Mistress Of The Ages (In Her Name, Book 9) (44 page)

The oracle smiled. “If it is thy will, my mistress,
it shall be done
.”

***

Tara-Khan’s heart was shattered. He held Keel-Tath in his arms, the others gathered in a silent circle around him. The black marks of mourning coursed down his cheeks as he buried his face in her hair. They had both suffered so much and come so close to fulfilling her destiny. He blamed himself, for there must have been some way he could have stopped Syr-Nagath from entering the chamber. He could not think of what it could have been, but he knew there must have been a way. Among the vast knowledge he possessed from all the cycles he had spent among the Books of Time, surely something could have been done. He gladly would have sacrificed his own life, and in his heart of hearts knew that he would have sacrificed the lives of all the others here, with barely a thought, to have been able to save her. He knew she would have hated him had he done such a thing, but his love for her was so great that he would have risked even that.
 

Now the future was in ashes. All for which so many had fought and died was ended. Here in Ka’i-Nur, above, where Keel-Tath’s fleet was being destroyed. It was over.
 

“I am sorry.”

He looked up to find Sian-Al’ai staring down at him, the look on her face a reflection of the pain in her heart far more than from her battered body.
 

She turned her attention to the badly burned corpse that lay curled on the floor nearby. The skin was little more than charcoal, the hair burned completely away. The armor had disintegrated, the bindings and underlying leatherite and undergarment burned to ash. Her hands were only ash upon exposed bone, yet she still clutched her sword in one gnarled hand, even in death. “Take that
thing
from my sight,” Sian-Al’ai hissed.

“I will do it.” Ka’i-Lohr stood and came over to the body of the Dark Queen. He drove his talons into her roasted flesh before dragging the body away in the direction of the now closed portal.

Holding Keel-Tath with one arm, Tara-Khan drew his dagger. His eyes found those of Dara-Kol, who nodded, taking her own dagger in hand. All around him, the other warriors did the same. The robed ones put their talons to their throat.
 

“In her name did we live,” Tara-Khan said, putting his blade to his throat, as did the others, “and in her name shall we die.”

“No, my love.”

The universe froze in that moment, at the words spoken by the woman he had thought was dead. The healers had pronounced her so when they first reached her; none had any doubt that her spirit had fled her body.
 

And yet, she lived. Her eyes opened to gaze up into his own, and she reached out with one hand, gently taking the blade from his throat. The song of her spirit thundered in his blood, a melody so beautiful and powerful that he was overwhelmed with a sense of joy that grew ever greater as she drew him close and her lips found his.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

“It is completely healed.” The healer and his companions gazed in wonder at Keel-Tath’s back, which was bare of the faintest trace of a wound from Syr-Nagath’s sword. One of the other healers held up the warped and charred back plate and poked her fingers through the hole made by the Dark Queen’s blade. “This is not possible, my mistress.”

“Things now are not as they were,” Keel-Tath told the healer as she gently shooed him away. Everyone favored her with a quizzical glance, all save Tara-Khan. To him, she said quietly, “You understand, don’t you?”

He nodded. “Yes, my mistress. I understand everything now.” A shadow of sadness darkened his expression. “Ria-Ka’luhr opened my eyes.”

She reached out and took his arm. “He is alive? But…” Even as she said the words, she knew Ria-Ka’luhr was no longer among the living. She could feel him in the Bloodsong, the voice of his spirit singing in a way that she now understood was peculiar to the dead. Before Tara-Khan could answer, she shook her head. “No, of course not. But he was alive, you were with him?”

“For a very long time.”

“My mistress.”

Keel-Tath turned to find one of the female healers kneeling and bowing her head, holding forth a battered leather satchel.
 

“I would offer this to you, should you wish it.”
 

“What is it?” Keel-Tath asked.

The healer opened the satchel and pulled out a healer’s robe. Unlike the one she wore, which was torn, bloodstained, and threadbare, this one was immaculate, so white that it seemed to glow. “It is the robe I once wore before I fell from grace. I have kept it with me since then in the vain hope that I would one day wear it again with honor. I realize it is not a proper garment for a warrior, but it is all I have to give…”

Keel-Tath looked down at herself. Save for the gold band about her neck, she was fully nude, her leatherite armor and black undergarment left nothing more than ash by the cold heat of the Ka’i-Nur crystal, the metal armor plate scorched and warped.
 

“We would make you proper armor from what we may find here,” one of the armorers quietly suggested. Of course, the only raw material was the armor of those who had died after coming through the portal.

“No,” Keel-Tath replied, reaching out and taking the robe from the healer. “This is as it should be.” Looking at the others, she said, “While our nature is to wage war, I have come to heal our people, for the first time to make them as one.” She looked at the healer and saluted, bowing her head. “Nothing would be more appropriate. I am deeply honored by your gift. What is thy name?”

“An’ai-Kular, my mistress.” The healer bowed her head low and returned the salute before rejoining her companions.

“My thanks, An’ai-Kular.” As Keel-Tath donned the robe, Sian-Al’ai, who was looking the worse for wear but was recovering quickly after being tended by the healers, said, “We have only one problem now. This vessel has no doors to the others through which we might escape. We are trapped in here.”

Looking about, Keel-Tath saw that it was so. Even the opening far above that let in the light of the sun was closed. “And we cannot use our powers to escape,” she said quietly.
 

“There is a way,” Tara-Khan said, almost hesitantly.

She turned to him. “How?”

“You must destroy the crystal,” he told her, recalling what he had learned from the ancient scrolls. “Its power is what is preventing us from using our own.”

“Something tells me there is a catch to this,” Ka’i-Lohr said, having returned from his self-appointed task of disposing of Syr-Nagath’s body.
 

“Yes,” Tara-Khan told him. “The crystal’s power is also what maintains the vessel around us. Once that power is gone…”

“This chamber and anyone left inside will be destroyed,” Keel-Tath finished for him. “How long will we have?”

“I do not know.” He paused. “But it will not be long. We must remember that this place is not what it appears. We are not simply in a chamber deep under the Great Wastelands. This place is a bubble, if you will, in both space and time. When the collapse comes, I suspect it will be swift and catastrophic.”

“I think the true question,” Sian-Al’ai said, “is how to destroy the crystal? That has never been done. No one has even contemplated it.”

“Perhaps not in this age,” Tara-Khan told her, “but the ancients certainly did. As with so much else, Anuir-Ruhal’te foresaw this.” He turned to Keel-Tath. “You have the power to destroy it as an act of will. But…”

“But I will have to touch it again,” she finished for him, a shiver going down her spine as she stared at the obsidian crystal sitting atop its column.

“Yes, but it will not be as before.” He took her arm and pulled her close. “You now have within you the power of all seven crystals. The fire you felt before when you touched it…” He shook his head in wonder. “That is something you shall never again have to endure.”

That frightened her more than the thought of again experiencing such agony, and she saw the look of fearful amazement on the face of Sian-Al’ai. What had Keel-Tath become, that she would frighten a high priestess?
 

“Then let it be done,” Keel-Tath said at last, gathering her courage. “We must bring Ka’i-Nur to heel and stop the slaughter of our fleet.”

Tara-Khan let her go and stepped back. “Gather everyone around the dais,” he said to the others. “We must be close to her when it happens.”

***

An’ai-Kular, the healer who had given the robe to Keel-Tath, was flush with pride and honor. Long had it been since she had felt that way, since she had lost her braid and been consigned to the ranks of the honorless ones. But with the simple act of accepting her gift, Keel-Tath had redeemed her, at least in An’ai-Kular’s own eyes. The Bloodsong in her veins remained silent, but she secretly dared to hope that it would not always be so. Perhaps Keel-Tath would show mercy in both words and deed, and somehow return to An’ai-Kular and the others like her that which they had lost. But even if that should not come to pass, she was bound to Keel-Tath, and would be so forever.

Taking her place at the rear of the dense circle of Keel-Tath’s followers, who surrounded the child of prophecy as she stepped upon the dais of the crystal, An’ai-Kular awaited whatever must now come.

She gave a start as a hand gripped her shoulder.
 

It was Ka’i-Lohr. “I need your help,” he whispered into her ear in an urgent voice. “I believe one of the robed ones we left for dead may yet be alive!”

“This is not possible!" she whispered back, but did not hesitate. Ka’i-Lohr was among those most trusted by Keel-Tath, and she would heed his words.
 

Taking his hand, she ran with him to where the bodies of those who had died from their wounds after coming through the portal had been laid out. Thirteen lay in a long row, four warriors and seven robed ones.

“Here,” Ka’i-Lohr told her, kneeling beside a female builder who lay on her side, curled up in a fetal position. “The healing gel, quickly!”

Extracting the healing gel from her arm, An’ai-Kular knelt down and gently rolled the builder over.

She gasped as she beheld the charred countenance that could only be Syr-Nagath.
 

The Dark-Queen’s eyelids crackled open, the burned skin weeping blood, her bloodshot eyes fixing An’ai-Kular with a look of infinite hate as Ka’i-Lohr slammed his armored fist against the back of the healer’s head. Her mouth frozen into an “O” of terrified surprise, An’ai-Kular crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Snatching the healing gel from the healer’s hands, Ka’i-Lohr quickly squeezed it into a circle about as thick as his hand and put it over his mother’s face. Then he gathered her in his arms and ran for the others, just as the floor began to quake.

***

Keel-Tath once more stood before the crystal, which again had begun to pulse, the globe of dark light radiating from it expanding each time. As she focused her attention upon the facets, the pulses began to quicken, like a heart beating with fear.
 

“And fear me you should,” she whispered as she raised her arms, palms out. “For your time, and that of the Ka’i-Nur, has come to an end.”

Gathering her courage, holding onto Tara-Khan’s reassurance that she would not feel the agony of every cell in her body being torn apart, she leaned forward and pressed her hands against the crystal’s facets…and felt nothing more than a cool, smooth surface, as if she were touching a giant gemstone.
 

She hesitated for a moment, suddenly worried that if she destroyed the crystal, she would also destroy the portal between the living and the dead that had been opened.

“You need not fear, my child,” a familiar voice whispered. “
You
are the gateway now,” Ayan-Dar’s voice told her. “Our spirits live on through you, to serve you.”

Closing her eyes, she imagined the crystal destroyed, crushed into powder.
If it is thy will, my mistress
, Anuir-Ruhal’te had said,
it shall be done.
 

The crystal’s light drinking darkness began to fade, the pulsing light now the dark crimson of hot steel. Crimson gave way to red, then orange, yellow, then white as her hands channeled the energy of her mind and spirit. She heard the voices of those clustered around the dais, murmuring with fear and wonder, and in the case of those standing nearest, of pain at the tremendous heat now radiating from the crystal. But the voices were muted, as if spoken from far away, and she did her best to ignore them.

She concentrated harder, her heart beating in time now with the crystal’s pulses, her breath coming in rapid gasps. Her body trembled and her muscles ached as during a hard fought battle. Opening her eyes into slits, she saw that the crystal was now a blazing white, pulsing brighter and brighter. Her hands should have been burning, but she still felt only the same cool smoothness as before.
 

The floor of the chamber trembled, then shook so hard that her followers were brought to their knees as a deafening rumble filled the air. She herself would have been thrown to the floor, but she found that now her hands were fused to the blazing crystal. The chamber rocked again, then again. Chunks of stone broke away from the ceiling, falling the dozens of spans to shatter against the floor, which itself began to buckle. Cracks ripped across the walls of the dome in random zigzags. Entire sections fell inward as the chamber began to collapse.

At last, the crystal itself began to fracture. She could not see the cracks against the blinding glare, but she could feel them with her hands, see them in her mind. The pulsing now was gone, the crystal’s fierce light constant, as if voicing a wail of agony.
 

She felt something inside it snap, and she used every bit of strength she had left to crush it, not with her hands, but her mind. “
It is…my…will!
”

With a final burst of light, the crystal disintegrated, exploding into countless shards as she had imagined, each bright as a star but no larger than a grain of sand. They spiraled outward in every direction before fading into nothingness.