Mistress Of The Ages (In Her Name, Book 9) (30 page)

In an orderly fashion, the legions marched toward whichever cargo ramp was nearest. Alena-Khan and the others of the Desh-Ka marched with those who made their way to the ramp where Keel-Tath waited, standing to the side to let the warriors pass. Each cohort saluted her as it boarded, and Alena-Khan did the same.

“Greetings, my mistress,” she said with a deep bow of her head as Keel-Tath returned her salute, then clasped her forearms in the greeting of warriors.

“Greetings, high priestess of the Desh-Ka.” Looking over the ranks of the priests and priestesses, she said, “Three of your number died this day. I grieve with you.”

“They died with honor and great glory, my mistress. And how fared the other two boarding teams? Is there any word?”

Keel-Tath shook her head sadly. “They, too, have passed into the Afterlife, but they destroyed two enemy ships before they died.” Turning to look out at the field of carnage, she said, “Syr-Nagath has suffered this day, but it is just a taste for her of what is yet to come.”
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The door that led outside from the coliseum had opened onto the grounds of the Desh-Ka temple. That had not surprised Tara-Khan, for it was the most logical place for him to go after he had received the crystal’s powers.
 

But he had not expected to find the temple overgrown with grasses, vines, and huge ferns, as if it had been long abandoned. As he gathered wood for Ria-Ka’luhr’s funeral pyre, Tara-Khan saw clear evidence of wildlife normally only found in the lower forests. Small swept wing flyers sang from the upper fronds of the ferns, and the undergrowth was thick with small prey animals. He even caught sight of the wild cousins of the tamed magthep and tracks made by the predatory wo’olahr that stalked them. The sight made him wonder with sickening uncertainty how much time might have actually passed in the universe beyond the bubble in time and space in which he and Ria-Ka’luhr had been trapped. He could only hope that Keel-Tath was still alive.
 

The temple was also unguarded, which he found surprising. Surely Syr-Nagath would have left some token sentry here in case the Desh-Ka decided to return? But nothing stirred upon the plateau except the wild things that now called this place home.
 

After carefully setting down Ria-Ka’luhr’s body, which he had carried with him from the coliseum, he searched through the old, collapsed buildings. As best he could tell, nothing had been touched since the battle among the Desh-Ka that had laid waste to the temple, and in short order he managed to piece together a functional, if ill-fitting, set of clothing and armor to replace what the crystal had destroyed. He found several shrekkas and a dagger that appealed to him. While plenty of swords and other weapons were to be had in the remains of the armory, he chose to wear Ria-Ka’luhr’s sword, hoping that wielding it would serve to honor the fallen priest.
 

Working his way through the thick foliage to the edge of the plateau, he looked out over the vale below. The forest appeared undisturbed, and the villages he remembered were still evident, but he could not tell from this distance if they remained inhabited. Closing his eyes, he cast out his second sight, but was rewarded only with a kaleidoscope of images of the forest, as if he were looking through the eyes of a terrified beast running at breakneck speed and dodging this way and that. Drawing his mind back to the senses of his body, he took a moment to let a wave of vertigo pass. Clearly it was going to take some practice to learn to use the powers the crystal had given him. He only hoped he would have time.

Above, the sky was empty of the great moon, and he again was struck with a dark foreboding, as if the moon had been stripped away, destroyed, to leave the sky forever barren of all but the sun and stars. He knew that it must simply be somewhere below the horizon, circling around the other side of the Homeworld, but seeing it would have given him some reassurance.

He set about gathering dry wood for Ria-Ka’luhr’s funeral pyre, stacking it in the prescribed fashion before he gently placed the priest’s body on top. With a flint he had found among the ruins, he lit the fire, then stepped back as the flames took hold and gray smoke rose into the sky. Normally, he would have attended the pyre until nothing but ash remained, but as the flames consumed Ria-Ka’luhr’s body, so, too, was Tara-Khan consumed by unease. He had many questions, but no answers would be found here.

After kneeling and rendering a last salute to Ria-Ka’luhr, Tara-Khan began to make his way down the path that would take him to the valley. He was surprised that no one was coming to investigate the smoke rising from the temple. Surely that would have raised an alarm, or at least triggered someone’s curiosity about what was happening on the plateau.
 

But no war party, not even a single sentry, emerged from the forest below onto the lower switchbacks that led up the mountain. He was tempted to try his hand at stepping through space and time, but if the results were similar to his first attempt at using his second sight, he decided he might be better off waiting until a Desh-Ka priest could train him properly.
 

It was night by the time he approached the nearest village. Moving off the road, he made his way quietly through the forest. No matter how much time might have passed, he had to assume that all those he might encounter would be bound to Syr-Nagath. Not only was his honor bound to another, but, dressed as he was and with the Braid of the Covenant missing, he would be seen as an honorless one by any who crossed his path. In the best of times that would have led to him being shunned. Under the reign of Syr-Nagath, he doubted things had improved for those who had fallen from grace.

He found a vantage point on a small hill overlooking the village from where he could see into the central plaza that was common to nearly all dwelling places. People were moving about, attending to their business in the early evening hours. A large blaze burned in the communal fire pit at the center of the village, and his stomach growled as he caught the scent of meat cooking over a fire. He was tempted to remain a shadow and hunt down something to eat in the forest, leaving the villagers unaware of his presence. But in addition to food and drink, he desperately needed information.
 

As he left his vantage point and headed toward the village, he saw through a gap in the surrounding trees that the great moon had begun to rise. Breathing a sigh of relief, he took that as a good omen, and said a silent prayer to the Ancient Ones begging that Keel-Tath was still alive and well.

“Who are you, and what is your business here?”
 

Tara-Khan was struck with this rude interrogation as soon as he set foot in the central plaza. He met the gaze of the wizened porter of water who brazenly stood in his path. “I am Tara-Khan,” he said, keeping his voice humble, “and I have come to beg food and drink, and answers to some questions, if I may.”

“Tara-Khan,” the old female whispered, her eyes widening. “Long has it been since I have heard that name.”

Stepping closer to her, he asked in a low, urgent voice, “How long?”

Others around the plaza had stopped and were staring at him, a stranger among strangers, an honorless one among the worthy, and a cold silence descended.

“Quickly,” the porter hissed. “Come.”

With her walking stick making a click-click-click sound on the smooth cobblestones of the narrow, curved streets, she led him to a small domicile near the edge of the village opposite the side from which he had come. He garnered more stares and whispers, but said nothing. As an honorless one, he could not have expected any better treatment. And had the village been garrisoned with warriors, things would have become far more interesting quite quickly.

But that was another of his questions: why were no warriors here? All those he saw were robed ones, and most of them were either very old or very young, and not a single healer, builder, or keeper of the Books of Time was in evidence.

“In here.” The porter grabbed his arm and propelled him through the door before closing it behind them. “You have little time.”

Tara-Khan could not keep an ironic grin from his face. “Not so long ago, time was all I had,” he told her. Then, more seriously, he said, “I came from the Desh-Ka temple. When I last saw it, it had only just been destroyed. Now it is overgrown, as if…”

“As if many cycles had passed,” she finished for him as she stooped over a pot that hung over a low fire in the corner of the circular main room. She ladled out a generous portion of stew into a wooden bowl. “Sit.” She nodded toward the thick pile of skins in the center of the room before handing him the bowl and a large wooden spoon. “Eat.”

His mouth was already watering at the smell of the stew. It was thin, with only a few chunks of meat and vegetables, but it tasted better than anything he had ever eaten. As he greedily scooped it into his mouth, she returned with a large mug of ale, placing it on the stone floor next to the skins on which he sat.

Taking a place opposite him, she slowly collapsed into a sitting position. She was old, he saw in the flickering light of her fire, very old. The skin of her face was like thin parchment stretched tight over the skull, but her eyes were still clear and sharp, and she stared at him with a contemplative expression on her face.
 

“May I ask your name?" he asked in between mouthfuls.

“I am Tri’a-Shalun, mistress of the waters.”

“I thank you for your kindness, Tri’a-Shalun,” he said. “But please tell me, what has happened? I feel as if I have stepped into a world not my own.”

“It is, and it is not,” she told him quietly. “The Great War that had just begun when you were sent to die still rages. It has been near on ten cycles since then.”

Tara-Khan went still with shock, the spoon halfway from the bowl to his mouth. “
Ten cycles?
”

Tri’a-Shalun nodded. “I remember when you were exiled to your death. I was there.” She pointed upward with a gnarled finger. “I was among those Keel-Tath saved from the Desh-Ka temple and took to the Great Moon. I remember the warmth of the mourning marks on my cheeks as they marched you away to die.”

“But you are here,” he rasped. “That must mean that Keel-Tath…that she lost.”

“She has not lost. Not from the last rumor any of us heard, which was old enough news at the time.” She shook her head.
 

“Then how are you here?”

She shrugged. “Call it destiny or fate, or perhaps random chance. After you were sentenced, from the Great Moon I was sent to a city on T’lan-Il to redirect a river that threatened to kill many people. Syr-Nagath’s forces chose that point in time to launch an attack, and I was forced to surrender my honor to her after her warriors defeated those of Keel-Tath.” She looked down for a moment, and he could feel the sense of shame radiating through her blood. “I am not a warrior, and I had hoped that I might still be able to do good in the world. But in the end,” she returned her gaze to his, “I was sent here to waste away whatever time might remain to me.”

Taking his empty bowl from his hands, she refilled it before handing it back. “The war has long been a vicious stalemate,” she went on, “which will in the end work to Syr-Nagath’s advantage, for she has far more warriors to feed into the flames. That is why you were not met by sentries, for most warriors here on the Homeworld have been sent to fight among the Settlements. Many millions have found their final honor in these long years, and times have been hard for those they left behind.” She leaned forward. “But hunting parties looking for honorless ones continue to scour the land, and no doubt one will soon arrive to put paid to you. That is why you cannot stay. And whatever you do, you must not be caught. They kill honorless ones on sight, without mercy.”

“Have you had any word of Keel-Tath? How she fares?”

“Only that she is alive.” She put a hand to his face for just a moment, and he was amazed at how soft her palms were. “Her heart was broken that day, so it is said, and has never healed. If the tales told a thousand times over can be believed, the mourning marks have never left her.”

Tara-Khan clenched his hands in helpless frustration. “I could not return to her before now,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I tried, but…” Webs of cyan energy flickered around his fists and the old porter’s eyes grew wide.

“You have the powers of the Desh-Ka,” she breathed, and he nodded.
 

“I have their powers, but am not of the priesthood.”

“That may change a great many things,” she murmured.

“Not for me. I have only one goal now, and I would ask your help.” His lips compressed into a tight line. “It will cost you your honor to do so.”

She threw her head back and cackled. “My child, I did that as soon as I offered you succor. My life is forfeit, and perhaps my soul as well.” She shrugged. “So be it. What would you have of me?”

“You said that honorless ones are being hunted. But do you know of any place I might find them, anywhere like the safe haven where Dara-Kol took Keel-Tath?” Dara-Kol’s adventures had become legend among those of the Desh-Ka bloodline and beyond, and Keel-Tath’s salvation at her hands had become a beloved and oft-told tale before his exile.

The porter’s eyes narrowed. “Any such sanctuary would have to be kept utterly secret in these times, child. Before the rise of Syr-Nagath, society was content to allow the honorless ones to live in isolated quietude. Nowadays, it would be terribly dangerous for more than a few to gather.”

“Only if they were careless and made their presence known,” Tara-Khan insisted. “Hunting parties could be easily avoided. And if the war goes as you say, surely Syr-Nagath would not choose to waste any more warriors on hunting parties than she absolutely must. They cannot be everywhere, and they cannot be overly large or powerful.”

Her face scrunched up into a disbelieving expression. “Perhaps it is as you say, but there is no way for us to know.”
 

“But there is.” He set down the empty bowl and spoon before giving her an intent look. “We are all bound to water, are we not?”