Mistress Of The Ages (In Her Name, Book 9) (16 page)

The day wore on and darkness approached, but still there was no sign of the child of prophecy. The door to the coliseum remained closed. Exhausted now, and surprised that she was still alive, Sian-Al’ai took stock of the price in blood that had been paid. Half or more of her own order had been vanquished, and those who still lived were, like herself, spent. No longer did they have the strength to call upon their higher powers, and some could no longer even venture into the ether. They were now little more than warriors with vastly superior skills with their weapons, and the death toll was rising rapidly as fresh arrivals continued to make good the enemy’s losses. Part of her was determined to fight on, to meet a glorious death, but the rational voice in her mind spoke ever louder of survival. She had no way of knowing what had befallen Keel-Tath, and she knew quite well that once one stepped through the door of the coliseum, the vessel of the Crystal of Souls, time had no meaning. Keel-Tath could emerge in the next moment, or a hundred cycles from now. Such things had been recorded in the Books of Time.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, she made her decision, heart rending though it was. She had never before given up on a quest or abandoned something she had believed in, and today would be no different. But the survivors of her order would live to fight another day. “Ima’il-Kush!" she bellowed. “Depart!”

As one, without hesitation, such was their discipline, the priests and priestesses of her order vanished. They would flee to the palace on the Great Moon of the Homeworld, where she hoped they could find refuge against the storm that raged against them all.
 

In lonely silence, she stood facing those of the other orders who had come, who now occupied her temple. Streaks of black made their way down her cheeks beneath her eyes, the marks of mourning, the depths of which seemed infinite in that moment. The Ima’il-Kush would follow the Desh-Ka into infamy, the second of the orders to lose custody of its temple, of its ancestral home. The ignominy of such a record in the Books of Time was the tip of a spear of shame that pierced her heart. Despite that, she was determined to die with honor this day.

The most high of the Ana’il-Rukh, Kura-Hagil, and T’lan-Il appeared before her. All three were bloodied and haggard from the fighting. Like Sian-Al’ai, none of them had taken a respite from the battle. Of Ulan-Samir of the Nyur-Ai’l there was no sign, although those of his order had joined in the fighting against her own.
 

“Do you yield?” hissed the Kura-Hagil.
 

Sian-Al’ai, tightening her grip on her blood drenched sword, slowly shook her head. “You have driven us from the field this day, but I will not yield to you. What we now defend is too precious.”

“If you do not recant,” said the Ana’il-Rukh, who took a step forward, “your fate will be the same as that of the Desh-Ka.”

Sian-Al’ai needed no elaboration to understand what that meant. To the Kura-Hagil, she said, “Our robed ones and younglings will not be harmed?” Leaving them behind, those she and her warriors had been sworn to protect and care for, was a deep and painful wound in Sian-Al’ai’s soul. Her priests and priestesses had managed to rescue a few, but the rest were now guarded by the enemy.

“Of course not. We are not savages like Syr-Nagath. They will be adopted and loved according to the Way.”

“According to the Way?” Sian-Al’ai snorted, then gestured at the devastation and death around them. “Look about you and reconsider those words. Nothing of what has transpired since we agreed to hold a conclave over Keel-Tath has been in accord with the beliefs we have long held dear. Instead of embracing courage and love, we have given in to fear and hate, and at the center of it all is Syr-Nagath and the Ka’i-Nur. You have unwittingly allied yourselves with Darkness incarnate, and she will turn on you when it suits her.”

“She would be a fool to do so,” said the T’lan-Il.

Sian-Al’ai looked him square in the eye. “Tell that to the Desh-Ka.”
 

After an uncomfortable silence, the Kura-Hagil said, “We know you brought Keel-Tath here.”

“Yes.” Sian-Al’ai agreed. She saw no point in denying it. “And I will stand here, awaiting her return through that door, until my last breath.”
 

The Ana’il-Rukh took another step forward, bringing up the tip of his sword. “You have precious few breaths left before you lose your head.”

Sian-Al’ai spat, “Not to the likes of you.”

“Beware your words, Sian-Al’ai!”

Flicking the tip of her sword to clear it of most of the blood still clinging to the blade, Sian-Al’ai made ready for her last stand. She brought up her sword and her body tensed as her gaze locked with that of her opponent. The others would face her one at a time, she knew. One of them, no doubt, would kill her.

In the instant before Sian-Al’ai attacked, the door of the coliseum behind her whispered open.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Keel-Tath’s eyes flickered open to see Ayan-Dar peering down at her, a scowl of concern on his face. He was cradling her in his lap, and with his hand he brought a mug of ale to her lips. She sipped slowly, the potent brew warming her insides. It was twilight, not quite dark and not quite light. Beside them a fire crackled, and beyond that she could hear the distant crash of ocean waves. Turning her head, which was a trial in torment, as her muscles burned and her head pounded with unbridled fury, she saw that they were on the rocky cliff overlooking the city of Ku’ar-Amir, where Ayan-Dar had taken her so long ago, and where her body had come of age. She shivered under the thick hides he had wrapped around her, and felt as if she had been trapped in ice for an eternity.

“How…” She tried to say, but the word came out as a dry croak. She took another sip of ale, then rasped, “How can we be here?”

He smiled, and it was then that she noticed how old he looked. While most of her kind, particularly the warriors, did not grow infirm with age, or show many visible signs of aging until near the end, Ayan-Dar had become an exception. Deep lines of worry were carved in his face, and the coils of his braids, wrapped around his upper arm, numbered more than she remembered. Long black marks of mourning cascaded down from his eyes to his neck. She reached up with one hand to cup his cheek, and he gently kissed her palm.

 
“We are here because I willed it so,” he said, setting down the ale and taking her hand in his.
 

“But…but you are beyond the living.”

He smiled then, chuckling. “As are you, child. And so we are not bound by the laws governing the living.” He leaned closer. “We may do as we please.”

“I am dead?” She was first filled with shock and despair, but then a wave of relief overtook her. If she was dead, she would have to face no more trials or endure more pain. Her mind shied away from her last memories, which were filled with endless agony and fire.
 

“Not in the way you understand. Your body remains in the coliseum, quite alive, but your spirit is here, beyond the veil of life and death.” His expression darkened. “I brought you here to help you mend.”

Her hand tightened on his. “How many more?” It was a question she had to ask, but she was terrified of the answer.

“Only one remains.”

Her heart sank, and her body began to shake of its own accord. Squeezing her eyes shut, she fought not to vomit up the ale she had just taken.
 

“But not here, my daughter,” he said softly, “not yet. The crystals of six orders have you touched and survived. Only the seventh, that of the Ka’i-Nur, remains.”

She managed to sit up with his help. As she did so, she realized that he was not the only one who had aged. Her own braids were far longer than they had been, and her body was that of a woman. No longer a child having just crossed the threshold into adulthood, her body was now fully mature. For all she knew, she could be old enough to have little life remaining. With an involuntary shiver, she pulled up the skins to cover the unexpected fullness of her breasts against the chill. “How long have we been here?”

“How long is time?" he answered. “There is no answer to that question, not here. But,” he added, “if I look as old as I feel, let us say thirty or forty cycles, but quite possibly more. That leaves me little enough time.” He grinned. “Or would if I was still alive.”

“We have been here so long?” She thought of what might have happened in the outside world, wondering if Tara-Khan and the others were still alive, and what had become of the Dark Queen. The kaleidoscope of thoughts made her head ache all the more.

He nodded, handing her the mug.
 

She took it gratefully and took a deep swallow. “But why?”

Snorting, he answered, “Because you suffered what no one should ever have been able to survive. I remember my own Change, when the Crystal of Souls imparted the powers of the Desh-Ka to me. It is one of my proudest moments, of course, but it was without doubt the most agonizing. Even the pain I suffered when I was burned and lost my arm and eye in battle cannot compare.” He cocked his head. “And I did not touch the crystal, but was only graced by its flame. But you actually laid your hands upon it, and repeated that feat
five more times
.” He looked up toward the sky for a moment, where the Great Moon was just beginning to rise over the horizon amid the stars that twinkled in the heavens. “Each of those times did you die, my daughter, and each of those times did I cradle your body.” He returned his gaze to hers. “I would have held you that way for all eternity, such was my grief. Perhaps all eternity passed before your heart began again to beat and your lungs drew breath. I brought you each time here, to a place we both remember with great fondness.” He shook his head. “Perhaps that was just for me, to give me some solace during the countless days I waited for you to finally awaken, before you regained enough strength to again stand upon the dais to face the fire.”
 

“How long did I sleep this last time?" she asked in a whisper.

“In the counting of days and nights in this place, perhaps ten cycles.”

“And you waited here all this time, not knowing if I should ever awaken?”

He reached out and stroked her braids. “Of course, I waited. Alive or dead, I would have waited forever for you to return to me.”

She reached up to take his hand and was quiet for a time. Then, she said, “Aside from being older, I feel no different.”

Ayan-Dar made a
humph
sound. “Hold out a hand, palm toward the sea.”
 

Doing as he asked, she raised her right hand and held it toward the edge of the cliff. In the far distance, she could just make out the glittering whitecaps of the ocean as darkness continued to descend, making the sea and sky as one along the horizon. “Now what?”

“The sea and sky are calm, yes?” She nodded. “Focus on a point somewhere out there and imagine a storm. Close your eyes and picture it in your mind.”

Keel-Tath did as he instructed. It took her a moment to push aside the other thoughts crowding her mind. But at last her thoughts were still, and in her mind’s eye she imagined a waterspout taking shape from the waters as dark, leaden clouds formed overhead. The spout undulated and twisted like a living thing as the whirling mass of air and water joined the sea with the sky. She could feel it, just as if she were holding a wriggling creature in her hand.
 

“Open your eyes, child.”

She did so, and saw that what she had pictured in her mind, down to the very last detail, was real. There, just where she had imagined, was a waterspout, whirling at fantastic speed. It was far away, so far that she could barely hear the roar of the fierce wind that drove it.

“Very good,” Ayan-Dar said. “Now command it to move wherever you wish.”

Using her hand and her mind as guides, awkwardly at first, she did so. The waterspout dutifully moved across the water, leaving behind a huge wake even as it tormented the clouds above. She caught her breath, amazed at what she was seeing. Her headache was all but forgotten now, but a grayness began to creep into her vision as she continued to manipulate the waterspout.
 

“Let it go now, child.”

“Why?” She was mesmerized as the water funnel moved this way and that, as if dancing to music only she could hear. She shook her head to try and clear her vision, but the gray closed in, and all at once her lungs were heaving, gasping for breath.

Ayan-Dar grabbed her free arm. “
Let it go!
”

With a final gasp, she did so. The funnel disappeared, the water falling back to the sea and the clouds gradually dissipating. She felt near passing out, and her stomach was roiling. “What happened?”

“You have the power of the crystals, and although you may not now recall, I have trained you as best I can in how to use them,” he explained. “But you do not yet have the stamina to use the power very long, or to use it on more than a limited scale. If you push yourself too far, you will fall unconscious.” He paused. “You might even die.”

She staggered, and he reached out to steady her. As his hand touched her, a torrent of images swept through her mind, which after a breathless moment she realized were memories of the many cycles spent in this place and all the things Ayan-Dar had tried to teach her. Her body trembled, her muscles twitching in harmony with the scenes that tumbled through her consciousness. Swords flashing, lightning and thunder, raging storms, and other things that she simply did not yet, on a conscious level, understand. At last the flow dropped to a trickle, then stopped. She shook her head clear, unable to assimilate everything borne by the memories. “To have such power and not be able to use it does me little good,” she rasped.
 

Ayan-Dar laughed. “Do you know how many among all the priesthoods could conjure what you just did?” He held up three fingers on his hand. “A very precious few.” His voice turned more serious. “You will not have full use of your powers until you face the Ka’i-Nur and absorb the powers of their Crystal of Souls. Once that happens…” He shook his head slowly. “In truth, I do not know what will happen then. I doubt that even Anuir-Ruhal’te could have foreseen what will come to pass once you touch the black crystal. It will be as if all of the greatest powers ever forged at the height of the First Age will be embodied within you.”