Akiri: Sands Of Darkness

by Brian D. Anderson

  A few of the patrons had also heard the same, but like the innkeeper, shied away from speaking in detail.

  Akiri decided to remain for a while, listening to the undulating rhythms of the flautist. The tunes were hypnotic, summoning memories from the days before he had been inducted into the Dul’Buhar. Although his early training had been intensive and demanding, life hadn’t been all work. At times, they had been allowed to wander the fields and play games, though these activities were infrequent and the games often as brutal as the training itself.

  The evening wore on, with Akiri deliberately making a show of drinking copious amounts of ale. Appearances were meant to be deceptive. As far as anyone could tell, he was simply a foreigner out for a night of revelry. Drawing attention to yourself was unwise in a new place. You never knew what small action or stray word could get you in trouble. It was best to behave as those around you would expect.

  The room was full to bursting by the time he finally turned in for the night. Those around him, a few of the local women in particular, tried to convince him to stay longer, but he politely refused. Morning would come quickly enough, and he would need to have all his wits about him. Though he had not consumed nearly as much ale as people thought, it had been enough to require a good night’s sleep.

  After rising at dawn the next day, he had a brief breakfast of an unfamiliar spicy porridge the innkeeper called raki before departing to seek out Lord Varin. Even at this early hour, the city was a hive of activity. Shops were already opening, and vendors jostled for the best spots along the avenue. Akiri decided to leave his horse stabled, and set off on foot.

  The eastern section of Rath was where most of the nobles and other people of wealth resided. Here the lavish homes and sprawling estates were surrounded by dense hedges and tall iron fences. Akiri expected the entrance of Lord Varin’s estate to be crowded with those seeking employment, if for no other reason than the fact that sell-swords preferred to work for nobles rather than for merchants. The jobs they offered tended to pay better and were usually less dangerous. Akiri could recall a time when he had looked down on such men; and now he was one of them. The thought often disgusted him. But he was forced to accept that if he hoped to make his way in the world, he must do so by using the skills with which he was gifted.

  To his surprise, the main gate was deserted, apart from a lone guard. Akiri approached the man, who didn’t even bother to acknowledge him immediately.

  “State your business,” he said.

  “I come seeking employment,” Akiri replied.

  The guard cocked his head. “You do? I thought all the scum like you had been scared away.”

  Akiri resisted the urge to strike the man. Keeping his tone even, he said: “Like I told you, I seek employment. If you call me scum again, you’ll find out how scared I am.” He was a full head taller than the guard and stepped in close to punctuate that point.

  The guard’s hand drifted to his sword.

  A voice called out from the direction of the house. “Amin! What are you doing?”

  A short man with black hair and a welcoming smile plastered across his round face came hurrying over as fast as his ample girth would allow. He was dressed in fine satins of yellow and violet, along with a pair of matching shoes. His neck bore a gold chain with a ruby fixed into a round pendant, and jeweled rings adorned his perfectly manicured fingers. The guard took a step back, though his eyes never left Akiri for a moment.

  “You have come looking for work, yes?”

  Akiri nodded. “I have. If the pay is adequate.”

  The man shoved the guard aside. “My dear fellow, I can assure you that it is. Come. Come. Let us talk inside.” He gestured for Akiri to enter the gate. “You’ll forgive Amin. Not the most courteous of men, to say the least. My name is Mahir.”

  “Akiri,” he responded, while following him toward the house.

  “A foreigner. Splendid. Just splendid.”

  The interior of the three-story manor was both elegant and spacious. A series of small, perfectly spaced crystal chandeliers illuminated the main foyer, creating a friendly atmosphere immediately upon entering. Expertly crafted tapestries and various works of art decorated the walls, while a white marble fountain in the shape of a blooming flower ornamented the very center.

  Mahir led him down a long hallway that took them past a number of chambers until they reached a small study.

  Mahir took a seat behind a desk at the rear of the room and offered a chair to Akiri. “So, tell me, my friend. What do you know of Lord Varin?”

  “Nothing. I was told he needed men. That’s all.” Akiri could see that the man's smile was forced. “What is it you require?”

  “I’ll get to that in a moment. First, do you have any experience?”

  “Without knowing what kind of experience you are looking for, I cannot say.”

  He chuckled. “Of course. What I mean is, are you skilled with a sword?”

  “Yes.”

  Mahir waited, as if expecting to be given more details. When Akiri offered none, he sighed. “I see. Well, I suppose you wouldn’t have come here had it been otherwise. So tell me, what do you know about the Cult of Hajazar?”

  Akiri tensed. “I know of their god, but that is all. I know nothing of his followers. I was under the impression that worship of the old gods is forbidden.”

  “It is, but there are those who ignore the law and have returned to worshiping that foul spirit.”

  Akiri did not like where this was going. More gods and demons. He’d had his fill of them. He would rather face a hoard of savages than have more dealings with the gods – new or old. “What does this have to do with the job?” he asked.

  “Well, despite the Rahaji’s efforts to eradicate them, this band of miscreants has been plaguing our fair city for some time. Other cities too. And my lord’s refusal to join them has created a very dangerous situation. They have vowed to bring about the death of his son. Your job will be to see that they fail.”

  “Why not go to the Rahaji with the matter?”

  Mahir breathed a sigh. “The Rahaji is a…difficult man. Don’t misunderstand me. He is a great man and a wise ruler, but he has an entire kingdom to care for. This is the kind of problem he expects the nobles to take care of themselves.”

  Akiri considered this for a moment, and then asked, “What can you tell me about them?”

  “Little that would be of value, I’m afraid. They worship their demon god in secret, stalking the night and stealing away with innocent people for their blood sacrifices. They believe a war between the gods is coming and that Hajazar will save those faithful to him from Xarbaal’s wrath.” He leaned back, eyes distant. “That is all I know.”

  Akiri looked at him skeptically. “Surely these fanatics are not so deadly as to frighten seasoned warriors away? Are the men of Rath born without courage?”

  “No. But it is not they who are coming to kill my lord’s son. He has learned that the Sal’ju have been hired to do the task. Once word of this spread, no one has dared come to his aid. Only a stranger like yourself would step forward now.”

  “These Sal’ju… What should I know about them?”

  “Assassins, of course. It is said they have never failed to complete a contract once it has been sealed. Should they set their sights on you, death is inevitable.”

  Akiri sniffed. “I’ve run across this type before. They are never as fierce as their reputations lead you to believe. If you don’t allow fear to weaken you, and you understand their tactics, they can be dealt with easily enough.”

  “Then perhaps the gods have guided you here,” Mahir said. “And should you succeed, your reward will be substantial.”

  “How substantial?”

  “Lord Varin is among the wealthiest nobles in the city. Name your price.”

  Akiri regarded the man for a long moment. Despite his calm demeanor, he was desperate. “I require one thousand gold pieces.”

  Mahir’s eyes popped wide.
“Are you insane? My lord could hire twenty men for that.”

  “Then hire twenty men. If the Sal’ju are the great assassins you say they are, your gold will be wasted and Lord Varin’s son will be dead.”

  Mahir steepled his hands and pressed them to his lips, his elbows resting on the desk. “What guarantee can you give?”

  “None. Only my word that so long as the boy is under my watch, no harm will befall him.”

  “You would need to stay here until after Lord Varin has found a way to have the contract removed.”

  “And how long will that take?”

  “For one thousand gold pieces, what does it matter?”

  “Then we have an agreement?”

  Reaching into his desk, Mahir retrieved a leather purse. After bouncing it on his palm for a moment, he tossed it over. “This is one hundred in advance.”

  Akiri tucked it into his shirt and rose. “I’ll retrieve my belongings today, if you would like.”

  “That will be fine.”

  As Akiri rose and turned to the door, Mahir spoke again. “One more thing. Should the boy die, it will not go well for you.”

  The threat had no impact. “If I fail, I will be dead too.”

  While returning to the inn, he considered what he might do with the gold once he had earned it. Rath was certainly far enough removed from Acharia to stay put for a time. And his reputation would grow rapidly among the noble houses. In spite of this, such a life seemed small and far beneath him. He had not expected Mahir to meet his price so easily, suggesting that the Sal’ju must be indeed formidable; unless he had no intention of making the final payment, of course. But this was not the first time he had dealt with such men. Not long ago he had protected an Acharian noble from the dreaded Order of Karac. They too were said to be unstoppable. The very mention of their name sent fear into the hearts of even the bravest warrior. But once Akiri had dealt with them, not a single member of the order was left alive to tell of their deeds.

  Upon returning, three house guards escorted him to his chambers and told him that Mahir would be away until nightfall.

  “Show me to the boy,” Akiri ordered.

  “He stays in his room most of the time,” the guard told him, as they entered a long corridor. “We moved his quarters to the south wing as soon as Lord Varin heard about the plot.”

  “How many men do you have here?” Akiri asked.

  “There used to be twenty. Then we heard that the Sal’ju were coming. Now there are only six of us left.”

  Akiri regarded the young man. A little on the thin side, but sturdy enough to wield a sword. “Why did you stay?” he asked.

  “I’m no coward. If the Sal’ju come, then so be it. My father was a soldier in the Rahaji’s army. I would not dishonor him by fleeing at the first sign of danger.”

  Akiri nodded approvingly. “I’m sure he would be pleased to hear you say that. I wonder, though, if your father was in the royal army, why you are not?”

  “I tried to join, but was rejected,” he answered. “They gave no reason. Only that I was unfit to serve.”

  There was no embarrassment in his tone, suggesting to Akiri that there was more to this than he was revealing. “Have you some physical malady?” he asked.

  “No. And I am well trained. My father saw to that.”

  “Why do you think they rejected you?”

  There was a long pause. “I can only guess. I cannot say for sure.”

  “Then guess.”

  He gave Akiri a tight-jawed look. “There is something not right with the Rahaji’s army these days. They turn men away whose families have served the royal line for generations, while at the same time inducting strangers into their ranks. What’s worse is that those rejected have been unable to find work elsewhere. Many have been forced to leave Rath just to be able to feed their families. Some have even moved completely out of Yagash. I was fortunate that Lord Varin and my father had been friends; otherwise I would have been among them.”

  “And you believe there is something sinister behind this?”

  “I have no proof, only suspicions, but it all began about the same time that people started vanishing. It’s those cursed worshipers of Hajazar…that’s who I think is behind it.”

  Something in the back of Akiri’s mind was already urging him to return the gold and leave this whole business behind. He had been in the sights of the gods too many times already. However, he had made an agreement and was now honor-bound to see it through. But once he was sure that the boy was no longer in danger, he would leave this troubled kingdom behind.

  “And the boy?” he asked. “What can you tell me about him?”

  “Rashid? He’s a pleasant enough child. A bit high-spirited, but that’s not unusual for a boy of nine years old. His mother died of a fever only last year, and he took it hard. His father is a good man, though, and saw him through the worst of it. I doubt he’ll give you any trouble.”

  They paused at a set of double doors just a few yards from the end of the hallway. Akiri ran his hand over the door and examined the lock. From inside, he could hear a child’s voice talking softly. He turned the handle. As the door swung wide, there came the sound of rapid footfalls.

  The room was much larger than he expected; like a royal apartment rather than a child’s bedchamber. The contents of the room, however, were precisely what one would expect. On the walls hung paintings of mythical creatures and heroes, and the floor was littered with toys, along with blankets pulled from a canopy bed set near a window at the far end. Three doors – two left and one right – were all closed, and the hearth in the near corner was covered with an iron plate, probably meant to keep the Sal’ju from entering through the roof.

  “It’s all right, my lord,” called the guard. “It’s just me.”

  “Who is that with you?” demanded a young voice from behind a pile of large wooden blocks.

  “I am Akiri. Your father has sent me to protect you.”

  A head poked out from behind the pile. “Are you a warrior?”

  “I am.”

  “Will you stop the Sal’ju?”

  “I will.”

  “I don’t believe you. No one can stop them.” There was mistrust in the child’s voice, and Akiri knew that he would have to gain his confidence.

  “Why do you think that?”

  The boy took a step out from his hiding place. He was dressed in a white shirt and pants with gold stitching and silver buttons. Deep brown eyes full of fear and doubt stared at Akiri. He bore the dark complexion and shoulder-length hair that was the preferred style of the nobles in Rath.

  “I heard the guards talking. That’s why they left. They were afraid.”

  Akiri regarded the child. “And you? Are you afraid?”

  “My father says I shouldn’t be. He says he’ll find a way to stop them from coming. But I can tell he’s lying.”

  “Your father was not lying, boy. I will stop the Sal’ju.”

  “How? They never fail. Never.” Tears were welling in his eyes.

  “I have fought many battles and slain both man and beast. I have faced demons and monsters that would chill the hearts of the bravest soldier. All of them were thought to be invincible, yet every one of them fell to my blade. You do not need to be afraid. Not any longer. I am Akiri, and there is no mightier protector. If the Sal’ju come, I will send them to meet their ancestors. This I swear.”

  After a brief hesitation, the boy approached with small, cautious steps. Looking up at Akiri, he wiped his eyes.

  “You will not run?” he asked.

  “No. I will stay with you until you are safe.”

  “How long will that be?”

  “That is for your father to say.”

  A smile grew from the corners of his mouth. “I believe you.” His eyes drifted to Akiri’s sword. “Is that the blade you used to slay monsters?”

  “It is.” He looked at the disarray around him. “If you put away your toys, I will tell you about how I
killed the last of the pishac.

  Rashid crinkled his brow. “I am no servant.”

  “Neither am I,” Akiri retorted. “And I do not favor lazy children with tales of my deeds.” He gave the boy a stern look. “I need to see to the rest of the manor. That should give you plenty of time.” He turned toward the door.

  “I will put them away,” Rashid called. “If you let me hold your sword.”

  “That will depend,” Akiri told him.

  “On what?”

  “On how well you do your job.” Without another word, he stepped from the room and into the hall.

  “I would warn you not to be so insolent toward Lord Varin,” said the guard as he joined him.

  Akiri huffed. “A boy needs a firm hand. Right now, Rashid needs the assurance and comfort of strength. If I am to protect him, he must be accustomed to doing as I say.”

  The young guard said nothing further and went on to give him a tour of the house and grounds. Akiri was not pleased about how lax the security was. Even with a full complement of guards, a skilled assassin would have very little trouble in gaining entry. And if the Sal’ju were half as good as the Order of Karac, they would send at least five men. The scant few that were defending this place would fall quickly and silently, leaving the young Rashid unprotected. This could, perhaps, be used to his advantage.

  He had the young guard fetch his superior, a grizzled former soldier named Ommar. Obviously unhappy about Akiri’s presence, he regarded the newcomer with undisguised contempt.

  “And what do you think you know after just a few hours of being here that I don’t?” he asked.

  Akiri suppressed his irritation, reminding himself that to Ommar he was no more than a sell-sword. “I need you and your men to find somewhere you can remain hidden at night,” he said.

  “Hidden? Why would we do that?”

  “If your own survival is not reason enough, then do it because your lord has hired me to protect his son, and that’s what I want you to do.”

  “I’m in charge of security here,” the man snapped back. “I certainly don’t take orders from some low-life mercenary.”