Mistress Of The Ages (In Her Name, Book 9) (3 page)

“You presume too much, Syr-Nagath.”
 

She favored Ulan-Samir, the high priest of the Nyur-A’il with a contemptuous look. She knew that he could easily kill her with the power of his mind, choking the life from her body with an act of whim. But he had dishonored himself when the Desh-Ka had arrived to rescue Keel-Tath. He should have challenged Ayan-Dar, but had backed down from the one-eyed priest in scarcely concealed fear. That he had remained here, rather than returning to his temple to consult with the elders of the order, told her that he was afraid to face them. Syr-Nagath knew the measure of Ulan-Samir now, and found him lacking. He was perfect for her needs.

“You dislike my attire, Ulan-Samir?" she said, turning in a full circle with the grace of a dancer. She still wore gleaming black ceremonial armor, just as would any warrior in garrison. But her breast plate now bore a cyan rune that had not been worn in such a fashion in long millennia: that of the Ka’i-Nur priesthood, which had fallen from grace near the end of the Second Age. Her Collar of Honor bore an oval of living metal inscribed with the same rune, and a black robe with silver piping rippled from her back as she turned.
 

“You are no priestess!” Ulan-Samir spat.

Syr-Nagath came to him, her mouth twisted in sudden rage. “Do you, high priest of the Nyur-Ai’l, for one moment doubt that I would be high priestess of the Ka’i-Nur if our Crystal of Souls had not been taken from us?”

Ulan-Samir’s eyes narrowed. “It was never taken from you.”

“Do not bandy words with me, priest,” she snarled. “If what is yours is placed by another’s hands forever beyond your reach, it has been
taken
. I wear these adornments by right, and by right I should have the powers of the crystal of the Ka’i-Nur.”

“But you do not,” Ulan-Samir said, his face twitching up into a thin smile, “and never will.”

“Do not be so sure,” she told him, her opinion of him falling even more.
One such as Ayan-Dar would have had my head for speaking in such a fashion
, she thought. She knew through Ka’i-Lohr that the old priest was dead, and the thought saddened her. She would have liked to watch him burn alive, turning on a spit over an open fire after she had finished skinning him.

She turned her attention to the enormous table that was the centerpiece of the hall. Half of it was covered with a map of the world, unrolled from an enormous scroll and tended by several keepers of the Books of Time that showed the disposition of her forces across the planet. Legions of warriors and the robed ones who attended them were moving toward the seven locations where her builders were creating the ships that would travel across the stars to the Settlements. Favoring the great map with only a rapid glance to make sure all was proceeding according to plan, she moved to the part of the table that held a smaller map showing just the part of T’lar-Gol where stood the temple of the Desh-Ka. A total of forty-seven legions, nearly a quarter million warriors, were converging on the temple. She had ordered them to march weeks before, anticipating this battle long before the events of the conclave of the priesthoods had made it inevitable. She must destroy the Desh-Ka priesthood and its warriors. On that, all her plans depended.

But something was amiss. The miniature likenesses of the warriors that represented her legions were tightening the noose around the temple, but the fish-shaped airships, carved in exquisite detail, were approaching the temple from east and west. “Why are the airships moving in now? They must wait for the ground attack!”
 

“The weather, my priestess,” said Syr-Nagath’s First, her voice quaking with fear. She had only been the right hand of her sworn mistress for two days, which was twice as long as her predecessor had lived before Syr-Nagath had taken her head in a fit of rage. Being chosen as a First was a great honor, but under Syr-Nagath it tended to be a brief one. “A sudden storm swept across the plateau, bringing heavy rain and strong winds at altitude. The airships are advancing now, taking advantage of a lull to get into position to strike. The legions on the ground can still attack…”

“Hold back the airships until the Desh-Ka are fully engaged on the ground,” Syr-Nagath grated, “or I will have the heads of those in command. Their attack must be closely synchronized with the legions.”

“But…but mistress, er, my priestess, if the airships delay their approach and the winds aloft quicken…”

In a blur of glimmering steel, Syr-Nagath’s sword sang from its sheath. The blade of living metal was sharp enough to shear metal and stone, and met no resistance as it sliced through the First’s neck. The warrior’s face never had time to register fear or surprise before her head toppled from her torso to land with a wet thud on the cold stone floor. With bright arterial blood fountaining from the neck, the body crumpled. In a reflexive move, Ulan-Samir took the hem of his cloak and brought it up in time to shield his glossy armor from the crimson rain that came his way. Syr-Nagath did not bother. She did not so much as blink as the blood struck her face and splattered over her. A few drops landed close by her mouth, and her tongue snaked out to lick them away.

Blood. Syr-Nagath had tasted so much, nearly gorging herself on it, since she had begun the great conquest that would return Ka’i-Nur to the fullness of its deserved glory. She had fought endless challenges to win the honor of those now bound to her, and had punished countless warriors who chose to defy her. Still bound to the Way as maintained by the priesthoods since the end of the Second Age, those she conquered had yet to embrace the Way of the Ka’i-Nur, which was brutal and unforgiving, where pain was meted out and accepted as a matter of course, and often for its own sake. And in that feral, primal spirit Syr-Nagath saw the ultimate beauty that she intended all of her kind to share, willingly or not. Many who pledged their honor to her rebelled when ordered to kill robed ones or younglings, and many had been the fires that had consumed them alive before the eyes of their kin, after she had taken the Braid of the Covenant from those who had betrayed her. Having set enough such examples for others to witness, few now chose to forsake their honor after offering her their sword.

Giving her former First one last, disgusted look, Syr-Nagath returned her sword to its scabbard. To the nearest warrior, who stood at rigid attention, she said, “You are now my First. Did you hear what I told this craven fool?”

“Yes, my priestess!” The male warrior bellowed.

“Then do as I command, lest you suffer the same fate.”

“At once, my priestess!” Without another word, the young male dashed for the adjoining chamber where keepers of the Books of Time were gathered. The empathic links of keepers were stronger than that of the other castes, and they could convey instructions to one another in messages akin to waking dreams. Other keepers were deployed with Syr-Nagath’s forces to receive commands and report back on their progress, or lack thereof.

Ulan-Samir, having lowered his arm and the shield of his cape, looked at the map showing the Desh-Ka temple and the attacking forces arrayed around it. “What makes you believe you will succeed? They have never been defeated in open battle, not once in all the Books of Time.”

Syr-Nagath slowly wiped her former First’s blood from her face with the back of her gauntleted fingers and licked it up with her tongue. “Your records do not reach far enough into the past, high priest of the Nyur-A’il,” she said with a smile, the lines between her teeth glistening with crimson. “The Books of Time held by the Ka’i-Nur are far older, and they tell a different story.”

***

The three worlds of the ancient settlements beyond the Homeworld bore the names of the priesthoods that had been tasked with their stewardship at the end of the Second Age. Like the Homeworld, kingdoms great and small on each of the Settlements rose and fell time and again, with the priesthoods ensuring the feet of those in their charge remained firmly on the path of the Way. The three settlements and their priesthoods also balanced out the power of the Homeworld for those rare times when a leader arose to gather enough power and resources to attack across the stars. None had ever been victorious, but that would never stop a warrior intent on conquest. So it had been for a hundred thousand cycles of the Homeworld about its sun until this very day, when all that the priests and priestesses had sought to preserve, the very equilibrium of their ancient civilization that had enabled them to survive so long, was threatened with destruction.

The most high of the three orders among the Settlements— the Ima’il-Kush, Kura-Hagil, and T’lan-Il — had agreed to gather at the temple of the Kura-Hagil after Ayan-Dar’s rescue of Keel-Tath from the conclave’s inquisition. They were joined by the most high of the Ana’il-Rukh from the Homeworld. The four stood upon the dais of the Kal’ai-Il at the center of the temple, and their mood was grim.

“Ulan-Samir of the Nyur-A’il is absent, I see,” said the high priest of the Kura-Hagil. He turned to look at the high priest of the Ana’il-Rukh. “Have you any knowledge of why?”

The priest, the youngest of the four, shook his head. “No, but I believe he is in league with Syr-Nagath, or at least is encouraging her in her pursuits. His agenda is his own, and he would not speak of it to me.”

“That is his right,” said one of the others. “Such is in concert with the Way.”

“That may be,” said the most high of the Kura-Hagil, clearly displeased, “but it would be most unfortunate if our plans and his ran afoul.”

The priestess of the Ima’il-Kush looked up from her study of the names engraved in the ancient stone of the Kal’ai-Il, a record of all those who had been punished there. Many had been worn smooth by ages of wind, rain, and the tread of feet over the last hundred thousand cycles. Her name was Sian-Al’ai, and alone among those gathered there had fought in the last great war between the Settlements and the Homeworld. One of her most treasured memories and greatest honors had been a duel of swords against Ayan-Dar, an event that, miraculously, both of them had somehow survived. “Are not your goals the same? To kill Keel-Tath and bring the Desh-Ka to heel?”
 

“Syr-Nagath does not seek to bring them to heel, as you would say,” said the priest of the Ana’il-Rukh, who fashioned himself their leader. “She seeks to destroy them, to erase their kind from existence.” He paused and drew a deep breath. “And in this endeavor, I believe we have common cause.”

“Common cause to exterminate one of the orders?” Sian-Al’ai shook her head slowly. “We should be seeking to restore the balance that has been lost, not further upset it! None of you have ever fought a Desh-Ka in challenge, let alone in war as I have. Killing them, even weakened as they are, will not be so easy. You would fare better against a genoth using nothing but your talons and teeth. And even if we could do as you suggest, the Homeworld would have a disadvantage against the Settlements. While that would serve to heighten the honor of the Homeworld’s warriors in future wars, they would be conquered too easily. The Way would not be well served.”

“There is a means to restore the balance,” one of the others suggested. “The Ka’i-Nur could be resurrected.” The others nodded their heads in agreement.
 

Sian-Al’ai realized that her companions, all from the Settlements, had discussed their plans during her absence when she had returned to her own temple after the events at the conclave, and had clearly already decided on a course of action. All she could do now was try to dissuade them. “Even to speak such thoughts is madness! The Ka’i-Nur were a blight upon our kind before they were finally subjugated which, I would remind you, was largely at the hands — and at great price in blood — of the Desh-Ka. All of our people suffered at the hands of the Ka’i-Nur at one time or another. They are so ancient, so rooted in the old ways that nearly destroyed our kind at the end of the Second Age, that they do not even look like us! Have any of you even seen a Ka’i-Nur, other than Syr-Nagath? She herself is a hybrid, her father a hapless traveler taken as a breeder by her mother!”

The other three shook their heads, but their eyes held no remorse or reconsideration.
 

So this was their ingenious plan
, Sian-Al’ai thought bitterly.
The fools!

“They would restore the balance, fill the vacuum left by the Desh-Ka,” asserted one of the others, “especially if their crystal could be found and returned to them.”

Unable to help herself, Sian-Al’ai’s mouth dropped open. “My brothers and sisters, you have no idea what you would unleash were that to happen,” she said, the skin of her scalp crawling at the very thought. “And in thinking of the fate of the Desh-Ka, you must also recall that, even after all that the Ka’i-Nur had done, the Desh-Ka and our own orders showed them mercy. The Desh-Ka could have finished them off at the end, but they did not. Perhaps that was an error on their part, but…”

“Then it is an error that should not be repeated,” the Kura-Hagil said decisively. “The Desh-Ka, through their actions against the conclave, have demonstrated their heresy, their departure from the ancient Way. Regardless of our stance on the Ka’i-Nur, you must agree that they have strayed too far, that this creature, Keel-Tath, has led them to ruin. She is an abomination, and it is clear from what we learned during her inquisition that she is a threat to the very existence of our species.”

Only with the greatest effort of will did Sian-Al’ai hold her tongue. As one of the oldest and most respected warriors, not just of her own temple, but of her race, it was something to which she was not well accustomed. She had gone along with the conclave and the inquisition because, at the time, it seemed the proper thing to do. They had to know more about Keel-Tath, and that was the most direct route to higher understanding of any threat she posed. But the lessons each member of the conclave had come away with from the violently terminated inquisition had clearly not been the same. Forcing herself to be calm, Sian-Al’ai said, “And so you would discount, or even try to prevent, the fulfillment of the last prophecy of Anuir-Ruhal’te?”