Free In Her Name: The First Empress: Book 01 - From Chaos Born by Michael R. Hicks Page A

Ayan-Dar asked, “And what of the war, my friends? I have heard little news of the world beyond the temple’s boundaries. I can sense the fighting to the east, but it is little more than an endless song of struggle and death.”
    “Syr-Nagath will soon control all of T’lar-Gol,” Ulana-Tath told him without preamble.  
    “You do not sound happy that your sovereign has met with such great success.” The priest’s remark carried more than a hint of irony.
    “We are bound to Syr-Nagath by honor, Ayan-Dar, but I fear that darkness clouds our future.” Kunan-Lohr spoke quietly as they strode down the lane.  
    “So has it always been, master of Keel-A’ar.” The priest turned to him. “Every great war precedes the next collapse. It is only a question of how high Syr-Nagath can climb before the foundation crumbles beneath her feet. The darkness you see beyond the horizon in your mind is what all great warriors see before the coming fall.” He offered a grim smile, gesturing at his eye with his good hand. “We may only hope that the fall will be confined to the Homeworld, and that the Settlements do not again come calling. I enjoy the thrill of battle, the fire in my blood, but carnage on such a scale…” He shook his head.
    “I fear worse than that.”  
    Before Kunan-Lohr could say more, Ulana-Tath announced, “We are here.”
    They stood before the entrance to a large circular building of shimmering stone, with many crystal windows to let in the light of the sun and sky.  
    Three wardresses stood waiting, and after saluting, gestured for them to enter.
    The creche was a study in organized pandemonium, or so it seemed at first glance. The older children, up to six or seven cycles of age, were divided up into groups that played a variety of games that challenged their bodies and minds. They were a boisterous lot this morning, filling their part of the creche with recitations of the Se’eln , the orthodoxy of the Way that governed etiquette and behavior. At a whispered command from the wardress leading their lessons, they instantly fell silent and, as one, knelt and rendered a salute to the visiting dignitaries.
    Kunan-Lohr and Ulana-Tath returned the salute. Ayan-Dar stepped forward, looking more closely at the children, who were clothed in the gauzy black fabric that all who walked the Way wore under their robes or armor.  
    “May thy Way be long and glorious, my children.” Then he returned their salute and bowed his head. He could not help but smile as he sensed their pride soar at his words.
    The wardresses led them through the chamber where the toddlers played, attended by a small army of wardresses. The wardresses knelt and saluted, and the three dignitaries returned the honor as the children stilled, watching the great warriors pass through their chamber.
    “Even now do they sense us in their blood,” Ayan-Dar marveled. In all his travels, he had never visited a creche, even the one at the temple, for he had never found a need to. Old fool , he chided himself. What else have you missed in your misspent life?
    “In here.” The senior wardress passed through the portal leading to the chamber that belonged to the infants.
    Ayan-Dar stopped dead in his tracks as he caught sight of the child, who was being held by her wet nurse. Keel-Tath was bound gently in a warm blanket, her white hair and crimson talons clearly visible.
    “My priest?” Ulana-Tath asked him. She was clearly disturbed by his open-mouthed stare and sense of utter shock.
    He said nothing. After a moment, he stepped forward to look closely at the child, who stared up at him, reaching with her tiny fingers.
    “Who knows?” Ayan-Dar turned to Kunan-Lohr. “Who knows that she is born of white hair and crimson talons?”
    With a gesture around him with both hands, Kunan-Lohr told him, “All of the city, of course.”
    “Nearly everyone has come to see her.” Ulana-Tath moved closer to her daughter, her hand instinctively wrapping