“Are you wounded?” Dara-Kol asked, shifting her attention back to Keel-Tath.
“Yes,” Keel-Tath told her, “but I shall live. You?”
“Aside from my head ringing, I appear to be unscathed.”
“What of the others?” Keel-Tath peered through the smoke. “Sian-Al’ai! Drakh-Nur!”
“Mistress!”
“Drakh-Nur!” Keel-Tath called back, her heart relieved to hear the deep voice of her longtime friend. “Are you all right? Is Sian-Al’ai with you?”
“Yes…” He paused. “And yes. But we must help the priestess. Quickly.”
Ignoring the pain of her own wounds, Keel-Tath led the others to where Drakh-Nur knelt beside Sian-Al’ai. She had received a terrible blow to the head, which was bad enough. Worse, she was pinned to the deck by a support frame that had come crashing through the ceiling. Had she been conscious, she might have been able to simply whisk herself to safety. But as it was, she was helpless and bleeding badly from where a piece of the framework had pierced her abdomen.
Drakh-Nur made to lift the enormous metal brace, but Keel-Tath said, “No. Step aside and allow me. You pull her out from under it.”
Keel-Tath looked upon the metal that pinned the priestess to the deck. Extending her hand, she turned her palm up and slowly raised her arm. The metal shuddered, then began to rise. Ka’i-Lohr knelt next to Sian-Al’ai and helped guide the metal from her body, then pressed his hand over the wound to staunch the flow of blood, then moved along beside her as Drakh-Nur pulled her to safety.
Lowering her hand, Keel-Tath carefully set the metal back down on the deck. Kneeling beside the wounded priestess, she placed her hand on Sian-Al’ai’s cheek. The priestess moaned as, right before the eyes of those who were witness, her wounds closed and her body was healed. In but a few moments, her eyes blinked open.
“Arise, my priestess,” Keel-Tath said, and Sian-Al’ai got to her knees.
Ka’i-Lohr took Keel-Tath’s arm. “Your wounds…”
She looked down to find her own injuries healing. Her body forced out the shrapnel, which fell to the floor, as her flesh knit itself back together and the skin drew shut. In but a few breaths, not even scars remained. The same was true of her leg: the seared skin sloughed away, to be replaced by new. The only evidence that she had been injured was the damage done to her armor and leatherite.
“And such is thy power for us to behold,” Dara-Kol whispered, bowing her head. Keel-Tath could sense a fierce joy radiating from her before she added, “I wish your honored father and mother could see you now.”
Putting a hand on her friend and protector’s shoulder, Keel-Tath said, “They can. I…I feel them sometimes. Ayan-Dar comes to me in my dreams. I used to think that I must simply have been imagining him, but I now believe he is real, that his spirit lives on. He said there is a veil between life and death, and that he still exists on this side, while the others who have moved on from this life are on the other. But I sometimes can sense them in my blood. And I have felt the touch of Kunan-Lohr and Ulana-Tath.”
“I believe you,” Dara-Kol told her, even as the others looked away, expressions of skepticism on their faces.
The gravity field fluctuated, and Keel-Tath felt for a moment as if she had stepped into thin air before the gravity stabilized.
“We must leave this ship,” Dara-Kol said. “It is lost. What are your orders, mistress?”
Keel-Tath held up her hand to forestall further questions as she closed her eyes. Reaching outward with her mind’s eye, she looked upon the battle. Her fleet still fought valiantly, but in the end she knew it would lose. Even though her ships were superior, Syr-Nagath’s numbers were simply too overwhelming.
Just as overwhelming was the cloud of enemy warriors sailing through the ether like seeds upon the wind, their bodies encased in sparkling energy bubbles. Ships of both sides ceased fire, lest they hit the attacking warriors. They would be welcomed with sword and claw, and melee combat would give her fleet that much more time. Many of the enemy were headed for her own ship, and would somehow have to be dealt with. While she wanted to take them into her fold, she knew now that they simply would not have the time.
For her primary goal must be to stop Syr-Nagath, who was fleeing in her flagship for the Homeworld that glowed bright below them. She was no doubt heading down to put a stop to the mysterious attack that had been launched against Ka’i-Nur. She had to face Syr-Nagath on the field of battle and satisfy honor as demanded by the Way, and now that Ka’i-Nur itself had become a battleground, the door of opportunity had finally been opened.
“Mistress,” Dara-Kol whispered, “we must leave this hulk and get you to safety.”
Taking a deep breath and opening her eyes, Keel-Tath calmly met her gaze and smiled. “No, my First. We are precisely where we must be. Pass this message along to the warriors aboard: our swords are about to fall upon Ka’i-Nur!”
CHAPTER THIRTY
For all the warriors that must have been sent forth from Ka’i-Nur during the war, there yet seemed to be an inexhaustible supply in the underground city. They streamed upward along the enormous spiral stairway in a torrent, and would have quickly overwhelmed Tara-Khan and his warriors were it not for the robed ones. When the first wave of Ka’i-Nur warriors crashed against the honorless ones, the builders thought to transform the staircase below where Tara-Khan and the first rank stood. Instead of stone steps, the defending Ka’i-Nur warriors suddenly found themselves on a slick surface that followed the steep angle of the spiral stairs. Flailing and howling with impotent rage, they began to slide back down the way they had just come. Some took hold of the railings and began to haul themselves back up until an enterprising builder transformed the stone of the railing into water. Those warriors fell to their doom far below, and the porters of water then bent the liquid to their will and used it to hammer the defenders back like a great watery fist. After witnessing this, Tara-Khan ordered a handful of builders with a warrior escort to circle the atrium that opened onto the stairway at each level, transforming every door into solid stone and closing off any hallways to make it more difficult for the enemy to attack the group from behind.
And so they fought their way down, warriors and robed ones together, deeper and deeper into the great underground city. It was slow, arduous, exhausting work, especially for the robed ones, for their powers were not without limit. Every time they bent the world around them to their will, their bodies were robbed of precious energy, and most were already exhausted from the trek up the side of the volcano. Little more than a third of the way down they began to falter. Some collapsed unconscious, others fell dead, the strength of their bodies completely spent. As the robed ones fell, the advance began to grind to a halt.
Tara-Khan felt each of their spirits pass from this world. Whether they went into the glow of the Afterlife or the endless dark that was said to await those whose braids had been cut, he could not say, for he could not see what lay beyond the veil between life and death. The sensation of their spirits passing was like breaths of wind across his soul, and he could not now spare the time to honor them. His world had shrunk to the distance he could kill with his sword or the power of lightning from his hands, which he used as sparingly as possible. For while he had the powers of the Desh-Ka, his body was nonetheless mortal. He was weak and growing weaker, but he was determined that he would not fall until he had opened the portal to the Ka’i-Nur Crystal of Souls. His only fear was that Keel-Tath would not know to come.
A terrible roar filled the enormous stairway shaft, and the combatants of both sides froze. Another roar sounded, even louder but clearly from a different bestial throat. Both came from somewhere above them. A moment later a third roar echoed down the well, followed by a skittering tic-tic-tic of diamond hard claws on stone.
“Genoth!” A voice whispered into the sudden silence that had fallen.
Tara-Khan remembered the tale of Ayan-Dar’s battle with a genoth in this very place, and how the grea
t priest had barely survived. And now, somewhere up above, the Ka’i-Nur builders must have remade the doorways to release not one, not two, but three of the terrifying beasts upon Tara-Khan and his companions.
That single word broke the spell. The Ka’i-Nur warriors turned and tried to flee down the stairs, their ranks and discipline disintegrating at the fear of being mauled or eaten. The uppermost ranks were pushing and shoving those below when the rest of the railing encircling the staircase down to the next level turned to dust under the hands of a pair of Tara-Khan’s builders. Dozens of Ka’i-Nur warriors fell, and their screams were answered by hungry bellows from the huge carnivores clambering down the stairs from above.
“Pursue them!” Tara-Khan ordered, pointing toward the fleeing Ka’i-Nur as he nodded his thanks at the pair of builders, who were now slumped against the floor, exhausted. They lay there, catching their breath, while his warriors swept down upon the retreating rabble, hacking and slashing at the retreating enemy.
“What of the genoths?”
Tara-Khan turned to find Sar-Ula’an beside him, with a dozen warriors from his clan just behind. Sar-Ula’an was older, at least in terms of the cycles since his birth, yet had an air of youth about him that Tara-Khan found refreshing.
The two cringed as a deafening roar filled the shaft. With his second sight, Tara-Khan could see the great beasts, and how close they had come. Looking up, his eyes were guided by his ears as the first beast’s claws clicked on the stone of the section of stairway directly above them.
“We shall hold them off,” Sar-Ula’an said. “It shall be our honor to…”
“No,” a voice said quietly from behind them. “It shall be ours.”
Tara-Khan and Sar-Ula’an turned to find the two builders who had just swept the Ka’i-Nur warriors to their deaths back on their feet. A male and female, they were clearly exhausted, perhaps even near death.
“You shall need all the warriors guarding you when you reach the final level,” the male said. “We know what you intend, what you must do. We will be useless in that battle. But we can fight this one.”
“But you have no weapons!” Sar-Ula’an protested. “How can you kill such beasts?”
The female grinned, her fangs glistening in the soft light emanating from the smooth black walls around them. “We may not have swords, but ask the Ka’i-Nur warriors if we are helpless.”
“They are right,” Tara-Khan admitted, his admiration for the robed ones growing ever more. “Lead your warriors down, Sar-Ula’an. We must take every advantage of the fear among the Ka’i-Nur to drive as deep as we can before they think to rally. We must reach the bottom level, and soon, if we are to succeed.”
Sar-Ula’an saluted. “It shall be as you say.” Then he turned and led the others down to where the bulk of their warriors were pressing hard against the fleeing Ka’i-Nur.
“I would know your names,” Tara-Khan said quietly as the first genoth poked its head around the curve of the staircase, staring at them with glowing yellow eyes.
“I am Tesh-Uran,” said the male with a wan smile, “and this is Hul-Rai, my mate.”
“Your names shall be revered in the Books of Time until the day the light of the last star in the sky goes out,” Tara-Khan told them softly.
“Go now, warrior,” Hul-Rai told him. “And may thy Way be long and glorious.”
***
Tesh-Uran and Hul-Rai knelt in the center of the steps as the genoth approached. The beast glared at them and sniffed the air.
“It is drawn by the blood,” Hul-Rai breathed as she gripped her mate’s hand tightly, the bloody gash in her palm matched to his.
“And yet it is cautious.” Tesh-Uran returned her grip. The palms of their free hands were pressed tightly against the stone at their feet. “An intelligent beast.”
The genoth growled, a deep rumble that shook the ancient stone of the stairway. Suddenly, it whirled as the second genoth approached. Solitary creatures, genoths only came together when it was time to mate, and males engaged in ferocious battles to the death for the privilege. They would also kill one another over prey. Among genoths, there was no sharing of the prize.
The two builders stared in awe as the beasts hurled themselves at one another, enormous jaws snapping as they lashed out with the diamond hard claws on their feet, trying to disembowel one another. The shouts and screams of the Ka’i-Nur and the war cries of the honorless warriors intent on their slaughter somewhere below were barely audible over the battling monsters.
“Prepare yourself, my love!” Hul-Rai cried as the two beasts slammed onto the steps and began to roll down toward them. One genoth had its teeth in the armored throat of the other, which had its claws buried deep in the first one’s belly.
“Almost there…” Tesh-Uran said as the genoths came closer, nearly on top of them. “Now!”
The shaft reverberated with a series of cracks as the section of stairway right above the genoths fractured and split. The beasts, lost in their mutual animosity, were helpless as huge chunks of stone rained down upon them, heavy enough to crush even their massive bones. Gouts of blood were sent squirting from beneath the stones, causing a crimson rain to fall into the shaft below.
“Hold it!” Hul-Rai shouted as she channeled her will into the stone of this section of the stairway to reinforce it. If it collapsed, Tara-Khan and the others below them would be killed.
Tesh-Uran cried out. She could feel his agony as his body was drained of life with the effort, but he did not let go. She tightened her grip on his hand, which trembled in hers.
Just as the stone above had been shattered and set loose, so it was now fused and joined, as was the threatened section of stairway upon which they knelt. It took long moments, for destroying was always easier than creating, even for builders. But the stairs held. Tara-Khan and the others below them were no longer in danger of being crushed.
Hul-Rai felt blood pulsing from her nose and ears, and she was overcome with a wave of vertigo as her vision began to turn gray. Beside her, Tesh-Uran slumped against her, then slid to the floor. His eyes were open, sightlessly staring at her. “Oh, no,” she whispered as the unwelcome warmth of mourning marks slid down her cheeks. She cradled his head in her lap and gently closed his eyes.
Then she realized that she was not alone. Looking up, she saw the triangular head of the third genoth, at least half again the size of the first two, peering at her from the break in the staircase above. The thing growled, then began to climb down the central shaft toward her.
“I have lived much of my life without honor,” she whispered to the beast. “But Keel-Tath gave me a chance to redeem myself, and in her name do I willingly die.”
Drawing the talon of her right index finger across her throat, she closed her eyes as her lifeblood poured forth, and death took her before the genoth began to feed.
***
Even amidst the confused melee being fought on the stairway, those fighting on both sides cringed at the sounds of crashing stonework and screaming genoths above them. Dust and flakes of stone pattered down upon them, followed by a fountain of coppery blood from the crushed beasts that made the steps even more treacherous than they already were.
Tara-Khan felt the passing of the two builders he had left behind. And so it was with more and more of his companions, especially the robed ones. Their stamina shattered, the drive to reach the bottom began to slow, and if he did not do something now, it would stutter to a halt. If that happened and the Ka’i-Nur were allowed to rally and counterattack, all would have been for naught.
As he had done to surmount the wall of the fortress, he willed himself to become light as a feather. With a gentle push of his legs, he propelled himself into the air above the furious chaos of the battle.
Some of the Ka’i-Nur looked up, their attention captured by this inexplicable movement, and reacted by hurling a barrage of shrekkas at him.
None hit, of course. With a wave of his hand he deflected them away, even a
s both of his hands began to glow cyan.
The Ka’i-Nur, who no doubt well remembered Ayan-Dar’s visit here, obviously knew what was coming. Like a tide receding, they surged away from his warriors, many fleeing onto the nearest level, while others fled downward.
Many, however, simply could not escape.
Chain lightning exploded from Tara-Khan’s hands to dance over the Ka’i-Nur. Flesh burned and smoked, metal flashed white hot and melted. The shaft was filled with cries of agony and the smell of cooked flesh and burning steel.
His warriors surged into the mass of wounded and dying enemies, their swords glittering in the light of the cyan fire that still poured from Tara-Khan’s hands. The honorless warriors stabbed and slashed, or simply shoved their wounded opponents over the railing.
With a last desperate charge, his warriors shattered the enemy line like water through a breached dam. They poured past the level where the last defenders had sought refuge to find the stairway below completely empty.
Bringing up the rear, Tara-Khan sent a few more bolts of lightning into the remaining Ka’i-Nur to give them an incentive not to follow.
His people came to a shuddering halt and turned as one to stare back up the stairway as a deafening roar filled the stairway. The third genoth was still alive.
“What should we do?” Asked Sar-Ula’an.
“Move downward!” Tara-Khan ordered. “Quickly!”
As the others did as they were bid, Sar-Ula’an said, “As I said before, I would stand and fight by your side.”
“You honor your ancestors,” Tara-Khan told him, putting his hand on Sar-Ula’an’s shoulder, “but let me deal with this. You are the best among our war party, and I am entrusting you to lead the others to the bottom level where the Books of Time are kept. No matter what the Ka’i-Nur pit against you, you must hold it. I will join you there. Soon.”
They both looked up as the genoth moved with liquid grace down the staircase toward them. It was huge, larger than any Tara-Khan had ever seen with his own eyes, or even heard tell of. A warrior could stand upright, arms extended above his head, and still have room to spare in its open maw. Some of its teeth were as long as his forearm and, he knew, would be as sharp as his sword.
Mistress Of The Ages (In Her Name, Book 9) Page 29
