Epic Of Ahiram (Book 1) (30 page)

“But he may die in these Games and never see them again.”

“Don’t you think I tried to stop him from taking part in these crazy Games? Do you not think I…” Tanios sighed deeply and continued in an even tone. “I can no longer control him,” he said, turning his back to the high priestess. “His temper is a raging sea. It frightens even me.”

Bahiya felt dizzy. She took a couple steps back and held herself against the drapes that covered the wall. “Don’t tell me that the famous Commander Tanios is incapable of taming a slave—”

“Yes, that is precisely what I am saying, Priestess. If this was a natural anger, I could have taught him how to control it…” He turned around to face her. “Do I need to remind you that I have had my share of loss and betrayal?” He gripped a nearby chair and closed his eyes. “No,” he said in a measured tone. “This is something entirely different.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I am saying we are running out of time. By the laws of the kingdom, I must wait until he is twenty-one to set him free. I am afraid that soon his temper will get the best of him; like it did when he disrespected you the night before the Games. What if his temper flares against the Queen or the King? The first five years went well, but now I can see him slipping away. If he lashes out against the King, the law will demand his head. I did not allow him to enter the Games so he may win his freedom; I did it to give him a chance to stay alive.”

They stood facing each other silently. Tanios sighed and was about to leave when Bahiya held his arm and squeezed.

“Babylon is issuing orders as we speak. If you value the life of your slave, do not, under any circumstance, mention which village he is from. If you do, he will certainly die.”

Tanios stared at her in shock. A high priestess would not voluntarily disclose valuable information to one such as himself unless she wanted something else in return. Disturbed, he pulled away gently, nodded, and left the room.

Slowly, Bahiya slid down against the wall and sat on the floor.

“Tanios, if you only knew,” she said, crying softly.

Kalibaal was a priest of Baal of the Inner Circle, which comprised the select few who could walk alone behind the deepest curtain of the Temple and into the terrifying spell world without losing their sanity. Ponderously, he walked barefoot on the cold, dark stones of the inner temple—a reminder of the nothingness of man when standing in the inner sanctum of Baal. He ignored the searing pain caused by the icy-cold stones, pushed out a dark curtain, and entered a small alcove where High Priest Sharr stood facing a blank wall. Sharr briefed him on his latest conversation with Bahiya and then casually added, “Tell me, Kalibaal, what do you make of the lights that appeared on the eve of the first Game? What do you think these lights mean?”

Kalibaal winced. Inwardly, he chided himself on his carelessness.
How did I not notice it before?
He looked his master in the eye and answered softly: “There is no mistaking; the Seer yet lives.”

“The Seer yet lives,” nodded Sharr. “Our last attempt has failed. He managed to escape.”

Kalibaal waited for the rest. He knew that Sharr’s knowledge and experience of the spell world far exceeded his.

“Eighteen years ago,” said Sharr, “a mysterious messenger uttered a prophecy in the northern realm of the dwarfs foretelling the coming of the Seer of Destruction. Six people were present and heard it. Some years later, one of them, a woman, fell severely ill and in her delirious state, spoke of the prophecy. Her nurse, a devotee of the Temple, related the news to the local priest, a faithful child of Baal, who unfortunately, dismissed the story as the ravings of a sick mind. By the time we heard of it, the woman was gone and all our efforts to locate her have failed.”

“Is this the Pit of Fire prophecy?” asked Kalibaal.

“Yes indeed, this is the infamous Pit of Fire prophecy. We tell everyone it is apocryphal, but we cannot ignore it.”

“So then, how was it possible that we could not find this woman?”

“She must have had powerful allies. Be it as it may, the prophecy spoke of a great sign in the heavens four days before the Seer would be set free. Isn’t it peculiar that these strange lights were seen the eve of the Games of the Mines?”

“Surely, the prophecy could not mean freedom from slavery?”

“Good point, my dear Kalibaal. If this were a local prophecy exclusive to Tanniin, freedom from slavery would be justified, poetic even. But this is a prophecy pertaining to the Seer of Power. Its meaning is far reaching and clear: in two days hence, the Seer will be set free from the bonds of ignorance and will discover his first Letter of Power.”

“What are your orders, master?”

“I fear the Seer is slipping away from us. Release the Béghôm.”

“The Béghôm, master? I do not understand. This creature was made to fight the Marada.”

“Any creature of the spell world will help us ferret out the Seer. The Béghôm is the least of the creatures we can release. Release him.”

“He will wreak havoc—”

Sharr waved his hand dismissively. “Victims are always required to keep the Pit shut. Release him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Has the Urkuun reached the Empyrean Kingdom yet?”

“Yes, sir. The being of power you unleashed from the spell world is there now, and he has begun rallying many to his cause.”

Sharr glanced at Kalibaal briefly. “My son, you must not fear these creatures. They are yours to command.”

“They are creatures of the Pit, master,” replied Kalibaal. “The Temple’s knowledge is deep, I know. Still, much is hidden from us.”

Sharr shrugged his shoulders dismissively. “The Urkuun will do as instructed. He cannot break the curses that shackle him.”

“Your wisdom is far-reaching, master,” said Kalibaal, bowing.

“Command him to move to Tanniin. The Fortress of Hardin sits atop an ancient lair of the Urkuuns. Let him take his abode there.”

“But sir,” replied the man, alarmed, “surely the danger is not as…”

“It is the Seer of the Letters we are dealing with here,” replied the high priest dryly. “If, as I suspect, he is alive in Tanniin, we must stop him. If he finds but one of the twenty-two Letters of Power—only one, you hear—he will set in motion a series of events that will spell the doom of the Temple and unleash forces on the world, the likes of which we have never seen before. It must not be. In this matter, as in all matters pertaining to the Letters of Power, the Temple must not fear the loss of life—even innocent life—for the alternative is unthinkable. If the Urkuun destroys an innocent boy, then we will mourn our loss, and the world will be safe from all danger. If the Urkuun slays the Seer of Power, then all the lives we have taken will be vindicated.”

“Are we certain there is a Letter of Power in Tanniin?”

“Every indication we have suggests Sureï went to Tanniin for that express reason. My suspicion is that the Letter is hidden somewhere deep within the mines. The slave Bahiya spoke of may be thinking he is trying to win his freedom, but I think he is unwittingly attracted to the Letter of Power lurking beneath the mountain. Certainly, there is no reason to doubt the sincerity of his motives, but they matter very little. The Letters will call the Seer to them just as the flowers call the bees.”

“In this case,” replied Kalibaal, ruefully, “the curse Sureï imposed on every location where a Letter of Power is hidden will take care of the Seer. Has he not directed his curse specifically against the Seer, and are not these curses terrifying? Surely, the Seer cannot escape them.”

“Unfortunately, Sureï was unable to curse
every
location. We know of at least one place that he was unable to curse. Why? No one knows exactly. We cannot take this risk. This is why I want the Urkuun in Tanniin. The Seer must be destroyed.”

There were no more objections Kalibaal could raise. As a priest of the Inner Circle, it was his duty to question the decisions of the high priest, but he could see Sharr’s far-ranging wisdom. He bowed and left with a heavy heart, for the Urkuun was a monster created for the subjugation of mankind. Kalibaal could not help but wonder if the Temple, with all its might and knowledge of the spell world, would be able to subjugate the monster after it had managed to destroy the Seer. The biting cold of the dull stones reminded him how important humility was.
We do not know everything,
he thought.
In fact, we know so very little.

Tanios rose up. He had finished his inspection of the body and was holding the dart in his hand. The Hall of Dancing was cordoned off and no one was allowed in or out. Hiyam and her team stood nearby.

“O my soul, seek not a coward’s solace even if he be a trusted friend for he will strike you at an hour you do not expect.”

“What do you mean, Commander Tanios,” asked Hiyam, drawing near him.

“Book of Lamentation, chapter 7, verse 5,” replied the commander, a puzzled look on his face.

“Do you see this dart?” he asked, pointing at the weapon used to kill the man. “It is three-pronged and each of its prongs is slightly curved inward which makes it harder to pull it free from its target.”

“It takes barbarians to create weapons such as these,” interjected one of Hiyam’s men.

“Shut your mouth.” Hiyam’s order suffered no reply.

Tanios ignored the outburst. He seemed deep in thought.

“You were saying, Commander?”

“I am saying this dart is old. Very old. In fact, it is so old that none of the Silent under my command have been trained to use them. When thrown, these darts would wobble and seldom hit their mark. We dropped them from our arsenal ten years ago.” Tanios threw the dart straight at the wall. It wobbled and fell clumsily to the ground.

“Why attack someone with such a coarse weapon when you have far more effective means to do the job? Why not use a needle dart that can deliver a quick poison without leaving a trace? Why risk missing your target by throwing a wobbly dart, unless…” He got up and inspected the room once more, as though he was seeing it for the first time. “Lady Hiyam, look around and tell me, what do you see?”

Hiyam inspected the hall. A series of comfortable chairs surrounded an elliptical dance floor.

“I don’t see anything unusual,” said Hiyam pensively. “Aside from these chairs, there is nothing else here.”

“Precisely, my dear Hiyam, precisely. Nothing else. I take it everything is as it was since the incident?”

The man who found the body nodded. “We did not touch anything.”

“An undisturbed hall and a wobbly poisonous dart. What is the implication? Your man let the killer get very close to him without a fight.” He leaned over and examined the body once more. “No signs of injury, no bruises, no signs of struggle.” He stood up. “Your man was not afraid of his opponent, who stabbed him with this poisoned dart at close range. Can you imagine Ahiram entering this room, trying to convince one of your men to come close to him? I do not think so. Whosoever committed this crime knew the victim very well and was able to draw close to him in confidence. Then, the murderer used this dart, trying to confuse us into thinking Ahiram did it. Clever, but only by half.”

“But who would do such a thing?” asked Hiyam, anguished. She glanced at her men. “This makes no sense.”

“A very good question, my dear Hiyam, and I assure you, I will find out who is killing these men. In the meantime, I would suggest that you and your teammates do not open the door to anyone and be on your guard. I will send servants to help with the preparation for the proper burial of this unfortunate young man.”

“As if you cared,” interjected one of Hiyam’s men. She rushed to him and was about to slap him when Tanios gently stopped her. He looked at the young man who had spoken.

“Your brother?”

“My cousin.”

“I am sorry, and I will find the killer. But if I may say, do not use the dead as an excuse to hate the living, especially those who are innocent of this crime.”

Tanios opened the door and left. Hiyam watched the young man step out of the Hall of Dancing into the dark hallway. She saw him walk out to the balcony and knew he was crying.