Epic Of Ahiram (Book 1) Read online

  Olothe, who came last, managed to stop in time.

  “Slave,” he shouted, “I know you are hiding behind this boulder. Come out from your lair, so I can squash you like the rat that you are.” Ahiram remained still. He was waiting for his foe to make the first move. Olothe unsheathed his sword. “Come out, you coward,” he said, as he moved up the stairs slowly. “Come out, you sniveling dog, son of a dog, coward, son of a coward, slave, son of a slave.”

  This, the prince should not have said. Startled, he watched Ahiram attack with a speed and a fury he had never seen before. He lifted his sword in a futile act of defense. But how could a sword defend against a raging flood, a howling wind, or an all-consuming fire? A fist of stone exploded in his chest, sending waves of unbearable pain through his body. Prince Olothe was a trained military man, but nothing had prepared him for the speed and accuracy with which Ahiram pummeled him. The Silent attacked the prince without any restraint. He hit to hurt and punish, using all that he had learned to break, dislocate, and destroy bones, joints, and ligaments. In the span of a few minutes, Olothe lay on the ground writhing with pain, shaking violently. Ahiram placed his hand on his opponent’s throat and squeezed. He whispered in the prince’s ear, “You will not be able to make use of your arms or your legs for the rest of your miserable life. A slave will live a better life. If you ever call my father a slave again, wherever you may be, even in the depths of the earth, I will find you and inflict even greater pain upon you than now, then I will leave you to the dogs. Do you understand me? To the dogs.”

  The prince, now unable to speak, moaned. Ahiram’s voice had resonated within his heart like the commanding voice of a god. The words the Silent spoke were indelibly etched in his mind. Ahiram, unaware of the effect his voice had on his opponent, loosened his grip on the man’s neck and spat on the prince’s face before leaving. He ran for a short while, stopped, and unable to control himself anymore, burst into tears. He did not know why he was crying. Regret overwhelmed him. He knew the damage he inflicted upon Prince Olothe was irreparable and nothing would ever heal him. The prince would now be a cripple, simply because he, a trained Silent, had lost his temper. He could not even remember how he moved so fast. He could almost hear the commander speaking, “Control your anger or it will destroy you.” Now it was too late. A man was paralyzed, broken and useless, and it was his doing. He could not help but feel sorry for Olothe.

  Ahiram forced himself to calm down and resumed the ascent. “I have a Game to win, and I will win it,” he muttered, gritting his teeth. He reached the top without any further incidents. Once there, he saw the Bridge of Silver crossing the Chasm of the Deep, forty feet wide and sixty feet long, with magnificent carvings on its high railings. Glittering softly, the polished bridge was out of place in the belly of the mountain, like a princess amid lepers and paupers. No one knew what this masterpiece—rivaling Taniir-The-Strong’s drawbridge in beauty—was doing so deep within the mines. As he crossed, Ahiram immediately noticed the twelve framed panels covering the handrails, six on each side.

  The Silent was simultaneously attracted and repulsed by them. Forgetting the race, he crossed the bridge with deliberate slowness, staring at each panel as he walked passed it. They seemed to tell a story, tragic and sad, that started at the feet of a high tower of monstrous proportions, while on the opposite hill, two men stood observing it. On the tower’s peak, a dark figure sat on a spiked throne, gazing at the two men who held their arms straight, palms open in a gesture of warning. The tower then crumbled and the taller of the two men was no more. In his stead, Ahiram saw a beautiful woman with a haunted look in her eyes, standing by the second man, who was bearded now.

  Ahiram saw the bearded man standing atop the ruined tower with the woman in his arms. A close-up portrait showed him screaming with rage. The tower was now gone, replaced by a pool of dark water. Another panel showed the bearded man as he stood gazing at the pool, while a second shadowy figure watched him. From the pool, a book emerged—something Ahiram had never seen before and could not recognize. The man leaned over the book as the shadowy figure now stood behind him, holding three orbs.

  The last panel on his left showed the bearded man dressed as a priest of Baal, but the panel to his right was black. Ahiram glanced at it and leaped back. He had the distinct impression that the panel was about to pull him in. These mines are getting to me, he thought, rubbing his hair. I must be seeing things.

  As he stepped off the bridge, he was startled by a distinct popping sound. He looked back and saw, or imagined, the black panel throbbing like an exposed, dark heart. He ran from the bridge as fast as he could.

  After a short while, he entered the brightly lit Room of Echoes in search of a belt of silver. The waiting crowd gave him a standing ovation. He blinked in the light and saluted. The cave was large and spacious and served as an ideal spot for the crowd to watch the contenders in action. The trumpets sounded and the crowd hushed. Just then, the team from Quibanxe reached the cave, and the three tall men fanned out in search of the artifacts. Ahiram concentrated on the ceiling, for it was the most natural and most difficult hiding place. At the extreme southeastern corner, he saw something glitter. He looked closer, and there it was: a belt of silver, hidden behind a stalactite. One of the men of Quibanxe called the two others, pointing at another spot on the ceiling.

  They found a belt too, thought Ahiram. This is going to be close. He knew they could form a human ladder and reach the ceiling. He was alone and had to rely on other means. He pulled a rope from his belt, clipped it to a dart, and hurled the dart up. The looping dart swung around a stalactite, reeling the rope up. Ahiram pulled on it, and the noose tightened and held. Using his arms, he climbed up so quickly that the crowd gasped. Without stopping, he looped the rope around his feet and swung back and forth, gathering momentum until he managed to reach the belt of silver. He clipped it onto a hook on his left leg and was about to grab the rope with both hands, when it came loose. The crowd screamed.

  Ahiram dropped the rope and slammed feet first into a neighboring stalactite. The crowd shrieked. Knees bent, he pushed away, extending his body to reach another stalactite which he held on to with both arms. He heard scattered applause. Cautiously, he began to slide down, but the structure broke, and he fell, barely evading the fractured rock. Instinctively, the spectators ducked, howling and cheering. Shifting his body, he managed to grab the peak of a stalagmite with his left hand. He swung his legs, and his body slammed into the rock. Despite the shock and momentary dizziness, Ahiram held on. All eyes were on him. In one fluid movement, he slid down the freezing surface, then pushing away, performed a perfect flip and landed on his feet. The crowd gave him a standing ovation in a deafening roar. Ignoring the cheers and applause, he saw the men of Quibanxe about to leave the hall with the leader holding a belt above his head, so sure they were of their win. Ahiram pulled out his folded crossbow, opened it, cranked it, slid an arrow dart into the shaft, aimed, and fired. The belt flew from the hands of the surprised leader and slammed against the wall behind the howling crowd. Ahiram sprinted, hoping the Quibanxian would try to pry the belt from the arrow dart instead of running after him, for they were amazing runners. He ran the last five miles as fast as he could, not daring to look back, and reached the exit barely two steps ahead of the fastest man on the team of Quibanxe.

  Outside the mines, the crowd, twice as numerous as the day before, exploded in cheers, ululations, and applause. The judges came forward and asked him for the shoes of bronze and belt of silver. Ahiram handed them both. They inspected them and declared him the winner of the second Game. Four men carried him on their shoulders in jubilation through the cheering crowds toward the King’s castle. Ahiram would have preferred to walk alone on the slave’s dirt path, but this was not possible.

  Once inside the main gate, he went through the garden of the officers to reach the garden of the servants and climb up to the second floor. Having forgotten that Commander Tanios wanted him in the
Silent’s quarters, he headed straight back to his room.

  He opened the door and saw someone lying in his bed. He raised his fist, about to strike, when the young man turned and stretched.

  “Your mat is far more comfortable than mine. Can I buy it from you?”

  “Jedarc,” said Ahiram with tired smile, “What are you doing here?”

  “Wrong question,” replied his friend standing up. “What are you doing here?”

  “Me?” replied Ahiram confused. “This is my room.”

  “Really?”

  Jedarc slapped Ahiram on his shoulder and winced. “I win,” shouted his friend, while rubbing his hand. “Do you eat stones for breakfast?” he asked. “I win.”

  “Jedarc, what are you talking about?”

  “I made a bet with Banimelek. I told him that by the end of the day you would have forgotten Commander Tanios’ order, and he said that you wouldn’t. You didn’t remember, so I won the bet.”

  “That’s true, I wasn’t supposed to be here. Alright, Jedarc, you win. What is the object of the bet?”

  “A song,” replied Jedarc, grinning.

  “A song? What song?” asked Ahiram, feeling sorry for Banimelek.

  “A wedding song. If I lost I would have to sing a song at Banimelek’s wedding, but thanks to you, he will have to sing a song at my wedding.”

  “What song?”

  Instantly, Ahiram regretted asking, for Jedarc took his question as a cue to begin singing:

  Across the vast, empty plain,

  In the summer, under the rain,

  Through snowy mountain roads,

  I sing ballades, love songs, and odes.

  I am a lonesome bard

  Atop his lonely donkey.

  Your joy is my reward

  With a dish of meat and barley.

  “Stop singing!” yelled Ahiram.

  “What?” said Jedarc, puzzled. “You don’t like my singing?”

  Before Ahiram could answer, his door was flung open by a band of frenzied slaves who thought someone had died, and a band of wailing women had been hired for the funeral.

  “Well,” said Jedarc, offended after Ahiram had managed to reassure everyone, “your friends cannot appreciate refined singing.”

  “That’s it,” said Ahiram, “you got it. Now that I am fully awake, let’s be on our way before my friends—as you call them—change their minds and come back for the kill.”

  “I am a lonesome bard, atop his lonely donkey,” whispered Jedarc. Ahiram elbowed him.

  “You are cruel,” groaned Jedarc.

  “I can be when needed,” replied Ahiram sharply. They walked the rest of the way in silence. As he was about to enter his room, their way to the Silent’s quarters, “but tell me, what’s the point of that bet? Neither of you are going to get married any time soon.”

  “We shall see about that,” replied Jedarc as he spun and bowed. “That, we shall see.”

  Ahiram shook his head. “What’s for dinner?” he asked.

  “The usual,” said Jedarc eyeing him closely. “Cold chicken, bread, salad, water, and apples.”

  “I hate cold chicken,” muttered Ahiram.

  He went to his assigned room and closed the door without another word. Exhausted, he threw himself on his bed and fell into a deep sleep. He dreamed that he stood before the ruins of a tower. Suddenly, an earthquake shook the ground and volcanoes erupted on all sides, threatening to engulf him. A large hole opened before him. Inside, he saw a shark, a bull, a dragon, a jaguar, and a host of unknown creatures dancing amid flames that were growing brighter by the minute. He wept, but he did not know why. He looked up and saw a lady of ravishing beauty. She smiled at him, and he felt at peace.

  Tanios woke him abruptly.

  “Get up. The evening ceremony is about to start.”

  Ahiram looked around him in a daze. It was dark. He must have been asleep for a while. “Ceremony?”

  “Yes, you won, remember? Hiyam came in third, and one of the team of Quibanxe, second. Olothe has left the Games. Apparently, he sustained a rather serious injury as he was coming down the stairs. Good riddance.”

  “Commander,” interrupted Ahiram as he was getting dressed.

  “What?”

  “The prince. He did not fall. That is I, I…”

  “You what?” asked Tanios. “You what?” His voice was hard.

  “I lost my temper. I beat him badly.”

  “How badly?”

  “He will not walk again, and he will not be able to use his arms.”

  “You left him paralyzed?” Tanios was scandalized. “One of his men is dead, and you are the prime suspect. I had to plead with the King to keep you out of jail, and you lose your temper and beat Prince Olothe to a pulp? You left him paralyzed? What will it take before you curb that temper of yours? Don’t you know what this means? He will be treated worse than a slave. He is now unclean, and will be shunned by his family.”

  “I am sorry, Commander Tanios, so sorry…”

  There was a moment of silence. Tanios sighed. “You are in deep trouble. The Temple of Baal will not tolerate the slightest insurrection. You have become a symbol of freedom for Tannin. Expect the next Game to be a lot harder and far more dangerous than this one.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Did he insult you again?”

  “No,” whispered Ahiram.

  “Did he insult your father?”

  “He said I was a slave, son of a slave, a dog, son of a dog.”

  The commander winced. He could only begin to imagine the fury Ahiram had unleashed on the unsuspecting prince. Guilt surfaced once more, and he wondered if he had failed this pupil. Six years of harsh training would have tamed a tiger, but not Ahiram’s temper. What went wrong? he wondered.

  “Olothe should not have treated you contemptuously. With his arrogance and stupidity, he was looking for trouble, but it does not excuse your behavior. Your actions were reprehensible. You were reckless, and consequently, you will be demoted from the rank of Solitary. Now come, His Majesty the King is waiting.”

  Commander Tanios left the room and closed the door behind him. Ahiram shook his head and looked at his hands as if he were seeing them for the first time. Are these the hands of a murderer? Is this what I have become? I could have killed Prince Olothe today. When I became a Silent, I took an oath not to kill unless my life is in grave danger. But at the first occasion, at the first test…

  He flopped back on the bed and gazed at the ceiling. Remorse and grief filled his heart. I was prepared to lose everything in order to gain my freedom, including my rank as a Silent; but was I prepared to take a life to be set free? What will Hoda do when I tell her what I have done? What will she do?

  Slowly, he rose from his bed, put on his clothes, left his room and walked down a deserted corridor; as his footsteps echoed softly on the marble floor,

  Ahiram felt alone like never before. Before, alone meant being bereft of his sister and parents; over the years, it came to mean being separated from his friends. But now, being alone, meant being ashamed to be in their presence.

  “I will always be alone,” he whispered.

  He heard a popping sound and a voice whispered back: “You are not alone; I am with you.”

  “Throughout my years of service to the Empress, I have met many remarkable men—some I have admired, some I have loathed. None have won my respect as much as Commander Tanios, for he gave us a measure of courage and integrity that is truly exceptional.”

  –Diplomatic Notes of Uziguzi, First Adviser to Her Majesty Aylul Meïr Pen, Empress of the Empyreans

  “To prevent anyone from reopening the Pit of the Abyss, the Temple will curse anything that reeks of magic. Some priests have been accused of larceny, embezzlement, or profiteering. Others have been guilty of racketeering, threatening to curse the innocent unless hefty payments were made. The Temple is aware of all this and never fails to punish the guilty. Yet, this evil is nothing next to the opening of the Pit.”
r />   –Teachings of Oreg, High Priest of Baal

  “You told him what?”

  Bahiya was beside herself. Her daughter took two steps back, her hand lifted before her face in a sign of protection. She had seldom seen her mother so angry. The high priestess’ features were drawn, and her eyes betrayed extreme fatigue.

  “How could you be so irresponsible?” she snapped. “Don’t you understand what that means?”

  “I thought he would not make it out of the mines alive.”

  “You thought?” yelled Bahiya. “I didn’t bring you here to think. I gave you direct orders and expected you to follow them. It is a miracle that you survived. If the commander did not remove that poisonous dart, you would be dead by now, do you understand?”

  “I thought he was bluffing,” said Hiyam. She bit her lower lip, wishing she had not spoken.

  “Bluffing?” said Bahiya, grabbing her daughter’s wrist and twisting it sideways. Hiyam winced under the pain. For a woman with a slender frame, her mother was unusually strong.

  “You threaten to kill a Solitary who can handily take on the best of the High Riders, and you expect him to use a cheap trick? Haven’t you learned anything about them? Will I have to flog that worthless tutor of yours to teach him not to waste the Temple’s funds?”

  “But Mother—”

  Bahiya pushed her daughter against the wall. “I do not want you to think. I want you to execute my orders as I give them to you, when I give them to you, and how I give them to you. Do you understand? I had specifically ordered you not to lay claim to his life, and you have disobeyed me. Fail me one more time and your chances of becoming a priestess, much less a high priestess, will vanish.”