Mistress Of The Ages (In Her Name, Book 9) (22 page)

Slipping and sliding down the opposite side of the hill of ice upon which he had been standing, Tara-Khan reached the bottom and took off at a run through an ice canyon. He had no time to marvel at the deep blue of the ancient ice on either side, or to worry about falling into an ice fissure. He frantically searched for shelter, a place where he might be able to hole up and force his pursuers to come at him one at a time, but fate was not in his favor.
 

As the yipping and growling grew louder, so did the wind, and snow began to fall from the approaching storm.
 

While reluctant to do so, Tara-Khan cut loose the satchel containing the blubber. Tearing it open, he flung the contents in a wide half-circle before he turned and ran.

He was rewarded a few moments later by fierce growls and a few yelps of pain as the beasts fought over the spoils he had left for them. But then he heard the leader yip again, and after a few frenzied snarls the beasts resumed their pursuit.

Tara-Khan ran as fast as he could, but he was hopelessly outpaced by the beasts behind him. With his talons, he sliced through the strap holding the makeshift satchel with the meat, letting it fall to the ground as he continued to pound through deepening snow.
 

Looking back over his shoulder, he saw the leader briefly sniff at the satchel, but the creature was clearly uninterested in cold, dead meat. He wanted something fresh and warm. He wanted Tara-Khan. Driving his companions on with a series of ferocious growls and bites, the beasts dodged around the satchel, quickly gaining on him.

With no place better to hide or fight, Tara-Khan dodged into a V-cut in the side of one of the ice walls. The opening of the cut was wide enough for four or five of the beasts to come at him at once, but at least his back was protected. He threw off the thick skin and the robes and drew his sword as a trio of smaller beasts rushed him. He lunged at one, which nimbly darted back as the other beasts, which had incisors as long as his fingers in their toothy maws, leaped for him. His blade found the first one, slicing its head cleanly from its neck, just before the other closed its jaws around his free wrist. Tara-Khan screamed in rage as much as pain as the bone snapped under the crushing pressure of the creature’s jaws before he dispatched it with a short, vicious jab of his sword through one of its eyes, driving the blade’s tip into its brain. Without so much as a whimper, it fell to the snow, dead.

Four more rushed him, two coming straight in, going low after his legs, while the other two came at him from the sides, scrabbling partway up the walls of the cut. A wide slash drove off the first pair, leaving one of them with a severed ear, before he stabbed the one coming in from the wall on his left. Blood fountained from its maw as his blade found the beast’s throat, but before he could pull the blade free the fourth beast seized his sword arm just above his elbow. Fortunately, the thing closed its jaws on the flesh at the back of his arm, rather than across the bone. But the pain was still excruciating as its teeth pierced the leatherite and sank into the meat of his arm. The beast threw its head from side to side, whipping Tara-Khan’s arm to and fro. The sword flew from his faltering grip, the gleaming metal disappearing into the blizzard as Tara-Khan fell to the ground.

With a bellow of anger, Tara-Khan jammed the talons of his other hand, despite the agony of the crushed bones of his wrist, into the beast’s eyes. The pain was such that he almost passed out, but what he inflicted on the beast was worse. With a long shriek, it released him and stumbled blindly toward its mates, who fell upon it without hesitation, tearing it to pieces.

Struggling to his knees, Tara-Khan saw a dark gray shadow moving toward him from where the other animals fed on their fallen kin. It was the leader. The beast approached slowly, its head low, a deep growl in the back of its throat as it stared at him with unblinking yellow eyes.
 

“Come on, then,” Tara-Khan spat, holding the arm with the broken wrist up before him as bait, while holding his sword arm cocked, ready to stab his talons into the thing’s eyes or throat. “
Come on!
”

It approached slowly, pausing just out of reach to stare at him. The others were somewhere behind it, hanging back. With a savage growl, it rushed him, but instead of taking the offered bait, it charged right into him, head down, bowling him over on his back. He was barely able to hold it off with his broken hand, whipping his head to either side as it snapped at his face and clawed at his torso with its front feet. Its talons were every bit as sharp as his and twice as long, and they shredded his leatherite to ribbons before tearing long gashes in his chest and stomach.
 

He stabbed it over and over with the talons of his sword arm until it clamped down on his already savaged wrist, breaking yet more bones. Through the agony, Tara-Khan realized that it was an opportunity he badly needed. With its jaws momentarily occupied, he shoved the talons of his sword hand into the beast’s unprotected throat. The animal squealed and let go of his wrist, trying to wriggle free. Tara-Khan tensed all the muscles of his sword hand, as if he were closing his fingers into a fist, burying the talons past his fingertips in the thing’s flesh.

A fountain of bright crimson erupted from the wound as one of his talons found an artery, showering him with warm blood as the beast continued to struggle. With one last shake, it managed to free itself. But now it was only another injured member of the pack, and it fell under the savage attack of its companions.

Shivering with cold, fear, and adrenaline, Tara-Khan staggered to his feet and stumbled to the rear of the cut. His vision was fading, and he fell to his knees as more dark shapes with yellow eyes moved in for the kill. He hissed and spat at them, his last great act of defiance. His arms were too weak to lift from his lap.

With a roar, one of the beasts leaped for him.

A shimmering disk whirred through the snow-filled air, and the beast’s head parted from its neck as if by magic, the headless body slamming into the ice at Tara-Khan’s feet.

As one, the other beasts of the pack turned in the direction from which the killing blow had come. They paused only a heartbeat before they fled, yelping in fear.

Tara-Khan looked up as a shadow in the shape of one of his own kind emerged from the curtain of wind-whipped snow, clothed in the thick fleece of beasts like those that had fled. The shadow knelt beside him, and a gloved hand drew down the mask covering the face.
 

Just before his vision went black and he slipped into unconsciousness, Tara-Khan recognized his rescuer.

It was Ria-Ka’luhr.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

After taking one last deep, shuddering breath, Keel-Tath rose from her bed. While her heart was a cold stone in her chest, she knew she could allow herself no more time to mourn. Syr-Nagath’s forces were wreaking havoc on the Settlements, and the fury and fear of those who fought echoed ever louder in the Bloodsong.
 

Taking the beautifully embellished silver mug from the tray left earlier by Dara-Kol, she went to the windows. The universe beyond seemed gray, bereft of color and life. Taking a sip of the normally strong drink, she found it completely tasteless.
 

“It should have been me.”

She turned around at the softly spoken words to see Ka’i-Lohr kneeling near the entrance to her chambers. She had not heard him come in and the doors were closed. He must have come in when Dara-Kol brought the tray. That had been hours ago. “Rise, and come join me,” she told him. Then, “What do you mean that it should have been you?”

“I tried to stop Ulan-Samir.” He took a deep breath as he came to stand beside her. “Or, should I say, I should have tried to stop him. Tara-Khan had no idea of what was going to happen, of course, but I did as soon as I heard Ulan-Samir kill the guards. And yet I stayed my hand, suffering a minor wound as a brand of honor.”

“And well you should think of it so! Ulan-Samir was wrong to shed blood, but that was a sin that could be forgiven. But to touch a Messenger — for any reason — is not. And he was bringing me his sword, not trying to kill me!”

“We had no way of knowing that.” Ka’i-Lohr looked down at his hands. “Not after his earlier conduct. It was as if he had departed from the Way and began to forge his own, just like Syr-Nagath.”

“There is only one Way,” Keel-Tath said through clenched teeth. “But it doesn’t matter now. The deed is done and we are the worse for it. Ulan-Samir’s sword would have been most welcome now. As would Tara-Khan’s.” She stared at the Homeworld, her eyes fixed on the large patch of white that encircled the northern pole. “I cannot stop thinking of him,” she whispered.

“Nor can I.” He put his hand over hers and she intertwined her fingers with his, grateful for the contact.
 

“You two were my closest companions,” she whispered. “I could not have wished for any better.”

“I hope you always feel that way.” He bowed his head and offered a shy smile. It was an unusual expression for him, and she could not help but smile in return.

She turned back to the window, looking up to the stars, and the smile faded. Her eyes picked out the glittering diamonds of the Settlements, the Bloodsong in her veins trilling to the great battles being fought there.
I have mourned enough for those who have fallen
, she thought as fury kindled in her heart, displacing her grief.
I have a war to win
.

***

“Our scouts have reported that at least five full legions of Ka’i-Nur warriors have been landed on each of the Settlements,” Sian-Al’ai said, “and more are departing from the Homeworld. They no longer are using their beam weapons or those on the ships against their opponents as they did against us, but their armor, combined with their size and strength, make them nearly unstoppable. The warriors facing them fight with great courage and honor, but with every one that falls or surrenders, we lose a sword we could otherwise turn against Syr-Nagath.” She frowned. “I fear that we cannot face her forces directly in battle, as much as any of us might like to. They would not hesitate to use their more advanced weaponry against us, and we all know where that will lead.”

Alena-Khan nodded in reluctant agreement. “Even if we were victorious in battle, we would not be able to make good use of those whose honor would be sworn to us. They would be land-bound, vulnerable to counterattack by Syr-Nagath’s ships, unable to move quickly to where they are needed.”

“Or escape destruction,” Sian-Al’ai added.

Keel-Tath looked around the room, which was one of the smallest chambers that had yet been found in the still growing palace. She occupied her place in a circle that included the most high of the priesthoods and the robed castes. Dara-Kol was on her right, while Ka’i-Lohr, Drakh-Nur, and a handful of seasoned warriors who had been saved from the earlier battles looked on from one side. They knelt on pads of soft animal hides, and at the center of a circle was a fire in a pit, flickering over glowing coals. But the light and warmth failed to lift the somber mood. Trays of food had been served but remained largely untouched, and porters of water bearing large pitchers of ale moved silently among the members of the war council, filling their mugs.
 

“You believe that victory is beyond our grasp?” Keel-Tath asked into the uneasy silence.

“I do not see how we can defeat Syr-Nagath while retaining our honor,” Alena-Khan said, clearly uncomfortable with her admission. “It would be easy enough to kill her, or perhaps even destroy Ka’i-Nur, but the methods we would have to employ would go against all for which we have fought and sacrificed. We could attack at points where she is vulnerable, where her forces are weakest, but that also goes against the Way, for there is no honor in doing so. And yet, as Sian-Al’ai said, if we try and fight her warriors as the Way dictates, we are, in the end, doomed to fail. We cannot hope to stand against legions of Ka’i-Nur warriors and Syr-Nagath’s ships.”

“We do not have to,” Keel-Tath said quietly. She held up her hand and clenched it into a fist. “If I was to strike Syr-Nagath’s armor with my fist, the best I could do would be to send her reeling backward.” Those around her nodded, agreeing with the obvious. Withdrawing her dagger, the living metal of the blade glittering in the light from the fire, she said, “But if I stab her armor with the tip of my sword, or even this dagger, what then?”

“It would pierce through to her heart and rid the Universe of her monstrous evil,” one of the others said in a low voice.

“Concentration of forces,” Alena-Khan noted. She narrowed her eyes. “I sense Ayan-Dar’s teachings at work here.”

Keel-Tath bowed her head in acknowledgement. As always, she wished Ayan-Dar, even in spirit, was beside her now. But he only spoke to her in her dreams, most of which she could not remember once she awakened. “Precisely so. And in both cases I would be fighting with honor, would I not?”

A murmur of agreement echoed through the room.
 

“Not only that, but by your own admission, strategically we fight from a position of inferiority, do we not?”
 

“Which means that honor is ours,” Sian-Al’ai said quietly.

“Yes,” Keel-Tath emphasized. “
Honor is ours
. Beyond the protection of the palace,
ours
is the weaker force, and our honor is all the greater for it. On the battlefield, we must put the tip of our sword to the enemy’s heart and thrust it through her armor. We need not face a dozen or more legions.” She leaned forward. “We need only face part of one at any given time.”

Sian-Al’ai nodded. “It is true. Most of her warriors have been deployed in cohorts, any one of which is more than a match for legions of regular warriors. That is why she is making such rapid progress in her conquest of the Settlements.” She looked at the other most high of the priesthoods. “But against the priests and priestesses we could send forth…the odds against a single cohort might be near enough to even, I should think.”