Forged In Flame (In Her Name: The First Empress, Book 2) (16 page)

So be it. She closed her eyes and forced herself to be calm, trying to fill herself with the sense of power that had flowed into her when she had seen the vision of Anuir-Ruhal’te in the crypt. Be with me now, mistress.

As she opened her eyes, the gates were at last drawn aside. Before her stood a welcoming party of twelve warriors on either side of the gate. Even in the dim light of the torches, she could see they were in little better shape than herself and her companions. Beyond them were gathered the rest of the villagers, members of the robed castes and a gaggle of children who were old enough to be out of the creche, but who had not been sent to the nearest
kazha
. All of them knelt as she stepped across the threshold of the gate, Han-Ukha’i beside her. 

One warrior knelt in the center of the dirt street that served as the village’s main thoroughfare. He was old, older even than Ayan-Dar, and in poor health. “Welcome mistress of the Desh-Ka,” he said before breaking into a coughing fit. “I am Sura’an-Desai, master of this humble village.”

“Greetings, Sura’an-Desai.” She held out her arms and he stood with some difficulty before clasping her forearms in the traditional greeting of warriors. Keel-Tath felt a small pang of guilt, for aside from the carnage she had wrought in the crypt and the bloodletting of the queen’s warriors at Keel-A’ar as she had stood beside Ayan-Dar, she hardly considered herself a warrior. “I thank you for your hospitality.”

“We are always honored to serve those of the priesthoods, mistress.” He smiled as he ushered her and Han-Ukha’i toward the largest building of the village, the main hall. Looking at Han-Ukha’i, he said, “And I would thank you for the offer of your services. As you can no doubt see, we are in great need.”

It was true. Many of those they passed were ill or injured. Keel-Tath had never heard tell of the like in a village whose honor was sworn to a leader. Only honorless ones suffered so.

“You are beholden to Syr-Nagath?”

“Of course, mistress.” The old warrior bobbed his head. “She called away our healers and builders, and all but the eldest warriors, to her service. As is her right.” The tone of his voice told Keel-Tath volumes of what he really thought. Since the priesthoods did not involve themselves in the affairs of common folk, their emissaries often heard words from lips that would otherwise be silent. “Most have fled this life for whatever lies beyond, I fear.”

“That is the Way of the warrior,” Keel-Tath said quietly.

“True, mistress, quite true. But I would have seen them meet their end here, defending their home, than on shores none of us have known in anything other than tales from the Books of Time.” Mounting the steps to the great hall, which was great only in name, he led her through the doors that were held open by younglings. 

“Why are these children not at the
kazha
?”

“The one that served us is no more, mistress. It was never ministered by a priest or priestess, only an acolyte, and she was called away two weeks ago. The other warriors were already gone.” He shrugged. “We brought the children home, lest they starve. We teach them best as we can, but it is not the same.”

The great hall had eight curved tables arranged around a central fire pit, whose coals warmed the hall against the evening chill. Children lit the other torches, which made the hall much more welcoming, but Keel-Tath feared the additional light would call out the color of her hair, and she pulled the hood down just a bit more as she sat down next to her host. 

Robed ones brought them food and drink, but Han-Ukha’i demurred. “I would see to those in need, mistress.”

“As you wish. Remember to maintain your strength.” A look passed between them, and Han-Ukha’i nodded. Watching as a child led the healer to one of the tables near the door, where a line of people had already formed, Keel-Tath said to Sura’an-Desai, “We cannot stay overlong, for we have business yet far away. But we will do all we can while we are here.” She paused. “I would also ask a great favor, if I may.”

“Please, mistress. What is ours is yours, as is tradition.”

“I would ask if you might spare us some mounts. As I told your guard, our party was set upon by honorless ones. Those of us who survived were left on foot, and we have yet far to travel.”

The old warrior nodded, then coughed. It was a deep, wet sound in his lungs.

She reached out to put a hand on his arm. “I will have the healer tend you.” 

His eyes widened, and it took her a moment to realize why. Her talons. There was no mistaking the crimson color in the torch light. She snatched back her hand, as if from an open flame, and flicked the dagger from its sheath, holding the blade to Sura’an-Desai’s throat. 

At that moment, everyone in the great hall was staring at her, sensing the shock radiating from their master. 

“It truly is you,” he whispered, ignoring the glittering blade that was resting against the skin of his neck where an artery pulsed. “I had wondered at the fashion of the handle of the sword on your back. I recognized it, you see. The sword of Kunan-Lohr was once well-known in these lands, for our honor was once sworn to the lord and master of Keel-A’ar. To your father.”

“And now?” Keel-Tath peeled back her hood with her free hand, and a gasp ran around the chamber as the others saw her hair.

Sura’an-Desai looked at her for a long time before he spoke. He did not answer directly. “You have much of your mother in you, I think. Your face looks much like hers. A graceful beauty she was. And full of fire, of spirit. I knew her when she was young, not much older than you are now.” His voice was wistful, and Keel-Tath could imagine the memories in his head, peeling back the years to that time gone by. “So long ago, it was.” 

“What are your intentions, my lord?” Keel-Tath did not want to hurt this old warrior, and she was consciously trying not to underestimate him. He was old and weak, yes, but that often meant nothing but a fatal trap.

“My intentions are to help the daughter of my master Kunan-Lohr. My honor is yours child, but there will be a price.”

“There is never a price for surrendering one’s honor.” She did not understand his meaning, yet she believed in his sincerity. Pulling back the blade from his neck, she sheathed the dagger. “That is not of the Way.”

He smiled, a sad expression of silent doom, but said only, “It is a small enough matter that we may speak of later. For now, all that is mine is yours. I would also send a message bearer to your companions to join us. They need not wait beyond the walls.” He gestured toward where the gate was. “And as you can see, we have few enough warriors to pose a threat.”

Keel-Tath nodded, and Sura’an-Desai gestured at a child, who immediately took off at a full run toward the gate.

“Sura’an-Desai,” she said, “if the Dark Queen finds out that you harbored us…”

He waved away her concerns. “We shall speak of that later. In the meantime, I would pay back the kindness of your healer with the services of our armorer. She is old, older than myself and unfit for travel, which is why the queen did not take her, but she can do good work. The least we can do is fit you with proper armor. Then, perhaps, you will not be taken as an honorless one on sight.” He smiled at her surprised expression. “I am not a fool, child. Even the most ignorant youngling can see that armor was never meant for you, and who but the honorless ones would offer you shelter? There is no other way you could have reached this far without being taken by the Dark Queen.”

“I was taken, my lord.”

He leaned forward. “Then it is a miracle that you survived.”

“That, I will not argue. And there is my miracle.” She nodded toward the five cloaked figures who entered the hall, looking warily around until their eyes found her. 

“Be comfortable and welcome, warriors,” Sura’an-Desai beckoned. He was interrupted by another bout of coughing, and this time droplets of blood came away in his hand. 

“Han-Ukha’i!” Keel-Tath gestured for the healer to come. “I know you have many, but tend to him. He bleeds from his lungs.”

“Do not waste your time or energy on me, healer.” Sura’an-Desai gently pushed her away. “Tend those who need it. I am long past the need of your gentle touch.”

Han-Ukha’i looked to Keel-Tath, who nodded, uncertain. 

“As you wish, lord.” The healer bowed, then returned to tend to the needs of the others in the village.

In the meantime, Keel-Tath’s five warriors gathered around. 

“Mistress?” Dara-Kol said.

“All is well for now. We have our first city.” Keel-Tath smiled, and Sura’an-Desai broke out laughing, which turned into an ugly cough. 

For a time, she and her companions were able to relax somewhat and even enjoy themselves. As they ate and drank, Sura’an-Desai told them what little he could of the war, but it was not much. “Few travelers come this way anymore,” he said. “Even the warriors of the legions that garrison these lands no longer come here, for they know we have nothing more to offer.” After that, and between bouts of coughing, he regaled them with tall tales of his younger days, which brought admiring smiles from his guests. 

Han-Ukha’i treated the sick and, as best she could, healed the most grievously wounded of the village. Watching her as Sura’an-Desai finished up another one of his tales, Keel-Tath could not fathom how things had fallen so far from where they should be. Sickness, infirmity, and disfiguring injuries were unheard of among her people outside the bands of honorless ones. And even they often had healers or other robed castes, for they, too, could fall from the Way.

“Take the healers away,” Sura’an-Desai noted sadly, as if reading her mind, “and everything changes. The same with the builders, and to a lesser extent the porters of water. We can withstand much, but if you cut out the heart or the liver from our society, the body will surely die. This place,” he gestured around them, “has never been, nor will ever be, a great city. But it was beautiful once, its people strong and proud.” He looked into Keel-Tath’s eyes, and she could sense a deep longing within him. “I hope beyond hope that someday it will be so again.”

“Hope is all I can offer you, Sura’an-Desai. But I am terribly afraid, not for myself, but for those like yourself.” She shook her head. “I cannot protect you, not yet.”

“We do not ask for protection, mistress. Only hope. Your path is long and dangerous, and I only wish that I was young again, that I could offer you my sword.”

“You have done far more than that, master of the city.”

They looked up as Dara-Kol and the others came back into the hall. They had left earlier at Keel-Tath’s behest to see the armorer.

The hall was full now, for everyone had come to pay their respects to the one with the white hair and crimson talons, and the fierce warriors who accompanied her. The five had left the hall dressed in the shabby, beaten armor of honorless ones. They returned, resplendent in shining black that was perfectly tailored to their bodies. 

“You could pass for the palace guard at Ku’ar-Amir,” Keel-Tath told them.

“It is your turn now, mistress.” The armorer shuffled forward with the help of a cane. Her black robes were in little better condition than Han-Ukha’i’s white ones. Behind her, two younglings carried bundles of leatherite and black metal plate. “Undress, child.”

Standing before the fire pit for all to see, Keel-Tath did as she was asked. Handing her weapons to Dara-Kol, she took off the gauntlets, then undid the fastenings for her plate armor. More younglings gathered it up as she shrugged out of it before stripping off the leatherite armor beneath. She untied her hand-me-down sandals, which were much too big, then peeled off the gauzy black undergarment to stand nude before the village and her companions. While being on display in such a fashion was unusual, showing the body was a commonplace occurrence in the baths and when being fitted for armor or robes. Having this many eyes on her did not make Keel-Tath uncomfortable, exactly, but it was not a sensation she would happily repeat.

The armorer was old, but her callused hands were quick, just as Sura’an-Desai had said. She ran her hands over Keel-Tath’s body, then took out a terribly frayed cloth tape that had once been white, but was now a sickly gray. She ran it around Keel-Tath’s chest and other parts of her body, then rechecked a few places with her hands. 

Turning to the table, where her youngling assistants had carefully laid out the material, she took a wicked knife from her robes and slashed the black material used for undergarments. Her movements were quick and precise, and Keel-Tath imagined her wielding a sword. When the pieces were cut, she matched up the seams and squeezed them with her fingers, kneading the fabric as she moved along the seams. But when she had finished, the seams were gone. 

The armorer handed Keel-Tath the finished garment, top and bottom, and Keel-Tath sighed with pleasure as she slipped them on. The fabric formed perfectly to her body, like a second skin, every bit as well as the garments made by the armorers at the temple. 

Next came the black leatherite. The armorer had no need of more measurements. She slashed and cut the tough material as easily as she had the undergarment fabric, and joined the seams as she had before. She also worked different parts of the fabric with her palms, massaging it into a shape that would perfectly fit the curves of Keel-Tath’s body. Then she added buckles and straps, made from a tough alloy, where they were needed to hold the leatherite secure.

She handed the pants and tunic to Keel-Tath, who gratefully slipped them on. She was starting to feel complete again. Warriors wore their armor as their daily form of dress, and were only out of it when sleeping (if it was safe to do so, as in the temple) or when bathing. 

As Keel-Tath buckled on the leatherite, the armorer produced a pair of sandals. Leaning down, she picked up Keel-Tath’s feet one at a time and probed them with her fingers. With a satisfied huff, she took the sandals and trimmed them, then kneaded the thick soles just as she had the leatherite. When she was satisfied, she attached leather straps and handed the sandals to two younglings, who tied them to Keel-Tath’s feet.