Read In Her Name: The First Empress: Book 01 - From Chaos Born for Free Online Page B

unfortunate warriors and, no doubt, those not of the warrior caste, as well.
    “Do you know what I am, daughter?” Ayan-Dar did not need to gesture at the rune on his breastplate, for it gleamed in the flickering fire light like a thing alive. While he did not fear them, he was surprised that they did not fear him . It was nearly unheard of for honorless ones to attack a warrior they knew to be of the priesthood.
    “I know that you will be dead, old priest, if you do not do as I say.” She stepped closer, a glittering sword in one hand.  
    Looking closer, his eyes widened with recognition. Every weapon was unique, hand-crafted by the armorers, and he knew this one quite well. It was the object of the final quest of a promising young acolyte, Ria-Ka’luhr, whom Ayan-Dar had sent into the mountains of the north several months before. It was the last thing he had to complete before he would have been selected to become a priest. And a fine priest he would have made, Ayan-Dar knew.
    Ria-Ka’luhr had disappeared without a trace. And yet, here was the sword.
    The girl, for she was little more, by age, looked down at the sword she held. “He died bravely. He killed four of us before he fell.”
    He suspected her words were a lie. Ria-Ka’luhr had been a skilled swordmaster, and would have killed more than four of these vermin before falling to their ill-treated blades.
    “And how many of you will die at the hands of his master?” Ayan-Dar, the fire of bloodlust rising in his veins, stood, his left hand clenching tightly at his side.  
    “None.”  
    Many cycles of training, even before he had become a priest, had given Ayan-Dar an exceptional sense of hearing. Behind him was a soft whine and click, that few other than a priest or priestess would have heard.
    In a blur of motion, he whirled toward the brigand who stood behind him, holding a projectile weapon. It was ancient, a relic from before the last fall, a type of weapon that was regarded with contempt by the warrior caste. But it was quite effective at its intended function of killing.
    Before the brigand could pull the weapon’s trigger, the hilltop was bathed in a searing flash of cyan as a bolt of lightning shot from Ayan-Dar’s outstretched hand, vaporizing the brigand with a deafening boom.
    Continuing the turn of his body, he took the three shrekkas in turn, hurling them at the three opponents who were farthest away. The whistling blades took the heads from all three. The bodies, fountaining blood from their severed necks, collapsed to the ground and twitched.
    Coming back around to face forward, Ayan-Dar’s sword sang from its sheath. With blinding speed he lunged forward and first cut the hand from the girl that held his acolyte’s sword, then he took off one of her feet.  
    Disarmed and immobilized, she fell to the ground, screaming.
    Five of the remaining honorless ones charged him, while the other three ran away. Or tried to.  
    Flinging his sword into the air to momentarily free his hand, Ayan-Dar leaped in a somersault far over his attackers’ heads, stretching out his arm toward the three who were attempting to flee. Bolts of lightning erupted from his palm, and the three kurh-a’mekh vanished in clouds of white ash.
    He caught his sword in mid-air before landing in the midst of the five surviving brigands. In a single breath, their bleeding corpses lay at his feet, their armor hacked and pierced by his great sword.
    Flicking the blood from his blade, he sheathed it before returning to the fire and the young female who lay writhing there. The burning in his blood cooled to melancholy sorrow as he watched her agonized struggles.
    “It did not have to be this way, young one.” He knelt beside her and put his hand on her forehead. He was not a healer, but with his powers he could ease pain. In a moment, her thrashing ceased, and her breathing slowed. She stared up at him as he removed his hand. “You could have walked away, and I would have