Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,151

force to have a hope of successfully assaulting this place. He glanced at the prisoners, huddled and sprawled in the shadows. For these men, and perhaps for his own missing warriors as well, it had to be now. He tried not to think about the fact that he had not caught a glimpse of a Sil’ath among their numbers. The light was poor, and hope was not yet lost.

His gaze drifted to the nondescript shapes submerged in the viscous pools of green fluid, and he dragged it back to the creature at the center of the chamber.

Concentrate on the task at hand, he chided himself. Free the living before thinking to avenge the dead.

“Name yourself, Adept,” the towering creature called up to him in a grating tone. “We would know our enemy.”

It was confirmation that she viewed an Adept as an enemy, at least. His mind raced. Would she recognize a false name? And who else did she include in we?

“Names hold power, foul one,” he shouted back. “You may continue to call me Adept for now.”

She hissed and shifted in her stand, but gave no sign that she found his response suspect.

“What of you?” he asked. “By what name would you be known?”

“Nar’ath queens have no name,” she spat. “Only purpose.”

Nar’ath? He frowned at the term, even as he heard a soft intake of breath from Bellimar behind him. He glanced back at the old man.

“Nar’ath means ‘of the sands’,” Bellimar whispered. “Just as Sil’ath means ‘of the scales’, very loosely translated. Both names come from a tongue long lost to this world, and it implies these creatures have chosen a name from another time, or were given it very long ago.” He stared at the creature below. “It implies they may not be new to this world after all.”

Despite the low pitch of his voice, the Nar’ath queen overheard him.

“This fleshling speaks true,” she said with an odd mingling of anger and pride in her voice. “But of course the Adept knows this already, for it was his kind that named us. A dismissive, scornful name it was meant to be, given in arrogance. But still we have kept it all this time, and we have made it our own. We have grown strong, and you will not dismiss us again.”

The queen watched him with an air of expectancy, but he did not know what reply to make and so made none rather than risk giving himself away. She hissed in dissatisfaction, grasping with long black claws at the stone formed about her. Amric heard a grating noise from within that enclosure, and he wondered at the size and shape of the concealed portion of her form. From the harsh, heavy nature of the sounds, he guessed that there was more of her hidden than showing.

He reached the bottom step and his boot heel sank slightly into the firm sand of the cavern floor. He strode toward her, his manner confident and unhurried, hoping to emulate the being that was fearsome enough to give her pause. Without glancing aside, he was aware of the others stealing like shadows around the edge of the room. The queen paid them no heed, as if they were utterly beneath her notice. Instead she continued to track him and him alone, her alien features an expressionless mask, her eyes a simmering green.

He stopped at the outer edge of one of the pools and looked down. The waters gave off a soft, pulsing glow that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere. It was impossible to tell the depth of the pool, as it was packed near to overflowing with tightly wrapped bodies. Some unseen current tugged at those cocooned forms, rippling the top of the pool as the pods rolled and churned beneath the surface. The sickly green glow peeked through gaps in the moving clusters, cupping them with spectral, possessive fingers of light. It was a disorienting display, a sinister and graceful dance in slow motion.

Amric’s stomach turned as he realized that not all the motion came from the current. Some of the shapes were writhing and straining against their bonds. He fought the urge to draw his sword and cut the folds of cloth-like material. Grim instinct warned him that he was not witnessing natural creatures struggling to survive, but rather the awakening of new fiends, subservient to the queen.

“Cunning Adept,” the Nar’ath queen murmured, breaking the brief silence. “Have you come to make me pay for my overconfidence in