“A Furtive Spell,” she said. “Who do you want to trail?”
“Put it on the creature,” he added. “Without it, the wielder of the sword may not find his mark.”
“Can the boy defeat the monster?” asked Bahiya. “He is so young.”
The apple-like head bobbed several times. “What will happen is hard to predict, but we are not without hope,” replied Ashod.
“I will cast this spell on the creature. Anything else?”
“Things may get worse after the battle,” added Ashod cryptically.
“I know. I am prepared,” asserted Bahiya.
“I did not mean you.”
“For the sword’s wielder? Why?”
“It is imperative that he does not lose hope. If he does, the Temple will capture him and make him a high priest.”
“I will not let that happen.”
“You may consider telling him about his sister. He will need to know she is alive. He will need something to hope for.”
Bahiya’s heart constricted. “I will see what I can do. I must leave. I have already overextended my presence here.”
Ashod opened his mouth and blew. Bahiya felt a rush of air push her out and into darkness. Ashod’s breath is the key to the maze, she thought. How ingenious … and how predictable.
After her departure, a cloaked figure moved out from the shadows. “Well done, my son.” The voice was a faint whisper.
“Do you think he stands a chance to defeat the beast?”
“As good a chance as we can possibly hope for.”
The next morning, at the break of dawn, the company resumed their trail. Despite a brisk pace, it took them seven hours to reach the valley floor. Heat and stifling humidity replaced ice, snow, and wind. A shorter, direct path existed through the highlands, but it passed within a stone’s throw from Vumax, an important Empyrean military outpost.
The Silent are true to their namesake, thought Bahiya. We have been walking for hours and they have yet to speak.
The sun was high when they reached a wide, still lake.
“The mountain wall you see opposite this lake is the northeastern edge of the fortress,” the commander said for Bahiya’s sake. “We will trek along the lake’s eastern edge,” he told his Silent. “The entrance is on that side. Keep your wits about you. Vipers are common in this area.”
“Better snakes than Empyreans,” muttered Bahiya.
Two hours later, they reached the opposite side.
“Keep moving,” the commander told them. “We need to reach the door before nightfall.” Assuming the Empyrean forces in this area are under the Empyrean princess’ authority, he thought. Tanios was worried. He knew the Empyrean army followed a decentralized command structure, and the regional commander could choose to launch a frontal attack on the fortress without prior notification from Gaëla.
Bahiya surveyed the landscape but could not spot the entrance.
“Where is it?” she asked at last.
Tanios pointed up to a cliff that hung two thousand feet over the lake. “Atop that cliff there is a plateau. At the southernmost end of the plateau there is a small, unprotected cave which leads into the fortress.”
“An open cave leading straight into the fortress?” How clever, thought the high priestess.
“The dwarfs reworked the cave’s mouth. It’s very difficult to spot, even when you’re looking for it.”
“How do we get up there?”
“We climb,” said the commander, giving Bahiya a wink. He firmly secured a belt around her waist and in doing so, drew the priestess near to him. She gazed up at him. He smiled a faint, crooked smile and said, “Like old times, right?”
She gave a reserved smile back. Oh Tanios, if you only knew. This was not the first time Bahiya had climbed up a straight mountain face. She found herself repeating old, familiar moves that she had sworn never to repeat. It is different this time, she thought as she dangled off a rope seven hundred feet over the lake. I am doing this for a vital purpose. Besides, we have the company of the Silent with us now. Before, it was Tanios and I alone.
They reached the summit by dusk. They were exhausted yet relieved, for their climb had gone without a hitch.
“We’ll camp here tonight, and we should reach the fortress by early tomorrow morning.”
The night was uneventful despite the howling wind. It was again frigid, and the company huddled for warmth as the commander would not allow the smallest fire.
“Empyreans have keen eyesight. They will spot the faintest flame.”
The following morning, after a quick and cold breakfast, they resumed their walk. On several occasions, they were forced to lie low to avoid detection by the sylveeds. Despite their hatred for the light, the urkuun’s servants heavily patrolled the area, so even though the entrance was relatively close, it took them all morning to reach it.
“There it is.” Tanios finally pointed to a wall ahead of them.
“Amazing,” said Bahiya, “I do not see it.”
As they drew closer to the wall, she searched for the cave but could not see it. Where is it? she thought. Did we miss it?
“Halt,” ordered Tanios. “We have reached our destination.”
“Where is the entrance?” asked Bahiya. She knew the Silent did not see the cave either.
Tanios smirked and pointed to the mountain face two feet away from Bahiya. “Right here.”
She gasped. The entrance was right there in front of her; a narrow slit in the mountain. Ah, rounded edges and a steep, narrow path that looks just like the rest of the mountain. “I thought the cave was part of this wall.”
“Are you ready?” asked the commander.
She nodded. “This has been too easy.”
“Does he know we are coming?” asked Commander Tanios.
The high priestess nodded. “We share the same magical realm. He knows I am here.”
“Well, we shall attempt to live up to his expectations,” replied Tanios. He looked at the Silent before continuing. “Return from where you came and report to Lord Orgond.”
The Silent did not move. This was the first time they had refused a direct order from their commander.
“You have heard my order,” repeated Tanios. “A large group will be easily detected inside the fortress. You have protected us until now, but in Hardeen a large group becomes a hindrance. I want you to return.”
“Who will defend you?” asked one of the Silent.
“We will take care of ourselves. I do not wish to argue any further. Return from where we came. Obey Lord Orgond as you would obey me. Now go. You are wasting my time.”
The Silent put one knee to the ground and bowed their heads in a promise of fidelity, fully aware they might not see their commander again. Tanios smiled slightly, almost tenderly, then abruptly turned his back and walked into the cave. The priestess followed.
After a wide right turn, Tanios and Bahiya reached a dead end lit by a shaft overhead. The commander examined the wall carefully for a long while. After a frustrating search, he heaved a sigh of relief and tapped the wall lightly at a precise location. After the second tap a section of the wall silently sprung open to reveal a narrow passage. Tanios scanned it quickly before signaling to Bahiya to follow him. Once inside he tapped on the wall three times and the door jolted back into place. Dwarfish workmanship never ceased to astound her. The door vanished as if the wall had swallowed it. She traced the ragged surface lightly with her fingers without detecting an edge. The door was completely gone.
“Let’s move,” whispered Tanios.
They went down a flight of stairs and reached a narrow platform where two additional staircases connected.
Not here, thought Tanios. We’re too exposed.
High up inside the Fortress of Hardeen, they were now headed to the lowest level. The commander chose the left stairwell and Bahiya followed. As they moved, he listened for the faintest sound and searched for the right spot to speak with the priestess. As they m
ade their way down, they glimpsed vast empty storage areas and some long narrow corridors. Tanios was familiar enough with the fortress to know that these secondary quarters were empty and now served as a sanctuary in case of invasion. Eventually, they would reach the main arteries of the fortress where they would make contact with the enemy.
Here, he thought, this room is perfect. He signaled to the priestess to follow him as he stepped into a small, secluded room. A frown creased her otherwise perfect forehead when she saw him glare at her, anger contorting his stealth features. She looked at him questioningly.
“Why?” he asked.
“Why what?” she said.
“Why did you murder those four young men during the Games? Why did you kill your own men?”
Bahiya looked at Tanios with stunned eyes, teetered back, and slid down against the cold wall.
Just as Tanios was confronting Bahiya, Noraldeen bowed. “We thank you for your generosity and we gratefully accept.”
“You do not have to thank me. It is I who thank you,” replied the old woman. “Lord Orgond, helped us when my husband was away, and gave us shelter and food. Come in and bring this poor young boy with you.”
It had been five days since they set out in search of Ahiram, and since then, had not a moment of rest. After finding him, they moved back along the mountainous road of Togofalk, toward Tanniin. Ahiram’s fever had not subsided, and carrying the stretcher on which he lay slowed them. The journey back became dangerous. After the festivities ended, Togofalkian gangs plagued the roads once more. Then, a prolonged hailstorm forced them to take shelter inside a ruin, and a few hours later, the storm turned into a snow blizzard—which, even this high in the mountains, was rare during the last weeks of summer. As the snow fell, violent lightning and thunder filled the sky. Worried that Ahiram might not last much longer, they had taken to the road and inched their way through the storm. Soaked to the bones, cold and weary, they reached the first Tanniinite village past the border where the hospitable old woman now received them. She recognized Noraldeen and opened her house to them. They dried off, and she served them hot lentil soup and large chunks of steaming bread. She watched over Ahiram while the four of them slept. Noraldeen had wanted to care for him, but could not keep her eyes open. The old woman gently led her to a mat.
The following morning, Jedarc woke up to an empty house. He stepped outside and saw Hiyam sitting on a chair on the porch. The sky was still covered with clouds, but the wind had abated. The snow began to melt in the morning sun, revealing dark puddles here and there.
“Where is everyone?
“Noraldeen, Banimelek, and the old woman took Ahiram to a medicine man.”
“How is he doing?”
“Worse. His fever rose despite the woman’s treatments.” As I feared, thought Hiyam, her heart constricting.
“How long did they say they would be gone?”
“A couple of hours.”
“Did you eat?” Jedarc could see how worried Hiyam was.
“No. I’m not hungry.”
He drew close and whispered, “How do two fresh eggs prepared according to my secret recipe and served on a fresh piece of bread sound?”
Hiyam looked into his cheerful eyes. Their faces were close and she had to admit that she felt very comfortable around the tall, lanky blond Silent. Since their last conversation, he had not broached the subject of love, so she did not feel pressured by him. He had won her respect, and there were elements of his character that she had not seen in other men.
His sense of humor is a derivative of being at ease, observed Hiyam, and he acts naturally around me despite my rank. He must hail from a high court with its own share of intrigue. She recalled a conversation she had had with Bahiya on the way to the Games of the Mines.
“The Silent train in accordance with the virtues,” her mother had explained while they were still at sea, on their way from Baalbek to Tanniin. “Temperance forms passion, prudence develops reason, justice guides reparation, and fortitude teaches the heart to undertake worthy tasks, even at great personal cost.”
“What about the High Riders?” Hiyam had asked.
“The High Riders are bred for one singular goal; to make sure the Temple prevails. They are known for strength, stamina, courage, and unwavering fidelity to the Temple.”
“Which one is better?”
Her mother had not replied.
This short exchange stayed with her. Whenever her mother had been required to take Hiyam to a feast of the Temple where wine flowed freely and morals were set aside, Bahiya’s fearsome reputation protected her from any lewd attention. In an attempt to spare her the spectacle, her mother would confine Hiyam to a discrete corner, but she would still witness the slow descent of revelry into utter madness. She saw High Riders whom she admired, men—normally disciplined, stout, and loyal—lose all control and give into their passions during these unbridled parties. They acted like blind, uncontrollable animals, she remembered. Standing alone, she would wonder if she would ever meet a good man, a man truly worthy of her, who would respect her and act lovingly.
Here I am, sitting in this kitchen, at ease with a man I barely know. It troubled her to admit that she felt far more at ease with Jedarc than she ever had with any of the men on her team.
“Can I ask you a question?” she said sheepishly.
“Ask away,” replied Jedarc who turned to face her.
“What can you tell me about temperance?” she said blushing.
Jedarc cocked his head and raised his eyebrows in surprise. He had not expected that, but was not one to seek out the reason for a question. A question was asked and he was obliged to answer.
“Hum,” he said, “do you want the long answer or the short answer?”
“The short answer,” she replied.
“Very well.” He tapped her knee with the side of his hand. Her leg jerked. “See that?” he asked.
“What?” she replied, confused.
“Your leg responded the right way, wouldn’t you say?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And yet, you did not say to your leg, ‘Hey, Oh leg of mine, you will obey my command as I instruct you to jerk thusly and in no other way.’”
“You are beginning to sound like a dwarf,” she said, straight-faced.
“Really?” His eyes shined brightly. “I have always dreamed of being a dwarf with the overgrown beard and long hair.”
She giggled at the thought of a dwarf Jedarc. He impressed her with his princely allure. She noticed how tall and slender he was, with deep green eyes, high cheekbones set in an oval face, and straw-blond hair that fell untidily over his face no matter how often he pushed it away. She imagined him with a long, bushy beard and laughed even harder.
“Well,” he said pretending to be hurt, “I would have made a great dwarfish dwarf,” he said. “Hey, did I ever tell you what one chicken said to another when they …”
She raised a finger and said gently, “Temperance?”
“Temperance, right,” replied Jedarc. “Well, when I tapped your knee, your leg reacted the right way. When I did it again, your leg repeated the same motion. You didn’t have to think about it did you? So, in a manner of speaking, your leg is trained to do the right thing. In the same way, temperance guides us to act according to right reason. That’s Master Habael’s fancy way of saying we do the right thing.”
“But how do you know what the right thing is?”
“It’s easy. You eat when you’re hungry, you sleep when you’re tired, and both in moderation.” Jedarc flushed slightly and softened his tone. “And you never take advantage of a woman for your own selfish desires, but you love her as she deserves to be loved.”
Their gaze lingered on each other for a moment, though these last words had taken her by surprise. They were bold, straightforward, and carried a depth of meaning that she had not anticipated.
“It all seems so simple.”
“Love or the chicken eggs?”
<
br /> She sighed, exasperated. High Riders never joked around, so she had difficulty keeping up with Jedarc’s meandering mind.
“If everything is ordered like you say, what of spontaneity?”
“Does your leg bore you when it acts according to right reason?” he asked. “Or would you like it to spontaneously dislocate itself from its socket and go gallivanting after a chicken? No, but if your leg acts the right way, it gives you the freedom to walk, run, and dance. Spontaneity leads to peace of mind when it is virtuous.”
“But this is my leg. It’s not me.”
“Indeed, and my passions, but they do not define me.” He went to her and lowered his face so their eyes met, and added, “one thousand passionate acts do not amount to a single act of love if they are done selfishly.” He moved away and bowed. “All right, how about we satisfy our appetite with some tasty food?”
“Isn’t this against the virtue of temperance?”
He sighed. “Not when it is in the service of justice, and justice demands we eat. Please, follow me.”
He led her outside and turned around. He walked her back, arm over arm, head raised with the solemnity of an imperial ruler. Reaching the doorstep, he let go of her arm and signaled for her to wait. Switching roles, he pretended to be a dutiful waiter and prepared her table. She laughed at the precision of Jedarc’s gestures. She could almost see the tablecloth and candles. He then unrolled an imaginary carpet and ushered her in. He sat her down at the table, bowed ceremoniously, and began cooking. Before her fascinated eyes, he flipped the flat bread on the saj, and prepared eggs with the mastery of the chief cook of Baalbek. Hiyam tasted them and was pleasantly surprised. The bread was delicious, the eggs scrumptious.
“What is this recipe?”
“That’s a secret,” said Jedarc, laughing. “It’s quite simple. You chop garlic and cook it lightly in a little bit of grease, then you cook the eggs sunny-side-up. I like to add a pinch of rosemary, thyme, and sumac whenever I can find them. And then,” he whispered, “you serve the eggs on a plate and you top them off with two spoonfuls of yogurt.”
Wrath of the Urkuun (Epic of Ahiram Book 2) Page 49