Wrath of the Urkuun (Epic of Ahiram Book 2)

by Murano, Michael Joseph

  “What a pitiful king you made. You placed your hope in Baal and Baal dropped you like a worthless shoe, a broken bottle. You were a king of illusions, a toy, a thing in the hands of Babylon. You cared more for yourself than you cared for the people or the kingdom. You lived in riches while Baal levied heavy taxes on our people. What have you to say in your own defense?”

  The King lifted his head and looked at Soloron. “Would anything I say change my fate?”

  “Speak, and I will listen.”

  “Baal was about to overtake Tanniin. I tried to compromise and give up what was unimportant in order to preserve the crown.”

  “You have given them open access to the land. The ports of Mitreel and Yaneer are under their control. They have turned them into fortresses. They tax our people heavily and force our men into slavery. Many have disappeared and their parents have not seen them since. Ask the men around you. These were your subjects. Ask them about their firstborn sons, ask them about their daughters.”

  “I see wisdom in your words,” replied Jamiir, contemptibly, “but how will this wisdom stand before the might of Baal? What will you do when their forces come to raze every house, field, and city; when they kill every man and take everyone else into slavery? What will you say to those who will be deported to Babylon to serve as sacrifices to their gods or in their games? Who will stand by them and defend them? You are naïve if you think that a bunch of undisciplined men can withstand the forces of Baal and their magic. They will crush you mercilessly and crucify your men as a lesson for all. Is this fate any better than the one we have? I have tried to weather the storm and preserve the crown of Tannin until better days. I stand before you, guilty, but my heart is at peace. I did what I thought was best for the land.”

  “You may think of yourself as wise,” replied Soloron, “but in your cowardice you confused wisdom with capitulation, courage with subservience, and strength with servile diplomacy. Kingdoms are not forged compromises with a tyrant; they are forged with the steel of hope and the might of beating hearts who know the meaning of freedom. You will be hanged three days hence, and Tanniin will rejoice over your death. Lock the prisoner in the high tower and watch him closely.”

  The King was taken away and Soloron sat back on the throne, surprised he had stayed the execution by three days. This was unlike him for he favored swift judgments followed by an immediate execution of the sentence. Why he let the man he wanted dead live another day was beyond him. Perhaps the fact that he now assumed responsibility of the kingdom gave him a new appreciation of Jamiir’s attempt to negotiate with Baal. Or was it the simple fact that he was now king and wanted to begin his kingdom by a show of generosity? The truth of the matter was that he conceived sympathy for the dethroned king. Under a different set of circumstances, who knows, they might have been friends.

  A soldier interrupted his train of thought.

  “Sir, what should we do with the dead Baalites in the stable?”

  “The Baalites are dead? I thought they had surrendered peacefully.”

  “Master Abiil ordered them killed to avenge his brother.”

  “He did what?” Soloron was beyond himself. “Abiil acted rashly, and there is nothing I hate more than men who act rashly. Off with his head!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The man left and Frajil walked in, looking depressed.

  “Frajil, what’s the matter?”

  “No roasted chicken. Frajil sad.”

  Soloron sighed. His ambition had been to dethrone the King. Now that it had been satisfied, he realized that he had not given much thought to the daily routine of reigning on a throne. He also knew that his brother’s complaint was the first of many he would find difficult to satisfy or assuage.

  Suddenly, he noticed that he had never given much attention to an obvious question he should have asked himself at the start of this adventure: Do I want to be king?

  He was not so sure anymore.

  “The Xarg-Ulum is more powerful than the Xarg; it is larger and faster. Like the Xarg, it was created by the Lords of the Deep primarily to help them in their struggle against the dwarfs. Xarg-Ulums pounded at rocks with their fists and dislodged many of the mighty portals that had been erected by the dwarfs to protect their caves. Even though in the end the dwarfs prevailed over these creatures, they did so at a great loss, not the least of which was the destruction of Andaxil, the great cave of the north.

  Since the end of the Wars of Meyroon, the dwarfs never regained the stature they had enjoyed before these wars.”

  –Philology of the Dwarfs, Anonymous.

  Resting for a third time, Ahiram sat on a cold slab of rock. He had hoped to stand with El-Windiir’s artifacts before the King. It’s already past midnight. Gloomily, he leaned back and closed his eyes.

  Layaleen, EL-Windiir’s sword, began to quiver gently against his shoulder. Strange, he thought, his senses on alert. Why is the sword quivering?

  After leaving the tomb of El-Windiir, he had turned right into the narrow passage and had walked for a little over three miles. The light progressively disappeared until he walked in darkness along a steep upward incline that dead-ended abruptly. He bumped into a wall, and to steady his footing, leaned against the stone, only to feel it give way. A hidden door had rotated silently, and he had stepped out in darkness.

  That was easy. Outside, his foot hit an obstacle and he fell forward. He crawled on all fours and ended up on the staircase that he had been climbing for the past few hours.

  The sword’s quivering grew stronger. He shifted his position and rubbed his shoulder, believing it was his sore muscles that tingled.

  I climbed 6,674 steps, and each step is about three inches high, so that’s close to 1,700 feet. But these steps are four feet long, so as best as I can tell, I must have moved close to five miles eastward.

  He sniffed the air. Fresh. There must be vents, but I can’t feel air flowing in. Ahiram sighed. If I keep going up, I will soon reach the abode of the gods.

  The sword’s vibrations were now jarring.

  What’s going on?

  He touched the blade. Is this sword going to pummel me?

  An icy shriek cut through the silence like a knife. He sprung to his feet, holding the weapon. How it had landed in his hand, he did not know.

  The shriek shattered the silence again just as the wall next to him shook under powerful blows.

  Stay, climb down, or climb up?

  Having memorized the size and shape of the stairs, he ran up, praying to El he does not bump into a wall or a low ceiling. The shriek sounded repeatedly but it grew distant. Good, it’s not following me. Is it the urkuun?

  His senses on alert, he stopped running and resumed his steady climb until he saw a small point of light ahead. He gripped the sword with both hands and resolutely continued to move forward until he came face-to-face with two identical dwarfs, each holding an odd-looking lantern that cast a soft blue glow.

  “Frighteningly frightening is she not?” said one of them.

  They were about four and a half feet tall, with braided hair and trimmed beards. They wore sleeveless denim jackets with three large buttons over what looked like thick, collarless burgundy shirts. A five-inch-wide belt cinched baggy, brown leather pants tucked into sturdy work boots. They wore tall, conical-shaped, steel helmets. The base of each helmet was wrapped in a fine silver mesh that was trimmed with a strip of red leather. Diamond-shapes were cut into the leather and strung together with thick silver links.

  Ahiram recognized the helmet at once. Two dwarfs from the southern realm. What are they doing here, thousands of miles from Korridir?

  The dwarf to his left had a gold earring pinned in his left ear, and symmetrically, the dwarf to his right had a gold earring pinned in his right ear. Slowly, Ahiram lowered his blade.

  “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  “I am Zurwott,” said the leftmost dwarf as he bowed.

  “And I, Orwutt,” said the other as he
bowed in turn.

  Ahiram returned their bows.

  “We are dwarfs,” they said in tandem, “and we are brotherly brothers and brothers of a most brotherly nature,” they added, as if it were not obvious that they were twins. “We are enchantingly enchanted to make your quaint acquaintance.”

  Ahiram cocked his head, canting a smile. He did not expect to meet anyone in this part of the mines, let alone dwarfs. He had so many questions, he did not know where to begin.

  “You must be the silently Silent who deftly defied the odious odds by peremptorily participating in the challenging challenge, are you not?”

  “I am,” replied Ahiram as his smile widened. This was his first conversation with dwarfs. “How did you know?”

  “She is not a strangely stranger or a stranger of a strangely stock,” explained Zurwott.

  “Who is she?” wondered Ahiram, confused.

  “The Games.”

  “You call the four Games she?”

  “Ah,” explained Zurwott, “I so happen to be a grammatically inclined grammarian of the dwarfish language. With effusive joy and a joy most effusive, I shall explain plainly and plainly explain, the deeply deep reasons that she is the way she is and none other. This shall be done with great alacrity and an alacrity of the first order.”

  “My brother,” translated Orwutt “wants to explain our grammatical rules. He said she because in dwarfish, the four Games are one. In the common tongue, we say one body to speak of one head, two hands, two feet, and all the rest. The four Games are one challenge, and since challenge is feminine, the Games are a she, you see?”

  “My brotherly brother ought not speak so speedily, and speedily speak in the common tongue, the tongue of the commoners. It behooves him to behave as a dwarfish dwarf, and a dwarf of a dwarfish descending descent, and a descent of the most descending antique antiquity.”

  “Surely my brotherly brother, and my brother most brotherly has not failingly failed, nor failed failingly to be an observant observer, and an observer of the most observant kind? She is not, at this most present presence, in the best conditioned conditions.”

  “Who is she? The Games?” interjected Ahiram.

  “No, your health,” observed Orwutt.

  Zurwott bowed. “My deeply deepest apologetic apologies, and apologies most apologetically apologizing. I have failed to see that she is presently in need of immediate care and care most immediate. We shall take you right this instant, and instantly to our leading leader, and leader of the greatest leadership, Master Xurgon.”

  “I would gladly follow you, but I need to get to Taniir-The-Strong as quickly as possible. I thought these stairs would get me there.”

  “They will bring you to Taniir-On-High,” replied Orwutt, who evidently enjoyed the common tongue.

  “You may longingly long, and long longingly to know that he is forebodingly forbidden, and forbidden forebodingly,” added Zurwott.

  “Who is ‘he’?” asked Ahiram.

  “These stairs,” replied Orwutt. “What you are casually calling stairs is in dwarfish karak stirks, or wrinkled giant.”

  “Wrinkled giant?” confirmed Ahiram. “So, if he is forbidden,” he continued, a twinkle in his eye, “why are the two of you in it?”

  “No, no, not in it,” said a shocked Zurwott. “In it—karak stirks kin arix—this would be dreadfully dreadful, and dreadful beyond any dreadfully descriptive description. Karak stirks xal kadum. On him, see?”

  “Fine,” grumbled Ahiram. “Why are you on him?”

  “We were conductively conducting a pressingly pressing examination of a strip that abides above our currently current position. A surprise most surprising came to be in existence today and not earlier. We observingly observed, and observed most observingly, that she has been exceedingly extended, and extended most exceedingly.”

  Ahiram gazed at Orwutt, waiting for a translation.

  “A flat strip, two hundred yards above us, is longer than she was yesterday. She grew by seventy feet overnight and broke into these stairs. We were assessing the damage.”

  “Strips don’t extend on their own,” noted Ahiram.

  Unknowingly, the Silent had just questioned the dwarfs’ alibi. Their honor demanded a robust counterargument. A robust dwarfish argument consists of a flourish of repetition—up to seven—all stressing the same point.

  “Exact exactitude, and exactitude most exact,” began Orwutt who spoke in dwarfish to mollify his brother. “This strip was shorter than she is today, and we are bereft of a tangibly tangible explaining explanation.”

  “She was not yesterday where she is today,” forged ahead Zurwott. “Accidentally, and by an accident of the most accidental nature, we landed in the most inappropriately inappropriate, and coincidentally coincidental manner, here and nowhere else.”

  “Which is of course inappropriately inappropriate,” advanced Orwutt. “Unless, one considers with considerate consideration, that our presence is innocently inadvertent, and inadvertently innocent.”

  “Even though it is not licitly licit,” rejoined Zurwott.

  The brothers had begun to warm up for the real argument.

  “Neither is our present presence illicitly illicit since there is no voluntary breach of the dwarfish code of conduct,” clarified Orwutt.

  “Such an illicitly illicit presence must be voluntarily assumed, and assumed most voluntarily. This would be a demeaning misdemeanor, and a misdemeanor most demeaning no respectably respecting dwarf would wittingly commit,” stipulated Zurwott.

  “As a matter of course,” echoed Orwutt.

  Zurwott drew closer and said in a hushed voice, “You must understandably understand, and understand most understandably that Master Xurgon will inquire inquiringly about our present presence in this locatable local.”

  Orwutt took over. “Such an inquiring inquiry will require a tactfully tactful explaining explanation.”

  Seeing that Ahiram was confused, Zurwott thought to clarify, “The explanation would consider considerately, and considerately consider every factual fact under consideration which has been presently presented before your present presence.”

  Feeling dizzy, Ahiram leaned against the wall. The two dwarfs drew closer to steady him.

  “It would be judiciously judicious to reservedly reserve the remaining remainder of our argumentative argument until later and not before,” suggested Zurwott.

  “A wise wisdom, and a wisdom most wise,” concurred his brother.

  “So what brought your colony to the mines of Tanniin?” Ahiram’s voice was faint, but the dizziness was starting to fade.

  “Our forefathers forged these august mines under Erux the Great.” Orwutt glanced at Zurwott to stave off any further recrimination about the use of the common tongue.

  “By this august name, he designated with intentional intent, El-Windiir; a man of happily happy memorable memory amongst the dwarfs. We remember him by many names,” added Zurwott, who tried to speak in a dwarfish language that approximated the common tongue. Ordinarily, he would have said, “for we memorably remember and remember most memorably,” instead, he shortened it to “we remember him.” Dwarfs seldom spoke in the direct mode, as it was considered a threat among them. They preferred to speak with flourish, doubling and tripling the adjectives to defuse any possible tension arising from an unintended—or sometimes intended— misunderstanding.

  “A long-standing tradition between Tanniin and our forefathers requires a colony of dwarfs to be present in the upper mines.”

  “I was not aware of this arrangement,” replied Ahiram.

  “Which is a great consoling consolation to our earful ears. Had it been differently different, and different most differently, we would be directed directly to conclusively conclude that a desolating desolation had invaded the presently present. Your uttering utterance suggestively suggests, and suggests suggestively, that he is well protectively protected and protected in the most protective manner.”

 
As they continued to climb, Orwutt restated Zurwott’s statement. “The arrangement between Tanniin and the dwarfs—that’s the ‘he’ my brother is referring to—is a secret. Since you were not aware of this arrangement, our presence remains a secret.”

  Ahiram nodded. “Where did that shriek come from?” he asked.

  Among dwarfs, abrupt topic change was typical. The dwarfs loved to weave disparate topics into a loosely connected conversation. A dwarfish discussion was a mental promenade meant to forge friendships by a mutual enjoyment of words crafted into sentences like gems lining an elegant crown.

  “Ah, we cannot freely speak, nor speak freely of such meaty matters and matters so meaty. They effectively affect, and affect effectively the tempered temper, and temper most tempered of our fearsomely fearless leader and leader most fearlessly fearsome,” said Zurwott with an accompaniment of animated hand gestures.

  “Master Xurgon would be upset,” translated Orwutt.

  “Nevertheless, we are required per our sundry sojourn in these remarkably remarkable halls to bring her immediately, and no later than necessary, before Master Xurgon,” added Zurwott.

  “Who? The conversation?”

  “No, the extended strip,” clarified Zurwott.

  “Fine,” sighed Ahiram. “Let’s go have a chat with Master Xurgon.”

  At the word “chat,” Zurwott frowned disapprovingly, and Orwutt grinned. Ahiram sheathed his sword and followed the two dwarfs. As they continued up, they heard the shriek again. They felt the ground rumble beneath their feet.

  “An earthquake,” said Ahiram.

  “No, no. No earthquake,” replied Orwutt hastily before his brother had the chance to express profusely his vehement disagreement. In Zurwott’s eyes, Ahiram had displayed a shocking ignorance of the ways of the rocks—the deep dwarfish knowledge of all that existed beneath the surface of the earth. From childhood, dwarfs were taught the language of the rocks. The twins were in their early twenties and could easily distinguish the sound of a tumbling boulder from that of a rock avalanche, a tremor, a tear, a crack, a cleft, a fissure, a cave-in, and a myriad of other subterranean movements. The display of ignorance that men put forth whenever they ventured into caves was appalling.