But if I do that, I might burn her or destroy the place.
A risk you’ll have to take. There’s no other choice.
Yes, there is. I can let her vanish.
Do you want that?
Of course not, but I can’t risk—
Why don’t you reach out to the star and then see what happens? Let’s take it one step at a time.
Ahiram closed his eyes and immediately began to drift in a sea of emptiness. He saw lighted specks in the distance that grew progressively larger and moved away from him until only one remained. It grew so huge and brilliant that it covered his entire field of vision. Fiery storms roared on its liquid surface and he could not fathom how this massive ball of fire did not kill him. This is a wrathful god, he thought, and yet I’m still alive. How can this be?
Don’t do like last time, Sheheluth suggested. Hold the tile, but don’t throw it. Hold it and command the fire from the star to touch the medallion.
Ahiram lifted the tile before him and directed his will toward the star. He called for the fire to reach out to him and almost immediately, a tongue of fire engulfed him. He closed his eyes expecting to be burned alive, but he felt nothing.
The tile is glowing now. What should I do?
Go back to the room and touch the tile to the medallion.
Do you think it’ll work?
There was no response.
Ahiram opened his eyes and found himself back in the room. He was still crouched before Vily, and a blinding light streamed from his right fist. Slowly, carefully, he reached out and touched the medallion.
Release it. It’s enough. The thought exploded in his head like a scream.
He retracted his hand as if a snake had bitten it.
The medallion began to glow, and that glow expanded until it fully engulfed Vily, hiding her from view. Ahiram moved back and gave Ebaan a worried look.
“Now we wait,” she said. “We just wait.”
Ever since the vanishing took hold of her, Vily had been helpless. To those observing her, the vanishing gave the impression that she was fading, that she was disappearing, but the reality was just the opposite. The vanishing was like a crystal barrier that began as a sheen and grew steadily until it sundered her mind from her body. All through the last few weeks, she had been fully aware. She had seen the chase in Tirkalanzibar, she witnessed the attempted sacrifice of Hoda, she saw Aquilina appear over the altar and kick the captain. She also saw him fall on the stalagmite.
She had felt cramped hiding inside the litter when Corintus spirited her back into Tirkalanzibar. She was hungry and tired, she wanted to wash her face, but she could do nothing. It was as if someone else was in control of her body, as if someone was slowly pulling her into a dank mist, a dull plain without the light of day and without stars.
Vily was tired and frightened.
The medallion had helped her. She felt a comforting tingle on her chest where it hung. She noticed the crystal barrier had stopped growing, and she was no longer being constricted. But the days she had spent in this room had been the hardest. Time passed as slowly as grains of sand forming a mountain, with nothing to see or do, no one to listen to except for the occasional servant who came by daily and managed to slip a few drops of a bitter, pungent liquid into her mouth—a strong potion that had sustained her. Though Vily had bouts of dizziness and was very weak, she was alive. Hoda, Karadon, and Aquilina had risked their lives to save her, and she drew strength from their fortitude, refusing to submit to despair.
Aquilina is strong, she thought. I will be strong like her.
These thoughts kept her going. Still, she feared that unless something changed soon, the crystal barrier would eventually cover her face and she would be unable to breathe.
When the unusual sensation of heat sprang from the medallion on her chest and surrounded her, her hope soared. The reassuring heat continued to grow in strength and intensity, and suddenly, she heard the crystal crack. Inside the crystal bubble where she was confined, the temperature had not changed. The light suddenly became intense, and she saw a long fracture line run through the crystal. Without warning, it exploded, then quickly evaporated.
Vily gasped for air. Blood rushed through her veins, and she felt a searing headache. She closed her eyes, and fell forward.
“I got you!” someone said, and she felt two strong arms catch her. “I got you, Vily. You’re going to be all right.”
As the mist dissipated, she could make out the features of the young man holding her. Her focus cleared, and she looked into his eyes and saw his gentle smile. She sunk back in relief. A woman drew closer to her. “You are the first person to survive the vanishing,” she said. “This is truly remarkable!”
“What should we do?” asked the young man. “Should we let her rest?”
The woman bent down and picked up a small gold pin. “No, it’s not a good idea for her to remain here. We’ll send her back to her family and let them take care of her. I am certain they cannot wait to see her.”
Ebaan held the pin and drew a circle in front of Vily. The pin evaporated and a portal opened onto dunes where tents had been pitched. They saw a young girl sprint toward them. She had straight blond hair and ran like the wind. Ebaan took Vily from Ahiram’s arms and eased her slowly onto the sand across from the open portal.
“Vily!” screamed the other young girl, “Vily!” She leaped for joy and ran faster.
Great runner, Ahiram thought appreciatively. She’s got energy to spare. Slowly, the portal began to close and by the time the runner reached Vily, there was only a small opening left from which Ahiram could see. In that last moment, their eyes met, and the girl smiled. Ahiram smiled back and waved, and the portal finally close.
“Vily,” said Aquilina, holding her friend tightly, “I’m so very happy to see you. again.”
“I’m happy too, Aquilina,” Vily replied weakly.
“You’re talking, that’s fantastic! I was getting tired having conversations with you in my head. Come on now, hop on my back and I’ll carry you to our tent.”
Aquilina had reverted to her old self, to the younger girl Vily had first met. She spoke like a little girl, signaling to her friend that all was well, that they could go on being two mischievous youngsters with not a worry in the world. “Oh, Vily, you have to meet Sir Slippery Slued. He’s a thief and we’re consorting with him, but Father says that we are not, and Mother would be really upset if she found out he is teaching me to hypnotize animals. I’m trying now to hypnotize a frog, but it’s not working yet …”
Vily leaned her head against Aquilina’s strong shoulder and closed her eyes. Twenty-one days had gone by since Sheheluth had taken her away from Aquilina, but to Vily, they had been twice the length of a lifetime. Tears flowed gently from her eyes. Tears of happiness and relief, tears of joy and gratitude. At long last she was back with Aquilina, and Aquilina meant home to her. Her nightmare had ended, and no matter what the future held, so long as Aquilina was with her, the two together could face anything. Come what may, she would no longer live in fear. She was ready to defend her friend with her life if need be.
Amazing. That actually worked.
What do you mean, Sheheluth? You weren’t certain?
There was no answer.
“Who was that girl?” Ahiram asked. “Do you know her, Ebaan?”
The tall woman shook her head.
You and I are going to have a conversation, Sheheluth.
In your dreams. I don’t know who the girl is either. She was stuck here and needed help, and the medallion she was wearing had the same magical signature as your tile. So I thought you could maybe help her, and I was right. End of story.
Ahiram was not convinced.
“Here, take these,” Ebaan said, handing him a set of dull white beads joined together by a string. “These are curse-absorbers. They’ll absorb the curse of this medallion for about four weeks. Tie the string to your affected arm. After four weeks, you must take it off an
d hang it in the sun for seven consecutive days, after which you can use them again. Eventually, they’ll become brittle and break down, but they should serve you well.”
“Thank you, Ebaan.”
“Follow me,” she said. “There is one more thing you need to do before you can leave.”
She led him back through to the narrow corridor that led to the wide hangar opening to the Arayat, but instead of stopping there, they kept walking until they reached a dead end. A short flight of stairs to the right brought them to a narrow frame, beyond which lay a very large kitchen that basked in soft sunlight seeping in from a pergola. A white light ran the length of the frame. Intrigued, Ahiram drew closer.
“Don’t go any further,” Ebaan warned. “Just watch.”
He peered into the kitchen. Large pots and pans hung over a coal fire. Ahiram frowned. Something wasn’t right. Instead of billowing up gently and dissipating evenly in the air, the puffs of steam materialized over the pots and then vanished. One moment the covers were over the pots, and the next, they were beside them. Flour sifters, graters, mashers, cutting boards, cups, spoons, and other utensils jumped around like crickets. Toward the back of the room, a large wood-fired oven suddenly opened, seemingly on its own. To its left, a bread shovel suddenly disappeared and reappeared inside the oven, filled with loaves of bread that then appeared inside a large wicker basket. And all of this madness took place in complete silence and in a sort of visual blur.
“Am I dreaming?” Ahiram asked. “What’s going on?”
“This kitchen is not in Metranos. It is outside of my realm, and it is one of the many locations that provides us with real food.”
“How?”
“Through hidden bridges between us and them. Through the Arayat.”
“So I’m seeing this kitchen through a portal of sorts, but what’s with all the objects vanishing and jumping around like that? It’s as if someone has …” Ahiram’s eyes opened wide when he realized what he was seeing.
“You understand now?” she asked softly.
“I do. Every hour here is three days out there, so this kitchen is filled with cooks, bakers, and others, but we can only see them in a blur.”
“Exactly. Even though you feel you have only been here two hours, your body has been here for a whole two weeks in reality.” She said, stressing the last two words.
“I know that, but…” Ahiram opened wide his eyes and swallowed. “I …” he stammered, “I … haven’t had anything to eat or drink for two weeks, then, is that what you’re saying?”
Ebaan nodded.
He remembered the obscure words the false Ebaan had spoken to him when they met, “Your recklessness will see the end of you soon enough. You think you are smart, but there is one little detail that escapes you, and it will be the death of you, a death peaceful and as quiet as a sleeping child.”
He was right. Even though he told me about the different time structure between this world and ours, I didn’t think it through. That’s the deadly mistake. I would be dead the moment I step out.
“I wanted you to understand Metranos’ appeal,” Ebaan explained. “Most folks who come here do not go back. They become too old or too sick. They know their end is near, and they prefer the merriment of Metranos to a slow, agonizing death full of pain.”
“Even if it tethers their soul to the Arayat?”
Ebaan smiled, a thin sad smile. “The soul? What’s that next to pain?” A bell rang nearby. “Ah, the shipment of food has arrived. Come.”
They went back down the flight of stairs and farther into the long corridor until they reached an imposing steel door. Ebaan pushed it open and they walked into an eerie kitchen, where slaves of the Arayat shuffled, sullenly serving food onto huge platters while another large group of Arayatian slaves shuttled between the kitchen and a large hall next door, filled with boisterous laughter and excitement.
“Sit, eat, and drink,” said Ebaan.
“What will happen when I go back?”
“You’ll feel dizzy and weak, but it’ll pass. As long as you drink this,” she added, serving him a hot cup of a thick brown liquid, “you’ll be fine.”
“Is this Arayatian magic?” he asked suspiciously.
“It’s real magic,” she teased. “You might know it as lentil soup. It has enough nutrients to keep you alive when you cross back, so go ahead and serve yourself.”
Determined not to stand weak and dizzy before the dwarfs, Ahiram downed the fastest seven cups of lentil soup he had ever eaten until he could hardly breathe.
If Ebaan noticed, she said nothing.
“I’m ready,” he said, standing despite the stomach cramps.
“One last word of advice, besides the tajèr and his Arayatian guardians, two other groups are hunting you. One is a Kerta priest with magical creatures that extend his already great power. If he sees you before you see him, he could control your mind. You are not strong enough to face him, so don’t try. The third group is the worst of the lot; Sowasian assassins. They bear tattoos of a black crescent moon on their shoulders. They are still far from you, but do not underestimate them. Their weapons are curses shaped in steel. The slightest cut would inflict a debilitating curse you could not heal from.”
“Who sent them after me, do you know?”
“No, but I know it isn’t the Tajéruun, and it’s not the Temple. Neither of them have any dealings with Sowasians.”
Ahiram nodded. “Anyone else?”
She smiled. “Not now. Your path ahead is strewn with dangers, but you are not alone. Your fight has just begun. Bind your time, gain your strength, and keep running until you’re able to turn around and face your enemies.”
“I see” said Ahiram. “This is very helpful, thank you.”
“For now, you need to outrun the foes before you. Are you ready?”
Fire lit in the Silent’s eyes. “I won’t run, Ebaan. Instead, I will teach them how a Silent responds to threats.”
“Once upon a time, there were three crows perched in a tree, who bickered over a delectable piece of cheese laying on the ground below. Elmen, the first crow, cawed about his wing span and his perfectly polished beak. 'I, the most elegant of crows, should have the cheese.' Delmen, the second crow, cawed back, 'The sheen of my feathers outshines the sun, moon, and stars. For my sheen and feathers, I should have the cheese.’ Felmen, the third crow, puffed his chest, and showed them his talons. 'No bark, stone, or carrion is immune to my talented talons. For these alone, I shall be the master of the cheese.'
On went the three crows, Elmen, Delmen, and Felmen, each singing their praises, oblivious to the deep shadow of a dark cloud that covered the ground and hid from their haughty eyes one silent mouse, who stole and ate the cheese they so verily prized.”
–Memoirs of Shalimar the Poet.
“What? How many died in Ezoi?”
“At the very lasting least and least most lasting, twenty yurx,” Jinodus sullenly replied.
Ahiram winced. A yurx was the dwarfish measure for one hundred. That’s at least two thousand people killed in Ezoi at the hands of the Kerta priest. Is he killing all these people just to find me?
He looked at the old dwarf and did not know what to say. “I am truly sorry for your loss,” he whispered. “I was looking forward to seeing Jinomus and Jinorus again.”
Jinodus nodded. “Kerishal be greatly praised and praised most gratefully, Karak-Zuun is safely safe. The sacrificing sacrifice of Jinomus and Jinorus shall be gloriously sang and sang most gloriously in the Karangalatad.”
Ahiram nodded. Jinodus had explained how the two younger dwarfs chose to be captured rather than reveal the secret entrance into the underground dwarfish city.
Ahiram, Jinodus, and three more dwarfs were sitting inside a small cave within the subterranean labyrinthine passages of Xeindor-Thal, the first dwarfish outpost they had reached after leaving Karak-Zuun. Ahiram shivered, even though he was under two thick blankets. His fever had not yet fully abated.
His return to the real world had been far worse than he expected. Initially, he had managed to reach the deserted plateau with the standing dead tree just fine. There, he met with Jinodus and told him briefly what happened. They went back down into the deep canyon, retracing their footsteps along the dried riverbed until they reached the entrance of Shikar-Xaros, the far-flung mining dwarfish outpost. Initially he felt fine, but as they rode at breakneck speed—for Jinodus was intent on putting as much distance between them and Metranos as possible—he felt dizzy and weak, then his muscles collectively screamed in spasmic agony and the fever overtook him. He lost consciousness. Unwilling to stop, Jinodus pushed ahead and managed to reach Xeindor-Thal in the morning, when Ahiram’s fever took a turn for the worst. The older dwarf and his companions stopped in a secluded cave and tended to the Silent. When he finally came to, a few hours ago, three days had gone by, and Jinodus had told him that they had nearly lost him.
“You have a strongly strong constitutive constitution,” he told him. Then he shared with him the devastating news. A Kerta priest had laid waste to the city of Ezoi, killing nearly two thousand people while searching for Ahiram. The priest had the city surrounded by a contingent of High Riders with orders to kill anyone who attempted to escape. He was going through a systematic interrogation, killing his victims one by one. Karak-Zuun was under lock-down and its port closed.
“This Kerta priest is viciously vicious and patiently patient as a spirited spider. He will gladly kill everyone with an immeasurably measurable gladness.”
Ahiram closed his eyes and sipped at his bowl of soup. After I’m healed, I’m not eating soup for the next five years, he thought ruefully. Still, the hot liquid was nutritive and easy to digest. His stomach ached less, but his fever was still there.
“How will you avenge the deadly death of my kin?” Jinomus asked with a quiver in his voice.
Ahiram glanced at the dwarf and saw how upset he was. “Oh Silent, if you will to defeat your enemy, then plan before you act, and act before you mourn the dead, or else, prepare to join them, Book of Siril, Chapter five, verse one. Right now, I need to regain my strength if I’m to defeat this monster. This is how I honor the dead. This is how I avenge them.”
The Wretched Race (Epic of Ahiram Book 3) Page 28