Wrath of the Urkuun (Epic of Ahiram Book 2)

by Murano, Michael Joseph

  “Urkuun’s sorcery,” muttered Orgond. “Where is Ahiram?”

  The situation was precarious. The sylveeds attacked with renewed vigor, and spread their troops on three different fronts.

  “What are they trying to do?” asked Enryl.

  “Surround us,” replied Orgond.

  “Your orders, Lord Orgond?” asked the captain.

  Lord Orgond mounted his horse and gave the captain a reassuring smile. “We do what Tanniinites have always done. We attack.”

  Orgond had been puzzled by the lack of riders among the sylveeds, but he now understood why. He mounted a swift attack, outflanked the enemy, broke its leftmost rank and withdrew before the sylveeds managed to react. Standing at a distance, he saw the rest of the sylveedian army move in unison while the enemy troops he had disrupted fell into confusion. They began hacking at each other mindlessly, then abruptly stopped. Forming their ranks anew, they joined the bulk of their army.

  Lord Orgond thought, The urkuun’s hold on the sylveeds is strong but uniform. He is unable to direct them individually, and he did not delegate subordinates to lead them. Presumably, he thinks numerical superiority will be enough to overtake us. He rejoined the infantry and relayed orders to Enryl who set the archers behind the soldiers while the riders flanked his battalion to the right and to the left.

  “If we break their ranks, they will attack each other,” explained Orgond. “Rain the rest of our fiery arrows in their midst. We will divide the riders into two groups and they will lunge laterally, breaking their flanks. Let the infantry stand its ground and be ready to defend as the sylveeds draw closer.”

  At that moment, a sentry bawled an alarm. All eyes turned to where he was pointing. “Who is that running on the plain?”

  It was Frajil. When the carnival had ended, having had his fill of pomegranates, Frajil saw soldiers leave and naturally assumed these soldiers would lead him back to Soloron. The fact that they were moving toward the east instead of going south meant nothing to the dim-witted half-giant, for he had no clear sense of direction. So, he happily followed them. Along the way, they came across an abandoned farm with a destroyed chicken coop. Frajil lagged behind until he had finished repairing it. He then went about gathering every stray chicken and stray chick he could find. Having secured them in the reconstructed coop, which looked now like a mini-fortress, he went his way, happy as a rooster, and kept walking until he reached the field of battle. His eyes darted from the men of Orgond to the sylveeds and he recognized the soldiers as friends of Soloron, and the sylveeds as the “smelly ones who attacked young rooster on the road.” Having made up his mind whom to fight for and whom to fight against, he unsheathed his twin double blades, and with a mighty roar, fell on the enemy as an army of one, tearing through their ranks like a tornado.

  Galvanized by this show of courage, the infantry charged down the middle, following the trail Frajil was leaving behind him. The riders followed suit and the sylveeds, controlled by a single mastermind, reacted slower than a normal army would have. Confusion ensued in their ranks, which was what Orgond had been counting on. He attacked the sylveeds and broke through their ranks, outflanking them on each side. His infantry went on the offensive and the sylveeds found themselves sandwiched between the horsemen and the infantry. They fled the battlefield and retreated to the fortress. Lord Orgond pursued them as far as the edge of the fortress when the mighty gates of Hardeen were flung open, spewing sylveeds by the thousands. This was an all-out attack, and the sylveeds were determined to break through their ranks.

  Enryl was about to sound the retreat when a different trumpet blast filled the air. Everyone stopped to look, except for Frajil, who continued his private assault on the enemy forces. Lord Orgond lifted his sword triumphantly and shouted, “The Empyreans!”

  Riders on approach raised the crimson Empyrean standard, and the trumpets sounded again. A shout of victory echoed and the balance of the battle quickly shifted. The Tanniinites resumed their offensives and as the deadly combat continued, a strong rumble filled the plain. In the distance, two thousand Empyrean riders went into a trot; the trot became a quick canter, and the canter turned into a stormy gallop. They charged with deadly force and precision, decimating the enemy’s troops and bringing much needed relief to Orgond’s troops.

  After hours of fierce combat, the sylveeds retreated to the fortress. The forces of Orgond were now stationed in the fields directly across from the main gate of the enemy’s fortress. A welcome respite followed, and Lord Orgond called a meeting. He sat by a low fire with Master Habael, Princess Gaëla, Uziguzi, Master Xurgon, and Enryl.

  “Enryl, how long do you think we will be able to last?”

  The young captain shrugged his shoulders. “It depends on what the enemy will do next. If they attack again with the same strength, we may manage to last another day now that the Empyreans are here.”

  “Princess Gaëla, do you agree with this assessment?”

  “Yes. We have battled our way here from Vumax. The sylveeds have besieged the city. We cannot hope for more reinforcements. I do not think we can last more than a day or two.”

  “Master Habael, what do you say?”

  “I say we keep hoping against all hope. Let us fight as though victory were ours. Despite the dire conditions we find ourselves in, let us keep up our spirit. Ahiram is sure to come, Layaleen in hand, and when he does, he will conquer the beast.”

  “Master Habael, I respect your opinion,” replied Lord Orgond, “and I believe that you are a man of deep wisdom. Yet my men demand more than mere words. They demand signs to live by. What sign can you give them that victory is indeed ours?”

  Habael thought for a little while, and then smiled broadly. “Very well, Lord Orgond, Princess Gaëla, assemble your warriors at dusk tomorrow morning and a sign shall be given them.”

  The soldiers assembled in battle array. Across the battlefield stood legions of sylveeds, more numerous than before. This is our final battle, thought Lord Orgond as he surveyed the land. We cannot hold against these odds much longer, not with our reduced forces and our waning strength. He looked to Master Habael and wondered what sign the old man would give these tired soldiers whose fate would be sealed at the hands of these creatures. That day, the sun did not rise. Thick, dark clouds covered the heavens, forming a perfect shelter for their foes.

  The urkuun is protecting his own, thought Habael as he watched the brooding clouds. He stood at the front of the army. Turning his back on the enemy, he looked at the soldiers that stood before him. “Warriors of Tanniin and loyal Empyreans, take heart,” he said with a booming voice. “You have demanded a sign to know that El is with you. I spent the night interceding on your behalf so you may not lose hope or be overcome by despair.” He then placed his hand in his pocket and revealed a petite brass horn. “Do you see this bugle? It is so small that some of you may not believe it will be the cause of the wonder you are about to witness. I will blow this horn three times. When you hear the third blast, I ask of you to attack, and do so as one sword. I promise that before you reach their lines, you will receive aid.”

  This is the most absurd thing I have ever heard, thought Enryl. He was stunned and bewildered. He had hoped for a secret weapon, some potent magic, and instead Habael exhorted them with a trinket. Unbelievable! He was about to say something when Lord Orgond moved forward.

  “Do as Master Habael has commanded you,” he said.

  The men stirred but stood in place. Enryl looked at Princess Gaëla and saw her take command of her troops. Looks like the Empyreans are ready to charge, he thought. “I’ve always enjoyed the company of beautiful women,” he muttered while taking his place at the head of his army.

  Habael sounded the meager bugle. The tone was feeble. He blew a second time, and then a third. Enryl waited. No friendly forces came to fight by their side, but Gaëla lunged forward and advanced at full speed in front of her Empyrean army. I hate it when I’m second. Raising his sword Enryl charged
, and his men followed. The enemy covered the plain like a plague of ants, and this time their small army would not be able to break through the sea of sylveeds.

  Right before the armies made contact, a sunray pierced through the thick clouds. They parted and the sun shone through. The soldiers, realizing how much the sylveeds were repelled by the light, felt the odds suddenly turn in their favor. They plunged into battle with renewed force. The clouds gathered strength and covered the sun once more, wherein the sylveeds attacked anew. But the sun pierced through again, and the enemy fled, blinded and weakened by the aster. The battle raged, ebbing and flowing in cadence with the weather, moving closer and closer to the fortress. Each time the sun dispersed the clouds, the unified forces of Tanniinites and Empyreans gained the upper hand, but when the clouds blotted the sun, the sylveeds attacked with vigor.

  Enryl coordinated his moves with those of the Empyreans, so even in retreat they could inflict heavy losses on the enemy. His constant problem was to get Frajil to retreat, which was a foreign idea for the giant who systematically continued his merciless attack even when surrounded by sylveeds. More than once, he had to rescue the giant and drag him back.

  Lord Orgond led the riders on the left side while the Empyreans covered the right. Uziguzi and Habael stayed behind. One of Orgond’s men tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the road from Amsheet. Four riders were fast approaching. One of them waved and Orgond recognized his daughter. He left the battlefield and rushed to meet them.

  “Where is Ahiram?” he asked as he joined them.

  “He is on that hill,” replied Noraldeen, breathless, pointing toward the highest peak of the Mayorian Chain. “He will join us shortly.”

  “Is he all right?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Where is the high priestess?” asked Jedarc. His concern for Hiyam made him forget whom he was addressing.

  “She went into the fortress with Commander Tanios and the rest of the Silent to force the urkuun out of his lair.” Lord Orgond straightened his posture and prodded his steed forward to the incoming assault. “We have a full battle ahead of us. Stay with me and follow my orders.”

  The outcome of the battle was still uncertain, but the forces of Lord Orgond and Princess Gaëla steadily gained ground. There was not much respite, for the sun came out more often now. Enryl pressed the sylveeds and commanded his soldiers to pursue them closer and closer to the fortress. The creatures wanted to retreat inside, but a greater fear than the sun forced them to stay and fight. Enryl kept his forces organized to avoid the slightest mistake, for the sylveeds still outnumbered them. In his peripheral vision, he saw Lord Orgond move the fight closer to the walls of Hardeen. The move was daring, but deadly for the enemy if successful. The riders tried to overrun the sylveeds and attack them from behind. Lord Orgond charged just as a powerful explosion blasted the outer wall of the fortress, crushing many sylveeds as it fell. Noraldeen was locked in a vicious hand-to-hand combat with three of the creatures. A rock, the size of a fist, slammed into the sylveed to her right; her head snapped back and she fell dead. A hail of stone shards hit Noraldeen and the sylveeds around her, and she saw them all collapse. Noraldeen raised her sword high in a shout of victory when the battle around her began to spin rapidly. She felt weak and dizzy as a warm liquid ran down her neck. The Silent touched her head and looked at her bloodied hand uncomprehendingly. Darkness overtook her, and she collapsed.

  The battle stopped abruptly. The clouds closed so suddenly that everyone thought that night had fallen. A powerful creature leaped from the fortress with a shriek that chilled their souls. He landed among the sylveeds and shrieked again to claim dominion over the land. He splayed its clawed wings and struck the ground with its tail. The Third Urkuun of the Third Order was demanding obedience. Raising a dark, clawed sword, he commanded the entire battlefield.

  Master Habael whispered to himself, “If Ahiram does not show up now, we are truly lost. Come on, lad! Delay no longer.”

  “Hot, hot, hot!” yelled Aquilina as she quickly yanked the Merilian and threw it on the carpet before her.

  Blood drained from Hoda’s face. She had been enjoying a moment of rest with the young princess and her friend, Vily. Not again! she thought in a panic. Not again! I am about to lose her the way I lost Ahiram.

  “Aquilina,” called Vily. “Are you all right?”

  Aquilina saw fear in her friend’s eyes. She smiled at her reassuringly. “I’m fine, but what is the matter with this medallion? It nearly burned me.” Aquilina jumped to her feet, with wide opened eyes. “Oh no, he’s attacking. He will hurt him. I must go!”

  Hoda grabbed her hand. “Stay here, Aquilina. Put the medallion back. I won’t let your parents lose you the way I lost my brother.”

  Aquilina tried to free her arm, but Hoda’s grip was steely.

  “Let me go,” she pleaded with Hoda. “He needs me.”

  Hoda shook her head. “I lost him six years ago. The medallion, his medallion, did the same thing. It became suddenly hot. He took it off, and we lost the village and everything was destroyed. I should have never let him take the medallion off.” She grabbed the pendant. “Put it back on, Aquilina, put it on right now.”

  “You do not understand,” pleaded the young girl, trying with all her might to free herself. “I have to help him. Let me go!”

  “Ahiram, I am back.”

  The Silent jumped to his feet. “What took you so long?” His voice quivered with restraint.

  “I know,” replied Sheheluth. “It wasn’t as easy as I thought, but I think I found out how to remove this curse.”

  “Where did you go anyway?” he asked.

  She glared at him. “Didn’t I tell you not to ask?”

  “But you’ve been gone forever. I have no idea what we’re going to find out when we—”

  “Ahiram, listen,” she snapped. “Listen carefully to what I am about to tell you. It will sound harsh, it will sound cruel, but I have no other way of telling you this: you might get to Hardeen only to find out that everyone died. Jedarc, Banimelek, Noraldeen, everyone—”

  “No, I don’t want to hear it. I can’t.”

  “You must! If you weaken your resolve and allow fear or anxiety to show, he will seduce you, do you understand? He will gain the upper hand over you and then all will be lost. He could order you to kill Noraldeen and you would do it willingly. Do you understand? You cannot win if you are going to fight him to ease your fear and your anxiety. You can only win if you are willing to fight him no matter the loss and no matter the cost. Your weapons are strong and powerful, but your ultimate weapon, your strength, is in your heart. Without it, we’re all lost.” She stood breathless before him, and as she expected, he calmed down.

  “I see,” he said. “I see. If I don’t stop him then …” He clutched his fists. “All right, Sheheluth, tell me what I must do.”

  “Grab the piece of magic you have I cannot see and hold it tight.”

  “Like so?” he asked, showing her his left hand.

  She covered her eyes. “It’s light blinds me. Cover it.” Ahiram closed his fist. “Now, hold it tight and close your eyes. Seek that star you saw, seek it with all your will.”

  Instantly, Ahiram stood facing the star. That was fast, he thought. Everything became silent and cold beyond imagining, as if death itself had died and left behind a muted, icy wraith to strangle silence into a frozen eternity. Ahead of him, covering his field of vision, was the star, or rather, an unbelievably large fireball. Is this what stars are made of? I thought they were candles burning in the abode of the gods.

  “Do you see it?” He nearly jumped. Sheheluth’s voice was in his head. “If you do, just nod.” Ahiram nodded. “Good, now touch the star with the object in your hand.”

  “I can’t.” He had not spoken aloud, but Sheheluth heard him.

  “Why?”

  “The star. It’s not what you think. It’s huge. It is impossibly huge. I can’t reach it, and I ca
n’t get any closer.”

  “I see,” came the reply. “Throw it.”

  “What?”

  “Throw the object you are holding toward the star. Trust me.”

  Ahiram froze. What if Sheheluth is in league with the urkuun? What if she wants me to lose the tile, then what? How can I possibly win?

  “What are you waiting for? Don’t worry about losing the tile. It is powerful, Ahiram. It will always find you,” she insisted.

  That’s true. How could I forget? Whenever I think about the tile or invoke it, it appears in the palm of my hand. With one brisk motion, he hurled the tile toward the star.

  “Did you do it?” The tone in his head was impatient.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I’ve stowed the artifacts in your bag and strapped it to your shoulder just in case.”

  “In case of what?” He watched the tile sail silently, spinning as it went. Abruptly it sped up and flew higher at an unbelievable speed. A dark spot appeared on the surface of the star, and a tongue of fire lashed out tearing the darkness apart and engulfing Ahiram. He yelled, opened his eyes, and flew faster than the wind.

  Darkness now shrouded the land. Noraldeen lay in a heap, unconscious, then the sylveeds cheered and their voices woke her. She moaned in pain as she reached for her sword, her hand dripping red with her own blood. She looked up and saw the urkuun standing just several feet away from her. Her heart missed a beat or two. Noraldeen closed her eyes, pretending to be dead.