’s whisper was repeated down the line of warriors crouched in the moonlit darkness. The most skilled of the warriors of his honorless clan, he had led his small host from their home along the river to this rocky, barren canyon that cut through the wasteland only a few leagues from Ka’i-Nur. The robed ones had come, too, not simply to remain under the protection of the warriors, but to do their duty in whatever was to come. All had been skeptical of Sar-Ula’an’s vision, but he had convinced them of his purpose. Even the chance at redemption, however remote, was better than any alternatives. And if their actions could aid Keel-Tath, who was beloved among them, their lives would be a small price to pay. He gestured for the others to remain where they were.

With the stealth that had made him his clan’s best hunter, he crept forward, climbing to the top of a narrow fork in the canyon, beyond which lay the destination he had seen in his mind, given him by the water. They had left behind the magtheps that had brought them this far, turning them loose to make their own way. Their braying and the dust they raised would have given away their masters. Lying prone on the rocks, he searched the dry riverbed with his eyes while his ears listened for any sound that did not belong.
 

Other than the far distant trumpeting of a genoth, the frigid night was silent, and all his keen eyes could see beyond the mist of his breath was darkness upon darkness, for the moon had already set.
 

Once he was satisfied that nothing threatening awaited him, Sar-Ula’an began to explore further. At times he moved in a wary crouch, while at others he crawled on all fours or slithered on the ground. All the while he moved slowly, silently.

He saw nothing but silent darkness. He knew in his soul that this must be the place, but nothing and no one was here.
 

Frustrated, he turned around to retrace his steps back to his clan to report the disappointing news.

A shadow appeared out of the air before him. “Greetings, warrior.”

With a startled yelp, Sar-Ula’an stumbled backward, tumbling over a small boulder to land hard on the reverse slope of the rocky ground such that he was nearly upside down. He was struggling to draw his sword when the shadow warrior again appeared out of thin air, this time beside him.
 

“Be at ease,” the shadow said with a chuckle. “I mean you no harm.”

Sighing, Sar-Ula’an gave up trying to draw his weapon. Had this mystery warrior wished to do him harm, he could have already a dozen times over. “And who are you?”
 

“I am the one you seek,” the warrior said, kneeling down that Sar-Ula’an might see him better from his inverted perspective. “Mine was the face in the water that you saw, my thoughts were what brought you here. I am Tara-Khan.”

Looking closer, Sar-Ula’an saw that it was so. “I bid thee welcome, Tara-Khan. As you can see,” he spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness and grinned, “you have not exactly caught me at my best.”

Tara-Khan laughed as he reached down, taking Sar-Ula’an’s hand and helping him to his feet. “Your secret is safe with me, my friend. Come, bring forth your people. You are the last to join us.”

Doing as he was bid, Sar-Ula’an fetched those of his clan, who moved quickly and quietly into the arroyo where Tara-Khan waited. Once there, the others who had gathered emerged from the shadows where they had lain hidden and still.

After gathering the senior warriors, Tara-Khan told them, “You have all willingly answered my call. While we are all without honor, I must ask for your obeisance. Should any wish to challenge me, let it be now.”

The others shook their heads. “We came to fight at your side, Tara-Khan,” Sar-Ula’an told him. “Our swords are yours to command.”

“I am honored,” Tara-Khan said, bowing his head. “Before us stands the fortress of Ka’i-Nur. Within it, kept in a place secret even from the Ka’i-Nur themselves, is the seventh Crystal of Souls.” Those gathered around him let out a collective gasp.
 

“But the crystal of the Ka’i-Nur was destroyed long ago!” One of them protested.

“So the ancients led us to believe. But in truth it was only hidden, locked away so that the Ka’i-Nur themselves could not harness its powers. The ancients, the old gods, did not destroy it, for they believed that someday it would again be needed. I believe that day is now upon us.”

“But how are we to attack the fortress?” One of the others asked. “We will be slaughtered outside the walls.”

“How are we even to approach it?” Another asked. “They will see us coming long before we reach the gates.”

“I have scouted the fortress already, and those warriors on watch will not see our approach,” Tara-Khan reassured them. “When the hour comes, I will open the gates for you.”

“And then?” Sar-Ula’an said.

“And then you will all follow me down to the lower levels of the fortress. I must open the vault where the crystal is stored, but to do so will require my full attention. In the meantime, you must keep their warriors at bay.”

“A daunting task,” one of them said with mirthless humor.

“A task for heroes,” Sar-Ula’an replied in a quiet voice. “When shall we attack?”

They all looked up as bright streaks of crimson and emerald crisscrossed the dark of the heavens, followed by several blinding flashes.
 

“Soon,” Tara-Khan told them. “Very soon.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“The enemy ships are destroyed.”

Syr-Nagath did not bother glancing at the shipmistress, for she need not acknowledge what was plainly visible to all on the bridge’s main viewing display. The small squadron of vessels Keel-Tath had left in orbit about the Great Moon were now nothing more than glowing clouds of debris. They had tried to attack, breaking orbit from around the moon to sail toward her fleet after it had jumped in. They had come on, weapons blazing, before falling to the overwhelming barrage from her own ships. The efforts of Keel-Tath’s warriors had been in vain, but they had died with great honor. She would grant them that much. “Deploy the fleet.”

Her First saluted and passed her orders on to the keepers, who in turn sent word to the other ships of the fleet.
 

It is not merely a fleet
, Syr-Nagath reminded herself. It was an armada, the greatest that had sailed since the Second Age, and even larger than the fleet that had attacked the moon during the Final Annihilation. Her builders had transformed entire asteroids into the black matrix material from which the ships had been built, for even Syr-Nagath had not wanted to draw so much raw material from the Homeworld or the Settlements. Over five thousand ships, a constellation of stars made by Kreelan hands, were now converging on the Great Moon. Many, she knew, would be destroyed in the coming battle, but of her victory she had no doubt.

Of course, the question now was where Keel-Tath and her fleet had disappeared to. Syr-Nagath had given the white-haired whelp a good bloodletting in their last encounter, after which Keel-Tath’s ships had departed, save for those that had been deployed in orbit around the moon, most likely for repairs. That had been weeks ago. Syr-Nagath had waited with growing impatience for the child to show herself again. So much time had passed, in fact, that Syr-Nagath had begun to wonder if Keel-Tath had not taken those beholden to her and fled to form a Settlement of their very own. That could not be allowed, for Syr-Nagath needed Keel-Tath in order to get what she truly wanted: the Crystal of Souls of the Ka’i-Nur.