Akiri: The Scepter of Xarbaal

by Brian D. Anderson

  Akiri backed away and ducked inside a small ballroom. This could be the opportunity he was hoping for. A few moments later he heard the girl hurrying away. He waited until the creaking of a door further down told him that she was now out of sight, then made his way back to where the boy was still waiting.

  After a few minutes, the youth left the room. Akiri was on him in an instant, wrapping a thick arm around his throat and covering his mouth. The boy was slender, though not frail, and only slightly shorter than himself. At first he twisted and struggled, but Akiri tightened his hold and dragged him back into the room.

  “Be still and you shall live,” he whispered.

  The boy soon realized that he was up against someone far too powerful to resist and gave up the fight.

  “If you cry out, I will snap your neck,” Akiri told him. “Do you understand?”

  His captive nodded furiously.

  He uncovered the youth’s mouth. “What is your name?”

  “Daresh,” he replied. “Please don’t hurt me. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Perhaps. But would your mother feel the same way?”

  The boy stiffened. “You saw?”

  “Of course I did. And if you want me to keep your secret, you’ll tell me exactly what I need to know.”

  “Yes. Yes. Of course.”

  “Where can I find Tuvarius?”

  Although terrified, the youth said nothing. Akiri tightened his grip further. “Answer me.”

  “Why do you want to find him?”

  “That is not your concern. Tell me… now.”

  The added steel in Akiri’s tone was sufficient to loosen his tongue. “If I do, you must promise not to say a word about who told you. Or who you saw me with… not to anyone.”

  “That much, I can promise.”

  The words flowed from the youngster’s mouth. “The doors at the end of this hall will take you into the king’s receiving chamber. Directly behind the throne is another door that leads to the north tower. Tuvarius resides somewhere up there. That’s all I know. Honestly, it is.”

  Akiri could hear no deception. Satisfied, he tightened his hold, completely cutting off the youth’s air supply. He struggled uselessly for a few seconds before falling limp. Akiri placed him in a nearby corner, knowing he would remain unconscious long enough for him to be well away.

  As instructed, he followed the corridor to the end and passed through the pair of large arched doors leading into the receiving hall. Though it was currently empty, it was easy to visualize the kind of scenes that would often take place in this vast chamber. This was where the king would greet foreign nobles and other important guests. Massive columns reaching all the way up to the thirty-foot-high ceiling flanked a walkway of polished crimson tiles. At the far end of this, imposingly placed upon a dais, stood a magnificent gold and ivory throne. Decorating the walls were huge tapestries depicting men proudly bearing the royal crest while performing various acts of heroism. This was a room with two purposes only – to inspire awe and boast of the king’s wealth.

  Relieved and more than a little surprised to find that there was no one about, Akiri hurried behind the throne and through the door that Daresh had indicated. The narrow corridor he stepped into was starved of light; just a few burned down nubs of candles offered any relief to the dark. The air was much colder, a direct contrast to the splendor he had just left behind. He pressed on, eventually coming to a flight of spiral stairs.

  The stairs rose for more than one hundred feet before ending in a narrow chamber with a raised portcullis-like iron grille at the entrance. Through an identical opening on the wall directly ahead he could see another ascending stairway. This was where he would have expected to find guards. But there was no one. Only a rickety wooden chair tossed carelessly against the wall.

  He paused for a moment to listen behind him. Not a sound. Cautiously, he stepped inside and started toward the next set of stairs.

  He knew after taking only three or four paces that he had made a bad mistake. A brief, high-pitched squeak of metal cogs jerking into action sounded a warning from both the front and back of him. But it was a warning far too late even for someone blessed with Akiri’s rapid reactions. He barely had time to spin around before both portcullises dropped simultaneously, slamming shut with a force that shook the entire floor.

  Had he triggered some hidden device?

  He tried to lift both barriers, but even his tremendous strength could not budge them. A search of the walls for a release mechanism produced nothing. Feeling like a rat in a cage, he had to accept that he was trapped.

  Very soon he heard the stomping of approaching boots from below. Akiri cursed his carelessness. Now he would need to fight his way out. Though without any kind of weapon and confined to such a small space, it was a fight he might not be able to win.

  The soldiers halted just before they came into view. Then, from the far side of the other portcullis, he heard a door groan open. The footfalls that approached were lighter and less rapid. Just one person.

  He remained out of sight.

  “Why have you come here?” demanded a deep commanding voice.

  Realizing he had been heard, Akiri stepped into the light. “I seek Tuvarius.” There was no sense in lying at this point.

  “And why would you do such a foolish thing? Has Zemel become so desperate that he would send you to deceive me?”

  Being identified so easily startled him. “King Zemel did not send me,” he said, trying hard to keep the lie from his voice. “I came here of my own accord to talk with you.”

  “And this is how you choose to introduce yourself? Sneaking around the palace like a thief?”

  “I could see no other way. The guards at the gate refused me entry. And they told me that you were not to be found here.”

  A mocking laugh sounded. “A falsehood easily disproved. The guards tell people merely what they are ordered to say. In reality, though few ever see me, just about everyone living in Vurna is aware of my presence. Indeed, from what I am told, many of them fear me greatly.”

  Akiri was quick to agree. “As you say, I soon learned the truth. But that did not make gaining an audience with you any easier. I was forced to adopt more devious means. I had hoped to catch you alone; that a private talk might convince you of my true intent.”

  “Which is what exactly?”

  “To know who my father was.”

  “Your father is dead. That is all you need to know.”

  “You’re wrong! I need to know more. I need you to tell me how he died.”

  There was a long pause before Tuvarius spoke again. “Go with the guards,” he ordered. “Do not try to escape.”

  The portcullis leading downstairs slowly rose again. A moment later six guards appeared, swords drawn. Akiri kept his hands firmly to his sides as one of them produced a set of shackles.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Tuvarius’ voice instructed. “They would not hold him anyway, I suspect.”

  One of the other guards regarded their prisoner with a broad smirk. “He doesn’t look so dangerous to me. Who dressed you up? Your husband?”

  “Akiri,” called Tuvarius. “If that man utters another word, you have my permission to kill him.”

  He grinned viciously. “Thank you, uncle. I would enjoy that.”

  Suitably warned, and no doubt alerted by the familial reference, his tormentor wisely refrained from saying anything further.

  The soldiers escorted him back down the stairs and through the receiving hall, then along a series of broad corridors. After a time, the splendid décor disappeared and they entered an area with unadorned walls of gray stone. Here they placed him in a room containing half a dozen cots, a table, chairs, and an empty water basin. Most likely a disused guard or servant quarters, Akiri considered.

  He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but this wasn’t it. He could hear through the closed door that two of the soldiers were remaining on duty immediately outside. E
scape was now certainly possible, had he a mind to, but having come this far, that would not serve his purpose. Content to see how things developed, at least in the short term, he stretched out on one of the cots and closed his eyes.

  He drifted into a light sleep – though always with one ear cocked to be fully alert in an instant if danger threatened. Several hours passed before his rest was interrupted, and then only by a young girl bringing him a bowl of steaming beef stew and a cup of water.

  “Lord Tuvarius said to tell you that he will be with you shortly,” she said, before hurrying away again.

  Akiri eyed the food with suspicion. Experience had taught him never to eat from the table of an enemy, and he was not about to ignore that rule now, even though he was pretending to be here on a perfectly innocent mission and should not be regarding his uncle as an enemy. Tuvarius might take this refusal to eat as an insult, but that was a risk he was willing to take.

  When the door opened once more, a man dressed in a black robe stepped inside. Though not as tall as Akiri, he had an equally solid build. His silver hair was neatly trimmed to his shoulders and held in place by a black circlet around his brow. From out of a face creased by many years of toil and worry, hazel eyes bored into Akiri.

  “I’ll be fine on my own,” he said, casually waving away the two guards at his back. They obeyed without hesitation.

  Akiri rose to his feet and gave the man a polite nod. “Are you Tuvarius?”

  “Who else would I be, boy?” he replied. “I honestly didn’t think Zemel would be this stupid. To send you, of all people.” He shook his head. “Am I really supposed to believe that you have sought me out simply to reunite with your family?”

  “I sought you out because I want to know the truth,” Akiri replied.

  “The truth? What truth? That you serve a mad tyrant? That he murdered your father and betrayed the Tul’Zahar?” His voice dripped with hatred.

  “Yes, if that is the truth. I want to know everything about where I come from.”

  Tuvarius sneered. “And so you sneak into the palace and risk death in order to discover this. What kind of fool do you take me for?”

  Akiri searched for a convincing response, but none was forthcoming. His uncle was not believing his story. Not a single word of it. “If you are so sure that I am lying, why allow me to live?” he asked.

  “Oh, I am sure enough, Akiri. I have watched you for many years. Your dedication to King Zemel is absolute.”

  “It was. That much is true. But no longer. I am exiled.”

  “For what reason?”

  “I was convicted of murdering General Kirlon Galliani, along with two of his lieutenants.”

  Tuvarius leaned forward. “And were you guilty of this?”

  “They all died at my hand, yes. But I did not murder them. The general paid a large amount of gold to have me assassinated–”

  “Let me guess,” Tuvarius cut in. “As the Dul’Buhar commander, you exercised your right to execute him. Am I correct?”

  Akiri was taken aback by how perceptive his uncle was. “Yes. But the general’s family is very powerful. They used their influence to have me convicted.”

  “I see. And I suppose rather than ordering your execution, Zemel exiled you instead, citing your past service as a reason for his clemency.” He chuckled. “Very clever. But it will do him no good. The Scepter of Xarbaal is beyond his reach… and mine too. He will never again taste its power.”

  Akiri cocked his head, feigning ignorance. “What does the Scepter of Xarbaal have to do with any of this?”

  Tuvarius burst into laughter. “Years under the dark magic of Zemel has not made a good liar of you, nephew.” He walked over to the door. “And though I do not sense his foul corruption within you, I am now most curious…”

  With a sharp movement, he pulled open the door and waved the pair of guards inside. “Kill him,” he ordered.

  Akiri tensed instantly. The two soldiers rushed in, swords at the ready. He could tell by their approach that they were well trained. But they were not Dul’Buhar.

  They struck from both sides at once, the first soldier jabbing straight at his lower body, the second swinging his blade in a neck high horizontal sweep. Akiri reacted instinctively, ducking low and bouncing forward on his haunches. One blade shot behind him and the other passed over his head with more than a foot to spare. In the same fluid movement, he spun sharply left and thrust out a leg. The rock-hard base of his heel collided with the first soldier’s knee, forcing it violently back against the joint. The dreadful agony contorting the man’s face was all he needed to know the blow had done its work. Although barely able to keep his balance, he made a weak second attempt to stab at Akiri’s body, but it was far too slow to present any danger. Akiri was already behind him, using him as a shield from the second soldier and driving both fists into his kidneys. An instant later, he wrenched the sword from the gasping man’s hand and pushed him aside.

  With the fury burning in his eyes temporarily obliterating his discipline, the second soldier swung his blade in a wild downward arc. Akiri had all the time in the world to step aside from this clumsy attack. A loud clang echoed as the man’s steel struck against the hard tiles. Badly off balance and with his arm fully outstretched, he had no defense to offer as Akiri’s blade sliced deep across his forearm. Roaring in pain he reared back, but even before his dropped sword had fully settled onto the floor, a second strike directly into his heart settled matters.

  The first soldier was trying his best to support himself on one leg well enough to fight on. Seeing his comrade fall, his fingers fumbled for the handle of a small dagger strapped to his belt. It was brave, but it was also to be his final act in this world. Akiri thrust his sword into the man’s neck so hard that it protruded through on the other side by nearly a foot.

  The gurgling gasp of his fallen enemy was a welcome sound, and the blood as beautiful as the most magnificent sunset. Jerking the blade free, Akiri swung around to the corner where Tuvarius was watching with interest. A tiny smile on his lips plainly said that he was not afraid.

  “Not bad,” he remarked. “Not bad at all.” He lifted his right hand. “Imobio!”

  As Akiri started to move toward him, he suddenly jerked to a stop, as if an invisible hand had wrapped itself around his entire body and was holding him in place with unrelenting power. He struggled to break free, but even with his great strength, it was futile. He glared helplessly at his still smiling uncle.

  “And just how have you managed to fill your merkesh?” Tuvarius enquired, moving closer and extending his hand so that the palm hovered directly over Akiri’s heart. He closed his eyes. “Ah, I see now. Yes. So tell me. When did you encounter a dragon?”

  Akiri remained silent.

  “Not that it matters. But it is clear that you have. And it was this contact that gave life to your merkesh. Unfortunately, it is stunted. The result of Zemel’s foul magic, I would assume.” He scrutinized Akiri steadily. “Have you never wondered where your great strength comes from?”

  Akiri, still grunting with the effort of trying to free himself, paused for a moment. “It comes from the bond I held with the king.”

  Tuvarius nodded. “But as you are aware, that connection has been broken. And though you are damaged, the dragon has returned your strength.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, I can see that you understand nothing of what I say. A great pity.”

  The grip on Akiri tightened. Almost immediately, he felt the crushing weight robbing him of consciousness. His heart thudded ever more loudly in his ears as darkness crept in.

  Chapter Nine

  When the stirrings of consciousness returned, the first thing Akiri heard was the sound of rats scurrying about. He breathed in cold, dank air filled with the stench of decay and death, and as his sight gradually returned, he could make out that he was inside a room with a single door. The dull gray of the stone, the rusted chains, the desiccated excrement shoved into the corners – everything about the
cellar confirmed its true nature as a prison.

  He had been chained to the wall with his hands stretched up over his head. The tips of his fingers soon confirmed that he had been secured with Sylfari shackles. Apart from literally ripping off his own hands, there was no possible way to break free from them.

  That he still lived suggested that Tuvarius must have plans for him, and considering the situation, those plans included torture. Not that it would serve any purpose. No amount of pain would make him betray his king.

  The door opened, and a figure wearing a crimson robe entered. Though the hood was pulled up and hid his visitor’s features, the scent of her perfume told him at once that it was Queen Chelia. She stood in silence just inside the doorway for a full minute before turning away and leaving.

  He wondered what thoughts had passed through her mind as she looked upon him. There was no doubt that he felt some regret for the trouble he must surely have caused her. She was a woman of deep passion, and by far the most skilled lover he had ever been with. But ultimately, she had merely been a means to an end. It was important to remember that. He could not allow his emotions to cloud his mind.

  Several more hours passed before the door opened again. This time it was Tuvarius. After placing a lantern in the center of the cell, he stood there regarding Akiri closely in the dim light.

  “You have the look of your mother,” he eventually remarked. “But the spirit of your father.”

  “Whatever you came here to do, just get on with it,” Akiri told him defiantly.

  “In time.” Tuvarius shook his head and chuckled. “I have to admit that when my wards told me you had entered the palace, I was most surprised to find you in the company of the queen. Trust me when I say that she was none too pleased to discover who you really are. It has taken no small measure of persuasion on my part to convince her that you should be allowed to keep your cock attached to your body. You must have shown her something very special indeed to have upset her so badly.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Little matter. She has no wish for her dear husband to find out about her secret rendezvous, so she will not trouble us any further.”