Wrath of the Urkuun (Epic of Ahiram Book 2)

by Murano, Michael Joseph

  “By who? Who would do such things?”

  “The Empyreans,” replied Gaëla with a sad tone. “We have a strict code of conduct. Any Empyrean is free to marry a worthy warrior of another race; any Empyrean, except for a member of the royal family. It would have been preferable for my aunt to marry an Empyrean slave than for her to marry your father.”

  These last words struck Noraldeen’s heart like a sword. Her eyes welled with tears and she silently looked at her father. He understood immediately the meaning of this look. Unable to keep her composure any further, Noraldeen left the room. Lord Orgond sighed.

  “See,” said Uziguzi who was busy cleaning his plate, “my silly ways may have been a bit easier to handle, don’t you think?”

  “I wish it were that easy,” sighed Orgond.

  “Can I be of help, Uncle?”

  Lord Orgond smiled. He knew what it meant for the princess to call him Uncle. “Perhaps. As you know, my daughter is a Silent. Commander Tanios trained her himself.”

  “A worthy teacher whose fame is known to us.”

  “Worthy indeed. Tanios enrolled a slave as a member of the Silent Corps. Noraldeen spoke highly of him. At first, I did not pay much attention to her praises. By the end of her training she could not stop talking about him and saying his name, ‘Ahiram this, Ahiram that.’ I argued with her when she refused a wonderful suitor from Ophir. She told me she loves Ahiram and she will not wed anyone else. I called her to my side and invited many worthy men of great valor and nobility. They found Noraldeen charming and fit for marriage, but she rejected them all, maintaining that she loves him and him alone. I had not realized how serious she was until now.”

  Uziguzi chuckled silently. “Charming as usual, Orgond. You do know how to make a romantic mess of things. First your wife, then your daughter. Now that the princess has told Noraldeen the truth, it would have been more preferable for her mother to be with a slave than to have been with you. Ha. The irony of it all.”

  “She is so much like her mother; independent, determined, and stubborn. I wanted Tanios to teach her how to control her Empyrean temper. Who would have thought she would fall for a slave? Yes, it is ironic. Still, I am glad it is in the open now. I shall speak with Noraldeen later. Tell me all and do not hide anything from me, I beg of you.”

  Uziguzi became suddenly serious. “We need your help.”

  “Incredible. Who could do this to the Empyreans? The lowlanders?”

  Princess Gaëla’s shoulders sank a little. “No. Empyreans.”

  “What?” Lord Orgond could hardly believe his ears.

  “Much of what we know is incomplete at best. About a month ago, Empyreans began disappearing in great numbers from the Avaleyyan valley. We organized search teams and they disappeared as well. Gone without a trace and no search party could find them. We closed off all roads leading to the southeastern realm and warned everyone. Despite our best efforts, entire villages were abandoned.”

  “The only adviser who followed these events was Uziguzi,” continued Gaëla. “No one in the court paid attention to him and despite my concerns, my mother did not follow his advice. He suggested we raze and burn the forest. But she found this measure excessive, and the worries of the court kept her from giving this matter her full attention.”

  “Naturally,” surmised Orgond. “After all, you are talking about events that started four weeks ago; hardly a reason to burn a forest.”

  “Aha, Orgond, ahaha. You were never a cook my friend. Once a fruit is diseased, the disease spreads quickly to the other fruits and vegetables, and anything else nearby. If you do not take drastic measures, you won’t have anything left in your kitchen for your guests.” He cut the air with the flat of his hand. “All would be rotten.”

  “So you think this is what is happening.”

  He nodded forcefully. “Some magic works slowly, and some magic works faster than the wind.”

  “I see. Then what happened?”

  “They attacked.”

  “They?”

  “The sylveeds,” continued Uziguzi. “Five days ago. Thin, small creatures with ash-white colored skin. They walk in darkness and fear the light. Fire scares them. They have no fear and spread terror anywhere they go and we don’t know how to stop them.”

  “How can this be?” exclaimed Orgond. “The might of the Empyrean army is without compare. I cannot believe these sylveeds could defeat it.”

  “They cannot,” replied Gaëla with pride. “If this were a matter of military might, we would have crushed them long ago. But it is not.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Gaëla looked Orgond in the eye before continuing. “Many of the sylveeds are our sisters.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Many of these creatures are Empyreans,” explained Uziguzi. “They are our own people. Like I said, there’s a mighty evil magic behind this. Something or someone is taking Empyreans, dwarfs, and humans and turning them into these monsters.”

  “It is happening with frightening speed,” continued Gaëla. “There is now an army of sylveeds.”

  Orgond shuddered. “Someone or something is attracting Empyreans, humans, and dwarfs, turning them into sylveeds, then throwing them back at you? This seems unbelievable. Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” replied Gaëla with a quiet voice. “If a sylveed dies shortly after the ghastly transformation takes place, it reverts back to its former self.” She looked at Orgond again with imploring eyes. “It is disheartening to see a being as ugly as a sylveed turn back into your best friend. Our army is paralyzed. Each one is afraid they would be killing her sister, her mother, or her daughter.”

  “How can we be of help?” asked Orgond.

  “Uziguzi urged me to come down to the Avaleyyan valley to see for myself. Three days ago, we tracked a group of sylveeds, and they lead us to Hardeen. The fortress has become their lair.”

  “Hardeen?” Orgond gazed at the advisor. “Lord Awaniir commands the fortress. I know him personally. He is incapable of such evil.”

  “Princess Gaëla did not say the commander of the fortress is the cause of this evil, rather that—”

  “The evil that had decimated the Empyrean Kingdom,” continued Lord Orgond, “and has taken residence in Hardeen.”

  Princess Gaëla nodded.

  “Evil with immense power,” continued Uziguzi. “And left unchecked, none of the kingdoms are safe.” His voice was now a whisper.

  “We must overtake Hardeen,” added Gaëla. “We must.”

  “Overtake Hardeen?” repeated Orgond. “This will be supremely difficult. King Jamiir has been deposed. I have sent a delegation to meet with Soloron, the man who sits on the throne now, regarding his intent and I have yet to hear from him. Besides, most of my men would balk at the idea of attacking their beloved fortress, and even if I were to muster such force, the death toll would be very high.”

  “My Empyreans are ready. We do not wish to invade Tanniin, yet it is imperative to be rid of this evil,” insisted the princess.

  “I see,” replied Lord Orgond. “So, you are doing this without the formal approval of the Empress, are you not?”

  Gaëla gave him a hard stare. “My mother is busy with the affairs of the court. I will not trouble her with this matter.”

  “So, Uziguzi, you thought it best for me to initiate the attack then ask the Empyreans for help? This would give further justification for Gaëla to act without seeking the consent of her mother?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Brilliant, as usual. How much time before the Empyrean attack?

  “Gaëla’s will meet us at Hardeen in ten days,” disclosed the advisor.

  “Let us wait to hear back from Taniir-The-Strong. Meanwhile, I will ready us for the move against Hardeen. We are in the midst of the preparations for the Carnival of Jaguar-Night; we will leave the day after. It will be a three to four day journey to Hardeen if we keep the troops moving for ten to twelve hours a day,” said Orgond.


  He sighed. This was much worse than he had expected. He knew the Empyreans would attack, and if Tanniin refused to cooperate, they would take it as a sign of loyalty to the enemy. And if evil forces had overtaken the fortress, the responsibility would fall on his shoulders to see that Hardeen was freed.

  “This requires planning. For now, let us eat and get some rest. I do not know when you will be able to get much of either in the days to come.”

  The princess smiled and helped herself to the food being served. As a soldier, she valued her uncle’s advice. Lord Orgond excused himself and left to go to his daughter. He had a difficult conversation ahead of him and wanted to address it before the coming of the storm.

  “What are forests for? I haven't the faintest idea. They're made of prickly things that stand all day long like the prickly hair of a prickly beard on a prickly face. Shave it I say. Shave it all, and turn it into an open space for the nobility to parade around all day long like chicken outside the coop. That way, we may enjoy a few hours of peace at the castle while everyone is away.”

  –Soliloquy of Zuzu the Hip, Jester of the Royal Court of Tanniin.

  The following morning, Soloron walked into the Royal Hall at sunrise, hoping to get some peace and quiet before the start of another day. He sat on the throne, and savored the silence.

  “Frajil bored,” exclaimed Frajil.

  Soloron nearly fell off his throne. “Bored?” he roared. “I am trying to run the kingdom, and you are bored? What do you want me to do? Dance on my head?”

  “You can do that?” asked his giant half-brother. He was impressed.

  “No, Frajil, I cannot. It’s a manner of speech.”

  “Oh,” said Frajil, disappointed. “What can you do then? Frajil bored.”

  Soloron dreamed of an edict that would appoint an adviser to the king who would strangle his exasperating brother. Only a mindless boar would attempt to strangle Frajil, though. He shuddered at the thought. He heaved a deep sigh and tried once more to sit comfortably on his throne, as it was made of two cold, marble slabs. I expected the kingdom to run itself. His appreciation for Jamiir’s rule was rising. Secretly, he regretted overthrowing the King. These royal clerks fill my days with dreary meetings and endless ceremonies. They’ll be the death of me. Soloron ached for a mug of cold ale, but the royal clerks warned him he would be breaking protocol. Four hundred years back, King Arindiil XIV amended the royal protocol that forbade a Tanniinite king from consuming ale. His father, King Arindiil XIII, died of an excess of ale on the very throne Soloron now sat upon. Amending a protocol takes six months of hard work. Soloron itched to fire the court. However, a king without a court is nothing but a shepherd on a throne.

  The visit with Captain Enryl, Orgond’s messenger, had been informative. He had received with honor the young lad who relayed to him a Togofalkian message: “Togofalk disapproves of the takeover. Their treaty with the Temple compels them to military action should Baal demand it. Furthermore, the Empyrean empress favors Lord Orgond.” Soloron got up and paced. Frajil mimicked him. Like a living shadow, he stopped, turned, and scratched his head in perfect cadence with his brother. Soloron ignored him. Soon, Baal will send an envoy before unleashing their armada. They will want to discuss alternatives. Togofalk to the north, and the High Riders’ barracks to the south. A war on two fronts. Is this what I want?

  Soloron knew the armada would reach his shores within the next three months. I have to control the ports. Even though he had the muscle to do it forcefully, he hoped he could take them peacefully. He sighed. He was a man used to roaming freely. I am no politician. I am a man of action. Truthfully, I wanted to rid the kingdom of King Jamiir, not take his place. Let someone else sit on this marble slab.

  He stopped pacing and noticed his brother standing in a corner.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Frajil wants to be un-bored.”

  “I know that, but what can you do that does not bore you? Do you want to eat chicken?”

  “No,” replied Frajil with distaste. “Yesterday, Frajil eat five chickens. No more chicken for Frajil.”

  “Five, huh?” mumbled Soloron. No wonder I had to eat parsley and mushrooms. “Fine,” he continued out loud, “no chicken for Frajil.”

  “Never?” asked Frajil with a worried voice.

  “I did not say never. I said for now, until you are not bored anymore.”

  “Not bored?” Frajil was confused. “Frajil bored or Frajil not bored?”

  “Frajil bored, no chicken. When Frajil not bored, Frajil eat chicken. Frajil understands?”

  “Yes, yes. No chicken.”

  “Good, no chicken. What does Frajil want to do?”

  “Frajil wants to be un-bored again.”

  “You mean you do not want to be bored, right?”

  Frajil’s thought process seemed to reach a climax. His eyes lit up and he said excitedly, “Yes.”

  “Good, so what do you feel like doing?”

  “Frajil wants carnival.”

  “But I told you, we cannot go to the Carnival of Jaguar-Night. I am the king now, and my rear is tied to this throne.”

  Frajil came closer and inspected the situation. “I see no rope from Soloron’s rear to throne,” he said waving his hand. “Soloron free to go.”

  Soloron sighed. “No, Frajil, I am not free to go. It’s complicated.”

  “Complicated is boring. Frajil wants carnival.”

  Soloron opted for a different tactic. “Listen. Middle Road, which leads to the carnival, is blocked. You can’t go.” Frajil shrugged his shoulders. “What can you do? Force your way through the barricades?”

  Frajil’s eyes lit up. “Yes.” he replied. “Frajil wants to do that. This is un-bored for Frajil.”

  “Right. This would be exciting, but it will also get you killed.”

  “No, Frajil careful. Frajil will not go there alone.”

  “No?” asked Soloron, amazed that his half-brother made sense. “You mean you would take men with you?”

  “Men?” asked Frajil confused. “Frajil takes chicken, when Frajil excited, Frajil un-bored and hungry. Frajil eats chicken and he is well and not badly dead.” Proud as a peacock, Frajil stood tall; he had said three related sentences in one breath.

  Soloron sighed. A crisis brewed along the northern road. Someone had erected a large barricade that disrupted communications between Amsheet and Hardeen. Soloron needed to reopen the road, but the southern High Riders’ barracks was a more pressing matter. Thus far, he had reestablished order at Taniir-the-Strong, restructured the army, and sent delegates to the southern ports seeking their submission and they had yet to return.

  “What does Frajil do? Frajil not un-bored.”

  “You want to go to the carnival? Go to the carnival,” exclaimed Soloron exasperated. “I do not care. Go!”

  “Frajil goes. Frajil back with candies, dates, pomegranates for Soloron. No more upset Soloron.”

  “This an improbable probability and a probability most improbable,” whispered Zurwott.

  Ahiram nodded. They sat on tree branches east of Middle Road and peered at a monstrous barricade. After leaving the castle they had followed Middle Road without incident until it led them to this barricade and the foul smell that surrounded it. The stillness, the lack of noise, and the destructive power behind the barricade all spoke of hidden danger.

  “It’s as if a giant scooped up a village, a herd of cows, and a mountainside, and mixed them into a giant barricade,” whispered Jedarc.

  “Apt description,” replied Sheheluth. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “The avalanche south of us looks like a mound by comparison,” Sondra added.

  “Hiyam.”

  The young woman nearly jumped when she heard Ahiram call her name. “Don’t be nervous,” whispered Jedarc. “He doesn’t bite.”

  “And if he does,” added Sheheluth, who had taken a liking to Bahiya’s daughter, “I’ll kick him.”
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br />   Hiyam smiled as she dropped down several branches. “Yes, Ahiram?”

  “Can the Temple do this?”

  Hiyam had already thought through the possibility. “Yes, it can.”

  “What about your mother?”

  The tone was quiet, restrained, and neutral. Still, the question stung. “My mother? Yes. If she wills it, she could do this, but why?”

  “Is it magical?”

  “I would have to take a closer look.”

  “Sondra, Banimelek, go with Hiyam. I’ll stay behind for backup. Jedarc and Sheheluth, keep watch from up here. Orwutt and Zurwott, keep an eye on the forest ground. Let’s go.”

  An hour later, they were back in the safety of the trees. Hiyam was shaken. “This hill reeks of magic. It’s evil. It’s the same source as …” she struggled to complete her sentence, “as the magic behind the giant geyser.”

  The urkuun, thought Ahiram. He saw fear in the young woman’s eyes.

  “What can you tell us about intent?” asked Sondra.

  “What would it take to remove this barricade?” added Banimelek.

  “My kingdom for a banana,” sighed Jedarc. “What? I’m hungry.”

  “Don’t touch the barrier,” said Hiyam. “It’s ringed by powerful curses.”

  The dwarfs, who could be silent when needed, listened intently.

  “So we need magic to remove it?” confirmed Banimelek.

  Hiyam nodded. “You need to defeat its maker.”

  “What’s its purpose?” asked Ahiram.

  “It is a landmark of sorts. He is marking his dominion a bit the way dogs mark their territory.”

  “That’s a mighty dog if he could drop one this size,” mused Jedarc. “What? Why are you staring at me like that? I mean look at it … it’s an apt description.”

  “So where’s his territory? Can you tell?” asked Sondra.

  “The forest east of the road,” replied Hiyam.

  “Including or excluding the road?” asked Jedarc.

  “Excluding the road,” clarified Hiyam.