The Wretched Race (Epic of Ahiram Book 3)

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The Wretched Race (Epic of Ahiram Book 3) Page 37

by Michael Joseph Murano


  “But what is my crime?” Ahiram asked. “I am a worker at the port of Byblos and—”

  “Liar! You are an intruder, a spy.”

  “A spy?”

  “Yes! A spy.” He grabbed the young man’s face with one hand and examined it closely. “Such an innocent face. No one would have guessed that you were a spy sent from Tanniin to destroy us.”

  “Sent from Tanniin to destroy you? Destroy who? This is absurd.”

  General Nebo slapped him hard. “Insolent. How dare you? Have you forgotten that you are a slave? A slave who had the impertinence of entering the Games of the Mines? A slave who dared lay his hand on Prince Olothe?”

  Ahiram studied the general, then remembered what Orwutt and Zurwott had said to him during their long talk: Nebo was Olothe’s brother. This is bad, the Silent thought. Much worse than I anticipated.

  “I am the prince’s brother, and I tell you that in two days, before the rays of the sun hit the rooftops of the Temple, you shall die. Do you have anything to say?”

  Ahiram dropped his head and closed his eyes. What was there to say? His fate was sealed at the hand of the general. He had tried calling Noraldeen, without success, and concluded that the distance from Baalbek to Byblos was too great for his sword to come to him. I guess my control over the sword works over relatively short distances. Olothe, it seems, is going to have the last word after all. Calling the Letter of Power would have to be an act of last resort, for he did not know what would happen if he tried to use it inside a temple of Baal.

  “In two days, you shall die at dawn,” repeated the general as he walked toward the door, “and I shall see your head roll before my feet.” Nebo’s laughter covered the soldiers’ footsteps. The door shut behind them and darkness fell inside the cell.

  Ahiram sighed. Never lose hope. Habael’s words came to him. He sighed and murmured as though the old man was standing next to him, “My dear Habael, there is nothing much to hope for now, is there? Here I am, back in my homeland, among my people, and yet I feel as a foreigner in some faraway land.”

  Do not lose hope. The voice was insistent, like a shout of command, like a powerful surge, a song of victory, the harbinger of a new day.

  Ahiram could not help but smile. “Fine, Master Habael,” he said at last, “You win. I will not lose hope. After all, I am still alive.”

  “Long and wearisome had been the search of Alissaar Ben- Nadam for the enigmatic Seriathörist Candelabrum portrayed in the lore of the Wars of Meyroon. It was said that the candelabrum would lock or unlock the Pit. This, Alissaar did not take seriously, pointing out that ancient authorities impute to the candelabrum the power of a key to uncover a potent weapon hidden in the dark shadows of the Earth. What this weapon was and whether it could be used for good or evil, Alissaar could not tell since the candelabrum eluded him and every sorcerer of Baal after him.”

  –Teaching of Oreg, a High Priest of Baal.

  Early in the morning, two soldiers and a Kerta priest visited Ahiram. The presence of the Kerta sent shivers up his spine. “You’ve got an hour to eat and perform your ablutions,” one of the soldiers said.

  Ahiram nodded. He knew that the Temple forced prisoners condemned to death to perform their ablutions, lest their impurities defile the Temple when they died. As long as Ahiram followed the soldiers’ orders, the Kerta left him alone. After completion, he was shackled back to the wall. These visits were repeated twice, and after sunset he was left alone, still shackled against the dirty wall. The moon streaked the dark night and fell from view. Ahiram dozed off despite the uncomfortable posture.

  He woke up suddenly when a tall figure emerged from an opening in the wall across from him.

  “Nothing much has changed,” the figure whispered. “You always manage to get yourself in trouble, and I have to rescue you, which might have been enjoyable if you were a pretty princess.”

  Ahiram could hardly believe his ears. “Banimelek?” he said softly. “What are you doing here?”

  “Could ask you the same thing,” the tall Silent replied as he drew closer, knelt down, and broke the tip of an acid dart over the chains. A thick, putrid liquid oozed from the opening, and Banimelek spilled half of it on each of Ahiram’s manacles. He worked with precision, careful to avoid any contact between the liquid and his friend’s wrists. The iron plates constricting Ahiram’s movements hissed softly as the liquid formed a deep gash into them. Putrid amber fumes rose from the melted metal. Both Silent held their breath until the hissing stopped. Banimelek stood up and kicked each of the restraining steel bands. They both shattered on impact. The entire operation lasted less than three minutes.

  “Let’s move,” Banimelek whispered, “we have little time.”

  Ahiram collected the shattered pieces and followed his friend into the tunnel, careful to not leave any footprints that would reveal their escape route. Once outside the jail room, he threw the remnants of his shackles and caught up with his friend.

  “Banimelek, why are you here?”

  “Mission from the commander. Jedarc and Hiyam are with me.”

  “Jedarc? Here?” Ahiram chafed. “I told that idiot not to put himself in any danger.”

  “Listen, mother-hen, we’re Silent. We breathe danger.”

  “Still,” grumbled Ahiram, “Why—”

  “If it’s any consolation, Orpheli is with us too.”

  “Orpheli? That must be a dangerous mission for the commander to unleash the blind Silent. What am I saying? You’re inside a temple of Baal, of course it’s dangerous.”

  “Every Silent is on one mission or another. In case you’ve not heard, we’re preparing for a war back home.”

  Ahiram nodded. He looked down, feeling suddenly ashamed. Orwutt and Zurwott had relayed to him that Lord Orgond wanted to unify the Kingdom and that they were preparing to overtake the forces of Baal in the south. As the twin dwarf brothers were leaving Kazak-Zuun, Ahiram had entrusted Orwutt with a message to the commander concerning the outcome of the war.

  “Listen, Banimelek,” he said after a while, “you just have to say it and I’ll go back ho... to Tanniin with you.”

  “No can do. In case you haven’t heard, you’re also on a mission from the commander, so no need to feel shame because you think you’ve abandoned your friends.”

  “I’m on a mission?”

  Banimelek chuckled. “Sometimes your mind is as sharp as your blade, and at other times, like now, you’re as dull as a new Silent recruit. Did you really think the commander would have let you, a solitary, go on a personal quest when the Kingdom is facing an existential danger? Don’t you know that there are other members of the Silent Corps who would love to find a lost family member?” Banimelek glanced sideways and grinned. Ahiram’s dumbfounded expression was too comical. “First time you’re thinking this through? You’re great at everything you do, even when you’re trying to be an idiot.”

  “You’re right, I didn’t think. I’m so ashamed. I’ve spent six years complaining about being a slave away from my family that I didn’t stop to think about the rest of the Silent. What about you … did you …”

  “Nope, I didn’t and neither did Jedarc. You should have talked to Syvam and other Silent, but I guess you were too busy moping around.”

  “Do you want me to go back to that prison cell and get chained to the wall again?” Ahiram grumbled. “You can be as tactful as a prickly pear when you want to.”

  “Truth be told, I didn’t talk to him either. I was too busy moping around myself.”

  Ahiram was so preoccupied with being on a mission that he ignored his friend’s quip. “If I’m on a mission, what mission is that? Wait, don’t say it … Tanniin’s enemy is the Temple. Anything I can do that weakens or disrupt the Temple serves us. Any alliances I can forge strengthens us. Everything I do helps the Kingdom.”

  “Now you’re thinking straight. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve already concocted a few surprises for the Temple when they decide to atta
ck Tanniin.” Recalling to mind his last conversation with Ebaan, Ahiram grinned. “That’s more like it,” Banimelek said.

  “So I’m not only looking for my parents then.”

  “Of course you are looking for your parents. But, had you stayed in Tanniin, the Temple might have sent another one of their creatures after you and our people would have end up killed. By allowing you to leave, the commander has moved that theatre away from us.”

  “But what’s to stop the Temple from attacking Tanniin with another monster to force me to surrender?”

  “Hence the Silents’ various missions. Don’t underestimate the Corps, Ahiram. With or without you, we’re still a formidable force.”

  Ahiram slapped his friend’s shoulder. “I know.”

  “Careful now, we’re going to climb straight up. No talking allowed.”

  They left the dark narrow passages cut in thick slabs of white stones and climbed up a straight wall to a ledge perched one hundred feet above ground. We must be higher than ground level now, Ahiram thought.

  “Come this way,” Banimelek said as they followed a wider passage built from small red bricks. “The Temple doesn’t build with such brittle material,” Banimelek observed. “This passage must predate the Order of Baal.” They sidestepped several large holes and squeezed through a narrow opening in a spot where the ceiling had collapsed. Before turning sharply into a lateral corridor, Banimelek said, “In case you’re wondering, the commander says for you not to come back just yet. We can handle what Baal throws at us. Get your stuff taken care of.”

  “How did he know I’d be here? How did you know I’d be here?”

  “He didn’t. We didn’t. You know how he is, preparing contingency plans and contingency plans for every contingency. We came to Baalbek on a mission when one of Hiyam’s local contacts informed us of your capture. Be very careful, General Nebo is itching to kill you after what you did to his little brother.”

  “Why did the team send you to free me?” Ahiram insisted. “Hiyam would have been the safest choice to navigate this forsaken ground.”

  “She’s helping alright. How do you think we’re walking here undetected? She’s blanketing that side of the Temple with some sort of a spell.” He glanced at Ahiram and grinned. “The commander was right, you know. The Silent are a potent force, and what we’ve done back home would make you proud.”

  Ahiram smiled but said nothing for a while. “Is your mission complete here? Do you need me to help in any way?”

  “Nope. We’re done and we’re on our way out.”

  They reached a small chamber. All along, small apertures overhead let the light of day seep into the tunnel. “This is where our paths diverge,” Banimelek said. “You take the left and I go right. There’ll be someone to get you out of the Temple. Don’t ask who, I don’t know. It’s someone Hiyam trusts.”

  Ahiram nodded. “Thanks, Banimelek.”

  “Don’t mention it. Did they take your belt? You want mine?”

  Ahiram shook his head. “I’ve got mine stowed safely. Apparently, the commander sent it with a cook who was waiting for me at the inn.”

  Banimelek smiled. “And you didn’t think you were on a mission.”

  Ahiram rolled his eyes. “Stop rubbing it in.”

  “I don’t need to tell you to be careful. You’ll be back soon?”

  “As soon as I can. I miss the Corps.”

  Banimelek flashed a brief smile and patted his friend on the shoulder. “I’ll let the commander know we saw you. He’ll be happy to know you’re doing well. Don’t delay. Things are not the same without you.”

  Ahiram smiled and nodded. “Give my regards to Master Habael,” said Ahiram, “and tell Jedarc that I hold him to his promise: he must not die.”

  Banimelek smirked. “You don’t have to worry. Hiyam will get to him faster than you would if he ever did.”

  “So they’re still together?”

  “They stare at each other all the time, like the two statues of Tanniin in the Royal Hall of Taniir-the-Strong Castle. It’s tiresome.” He rolled his eyes. “Jedarc drives me insane.”

  Ahiram chuckled. “I miss you, Banimelek.”

  “And I you, more than you can imagine.”

  “Be seeing you,” said Ahiram. “The Silent prevails.”

  “Always,” answered Banimelek.

  The two friends parted ways.

  Resolutely, Ahiram stepped inside the left corridor. It led him along a straight path to a cave where a young woman waited. Carefully, he inspected the cave. She’s alone, he thought and she looks familiar. The young woman paced back and forth nervously. Uncertain what to do, Ahiram took a step forward and stood by the entrance.

  The woman saw him and gasped. “Ahiram! Finally! Come with me, we can’t stay here much longer.”

  “Who are you? Do I know you?”

  She let a nervous laughter, “That’s true, you don’t remember me. Why would you? It’s been over six years now.”

  Ahiram gazed at her features: a freckled face framed by curly blond hair. And then for the second time that day, Ahiram’s eyes opened wide in surprise and recognition. “Syreen? Is that you?”

  She smiled and nodded.

  “My sister? Where is she?”

  “I tried to contact you in Byblos to tell you about Hoda, but you were under constant surveillance.”

  “So that was you near the temple to the Unknown God?”

  She nodded. “I tried several times to reach you but Tawr had you under watch. He is an agent of the Temple.”

  “I see. My sister?”

  “Hoda is alive. You’ll see her soon enough, I promise.”

  Ahiram’s heart leaped in his chest. Hope surged in his soul and he felt as if a dark shadow was lifting.

  “She is well,” Syreen continued quickly. “I’ll tell you how to reach her, but first, we must get you out of here. Stretch out your left arm and form a fist.” She took a thin silver chain from a small pouch then, standing opposite the Silent, she stretched her left arm and lightly touched his fist with hers. Then, with her other hand, she laid the chain on both their fists, muttered a few words and snapped her fingers. The silver chain wrapped itself around their fists and then vanished from view.

  “This is a simple spell of attachment. I’ll break it as soon as we are out of the Temple. I need it to help us navigate a dangerous corner. Don’t worry about it, you’re safe. Now follow me.”

  These words did not reassure Ahiram, but he followed her, trusting in her past friendship with Hoda, but mostly, trusting in Banimelek’s judgment. If his friend sent him to her, he was safe.

  “Is Banimelek—”

  “If you hear strange noises, deep and powerful, or if you see a strange light, you will have to exert all your will to continue walking. Nebo is about to find out that you escaped. They’ll be searching for you everywhere except in these parts because the first priestess knows it is utter madness for you to come this close to the center of power that holds the temple together. You do not stand a chance against the guardians protecting the innermost core of the Temple.”

  “So why go this way, then?”

  “Anywhere else and the first priestess will find you instantly. Here, we stand a slim chance, a very slim chance. No more talking, we must be on our way now.”

  They walked in silence for a while, following a downward spiraling path until they reached a massive stone wall.

  “This is it,” Syreen whispered, “the Temple’s core. Turn around, I need to blindfold you.”

  “What for? It’s already pitch dark in here.”

  “This is not a normal blindfold. It’ll shield you from the Temple’s core. Without this blindfold, you don’t stand a chance.” Reluctantly, Ahiram obtemperated. “There,” Syreen said as she secured the dark cloth around his eyes, “don’t scream now …”

  With snake-like speed, the blindfold expanded to cover his entire face. He gasped for a breath but was able to inhale easily, for the air moved
freely through the strange membrane. He could neither see nor hear anything aside from his breathing. He detected a cold draft and surmised that Syreen had just opened the massive doors. He felt a tug on his arm and understood that the spell of attachment was pulling him behind the young woman. Suddenly, a song, haunting, entrancing, more powerful than any word of command he had heard, assailed his senses. It seemed to reverberate inside his head, sidestepping his natural hearing. He could see in his mind three creatures guarding a walled platform. They were shaped like wolves, only twice as large, with gray iron scales covering their bodies. Red eyes burned with a dangerous light, but it was the third, much larger, dark blue eye on their foreheads that sent shivers down his spine. These darker pupils were trained on him now, and they were calling him to come forward, to submit, and receive the bounty of Baal.

  Syreen panicked. The guardians can see him. But why? Ashod’s manifold should have hidden him from them.

  Ahiram was now unaware of Syreen’s hands gripping his wrist and pulling him away. His teeth clenched, his heart pounding, he was drenched with sweat and had to use every ounce of his strength in order not to succumb to the creatures’ summons. Their voices pressed on his conscience like climbing vines whose tendrils sought the tiniest crack to grab hold on. The creatures encompassed the Silent’s mind, looking for a way in: a weakness, a fracture they could exploit. But Ashod’s strange blindfold shielded him. The guardians could sense his presence, powerful, dangerous, like a pulsating star, and, believing that a newly appointed priest stood before them, they demanded absolute obedience.

  Gritting his teeth, Ahiram tried to focus on something else, an image, a thought to take him away from the entrancing eyes, but his mind refused to move, to look away. He was caught, and he knew it. It was now only a question of time before he broke down and submitted. The Silent shall always fight from a position of strength, and there is no greater stronghold than that which the Silent loves most. This quote, taken from the Book of Siril 12:2, came unbidden; the result of grueling mental exercises during training. Reflexively, a name popped in Ahiram’s mind: Hoda. The name then evoked the sea, and Ahiram stopped fighting the eyes in his mind. Instead, he saw these blue pupils as vistas onto the sea, coral and fresh. His heart went to his sister, and he imagined her taking him into her boat. The pressure eased and he became aware of his surroundings, of Syreen pulling him, and he began to creep forward. Like a statue of stone that emerges from the rock which created it, he forced his body to move, keeping his mental eyes on his sister’s boat. Slowly, painfully, he managed one step at a time until the attraction began to lessen, and the haunting song became a faint echo before dying out completely.

 

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