In Her Name: The First Empress: Book 01 - From Chaos Born

by Michael R. Hicks

  Eil’an-Kuhr would have been thrilled and honored to be a part of it, had she not known of the Dark Queen’s treachery.

  And yet, there was hope. She could sense her lord and master’s anger and determination, so she knew he was still alive.

  Come soon, my lord, she prayed as she saw another handful of her warriors go down under the swords of the enemy. Keel-A’ar had sent three full legions, over fifteen thousand warriors, to serve the queen. While the torn and bloodied banners of all three legions still could be seen in the seething mass of the battle line, Eil’an-Kuhr knew that for every warrior who remained alive, at least two had perished. To die in battle was the most honorable end a warrior could know, but to die under the banner of the Dark Queen had become a sacrilege in Eil’an-Kuhr’s eyes.

  From the corner of her eye she noticed three shapes in blue robes approaching, weaving their way through the rows of wounded and exhausted warriors who covered the slope of the hill behind the battle line. She had seen other figures in blue, builders, on unknowable errands on the battlefield in the last few days, but this was the first time that any had approached her. It was nearly unheard of to have any of the non-warrior castes this close to a battle outside of a siege defense, and the sight of builders had deeply disturbed Eil’an-Kuhr. She wondered what deviltry the queen was up to now.

  She turned to the three as they came closer, their hooded robes easily shedding the rain. “What business have you with the warriors of Keel-A’ar?”

  The three bowed and saluted. “We bring tidings from our lord and master, Kunan-Lohr,” the leader said quietly in a voice that Eil’an-Kuhr recognized. It was Dara-Kol.

  Eil’an-Kuhr closed her eyes, overcome with relief. She glanced around to make sure that no warriors other than her own were nearby. “Is he near?”

  “Yes, mistress,” the young warrior replied, her words nearly carried away by the rain. “And this is what he commands of you…”

  * * *

  As the sun set, the Dark Queen reluctantly had called for an end to the day’s battle. While the warriors could easily fight at night, it was longstanding tradition, even among the Ka’i-Nur, to end a battle with the setting of the sun. It was difficult to tell when that was on a day such as this when the sky was a leaden gray from the storm clouds that swirled above. In an unusual fit of compassion, she had called a halt to the fighting early. As always, she had fought in the battle line, and had to confess to herself that combat in the rain and mud was an exhausting, grueling endeavor. She was not one given to pity, but she had concluded that it could do no harm to let her warriors have a few extra hours of rest. Of course, few would get any rest on a night of pouring rain like this, when the warriors could not even light fires to warm themselves.

  But she knew that her army would not have to fight much longer. Not in this accursed mud pit, at least. Syr-Nagath had been confident of winning this battle quickly and taking the remaining lands that led to the Eastern Sea. The remaining cities and kingdoms facing her could have surrendered early on with honor, but had decided to fight. And fight. And fight. They had drawn reinforcements that Syr-Nagath had not expected, forcing her to commit even more of her own warriors.

  She had finally decided that it was time to bring the battle to a close on her own terms. There were too many other things to attend to.

  “We will be ready as soon as the storms leave us.”

  Syr-Nagath turned to the blue-robed builder who stood behind her. They were in Syr-Nagath’s chambers in the pavilion. The Dark Queen had known this builder from childhood. She was the senior builder mistress of Ka’i-Nur, and had answered Syr-Nagath’s summons.

  “You have all that you require?” Syr-Nagath asked.

  The elderly builder nodded, her strangely shaped face expressionless in the shadow of her hood. “We can create what we require from the blood-soaked ground, if need be.” The old builder spoke with an odd accent that few outsiders would have recognized as having its roots in Ka’i-Nur. “And such is not far from the truth.”

  “The other builders have not questioned you?”

  The builder shook her head. “No. They fear us, as they should. We will only require them for certain…non-critical things. The important elements of the weapons will be created and controlled by us. You will have what you desire.”

  Syr-Nagath made a quiet huff of amusement. She desired a very great deal, far more than the old builder could possibly imagine. “How soon will the storm pass?”

  “The astrologers tell me that the sun will return to us by mid-morning tomorrow. We shall be ready then, and shall be prepared for your command.”

  “Very well.” With a nod, she dismissed the builder, who saluted and left.

  Turning to her First, Syr-Nagath asked, “There is yet no sign of him?”

  The First, who knelt on the floor, shook her head. “No, my queen. I have not received a single report about Kunan-Lohr.” She paused, willing herself to force out the words, fearing the queen’s reaction. Syr-Nagath had been greatly displeased when the First had told her that she believed the riders had failed. That they had not killed Kunan-Lohr or the child. “He has disappeared.”

  “He is here, somewhere.” Syr-Nagath struggled to control the rage that was building within her. She was confident that the Desh-Ka acolyte could kill the child and Ulana-Tath.

  But Kunan-Lohr’s escape had vexed her. He would not be dealt with so easily. She would have used the same ritual on one of Kunan-Lohr’s senior warriors as she had on the acolyte to gain information, to control one who could sense him. But those who were closest to him in blood were all female, and the bond would only work on the opposite sex. Torture was an option, but she doubted that any of his warriors would succumb to such primitive methods before committing ritual suicide.

  “Keel-A’ar has never been mastered by a fool, and he could cause a great deal of mischief unless we find him. And quickly.” Syr-Nagath flicked a hand toward the entryway, dismissing her First. “Go now, and do not return to me until he has been found.”

  The First bowed and saluted before fleeing from the queen’s chambers.

  Gazing out into the rainy gloom, the Dark Queen slowly raked the talons of one hand along her opposite forearm, drawing stripes of blood that dripped to the floor.

  * * *

  Eil’an-Kuhr looked out over the encampment, giving thanks to the stars she could not see that they had been graced with a storm this night. The fires that normally burned in the encampments of both armies were absent, and the warriors huddled together in silent misery as the chill rain poured down.

  The three warriors who had come disguised as builders to deliver Kunan-Lohr’s commands were now in ill-fitting armor that had been taken from the dead. Any armorer would have instantly known something was amiss with one glance at them, but on this night no one could see far beyond an outstretched arm.

  She did not worry over much about their emotions giving away their intentions to those around them who remained loyal to the queen. There was always an abundance of misery, fear, and trepidation, particularly among the warriors of Keel-A’ar after having been so ruthlessly used by the Dark Queen. Even for warriors who lived for battle, to know that they meant nothing to the one to whom their honor had been pledged was a difficult burden to bear. For those from Keel-A’ar, who had been blessed with a long history of masters and mistresses who honored those who served them, the Dark Queen’s indifference to their sacrifice was like hot ash upon their souls.

  Surrounded by her lieutenants, Eil’an-Kuhr gave her final instructions. “Remember: try to prevent anyone from raising an alarm. If you are discovered or challenged, use what force you must to guard your passage and keep your warriors moving. But our goal is to leave unheard and unseen. The wounded will fill in for us, should anyone come to our encampment.”

  She had arranged for all but the most grievously wounded to move in small groups from the infirmary area near the queen’s pavilion to their main encampment here. Those
who were not able to fight had either committed ritual suicide or been given an honorable death by Eil’an-Kuhr’s hand. She would not allow them to fall to the queen and suffer dishonor.

  “These three,” she gestured to the three young warriors sent by Kunan-Lohr, led by Dara-Kol, “will guide us to where our master awaits once we are beyond the main encampment.”

  “Why do we not simply fight now, tonight?” One of her lieutenants gestured in the direction of the queen’s pavilion. “The queen will send her army for us in any case.”

  “Because that is not what our master commands. And yes, Syr-Nagath will come for us, but they will find us on ground of our master’s choosing. And tonight we cannot fight as a legion. We would simply blunder around in the darkness.” In clear weather, her race had excellent night vision. But in this rain, it was impossible to see anything.

  The lieutenant nodded and saluted, offering her respect.

  “Let it be done.” Eil’an-Kuhr saluted them all, and they returned it before turning away. They disappeared into the rain to lead their warriors out of what was now enemy territory.

  Eil’an-Kuhr paused, turning to a warrior who stood beside her. He was the most senior among the wounded. His leg bore a deep gash, and while he had been treated by the healers, it would be at least another full day before he could walk on it. She handed him Kunan-Lohr’s dagger, which he took with great reverence. “You and those we leave behind shall be remembered with the greatest honor in the Books of Time.” She clasped the other warrior’s forearms, holding tight.

  “May thy Way be long and glorious, Eil’an-Kuhr.” The warrior, a male who stood half a head taller than did she, was filled with pride at the honor she was bestowing upon him, and sadness that his final hours had come. They had been lovers for a full cycle, and while he would find a glorious death, both their hearts were torn. The dark rain masked the mourning marks that flowed down their cheeks.

  Without another word, she let go and turned to walk away, following the shadowy forms of the other warriors who were moving quietly through the rain toward what all of them knew would be a fleeting time of freedom.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “So much has she grown, even in the time I was away.” Ulana-Tath marveled at her daughter, who lay asleep in the crib that held several other infants, all nestled together. She leaned forward and gently ran a hand through the child’s white hair, careful that her talons didn’t harm Keel-Tath’s tender skin. The wound in Ulana-Tath’s side caused her some small discomfort as she bent over the crib, but by morning it would be healed.

  “She is very beautiful, mistress.” Ria-Ka’luhr stood beside Ulana-Tath, but made no attempt to touch the child. Only the wardresses, and with their permission, the parents, were allowed that honor. “But she must not stay here. Syr-Nagath will know that her first attempt on Keel-Tath’s life has failed. She will send more warriors — legions, if she must — for your child. She will not relent.”

  Anin-Khan, who stood on the other side of Ulana-Tath, growled, his gaze flicking to the warriors, the city’s finest, who stood close watch around the creche, with four of them posted, swords drawn, right around Keel-Tath’s crib. “The walls of Keel-A’ar have not been breached in over a thousand cycles. They will not be breached by any army of the Dark Queen.”

  “I would not stand in dispute over your words, for they are spoken with great pride and as truth. Yet what you do not realize is that she is building an army the likes of which has not been seen since the last war with the Settlements, perhaps longer. What she has now is nothing, compared to what she will eventually command. T’lar-Gol will soon be hers, and the lands beyond the Eastern Sea will fall not long thereafter.” Ria-Ka’luhr shook his head. “Your warriors here will not face one legion, or ten. You could just as easily face a hundred, backed up by siege engines and weapons of war drawn from the darkest pages of the Books of Time.”

  “Impossible!” Anin-Khan threw the young acolyte a disbelieving look. “Even if she could amass an army of builders and concentrate their power, it would take cycles for them all to learn what they needed from the keepers to build such contraptions.” He waved the thought away. “Syr-Nagath will break upon the shore of the Eastern Sea as so many others have before her. Many greater have tried, all but a few have failed. And even the few who breached that watery obstacle, even the handful in the past age who have reached the stars to confront the Settlements, eventually fell to dust.”

  Ria-Ka’luhr said nothing more, but bowed his head in respectful acquiescence.

  “He is right, Anin-Khan.” Ulana-Tath felt a chill run down her spine as she imagined a horde of warriors surrounding the city, and it made her think of Kunan-Lohr. He still lived, she knew, but how could he hope to make it home? He does not intend to, an unwelcome voice spoke in her mind. Blinking the thought away, she went on, “You have not seen her, as I have. There is good reason why she is called the Dark Queen. If she wants to kill Keel-Tath, she will if Keel-Tath remains here.” She placed a hand on the elder warriors’s shoulder as she sensed the fire rising in his blood. “This is not a dishonor for you to challenge or to bear. It is a fact. Even if Kunan-Lohr could return with what is left of our army, how long could we hold against tens of legions and unfathomable war machines?”

  As Ria-Ka’luhr had done a moment before to him, Anin-Khan bowed his head in submission. “What do you command, mistress?”

  “We must take her to the temple of the Desh-Ka. That is as our lord commanded me before we parted.” She turned to Ria-Ka’luhr. “I know the priesthood is obligated to take her in, but…”

  He shook his head, knowing what she wanted to ask. “Once she crosses the threshold of the temple, you will not see her again until she either becomes an acolyte or she leaves of her own free will.” He paused. “If she does that, she can never return to the temple.”

  Looking at her daughter, Ulana-Tath felt an impending sense of loss. The thought of not seeing her again for many cycles, and perhaps never, drove a knife through Ulana-Tath’s heart.

  Yet, in the end, it was the only way her only daughter could survive.

  “We will take her to the temple.” The words were as ash upon her tongue. “Only the Desh-Ka have the power to save her.”

  “Then we should move her,” Ria-Ka’luhr’s suggested. “I could escort her and a wet nurse to the temple and be there quickly, before any more of the queen’s forces can arrive here, and without diluting Keel-A’ar’s defenses. We could be at the temple in a fortnight.”

  Ulana-Tath knew the young acolyte’s words were no mere boast. She was a veteran warrior, but his skills, as she had seen when he had killed the last of the queen’s riders, greatly outstripped her own. Besides, two travelers would draw far less attention than a group of warriors riding for the temple.

  As for the city’s defenses, Anin-Khan had few enough warriors now, and Ulana-Tath was contemplating stripping the guard to the bone to send reinforcements east to link up with Kunan-Lohr.

  Before she could open her mouth to reply, Anin-Khan fell to his hands and knees before her.

  “Mistress, I beg you, do not do this. I gave my solemn vow to our lord and master that I would defend your child. I would rather you take my head or shave my hair than not permit me to fulfill this duty.” His talons scratched the stone of the floor as his hands clenched. “We both know it was his final command to me, and I would not take another breath knowing I could not honor it.”

  Anin-Khan was filled with many levels of misery as he awaited the answer of his mistress. But even in such a state, his senses were acutely aware of his surroundings. He noticed the subtle shift of Ria-Ka’luhr’s weight on his feet, and out of the corner of his eye saw the acolyte’s hand, casually resting on the hilt of his sword, tighten upon the weapon’s handle.

  More telling by far was the brief but intense flash Anin-Khan felt through the melody of the young warrior’s blood that revealed only an impenetrable frozen darkness. Then it was gone.

/>   His muscles reflexively tensing for battle, Anin-Khan sat back and put his hand on his sword as he looked up, catching the acolyte’s gaze. On the floor, he was at a dreadful disadvantage, but…

  Keel-Tath let out a sudden scream that shattered the stillness of the creche. One of the wardresses was instantly there, picking up the child. Ulana-Tath could feel her daughter’s distress, and wanted nothing more than to hold the child in her arms. But that was not the Way.

  Ria-Ka’luhr stepped away from the crib as if the scream was a physical blow.

  Anin-Khan used the distraction to get to his feet, his hand tight on the handle of his sword as he stared at the acolyte, noting the unmistakable, if fleeting, expression of fear that flashed across his face.

  Before he could say anything, Ulana-Tath, who appeared to be oblivious to the exchange, announced, “We will leave at once for the temple. Anin-Khan, I ask forgiveness for even considering going against Kunan-Lohr’s command to you.”

  “I thank you, my mistress, for your wisdom.” He saluted her, but never took his eyes from Ria-Ka’luhr.

  “Then let us prepare.”

  * * *

  “Something is amiss,” Anin-Khan whispered as he watched one of the wet nurses prepare the infant child for travel. The nurse wrapped Keel-Tath in a soft, warm carrier that would hold her snug against the nurse’s chest, even on the back of a galloping magthep. “Did you not feel it?”

  Ulana-Tath stood close beside him in an alcove of the creche. Anin-Khan had dispatched the Desh-Ka acolyte with a pair of warriors to prepare magtheps for the trip. The command, for Anin-Khan did not pretend that it was a request, had clearly come as a surprise to the young warrior. “No, I did not. I sensed nothing unusual with Ria-Ka’luhr.”

  “I did not imagine it, mistress. He was about to strike.” He looked more intently at the child. “I believe that she sensed it, too. Her scream was no coincidence, and was not the cry of a child in need of milk or in discomfort. She was terrified.”