Akiri: Sands Of Darkness

by Brian D. Anderson

  Akiri did not believe Palazar’ s apparent lack of interest in Kyra for a minute. Briefly, while kneeling by the spring, he considered just killing all four men to be done with it. But as the cool water ran down his throat and across the back of his neck, his mood lightened. It would be better to gain information from these men...at least before taking any other action. This sort often knew what others did not. Though he dearly wanted to strip down and immerse himself, he resisted. To do so would almost certainly upset the others if they had not yet filled their own skins.

  Palazar waved him over to where they had just lit a small fire. “We don’t have much,” he said. “Only a portion of dried meat and some very bad wine. But we are happy to share it.”

  Akiri sat, placing his back to the spring. “Thank you. I have my own food.”

  Palazar chuckled. “My father told me never to eat from the table of a foe.”

  “I never knew my father,” Akiri said. “But yours passed on wise words.”

  Palazar smiled. “So, tell me, outlander, what brings you so far from home?”

  “I heard there are many opportunities for men here. Particularly if one has skill with a blade.”

  “Ah. You come seeking your fortune. Lured by the tales of treasure and adventure, no doubt.”

  Akiri shrugged. “It is said there is much to be had. And what of you and your men?”

  “We serve the grand order of Zumatra.”

  “Thieves,” Akiri remarked, though with no hint of judgment.

  “You’ve heard of us? I’m surprised.”

  “I wouldn’t say I know much. Only that you are a guild of thieves.”

  This description drew a snort of indignation. “We are far more than that. So feared are we, nobles pay us an annual tithe just to keep their coffers secure. Even the Rahaji of Yagash himself pays us.”

  “Impressive.”

  Palazar leaned back on his elbows. “So, outlander. Do you know where you intend to find the treasure you seek?”

  “I have heard that the capital city of Rath is where most opportunities are found.”

  “Indeed so. I might even know where you can find work there.”

  Akiri gave him a sideways glance. “And why would you be so free with such information?”

  “You are a suspicious one – a good quality to carry while in the desert. But I wish only that you remember my generosity should our paths cross again.”

  “If what you tell me bears fruit, I will indeed.” Akiri didn’t trust this man. Not for a second. He saw his eyes shifting skyward for a moment and then back to his men, though it was cleverly disguised.

  “I know of a noble by the name of Lord Varin. It is rumored he has made some powerful enemies. Should you be as fierce as you look, perhaps you can find work with him.”

  “I’ll look into it. Thank you.”

  They talked for a time about the noble houses and their respective wealth and status. Palazar made sure he added that each one paid tribute to his order. Soon Akiri could feel the chill of the night biting down on him.

  “Unless you are an early riser, we will be gone before you wake,” Palazar told him. His men were already settling down for the night. “There is one thing you should remember when you get to Rath, however: Be mindful of the followers of Hajazar. You don’t want to get mixed up with that lot.”

  The very mention of the name created a knot in Akiri's stomach. Hajazar – the herald of Xarbaal and the gatekeeper of the underworld. It seemed that wherever he went, the old gods always crept in. “Is there any reason I should expect trouble?”

  “I doubt it,” he replied. “Not unless you go looking for it. But be careful nonetheless.”

  “I will,” said Akiri. “And thank you.”

  Picking up his blanket, he settled down a few yards away from the others. While looking up at the star strewn-sky, his mind drifted to the home in Acharia he had left behind. Life had been simple there, the complexities of the world far away. He killed, he lived, and he trained. All was simple and good, his purpose clear. It was a life he’d understood. Things were different now.

  Since leaving Acharia, he had walked blindly into a world that he only knew from the books he’d read. But he was constantly finding that the books had not always been accurate. They had certainly done little to prepare him for life away from the Dul’Buhar. He had seen enough gold to make himself a king, but without lands and the means to hold it, he was only ever able to possess as much wealth as he could carry.

  For some time, he had been considering finding a city where he could settle, but the specter of King Zemel pursued him tirelessly. This was the real reason he had decided to cross the Great Valharoth desert. How long could a man wander before he was truly without a place to call home? Whatever the answer, he knew that eventually he must carve one out for himself.

  But as what? A slayer? A soldier? A man whose sole value lay in his ability to kill? The only home he could ever claim was the one he had left behind. Now it was gone; seemingly forever. He often thought about the cries of the fallen and hardship endless war had brought to his people. But it was a life he had dearly loved, and even now yearned for. He longed to experience the purity of battle again and the passion of conflict as man struggled against man for supremacy.

  The prospect of being a perpetual wanderer was unappealing, but even that would be better than living out his days as a merchant or some lowly shopkeeper. Such a fate was unthinkable. After all…he was Akiri.

  He allowed his mind to drift into a light slumber, welcoming the memories of battle that permeated his dreams most nights. Tonight, however, the images were disturbing; more dream than recollection. Fields of fire and ash – a land laid waste by beings of immense power and cruelty – stretched out as far as the eye could see. Charred remains of the dead had been left smoldering and forgotten under skies filled with great thunderheads. A mighty storm was coming, one that could not be avoided and from which there would be no shelter.

  The footfalls approaching were almost silent, but they reached Akiri’s ears as if they were hard boots marching on marble tiles. Two men. He could hear the breathing of the other two still sleeping. Cracking open his eyes, he saw Fazal and one of the other thieves a few feet away, each holding daggers. His hand automatically closed over the handle of the blade that he always kept beside him when sleeping. Fazal’s expression was one of murderous intent. In contrast, the second man looked nervous, as if an unwilling participant. It made no difference to Akiri. Unwilling or not, he should have stayed wrapped in his blanket.

  Fazal nodded sharply to his cohort. The man hesitated, and it took another stern look to jerk him into action. Akiri smiled inwardly as the attacker moved closer and raised his weapon high. Waiting until the blade was plunging down toward his heart, he rolled sharply into the man’s legs, knocking him off balance. With his dagger in one hand, he used the other to reach up and grip his attacker’s belt, pulling him forward and sending him head first to the ground.

  Fazal backed away immediately, and Akiri sprang up. Seeing that Fazal had lost his courage, he attended to his accomplice by bending down and opening his throat.

  “Your friend will not die alone,” Akiri growled.

  Fazal’s eyes darted to where the other two men still lay wrapped in their blankets. They were stirring, but had not yet noticed what had happened. “Palazar! Wake up!” he shouted. “We are being attacked.”

  His warning cry shook them fully awake. Both men scrambled up, swords at the ready. Fazal immediately ran over to the presumed safety of his comrades.

  Palazar looked down to see one of his men on the ground, gurgling his final breaths. “What the hell is going on here?” he demanded.

  “He attacked Uster,” Fazal answered quickly.

  Akiri’s face was a stone mask. “I was set upon by your men. Fazal is lying.”

  The leader’s eyes darted between the two of them. The remaining man was moving slowly left, his gaze never leaving Akiri.


  “Is this true?” Palazar demanded of Fazal.

  “No. You ordered us to let him be. I would never disobey.” His voice was shrill and desperate.

  “He just woke up in the middle of the night and attacked Uster for no reason? Is that it?”

  “Who knows why he did it? He’s an outlander.”

  Palazar turned to Akiri. “And what have you to say?”

  “Nothing more. I have already told you the truth.” Faster than a human eye could follow, his hand flew forward, releasing his blade and sending it plunging directly into Fazal’s heart.

  With a loud grunt, the would-be assassin fell to his knees, clutching at the dagger’s handle, and then collapsed completely.

  Palazar held up his hand as his companion rushed forward. “Wait.”

  The bandit slid to a halt, eyes blazing with rage. “But Palazar… He must die. He has killed two of our men.”

  “Both of whom tried to kill him,” the leader pointed out, shoving the man back. He turned to Akiri and heaved a sigh. “You have put me in quite a dilemma, outlander.”

  “I don’t see how. Your men tried to kill me. They failed. Justice is done, and it is over.”

  “Killing a Zumatra, even one as wretched as Fazal, cannot be tolerated. Although I am inclined to let you go, my superiors will want vengeance. And they will hunt you relentlessly until they get it.”

  “Then why tell them who I am?”

  “Because I must. And even if I were willing to hide your identity, Yazeem here would not.”

  Akiri nodded. “I understand.”

  His sword was beside his blanket. But rather than making a dive to retrieve it, he widened his stance and waited for Palazar and his comrade to move first.

  Yazeem was rising up on his toes ready to launch himself when an ear-splitting scream pierced the air, instantly freezing his attack. Before either he or Palazar could react, Kyra swooped in low to clamp her jaws around Yazeem's head, pushing him screaming to the ground. With a single vicious shake of her neck, it was over. Flinging the body aside, she directed her attention to a terrified-looking Palazar.

  “Mishna save me!” the thief cried.

  “I would drop my sword if I were you,” Akiri told him.

  He did so without hesitation. “Stay your beast. I will say nothing to my order. You have my oath on that.”

  Akiri considered this for a time. Killing Palazar would be the practical course of action. If the man later set his order on him, even if his intentions were good at that moment, it could make life much more difficult. “If I let you live, what will you tell the Zumatra?” he eventually asked.

  “That we were set upon by the Suldan, and that I was the only one who managed to escape.”

  Akiri recognized the name. Nomads of the desert, unpredictable and merciless by reputation. Renowned for attacking caravans and unwary travelers.

  “Go, then. Be on your way.”

  A huge sigh of relief fell from Palazar’s mouth. “Thank you. But first I must bury my men. The Zumatra will send people to check my story, and your dragon’s bite will not look like a sword wound.”

  His reasoning was undeniable. “Very well. Then I shall leave you to it.”

  Akiri began gathering his possessions, during which time Kyra took a moment to rub her snout against his leg before taking to the air once again. He wondered how long she could remain in flight. A day, at least; likely much longer. Though he shared much with her, she was still very much a mystery.

  “Your dragon,” said Palazar, while rifling through the belongings of his dead men. “It obeys your commands?”

  Akiri donned his pack. “She is my companion. I am not her master.”

  “Oh, to have such allies as you, my friend. I will not forget your mercy. Farewell.”

  Akiri merely nodded, and then started off in the direction of Rath. It would have been more sensible to simply kill Palazar, and not long ago, that would have been the likely outcome; but he had since learned the value of allies. Someone in Palazar’s position could be far more useful in his debt than buried in the desert. He did not completely trust the man, but there had been no deceit in his eyes when he promised to tell his order that it was the Suldan who had attacked them. How else would he explain his men’s death and his own survival? He certainly couldn’t tell them what had really happened.

  It would be two days before he reached a town and two weeks before he would be able to make it to Rath on foot. He squeezed the pouch on his belt and felt no more than a few coins and five rubies. Enough to buy a decent horse, though he would need to be careful. When one was on the road, gold had a habit of slipping through a man’s fingers like water.

  He touched the hilt of his father’s sword. Of course, there were always ways to acquire more. At least as long as there was blood in need of spilling.

  Chapter Two

  After two more days in the desert, Akiri found a well-traveled road leading to the city. This was no small relief, as there were several villages along the way where he could find a decent room and a hot meal. Rumors at the inns repeated Palazar’s warning about the Cult of Hajazar, and he considered bypassing the city altogether, continuing to the kingdoms further east. But his dwindling gold urged him to ignore his trepidation.

  Finally, the silhouette of Rath’s city wall came into view, and he approached the main gates just after dawn. Even at this early hour, the road was clogged with people and wagons, all compelled to register with the magistrate’s office. Unusual for a kingdom not at war, he thought. There had been no rumors of a major conflict brewing, either, so it was perhaps just the sign of a paranoid monarch or even trouble with the Cult of Hajazar. Regardless of the reasons, Akiri registered his name upon entry. The questions were only cursory – name, purpose of visit, and the like. The guard seemed to want to speed things along and gave Akiri no special interest.

  Kyra seemed content to go on a hunt while he was there, which was just as well. From what he had learned, there were dragons in the city. What conditions they were kept under remained to be seen. But if they were as he suspected, it was not something he would want Kyra to witness.

  Akiri was struck by the brilliant colors and the spectacular artistry that ornamented nearly every avenue. It was a stark contrast to the villages he had passed through along the way – most of them little more than a drab collection of sandstone and mud brick structures. The architecture was of superb design and masterful construction; buildings as high as five and six stories, capped with multi-colored tiled roofs and shimmering gold or copper domes. Grand colonnades stretched for hundreds of yards, along which vendors sold every manner of goods imaginable. A cluster of tall spires climbed up from the city center, each flying a long green banner with a gold lion emblazoned upon it.

  The people were as colorful as the city itself. From their clothing to the paint with which the women decorated their faces, it was clear that this place attracted people from far and wide. Yagash was clearly a kingdom of considerable wealth and power.

  He decided to find suitable lodgings before seeking out a jeweler to renew his supply of gold. He had barely finished asking a shopkeeper for directions when he saw something that completely stunned him.

  Walking with an escort of four fierce-looking guards was a man clad in gold and white satins and dripping with gemstones. He held a gold chain at the end of which walked a dragon, its emerald green scales sparkling in the sunlight. The creature was marginally larger than Kyra, and all the spikes along its spine bore silver caps. Unlike Kyra, this dragon was not free. Leather straps held its wings tight to its body, and a gold collar around its neck glowed with a magical aura.

  At that moment, his fears were proved to be well founded, and he was all the more thankful that Kyra was not with him. There could be no telling how she might react to seeing something like this. Not well, was his guess. Under different circumstances, he might have freed the poor creature himself; but for the present, at least, there was nothing he could do.

>   Pushing his anger aside, he sought out the inn that the shopkeeper had recommended. After procuring a room, he went out again to purchase some clothing in the local style. Better not to stand out too much if it was avoidable. The loose-fitting pants and open-neck shirt were a good choice, making him feel much better in the heat of the noon sun. The material allowed the air to move against his sun-scorched skin that still felt the effect of the desert heat. His mood lightened instantly.

  Akiri explored the city for a time and took the opportunity to exchange a ruby for gold as he got a feel for the layout of his surroundings. He spotted two more dragons: one green like the first, the other red, though of a lighter shade than Kyra. Akiri wondered if Kyra would allow a collar to be placed around her neck – not one intended to constrain but a device merely to convey the illusion that she was in bondage. Somehow, he doubted that she would be prepared to do even that. One thing he had learned about dragons: they valued their freedom above all else.

  With his stomach growling, he returned to the inn and ate a meal of roasted meat and fresh fruits. The wine was decent enough and the music in the common room lively, the sound of a flute keeping the mood light and relaxed. In recent times, Akiri had discovered that, without the business of the Dul’Buhar to occupy him, forgetting life’s troubles for a while in a tavern was a welcome distraction.

  The people proved to be friendly and free with their humor. No one seemed bothered that he was an outlander. Some were even quite pleased about it, asking questions and showing a genuine interest in his homeland. He did his best to avoid answering with specifics. It was unlikely that Zemel’s arm reached this far, but it would be best to be careful all the same.

  The innkeeper revealed that Lord Varin was indeed looking to employ men, though he was unable, or unwilling, to tell him why.

  “Something to do with his son, from what I hear,” the man said, while wiping down the bar. “More than that, you’ll have to find out for yourself.”