Akiri: The Scepter of Xarbaal

by Brian D. Anderson

  “Why is that?”

  “You don’t know?” He waited for a reply, but none was forthcoming. “They call him the mad sorcerer. Dark magic surrounds that one. Not even the king dares to question him.”

  “So you can confirm that he does reside at the palace?”

  “Oh, yes, it’s an open secret that Tuvarius lives there, even though our king publicly denies any knowledge of his existence. Our monarch does not like it known that he relies upon a sorcerer’s advice. He feels that it demeans him in the people’s eyes. All palace guards are under strict instructions. Any confirmation to an outsider of Tuvarius’ presence would be regarded as high treason, punishable by summary execution.”

  Akiri nodded. That explained a lot.

  “If you seek out Tuvarius, all you will find is death,” Geridia added.

  “Nevertheless, that is my price.”

  The two men locked eyes. Finally, Geridia blew out an exasperated breath and leaned back in his chair. “Very well. I think I might know a way of getting you inside. But I wish you would reconsider. A man like you could do very well for himself in Galfaria. I can see to it that you remain well employed.”

  “I have already told you, that is my price,” Akiri repeated. “Now tell me yours.”

  Geridia let out a long sigh of acceptance before beginning. “As you may have guessed, I am quite a prominent man here in Vurna. My primary business is dry goods. Though outwardly not the most exciting of endeavors, it can be remarkably lucrative if one possesses the necessary bargaining skills. My primary competitor is a fat slob of a man named Barsyn Bartone. He arrived here from the north a few years ago and has been a constant thorn in my side ever since.” He took a long drink from his glass before moving closer to his main point. “Part of his success has to do with a certain item he possesses that I would very much like to have for my own.”

  “And you would have me steal it from him?” asked Akiri.

  “I would indeed.”

  “And what is this item exactly?”

  “A pendant. From the look of it, a totally unremarkable trinket. But as I am sure you are aware, appearances can sometimes be most deceiving.”

  “Why is it so important for you to have it?”

  Geridia shrugged away the question. “What does it matter? All you really need to understand is the simplicity of our arrangement. Obtain this pendant for me, and in return, I’ll gain you secret entry into the palace. There is a way. You have my word on that.”

  Akiri paused to consider the offer for a moment. Lowering himself to becoming a thief was not something that appealed to him greatly. On the other hand, finding a suitable way into the palace without help might prove to be a more than difficult undertaking.

  “Of course, if you are so minded, you could always try to sneak inside without my assistance,” Geridia added. “But I promise that you will not get beyond the door. Many a thief, not to mention assassins, have lost their lives trying. I am one of the richest men in the city, and it still took me over a year to be granted admittance through official channels for an audience with the king. And you want to see the dreaded Tuvarius…” He gave a theatrical shudder.

  Akiri nodded. In truth, he had briefly thought of trying to enter under cover of darkness. But that notion was quickly dismissed. He might well be forced to kill a sentry, and that was definitely not the kind of introduction he desired.

  “And you are certain you can get me inside?” he asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  “I think this is a bad idea,” Rena cut in. “If he’s caught, all roads lead back to you.”

  “If I am caught, I will not divulge who gave me aid,” said Akiri. “On this you have my word.”

  Rena huffed a sarcastic laugh. “And we are supposed to simply believe you?”

  Akiri’s eyes burned into the woman. “I do not lie. If I say I will keep Geridia’s identity a secret, you can most surely believe me.”

  Though most people wilted under his gaze, Rena did not. “I believe nothing you say,” she retorted. “Sell-swords are never to be trusted.”

  “But you are in Geridia’s employ. So does that not make you a sell-sword too?”

  She burst from her chair, hands resting firmly on the handles of her weapons. “I am not a sell-sword, you great lumbering oaf. I first served Geridia when I was sixteen years old and have been his protector ever since. So you had better mind your damn tongue before I cut it out.”

  Although unmoved by the threat, Akiri was quietly impressed by her conviction.

  “Rena, please sit down!” hissed Geridia. “You’re making a scene.”

  He was right. Several patrons were now looking over in their direction and whispering to one another. Scowling, Rena did as she had been instructed.

  “How will I acquire this pendant you covet?” Akiri asked, his eyes never straying from the still smoldering woman.

  “That’s the hard part,” Geridia replied. “He keeps it around his fat neck at all times. And you can’t simply rob him in the street. There are too many eyes about. The only way is to break into his house and take it from him there.”

  “And how many men guard his home?”

  “No more than a dozen, I think. But they are all very well trained.”

  “So you’ve sent others to try before me?”

  Geridia gave him a guilty smile. “You might say that. Two have failed so far.”

  “Try six,” corrected Rena. “Which is why you should give up on this nonsense.”

  “I will get this pendant for you,” Akiri promised, brushing her objection aside. “But if you do not hold up your end of the bargain…” He allowed the threat to hang in the air.

  Geridia clapped his hands like an excited child receiving a much wanted present. “Excellent! Then we have an agreement. That’s wonderful.”

  Just then, three young men hurried over to their table bearing an assortment of plates and bowls.

  “So now let us feast,” he continued. “You can stay in my house tonight, and I will go over all the details.”

  Akiri nodded. The meal set before him was unlike anything he had grown accustomed to while living among the Dul’Buhar.

  Rena picked up a spoon and sneered over at him. “I think he’d be more comfortable eating with his fingers.”

  Akiri ignored the gibe and began eating. She was not wrong, however. Only twice before had he used utensils. But then, life for him had always been one of simplicity.

  These days, it was becoming far less straightforward.

  Chapter Six

  Once they had finished their repast, Akiri was taken to his new acquaintance’s lavish manor, where he was given details of the pendant’s appearance and a layout of Barsyn Bartone’s house. Though this was apparently every bit as spacious as his current surroundings, it was pointed out several times by Geridia with almost malicious delight that his business rival’s choice of décor was vastly inferior in every aspect to that which he had selected for his own home.

  After studying the makeshift map drawn for him, Akiri set about devising the best way to get inside undetected.

  “Try not to kill the swine if at all possible,” Geridia told him, just before retiring upstairs to his room. “I would love nothing more than to see the devastated look on his pudgy little face once he is without his precious pendant. Oh, and you will also need to be very careful about how you deal with his guards. They are all part of the Hunari Guild, and I certainly don’t need them getting involved. If you kill any of them, they will be sure to seek retribution.”

  Akiri chose to sleep downstairs, near the front door. Rena settled down for the night in a chair close by, unwilling to leave him alone in the house.

  The following morning, he left the manor before Geridia rose and soon found a market where he was able to purchase suitable clothing for the coming night’s work, along with a new dagger and a few other odds and ends he might need. He had left his sword inside Geridia’s house. Such a bulky weapon was ill-s
uited to moving with stealth.

  In order to verify everything in daylight, he then made a point of walking past Barsyn Bartone’s house. It was more or less as Geridia had described, with a ten-foot-high wrought iron fence surrounding the two-story building. Guards stalked the grounds, and a sentry stood at the front entrance. Confirming what he had been told, Akiri could see for himself by the disciplined pattern in which the men patrolled that they were indeed well trained. But no amount of training could prepare them for what was coming. Where six men had previously failed, he would not.

  He spent the remainder of his time in a small tavern until it was late in the evening. Now fully prepared, he set off back to Barsyn’s manor.

  From what he had been told about the man, Barsyn was not one to seek late night entertainment, generally choosing to be in his bed well before midnight. Akiri ducked into the shadows upon nearing the manor. Though the street was reasonably well lit, his skill served to effectively hide him from the few people wandering about. He chosen a section of fence on the left hand side of the house where a small flower garden and a fountain offered some decent cover to make his entrance.

  Eight guards split into four pairs were patrolling the grounds, each pair covering a designated area, and within this, each individual never straying more than twenty-five yards away from his partner. It was easy to see why previous attempts had failed. The moment one guard spotted an intruder, the entire security force could be alerted within seconds. But there was an opportunity – a small gap in the rhythm of movement through which Akiri could reach the side of the building unseen if he moved quickly and at exactly the right moment.

  He scaled the fence easily, then crept with barely a sound to the far edge of the flower garden. The guard over to his right had his back to him at the moment, but the one on his left did not. He estimated the distance between his last piece of cover – a thick rhododendron bush – and the house to be roughly twenty yards. Once across this short patch of open ground, the shadow of the house itself would give adequate concealment. The black shirt and pants he had purchased, along with some soot collected from the tavern fireplace and now smeared liberally over his face and hands, would make spotting him in the darkness virtually impossible.

  The sinews of his legs flexed in anticipation. Timing was everything.

  “You ready?” called the guard to his left.

  Akiri froze.

  The guard to his right waved his comrade over and then removed a silver flask from his belt. Akiri frowned. Drinking on duty. Apparently, they were not quite the professionals Geridia had imagined. This presented a real problem. In just a few seconds, his position would be revealed, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. The guard would pass only a foot or two away from his hiding place behind the bush. At a distance, he was inseparable from the surrounding shadows, but when close, the sentry would have to be blind not to see the silhouette of a man crouching low. He needed to decide quickly what to do. With great purpose, he drew his dagger.

  As the guard approached, Akiri could tell from his manner that he was fairly relaxed and thinking more of his impending refreshment than the possibility of encountering any intruders. He waited until the man’s eyes fell directly upon him. The guard stopped abruptly, and for the space of a split second, surprise paralyzed him. An instant later, his eyes widened and his mouth opened to cry out. Akiri leapt up and forward, the leading knuckles of his fingers wrapped around the dagger handle jabbing into the guard’s throat. The man gasped and fell to his knees, unable to utter anything more than a series of gasping wheezes.

  The second guard was equally caught by surprise. Perhaps he had already taken a few too many reaction-sapping sips from his flask. Whatever the case, he first squinted into the gloom in an effort to establish exactly what had happened before fumbling for his sword. Like his friend, he too then tried to raise the alarm but was too late. The dagger Akiri had thrown was already upon him. It was a long-practiced move designed to stun rather than kill. Just as it had done with Killian, the hilt of the weapon smacked into the middle of the man’s forehead, choking off the rising sound. Badly dazed, he staggered back. Akiri covered the distance between them in a flash, and a swift blow to the guard’s temple, rendered him unconscious.

  Satisfied, he returned to the first guard who was still desperately trying to recover both his feet and voice. A crushing right to the jaw ensured that he would be doing neither for some time.

  Akiri paused to listen carefully, but none of the other guards had been alerted; at least not yet. But it wouldn’t be long before their companions began wondering where they were and came looking. After retrieving his dagger, he dragged both men into the cover of the garden, then raced to the side of the manor. Still at full speed and calling on every bit of his strength and agility, he ran up the first few feet of the wall, propelling himself high enough to catch the bottom edge of the second story balcony. Soundlessly, he pulled himself up and over the railing. The door at the back offered little resistance, yielding with just a small squeak of protest when the dagger blade slid between the lock and the frame surrounding it. Akiri stepped inside.

  He found himself in an unoccupied guest bedroom, just as Geridia had assured him it would be. If the rest of his information was equally accurate, Barsyn would be sleeping four rooms along. This was supported by the fact that, as he had noted earlier, the door on this room’s balcony was the only one protected by an extremely sturdy-looking iron outer gate.

  Akiri knew he had to act swiftly. If the alarm was raised before his business was done, he might be forced to fight his way out of the house, and that might involve killing some guards. He would try not to, but if it was the only way to escape, he would not shirk from doing so.

  He crossed to the bedroom door and peered cautiously outside. For now, the hallway was clear all the way to the far end of the building, but the sound of several men moving about downstairs drifted up a wide stairwell halfway along.

  Upon reaching his target, he pressed his ear to the door. He could hear heavy nasal breathing mixed with intermittent snorts and snores. This, he hoped, was Barsyn. The door was locked, but he’d anticipated this and had come prepared. Retrieving a pick and hook from his pocket, he set to work.

  It did not take long, though to his ears the clack of the mechanism turning sounded like a series of thunderclaps in the silence. Nonetheless, the continued deep, labored breathing of Barsyn suggested that he had not been disturbed. Gently, Akiri pushed the door open and ducked inside.

  All at once, the room fell completely quiet. Akiri’s senses immediately started to tingle. The bed situated to his right was empty.

  Only the slightest movement of a shadow caught in the corner of his eye saved him from being skewered. Instinctively, he dove low to his left just as the bolt from a crossbow came streaking across the room at chest height. The missile buried itself into the far wall with a deep thud. Almost at the instant it struck, Akiri was racing forward, dagger in hand.

  “Guards! Help!” cried the shadowy figure.

  Akiri crashed into him, forcing him to the ground. He could feel the man’s enormous girth; he had to be at least three hundred pounds. At such a vast size, this could only be Barsyn. He was just as Geridia had described him. His narrow-set eyes flashed wide with fear as Akiri pressed the dagger blade to his neck and cupped a hand over his mouth.

  He listened carefully over Barsyn’s grunts and muffled cries. An alarmed shout from downstairs carried through the door. “If they enter, I’ll cut your throat,” he hissed. “So you had better say the right thing. Understand?”

  After the terrified man had nodded rapidly several times, he removed the hand from his mouth.

  The clamor of boots pounding on the stairs heralded the guards’ approach. Although dark enough inside the room to prevent easy identification, Akiri took the extra precaution of pulling the neckline of his shirt up to just below his eyes. A few seconds later the door burst open. Three men stood in the doorway,
swords drawn.

  “Back off!” the merchant cried out desperately. “He’ll kill me if you don’t.”

  The men hesitated, prompting Akiri to press the steel down even harder. The blood this drew had Barsyn waving his hand madly. “I said get back! All of you.”

  “Tell them to close the door,” Akiri commanded.

  “Do it!” said Barsyn.

  After glancing at each other, the guards backed away and did as instructed.

  With the door once more closed, Akiri readjusted his shirt and allowed Barsyn to heave himself to his feet. “If you move, I’ll end this right now,” he warned.

  “You have no fear in you. None at all,” Barsyn muttered in an astonished tone. “Unyielding and merciless. By the gods. Who are you?”

  “Who I am does not matter,” Akiri replied coldly. “What is important is that I collect what I have come for.”

  “Then I can only assume it was that dog Geridia who sent you.”

  Slowly, and with exaggerated movements so as not to alarm his captor, he reached inside his night shirt and pulled out a small pendant. It was unremarkable from outward appearances: just a silver disk attached to a thin chain. “Is this what you seek?” he asked.

  “Turn it over,” Akiri ordered.

  He did as he was told. Just like Geridia had described, the symbol of Ustraya, Goddess of Love and Passion, was etched upon the reverse side. “You can see I am not attempting deception,” Barsyn assured him, though he made no move to lift the chain from around his neck. “But before you take this most precious prize to him – and don’t bother denying that it was he who sent you – don’t you want to know what makes it so special?”

  “I don’t care what it is,” Akiri replied. “Remove it.”

  He might just as well not have spoken. Still holding the disc between his thumb and forefinger, Barsyn continued regardless. “This was given to me by my dear sister just before I left home for Galfaria.” A tiny, faraway smile crept upon his lips. “Lula was quite a talented enchanter. This was the last thing she made before she died. It reveals to me the emotional state of anyone I look at. More than that, it tells me of their innermost desires… at least in a vague way.” His smile faded as he scrutinized Akiri. “I see a tempest raging inside you. But controlled by a will of iron. Unbending and determined. Stronger than anyone I have ever encountered before.”