The Wretched Race (Epic of Ahiram Book 3)

by Michael Joseph Murano

  “Hoda,” Karadon yelled. With a moan he forced himself back on his feet. “Are you …” he stopped when he saw Arfaad. “What happened?”

  “The goddess,” Arfaad whispered, “a sword not made by human hands. Cahloon was right. At last, I am going to die.”

  Hoda joined Karadon by the captain’s side.

  “You know,” Arfaad whispered, “I was in love with … your village.” His body shuddered, and then went limp. Arfaad was dead.

  Karadon grabbed his wife and hugged her tightly. He was shaking. “That was close. Too close.”

  “I know.” Hoda clung to her husband.

  “I’ll tell Ashod we’re going to need time off from missions,” he said. “If he argues with me, I’ll just whack him on the head.”

  Holding each other close, they stood motionless for a while. “He wanted to die,” she said softly. “He desired to die. How awful.”

  “There are worse things than dying,” Karadon replied. “Help me collect our weapons before someone walks into this room.”

  “What has become of the world?” Hoda wondered while retrieving the knives. She bent over Arfaad’s body, and after a slight hesitation, pulled the knife from his chest. “Clean as a whistle,” she observed.

  “What madness have we fallen into?” Karadon said.

  “What’s going on?” said Merial, stepping inside the cave.

  They turned around and faced the soldier. Hoda held the four blades she was carrying behind her back.

  “We … Arfaad …” Hoda stammered.

  “So he killed himself then,” Shrennoh added, coming after him. “The captain lost it.”

  The two men stooped over and inspected the body. “This past month, he’d lock himself in his apartment every night and scream,” Merial said.

  “What happens now?” Hoda was rigid. “Will you detain us?”

  The two soldiers looked at each other.

  “It seems to me,” Shrennoh said, “that the captain walked into this cave alone and killed himself.”

  “Agreed,” Merial said. “You three were in the adjoining cave just to the right of this one. You were tired and weary. You didn’t hear a thing. You were never in this cave.”

  “Well,” Karadon said, “we fought and there may be some … wounds.”

  Merial inspected the body once more. “I don’t see any,” Merial said. “Besides, his body is turning jelly-like. I’m afraid there won’t be much left of him by the morning.”

  “And the two other soldiers?” Karadon asked.

  “We’ll take care of things,” Merial replied. “Let’s check the crate over there. That’s a High Riders’ crate,” he added as he walked inside. “Give me a hand with these.” He handed Karadon two backpacks and two rolled mattresses. He grabbed a large jug of water and gave it to his companion. “Now let’s move out. Se … I mean, Shrennoh, you go down and bring the two other guys up here. Once they’re inside I’ll take you to the other cave. Later, all four of us soldiers will come by to check on you.”

  Hoda smiled radiantly in relief, and the two men blushed. “Thank you,” she said. “We’ll need to get back to town quickly, tomorrow.”

  “We’ll leave you the carriage,” Shrennoh said. “Just bring it to the gate tomorrow before noon.”

  “Obviously, we can’t walk into the city with Vily,” Karadon said.

  “She’ll attract attention. I’ll think of something,” Shrennoh replied.

  “Thank you so much,” Hoda said. “You are very kind.”

  “The least we can do for a true Finikian goddess,” Shrennoh blurted out. His eyes widened and he turned red. “Did I just say that out loud? I didn’t, did I?”

  “Didn’t hear a thing,” Hoda said. “Nothing whatsoever.”

  “But I’m certain Lamia will hear all about it,” Merial muttered. “Come on now, Seamar, let’s go—”

  “Seamar?” Hoda said with shock, “I thought your name was …” She drew closer and looked at him. “It is you, isn’t it? Seamar from Byblos?”

  Relief washed over Seamar’s face. “Yes, Mrs. Hoda, that’s me. I didn’t want to, you know, confuse the situation by telling you who I was, so I used my cousin’s name instead.”

  “How you have grown,” she said. “You were such a shy boy … and look at you now, a grown-up soldier. So you remembered me?”

  “It’s hard to forget you, Mrs. Hoda.”

  “When did you leave Byblos?”

  “A few weeks after they destroyed Baher-Ghafé. I couldn’t bear the thought of going to the market and not seeing you … I mean, not be able to, you know, buy shark meat. It was—”

  Hoda placed her hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Your Lamia is fortunate. She is marrying a man worthy of any goddess. Thank you.”

  Hoda took Vily gently by the hand and led her outside the cave.

  Karadon glanced one last time at the dead man. “What a pity. What a wasted life.” He shook the hands of the two soldiers and crossed the steeply inclined passage that led him back out to the open space in front of the entrance. The two statues looked even more ominous in the darkness. Hoda called out to him from behind the tall statue.

  “The other cave is further out along this path,” she told him. “Let’s be on our way before the soldiers come. Here, I’ll carry the backpacks and you carry the mattresses. Leave the water jug, they’ll bring it with them.”

  She lit a torch Merial had given her, and they rounded the right side of the main cave and walked slowly along an uneven path.

  “You know,” Karadon said, “I never thought I would be relieved to see a soldier flirting with you.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Seamar wasn’t flirting with me, and you know that. He had a crush on me when he was young. But Karadon, you know what’s scarier?”

  “Aside from being pursued by a mad crowd and escaping an assassination attempt by a crazed captain? No, what’s scarier?”

  “I didn’t recognize him, Karadon. I didn’t recognize Seamar.”

  “Careful where you’re going,” he said. “The path is really in a bad shape here. What’s scary about that?”

  “The point, Karadon,” Hoda retorted, stopping in her tracks, “is that I wouldn’t be able to recognize Ahiram either. He could pass right by me and I wouldn’t know it.”

  Karadon nodded and grinned. “So what?” he said cheerfully. “You might not recognize him, but do you think he wouldn’t recognize his Hoda? Seamar recognized you instantly, and you’re worried that your brother won’t?”

  “You have a point,” she said hesitantly. “But what if he doesn’t see me? Maybe we’ll cross paths and he just won’t notice me.”

  “No sense worrying about that, now is there? Let’s get through tomorrow first.”

  Hoda fell silent. The star-studded cupola overhead was simply breathtaking, but she did not see it. Karadon said nothing and let her be. Meeting with Seamar resurfaced buried emotions, painful memories of the distant past, of her life as the daughter of a shark fisherman in Baher-Ghafé. With these memories, she felt a sense of deep loss and heightened anxiety. She had just escaped death at the hands of a madman, but the memories, the deep memories of the past, hurt her even more. How strange is the human heart, she thought, and how unpredictable.

  The cave was hidden behind a cluster of tall trees. Two planks of wood barred the entrance and they were happy to find it warm and well-swept. Karadon scanned it for critters or small animals, but found none. They quickly placed the mattresses in a corner and Hoda helped Vily lay down. She distinctly heard the young girl breathe a sigh. Hoda ran her hand on Vily’s face and then kissed her.

  “Don’t worry, Vily, we’re going to get you back.”

  Moments later, the four soldiers came by with the water jugs and food.

  “Is everything all right?” Merial asked.

  “Yes, thank you,” Karadon said. “The little one is sound asleep and we’re going to follow suit.”

  “Proves she’
s not vanishing,” muttered one of the other soldiers.

  “Still, we better spend the night here now,” Merial said. “No sense in going back to Tirka at this hour. The gates are closed and you’d have to stand in line with the rest of the caravans. You’ll be safe here. Just lean that plank against the bottom half of the entrance and you’ll be fine.”

  “What about the horses?” Karadon asked.

  “Yeah, about that,” Seamar said, “Merial and I will stay with them to keep an eye on things. Besides, he and I have to practice some more of our zajal. So don’t your worry if you hear wolves howling or something. That’ll be a sign they’re laughing their heads off at his defeat.”

  Merial smacked Seamar on the back of the head. “We’ll see who’s going to be laughing soon enough. Well, we’ve kept you up far too long. See you in the morning.”

  The four soldiers took their leave and went back down the stairs. The two other soldiers took off to Tirkalanzibar while Seamar gathered bits of wood to light a fire.

  “Will you wipe that silly smile off your face?” Merial told him. “You look like a guy who has just seen the goddess of love.”

  Seamar’s smile broadened. “Not only did I see her, but she took me in her chariot too,” he replied. “She told me I’m worthy of a goddess’ love.”

  Merial whacked him on the head and shrugged his shoulders. “You and your silly ideas.”

  Seamar did not react, but kept on smiling. Later, as the two of them sat around the fire, a cold wind blew anew as if to mourn the man who worshiped a goddess to his death and cheer the one who protected the woman he had cherished since childhood.

  “The Temple has in its employ a group of zakiruun for various functions. Some of them are entrusted with Arayatian bestiary, a compendium of creatures spawned from the Arayat. It is scrupulously kept and updated regularly whenever a shogol or an Arif priest encounters a new monster and lives to tell the tale. Nevertheless, it would be a grave mistake to assume that this bestiary is all encompassing. Surely, there are creatures of the Pit that the Temple has never heard of. Perhaps this is for the better, for who knows what lurks in the depth of the Spell World, ready to devour an unsuspecting soul passing by.”

  –Teachings of Oreg, a High Priest of Baal.

  After leaving Lorelay and the treehouse she had fallen in love with, Aquilina moved swiftly through the Tyrulian flora back to the blinding lake of sounds emanating from Tirkalanzibar. She focused her gaze on the black splotch in the center.

  “Say ‘listen’ after you walk into the lake,” the mystery woman had told her. Resolutely, the young girl stepped into the swirling mass of sounds. Instantly, her hearing was assailed by audible fragments: camels braying, someone shouting, a man giving orders, a woman yelling, and many other indistinct bits of conversations as she moved through the auditory slush. Slowly, she was submerged in the madness of sounds and screams that was Tirkalanzibar. Hundreds of sounds assaulted her, as if a multitude was yelling in her face. She clenched her jaw and refused to muffle her ears with her hands. She knew this would be useless, for in Tyrulan, whenever any part of her body touched the strange outgrowth, she would be forced to hear the corresponding sound.

  Staying focused, she kept moving forward until she saw the submerged portion of the dark mass straight ahead. She stopped and watched for the slightest movement of the creature that the woman in the tree house had called a shemmet, and was heartened when it did not budge. She resumed her painful slow walk, wading through a maddening jungle of screams, until she stood a few feet away from the monster.

  “Listen,” she commanded.

  A searing pain invaded her every fiber as tens of thousands of sounds streamed through her ears, nearly overwhelming her. She heard every discussion and felt every emotion—the pain, the sorrow, the joy—of every speaker. She stood with the camels in their stalls and heard each of their shrieks, felt their frustration and fear. Every word, every thought affected her, and she felt as if her heart was being pierced by the accumulated misery, by the tragedy that so many of Tirka’s victims carried beneath the veil of rigid smiles.

  Resolutely, Aquilina anchored her will to these fleeting words, and like a taut sail in a brisk wind, she steadied her heart. Similar to an eagle rising above the storm, she rose over the din and steered her heart to safer shores. The level of filaments from the lake diminished rapidly, as if she were draining it, absorbing all the sounds that a city of nearly one hundred thousand generated every second of a very busy day. Aquilina felt as though someone had stabbed her body with thousands of needles. Suddenly, she coughed up blood, and that sound she had to also absorb.

  Hundreds of ears popped on the shemmet. Inside each of them stood a white lidless pupil. The young girl knew the beast was now aware of her presence. Speak, she thought, then she opened her mouth and screamed.

  All the sounds she had absorbed combined into an otherworldly scream, something that perhaps a god might produce while dying, or a sound caused by mountains being sundered. Heat surged through her and she felt her heart explode. Dizzy, she coughed up more blood and nearly fainted, but her iron-fisted will kept her going. In Tyrulan, no sound came forth, nothing was heard, and nothing interrupted the immemorial quietude that governed this strange world. The beam lasted less than a minute, and the shemmet’s girth grew steadily as the monster absorbed it all, until at last, it took flight with an agility that surprised her. Deployed, the beast resembled a massive stingray covered with hundreds of ears.

  Move, Aquilina, the young girl thought. Her head was spinning and her breathing was ragged, but she forced herself to walk and managed to reach the edge of a deep hole the beast had been concealing. She wanted to dive into the hole but merely managed to tumble down. Tentacles shot forth from the beast’s body but missed her by mere inches.

  Fighting to stay awake, Aquilina focused on adjusting her posture. Where am I? All around her was darkness. Of course, it’s the monster. It’s absorbing all sound.

  How long she kept falling, she could not tell, but suddenly, she saw a speck of light far in the distance to her right. “Fly!” Aquilina commanded. Nothing happened. No lit filament issued forth from her mouth. The shemmet, she thought. He’s not allowing me to speak in Tyrulan. She glanced up and clenched her fists. He heard me. He’s coming for me!

  She ran toward the speck of light. Whether the speed of a run in Tyrulan was governed by the will of the runner or by the strange land responding to the runner’s wishes by shrinking itself to reduce the distance, Aquilina did not care to find out. She reached the spot seconds before the shemmet caught up with her. Her hand brushed against one of the filaments and Aquilina heard Corintus. Father’s voice! Time to leave Tyrulan. She grinned wildly and vanished from view just as the creature slammed into the small field of thin filaments and extinguished them.

  “Hello, Father,” Aquilina said as she landed next to Corintus. “It’s so good to see you!”

  Corintus and his companions were still stuck inside the maze with Cahloon. He had been repeating the same sentence he had used in the gardens of Gordion when testing Aquilina’s claim to Tyrulan. He grabbed his daughter and embraced her tightly.

  “My Aquilina, you heard me!”

  “Blood,” Amaréya observed. “Are you well, my child?”

  Aquilina stood up and bowed to her mother. “Yes, Mother, I am well.” Every muscle in her body ached. Her head was dizzy and throbbing, and her throat was parched. Every breath she drew was painful and she wished she could lie down for a rest, but to an Empyrean this meant that she was well.

  Slippery Slued whistled appreciatively. “Well, that’s an appearing act I’d like to learn,” he said, drawing close. “Slippery Slued, at your service,” he added bowing low.

  Aquilina was astonished. “The famous thief? Mother, are we consorting with thieves now?”

  “Ahem,” Corintus cut in. “Daughter, the word consorting should not be used lightly. I don’t think it means what you think it means. Be that
as it may, we have more pressing matters. Aquilina, please meet Cahloon.”

  Aquilina turned and faced the strange-looking creature that had the body of a monkey, the head of a hippo, and a pair of eagle’s wings. The young girl had the good sense not to scream. Instead, she bowed respectfully. “Princess Aquilina of Gordion, at your service,” she said.

  “My, my, what a polite child,” Cahloon said appreciatively. “Not only is she beautiful, she is also smart. That bodes well for our future.”

  “We are not in the normal world, are we?” Aquilina asked.

  “No. We are not,” Cahloon replied.

  “Father, how can I be of help?”

  “You need to find Cahloon’s pin that’s lost in this maze. The pin is a spell which is easier to hear than to see because it is constantly repeating the name of Cahloon. Can you do that?”

  Aquilina cringed. Under normal circumstances, she would not have thought twice about it. “I am not certain, Father.”

  “Why do you hesitate, child?” her mother asked.

  “I have met a silent nemesis,” Aquilina explained. “And I don’t know how to defeat him.”

  “What kind of nemesis?” Cahloon asked.

  “A shemmet.”

  Cahloon gave a start. “You faced a shemmet and survived? You are stronger than you look. A shemmet would explain why we are locked up here and why I am unable to find my pin. It is suppressing all sounds. Tell me, how do you know what this monster is called?”

  Aquilina looked at Cahloon and bowed once more. “My apologies, but that is not a question I am willing to answer.”

  Something like a chuckle rose from the creature’s throat. “Empyrean through and through,” she quipped.

  Corintus looked at his daughter. “Aquilina, what’s a shemmet?”

  He listened intently as his daughter related her latest journey in Tyrulan. She studiously omitted to mention the mystery lady she had met, preferring to wait until she was alone with her parents.

  “I see,” her father said. He restrained an inward shiver. He was afraid for Aquilina but knew this was not the moment to show it. “Is there a way to defeat this creature?”