The urkuun shrilled. A charged bolt of fire struck him in the face, and he lost his footing and staggered back. The clouds quickly scattered, and in the widening space, the Tanniinites and Empyreans saw a figure step out of their legend and into the sky. They saw a man with shoes of bronze, a belt of silver, a mask of gold, and glorious wings of meyroon holding a sword that radiated dazzling colors from the sun.
“It’s El-Windiir come back from the dead!” a soldier shouted.
“It’s Ahiram!” replied Jedarc.
Ahiram descended slowly and stood before the urkuun while the crowd of soldiers and sylveeds stood transfixed. He pointed his sword toward the beast. “I have come to reclaim the land. I shall slay you and make your name a mockery among the living. I am Ahiram, bearer of Layaleen, the sword that cut through your flesh once before, and the sword that will slay you today.”
In a terrible shriek, the urkuun dove at Ahiram, who became a whirlwind. He pounded the beast with bolts of fire and he responded with thunderous red flares. Ahiram increased his speed and focused his attacks on the head of the beast. He fired blazing bolts from his mask. Bolt after bolt pummeled the reeling monster. As he drew closer, he lashed at him with the sword of El-Windiir. The urkuun’s own dark sword met Layaleen. Metal screamed against metal in a volley of blinding sparks. The two blades racked each other, vying for dominion. The monster wailed, then roared angrily. Great, thought Ahiram. The beast still remembers Layaleen. He shot into the air and circled the beast. His first attack had been a test. Ahiram wanted to measure the strength of the urkuun and his sword. It was incredibly powerful, so he knew he had to weaken it still. It is only a matter of time.
The clouds parted and the sun splashed the plain with its warm rays; a sign that the strength of the urkuun was finally waning. Ahiram dove down once more, this time at full speed. The beast pounded the ground and powerful geysers erupted, spewing boiling water and nauseating mud. The steaming jets of water threatened to knock the Silent down. The battlefield had come to a complete standstill. Entranced, friends and foe watched the battle knowing their fate depended on its outcome. This explains the geyser in the Game of Silver, thought Hiyam. She stood by Jedarc, her eyes riveted on Ahiram. He now had to avoid the geysers and dodge the red bolts. He plunged to the ground, adjusted his flight, and fired a string of fiery bolts. The urkuun managed to stave off some, but others slammed into his head. With Layaleen in hand, Ahiram advanced on the monster, and though his flaming sword blocked Ahiram’s, it was markedly weaker. Ahiram pretended to take off, but this time he lunged back and took the urkuun by surprise. Layaleen sunk deep into the monster’s flesh and the beast wailed, yet with a blow from his left arm, he sent Ahiram rolling on the ground. Ahiram bounded back, but winced with pain from two bruised ribs and a dislocated right shoulder. Blood trickled down his leg.
He took to the air, sheathed Layaleen, and with one quick pop reset his shoulder back in its socket. The flash of pain was more intense than he had expected. At this rate, I’ll be exhausted before I can defeat him. I may not be able to sustain another blow like that one. Without Layaleen, the urkuun would certainly have destroyed him. His mind drifted for a moment, and he saw himself back at the lair of the béghôm. He remembered the vision of the book, the specific page, and the four pieces he had seen fly together: The eyelids of Jaguar-Night were part of El-Windiir’s wings! Ahiram suddenly realized he could join the eyelids with the wings to become a powerful weapon. ‘Weakness is strength when it fools your enemy’, he remembered from the Book of Siril. He quickly formed a plan, dove back down, and landed fifty yards from the urkuun.
What is he doing? thought Noraldeen. She had been following Ahiram’s strategy and could not understand why he had landed so close to the urkuun, or why he was divesting himself of the wings. He dropped them on the ground and walked with confidence toward the monster. Why is he walking toward the beast?
The urkuun waited for Ahiram to get even closer, then shot two powerful bolts of dark light, but Ahiram blocked them with bolts of fire and walked confidently to the beast who was waiting for him, sword raised. They were now at arm’s length, too close to work effectively with bolts. Ahiram attacked with Layaleen, and the urkuun met his blow.
Banimelek had been following the duel closely when he saw a disheveled creature leap from the ground and attack Ahiram with a knife. The Silent shouted, “Ahiram, look out behind you!” Ahiram jerked to the side, but the knife caught him in the shoulder and he staggered in pain and fell back. The mask slipped from his face. Zirka, the dwarf, stood triumphant until a quick arrow from Xurgon sent him tumbling down. Zirka the betrayer was dead.
Ahiram forced himself to sit upright. He yanked the blade from his shoulder and threw it to the ground. The monster was slowly approaching. Terror seized Ahiram. He looked confused and dazed. Thus far, the mask had shielded him from the mental power of the beast, but now that he had lost it, he was feeling the full force of his influence. The urkuun pounded the ground with his tail, splitting the earth into a crevasse like a knife slicing open a piece of meat. Several boiling geysers shot up nearly scalding the young man. The beast bellowed like the waters of the deep. Noraldeen looked at Ahiram. He seemed frightened and lost while he searched frantically for the mask. Below, the gushing waters of the rift roared with a deafening sound. The urkuun’s shadow grew larger and loomed more menacing until it covered Ahiram and all of his surroundings. Ahiram stood on the rim of the ledge, his back turned to the deep crevice, starring at the approaching terror.
“Miss Hoda, please, if I don’t help him, something very bad will happen.”
Hoda held the young girl tightly against her. “I won’t lose you,” she said. In her state of desperation, she could not let go of Aquilina. Anguish and guilt pounded her, overwhelming her reason. She wanted to keep Aquilina safe no matter what and could think of nothing else. Just then, a donkey brayed in her ear. She screamed and relaxed her hold. Aquilina vanished. Hoda turned and saw Vily shaking with fear, clutching the little whistle that Karadon had given her.
“I trust Aquilina,” Vily said fiercely. “I will always trust her.”
“What have you done?” shouted Hoda. “She is gone!”
“She’ll come back,” Vily said with a firmness that surprised even her. “She always, always does.”
Like a stormy wind, Aquilina moved through Tyrulan and located her nemesis. He was facing the one she had affectionately called the Snoring Man. In Tyrulan, the attack taking place in Tannin looked like five massive gray plants—like the ones that had attacked her—surrounding a thin, bright filament. Just then, a large inverted flower filled the Tyrulian sky. That flower is glowing like the filament. I know what to do.
As she was about to move, Aquilina saw a beautiful lily shine brightly. It was dangerously close to the gray plants, which were the deadly words of power her opponent was speaking. Aquilina’s heart skipped a beat. She will be injured. I must save her.
“Fly faster than the wind,” she commanded, and a hurricane rose in Tyrulan and carried her toward the battle.
Moments earlier, Noraldeen had recognized the scene before her. This is my dream, she realized. The dark terror … Ahiram … the gulf. While Aquilina came riding in on the wind in Tyrulan, the Silent gathered her strength, and forgetting her fear, drew her blade. She sprinted as fast as she could toward the unsuspecting urkuun, and with her sword raised, drove it deep into his back.
“No, no, no!” screamed Aquilina. In Tyrulan, she saw the white lily throw itself onto the horrible words. She saw her wilt, falter, and fall.
Noraldeen’s arm instantly grew numb, and she felt cold all over. The urkuun howled with pain and turning around, he faced her.
“Daughter of Orgond,” he said softly. “I was expecting you.”
Suddenly, Noraldeen found herself standing in a beautiful temple of Tanniin, being wed to Ahiram, who stood by her side smiling. The images were real, the emotions powerful and overwhelming. But with one act of the will, with one sim
ple gaze sourced from the depth of her heart, a loving gaze that mortals scoff and deride because they seldom understand its true power, Noraldeen destroyed the illusion and set her unbending eyes on the face of the monster. “You do not scare me, urkuun, and you will never command my heart. Go back to the Pit where you belong. You do not hold sway over my heart and you never will.”
The urkuun felt a streak of fear, something he had not felt for two thousand years, not since he faced another young maiden, a woman of similar beauty, the stewardess of Tessarah the Unseen, who broke his will and forced him to retreat. He struck Noraldeen full force. She rolled on the ground like a broken doll. The monster, howled with triumph. The female Seer has fallen; now I must bring the male Seer into subjection.
By forcing the urkuun to focus on her, Noraldeen had freed Ahiram from the monster’s mental clutch. He rose to his feet and saw Noraldeen, not ten feet away, lying crumpled and motionless on the ground. He could tell she was still breathing, but could also see that her leg and arm were shattered and that she had lost consciousness. In that moment, he understood his worst fears were coming true. The one thing he had feared all along was becoming reality, and he had been powerless to stop it.
“Nooo!”
His scream was primal, savage, haunted, and absolute. It then turned into something else entirely, as if the storm within him was now howling.
“May the heavens have mercy on us,” whispered Sheheluth as she watched helplessly. Lord Orgond had given an order to stay behind in the safety of the camp, but she had crept out slowly, and was now less than a hundred yards away from the battle scene. She saw Ahiram stand up and she shivered in fear. “The god-crusher has awakened. May the stars have mercy on us,” she said, gritting her teeth.
Fury—unadulterated and beyond the reach of mortals—rose in the Silent’s eyes and overflowed until his sword began to pulse with an unnatural light. Ahiram attacked without the protection of the mask, forgetting his pain, his wounds, and his fear. There was only rage. The Letter of Power, inscribed on the tile, flashed like a great light around him, and he assailed the urkuun with a surge of renewed strength, his own strength. He fought like a storm for his mother, for his father, and for the sister he had lost. He fought for all the years of loneliness and separation, for the sake of the fallen, for Baher-Ghafé. But above all, he fought for Noraldeen, who had risked her own life to save him. Layaleen met the monster’s dark sword in a thunderclap, and blow after blow, Ahiram forced the urkuun into retreat.
He is holding his power within, thought Sheheluth suddenly hopeful. But he does not see the urkuun’s trap. The monster is drawing him in. Use the star power, god-crusher! Use the star!
Flying high above the battleground, in Tyrulan, Aquilina drew close to the gray plants. They looked like the thorny tail of a massive lizard and they lashed at her, wanting to ensnare her.
“Be still!” she commanded.
Like wild dogs before a lioness, the plants kowtowed instantly.
The beast peered across the field to Noraldeen. The female Seer still lives? My blow was not powerful enough. Switching tactics, he went on the offensive. Ahiram was taken aback by the ferocity of his assault. He was now losing ground as the powerful urkuun pushed him back toward Noraldeen, who still lay silent. As they drew closer and closer to her, Ahiram grew desperate to protect her from further harm. He redoubled his efforts, but all was in vain. He exerted himself to the limit of his strength, but could not keep the beast away from Noraldeen.
I will kill her and crush him in one blow, thought the urkuun.
“Connect!” commanded Aquilina.
The filament of light—a icon of the Letter of Power in Tyrulan—linked up with the massive, inverted flower—an image of the star.
“Burn!” she ordered fiercely. “Burn him to death!”
The hilt of Ahiram’s sword flashed. High up in the abode of the gods, a star, a heavenly torch, exploded and lit the heavens with the power of a thousand suns. In Tyrulan, the inverted flower became a volcano, and the white filament, a massive flow of white-hot lava. On the field of battle, Ahiram’s sword turned into a fiery, blinding rod of light. The hot flare swallowed the Silent, and he became a blazing sun that struck the urkuun with a beam of light, two feet wide. The creature reeled under the unearthly attack but held his ground. Summoning the power of the Pit, he counterattacked. Ahiram yelled, and the beam became twice as powerful. The sylveeds groveled on the ground and the warriors shielded their eyes. The urkuun raised his fist and pounded the ground, tearing it asunder. A gray dull flame slammed into the beam, held it in place, and slowly began pushing it back.
And then Ahiram screamed.
“Noraldeen!”
The beam exploded, tore through the gray light, and broke through the urkuun’s defenses. It ripped the Arayat like a fiery river. No one knew how long the blast lasted, but when it subsided, Ahiram stood inside a bright halo. Everyone looked with awe at the one who moved like a shark honing in on its prey, a lion claiming victory; a storm rider.
“Tiir!” he commanded.
The wings and the eyelids flew not to Ahiram, but to the left and right of the urkuun. They joined and became a lethal arrowhead. Ahiram struck with his sword. The monster countered and groaned. Both blades were raised high when the arrowhead hurled, slicing off the beast’s arm. Ahiram leaped upward, and in one perfect motion, slashed off the head of the beast. The head dropped as flames tore through the ground and consumed the body of the urkuun. A powerful roar filled the camp and drowned out Ahiram’s cries of pain. Invigorated, the army resumed the attack, but the remaining sylveeds retreated hurriedly inside the fortress, locking the doors behind them. The battle was over.
Aquilina saw the four terrible curses vanish from Tyrulan. She saw the inverted flower fade away, and as she landed back on Tyrulian ground, she saw a field where lilies faded as quickly as they bloomed. She saw crystalline drops of water fall and dissipate soon after. She touched the delicate lilies, and burst into tears. Each one was a laboring, pain-filled breath. The drops of water were tears of deep sorrow.
Noraldeen looked up at Ahiram’s face bathed in tears.
“Oh Nora, Nora, why you? Why did it have to be you? Why did you do such a foolish thing? Why should you pay such a high price to save me? I should be lying here, not you.”
With great difficulty, she raised her hand and placed a bloodstained finger on his lips. Gathering her last strength, she spoke. Her was face peaceful despite the pain. “Ahiram, my sweet love, you are finally free. Remember me by my love for you. Love me as I have loved you, and keep me close to your heart all the days of your life.” Ahiram held her closely. “I promise.” His tears mingled with hers, their eyes locked on each other. Noraldeen, content in Ahiram’s arms, smiled weakly. “Fare thee well, my Prince,” she said, and then was gone. It was the sixteenth of Shubat of the year 1197 in the Age of the Temple. Forty-three days after the start of the Games of the Mines, Noraldeen, beloved daughter of Lord Orgond and Princess of Tanniin, who had fallen in love with a slave, had just breathed her last.
“No, no, no!” screamed Aquilina, bursting back into the tent.
“See, Miss Hoda,” said Vily, heaving a sigh. “She always comes back.”
Aquilina threw herself into Vily’s arms. “She died Vily, she died, she died. I should have been there, not her. She died, Vily.”
Hoda, feeling guilty but not knowing why, took the young girl in her own arms. “Go get Amaréya,” she mouthed to Vily, who left quickly.
Aquilina pulled away from Hoda.
“I am sorry, Aquilina,” said Hoda, “I was trying to protect you.”
The young girl looked at her. “It is not your fault, Miss Hoda,” she said between two sobs. “You did not kill her. He did. He killed her.”
“Killed who? Who died?” asked Hoda.
Aquilina did not reply, and remained lost in her thoughts, sobbing quietly until her mother walked in.
“Aquilina, why do you cry?�
� she asked.
The young girl gazed at her with imploring eyes and Amaréya’s heart seized. What she saw in her daughter’s eyes was the look Empyrean warriors would have after witnessing, for the first time, the death of one of their sisters on the battlefield. You are two young for such sorrows, my daughter. She sat by Aquilina’s side and softly hummed the Onyévérah, a psalmody to Vronde, the god of the dead, to grant her fallen sisters a blade of eternity.
Vily took Hoda’s hand. “Come, Miss Hoda,” she whispered. “Do not worry about Aquilina. She is very strong. She knows you were trying to keep her safe. She’s not upset at you.”
Hoda walked out with Vily and returned the young girl’s warm smile. What just happened? She wondered. Who died? Is Ahiram safe?
Inside the tent, the Onyévérah had an unexpected effect on Aquilina. Instead of soothing her pain, it sparked a storm in her heart, a fiery storm, seeking to consume the perpetrators behind the death of Noraldeen.
The Second Seer of Power had awakened.
A long time passed until the forces of Lord Orgond and the Empyreans cleared the battlefield from any surviving sylveeds. Shouts of victory echoed all around them. Ahiram finally rose, still cradling Noraldeen in his arms, and carried her across the battlefield to Lord Orgond. He had just returned from pursuing the sylveeds and was straining to make sense of what happened. Ahiram knelt down and laid her gently on the ground in front of her father. Ahiram tried to speak. He wanted to explain, but could only weep. Lord Orgond, heartbroken, took his daughter in his arms. Clutching her to his chest, he softly called, “Nora, Nora.”
A procession formed and they escorted Noraldeen back to camp. Ahiram walked behind Orgond. Tanniinites and Empyreans knelt as Lord Orgond passed with his daughter in his arms. They knelt to honor the one who gave her life for the sake of their freedom. And they looked upon Ahiram with awe. In their eyes, he had entered the legend.
Wrath of the Urkuun (Epic of Ahiram Book 2) Page 57