In Her Name: The First Empress: Book 01 - From Chaos Born (19 page)

“My lord, the roads are filled with them!” Dara-Kol’s exclamation was muffled by the meat that filled her mouth. It had been two days since any of them had eaten. They had pilfered the food from unobservant warriors, but would not eat any before they had served it to Kunan-Lohr. “We heard that many were already here, and hundreds more arrived this night alone. Hundreds, perhaps thousands more are coming.”

Kunan-Lohr stared at them, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“We saw them, my lord.” The middle of the three, a strong young male who favored the spear as his principle weapon, gestured emphatically. “We made no mistake.” He glanced at Dara-Kol. “But the ones we saw were…”

“Different.” Dara-Kol finished the sentence for him. “We saw some of them in the light of the fires where food was being prepared. Their faces were strange in a way I have never seen.”

“None of us have seen such.” The third warrior, another young male, shook his head. “It is difficult to describe, my lord. But I think they looked like the images of the ancient ones, before the end of the Second Age, that the keepers of the Books of Time from the Desh-Ka temple once showed us.”

The others nodded in agreement as they cut strips of meat with their talons and hungrily shoved them in their mouths.
 

Kunan-Lohr sat back, the raw meat in his hand forgotten. “Are you sure?”

“That they were different, yes, my lord,” Dara-Kol answered. “The other builders did not seem to wish to have anything to do with them. And the warriors seemed to be afraid of them.”

“They were terrified,” the spear carrier corrected. “The warriors watched these builders with fear in their eyes. It was plain to see. But why?”

“Because they are Ka’i-Nur.” The name of the ancient order sent a chill down his spine. He had never had any dealings with them himself, but had heard stories from those who had. None of them were pleasant, and the stories were so fantastic that Kunan-Lohr had never truly believed them.
 

The three young ones looked at him with blank expressions.
 

“You know of the six ancient orders, among which are the Desh-Ka,” he explained. “But there has always been a seventh, the Ka’i-Nur, which is not often mentioned. They have kept to themselves for millennia in a fortress deep in the Great Wastelands.”

“But why do they come here?” Dara-Kol asked.

“That, child, I would like you to find out, if you can.” He leaned forward. “You must, at all costs, deliver my commands to war captain Eil’an-Kuhr.” The three nodded. “And if you can, find out what you might about these builders from Ka’i-Nur and why they are here. But do not stray from the first task. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.” The three answered as one.

“And under no circumstances try to mix into a group of the Ka’i-Nur builders. They will know instantly you are not one of their own.”

“How, my lord?” The eldest asked. “Because we do not look like them?”

“And because you are not of their bloodline. Did you sense any of them?”

All three of the young warriors shook their heads.

“Nor would they sense you, which would immediately set them on their guard and give you away. So you must find a group of builders from one of the other six bloodlines, who look as we do, and among whom you can disguise yourselves.”

“It shall be as you say, my lord.”

Kunan-Lohr nodded, satisfied. The four of them ate in silence. When they finished, it was time.

“You must go now.” Kunan-Lohr stood up and gripped each of the three warriors in turn by the forearms. “The rain still falls, which will make it easier for you to blend in with a passing group of builders.” With great pride in his voice, he added, “May thy Way be long and glorious, warriors of Keel-A’ar.”

They knelt and saluted him before once again heading out into the pouring rain. Above, a flash of lightning seared the sky.

* * *

Eil’an-Kuhr stood at the rear of the great battle line. The pelting rain dripped from the ridges over her eyes as she kept close watch on the segment of the line for which Keel-A’ar was responsible. The battlefield was a quagmire of rain and blood, and the warriors fought to keep their footing as much as they fought the enemy. The rain, an unwelcome nuisance, had run under her armor, giving her a chill as it flushed out the blood from the minor wounds she had suffered so far this day. She would eventually seek to be treated by a healer, but that could wait.
 

She had been fighting for hours throughout the morning since the day’s battle had begun. She normally fought in the line, but the opposing warriors had redoubled their attacks against her sector. She had been forced to form a reserve, and led them to plug breaches in the line where the enemy threatened to break through. Above the incessant fall of the rain, she could hear the roar of hundreds of thousands of voices and the ring of steel upon steel. War cries and the screams of the injured and the dying.

To her and the others of her kind, the sound was like music. To fight was what she had been born to do.

The battle now stretched up and down much of the eastern seaboard of T’lar-Gol, with neither side able to gain an advantage that was decisive enough to force the other side to accept an honorable surrender. The opposing army had gained reinforcements from the northern and southern reaches of the continent, even as the Dark Queen poured more of her own warriors into the fray. It was a battle the likes of which had not been witnessed since the last attack on the Homeworld by the Settlements.

Eil’an-Kuhr would have been thrilled and honored to be a part of it, had she not known of the Dark Queen’s treachery.
 

And yet, there was hope. She could sense her lord and master’s anger and determination, so she knew he was still alive.
 

Come soon, my lord
, she prayed as she saw another handful of her warriors go down under the swords of the enemy. Keel-A’ar had sent three full legions, over fifteen thousand warriors, to serve the queen. While the torn and bloodied banners of all three legions still could be seen in the seething mass of the battle line, Eil’an-Kuhr knew that for every warrior who remained alive, at least two had perished. To die in battle was the most honorable end a warrior could know, but to die under the banner of the Dark Queen had become a sacrilege in Eil’an-Kuhr’s eyes.

From the corner of her eye she noticed three shapes in blue robes approaching, weaving their way through the rows of wounded and exhausted warriors who covered the slope of the hill behind the battle line. She had seen other figures in blue, builders, on unknowable errands on the battlefield in the last few days, but this was the first time that any had approached her. It was nearly unheard of to have any of the non-warrior castes this close to a battle outside of a siege defense, and the sight of builders had deeply disturbed Eil’an-Kuhr. She wondered what deviltry the queen was up to now.

She turned to the three as they came closer, their hooded robes easily shedding the rain. “What business have you with the warriors of Keel-A’ar?”

The three bowed and saluted. “We bring tidings from our lord and master, Kunan-Lohr,” the leader said quietly in a voice that Eil’an-Kuhr recognized. It was Dara-Kol.
 

Eil’an-Kuhr closed her eyes, overcome with relief. She glanced around to make sure that no warriors other than her own were nearby. “Is he near?”

“Yes, mistress,” the young warrior replied, her words nearly carried away by the rain. “And this is what he commands of you…”

* * *

As the sun set, the Dark Queen reluctantly had called for an end to the day’s battle. While the warriors could easily fight at night, it was longstanding tradition, even among the Ka’i-Nur, to end a battle with the setting of the sun. It was difficult to tell when that was on a day such as this when the sky was a leaden gray from the storm clouds that swirled above. In an unusual fit of compassion, she had called a halt to the fighting early. As always, she had fought in the battle line, and had to confess to herself that combat in the rain and mud was an exhausting, grueling endeavor. She was not one given to pity, but she had concluded that it could do no harm to let her warriors have a few extra hours of rest. Of course, few would get any rest on a night of pouring rain like this, when the warriors could not even light fires to warm themselves.
 

But she knew that her army would not have to fight much longer. Not in this accursed mud pit, at least. Syr-Nagath had been confident of winning this battle quickly and taking the remaining lands that led to the Eastern Sea. The remaining cities and kingdoms facing her could have surrendered early on with honor, but had decided to fight. And fight. And fight. They had drawn reinforcements that Syr-Nagath had not expected, forcing her to commit even more of her own warriors.

She had finally decided that it was time to bring the battle to a close on her own terms. There were too many other things to attend to.

“We will be ready as soon as the storms leave us.”

Syr-Nagath turned to the blue-robed builder who stood behind her. They were in Syr-Nagath’s chambers in the pavilion. The Dark Queen had known this builder from childhood. She was the senior builder mistress of Ka’i-Nur, and had answered Syr-Nagath’s summons.

“You have all that you require?” Syr-Nagath asked.

The elderly builder nodded, her strangely shaped face expressionless in the shadow of her hood. “We can create what we require from the blood-soaked ground, if need be.” The old builder spoke with an odd accent that few outsiders would have recognized as having its roots in Ka’i-Nur. “And such is not far from the truth.”

“The other builders have not questioned you?”

The builder shook her head. “No. They fear us, as they should. We will only require them for certain…non-critical things. The important elements of the weapons will be created and controlled by us. You will have what you desire.”

Syr-Nagath made a quiet huff of amusement. She desired a very great deal, far more than the old builder could possibly imagine. “How soon will the storm pass?”

“The astrologers tell me that the sun will return to us by mid-morning tomorrow. We shall be ready then, and shall be prepared for your command.”

“Very well.” With a nod, she dismissed the builder, who saluted and left.

Turning to her First, Syr-Nagath asked, “There is yet no sign of him?”

The First, who knelt on the floor, shook her head. “No, my queen. I have not received a single report about Kunan-Lohr.” She paused, willing herself to force out the words, fearing the queen’s reaction. Syr-Nagath had been greatly displeased when the First had told her that she believed the riders had failed. That they had not killed Kunan-Lohr or the child. “He has disappeared.”

“He is here, somewhere.” Syr-Nagath struggled to control the rage that was building within her. She was confident that the Desh-Ka acolyte could kill the child and Ulana-Tath.
 

But Kunan-Lohr’s escape had vexed her. He would not be dealt with so easily. She would have used the same ritual on one of Kunan-Lohr’s senior warriors as she had on the acolyte to gain information, to control one who could sense him. But those who were closest to him in blood were all female, and the bond would only work on the opposite sex. Torture was an option, but she doubted that any of his warriors would succumb to such primitive methods before committing ritual suicide.

 
“Keel-A’ar has never been mastered by a fool, and he could cause a great deal of mischief unless we find him. And quickly.” Syr-Nagath flicked a hand toward the entryway, dismissing her First. “Go now, and do not return to me until he has been found.”

The First bowed and saluted before fleeing from the queen’s chambers.

Gazing out into the rainy gloom, the Dark Queen slowly raked the talons of one hand along her opposite forearm, drawing stripes of blood that dripped to the floor.

* * *

Eil’an-Kuhr looked out over the encampment, giving thanks to the stars she could not see that they had been graced with a storm this night. The fires that normally burned in the encampments of both armies were absent, and the warriors huddled together in silent misery as the chill rain poured down.

The three warriors who had come disguised as builders to deliver Kunan-Lohr’s commands were now in ill-fitting armor that had been taken from the dead. Any armorer would have instantly known something was amiss with one glance at them, but on this night no one could see far beyond an outstretched arm.
 

She did not worry over much about their emotions giving away their intentions to those around them who remained loyal to the queen. There was always an abundance of misery, fear, and trepidation, particularly among the warriors of Keel-A’ar after having been so ruthlessly used by the Dark Queen. Even for warriors who lived for battle, to know that they meant nothing to the one to whom their honor had been pledged was a difficult burden to bear. For those from Keel-A’ar, who had been blessed with a long history of masters and mistresses who honored those who served them, the Dark Queen’s indifference to their sacrifice was like hot ash upon their souls.

Surrounded by her lieutenants, Eil’an-Kuhr gave her final instructions. “Remember: try to prevent anyone from raising an alarm. If you are discovered or challenged, use what force you must to guard your passage and keep your warriors moving. But our goal is to leave unheard and unseen. The wounded will fill in for us, should anyone come to our encampment.”
 

She had arranged for all but the most grievously wounded to move in small groups from the infirmary area near the queen’s pavilion to their main encampment here. Those who were not able to fight had either committed ritual suicide or been given an honorable death by Eil’an-Kuhr’s hand. She would not allow them to fall to the queen and suffer dishonor.

“These three,” she gestured to the three young warriors sent by Kunan-Lohr, led by Dara-Kol, “will guide us to where our master awaits once we are beyond the main encampment.”