Mistress Of The Ages (In Her Name, Book 9) (12 page)

“If I am right, you will soon know. Lead us onward.”

With a grunt of frustration, Tara-Khan continued on. The change in the floor was in a way disturbing, for he had no idea how such a thing was possible without a builder making it so. But he had to admit that he felt no fatigue, despite the distance they had already covered. The floor was proving quite therapeutic to his tired feet. Even Shar-El’nai, whom he had expected would have to be carried by Drakh-Nur by now, was keeping up with his pace. But the elder’s speed, he suspected, was driven far more by whatever mystery lay ahead of them. His hand reflexively clutched the handle of his sword as they descended ever deeper.

After more twists and turns, they found their way forward blocked.

“It’s a dead end,” Ka’i-Lohr said, frowning as he looked around the circular vestibule in which they found themselves. Unlike the other grand structures of the palace, it was just large enough for their small party, a domed ceiling high overhead.
 

Shar-El’nai favored him with an impish smile. “It is as I thought. Stand fast, brothers and sisters.”

“What do you…”

Ka’i-Lohr’s words were cut off by a yelp of surprise as the floor fell away beneath them.

***

“The other priesthoods must attack us soon,” Sian-Al’ai said. The throne room was a scene of calm now. The pain of the wounded had been salved, although it would be some time before they were all completely healed, and the younglings were asleep on the hard floor, having succumbed to exhaustion. “We will not be able to stand against them when they come.”

Dara-Kol and Sian-Al’ai knelt at Keel-Tath’s side, while the others of the Ima’il-Kush priesthood stood guard around them. “What would you have me do?”

Sian-Al’ai looked into Dara-Kol’s eyes a long moment before she answered. “I would take Keel-Tath to our temple.”

Drawing back, Dara-Kol said, “No! She is safer here!”

“You do not understand,” Sian-Al’ai told her. “She must go to our temple in any event. Remember the prophecy: if Keel-Tath is to fulfill her destiny, she must touch all the Crystals of Souls. She already has the powers of the Desh-Ka. I now offer her ours, as well.”

“But your temple will fall under attack at any time, if it has not already.”

Sian-Al’ai nodded. “It has not yet, or I would sense it. But you are right. The priesthoods now arrayed against us easily have the strength to attack there and here. That is why, as soon as Keel-Tath is able to travel to our temple and absorb the powers of our crystal, I would bring our people here, that we may form a combined defense.”

“You would leave your temple defenseless?”

Shrugging, Sian-Al’ai said, “The buildings can be rebuilt, and just as you witnessed at the Desh-Ka temple, no weapon can destroy the vessel that contains the crystal. But the robed ones and younglings are in great peril. I fear that the madness that has gripped the other high priests and priestesses may lead them to harm those we are all sworn to protect above all.”

“Even if I agreed to let you take her,” Dara-Kol said, “I would not…”

“It is not for you to decide, my First.”

They both looked down to see that Keel-Tath’s eyes were open and clear. She reached out and took Dara-Kol’s hand. “We both know there is no choice.”

“But you are yet so weak,” Dara-Kol protested, gently running her other hand over Keel-Tath’s braids.

“The healers’ work is nearly done,” Keel-Tath said. A moment later, her body began to shudder.
 

The eldest of the healers and an assistant had been kneeling close by, awaiting this moment. Dara-Kol and Sian-Al’ai stepped back to give them room. They helped Keel-Tath to her knees and leaned her forward. Keel-Tath gagged several times, then opened her mouth wide as a mass of healing gel oozed out into the healer’s cupped palms. Normally the gel was a vibrant blue and purple, like a living bruise, but this one was pale, sickly in appearance. The pulsing mass split in the middle, and the elder’s assistant retrieved her symbiont, which immediately sank into her flesh.

Taking in deep breaths, Keel-Tath sat back.

“The worst is healed, mistress,” the elder healer warned, “but the symbionts are yet exhausted. You will need another session before we can return you to full health.”
 

“I understand,” Keel-Tath managed. “Rest, then tend to the others.”

The healers bowed and saluted before making their way to where the wounded lay.

Sian-Al’ai stiffened, her eyes flying wide. The others of the Ima’il-Kush standing guard displayed similar reactions. “The attack upon our temple is come,” she whispered, having sensed the battle lust of her priests and priestesses, along with the fear and quiet determination of the robed ones.
 

“Then let us waste no time.” Keel-Tath got to her feet, but nearly fell before Dara-Kol grabbed her arm to steady her.

“You are not ready, mistress!”
 

“My weapons,” Keel-Tath grated, fighting to stay upright. “Now.”

Dara-Kol strapped the belt that held Keel-Tath’s fighting sword and dagger around her waist, then took the far larger sword that had belonged to Keel-Tath’s father, the sword that Dara-Kol had kept safe from Syr-Nagath, and strapped it to Keel-Tath’s back. Sian-Al’ai fitted three shrekkas to the armor of Keel-Tath’s left shoulder.

“What of Tara-Khan, Ka’i-Lohr and Drakh-Nur?” Keel-Tath asked.
 

“I sent them and the others who are able to explore this place in hopes of finding food and water,” Dara-Kol told her.
 

“They must take care,” Keel-Tath whispered.

“Mistress, we have so many questions…”

“And absolutely no time,” Sian-Al’ai interrupted. “If we are going, we must go now, before the temple is overrun. The others of my order will remain here.”

“You would take her with only yourself for protection?” Dara-Kol protested.

“Would you leave the Desh-Ka with no defense?” Sian-Al’ai countered.

“Enough!” Stepping forward, Keel-Tath took Dara-Kol’s arms in the way of greeting and parting of warriors, her trembling hands gripping her First’s forearms. “This is as it must be. Care for those I leave in your charge.”

Dara-Kol nodded.

They let go of one another, and Keel-Tath took her place beside Sian-Al’ai, who placed a hand on Keel-Tath’s shoulder.
 

“Have faith,” Keel-Tath said just before Sian-Al’ai whisked them both away.

“I shall, mistress,” Dara-Kol whispered to the now empty air before her. “I forever shall.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“You could have warned us!” Tara-Khan complained as the floor of the vestibule, which turned out to be an elevator, continued to fall with dizzying speed. Everyone crowded toward the center, away from the walls that whisked by.

“I was unsure until the last moment,” Shar-El’nai responded, but the mischievous glint in her eye told another story. “Fear not, brave warrior. You are safe here.” She stepped toward the edge of the platform and put her hand out.

“No!” Drakh-Nur lunged toward her, but not before the elder mistress’s hand brushed the stone that flew past.

Everyone gaped as she leaned against the moving wall. No harm came to her. Even her robes were unruffled.

“I have never seen such a thing,” Ka’i-Lohr muttered.

“Few but the elders of the ancient orders have,” Shar-El’nai told him as she stepped back from the wall, satisfied with her demonstration. “Such conveyances serve to reach the chambers containing the Books of Time in the temples, which are buried deep for protection.” Two keepers of the Books of Time nodded agreement, although their eyes were wide in awe as the lift continued its descent. “They are as ancient as the temples themselves.”

“Are any as deep as this?” Tara-Khan looked up. The top of the shaft was a dark pinpoint high above them now.

The shade of good humor faded from Shar-El’nai’s face. “No,” she admitted.

The descent continued for quite some time. Then, in but a few breaths, the lift came to a stop. There was no sensation of doing so, no heaviness to the body or change in air pressure, just as there had been no change when the lift had plunged from the upper level.
 

Tara-Khan and the others found themselves standing before five arched portals, arrayed at equal intervals around the lift shaft. Unlike the palace above, which was uniformly white, the walls here were gray stone, smooth as glass. The stone lintels framing the archways were a shimmering granite, mostly green with golden flecks, with ornately carved words in a script dating back to the First Age.
 

Shar-El’nai stepped forward and placed her hands gently against one of the archways and gave a small gasp.
 

Tara-Khan moved up beside her. “What is it?”
 

“This is not newly created, as is the palace above,” she said softly. “This is ancient, older than even the temples.” She turned to look up at him, her silver-flecked eyes gleaming in the glow from the walls around them. “This dates from a time before Anuir-Ruhal’te.”

“Which doorway should we take?” Ka’i-Lohr said, his voice tinged with impatience. “We cannot tarry overlong before we must turn back.”

Tara-Khan looked to Shar-El’nai, who shook her head, then to the other keepers, who did the same. He had expected them to take the lead now, but they hung back, fearful expressions on their faces.

Each of the five doorways was identical, and all were dark beyond the threshold. Tara-Khan looked from one to another. With a growl of frustration, he chose the one Shar-El’nai had touched and strode forward.

One of the keepers lunged forward and grabbed his arm. “Beware, Tara-Khan,” he said.

“Of what?" he snapped. “What have I to fear from a collection of dusty old books?”

“Perhaps nothing,” the keeper said, releasing Tara-Khan’s arm. “Just…beware. The Books of Time are precious and may be defended.”

“By what?”

The keeper shook his head. “I do not know. Not in this place.”

Tara-Khan looked at Ka’i-Lohr, who shrugged. Drakh-Nur looked unsettled, his hands holding his war hammer in a tight grip.
 

“Swords,” Tara-Khan ordered quietly, drawing his blade before he stepped across the threshold, Ka’i-Lohr and Drakh-Nur right behind him.

***

Reclining in her pavilion while her healers regrew Ulan-Samir’s devastated eyes, Syr-Nagath watched as her warriors boarded the first squadron of starships. Even the ancient oracle Anuir-Ruhal’te could not have foreseen the self-destruction of the priesthoods, which were now fighting among themselves like carrion eating wo’olahr. All but the Nyur-A’il, of course, which through Ulan-Samir were now hers to command. Each of the departing ships would carry a priest or priestess from the order. While she had faith that her warriors and their First Age weaponry could vanquish any foe they might encounter among the Settlements, she had no delusions that her adversaries would likely be far more willing to surrender their honor to one of the Nyur-A’il than to a warrior of Ka’i-Nur, should any of her warriors even be in the mood to accept surrender.
 

That, perhaps, was the only minor ripple in her plans. She did not want to destroy the Settlements; she wanted them to submit to her will, to surrender their honor so she could make use of them. But the warriors of Ka’i-Nur, confined for millennia to the city beneath the black fortress that stood in the Great Wastelands, had for too long been denied the glory of battle to the death, beyond the challenges fought in the arena. Their blood lust ran high, and it was only with the mightiest force of will that she could restrain them from wanton destruction. When, of course, restraining them in such a fashion suited her.

Lying nude upon the chaise that overlooked the birthplace of her star fleet, she shivered in delicious anticipation as she shifted her mind back to the second sight that was linked to her son. Through him and others like him did she watch her enemies. And sometimes she did more than watch. Ka’i-Lohr, the unseen weapon that she kept close to Keel-Tath’s heart, was her pride and joy. She had been following along with him as Keel-Tath took him and the others to the Great Moon, and had watched with rapt attention as he and his stalwart, if ignorant, companions began their exploration of the enormous palace that, she knew, would someday be her own. She again fastened her consciousness to his, coupling with it like a passionate lover just as she had coupled with him in a series of secret trysts since he was young, after she had taken control of his soul. He was the only child born from her womb, despite every attempt to bear more. Her only begotten son was the most precious thing to her.

“Ka’i-Lohr,” she whispered as she lay back, opening herself to his senses, seeing the world through his eyes. While she let him retain his own will for the moment, she inserted her mind into his like slipping her hand into an armored gauntlet.

***

The darkness was absolute, and the only sounds were the soft footsteps of the leatherite sandals and tightly controlled breathing of the three warriors as they made their way forward. Even a few paces in, the light glowing from the lift shaft had all but disappeared. The air, pleasantly cool, betrayed no scent and was utterly still.

“Ka’i-Lohr,” Tara-Khan whispered. “Put your hand on my shoulder. Drakh-Nur, you do the same with Ka’i-Lohr.” He felt a hand groping for his shoulder, and was reassured when Ka’i-Lohr’s hand took a firm grip on his armor.

Ka’i-Lohr’s voice floated through the darkness behind him. “Drakh-Nur is with me. Lead on.”
 

The trio shuffled along for an agonizingly long time, as Tara-Khan tapped the tip of his sword on the floor and waved it to and fro to warn him of anything in their path. Or in case the floor gave way to an unseen abyss.
 

“This is ludicrous,” Ka’i-Lohr finally whispered. “We must have gone at least two leagues now without touching anything but the floor. No walls, no ceiling, no nothing. How are we to find anything, especially the way back, without a trace of light?”

As if the darkness had heard him, a pinpoint of light, like a single star, flickered into existence above and ahead of them. But it only served as a point of reference, for the light that it provided failed to illuminate their surroundings, and it was impossible to tell how far away it was.