Wrath of the Urkuun (Epic of Ahiram Book 2)

by Murano, Michael Joseph

  “Young rooster good to Frajil,” said the giant. “Frajil take care of you.”

  “Do you have a place to stay?” asked Jedarc.

  Frajil was confused. “Kitchen is place. Frajil is in place. Frajil stays.”

  “Yes, but what about after you’re done eating? Where will you go?” Frajil lived in the moment. Any future dealings were Soloron’s realm. “Listen,” said Jedarc. “I’ll find you a place to stay. You can go into town if you like, and you can come back here for the night.”

  Frajil beamed. He grabbed Jedarc, and hugged him the way he hugged his brother.

  “Put me down, Frajil,” whispered Jedarc. “I can’t breathe.”

  “Ha! Young rooster like Soloron.” Unexpectedly, he burst into tears. “I miss Soloron,” he hiccuped. “My brother!”

  “Frajil, look,” said Jedarc. “A pomegranate.”

  Instantly, his tears stopped. He saw Jedarc smile and he relaxed. People happy. Frajil like people happy. Frajil like pomegranates. When people happy, Frajil get pomegranates.

  Refugees and Togofalkian tourists filled the city of Amsheet. Tophun Makack had to wade slowly through crowd-filled streets, which soured his mood. He was late to an important meeting. His massive frame was not cut out for crowded streets, which slowed him down. His temper got hotter and hotter by the minute.

  Ahiram looked up and saw the fortress. I’ll be there soon. He was impatient to rejoin the group of Silent and speak to the commander and Habael, but he restrained himself and walked slowly, guiding the old woman. She was tired, yet she pressed ahead. She leaned on Ahiram’s arm saying, “Soon, soon.” Tinn, the ten-year old young lad walked quietly beside his grandmother, helping her as much as he could. The city was lit in preparation for the carnival and buzzed with excitement. Happy visitors filled the streets alongside carnival jesters and musicians.

  A joyful laughter rose above the noise. Ahiram turned around and saw a beautiful woman and a young man walking side-by-side, filled with hope and joyful expectation.

  How strange, thought the Silent. I wish I could do what he is doing; walk carefree with someone I wouldn’t be afraid to love. I faced a béghôm and now an urkuun, and if I survive the next battle, who’s to say there won’t be a worse opponent? I don’t want those I care about to die …

  A booth of delicious rumanil distracted the old woman’s grandson, and he accidentally stepped on someone’s boot. Tophun Makack looked down and saw dirt on his shoe. He slapped the boy and sent him rolling on the ground. His grandmother shrieked.

  “You dirtied my boot,” he snarled.

  “You should apologize,” said a voice behind him.

  Tophun Makack whirled around and faced a tall young man. His curly hair fell untidily around his face. Like mutton’s locks, he thought. The fierce hazel eyes did not impress him. Even if Makack had paid attention to Ahiram’s muscular build, he would not have been impressed. His mind had no use for the word impressed. He believed in his strength alone.

  But less than a minute later, he lay on the ground writhing in pain. He was indeed strong, but strength without training is no match for the speed, accuracy, and power of a Silent. Ahiram drew closer and looked him in the eye.

  “Next time, think twice before hitting a child. You may avoid unnecessary pain.”

  “Thanks, Ahiram,” said the lad.

  Tophun Makack was glad to see them leave. Wearily, he stood up and rubbed his head and chest. “If we ever meet again, Ahiram, you will be lucky if I let you die,” muttered the man as he continued his walk. By now, his boots were filthy.

  Master Habael looked at the group of men and women sitting around the table. So it begins again, he thought wistfully. These are extraordinary times.

  The day after they reached the fortress, Lord Orgond had called a council, but there were complications: Princess Gaëla refused to sit at the same table with a high priestess of Baal. Lord Orgond explained the priestess would disclose the identity of the enemy was and assured her of Bahiya’s good will. Master Xurgon threatened to leave when he saw the Empyrean princess—for there was much old blood between the two races. Master Habael spoke in favor of the princess and the dwarfs agreed to sit at the council table. Xurgon reserved the right to leave if his suspicions were confirmed that the Empyreans had weakened the fortress’ walls before they attacked.

  The Lord of Amsheet presided. Princess Gaëla was at his right, followed by Lord Uziguzi, Master Xurgon, High Priestess Bahiya, Master Habael, Commander Tanios, and Enryl. The company of the Silent waited in an adjacent room. Hiyam was with them. Noraldeen’s features hardened when she saw her, but she said nothing. She knows who I am. I do not belong in Baalbek anymore, but I do not belong here either. What am I to do? She caught Jedarc smiling at her. He winked, and she blushed. Don’t be an idiot, Hiyam. She chided herself. Why am I blushing? She watched him talking with Noraldeen who kept looking in her direction. What is he telling her, I wonder?

  “I will refrain from killing her and will want to hear what Ahiram has to say,” Noraldeen was saying in a low, unbending voice to Jedarc. “You can be too trusting for your own good.”

  “He saved her life,” insisted Jedarc. “Be patient, Nora.”

  In the council hall, Lord Orgond stood-up. “I have convened this council,” started Lord Orgond, “to prepare for our next step. You know we face an enemy of considerable might and ability. Many here have had some exposure to his dark trade, whether in confronting the sylveeds or witnessing the decay of rocks. From the concordant accounts we received, we must assume Hardeen is now the enemy’s lair. Our plan is to attack Hardeen and oust the invader.”

  Orgond stopped talking when the main door opened. A guard ushered Ahiram in and closed the door quietly behind him. Ahiram was overjoyed to see Commander Tanios and Master Habael. The old man looked at him with a warm smile, but Tanios’ countenance was severe. “You are late, Silent.” Tanios had wanted his voice to be even, but even he could no longer hide his joy.

  Ahiram walked toward the table and saluted. “My apologies, Commander. I am late.”

  “And what is your excuse?”

  “An old woman asked me to walk with her and her grandson until she reached her house. ‘The Silent is faithful to his call, especially to the elders to whom he owes respect and consideration,’ chapter one, verse five of the Book of Siril.” Ahiram bowed.

  “Offer your apologies to Lord Orgond for having disrupted the council and join your peers in the next room,” replied Tanios.

  Ahiram turned around and bowed respectfully before Lord Orgond, who nodded. Orgond glanced at Gaëla. She met his gaze with a smile. Is this the wonder of wonders? Orgond seemed to say. Appearances can be deceiving, the princess seemed to reply. This young man with a comely appearance did not impress them. Ahiram left the hall, and Orgond resumed talking.

  “Before I explain the details to you, I would like to ask each one of you to share with us what he or she knows about the enemy.”

  A shout of joy could be heard from the other room as the Silent welcomed Ahiram. After the cheerful noise had subsided, Master Xurgon stood up.

  “As you knowingly know …” Master Xurgon cleared his throat and reverted to the common tongue. “These creatures have taken two of my dwarfs. I have heard rumors that these so-called sylveeds are related to the Empyreans. Yet I see present among us a worthy representative of the empress. I must confess my confusion.” He sat.

  “You are both right and wrong,” Gaëla corrected. “This evil revealed itself first in our empire, leading you to conclude that we had created it. The empire itself is in a precarious position. We do not know how to respond adequately to such evil. This is why we are here seeking advice.”

  “I might add,” continued Uziguzi, “that whatever is attacking you is attacking us. We have a common enemy, and I wonder,” said the rotund man while glancing at Bahiya, “if this ‘common enemy’ of ours is not behind this.”

  Bahiya met Uziguzi’s gaze. “The Templ
e of Baal subdues magic wherever it finds it,” she said. “It has done so precisely to protect the world from calamities such as this one. This protection extended over every kingdom, including the empire you serve, Lord Uziguzi. The Temple is the strong wall that has held these powers at bay.” She shuddered. “But after what I heard, I am compelled to admit the Temple has either allowed a being of great power to enter this world, or the Temple has been overcome.”

  “Lady Bahiya,” objected Uziguzi, “the Temple may be callous and tyrannical, but not reckless. I must ask, is this an attempt to overtake the Empyreans?”

  “It may be,” replied the high priestess thoughtfully.

  Her straightforward words, which was so unlike her, surprised Tanios. He could feel the tension mounting in the room and knew Lord Orgond refrained from intervening on purpose. Uziguzi’s pointed question demanded a valid answer from the priestess.

  “I do not know what the Temple’s intent is,” she said after a pause. “We may never find out,” she added, staving the protests. “However, I do know what we are dealing with.”

  “What?” demanded Uziguzi.

  The high priestess clenched her fists and looked down before answering in a whisper. “An Urkuun of the Third Order.”

  A deep dread came over those who knew what an urkuun was. At the same moment, a second whoop of joy answered, and it startled them. They could hear the Silent chanting Ahiram’s name. Lord Orgond’s plan to invade the fortress sounded hollow, for how could they hope to overtake a being who nearly defeated the mighty legions of the Marada? In the adjacent room, the name of Ahiram rose to a crescendo as sunrays splashed the council room.

  “No matter the evil we face,” said Lord Orgond, “our call is to meet it and work unceasingly until we defeat it. If we fail, then let us be a beacon of hope to those who will come after us. For evil is but a passing shadow, a fleeting agony, a sorrow we must endure. In the days to come, those who will walk in our footsteps must know we have not wavered, that we have not surrendered, that we have not been overcome. Darkness is falling. Let us stand and raise a shining sword to subdue the depths of the Pit.”

  “A sword that was once hidden shall now be revealed.

  By the power of a broken sheath the steward had concealed.

  A sheath, a mighty sheath of silk, gold and precious stone,

  For the mighty hand of El-Windiir's heir, and him alone.”

  –The Chronicles of Yardam, Third Steward of the House of Hiram.

  The Silent had been speaking quietly to avoid disrupting the meeting when Ahiram joined them. Noraldeen, who had been standing with her back to the door, did not see him enter. She chatted with Banimelek and Sondra when a hush fell on the room.

  “Look,” whispered Banimelek pointing with his chin to the door.

  A thunderous shout filled the room as the Silent, carrying Ahiram on their shoulders, stood and chanted his name until the chanting became a protracted applause. Finally, Ahiram jumped down, and Corialynn punched him.

  “That’s for scaring us,” she said.

  Allelia smacked him on the head. “And that’s for refusing our help.”

  Alviad elbowed him. “And that’s for taking this long to come back.”

  “Hey, don’t hurt Alendiir,” protested Sondra. “He’s barely recovered.”

  “I’m fine,” grinned Ahiram.

  Each one of his companions wanted to congratulate him personally and time passed amid relieved laughter. The Silent were not only glad to be reunited, but Ahiram’s victory was also their victory. Jedarc did his best to include Hiyam in the general euphoria, but she could not bring herself to rejoice. Seeing the Silent’s joy in welcoming Ahiram increased her sense of shame. That the Temple of Baal had wanted him dead just to allow her to win a Game seemed unreal now.

  Noraldeen was the last to greet him. She approached Ahiram and looked at him with such tender eyes that he blushed.

  “You are alive,” she said in a hushed voice. She was not one to display her feelings publicly, yet now she could barely hide them. Her relief and elation surrounded her like a graceful aura, a beam of pure light. And she stood ravishing before him.

  “Yes,” replied Ahiram, flushed. “And gladly so.”

  “I am so happy to see you.”

  “And I am so happy to see you,” replied Ahiram with a soft, gentle smile. “I heard you wore a dress yesterday. I would like to have seen that,” he added with a snicker.

  Everyone laughed. Noraldeen joined in, unconcerned with yesterday’s outfit. He was here, with her. Nothing else mattered now.

  “Tell us, how did you do it? How did you survive?” She wanted to move the attention away from her.

  “Well, there is not much to tell, really,” replied Ahiram.

  The Silent booed him.

  “Come on, Ahiram, cut the modesty routine,” yelled Allelia.

  “The commander is not here, now is he?” added Corialynn.

  “Tell us what happened,” called Alviad. “We really want to know.”

  “Well, it came down to this, as I ran by the water, I fell in but managed to get out and make my way to the top. By the revolutionaries overtook the castle and you were all gone, and here we are now back together.”

  “That won’t do,” protested Allelia. “Tell us more.”

  The Silent insisted, so Ahiram began relaying the events of the past few weeks—though omitting El-Windeer’s artifacts and minimizing his fight with the béghôm. He handed his sword to his teammates and they passed it around in silence. Noraldeen let her fingers glide lightly along the sword and it produced a joyful, thrilling sound; calling, commanding all to battle. The Silent rose like one man, ready for action.

  She handed the sword back to him. “I have always known you were a true prince,” she whispered cryptically. “This blade is yours to keep. It will be with you until the end.”

  Hiyam breathed a sigh of relief. Ahiram did not mention her participation in the High Riders’ plan to murder him during the Game of Meyroon. She noticed that Jedarc looked at her, smiling. He bent down and whispered in her ear, “I told you, didn’t I? He quickly forgets his anger.” She nodded affirmatively.

  “Is that all?” asked one of the Silent. “Did you find the wings?”

  Ahiram misunderstood the question. The Silent, naturally, had meant the fake wings, the ones hidden in the mines by the judges. But Ahiram thought the Silent had asked if he found the real wings of El-Windiir. He didn’t know how to answer for he did not want to reveal his findings before first discussing it with Tanios. Fortunately, the door of the meeting room opened and Habael spoke. “Follow me please, all of you.” Ahiram breathed a sigh of relief. As the company moved toward the meeting room, Ahiram grabbed Noraldeen’s arm and gently pulled her aside. “It’s so good to see you, Nora,” he whispered. “Let’s talk some more later.” Noraldeen was overjoyed and in her joy misunderstood his intent. He was like a mariner who had just found his anchor, like a lost child found by his older sister. So focused was he on his relief to be with Noraldeen again, that he did not stop to think how she might receive these words, how she could misinterpret them. Indeed, Noraldeen thought Ahiram was finally ready to reciprocate the love burning in her heart for him. At last, we will be together, she thought, while Ahiram was thinking, I am reunited with my friends. Everything will be just fine.

  The Silent filed into the council room. Lord Orgond directed them to stand around the table. Ahiram leaned against the wall with Noraldeen by his side. Her father waited for silence to settle, then rose to his feet and pointed to the broken sheath before him. “Do you know what this is?”

  “The emblem of the north, Your Lordship,” answered Banimelek.

  “Correct, young man, but can you tell me why?”

  As was the habit for a Silent, Ahiram surveyed the room. His eyes settled on the high priestess, who was looking at him; and when he met her gaze, she smiled. Ahiram looked down and thought, A serpent’s smile, no doubt. What is she up
to?

  “A long time ago,” continued Lord Orgond, “towards the end of the Wars of Meyroon, a major battle was fought in the north of our kingdom. This was the year 2,925 in the Age of the Second Covenant. El-Windiir commanded a great army of men, dwarfs, giants, and even Malikuun, those beings of light and great power. They fought a great evil that plundered the earth, one of the great beings the Lords of the Deep had brought fourth: the urkuun. The Lords of the Deep fashioned nine urkuuns, three of the First Order, three of the Second Order, and three of the Third Order. Each order was more powerful than the previous one. The ninth urkuun, the greatest of them all, was stronger than all the previous eight combined.”

  Orgond paused and looked at the Silent to prepare them for what was to come. “Urkuuns of the First Order were called Destruction. They were unleashed to stem the advance of the Malikuun in the wars bearing their name. These Wars of Destruction stretched from 876 to 1,436 of the Age of the Second Covenant. The urkuuns each led their own army and turned the land into a heap of desolation. They destroyed entire kingdoms, burned large forests, and left nothing standing. Yet their tactics were predictable. At the Battle of Sufian, Escalion, the general of the federated army, stopped their terror.

  “Peace reigned for nearly five hundred years, during which time the Lords of the Deep patiently readied their second assault. In the depth of Jaheem, the deepest cavern of the dead, they brought forth the Urkuuns of the Second Order. These three were known as Fire, and with their coming, the Wars of Fire began. They were stronger and smarter than their predecessors, and having a primitive knowledge of magic, rained fire on the land. The urkuuns led an immense army and laid siege to the fair city of Ea. This ushered in the Age of the Seven Battles of Light. The urkuuns and their armies won the first four battles and were about to overtake the armies of the Malikuun when the Marada, who were nonaligned, joined the army of men. On 29 Kislev 2223, in the Age of the Second Covenant, the great king of Marada, Muhaijar I, slew these urkuun by the power of Terragold, his royal sword.