“Hey,” said Karadon, “I think you’ve scrubbed the carpet clean on this side of the bed. You may want to scrub it on the other side.”
She sighed and sat down beside her husband.
“I know,” he said with a sleepy voice. “You can’t stop thinking about it and you can’t draw a conclusion, but we will be traveling with Aquilina and who knows what the conversations may uncover along the way.”
Hoda smiled and heaved a deep sigh.
“You’re right, my love. I’ve become so focused on what I heard today I nearly forgot that there will be a tomorrow. Nothing is lost then.”
“Come to bed. We have a long day ahead of us. The dangerous part of this mission is about to begin.
“The Silent shall not tempt the gods. No one has entered the Forest of Magdala and survived. The Silent shall avoid Magdala at all cost.”
–The Book of Siril 7:5.
“I stood at the rim of Magdala and wondered what secrets it harbored. The locals have so many superstitions related to Magdala that if I were to tell them all, they would fill many volumes. As I peered through the tall trees, in the stillness of the shadows, I, unlike so many others-including the great Oreg-felt that Magdala was not accursed. As extraordinary as this may sound, I felt that the forest was hallowed.”
–Introduction to the Book of Knowledge, Ussamia the Togofalkian.
A shadow chased Ahiram along a narrow bridge that ended abruptly over a burning abyss. He was lost, frightened, and searched frantically for an escape route. Below, the flames of the deep roared. The shadow drew closer, covering the Silent’s field of vision. Eyes wide open, Ahiram faced the advancing terror. A soundless scream escaped his lips as he fell to his doom. I am dreaming, thought Noraldeen. This is just a dream. The dark terror stood over the abyss, and its searching gaze rested on her. She recoiled in fear, and the scene abruptly switched to a peaceful meadow where Noraldeen found herself standing in front of a monolithic gate hinged into a circular hulking wall of black stones. Made of steel, the gate was set in a tri-foiled, cusped stone arch that stood sixteen feet high and six feet wide. A garland of lilies and amaranth, carved into a coralline backdrop, ran along the triple-arch molding. A single etched rose set between four rubies covered the seamless face of the gate.
“Welcome, daughter. I have been expecting you.”
The gate faded like a wisp of fog, revealing a woman dressed in dazzling colors. Her face was ageless; young and regal. Filled with compassion, her green eyes bristled with power.
“Walk with me, daughter,” invited the woman. Inside the circular wall stood a tower made of the purest white alabaster. How did they build such a high tower? Noraldeen knew enough about rocks to appreciate the incredible feat accomplished with such a weak stone.
As they drew closer, the Silent saw alcoves carved inside of the thick wall. They housed the statues of winged men and women standing with arms extended forward in warning. The effigies were cut into dark dull steel that the sunrays streaked with a bright blue light. Under the constant brisk motion, the statues looked alive, ready to spring into action to defend the tower.
Meyroon! Noraldeen was astounded. Every one of these statues is made of meyroon.
Between the alcoves, arched windows framed by green limestone shimmered in the light. Behind the alcoves, from somewhere within the tower, Noraldeen heard a choir sing a melody that filled her with a deep longing for a day of unending peace. She breathed deeply and arched her head back to glimpse the tower’s pinnacle where four giant horns soared like the extended wings of eagles.
“You stand in the garden of Tessarah, the Unseen Tower, the last unvarnished remnant of Silbarâd the Fair,” said the woman.
Thinking she may have heard wrong, Noraldeen confirmed, “Silbarâd the Fair? The city of legends built before the Age of the Temple by the Lords of Light?”
“You have learned your history well, daughter.”
“Tessarah, the Unseen Tower did not fall,” continued Noraldeen, feeling suddenly dizzy. “This tower was built in the center of Silbarâd, and from within its walls Eleeje, the fountain of life, flowed.” Disbelieving what was coming out of her mouth, she continued, “When Silbarâd fell, the steward of the Tower remained faithful until the last.” She looked at her companion and her heart skipped a few beats. “The steward is …” she stammered, “the Lady of El …” Realizing with whom she was speaking, Noraldeen fell to her knees. “Forgive me, My Lady, but how can this be? How can I be in the presence of the Lady of Eleeje?”
“Rise, Noraldeen, daughter of Orgond. I called you to me the day you had pity on a lonely slave,” replied the lady. “The shadow that invaded your dream before I brought you here is an Urkuun of the Ninth Order, a being of the Pit whom I fought over two thousand years ago.” She produced a thin staff of pure sapphire and held it over Noraldeen’s heart. “Be strengthened Noraldeen and do not fear him. The one you love is coming, and the balance of power will rest in your hands. The day of restoration is drawing near. The broken covenant shall be mended. I have made my presence known to you because you love selflessly, and selfless love is the essence of Eleeje. Take courage, daughter, your longing for a day of peace shall be answered soon.” A tinge of sadness troubled the woman’s gaze. “But,” she continued, “a peace not according to your heart’s desire. Take heart and be strong. I shall call for you, and I will show you what must be accomplished.”
Noraldeen bowed and as she straightened her posture, her vision blurred. As darkness was about to hide the tower and the lady from view, the Silent saw the mysterious woman smile, and that smile led her to a peaceful lake bristling with hope, and she woke up. This is the fourth time I have seen this monster in my dreams, but today, I do not fear him. Her heart was serene, her mind peaceful and content. The Lady of Eleeje, she thought. Can this be true? The quiet strength animating her spirit told her that it was. The Lady of Eleeje. She recalled the lady touching her heart with a shimmering staff and the light flashed in her mind once more. I do not fear you any longer. I am ready for you.
A soft breeze gently tugged at the drapes covering the large windows. She threw the covers off the bed, rose to her feet and stepped onto the large balcony overlooking Iliand, the vast northern valley of Tanniin. The fertile plain of Iliand ran east to west, from the foot of the Karian Chain to the Mayorian Chain and functioned as the cellar of the kingdom. The northern territories of Tanniin were prosperous despite many wars. To the west, Togofalk bounded Iliand, Thermodon to the north, and the Empyreans to the east. Togofalk and Thermodon had tried to invade Iliand several times, but each time, the forces of Tanniin repelled them. The Empyreans were a different matter. Twice they invaded Tanniin, and twice they ruled the land. However, the Tanniinites were tenacious folks who could endure hardships when freedom was at stake. They waged a one-hundred-year war of attrition against the Empyreans and won their freedom back.
Shortly after the second Empyrean invasion, King Saliniir II commissioned the building of Amsheet and Hardeen, the two great fortresses of the North. They were completed under the reign of his great-great-grandson, King Namiir XII, one hundred and four years later. Amsheet guarded the western gate of the kingdom against Togofalk, and Hardeen guarded the eastern gate against the Empyreans. Both fortresses ran deep into the mountain and benefited from high, fortified walls. Amsheet protected the Karian Chain, and Hardeen protected the Mayorian Chain. The two fortresses served as powerful outposts for the kingdom. Namiir XIII, successor to Namiir XII, planned a third fortress to protect the northern road to Thermodon, right where the Somarian Chain met the Mayorian. However, he died before he could start the project, and his son, Namiir XIV, was too frivolous to carry the plan forward.
Noraldeen lingered on the balcony. She loved to feel the air blow against her face in the dead of night. Closing her eyes, she remembered the evening when Ahiram and she had parted. The startling light they had seen, the furtive kiss, the goodbye. Ahiram, Ahiram, are you in the land of the living,
or have you left us to be among the dead? My heart longs to see you and to behold your gentle smile. Where are you, my love? Have the days treated you well? Did you survive the Games, or have you been left to die in some dark corridor of the mines?
Directly across the great northern plain, deep in the bowels of Hardeen, the twin fortress of Amsheet, the urkuun stood behind a wide pool filled with a strange red liquid. The creature was nine feet tall with shoulders to match a giant and fists made to break stone and skulls. His wings had a span of thirty feet and were made of a thin, retractable membrane that no steel could cut. The urkuun’s eyes were completely white with no eyelids and they were filled with a blazing fire where an intelligent, evil malice brooded. He walked bare foot and his claws raked the ground in a steely strident screech. A green breastplate of dragon scales protected his torso, and he carried a tall sword exuding a dull gray fume. Standing by the pit, he watched the unending stream of men, women, dwarfs, and empyreans who had answered his call of seduction. From the fortress of Hardeen, he had cast his net into the Empyrean realm and as far south as Taniir-the-Strong. He did not have to coerce or threaten, nor force or enslave through violence. He whispered, and his words, like an invisible poison, oozed through the walls and carried forth into the air where they licked the minds of his victims. Anyone who had made ambition their consolation, greed their driving force, gold their purpose, answered his call. He was the ninth urkuun, known as the Seducer, the one who amplified and nurtured every selfish and heartless desire of man. He fanned them, cultivated them until they broke their owner’s will. Then he made them surrender to the comforting song of the urkuun, the song that promised them everything their hearts desired but turned them into his willing and faithful slaves.
Being a creature of the Pit, the urkuun had access to every curse and spell the Arayat offered. Using his powers he created this liquid portal into the Spell Word. As his willing servants entered the pool, they stepped into the spellflow he had diverted from the Shogols in a spot where a monstrous Whisper Spell storm raged. As soon as a willing victim—be it a human, an Empyrean or a dwarf—stepped inside that pool, their skin sucked in the spells of seduction from every pore. The victims yielded their will to the urkuun, wanting to be made into his image. If the urkuun had relied on the spellflow alone, his victims would have required repeated immersions into the pool for weeks, if not months, before the transformation was complete. But the storm of Whisper Spell transformed the other spells into a raging magical fire. By the time those who had entered the pool left it, they were turned into uncanny monsters, images of the urkuun, bony, gray creatures, wheezing sounds resembling the sound “sylveed.”
The urkuun knew that this acceleration had unintended effects: It sapped his victims from their strength, reducing their lifespan to mere months. In addition, it allowed the Arayat to seep into the neighboring rock, rotting it to its core. He knew that this second effect would not be localized, but wherever the Arayat had found a way to seep into the real world, even for a brief moment, the rocks in these spots would rot and decay as well.
He moved his right foot forward and winced under the pain. Things had not gone entirely as he intended. This Seer is surprisingly stronger than I expected, he thought. Recently, he had seen, in an Arayatian vision, the face of the female Seer. She was a young woman living across from the great plain, in the fortress of Amsheet. Earlier today, he had invaded her dreams for the fourth time, showing her, once more, the death of her beloved. He used these nightmares to expose hidden vices, faults within her character he might be able to exploit. But today, she threw him out, confirming in his mind that she was the female Seer. Despite all his cunning, the urkuun did not sense the presence of the Lady of Eleeje and attributed the counter-attack that threw him out of Noraldeen’s mind to the Silent herself.
Unaware that Tyrulan existed, he also attributed to Noraldeen the wounds Aquilina had inflicted on him. Unwittingly, Corintus’ daughter had curtailed his influence, preventing him from raising an army twice the size of the one he had mustered. She had weakened him sufficiently so that he was no longer able to simultaneously attack Ahiram’s mind and devote his energies to the building of his army. No matter, he thought, I will crush her soon enough and I will turn the male seer into a willing slave. He shall open the Pit for me. He bared his lips into a blood-curdling smile. A few months was all he needed to kill the Seer, and once his foe was dead, he would take the time to mount an army; an army whose shadow would blot out the light of day, an army so vast, nothing would stand in its way. He would then destroy Babylon and reign over its rubble. Setting his piercing gaze on the Fortress of Amsheet, he saw Noraldeen standing on her balcony. He let out a domineering roar. The Sylveeds around him groveled in fear. The beast from the pit sneered.
He was the Urkuun of the Ninth Order, the Seducer.
“Awake I see, my daughter.”
Noraldeen smiled. Her father stepped onto the balcony and stood by her side. He surveyed the valley the way a general of an army would survey a field of battle. A man of rectitude and courage, that’s how the folks of Tanniin describe my father. He governed the city of Amsheet, and his people loved him. He was renowned for his sense of justice and the care with which he managed the affairs of the bustling city at the edge of the turbulent western Kingdom of Togofalk. Many Togofalkians crossed the border daily to work in Amsheet. Similarly, Togofalkians employed Tanniinites in the adjoining port of Prat and the inner fortress city of Lionides. Incidents erupted on either side of the border where locals would threaten the migrants, and Orgond was often involved in thorny negotiations to prevent bloodshed.
To mend the bruised relationship between the two kingdoms, Amsheet had agreed to host The Carnival of Jaguar-Night; the annual celebration of the main Togofalkian deity. In return, Prat and Lionides would celebrate the Carnival of Tanniin. The city of Tanniin prepared a grandiose celebration in honor of Jaguar-Night, which was to open with the procession of his statue. The date was set for the tenth of Shubat, in twelve days time. Yet tonight, Orgond’s mind was far removed from festivities.
“What is the matter, Father?” asked Noraldeen.
“The inner wall has crumbled.”
“For the third time? I thought the dwarfs took care of this problem.”
“So they said. Yet tonight they confessed their inability to remedy the situation.”
“What is the solution then?”
“A delegation left a week ago to escort Master Xurgon here from Taniir-On-High. His knowledge of stone is without compare among dwarfs. Yet the road from the east has grown increasingly dangerous. I fear he may not make it here safely.”
Noraldeen’s heart beat faster.
“You have only to ask,” the young woman offered with a note of hope, “and I will lead a small force to assure his safe passage.”
Her father looked at her quizzically and then laughed slowly, as if she had told him a good story. “You have not changed your mind, have you, daughter? Even though Braird Mistlefoot is witty, charming, and of noble birth, you sent him away as though he were a sultry miscreant—”
“Father, I did no such thing. He left of his own accord when I refused to dance with him.”
“You may just as well have slapped his face.”
“But he hates dancing. He told me so himself.”
“Which has nothing to do with propriety or protocol. He asked you to dance at the bidding of his father; you should have accepted this as an act befitting the daughter of the House of Orgond.”
Noraldeen gripped the parapet and tightened her jaw. Her father looked away. He did not wish to trouble her with the additional bad news he had received. His spies from the northern Kingdom of Thermodon had told him that Lord Derek Mistlefoot, Braird’s father, overstayed his presence in Orlan, the capital. Bar-Tanic is seeking an alliance with Thermodon to attack Tanniin. I need to know why, and when.
He leaned against the stone rail and watched his daughter closely. “I underestimated this
slave of yours. What is so exceptional about him?”
Noraldeen’s face lit up instantly. “Oh Father, I wish you could meet him, you would understand right away,” replied Noraldeen, her eyes brimming with joy. “He is handsome, brave, gentle, and strong. He is much like you, Father. He is quiet and kind. And he is patient, although he sometimes has a bad temper that he cannot control well. He is not pretentious, and he is so natural in his ways.”
“And he is a slave,” interrupted her father gently. He raised his hand to prevent any further discussion. “My daughter will not marry a slave. He must be free to contend for your hand.”
“The Temple cheated during the Games,” replied Noraldeen, hardly controlling her anger. “How do you expect him to win?”
“Not the Games,” whispered her father in a somber tone.
“Then what?” asked Noraldeen impatiently, not noticing the slight change in her father’s voice.
Omitting the second bad news, he moved to the third. “I have received disturbing news from Hardeen. Peasants have left their villages, and they speak of terror and darkness. Though peasants are inclined to believe a rumor as truth, the concordant reports I have received lead me to conclude that something is amiss in Hardeen.”
Noraldeen shivered. “How does this concern Ahiram?”
“Daughter, you amaze me. The fate of this young man leads you to ignore the plight of our people. Many of them have lost loved ones and abandoned their homes.”
Wrath of the Urkuun (Epic of Ahiram Book 2) Page 29