“My own concluding conclusions lead me to a similar confusing confusion,” replied Zurwott. “This is extremely puzzling, and puzzling in the extreme. It would have been an excellent rhapsody in starkly distinct circumstances.”
“If my thought process is leaning toward your thought process, and both are meeting in a convenient abstraction, I would prognosticate an internal adipose suppuration of the rock,” concluded Orwutt.
“A viscose viscosity shall we sayingly say?” asked Zurwott. But he was dissatisfied. “A viscose viscosity would productively produce a lighter after effect of the tapping tap.” He tapped again on the wall. “Pay attentive attention, my brotherly brother, to the returning return of the tap.” He tapped slowly three times. “It suffers a slightly slight delay, yet its reverberating reverberations are strongly stronger than what a polite reverberation sounds like.”
“Indeed, and a viscous surfacing surface would not retain the after-tap. Then what is it that we are dealing with?” wondered Orwutt.
“Lend your ear with attentive attention.”
By now, the two dwarfs had but forgotten all about the sylveeds and the precarious situation they were in. Dwarfs loved rocks and mountains, and to be able to listen to the stony breath of a mountain was sheer delight. The twin brothers placed their ears on the mountainside and listened attentively, eyes closed. Suddenly, they felt the tip of a spear between their shoulder blades. Behind them, a small group of sylveeds waited impatiently, and they jumped in place as though trying to hide from the light.
“Open door, open door,” said one of them, presumably the same one who had spoken to them earlier—although it was hard to tell them apart. In the light of day they looked pathetic and weak.
“We are attempting to locate the contour of the portal,” replied Orwutt patiently. “Now, if your legitimacy could be relatively patient and patiently resolute, we shall succeed in acceding to your demands shortly.” This said, Orwutt closed his eyes and tried to listen once more. The sylveeds went back toward the shade and mumbled in a strange language, having no other option but to wait.
“I hope, my brotherly brother,” said Zurwott, a glint in his eye, “that you have spoken the truthful truth and the truth most truthful. If not, these troubled souls will force us to rest in pieces.”
“Are you trying humor in the common tongue?” asked Orwutt frowning. “If you are, you should stop.” He raised a hand to stave the incoming objection, “You should refrain from complaining in front of a stranger; that is unbecoming.”
Zurwott harrumphed, but his brother ignored him. The two dwarfs listened attentively for several minutes without any exchange of words. Finally, Orwutt announced, “Water.”
“Watering water, and water most watering. There can be no confusing confusion nor confused confusion about it,” confirmed his twin brother.
“The main cave must not have been well insulated,” continued Orwutt, “and water has made its way in. This explains why the portal rendered our taps so poorly.”
“Concerning what is poorly poor and richly rich, my brotherly brother, your spoken speech tends toward sullenly sullen expressions and overworked adverbial adverbs when events overcome you by their surprising contours.”
“It is a matter of lively life and deadly death, my dear brother,”
“All the more then to maintain elegant elegance in spoken speech and a refined refinement in courage.”
In joyful response, the two dwarfs shook hands and bowed, then turned away from each other. They clapped their hands, then raised their arms and faced the clouds. Next, they turned and faced each other, bowed once more, and again shook hands. Finally, they clapped, turned around while raising their hands and faces up, then repeated the sequence once more. This was the closest a dwarf could get to expressing jubilation. They knew now that they had found the portal, and presumably, there was water behind it. All that remained to be done was to open the portal, a thing easier said than done. The two dwarfs stood facing the mountain with their powerful hands pressed flat on the surface of the rock. They looked at each other, Orwutt nodded, and the two dwarfs began to slap the surface at full speed. They passed each other as they moved from right to left without ceasing to strike the surface. This was the famous Raks Sochor, the Dance of the Wall. The dwarf brothers, in fact, slapped the surface at different angles with their hands. They were on the lookout for a ringing sound, one that is not usually produced by the rock when it is slapped. Typically, two to three rings controlled a maxo-rock. To open the portal, they needed to slap the rings in the proper order. This would release a lever and set the portal in motion. Zurwott was the first to hear a ring. He hit its position fast and lost it. He repeated his last movements until he found it again. Using a small rock, he marked its placement.
They searched for the second ring without success. They multiplied their slaps, repeated their moves, and tired themselves out. Dark clouds started to assemble above their heads, which caused the sylveeds to come out from hiding once more. Their menacing figures grew closer until they had surrounded the two dwarfs who continued to strike the rock.
“Open door,” said one of the sylveeds. The two dwarfs stopped and stood panting with their backs against the wall.
“We are considerately considering the requisite options with attentive attention to the details,” replied Orwutt.
The sylveed placed the tip of the spear against his neck. “Open door,” it shrieked, “or dead.”
“But we have not found the second ring,” said Orwutt, exasperated. “We need at least two rings and we have found only one.”
By now most of the sylveeds had come out of the forest and swarmed around the two dwarfs. Zurwott shook his head and hit the ring hard out of frustration. The portal instantly flung open, and its twelve by ten feet panels slammed each of the dwarfs against the mountain face. The sylveeds shouted in victory, then screamed in terror. A high wall of water gushed with the might of the gods, and turned into a wrathful tidal wave that carried the sylveeds into the forest, smashing their bodies into trees and rocks. The portal that nearly crushed the two dwarfs against the mountain had in fact saved their lives. After the water subsided, they stepped out cautiously. Three sylveeds leaped from the forest and attacked. Fortunately, axes and swords littered the ground.
“This is what I call a fortuitous fortifying turn of tide,” exclaimed Zurwott as he picked an axe and a sword.
“A dance to tap a portal and a dance to make axes sing,” added Orwutt, grinning dangerously.
The battle raged and remained uncertain, for both sides were accomplished fighters, but when the sun rose over the forest, the sylveeds ran back and disappeared in the trees. At last, the two brothers were alone. They stepped into the damp, deserted cave and closed the portal after them. Light seeped in from the sides through hidden openings, as expected from a cave dug by dwarfish hands.
“A one-ring portal. This must be primordially primordial and primordial primordially, perhaps one of the first, and first and foremost amongst the portals our ancestors built,” said Zurwott.
“Probably,” replied Orwutt, inspecting the doors. “This may explain its bad manners when it opened. This portal does not know how to contain its zeal. We should remedy this situation.”
“We will, my brotherly brother, in a timely manner and a manner most timely when the situation is more auspiciously auspicious. In the intervening interval and interval most intervening, let us freely roam and roam freely while trying to cogently discern and discern in the most cogent fashion, the meaning of all this.”
Unwittingly, the sylveeds had brought them closer to the heart of the mystery. Orwutt and Zurwott forged ahead, wondering what waited at the other end of the great caves.
“The dwarfs, having carved the mines, knew them better than anyone else. Yet, the mines remained shrouded in mystery, as though the mountain itself housed ancient beings of great power deep within its bosom.”
–Philology of the Dwarfs, Anonymous.
Just as the dwarf brothers, Orwutt and Zurwott, stepped into the cave, Tophun Makack stood on the bridge overlooking the street through which the statue of Jaguar-Night was to process. Legs spread, hands behind his back, he stood like a general surveying a battleground. Ibromaliöm stopped his pacing, and froze. The statue was finally in view. Singers walked in front of it droning sacred chants with cymbals, tambourines, and the fyrad, the sacred lute of Babylon. The crowd cheered and applauded when the idol finally came into view. The statue was secured on a golden ceremonial carriage, and in the trembling light of the burning candles, it looked alive with its glittering eyes beneath the disproportionate eyelids.
“Are your men ready?” whispered Ibromaliöm.
“Stop worryin,” replied Tophun, grinning, “They know what ta do. Da plan is easy ta follow.”
“Is my horse ready?”
“Over this way,” said Tophun pointing toward the street behind Ibromaliöm. “A fine steed I found ya. Dat’s if ya got da gold.”
“The coins are in this purse,” said Ibromaliöm. “All one hundred and fifty of them, as we agreed.”
Tophun peeked into the purse. He quickly counted fifteen rolls of ten gold diegans each, which satisfied him. Besides, If Ibromaliöm double-crossed the gang, he would not reach the port alive.
“Perfect,” he said. “Dat’s a good dealin for all us.”
Ahiram stood up, mesmerized by what he saw. He was unable to take his eyes away from something pulsing rapidly above the green pupils. The object called to him with flashes of white and blue. It throbbed randomly, increasing and decreasing in intensity. A single word bubbled on the surface of his consciousness and he felt a strong need to utter this word from a spot that was close to the statue. He did not know why, but the urge was compelling. He quickly unrolled a rope and tied it to a beam, then checked that his sword and bag were fastened securely in place. Holding the other end of the rope, he ran and jumped.
Jedarc spotted Ahiram minutes before on a neighboring rooftop. Frenetically, he signaled to Hiyam whom had stayed on street level, and to Noraldeen, a few rooftops away. Sondra, who faced Jedarc across the street, signaled back. Noraldeen relayed the signal to Banimelek before joining Jedarc, just as Hiyam reached them.
“There,” said Jedarc. “He just leaped off that rooftop.”
“What is he up to?” wondered Banimelek.
Ahiram threw his weight forward, which yanked the rope behind him. He waited for it to tense, then arched his body along a wide semi-circle that brought him over the corridor bridge where the statue was about to enter. Ibromaliöm and Tophun leaned over the handrail and closely watched the slow progress of the procession. At the point of his trajectory closest to the statue, Ahiram said the word that had formed in his mind.
“Tiir!”
The two eyelids immediately flung off the statue faster than soaring arrows and flew toward Ahiram. He caught them in his hands and was about to turn around to flee when the rope snapped. Ahiram instinctively adjusted his position to soften the approaching blow, but his head hit the pavement. He lost consciousness just a few feet from Ibromaliöm.
The crowd cheered thinking this was part of the procession. Ibromaliöm bowed and forced Tophun to do the same.
“This is da lizard dat I was talkin’ ta ya about,” snarled Tophun as he barely restrained himself from crushing Ahiram.
“I know. Turn around slowly. Slowly, I said. Carry him carefully to my horse, tie him on, and I will give you twenty gold diegans as promised.”
These words immediately mollified Tophun. “This lad must be somethin’ if ya’re willin’ ta spend dat much on em.”
“More than you think,” said Ibromaliöm in a jubilant tone, unable to believe his luck. “Far more than you think.” He grabbed Ahiram’s bag and deftly slid the eyelids into it, then followed Tophun Makack as nonchalantly as possible. “More for me and less for you,” he muttered as he waved to the cheering crowd.
He settled on his horse, waited for Tophun to secure Ahiram, then briskly took off after paying the gang member. Meanwhile, the statue emerged from the tunnel with its false eyelids intact. The crowd cheered and chanted, “Jaguar-Night.” They were more convinced than ever of the god’s power and protection.
When Noraldeen and her friends reached the bridge, they found it deserted. Alviad knelt and inspected the pavement.
“Blood. He must be injured.”
“Are you sure he fell?” asked Allelia.
“I saw him,” replied Alviad.
“I saw him as well,” confirmed Corialynn. “It was a nasty fall.”
“Look over there,” said Jedarc pointing toward the building from which Ahiram had leaped, “The rope. It snapped.”
“Who was that man who picked him up?” asked Hiyam.
Banimelek looked at each of them in turn before responding. “I know you will not believe me, but it was Ibromaliöm.”
“The judge?” responded the others.
“In person,” replied Banimelek. “Let’s go. We don’t have one moment to lose.” They ran toward the end of the bridge just in time to see Ibromaliöm disappear with a slumped Ahiram. “A horse. He is well prepared. We must run.”
“No, not this way, he must be headed to the Togofalkian gate. I know where we can find fast chargers nearby,” replied Noraldeen. “Follow me.”
“But dat’s all I know, I told ya. Ya keep yakin’ and yakin’ and I know nothin’ a dat Bramolum of yours.”
“Ibromaliöm,” replied Tanios severely. “You have not told me where he is taking the young man.”
“Bramolum says ‘Get me da lids and I will shell da gold.’ I says fair deal cause we all know da lids are cursed and ya must be crazy to want to touch thems. Da gold is bettar. What he does after is none da my business.”
Tanios had interrogated Tophun Makack for over three hours, but was getting nowhere. The Togofalkian was as stubborn as a mule and no amount of cajoling or threats could make him reveal where Ibromaliöm was going. The commander was forced to conclude that he truly didn’t know. He left the prison and returned to the meeting room. The two Silent that Tanios had assigned to follow the gang led the soldiers of Orgond to their bandit’s hideout. When the gang members saw the soldiers, they ran away and fell into the Silent’s traps. The soldiers rounded them up, including Tophun, along with the gold.
“Any results?” asked Orgond when Tanios entered the council room.
“I am convinced that Ibromaliöm did not share his destination with the gang.”
“What should we do then?” asked Lord Orgond. “The festivities concluded yesterday. As we speak, the Empyreans are marching toward Hardeen. If we delay further we may not be able to meet them in time.”
“Did Noraldeen say anything else to the keeper of the horses yesterday?” asked Bahiya.
“No more than what Tophun told us,” replied Tanios. “Ibromaliöm has taken Ahiram hostage and has left the city. Banimelek, Hiyam, Noraldeen, and Jedarc are on a quick chase behind them. They hope to catch up with him soon.”
“Why did the high priestess’ daughter go with your Silent, Commander?” asked Lord Orgond. “Her safety is paramount.”
“I don’t know,” replied Tanios. “I will find out when they return.”
“Hiyam is an accomplished Junior High Rider,” interjected Bahiya. “If need be, she can call on the High Rider camp in Togofalk for aid. I am not concerned for her safety.”
“Thank you, Your Ladyship,” replied Lord Orgond who knew he would have to negotiate with the Temple eventually. “Now, this Ibromaliöm, is he not a former tajèr?” he asked.
“Yes, why?” replied Tanios.
“Two weeks ago, thieves broke through a private residence in Hardeen. Apparently, the tajéruun own the home.”
“How much did they steal?” asked Master Xurgon.
“Roughly five thousand gold diegans.”
Tanios whistled. “It takes three carts to transport that much gold,” he sa
id. “I can see why he was in league with a Togofalkian gang.”
“How did he manage to break in?” wondered Bahiya. “Several curse rings protect the tajéruun’s house of gold. If he is this powerful,” she added, “perhaps the Silent should avoid a direct confrontation.”
Orgond sighed. “I wish my daughter were not …” Clenching his fist, he changed the topic. “The tajéruun actively seek the perpetrators. From what I have learned, three men were found inside the house in the same state as the Queen.”
“Are they still alive?” asked Bahiya. “I would like to speak with them.”
“I am afraid they are all dead.”
“A pity,” she whispered.
“A thief who robs the tajéruun forfeits his life. They will hunt and kill him,” added Tanios. “Ibromaliöm must know he is a wanted man now. He knew the risk when he stole the gold. This is one dangerous man.”
Habael placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I trust in the Silent,” he said with a warm smile. “I trust they will use stealth and the techniques you taught them to avoid confrontation.”
“There is no point in worrying,” interjected Uziguzi. “Four young Silent with excellent training and the experienced daughter of a powerful high priestess will handle this mission. We do well to trust their judgment, as our good friend Habael just said. We should worry about the forthcoming battle and move quickly.”
“But without the lad, what hope do we have?” asked Master Xurgon.
“There is always hope,” replied Habael.
“When can we move?” asked Tanios.
“We should be ready to leave Amsheet in four hours,” replied Lord Orgond. “The army is ready. I need to give specific directives to my men. I suggest you take advantage of this short lull to rest. This may be the last time you will be able to do so comfortably.”
Wrath of the Urkuun (Epic of Ahiram Book 2) Page 46