The Wretched Race (Epic of Ahiram Book 3)

by Michael Joseph Murano

  Darkness and silence returned to Ahiram’s mind, and he was able to think clearly. From the constant turns, he realized they were crossing a maze. All along, the magical tug of Syreen’s spell kept him from losing his guide, and at long last, he felt a cool draft. Syreen took the blindfold off, and Ahiram, dizzy and exhausted, leaned against the cold stone of a wall. He heard wood crackle and a torch was lit.

  “Here,” Syreen said, handing him a small jug. “Drink it all, it’s a restorative. It will help you.”

  The liquid was icy-cold and refreshing, with a faint taste of mint. He returned the empty container. “What are those creatures?”

  “Don’t think about it,” she said firmly, “you’re still very close and you might not be able to resist the urge of going back. Without that blindfold you would not have stood a chance.”

  “How come they didn’t attack you?”

  Syreen smiled. “Everything about magic is strange, don’t you think? First assistants like myself go down to the temple’s core, and when we are asked to describe what we see, the answer is always the same: nothing. We’re told the guardians are there; we believe it, but we don’t get to experience it.”

  “What are they protecting?” Ahiram asked in a haunted voice.

  She gasped. “You sensed that? Very few priests of Baal are even aware that the guardians are protecting something. Do not mention it casually,” she added with a tone that was almost reverent. “This is high magic of the strongest kind.”

  Ahiram nodded solemnly.

  “Come on, I still have to get you back to Byblos.”

  “But won’t the first priestess, wonder about your absence?”

  “No, because she thinks I’m still in Byblos. I’m not supposed to be here,” Syreen replied. “Now come, we don’t have much time to lose.”

  They walked for the next two hours through a series of passages that dug into the hills neighboring the Temple and eventually emerged out of the mouth of a cave southwest of Baalbek.

  “Follow me,” she said as they walked down a trail and then up an old stone staircase covered with daisies and large prickly shrubs. It led them to a seemingly abandoned barn. Syreen produced a small whistle and blew. Ahiram was surprised to hear the sound of a woodpecker. A similar sound answered after a short while.

  “We’re clear,” she said smiling. “Let’s go.”

  Inside the barn, Ahiram saw two young men standing next to a covered wagon. They tensed slightly when they saw him, but Syreen waved her hands. “He’s with me. He’s coming with us and we will drop him off on the way.”

  She sat with Ahiram inside the carriage while the two young men drove, prodding the four horses to move quickly along a dirt path that then rejoined the main road linking Baalbek to Byblos.

  “You came from Byblos for me?” Ahiram said.

  Syreen chuckled and shook her head. “I didn’t know you were here. I was asked to go to Baalbek in secret to help your friends with their mission, and that’s when we found out you were held prisoner.”

  “I see,” said Ahiram. “It’s a convenient coincidence, don’t you think?”

  “You are right to be suspicious, Ahiram,” she said. “The Temple is powerful and its reach extends far and wide. But you must also trust in your friends, otherwise the Temple has already won. Sometimes, coincidences such as these do take place, without anyone’s intervention, but if they become too frequent, then you should be very worried; the Temple is probably not too far behind.”

  Ahiram said nothing. From his point of view, convenient coincidences were never coincidences. They were always the sign of meticulous planning. Wait and see, he reminded himself. Wait and see.

  “Tell me, Syreen, how do I get to—”

  She cut him off with a sign of the hand. “Not just yet. I will tell you what you need to know once we reach Byblos. Why don’t you rest for now? You’ll need all of your strength to reach your sister.”

  Ahiram lay on the bench he was sitting on, closed his eyes, and fell into a deep sleep, something he was able to do since childhood. Syreen watched him quietly.

  Hoda, she thought, I’m sending him to you, but I fear that he is going to be a far greater burden on you than when he was a child. He has stirred a mighty storm and Nebo is riding its crest. May we all live to see the end of it.

  “Ahiram, wake up, we’ve arrived.” Seeing that the Silent did not respond, Syreen leaned over to shake him. A solid grip seemed to suddenly materialize around her wrist. His fingers were hard as flint, his hand was brimming with restrained power. If he had squeezed, he would have shattered her wrist. “Ahiram,” she commanded loudly, “wake up.”

  He opened his eyes and looked at her without seeing her. His gaze gained focus, and she knew that he finally saw her. His eyes went from her face to her wrist, and he instantly let go of her hand and sat up.

  “A dream?” she asked gently, while rubbing her wrist.

  “More like a nightmare.”

  “Describe it to me.”

  Ahiram gazed at her, wondering if he should share his dream with her. She smiled and looked away. “It’s too late not to trust me, don’t you think? I could have led you to the guardians of the core, or poisoned you when I gave you water, or choked you while you were asleep.”

  Ahiram blushed. “It’s habit,” he said.

  “Tell me your dream. It may be important.”

  “I stood in an empty plain … actually, more like a deep and vast canyon. It was barren, and there was no one else there. Then I heard a tremor and then a dark line formed—”

  “In the east or the in the west?”

  “Hum … I’m sure it was morning. The sun was rising in front of me as I looked at that line, so yeah, it was coming from the northeast.”

  She nodded. “What happened next?”

  “That line became a horde, a massive horde of creatures I’ve never seen before. Thousands upon thousands of them, and they were moving at great speed. Then, they reached me and kept going as if I wasn’t there, so I turned around to see what they were chasing and in the distance, I saw someone else standing. As the monsters grew closer, a mound rose from the ground and grew into a tall tower, taking that other person with it. She then stood on the tower’s pinnacle. I realized then that it was a young girl. She had blond hair, and I could tell because peals of thunder and flashes of lightning were all around her.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. You saw that her hair was blonde because of the lightning?”

  “Well, it’s strange, but when I saw her hair, I saw it from up-close…”

  “As if you were standing next to her on the tower?”

  “Yeah, that must have been it. But after, I was back down in the plain.”

  “So what happened next?” Ahiram looked at Syreen and saw she was listening intently. “No, I don’t think you’re crazy or that your dream is stupid,” she said to ease his discomfort. “What happened then?”

  “Well,” Ahiram continued, “she opened her mouth and must have said something, but I couldn’t hear it. However the horde around me was stricken with terror, and they crumbled into dust, and then were gone. Then something really strange happened which I don’t know what to make of. Actually I don’t know what to make of this whole dream, and I‘m rambling, aren’t I?”

  She smiled reassuringly. “Go on, Ahiram, please do.”

  “Well, this is kind of embarrassing because she looked at me from the tower and she was about to speak again, and I thought that I was about to die like these creatures. She said … I don’t know, it sounds so weird and different from the rest of the dream, and … well, it’s embarrassing.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Wake up, snoring man,” Ahiram blushed. “How weird is that?”

  Syreen breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s weird but hopeful. This dream is telling you that you’re not alone. It’s a good omen, Ahiram. Take heart.”

  He looked at her quizzically.

  “What?” she asked.<
br />
  “I wasn’t snoring before I woke up, was I?”

  Syreen laughed. “No, you weren’t snoring, if that’s what you’re worried about. Did you recognize her?”

  He shook his head. “For some reason she looked familiar, but I’m sure we’ve never met. I would definitely remember someone if they called me ‘snoring man.’ I mean, what kind of taunt is that?”

  “How did you respond to her calling?” asked Syreen.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Were you afraid when she called you?”

  “No. It was reassuring and somehow … comforting. This is so weird. What do you make of it?”

  “I’m not quite sure,” Syreen said. “The bit where she opens her mouth is definitely interesting. Have you heard a minstrel or a bard sing the Legend of Lorelay?” Ahiram shook his head. “You might want to pay attention if you ever hear it. But how that legend relates to your dream, I can’t tell.” She rose to her feet. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I think it was a good dream, overall.”

  Ahiram followed Syreen out of the wagon and into a meadow beneath a cluster of tall oak trees. The sun was above the horizon, and the air was surprisingly cool for a summer day. Syreen led him to the mouth of a cave and gave him specific instructions to reach Byblos where he would find a saddled horse waiting for him. “Go up the mountains and the Black Robes will find you. They keep a tight watch and will see you coming before you see them. They will tell you what to do next, and you’ll soon be reunited with Hoda.”

  “Are my parents alive?”

  “Yes, Hoda saved them the day you disappeared. She found out the village was about to be destroyed, and she needed to alert your parents; that’s why she left you alone in the boat. She thought she had enough time to run to the village and come back to get you, but the High Riders moved faster than she expected, and your family barely escaped the massacre.”

  “As I thought, then. The High Riders did destroy my village. Why?” He was now shaking with anger.

  “For a bright kid, you can be slow sometimes,” Syreen grumbled. “To kill you, of course.”

  “Who ordered this? Bahiya?”

  Syreen smiled a sad smile. “No. She would never do that. You should know that by now. The order came from Babylon.”

  “Sharr,” said Ahiram, a quiver in his voice. “He massacred everyone in the village just to kill me?”

  She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t jump to hasty conclusions. What Sharr did and continues to do is awful, but you must, I repeat, you must understand his motives properly if you want to defeat him.” Ahiram breathed deeply and nodded. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but be patient. Hoda will explain all this to you. But know this: not a day passes that your sister does not feel guilty for leaving you. She knows what she meant to you and …” Syreen sighed. “I won’t lecture you, Ahiram, but she and I have had to endure these past six years … do not be hard on her.”

  “Hard? Me? Hard on Hoda? Yes, I was angry when I thought she had abandoned me, but your explanation is all I needed to hear. The idea that Hoda was not the Hoda I knew and loved was killing me. You gave me my sister back, Syreen. That’s all I needed. I’m not angry, I’m sad and sorry for what I have put her through. After I was gone, I thought that at least she wouldn’t have to suffer because of me, but I guess things were not that simple.”

  “Our lives may be complicated and confusing, but the choices we make are simple. She’s always loved you. I guess that’s what a sister does.”

  He gazed at her. “Not just sisters,” he said softly, “not just sisters.”

  She handed him two torches and the small vial she had used to light the torch while they were still in the Temple of Baalbek, but he told her to keep it for he had the dwarf’s stones.

  “Go now,” she urged. “You don’t have much time.”

  “Thanks, Syreen,” he said, and instinctively, without thinking, he grabbed her and hugged her tightly. Surprised, she did not know how to react at first, then slowly she held him against her. “I can never repay you for what you’ve done for me,” he said softly. “You’ve given me my Hoda back,” he said, choking. “Thank you.”

  Abruptly, he let go of her and vanished inside the dark cave.

  “Oh Hoda,” said Syreen, “Our fate and the fate of the sixty-two kingdoms rest on your shoulders. What suffering you will have to endure for our sake, but it is your love, your love for the Seer, that will save us, so please don’t stop loving him. I promise you, I will always be by your side. I will lay down my life for you. May El have mercy on us all when Nebo unleashes his wrath on the world.”

  “The time is now,” Anesherib thundered. “This is the time to act and destroy Babylon. We’re ready. Many of the temple guards are ready to rise with us. The bloodthirsty Nebo is far away, dreaming of conquest and destruction. Babylon has grown fat and lax. There are hardly any soldiers to defend the city. We should take it now.”

  Many of those who had gathered in the inn raised their fists and shouted imprecations against Baal and its temple, but the majority kept silence. To Anesherib, this was to be expected. After all, they were meeting in the marketplace of Uruk, the capital of Marduc, some 130 miles southwest of Babylon. Here, Baal’s influence was stronger than in Eridu or Arad-Bor located near the eastern cost along the Bay of Sargon. His expert eyes surveyed the crowd in search of those who were of the same conviction as he and who were ready to champion his cause, but instead, he was met with skepticism.

  “You live in fear, and will always live in fear,” he bellowed. “Your children will live in fear, and your children’s children down the generations will be slaves of Babylon. Now is the time to act and to overthrow the Temple. We mustn’t delay.”

  “What makes you think that you can defeat Baal?” asked an old, balding man leaning for support on the shoulder of a young boy. “In my younger years, I was tempted to follow another rebel—Sonnakhar was his name—and he convinced a group of people to overtake Babylon. Those fools walked into the city and met no opposition. They reached the Temple of Baal and entered through its dark gates unopposed. They were never heard of again. They all perished, or worse. There’s potent magic in those walls; magic you can’t imagine. No, my friends, not with a thousand soldiers, not even with tens of thousands of warriors could you overtake the Temple. No one can. It’s hopeless.”

  “That’s not true,” replied a soft-spoken man whose face was hidden under a large gray hood. “The Seer can. He’ll enter the Dark Gate and he’ll put an end to Baal.”

  Anesherib’s laughter filled the hall and many others joined him. “The Seer? The Seer? You want us to believe in a children’s tale? We don’t need a Seer. What we need is courage and determination. We need to act.”

  “I have seen him,” said the soft-spoken man. Silence fell so suddenly that one man who was still laughing continued to do so for a short while before realizing that everyone else had stopped. Bewildered, he raised his head, wondering what the matter was. He saw Anesherib staring at the hooded man who had climbed up next to him on the platform.

  “You have seen a seer?” Anesherib asked.

  “Yes,” the mysterious man replied.

  “Who are you and where do you come from?”

  “I was in Tanniin at the Carnival of Jaguar-Night. War broke out between Amsheet and Hardin. I decided to follow the troops of Lord Orgond to see what opportunities there might be for me. There were these strange creatures, neither human nor animal, but something of a monster, I dare say. The battle raged, then there was this massive explosion and an urkuun came out of the fortress …”

  “An urkuun?” interrupted Anesherib, “Seriously? An urkuun?”

  “I’ve heard of this battle,” interjected the old balding man. “What happened then?”

  “We were hopeless. None of us could even lift a knife. I wasn’t in it for the fight, but I couldn’t even lift a finger. Then, something extraordinary happened; this fellow wearing a mask of gold, wings o
f pure Meyroon, a belt of silver, and shoes of bronze came down from heaven. He was flying, flying I tell you. I saw him with my own eyes. He fought with the urkuun and defeated it. He wielded Layaleen, the sword of El-Windiir, and he beheaded the urkuun.” He lifted up his eyes and looked at those present. “The Seer is amongst us. I have seen him.”

  Silence fell on the audience. People were filled with awe and hope.

  “What do you plan to do?” the old man asked.

  “Me? Go my way and mind my own business. I’d suggest you do the same. You’re right, old man: Babylon can’t be defeated with swords and arrows. Why do you think the High Riders let you speak your mind so close to the capital of the world? As long as the potent magic of Babylon stands, Babylon will stand as well. If I were you, I’d prepare for war, so that when the Seer comes to Babylon—for he will—he’ll find ready hands to assist him.” Silence fell anew. The mystery man looked at Anesherib, and without adding another word, left the hall walking briskly in the cold air of the night. He walked a short distance away from the building and sat on a fallen tree trunk and waited.

  Here I am, he thought, the great Slippery Slued, the most wanted thief in the sixty-two kingdoms, the mastermind of the greatest heists, sitting on a dead stump, in the middle of nowhere, waiting for Surata’s contact to show up. He shook his head. I don’t like this heist, Surata, I don’t like it one bit.