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

by Michael R. Hicks

  Then the warriors dropped by the airships landed among them. None of the defenders had realized when the attackers were but tiny specks against the enormous vessels above that they were anything but more of the queen’s warriors. But these were different, far different than any eyes beyond the temple of Ka’i-Nur and the dead senior priests and priestesses of the Desh-Ka had seen since the end of the Second Age. They were nearly twice the size of the defenders, monstrously large warriors even bigger than Drakh-Nur, whose own blood descended from the Ka’i-Nur. Their armor was a highly reflective silver, not black, and covered them from head to toe. While they carried swords in scabbards on their backs, in their hands they held weapons that had been greatly improved upon since the battle fought at the Ka’i-Nur temple against the Desh-Ka, then led by Ayan-Dar and T’ier-Kunai. Both the armor and the weapons were modeled after those used near the end of the Second Age. They were not here to engage in honorable combat. They were here to slaughter any and all who opposed them. They fell free until near the ground, when jets flared from their armor, slowing their descent at the last moment to prevent them from being smashed against the earth.

  Priests and priestesses screamed in pain and shock as beams of white hot energy from the Ka’i-Nur weapons swept across the plateau. Shrekkas, which could normally slice through regular metal armor at close range, merely bounced off the shining plate, barely leaving a nick. Using their power to move through space, the priests and priestesses advanced on their enemy. With sword and claw they fought, and then with the special powers with which they each were endowed when they discovered that their blades were useless, that the Ka’i-Nur armor was itself forged from living metal. The priests and priestesses killed dozens of the hulking attackers in the first moments of the battle, but hundreds more were dropping from an endless stream of airships that sailed over the temple.

  One of the most-high shouted, “Attack the airships!”

  Before any of the Desh-Ka could warn them, a host of the gathered priesthoods looked skyward and disappeared.

  As before, thunderous explosions followed as more airships were sacrificed in the hopes of killing off those who bore a sigil upon their collar. Flaming wreckage again fell like rain upon the plateau, immolating more of the defenders, and the remaining priests and priestesses of the other orders cried out in anguish as their brothers and sisters died. The hulking Ka’i-Nur warriors wasted no time in taking advantage of the momentary weakness of their opponents, blasting as many of the stunned defenders as they could.

  The airships that fell were quickly replaced by more. Hundreds were now orbiting at a distance from the plateau, the warriors manning them impatiently awaiting their chance at glory.

  Of the priests and priestesses who had joined the attack upon the airships, none of them returned.

  ***

  Tara-Khan howled with primal rage as Drakh-Nur tossed him in the air. Dagger in hand, he somersaulted mid-flight to land on the back of a warrior who held a priest of the Nyur-A’il by the neck with one hand, and with the other was blasting with his weapon at the priest’s midsection. The priest, badly wounded, was somehow deflecting most of the energy away from his body, and the heat seared Tara-Khan’s face. Wrenching the massive warrior’s head to one side, Tara-Khan drove the tip of the dagger through the thin flexible armor covering the Ka’i-Nur’s neck, severing his spine.

  With a convulsive jerk, the brute collapsed to the ground. Ka’i-Lohr and Dara-Kol caught the priest and lowered him gently to the ground. He opened his mouth to speak, but then his eyes rolled back into his head as his spirit left him.

  “Behind you!”

  Tara-Khan whirled at the warning. Two Ka’i-Nur warriors emerged from the raging melee, training their weapons on Tara-Khan and his companions.

  In the blink of an eye, the high priestess of the Ima’il-Kush, Sian-Al’ai, who had shouted the warning, was upon the enemy warriors. Dancing up the back of one’s legs, she sunk the talons of one hand into the gap of his shoulder plates, then reached out and speared the other warrior through the throat.

  With a whoosh, all three disappeared.

  A brief moment later, Sian-Al’ai returned, alone.

  “What happened to them?” Tara-Khan asked, amazed. He had never thought those of the priesthoods might use their teleportation ability as a weapon.

  Sian-Al’ai pointed upward toward the cloud shrouded heavens and said, “They have a wondrous view of the Homeworld, for as long as their air might last.”

  For a precious moment, they were in the eye of the storm of battle. The air was blistering hot, both from the Ka’i-Nur weapons and from some of the powers brought to bear by the priesthoods, and the sound was like nothing Tara-Khan had ever before heard. The deep rumble of the airships’ engines lay under the roars and screams, the clash of metal against metal and metal against flesh. Terribly outnumbered, the priests and priestesses, having recovered from the initial shock of the deaths of their brothers and sisters, fought with unrestrained bloodlust. He watched as flames shot from the hands of a priestess, wreathing one of the immense enemy warriors. It had no effect at all upon his armor and he raised his weapon toward her. But with a gentle twist of her hands, the flames contracted around him, then seemed to sink through the metal like water passing through a fine sieve. The warrior began to dance and twist. Throwing down his weapon, he wrenched his helmet off, and Tara-Khan recoiled at the sight of the pillar of flame that burst from his armor, consuming the warrior’s head. In a few more heartbeats, the Ka’i-Nur crumpled to the ground, the plates of his armor falling apart. Nothing was left of his body but ash.

  The priestess paused, as if taking an exhausted breath, and in that moment the beams of four Ka’i-Nur weapons found her before she could teleport.

  “Our powers are not without limit,” Sian-Al’ai explained, following Tara-Khan’s gaze as they huddled near the base of one of the destroyed dormitories not far from the Kal'ai-Il. She herself was breathing hard and her hands shook. “To use them to their fullest is more taxing than you can imagine.”

  “We are losing.”

  Sian-Al’ai turned to find Dara-Kol beside her, also trying to recover her breath after she, Ka’i-Lohr, and Drakh-Nur had finished off another of the enemy warriors. Dara-Kol had wrapped herself around the giant’s weapon arm while Ka’i-Lohr stabbed him through the gap between the plates around his ankle with his sword. Momentarily immobilized, Drakh-Nur had swung his huge war hammer onto their quarry’s head. The blow had barely dented the helmet, but the impact had shattered the skull and vertebrae beneath.

  “Yes,” Sian-Al’ai admitted. More airships sailed overhead, disgorging enemy warriors. “Although we can take some comfort that the enemy no longer fires those hateful globes at us.”

  “The Ka’i-Nur warriors are too valuable for Syr-Nagath to waste,” Dara-Kol observed. “The priests and priestesses with you cannot be all of your number. Can you not summon more?”

  “I could, but I will not,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “This is but a taste of what is to come, and the priesthoods are now effectively at war with one another.” Her lips curved up in a grim smile. “Or, should I say, the other priesthoods are now at war with my own. I dare not leave our temple unguarded.”

  “But why should we trust you?” Tara-Khan said. “You were among those at the inquisition who tortured Keel-Tath.”

  Sian-Al’ai favored him with a critical eye. “The purpose of the inquisition was not to torture her, but to discover what she is. I stand with you now because of what I learned, and what I now believe: that she is indeed the one prophesied by Anuir-Ruhal’te, just as Ayan-Dar claimed. I believe all of us saw the same truth in her. The difference is that I chose to embrace it, while the others did not.”

  “I am just as happy she is not here,” Dara-Kol said. “I only hope that she is safe from whatever Syr-Nagath may do…”

  Ka’i-Lohr stood and pointed at the Kal’ai-Il. “Keel-Tath!”

  ***

&nbs
p; Keel-Tath again traveled through infinity in but the blink of an eye. Then she was there, standing atop the Kal’ai-Il, just as she had intended, and her heart sank at what she saw. The writhing, snarling battle upon the plateau was far worse than the brief and bloody war fought among the Desh-Ka. The sky above was black with airships, from which silver clad Ka’i-Nur warriors fell like deadly rain. While the battle was hardly over, there could be no doubt as to its final outcome.

  She saw Ka’i-Lohr stand up and point toward her, and his shouting her name had an electrifying effect on all who heard, friend and foe alike: they stopped and stared at her. Like the ripples made by a stone dropped into a still pool of water, more and more of those who fought stopped and looked toward the Kal’ai-Il, until the only sound was the drone of the airships orbiting above and the cries of the wounded.

  For a moment, time itself was suspended as all stared at her.

  The robed ones were the first to break the fragile enchantment. As the warriors stood transfixed, they gathered the younglings into their arms and fled toward the Kal’ai-Il, the tattered hems of their wet, blood spattered robes dragging in the mud.

  “All who believe,” Keel-Tath shouted, raising her arms in a beckoning gesture, “come to me!” She felt a tingling in her hands, much as she had before lightning had exploded from her body on the moon above. The sensation came unbidden, as if whatever power that dwelled within her had a mind and will of its own.

  Her words broke the spell. As if releasing their pent up fury, the warriors turned on one another, fighting with even more savage ferocity. The surviving Ima’il-Kush under Sian-Al’ai rushed to form a defensive ring around the Kal’ai-Il as the handful of Desh-Ka acolytes fell back toward them. The Ka’i-Nur warriors and the other priesthoods fought one another even as they tried to close with and crush the defenders.

  The tingling in Keel-Tath’s hands grew so strong that her palms felt as if they were aflame, and she screamed when lighting again burst forth.

  ***

  Tara-Khan cringed as thunder drowned out the sounds of battle. Looking up, he was momentarily blinded by the lightning that erupted from Keel-Tath’s body. But this was not just a bolt as he had seen the Desh-Ka wield. It was a dancing web of energy that formed a shield over those who had gathered around the Kal’ai-Il, much like that created by the Desh-Ka earlier in defense of the temple. But this barrier was far more brilliant, far more powerful, than what the priests and priestesses had made.

  A few of the Ka’i-Nur had been caught on the inside, but the surviving priests and priestesses of the Ima’il-Kush made short work of them. The enemy warriors who had been in the way of the barrier when it materialized were incinerated. Nothing remained of them but ash and smoldering metal.

  The dome of lightning intensified until it was a solid, blinding barrier of cyan. Looking up at the dais of the Kal’ai-Il, he could see from Keel-Tath’s expression that she must be in agony, but her Bloodsong nearly paralyzed him with waves of ecstasy, as if her body and soul were polarized in completely opposite directions.

  The world around them fell away. For just a moment, he was nowhere, caught in a place beyond time, where endless cold and darkness reigned.

  Then he found himself in a huge chamber of white stone, at the base of an enormous pyramid with hundreds of steps leading to the top. The cyan barrier was gone, and Keel-Tath stood at the center of the circle of survivors she had somehow brought with her.

  He stood there, staring at her, and was warmed by the sight of her looking back at him, as if in that moment only the two of them shared the entire Universe.

  Then she coughed. Putting her hand to her mouth, her fingers came away bloody. She looked at him with a confused expression just before her eyes rolled up into her head and she collapsed.

  He caught her before her limp body could hit the floor.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Syr-Nagath trod across the blood-stained ground of the Desh-Ka temple, inhaling the scents of battle as she admired the handiwork of her warriors. She paused to kneel next to one of the fallen giants, putting a hand to what was left of his face after his helmet had been blown off. Her lips curled upward in a smile.

  “I would think you would be angry.”

  Regaining her feet, she looked at Ulan-Samir, who had brought her here from the palace at Ku’ar-Amir. It rankled her that she could not move through the ether of her own accord, but had to be hauled from one place to another by the priest or one of his minions. She stroked the metal of the Ka’i-Nur sigil she now wore on her collar, consoling herself that it was they who did her bidding, not the other way around, and that someday that power, and so many more, would be hers to command. “And why would you think that, high priest of the Nyur-A’il?”

  “Because Keel-Tath escaped.”

  Her smile widened, and the tips of her fangs showed white against her crimson lips. “Keel-Tath lives only because I allow it.”

  Ulan-Samir snorted and looked up at the moon, which had begun to show through the thinning clouds. “Say what you will, but she is beyond your reach. I sent three of my order to discover what they might. One returned, his body ravaged, only to die before he could utter a single word. Of the other two, there has been no word.”

  “Send no more,” she advised him. “All who go there uninvited will die.”

  “And yet you think you hold Keel-Tath’s heart in your hands?”

  Her smile widened further. “Disbelieve if you like. It is not important now. That, however,” she nodded toward the coliseum, “is. It should be destroyed. The Desh-Ka will remain a threat as long as it stands.” An entire legion of her Ka’i-Nur warriors had poured every bit of firepower they had against the stone of the temple’s most ancient building, but the stone had not even grown warm to the touch.

  Ulan-Samir laughed. “No power that we now possess can destroy a vessel containing a Crystal of Souls. I suspect that even if you could sunder the entire planet, somehow blast it to pieces, they would survive.”

  “Then we must force it open and seize the crystal.”

  “Opening the door is beyond the power of any but a priest or priestess of the Desh-Ka,” he told her. “And even if you beheld the crystal, you could not take it, nor could they. You could not even touch it.” He grimaced. “It seems that only Keel-Tath has that peculiar gift. The crystals are relics created by the old gods, the likes of which we do not understand, even after all the cycles that have passed since their creation.”

  Syr-Nagath stared at the coliseum, her smile having faded to a brooding frown. The ancient building stood there, impregnable, mocking her. Despite the ruin she had brought to the Desh-Ka this day, and the discord she had sown among the other priesthoods, the crystal that was the source of the Desh-Ka’s power still remained safe in its stone cocoon, just as was the crystal of the Ka’i-Nur in its own. Tantalizingly close, yet seemingly forever beyond her reach. Someday, she vowed.

  Nearby, one of her warriors picked up the body of a Desh-Ka priest.

  “Wait,” she called.

  The warrior turned to her, standing proudly at attention. Her armor was scorched and battered, and a trickle of blood oozed down the plate covering her thigh. But she was alive, and had survived the hottest crucible of combat and, with her brothers and sisters, had emerged victorious.

  The priest’s body hung under one arm, while the body of an acolyte was held in the other. Drawing her sword, Syr-Nagath swung it with unerring precision, severing the neck a finger’s breadth above where the collar clung to the neck. As the head fell to the ground, she snatched the collar from the bleeding stump before it, too, could fall.

  “Such a small thing,” she said softly as she turned the bloody metal band in her hand to look at the Desh-Ka sigil. Beneath it hung the dead priest’s pendants, gemstones arrayed in an ages old tradition to mark his accomplishments since the day he donned the collar of living metal. “And yet so precious.”

  With a snarl, she drew back her foot and kicked the priest�
�s severed head, sending it over the edge of the plateau before she hurled the collar after it. She watched the head as it fell to the valley below, letting her anger cool before she turned back to the warrior and said, “Carry on with your duties.”

  The warrior gave a slow bow of the head before heading off to where an airship was held steady by more silver clad warriors gripping mooring lines. Warriors, both her own and those not of Ka’i-Nur but whose honor was bound to her, threw the bodies into the long gondola of the enormous ship. When the shipmaster judged that he was carrying the limit the craft could accommodate, he waved at the body bearers to hold off. The engines roared as the shipmaster increased power, and as the ship rose the Ka’i-Nur warriors released the mooring lines. The ship moved slowly away from the plateau, the engines straining at full power now, heading to the northwest.

  Another ship pulled in close behind, and once the warriors on the ground secured the mooring lines, the loading of bodies commenced. Down in the valley below, more airships were at work, gathering the dead.

  “Never have I seen a leader with such a penchant for tidying up after a battle,” Ulan-Samir said. “I have heard that it is the same everywhere, that these airships have appeared over every battlefield and are bearing away the fallen.”

  Syr-Nagath looked at him, but offered nothing more than a cryptic smile.