Mistress Of The Ages (In Her Name, Book 9) Read Online Free Page A

Ulan-Samir took the hem of his cloak and brought it up in time to shield his glossy armor from the crimson rain that came his way. Syr-Nagath did not bother. She did not so much as blink as the blood struck her face and splattered over her. A few drops landed close by her mouth, and her tongue snaked out to lick them away.
    Blood. Syr-Nagath had tasted so much, nearly gorging herself on it, since she had begun the great conquest that would return Ka’i-Nur to the fullness of its deserved glory. She had fought endless challenges to win the honor of those now bound to her, and had punished countless warriors who chose to defy her. Still bound to the Way as maintained by the priesthoods since the end of the Second Age, those she conquered had yet to embrace the Way of the Ka’i-Nur, which was brutal and unforgiving, where pain was meted out and accepted as a matter of course, and often for its own sake. And in that feral, primal spirit Syr-Nagath saw the ultimate beauty that she intended all of her kind to share, willingly or not. Many who pledged their honor to her rebelled when ordered to kill robed ones or younglings, and many had been the fires that had consumed them alive before the eyes of their kin, after she had taken the Braid of the Covenant from those who had betrayed her. Having set enough such examples for others to witness, few now chose to forsake their honor after offering her their sword.
    Giving her former First one last, disgusted look, Syr-Nagath returned her sword to its scabbard. To the nearest warrior, who stood at rigid attention, she said, “You are now my First. Did you hear what I told this craven fool?”
    “Yes, my priestess!” The male warrior bellowed.
    “Then do as I command, lest you suffer the same fate.”
    “At once, my priestess!” Without another word, the young male dashed for the adjoining chamber where keepers of the Books of Time were gathered. The empathic links of keepers were stronger than that of the other castes, and they could convey instructions to one another in messages akin to waking dreams. Other keepers were deployed with Syr-Nagath’s forces to receive commands and report back on their progress, or lack thereof.
    Ulan-Samir, having lowered his arm and the shield of his cape, looked at the map showing the Desh-Ka temple and the attacking forces arrayed around it. “What makes you believe you will succeed? They have never been defeated in open battle, not once in all the Books of Time.”
    Syr-Nagath slowly wiped her former First’s blood from her face with the back of her gauntleted fingers and licked it up with her tongue. “Your records do not reach far enough into the past, high priest of the Nyur-A’il,” she said with a smile, the lines between her teeth glistening with crimson. “The Books of Time held by the Ka’i-Nur are far older, and they tell a different story.”
    ***
    The three worlds of the ancient settlements beyond the Homeworld bore the names of the priesthoods that had been tasked with their stewardship at the end of the Second Age. Like the Homeworld, kingdoms great and small on each of the Settlements rose and fell time and again, with the priesthoods ensuring the feet of those in their charge remained firmly on the path of the Way. The three settlements and their priesthoods also balanced out the power of the Homeworld for those rare times when a leader arose to gather enough power and resources to attack across the stars. None had ever been victorious, but that would never stop a warrior intent on conquest. So it had been for a hundred thousand cycles of the Homeworld about its sun until this very day, when all that the priests and priestesses had sought to preserve, the very equilibrium of their ancient civilization that had enabled them to survive so long, was threatened with destruction.
    The most high of the three orders among the Settlements— the Ima’il-Kush, Kura-Hagil, and T’lan-Il — had agreed to gather at the temple of the