“Yogurt?” said Hiyam, shocked.
“Absolutely,” replied Jedarc. “If you add yogurt, it gives them a rich and smooth texture. It’s the best.”
“I never knew eggs could taste this good,” said Hiyam, pensively.
“You mean you have never eaten eggs before?” asked Jedarc with a pained expression on his face. “Admit it now, it’s a good thing you met me,” he continued, with a sparkle in his eyes.
“I’ve had eggs, of course,” she protested, “but somehow they taste so much better when you prepare them.” Realizing what she had just said, she blushed and looked down at her plate. He makes me say things …
Jedarc laughed. She smiled and relaxed. She felt peaceful and content. They finished their meal in silence while exchanging glances and smiles.
“What do we do now?” she asked after they had finished eating.
“Groom and saddle the horses,” replied Jedarc. “I have a feeling Banimelek will want to move on as soon as they return.”
They readied the animals in silence.
“Tell me, Jedarc,” said Hiyam while brushing one of the horses.
“What do you wish me to tell you?” he replied.
Hiyam smiled and stopped brushing. She looked at him. “How can you be so cheerful in a moment like this?”
“My mother’s gift, I suppose. She was the most joyful person I have ever known. I like to think that I honor her by keeping a high spirit.”
“You do her great honor,” replied Hiyam with a charming smile.
Banimelek, Noraldeen, and the old woman returned with Ahiram just as they finished preparing the horses. The news was not good.
“We must leave at once,” said Banimelek.
“How is Ahiram?” asked Jedarc.
Banimelek did not answer.
“What happened?”
“The medicine man examined him and said the fever is not natural—”
“Meaning?” cut in Jedarc, exasperated by his friend’s laconic style.
“The medicine man said Ahiram is cursed,” clarified Noraldeen. “And unless the curse is broken, he will surely die. He added that the curse is old and powerful, and he did not know of anyone who could break it.”
“As I feared,” said Hiyam. They looked at her. “The red powder I used, it detects the presence of spells. When it turned gray, I thought he was cursed, but when it dissipated so quickly I was confused.”
“Why?” asked Jedarc.
“The change in color tells us what type of spell it is and the speed of dissipation shows its strength. So when it instantly vanished, I knew the curse was beyond anything I have ever seen, but then …” She glanced at Noraldeen before continuing, “someone cursed this way … he should have been dead already. Since Ahiram is still alive, I thought that perhaps what Ibromaliöm did had disturbed the powder.”
Noraldeen nodded. “You acted prudently. This was the right thing to do. What you told us explains why the medicine man was so frightened and why he refused to help us.”
“So what do we do now?” asked Jedarc.
“We move,” replied Banimelek. “We must take him as fast as possible to Master Habael. He may know what to do.”
After thanking the old woman profusely, they took to the deserted road. Banimelek firmly held a slumped Ahiram on his horse. Soon rain began to fall, gently at first, and then, a downpour. They were soaked. Banimelek looked up and was startled by the low clouds. The sky was dark with a green tinge and a large wall of clouds was visible just northeast of them. The rain became hail, and they heard a loud roar above them. I have never seen anything like this. I don’t like it one bit. He surveyed the plain. The few trees seemed frantic under the lashes of the wind, waving their branches like weeping mourners waving handkerchiefs at a Tanniinite funeral.
“Gang!” Noraldeen yelled over the din of the storm. Behind them, in the distance, a group of riders was fast approaching.
“Quick, to that farm,” she added pointing at a low-ceiling building a short distance away.
She prodded her horse, which leaped forward. They followed her in a gallop to keep the gang at bay. Inexorably, the distance began to shrink.
“Faster!” screamed Jedarc. “They’re getting closer.”
Banimelek looked back and winced. Confrontation was unavoidable. He counted eight riders, maybe more. In the open, the gang had the advantage. They needed to balance the odds somehow.
In one graceful movement, Hiyam swung her body around so she was riding her horse backward. She raised her hands to the heavens and brought them together in a powerful clap. If only I had an orb and a concentrator, she thought, but this will have to do. A wall of dust surged from the ground in front of the forward gang members, hiding them from view. Hiyam pivoted back and screamed in sheer terror. Banimelek looked at her, and she pointed to the right. He turned to look. Just ahead, outrunning the horses, a monstrous, dark funnel of spinning wind, full of dust and debris careened across the open land. It twisted at incredible speed, uprooted the scarce trees, and destroyed everything in its path. And they were on its path.
Banimelek held Ahiram tightly, spurred his horse, and locked his eyes on the farm. We will make it, Ahiram, don’t you worry. Even if I have to carry you on my shoulders myself, I will get you there. The horses, under the impulse of fear, bolted. Suddenly, the tornado seemed right on top of them. They were too terrified to scream. The twister lifted and touched down again behind the farm. They rushed through the gate, still on horseback. Like most farms on the great plain, this one was built out of large slabs of stone. It consisted of one main room with a narrow door.
“Hiyam, get the horses to the back of the room—”
“You want the horses inside the house?”
“Yes, otherwise we will loose them. Take them to the back and calm them down,” yelled Banimelek as he carried Ahiram to a mat in the corner. “Noraldeen, take care of Ahiram. Jedarc, follow me.”
The two Silent, armed with two dart-crossbows each, stood by the door and waited. Despite the gale, the gang converged on the farm. Banimelek was about to release his darts when the tornado suddenly landed in front of the farm. It hurled the two Silent against the vine that snaked through a pergola. They frantically grabbed the branches and remained pinned against the pergola by the power of the vortex that wanted to suck up everything else. This lasted only seconds as the tornado moved away, but it felt like an eternity to the two Silent. Finally, the strength of the pull weakened, and the two young men fell to their feet, facing the door. They turned around and watched with horror as the vortex swallowed the gang. It snatched up horses and men, carrying them in the air, and tossed them away like broken toys. The few gang members that escaped the dreadful fate turned tail and ran. Suddenly, the tornado scattered and died out as abruptly as it had started. The two friends looked at each other and sighed.
“Well, I’m cured,” exclaimed Jedarc.
“Of what?” asked Banimelek.
“The desire to fly.”
“Stay here and keep an eye out,” said Banimelek. “You never know, they may decide to come back.” He stepped into the farmhouse and saw that Noraldeen had found enough kindling and wood stacked inside the house to start a fire.
Wow, he thought, how did she manage to keep her cool in the midst of this madness? Must be her Empyrean side, I guess.
“How is he?” he asked.
“No change,” she replied with an even voice. “High fever and still unconscious.”
He knelt beside her, placed his hand on her shoulder and smiled. She leaned back against him and closed her eyes. Hiyam, having succeeded in quieting the horses, came over and looked at Ahiram. She sighed. They all felt powerless, unable to cure him, unable to bring him back. She went to the door and saw Jedarc leaning on one of the posts that supported the pergola. He looked back at her and smiled weakly. She walked onto the porch and hugged him. Surprised, he folded his arms around her, and held her against him.
In the dist
ance, a thin line of blue sky broke through the once sinister clouds, like a ray of light in their darkness.
“Of all living gods, there is only one who is uncreated, and who has created all things: El.”
–Chronicles of Yardam, Third Stewart of the House of Hiram.
“Ultimately, it all boils down to courage, integrity, and generous love. These are the three most important qualities a soldier must possess in order to win a war.”
–Lost discourse of Ramael, son of Shatumael, son of Hanayel, son of Zarubael, son of Lamatael, great-grandson of Habael the Wise.
“Why? Why did you kill those four men, Bahiya?”
“I wondered how long it would take you to figure it out,” said Bahiya. Before he had a chance to reply she added, “How did you?”
“By elimination and luck. Initially, I ruled out Habael, the King, and Olothe: Habael for obvious reasons, the King and Olothe because I had Silent watching them and knew of their whereabouts when the first murder happened. It could not have been Hylâz, because he is a coward and a heartless zakiir who cares only about money, and Ramany is a spy of Baal.”
“So you knew.”
Tanios repressed an amused smile. “Yes. My suspicions centered on Ramel. She hungered for power. She was heartless and driven. The Queen would have had no qualms with sacrificing a husband she despised to nurse her ambition. She had the means and the clout to do as she saw fit. She could have tried to pin these murders on the King and convince the Temple to be rid of him.”
“The Temple doubted the King’s allegiance,” said Bahiya.
“Which is why they sent you to Tanniin, but that’s a different matter which I will get to in a moment. One factor prevented Ramel from assassinating Jamiir. She was childless, and the people of Tanniin would not take too kindly to a foreign, childless queen, yet, she was too proud to have sought a pregnancy out of wedlock. Furthermore, I considered Garu to be an inoffensive fool and Ibromaliöm, a pompous nincompoop. They were two of the Queen’s puppets and would not murder men of Baal on their own.
“I was stumped. We were forced to leave the castle and I thought the case lost, but then your eyes betrayed you. On our way to Amsheet, after we met with Enryl by the forest of Magdala, you told us the Forbidden Forest harbored no ill will.”
“I remember saying that, but how—”
“It wasn’t what you said, it was in your eyes. You looked at me, and in that shadowy light, your eyes reminded me of someone; someone I had seen recently.”
“Who?” she said, already knowing the answer.
“During the fourth day of the Games, the Game of Meyroon, the King asked the High Riders to protect the castle. He did it to please you. Someone had killed three of your men. How then could the King refuse such a request? You are a brilliant strategist, I’ll grant you that much. Your request had less to do with Baal’s politics, and more with your next murder. In the Star Room, Garu and Ibromaliöm had been dabbling in magic. I asked you to look into it. Naturally, you wanted the soldiers of Baal to protect the Lone Tower while you conducted your inspection. As I was on my round, I heard a commotion in the tower. That is when the event of the black sun occurred. You were in the Star Room, behind the locked door, supposedly examining the magic of Garu and Ibromaliöm. The men and I were in the cramped hallway gazing at the eclipse. I looked back and came face-to-face with a soldier who then jumped through the window. Why did he look me in the eye? Because he wanted me to remember his features, features which were different from yours. The soldier then jumped from the window. Some among the men of Baal think of Tholma, the sun losing its power, as a deadly curse. Thinking it was suicide, rare, but not unheard of, I looked down expecting to see a shattered body. But I saw no one.
“That’s when the soldiers behind me screamed. I turned and saw one of them leaning against the wall. He was dead. Murdered like the other three victims. I realized the soldier who jumped through the window must be the killer. That is when I noticed the rope hanging by the window that I had not seen before. I gave chase on the rooftop of the tower, but inexplicably, he escaped.
“I came back down, and found you standing by the door of the Star Room. I did not think the murderer would have had the gall to jump into the Star Room from the roof. After all, you are a high priestess of Baal and the murderer was killing your men. It would be sheer madness for the killer to enter the Star Room knowing the powerful priestess of Baal was there. Unless of course, the assassin was you.”
Bahiya’s expression remained placid, which did not surprise Tanios.
“All four murders were committed close-up with identical darts which convinced me there was one principal murderer behind them all. The events that led to the last murder made me realize how clever your strategy had been. Before the eclipse of the sun, you asked the men of Baal to come down the stairs, except for one. They were too afraid to question you. You asked the soldier to wait for you outside the room. You went in, changed into a soldier’s uniform, hid your long hair beneath a helmet, and darkened your features. When you came back out, you killed your unsuspecting victim and let him slump against the wall in the darkest corner of the tower.”
Bahiya smiled a dismal smile. “I tried to hide all this from you, but everything happened so quickly, I did not have enough time to prepare.”
The commander cocked his head sideways and glanced at the high priestess. What is she hiding, I wonder? No matter, I will soon find out. “Tholma then occurred,” he continued, “creating a deeper shadow. You called for the men to come upstairs. They rushed in and saw a soldier standing by the door whom they mistook for the dead one. You immediately directed their attention to the darkening sun. As a priestess of Baal, you knew the black sun was coming and had planned accordingly. Presumably, you did not expect me to show up, but you knew I would not suspect you to be the murderer. I would see what I wanted to see. You knew that and took advantage of it. All along, you convinced the soldiers and me that you had been in the Star Room studying the remains of Garu’s magical acts. When I turned away from the window the first time, we came face-to-face. I looked at you and you grabbed a rope, jumped out the window, and made your way to the roof. You are a high priestess of Baal and it’s easy to forget how athletic you are. During our climb yesterday, I saw your strength and ease, like that of a Silent.”
“You trained me before training the Silent,” she replied softly.
Tanios ignored her. “To get back inside the Star Room, you leaped through the open window. I remember noticing that someone had removed the slats that shuttered the windows. While I searched for the murderer on the roof, you were changing back into your priestly garments and then emerged as the indignant High Priestess Bahiya. It was perfect. You almost succeeded in creating an imaginary killer and moving all suspicion away from you.”
“Your presence at that moment complicated my plan,” said Bahiya quietly. “I was desperate, time was running short. I had to do it—”
Tanios had been pacing. He interrupted her as though lost in his own thoughts.
“This, of course, does not explain how the assassin could carry the body of the third unfortunate victim from the officer’s garden to Ibromaliöm’s room. I followed the footsteps and they ended in front of the wall. There was no secret passage at this point, so where did the assassin go? How was he able to transport the dead man?” He looked at her with realization before continuing. “When I spoke with the Queen, she reminded me that you are a Methodical, your shields of power can easily lift a body, and you are able to cloak yourself, therefore, it was easy for you to move unnoticed in the castle.
“As I investigated these crimes during the Games of the Mines, I did not suspect you. How could I? You are a high priestess of Baal. I could not find a motive for you to go about killing your own men, and I still cannot understand why you killed them. This strikes me as madness. It is plain suicide. The Temple will find out and put you to death. Why? Why Bahiya?” asked Tanios with a pained exclamation. “Why did you m
urder those four men? Tell me.”
Bahiya sighed heavily and looked at Tanios with a somber expression. “I wish you had not found out,” she said. “Besides, I did not murder them as you put it. They willingly sacrificed themselves.”
“Do not lie to me, Bahiya,” said Tanios gritting his teeth. “I wanted to wait until after this crisis, but we are about to face the monster and you are tasked with forcing him to leave the fortress.” He drew closer to Bahiya and looked her in the eye. “I need to trust you. I need to know why you will not side with the enemy. If you killed four men in cold blood, why would you not side with another murderer?” His eyes turned cold and determined. “I will never allow this, do you understand me?”
“You do not need to worry,” she replied softly, “I am more determined than you or anyone else to fight this beast. I am not lying when I say the men sacrificed themselves. I officiated, but they willed it.”
“You mean to say they knowingly sacrificed themselves to Baal?”
“They thought it was for Baal, but it was for Tanniin.”
“You offered human sacrifice for Tanniin?” replied Tanios, bewildered and disgusted. “Since when does Tanniin accept human sacrifice?”
“All gods do,” replied Bahiya with aplomb.
“But why? This seems senseless to me. I do not understand.”
“I was trying to protect Ahiram.”
“Ahiram?” said Tanios dumbfounded. “But you ordered your High Riders to kill him. You wanted him dead.”
“Babylon issued this order,” snapped Bahiya. “Not I.”
“Babylon?” said Tanios shaking his head. “Why would the high and mighty Babylon involve itself in all of this? Stop talking in riddles,” said Tanios raising his voice, forgetting his surroundings.
“Do you remember the last moments of our stay on the Beach of Emerald, nineteen years ago?”
“How are those memories relevant?” replied Tanios exasperated.
“That is why we are here. Bear with me, please. Do you remember?”
Wrath of the Urkuun (Epic of Ahiram Book 2) Page 50