Epic Of Ahiram (Book 1) (9 page)

Hoda smiled. “Auline is a wonderful girl, and Meenar is a village boy. They will be happy together.”

“But what about you, my daughter,” asked Jabbar, gazing at her with all the tenderness of his generous heart.

Hoda laughed, “Hear, hear, the powerful and mighty Jabbar is anxious. This is a first, Father.”

“Laugh all you want,” replied Jabbar gruffly. “It doesn’t—”

“Father,” cut in Hoda nervously, “forgive me for interrupting, but I am worried about Ahiram.”

“So am I,” said Jabbar. “So is your mother.”

Reaching the shore, they veered left and started walking toward the main beach where the boats lay. “Did you know his nightmares are becoming more frequent?” she asked.

“Yes, your mother and I are worried.” He sighed. “Honestly Hoda, we do not know what to do.”

“Father, you must listen to what I have to say now. You and I know how much Ahiram delights in anything that is good and true.”

“I know, Hoda. That boy is without guile…”

“He is never jealous and…”

“…is generous to a fault,” said her father. “We know how much the two of you love each other, and it warms our hearts. We wanted more children but were blessed with only two. But what does it all have to do with…”

“…his bad temper?” Jabbar and his daughter were accustomed to completing each other’s sentences. “Father, you know that Syreen is the second maid to the first priestess of Baalbeck?” Jabbar nodded. “Well, she spoke to High Priestess Bahiya about Ahiram’s temper.”

“She did?” Jabbar was impressed. “Normally, it takes months to get an audience with the high priestess.” He slapped Hoda gently on the back. “Ha! Who knew? My daughter has connections.”

“Father…”

“So, what did the high priestess say?”

“She suggests we find someone who could give Ahiram military training—adapted to his age, of course—but rigorous. She believes the training will go a long way to help him control his temper. If that does not work, then Syreen might be able to grant us an audience with the high priestess…”

“Military training? I see. So the high priestess thinks that the discipline he’s getting at home is not enough?” Hoda held her breath, waiting for her father to reach a conclusion. “It’s not a bad idea, after all, but who? Wait, I know,” he added triumphantly, and before she could reply, answered, “Arfaad, of course. He would be the perfect teacher.”

“Captain Arfaad is certainly qualified,” said Hoda. Inwardly, she shuddered at the idea. “But this training must be daily and needs to last three months.”

“Three months? Three months?” Jabbar was visibly shocked.

“The high priestess said that for the training to form good habits, it must last at least three months and must be rigorous.”

“That won’t do; Arfaad can’t be solely focused on Ahiram for that length of time.”

Hoda sighed inwardly. “Exactly, Father, but I know the perfect man who can do just that, and here’s the best part: he will gladly train Ahiram for free.”

“Really? Who?” asked Jabbar, pleasantly surprised. Then his surprise turned into queasiness. “Oh no,” he said, as the feeling of queasiness transformed into dread. “You cannot be serious,” he added as an image, long repressed, popped in his head. “You don’t mean going to Tanooreen?”

“But don’t you see it, Father? Uncle Mil is a retired High Rider. He lives alone in Tanooreen, a remote village where Ahiram won’t be taunted and provoked by kids who know him. We can all go there for a vacation. Uncle Mil will be delighted to see Mother. Then you and she can come back here, and I will stay with Ahiram for three months. When we come back, you will have a trained and mild-tempered son, ready to become a great shark fisherman like his father.” Secretly, Hoda wished she could train with her brother, partly to be near him and partly to learn to defend herself.

“Ahiram will never be a fisherman,” said Jabbar, his voice brimming with pride.

“What do you mean, Father?”

“Don’t you see, Hoda? He has the makings of a king. Boys his age should already be imitating their elders: they pretend to set the bait, to lower a net, to prod a shark. These are the gestures they need to do over and over again to be good fishermen. Your brother, on the other hand, plays at diving in the water and riding a shark. He has turned more sticks into swords than the entire neighborhood. That boy has a deep sense of honor and virtue, and let us not say anything about his fighting skills. No, he will become a High Rider and will become a commander…”

“Like Uncle Mil,” completed Hoda, smiling. Victory was close. She pushed forward. “All the more reason to ask Uncle Mil to train him.”

“I know, Hoda, I know. Ahiram deserves the best, but me, go back and ask that curmudgeon cockalorum to help us? That cranky miserable smellfungus, that snollygoster? That’s tough, Hoda, that’s really tough.”

“Think of Mother then,” urged Hoda.

“Speaking of your mother, are you sure this whole thing is not a ruse of hers to get us to go see Uncle Mil?”

“Mother knows nothing of this. You can surprise her later,” she added with a beaming smile. “Besides, Tanooreen is not all that bad at this time of the year.”

“Not that bad?” cut in Jabbar. “How could it be ‘not that bad’ when your uncle lives there, watching every coming and goings like a vulture waiting for fresh carrions? That man told everyone at our wedding that I was born bald with a polka-dotted scalp and that my aim would miss a whale even if it were staring me in the eye. He humiliated me.”

“Strictly speaking, we are all born bald, and furthermore, anyone would run away if a whale stared him in the eye.”

“Hoda…”

“Father, it is to help Ahiram. Surely, you can put up with Uncle Mil for a few days?”

“Hoda, this,” he said pointing at the sea and beach, “the village, the sea, fishing, these are my roots. It is hard to uproot an old tree.”

“Thankfully, you are not a tree, and all that you need to do is set one foot after the next.”

“So, now what?”

“In a week’s time, at the close of the Feast of Light, you will let the villagers know that it is high time for you to visit Uncle Mil and make amends before his passing away…”

“Pass away? Pah! That mumpsimus will bury us all.”

“Father—”

“Fine, fine, then what? You and Ahiram spend spring there and you are back before fall?”

“You mean summer,” corrected Hoda.

“Exactly,” replied Jabbar sighing. “You are right. Ahiram deserves the best.” He sighed once more. “You know, we have never taken time off from fishing. Your mother has always wanted to rest for a week or two from the hustle and bustle here. She’s a mountain girl, and by the name of all the gods, you are right. Your mother deserves a bit of a break. Let’s do it.”

“This will be a great occasion to renew your wedding vows while Uncle Mil is still alive…”

“Hoda, don’t you push it.”

“Alright, alright. Father, on the morning of the Feast of Light, I will help Ahiram set up bait for the first time. I am certain,” she added over her father’s objections, “that the prospect of setting up bait will keep him in a good mood and make the trip and the stay in Tanooreen much more bearable.”

“Hmm… you are right. You know, if I didn’t know you were my daughter, I would wonder if you were not secretly working with the merchant Kwadil because you could sell a whale to a man crossing the desert and make him believe it’s a camel.”

Ahiram was doubly delighted when he found out that they would bait the shark on the morning of his twelfth birthday and that his sister would do it with him. His joy knew no bounds when he found out that she would not leave his side for the rest of the week; and for one full week, Ahiram was truly happy. He and Hoda spent most of their time on the beach swimming. They stayed up late watching the stars and enjoyed fresh, roasted fish over a small fire. Thus, the week went by peacefully, and it was the eve of the Feast of Light, the last day before their travel to Tanooreen. Hoda had told Ahiram the same story she had told her father, and he was eager to start his training if it meant that he would be able to join the fishermen on their boats.

“I love this beach,” said Ahiram, yawning. “It is so quiet and secluded. We are about five miles from home, right?”

“Yes,” said Hoda, “it’s peaceful here.”

“Yes, it is,” said Ahiram, sighing. “I don’t remember the last time I spent a day not being afraid,” he added. He flopped onto the sand, his fingers entwined behind his head. “I sure hope this military training will help me so I can be with people and not hurt them, and you can get to spend more time with Karadon.”

“Are you not happy with me?” asked his sister, teasing.

He set his gaze on her, and she saw how serious he was, far more than what would be expected of a child his age. “I don’t really know what happy means, Hoda. All I know is that you’re the only person I can be around without my temper flaring. There is this part of me I can’t control, and it trusts you blindly. And when I am with you, I feel light, and life is not complicated.”

“You can be with me as long as you want.”

“No, I can’t, and you know it. One day, you will go away…”

“Shush, Ahiram,” she said. “I won’t ever leave you, ever. I will always be by your side, at least until you have learned to control your temper. Then you will cross the seven seas and see the wonders of the world.”

“I don’t want to cross the sea,” replied her brother. “All I want is to become a shark fisherman like my father and live next to you, Hoda. That’s all I want.”

She nearly cried, but decided to play tag instead. Their laughter echoed in the nearby forest, while four hooded figures, craftily hidden by the trees, followed their every move.

“Filthy piece of magic,” screamed Rahaak. “Be still.” Ignoring the command, the flying orb jittered so violently that the priest feared the worst. He willed for the dark sphere to stabilize. Instead, an ominous red light flashed beneath its glassy surface. The orb hung listlessly in the air.

Sweat rippled down the man’s flaccid chin. Pain shot from his swollen joints, as if unseen hands were tearing him apart, and a long, mournful moan escaped his sealed, bluish lips.

“My Lord,” pleaded Jethro, cowering in a corner behind him, “the red light, that’s the
Shandirak
, the sign that Sureï’s curse is about to be unleashed. It will level the entire island. Everyone who lives on Libra will die. The children,” he pleaded, “the innocent children…”

The wave of pain receded. Rahaak, a member of the Inner Circle, was all too familiar with the rhythm of suffering that every act of magic begets. He straightened his posture and breathed deeply to clear his throbbing head.

“Shut your mouth, Jethro,” he barked. Bending forward, he twisted his arms almost to the breaking point and spoke quickly in an abrasive, foreign tongue. He looked like a withered, bony tree about to snap. Slowly, the dangerous, reddish glow vanished, and the recalcitrant orb steadied its flight. It rose into the air to join the other eleven orbs already circling the priest, each along its own orbit.

“There,” said the man of the Temple, breathless. He relaxed his stance, “There is nothing to worry about.” He wiped his sweaty forehead with the sleeve hem of his priestly garment and eyed the old man angrily. “I know what I am doing, warden of the office of the Librarian.” Jethro did not reply.

“And the next time you dare call the Light of Desolation by its Arayatian name, I will drag your miserable self into the Arayat and let the Nephral take you.” Jethro recoiled and began crying like a child. Ignoring the whimpering man, Rahaak gazed at the medallion hanging above the empty Seat of the Librarian. He grinned with anticipation.

“There is enough power in these twelve orbs to break any of Sureï’s curses. Jethro, you shall witness my greatest victory: I will free the medallion, sit on the Seat, and the Library shall yield its secrets to me.”

Furtively, Jethro glanced at a leather-bound book gently floating a few feet below the high, glittering ceiling of the Library. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was so dry he thought Sureï’s curse had been unleashed and had turned his tongue into a pile of ashes and dust.

“My tongue, my tongue…” he stammered. “The curse, it’s… it’s upon us,” and having realized what he had said, he nearly died of fright. His legs gave out, and he fell on his face, his jaw clattering so quickly a woodpecker would have been jealous.