“Who told you this?” he asked cautiously.
“Noraldeen. She said I should ask you. She said you knew all along.” Ahiram added this last bit of misinformation to test his commander.
“I do not know for sure that your parents are dead,” replied Tanios as calmly as possible. “All I know is that your village, Baher-Ghafé, was raided shortly after you were taken, and there are no known survivors.”
His eyes locked on Tanios. A silence followed that lasted an eternity. “Why did you not tell me?” asked Ahiram quietly. He raised his hand to prevent Commander Tanios from speaking. “I know, you don’t have to say it. It is not permitted for a slave to ask questions, right? A slave does not have the right to know anything. You repeated this to me so often, so I just kept to myself. I did not ask anything, or question anything. But then, why did you say you cared about me, why did you let me take part in the Games and risk being killed? What was the point of it?” Ahiram hit the table with his fist and ran out of the room.
“Ahiram,” shouted Tanios. There was no response.
Ahiram was gone.
“The dwarfs are dangerous. Their lore is foreign to Baal. There are great magicians amongst them, yet not once was Baal able to pinpoint one single act of magic that could be attributed to the dwarfs. It is said that they perform their acts deep within their mountains through secret ways known to them alone.
“Priests of Baal should fear their presence greatly.”
–Teaching of Oreg, High Priest of Baal.
“Whether El-Windiir faced an Urkuun of the Third Order or not remains a matter of contention. To think that a mere mortal could face such a powerful servant of the Pit requires a great deal of faith. To believe that he was capable of defeating him is downright absurd.”
–Diplomatic Notes of Uziguzi, First Adviser to Her Majesty, Aylul Meir Pen, Empress of the Empyreans.
While Tanios sent the Silent to search for Ahiram, Ibromaliöm stood inside a private room of the tavern The Hot Potato and the Three Turnips. A smell of rancid oil and fried fish hung in the air like a giant albatross hovering over a fishing boat. The smell pervaded the walls and floor, and clung to people as fog to trees.
“You bungling fool!” He yelled and pounded the table. “I told you to dispose of that idiot quietly, but instead, you stab him in the hall of the fortress and leave his body there? Are you trying to frame me?”
Ibromaliöm’s interlocutor bowed his head like a scolded child. “Farad was suspicious,” he finally said while raising his shoulders in a gesture of resignation. “You wanted him dead. He is dead. Besides, I did not nab him in the hall. I got him in a hallway.”
“I wanted him dead in a dark alley where no one would find him, you dull-headed, full of third-grade duck feathers! Not dead and lying in the fortress. That rat Tanios is there. It will not take him long to figure out the dagger you left belongs to the gang of Teheromac Ud-Palda.”
Orag looked at Ibromaliöm with exasperation. This was the third time this southerner had mispronounced the gang’s name.
“Tahoramac Ur-Pagday, Ibromaliöm, sir,” he said in a soft voice as he walked toward the ex-judge and faced him up close. “Pagday, hum? You will remember, yes?” Tahoramac Ur-Pagday meant the deadly snake, whereas Teheromac Ud-Palda meant the respectful donkey.
Ibromaliöm sneered. “If it suits me to say Teheromac Ud-Palda, I will say Teheromac Ud-Palda. And you should know better than to argue with me on linguistics. I take linguistic very, very seriously. Besides, Teheromac Ud-Palda or Tahoramac Ur-Pagday, Tanios will find out.”
“So what?” interjected Tophun Makack. “So what if he finds out we quacked Farad, what’s he gonna do? Old Orgond has been trying to lay his fat hands on us, and so far he’s gotten nothin’ but cold air and lots ‘a sweat.” Tophun walked toward Ibromaliöm and patted him on the shoulder. “You're a tall guy and dat’s good, but you worry too much. You keep worrying like dat and you'll shrink.”
The members of the gang erupted in laughter. Ibromaliöm surveyed them and wondered how long he would be able to suffer this rough, dirty and vulgar lot. He noticed that Tophun had a black eye.
“You are one to give advice,” he snarled. “You seem to have had a rather unpleasant encounter.”
Though Tophun did not understand what Ibromaliöm had just said, he noticed his boss gesture toward his eye and deduced that Ibromaliöm wanted to know how he hurt himself. “I was on my way to a gentlemanly meeting when a brat walked on my leather shoe and dirtied it. Da lady I was going ta see hate dirty shoes so you may say my gentlemanly meeting was turnin’ sour. I whacked da cockroach and a nervous lizard got on my tail. He moved so quick I could barely see da crook. Da kid said his name was Ahiram. If I ever meet dat lizard again I will pin him on a rock and leave him to rot. Dat’s what I’ll do.”
Ibromaliöm, upon hearing the name of Ahiram, broke into a cold sweat. He tottered back and dropped into an armchair with his eyes wide open. His gaze was transfixed on Tophun Makack who wondered what had suddenly gotten into his boss.
“What’s da matter with ya? Are ya seein’ a ghost or somethin’?”
Ibromaliöm managed to get a grip on himself. “What was the name of that boy again?” he asked with a faint voice.
“Ahiram,” replied Tophun. “Why?”
Ibromaliöm inspected his fingernails carefully. “The first one who brings this young man to me alive will receive twenty gold diegans.” A respectful silence followed Ibromaliöm’s words. Twenty gold diegans was enough to keep anyone fat and merry for a full year. “Let us move now, each to his own post. I want this operation to be a total success.”
The men stood up, and as they left the tavern, they wondered who this Ahiram was and why Ibromaliöm had placed such a high price on the young man’s head.
“A Togofalkian gang member,” said Tanios as he stood, having finished examining the body of the dead man.
“What do you make of it?” asked Orgond.
“As you know, Lord Orgond, Togofalkian gangs busy themselves by emptying travelers’ pockets between Hardeen, Amsheet, and beyond into Togofalk. Typically, these gangs will commit a cold-blooded murder for treason, or when they feel threatened. Lord Orgond, who had access to the fortress lately?”
“The porters of the statue.”
“They are our prime suspects,” replied Tanios. “Where are they?”
“They are parading the statue in the city.”
“I’ll send a few Silent to trail them. Once the parade is finished, we will bring them here for interrogation.”
“Do you think this may be related to the urkuun?” asked Orgond as the two men left the scene of the crime.
“I do not think so, but it gives me cause to worry. This gang may be trying to steal the statue. We do not want to deal with a diplomatic incident with Togofalk right now. It is enough that they choose to remain neutral in the current conflict.”
“Togofalkians do not deal well with Empyreans.”
“Apparently, this goes both ways,” said Tanios.
“It does,” replied Orgond with a sigh.
“Lord Orgond.” A guard ran toward them.
“Yes?”
“We found a guard strangled in the dungeon near Zirka’s room.”
“The carnival, the carnival of Jaguar-Night has begun!”
Fireworks signaled the start of the festivities. Tourists, locals, and refugees all walked elbow-to-elbow; the former invoking the god’s protection for a fruitful and rewarding year, the later asking the gods to release them from the impending terror.
Three days had come and gone since Ahiram had stormed out of the fortress; three days during which he had wandered the streets aimlessly, unable to think clearly or to make a plan. He felt rudderless, so he let the excitement and festivities carry him everywhere and anywhere. The purse Zurwott had given him before he had left the desert people came in handy. He rented a small room in one of the inns for one copper diegan—an exorbitant amount for a s
ervant’s room, but he did not care. For the first time in his life, he acted as a free man and not as a slave. He breakfasted, dined, and supped wherever he liked. When night fell, Ahiram would fly for hours on end high above the countryside. He quickly gained full mastery of the wings and moved through the air faster than any bird of prey. He resisted the urge to land until he could no longer suffer the cold air.
On the third night, while flying, he considered calling the golden tile to him. The first three days he had left it behind in his room. He vividly remembered when he had first found El-Windiir’s artifacts. He had unwittingly tried to use them with the golden tile and had nearly killed himself. But now, he felt more confident and decided to try it out again.
To his knowledge, no one else could see the tile, which is why he did not try to hide it. Besides, hide it where? Anyone who can see it will probably find it no matter where I hide it. As he flew over a plain, he whispered the name of the Letter “taw” and the tile materialized at once in his hand. Instantly, Ahiram careened uncontrollably, so fast that the world became a blur. Down below, a pack of wolves was moving stealthily through the country when they suddenly heard a massive BOOM overhead. I can’t see anything! He frantically dropped the tile from his hand, knowing he could call it back at will. He decelerated rapidly and found himself flying over the northern border of Tanniin.
Amazing. This tile packs more power than all the artifacts of El-Windiir combined. If only I knew how to use it properly. Well, actually, I have not tried to use the mask yet.
He waited until he was back over the plain, where down below, three shepherds were spending the night with their flock. He slid the mask onto his face and peered through the slits, but he could not see anything. He lost control for a moment. The mask glowed, dissipating the darkness within, then it became translucent. Its edges burst into flames that quickly subsided, forming a bright outline. Warmth spread through his entire body and shielded him from the cold air.
“Wow,” whispered Ahiram who managed to steady his flight. “This is amazing. Even though it’s night, I can see as if it’s bright day.”
Down below, sheep stood still and three shepherds huddled around a small fire that he had not noticed before. Then, out of his peripheral vision, he saw a pack of twelve wolves creep up on the unsuspecting shepherds. The wind blew in their direction and hid their scent from their sheep. Tanniin, much like Finikia, considered dogs to be unclean, but the Tanniinites took their disdain for dogs a step further. They believed dogs to be so vile they avoided sheep that had been guarded by them and to eat their meat, milk, or cheese would bring a bad omen. That is why sheep herds in Tanniin roamed the land without the protection of dogs. Not giving it a second thought, Ahiram dove straight down, and at the last moment straightened his posture so he now hovered just a few feet above the ground. He cut through the herd and moved in a straight line toward the wolves. I’ll scare them so they’ll scamper. This will alert the shepherds and it will become an even fight. After all, a wolf has got to eat.
As he drew closer, he realized he did not have the faintest idea what he was supposed to do with the mask. This is El-Windiir’s mask, so it must somehow be connected to the dragon Tanniin. The mask had a small opening that was level to his mouth. He had assumed it was meant for breathing, but the mask in its current state allowed warm air to blow freely on his face. Ahiram thought of Tanniin blowing fire and without further thought, he blew through the opening. The two eye slits flashed hot red and pandemonium ensued.
The shepherds saw a giant flame erupt from the edge of the field. Their sheep scampered for shelter. Wolves howled as they darted away, and a tree burst into flames.
“Lightning,” said one of the shepherds. “Lightning hit the tree.”
“Where’s the storm, pea brain?” interjected another. “The sky is as clear as your balding head.”
“It’s the god Tanniin protecting us,” explained the third.
The two others nodded. This was the best explanation. Tanniin had saved them from the wolves.
High overhead, Ahiram fled the scene at breakneck speed. I didn’t know the mask was that powerful. The blast killed three wolves and burned a tree and I barely blew through it. Suddenly, he felt tired and dazed. He found himself over Amsheet and quickly alighted on the highest rooftop near the main road where the statue of Jaguar-Night would process. All eyes were on the brightly lit street, so no one saw him land. Quickly, he removed the artifacts and stowed them inside his bag, which he carried over his shoulder alongside his sword. He sat down and watched the road below where throngs of visitors stood on either side in anticipation of the idol. The city had lit giant torches spaced at regular intervals along the road to honor the Togofalkian god, and many bystanders held candles in homage. From his vantage point, Ahiram could clearly see a long stretch of the main street as well as the small bridge that crossed over it.
Ahiram noticed three riders step onto the deserted bridge. They dismounted and watched the street below. Lax security, he thought absentmindedly. There’s at least three ways I could get on and off this bridge without being noticed. Ahiram yawned. Below, the crowd started to chant slowly. It would be another hour or two before the statue arrived. Pangs of hunger reminded him that he was famished. Wearing the mask took a lot more energy than I thought. He jumped onto a set of stairs and went down to the streets below in search of food.
Jedarc looked at Banimelek and knew from his friend’s expression that he had no luck finding Ahiram. “That’s why Ahiram is a Solitary,” he mumbled. “If he wishes to disappear for three days, he can do so despite being chased by the Silent Corps.”
“He’s not in the fortress’ caves,” reported Alviad, joining them.
“No sign of him either in the Togofalkian Highlands,” added Allelia, filing in after her.
“And no one in the city has seen him,” said Corialynn as she arrived next to the group. “Where could he be?”
They had regrouped on the fortress’ first wall, overlooking Amsheet.
“We have been searching for him for three days with no luck. What should we do?” asked Hiyam.
“We think,” replied Banimelek. “There is an old saying that states, ‘No Silent is lost who has friends that cherish his ways. They think like him, they act like him, and they find him.’”
“Chapter eleven, verse seven of the Book of Siril.” Noraldeen completed the quote out of habit. Banimelek looked at her, and with his hand under her chin, lifted her head, then smiled and winked at her. She smiled back. “I should never have told him,” she repeated bitterly.
“You mean you would have left Alendiir in the dark about the most important event of his life?” asked Sondra as she landed gracefully next to Noraldeen. She yanked on her rope and reeled it in. “I don’t think so.”
“It was not my place to tell him,” replied Noraldeen. “The commander must have had a good reason to keep the truth from Ahiram.”
“His temper,” whispered Sheheluth, stepping onto the wall.
“What do you mean ‘his temper’?” Noraldeen snapped.
Everyone stared at the Junior Silent. “You should realize by now that he was never meant to be a Silent, don’t you? He’s not an order-taker.”
“Ahiram is the greatest Silent there is,” said Noraldeen as she stood up. “You should not judge what you do not understand.”
Sheheluth looked at her with unflinching eyes. “Did he hit you when you told him?” she asked softly.
“Hit me? No. Ahiram would never do that. How dare you ask?”
Sheheluth sighed and smiled sheepishly. “We should talk later.” Suddenly she changed her tone. “For now, we need to find him. He may be in grave danger.”
“How do you know?” asked Noraldeen.
The Junior Silent shrugged her shoulders. “With that temper of his, who knows what he might be up to?”
“Most of us know Ahiram,” interjected Banimelek. “Some of us more than others.” He glanced at Hiyam as he spok
e, and she smiled. “So ask yourself, if you were Ahiram and someone told you that your family was dead, what would you do?”
“Well,” began Jedarc, “Ahiram would be itching for action. That’s his way of dealing with pain. I mean, imagine, you’ve been a slave for six years, and for six years you keep thinking about your parents, your sister especially, and you long to go back and see them. You are a slave who will not run away lest you dishonor your family. So you train beyond the limit of your abilities. Some of the things I saw Ahiram do are unbelievable. Next, you pester the commander until he allows you to take part in the Games of the Mines. Getting the commander to yield to anything is no small feat. Then, you’re in the mines, alone, only to face certain death—”
“And you gain the respect and admiration of your foes,” added Hiyam.
“Yes,” continued Jedarc. “Finally, you emerge from the mines with El-Windiir’s true sword. You are a hero; you are free. Then you learn that your parents and sister are dead.”
Noraldeen stood up and tightened her fists. “I bear responsibility for what happened,” she said forcefully. “I will find him.”
Banimelek glared at her with an expression that said, “You did not have to say that.”
Sondra grabbed and squeezed her friend’s shoulder. “Noraldeen, listen to me. You and I have known each other forever, right?” She nodded. “Let’s deal with it.” She eyed the young men. “Boys, you’re in this too. Sheheluth, watch your tongue, or so help me, I will whack you so hard you won’t be able to sit for three days. Hiyam, you’re in this as well, so wipe that annoyed look off your face. I won’t tolerate any soppiness from either of you,” she added addressing Hiyam and Noraldeen.
“Don’t you love her when she’s like that?” whispered Alviad in Banimelek’s ear.
“That question is troubling on so many levels,” grumbled Banimelek.
Wrath of the Urkuun (Epic of Ahiram Book 2) Page 44